International Politics of Recognition

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The International

Politics of Recognition

✻

Edited byThomas Lindemann and

Erik Ringmar

Paradigm Publishers Boulder • London

Lindemann & Ringmar.indb 1 4/18/11 12:36 PM



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Copyright © 2012 Paradigm Publishers

Published in the United States by Paradigm Publishers, 2845 Wilderness Place,

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Paradigm Publishers is the trade name of Birkenkamp & Company, LLC,

Dean Birkenkamp, President and Publisher.

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Printed and bound in the United States of America on acid-free paper that meets the

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Cute cats can create outrageous miracles.

In recognition of my catwoman Catherine Small.

Thomas Lindemann



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v

Contents

Illustrations v

Part I Theoretical Preliminaries

Introduction The International Politics of Recognition 3 Erik Ringmar

Chapter 1 Recognition between States: On the MoralSubstrate of International Relations 25

Axel Honneth

Chapter 2 Prickly States? Recognition and Disrespectbetween Persons and Peoples 39

Reinhard Wolf

Chapter 3 Symbolic and Physical Violence 57Philippe Braud

Chapter 4 Is a Just Peace Possible Without Thinand Thick Recognition? 71

Pierre Allan and Alexis Keller

Part II Empirical Applications

Chapter 5 Spirit, Recognition and Foreign Policy:Germany and World War II 87

Richard Ned Lebow

Chapter 6 World War I from the Perspective of PowerCycle Theory: Recognition, “Adjustment Delusions,”and the “Trauma of Expectations Foregone” 109

Charles F. Doran




vi ✻ Contents

Chapter 7 Recognition, Disrespect and the Strugglefor Morocco: Rethinking Imperial Germany’s

Security Dilemma 131Michelle Murray

Chapter 8 Self-Identication, Recognition and Conicts:The Evolution of Taiwan’s Identity, 1949–2008 153

Yana Zuo

Chapter 9 Recognition, the Non-ProliferationRegime and Proliferation Crises 171

Alexandre Hummel

Chapter 10 Recognizing the Enemy:Terrorism as Symbolic Violence 189Andreas Behnke

Part III Conclusions

Chapter 11 Concluding Remarks on the EmpiricalStudy of International Recognition 209

Thomas Lindemann

Index 227

About the Contributors 000




vii

Illustrations

Figures

Figure 6.1 Systemic Bounds on Relative Growth 00

Figure 6.2 Conicting Messages 00

Figure 6.3 Expectations Foregone:Resolving WWI “Puzzles of History” 00

Figure 6.4 Power-Role Lag 00

Figure 6.5 Dynamics of Changing Systems Structure1500–1993 00

Table

Table 8.1 Numbers of States Recognizing Taipeiand Beijing (1950–1990) 00






Part I

Theoretical Preliminaries






3

In t roduc t ion

The International Politics

of Recognition

Erik Ringmar

Identities matter to individuals and they matter to collective entities. In fact, fewthings matter more than the identities we put together for ourselves since, without anidentity, we have no idea of who we are. Yet putting together an identity is often quitea struggle. We need to come up with an account that describes us, but in addition, weneed to have this account accepted by people around us. We need to be recognized.1

As the chapters in this book make clear, the logic of identity creation is relevant alsoto the entities that populate world politics—most notably to the state. States too arecoming up with self-descriptions and struggling to have them recognized.2 In fact,the struggle for recognition takes up much of a state’s time and resources, and itmakes states act and interact in specific ways. This is a logic of action and interaction,which has been largely ignored by traditional scholars of international relation.3 As aresult, many international phenomena, including colonialism and armed conflicts,have been misinterpreted and badly explained.

The reason why previous generations of scholars have ignored questions of iden-tities is simply that they did not come up. The state was the indisputable subjectof a study of world politics and its existence was impossible to problematize. Thequestion was always what the state did and why, and never what, or perhaps who,the state was. We are placed in a better position. In the twenty-first century, identity

crises and identity makeovers are everywhere, and the position of the state in worldpolitics is questioned like never before. Abandoning the old Realpolitik for a new




4 ✻ Erik Ringmar

Identitätsproblematik, we need new intellectual tools. This book unapologeticallyassumes that world politics is a social system that can be analyzed with the help of

the tools of sociology.4 More specifically, we believe that sociological insights intohow identities are formed, maintained, and dissolved have much to teach a studentof international relations. This introduction provides a first outline.

The Subjectivity of the State

To begin, there is a sense that the state is a subject, which can be compared to aperson.5 Admittedly, this is a contested and an explicitly Eurocentric argument. Itis Eurocentric since it most obviously applies to the international system that came

into existence in Europe in the late Renaissance, and it does not necessarily applyelsewhere. The argument is contested since states clearly are not persons.6 Statescan be compared to persons to be sure but that does not make them into persons.Most obviously, a state has no unified consciousness, no single memory, and nosubjective will. As a result, it is surely difficult to talk about the “identity” of astate and to assume that this identity is fashioned in the same way as the identitiesof individuals.

A person may not be what a state is, but this is nevertheless how states have beentalked about at least for the last four hundred years. The European origins of this wayof talking explain how subjectivity came to be attached to the state. In the Middle

Ages, political relations, like all human associations, were understood through themetaphor of the corpus, the body.7 Guilds and fraternities were bodies but so werecities and kingdoms, and all bodies were ultimately incorporated into the universalbody, which was the body of the Church. In early modern Europe, the sovereign statefound it useful to adopt this body language and to use it for its own purposes. 8 Itwas common to talk about the “body politic,” and to endow this body with “arms,”“legs,” a “stomach,” and a “heart.” Naturally, it was the king, or the “head of state,”who directed the state’s overall movements.

The states made up stories about themselves. States in early modern Europewere compulsive self-mythologizers, attaching their often quite undistinguishedpresent to a past filled with classical or biblical references.9 The nationalists of thenineteenth century rearranged these accounts to include more references to “thepeople,” inventing traditions designed to bring legitimacy to their claims to nationalself-determination.10 Propagated through the new systems of public education, thesestories were soon established as the official histories of the nation-state.11 Most of usstill believe in some versions of these semi-mythological accounts.

In early modern Europe, the world was often compared to a stage.12 Sometimes,as in Shakespeare, the metaphor was used, slightly pathetically, to express the super-ficiality and vanity of human pretensions, but it soon became the standardized wayin which international politics was discussed. The body-metaphor and the stage-metaphor were combined; that is, the body of the state was turned into an actor.




The International Politics of Recognition ✻ 5

After the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, the state came increasingly regarded as asovereign, self-directing actor constrained only by the actions of other states.13 At the

royal courts but also on more popular occasions, such as at country fairs, plays wereperformed that illustrated the political relations of the day.14 On the stage before them,the audience would literally see their state acting and interacting with other states.

The stage was a world and the world was a stage. Together the various states formeda theater company that regularly met for performances on the battlefields of Europeor in the conference halls where the peace treaties were signed. It was an illustrioustroupe: the actors were civilized, they were Christian, they had an awesome militaryand political capability. It was in their company that lesser political units one dayaspired to appear. And this is how we still think about international politics. Pick upany newspaper article on world affairs, and it will be replete with states “considering

options,” “acting aggressively,” “signing agreements,” or “threatening sanctions”—allbefore the critical or the approving eyes of world opinion.

This is how the subjectivity of the state originally came to be established. Thismetaphorical cluster and its associated performative practices were eagerly adoptedby absolutist rulers for whom they seemed ideally suited. The l’ état c’est moi of Louis

XIV was not an egocentric indulgence as much as an expression of the official Frenchtheory of sovereignty.15 But the subjectivity of the state was equally useful to republicsand later to the needs of democratic governments. Both citizens and leaders identifythemselves with their states; the state is the protector of our national culture andour status in the world. We tie our hopes to our states and make careers in their

institutions; we celebrate their successes and lament their defeats. Funnily enough,such étatisme is often strongest in places where state institutions are least appreciated.L’état, even Americans agree, c’est nous! 16

In international law, the subjectivity of the state is a well-established commonplace.The state is the persona of international law in much the same way as individuals are the

persona of civil law and corporations the persona of commercial law.17 In internationallaw, a state is a subject endowed with rights and obligations, and it is an actor whocan think rationally and be held responsible for the consequences of its actions. Infact, in legal treatises the state has usually attained nothing short of a transcendentalstatus.18 The state remains the same even as it changes its rulers, its citizens, and itspolitical system, or as territory is added to or subtracted from it. It is only if the stateis completely divided up by others that its subjectivity comes to an end.

We may perhaps object that this language is metaphorical through and throughand that the subjectivity of the state for that reason is a matter of language rather thanany real, observable facts. Perhaps it is nothing more than a hermeneutic device—away to illustrate and explain things; a way to show how international politics works.

And admittedly, beyond this metaphorical language, there can be no additional proofof the state’s subjectivity. But much the same can be said about the subjectivity ofindividuals.19 If we probe our brains for evidence of our identities we will necessarily

be disappointed. Brain states, after all, are not what we are. Identities are social factscreated through social interaction, and what is true for the identities of individuals




6 ✻ Erik Ringmar

is true for the identities of states.20 We are not in the realm of reality; we are in therealm of interpretation.

Recognition and Its Denial

If there is a sense in which states can be thought of as persons, it should be possibleto understand the formation of state identities with the help of the same intellectualtools we use for understanding the identities of individuals. Relying heavily on Hegel’scelebrated account in the Phenomenology of Spirit, we can understand this process firstas a question of the stories that individuals tell about themselves.21 We make up anaccount, or we make up many, which describe ourselves to ourselves. The problem

with these self-descriptions is that they often are faulty. Unfettered in our fantasies,we are wont to exaggerate our importance and our prospects or, alternatively, we areonly too ready to accept the accounts, handed down to us by society and by tradition,of what a person like ourselves is supposed to be. In either case, we will be mistakenabout ourselves.

And even if we somehow manage to describe ourselves in a reasonably realisticfashion, there are still many things about us that we simply do not know. Locatingourselves inside our bodies, we believe we have privileged access to our mental states—indeed we may believe that we are our mental states—but this privileged perspectiveis also quite limiting. Above all, since we never can see ourselves except awkwardly

and in fleeting moments in a mirror, we have only limited knowledge of what we looklike while interacting with others.22 Other people, by contrast, are wont to describeus far more realistically. They are unlikely to exaggerate our importance or our looks,but equally, they may be able to see potentials in us that we have ignored. After all,other people have a privileged perspective, too: seeing us from the outside, they knowfar better what we are like as social beings. In the end, identities are created throughan interplay of these two alternative perspectives. We start by telling stories aboutourselves, which we go on to test on people around us. We let other people know whowe believe we are, and they let us know whether or not our account is reasonable. Inthis way, our stories about ourselves are, or are not, recognized.

Stories are told about states in much the same fashion. A community of storytellerscould be referred to as a “nation.”23 A nation consists of people who mutually rec-ognize each other as belonging to the same imagined community. The stories locatethe national self in space and time; they provide the nation with a past and a future,a “national character,” certain traditions, ways of behaving, and long lists of thingsthat people like ourselves are likely to think, do, and eat. The stories are expressedin our particular vernacular and disseminated through national printing presses andelectronic media. Reading, hearing, or watching these accounts, we know where webelong. The state can be understood as the political guardian of this story-telling

community. For that reason, it is important—important to nationalists—that eachnation should have a state, and each state only one nation.





This story-telling capacity is acknowledged by international law. Each state hasthe right to “national self-determination,” meaning not only a right to independence,

but a right to determine the character of its own collective self.24 This right has beenprotected at least since the Peace of Augsburg in 1555, where the principle of cuiusregio, eius religio stipulated that the religion of a country should follow the religionof its ruler. In 1970, the United Nations similarly affirmed that all peoples have theright to freely determine, without external interference, their political status.y 25

Many of the stories concern the role of the state in world politics. Some states seethemselves as superpowers, others as great powers, as revisionists, revolutionaries, oras neutrals. These stories are not necessarily generally shared, and different storiesoften contradict each other, yet through public discussions and obfuscations, somedominant accounts usually emerge. This is not necessarily a democratic process.

Rather, debates about national roles and purposes are usually dominated by traditionalaccounts, uncritically accepted, or by groups that yield disproportionate economic orpolitical power—and in some societies, public discussions are of course far from free.

Yet stories are still told about states, and most people still believe in them.These stories, much as the stories we tell about our individual selves, must be

recognized before they can come to constitute a reasonable account of our nationalselves. The stories we tell make four separate claims on their listeners.26 On the mostbasic level, we demand attention from an audience. We want to be recognized in thesense of being noticed. But our stories also ask for respect. That is, we insist that ouraudiences treat us as equal to others and endowed with the same rights as everyone

else. In addition to being equal to others, however, we also want to be different fromothers. We ask our listeners to recognize us as a clearly identifiable someone with alife that is uniquely our own. Finally, our stories make statements about our affilia-tions—they place us in an affective field made up of friends and enemies. From ourfriends we ask support, and from our enemies we ask enmity.27 Stacked inside eachother, all stories about ourselves simultaneously make these four demands: (1) wewant our existence to be acknowledged, (2) we want respect, (3) we want individual-ity, and (4) we want an affiliation.

These demands turn identity-creation into a profoundly theatrical process.28 Compare the Latin word persona, derived from the masks carried by actors in theRoman theater. “The word Person is latine,” as Thomas Hobbes pointed out, and it“signifies the disguise, or outward appearance of a man, counterfeited on the Stage;and sometimes more particularly that part of it, which disguiseth the face, as a Maskor a Visard.”29 Like a Hobbesian actor, we carry our identities as masks before theaudiences we address. If the audiences recognize us, we have an identity which we,increasingly self-confidently, can go on to use, and the persona will be attached ever-more securely to our face. However, if the audience boos and hisses—if we are deniedrecognition—we have a problem. To be denied recognition is a traumatic experience.

We feel slighted, insulted, and brought low; our pride is injured, we have lost our

status and our face. This is the case for individuals but also for states. To the extentthat people identify with their states—and they do—they will demand redress. Doing




8 ✻ Erik Ringmar

nothing is not an option: we cannot be without being described, and unless we arerecognized, we have no social identity.

When faced with a denial of recognition, we basically have three options. Themost obvious alternative is to give up; to accept that others are right about us andthat we cannot be the person we thought we were. Our stories, clearly, do not applyto someone such as ourselves. This is the situation a state faces in the wake of a lossin a war or some similar calamity.30 As a result it is, for example, no longer possibleto lay claim to a status as a “super,” “great,” or a “colonial” power. Instead the statein question has to come up with an alternative self-description and re-brand itselfas something else. Such a reconsideration of one’s role is often a long and painfulexercise, and there is of course no guarantee that the new identity we come up withwill be recognized either.

A second option is to accept the verdict of the audience but to stick to our storiesand insist that we can live up to the self-descriptions they contain. This means embark-ing on a program of self-reformation.31 The offended state will have to do whateverit takes to be accepted on its preferred terms—develop itself economically, adopt therequired political institutions, improve its educational system, and so on. Once thistask is completed, the ugly duckling can go back to its detractors as a beautiful swan,hoping to finally be recognized as the state it always presumed to be.

A third option is to stand by our stories without reform and instead to fight for theself-descriptions they contain. The task here is to convince our detractors that theyare mistaken about us and to force them to change their minds. Violence may work

badly in interpersonal relations, since you cannot force someone to respect or loveyou. In international relations, however, the use of force has greater use and similarthreats are often successful. A state that is not taken seriously can to go war to proveits importance, and for a group fighting for its “national independence,” violence isoften the only available option.32 If our claims are rejected, we try to bomb our wayto respectability. Experts in international law have long recognized the right of suchgroups to be considered as belligerents rather than as simple criminals, provided thatthey espouse political goals and are organized into regular armies.33

An identity gives a measure of coherence to the ever-shifting events, memories,and projects that appear in our public sphere; they are attached to a particular sub-

ject; they become ours. It is only as recognized that our identities will come to havecontinuity over time and space.34 To the extent that we are able to achieve recognitionfor our performance and to the extent that our audience remains loyal, we are ableto increasingly take our identities for granted. In the end, we will even forget thatwe are play acting and that our identity originally was nothing but a make-believe.

Recognition in International Law and Diplomacy

Recognition, we said, is an important concern of international lawyers.

35

Since thestate is taken as the subject of international law, jurists need to decide which entities





belong to this class. It is the same in all membership clubs: we must establish somecriteria by which members can be selected, non-members excluded, and the relations

between members and non-members regulated.36 In addition, and far more funda-mentally, recognition plays a role in establishing the conditions that make interna-tional law possible in the first place. A world of sovereign states, critics have insisted,is not an environment in which law can have much force. 37 To be “sovereign,” afterall, means that no other institution or power is in a position to restrain our actions,but restrain our actions is exactly what the law does.38 If it is law, in other words, itis not international, and if it is international, it is not law. This is the problem thatrecognition addresses.

As legal scholars have pointed out, there are other sources of law than sovereigncommand.39 When states act and interact with each other over time, a standard

gradually comes to be established regarding accepted and acceptable conduct. Thenorms that develop in this way constitute a body of customary law, which is no lesspowerful than laws promulgated through sovereign fiat. The codification of thesenorms was the task of the new discipline of positive international law as it came to bedeveloped from the middle of the nineteenth century.40 Yet if international society isthe source of the law that governs the conduct of states, the question becomes whobelongs to this society. As the first generation of international jurists concluded, notall political units can be included. In the end, only “civilized” states qualified; thatis, only European states.41 Only European states—and a couple of extra-Europeansettler colonies—were regarded as similar enough to form a proper society. That

is, only they could be counted on to recognize each other—to acknowledge eachother’s sovereignty and to behave reciprocally. Without such recognition, there canbe no international society, and without an international society, there can be nointernational law.

All European states were regarded as subjects of international law and as equalbefore it; there was no ranking between them and they enjoyed the same rights andresponsibilities. What these rights were was a matter of some dispute, but the listcommonly included items such as “the right of existence, of self-preservation, ofequality, of independence, of territorial supremacy, of holding and acquiring territory,of intercourse, and of good name and reputation.”42 European states had completesovereignty; in other words, the right to territorial integrity, and they could act as theysaw fit—enter into treaties, make alliances, and go to war. As for responsibilities, theywere above all supposed to honor their obligations and to respect the laws of civilizedwarfare. New countries in Eastern Europe, like Romania, were somewhat problematiccases, but when questions about their status arose, the Europeans usually discussedthe matter amongst themselves and decided on a shared course of action. In this way,Turkey was formally admitted into international society in 1856.43

In addition, European states recognized each other diplomatically. They haddiplomats stationed at each other’s courts, and they had the right to participate in the

diplomatic conferences, which since the late Middle Ages, were regularly convenedto discuss common affairs, particularly at the conclusion of major wars.44 On these




10 ✻ Erik Ringmar

occasions, seating arrangements and rules of precedence and address were designedto assure that all participants were treated with respect and that they were treated

equally.45 Since the Congress of Vienna in 1815, the practice has been for states to seatthemselves in alphabetical order around a conference table; for the doyen— the mostsenior diplomat in a capital—to enter an audience chamber ahead of his peers; and forstates to sign copies of treaties in alternative order, usually starting with themselves.46

In discussions of international law, a distinction is sometimes made betweena “declarative” and a “constitutive” conception of statehood.47 According to thedeclarative view, a state is a state as long as it fulfills a few minimal requirements.It must have a permanent population; a clearly defined territory; and a governmentwith the ability to govern itself, to defend itself, and to enter into relations with theother states.48 As the constitutive view would have it, however, statehood depends

instead on recognition. A state that is not recognized may exist in itself but never foritself; that is, it has no status as a subject of international law and diplomacy.49 Againthere is a close parallel here to individual human beings. A human being is surely ahuman being even if unrecognized by others, yet it is only through recognition thatshe becomes a person in Hobbes’s sense, that is, an actor with an identity.

As a practical matter, however, the distinction between declarative and constitutiveconceptions of statehood was always far less important than the distinction betweencivilized and uncivilized states.50 And the declarative and the constitutive views wereone when it came to excluding non-Europeans from full membership in internationalsociety. Non-Europeans simply lacked the required attributes. Their populations were

often nomadic, their territories were badly demarcated; sometimes they had no propergovernment and no formal means of defending themselves. If entities such as thesewere included, international society would no longer be a society, and internationallaw would no longer be law. For this reason, excluding outsiders and defining non-Europeans as uncivilized became crucially important.51 In fact, the more importantyou took international law to be, the more sharply, indeed aggressively, you werelikely to draw the line between the civilized and the uncivilized.

Yet non-Europeans were clearly not all the same. There was a considerable differ-ence between, say, the unclothed inhabitants of the Australian bush and the cultivatedpeoples of East Asia. To accommodate such differences, Europeans came up witha distinction between “savages” and “barbarians.”52 Savages were itinerant peopleswithout a fixed territory and without political institutions. Barbarians were countrieswho had a territory, a fixed population and political institutions, and who for thatreason in many ways resembled European states. Yet their culture, their history, andtheir alien ways immediately defined them as strange. Since there could be no suchthing as a non-European European, countries like Persia, Siam, Japan, and Chinacould at best be “semi-barbarian” or possibly “semi-civilized.”

The two groups were recognized in quite different ways. Savages had no inter-national status and enjoyed no sovereign rights and could instead only count on the

benevolence that all human beings owe each other. Like the mentally retarded, savagesneeded constant help and protection.53 Barbarian states, on the other hand, did have





an international status but nothing like full membership in international society.54 They had to make do with partial recognition; that is, they were international subjects

only in certain respects. They were formally independent but not fully sovereign,and they periodically saw their territories invaded and parts of their political systemstaken over by foreigners. Their actions were constrained by unequal treaties and bymilitary intimidation, but as the lawyers insisted, these arrangements were all fortheir own good. The barbarians were like children who, if only properly educatedand disciplined, would one day perhaps be able to join the ranks of civilized states.

Japan was generally considered to be the most promising candidate.55

The Struggle for Recognition

The history of all hitherto existing international society is the history of the strugglefor recognition. Well, maybe not, but the struggle for recognition surely provides themotivation for many of the things that states do. Everyone needs an identity after all;everyone wants to gain recognition for the stories they tell about themselves. The poorand powerless want to be recognized as rich and powerful; the great as greater still;and everyone, even Switzerland, wants to be a member of the United Nations. Sincesome of these claims are difficult to reconcile, we would expect a universal strugglefor recognition to result in universal strife. Yet as G. W. F. Hegel famously argued,what human beings really are looking for is not preeminence but rather recognition

from their peers, provided that their peers are people they themselves can respect.Once we all have attained this respectable status, the struggle for recognition willdraw to a close, and since this struggle, according to Hegel, is the main motivationbehind human action, history itself will end.56

Looking at international politics from a Hegelian perspective, we would todayseem to be closer to the end of history than ever before.57 The international systemof Europe now encompasses the entire globe, and with some minor exceptions,everyone is recognizing the sovereignty of everyone else. There are no savages andno barbarians, no imbeciles or infants; everyone is now a responsible grown-up andnot only civilized but also capitalist and next-to democratic. As such, every countryenjoys the full rights and responsibilities associated with membership in internationalsociety. When everyone is recognizing everyone else, and we all have been turnedinto civilized Europeans, the world will finally be at peace.58

There is a Whiggish smugness to this vision that is profoundly unattractive and,like all Whiggish histories, based on a falsification of history. After all, Europeans didnot bring the blessings of their international system to the rest of the world. What theybrought was a colonial system that made inequality and lack of mutual recognitioninto permanent, institutional, features of world politics. Whatever recognition wasgranted was not granted on the basis of principles but instead purely as a matter of

expediency. Take the case of the “treaties” that the Europeans insisted on concludingwith whatever natives they came across.59 A typical British treaty with an African




12 ✻ Erik Ringmar

“king” stipulated that he hand over his territory and sovereignty “in perpetuity” tothe British Crown.60 Yet this clearly implied that the ruler in question already had

a territory and a sovereignty to hand over—something that savages, by definition,were denied. Moreover, the very fact that a treaty was concluded surely bestowed aninternational status on the local chief.61 Yet, paradoxically, the rights that the treatygranted were the very same rights that the treaty itself revoked.62 But if the localsalready had or were given a standing in international law, with what right did theEuropeans invade them?

Or take the case of China. The international relations of East Asia had for cen-turies been organized in an alternative, and distinctly non-European, fashion. HereChina was the all-dominant power, and its relations with surrounding states wereconceptualized in hierarchical and explicitly inegalitarian terms.63 When the 1842

Nanjing Treaty, which concluded the First Opium War, made perfect equality betweenBritain and China into a founding principle, this was a joke to the Chinese, but itwas a joke to the Europeans, too.64 China did not want to be a part of the Europeaninternational system, but this was unacceptable to the Europeans who demandedaccess to Chinese markets. The Treaty of Nanjing stipulated the conditions on whichthis access would take place: mutual recognition was henceforth to be granted onEurope’s terms.65 The joke the Europeans kept to themselves was that China neverhad a chance of being recognized as their equal, since it was a barbarian and not acivilized country. The treaty recognized China’s sovereignty, but while sovereigntyin Europe meant the right to dispose of one’s own affairs as one saw fit, for China

it meant that the country had to transform itself according to Europe’s directions. Which identity the country assumed in international affairs was not for the Chineseto decide, since recognition only was offered on European terms. Sovereignty, forChina, meant that the country had to become more and more like Europe and lessand less like itself.

As these examples remind us, it was not the Europeans who spread the blessingsof their international system to the rest of the world. It was instead the way thecolonized countries liberated themselves from European control, which eventuallyassured their sovereignty and equality. Educated in schools that had taught themeverything there was to know about “the sovereignty of the British parliament”and “the glory of the French nation,” the first generation of nationalist leaders werequick to apply the same notions to themselves.66 And where no identifiable nationalself existed—and this concerned a majority of the cases—such a self was speedilyinvented. Yet the Europeans refused to recognize these new nations as independentstates, and recognition was therefore something for which they had to fight. Theslaves rose up in rebellion against their masters; they risked their lives, and onlythrough this struggle did they come to establish themselves as the kinds of subjectswhich the masters were prepared to recognize as equal to themselves. That this logicsounds perfectly Hegelian is not a coincidence. Hegel wrote the famous passage about

“Master and Bondsman” in the Phenomenology in 1805, just a year after the formerslaves on the French island of Saint-Domingue had risen up in rebellion and declared





independence for the “Republic of Haiti.” There is good evidence that Hegel wasdirectly inspired by their example.67

From a Hegelian perspective, the Europeans were nothing as much as the unwit-ting instruments employed by history—or rather “World History”—in its dialecticalmovement across time. It was by occupying other continents that the Europeansprovided for their eventual liberation, their political development, and statehood.Striking as this argument may be, it is worth asking whether liberation on these termsreally was worth it. The struggle for recognition was eventually won to be sure, but itwas won on the terms set by the former oppressors. As the former colonies came to beuniversally recognized, they incorporated the logic of the European state system intothe very core of their identity. As a result, there were always limits to their freedom.68 Moreover, they remained fully exposed to the logic that in the nineteenth century

had transformed China: the only selves the Europeans were prepared to recognizein the end were Europe-like selves—and Europe-like was what all former coloniesnow desperately tried to become.

Yet few of them were ever Europe-like enough.69 The language of sovereignty andequality was in many ways badly suited to non-European realities. In some cases,too many ethnic groups were crammed into the same state; in other cases, the sameethnic group was divided by state borders. Sorting out these incongruities resultedin conflicts. In addition, the independent state, with its revenue base and power ofpatronage, was a prize well worth fighting over, and fight the new nationalist leadersdid, often with arms or in strings of coup d’états. For the winner, the European doc-

trine of self-determination provided the perfect cover for assorted unsavory practicesincluding, in many cases, dictatorship, and in some cases, genocide. The formercolonies, the Europeans complained, had failed to live up to their expectations. Theyhad failed to develop economically, failed to establish democratic institutions; indeedmany were “failed states” tout court.70 And failed states can never be recognized onthe same terms as everyone else. Much as barbarian states in the nineteenth century,they were formally sovereign but in practice subject to both economic expropriationand military intimidation.71 Arguably, it was the terms on which their liberation wasachieved that set them up for these failures.

Europe has of late started modifying the rules under which recognition is given. What matters is no longer a fixed territory, a permanent population, an uncontestedgovernment, and the ability to defend oneself. In a world in which processes of glo-balization are quickly deterritorializing, sovereignty and equality are no longer firstprinciples.72 In Europe, sovereignty is now shared, functionally divided, or maderelative to the time and place in which it is asserted; territories are fully permeable,and entities other than states have an international standing. Europe today combinesnational decision-making with a considerable degree of Europe-wide centralization.The same processes have yet to produce the same results elsewhere. Ironically, thestaunchest defenders of the rules of the traditional European international system are

the old colonies that won independence on their terms. There is usually no talkingto them about sovereignty-pooling, open borders, or reduced defense capabilities.




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This makes them look distinctly old-fashioned and, arguably, badly prepared fortwenty-first-century realities. If the terms on which recognition is granted change,

they will once again be vulnerable.

Giants on Our Shoulders

The academic study of international politics has long been dominated by rational-istic approaches, by an emphasis on the state, and by the rules and practices thatgoverned the European international system. These concerns were related. The worldthe professors described was the modern world where identities were given, and thepredominant problem of social life was how to assure order among self-governing

units. Only now, well into the twenty-first century, are we able to turn our back onthis paradigm. The world made up of rational, Europe-like states has had its timeand it is, all in all, good to see it go.

Since it first emerged as a sovereign entity in the late Renaissance, the state wasidentified as a rational, interest-driven actor on which all other interest-driven actorseventually came to be modeled.73 States, scholars insisted, maximize their power andtheir security and they act and interact with other states that pursue the same goals.

All states are sovereign and all are equal. In the nineteenth century, this doctrinecame to be codified in the work of philosophers, historians, and lawyers, predomi-nantly of a Germanic background, for whom the state represented the culmination

of world history—es ist der Gang Gottes in der Welt dass der Staat ist.74 As a result,they were congenitally unable to imagine a world politics not constituted by statesand by state interests. The question of the identity of the state was disposed of witha few off-the-rack definitions.

Compare how authors wrote about world politics in the Renaissance when thestate was still in the process of being established, and its apologists struggled todelegitimize the claims of rivaling institutions. At the time, there was a multiplicityof overlapping jurisdictions: the aristocracy made claims to independence and sodid peasants—most notably in the great uprisings in Germany and France in thesixteenth century. Meanwhile the pope and the emperor still nurtured pan-Europeanambitions. Eventually the state emerged from this mêlée as the undisputed winner,but at the time, this was not an obvious or inevitable outcome.75 During subsequentcenturies, the state established itself ever more firmly as the subject of internationalrelations, and scholars could no longer make sense of the concerns that had animatedpeople in the Renaissance.

But times have once again changed. The neat map of the world that assigns eachbit of territory to a specific sovereign is less and less relevant. We are once again in amêlée of competing jurisdictions. This is why we finally are able to come back to thetopic of identities after a hiatus of some four hundred years. We have regained our

intellectual flexibility, not because we are smarter than professors of previous ages butbecause we have finally shrugged off those intellectual giants who were standing on





our shoulders. The hegemony of rational choice theory will pass into history with thepassing of the hegemony of the state and the hegemony of the European international

system. This does not mean that questions of identities will go away but on the con-trary that they will become evermore prevalent. Our collective subjectivities will lookfor other vehicles to which they can attach themselves. There are many competingcandidates for such vehicles, and the process of identity realignment is likely to beboth protracted and messy. The struggle for recognition goes on.

Notes

I am grateful to Jeffrey Alexander, Andreas Behnke, Felix Berenskoetter, Axel Honneth, Jorg

Kustermans, Thomas Lindemann, Diane Pranzo, Reinhard Wolf, and Yana Zuo for com-ments on a previous version. 1. The Urtext is Hegel [1807] 1979. Hegel’s argument was famously analyzed by Ko- jève 1980. For an update, see Honneth 1996; critically discussed in Fraser and Honneth2003. On identity-creation and rational-choice explanations, see Pizzorno 1986; Pizzorno2008. 2. On the role of recognition in international relations, see inter alia Wendt 1999,193–245; Haacke 2005, 181–194; Greenhill 2008, 343–368; Ringmar 2008; Ringmar 2002;Lindemann 2010. 3. Questions of identities have instead been a preoccupation of “constructivist” scholars.For a seminal statement, see Wendt 1999. For a critica l discussion, see Zehfuss 2001; Guzzini

and Leander 2001. Other key texts include Bloom 1990; Hall 1999; Bially Mattern 2001. Auseful survey is Berenskoetter 2010. 4. A sociological perspective on international relations is implicit in the “English School;”see Bull 1995, 23–49. For an introduction, see for example Linklater and Suganami 2006.For a constructivist update, see Wendt 1999; Weber 2005. Compare the similarities betweenconstructivism in international relations and the “strong program” in cultural sociology. Alexander and Smith 2001. 5. On the ontological status of the state in international relations, see for example thecontributions to a forum in Review of International Studies 30, no. 2, edited by Patrick Thaddeus Jackson (2004). Note in particular Wendt 2004. See in addition Ringmar 1996; Bartelson1998; Mitzen 2006. In philosophy, discussions on the question of the reality of groups is veryextensive; see for example Poole 1996; Baker 2002; Sheehy 2006. 6. For a discussion see, inter alia, Honneth 2011 and Wolf 2011 in this volume. 7. Kantorowicz 1997, 3–23; Gierke 1900. A famous overview is Maitland 1900. 8. Kantorowicz 1997, 23–41; Skinner 1989, 90–131; Melzer and Norberg 1998, 90–131;Ringmar 2008, 154–155. 9. On France, Beaune 1991. On Sweden, Ringmar 2008, 156–164; On ElizabethanEngland, Helgerson 1995. 10. Hobsbawm 1992, 1–14. 11. On nineteenth-century France, see Weber 1976, especially 303–338. 12. Ringmar 2008, 153–154; On the theatrum mundi metaphor, see Berg 1985; Christian

1987. For the “As You Like It,” quote see Shakespeare 2003. 13. The European international system is often referred to as the “Westphalian system.”




16 ✻ Erik Ringmar

As Osiander 2001 makes clear, however, the Westphalian treaty itself did not embody mostconceptual changes commonly associated with it. More generally on the Westphalian system,

see Lyons and Mastanduno 1995; Caporaso 2000; Teschke 2003. 14. On Italian city-states, see Orgel 1975, 10–11. On seventeenth-century Sweden, seeRingmar 2008, 160–161. On Elizabethan England, see Hunt 2008, especially 146–172. 15. Baker 1990, 59–85. 16. “In a poll from 1999,” Lieven reports, “72 percent of adult Americans declared thatthey were proud of their country. In the country with the next highest score, Britain, thefigure was 53 percent.” Lieven 2005, 19. 17. On the state as an “International Person” in international law, see for example, Op-penheim 1912, 107, 116. 18. Ibid., 122–125. 19. What we are, said Hume, is “nothing but a bundle or collection of different percep-

tions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual fluxand movement.” Hume 1986, 300. Compare to Ricoeur 1992 and Pizzorno 1986. 20. Like Hume, we might as well turn the question around and compare the identity of anindividual to “a republic or a commonwealth.” Hume 1986, 309. Compare to Jackson 2004. 21. On identity as narratively constructed, see Ricoeur 1992. On the recognition of nar-ratives, see Taylor 1994; Ringmar 2008, 87–91; cf. Pizzorno 1986. 22. Mead 1964. 23. Anderson 2006, 37–46. 24. For a critique, see Kedourie 1993, 24–43. 25. According to the so-called “Friendly Relations Declaration,” see Koskenniemi 1994,245.

26. Cf. Honneth 1996, 92–130. Honneth 2011, this volume, expresses doubts as to theapplicability of this schema to international politics since the motivations of a population aredifficult to ascertain. While this may be true as a matter of empirical investigations, this hasno bearing on the analytical distinction. 27. Barker 2007, 18–34; Berenskoetter 2007, 647–676. 28. Goffman 1959, 249–255; cf. Butler 2007; Alexander 2006. 29. “Of Persons, Authors, and Things Personated,” in Hobbes 1982, 217. 30. Schivelbusch 2004 discusses the cases of France, Germany, and the American South.On the French defeat in World War II, see Sartre 1949. 31. Kojève 1980, 21–25. 32. Ringmar 2008, 81–83. 33. See, for example, Bluntschli 1874, 289, 512. 34. Pizzorno 1986, 365–372. 35. See, inter alia, Kelsen 1941; Lauterpacht 1944; Lauterpacht 1947. For a critical per-spective, see Anghie 1999, 38–44. 36. Ringmar 1995. 37. A point first developed in Austin 1874, vol. 1. For a discussion, see Anghie 2007,44–46, 63–64; Koskenniemi 2004, 34, 46–48. 38. On Carl Schmitt in this context, see Cumin 2005. 39. Koskenniemi 2004, 47–51; Bull 1995, 57–68; Anghie 1999, 13–20. 40. Koskenniemi talks about these jurists as “the men of 1873” in Koskenniemi 2004,

51–54.





41. Lorimer 1884a; Anghie 1999. See also Keal 2003, 56–83. 42. Oppenheim 1912, 165.

43. Admitting Turkey was, according to Lorimer, not a good idea: “In the case of the Turkswe have had bitter experience of the consequences of extending the rights of civilisation tobarbarians who have proved to be incapable of performing its duties, and who possibly do noteven belong to the progressive races of mankind.” “The subordinate position into which theyare rapidly sinking, seems to be that for which nature has designed them.” Lorimer 1884b,102. See also Krauel 1877, 388. 44. Mattingly 1937; Mattingly 1988; Satow 1917. 45. See, inter alia, Foster 1906; Satow 1917; Oppenheim 1912, 438. 46. Oppenheim 1912, 174. 47. Ibid., 108–109. On this distinction, see also Honneth 2011, this volume. 48. Article 3: “The political existence of the state is independent of recognition by the

other states.” Avalon Project 1933; Lauterpacht 1944, 385–458. 49. Oppenheim 1912, 117; cf. Kelsen 1941, 605–617. 50. Gong 1984. 51. Anghie 2007, 52–65; Anghie 1999, 20–30; Koskenniemi 2004, 70–97; Keene 2002,60–96. 52. Lorimer 1884b, 101–102; Lorimer 1884a. On this “stage theory” in the philosophyof the Scottish Enlightenment, see Keal 2003, 74–76. 53. “The right of undeveloped races, like the right of undeveloped individuals, is a rightnot to recognition as what they are not, but to guardianship that is, to guidance in becomingthat of which they are capable, in realising their special ideals.” Lorimer 1884b, 157. 54. Ibid., 216.

55. Lorimer 1884a. 56. From this point of view, it is interesting to note that Kojève ended his life as an EUofficial. See Lilla 2003. 57. On the teleological march of history in international relations, see Wendt 2003. Wat-son, for one, clearly believes that the spread of the European international system representsan improvement. Watson 2009. 58. On peace and recognition, see Allan and Keller 2006; Allan and Keller 2011, thisvolume. The standard work on “democratic peace” is Russett 1993. For some reservationsregarding such Kantianism, see Behnke 2008. 59. Anghie 2007, 67–82. On the treaties concluded with Japan, see Auslin 2006; withChina, see Wang 2003. On treaty-making within the European international system, seeLesaffer 2008. 60. Anghie 2007, 82–84; Anghie 1999, 32–38. 61. “A treaty is the definition, by two or more separate States, of a specific jural relationactually subsisting between or among them, which definition they engage to accept and enforceas positive law.” Lorimer 1884b, 260–261. 62. Anghie 1999, 48. 63. Fairbank 1942. 64. Mayers 1901; cf. Krauel 1877, 391. 65. “The treaties were instead a means by which they would disabuse the Emperor of hispreposterous claim to be the legitimate ruler of all the peoples of the world.” Krauel 1877,

390.




18 ✻ Erik Ringmar

66. On the role of the educational system in European colonies in South-East Asia, see Anderson 2006, 116–134.

67. Buck-Morss 2000, 842–865; Buck-Morss 2009. 68. This resembles the logic of incorporation of the worldview of the oppressors discussedby Fanon 2008 and Nandy 1989. 69. Keene 2002, 120–144; Keal 2003, 185–216. 70. For a definition and discussion of causes, see Rotberg 2003. On “failed states” ininternational law, see Thürer 1999. On “failed states” as an excuse for imperialism, see Mal-laby 2002 and notoriously PNAC 2010. For a critical discussion, see Bialasiewicz et al. 2007,409–414. 71. For a defense of self-determination as a bulwark against imperialism, see Anghie 2007,303–309. An exploration of alternatives to the state is Brooks 2005. For a conservative critiqueof self-determination, see Kedourie 1993.

72. Two early statements are Harvey 1991, esp. 201–326 and Ruggie 1993, especially142–144, 168–174. See also, inter alia, Brenner 1999; Hooghe and Marks 2003. 73. Hirschman 1976, 37; Force 2007, 135–144. 74. Hegel [1820] 1991, 258. 75. Creveld 1999, 59–125, has an extensive discussion.

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Zehfuss, Maja. 2001. “Constructivism and Identity: A Dangerous Liaison.” European Journalof International Relations 7 (3): 315–348.






25

Chapte r 1

Recognition between States

On the Moral Substrateof International Relations

Axel Honneth

From an everyday, non-theoretical perspective, we seem to take for granted that stateactors are primarily guided by the aim of insisting that other states respect the com-munities they represent and of suing for recognition with corresponding measures.In everyday discussion, we readily agree that the behavior of Palestine’s political lead-ers, for instance, cannot be understood without taking into account such strivingsfor recognition; that Russia’s government has been going to great lengths to compel

Western countries to show more consideration for Russian interests; or that during theBush administration, Western European governments used diplomatic relationshipsand maneuvers to obtain renewed respect from their American ally.1 At first sight,these applications of the category of recognition to international relations certainlydo not seem surprising. After all, one of the more important motives behind therecent revival of Hegel’s theory of recognition was the desire to return to a strongermoral-theoretical language in analyzing the comportment of collective agents andsocial groups, thereby extracting this behavior from the dominant paradigm of purelypurposive-rational, strategic action.2

But even in a work as old as the Philosophy of Right, Hegel objected to applying thenotion of a “struggle for recognition” to international relations, at least in the case of




26 ✻ Axel Honneth

“civilized nations.” Instead, he sought to describe relations between states in termsof the self-assertion of nation-states within the framework of universally accepted

international law. He reserved the idea of a striving for recognition and respect formore underdeveloped and unrecognized nations, who were unsuccessful in their ef-forts at honor and glory, while the enlightened constitutional states of the West weresolely guided by the aims of maximizing welfare and preserving national security.3 That is the image that the dominant theory of international relations has adopted overthe last few decades. Without making any reference to Hegel, this theory maintainsthat from the moment of their internationally recognized independence, nationalgovernments essentially aim to assert themselves as nation-states and are thus mostlyuninterested in matters of international respect and recognition. A significant gap,therefore, seems to lie between our everyday intuitions and the dominant theory, one

that appears difficult to overcome. While in our more theoretical explanations of statecomportment we accept that state activity is to be interpreted exclusively in termsof purposive rationality, our more everyday intuitions also account for quasi-moralmotifs, such as a striving for recognition and violations of respect.

These intuitions, however, generally do not stand up to scientific models. The ideathat state actors and governments are exclusively interested in collective self-assertionhas so much suggestive power that we quickly abandon our everyday intuitions infavor of the standard scheme of purely material motives. From this perspective, whatwe once assumed to be acts fueled by a feeling of being disrespected, or by a desirefor recognition, now represents a merely symbolically concealed act motivated by

national interest. The question this raises is, in the first instance, purely empiricaland descriptive: Is the dominant paradigm of purposive-rational behavior an adequatemodel for explaining political tensions, conflicts, and wars? From the perspective ofour everyday intuitions, we instead have to ask whether we would need to considermore original [originär ] motives, such as the desire for recognition and respect, inorder to explain foreign policy in general and international hostilities in particular.The answer to these questions will also have opaque normative implications that can-not be left out of the picture, for the more our explanations of international relationsemphasize individual states’ striving for recognition, the more it appears we will haveto concede that states do not behave independently of the political reactions of theircounterparts and therefore have a latent awareness of the fact that their collectiveidentity must be internationally acceptable. Even if this shift in our perspective cannotyield any immediate guidelines for action, it does strongly suggest that we prefer “softpower” to “military” or “hard power” in international conflicts.4 The explanatoryframework we choose, therefore, has a strong bearing on our prescriptions for howstates should act in the case of international tensions, disagreements, or conflicts.Depending on whether we emphasize the aspect of individual national self-assertionor that of the foreign political striving for recognition, the normative horizon of ourprescriptions will change accordingly.

In what follows, I will make some tentative, exploratory efforts to answer thesequestions. First, I explain why we should give more attention to the dimension of




Recognition between States ✻ 27

recognition in explanations of international relations. Again, this concerns the purelydescriptive issue of the appropriate categorical means for describing international

conflict and tensions (I). Second, I will touch on some of the normative consequencesof this suggested paradigmatic shift on how we understand and explain internationalrelations. Because of my lacking familiarity with the issue, I will have to restrict my-self to some tentative considerations, which should nevertheless make apparent thatby emphasizing the dimension of recognition in international relations, our moralperspective on world politics will be changed significantly (II).

I.

The main difficulty we face in applying the category of recognition to internationalrelations is revealed by the obstacles we run into on our search for an appropriatetheoretical vocabulary. As soon as we try to give a name to the dimension of respectinvolved in state conduct, we find that the only terms at our disposal are too psycho-logically or mentally laden. We speak, slightly helplessly and awkwardly, of a strivingfor recognition or a need for respect, even though we know that such psychologi-cal concepts do not appropriately describe the matter at hand. As long as we onlytransfer the concept of recognition from the interpersonal level to the behavior ofsocial groups or movements, we do not seem to have any terminological problems.In this case, we view the collective identity of a given community as the higher-level

equivalent of personal identity or relation-to-self. We therefore have a relatively clearpicture about what is being fought over when individuals, but also groups, engagein a struggle of recognition. Hence, there has never been any problem with speakingof a “politics of recognition” when it comes to the struggles of minorities for legalrespect and social recognition for their collective identity. The starting point of thesestruggles consists in shared experiences of exclusion, indignity, or disrespect, whichmoves the members of such a group to band together and fight in solidarity for legalor cultural recognition.5

But such a conceptual transfer is much more difficult, and the conceptual problemsbecome much broader once we switch from the level of group struggles to relation-ships between nation-states. Here we can no longer speak of collective identity, par-ticularly because the obvious increase of ethnic and cultural subgroups has startedto make the illusion of a nationally homogeneous population disappear for good.Even where, for historical reasons, the idea of the nation-state has been able to gaina toehold, the state apparatus cannot be viewed as the executive organ of a collectiveidentity because the tasks it carries out——providing for security, preserving power,and ensuring economic coordination—obey their own set of rules [eigengesetzlich].Not only do the tasks of government change their form in accordance with variousoverall forms of political organization, but the manner in which they are described

also changes according to the theory we employ. Depending on whether the functionof the liberal democratic state is regarded as consisting more in the “biopolitical”




28 ✻ Axel Honneth

management of the population or in creating conditions of social justice compatiblewith the requirements of national security, we will find great differences in the de-

scription of the tasks of government. But even beyond differences pertaining to theform of government or the theoretical system of description, it remains true that theforeign-political function of the state cannot merely be viewed as a compliant agencycharged with giving articulation to collective identity. Rather, the state is subject toforces and imperatives that derive from the tasks of preserving the borders, economicwell-being, and political security. Therefore, we cannot simply transfer the conceptof recognition and claim that wherever collective identities exist, there must also bea struggle for recognition. Between the supposed need of a people to have their own,however fragmented, “identity” respected by foreign nation-states, there are alwaysthe self-standing functional imperatives of political control [Steuerung ] and the pres-

ervation of power. The psychological concepts we use when we speak of “strivings,”“needs,” and “feelings” are thus inappropriate for describing international relations.State actors do not have mental attitudes but are authorities charged with carryingout politically determined tasks.

Now, on a theoretical level, there is a concept of “recognition” that is applied tointernational relations as a matter of course. According to the statutes of interna-tional law, a politically organized community only comes into legal existence byvirtue of being recognized by other internationally “recognized” states. One of thetasks of a government’s foreign policy thus consists of examining whether a certaincommunity, which regards itself as a state, actually meets the generally defined pre-

requisites of a “state.”6 Hans Kelsen maintains that this act of legal recognition is anecessarily reciprocal act because a newly recognized state can only be viewed as afull-fledged member of the international community if it recognizes the states thatoffer it recognition in turn. As long as a state fails to return the recognition extendedto it, the birth of a state within the international community will remain incompletebecause that state will not yet have proven its competence as a member of the legalcommunity of states.7

At the same time, however, Kelsen emphasizes that in acts of recognition betweenstates, a government only officially takes note of, or cognizes, an empirical reality,rather than conveying its respect for that state. If a state recognizes another politi-cal community within the framework of international law, this only means that therecognizing state regards the recognized state as having fulfilled the conditions ofstatehood. This type of recognition, therefore, is not normative but instead expressesthat state’s cognition of a given state of affairs: “The legal act of recognition is theestablishment of a fact; it is not the expression of a will. It is cognition rather than re-cognition.”8 In order to speak of “recognition” between states in the true sense of theterm, Kelsen claims that there must be a certain amount of room for decision. Thiswould not involve examining a fait accompli in order to perhaps draw the conclu-sion that a state deserves recognition; rather, a decision would have to be made as to

whether more intense and benign relations should be taken up. According to Kelsen,it is only at this second stage that we can justifiably speak of an act of recognition





between states. This would not refer to the consequence of a state’s cognition of anempirical fact but to a government’s free decision to enter into a positive relationship

with another state. Kelsen terms these acts of recognition “political” in order to em-phasize their specificity. With a political act of recognition, a government expresses itsintention to treat another state as an equal member of the international community.Even if Kelsen primarily focuses on the establishment of diplomatic relations andtrade agreements, his conceptual proposal provides us with a key to pursuing thepreviously mentioned institutions on a theoretical level. Obviously, what we meanwhen we speak of recognition between states, of disrespect and indignity, lies on thesame level that Kelsen has in mind when he speaks of “political” acts of recognition.9

The first step we would have to take in order to get a better grasp of the issueconsists of emphasizing the sources of legitimacy that bind the conduct of state ac-

tors. The latter cannot carry out the task of foreign political self-assertion withoutconsidering whether the manner in which they fulfill that task conforms to thepresumed expectations of the population. The manner in which a governmentdefends the nation’s security, political clout, and economic prosperity must bemade dependent upon the consent of the nation’s citizens, if only to demonstratethe government’s operational capacity. The necessity of legitimacy in foreign policyeven holds true for non-democratic political systems. Even in authoritarian states ordictatorships, such as Iran or China, rulers and political elites usually understandthat their authority is wholly dependent on the degree of public consent to theiractions. We can assume that a state’s citizens, regardless of the cultural, ethnic, or

religious differences that might divide them, are very keen on seeing their countryaccorded due respect and honor by other countries. The political representatives ofother communities are to “recognize” that upon which a community founds its self-image—the challenges it has overcome in the past, its power to resist authoritariantendencies, its cultural achievements, and so on.10 We must not make the mistakeof immediately equating such desires with nationalism or feelings of supremacy overother peoples. This is not only because the collective identity of a state-organizedcommunity can no longer found itself on historical or ethnic commonalities andnot only because the processes of cultural globalization run counter to any such willto supremacy.11 Rather, the desire for international recognition of everything thatmakes up a nation’s self-respect is fundamentally directed toward the involvement,and not the exclusion, of other states. Mundane examples for such desires can befound in the often bemusing excitement that can envelop an entire population assoon as its team brings home a victory in an international sports event or in thenaive pride with which a country’s citizens attempt to draw the attention of visitorsto cultural productions that honor the past of one’s own community. That is neithernationalism nor even constitutional patriotism [Verfassungspatriotismus ] because itneither demonizes other peoples nor necessarily expresses a positive opinion aboutone’s own democratic constitution. Instead, this represents a striving for a form of

collective recognition, without which a collective identity could not be maintainedin an unequivocal and unbroken fashion.




30 ✻ Axel Honneth

It is this kind of collective expectation on the part of a country’s population towhich a state’s political agents must remain attached in their foreign-political activi-

ties. In order to legitimate their own actions, they understand that they will have toappropriately display those features of their country that deserve recognition whilecarrying out their functionally defined tasks. Therefore, the collective striving forrecognition is not just one particular function within the spectrum of a state’s tasks;rather, it colors and underlies the way in which political agents fulfill the tasks as-signed to them by the nation’s constitution.

In order to understand the alternatives open to state actors in this context, weneed to take the next step in our analysis. We need to get a clear picture of thesymbolic horizon of meaning that necessarily encompasses the entirety of state con-duct. Political measures and actions have a whole series of meanings beyond their

expressly formulated content, and which are communicated through the manner oftheir implementation. This involves the use of certain easily understood metaphors,historically trained rituals, and even the conscious manipulation of facial expressionsand gestures at summits and other political events. These are all parts of the arsenalof symbolic means with which state actors can intentionally communicate messagesthat go beyond the “official” content of their communiqués.12 Presumably, much ofwhat Kelsen terms “political recognition” goes on in the symbolic staging of foreignpolicy. Statements intended to raise awareness for the collective identity of one’s owncountry or to express respect for the achievements of another country’s populationare not normally an explicit part of a given political transaction but are contained

in the manner in which these transactions are concluded and presented. Of course,there will always be cases in which government representatives believe they are actingin accordance with the political mood of their home country when they explicitlyexpress a certain measure of recognition for the culture of another nation’s population.

A striking example is President Obama’s astounding speech at Cairo University in June 2009 before a large number of political and intellectual representatives of theIslamic world. From greeting the audience in Arabic to his repeated mentions of thecultural achievements of Islam, his entire speech sought to remove the impressionof disdain in many Arab countries during the Bush years. But much less commonare instances in which a political actor explicitly demands respect for the collectiveidentity of his or her own nation’s population. The desire to maintain the appearancethat one’s own nation is unaffected by other nations’ opinions, the aim of avoidingpublic embarrassment, and the etiquette of diplomatic encounters—all that usuallyprevents a people’s desire for recognition of its collective identity from being directlyand openly expressed by its political representatives. This recognitional dimensionof international relations is thus typically expressed indirectly and symbolically.Behavior that serves to express a state’s interest in self-assertion is staged so as toimplicitly convey a finely calculated game in which respect and disrespect, desiresfor recognition, and experiences of humiliation find expression.

Therefore, distinguishing a strategic dimension of self-assertion from a norma-tive dimension of recognition is problematic. In their transactions with other states,





political actors do not initially pursue purely purposive-rational aims, such as pre-serving power and maximizing welfare, in order to subsequently grant or revoke

recognition. Rather, states always define their interests within a horizon of normativeexpectations that they presume their citizens to have in the form of diffuse desires forthe recognition of their own collective identity or that of another collective. Therefore,it is wrong to initially assume a primary, isolated layer of purely strategic intentionsand calculations. State actors cannot formulate such interests without consideringthe needs for recognition, which [added] they can presume on the part of the fragilecollective that is their own population, as well as the needs for moral reparationsharbored by an equally porous foreign population. Because political representativesmust preserve legitimacy by acting as interpreters of the experiences and desiresof their own respective citizenries, all encounters and relationships between states

stand under moral pressure generated by a conflict over recognition. Issues of thiskind—the need for an appropriate self-image in the eyes of the world, the defenseagainst the shame of collective humiliation, the desire to make reparations for unjustdeeds—determine the execution of foreign policy to a degree that makes analyticaldifferentiation impossible.

All this, however, relates solely to the descriptive level of an analysis of internationalrelations. When it comes to explaining international relations, it is unwise to assumea certain bundle of interests that refer exclusively to a state’s desire for self-assertion,in order to then subsequently add a diffuse “need” for recognition. Rather, state ac-tors define what they regard as necessary for the preservation of the countries they

represent in light of their interpretations of the desires for recognition held by thecitizenry. Naturally, rulers or state representatives have a certain amount of leewayin interpreting the smoldering, diverse, and hardly organized sentiments of thepopulation in one direction or another, that is, in emphasizing either the conciliatoryor the hostile elements of the public mood. Only in democratic states, in which theconstitution itself is a principles-based interpretation of the nation-state’s identity,are rulers compelled to obey certain guidelines in the fulfillment of such collectivestrivings for recognition. But in no state can political actors simply ignore the popula-tion’s demands concerning their collective identity because this would mean riskingthe loyalty of the population. Therefore, when political agents interpret and executethe functions accorded to them, they must always consider the expectations of theircitizens about the conduct of other states. Authors who, like Hegel, refuse to acceptsuch a connection between foreign policy and collective strivings for identity in thecase of civilized states do not have a clear grasp on [should be of ] the significance ofthe need to secure legitimacy. They believe instead that in explaining internationalrelations, they can ignore moral demands emerging from collective identities becausethey refuse to recognize that even modern, functionally differentiated states dependon the consent of the citizens.

If we search out illustrative examples in the recent past, we will find a number

of both positive and negative cases. At the negative end of the spectrum, we wouldfind National Socialism’s policy of territorial expansion, which cannot be explained




32 ✻ Axel Honneth

without reference to widespread feelings of collective humiliation among the Germanpopulation due to the Treaty of Versailles. These feelings even found their way into

the definition of external enemies. In this case, it is almost impossible to examineNazi foreign policy without reference to the successful attempt to take diffuse feelingsamong the population and concentrate them on a feeling of national humiliation dueto the Treaty of Versailles, thereby creating a justification for an aggressive policyof reparations and revenge.13 At the other positive end of the spectrum, we couldcite an example from the very recent past: the new American president’s efforts atreconciliation with the rest of the world. We cannot explain these efforts adequatelywithout seeing in them an attempt to overcome a widespread feeling of isolation andshame among the American population. Certainly, both examples are extreme casesof politically mediatized struggles for recognition. In the first case, political rulers

formed a narrative of justification on the basis of a diffuse mood among the citizens,which allowed the rulers to engage in a campaign of conquest and revenge. In thesecond case, a democratically elected president with impressive rhetorical skills hasinterpreted the paralyzing unease of the majority in a way that allows him to justifyreconciliatory gestures toward currently hostile governments. Both examples, dif-ferent as they are, clearly illustrate that we cannot divorce a nation’s foreign-politicalaims from the respective demands of the nation’s collective identity. The manner inwhich states react to each other, and the forms of relation they maintain with eachother, derive from a fusion of interests and values brought about by both sides. Thisfusion consists in the disclosure of foreign-political goals from the perspective of the

hypothetical community that joins together a population, and which is interpretedas a collective that is striving for recognition. Therefore, the psychological terminol-ogy I recommended avoiding above has a place after all—not as an element of ourtheoretical language, but as one of the objects of that language in political reality.

And in that reality, state actors must interpret the population’s moods, making useof concepts related to strivings for recognition and historical humiliation.

At the same time, the moral spectrum illustrated by these two examples alsogives us a clear demonstration of just how many directions the political mobilizationof collective sentiments can take. The desire to have one’s own collective identityrecognized by other peoples can be used to legitimate both an aggressive policy ofconquest and a deescalating policy of reconciliation. This raises questions that areno longer merely descriptive, but that touch on the normative dimension of a theoryof international relations.

II.

In my opinion, we cannot further differentiate the type of recognition that plays aconstitutive role in the explanation of the dynamics of international relations. Unlike

social groups or movements, whose own statements can be used to draw conclusionsabout the specific type of collectively desired recognition, national collectives are far





too amorphous for us to be able to make comparable differentiations. Instead, wemust content ourselves with the relatively vague assumption that the members of a

nation-state generally have a diffuse interest in having their collective self-respect berespected by other states and in receiving recognition for their common culture andhistory. Differentiations between various modes of recognition, such as those madein the realm of inter-subjective relations, seem inappropriate on the highly aggregatedlevel of entire populations.14 It is almost impossible to tell whether such populationsare striving for signs of goodwill, legal equality, or esteem in the eyes of the other sidebecause their individual members’ motives are too diffuse and their aims are insuf-ficiently integrated.15 In any case, such differentiations play a very marginal role in theexplanation of international relations. What is decisive is not the type of recognitionfor which a certain population “actually” strives but how political actors and rulers

interpret its respective moods. The “we” of the population, which will always havean influence on the definition of foreign-political objectives, is not an empirical buta hypothetical quantity. It arises when disordered and presumed expectations andmoods are formed into a collective narrative that makes a certain type of internationalstance appear justified in light of past humiliations or desired recognition.16

Such narratives of justification give us a key to answering the normative questionsthat arise when it comes to shaping international relations.17 After all, the shape ofinternational relations determines the chances for changing these relations so as toreduce martial conflicts and improve prospects for peaceful cooperation. As soon aswe turn away from the descriptive problems of a theory of international relations and

turn toward the normative problems these relations entail, we must adopt a differentperspective on actual conflicts in the world. We then no longer ask how to properlyunderstand conflicts between states but which measures would have to be taken inorder to make such conflicts less likely and raise the chances for a more peaceful stateof international affairs. This second category of questions, however, cannot be whollyseparated from the first because only an appropriate understanding of the causes ofinternational conflict can enable us to envision solutions for overcoming the prevail-ing state of affairs. The “realism” of our normative considerations and utopias willincrease to the extent that we have correct hypotheses about the considerations thatunderlie how state actors and governments plan and calculate their relations withother states.18 The theoretical assumptions I developed in the first section of theessay play a central role at the juncture between empirical facticity and normativeconsiderations. If it is true that states can only define their international relations byincluding narratives of justification containing a credible and convincing interpreta-tion of the population’s interests in collective self-respect, then “political” relations ofrecognition at the international level indirectly take on decisive importance as soonas we seek to reduce conflicts between states.

This basic normative idea results from the close connection between collectivefeelings on the one hand and political narratives of justification on the other. State

actors can only disclose and define foreign-political aims by viewing their citizens’elementary desires for security and prosperity in light of interpretations that constitute




34 ✻ Axel Honneth

a narrative synthesis of the diffuse expectations of the population. At the same time,very narrow limits are imposed on these interpretations because a summarizing con-

struction of collective feelings must prove to be a halfway appropriate and convincinginterpretation of the citizenry’s actual, if diffuse, expectations. Narratives intendedto justify a hostile and aggressive pursuit of foreign-political interests can remainintact only as long as the population has perceptible grounds for feeling that theircollective self-respect has been violated or insulted by the conduct of other states. Ifthere is no evidence for such disrespect, feelings of humiliation and degradation willnot be able to spread among the fragmented publics in which citizens move, and thenarratives in play will fast lose credibility and thus become incapable of playing itslegitimating role. What is true in the case of aggressive foreign policy can also applyto a policy of willing cooperation and reconciliation. A narrative interpretation that

supports such conduct can only be upheld as long as the feeling of having one’s owncollective self-respect be disrespected by other states does not gain the upper hand.In both cases, the collective feelings of a population that follows the signals of otherstates with interest and suspicion will prove to be the decisive measure for the successof foreign-political narratives of justification. The greater the distance between thediffuse moods among the citizenry and the official justifications for political conduct,the more difficulties state actors will have maintaining foreign-political objectives.Therefore, perhaps we could say that states indirectly codetermine the foreign-politicalconduct of other states because the symbolic means with which they convey respectand recognition for other nations constitute an instrument for influencing the forma-

tion of public opinion and mood in other countries. All these considerations have taken us a long way toward answering the norma-

tive questions at issue. We saw that the entirety of a state’s foreign-political conductstems from a specific interpretation of interests and values. This interpretation mustcoordinate the functional requirements for maximizing security and prosperitywith the public’s expectations about other states’ recognition of its own collectiveidentity. For that reason, state actors or governments must base their conduct onnarratives meant to justify, in light of historical events and episodes, pursuing theirstate’s interests in an either cooperative or aggressive manner. At the same time,however, we saw that states also exercise an indirect influence on how other stateslegitimate their foreign policies because they can influence the formation of publicopinion and mood from abroad. The diverse tools used to signal recognition ordisrespect constitute a means for casting doubt on other states’ narratives of justifi-cation by demonstrating a divergent view of those states’ collective identity. Thesemeasures drive a wedge between the self-justifications of state actors and the politicalwill-formation of the population; by means of credible expressions of respect andrecognition, they attempt to convince another citizenry to mistrust their govern-ment’s narratives of justification. Although the history of international relations isbrimming with examples of such behavior, they play a very marginal role in the

theory. Because the latter interprets state activity largely according to the model ofpurposive-rational behavior, it lacks the conceptual framework for according the





affective dimension of international relations of recognition its proper place. Onthe normative level, this ignorance comes back to haunt the theory in the form of

a procedural lack of fantasy regarding the chances for reducing hostile conflict andexpanding relations of peaceful cooperation. The theory instead restricts itself tocompromises and agreements under international law, even though the history ofinternational conflict teaches us that collective feelings of recognition or humiliationby other states play a much more significant role.

The path for civilizing international relations primarily lies in sustained effortsat conveying respect and esteem for the collective identities of other countries. Evenbefore legal agreements aimed at promoting peace can do their work, and even beforethe cultivation of diplomatic relations and economic agreements can reduce interna-tional tensions, we need publicly visible signals that the history and culture of other

nations are worth being heard among the cacophony of the world’s peoples. Only bymeans of such recognition, which goes over the heads of government representativesand political agents, can we ensure that the citizens of another state no longer believethe demonization practiced by political elites and that they can begin to trust thatthe other side respects them. The history of international relations contains enoughexamples proving that a violation of this normative principle only raises the dangerof international conflict, while demonstrable respect for this principle has reducedthe potential for such conflicts. Willi Brandt’s famous “Warschauer Kniefall” wasan internationally perceptible gesture that made it nearly impossible for the Polishgovernment to awake formerly prevalent prejudice and resentment about the Federal

Republic of Germany (FRG).19 Europe’s (and especially Germany’s) ignoring of theharsh and determined struggle of the Serbs against the Nazis prepared the way fora fatal policy of overly hasty international recognition of individual ex-Yugoslavianstates (Croatia, Kosovo), which drove Serbia’s government into increasing isolationand thereby ultimately strengthened ultra-nationalistic narratives among the Serbianpublic.20 The lacking sympathy, and perhaps even a total absence of solidarity, on thepart of internationally dominant states for the demeaning situation of the Palestinianpopulation continues to fuel a situation in which the local ruling elites’ fantasies of tak-ing revenge on Israel finds collective support among the lower, impoverished classes.21

We could easily expand this list of examples. We might think of the constantstream of new members joining Islamist terrorist organizations over the last severalyears in order to get a sense of the effects of a policy that fails to extend recognitionto other peoples, an act of recognition that would go over the heads of state authori-ties. The first step toward reconciliation between states, toward developing peacefuland cooperative relations, will always consist of using the soft power of respect andesteem, which signals to a foreign citizenry that its cultural achievements are in noway inferior and that it can count on others’ sympathy for its sufferings. The moreexplicitly we demonstrate such recognition, the more visible these demonstrationswill be to other peoples and the more we can cast doubt on demonizations serving to

justify hostile reactions. The best means a state has at its disposal for counteractingdemonization and resentment on the part of other nation-states consists of globally




36 ✻ Axel Honneth

visible and clear signals of willingness to include other citizenries in the internationalmoral community.

Certainly, such symbols of political recognition are not enough to create a solidbasis for transnational cooperation. We need to follow up on efforts to overcome rejec-tionist attitudes arising from experiences of collective humiliation and to underminehistorically grounded and yet long-exploited demonizations by taking steps towardcontractual agreements that secure peaceful relations and long-term arrangements onhow to coordinate efforts to meet common challenges. On the basis of that coopera-tion, more stable networks of transnational communities can arise, such as we mightfind in the process of European integration.22 But before such a decentering of statepolitics can take place, different citizenries must have the experience of recognizingeach other’s cultural productions and historical achievements, both of which make

up the conditions of their collective self-respect. A political theory that fails to gainconceptual access to these affective roots of transnational confidence-building willalso be unable to appropriately conceive the normative conditions for civilizing worldpolitics. Therefore, it is time that we view international relations in a new light—onethat differs from the view of Hegel and the political realists following in his wake.

Notes

COMP: UNNUMBERED NOTE TO COME; LEAVE SPACE

1. I have taken these examples from Wolf 2008, 5–42. 2. See Honneth 1995, chapter 8. 3. Hegel 1967, 52. 4. These terms stem from Nye 2004. 5. See Taylor et al. 1994; Habermas 2004, 107ff; Honneth 2003, 110ff. 6. See Kelsen 1941, 605– 617. 7. Ibid., 609. 8. Ibid., 608. 9. On this perspective within the theory of international relations, see Wolf 2008; Haacke2005, 181–194. 10. See Rawls 2001. 11. See Habermas 1988, 3–13. 12. Edelman 1964. For a critique of this book, see Honneth and Paris 1979, 138–142. 13. See Cohrs 2006. I owe this reference to Volker Heins. 14. Honneth 1995, chapter 5. 15. That is why I have doubts about the proposal made by Erik Ringmar in his essay inthe present volume—an essay that is otherwise highly valuable. Ringmar 2011. 16. For the logic of such constructions, see Anderson 1983. 17. On the concept of “narratives of justification,” see Forst and Günther 2009, 23–27. 18. See Rawls 1999, 1. 19. For an analysis, see Schneider 2006; Wolffsohn and Brechenmacher 2005.

20. Despite all the idiosyncrasy and hyperbole of Peter Handke’s political statements on





the wars in the former Yugoslavia, his critique of Western Europe’s lack of respect for thesufferings of the Serbian population is nevertheless compelling.

21. See Sarraj 2002, 71–76. I owe this reference to José Brunner. 22. See Brunkhorst 2005, 330–347; Bach 2000.

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Habermas, Jürgen. 1988. “Historical Consciousness and Post-Traditional Identity: Remarkson the Federal Republic’s Orientation to the West.” Acta Sociologica 31 (1): 3–13.———. 1994. “Struggles for Recognition in the Democratic Constitutional State.” In Mul-

ticulturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition, edited by Charles Taylor. Princeton:Princeton University Press.

Hegel, G. W. F. 1967. Philosophy of Right. Translated by T.M. Knox. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press.

Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Lon-don: Polity Press.

———. 2003. “Redistribution as Recognition: A Response to Nancy Fraser.” In Redistribu-tion or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange, edited by Nancy Fraser and Axel

Honneth. London: Verso Books.Honneth, Axel, and Rainer Paris. 1979. “Zur Interaktionsanalyse von Politik.” Leviathan 7(1): 138–142.

Kelsen, Hans. 1941. “Recognition in International Law: Theoretical Observations.” The American Journal of International Law 35 (4) October: 605–617.

Nye, Joseph S. 2004. Soft Power : The Means To Success In World Politics. Washington: Public Affairs.

Rawls, John. 2001. The Law of Peoples. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.Ringmar, Erik. 2011. “The International Politics of Recognition.” In The International Politics

of Recognition, edited by Thomas Lindemann and Erik Ringmar. Boulder: Paradigm.Sarraj, Eyad El. 2002. “‘Suicide Bombers: Dignity, Despair and the Need for Hope’: An

Interview with Eyad El Sarraj.” Journal of Palestine Studies 31 (4).




38 ✻ Axel Honneth

Schneider, Christoph. 2006. Der Warschauer Kniefall. Ritual, Ereignis und Erzählung. Kon-stanz: UVK Verlagsgesellschaft.

Taylor, Charles. 1994. Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition. Princeton:Princeton University Press. Wolffsohn, Michael, and Thomas Brechenmacher. 2005. Denkmalsturz? Brandts Kniefall.

Munich: Olzog. Wolf, Reinhard. 2008. “Respekt: Ein unterschätzter Faktor in den Internationalen Beziehu-

ngen.” Zeitschrift für Internationale Beziehungen 15 (1): 5–42.




39

Chapte r 2

Prickly States?

Recognition and Disrespect betweenPersons and Peoples

Reinhard Wolf

Probably the most characteristic error people make when describing humanbehavior is to attribute the same kinds of properties to groups that ordinarilyapply to individuals.1

Do states, nations, and their leaders care for recognition in the same way individu-als do when interacting in families or other small groups? Do they react as stronglyagainst disrespect as persons exposed to hurtful slights? Conceivably, respect andrecognition are vital for persons’ everyday well-being at their homes or at theirworkplaces, yet play a rather marginal role for professional decision-makers steeringthe policies of detached nation-states in a culturally heterogeneous internationalsystem.

The chief concern of this contribution is not whether or not states or nationsreally are persons but if they react to recognition and disrespect in ways so similarto individual responses that it makes sense to apply psychological insights to inter-national relations. In this context, I shall base my points on a thoroughly pluralisticontology. Even though most leaders and citizens tend to anthropomorphize the state

and think and talk of it “as if ” it were a person, for the sake of my argument, I will




40 ✻ Reinhard Wolf

assume that states and nations are not primary actors in their own right.2 Rather, Iwill treat them as composite actors that can be reduced to their basic units, that is,

institutions, groups, and individuals.3 What I want to demonstrate is that, even ina highly institutionalized environment, persons, domestic groups, and nations canreact to international (dis)respect in ways similar to individuals personally experienc-ing (dis)respect, and that these domestic actors often succeed in making the stateconform to their symbolic needs. Due to its conspicuous role in world politics, theestablished nation-state will be taken as the paradigmatic example of an internationalactor. Yet, with due circumspection, most of the observations can also be applied toother institutional actors on the international scene.4

As I shall argue, there are indeed ample reasons for proceeding cautiously withregard to extrapolations from psychology or philosophy.5 States, it will be claimed,

cannot be equated with individual actors. Even though states and nations are rou-tinely subjected to linguistic, moral, and legal personification by both politicians andpolitical scientists, compared to interacting individuals, they are much more complexactors (to say the least) encountering one another in more complex and diversifiedsocial environments. Moreover, both their national decision-making and their mutualdealings are regulated by norms and procedures that are supposed to institutional-ize rationality and to minimize the impact of “the personal factor.” Hence, it seemsreasonable to assume that, overall, nation-states are actually less “touchy” or at leastbehave in a more controlled and rational manner than individuals when they areexperiencing recognition or disrespect.

However, there are grounds for expecting more or less touchy states, dependingon national identities, political cultures, elite interests, decision-making structures,and international circumstances. States may sometimes react even more stronglyto a given act of disrespect than an individual in an analogous situation. Evenwhen we disaggregate the nation-state into its constitutive components (persons,groups, and institutions), a case can be made that states (or the actors who areauthorized to speak for them) demand social recognition from their peers. Thus,while political scientists should not simply expect collective actors to consistentlybehave according to patterns that other disciplines have established for individu-als, they are well advised to make use of such findings when formulating theirown hypotheses.

This chapter starts with a brief overview of relevant psychological findings andgeneral grounds for caution concerning their application to international relations.6 This is followed by a discussion of various factors that tend to mitigate the impact ofrecognition and disrespect among states, at least among those states which alreadyenjoy widespread legal recognition. The section thereafter will try to demonstrate thatall these factors could also enhance the demand for recognition and, correspondingly,the upsetting effects of disrespect. The conclusion will therefore make the point thatstates’ reactions to (dis)respect are likely to be more diverse, and thus clearly warrant

more thorough empirical studies.




Recognition and Disrespect between Persons and Peoples ✻ 41

Psychological Findings on Respect and Disrespect

If states (or nations) were known to interact just like individual people, there wouldbe little doubt about the relevance of recognition and disrespect for internationalrelations. For persons interacting in small groups, psychological research has firmlyestablished that respect promotes cooperation while disrespect breeds conflict.7 Whenpeople feel respected by fellow group members for their work and ideas, when theythink they are accepted as group members, they demonstrate greater compliance withwork norms, meet performance expectations to a greater extent, and show greaterwillingness to engage in extra work on behalf of the group. Moreover, respected em-ployees also identify more strongly with their work group, which further promotestheir pro-social activities.8 In those studies, the subjective feeling of respect was

strongly influenced by perceptions of fair and polite treatment, which people tendto take as an indication of high personal status within their group. Institutionalizedvoice opportunities, such as the right to get a hearing or to file a complaint, wereparticularly important in this regard.9 As a result, individuals become significantlymore interested in the success of their groups.10 Not surprisingly then, researchersalso found evidence indicating that respect can promote cooperation in problematicsocial situations.11

On the other hand, psychological research has clearly confirmed folk wisdomsabout the positive relation between disrespect, anger, and personal conflict behavior.The experience of disrespect regularly stimulates an instantaneous urge to redress the

situation and educate the offender through direct retribution.12 Moreover, disrespectalmost automatically arouses anger, which is well known to constrain informationprocessing and to promote strong reactions against the disrespectful actor.13 Experi-ments have demonstrated that anger leads to negatively biased perceptions, reducesthe demand for information, shortens decision times, and consequently leads to morerisk-prone and more aggressive behavior.14

Still, as already pointed out, states’ (or nations’) international behavior cannotbe predicted by making simple extrapolations from findings in social psychology orsocial philosophy. Just like persons, states may routinely speak with a single voiceto their foreign peers and other actors; yet, if they are unitary actors at all, they are“at best” collective actors consisting of an ensemble of political groups and officials.To produce an authoritative foreign-policy output, a nation’s constituent actorsmust coordinate their competing preferences through institutionalized debates andnegotiations. Perhaps even more important, states interacting on the internationalscene tend to be far less interdependent than persons dealing with each other at theworkplace or within their families.

Hence, there may be two basic reasons why sovereign states and their representa-tives may care less for social recognition than individuals in their daily interactions:(1) once they have gained international legal recognition, states are less dependent on

the respect of their peers, and (2) their institutionalized decision-making processes





may privilege material cost-benefit calculations over purely symbolic status consid-erations and emotional needs. These processes can conceivably mitigate the hurtful

effects of disrespect. Compared to their individual citizens, states may therefore bein a far better position to heed the challenging advice given by Stoic philosophers:do not pay attention to disrespect you do not deserve.15

Reasons for Skepticism: The Case for thePervasiveness of Stoic States

There are quite a number of factors that should reduce a state’s urge to insist on so-cial recognition. For one thing, states consist of an ensemble of different groups and

interact in a culturally diverse arena. This makes for far greater social heterogeneityand also for greater social distance (1) between different nation-states, (2) betweennation-states and their citizens, and (3) between groups within nation-states—all ofwhich can significantly attenuate the demand for international recognition. Second,states are institutions regulating the interaction of groups and individuals. As such,they lack emotions and are equipped with norms and rules that tend to control theimpact of personal emotions.

Nations Do Not Equal Persons

Usually, the well-established link between respectful treatment and personal feelingsof self-worth is far weaker when we look at interaction between culturally diversegroups or collective actors. After all, even as individuals, we rely to a greater extenton the judgments of our peer group than on the opinions of complete strangers withwhom we may have little in common.16 Even disrespectful or humiliating treatmenton the part of outsiders tends to hurt less than abuse by group members because itoften can be “explained away” with the outsiders’ “bad character” or their lack ofbetter knowledge. Due to their greater similarities and their closer interaction amongthemselves, group members can more easily question the validity of out-group viewsand reassure each other of the worth of their own group. Compared to individuals,interacting group members can more easily nurture or create feelings of superiorityvis-à-vis competing actors. Not surprisingly, very large groups, such as nations, areespecially good at this.17 Moreover, it is well known that group members tend to putspecial emphasis on those positive characteristics where the in-group excels.18 Again,such self-serving evaluations can be more easily stabilized when groups rarely interactwith foreign groups that excel in other dimensions and therefore tend to propagatedifferent criteria. Therefore, the intra-mural communication within a disrespectedgroup sometimes may go a long way in sheltering its members against its environ-ment’s arrogance or other forms of symbolic ill-treatment. In sum, compared to or-

dinary individuals, nations should stand a far better chance of stabilizing self-servingidentity-narratives.19





This greater social distance between nations is mirrored by individuals’ greaterdistance from their nation. Obviously, when being addressed by others, persons in-

teracting in small groups can hardly avoid identifying with their selves. Hence, thedisrespect they directly experience always concerns at least one ostensible componentof their personal identity. Even when the slight in question was primarily targeted ata certain group that the victim apparently belonged to, it will hurt at least that partof a person’s social identity. When a Mexico-born American is being told a dispar-aging joke about Hispanics, he can scarcely avoid feeling offended. If, on the otherhand, the insult consists of an official statement directed against one’s nation, it maynot hurt an individual at all. After all, persons need not identify with their state inits international dealings. Moreover, while answering national slights can be left tonational leaders, personal slights call for personal reactions. They cannot be quietly

ducked without damaging a person’s social standing. Consequently, the greater socialdistance between citizens and their nation will often constrain citizens’ demand forinternational recognition.

Finally, social distance and heterogeneity within nation-states can also mitigatetheir response to foreign (dis)respect. Most nations are composed of different groupswith different ethnic or class identities. Sometimes these groups will not promotesimilar variants of the same national narrative but incompatible and competing iden-tity discourses, which tend to neutralize each other in the public domain. Where thisis the case, the national discourse lacks a common frame to interpret the meaning offoreign acts and thus may fail to bring about an collective response. To be sure, such

internal heterogeneity could also undermine mutual affirmation as described aboveand thus could render foreign disrespect more upsetting for individual citizens. Onthe international level, however, this will hardly matter, since such an identity-tornstate may be burdened by fierce internal debates that gravely impair its external agency.

States Do Not Equal Nations: Institutionalization and (Material) Rationality

Yet even when national leaders and citizens feel severely slighted by foreign states’behavior, the institutional character of the state may attenuate calls for overt retri-bution.20 When converting various kinds of domestic demands into official foreignpolicy, states arguably are biased in favor of rational decision-making focused onmaterial costs and benefits. Both bureaucratic processes and officials’ role conceptionscan diminish the effect of angry emotions, while better access for economic interestgroups tends to marginalize the foreign-policy influence of identity-oriented pressuregroups. Whereas the first two mechanisms impede dangerous short cuts, which tendto bias individuals in favor of revenge and retribution, the latter often discriminatesagainst domestic actors insisting on enhanced international recognition.Institutionalized decision-making is guided by norms, rules, and procedures that arepartly designed to prevent rash emotional responses. In modern states, even chief

executives will rarely decide on the spot without prior consultation with a rangeof experts within their administration. Often, these experts will submit numerous





analytical papers that thoroughly discuss the anticipated (material) costs and benefitsof various policy options. Most of these studies will be the joint product of several

officials and governmental agencies; that is, even before reaching the highest levels ofgovernment, they will have been checked and discussed by experts with different areasof expertise, interests, and perspectives. In the case of more important questions, chiefexecutives must even inform parliamentary leaders and ask the legislatures for theirpolitical or financial support. Thus, bureaucratization and legislative control of for-eign policy decision-making are likely to promote governmental rationality in severalways, particularly, by upholding norms of individual and collective circumspection,by stressing the need for transparent argumentation, by lengthening the search forinformation and deliberation, and by ensuring the consideration of contrasting dataand assessments. While these effects hardly guarantee sound decisions, they will at

least contain the political impact of spontaneous emotions, such as anger. As pointedout above, a person’s angry mood is known to enhance the likelihood of hostile andrisky actions. Psychological research has shown that both increased self-awareness ofongoing personal judgment processes and greater accountability make persons lesssensitive to such effects of anger.21 Moreover, the trivial fact that bureaucratizationdelays decision-making may already be useful in as much as it increases the likelihoodthat, by the time they actually make a decision, individual officials will no longerexperience strong personal emotions.Political institutions also affect the personal approach of decision-makers to theproblem at hand. When dealing with foreign policy issues, state officials do not act

in their personal capacity but as representatives of their states or governmental agen-cies.22 In other words, they enact specified roles, knowing they will be held account-able if they fail to comply with pertinent norms. This may further circumscribe thepotential political effects of personal emotions, for offended officials may come toview slights as directed against their nations or their governments rather than aimedat themselves. As a result, they might take a more relaxed attitude. If, on the otherhand, they are more inclined to take such gestures personally, their role as nationalrepresentatives may help them in disregarding such experiences. As professionalstrained and paid for governmental service, they may find it easier to “swallow theirpersonal pride” for the good of their country.Lastly, institutionalized access for interest groups might systematically privilegethe consideration of material consequences over demands for national recognition.This especially applies to modern democratic welfare states whose elected leadersare expected to meet the economic aspirations of their constituents. To do so, theylargely depend on the investments and exports of private business.23 Besides, com-panies and other private donors often play a crucial role in the financing of politicalcampaigns. Given this dual dependence, it is hardly surprising that parliaments andstate agencies have granted special access to powerful economic interest groups thatpresumably pay more attention to the material implications of foreign policy than

to their recognition aspects.





Summing up the preceding section, one is tempted to jump to the conclusion thatsome nation-states will hardly care for social recognition—or if they do, such con-

siderations will scarcely affect their foreign policy output. It seems that nation-states,when dealing with their foreign peers, are both more rational and more materialisticthan persons engaged in close interactions. While this may be true in many circum-stances, the following section will show that states sometimes act even less “relaxed.”

Reasons for Pessimism: The Case for the Existence of Prickly States

Some of the factors discussed previously can also make states more sensitive to foreign

recognition. Greater social distance between nations may indeed render them lessvulnerable to foreign indifference or disrespect——but only for a certain while andeven then, only at the expense of mutual understanding. National divisions mightreally compromise consensual self-images most citizens deem worthy of commondefense, yet they may also tempt endangered rulers to aggravate xenophobia andcross-border conflicts. Finally, some governmental institutions conceivably mitigatethe impact of anger on foreign policy, but other state institutions may also propagatenational myths and norms that will stimulate national emotions that even pragmaticleaders can not afford to ignore.

Nations, Leaders, and Citizens Can Be Touchy, Too

While often respect expressed by fellow members of one’s peer group is more cherishedthan respect between different groups, respect (or disrespect) expressed by out-groupscan still be vital—both for the collective self-esteem of the in-group and for theself-esteem of its individual members. For one thing, greater cognitive and socialdistance cannot altogether invalidate the explicit or implicit judgments of outsiders.Depending on social context and the salience of categories, current out-groups canquickly become part of a larger (superordinate) in-group.24 Besides, due to higherstatus, some out-groups’ judgments may always carry great weight. And sometimes,even disrespect shown by lower-status groups can hurt. Cutting ties with groupshardly provides a solution for such unpleasant experiences. In a globalizing world,contact between alien groups can be avoided less and less. (And as the 2005 crisisover the Muhammad cartoons in Danish newspapers demonstrated, even domesticstatements related via indirect communication can have grave consequences.) Hence,confirmation among in-group members cannot indefinitely substitute for out-grouprecognition.25 Eventually, temporary isolation could even increase the risk of espe-cially hurtful encounters in the future. Without the correcting force of an ongoingexchange of assessments, groups are inclined to exaggerate their own virtues or merits

in relation to those of out-groups. When social distance increases the leeway for





social creativity, it also heightens the long-term risk of conflicts, as divergent statusmarkers promote status inconsistency, which in turn, breeds fights for dominance.26

Moreover, by isolating themselves, groups forgo opportunities for communicatingtheir own needs, ideas, or achievements. The longer this state persists, the greater therisk that renewed encounters will result in particularly upsetting exchanges on relativeworth and status. Thus, temporary isolation is no substitute for genuine recognition,especially not in the long run.

As concerns the individual ’s social distance to his or her nation, it should not beoverlooked that, at times, it can be extremely small. When their group is disrespected,individual group members are motivated to defend their standing to the extent thatthey identify with it.27 Depending on the circumstances, being a member of a givengroup may figure prominently in an individual’s social identity.28 Whoever disparages

my group’s values, achievements, or features calls into question my own feeling ofself-worth to the extent that I share and take pride in those values, achievements, orfeatures.29 Resentment against attacks on the in-group’s worth is therefore considereda prime factor in the origins and escalation of ethnic conflicts.30 Fervent nationalists,both within political elites and the public at large, will often react with outrage ifother nationals insult their nation.31 Even in the absence of national conscription,millions of ordinary citizens have volunteered to put their lives at risk in combat.32 Citizens can also react strongly against personal disrespect that their leaders sufferedat the hands of foreign governments.33 On the other hand, sometimes people experi-ence respect for their group as more pleasant or up-lifting than recognition of their

personal rights and achievements. Not a few nationalists have been willing to sacrificethe personal rights that they enjoyed under colonial rule for the independence andinternational recognition of their nation.34 Respect for their group, its representatives,and its symbols can thus profoundly affect individuals’ self-esteem and consequentlyalso their behavior in various political contexts.35

Also, political leaders themselves may be even more strongly aroused by foreign(dis)respect than ordinary citizens.36 First, they interact more closely and more fre-quently with foreigners than the rest of their compatriots. Especially within the groupof highly industrialized countries or within the “Davos community,” they form anexclusive club whose members subscribe to special norms of dialogue. Thus, they maycare a lot if others’ behavior confirms their status within that club. Second, being theleaders of their nations, they often identify even more strongly with their countriesthan the average citizen. Third, leaders tend to be far more sensitive to status con-siderations than average citizens. Most of them have embarked on a political careernot so much for monetary reasons but because they sought an elevated status: theywanted to lead. And those who make it to the top must be both especially qualifiedfor playing the status game and especially sensitive to its emotional rewards. Politi-cal success not only confirms their belief in their own leadership capabilities butarguably also reinforces their habit of seeking personal satisfaction in this particular

way. Finally, leaders need to be concerned about the domestic effects of internationaldisrespect. Slights experienced at the hands of their foreign peers may not only hurt





their personal pride but can also fatally compromise their standing vis-à-vis domesticsubordinates. Many lieutenants who have been willing to defer to a leader command-

ing international respect will no longer accept the orders of someone who failed torespond to foreign insults.37

Moreover, it hardly needs mentioning that national leaders, even when they per-sonally lack a nationalistic outlook, often will be inclined to promote their citizens’national sentiments, given the fact that such identification usually enhances citizens’loyalty to the regime currently acting on behalf of the nation.38 This temptation isparticularly strong at times when the government’s legitimacy is heavily contestedby domestic opposition groups.39 Hence, deep domestic divisions are no guaranteeagainst an outburst of national sentiments. Rather, endangered political elites areespecially prone to diverting intra-mural conflicts to external targets.40 The easiest

way to do so is to downplay national differences by exaggerating international ones.This can be achieved by making use of notorious group tendencies to subscribe tothe negative stereotyping of out-groups. To establish the evil nature of foreign na-tions and to stress the differences separating them from their own nation, regimessometimes make up events tarnishing the image of those nations. Usually, however,it is much easier and safer to construe actual foreign moves as unprovoked “slapsin the face” or as other kinds of arrogant or contemptuous behavior. In many casesthen, governments will use the leeway for the domestic interpretation of foreign actsin ways that will aggravate rather than moderate their citizens’ sensitivity to allegedinstances of foreign disrespect.

Institutions Can Constrain Symbolic Flexibility

The institutionalized propagation of national narratives, the widespread bias in favorof conflict norms, and the leaders’ sense of responsibility can sometimes make na-tions even less accommodating than individuals who have been subjected to allegeddisrespect.

State institutions play an important role in the construction, promotion, and sta-bilization of national narratives.41 Nation-states have founded university departmentsto study the nation’s (alleged) roots and past achievements, national archives to storeits records, schools to disseminate official historical interpretations, and have set upcultural agencies for keeping alive the nation’s artistic and folkloristic traditions. Theyhave erected monuments to celebrate national feats, established national symbols,such as flags and anthems, for public worship, and have come up with all kinds ofpublic rituals, which help citizens enacting their identification with the nation.42 Inaddition, they have set up peace-time military institutions for national protection,which also promote national sentiments by routinely warning against dubious foreigndesigns and by continuously training large numbers of men and women for the defenseof their country. Sometimes the influence of these national agencies and customs

are somewhat balanced by non-governmental organizations (NGOs) committed tocosmopolitan causes. More often, however, national institutions face little domestic





competition in their mission to promote citizens’ identification with a specific notionof their country’s history and mission.

As a result, many state institutions emphasize the need to uphold the nation’s self-image against perceived national challenges. First of all, the work of these institutionsunderscores the difference between nationals and foreigners. Thereby, it increases thewell-known inclination for in-group self-enhancement at the expense of out-groups.43 Second, these activities homogenize the citizens’ positive image of their nation. Ac-cordingly, even leaders who personally do not subscribe to the official narrative willfind it more difficult to ignore foreign acts challenging the nation’s established iden-tity. Finally, such leaders’ willingness to search for international understanding willbe further compromised by the conflict norms that these institutions, the militaryin particular, tend to propagate. Under these circumstances, an uncompromising

stance and ethnocentric rhetoric become the litmus test for national loyalty—a testthat leaders must not fail if they want to stay in control.44

Even leaders’ role-playing is a double-edged sword. While it is true that internalizedrole conceptions can guard officials against rash escalatory moves, such effects certainlycan be marginalized by personal emotions or status considerations. In these cases, lead-ers who personally feel disrespected may draw their nations into confrontations. Recentexamples include the personal rows that German Chancellor Schröder and FrenchPresident Chirac had with US President Bush.45 And political role conceptions can alsoinhibit the search for pragmatic solutions. It has been demonstrated that representativesacting on behalf of some principals are less accommodating than persons acting only

for themselves.46 Thus, when confronted with a strong challenger, individuals maysometimes be prepared to give up personal status claims. True, doing so might dimin-ish their personal prestige. Yet, whether they are willing to pay that price is a decisionthey can take entirely on their own. Unlike individuals accepting a diminished person-al status, national leaders would not only compromise their own international standingbut also the standing of their compatriots whom they have been entrusted to protect.Therefore, role-conscious leaders may equate such a move with letting down their fel-low citizens. So even if accommodation appears to be the reasonable move, leaders mayenvision it as a personal failure that they are not entitled to tolerate.47

Conclusion

Even if states are neither persons nor peoples, recognition will often be an issue forcollective actors on the international scene. This is rather obvious for ethnic groupsseeking legal recognition for a new state, but it is also true for established nation-stateswhose sovereignty is rarely questioned. As has been indicated previously, given theirlower level of social interaction, on balance, nations and institutionalized, internationalactors seem to be less exposed and less vulnerable to disrespect than ordinary persons.

However, sooner or later, even ordinary citizens will be confronted with foreign viewsand actions that either confirm or challenge their own sense of their countries place





in history or contemporary international affairs. When this happens, (dis)respectbetween nations and their states can become an important political issue, sometimes

as important as recognition between closely interacting individuals.It has also become clear that the significance of international recognition problems

is not only less obvious but also more variable. Due to the great complexity of nation-states (and of their foreign policy apparatus), it is much more difficult to anticipate theformer’s reactions to external stimuli. Social psychology may indeed have a good trackrecord in explaining and predicting the average human’s response to certain types ofbehavior. However, information processing and decision-making within the state arefar more complicated and thus open to numerous additional mechanisms that caneither enhance or mitigate the impact of (dis)respectful gestures. Thus, the range oftypical reactions—technically speaking, the size of the standard deviation—seems

to be much broader than in the case of individuals. Apparently, in this context, a great number of factors need to be considered.

Particular attention should be given to the behavior of political leaders and prominentintellectuals, for they can exert critical influence on how the broader communitycomes to see both the status of its own nation and the symbolic implications of foreignacts. In some cases, for example the Danish Muhammad cartoons, such foreign actswould even go wholly unnoticed without domestic leaders setting them on nationalagendas. In other cases, opinion leaders at least need to describe a particular foreignmove and to interpret its meaning for the nation’s identity as the latter is understoodin the dominant discourse: Is this act to be seen as a deliberate offense to an impor-

tant status element of national identity, or is it just a routine action that says littleabout foreign views of our nation? Thus, the crucial issue here is discursive framing,which gives leaders and intellectuals a pivotal role in shaping the nation’s attitude topossible acts of (dis)respect.

How leaders engage in such acts of creative framing depends on their outlookand interests. For one thing, political leaders may actually share strong nationalsentiments, or they might seek international status for themselves. In this case, theywill be motivated to bring the nation along by promoting a public discourse whichaccords well with their own convictions or prestige ideas. However, they can also stirup national sentiments for strictly instrumental reasons by using society’s nationalistinclinations to boost the regime’s domestic legitimacy.

In doing so, however, leaders must consider prominent domestic cleavages. Playingup alleged foreign slights may work wonders for authoritarian leaders embattled bydemocratic oppositions or by social movements insisting on economic redistribution.On the other hand, it may utterly fail when domestic society is divided betweengroups holding on to rather different national narratives. In the latter case, stirringup national sentiments could easily backfire because it might only deepen thosedomestic divisions. Hence, the specific nature of domestic fault lines greatly affectsa state’s inclination to engage in the politics of international recognition.

Another major factor influencing the likelihood or intensity of recognition poli-tics concerns the nature of norms shaping domestic political cultures. Apparently, a





nation-state in which individualistic and materialist-hedonistic views predominatewill be less sensitive to foreign (dis)respect than a nation-state whose society stresses

collectivist norms and the honor of family clans or status groups. If protecting one’shonor is an essential purpose for individuals and domestic groups, it seems quite likelythat they will externalize such an outlook to international relations.48 In this case,norms mandating the resolute defense of group standings within society may also beapplied to foreign policy. Strong collectivist norms make it easier for nationalists toequate dissent with disloyalty and thus discourage both political leaders and intel-lectuals from advancing more nuanced arguments on the relative merits of insidersand outsiders. Consequently, such norms create a political climate that promotesnegative stereotyping and self-righteous positions in international conflicts. Therebycollectivist norms make it much easier to depict foreign behavior as an unjustified

violation of national status claims. In sum, domestic honor codes and strong collec-tivist norms render states pricklier when their demands for recognition are not metby foreign actors—or even when they only appear to be ignored.

Essentially then, the differences between persons and peoples boils down tothree conclusions: First, there are no plausible arguments that would contradict thisvolume’s premise that not only individuals but also nation-states care for the socialrecognition of their peers. Second, it seems likely that state demands for respect areinfluenced by a far greater number of factors than is the demand for interpersonalrespect. Hence, state behavior in this field will be more variable and less predictablethan personal behavior. Third, we need far more empirical research on the conditions

shaping the demand for recognition among international actors. That is why researchon (dis)respect among states (or between states and other international actors) offersa promising field for scholars inhabiting a small planet whose diverse communitiesinteract ever more closely.

Notes

1. Gould 2003, 147. 2. Ringmar 1996; Ringmar 2011 in this volume; Wendt 2004; Johnston 2008, 95–99. 3. Wight 2004. 4. Although numerous types of institutional actors engage in cross-border activities,by focusing on the modern nation-state, the following discussion deals only with the mostprominent type. However, most of my arguments can also readily be applied to separatistmovements as well as intergovernmental and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). OnNGOs see Heins 2008. In fact, such actors may be even more eager for international recogni-tion than established states whose sovereign rights are beyond question (see Ringmar in thisvolume). Moreover, many of these states share a long common history during which, by andlarge, they have learned to accept their respective roles and identities. Normally, their place ininternational society is less contested. Thus, the Western nation-state can be seen as a critical

case for the recognition perspective. If it can be argued that even rational bureaucratic states





seek social recognition just like ordinary persons, the same analogy should also apply to othertypes of international actors, such as NGOs. Therefore, studies of global governance might

also benefit from taking (dis)respect more seriously. 5. Kelman 1965; Tetlock 1998; Stein 2008. 6. For reasons of space, I focus on psychological findings based on empirical observation.However, including philosophical works and more theoretical studies in psychology wouldhardly affect my line of reasoning, since their pertinent arguments are largely borne out bythis empirical research. For a parallel discussion that takes philosophical debates as a pointof departure, see Axel Honneth’s contribution to this volume. 7. Most social psychologists doing empirical studies on these issues use the concept of“respect” instead of “recognition.” This is one of the reasons why my own research is alsobased on the respect/disrespect dichotomy rather than on recognition and disrespect. As Iunderstand the concept, to respect an actor is to recognize its status, that is, its social value

and importance. In my view, this strong linkage with status perceptions (rather than with anactor’s overall identity) best explains why people react angrily when they feel disrespected.For the purpose of my argument here, however, the semantic overlap of the two concepts is solarge that they will be used interchangeably in this chapter. See Wolf 2011 for an attempt todelineate these concepts and for a more detailed overview of psychological findings concerningthe social effects of (dis)respect. 8. Tyler and Blader 2000, 2001; Doosje et al. 1999; Mercer 2008b; Mercer 2008a. 9. Tyler and Blader 2000, 136, 171, 178. 10. Ibid. 2000. 11. De Cremer 2002. 12. Miller 2001.

13. Ibid., 532–536; Smith et al. 2003, 171; Tyler and Blader 2000, 112; Van Kleef et al.2008. 14. Geva and Sirin 2008, 7; Geva and Skorick 2006, 214, 222; Huddy et al. 2007; Isbellet al. 2006, 65; Van Kleef et a l. 2008; Lerner and Keltner 2000; Lerner and Keltner 2001. 15. Epictetus 1961; Aurelius 1964. In fact, the Stoic view on recognition draws attention toa paradox that thoroughly challenges cognitivist interpretations of the struggle for recognition:if others see me in a less favorable light because they apply inappropriate standards or becausethey lack correct data, their judgment must be wrong. Accordingly, it is useless information. As such, it should be put right, were it to have negative materia l consequences. Otherwise,it should not get more attention than the time shown by a malfunctioning watch. If, on theother hand, their judgment is not mistaken, I obviously ought to correct my own views aboutmyself. Finally, if I am not sure which view is more accurate, I should at least reconsider myown views and ask others to explain their different reasoning. Whichever is the case, there isno reasonable justification for angry arguments. Yet, it hardly needs mentioning that humansrarely follow this rational line. This seems to be a strong indication that the experience ofdisrespect, especial ly if it seems wholly unwarranted, inevitably triggers an emotional “gut”response related to human status needs. For evidence that status seeking and status defenseare “hardwired” in humans’ emotional apparatus, see Frank 1985, chapter 2; Frank 1999,chapter 9; Wright 1994, chapters 12 through 13. For a contemporary international-relationstheory based on this assumption, see Lebow 2008. 16. Turner et al. 1987, chapter 4; Abrams et al. 1990; Haslam et al. 1996; Smith et al.

1998, 490.





17. Mead (1932) 1964, chapter 26; Druckman 1994. 18. On “social creativity,” see Tajfel and Turner 1979; Platow et al. 2003, 270.

19. Not surprisingly, the preference for recognition from close associates also affectsindividuals’ status considerations. Apparently, peoples’ status comparisons largely focus ontheir rank within close communities rather than their rank within society at large. See Frank1985, 46–53, 75–79; Frank 1999, chapter 9. 20. See also Honneth in this volume. 21. Lerner and Keltner 2000, 488ff. 22. Kelman 1965, 588; Allison 1971. 23. Lindblom 1977. 24. Gaertner and Dovidio 2000; Stone and Crisp 2007. 25. Honneth and Ringmar in this volume. 26. Gould 2003, chapter 3; Lindemann in this volume.

27. Bloom 1990, chapter 4; Mackie et al. 2008; Rydell et al. 2008. 28. Druckman 1994, 49ff. 29. Mead (1932) 1964, chapters 26, 34; Worchel 2003, 482; Tyler and Blader 2000,144–148, 195; Kelman 1997, 175; Kelman 1977, 548. 30. Horowitz 1985, chapters 4–5. 31. Taylor 1994; Berlin 1991; Mackie et al. 2008; Rydell et al. 2008. 32. Stern 1995. 33. Horowitz 1985, 226. 34. Kelman 1997, 181. Interestingly though, many ethnic groups opposed political inde-pendence when decolonization would have put them in a state together with another “moreadvanced” group that enjoyed higher status. Horowitz 1985, 190ff.

35. As a matter of fact, precisely because of its size and abstract nature, the nation oftenmay be ideally suited for enhancing personal self-esteem. To be sure, smaller groups permitmore personal and more intense interaction. Therefore, they are better suited for meetingindividuals’ pervasive “need to belong.” Baumeister and Leary 1995. On the other hand,membership in smaller groups has its drawbacks. It invites direct comparisons between groupmembers, which easily leads to unpleasant status rivalries. See Frank 1985. However, internalstatus competitions can be mitigated by engaging in collective out-group denigration, for thelatter activity assigns a higher overall status even to those in-group members who occupy alower rank within their own group. National chauvinism appears to be especially useful in thisregard because it gives out-groups fewer chances to challenge their negative image. Moreover,nations, being “imagined communities,” leave more room for positive self-idealization thandomestic groups whose members may be too well acquainted with each others’ faults. See Anderson 1983. 36. See Lindemann in this volume. 37. On such “ripple effects” of personal status contests, see Gould 2003, chapter 5. 38. See Axel Honneth’s contribution to this volume. 39. Snyder 2000, chapter 2; Van Evera 1994, 30–33; Kelman 2008, 176. 40. Gelpi 1997. 41. Ringmar in this volume. 42. Gellner 1983; Assmann 2006; Giesen 1999, vol. 2. 43. Druckman 1994, 48–55; Wright 1994, chapter 13.

44. Kelman 2007, 85–89; Druckman 1994, 58, 63; Honneth in this volume.





45. Pond 2003; Szabo 2004; Woodward 2004. 46. Druckman 1994, 54.

47. Deterrence theorists often argue that leaders may also hesitate to make concessionsbecause they suspect that accommodation undermines their state’s reputation as a resoluteactor. For various reasons, this rationalistic explanation for respect-seeking behavior cannotconvince. See Johnston 2008, 7; Mercer [1996] 2009; Tang 2005. 48. Lebow 2008, chapter 2.

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57

Chapte r 3

Symbolic and Physical Violence

Philippe Braud

The manner in which political violence is defined will have a significant impact on

the answers to other important questions, such as what types of self-defense are ap-propriate; who initiated the aggressive interaction; and what factors sparked violenceor made it worse or, on the contrary, will help end it. In popular discourse, the word“violence” has three different meanings, the first of which is not really relevant here:the idea of a furious and incontrollable action (“violent storm”); the idea of destructiveaggression that causes personal or material injury (“violent behavior”); and finallythe idea of attacking things which deserve respect (“doing violence to a belief”).

If we accept Durkheim’s rule, according to which the scientific definition of aconcept should maintain reasonable links with the term’s colloquial usage, these in-troductory observations are far from insignificant. This is in part because specifyingwhat constitutes an act of violence is itself a political issue. So we have to distanceourselves from the terms used by the actors. Compare, for example, how the warin Algeria, waged by the French from 1954 to 1962, was labeled as “opérations de

pacification,” and how the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968 was seen by the SovietUnion as a “manifestation of proletarian solidarity.” We must find a way of avoidingthe trap of such politically and culturally biased definitions.

From the perspective of democratic ideals, violent behavior is normally condemned. As a result, this encourages frequent strategies of semantic evasion in which one quali-fies or otherwise hides potentially inappropriate actions with which one identifies.

However, scientific analysis has to keep its distance, or rather suspend value judg-ments that may divert it from an impartial perspective. The object of our analysis is




58 ✻ Philippe Braud

to identify criteria that enable us to understand all forms of political violence withoutpolitical restrictions.

This chapter will begin by defining symbolic violence and explaining how it isrelated to physical violence. The two are necessarily linked, I’ll argue, since physicalviolence without symbolic and emotional aspects is meaningless, and since physicalviolence often is a response to symbolic violence. In conclusion, some implicationsof this argument will be drawn for the practice and study of international politics.

Why Symbolic Violence Is Violence

In the scientific literature, political violence is commonly perceived as physical violence

whose targets or victims, modus operandi or effects, add political meaning—eitherin terms of the resources to be employed or the threats to be prevented. Explicitlyor not, a majority of researchers have adopted the definition made famous by Nie-burg: “ . . . acts of disruption, destruction, injury whose purpose, choice of targets orvictims, surrounding circumstances, implementation and/or effects have politicalsignificance, that is, tend to modify the behavior of others in a bargaining situationthat has consequences for the social system.”1

As is evident from the first part of this quote, it is tempting to emphasize only thematerial dimension of violence—the part that leaves visible marks. This approachmakes it easier to empirically identify violence and, since it is more easily delimited,

seemingly presents a more rigorous definition. As a result, this definition has beenused by a large majority of field researchers, including those who, like Charles Tilly,attempt to quantitatively compare observable levels of visible violence across timeand space.2

Despite its obvious advantages, a definition that relies only, or even in large part,on material criteria leads to serious intellectual problems. In the first place, it does notproperly consider the emotional dimension that accompanies all forms of violence.

When we say “urban riots,” we refer not only to burned cars and injured bystand-ers but also to the fear and anger of the victims. Furthermore, the victims includenot only those who are injured, but anyone who has suffered from the effects of theviolence. For example: urban riots also provide evidence, at least temporarily, of thestate’s failure to accomplish its goal of maintaining public order. In this sense, thestate is humiliated by public displays of disorder.

Similarly, an armed conflict involves not only the deployment of troops, theuse of weapons, and physical destruction, but it is intrinsically also a mode of self-affirmation that entails much emotional suffering. Even if it is limited by relativelyrestrictive conditions, war justifies the right to destroy and to kill, and this consti-tutes a significant breach with essential societal values. It sets up a specific body ofmoral precepts. In addition, physical confrontations are usually accompanied by

denunciations and even a demonization of the adversaries in order to describe themas inferior. Exceptions include “chivalrous” battles, or battles fought in sports, but in




Symbolic and Physical Violence ✻ 59

these cases, the equal standing of the protagonists is a precondition for the existenceof their rivalry.

This emotional dimension—which accompanies every form of violence, fromassassination attempts to riots, from arbitrary arrests to armed conflicts—is whatgives violence its political consequences and ramifications. As noted previously, theimpact of material violence depends on the symbolic value of the event, which inturn relies on factors such as the status of the victim, the nature of the targets, andthe emotional effects spread by the event. The murder of an ambassador does notresonate in the same way as an attack on the average national of a foreign country. Aburning flag during a public disturbance will have a greater impact than the burningof a simple piece of fabric.

Even calculating the number of victims in a war or a terrorist act is not a purely

objective decision. The statistical operation may be used to mobilize outrage or todishearten an adversary. The timing of a body count—whether in war-time or inpeace—will affect its impact. Or consider the labeling of certain acts as “genocide”or “crimes against humanity.” In contemporary society, such labels have both anemotional charge and juridical consequences (for example, a no-limitation periodfor prosecuting). So the label establishes the exceptional gravity of certain behav-iors and also a special duty on the part of posterity to remember the violence. Thestigmatization of terrorism rests on the fact that terrorists ignore the “rules of war”and harm “innocent civilians”—both notions are of course highly psychologicallycharged. Consider a historical example: the battle of Stalingrad had emotional ef-

fects in so far as Hitler, as well as Stalin, regarded the fall of the city as a strikingsymbol of humiliation and not only as a purely strategic interest. Similarly, the1940 defeat of France in less than three weeks immediately dissipated the myththat the largest military force of the inter-war years also would be the strongest.3 Civilian victims add an affective aspect to every armed conflict, which technolo-gies such as “intelligent bombs” seek to avoid. In practice, historians of war donot necessarily neglect the importance of such emotional dimensions. In practice,historians of war do not necessarily neglect the importance of such emotionaldimensions, yet, if they study them, they often do not include them in the actualdefinition of violence.

A further disadvantage of this restricted point of view is that it disregards thepossibility of a kind of violence that is independent of physical or destructive actionbut causes similar psychological injuries. Xenophobic or racist insults and abuse de-liberately try to make the target feel fragile and humiliated. Nationalist arrogance,or the claiming of religious, ideological, or ethical superiority, is a source of affrontto those who are not members of these groups.

Today, one can observe these effects on formerly colonized people.4 Legallyenforced apartheid was based on contempt for some social, ethnic, religious, or na-tional group that established society regarded as inferior and from which it sought

to separate itself. During the era of European colonization, this occurred throughthe creation of a stratified institutional framework, including laws that prohibited





mixed marriage between individuals of different religions or races, the separation ofeducational institutions and spaces for living and leisure, as well as discrimination

when it comes to political rights. More persistent today is social apartheid, or theimplicit banning of particular lifestyles. Transgressions of these norms are punishedby cultural stigmatization.

Even if this psychological form of violence—the emotional impact of which canbe equal or superior to that of physical violence—is often intentional, such inten-tionality disappears in other situations. Psychological violence is often the result ofstructural constraints and will for that reason happen regardless of the intentions,pure or otherwise, of the perpetrators, and it will occur even in cases where no per-petrators are identifiable.

As an illustration of the first case, consider attempts to assist the poor, either

within one country or internationally. Policies of poverty relief often confine therecipients to a dependent and inferior status. Even in the most successful case, andin spite of the material benefits, it may still lead a form of psychological suffering.More broadly, social relations of inequality (from master to servant, from superiorto inferior, from employer to employee) conceal violent potential as long as thisinequality is not recognized by the dominated as entirely legitimate. The nature ofthis relationship depends not only on the employer’s management style or his abilityto acknowledge those under his authority, but also on the ideological frameworkthrough which hierarchy and dependence are deciphered. The probability thatemployees and employers perceive each other as victims of violence increases in a

society dominated by the discourse of class struggle. On the contrary, this probabilityis much weaker in a society where paternalistic relations are accepted by all parties,since the legitimacy of the employers is not questioned.5 The same applies, mutatismutandis, to international relations, especially when military alliances—the former

Warsaw pact, present-day NATO—unite unequal states. Depending on the waysin which the relationships are deciphered, superpower hegemony may be perceivedeither as an unendurable dependence or as “fraternal friendship.” The presence of aforeign military must be made sense of through subjective perceptions that are sociallyconstructed. Whether such a presence is perceived as political violence or not is neveronly the mere reflection of a material fact.

The same conclusion applies to rapid changes in traditional ways of life. Dis-coveries of gold and oil, accelerated industrialization, as well as rapid urbanizationhave always resulted in social upheavals. Depending on whether people have eagerlyadapted themselves to the new conditions or regarded the changes as doing irrepa-rable damage to a cherished way of life, the clash between tradition and modernitywill be perceived either as an opportunity or as an intrinsically violent process. Infact, both attitudes often co-exist in the same society—sometimes in an individualmind—giving rise to conflicts or to split personalities. However, the violence of theseprocesses becomes obvious when beliefs that underpin the cohesion of a social group

are discredited, or when a foreign occupying power denigrates a society’s religious orcivil patrimony, its sacred space, or time-honored customs.





The Westernization of the world—accelerating throughout the past century—massmigration, and even differences in birthrates between different groups in multicultural

societies have contributed to making people disoriented regarding their identities andproduced new sources of social and political instability. Following the arrival of theEuropeans, the “clash of civilizations” was particularly violent in the Americas, Northand South. Today it is especially conspicuous in the Muslim world, torn betweenaccepting or rejecting the alien values. People who seek to maintain their traditionalways of life experience Western cultural and political supremacy as an unmistakableform of violence.6

Symbolic violence is thus an inseparable component of any physical violence onthe one hand and on the other, an autonomous, underestimated form of violence.But how can symbolic violence be defined? Pierre Bourdieu understands it as “une

violence douce, invisible, méconnue comme telle, choisie autant que subie.”7 He seessymbolic violence in the way knowledge is defined and imposed in school; in thecriteria of aesthetic judgments determining good taste or appropriate language; incodes of civility and manners of being or doing by which social elites recognize eachother. In all these situations, the dominated are obliged to bow to the pressure ofnorms presented as socially neutral, though in reality these norms express the interestsand aspirations of the ruling class. Thus defined, symbolic violence has affinities with

Johan Galtung’s conception of “structural violence,” since it too emphasizes situ-ational effects rather than intentional actions.8 However, both definitions overlookthe victim’s point of view. It matters little for neither Bourdieu nor Galtung whether

the person accepts the situation, eagerly or indifferently, or whether he or she suffers. According to them, only genuine sociologists know when violence is being exercised!

This definition nevertheless leads to an interesting conclusion. Pierre Bourdieuasserts that the “principal effect” of symbolic violence is to reinforce a feeling of in-feriority among the dominated. Forced to imperfectly assimilate to the norms of analien environment, the dominated either internalize their inferiority or they adopta rebellious, but inevitably very costly, posture. In this way, the author highlights acrucial element of any analysis of symbolic action—the damage done to one’s self-esteem. This is a conclusion of great importance, albeit arrived at from a differentpoint of view.

The criterion of any violence, be it justified or not, is the suffering experiencedby a victim. We detect violence whenever an attack causes injury to a person or hisproperty, to the affinity networks made up of relatives or members of the same socialgroup, or to his way of life or his beliefs. This injury is never exclusively material.Suffering physical brutalities or material damage is always, at the same time, an ex-perience of confusion, humiliation, and the painful feeling of vulnerability, whetherthis experience is short-lived or enduring, superficial or intense.

Accordingly, mere physical suffering does not constitute a sufficient definition;besides, physical suffering is absent in the case of attacks on a person’s property,

and it is absent too, say, in the case of the relatives and followers of a politician whois suddenly murdered. They too suffer but in quite a different way. Neither can a





definition of violence rest solely on the material nature of the act. Strictly speaking,brute force exercised in accordance with the rules of a game, such as in sports, does

not create casualties. One cannot reduce violence to a single material, destructivedimension since, crucially, the emotional impact will be missing. On the other hand,menacing gestures, not accompanied by coercion, have a violent potential under somecircumstances. For the same reason, no definition should rely merely on an actor’saggressiveness. As we said, some forms of violence can hardly be attributed to identifi-able actors, and others are unintentional results of individual action.

Instead any definition of violence, and in particular of political violence, has tofocus on the victim. While the perpetrator may be non-existent and the act ambigu-ous, the event as experienced by the victim is the common element of all forms ofviolence—be it minor or major, material or purely symbolic. It is the very reality of

this experience that sets the dynamic of emotions in motion: outrage and desire forrevenge; the attempt to legitimize one’s claims; feelings of compassionate solidarity;the urgent need to reconstruct one’s self. Yet, for the victim to be identified as suchin political life, the objective fact of a physical and/or psychological injury is unlikelyto be sufficient. First, the victim has to be socially recognized.

Sometimes such social recognition of victims is instantaneous: political assassina-tions or unprovoked aggressions against unarmed countries make it impossible todeny that the targets indeed are victims. In other cases, however, victimhood mustbe attributed to specific groups by influential organizations before it can result inpolitical action. Often the identification of victims is a drawn-out process and the

verdict is not always unanimous. For a long time, “first peoples” in Canada, Austra-lia, and the United States struggled in vain to be recognized as victims of Europeanexpansion. Moreover, when the victim is not perceived as innocent, the process mayget stuck or fail completely. For example: after the Second World War, Germans wereunlikely to be regarded as victims. In fact, they were unlikely to recall even their ownexperiences of suffering under Allied bombardment.9

Why do we call it “symbolic violence”? It is certainly not because this violence issecondary or minor compared with physical injury or material damage. The oppositeis more often true: the assassination of a celebrity, for instance, hurts many peoplebeyond the physical suffering of the victim. This violence is symbolic in the sensethat the damage operates at the level of self-representations, and it lowers self-esteem.In this way, all symbolic violence entails humiliation, fragility, and powerlessness,and it inflicts injuries on a person’s identity.10

How victims react to symbolic violence depends on their position of power; whetherthey have means of retaliating or whether they remain in a state of irreversible inferi-ority. In the former case, the symbolic violence suffered makes us want to wash awaythe insult, to remove the feeling of vulnerability and weakness through exhibitionsof power. This accounts for the propensity to disproportional retaliation. Comparethe reaction of the United States to the September 11 attacks or Israel to raids by

Palestinian armed groups. In both cases, the aim is to restore an image tarnished byimpressions of weakness.





In the second scenario, where the victims have no means of retaliating, they arelikely to suffer permanent injury to their identities. This is more likely the more

intense the symbolic charge. An arbitrary arrest lowers a person to the status of asecond-rate citizen, anguished and bruised, as state protection has abandoned him,and equality before the law has turned out to be an illusion. Only a restoration of

justice, noticeably in courts, can lessen the damage to the self-image. During anarmed conflict, capitulation in front of a stronger adversary results in a profoundfeeling of humiliation. Likewise, torture or deportation to camps with inhumanliving conditions wounds the victims’ dignity; the damage to one’s self-esteem is sosevere it may become irreparable.11

Symbolic violence can be of low or high intensity. It can show itself openly orremain buried, disguised behind the appearance of purely material violence. Oc-

casionally it infiltrates silently and covertly into social and political relations, even ifthese appear to be outwardly innocuous. Whether or not symbolic violence is relatedto physical and material damage, it is judged by the same criterion: the reality ofpsychological injuries lowering or, in the worst cases, even destroying the self-esteemof an individual or a collective. In this way, we are able to incorporate Bourdieu’sconclusion that feelings of inferiority are nothing more than the consequence of theexercise of symbolic action. In my view, however, this feeling is not reduced to asimple side effect but is instead the very essence of symbolic violence. It is a symptomof symbolic violence and its most relevant criterion.

Symbolic violence is a form of political violence if, and only if, the collective

reactions they provoke have an influence on the course of political life. When subjected to symbolic violence, some people remain passive, but their resignation orapathy, directly derived from a profound sense of inferiority, facilitates the rule ofthe establishment. Others, more active, over-compensate by imitating the dominantpractices of the establishment. Neither are threatening the current political order butcontribute instead to reinforcing it. Among other people subjected to it, however,symbolic violence may cause a rejection of dominant values and rules and the resultswill be destabilizing. This occurs both inside states and the international community.

Symbolic Violence and International Violence

The reintegration of symbolic violence into the concept of political violence hasseveral consequences.

1. The first one is perfectly perceived by classical analyses of political violence:there is but an approximate proportionality between the intensity of the violencefelt by a victim and the objective reality of the proven injury. On the politicalstage, particularly in an international context, claims of attacks on one’s dignity

and reputation are often exaggerated in order to advance one’s standing, todemand reparations, or to represent a belligerent move as an act of “legitimate





right to self-defense.” In the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,nationalist governments have often resorted to this ensemble of arguments

in their territorial or commercial conflicts with neighbors. During the era ofRomantic patriotism, injured self-esteem—real or imagined—often pushed acountry to war. In 1870, the tone of the Ems Dispatch made up by Bismarck wasenough to trigger the desire of the French to go to war against the Germans.12 Similarly, the Fashoda episode drove the United Kingdom and France to theverge of an open conflict.13

On the other hand, symbolic violence is minimized, or even denied, incases of groups who are deprived of political resources adequate for makingtheir complaints heard. For a long time, nomadic peoples forced to settle inone place or traditional farmers removed from their land by agro-industries

or by urbanization drew little interest.14 In developing countries, insufficientattention is paid to people displaced by the construction of gigantic dams oroil and mining prospecting. If their fate arouses little more than indifference,their isolated acts of resistance are easily labeled as common organized crime.Or take the case of religious believers in advanced societies whose lives aredestabilized as a result of secularization. In nineteenth-century Europe, secu-larization led to anti-clericalism and political tension. Today Muslim despairis widely misunderstood in Western countries, especially among the mostsecular strata of the population. As these examples indicate, any assessmentof suffering on the part of victims of violence depends on the system of values

through which a situation is judged. In the sixteenth century, few moralistswere worried regarding a slave trade, which today is universally condemned.15

This way of ignoring the feelings of the victims can perhaps be understoodas an indirect consequence of the common conception that violence necessarilyis associated with evil. For example: if economic development is understoodas intrinsically good, and if the spread of Western values of democracy andliberty throughout the world is an essentially positive process, those who aresuffering from the consequences of these processes can hardly be consideredreal victims. The violence perpetrated on these “backward” people is ignored,and their suffering is perceived as embarrassing, even illegitimate. This con-clusion may perhaps be politically justified, but that is not good enough for aresearcher who aims to remain neutral and objective.

The point here is not to equate political violence with stigmatized behavior—the definition of which, in any case, would always be contested. The point israther to understand the specific reality that ensues given certain premises. Themilitary violence to which al-Qaeda’s combatants are subject, and the purelysymbolic violence suffered in today’s world by fundamentalist believers of allreligious faiths can, from a certain point of view, be regarded as the productof legitimate action. Yet this does not mean that no violence is exercised. By

acknowledging this fact, we are in a better position to understand how peoplereact to attacks on self-esteem.





2. Another consequence of the reintegration of symbolic violence into the conceptof political violence is the need to rethink the true origin of military conflicts

and armed resistance, as well as the factors to be taken into account for a fairand lasting solution to the problem of violence16. This raises significant politicalstakes. When a conflict breaks out, the question of “Who started it?” requiresthe identification of an aggressor, and it gives an internationally recognizedright of self-defense to the victim. And yet it is easy to misjudge the role playedby symbolic violence in the period preceding the call to arms. For an example,consider the case of people whose firmly held religious beliefs are made funof—say in the form of caricatures of the Prophet Mohamed—or cases, suchas in the Niger Delta, where multinational companies exploiting the country’smineral wealth without any perceived benefits to the local population are made

targets of armed attacks. In order to understand the whole dynamic of theconflicts throughout the Middle East, the Caucasus, or Sub-Saharan Africa,as well as the apparently endless confrontations between certain neighboringstates, one should not forget to study the exercise of symbolic violence prior tophysical violence.

The failure to take into consideration what happened before physical violencebroke out constitutes an obstacle in the search for lasting peaceful solutions.To neglect references to the events that preceded the open conflict constitutesan additional example of violence inflicted on the victim. When a conflict isignited, mutual misunderstandings will perpetuate the conflict. Take the case

of violence aimed at new settlers. On the one hand, people dispossessed of theirland who have suffered injustices that are deeply engraved in their historicalmemory, consider the presence of these newcomers as unacceptable. On theother hand, the new residents who have become targets of attacks—Israel—or social apartheid—Russians in the Baltic states—find the violence of theirneighbors to be cruel and inhuman. Each group rejects the suffering of theother as quickly as the abyss of fear and hatred grows. In addition, labels appliedto the adversary—“terrorists” or “Zionists,” “fascists” or “occupiers”—createfurther antagonisms, adding new wounds to already fragile identities.

To take into account the suffering of the other, regardless of the political costof doing so, is an indispensable element in any lasting solution to an intractableconflict.17 Real peace requires a real recognition of all the suffering perceivedby the adversary. However, such recognition does not imply an automatic ac-ceptance of the aim of the adversary or a justification for the methods it usesin its struggle. What is required is a rejection of the idea that the violenceperpetrated by the adversary necessarily is “irrational.” Apart from a few trulypathological crimes, irrationality is rare, and explicative factors can be foundeven in the case of the most odious attack.

Surely suicide bombings can only be explained by a sort of personal and

collective despair caused, in turn, by injuries to an identity that are ill-perceivedby the outside world. The fact that an increasing percentage of Palestinians





understands or even supports such actions is not intelligible as a response tothe purely material violence displayed by Israel to assure its security. There is

clearly another level of analysis to be explored in order to interpret this manifestdiscrepancy between actions and reactions. And we need intellectual tools thatare able to conceptualize it.

3. Symbolic violence does not only generate aggressive reactions in its victims, butit also increases the probability of aggressive attacks from the dominant group.Symbolic violence, we said, undermines identities, and undermined people aremore easily made into targets of physical violence. This is particularly the caseif a group’s status is widely perceived as inferior. This means that the violencecommitted against it draws fewer compassionate responses from the outsideworld. As a result, the group’s capacity for retaliation is reduced, and harsh mea-

sures can be put in place with less hesitation. This is why racism, anti-Semitism,and all fears of otherness are potentially murderous. If such heterophobia comesto constitute an accepted discourse in a society, it creates a favorable climatefor aggressive acts. Isolated individuals or extremist organizations, identifyingthemselves with the dominant group, may feel authorized to commit brutalitieseither against members of the stigmatized community—“to put them back intheir place”—or against the symbols of their identity. In Europe, even today,migrants and Gypsies and synagogues and mosques constitute such targets.

Although the first perpetrators of such outrages no doubt have a propensity forviolence whose origin is far from political, the choice of their targets is given

by the socially accepted discourse of contempt. If such prejudices turn intoofficial ideologies, the state apparatus can be mobilized against the stigmatizedcommunities, enlarging the circle of potential perpetrators while increasingthe number of bystanders who feel they can legitimately avert their eyes fromthe violence being committed.

During a civil war, each side tends to vilify the enemy as “monstrous.” If suchrhetoric becomes dominant, the temptation grows to ignore regular juridical andhumanitarian practices and the consideration appropriate for a human being.

As a result, there is an increase in police abuse, imprisonment without trial,harsh interrogations, unexplained deaths, and disappearances. In the courseof military operations, methods will be used which increasingly resemble warcrimes: indiscriminate military attacks, aggressive treatment of prisoners of war,violence against civilians, and systematic rape. Even if the perpetrators are notofficially encouraged in these actions, they are easily absolved of their crimes bya public opinion that does not properly understand the harsh condemnationsof the outside world, nor the possible legal consequences.

When peace breaks out, however, the conduct widely allowed during theconflict will be re-evaluated. Apologies and regrets, if not actual compensa-tion, are a precondition for a true and lasting reconciliation. At the end of a

civil war, a country is often divided between those who want amnesia and/oramnesty, and those who want the perpetrators to answer for the crimes. To





the extent that legal processes are carried out, they do not only have the aimof compensating the victims, but also of providing society as a whole with

cathartic experience. 4. Without the concept of symbolic violence, it is difficult to understand the

mechanisms behind perpetual violence. Emotional dynamics cause seriousdistortions of rational judgment. This first happens prior to the decision toresort to force and then again while the violence is in progress. Armed con-flicts, in the main, do not originate in simple confrontations of interests. Ifthis were the case, cold rational calculations would lead actors to avoid manywars because they often enough prove to be prohibitively costly, in human andmaterial terms, even for the winner. Moreover, is it really possible to clearlydistinguish interests and passions? As Montesquieu already argued, followed

by Adam Smith, even the quest for financial profit can be considered as a “softpassion.”18 To fight in defense of economic interests also involves a certain ideaof identity. On the international stage, this means to claim a rank and a status.For this reason, if a country’s preoccupation with protecting the security andeconomic stability of its citizens plays a major role in causing armed conflicts,these factors come to operate in an emotional context, perfectly understoodby the actors. There are four main emotions at play here, all closely related tosymbolic violence.

First there is fear.19 A normal reaction to danger for all vulnerable individuals and

groups, fear is a natural emotion, and it weighs heavily in the calculations of allpolitical actors: fear of humiliation, fear of a failure, fear not to respond adequatelyto the expectations of public opinion, fear of being overwhelmed by challenges. Yetfear is at the same time a particularly volatile emotion. It inspires uncontrollableand disproportionate conduct: paralyzing astonishment as well as frenzied energy.

Fear itself is commonly feared, since it often results in dishonorable acts such aswithdrawal or escape, or a subservient acceptance of the will of the enemy. To admitto fear when confronting an adversary is to reduce oneself to an inferior position, andthis, in turn, is to lose face. In order to cover up such an outcome, decision-makersand opinion-makers may react by means of aggressive rhetoric. Such rhetoric can itselfput a country on the path of war, a step that may prove irreversible to the extent thatit provokes symmetric reactions in the adversary camp or makes domestic opinionbelieve in the idea, or the illusion, of triumph.

A second emotion, closely related to symbolic violence, we could perhaps referto as predatory ardor. This emotion often arises both among the ruling circles andthe general population of a country if the balance of power is all too clearly in theirfavor. Armed conflicts are encouraged by everything that stirs this temptation. If awar seems to promise substantial advantages at a reduced cost, the only problem thatconfronts power-hungry politicians is how to come up with the legitimate motivations.

For this reason, wars were often declared in the name of religion or nationalpride, and today they are often declared in the name of “national liberation” or the





furthering of democracy or human rights. However, behind these honorable moti-vations, loudly proclaimed by the actors, the passion for triumph and the appetite

for material benefit soon show themselves. In the end, the self-confident victors,in violation of their stated war aims, display a considerable reluctance to cede theterritories they have conquered or to restrain themselves when it comes to settingthe conditions of the peace. Those among them who better anticipate the uncertainfuture and adopt a more conciliatory line will run into hawks who heavily criticizethem for their concessions.

Third, one cannot underestimate the role of resentment.20 Nietzsche correctlyregarded resentment as a hidden confession of weakness or sense of inferiority, whichin return entails an all-consuming desire for revenge. Caused by a previous experi-ence of symbolic violence and/or memories of past cruelties, this feeling strongly

feeds the propensity for taking a hard line in conflict situations.21 Resentment maybe the main motivation for individuals to join organizations that favor violent wordsor violent acts. As for decision-makers, regardless of their own thoughts, they haveto address the constraints imposed on them by the feelings of resentment amongordinary people. Such feelings are common when a population has experiencedoppression or humiliation at the hands of representatives of alternative cultural orpolitical systems. In democracies, when public opinion is sufficiently agitated, it mayforce the actions of a government that, everything else equal, would like to keep itscool. Although the material benefits expected from a conquest or a war never accrueequally to all members of a society, all can feel the sense of triumph that accompanies

the successful exercise of power over an enemy, not least since this gives relief froma lingering sense of inferiority.

Last, the emotion of losing and saving face is a well-known explanation for theconduct of individuals in their personal and social lives.22 The same mechanismexists in interstate relations where considerations of prestige are greatly increased.The complex codified language and etiquette of international diplomacy can largelybe explained by a concern for avoiding a terminology and behavior, which can beperceived as symbolically violent by the adversary. Officials humiliated on the inter-national stage are politically weakened inside their own country, and their future iscompromised. Military defeats almost always provoke at least forced resignations or,in more extreme cases, coup d’états or regime change.

The loss of face and the quest to regain it makes citizens swing from feelings ofanger to depression and to desire for revenge. By contrast, military successes reinforcethe authority of the government, protecting them from criticism of their domesticpolicy. Indeed, in binding individuals together in a sense of pride in their community,this emotion explains the mystery of allegiance to a community or a nation.

The consideration of symbolic violence, be it intentional or unintentional, associ-ated with physical violence or not, seems indispensable for a better understandingof the historic, sequential chain of events at the root of internal troubles as well as

international conflicts. The notion of symbolic violence forces us to undertake a morebalanced re-examination of the actions and responsibilities pertaining to various





actors. A better understanding of the global dimensions of violence and war presentswithout doubt a move forward toward a durable peace.

Notes

Translated by Sador Usmanov, with Thomas Lindemann and Erik Ringmar. 1. Nieburg 1969, 13. 2. Tilly 2003. 3. Shirer 1969. 4. Ashcroft and Alii 2000. 5. See the model of Nurturing Parent Family versus Strict Father Family as framingpolitical opinions in Lakoff 1996. 6. This is a strong component and even a deciding factor of the famous “clash of civiliza-tions.” See Huntington 1996. His work implicitly refers to the concept of symbolic violence. 7. Bourdieu 1980, 219. 8. For Galtung, “structural violence” occurs when “human beings are being influencedso that their actual somatic and mental realizations are below their potential realizations.”Galtung 1969, 168. 9. Sebald 1999. 10. Braud 2003, 33–47. 11. See the deportees’ stories from writers like Jean Amery, Primo Levi, Imre Kertesz (NaziCamps) and Gustav Herling (Gulag). Adde: Sofsky 1996.

12. In June 1870, German Chancellor Bismarck deliberately hardened the words of adispatch announcing that the king of Prussia had rejected some claims of France so that theFrench emperor felt strongly humiliated and went to war, which was what Bismarck secretlywished. See Howard 1999. 13. Levering 1995. 14. Scott 1985. 15. Thomas 1997. 16. Allan and Keller 2006. 17. Again, Allan and Keller 2006. On Northern Ireland, see O’Leary 2007. 18. The classical text here is Hirschman’s The Passions and the Interests, 1977. 19. Robin 2004.

20. Ansart 2002. 21. Burg and Shoup 1999. 22. See Goffman 1967; Brown 1977.

Bibliography


Ansart, Pierre, ed. 2002. Le Ressentiment. Brussels: Bruylant.

Ashcroft, Bill, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, eds. 2000. The Post Colonial Studies Reader 2nd ed. London: Routledge.





Bourdieu, Pierre. 1980. Le Sens pratique. Paris: Les Éditions de Minuit.Braud, Philippe. 2003. “Violence politique et mal-être identitaire.” Raisons politiques: Ques-

tions de violence. Paris: Presses de Sciences Po, 33–47.———. 2004. Violences politiques. Paris: Seuil.Brown, Bert. 1977. “Face Saving and Face Restoration in Negotiations.” In Negotiations.

Social-Psychological Perspectives, edited by D. Druckman. London: Sage.Burg, Steven, and Paul Shoup. 1999. The War in Bosnia-Herzegovina: Ethnic Conflict and

International Intervention. Armonk: M. E. Sharpe.Galtung, Johan. 1969. “Violence, Peace and Peace Research.” Journal of Peace Research 6.Goffman, Erving. 1967. Interaction Ritual. New York: Anchor Books.Howard, Michael. 1999.The Franco-Prussian War: The German Invasion of France, 1870–1871.

London: Routledge.Huntington, Samuel. 1996. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. New

York: Simon and Schuster.Lakoff, George. 1996. Moral Politics: What Conservatives Know that Liberal s Don’t. Chicago:

University of Chicago Press.Levering, David. 1995. The Race to Fashoda : London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.Nieburg, H. L. 1969. Political Violence: The Behavioral Process. New York: St. Martin’s.O’Leary, Brendan. 1996. The Politics of Antagonism: Understanding Northern Ireland. London,

NJ: Athlone.Robin, Corey. 2004. Fear: The History of a Political Idea. Oxford: Oxford University Press.Scott, James. 1985. Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance. New Haven:

Yale University Press.Sebald, W. G. 1999. Luftkrieg und Literatur. Munich: Carl Hanser Verlag.

Shirer, William. 1969. The Collapse of the Third Republic: An Inquiry into the Fall of Francein 1940. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Sofsky, Wolfgang. 1996. The Order of Terror: The Concentration Camp. Princeton: PrincetonUniversity Press.

Thomas, Hugh. 1997. The Slave Trade: The Story of the Atlantic Slave Trade: 1440–1870. New York: Simon and Schuster.

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Tilly, Charles. 2003. The Politics of Collective Violence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.




71

Chapte r 4

Is a Just Peace Possible without

Thin and Thick Recognition?

Pierre Allan and Alexis Keller

Introduction: Peace, Justice, and Recognition

Can one have peace without recognition? Obviously, yes: peace may be obtainedthrough imposition. In international relations, when a strong party imposes its willon a weaker one, the violent conflict ends and peace reigns. Although the funda-mental disagreement may not have abated, the preceding struggle has ended withthe dominance of the powerful. Peace may also result through the utter destructionof the Other. Such a peace can be exemplified by the Roman annihilation of itsenemy Carthage on the other shore of the Mediterranean. With the disappearance

of a party to a conflict, the conflict itself vanishes. A tautological thought, albeit notan uncommon historical fact.

Thus, through imposition or destruction peace can come about in various ways.But is such a peace real, one of a “peace of minds”? Clearly not. For this morallypreferable situation, peace needs to be desired by all parties to a conflict. Assertinga wish for peace is vital but insufficient. It does not necessarily trigger negotiationsnor bring about a settlement. The real challenge is compromise, achieving peacewithout either side claiming full victory. It is this second, more demanding kind ofpeace that we discuss in this chapter by presenting a concept as well as a method ofreaching a peace that includes justice or elements of it.




72 ✻ Pierre Allan and Alexis Keller

Can one have such a just peace without recognition? The simple answer is,obviously, no. But what do we mean by recognition? What kind of recognition is

mandated? In our contribution, we argue that “thin” recognition, as we call it, whilenecessary for a Just Peace, is not sufficient for three fundamental reasons. First ofall, such recognition does not include the fundamental defining features of identity,nor does it address the crucial issue of the necessary political support within a partythat is essential for finding a peaceful solution. In other words, “thick” recognitionis needed from all politically relevant parties to a conflict.1 This means a process bywhich each party needs to understand the Other’s fundamental features of its identity.Mutual empathy—which does not necessarily entail sympathy—is crucial here. Aninter-subjective consensus of what each side profoundly needs to remain “self” andthus satisfied should be developed in a Just Peace process.

Second, a Just Peace requires two other conditions we posit as indispensable:renouncement and rule. “Renouncement” refers to the requirement of a significantconcession made by each party, thus clearly signaling its quest for peace to the otherparties in a conflict. “Rule” is a generic term for all the rules and institutions devel-oped in the public peace formula that fully and explicitly recognizes the other party.Third, these four principles or conventions—thin recognition, thick recognition,renouncement, and rule—are not only the necessary and sufficient conditions forcalling a given peace a just one. They are also part of a process of exploration whereinthe parties explore each other’s identities and, in this task, redefine them, includingtheir own. As a consequence, we argue that the search for a Just Peace modifies the

perceptions of the party that is being recognized; in addition, this task also modifiessome important features of the original party.

Unlike the doctrine of Just War where all conditions are necessary and, in caseall are fulfilled, a given war can be deemed a just one, our Just Peace approachtherefore defines a process of mutual recognition that goes beyond the initial self-definitions of the parties to it. For many years, scholars have primarily focused onthe idea of Just War. Countless books have examined the relationship between warand justice from a legal, political, or moral perspective. Surprisingly, there has beenvery little research on the concept of “just peace” and its history. We have shelvesfull of excellent studies referring to “negative peace,” “positive peace,” “armedpeace,” “perpetual peace,” “democratic peace,” and “universal peace,” but very littlehas been written in both political science and international law on what is a justpeace. Among theories of international relations today, an extensive literature hasbeen devoted to identifying what justice means in an international context, or themore recent, but already sizeable, body of scholarship on the idea that a new kindof world order is developing.2 Some theorists and practitioners have applied methodsof research on conflict resolution that focus on the negotiating process and the wayin which it is affected by the “call for justice.”3 They have looked at the extent towhich such calls influence the outcome of peace negotiations. They have compared

case studies to extrapolate the conditions required for a “just peace.” And they haveinsisted on the importance of cultural differences, emphasizing how the individual




Is a Just Peace Possible Without Thin and Thick Recognition? ✻ 73

or collective attitudes of conflict parties and psychological factors can shape rela-tions between negotiators.4

International lawyers have also participated in the debate over the link betweenpeace and justice by studying the idea of “unequal treaties.” This notion has itsorigins in the law of contracts and is an outgrowth of the natural-law concept of afair price. It was debated in the long drafting processes of the law of treaties and ofthe state succession in respect of treaties.5 Recently, new attention has been paid tothe issue by critical legal scholarship providing us with fresh understandings of therelationship between international law, European history, and colonialism.6 Theseworks insist on the discrepancy between formal equality and substantial politicaland social inequality, paving the way for the theory and practice of compensatoryinequality. Nevertheless, like international relations theorists, they have paid far too

little attention to what precisely a “just peace” could mean. They have not investigatedenough the various conceptions of peace upon which many agreements—especiallybetween Europeans and non-European peoples from 1600 to 1850—were based.7

The purpose of this contribution is therefore to present our concept of Just Peacewhile extending the discussion on questions of recognition.8 In that perspective, peaceagreements must be understood not only as legal documents but also as documentsthat distinctively frustrate traditional disciplinary, methodological, and theoreticalconceptions of law and politics. In other words, peace agreements do not fit neatlyinto categories like the “political” or the “legal,” the “international” or the “domestic,”or even into “public” or “private” law. Adopting Christine Bell’s position, we define

peace agreements as “documents produced after discussion with some or all of theconflict’s protagonists, that address militarily violent conflict with a view to endingit.”9 In that perspective, they are simultaneously process- and substance-related docu-ments where process and substance cannot be separated but must be understood asoperating in complex unity.

Peace and Justice in History

In Reason and Rhetoric in the Philosophy of Hobbes, Quentin Skinner unequivocallydemonstrates how Hobbes pitched his political and legal theory to undermine thehumanist culture of the Renaissance.10 He rejected the notion of dialogue inherentin humanists’ moral and political philosophy (audi alteram partem), which held thatcriteria for such a dialogue were applied on a circumstantial or contextual basis ratherthan being essential or universal. Hobbes sought to overcome the “uncertainty”propagated through humanist philosophy, opting for a scientific and monologicalfooting by setting up a hypothetic-deductive method. In Skinner’s words, Hobbesfirst initiated “the shift from a dialogical to a monological style of moral and politicalreasoning.”11 The powerful appeal of Hobbes’s scientifically rigorous method gave

rise to a new wave of international legal theorizing that gradually subordinated andovershadowed Grotius, along with the scholastic and classical traditions upon which





he so heavily depended. Indeed, despite their rejection of the Hobbesian conceptionof the “state of nature,” Pufendorf, Locke, Vattel, and Kant all forged their systems

of international relations on a uniform—scientific—vision of law, which ruled outany dialogue with non-European people. Notwithstanding efforts on the part ofPufendorf and Kant, not one of them defined the right of peace in terms of recogni-tion or fairness. They used a language that marginalized the structure and “political”systems of colonized peoples. They came up with a “liberal” theory of natural rightsthat could be used to justify the imposition of European ideas of political societyand community on non-European cultures. By codifying the terms for membershipin this post-Westphalian society of states, they drew the boundaries between thosewho belonged to this society and those who did not. Those who did formed a moralcommunity bound by mutually agreed rules of conduct. And fundamental to this

community was the idea that its members were not obliged to treat non-membersaccording to the norms that applied to relations between themselves.12

Thus, the history of the formative period of international law is important inthat it outlines the gradual emergence in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuriesof a discourse about law that either had pretentions to, or was regarded as having,universal application.13 Other attitudes toward diversity and customs were discardedin favor of one centralized legal conception of peace agreements. In the search for“universal peace”—which is very different from a Just Peace—no effort was madeto integrate non-European peoples and non-European visions of history and peace.The debate was restricted to treaties as expressed in normative, European, and legal

terms, based on a homogeneous view of a state or a nation.This view did not go unchallenged. In the eighteenth century, some theorists

such as Montesquieu and Rousseau pleaded for the necessity to adopt what JamesTully calls the “principle of recognition.” They did value difference, not only for itsown sake but also because to do otherwise would be to privilege one understandingof what it is to be human over others.

In his early writings, especially in his Lettres Persanes (1721), Montesquieu clearlyshows that the idea of diversity was a central feature of his social and political thought.He invoked a conception of diversity that recognized the important pedagogical andmoral value of the acceptance of various forms of life, as opposed to a relativist orskeptical stance. Praise of the diversity of modes of association was connected withthe awareness that in the complexity of the world, the shapes of political goods andevils are never pure or stable. Montesquieu was fascinated by the diversity of laws andethics across nations and intrigued by the wealth of beliefs and customs throughouttime and space; his views on the analysis of the sources of law and on customarylaw illustrate that point very well. However, he did not recognize the importance ofdiversity through the eyes of a skeptic or relativist. He did not merely defend eachperson’s right to be judged according to his or her own laws. The blanket rejectionof despotism that pervades his work could not have been built out of relativism. The

Spirit of the Laws (1748) is in fact a fundamental attempt to describe universalismand relativism rather than a decision to adopt one or the other. Extreme relativism is





a mere illusion, he argued, but it is impossible to go back to a universal philosophythat ignores cultural plurality and the individual’s quest for equality.

Rousseau also understood the importance of “thick recognition” for his socialtheory. In the two Discourses (1750; 1755) and in l’Emile (1762), Rousseau under-lined the importance—and the ways—of “knowing” other people. He pinpointedthe necessity to understand what is specific about each people and, by extension, theways in which they might differ from us. He called for an informed attitude, with noulterior motives, which requires jingoistic prejudice and ethnocentric preconceptionsto be cast aside. Rousseau made that point clear in chapter 8 of his Essay on the Originof Languages. Consequently, he did not just call for equality between men (implyingcompassion toward indigenous peoples) but also between peoples. His internationalthought is clearly a forceful plea for equality and fairness between nations.

Of course, Montesquieu or Rousseau should not be seen as modern-day advocatesof multiculturalism. Indeed, they did not write of culture in the plural (this was adevelopment that would occur in European writings of the nineteenth century, whencultures would begin to signify—only certain—peoples). Nevertheless, they wereperfectly aware of the categories under which human diversity was theorized (climate,national character, race, moeurs, etc.). Before Diderot, Burke, Herder, and Kant,whom they profoundly influenced, Montesquieu and Rousseau believed that humanbeings are fundamental cultural creatures; that is, they possess and exercise, simplyby virtue of being human, a range of rational, emotive, and imaginative capacitiesthat create and transform diverse practices and institutions over time. The fact that

humans are “cultural agents,” according to them, underlies the diverse moeurs, prac-tices, beliefs, and institutions of different people. It is therefore fair to say that theydid reject assimilation unless it was the free choice of the individual or people beingassimilated. They argued for a mutual agreement about the conditions for sharingterritory and land. It was clear for them that a lasting peace and a just reconciliationbetween indigenous people and settler societies required “thick” recognition, mutualconsent, and negotiations in a respectful manner on a nation-to-nation basis.

In recent years, there have been genuine attempts from within the liberal traditionto recognize other cultures and accommodate distinctive cultural or group rights.14 However, too often, liberals do so in keeping with what John Rawls termed “reason-able pluralism,” but solely on their own terms, according to their own world-view.15 Recognition is only acceptable within their own conceptual universe since it is, intheir view, a universal one.16 Why is it difficult for liberal political theory to under-stand the question of mutual recognition between different parties with identities,histories, and cultures that are quite distinct from their own? Mainly because culturesmake demands that are identity-defining, and some of these usually defy the culturalneutrality that is one of the foundations of the liberalism. Liberals see these demandsas a threat to the constitutional order. According to them, the liberal state should notseek to recognize distinctive cultural or group rights but instead focus on providing

effective individual civil rights such as freedom of expression, association, religion,movement, and the like.17





These arguments have been subject to extensive criticism. Numerous authors haveunderlined the tension between cultural difference and liberalism. Bhikhu Parekh,

for example, observes that the liberal state is “a deeply homogenizing institution.”18 It has evolved as a form of political organization that expects its citizens to subscribeto an identical way of defining themselves and is consequently threatened by identi-ties that can set up rival kinds of loyalty. Feminist authors have also underscoredhow liberal theories have, in their quest for an imaginary unity, systematically putaside other theories, which gave more place to differences. In particular, feministsargue, liberalism has been identified with an abstract individualism that ignores itsown gendered content and have criticized the homogenizing ideals of equality thatrequire us to be or become the same.19

In sum, history shows that Western—and above all liberal—political theory has

a fundamental problem with the convention of thick recognition, which is centralto our perspective and which it cannot always accommodate. Each party has to beable to understand the other’s fundamental identity features, in particular, the differ-ences it needs to remain “self.” The recognition of these differences typically requiresreaching out of a universal scheme equally applicable to all parties. Fundamentally, weare arguing in favor of a line of reasoning that is geared to the existence of multipleinstitutions, legal traditions, and the presence of plural identities in the way partiessee themselves. This makes it impossible to resolve the problems of a Just Peace byone all–encompassing original position (as under universalism) or even by two setsof overarching original positions—one within each “nation” and another among the

representatives of all nations. The existence of many identities is a central feature ofthe world and cannot be ignored in exploring the demands for recognition. Only aformal theory of just peace can give justice to this human diversity. This being said,let us now probe deeper into the two fundamental kinds of recognition, starting withthe more limited one, thin recognition.

Thin Recognition

With thin recognition, parties, states, peoples, or other such collectives recognize eachother as agents, as autonomous “entities” that have a particular identity, a history, aculture, and usually their own common language. In other words, they accept eachother as collectives of human beings. This thin recognition proceeds simply on theacceptance of the Other, of its having the right to exist and continuing to exist asan autonomous agent. At this level of a thin or minimalist recognition, the “thick-ness” of the other agent, while being accepted in principle, is not recognized as suchand remains in the background. Simply, the Other is only accepted as a full-fledgednegotiating partner while the negotiation may not succeed. The most crucial pointis that the parties recognize each other as key for resolving the conflict. It is this ac-

ceptance of the Other as such which is a necessary—but not sufficient—conditionof a Just Peace.





In this sense, our perspective is analogous to Kant’s minimalist “cosmopolitanright,” “the right of a stranger not to be treated with hostility when he arrives on

someone else’s territory,” a “right of resort,” allowing each human being “to attemptto enter into relations” with others, such as trade.20 However, it does not imply theknowledge of the other party’s identity, simply the recognition that he has a separateone and that one can enter into potentially fruitful interchange with him.

Interestingly, contemporary work in game theory has given extensive thought tothe mutual understanding of the Other. It is invaluable in probing very deeply intothe rationality of decision-making in interdependent social situations where eachdecision has consequences depending on decisions by others. The modeling of therational choices of actors in such situations requires a theory of who these actors are.However, in order to keep the analysis manageable, these others are highly stylized

and homogenized. Indeed, the Other is seen as homogeneous with oneself, albeitwith different preferences. Concepts such as “common knowledge,” that is, the jointcognitive elements of a situation and its involved social actors, have become central.

What actors know about the situation, about the other players, and also what theyknow about themselves has become a central feature of game theoretical modeling.21 The insights gained with these perspectives are invaluable. However, they come at aprice of a thin recognition, not a thick one.

Recognition needs to be thick in the sense of capturing the richness of the Other—this includes the Other’s contradictions and multifaceted richness, which is hard tomodel analytically. We now turn to this concept.

Thick Recognition

Requiring thick recognition means that each party needs to understand the Otherin terms of the essential elements composing its identity. This condition is centralbecause it allows each party to identify essential and inevitable “red lines” that cannotbe crossed without challenging the very existence of the other party. To make ourclaims clear: here, we are not asking for an overall consensus between parties. Norare we requiring the kind of societal consensus necessary in some societies wherebydifferences are solved by long palavers, and where each individual has in some sensethe power of vetoing the collective decision. All we require for a Just Peace is a mini-mal understanding of the internal support a proposed just solution would have foreach significant or relevant group or sensitivity within each actor. According to theidentity of an actor, support may stem from the agreement of the legitimate leadersin a representative democracy, or the consent of the major groups supporting anauthoritarian system or any other significant domestic political force or sensitivitywhich may block a Just Peace formula.

The notion of identity is therefore crucial. Despite their undeniable rigidities,

identities are potentially changeable (and in fact negotiable) for two reasons. First,unlike territory and resources, they are not inherently a zero-sum game; though they





are perceived and debated as such in intense conflicts, it is in fact not the case thatone’s identity can be expressed only if the other’s identity is totally denied. If the

two—or more—identities are to become compatible, however, they have to be definedanew or redefined. And here is the second reason they are changeable: they can beredefined because they are to a large extent constructed out of real experiences, andthese experiences can be presented and ordered in different ways. 22

The discovery that accommodation of the Other’s identity need not destroy thecore of the group’s own identity makes these changes possible, and this kind oflearning is usually taking place during the negotiation process. Therefore, to finda common ground between identities, it is essential to genially understand the coreidentity of the Other. Thick recognition implies full acceptance of the humanity ofthe Other—including the contradictory elements of human experience and their

societal dimensions.23

But it is not sufficient to comprehend the Other: it is just as important to under-stand oneself. Surprisingly, most social scientific approaches start from the premisethat actors are knowledgeable of themselves and concentrate on how the nature ofthe Other is defined. Most often, the rationality of the Other is posited in order to beable to rationally enter into social intercourse with her. However, we believe that thoserepresenting a party need to fully grasp the core identity and potential for change oftheir own party in order to be able to devise a solution that will be, sometimes onlywith time, recognized and accepted by their own people.

Having discussed thin and thick recognition, we now discuss two further condi-

tions pertaining to a Just Peace.

Toward a Just Peace

The third necessary convention for our Just Peace concept is renouncement in thesense of concessions and compromises being necessary to build a peace that will beaccepted as just. Some symbols, positions, and advantages need to be sacrificed. Inother words, it is not sufficient to find a win-win formula, but an essential ingredientlies in sacrifices; that is, costs that each party needs to make with respect to the other.

Just Peace cannot be had on the cheap with mutual benefits only. Rather, it is a humanexperience that requires a visible and obvious rapprochement on the human level andthat requires visible sacrifices from both parties. Aside from the division of territory,sovereignty, and power, negotiations are often marked by one overriding factor—asymbolic, initially non-negotiable issue around which the conflict is structured. Thatissue may be the unity of the state, religious freedom, constitutional reform, or therole of a language. In Northern Ireland, the defining factor is the union with GreatBritain. Canada’s conflict is embodied in the issue of language. In Kosovo, religiondivides hearts and minds.

Rule constitutes our fourth and final condition. Just Peace cannot only be in theminds of peoples, a subjective feeling amongst negotiators, a sentiment of justice





or peace between them. For a Just Peace to be durable, it needs to be shown in theopen, in the public sphere. It requires explicit rules of settlement, legitimate rules of

acceptable behavior, and inter-subjective yardsticks allowing all—both parties andoutside observers or guarantors—to approve of the solution found. We define rule inthe generic sense of common principles, norms, and accepted behaviors. Typically,the rule between parties to a Just Peace is grounded in law, which is seen as a way ofshaping the first three conventions. However, is it really impossible to settle on a legallanguage shared and accepted by all? Therein lies the challenge posed by relativism(impossibility to choose between legal traditions) and perspectivism (impossibilityto claim that one holds the truth inside a school of thought).

Tzvetan Todorov, Ashis Nandy, and Andrew Linklater provide us with usefulinsights to solve this dilemma and think about a way to create channels between

rival traditions.24 They are concerned with the process of “othering” by means ofwhich a self understands the relationship between itself and some other and is anunderstanding with practical implications. All three offer richly rewarding insightsinto cross-cultural understanding, notably Todorov’s idea of “non-violent communica-tion,” Nandy’s notion of a “dialogue of visions,” and Linklater’s application of JürgenHabermas’s “discourse ethics” to international relations. Through a conversationalprocess that does not assume Western superiority, they argue, it is possible to achieve adialogue between cultures and the degree of mutual understanding needed to sustaininternational society. This dialogue permits—but does not necessarily entail—thedevelopment of “rule,” the arena where each party’s cultural conventions on recogni-

tion and renouncement are reinvented, fleshed out, and modified. This is done bythe negotiators who develop narratives encompassing the essential features of eachparty’s mind-set and expectations.25 The populations themselves may be involved inthis process, although their political elites play the major role. By crafting and thendrafting a common acceptable convention using the terminology of both negotiatingtraditions, it allows the features of the just solution to be objectified by a “text.” Thisterm is to be seen in the widest sense, including the essential symbolic features, suchas shaking hands, having a common meal, a reciprocal invitation to visit the leaders’private home, and so forth. It requires a common language to be set forth, respectingthe particular identities of each, making their concessions clear to all, and defining therights and duties of each in securing a Just Peace that is seen by both as a lasting one.Differently put, after the highly “subjective” thick recognition and renouncement,it is necessary that the agreement be fully communicated to the relevant publics. Itneeds to be publicized, thus entering the public sphere not only of each party but alsoof all outside observers and third parties, helping to cement the agreement.

So far, however, we have not explained in detail how we arrive at this commonlanguage, that is, the process of reaching a Just Peace. We believe that Ludwig Witt-genstein’s approach to the concept of understanding provides us with the key elementof how parties reach the common language, which allows them in turn to reach a

Just Peace. In one of the most famous passages of his Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein compares language to an ancient city: “Our language may be seen as





an ancient city: a maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses, and ofhouses with additions from various periods; and this surrounded by a multitude of

new boroughs with straight regular streets and uniform houses.”26 This analogy isused to make us understand that language, like a city, has grown up in a variety offorms through practices overlapping in many ways the endless diversity of humanactivities. Like a city, it does have a multiplicity of possible paths. Consequently, it isimpossible to articulate a comprehensive rule that stipulates the essential conditionsfor the correct application of words in every instance, just as there is no such com-prehensive view of a city. Wittgenstein explains that, “a meaning of a word is a kindof employment of it. For it is what we learn when the word is incorporated into ourlanguage.”27 He thus shows that understanding a general term is not the theoreticalactivity of interpreting and applying a general theory in distinct cases. It is rather

the practical activity of being able to use it in various circumstances. In that sense, Wittgenstein’s philosophy furnishes an alternative way of building an inter-culturaldialogue by enabling the interlocutors to modify their languages and their “pictures ofthe world.” This dialogical way of apprehending others thus provides us with a processthat does not entail comprehending what they say within one side’s own language.28 In sum, his theory gives us a solid base to anchor our concept “rule.” It not only al-lows us to “do things with words,” following John Austin’s terminology, but it alsopermits us to go beyond the usual opposition between liberalism and culturalism.29

Our four conditions thus both define a Just Peace and point toward the neces-sary features of a process leading to it. In fact, by neither specifying some general

rules of justice nor the content of the peace but focusing only on some very generalforms that the process of a Just Peace needs to proceed through, we have developeda formal concept. A specific Just Peace formula will not necessarily be, as in a Kan-tian perspective, a perpetual one. Just Peace needs to be maintained, and thereforeadapted to changing societal circumstances, in order to survive. We argue that theexistence of many collective identities is a central feature of the world and cannot beignored in exploring the demands for recognition. Therefore, only a formal theoryof Just Peace can give justice to this human diversity: each peace is a particular one,accommodating the specific identities involved. Differently put: only a content-freeconcept is able to accommodate conflicting identities within a procedural approachof mutual recognition, such as our Just Peace concept.

Conclusion

In Worcester vs. the State of Georgia (1832), United States Chief Justice John Mar-shall used thin and thick recognition as the cornerstone of his argument.30 Referringin 1832 to the Royal Proclamation of October 7, 1763, in which the British Crownset out its views on relations between North America and the Amerindian nations,

Marshall not only insisted on the fact that it unmistakably recognized indigenouspeoples as autonomous nations. He did not portray them using traditional Eurocentric





Enlightenment discourse. Instead, he underlined the attitude of British negotiatorswho adapted their approach to the Amerindian culture and refused to dismiss its

peoples as “inferior” on the evolutionary scale. He observed that the British Crownhad incorporated the idea of thick recognition into the treaties signed with Amerin-dians and concluded that the US government was bound to respect that undertaking.

History does provide us with some Just Peace agreements including thin and thickrecognition—although, as expected, these are relatively rare. The Edict of Nantes of1598 negotiated by Henri IV and the commissioners to settle the Huguenot issue inFrance and to integrate Protestants as full-fledged French citizens; the Great Peaceof Montreal of 1701 in which forty Amerindian nations met with representativesof France to end persistent bloody conflicts; the Treaty of San Francisco (1951)between Japan and the United States; and the constitutional negotiations in South

Africa between 1990 and 1994 could all be seen as examples of “ just” agreementsin that they satisfy all four of our Just Peace conditions. In each of these cases, aliberal thin recognition was insufficient for reaching a legitimate and durable peace.This reminds us that recognition in a multilateral context is a thin concept notnecessarily permitting full or thick recognition paying due respect to each peacepartner’s identity.

Peace and justice are both critical imperatives in post-conflict (and often post-authoritarian) contexts. Too often, brokering (and maintaining) peace and advancing

justice are assumed to be in tension with each other, or it is thought that seeking onewill automatically be to the detriment of the other. Thin and thick recognition are

an important part of this accommodation process whereby negotiators seek to agreeto a fair and lasting peace. If we want to address the theoretical challenge posed bymulticulturalism to modern world politics, then continuing work on Just Peace isessential.

Notes

We thank the two editors and an anonymous reviewer for their helpful comments. 1. We borrow Clifford Geertz’s 1973 terminology to distinguish between what we calla classical l iberal or minimal “thin recognition,” and our definition of a “thick” one. Geertz(1973, 6) himself adopted his “thick description” from Gilbert Ryle, a Wittgensteinianphilosopher. In doing so, we do not follow Michael Walzer’s moral conceptual distinctionbetween “thin” and “thick” morality. See Walzer 1994, xi. 2. On contemporary thinking about justice and international society, see various ap-proaches in Mapel and Nardin 1999. See in particular Rawls 1999. 3. See, among others, Walter 2001; Stern and Druckman 2000. 4. See for instance Fisher and Brown 1988; Gudykunst and Ting-Toomey 1988; Cohen1991. 5. See Lesaffer 2004.

6. See in particular Simpson 2004; Anghie 2007. 7. The same criticism could not be made, at least without serious qualifications, for cultural





and legal historians. For an excel lent analysis of the vision of peace defended by indigenouspeoples, see Williams 1999. See also White 1991; Jennings 1985; Pocock 2005, 226–258.

8. We have tried to explore and further develop the concept of Just Peace in Allan andKeller 2006. Parts of this chapter are based on this earlier work. 9. Bell 2008, 53. 10. Skinner 1996. 11. Ibid. 16. 12. Todorov 1984, Pagden 1995, Tuck 1999, and Tully 1995 have provided detailed his-torical accounts of this dynamics. 13. See Keal 2003, 85–86. 14. Kymlicka 1989; 1995. 15. Rawls 1999, 4–5. 16. Tully 1995, 10–11.

17. For a development of these claims, see Kukathas 1992. 18. Parekh 2000. 19. See Phillips 1991; Bock and James 1992. For a presentation of theses debates, see Tully2004, 855–862. 20. Kant 1991, 105–106. 21. See Allan and Dupont 1999. 22. See Kelman 1997, 338. See also Behnke’s contribution to this volume, which pleadsgoing beyond a Hegelian constitutive recognition. 23. As Ringmar argues in his introduction to this book, states tell stories about themselvesand demand approval of the individuality of their narrated self-conceptions. 24. Todorov 1984; Nandy 1992; Linklater 1998, chapter 3 especially.

25. In his contribution to this volume, Honneth contends that political actors and rulersare key in the interpretation of their population’s “moods” given the fact that nation-statesare themselves collectives far too complex to allow for simple recognition formulas. 26. Wittgenstein 2001, 7. 27. Wittgenstein 1972, 10. 28. Ibid. 15. 29. Austin 1962. 30. Marshall 1987, 435–445 especially.

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Anghie, Antony. 2007. Imperialism, Sovereignty and the Making of International Law. Cam-bridge: Cambridge University Press.

Austin, John L. 1962. How to do Things with Words. Oxford: Clarendon Press.Bell, Christine. 2008. On the Law of Peace: Peace Agreements and the Lex Pacificatoria. Oxford:

Oxford University Press.





Bock, Gisela, and Susan James, eds. 1992. Beyond Equality and Difference. London: Routledge.Cohen, Raymond. 1991. Negotiating Across Cultures: Communication Obstacles in International

Diplomacy. Washington: United States Institute for Peace.Fisher, Roger, and Scott Brown. 1988. Getting Together: Building a Relationship That Gets toYES. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.

Geertz, Clifford. 1973. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books.Gudykunst, William B., and Stella Ting-Toomey. 1988. Culture and Interpersonal Commu-

nication. Newbury Park: Sage. Jennings, Francis, ed. 1985. The History and Culture of Iroquois Diplomacy: An Interdisci-

plinary Guide to the Treatises of the Six Nations and Their League. Syracuse: SyracuseUniversity Press.

Kant, Immanuel. 1991. “Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch.” In Kant: Political Writings, edited by Hans S. Reiss. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Keal, Paul. 2003. European Conquest and the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Cambridge: Cam-bridge University Press.

Kelman, Herbert C. 1997. “Negotiating National Identity and Self-Determination in EthnicConflicts: The Choice Between Pluralism and Ethnic Cleansing.” Negotiation Journal 13.

Kukathas, Chandran. 1992. “Are There Any Cultural Rights?” Political Theory 20 (1).Kymlicka, Will. 1989. Liberalism, Community and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press.———. 1995. Multicultural Citizenship. Oxford: Oxford University Press.Lesaffer, Randolph, ed. 2004. Peace Treaties and International Law in European History: From

the Late Middle Ages to World War One. New York: Cambridge University Press.Linklater, Andrew. 1998. The Transformation of Political Community : Ethical Foundations of

the Post-Westphalian Community. Cambridge: Polity.

Mapel, David R., and Terry Nardin, eds. 1999. International Society: Diverse Ethical Perspec-tives. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Marshall, John. 1987. “Worcester vs. the State of Georgia, 6 Peter 515 (U.S.S.C. 1832).” InThe Writings of John Marshall, Late Chief Justice of the United States, Upon the FederalConstitution, 435–45. Littleton: F.B. Rothman Press.

Nandy, Ashis. 1992. Traditions, Tyranny and Utopias: Essays in the Politics of Awareness. NewDelhi: Oxford University Press.

Pagden, Anthony. 1995. Lords of All the World. New Haven: Yale University Press.Parekh, Bikhu. 2000. Rethinking Multiculturalism: Cultural Diversity and Political Theory.

London: Macmillan.Phillips, Anne. 1991. Engendering Democracy. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania State

Press.Pocock, John G. A. 2005. The Discovery of Islands: Essay in British History. Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.Rawls, John. 1999. The Law of Peoples. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.Simpson, Gerry. 2004. Great Powers and Outlaw States. Unequal Sovereigns in the International

Legal Order. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.Skinner, Quentin. 1996. Reason and Rhetoric in the Philosophy of Hobbes. Cambridge: Cam-

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Cold War. Washington: National Academy Press.

Todorov, Tzvetan. 1984. The Conquest of America: The Question of Other. New York: Harper.





Tuck, Richard. 1999. The Rights of War and Peace: Political Thought and International Order from Grotius to Kant. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Blackwell.




Part II

Empirical Applications






87

Chapte r 5

Spirit, Recognition, and

Foreign Policy Germany and World War II

Richard Ned Lebow

Plato and Aristotle posit three fundamental drives—appetite, spirit, and reason—eachseeking its own ends. Three paradigms of international relations—realism, liberalism,and Marxism—are rooted in appetite. Liberalism assumes that people and states seekwealth and use reason instrumentally to design strategies and institutions conduciveto this goal. Realism differs from liberalism in arguing that concern for security mustcome first in an anarchical world. Realists root their paradigm in Hobbes’s observa-tion—generally taken out of context—that people are motivated to find ways outof the state of nature, not only to preserve their lives but to protect their propertyand create an environment in which they can satisfy other appetites.1 Marxism isalso anchored in appetite, although the young Marx was equally concerned withthe spirit. He wrote about man’s alienation from his labor and how socialism wouldrestore workers’ self-esteem by reordering their relationship to what they produced.Marx was a close reader of the Greeks and appreciated their richer understandingof human motives and related understanding that human happiness required morethan the satisfaction of appetites.

The spirit has not been made the basis for any paradigm of politics or internationalrelations, although, as Machiavelli and Rousseau recognized, it has the potential to




88 ✻ Richard Ned Lebow

serve as the foundation for one, and Hobbes described “vanity”—his term for thespirit—as a powerful, fundamental drive and principal cause of war. I attempt to

remedy this conceptual oversight in A Cultural Theory of International Relations.2 With Homer’s Iliad as my guide, I construct an ideal-type honor society and use itas a template to understand the role of the spirit in real worlds, ancient and mod-ern. In this chapter, I provide a brief overview of the characteristics and tensions ofspirit-based worlds and their implications for foreign policy. My understanding ofthe spirit and the concept of recognition differ from that of other contributors to thevolume, whose definitions ultimately derive from Hegel and are commonly appliedby international relations (IR) scholars to understand the situation of subordinatecommunities. I draw my understanding from Plato and Aristotle because they theorizea universal human drive. Aristotle’s understanding of anger also encourages a focus

on powerful actors rather than oppressed groups, which allows me to analyze greatpower politics in terms of the spirit.

I use my framework to analyze Germany’s reaction to defeat in World War I andhow the resulting desire for regaining self-esteem was focused on the German stateand facilitated Hitler’s rise to power. There was deep resentment toward the Allies andthe terms of the Treaty of Versailles. Revealingly, its most-hated feature was not theloss of territory, reparations, or restrictions on the German military that this Treatyimposed but the articles that required Germany to accept responsibility for the warand hand over the kaiser and other individuals for trial as war criminals. Compelledto sign the treaty by the Allies, the Weimar Republic never achieved legitimacy.

Economic shocks further weakened the Republic. Right-wing opponents, Hitleramong them, gained popular support by promising to restore Germany’s position inEurope and with it, the self-esteem of the German people. Hitler’s own motives forgoing to war were pathological because they went far beyond restoration of statusquo ante bellum to the conquest of Europe, if not the world.3 Many of his foreignpolicy and defense initiatives—withdrawal from the League of Nations, rearmamentof Germany, Anschluss with Austria, and dismemberment of Czechoslovakia—werewelcomed enthusiastically by most Germans and Austrians. His wars against Poland,

Western Europe, Yugoslavia, Greece, and the Soviet Union were decidedly less popular,but what support they did have derived in large part from the same motives.4 Theimportance of honor to the officer corps secured Hitler the quiescence, if not theactive support, of the German army, and its willingness to keep fighting long afterofficers of every rank realized the hopelessness, if not the evil character, of their cause.

The Spirit

A spirit-based paradigm starts from the premise, common to Plato and Aristotle, thatpeople, individually and collectively, seek self-esteem. Simply put, self-esteem is asense of self-worth that makes people feel good about themselves, happier about life,and more confident about their ability to confront its challenges. It is achieved by




Spirit, Recognition and Foreign Policy ✻ 89

excelling in activities valued by one’s peer group or society and gaining the respectof actors whose opinions matter. By winning their approbation, we feel good about

ourselves. Self-esteem requires some sense of self, but also recognition that self requiressociety because self-esteem is impossible in its absence. The spirit is fiercely protectiveof one’s autonomy and honor. According to Plato, any restraint on its self-assertionarouses anger. It wants to avenge all affronts to its honor and seeks immediate sat-isfaction.5 Mature people are restrained by reason and recognize the wisdom of theancient maxim, as did Odysseus, that revenge is a dish best served cold.

Self-esteem is a universal drive, although it is manifested differently by differentsocieties. For the Greeks, identity was defined by the sum of the social roles peopleperformed, so esteem (how we are regarded by others) and self-esteem (how we regardourselves) were understood to be more or less synonymous because the latter depended

on the former. For modern Westerners, esteem and self-esteem are distinct wordsand categories and are no longer synonymous. We distinguish external honor frominternal honor, a modern Western concept associated with behavior in accord withour values. We can behave in ways that provoke the disapproval of others but stillfeel good about ourselves if that behavior reflects our values and beliefs and confersinternal honor. We must nevertheless be careful about making hard and fast distinc-tions between Greeks and moderns because there is some evidence that internal honorwas not entirely foreign to Athenians.6

The spirit is mediated by society. People must be taught how to express and satisfythe spirit through activities deemed appropriate by the society. They need appropriate

role models to emulate. For Aristotle, emulation, like many behaviors, is motivatedby pain and pleasure. We feel pain when we observe people, who are much like us,and who have good qualities and positions that we do not have but might. To escapethis pain, we act in ways that make it possible for us to possess these goods and feelgood when we obtain them.7

Societies have strong incentives to nurture and channel the spirit. It engendersself-control and sacrifice from which the community as a whole prospers. In warriorsocieties, the spirit is channeled into bravery and selflessness from which the societyalso profits. All societies must restrain, or deflect outward, the anger aroused whenthe spirit is challenged or frustrated. The spirit is a purely human drive; organizationsand states do not have psyches and cannot be treated as persons. They can, neverthe-less, respond to the needs of the spirit in the same way they do to the appetites oftheir citizens. People support collective enterprises in the expectation of material andemotional rewards. They build self-esteem by membership in high-status groups andhigh status within those groups. Arguably the most important function of nationalismin the modern world is to provide vicarious satisfaction for the spirit.

There are a bundle of concepts associated with the spirit that must be definedwith some care. The first of these is self-esteem, which I have described as a univer-sal human need on a par with appetite. For Plato and Aristotle, and classical Greek

literature more generally, self-esteem or self-worth is an affect and, like all emotionsfor the Greeks, is mediated by the intellect. We only feel good about ourselves when





we recognize that we are esteemed for the right reasons by other actors whom werespect and admire.

Esteem and self-esteem map on to different conceptions of identity. In the ancientworld, identity was social. People did not lack a concept of self, but that self was re-lationally defined and was the sum of socially assigned roles.8 Our word for personderives from persona, the Latin word for mask, and describes the outer face that onepresents to the community.9 In the modern world, individual identity and self-esteemhave become increasingly important. From Rousseau on, Enlightenment and Roman-tic ideologies emphasized the uniqueness and autonomy of the inner self.10 Modernitycreated a vocabulary that recognizes tensions between inner selves and social roles butencourages us to cultivate and express our “inner selves” and original ways of being.11

Self-esteem is a subjective sense of one’s honor and standing and can reflect or differ

from the esteem accorded by others. Tension and conflict can arise, internally andsocially, when actors’ self-esteem is considerably lower or higher than their externalesteem. Esteem and self-esteem can also be described as respect and self-respect. Theopposite of esteem is shame, an emotion that arises in response to the judgments, orexpected judgments, of others. Both forms of esteem are stipulatively social. Aristotledescribes shame as a “pain or disturbance in regard to bad things, whether present,past or future, which seem likely to involve us in discredit.” Examples he providesinclude throwing away one’s shield in battle, withholding payment from someonedeserving of it, making a profit in a disgraceful way, and having sexual relationswith forbidden persons or at the wrong times or places.12 Aristotle is clear that we

shrink from knowledge of our behavior, not the acts themselves, as we are primarilyconcerned with how we appear in the eyes of those who matter most to us.13 We mustexercise due caution with the binaries of social and individual identities and esteemand self-esteem because Greek tragedy (for example, Sophocles’s Ajax and Euripides’sMedea) reveals that self-esteem existed to some degree in fifth-century Athens.

Self-esteem is closely connected to honor (tim˛), a status for the Greeks that de-scribes the outward recognition we gain from others in response to our excellence.Honor is a gift, and it’s bestowed upon actors by other actors. It carries with it a set ofresponsibilities, which must be fulfilled properly if honor is to be retained. By the fifthcentury, honor came to be associated with political rights and offices. It was a meansof selecting people for office and of restraining them in their exercise of power. Tosummarize, the spirit is best conceived of as an innate human drive with self-esteemits goal and honor and standing the means by which it is achieved.

Honor is inseparable from hierarchy. Hierarchy is a rank-ordering of status, andin honor societies, honor determines the nature of the statuses and who fills them.Each status has privileges but also an associated rule package. The higher the status,the greater the honor and privileges and the more demanding the role and its rules.Status can be ascribed, as in the case of kings, or achieved, and in traditional honorsocieties, the two are expected to coincide. The king or chief is expected to be the

bravest warrior and lead his forces into battle. Other high-ranking individuals mustassume high-risk, if subordinate, roles. Service and sacrifice—the means by which





honor is won and maintained—have the potential to legitimize hierarchy. In returnfor honoring and serving those higher up the social ladder, those beneath them ex-

pect to be looked after in various ways. Protecting and providing for others is a keyresponsibility of those with high status and office. The Song dynasty carried thissystem to its logical extreme, integrating all males in the kingdom into a system ofsocial status signified by seventeen, and then twenty, ranks. Obligations, includinglabor and military service, came with rank as did various economic incentives.14

Great powers have had similar responsibilities in the modern era, which have beendescribed by practitioners and theorists alike. The Security Council is an outgrowthof this tradition. Its purpose, at least in the intent of those who drafted the UnitedNations Charter, was to coordinate the collective efforts of the community to main-tain the peace. Such hierarchies justify themselves with reference to the principle of

fairness; each actor contributes to the society and the maintenance of its order to thebest of its abilities and receives support depending on its needs.

Honor is a mechanism for restraining the powerful and preventing the kind ofcrass, even brutal exploitation common to hierarchies in modern, interest-basedworlds. Honor can maintain hierarchy because challenges to an actor’s status, orfailure to respect the privileges it confers, arouse anger that can only be appeased bypunishing the offender and thereby “putting him in his place.” Honor worlds havethe potential to degenerate into hierarchies based on power and become vehicles forexploitation when actors at the apex fail to carry out their responsibilities or exerciseself-restraint in pursuit of their own interests.

Standing and honor are related concepts. Standing refers to the position an actoroccupies in a hierarchy. In an ideal-type spirit world, an actor’s standing in a hierarchyis equivalent to its degree of honor. Those toward the apex of the status hierarchyearn honor by living up to the responsibilities associated with their rank or office,while those who attain honor by virtue of their accomplishments come to occupy ap-propriate offices. Even in ideal spirit worlds, there is almost always some discrepancybetween honor and standing because those who gain honor do not necessarily winthe competitions that usually confer honor. In the Iliad, Priam and Hector gain greathonor because of their behavior on and off the battlefield but lose their lives and city.

Honor and standing can diverge for less admirable reasons. Honor worlds areextremely competitive because standing, even more than wealth, is a relationalconcept. Hobbes compares it to glory and observes that, “if all men have it, no manhath it.”15 The value placed on honor in spirit-based worlds, and the intensity of thecompetition for it, tempt actors to take short-cuts to attain it. Once actors violatethe rules and get away with it, others do the same to avoid being disadvantaged. Ifthe rules governing honor are consistently violated, honor becomes a meaninglessconcept. Competition for honor is transformed into competition for standing, whichis more unconstrained and possibly more violent. As we shall see, there is a repetitivepattern, especially in international relations.

The quest for honor generates a proliferation of statuses or ranks. These orderingscan keep conflict in check when they are known, respected, and effectively define the





relative status of actors. They intensify conflict when they are ambiguous or incapableof establishing precedence. This is most likely to happen when there are multiple

ways (ascribed and achieved) of gaining honor and office. Actors frequently disagreeabout who deserves a particular status or office. This kind of dispute has particularlythreatening consequences in international relations because there are no authoritiescapable of adjudicating among competing claims.

External honor must be conferred by others and can only be gained throughdeeds regarded as honorable. Honor only exists when recognized. The Greek wordfor fame (kleos ) derives from the verb “to hear” (kluein). As Homer knew, fame notonly requires heroic deeds but bards to sing about those deeds and people willing tolisten and be impressed by them. For honor to be won and celebrated there must bea consensus about what it is, how it is won and lost, and the distinctions and obliga-

tions it confers. This presupposes common values and traditions, even institutions. When society is robust, the competition for honor and standing instantiates andstrengthens the values of the society. As society becomes thinner, as it generally isat the regional and international levels, honor worlds become more difficult to cre-ate and sustain. In the absence of common values, there can be no consensus, norules, and no procedures for awarding and celebrating honor. Even in thin societies,honor can often be won within robust sub-cultures. Hamas and other groups thathave sponsored suicide bombing have publicized the names of successful bombers,paid stipends to their families, and encouraged young people to lionize them.16 Suchactivity strengthens the sub-culture and may even give it wider appeal or support.

Honor societies tend to be highly stratified and can be likened to step pyramids.Many, but by no means all, honor societies are divided into two groups: those whoare allowed to compete for honor and those who are not. In many traditional honorsocieties, the principal distinction is between aristocrats, who are expected to seekhonor, and commoners, or the low-born, who cannot. This divide is often reinforcedby distinctions in wealth, which allow many of the high-born to buy the militaryequipment, afford the leisure, sponsor the ceremonies, or obtain the education andsocial kills necessary to compete. As in ancient Greece, birth and wealth are neverfully synonymous, creating another source of social tension. Wealth is generallya necessary but insufficient condition for gaining honor. Among the egalitarianSioux, honor and status were achieved by holding various ceremonies, all of whichinvolved providing feasts and gifts to those who attended. Horses and robes, theprincipal gifts, could only be attained through successful military expeditionsagainst enemy tribes, or as gifts from others because of the high regard in whichbrave warriors were held.17

Recognition into the elite circle where one can compete for honor is the first,and often most difficult, step in honor worlds. The exclusiveness of many honorsocieties can become a major source of tension when individuals, classes, or politicalunits demand and are refused entry into the circle in which it becomes possible to

gain honor. What is honorable, the rules governing its attainment, and the indicesused to measure it are all subject to challenge. Historically, challenges of this kindhave been resisted, at least initially. Societies that have responded to them positively





have matured, and in some cases, gradually moved away from, all or in part, theirwarrior base.

Throughout A Cultural Theory of International Relations, I use the term recogni-tion to mean acceptance into the circle where it is possible to compete for honor.Recognition carries with it the possibility of fulfillment of the spirit and differs fromthe use the term has come to assume in moral philosophy. Hegel made the strugglefor recognition (Kampf um Anerkennung ) a central concept of his Philosophy of Right, which is now understood to offer an affirmative account of a just social order that cantranscend the inequalities of master-slave relationships.18 In a seminal essay publishedin 1992, Charles Taylor applied Hegel’s concept to the demands for recognition ofminorities and other marginalized groups. He argues that human recognition is adistinctive but largely neglected human good, and that we are profoundly affected

by how we are recognized and mis-recognized by others.19 The political psychologyof recognition has since been extended to international relations, where subordinatestates are assumed to have low self-images and low self-esteem. Axel Honneth stressesthe importance of avoiding master-slave relationships among states and, more recently,the relationship between recognition and morality at individual and social levels ofinteraction.20 Fernando Cornil argues that subaltern states enjoy the trappings of sov-ereignty but often internalize the negative images of them held by the major powers.21

I acknowledge the relationship between status and esteem but make a differentargument. In terms of at least foreign policy, it is powerful states, not weak ones,who feel the most humiliation. Here, I draw on Aristotle’s understanding of anger

as a response to an olig˛ria : a slight, lessening, or belittlement. This can issue froman equal but provokes even more anger when it comes from an actor who lacks thestanding to challenge or insult us. Anger is a luxury that can only be felt by those ina position to seek revenge. Slaves and subordinates cannot allow themselves to feelanger. It is also senseless to feel anger toward those who cannot become aware of ouranger.22 In the realm of international relations, leaders—and often peoples—of power-ful states are likely to feel anger of the Aristotelian kind when they are denied entryinto the system or recognition as a great power or are treated in a manner demeaningto their understanding of their status. They will look for some way of asserting theirclaims and seeking revenge. Subordinate states lack this power and their leaders andpopulations learn to live with their lower status and more limited autonomy. Greatpowers will feel enraged if challenged by such states.23 I believe we can profit fromreintroducing the Greek dichotomy between those who were included in and excludedfrom the circle in which it was possible to achieve honor and Aristotle’s definitionof anger. Both conceptualizations help to illuminate important social and politicalphenomena that would otherwise not be noticed or flagged as important.

Germany

My account of Nazi Germany builds on my earlier analysis of German imperialism andthe origins of World War I. In chapter 6 of A Cultural Theory of International Relations,





I emphasized the survival of pre-modern values among a powerful aristocracy, thepartial feudalization of the German middle class, and the deflection outward of its

strivings for self-esteem.24 The commitment of the Junker aristocracy to preserve itspower and way of life and the vicarious association of the middle class with the stateprovided reinforcing incentives for an aggressive foreign policy, as well as politicalbacking for it. The German Empire came to an abrupt end in 1918 and was replacedby a republic that drew support from socialists, Catholics, and some members of themiddle class. It was opposed by nationalists on the right and communists on the left,and ultimately lost support to both, paving the way for extra-parliamentary govern-ment and Hitler’s dictatorship. Historians have offered many reasons for the WeimarRepublic’s failure. They include the success of the right in hanging the hated Treaty ofVersailles around its neck; the growth of independent, anti-Republican paramilitary

forces, the economic crises of the early 1920s and 1930s and their consequences forthe middle and working classes; middle class fears of socialism; alienation of the intel-lectuals; a flawed constitution and bad leadership.25 Historians also point to deepercauses, among them the schism between German and Western political thought,and the sense of a special German mission to which it gave rise in opposition to themore commercial and democratic values of France and Britain.26 German idealismencouraged deep respect, if not reverence, for the state and the subordination of theindividual to it. The German middle class and intellectuals were predisposed to lookto the state for unity, purpose, and guidance, a role that a querulous, controversial,weak, and threatened republic could not possibly fulfill.27

I do not pretend to offer a comprehensive explanation for Hitler’s rise to powerand Germany’s role in bringing about World War II. Rather, I offer an account thathighlights the role of the spirit in understanding these events and to advance theclaim that concern for self-esteem was not only an underlying cause of this confla-gration but a necessary condition. Self-esteem was a key, if frustrated, ambition forthe semi-feudalized German bourgeoisie. This need became more acute after thehumiliation of defeat in World War I and the imposition of what Germans widelyregarded as the punitive Treaty of Versailles. British and American revisionists wouldsupport this German charge, while later revisionists would argue against the puni-tive nature of the treaty. What is relevant for my argument is that the majority ofGermans perceived the Versailles settlement as punitive and humiliating and thatthis belief made it correspondingly more difficult for the Weimar Republic to buildlegitimacy, and comparatively easier for its right-wing opponents to win support inthe name of nationalism. Hitler was particularly adept at playing on the desires ofthe middle class for self-esteem. The Nazi emphasis on the Volksgemeinschaft held outthe promise of a higher purpose to be achieved through unity, sacrifice, and strugglein a showdown with the nation’s internal and external enemies.28 Hitler’s defiance ofthe Western powers and the Treaty of Versailles was widely popular with the middleclasses, who were his largest supporters at the polls.

In November 1918, Allied advances on the Western front and German war-wea-riness led to mutinies and worker uprisings. On November 9, socialist leader Philip





Scheidemann proclaimed a republic on the steps of the Reichstag, and Kaiser Wilhelmfled to Holland the next day. Prince Max of Baden, the last imperial chancellor, had

opened negotiations with the Allies in October for an armistice, which came intoeffect on November 11. The victorious Allied leaders, meeting in Paris, summoned aGerman delegation to Versailles in May 1919 to receive a draft treaty. The Allies gavethe Germans fifteen days to submit objections and questions in French or English,a deadline that was later extended by a week.29

The treaty required Germany to return Alsace-Lorraine to France, hand overEupen and Malmédy to Belgium, northern Schleswig to Denmark, Hultschin toCzechoslovakia and parts of West Prussia, and Posen and Upper Silesia to Poland.East Prussia was separated from West Prussia by a corridor of territory given to Polandto guarantee it access to the Baltic Sea. The Saar, Danzig, and Memel were put under

the control of the League of Nations, and Germany was required to give up all of itscolonies and the land it had taken from Russia under the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. TheGerman army was reduced to 100,000 men, and severe restrictions were placed on itsnavy and air force. The Rhineland was to be demilitarized permanently. Germanywas forbidden from incorporating Austria, despite strong sentiments for unificationin both countries. It had to accept responsibility for starting the war and assume theburden of reparations in an amount to be determined, the bulk of which was to goto Belgium and France to compensate them for damages caused by the war and fouryears of German occupation.30

The German reaction to the draft treaty is revealing in two respects. The first

is the state of shock and denial that it provoked. By all accounts, Germans of allclasses were stunned by the peace terms, having convinced themselves that Wood-row Wilson would compel a reluctant Britain and France to offer a generous peacebased on the American president’s Fourteen Points. The draft treaty was in fact mildin comparison to either the September Program of 1914, prepared by the Germangovernment in the expectation of victory over Belgium and France, or the Treaty ofBrest-Litovsk, imposed on Bolshevik Russia by Germany in March 1918. The latterforced Russia to cede or give independence to all of its western territories (Finland,the Baltic provinces, Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine). It offers evidence of the kindof harsh terms Germany would have imposed on the Western powers if its 1918 of-fensive had succeeded in breaking Allied resistance. Germans on the whole failedto make this comparison and saw themselves as undeserving victims. The Germanmilitary deluded itself into believing that it would receive Allied backing for a drangnach Osten (march to the east) to St. Petersburg to overthrow the Bolshevik regime.31

It is equally revealing that Germans gave evidence of being more upset by thosearticles of the treaty they considered offensive to their honor than by those inimicalto their security or well-being.32 Article 228 allowed Allies to indict and try people“for acts against the laws and customs of war.” Almost across the political spectrum,Germans opposed this demand as a matter of national pride, without any concern

for the possible substance of the allegations. It was a largely symbolic issue as thekaiser had taken refuge in Holland. Article 231, the so-called “war guilt clause,”





demanded reparations for allied and associated governments “as a consequence ofthe war imposed upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies.” The German

delegation summoned four experts with international reputations to draft a response.The document they submitted insisted that the question of war guilt could only bedetermined by a careful comparative analysis of the archives of all the warring pow-ers. The Allied reply played to Allied public opinion and excoriated the Germans fortheir wartime actions. In the judgment of Wolfgang Mommsen, it “paved the wayfor the passionate, often demagogic, discussion of the ‘war-guilt lie’ which helpedkindle German nationalism once again.”33

With respect to territory, public opinion accommodated itself readily to the lossof Alsace-Lorraine but was least reconciled to ceding territory to Poland. Harald vonRiekhoff reasons that Germans respected France as an equal or superior power and

thus more readily acquiesced in that loss than in the loss of territory. They lookeddown on the Poles as their inferiors and had no respect for anything associated withthem, which made it more difficult to relinquish territory to them.34 This phenom-enon offers more evidence for Aristotle’s understanding of anger as an emotionprimarily aroused by slights from those we consider beneath us.35 With respect toboth reparations and territory, the spirit, not appetite or fear, appears to have dictatedthe German response.

Prime Minister Scheidemann told the Reichstag that the treaty was unacceptable.Even moderates rejected its terms and spoke about revenge.36 Hans Delbrück wrotein the Preußische Jahrbücher that “The day and hour will come when we will demand

everything back.”37 Only one deputy, an Independent Social Democrat, was willingto affirm the treaty on the sensible grounds that Germany had no choice but to makepeace. Marshal Ferdinand Foch drew up very public plans for an invasion of Ger-many, while British prime minister David Lloyd George pleaded with the French toaccept some revision of the treaty in the hope of reaching an accommodation. Frenchprime minister Georges Clemenceau agreed to some changes, the most importantof which was a plebiscite to decide the political future of Upper Silesia. The drafttreaty had awarded the territory outright to Poland. The German government sentrepresentatives back to hold out the prospect of signing the treaty without its twomost objectionable provisions concerning war guilt and war criminals. The sameday, word reached Paris that the German navy had scuttled its battle fleet in ScapaFlow. The French, Americans, and British were furious and refused to consider anyfurther revisions. The German government had no choice but to accept the treaty,making the Republic vulnerable to charges by the right-wing nationalists that itssocialist leaders were responsible for Germany’s humiliation.38

The treaty became a central issue of Weimar politics, and all parties save the inde-pendent socialists (USPD) condemned it. The Burgfrieden—the truce among partiesat the outset of the First World War—had made criticism of pre-war diplomacy all butimpossible during the war. The treaty controversy effectively foreclosed exposure and

criticism of the ills of the former monarchical political system under the Republic.

39

It deprived pro-Republican forces of what in other circumstances would have been





a powerful political tool, while shackling them with treaty terms arising from a warfor which they were not responsible.

The army and right-wing forces successfully propagated the fiction that the Ger-man army had not been defeated but stabbed in the back by socialists on the homefront.40 Frei Korps, composed of former veterans, coalesced into extra-legal armiesand fought to suppress socialism in Berlin and further east and intimidate voters inplebiscites, especially in Silesia from 1920 to 1921. Frei Korps also participated in theKapp Putsch of March 1920, an unsuccessful attempt to overthrow the Republic.41 The foreign ministry conspired with conservatives to propagate the fiction thatGermany bore no responsibility for the war. In a cover up that would continue intothe 1960s, an entire department within the Wilhelmstraße cleansed, edited, forged,hid, and destroyed incriminating memoranda, letters, and cables and paid scholars

and journalists at home and abroad to refute what it called “the war-guilt lie.”42 Witha few exceptions, the German historical profession was a willing participant in this“patriotic” self-censorship and self-delusion. In 1930, Hermann Hesse lamented toThomas Mann that “of 1,000 Germans, even today, 999 still know nothing of [our]war guilt.”43

Pro-Republican parties—Social Democrats (SPD), Democrats, and the Zentrum—won over 70 percent of the vote in the first post-war national election in January1919.44 The inauspicious beginning of the Weimar Republic did not bode well for itssurvival, and some scholars see its demise as inevitable.45 Other historians emphasizethe contingency of Nazi Germany. In an early and still highly regarded history of

the Weimar Republic, Erich Eyck makes a credible case that the synergism betweenthe economic downturn and bad leadership brought Hitler to power.46 WolfgangMommsen maintains that the collapse of Weimar was inevitable but the rise ofHitler to power was not.47 Henry Turner uses counterfactuals to make the case thatHitler’s survival during the First World War and a later automobile accident wereboth remarkable and that without Hitler, Weimar’s failure would likely have led to aconservative, authoritarian regime with revanchist goals in the east but no stomachfor another continental war. It would have been anti-Semitic, but unlikely to havecarried out draconian measures against Jews.48

The determinists sensitize us to all the serious impediments that stood in the wayof the success of the Republic, and those who emphasize contingency alert us to theneed to separate the fate of the Republic from the question of what kind of regimemight have succeeded it. The forces arrayed against the Republic were on both endsof the political continuum. The communists on the left opposed a constitutionalbourgeois order. Led by intellectuals, their base consisted of workers whose supportwaxed and waned as a function of the economic situation.49 By 1928, there was verylittle inclination on the part of the conservatives to cooperate with the socialists, andthe pro-Republican parties did not have enough seats to cobble together a left-centercoalition. The grand coalition that attempted to govern lasted less than six months,

the victim of Gustav Stresemann’s death and the stock market crash.

50

The nationalist-conservative opposition was divided among several parties, and in the last years of





the Republic, the National Socialists (Nazis) became by far the strongest of theseparties. In July 1932, the Nazis won 38.2 percent of the overall national vote, making

anti-Republican forces a majority in the Reichstag. Government had to be conductedby emergency decree, which shifted power to President Paul von Hindenburg andpaved the way for the appointment of Hitler after the failure of the short-lived vonPapen and Schleicher regimes.51 Hindenburg could have used his emergency powerto support a pro-Republican government but preferred to rule through a conservative

fronde that excluded the socialists from power. He set in motion a chain of events thathad an outcome very different from what he imagined.52 So did the Communists.On instructions from Moscow, they made a fatal error in refusing to support thegrand coalition, composed of the socialists, Zentrum, and moderate parties on theright. They welcomed the Nazi regime in the expectation that it would quickly fail

and pave the way for a worker’s revolution.53

According to Karl Dietrich Bracher, the nationalist, anti-Republican front wascomposed of people and groups representing four orientations: imperialistic national-ism, conservative authoritarianism, a nationalist and romantic variant of socialism,and supporters of a völkisch, race-based ideology.54 Imperialistic nationalism focusedon territorial revisionism, and Weimar’s foreign policy, which “vacillated betweenEast and West, resistance and compliance, cooperation and revision, was incapable ofputting a break on this dynamic.”55 Revisionist demands were intense between 1918and 1923 and again after the depression began in 1929.56 Conservative authoritarian-ism was well established in Prussia under the Hohenzollers, and in Germany more

generally since the creation of the Reich in 1871. It continued under the Republicand sustained a predisposition, formerly directed toward the person of the Kaiser, tosupport a strong leader.57 Nationalism had been actively encouraged under the empire,but its combination with a romantic variant of socialism was relatively novel. Völkisch sentiment was also strong within the middle class and initially found expression asstraightforward xenophobia but increasingly morphed into racial anti-Semitism underthe influence of the Nazi Party.

Hitler cleverly sold himself as the personification of all four orientations. He ralliedthe middle class on the basis of his nationalism, opposition to socialists and Jews,and promises of full employment. Analyses of party rolls and election data indicatethat Hitler appealed not only to the lower middle class (Kleinbürgertum) but othermiddle class groups, as well. He won over conservative business and political elitesby conveying the impression that he would serve as their pliant tool once in power.58 Success of National Socialism, at home and abroad, was very much the history ofthe fatal underestimation of Hitler by the army, industrialists, bankers, conservativepoliticians, and President Hindenburg. Hitler pandered to their shared illusion thatthey could “box him in” and exploit him for their own ends. He did the same in hisforeign policy, where he communicated willingness to negotiate while making threats,preparing for war, and engaging in faits accomplis. Above all else, he displayed great

flexibility; he made extreme demands, but was willing to pull back when opposedand to push ahead when his opponents appeared weak or vacillated.59





Once in power, Hitler and Goebbels propagated the “Führer myth,” which en-couraged his idolization among the middle classes.60 It stressed Hitler’s ability to

transcend class divisions, revitalize the economy, restore growth and stability, andrestore German rights, territory, and dignity. He was portrayed as personally unat-tached, selfless, incorruptible, and above party politics. The Hitler cult made someinroads among workers, although the groups least receptive to his propaganda werethe organized sections of the working class, Catholics, and the educated elite.61 In1928, the Nazis garnered a mere 2.6 percent of the vote. Once the depression set in,this figure rose to 18.1. In the March 1933 elections held two months after Hitlertook office, the Nazis still received considerably less than half of the vote but morevotes than any party had in the Weimar era.62 The Nazis received enough workingclass support to shock and baffle the Marxists associated with the Institute for So-

cial Research (the Frankfurt School), some of which—Horkheimer, Marcuse, andFromm—turned to Freud to look for non-rational, non-economic explanations forthis baffling behavior.63

Hitler’s foreign policy successes greatly increased his support. Fully 95.1 percentof Germans supported his withdrawal of Germany from the League of Nations.64 Hispopularity soared because he “liberated” the Saar and Rhineland, brought Austria intothe Reich and Memel and the Sudetenland as well, and established protectorates overBohemia and Moravia, and all without war.65 The twin humiliations of defeat andVersailles had been largely overcome. As Hitler put it in a well-publicized speech of

April 28, 1939: “I have further attempted to tear up page for page that Treaty, which

contained in its 448 articles the most base violations ever accorded to nations andhuman beings. I have given back to the Reich the provinces stolen from us in 1919.”66 Hitler’s appeal extended well beyond those who thought of themselves as Nazis andincluded people who were critical of his domestic policies and ideology.67 Despite sup-port for Hitler, there was very little support for war. Most Germans desperately wantedto believe that peace could be maintained. When Germany invaded Poland in Septem-ber 1939, there was none of the enthusiasm for war that had been so visible in 1914.68

Hitler’s rhetorical strategy and the basis of his support indicate the extent to whichthe spirit was central to his rise to power and subsequent popularity. Ian Kershaw,author of the most comprehensive study of Hitler’s speeches, concludes that he “al-ways enjoyed a particular talent, approaching demagogic genius, for appealing to thepopulist national emotions, hopes, and aggression of increasing numbers of ordinaryGermans, in particular by exploiting the deep-rooted resentments which the name‘Versailles’ conjured up.” He wisely refrained from talking about his wider imperialistaims, as they could not be achieved without a second world war.69 Hitler’s racism,which vaunted the superiority of the Aryans over other races, was also intended toenhance his listeners’ self-image and self-esteem. Economic improvements and stabil-ity, valued in their own right, were also portrayed as a means of restoring Germandignity and self-esteem.

The spirit is easily angered by real or imagined slights and readily responds toopposition with hostility. This process drives the action in Sophocles’s Ajax, where





the armor of the dead Achilles is awarded to Odysseus. Convinced that he deservesit but that it was denied him by virtue of the hostility of others, Ajax seeks revenge

against Odysseus, the Atridae clan, and the Greek army. Paranoia of this kind isoften associated with heroic actors and is particularly prevalent in societies with lowself-esteem. Such paranoia was evident in the German Empire, where Fritz Sternnotes that visions of politics were “blurred by clouds of evil fantasy.”70 Publicists andanti-Semites charged England and France with plotting Germany’s encirclement and

Jews and socialists of boring away from within. These conspiracies also flourishedin the Weimar period, augmented by the new charge of a dolchstoss (stab in theback) made by Hindenburg to a parliamentary committee in 1919.71 The socialistsand Jews—“November criminals”—were made responsible for defeat and the hatedTreaty of Versailles.72 The widespread success of conspiratorial theories under the

empire and in Weimar is further evidence of the degree to which German politicswere driven by the spirit.

Recognition and International Relations

A key feature of the modern world is civil society. For a long time, the concept ofsocietas civilis referred to the condition of living within a legal order that possessedsufficient force to guarantee its subjects security and good government.73 Montes-quieu was the first to make the connection between the spirit of liberty and personal

independence on the one hand and the emergence of civil society (l’état civile ) onthe other. Rather than undermining order, he thought it had the potential to createa new form of public mores (mœurs ) that could endow social relations with moreconsistency.74 Adam Ferguson stressed the importance of civil society as a means ofopposing illegitimate state authority.75 Hegel redefined civil society (die bürgerliche Gesellschaft ) to refer to an equality-based system of social relations among associationsof people that was independent of the state and the family, which he thought to havefirst emerged in Europe in the seventeenth century. His civil society is characterizedby free labor, a commodity market, and a system of contract law enforcement.76 In ourtime, the concept of civil society has been expanded to include a general strengthen-ing of the rule of law and the development of voluntary associations not connectedwith commercial relations.77

Civil society encourages citizens to find satisfaction in the commercial and privatesphere and to indulge their appetites as they see fit. It heralds a turning away fromthe state, the decline of man as a zoon politikon, and an upgrading of the appetite inresponse to the perceived social benefits of individual greed. For all these reasons,civil society was anathema to many conservative supporters of the ancien régime andregarded by radicals as at best a necessary evil. Marx considered civil society anothermeans by which the bourgeoisie could tighten its hold over society.78 Montesquieu and

Tocqueville sought to adapt the spirit to modern society in the hope that it could actas an effective check on central authority and inspire politicians and civil servants to





put aside their private interests in pursuit of projects that benefited the communityas a whole.79 Civil society not only legitimized the appetite as a drive, it facilitated its

partial blending with the spirit to the extent that wealth became not only a markerof standing but also a means of attaining it.

Civil society provided new domains and opportunities for achieving honor andstanding. Some of these routes led to national, even international fame (that is, sports,science, the creative and performing arts), while others led to renown in specializedor geographically restricted communities (for example, law, mathematics, spelunk-ing, community service). This diversity gave rise to multiple hierarchies in whichindividuals of varying talents and interests could compete for honor and standing,making it at least theoretically possible for everyone to achieve self-esteem. A criti-cal development in this regard has been the increasing openness of many of these

arenas to people of all class, religious, and racial backgrounds. In Europe prior tothe French Revolution, only aristocrats were allowed to compete for standing andhonor. Recognition, in the form of admission into this elite, was a significant barrierto those with talent but the wrong religious affiliations or genealogical antecedents.Such prejudice has not altogether disappeared in Western societies, but even themost traditional elite hierarchies (that is, military, diplomatic service, and formerlyaristocratic sports like tennis and golf ) began to open up, offering opportunities formembers of groups that have historically been at the bottom of the social ladder torise to the top of these intensely competitive hierarchies. Henry Kissinger, Madeleine

Albright, Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, and Tiger Woods are cases in point.

Viewed in this light, the international system is something of an atavism thatstill reflects the values of warrior societies. In contrast to societies in the developedworld, there is still a single hierarchy of standing, and it is based on military power.Beginning in the nineteenth century, revolutionary powers (that is, the United States,France, the Soviet Union, China, and Iran) have challenged the legitimacy of thishierarchy and claimed standing on ideological grounds. These challenges failed, andmost of the powers in question subsequently sought and achieved standing on tradi-tional military grounds. A more serious challenge is now underway, spearheaded bya diverse group of countries, many of which, like Canada, Japan, and the membersof the European Union, claim standing on the basis of the multilateral nature ofthe foreign policies and how their wealth is used to benefit their citizens and thoseof less-developed countries. Their claims for status are based on honor and rest onthe hope that international society has become more like domestic societies in thatmultiple hierarchies are possible and thick enough to allow honor to replace standingas the basis of influence.

The transformation of the international system is by no means preordained, butit is a distinct possibility. Key to any transformation is discourses that define whatactors consider to be legitimate and illegitimate. Changes in the criteria for standingencourage shifts in foreign policy behavior, which in turn affect how states define their

interests and ultimately their identities. As conflictual and violent the current world is,and as remote an ideal a peaceful world appears, there is nevertheless a more realistic





possibility than ever before of transforming the character of international relationsto make it more closely resemble the more ordered and complex world of domestic

societies. Troy—or Iraq—may ultimately become the tomb of heroes and heroismas understood by Homer and deeply embedded in Western culture ever since. It isimportant not to lose sight of this possibility and for international relations theoryto show us how such a world could come about.

Notes

1. Hobbes 1996, 126. 2. Lebow 2008.

3. Weinberg 1970, 358; Rich 1973, 3–10; Fest 1974, 213–218. 4. Kershaw 1987, 151–68, reports that Hitler’s high point in support came after the fallof France and before his failure to conquer Britain or force it to sue for peace. 5. Plato 1991, 440c–441c. 6. Plato 1989. 7. Aristotle 2004, 1388a29–b30. 8. Durkheim 1984, preface, 219–22; Finley 1978, 134. 9. Hobbes 1996, 112. 10. Hegel 1979, Bb, Cc, described the “authentic” romantic as a “beautiful soul,” purein its inwardness and uncorrupted by modernity’s divisiveness. Durkheim 2001; Durkheim1984. 11. For the development of the concept of the relational self, see Shotter 1989, 133–51;Eakin 1999. 12. Aristotle 2004, 1383b15–1884a21. 13. Ibid., 1384a22–28. 14. Yates 2006, 205–240. 15. Hobbes 1991, 1.1. 16. Levitt 2006, 59–60, report monthly stipends of $5,000 to $5,500 to prisoners of Israeland $2,000 to $3,000 to widows or families of those who have given their lives. 17. Hassrick 1964, 296–309. 18. Hegel 1979, 178–196.

19. Taylor 1994, 25–74. 20. Honneth 1996; Fraser and Honneth 2003; Honneth 1997, 16–34. 21. Cornil 2000, 37–55. 22. Aristotle 2004, 387a31–33, 1378b10–11, 138024–29. Konstan 2006, 41–76. 23. Aristotle 2004, 1379b10–12, on the anger provoked by slights from our inferiors. 24. Lebow 2008, chapter 7, on the German middle class. 25. Mommsen 1996; Bracher, 1970, 168–178, 191–198; Aycoberry 1981. 26. Plessner 1959; Mosse 1964; Stern 1974. 27. Krieger 1957; Ringer 1969. 28. Kershaw 1983, 1–2; Dahrendorf 1967, 404. 29. MacMillan 2001, 460–463.

30. See “The Versailles Treaty.”





31. “Treaty of Brest-Litovsk,” see 1918 Documents. 32. Mommsen 1996, 89–128; Krüger 1994; Walzel 2007; Heinemann 1983.

33. Mommsen 1996, 89–128; MacMillan 2001, 463–474. 34. Riekhoff 1971, 383. 35. Aristotle 2004, 1379b10–12, 1387a31–33. 36. Mommsen 2006, 535–46; Schwabe 2006, 37–68. 37. Mommsen 1996, 91. 38. Schwabe 2006; Lentin 2006, 221–243; Stevenson 2006, 87–110. 39. Broszat 1987, 47. 40. Mommsen 1996, 105–106. 41. Eyck 1967, I, 150–154. 42. Rohl 1973, 21–36; Geiss 1966, 75–91, on the foreign office in the 1960s; Herwig1987, 5–44.

43. Quoted in Herwig 1987, 000. 44. Broszat 1987, 45. 45. Krieger 1957; Hamerow 1966, viii ; Puhle 1972. 46. Eyck 1967. 47. Mommsen 1996. 48. Turner 1989. 49. Mommsen 1996, 456, 494–495, 535–537. 50. Eyck 1967, I, 203–52; Broszat 1987, 94–115. 51. Eyck 1967, I, 350–488; Dorpalen 1964, 301–446 ; Broszat 1987, 115–149; Mommsen1996, 357–432. 52. Dorpalen 1964, 302–303, 316–317, 472; Mommsen 1996, 357–432; Broszat 1987,

80–81. 53. Mommsen 1996, 456, 494–495, 535–537. 54. Bracher 1970, 10. 55. Ibid. 21. 56. Broszat 1987, 11–17, on the political consequences of the Great Depression. 57. Mosse 1975, chapters 1–4; Nipperdey 1968, 529–585; Kershaw 1987, 14. 58. Schoenbaum 1966, 119–158; Kershaw 1983, 113–114; Childers 1983, 1–51. 59. Bracher 1970, 48, 287–303; Eyck 1967, 449–487; Mommsen 1996, 433–489; Bracher1970, 169–214; Bullock 1962, 369–370; Weinberg 1970, I, 358, 363. 60. Kershaw 1987; Schoenbaum 1966; Mommsen 1996, 47. 61. Kershaw 1987, 34, 53; Kershaw, 1983, 71–110; Allen 1984, 69–90; Broszat 1987,15–16; Mommsen 1996, 318–356; Childers 1983, 1–51. 62. Stöver 1996, 2; Mommsen 1996, 314–317. 63. Jay 1973, chapters 3 and 4. 64. Kershaw 1987, 120–139. 65. Weinberg 1970, I, 159–179, 239–263, on Hitler’s successes. 66. Quoted in Kershaw 1987, 256. 67. Kershaw 1987, 5; Schoenbaum 1966, 77–118, on Hitler and labor. 68. Kershaw 1987, 139–147; Frei “People’s Community and War.” 69. Kershaw 1987, 122. 70. Stern 1992, xxxviii.

71. Dorpalen 1964, 51–52.





72. Krumeich 2003, 585–599; Seiler 1966, 1–20. 73. It is used in this sense by Vattel 2001 and Immanuel Kant, “Idea for a Universal His-

tory with a Cosmopolitan Purpose,” and “Perpetual Peace,” both in Kant, 1991, 000-000,000-000. 74. Montesquieu 1777, I.3.6, 19.27. 75. Ferguson 1773, 7–29. 76. Hegel 1991, 157, 188. 77. Seligman 1995. 78. Marx and Engels 1972, 146–174. 79. Tocqueville 2002, I.2.10, 383; II.4.7.

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109

Chapte r 6

World War I from the Perspective

of Power Cycle Theory Recognition, “Adjustment Delusions,”

and the “Trauma of Expectations Foregone”

Charles F. Doran

There is a time at which the tides of history change. There is a time at whichthe nation-state suddenly becomes cognizant that a discontinuity with thepast has occurred, that its long anticipated place among countries has beenirrevocably altered, that its prior assumptions about role, status, and security

have been proven wrong. This is the existential interval in which a govern-ment is vulnerable to entanglement in the most major wars. This existentialinterval is the critica l point on the state power cycle.1

History records those existential moments when governments suddenly discover thattheir long-standing expectations about future role, status, and security are no longervalid. With the familiar foreign policy anchors in question, massive uncertaintyand an increasing sense of threat challenge policy-making. In tracing the historicaltrajectory of a state’s relative power in the system of leading states, the power cyclecaptures those critical moments when the structural tides of history suddenly pull the

state on to a new, uncertain course. The power cycle maps, for each moment in time,the state’s clearly defined past and the likely trajectory of its yet-to-be-determined




110 ✻ Charles F. Doran

future—revealing at each step how contemporaneous decision-makers perceive itslikely future security and foreign policy standing. The projected trend embedded

at each point in the cycle is the state’s expectation regarding its future power, role,and security. Imagine the sudden shock when the long prior trend of relative powerchange suddenly undergoes a complete shift, abruptly proving those long-reinforcedprojections wrong. Everything hinges on those projections, as the quoted paragraphfrom my book Systems in Crisis reveals regarding the dilemma faced by Germany inthe years prior to World War I.2

Germany’s crisis was a systemic crisis, for the relative power and role so highlyprized and contested are necessarily systemic. The system provides the norm, whichdetermines whether a state rises or declines, and decides whether a state will be at-tributed role and status. In arguing the details of power cycle theory, the book ex-

plains how “conflicting messages and disturbing surprises of relative versus absolutepower growth” made Germany’s sudden turn into decline all the more traumatic andthreatening. It demonstrates the paradigm shift in understanding obtained in movingbeyond a “balance of power” perspective to a “dynamic structural” perspective. Fourchapters delve into the historical record to show “what statesmen saw” and “how theyreacted” to the trauma of critical change between 1905 and 1914; the “devastatingillusions” that accompanied changes in European power cycles after 1885; and the“incongruities” that followed European efforts to balance a state “so powerful andyet so restless.” The German experience provides unambiguous evidence that, amidstmassive structural change, the balance of power operates against the need to adjust

diplomatic role through political recognition.From the power cycle perspective, role is coequal with power in matters of state-

craft; it is the coordinate concept that amends realism.3 An encompassing notion,foreign policy role indexes the state’s foreign policy behavior over time, and it isdeeply normative. More than status or place, role involves informally legitimizedresponsibilities and perquisites associated with the state’s “diplomatic place” in thesystem. It involves the practical reality of international political discourse, whichgovernments barter, jealously guard, and sometimes contest. It reflects whether astate is a comparative leader or a follower, an aid-giver or a recipient; whether it

joins coalitions or remains comparatively isolated; whether it is a provider or a netbeneficiary of security; whether it is sought after for counsel or is disregarded. Whilerole is sensitive to incremental changes in power, it is distinct from power and in factacts as a guide to the exercise of state power. A role is legitimized when other actors“recognize” the role and declare it politically acceptable. Recognition acknowledgesthat these role differences exist and that they count in world politics.

In explaining the origins of World War I, quite in contrast to both traditional andrecent literature (focusing in turn on “war guilt” and German strategy),4 power cycletheory incorporates the concept of recognition as essential to the establishment andmaintenance of foreign policy role. This chapter first exposes the adjustment delu-

sions that prevented recognition of Germany and helped precipitate WWI. It thenexplores some puzzles associated with interpretation of the war and how recognition




World War I from the Perspective of Power Cycle Theory ✻ 111

assists in unraveling them. Finally, it explains the idea of dynamic international po-litical equilibrium developed within power cycle theory, showing how recognition

helps overcome some of the shortcomings of balance-of-power logic that led directlyto the war outcome. Concluding with a conjecture, the chapter speculates about acounterfactual, namely, that the war was not inevitable. The war might have beenaverted if other actions had been taken and, in particular, if political recognition hadbeen more aptly employed in the long prior interval of German rise.

This chapter thus speaks directly to the links between role, status, identity, andsymbolism in international relations.5 Most states are not as convulsed in an identitycrisis as was Germany for the century after 1850. But for states that experience anongoing identity crisis, this preoccupation can drive foreign policy, overwhelmingmore rational foundations of foreign policy conduct and state interests and thus seri-

ously qualifying the realist foreign policy paradigm and its application. Fed by a dietof social Darwinism,6 Machtpolitik captured the European imagination at the turnof the century and encouraged expression of identity through power and conquest.

What was lacking in the German sense of its identity was an ability to coordinatediplomacy. Germany’s institutional development was hollow, and its late bow todemocracy incomplete and ineffective. Its identity became increasingly composed ofblut und eisen with no sensitivity to the prudent management of power relationships.The kaiser’s exaggerated rhetoric undoubtedly further fueled the flames of rivalry.

According to power cycle theory, the dynamic of foreign policy role captures thetragic interplay of realism and constructivism in the German sense of political identity.

As a “created” state, mostly by Prussian power, Germany struggled to find its identityin the context of increased role participation, but the failure of recognition channeledits identity in a pernicious direction. Failing to be accorded a legitimate foreign policyrole corresponding to its enhanced capabilities, Germany would substitute fantasyfor international political reality, a mythic past and a Darwinian power impetus fora more moderate and lasting foreign policy role.

Recognition was what Germany sought on the part of other governments and whatthese governments failed to give. As a result of long being denied appropriate recogni-tion, Germany’s weak sense of identity did not permit a reciprocal recognition of thelegitimate concerns and claims of others. The two faces of recognition—the need tofind acceptance of one’s own claims in the policy of others and willingness to abidethe diplomatic claims of others in one’s own foreign policy—thus never matured orbecame fixed in the German sense of statecraft. This incongruity in its identity wasa tragic legacy of the historical dynamic leading to World War I.

I. Recognition in Power Cycle Theory: Concept and Application

How does recognition become an issue in the factors accounting for the origin of

WWI? The word “recognition,” from the Latin recognitio, enjoys a long traditionof usage both in domestic and international law as legal permission to be heard. In





domestic politics, it was the formal acknowledgement of a claim, for example, ofthe sovereign to be received by the people at a coronation. In the context of general

international relations, recognition contains more the meaning of acceptance or ac-knowledgment of having something worth hearing—of being entitled to considerationor to attention.7 In the context of the late nineteenth century, recognition conveysthe urgent desire of Germany to be taken seriously by the international community,to be acknowledged by the other leading states as a juridical equal, and in particular,to gain acceptance of the notion that the German foreign policy role should enjoyincremental increase parallel to its rising power.

Wilhelmian Germany, Role Deprivation, and the Shockof Structural Trend Shifts

Germany in the nineteenth century rose faster and further on its cycle of relative powerthan any other state because of its ever strengthening technological and industrial base.Discovery of the Bessemer process and open-hearth steel furnaces enabled Germanyto exploit its huge deposits of high-phosphoric ore, transforming the leading industryand ultimately the entire economic, and hence geopolitical, map of Europe. Germany’ssuperb science and engineering bolstered its industrial development more broadly. Inrelative terms, its meteoric rise meant an equivalent decline distributed among otherEuropean states. That a corresponding increase in the German foreign policy role wouldlag behind its surging economic and military power was not unusual for a rising state.

For the German foreign policy role to increase, other states had to “move over” to accom-modate a role for the newcomer. Traditionally, governments do this with reluctance.

But the lag of German role was unusual because particular structural changesaffecting its competitors (whose own absolute growth rates increased in the 1880s)reinforced their belief, supported by balance-of-power thinking, that such role adjust-ments to German rise were unnecessary. Thus ever-widening power-role gaps openedup for Germany and its competitors not just because of Germany’s own surging growthbut because of critical changes on the relative power trajectories of older members ofthe system with which Germany competed for role recognition.

To be sure, the power of France, Britain, and Austria-Hungary relative to thecentral system (including Russia, Japan, and eventually the United States) was indecline. But, as I will explain, their own improvement in rate of absolute growthled each to experience the “hopes and illusions” that their decline was abating. Thisunusual structural situation exacerbated the lag in Germany’s role attainment andfed Germany’s hunger for political recognition, for acknowledgment of its economicand cultural achievements, for a diplomatic “place in the sun” to recognize its statusas a member of the “inner circle” of major powers.8 In reaction to this intransigentrole-deprivation, as German chancellor Bethmann Hollweg wrote in his Memoiren :“A nation as large and capable as the German one cannot be restricted from free and

peaceful development.”

9





Thus not only did Germany have to contemplate the normal reluctance of statesto make room for a newcomer. The three states in severe relative decline, histori-

cally among Germany’s greatest rivals, refused to adjust any of their foreign policyrole or diplomatic perquisites.10 What most embittered Germany’s leaders was thatGermany was expected to take a second-seat not only in the colonies (where Britain,France, Belgium, and other countries had attained the benefits as first-comers) butalso diplomatically regarding governance of the central system.11

For those who hold the hegemonic (unipolar) view that a single dominant stateestablishes rules of the system and maintains order through military preponderance,this situation of power-role disparity is particularly problematic, not only becausethose hegemonic theories have no intrinsic conception of foreign policy role, butalso because they do not contemplate the possibility of “status competition” and

“status dissonance” within such a hegemonic setting.12 The power cycle interpreta-tion differs profoundly: power-role gaps that include status dissonance surface ateach of the critical points and implicate all of the states in the system. No amountof “top-heavy distribution of capabilities” can alter the tension caused by these gaps,or by the associated status dissonance, because every power cycle is impacted. TheGerman power-role gap was an externally imposed, made-in-Europe gap in a highlynationalistic era. Only from the power cycle perspective of critical structural change(the “shifting tides of history”) and power-role equilibrium can one fully understandhow important “recognition” is to statecraft—and how its denial created a “severelydisequilibrated system in crisis” that ended in world war.13

Figure 1: Systemic Bounds on Relative Growth




114

Figure 2: Conficting Messages

Figure 3: Expectations Foregone: Re-

solving WWI “Puzzles of History”

Figure 4: Power-Role Lag





The Trauma of Shifting Tides, the High Stakes of Role Deprivation

Power cycle theory transforms understanding of the structural changes that fracturedstatecraft prior to World War I, undermining the thesis that Germany would havebeen “master of Europe” if it had not gone to war. The accompanying figures repre-sent schematically the dynamics that precipitated tragedy. In the hour of its greatestachievement in terms of absolute power growth, Germany was driven on to unexpectedpaths by the “bounds of the system” (limited systemic shares, depicted in Figure 1).Power cycle theory exposes the conflicting messages (Figure 2) and disturbing surprises(Figure 3) in the evolution of the European power cycles between 1885 and 1914,which made adjustment to structural change so difficult—first during the period ofGermany’s uninterrupted rise in power and expectations for future role recognitionand subsequently during the critical interval of 1914 when, suddenly pulled on tothe path of relative decline, Germany and all of Europe experienced the “trauma ofexpectations foregone” of a powerful state that remained severely role-deprived andrecognition-denied (Figure 4).

Power cycle theory explains the dynamic of state rise and decline (changing systemsstructure) and how that dynamic affects government decisions about foreign policyconduct. The individual power cycles evolve as part of a “single dynamic” of stateand system, and of power and role, which maps the structural trends of history asschematically represented in Figure 5. The “principles of the power cycle” (Figure 1)explain how differential absolute growth sets the cycles in motion, creating a particular

Figure 5: Dynamics of Changing Systems Structure 1500–1993

Legend: Each curve represents the state’s evolving Percent Share of Power in the Central System,

1500–1993. (This representation stresses the “historical trends” in changing relative power and is not

to be taken as a precise metric of the actual levels attained. The decline of the Venetian Empire in the

16th century is no depicted.)

Source: Conceptualized by Doran (1965; updated 1981, 1989, 1993), based on estimations for the

period 1500 to 1815, and data for the years 1815–1993.





nonlinear pattern of change (critical points where the prior trend is inverted) on eachstate’s relative power trajectory.

This single dynamic encodes the perspective and concerns of statecraft in thetrends, and shifting trends, of the component state cycles. When decision-makerscontemplate future change on a state power cycle, they form expectations regardingthe state’s future security and foreign policy role. But competition for power sharecreates powerful undercurrents that contour structural change via critical shifts inthe trend on state power cycles. Each critical point on a power cycle creates a crisisof foreign policy expectations:

1. birth throes of a major power (the state’s rise on its cycle begins) 2. trauma of constrained ascendancy (first inflection point, marking the shift from

ever-increasing to ever-decreasing rise) 3. trauma of expectations foregone (upper turning point, where the rising state is

pulled into decline) 4. hopes and illusions of the second wind (second inflection point, where accelerating

decline begins to decelerate) 5. throes of demise as a major power (low-point or exit from the system)

Each critical point corresponds in the state’s experience to a time when the “tidesof history” have shifted the trend of structural change in the international system.14

Governments push and shove in these intervals of enormous uncertainty, where

the rules of the game are in flux and the stakes so high, making wars of large magni-tude, high intensity, and great duration much more likely than in normal periods ofstatecraft. Systems transformation results when several leading states experience suchhigh-stakes change on their power cycles in a rather short interval (as in 1885 to 1914).Failure to adjust to structural change leads to ever-widening power-role gaps (“rolesurplus” for some, “role deficit” for others), increasing the sense of threat. As criticalchanges cumulate, one final critical point (such as Germany’s sudden turn into rela-tive decline) makes the ever-growing strains between power and role internal to eachstate (such as Germany’s huge role deficit and Austria-Hungary’s overextension in theBalkans) ricochet throughout the system as states are forced to confront the power-rolegaps amidst the trauma and uncertainty of the latest structural shift. During the fivesystems transformations since Westphalia, each of the major players saw its foreignpolicy and security outlook severely altered and at risk, resulting in massive warfare.15

This “dilemma of peaceful change” is exacerbated by the natural inertia of rolechange. As a state’s relative power increases, other governments refuse to adjust, orthe state postpones role gratification believing it can enhance its role more easily andon better terms with even higher power. As relative power declines, allies demandsecurity and elites want to retain role and prestige, causing overextension for statesthat refuse to adapt. Such failure of role to adjust to power change creates a structural

disequilibrium that goes to the heart of the capacity to act in foreign policy. Adjustmentmust ultimately occur. Yet this inertia in adjustment can be perversely encouragedby the conflicting messages, shocks, and surprises of critical changes on the state





power cycles. This invidious relationship between critical trend shifts and power-role disequilibrium both encourages the use of balance-of-power logic and makes

inevitable its tragic failure. It thus provides the foundation within power cycle theoryfor a dynamic equilibrium that must precede and complement the balancing process.

In contrast to other structural interpretations (hegemonic stability,16 long cycle,17 and power transition18 theories), power cycle theory argues that war is not necessaryfor transformation from one international system to another. Causation goes fromstructural transformation, to failure of systemic adjustment, to the war that ensued;the shifting tides that restructured the system created the new power relations that willprevail in the new system. The implication is clear: massive warfare can be avoidedby a judicious adjustment of foreign policy roles and diplomatic recognition duringthe period of consistent rise (and decline) on the state power cycles—minimizing

power-role disequilibrium——before the onset of critical change alters prior expecta-tions and creates a crisis of failed adjustment.

Adjustment Delusions Prior to WWI

Why did the critical structural change on each declining state’s power cycle lead themto believe they need not accommodate German rise with enhanced role, that theyneed only apply the balance of power to offset Germany’s growing power? And whywas that strategy flawed and doomed to failure? Power cycle theory argues that theorganic rise and decline of states so twists and distorts the “chessboard” of balance-

of-power logic that, in an interval of extreme structural change, the game can nolonger be played. Indeed, its use attempts to offset declining power and to halt risingpower—resisting rather than adapting to the long-term structural changes. Its useleads to a severely disequilibriated system that ultimately “erupts” to eliminate theever-growing structural strains between power and role.

The balance of power is inadequate as a solution to this “dilemma of peacefulchange” because it considers only power, ignoring completely the high-stakes issuesof role and recognition. For a system to endure, it must establish a distribution ofroles and responsibilities (hence, recognition and status) that matches the capacity ofstates to carry out these functions. To ensure stability amidst structural change, powercycle theory proposes a dynamic equilibrium that matches strategies of oppositionand balance or alternatively, of adaptation and role recognition, to the trajectoriesof power change of potentially expansionist states (see part III of this chapter). Thetheory conjectures that World War I could have been prevented.

For recognition to be helpful in international relations, it must be based on a con-ception of statecraft that sees reality for what it is, especially in abnormal intervals ofhistory where structural change is abrupt and massive. But in the decades preceding

WWI, the notion of recognition was distorted by the tragic application of the balanceof power to offset the long-term rise of German power in lieu of role adjustment.

France, Austria-Hungary, and Britain held foreign policy roles far in excess of theirdeclining relative power; but each also passed through a second inflection point onits power cycles marking a suddenly improved (lessened) rate of decline in relative





power. The second inflection point signifies “the hopes and illusions of the secondwind” analogous to a long-distance runner far behind in a race who suddenly experi-

ences a surge and the illusion of possible victory.For a state with a role surplus, the “hopes and illusions of the second wind” creates

a particularly egregious problem for statecraft, for it pulls the state into opposingdirections. While its continuing relative decline indicates its weakened capabilityto carry out its existing foreign policy roles (and its vulnerability to challenge bystronger rivals), its sudden experience of improved circumstances (lessened rate ofdecline) makes it confident that it need not make concessions to other states in thesystem and, indeed, can be even more assertive in foreign policy matters. It discardsany motivation to mitigate its role surplus—to allow any transfer of status, perqui-sites of diplomacy, or offers of engagement to its competitor for role attainment and

recognition. The illusion from its improved circumstances is that it can restore itsweakened capability by a new assertiveness, by digging in its heels more resolutely.The state thus acts ever more toughly in communication and negotiation in hopesthat its relative decline will reverse.

Illusions of the second wind caused France and Britain to believe they did notneed to engage Germany but could continue to try to isolate and encircle it; Russiawas an enthusiastic accomplice. The second-wind gave Austria-Hungary the illusionof being able to manage its internal empire and cope with the tumult of the Balkansalone, when in fact Austria-Hungary was on the edge of collapse. This hubris wasespecially trying with respect to Serbia. Germany bought into the Austro-Hungarian

illusion wholeheartedly, while Russia sought to puncture it.For recognition to be helpful in world affairs, it must be founded on realism and a

correct understanding of the dynamic of structural change. But the structural changethat France, Austria-Hungary, and Britain “recognized” after the demise of Bismarckwas founded on the illusion of the second-wind. When these illusions combined withthose Germany harbored—that it would continue to rise and that it could correctits role and status gap by the use of force—the prelude to WWI is not surprising.Lacking was sound reasoning about how statecraft ought to respond to structuralchange. Each of the principal actors contributed to this fantasy.

II. Recognition, Power Cycle Theory, and Puzzles of WWI

The problem of recognition, viewed from the power cycle perspective, helps resolveseveral puzzles regarding World War I.

The Timing of World War

If Germany’s power-role gap and its hunger for political recognition help explainwhy WWI occurred, the dynamics of the power cycle incorporating the anxiety forpolitical recognition explains the timing of WWI, or why the war occurred when it





did. Germany had grown into an extraordinarily prosperous and powerful nation ina few decades, but by 1914, its leaders realized that something had gone wrong with

the German effort to excel, to achieve ever-greater place in the system.The problem was not its absolute power, which increased in larger and larger incre-

ments. So large were these increments that some historians believed Germany wascapable of dominating the entire European system politically. Yet, as contemporaneousGerman government officials were shocked to discover, German relative power wasno longer increasing. The more they tried to increase their place in the system, themore they felt the constraints on relative growth. Chief of Staff von Moltke recognizedthis military and political dilemma. Germany was pressing against the “bounds ofthe system” and could not increase its relative power further.

Sometime between 1905 and 1912, German power peaked, reaching a plateau it

could not transcend despite its surging absolute growth. Awareness of this reality setoff alarm bells in Berlin. Caught between ever-rising absolute power and stagnatingrelative power, the German foreign policy elite was traumatized. From the momentGermany confronted passage through the upper turning point on its power cycle,it became distraught about its foreign policy future. It contemplated the trauma ofexpectations forgone. Then, quite abruptly in 1914, Germany found itself being pulledonto a declining trajectory. The tides of history had shifted against it, completelydestroying Germany’s expectations regarding future security and a larger foreignpolicy role. The timing of WWI was triggered by Germany’s passage through theupper turning point on its power cycle.

Did Germany Know Its Power Had Peaked?

How much did contemporaneous Germans recognize about their situation andtheir fate? Enough historical evidence has now accumulated, at a sufficient level ofseniority in government, that German leaders had little doubt about its imminentrelative decline even though its absolute power continued to skyrocket. Accordingto Riezler, an advisor to Chancellor Bethmann Hollweg, the Chancellor said on July20, 1914: “The Russian power is rapidly growing . . . The future belongs to Russia

which grows continually and imposes an ever worse nightmare upon us.”19

These andother quotations from foreign office and the general staff reinforce the same messageof German fear in security terms of its recently discovered declining relative powerbase. In 1912, the German chancellor reports from his Russian journey to a friend:

My journey from Russia, albeit too brief, was full of beautiful and great impressions.This journey has also rectified many of my misconceptions about Russia reported byour superficial journalism. The richness of natural resources and brute human strengthare factors which we do not fear but which should not be overlooked.20

Germany confronted the reality that Russia’s latent power base was much greaterthan Germany’s. In the critical interval at the German peak, the massive political





uncertainty was equaled only by fears about future realities. German governmentofficials could not think clearly about their future. Uncertain about their status

among nations, they doubted that other governments would treat them fairly. Deniedrecognition of their place in the past, they had every reason to believe they wouldface malice and aggression when in decline. Lack of recognition on the upside of thepower curve convinced the Germans that the downside would be even less welcom-ing, indeed more forbidding.

Geltung, Anerkennung, Gleichberechtigung—and Gefahr

Looking at the German objectives in 1914, American historian Jonathan Steinberg waspuzzled as to what the Germans wanted. They wanted “Geltung, Anerkennung, and

Gleichberechtigung,” but Europe was not about to recognize any of these emotionallycharged characterizations. But Germans also feared a surprise British naval attack, afear Steinberg dubbed the Copenhagen Complex.21 Unable to explain the Europeanreaction to its rising power, Germany thought that it was encircled militarily andthat the British fleet would attack at its most vulnerable point in the Baltic Sea. TheBritish navy did have exactly such a plan, but only as a defensive contingency plan.In their obsession with security, the Germans could not distinguish a contingencyplan from an offensive military doctrine.

Loosely translated from the German, the greatly desired objectives—“Geltung, Anerkennung, Gleichberechtigung ”—are “prestige, recognition, equality of rights.”

The word Gefahr means “danger”—the danger Germans felt regarding their securityin the face of both encirclement and Russia’s rise, and the danger they felt regardingthese objectives—the growing fear that their prestige, recognition, and equality as amajor power would never be attained.

Germany sought objectives in international politics that had been unleashedinside the German Principalities by the French Revolution, but that took on a largerand more earnest connotation when applied to the international system by an evermore powerful Germany. Germany felt that it was being denied these objectives eventhough they had been “earned” by its growth in relative power, and even though theover-extended declining powers were no longer capable of maintaining the roles ofthe past. Other governments did not necessarily perceive this power-role gap, muchless acknowledge that it was problematic.

The notion of Gefahr has also puzzled historians. As Rudolf Stadelmann arguedin 1948, “What a strange and incomprehensible self-delusion lay in this word Ge-

fahr !”22 Of what or of whom was Germany fearful? Why did it believe its securityand foreign policy role were endangered if it was the most powerful state in Europe?

What would it take to erase this sense of danger that so permeated the Germanconsciousness? When one contemplates the conflicting messages of Germany’s hugelevel of absolute power and undiminished economic dynamism on the one hand, and

its counterintuitive peak in relative power growth on the other, the German Gefahr is seen to be neither incomprehensible nor self-delusional.





Was WWI a “Preventive War”?

Machtpolitik is a brutal application of force to politics that all the major powerspracticed at the end of the nineteenth century. Each state threatened to use forceagainst the others to forestall aggression against itself. Given the historical context of

Machpolitik, might Germany have instigated WWI as a “preventive war” to forestallits decline and Russia’s rise ?

Some contemporary scholars find this explanation appealing.23 But how plausibleis the argument? From one perspective, each government, once convinced that warwas inevitable, naturally sought to prevent its opponents from winning and becom-ing dominant. From that perspective, each government proceeded as though it waswaging a preventive war, a war to prevent its own decline as well as preserve its

security. There is also abundant evidence that Germany feared Russia in just theseterms and worried that eventually Russia would come to dominate Germany politi-cally, economically, and militarily. Thus, when Germany finally decided that warwas inevitable, it certainly sought to defeat Russia and prevent its own capitulation.

But there are many problems with the “preventive war” notion applied to any ofthe belligerents in 1914. From the days of the elder von Moltke, Germany worried thatthe next war could not be ended easily, would not be as short as in mid-nineteenthcentury, would involve the “cult of the offensive,” and thus would require Germanyto strike first to prevail against superior numbers. Such a “cult of the offensive”appears more a best means of defense against aggression than aggressive intent to

dominate. If the war were prompted by cold calculation intending to defeat Russiabefore Russia could dominate Germany, how could Germany expect France not tohonor its alliance with Russia, especially if Germany came close to defeating Rus-sia? If France entered the war, Germany’s worst fears would be realized—fighting atwo-front war. How could it carry out a “preventive war” against Russia if it had toprotect its flank against France? And if France were in danger of defeat, how likelywas Germany to avoid a naval blockade by Britain or even active military engagementon land? Once Germany decided that war was inevitable, it fudged the diplomatictransmission to Russia regarding Serbia to try to place the blame for starting thewar on Russia. But it did not do so for the “preventive war” motivation conceivedin recent scholarship.

Where is evidence that Germany thought it could so defeat Russia as to end permanently the prospect of political domination by Russia? The most its militaryleaders could promise in their wildest optimism was a decade or so to regroup. Giventhe kind of war the German military leadership thought it faced, its costs and dura-tion, would a rational actor believe that a preventive war against such an adversary asRussia was an acceptable bargain? Only the non-rational response of a governmentcaught in a crisis interval, already certain of its own inevitable relative decline anddesperate to escape what it thought was encirclement and the supposedly aggressive

intent of its opponents, would have led it to take such risks by embarking on a warwith so little true prospects.





A problem with the preventive war hypothesis is that in big wars against big op-ponents, the costs so far outweigh the possible benefits that the risks are unacceptable

to a decision-maker with enough information to act rationally in an environmentadequately subject to control. Only miscalculation, aborted strategies, confused signalsfrom opponents, and desperation—all made within the context of huge uncertaintyand conflicting messages created by the abrupt shift in future expectations engenderedby Germany’s turn into relative decline—can explain how each of the belligerentsslipped toward war in the weeks prior to the Russian mobilization. The inflexiblemilitary contingency plans of the belligerents did not predestine war, but once waroccurred, they surely made war more intense.

Did Germany Plan a War in 1914 to Dominate All of Europe?

Most of the war aims were formulated after the war had begun to justify to the Ger-man public the sacrifices being made on the battlefield. So a problem of causationexists when war aims are used to explain how the war began.24 Another problem isthat those in the government who had doubts were silenced. Bethmann Hollwegresisted announcing war aims publicly, and after the war, militarists claimed that themilitary was “stabbed in the back” during the war by subversives who had doubtsabout the war and did not have Germany’s interests at heart. Moreover, each of theallies had war aims that, in terms of territorial transfer, looked remarkably similar inform and content to the German war aims. That these allied war aims were agreed

to by secret treaty before the war only reinforced the German suspicions that France,Russia, Britain, and Italy were colluding at its expense.25

A particular danger of historiography regarding W WI and WWII is transpos-ing Hitler’s motives and strategy on to Wilhelmian Germany, oversimplifying anddistorting history. That Hitler wanted to dominate all of Europe militarily (albeitstep-by-step) does not mean that Bethman Hollweg, the kaiser, and von Moltkehad these objectives in mind as they engaged Russia. Even if, in their musings, theyoccasionally pondered implications of such an outcome, they were far more realisticthan their Nazi successors about the negative prospects. In an age when the notionof hegemony is loosely appropriated by scholars and practitioners, such an interpreta-tion is perhaps unsurprising. But as the German historian Ludwig Dehio observed,reflecting on his informed experience of WWI, “we ourselves” had no desire, no plan,to try to dominate Europe militarily.26

The best antidote to transferring Nazi ideology into Wilhelmian minds is to con-sider the strategic context of WWI. If German leaders planned to try to dominateall of Europe, why were they so filled with angst over the prospect that the Russianswould overwhelm them by 1917? Who was to be dominating whom? It is a very longstep from arguing that Russia was capable of subjecting Germany to domination tothe contrary view that Germany would have the capacity and purpose to dominate

not just Russia militarily but all of Europe. If Germany’s plan was to become the“master of Europe” in 1914, surely the weakest member of the central system, Russia,





should not have been much of a challenge militarily, since “mastery” would alsoinvolve defeating the more powerful France and Britain.

The reality is that the German government found itself in a critical interval ofhistory, a crisis in which it did not know what to believe, changed its strategic mindrepeatedly, and allowed its contingency plans to do much of its thinking (such as theill-fated Schlieffen Plan to avoid a two-front war by quickly defeating France beforeRussia could mobilize).27 It helplessly allowed history to unfold in its alliance with

Austria, without adequate forethought or control. Its failure to decide whether itwould face a two-front war was a brazen example of strategic contradiction. Anotherwas Germany’s alternating strategic conception of how it would deploy its armies,either against Russia, or France, or both. Its failure to decide whether Britain wouldenter the war, and if so, where and when, amounted to more than tactical indecision,

given the stakes for Germany. It did not decide because it could not.In this abnormal interval of critical structural change in which Germany was

torn between the conflicting perceptions of surging absolute growth but decliningrelative power, its thirst for recognition went un-slaked, political uncertainty wasgargantuan, and nothing seemed to make any sense. In such a critical interval, theconditions that had long guided rational foreign policy strategy were no longer valid;and with the criteria for “rational choice” no longer present, “strategy” is likely to beflawed—a condition I call “non-rationality.”28 Charles Maier explains how decision-makers prior to the war’s outbreak believed that each step was a “rational” choice asthe sequence of events unfolded:

From one point of view the war was “irrational,” risking national unity, dynasties, andeven bourgeois society. Many of the European statesmen . . . claimed to understandthat such long-term stakes were involved . . . they did not think they were in a positionto act upon these long-term forebodings. Rather, they say themselves confronted withdecisions about the next step.29

Joseph Nye concludes: “Although each step may be rational in a procedural senseof relating means to ends, the substantive outcome may be so distorted that oneshould refer to it as irrational.”30 In other words, the struggle to act rationally

was overwhelmed by the sudden and ineluctable inversion of prior expectationsregarding high stakes in the midst of enormous uncertainty. In 1914, any clearlythought-out plan for military domination of Europe was very far from the Germanstrategic mind.

III. Recognition, Dynamic Equilibrium, and Stability

To show how recognition fits into the framework for stability, I first explain how its

absence from the practice of the balance of power in the context of a rapidly changingsystem led to a monumental failure of the balance mechanism. I then develop the





concept of dynamic international political equilibrium and demonstrate what partrecognition must play in the operation of that equilibrium.

Balance of Power Confronts State Rise and Decline

Maintenance of world order in the nineteenth century depended on proper use ofthe balance of power by all of the states. Assertions that Britain alone practicedthe balance or had superior intuition in effectively implementing it are mistaken.Castlereagh, the British foreign secretary at the Congress of Vienna in 1815, was nogreater practitioner of the art of balance than was Metternich, the German-bornarchitect of Austrian foreign policy, a decade later. Because of its island status, navy,colonies, and abhorrence of a land war on the Continent, Britain practiced a slightly

different tactical version of the balance of power than did the Continentals, but theoverall strategic vision was exactly the same.

Britain threw its weight against any dominant coalition that formed on theContinent, thus bolstering the weaker coalition so as to “maintain the balance” andprevent aggression by any member of the dominant coalition.31 Over time this tacti-cal approach to the balance of power came to be known as “off-shore balancing,”and Britain became known as “the holder of the balance.”32 The only difference intactical implementation of the balance of power for the Continentals was that theywere usually already a member of either a dominant or an inferior coalition. Theytended to leave one coalition or to join another as they saw their interests impacted.

They too were concerned that the balance should remain in balance, thus preservingfirst their own security and secondarily the peace, but sometimes their foreign policyinterests got in the way of the larger balance-of-power vision. Moreover, Continentalstates were often contiguous, complicating the task of shifting the balance withoutupsetting a security-conscious neighbor.

But after the Franco-Prussian War in 1871, Bismarck maintained the balancefor twenty years by applying a peculiarly complex balance-of-power arrangement.Bismarck recognized that he could successfully maintain the balance if he could tieup any two of the five members of the system in an alliance. This tactical version ofmaintaining balance stood the notion on its head: instead of balancing the dominantcoalition, Germany under Bismarck was part of the dominant coalition. And yetthe balance “balanced” because Bismarck had a vision of stability for Europe thatwould allow Germany to mature and prosper. In Bismarck’s view, Germany’s days ofterritorial expansion were over; the “natural limits” had been reached. By its allyingwith any two actors in the central system, no other actor or pair of actors was likelyto challenge the status quo militarily. The logic was coherent. But neither traditionalnor Bismarckian balance could deal with the structural changes straining the system.Indeed, balancing to maintain the status quo enabled the actors to postpone givingattention to the growing imbalance between power and role throughout the system.

While the balance of power is crucial to the understanding of world politics andprobably has helped preserve the territorial security of many states since the originof the modern state system, it was designed for normal intervals of statecraft when





structural change is minimal. But for Europe after 1885, structural change wasrampant. Several states passed through critical points on their power cycles where

everything changed in structural terms for state and system. Uncertainty is at amaximum when the tides of history suddenly shift. The flat chessboard of statecraftis twisted and torn. Conventional diplomatic strategy fails. In these transformedintervals of statecraft, the balance of power sends off the wrong signals, becomingpart of the problem rather than the solution.

Recognition, the Balance of Power, and WWI

WWI might have been averted, but only if the shortcomings of the balance of powerduring a period of systems transformation could be avoided. To do so required un-

derstanding the dynamics of the power cycle and the fundamentals of recognition.Germany was a rising state throughout the latter two-thirds of the nineteenth

century. Britain began its relative descent by midcentury, notwithstanding its colo-nial expansion by the 1870s. France had been in relative decline since the middle ofthe prior century. Austria-Hungary’s relative decline was so far advanced, becauseof the disintegration of its internal empire and its laggard industrialization, that bythe eve of WWI, it had virtually dropped out of the central system. Germany reliedtoo heavily on Austria for order-maintenance responsibilities in the Balkans thatwere entirely beyond its capacities. All of these states insisted on their perquisitesand place in terms of statecraft, elbowing Germany out of the colonial regions and

excluding it from equal status in the central European system. In short, Europedenied Germany recognition of its achievements and a constructive foreign policyrole and did so repeatedly and in a fashion that led Germany to identify force as themeans to attainment.

Britain, France, and Russia observed the balance of power meticulously. Insteadof allowing a rising state to attain diplomatic status and recognition, they sought toencircle and restrain it. Instead of engaging Germany early, before its belligerencebecame too difficult to manage, they in effect created a noose into which, as theKaiser recognized by late summer of 1914, Germany too readily inserted its ownneck. By waiting until 1912 or so to offer Germany some palliatives (such as theHaldane visit to Berlin to alleviate concerns about British naval intentions), they hadwaited too long. The thunderheads of war were already on the horizon. Recognitionof German economic and military achievement did not mean giving up territory toGermany, laying down their own arms, or adopting pacifist postures. Recognitionmeant treating Germany as a cultural and political equal.

International Political Equilibrium:How WWI Could Have Been Averted

According to power cycle theory, rising power cannot be constrained and decliningpower cannot be artificially bolstered.33 These are the dual impulses of the balanceof power that, in a dynamic interval of systems transformation, are bound not only





to fail but to exacerbate the tensions in the international political climate of the pe-riod. Instead, in periods of high uncertainty and insecurity such as the 1890 to 1914

interval, those states attempting to promote world order must acknowledge the needof a rising power to be recognized for its achievements and accepted for its positivecontributions. While preserving their own security and the means to that security,the other powers in the system must learn to adapt to rising power.34 They mustengage the newcomer and bind it into a series of coalitions that both give it a senseof security and at the same time guarantee the security of its neighbors.

Conversely, when a potentially disruptive state is in significant relative decline aswas Hitler’s Germany, the other major powers must balance and oppose its claimsto greater role as well as its aggression. A state whose relative power is declining nolonger can make claims on the system for a larger foreign policy role. By attempting

to appease such a power, the other members of the system only invited aggression.Unfortunately, the actions of Britain, France, Russia, and the United States from

1937 to 1939 signaled to Hitler that they did not care whether he canceled the neu-trality of the Rhineland, intimidated Austria, or violated the sovereignty of the Czechstate. True, they were reeling from the prior war (France and Britain), seeking isolation(United States), or brooding about a deal between dictators (Soviet Union). Theywere also trying to unlearn mistakes made prior to 1914 that had caused Germany’soutburst in WWI. But they failed to recognize that the structural situation in the lastdecades of the nineteenth century was entirely different from the structural situationbetween the wars. Like many historical treatments today, they conflated Wilhelmian

Germany and Nazi Germany as well as the structural settings. They attempted touse the medicine appropriate for the earlier period as a prescription for the ills of thelatter. By trying to undo the mistakes of the earlier period with inappropriate roleadjustments in the latter, the architects of world order fueled Hitler’s aggression.

The correct strategy was to respond to a rising Germany with deference and en-gagement, adapting to its thirst for recognition with ascription of legitimate roles. Thecorrect strategy for a declining Germany under Hitler was to demonstrate early thatexpansion was illegitimate and that it would not work. Power cycle theory elucidatesthese two tragic historical lessons. WWII showed that states ignore the balance ofpower at their period and that i llegitimate interests must never be appeased. WWIshowed that states ignore power-role equilibrium at their peril and that rising powercannot be halted. The bounds of the system constrain relative growth and futurerole opportunity, and when expectations long deferred suddenly are foreclosed, theurgent demand for redress of this sense of “injustice,” and to relieve the structuraldisequilibrium, provokes the tragedy of world war.

Recognition is an important instrument in the toolkit of decision-makers contem-plating appropriate and viable adjustment to structural change. Among the possibleleadership roles a state may assume, recognition establishes which roles are consideredlegitimate within a stable world order. Wisely used, recognition can enhance the pros-

pects for peace while, in conjunction with a proper use of defensive capability, helpingbolster territorial security. But if denied or wrongly used, whether in ignorance or in





defiance of structural change, any of these instruments of adaptation will disappointthe purported peacemaker.

Notes

1. Doran 1991, 93. 2. This analysis of World War I from the power cycle perspective draws heavily on theauthor’s detailed theoretical and historical assessment (Doran 1991). The first published ac-count of the theory (Doran 1971) examined the failed hegemonic attempts of the SpanishHabsburgs under Philip II, of France under Louis XIV, and of France under Napoleon. Acompact presentation, including the essentials of its application to WWI, is Doran 2003,

13–50. 3. On the nature of the concept of “foreign policy role” as established in power cycletheory, see Doran 1991, 30–33; Doran 2003, 14–15, 25–32. 4. Kissinger 1994; Evera 1985; Sagan 1986; Trachtenberg 1990; Williamson and May2007; Hamilton and Herwig 2004; Kagan 1995; Snyder and Jervis 1999; Hamilton andHerwig 2004. For early debates, see Albertini 1952–1957; Fischer 1967; Geiss 1967. 5. Honneth 1996; Wendt 1999. 6. Lindemann 2001. 7. Honneth 1999, and the contribution to this volume. 8. Murray provides evidence of this gap in her contribution to this volume. 9. I am grateful to Thomas Lindemann for this reference.

10. This thesis should not be confused with claims that France and Russia started the war,which could be true only in a very narrow technical sense affected by mobilization times.Zuber 1999; Zuber 2002; critique by Mombauer 2005. 11. Lieber 2007, 155–191. 12. Wohlforth 1999. Wohlforth 2009, 28–57, claims that status competition and statusdissonance can become possible causes of war only when a unipolar system moves into a systemhe characterizes as balanced. Status dissonance without unipolarity is central in Midlarsky1975. 13. Doran 1989, 371–401; Doran 1991, 79–100, 134–140. Doran 2003, 28–38. 14. Doran 1991, 104–107. 15. Doran 1971. 16. Gilpin 1981. 17. Modelski 1978; Thomson 1988. 18. Organski and Kugler 1980. 19. Quoted in Lindemann 2001, 224–226. 20. Ibid., 264. 21. Steinberg 1966; Schweller 2008, 42. 22. Stadelmann 1948. 23. Fischer 1967; Levy 1990/91; Copeland 2000 ; Trachtenberg 1990/91. 24. Feldman 1967. 25. Ibid., 2–3.

26. Dehio [1948] 1962. 27. Ritter 1956.





28. Doran 2000; Doran 2003, 26, 37–38. See also the discussion of non-rationality byRingmar in the introduction to this volume.

29. Maier 1988, 588. 30. Nye 1988. Doran 1991, 40–43. 31. Paul et al. 2004; Ikenberry 2002. 32. Levy and Thompson 2005, 1–33, distinguish maritime from land-based efforts tobalance. For a traditional view of the balance of power, see Mearsheimer 2001. 33. See Doran 1991, 144–151; Doran 1995. 34. The requirements and strategies for adaptation and adjustment are articulated in Doran1991, 169–171, 182–186.

Bibliography

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Copeland, Dale C. 2000. The Origins of Major War. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.Dehio, Ludwig. (1948) 1962. The Precarious Balance: Four Centuries of the European Power

Struggle. New York: Vintage Books.Doran, Charles F. 1971. Politics of Assimilation: Hegemony and Its Aftermath. Baltimore: The

Johns Hopkins University Press.———. 1980. “Modes, Mechanisms, and Turning Points: Perspectives on the Analysis of

the Transformation of the International System.” International Political Science Review 1 (1): 35–61.

———. 1989. “Systemic Disequilibrium, Foreign Policy Role, and the Power Cycle: Challengesfor Research Design.” Journal of Conflict Resolution 33 (3): 371–401.

———. 1991. Systems in Crisis: New Imperatives of High Politics at Century’s End. Cambridge:Cambridge University Press.

———. 1995. “The Power Cycle and Peaceful Change: Assimilation, Equilibrium, andConflict Resolution.” In Beyond Confrontation: Learning Conflict Resolution in the Post-Cold War Era, edited by John A. Vasquez, Sanford M. Jaffe, James Turner Johnson, andLinda Stamato. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

———. 2000. “The Rationality of ‘Nonrationality’ in the Power Cycle Theory of Major War:Confronting the Principles of the ‘Single Dynamic.’” Washington, DC.

———. 2003. “Economics, Philosophy of History, and the ‘Single Dynamic’ of Power CycleTheory: Expectations, Competition, and Statecraft.” International Political ScienceReview 24 (1): 13–50.

Evera, Stephen Van. 1985. “Why Cooperation Failed in 1914.” World Politics 38 (1): 80–117.Feldman, Gerald D., ed. 1967. German Imperialism, 1914–1918: The Development of a Histori-

cal Debate. New York: John Wiley & Sons.Fischer, Fritz. 1967. Germany’s Aims In The First World War. New York: W. W. Norton.Geiss, Immanuel. 1967. July 14: The Outbreak of the First World War. New York: Scribner.Gilpin, Robert. 1981. War and Change in World Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.Hamilton, Richard F., and Holger H. Herwig. 2004. Decisions For War, 1914–1917. New

York: Cambridge University Press.





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Lindemann, Thomas. 2001. Les doctrines darwiniennes et la guerre de 1914. Paris: Economica.Maier, Charles. 1988. “Wargames: 1914–1919.” Journal of Interdisciplinary History 18 (4):

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Oxford University Press.




131

Chapte r 7

Recognition, Disrespect, and

the Struggle for MoroccoRethinking Imperial Germany’s Security Dilemma

Michelle Murray

If the flag of the state is insulted, it is the duty of the State to demand satisfac-tion, and if satisfaction is not forthcoming, to declare war, however trivialthe occasion may appear, for the State must strain every nerve to preservefor itself the respect which it enjoys in the state system.

—Heinrich von Treitschke 1

The origins of the First World War have played an important role in the develop-ment of international relations theory, helping to inspire the principal concept instructural realist theory: the security dilemma. The security dilemma explains howstates with fundamentally compatible goals, namely security, nevertheless end up incompetition and war. This happens when the power a state acquires for security can“render others more insecure and compel them to prepare for the worst.”2 That is, asecurity dilemma exists when the capabilities a state builds for its own defense andsecurity decreases the security of others.3 These states respond in kind with militarybuildups of their own, the result of which is an action-reaction spiral that leads to

security competition and sometimes war. The central insight of security dilemmatheory is that states pursuing nothing more than security and self-defense can end




132 ✻ Michelle Murray

up acting as if they are aggressors, creating a self-fulfilling prophesy of competitionand insecurity.

Accordingly, the dominant view that has emerged on the origins of the First World War is that none of the European great powers wanted war but fought onebecause of misperceptions, militaristic domestic ideologies, and mobilization sched-ules. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand initiated a diplomatic crisis,triggered alliance commitments among the great powers and set in motion mili-tary mobilization schedules. When Serbia rejected Austria-Hungary’s ultimatum,

Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, prompting a partial military mobilizationin Russia. Fearing the disadvantage that would come from not being prepared ifattacked, all of the European great powers began to prepare for war. This createda self-fulfilling prophecy: as these preparations turned to full-scale military mo-

bilizations, neighboring states felt compelled to respond in kind with full-scalemobilizations of their own. Under these conditions, the incentives to launch apreemptive war increased “to the degree that striking the first offensive blow [was]considered advantageous compared to waiting to be attacked.”4 By August 1, thisspiral had wound too tightly, and Germany declared war on Russia and two dayslater, on France. When Germany violated Belgian neutrality, Britain was drawn intothe war. By mid-August what started out as a localized conflict between Austria-Hungary and Serbia had escalated into full-scale European war. World War I isconsidered an exemplary instance of the security dilemma because the pressures ofthe international system drove states seeking only security into competitive arming

practices, which quickly escalated to war.Recent work in history and political science, however, has put this understanding

of the origins of the war—and Germany’s role in precipitating it—into doubt.5 Itis clear that since at least 1890, Imperial Germany was a fundamentally dissatisfiedpower, “eager to disrupt the status quo and to achieve its expansive goals by bullyingif possible, by war if necessary.”6 Its bold naval policy represented a direct challengeto British naval hegemony, designed to bring Germany to the rank of a world power.On the continent, it pursued a belligerent foreign policy, assuming a more vocalrole in European politics and often threatening great power war over trivial colonialdisagreements. What is more, Keir Lieber has forcefully argued that Germany wentto war “eyes wide open,” prepared for a costly and protracted war in order to achieveits goal of dominating the European continent.7 In short, it seems apparent that deci-sions regarding the use of force in 1914 did not lead tragically to an unwanted war,but rather were part of a deliberate strategy designed to achieve very particular ends.

But for what ends was this risky and aggressive foreign policy devised? In thischapter, I argue that Germany’s foreign policy was designed to secure recognitionof its status as a world power. By 1890 Germany was the strongest power on theEuropean continent; however, its power beyond Europe was insignificant, and itsprospects for enlarging it there were rapidly diminishing.8 As British diplomat Eyre

Crowe observed, “Germany had won [its] place as one of the leading, if not, in fact,the foremost power on the European continent, but over and beyond the European




Recognition, Disrespect and the Struggle for Morocco ✻ 133

Great Powers there seemed to stand World Powers,” within which Germany had not yetsecured its place.9 One part of German strategy to achieve world-power status involved

instigating a series of crises over the independent status of Morocco. From a materialperspective Morocco was of little value to Germany who held no vital economic orsecurity interests in the region. Rather, Germany’s principal interest in Morocco wasabout identity, as Germany struggled to establish and defend its status among thesystem’s world powers. During each of the Moroccan crises German demands to betreated as an equal on par with the other world powers went unrecognized, leadingto an intense spiral of social insecurity to which Germany responded with increasedbelligerence. The consequence was the emergence of a keen awareness of the balanceof power in Europe, which sparked a costly arms race that contributed to the outbreakof war. The struggle for recognition centered in the Moroccan Crises, I argue, reveals

how the experience of disrespect can lead to the material competition traditionallyattributed to the security dilemma.

The chapter proceeds in three parts. In the first section, I briefly outline a socialtheory of international politics which argues that in addition to physical security,states also want recognition of their identities from significant Others. My renderingof the struggle for recognition in international politics argues that in response to theexperience of disrespect and to secure recognition, states ground their identities in thematerial practices associated with their desired status, which for great powers involvesmaximizing material power. The materialization of identity isolates the state fromthe social insecurity associated with identity formation in anarchy. Next, I apply this

argument to the two Moroccan Crises, each of which played an important role inprecipitating the First World War. In challenging France and Britain over the statusof Morocco, Germany sought to secure its status among the world powers. Finally, Iconclude with some implications for international relations theory.

Recognition and Disrespect in World Politics

Mainstream theories of security generally assume that all states share the same inter-est—physical security—and that their pursuit of this interest is conditioned by thebalance of power. This paints a materialist picture of international politics where statesurvival is equated with state materiality, and threats to survival are understood onlyin terms of material capabilities. Theorists of recognition in international politics,however, have challenged this narrow motivational assumption to argue that concernsover identity importantly shape states’ security interests and motivate foreign policybehavior.10 As Erik Ringmar has argued, “not only physical, but also social survivalis at stake” in international politics.11 A secure identity is essential for state survivalbecause the state requires a stable identity in order to be a subject in the internationalsystem—that is, identity provides the sense of who the state is, its location within the

social order, and given the first two, how it is prepared to act to achieve its interests.

12

Without a stable sense of self, states cannot define or realize their interests and hence





cannot be secure. Thus, one of the principal motivations of states in anarchy is togain recognition of their identities.13

Recognition is a social act that ascribes to a state some positive status, wherebyits identity is acknowledged and reinforced as meaningful by a significant Other,and thus the state is constituted as a subject with legitimate social standing.14 Thestruggle for recognition describes the process through which states attempt to gain therecognition of their significant Others and become subjects of a particular kind in thesocial order. In this formulation, identities are determined inter-subjectively—one’sattitude, or disposition, toward another only emerges in that state’s encounter with itssignificant Other, and therefore, who or what a state becomes is the outcome of manyintersecting and overlapping sequences of action and response.15 The representationsthat occur during the course of these interactions are the most important aspects of

state interaction, for through them the meaning of state identity is contested, made,and reproduced, and hence states are able to define and realize their global interests.

This process of identity construction involves the state making a claim to a particu-lar identity and representing other states in correspondingly meaningful counter-roles,what Alexander Wendt has termed “role-taking” and “alter-casting.”16 The interna-tional system is shaped by a social structure that relates a state’s self-understandingto institutionalized role-positions, which define the behavioral norms appropriate toa particular identity. Roles are structural positions that exist by virtue of shared ideasabout the nature of Self and Other, and place states in specific relationships vis-à-visother subjects in the system.17 Role-taking thus involves choosing from the available

representations of the self that a state holds and identifying which role in the socialstructure corresponds to that self conception.

Consider, for example, the role position of great power. Neorealism takes greatpower status as a self-evident reflection of material power and thus a pre-existingproperty of those states that possess the requisite kind and level of capabilities.18 Arecognition approach, in contrast, argues that “great power” is an identity sustainedthrough a role structure that grants a recognized set of states special rights and stand-ing in relation to non-great powers.19 These special rights and duties have historicallyincluded being able to exclusively determine their own affairs as well as playing aleading role in determining the direction and shape of international affairs, but be-yond this, they have varied over time as constitutive norms that define this identityhave changed. At the turn of the twentieth century, when Germany made its bid to

join the ranks of the great power, this leadership role included direct control overand exploitation of much of the world through colonial empires, as the great powerscollectively, though not without contestation, decided how to carve up the colonizedworld. Today it involves a monopoly on second-strike nuclear capability and a seaton the United Nations Security Council.

This social definition of great power underscores how role identities cannot ex-ist without states occupying positions “in a social structure and following behavior

norms toward Others possessing relevant counter-identities.”

20

And therefore, the actof making a claim to a particular role position necessarily involves alter-casting, as the





state is at the same time casting others into the corresponding counter-roles that maketheir identity meaningful in the first place. Just as there cannot be a teacher without

a student, there cannot be a great power without a non-great power. Identities arealways defined in relation to others, and role positions play an important part in thisprocess by identifying the boundaries between identity groups such that those insidethe collective recognize each other as subjects who “because of their common socialposition share traits and abilities that are accorded a certain level of social standing”over those who are not part of the collective.21 International politics is in large partabout negotiating the boundaries of these collective identities, as states struggle overwho is and who is not included in the group.

Because identities are formed inter-subjectively in this way, the process of establish-ing and maintaining an identity in international politics is wrought with insecurity

as interaction always holds the possibility that a state’s self-understanding will notbe recognized. When a state is recognized, this insecurity is mitigated—its identityand status as a political actor is secured and it is free to pursue the interests associatedwith that identity unhindered. If a state’s identity is not recognized, however, it suffersdisrespect because in being denied membership in the collective, the recognition-seeking state can be represented as “illegitimate” or “second-rate.” With the meaningof its identity called into question, the state can no longer function as a positivelyinformed self and thus cannot pursue the interests that follow from its perceivedidentity. In response to the insecurity associated with the experience of disrespect,states engage in a struggle for recognition, which can become the motivational im-

petus for conflict among states.22

The struggle for recognition holds the possibility of producing conflict amongstates because in response to the experience of disrespect, states ground their aspirantidentities in concrete material practices. Material practices are an effective expressionof an identity because the material world gives substance to the recognition-seekingstate’s aspiring social identity and allows the state to experience its social status as abrute fact, rather than as the uncertain effect of an ongoing political practice of socialconstruction.23 Practices are socially recognized forms of activity that are repeatedover time and done on the basis of what states learn from others, which in turnreproduce an inter-subjective reality that gives meaning to particular identities.24 The practices coupled with an identity are defined by constitutive norms, specifiedby the social structure, which identify “the actions that will cause [other states] torecognize that identity and respond to it appropriately.”25 For this reason it is alwaysby way of performance to collectively known generative schemes that actors are em-powered and gain the social status they desire.26 For example, one pillar of Germany’sstrategy to achieve “its place in the sun” among the established world powers was afull-scale challenge to British naval hegemony, which included building a large fleetof battleships stationed in the North Sea. Being a world power necessitates that oth-ers recognize you as such, and this is accomplished in part through conformity to a

ritualized set of material practices. At the time, powerful navies, anchored in a fleetof battleships, were symbolic of the political power of the state and embodiment of





the nation, the hallmark of world-power status. Therefore, in building a powerfulnavy, Germany thought that it could create a display of military force so great that

Britain simply could not ignore it, allowing Germany to secure recognition of itsstatus as a world power.27

As this example illustrates, state identities are instantiated in practices. In ma-terializing a socially produced identity, the state appears to have sovereign controlover the meaning of its identity. By presenting its aspiring identity as a fait accom-pli, the state demands that it be recognized as it already really is, thereby forcing itssignificant Other(s) to recognize it. This has the effect of isolating the state fromthe uncertainty and social insecurity associated with inter-subjective identity for-mation, giving the temporary illusion that it can alone determine its identity. More-over, by grounding the state’s aspirant identity in the material practices known to

constitute that identity, it appears as if this identity pre-exists social interactionand therefore is not dependent on the experience of inter-subjectivity. The materialworld reflects back to the state the identity it seeks, lending relative stability to theinter-subjective world by reducing social uncertainty about the status of identity.In the case of great power politics, then, the accumulation of material capability isnot always an act “of conscious obedience to something external” like the balanceof power, but rather, an act of self-realization that attempts to secure identity.28 Inwhat follows, I apply this theoretical argument to the two Moroccan Crises thepreceded the First World War and argue that in challenging France and Britainover the status of Morocco, Imperial Germany sought to secure recognition of its

identity among the European great powers and that the resultant arms race wassymptomatic of this social process.

The Struggle for Morocco

During the decade preceding the outbreak of the First World War, Germany becameembroiled in a series of crises over the status of Morocco, each of which threatenedgeneral war and contributed to the overwrought environment that led to the JulyCrisis. German involvement in Morocco has always been puzzling from a strictlymaterial perspective. Germany’s material interests in the country at the time werenugatory, as Germany had no important economic or security interests in Morocco;its overall volume of trade there ranked third among the great powers and as suchwas not part of Germany’s vital interests.29 Rather, Germany’s foremost interest inMorocco lay in its relationship to Germany’s status among the established greatpowers and the fear that its position among those states was unrecognized.30 In whatfollows, I show how the mis-recognition and consequent disrespect that Germanysuffered at the hands of the other great powers over the Moroccan question playedan important role in motivating Germany’s arming decisions in the lead-up to the

war. That is, social insecurity over Germany’s identity as a great power precipitatedthe material competition among the great powers.





The First Moroccan Crisis, 1905–1906

The First Moroccan Crisis grew out of the imperial rivalries of the European greatpowers, particularly France and Germany, and hence Morocco was directly connectedto each state’s identity as a great power. France had long had an interest in Morocco,as geographically it was central to French imperial interests in North Africa. Duringthe 1890s, France worked hard to consolidate its North African Empire, completingagreements with Great Britain, Germany, and Spain to gain desired territories. Thisleft only Morocco—a country almost enclosed by French territory—as unclaimedby the French. Accordingly, for France, Morocco became an object whose acquisitionhad come to be understood as necessary to the completion of its ambitions in theregion and maintenance of its position among the world powers.31

For a long time, France maintained a policy toward Morocco that supported thestatus quo: not allowing any other power to gain undue influence there or permittingMorocco to reform itself away from French interests, but stopping short of officiallyincorporating it into the French Empire.32 This stance reflected the agreement reachedin the Madrid Convention of 1880, which specified the rights and obligations thatthe great powers had vis-à-vis Morocco and assured that no single great power wouldassume too large a role in the internal affairs of the country by maintaining an “opendoor” policy for any great power that wanted to do business there.33 Maintaining acolonial empire was a practice important to the constitution of great-power identity,and so in this way, the Madrid Convention helped to define the behavioral norms

constitutive of that identity.In the early part of the twentieth century, French interest in Morocco began to

grow, as the Moroccan question came to be seen as paramount to French nationaland imperial interests. By 1903 nearly every political party within France saw theMoroccan question as a priority of French foreign policy and considered its claimsto predominance there as superior to those of any other great power. 34 The strengthof the French empire, and therefore France’s corresponding identity as a great power,came to rest with Morocco and securing French dominance there. Therefore, look-ing to secure its position in Morocco, France approached Britain for an agreementthat would settle the Moroccan question in its favor, and on April 8, 1904, the twostates signed the Entente Cordiale.35 This “friendly understanding” was primarilyconcerned with colonial expansion, consisting of three documents that resolved dif-ferences between the two states in Africa, Asia, and the Pacific, thus strengtheningeach state’s empire. The most important component of the agreement, however, wasthe third document, which concerned France and Britain’s standing in Morocco.In return for France relinquishing its rights and interests in Egypt to Britain, theBritish agreed to respect France’s special status and pledged diplomatic support forFrench involvement in Morocco. The Entente Cordiale did not formally absorbMorocco into the French empire, but France alone would make all of the decisions

concerning the internal affairs of Morocco. Thus, the practical intent behind theEntente Cordiale was to eventually make Morocco a French protectorate.36 The





Entente Cordiale replaced years of intermittent conflict between Britain and Francewith a friendly relationship and laid the groundwork for future French action in

Morocco.The Entente Cordiale, however, was a direct violation of the Madrid Convention

and thus inflamed Germany, who considered itself to be a great power and as suchunderstood itself as having a right to be consulted on issues surrounding colonialexpansion. After all, the Madrid Convention preserved equality among the greatpowers in their dealings with Morocco. Therefore, when France cleared its plansfor Morocco with Britain but deliberately excluded Germany from these dealings,it effectively denied Germany recognition and represented Germany as an inferiorpower. Shortly after the signing of the Entente Cordiale, Chancellor Bernhard vonBülow took note of this disrespect: “they did not even show us the consideration of

informing Berlin and Vienna of the contents of the 1904 treaty . . . in the face of thischain of French aggressions, it seemed necessary to remind Paris again of the GermanEmpire.”37 While Germany’s material interests in Morocco were small, the insult toits identity demanded a response, and on June 3, 1904, Baron von Holstein issued amemorandum that expressed this concern very clearly. He wrote,

even more alarming would be the injury to Germany’s prestige, if we sat still whilst Ger-man interests were being dealt with without our taking a part. It is the duty of a GreatPower not merely to protect its territorial frontiers, but also the interests lying outsidethem . . . we can never admit that France, as Morocco’s neighbour, has a stronger right

to Morocco than we have.38

Holstein went on to argue, “not only for material reasons, but also in order to protect[its] prestige, Germany must protest against France’s intention to acquire Morocco.”39 From Germany’s perspective, allowing the French intrusion into Morocco to go un-challenged would be tantamount to relinquishing its status as a great power.

In spite of German warnings, France continued to pursue its expansionist foreignpolicy in Morocco, hoping to officially add this area to its growing North and West

African Empire.40 In January, French foreign minister Théophile Delcassé visited Fezwith a series of proposals meant to turn Morocco into a French protectorate, forcingthe Sultan into accepting reforms for the police, the banks, and the army, all to becarried out with French assistance.41 By once again disregarding Germany, Franceensured that Morocco would be the site of Germany’s struggle for recognition as agreat power.

Germany’s initial reaction to Delcassé’s plan was to assert its rights as a greatpower by continuing to support Moroccan independence and prevent France fromgaining undue power in North Africa. Simply asserting its support for Moroccanindependence, however, was not enough to stabilize Germany’s identity as a greatpower. Because identities are instantiated in practices, Germany had to back up its

recognition claims with behavior appropriate to the role of great power; that is, Ger-many had to act like a great power in order to be a great power. On March 31, 1905,





Berlin materialized its stance on Morocco when Kaiser Wilhelm visited Tangier todirectly challenge French claims to Morocco. During an excited speech, the kaiser

reaffirmed Moroccan independence and asserted that Germany should have “advan-tages equal to those of other countries.”42 The German message was indisputable: thekaiser had pointedly told the French that Germany knew how to defend its interestsin Morocco and would do so.43 The kaiser’s performance in Tangier signaled to theworld Germany’s intention to make an issue out of Morocco, inflamed France, andstarted an international crisis.

Delcassé initially tried to placate Berlin by pledging to maintain the “open door”policy put in place by the Madrid Convention and allowing Germany continuedaccess to commerce in the country. For Germany, however, a simple return to thestatus quo would do little to reverse the injury it had suffered to its identity, and

instead insisted on calling a conference to secure the recognition of the internationalcommunity. Germany figured that given the terms of the Madrid Convention, theother great powers would surely support its position on the Moroccan question andrecognize its status as a great power. Contrary to this expectation, the great powerswere reluctant to call a conference without French approval first, and so not only hadFrance disrespected Germany, but in refusing to enforce the terms of the MadridConvention, the international community as a group had also failed to recognizeGermany’s status as a great power and the colonial rights that followed from thatidentity.44

In response to this denial of recognition, Germany turned to material intimida-

tion by threatening France’s physical security in order to achieve the recognition itdemanded. German overtures for war increased, and on June 4, Germany directlythreatened France with general war over Morocco, insisting that if France took stepstoward formally occupying the country, Germany would defend its position with force.It is clear that Germany never intended to actually go to war with France, and in factthe threat was made without even considering material preparations. Rather, it wasprimarily a political performance appropriate to its desired role in the internationalorder. In threatening France, Germany had asserted its perceived right to an equalclaim to Morocco, attempting to force France to recognize its identity.

In the face of German threats, the French position began to crumble; and themore France appeared to be susceptible to these threats, the greater German bel-licosity grew, culminating in Germany making it clear that if Britain and Franceformed a formal alliance, it would wage war.45 Germany had backed France againsta wall, forcing it to consider its ability to confront Germany in war. In a meetingof the French Cabinet on June 6, the ministers of war and the navy were consultedover the preparedness of the French armed forces for war with Germany, and whenboth ministers confirmed that France indeed was not prepared for war, Delcasséwas forced to resign, signaling a changed direction in French foreign policy.46 TheGerman threats had their desired effect, and for a moment satiated Germany’s rec-

ognition demands: Germany appeared to have the international influence associatedwith the role of great power.





A conference to settle the Moroccan question began in early 1906, and all of themajor European powers were involved. German objectives at the Algeçiras Conference

were clear and remained consistent with its earlier position: as Metternich argued,“in German eyes it was a matter of defending our rights . . . unluckily the Moroccanquestion has swelled into one of prestige. If it again looked as if France, jointly withEngland, was ready to resort to arms in the settlement of it, we should be absolutelyforced to oppose the French demands even more bluntly,” although the Germans didnot renew this threat of war after Delcassé’s resignation.47 Because Germany’s interestin Morocco still revolved around the state’s connection to German identity as a greatpower, any settlement had to reflect this concern. Surprisingly, though, support forGermany at Algeçiras was not forthcoming, and when the delegates signed a generalact that ended the conference, Germany had been handed another disappointing

defeat, as France’s special privileges and position vis-à-vis Morocco were recognized.France (along with Spain) took control of the police force and assumed a dominantposition in the Moroccan bank, which essentially amounted to economic control ofthe country.48 While Morocco was not officially made into a French protectorate,France retained unofficial control over Morocco.

The military balance of power had little effect on the outcome at Algeçiras. OnceFrance agreed to the conference, the central issue surrounding Morocco becamewhether German demands for recognition would be met (through either compensa-tion or the granting of more rights) and whether Britain and France were preparedto “prevent Germany from dictating affairs in Europe.”49 Thus, the Algeçiras Agree-

ment handed Germany a humiliating defeat at the hands of the other great powerswho had failed to recognize its role as a European great power. Algeçiras amountedto a denial of recognition because Germany’s claims at the conference were based onthe idea of equality so central to meaningful recognition: Germany, as a signatory tothe Madrid Convention, deserved the same rights as the other great powers involvedin Morocco and so in guaranteeing France special standing in Morocco, the greatpowers had represented Germany as an inferior state. As Bülow commented at theconclusion of the conference: “the dignity of the empire could not allow these rightsto be ignored. [Germany was] not to be treated as a quantité négligeable.”50

The First Moroccan Crisis—which I have argued arose out of concerns overidentity and status—and its settlement at Algeçiras had profound effects in settingEurope on the path to war by stimulating arms production in France, Britain, andGermany and encouraging balance-of-power thinking among these states. In the wakeof Algeçiras, Germany became preoccupied with its weakness and so responded tothe mis-recognition of Algeçiras by grounding its identity in the material practicesconstitutive of great power status in an attempt to secure its voice in European affairs.In the years following the First Moroccan Crisis, Germany intensified its commitmentto Weltpolitik. Weltpolitik, or “world policy,” was Germany’s strategy for achievingworld power status, which included expanding its colonial empire and building a naval

capability meant to rival Britain. In 1908, Germany announced a new supplement tothe Navy Law that called for the building of additional Dreadnought -style battleships.51





While Germany suffered the most significant mis-recognition at Algeçiras, thecrisis produced considerable uncertainty about France’s ability to maintain its status

as a great power: would France be able to defend its interests on its own, or was itsimply a satellite of Great Britain? The British government had vigorously supportedDelcassé and his firing caused Britain to worry about France’s standing as a greatpower: “Delcassé’s dismissal or resignation under pressure from the German govern-ment displayed a weakness on the part of France, which indicated that [it] could notat present be counted on as an effective force in international politics.” 52 One of thedefining characteristics of a great power was its ability to determine its own affairsand pursue its global interests unhindered. The First Moroccan Crisis menacedFrance with the specter of “satellite status” in Europe, subject to the demands of itsaggressive eastern neighbor and dependent upon the goodwill of Britain and Russia

to secure its interests outside of Europe.53

Faced with the potential humiliation associated with satellite status, France turnedits attention toward hardening its identity as a great power by building up its militarystrength relative to Germany. By increasing its military capability, France sought todemonstrate to important allies—namely Britain—its status as a great power. Shortlyafter the crisis, France began surveillance of Germany’s borders to give warning ofpossible German mobilization; military leaves were curtailed and supplies readiedfor war. A trial mobilization took place, as France undertook medium-term andshort-term measures to prepare its military for war.54 French leaders understood thatit had to be able to credibly threaten war in the future in order to demonstrate to the

international community that it was not a satellite state, but rather an independentgreat power able to protect its global interests.

Perhaps the most important consequence of the First Moroccan Crisis, however,was that it drew Britain into continental politics by stimulating Franco-British co-operation and raising suspicions about German intentions. Britain had concludedthat its own security was intimately tied to that of France and as such, “a secondoverthrow of France by Germany would end in aggrandizement of Germany to anextent which would be prejudicial to the whole of Europe, and might therefore benecessary for Great Britain in [its] own interests to lend France [its] active supportshould war of this nature break out.”55 For the first time in thirty years, it beganto contemplate the use of its army in a continental war, entertaining plans to usethe British expeditionary force in defense of Belgium and France on the Europeancontinent.56 These plans included a complete program of military reorganizationthat enabled Britain to send upward of 100,000 troops to France within a monthof mobilization.57 As British interests became centered on the continental balanceof power, its own identity as a world power became tied to France’s position as anindependent great power and centered on opposition of Germany.58 While Germany’sbehavior in Morocco was intended to secure its voice in European affairs, instead thecrisis had the effect of increasing German diplomatic isolation (which only further

increased its social insecurity) and setting in to motion a preoccupation with militaryforce that would haunt the great powers as they moved forward.





The Agadir Crisis, 1911

The Algeçiras Agreement did little to resolve the political questions surroundingMorocco, and in the years following the First Moroccan Crisis, French foreignpolicy was dominated by questions related to Morocco and its continued policy of

penetration pacifique in that country.59 By 1911, France’s ever-expanding politicalrole in the internal affairs of Morocco had bled into the economic sphere, and whena French diplomat claimed that “France finds itself in spite of the Algeçiras Act andthe Moroccan Accord on the way to full sovereignty in Morocco,” it had becomeclear that France planned to formally incorporate Morocco into its empire in thevery near future.60 For Germany, Morocco was stil l intimately connected to its largerrole in world affairs, and it looked toward Morocco as an opportunity to “score a

coup in world politics that would efface what [was] regarded as Germany’s earlierhumiliations.”61 Accordingly, when France occupied Fez—sending 15,000 Frenchtroops to the Moroccan capital—the second crisis over Morocco erupted betweenFrance and Germany.

The French occupation was a direct violation of the Algeçiras Agreement andFranco-German agreement of 1908, both of which explicitly forbade the Frenchfrom undertaking any sort of military occupation of Morocco without the expressedconsent of the other great powers. Germany’s material interests in Morocco had notchanged, but it feared that signing an agreement like Algeçiras and then allowing itto be overturned without its rightful consent would do considerable damage to its

prestige and influence in the international system.62 And so, on July 1, 1911, Germanysent the gunboat Panther to anchor off of Agadir, a Moroccan port on the AtlanticOcean, in a spectacular demonstration of armed diplomacy against the French oc-cupation. Alfred von Kiderlen-Wächter, the new state secretary of the Foreign Office,figured that Germany could assert its power in Morocco by seizing control of twoports on the western coast of Morocco, Adagir and Mogador.63 This would forceFrance to either retreat from its occupation or to allow Germany to keep westernMorocco, thereby reinforcing German rights in Morocco and as a great power. The

justification for German demands would be an insistence that the Algeçiras Agree-ment be upheld. There is evidence that French leaders wanted to negotiate a secretdeal with Germany to avoid another confrontation over Morocco, and so Germanycould have achieved its interests without such bellicosity.64 But Berlin wanted morethan a settlement; it needed “a visible success, a demonstration of German power, agesture of respect and a gain in prestige, and that called for open intimidation.” 65 Afew weeks later, Berlin demanded almost the entire French Congo in exchange forrecognizing Morocco as a French protectorate, or alternatively, called for the obser-vance of the Algeçiras Agreement which mandated Morocco remain independent.66 In doing this, Germany presented France with a fait accompli of its own: no matterwhich of the two options France chose, it would affirm Germany’s status as greatpower by either compensating Germany as an equal great power or returning to thepre-occupation status quo.





Initially, and as Kiderlen-Wächter had suspected, support from France’s allieswas not immediately forthcoming. Russia was not interested in another Moroccan

crisis, fearful of a European war breaking out over what it considered a trivial colonialconcern, and Britain was cautious about becoming involved in another crisis given itsown escalating tensions with Germany. Upon learning of the Panther ’s leap at Agadir,France asked Britain to send a warship to Mogador, in order to intimidate Germanyand show that Britain was standing on the side of France.67 Britain agreed to offerFrance diplomatic support and encouraged it to make concessions to Germany in theFrench Congo in order to settle the dispute, but stopped short of offering support inwar, unless Germany intended to “inflict on France a humiliation that would jeopar-dize its great power status.”68 Despite Britain’s willingness to support concessions forGermany, Berlin was not forthcoming in making its intentions clear and in general

treated Britain as if it had no right at all to have a voice on the Moroccan question.69 This stubbornness on the part of Germany worried Britain, and by July 21, Greyhad persuaded the previously reserved Cabinet to take a stronger line against theGermans, making it clear that if Franco-German negotiations failed, Britain wouldinsist on taking part in the settlement of the Moroccan question. Later that evening,David Lloyd George—the chancellor of the exchequer and in general an advocate ofa moderate position on Germany—delivered a speech at the London Mansion HouseBanquet, which unequivocally outlined the British position on Agadir:

I believe it is essential in the highest interests, not only of this country, but of the world,that Britain should at all hazards maintain her place and prestige amongst the GreatPowers of the world . . . If a situation were to be forced upon us in which peace couldonly be preserved by the surrender of the great and beneficent position Britain has wonby centuries of heroism and achievement, by allowing Britain to be treated where herinterests were vitally affected as if she were of no account in the Cabinet of nations,then I say emphatically that peace at the price would be a humiliation intolerable fora great country like ours to endure.70

The Mansion House speech revealed Britain’s experience of disrespect and repre-sented a “public calling into line” of Germany: Britain would not tolerate Germanbellicosity or allow Germany to dictate affairs on the continent.71 A few days later,Grey met with Metternich to discuss the Moroccan question and a solution to thecrisis. Metternich reiterated that Germany had no particular interest in Moroccobut just wanted proper compensation elsewhere; but he also protested the tone andmessage of the Mansion House speech and refused to have any German response orcompromise tied to that speech. Metternich insisted that linking a German state-ment on Morocco to the Mansion House speech would represent Germany as inferiorto Britain, calling into question its rights in the Moroccan Crisis and permanently

jeopardizing its position within the international system. Metternich then stressedthat if its demands were not recognized, it would be forced to uphold the Algeçiras

Agreement by force of arms.72





German bellicosity, however, had once again backed Germany into a position inwhich achieving any of its goals was near impossible. The Mansion House speech

made it clear that if the Agadir Crisis did escalate to war, then Germany would faceboth France and Britain and likely Russia. And moreover, Britain’s stalwart supportof France meant that any resolution that came through a conference would mostlikely not be in Germany’s favor. Negotiations over Morocco proceeded slowly, withboth France and Germany reluctantly giving and taking in relation to their originalpositions. In the final phase of negotiations, France refused to relent any further, put-ting responsibility for peace on the Germans. With the possibility of war hanging inthe background, Germany finally recognized the French protectorate over Moroccoand in exchange received a substantially smaller part of the French Congo.73 TheSecond Moroccan crisis was over, and once again, Germany had suffered a denial

of recognition that badly damaged its international standing at the hand of France.The defeat over Agadir was especially humiliating for Germany given its extremebelligerence in the lead up to negotiations. As David Herrmann notes, the Panther ’sleap at Agadir was a dramatic political performance and assertion of world power.

And so when this failed to produce the desired results, Germany was painfully con-fronted with its inability to engage in this sort of gunboat diplomacy and forced toface its subordinate status.74

The Agadir Crisis dramatically increased the likelihood of major power war inEurope. The crisis roused suspicion regarding German intentions among the greatpowers. In France, Agadir strengthened public support for mobilization, and Britain

and France completed plans for the rapid delivery of the British Expeditionary Forceto the continent in the event of war. The most profound effects of Adagir, however,concerned Germany and the military expansion it undertook in the wake of the cri-sis. In response to its defeat at Agadir and the social insecurity associated with thisexperience of disrespect, Germany began to harden its identity as a great power bydramatically increasing its material capability, a decision that all realized would leadto a land arms race among the great powers. Germany’s capitulation at Adagir wasforced in part by the realization that should war break out, it would face a two-frontwar against Britain, France, and Russia. At the 1912 annual mobilization conference,Helmuth von Moltke confirmed that preparations for mobilization were influencedby the outcome at Agadir and that Germany would not be humiliated again in futurecrises.75 In 1912, the Reichstag passed an army law that readied the German army forwar at all times.76 From this point on, the peacetime strength of the German army wasincreased by two new permanent corps, and over the next four years, more regular,permanent, technical formations and machine-gun units would all be added.

Overall, these improvements significantly increased Germany’s military capabilityand shifted the focus of German foreign policy away from colonial ambitions and backto the continent, for as Adagir had demonstrated, it was understood that world-powerstatus could not be secured without a strong continental position. The effect of this

transformed understanding of the balance of power was that Germany had become anencircled power and war had come to be seen as inevitable, as the lesson of Agadir for





Germany was that “only a war would hold any guarantee of changing the status quo in [its] favor.”77 The struggle for recognition set in place the self-fulfilling prophecy

that would culminate in war: “the Germans regarded themselves as responding toa threat from all sides, but at the same time took the plunge in full expectation thattheir rivals would react, and that war would only be a matter of time.”78

Rethinking Imperial Germany’s Security Dilemma

The struggle over Morocco played an important role in precipitating the First World War. In the decade before the July Crisis, Germany instigated a series of diplomaticcrises over the independent status of Morocco. As I argued previously, these crises

centered not on a dispute over material interests, but rather revolved principallyaround questions of identity and status, as Germany sought to secure its place amongthe system’s great powers. In each crisis, Germany demanded its rights in Moroccobe recognized in accord with the existing treaties regulating great-power behavior inthe region. When such recognition was not forthcoming, the experience of disrespectmotivated a struggle that played an important role in driving the arming decisionsthat led to war. By 1914, an obsession with the balance of material power on thecontinent pervaded great-power thinking—especially in Germany. This belief in theinevitability of war played a decisive role in escalating the July Crisis.

The importance of the Moroccan Crises in leading the great powers to war should

not be overstated. In the years before the war’s outbreak, the great powers foundthemselves in an extremely complex social and material environment, and manyfactors beyond Morocco contributed to the insecurity that spiraled to war in 1914.Taking a closer look at the great powers’ struggle over Morocco, however, revealsan important and often-overlooked dynamic at work in causing the Great War: thestruggle for recognition. A shortcoming of much of the literature on the origins ofthe war is that it focuses almost exclusively on the events of 1914 and reads backgeneralizations about prewar diplomacy off of this singular event.79 Concerns overstatus and identity figured prominently in the Bosnian Crisis of 1908 and the Bal-kan Wars, when Russia and Austria-Hungary each struggled to maintain a sphereof influence in the Balkans as a condition of their great-power status. Together thissuggests that 1914 was an environment mired in tremendous social uncertainty, as thegreat powers sought to defend and secure their identities in the international order.

The struggle for recognition also has important implications for internationalrelations theory. Security dilemma theory has come to be seen as the most powerfulexplanation for the security competition that seems to plague great-power politicsin the modern era. The argument I propose here reveals another dimension of thesecurity dilemma: that social uncertainty about the status of an identity can motivatethe competitive arming practices traditionally attributed to the security dilemma.

This is because in response to the experience of disrespect that comes with a denial ofrecognition, great powers ground their identities in the material practices constitutive





of that status. In this context, the accumulation of material capability is a strategy thatgreat powers pursue in order to obtain recognition and reduce the insecurity associated

with the social formation of their identities as great powers. Thus, the competitivearming practices of the great powers are not just the result of material insecurity—asextant security dilemma teaches us—but also social insecurity about the status ofidentity. This argument inverts the traditional relationship between the material andsocial forces acting on states in anarchy, with the apparent security dilemma being asymptom of a larger social process, not an intrinsic feature of life in anarchy.

Recognizing the importance of social forces, like the struggle for recognition inmotivating states’ relationships with the material world, sheds new light on cases ofhistorical importance as well brings important insights to contemporary securitypolicy. As Charles Doran shows, a recognition lens goes a long way to clear up many

of the puzzles surrounding the origins of the war, thus potentially offering a morepowerful explanation for its outbreak.80 Moreover, recognizing that Imperial Germanymay have faced a social security dilemma in the years before 1914 leads to importantconclusions about the inevitability of great-power conflict. Had the great powersbeen able to accommodate Imperial Germany’s rise into the European social order,then perhaps it would not have pursued such a vigorous armament program, thusavoiding the spiral of insecurity that lead to war. While I would argue that given theuncertainties of identity formation, the struggle for recognition among great powerswill always have powerful tendencies toward competition, any social approach togreat-power politics holds the possibility that states can accommodate each other

through careful diplomacy and special attention to what peer competitors want.81

Notes

1. As quoted in Offer 1995, 216 2. Herz 1950, 157. 3. Jervis 1978, 169. 4. Sagan 1991, 113. 5. Lieber 2007, 155–191. Most accounts of the war argue that Germany bore greater

responsibility for its outbreak, although they stil l view the war as an unintended consequence. 6. Kagan 1995, 209. 7. Lieber 2007, 156. Lieber effectively shows that Germany was prepared for a long andbloody war; however, although he clearly is writing from the perspective of an offensive realist,he does not develop an argument as to what motivated German decision-making. 8. Steinberg 1965, 18. 9. Crowe 1928, 403. 10. In addition to the chapters in this volume, for structural treatments of recognitionand international relations, see Greenhill 2008, 343–368; Ringmar 2002, 115–136; Wendt2003, 491–542. 11. Ringmar 2002, 116.

12. In this way, state identity corresponds to what Rogers Brubaker and Frederick Cooper





call a “situated subjectivity.” See Brubaker and Cooper 2000, 17. On the importance of identityto state survival, see Weber 1998, 77–95; Biersteker and Weber 1996, 1–21; Campbell 1992.

13. For a fuller account of my conceptualization of the struggle for recognition in inter-national politics, see Murray 2008, 39–90. 14. Honneth 1995, viii. 15. Ibid., xii ; Markell 2003, 13. 16. Wendt 1999, 328–329. 17. Ibid., 249. 18. Waltz 1979, 131; Mearsheimer 2001, 5. 19. Bull [1977] 1995, 196. 20. Wendt 1999, 227. 21. Honneth 1995, 123. 22. Ibid.,138.

23. Markell 2003, 112. 24. Barnes 2001, 27; Wedeen 2002, 720. 25. Hopf 1998, 173. 26. Ashley 1986, 292. 27. For a fuller discussion of the Germany’s naval program as a struggle for recognition,see Murray 2008. 28. Ashley 1986, 294. 29. Staley 1932, 52. 30. In what follows, I use the terms “world power” and “great power” interchangeably. While there is a distinction to be made between the two in terms of the role positions to whichthey refer, the states involved in the Moroccan Crises tend to use the terms interchangeably.

31. Anderson 1930, 5. 32. Ibid., 6. 33. Kagan 1995, 146. It also guaranteed special rights for foreign nationals, which includedexemption from taxation. See Rolo 1969, 126. 34. Anderson 1930, 6. 35. For a comprehensive history on the origins of the Entente Cordiale, see Rolo 1969. 36. To be fair, France was not the only state given the authority to interfere in the in-ternal affairs of Morocco; the agreement also put parts of Morocco under Spanish control. As Anderson notes, “What was meant was that the international status of the land shouldbe respected. However, the terms of the secret articles foresaw a future change even in that;and it can hardly be called showing a nice regard for Morocco’s international and sovereignindependence for two alien Powers to set a time limit to the right of commercial liberty inthat land. That Morocco, an independent state, would eventually be partitioned into Frenchand Spanish protectorates was evident to anyone with an understanding of contemporarypolitical practices.” See Anderson 1930, 102. 37. Bülow 1931, 121. 38. German Diplomatic Documents 1928, 220. 39. Ibid., 220–221. 40. Stokesbury 1981, 19. 41. Hayne 1993, 126; Herrmann 1996, 38. 42. “The Landing of Wilhelm II in Tangier” 1905.

43. Craig 1978, 318.





44. Spain and Italy suggested the matter be settled directly between France and Germany,and Russia, preoccupied with its war against Japan, took little interest in continental politics.

Britain, “obliged both by honor and interest,” continued to fully support France. Anderson1930, 209 45. Ibid., 230. 46. Interestingly, Delcassé saw German threats as a bluff and advocated taking a hard lineagainst Germany as a matter of national prestige, but his position was not shared by the primeminister, who considered the military situation as decisive. See Herrmann 1996, 52–54. 47. German Diplomatic Documents 1930, 23; Herrmann 1996, 54. 48. The Act of Algeçiras of April 1907 gave France and Spain control of all eight Moroccanports with the provision that those at Casablanca and Tetouan should have mixed police. Astate bank was established that was open to all nations but gave special privilege to France.Hayne 1993, 142.

49. Herrmann 1996, 55. 50. Bülow 1931, 232. 51. The 1908 naval supplement was an important development because it inaugurated the Anglo-German naval race. When in 1906 Britain decided to meet Germany’s challenge byredistributing its fleet and introducing the Dreadnought, it effectively made Germany’s visionof naval hegemony impossible. The German economy was not powerful enough to sustain anaval program on par with Britain and maintain its continental defense commitments. In spitethis impossibility, Germany continued with its plans for naval expansion. On the impossibilityof German naval ambition, see Herwig 1991, 221–283; Glaser 2004, 62; Kennedy 1970, 51;Murray 2008, 18–19. 52. As quoted in Anderson 1930, 232.

53. Stevenson 1996, 70. 54. Ibid., 71. 55. Kagan 1995, 150. 56. Ibid., 149. 57. Herrmann 1996, 56. 58. The First Moroccan Crisis represented one source of growing British insecurity becausethe crisis involved only one pillar of Germany’s strategy for world power status. Of courseGermany’s naval program directly threatened British interests, and so as German insecuritygrew and its commitment to Weltpolitik intensified, British attention to the German threatalso increased. 59. Edwards 1963, 483. In 1909, France and Germany sought to correct some of thefaults of Algeçiras by signing the Franco-German Agreement on Morocco, which gave Franceprincipal political rights in Morocco and Germany equivalent economic rights. See Mercer[1996] 2009, 157; Stevenson 1996, 181. 60. As quoted in Barlow 1971, 86. 61. Herrmann 1996, 148. 62. Stevenson 1996, 183. 63. Herrmann 1996, 148. 64. Kagan 1995, 170. 65. Ibid., 170 66. Albertini 1952, 171.

67. Kagan 1995, 170.





68. Great Britain, Foreign Office 1926, 405; Stevenson 1996, 184. 69. Albertini 1952, 330.

70. Ibid., 330; Great Britain, Foreign Office 1926, 412. 71. Herrmann 1996, 185. 72. Albertini 1952, 331. 73. The French protectorate over Morocco and the Congo was the major element of theagreements. In addition, Germany received two strips of territory along the Ubangui andSangha, and a small slice of territory near Monda Bay. In order to give the appearance ofreciprocity, France received the “Bec de Canard” in the Cameroons and a narrow panhandlestrip south of Lake Chad. See ibid., 332. 74. Herrmann 1996, 149. 75. Mombauer 2001, 130. 76. The Reichstag also passed a new supplementary naval law, which kept German battle-

ship construction at a high rate, thereby continuing the naval antagonism with Britain. 77. Mombauer 2001, 125. 78. Herrmann 1996, 172. 79. Stevenson acutely makes this point in framing his own argument on the origins of thewar. See Stevenson 1997, 126–127. 80. Doran this volume. One of the more important puzzles for Neorealist theory is thetiming of the war. According to the distribution of capability in the system, Germany shouldhave gone to war in 1905—when it was clearly the most preponderant state on the continentand Russia’s defeat in the Russo-Japanese War left it weakened and unable to participate ina European war. See Schroeder 1972, 323. 81. This can be an important lesson for US foreign policy, as it deals with the problems

of nuclear proliferation and the rise of China. If proliferators want recognition, this willcall for a dramatically different nonproliferation strategy than one based on narrow “se-curity” interests. Likewise, if China’s rise is marked by a desire to assume its place amongthe existing great powers, then the US must formulate a foreign policy that respondsaccordingly.

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153

Chapte r 8

Self-Identification, Recognition,

and Conflicts The Evolution of Taiwan’s Identity,

1949–2008

Yana Zuo

Taiwan’s identity reconstruction, characterized by its self-denial of its conventionalChinese identity, has led to massive identity confusion within the Taiwanese people;it has also transformed the cross-Taiwan Strait relationship to the point where, despiteBeijing and Washington’s joint efforts, the dispute has become even more difficultto resolve. By the end of Chen Shui-bian’s presidency in late May 2008, the cross-Taiwan Strait relationship was characterized by increasing animosity. The aim ofthis chapter is to show how Taipei’s shifting self-identification and its struggle fordiplomatic recognition, based on its self-identification, have complicated Taipei’srelationship with Beijing. The future of the cross-Taiwan Strait relationship is stillfull of uncertainty and unpredictability, although there has been some progress sincethe KMT won back power in 2008.1

In fact, Taiwan’s self-identification and international recognition had beenproblematized by Beijing’s continuous success in joining the international society as

the sole legitimate government of China even before the end of the Cold War. Thebreakdown of Taipei’s diplomatic relationship with Washington and the Republic of




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China’s (ROC hereafter) withdrawal from the UN in the 1970s caused a dramaticshift in the ROC’s international status. Taipei’s self-identification in relation to the

mainland was shifted from “The ROC is the sole legitimate government of the Chi-nese nation, including both the mainland and Taiwan” to “Taipei and Beijing shareChina sovereignty as equals” and further to “Taiwan is sovereign and independentfrom China.” However, due to Beijing’s strong opposition to Taipei’s new position,Taipei’s newly defined identities failed to be recognized by international society, andthe cross-Taiwan Strait relationship was further complicated and the confrontationintensified.

Yet, within the discipline of international relations, there has been scant atten-tion paid to the question of identity politics in the context of Taiwan. This articleseeks to contribute to a more adequate understanding of the issue of recognition

and its impact on international relations. It does so by looking at the historicalevolution of Taiwan’s self-identification, its struggle for external recognition fromboth Mainland China and the broader international community, and the impactTaiwan’s struggle for diplomatic recognition has had on the cross-Taiwan Straitrelations since the 1940s.

The next section explores the change of Taiwan’s self-identification and its strugglefor international recognition. The conclusion addresses the implications this study hasfor understanding both the cross-Taiwan Strait relationship and the role of recogni-tion in identity formation. While providing an account of change and continuityin Taiwan’s self-identification and its struggle for recognition, this study ultimately

demonstrates that recognition matters a great deal to international relations. Theformation of an identity is not effectual if the new identity has not been recognizedby outside communities. When a state re-identifies itself, it demands recognitionfrom the international community for its newly claimed identity. A state’s strugglefor recognition might lead to instability and insecurity when its self-identificationclashes with how it is identified in the eyes of other actors. However, the “shift” of bothself-identification and of the demanded recognition was long neglected by scholars.This chapter aims to bridge that gap. By the same token, the role that mainstreamconstructivists have assigned to identity lacks a historical perspective. Yet, there aresome theorists, such as Mlada Bukovansky and Ted Hopf, who have engaged withhistory while investigating the conceptions of identity, none of them have looked atthe process of an identity’s historical evolution. More specifically, by revisiting thehistorical events of the French Revolution, Bukovansky observes the constitutiveforce that ideas of legitimacy factors have on state identity.2 Drawing largely fromdomestic sources, such as literature and newspapers, Hopf compares and contrasts thediscourses of identity in the USSR in 1995 and in Russia in 1999.3 He then ultimatelylinks these identities with foreign policies to demonstrate how the domestic society’sattitudes toward foreign states affect a state and its decision-makers’ understandingsof other states. Different from the work aforementioned, this chapter follows the

journey of Taiwan’s identity evolution since the 1940s to explore how recognitionmatters to identity formation.




Self-Identification, Recognition and Conflicts ✻ 155

I. 1940s to 1988: Consolidating the One China Identity

When the government of the ROC first retreated to Taiwan in 1949 after the KMTwas defeated by the CCP in the Chinese Civil War, it identified itself as the sole le-gitimate government of the whole Chinese nation, including both mainland Chinaand Taiwan. The ROC managed to maintain diplomatic recognition based on itsself-identification until the early 1970s. Taipei was still a member of the SecurityCouncil until Beijing was seated in the UN, and Taipei withdrew from the orga-nization at the same time in 1972. The loss of its UN membership, together withthe Washington-Beijing rapprochement in later days, caused a diplomatic crisis forTaipei. Those two events effectively caused international de-recognition of the ROC’sidentity as the sole legitimate government of China.

Right after the PRC’s establishment, the USSR, the East European states from theCommunist Camp, and other Asian nationalist countries set up diplomatic relationswith the PRC, and some of the western countries, such as Sweden, also switchedtheir diplomatic relationship.4 Beijing actively sought international recognition andmore and more countries turned to the mainland. Taipei’s strategy to compete withBeijing in the international arena was a “zero-sum” principle. The core of this prin-ciple was that if a state diplomatically recognized the PRC, the ROC would breakits diplomatic ties with that state. This strategy proved to be counter-productive forTaipei. By 1971, the number of states that recognized Beijing was for the first timelarger than those that recognized Taipei, and the gap has grown bigger and biggerever since (see Table 1).5

Table 1: Numbers of states recognizing Taipei and Beijing (1950–1990)a

Number of countries having Number of countries having

Year diplomatic relationship with Taipei diplomatic relationship with Beijing

1950 44 23

1960 59 42

1966 66 51

1969 69 50

1970 67 541971 56 74

1972 43 92

1974 32 104

1976 26 118

1979 23 127

1980 23 130

1983 24 135

1985 23 138

1988 22 141

1989 26 136

1990 28 139

a Wei, 1993:2.




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In the 1970s and 1980s, there was a boost to the PRC’s diplomatic relations andinternational status. More than eighty countries set up diplomatic relations with the

PRC from 1971 to 1989, which increased the number of countries that recognizedthe PRC to more than one hundred.6 During the same period, only twelve of themestablished or re-established diplomatic relations with the ROC, which made a totalnumber of twenty-six countries with formal diplomatic relationships with the ROC.Most of the countries that tied with Taipei diplomatically were underdevelopedcountries—only Saudi Arabia, South Korea, and South Africa were relatively power-ful states.7 It became unrealistic for Taipei to maintain that the ROC was the solelegitimate government representing the nation of China.

The most influential issue impacting the ROC’s recognition in the wider worldwas the establishment of the PRC-US diplomatic relationship. The ROC allied

itself with the United States in the early 1950s, which blocked the CCP’s militarytakeover and facilitated the KMT’s rule in Taiwan.8 The alliance also granted theROC the legitimacy to operate as the representative of China in the internationalcommunity for a few decades. However, as the PRC-Soviet split became more andmore obvious in the late 1950s, the West showed increasing signs of wishing toengage with Mao and his government, which also opened a new chapter of thePRC-US relationship.9 The United States eventually turned to the PRC and set updiplomatic relations in 1979.

The diplomatic de-recognition from Washington, Taipei’s formal ally, was a severeblow. The international recognition of Taipei as the sole legitimate government of

China was fading away, which threatened Taipei’s existing identity as the legitimategovernment of the Chinese nation. Prior to the American de-recognition, Taipei hadalready lost its membership in the UN.

The PRC knocked on the UN’s door not long after it took control over themainland. Yet after almost a decade of effort to improve its international status andthe upsurge in the establishment of diplomatic relations with Asian, African, andLatin American countries, the PRC government not only had de facto control overMainland China but also successfully had the UN General Assembly put the issueof China’s representation on the UN agenda in 1961.

Different US administrations proposed different approaches to Chiang Kai-shek,the ROC’s then president, regarding a solution to the “two-Chinas” problem.10 How-ever, for Taipei, China’s sovereignty could not be shared or divided. Chiang asserted,“the idea of two Chinas is what I [am] strongly against . . . [it is] only an illusion”11.He also said, “regarding [the] US’s proposal . . . as a plan to bring about a ‘two Chinas’arrangement in the UN, the ROC would have no part of such proposals and wouldwithdraw from UN rather than be party to them.”12

In his address, “To All Chinese Patriots Referring to the UN Issue,” Chiang Kai-shek said, “Based on the principle of ‘zero-sum’ . . . the ROC intends to withdrawfrom the UN, of which it was one of the founding members before the 2758 (XXVI)

resolution was put into practice. Meanwhile, we clarify that the ROC government





and all Chinese people will not accept the legitimacy of the resolution on the groundsthat it has violated the UN Charter.”13 Clearly, Taipei still identified itself as the sole

legitimate government of China representing the whole nation, both Taiwan andthe mainland.

The loss of its membership in the UN in 1972 posed a severe challenge to theROC’s self-identification as the legal representative of China, or even more dramati-cally, as an acceptable actor in the international community. After withdrawing fromthe UN, the ROC also lost its membership in many other international organizations.For example, despite being one of the twenty-three founding members of the General

Agreement of Tariffs and Trade (GATT), the ROC was expelled from the organiza-tion in October 1971.14 In accordance with the zero-sum rule, the ROC also lost itsmembership in the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) when

the PRC joined these two institutions.15 Having lost its diplomatic ties with otherstates while losing membership in international organizations, Taipei was forced intointernational isolation. A crisis of identity thus followed—the consequence of globalde-recognition was de-legitimization of the ROC government and the collapse of itsidentity as the legitimate representative body of China.

Neither international isolation nor re-identifying the ROC was acceptable forTaipei, and instead, Chiang Ching-kuo found a third way: “pragmatic diplomacy”aimed at changing the international context for the ROC without challenging itsself-identification as the sole legitimate governing body of China.16 The essence ofthis policy was to expand bilateral and multilateral trade, as well as cultural, tech-

nological, sports, and even military and political relationships. The channel waseconomic diplomacy, while treating political reform and anti-communism as thecore means to acquire recognition.17 However, Taipei failed to secure recognition onthese terms. Due to the PRC’s strong opposition to the use of any names which hadofficial implications since they would represent a challenge to the PRC’s legitimacyas the sole lawful government of China,18 Taiwan was during this period forced to

join and re-join ten governmental international organizations under the name of“Chinese Taipei.”19

In this way, the world gradually turned to Beijing and recognized Beijing’s legiti-mate claim to represent the Chinese nation; Taipei’s insistence on representing thenation became meaningless. Taipei’s identity based on its self-identification as the solelegitimate representative body of China was de-recognized by the international com-munity. This shows that a state’s self-identification is valid only when it is recognizedby the international society. This case also demonstrates that de-recognition could takean identity apart, and when it happens, it could lead to an identity crisis for a state.

Yet history did not stop here. An identity is something we cannot live without—Taipei could not preserve its identity and it needed to construct a new one.20 Inresponding to the circumstance, Taipei re-identified itself in relation to the PRC andeven in relation to the idea of China. It started a new journey to acquire international

recognition for its new self-identification.




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II. 1988–2000: Pursuing Dual Recognition

After Chiang Ching-kuo’s sudden death in 1988, he was succeeded by Lee Teng-hui.Lee identified the ROC and the PRC as equals, sharing the sovereignty of China.

While accepting the PRC’s legitimacy in the mainland, Taipei now attempted tooperate in the international community as an equal of the PRC, rather than claimingthat it legitimately represented the whole nation of China. Lee Teng-hui’s primarypolicy was to keep the ROC “alive” in the international community. 21 The strategywas labeled “dual recognition.” This position reflected a move away from the previousposition: the ROC was no longer the sole legitimate government of China and the PRCwas not an illegitimate entity that had usurped power. Beijing strongly re-affirmedthe “one China” policy and successfully blocked Taipei’s access to the international

community as an independent and sovereign entity. Although Taiwan successfullywon the world’s sympathy for its political reforms and economic miracles, it was notable to win recognition diplomatically.

Lee used the vast resources of government to expand Taiwan’s international rela-tions and stressed the political separateness of the two regimes.22 In order to acquirediplomatic recognition as an equal of Beijing, Taipei was actively seeking to joininternational organizations and to develop diplomatic relationship with other states.Lee’s first step was to send delegates to attend the Asian Development Bank’s (ADB)conference held in Beijing. This was the first time the ROC sent delegates since thebank changed the ROC’s name to “Taipei, China” after the PRC won its bid for the

membership in 1986.23

Since 1991, Taiwan has also tried to re-join the UN, and in 1993, seven Latin- American countries that have diplomatic relations with Taiwan sent a letter to UNSecretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali urging him to put the matter of Taiwanon the agenda of the UN General Assembly. The newsletter issued by the Ministryof Foreign Affairs (MOFA) on September 22, 1994 emphasized that “Our attemptto rejoin the UN does not challenge the CCP government’s membership in the UN,neither does it exclude the unification of China.”24 However, Taipei’s applicationwas not successful.

In another effort to achieve “dual recognition” and cohabit with the PRC inthe international community, the ROC used “dollar diplomacy.” Its main targetswere Southeast Asia, Central and South America, and Africa. Beginning in 1993,the ROC adopted a “Go South” policy to encourage Taiwan’s businesses to investin Southeast Asia. The “Go South” policy did not bring the ROC a diplomaticbreakthrough due to Southeast Asian countries’ insistence on “separating politicsand economics”—economically, they tried to absorb Taiwan’s investments, andpolitically, they remained faithful to the PRC’s interpretation of the “one China”policy and recognized the PRC as the sole legitimate government. Taipei failed to berecognized as an equal of Beijing.

The “dollar diplomacy” in Central and South America and some African stateswas also challenged by Beijing. The PRC’s economic growth in the last few decades





made it possible for Beijing to also play “dollar diplomacy” in relation to the sameparts of the world. The competition from Beijing was massive and consequently the

ROC, by the end of Lee’s tenure, had lost most of its formal diplomatic ties in Africa,including its strongest ally, South Africa. Taipei did not have any breakthrough onthe diplomatic front.

With the lifting of Martial Law in 1987, Taiwan gradually transformed its politicalsystem into a democratic one, and it was recognized by the international communityas one of the most vivid democracies in Asia.25 In 1993, the Clinton administrationreviewed its Taiwan policy and reported to Congress on September 27, 1994 withthe conclusion that the island had made remarkable political and economic progressand that, in light of this fact, it was wrong to maintain the same stance to the ROCas in 1979. There were voices urging support for “the other China.”26 If the US in-

terests were well served by supporting democracy and human rights abroad, as most Americans believed, then such support must entail treating the ROC and its leaderswith respect and dignity.27

President Clinton agreed to issue a visa to Lee Teng-hui for a visit to his almamater, Cornell University, on May 22, 1995. As Lee made clear, the purpose of histrip was to “win international recognition of Taiwan as a political entity.”28 On June9, 1995, he delivered an Olin Lecture titled “What the People Want Is Always inMy Heart.” Here Lee appealed to the international community to treat the ROCin Taiwan “fairly and reasonably.” In his conclusion, Lee highlighted that he acted“with the people in my heart” and that he knew what his people would like to say

to the world: “We are here to stay; we stand ready to help; and we look forward tosharing the fruits of our democratic triumph.”29

Lee Teng-hui’s visit to the United States in 1995 ignited the PRC government’sanger. The People’s Liberation Army (PLA) carried out large military maneuversin July 1995 and March 1996, involving missile launches and live-fire tests in areaswithin one hundred miles of Taiwan.30 The reason for this anger is perhaps explainedby Qian Qichen, the PRC’s vice premier and foreign minister at that time, who notedin his autobiography, Ten Stories of a Diplomat, that Lee’s visit to the United Statesbroke a seventeen-year record of no visits to the United States from Taiwan’s highest-ranking governmental official. He continues that the PRC considered this event as aprovocation and counter-attacked accordingly.31 Qian himself called the Americanambassador J. Stapleton Roy on May 23 and protested vigorously against the USdecision to grant Lee a visa; the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the PRC announcedthat the minister of defense’s scheduled visit to the United States would be suspendedand mutual, ministry-level visits and other negotiations were canceled. On June 16,the Chinese ambassador to the United States, Li Daoyu, informed the United Statesabout the very serious and negative consequences caused by Lee Teng-hui’s visit.

The Taiwanese journalist Huiying Zhang argues that the PRC was fairly toler-ant of Lee’s efforts to expand Taiwan’s space in the international community before

his visit to the United States in 1995, given that the PRC was so concerned aboutcleaning up its image as a brutal regime after the Tiananmen incident.32 Immediately




160 ✻ Yana Zuo

after Lee’s visit to the United States, the PRC started to put limits on Taiwan’s roleon the global stage. The PRC’s response shocked the United States, and after rounds

of direct confrontations with the PRC, it is reported that Clinton passed a letter to Jiang Zemin in 1995 explicitly stating that the United States did not support a “oneChina, one Taiwan” policy or a “two Chinas” policy.33 Also the United States did notsupport Taiwanese independence or Taiwanese membership in organizations requir-ing statehood.34 The policy was later made official during the 1997 Clinton-Jiangsummit and it became known as the “three no’s” promise.

This effectively broke US relations with Taiwan, and the CCP government becameless tolerant toward Taipei’s effort to raise its international profile. Lee’s visit to theUnited States and its subsequent consequences made most states realize that Lee’svisits to other countries would impact their relationships with the PRC and would

also possibly affect the stability of the Asia-Pacific region and even the world. As aresult, they chose to avoid such a scenario. Inevitably this reaction prevented Lee fromexerting his strength to further lift Taiwan’s international profile.35 Lee Teng-hui’s1995 visit to the United States served as the dividing point for the cross-Taiwan Straitrelationship and also for Taipei’s international space.36

During Lee’s administration, Taipei moved away from the position that it was thesole legitimate government of China and re-identified itself as an equal of Beijing inthe international community. Lee did not attempt to represent “all Chinese people,”and the people “in his heart” were those living in Taiwan. Beijing’s refusal to recognizeTaiwan’s new identity, particularly after Lee’s 1995 visit to the United States, blocked

Taipei’s access to the international society. By 2000 when Lee stepped down as theROC’s president, the ROC’s goal of achieving equal international recognition withthe PRC had failed. Taipei’s effort to cohabit with the PRC and gain global “dualrecognition” was unsuccessful. South Korea, the last country in Asia to maintaindiplomatic relationship with Taipei, established a diplomatic relationship with themainland in 1992. By the same token, South Africa, the most influential nation-state still maintaining diplomatic relations with the ROC, broke those relations withTaiwan and recognized the PRC in 1997.

The PRC’s refusal to renegotiate Taipei’s position was based on its long-heldposition that the PRC, and only the PRC, could represent the Chinese nation. FromTaipei’s perspective, the battle across the Taiwan Strait was over once it had acceptedthe PRC’s legitimacy in the mainland.37 However, for Beijing, this new position seemedto be even less acceptable because it threatened to divide China. For the PRC, thecross-strait debates still involved a competition between political regimes. And theROC, as the defeated side in the Civil War, can in no way be an equal of the PRCor the legal international representative of the island of Taiwan. Taipei’s attempt toreformulate its identity turned the question of Taiwan’s status into a salient issue onBeijing’s agenda. The PRC started to further tighten its Taiwan policy, particularlyafter 2000 when the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) won the presidential elec-

tion. The PRC’s refusal to renegotiate the ROC’s identity did not prevent the latterfrom insisting on a re-identification and this further formalized the split.





III. 2000–2008: Seeking Taiwanese Independence

In 2000, the DPP, Taiwan’s pro-independence party, won the ROC presidency withthe election of Chen Shui-bian. This development ended over half a century of KMTrule in Taiwan. The ROC’s identity has undergone substantial change ever since.Having moved a step forward from Lee Teng-hui’s position, the DPP governmentexplicitly identified Taiwan as a sovereign and independent state from China and triedto expand its international role. In an effort to acquire international recognition forits radical position on Taiwan’s relationship with the mainland, the DPP governmentdrew contrasts between “democratic and peace-loving Taiwan” and China—“thebiggest threat to the regional stability and a rogue state.” 38

According to Taipei’s reports on foreign policy, the main strategy of the DPP

government from 2000 to 2007 was to participate in international organizations.39 For state-to-state diplomatic relations, apart from some vague statements such as“upgrading our relationship with other states,” the summary of the ROC’s reportson foreign relations do not effectively demonstrate that Taipei had a clear goal aboutwhat it intended to achieve and how it was going to achieve it.40 In the foreignpolicy reports, Taipei merely set the goal as “consolidating the existing diplomaticrelationships.”41

Taipei still invested heavily in developing diplomatic relationships with other states,although the island was experiencing an economic downturn. Yet Taipei’s dollar di-plomacy did not serve as an effective strategy to acquire international recognition for

its self-defined sovereignty and independent status. The PRC was taking advantageof its fast-growing economy and stepped up its dollar diplomacy program, and thePRC’s economy was far stronger.42 At the same time, Beijing was using its politicalleverage to develop and expand contacts with Taipei’s friends in Latin America andthe Caribbean. In September 2004, Beijing sent a peacekeeping team to Haiti, oneof Taipei’s formal diplomatic allies. This could have potentially diminished Taipei’sdiplomatic ties with other states, which could have seriously affected Taiwan’s abilityto act on the world stage as well as its international status.43 During Chen’s tenurefrom May 2000 to May 2008, Taipei did not make any real progress in its formaldiplomatic relationship with individual states.44

Taipei knocked on the doors of key international institutions, and the WorldHealth Organization (WHO) was a primary target. When the ROC left the UN,it also lost its membership in the WHO. Taipei started to make a bid to re-enterthe WHO in 1997. In 2003, Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) brokeout in both Mainland China and Taiwan. The Taiwanese government took theopportunity to proclaim that “health is not a political issue; disease and medicalcare have no national boundaries,” in order to join the WHO.45 The Foundation ofMedical Professionals Alliance in Taiwan also worked on a project called “Taiwanfor the WHO”: it argued that Taiwan’s absence from the WHO was an abuse of

“Taiwanese human rights.”46

Taipei was also keen to link its WHO bid with otherevents in world affairs, such as the anti-terror war, in order to gain further leverage.




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As the Foundation of Medical Professionals argued, “While global terrorism rises,Taiwan may become a dangerous missing part of the worldwide anti-terrorism net-

work, if it is still left out of the doors of important international organizations.”47 Taipei called for each country to “apply its moral conscience when consideringwhether to support Taiwan’s bid.”48

From 2007, Taipei pursued its membership in the WHO under the name of“Taiwan,” but due to WHO’s requirement for membership—statehood—the PRCblocked the bid. Taipei also sought membership in the United Nations.49 This was nota new policy—the KMT government attempted to rejoin the UN since 1993. Whatmade the DPP government’s bid historic was that the DPP re-identified Taiwan’sposition and sought to join the UN under the name of “Taiwan.” In President ChenShui-bian’s letter to Ban Ki-Moon and Wang Guangya—the PRC’s ambassador to

the UN, who also served as rotating president of the UN Security Council—in July2007, Chen first condemned the international community for not respecting thedignity of Taiwan’s people and labeled Taiwan’s exclusion from the UN as “politicalapartheid,” which was unfair, “incomprehensible and unbearable.” Chen character-ized Taiwan as “a country that advocates the universal values of freedom, democracy,human rights, and peace” and its “identity is denied and security threatened” sinceit was excluded from the UN.50

Chen’s letter to Ban Ki-Moon was returned by the UN citing the UN’s General Assembly Resolution 2758(XXVI), which recognizes the PRC as the lawful repre-sentative of the Chinese nation to the world body. Wang Guangya commented that

Beijing firmly opposed Taipei’s “blatant attempt at splitting China,” and he addedthat “Taiwan is part of China . . . and . . . it is . . . not eligible to participate [in theUN] in whatever name and under whatever pretext.”51

Taipei’s effort to obtain international recognition as an independent and sovereignstate fuels conflicts across the Taiwan Strait. Beijing pressed the United States tointervene against Taipei’s moves to drag Taiwan further away from China, despitethe fact that Beijing had stressed that the issue was a domestic one that should beleft to the Chinese across the strait to deal with. The US National Security Council

Acting Senior Director Dennis Wilder said at a White House press conference,“Membership in the United Nations requires statehood. Taiwan, or the Republicof China, is not at this point a state in the international community.” 52 The USDeputy Assistant Secretary of State Thomas J. Christensen also said that “frontalassaults on Beijing’s sensitivities are bound to fail and, at the end of the day, leaveTaipei further behind.”53

Despite all the efforts the DPP government made to consolidate an independentTaiwanese identity, they received little recognition from outsiders. Beijing stronglyrejected any attempt to renegotiate Taiwan’s identity in relation to China—the “oneChina” policy could not possibly be altered. With its fast-growing economic andpolitical power, Beijing successfully blocked Taipei’s bids to join any international

organizations that required statehood. After all, an independent Taiwan was notcompatible with the interests of other states, even for the United States—supporting





Taipei involved inflaming relations with the PRC and the cost was simply too high. Without recognition from outsiders, the policy of the DPP government failed.

However, the gradual change in Taipei’s self-identification exhausted Beijing’spatience and the cross-Taiwan Strait relationship became increasingly bitter. ThePRC, and its joint efforts with the United States, still failed to prevent the DPPgovernment from carrying on with its attempts to acquire international recognitionas an independent state. Taipei had gone far beyond what Beijing was willing to toler-ate. Indeed, Taipei’s series of moves made Beijing less confident about the future ofthe cross-Taiwan Strait relationship, although greater integration in both social andeconomic spheres generated hope within the PRC government that time might beon its side. But Taipei’s efforts to differentiate itself from the mainland and diminishits Chineseness proved increasingly unsettling for Beijing.54

Just before the election in February 2000, the Taiwan Affair’s Office of the StateCouncil published a white paper with the title “The One-China Principle and theTaiwan Issue,” and raised the three “ifs,” reiterating the conditions under which thePRC would use military forces to block Taiwan’s separation.55 Beijing also issued alaw banning secession. This was the first time that Beijing attempted to solve thecross-Taiwan Strait problems under a legal framework, and it was the Hu Jintaoadministration’s first step toward approaching the Taiwan issue. The purpose of thislaw was “opposing and checking Taiwan’s secession from China,” promoting peacefulnational reunification, maintaining peace and stability in the Taiwan Straits, preserv-ing China’s sovereignty and territorial integrity, and safeguarding the fundamental

interests of the Chinese nation.”56 It clarified that “Solving the Taiwan question andachieving national reunification is China’s internal affair, which is subject to nointerference by any outside forces.”57

The DPP re-drew the boundary between self and other—the demarcation underChen’s administration was between two separate “nations,” Taiwan and China.China’s sovereignty had gone through dramatic changes in Taipei’s narratives sincethe 1940s—from the position that China’s sovereignty could not be divided and wasrepresented by Taipei, to one in which China’s sovereignty was shared between Taipeiand Beijing, and further to the view that China’s sovereignty does not include Taipei.By questioning and denying China’s sovereignty over Taiwan, the DPP intends tolegitimize its long-pursued identity for Taiwan—a sovereign and independent state.

This represents a radical shift from the original position in 1949, which glorifiedChina, and it is effectively a form of self-denial—Mainland China, part of the old“self,” has actually become the “other.”

Beijing fiercely objected to this new position, and the relationship across the straitwent from bad to worse. Taipei identified the issue as one concerning Taiwan’s survivalas an independent and sovereign nation. This development demonstrates that whena state’s identity based on its self-identification clashes with how others define it, itmay lead to instabilities and conflicts. Taipei once again failed to gain diplomatic

recognition in the international community, emphasizing the theoretical point thata state’s claim on its identity is weak as long as it remains unrecognized by others.




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Conclusion

As this chapter has demonstrated, external recognition matters a great deal to a state’sidentity. To form an identity, the members of a group need to identify with each otherto form a “self ” and also identify against out-groups to form an “other” (or “others”).The nature of identification determines how the boundaries of the self are drawn.58 Identification is more about the image “we” portray in the eyes of others—the processof identification involves how “others” see and judge “our” self-recognition.59 Peopleattribute identity in the process of social interaction—a people claim their identityand audiences make judgments about the claimant. The success of this process alwaysdepends on how the self is being seen and judged.

Taipei failed to acquire diplomatic recognition in the international community—it

failed to maintain its position as the “the sole legitimate government of China” inthe early days; it failed to cohabit with Beijing as “an equal” in international societyunder Lee’s tenure; and it failed to operate as an independent and sovereign state un-der the DPP government. Without external recognition, none of the aforementionedproperties that the government in Taipei has attributed to Taiwan are effectual. Howa state identifies itself is meaningless when they are not recognized by others—it doesnot matter whether the non-recognition is caused by de-recognition or an inabilityto acquire recognition in the first place.

Identity construction is an ongoing and fluid process. Identities do indeed havehistorical roots and they evolve across time. From “the sole legitimate government ofChina” to “Taipei and Beijing are equals” to “Taiwan is sovereign and independentfrom China,” Taipei’s self-identification has changed dramatically.60 Since mainstreamconstructivists do not examine identity through a historical lens, they cannot explainidentity change and its impact on international relations.

The attributes embedded in an identity are not stagnant, and when a state re-identifies itself, new recognition is needed. The shift of a state’s self-identificationcalls for changes of external recognition. A state’s struggle for external recognitionbased on its self-identification has huge impacts on international relations—oncerejected, instability and insecurity might set in. It is particularly true when the shiftof self-identification involves self/other boundary re-drawing.

Taipei has gone beyond identity enhancement or preservation—it re-drew theboundary between “self” and “other.” Taipei was in essence attempting to re-identifyits “corporate identity,” in Wendt’s term.61 This new development reflected the anoma-lous nature of the Taiwan case, in comparison to the other “divided nations” afterthe WWII. Although fully equipped with ideological clashes, neither of the Koreasdenied their Koreanness. The Germans moved far ahead. Even before the unificationhad taken place, neither side denied their German identity. Although scholars such asGebhard Schweigler62 argued that separate identities were formed in two Germanys,the very nature of the division was revolving around their social identities. Neither of

them was attempting to alter their corporate identity and their Germanness.





The Chinese case paralleled the other aforementioned cases until the early 1990s.For a long period of time since 1949, when the ROC government first retreated to

Taiwan, both Taipei and Beijing defined themselves as the legitimate governmentrepresenting the whole nation of China and the other one as an illegal and illegitimateentity. The very start of Taiwan’s attempt to alter the conventional corporate identityof being a Chinese state was during Lee Teng-hui’s tenure. Self—the ROC—doesnot include the mainland any more since then. The conception of “self ” remains thesame for Beijing, which still identified itself as the legitimate governing body of theChinese nation. Beijing rejects being excluded from “self” and rejects Taipei’s newdemarcation between the mainland and Taiwan. The relationship across the TaiwanStrait has been intensified due to Taipei’s radical move to re-identify itself.

Taipei and Beijing are jointly making efforts to break the deadlock again since the

KMT took the office in 2008 with the election of Ma Ying-jeou. Ma’s administra-tion re-identifies Taiwan’s future with the mainland and pulled back from the DPP’sradical independent position to the conception of “Greater China.” Taipei acceptedthe WHO’s invitation to join the organization under the name of “Chinese Taipei”in May 2009. However, it is hard to believe that the cross-Taiwan Strait relationshipis going to be smooth from now on and that “Chinese Taipei” is the permanentsolution for the cross debates over Taiwan’s identity. The leaderships across theTaiwan Strait are still facing severe tests. How will the KMT prepare for the nextpresidential election and react to the DPP’s identity politics while Ma’s popularityplummets because of Taiwan’s deteriorating economy, along with the recent global

financial crisis? How will Beijing handle issues with regard to Taiwan’s membershipin international organizations while it has to maintain a benevolent interaction withTaipei? As long as there is a chance that Taipei would struggle for international rec-ognition for an independent identity, the cross-Taiwan Strait confrontation wouldnot demise. Germany’s unification showed that differences embedded in socialidentities do not prevent national unification—two political entities who recognizethe common corporate identify, the soul of them, can eventually come together. Anindependent Taiwan clashes with how Beijing sees Taiwan’s identity in relation tothe mainland. Taiwan’s return to its conventional Chinese identity is called for toprevent cross-strait conflicts.

Notes

I would like to express my gratitude to Shuyong Guo, Thomas Lindemann, Richard Little, John Pella, and Erik Ringmar for their insightful comments. 1. KMT, Kuomingtang, also known as the Chinese Nationalist Party. CCP: the ChineseCommunist Party. 2. Bukovansky 1999. 3. Hopf 2002.

4. Foreign Ministry of the PRC 2000.




166 ✻ Yana Zuo

5. Wei 1993, 2. 6. Tien 1989,11–36

7. Cai and Wu 1989, 83. 8. See Taylor 2000 for details about the US involvement in the post WWII KMT-CCPconflict. 9. Taylor 2000. 10. Under the Eisenhower administration, Washington proposed a concept of “dividedChina” and suggested the creation of a new member in the UN for Beijing, and the Kennedyand Johnson administrations proposed more substantial approaches with the main pointsthat the ROC and the PRC, as two states, had succeeded China. See Bush 2004. 11. Chiang 1967. 12. Chiang, quoted in Bush 2004, 108. 13. Chiang 1971, 262. Emphasis added.

14. Ministry of Foreign Affa irs 2008. 15. Tien 1989, 14 16. Chiang Ching-kuo, Chiang Kai-shek’s son, took the presidency in 1978. When Chi-ang Kai-shek died in 1975, it was the vice president Yan Jiagan who succeeded, but Jingguowas the head of the Executive Yuan and the real leader of the ROC from the mid-1960s. SeeTaylor 2000. 17. Lee 2004. 18. For example, the name of the ROC would not be acceptable for Beijing. 19. See Tien 1989, 14. Also it is worth noting that the Chinese version for Chinese Taipei isdifferent across the strait— Zhonghua Taipei in Taiwan and Zhongguo Taipei in the mainland.The former is more of a cultural/ethnic term and the latter is more of a political term.

20. For example, Guibernau 1999. 21. Lee 1999. 22. See Chao et al. 2002, 115–122. 23. The ROC had been a member of the ADB since 1966. Taipei did not attend the an-nual conferences until 1989 as a gesture of protest against the ADB’s decision to lower itsinternational status. See Cai and Wu 1989. 24. Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1994. 25. Key steps of Taiwan’s democratization include: legalizing opposition parties, localiza-tion of the KMT, direct presidential elections, and so on. For more details about the processof democratization in Taiwan, see Chao and Myers 1994. 26. Referring to the ROC, a term used in the Senate Report. 27. Chang 1995. 28. Romberg 2003. 29. Lee 1995. 30. Garver 2000. 31. Qian 2003. 32. See Zhang 1996, 170–190. 33. Romberg 2003. 34. Kan 2007, 62. 35. Zhang 1996, 243. 36. Su 2003.

37. The National Assembly on April 22, 1991, resolved to abolish the Temporary Provisions





Effective during the Period of Communist Rebellion, and on April 30, Lee Teng-hui announcedthat it would be terminated on May 1.

38. Arguments along this line were drawn by various Taiwanese leaders. See, for example,Chien 2002 and Tung 2007. 39. Tien 2000. 40. See for example, ibid. 41. For example Huang 2006. 42. The GDP (in US $billion) of Taiwan and the mainland between 2003 and 2008is as follows: 305.4/1,641.0; 331.1/1,931.6; 356.2/2,235.8; 365.5/2,657.8; 383.3/3,280.2;424.1/4,222.4. Figures are from the World Bank statistics, see http://www.imf.org/external/ns/cs.aspx?id=28. 43. Dumbaugh and Sullivan 2005, 4–5. The Congressional Research Service Report. 44. The MOFA’s newsletters revealed that during this period of time, Dominica, Mace-

donia, Nauru, Libya (the third time), Grenada, Senegal, Chad (the second time), Costa Ricaand Malawi switched their recognition from Taipei to Beijing; the Gilbert Islands, Saint Lucia,switched from Beijing to Taipei with Nauru also re-recognizing Taipei in 2005. 45. Government Information Office 2003. 46. Foundation of Medical Professional Alliance in Taiwan 2008. Added emphasis. 47. Ibid. 48. Government Information Office 2004. 49. Taiwan was invited by the WHO to join the organization as an observer in May 2009.See Xie 2009. 50. Chen 2007. 51. Wang 2007.

52. Hsu 2007, 1. 53. Christensen 2007. 54. Chineseness, a standard usage within the field of China studies, describes everythingChinese, including both social and cultural factors as well as political factors, such as stateidentity 55. “[I]f a grave turn of events occurs leading to the separation of Taiwan from Chinain any name, or if Taiwan is invaded and occupied by foreign countries, or if the Taiwanauthorities refuse, sine die, the peaceful settlement of cross-Straits reunification throughnegotiations, then the Chinese government will only be forced to adopt all drastic measurespossible, including the use of force, to safeguard China’s sovereignty and territorial integrityand fulfill the great cause of reunification.” Taiwan Affairs Office and Information Office ofthe State Council 2000. 56. See NCP 2005. Anti-Secession Law: article 1. 57. Ibid., article 3. 58. See Wendt 1994, 384–396. 59. Ibid. 60. There are certainly other sources pushing Taipei to re-identify itself, such as domesticpolitics and structura l forces. For more details, see Zuo 2009. 61. Corporate identity, in Wendt’s discussions, is singular, intrinsic, and self-organizingin quality; it is constitutionally exogenous to otherness and represents only one aspect of astate’s identity. However, it is the “site” or “platform” for other identities. See Wendt 1994.

62. Schweigler 1975.




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Bush, Richard C. 2004. At Cross Purposes : U.S.-Taiwan Relations Since 1942. Armonk: M.E.Sharpe.

Cai, Zhengwen, and Rongxi Wu. 1989. “Evaluations and Suggestions on Foreign Relations ofthe ROC.” In ROC White Papers on Defense and Foreign Policy, 63–90. Taipei: YeqiangPublishing House.

Chang, Jaw-ling. 1995. “How Clinton Bashed Taiwan—and Why.” Orbis 39 (4).Chao, Linda, and Ramon Myers, H. 1994. “The First Chinese Democracy: Political Develop-

ment of the Republic of China on Taiwan, 1986–1994.” Asia Survey 34 (3): 213–230.Chao, Linda, Ramon Myers, and Jialin Zhuang. 2002. “A China Divided Since the Turnover

of Political Power in Taiwan.” Cambridge Review of International Affairs 15 (1): 115–122.Chen, Shui-bian. 2007. President Chen Shui-bian’s Letter to UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-

moon. Taipei: ROC Office of the President.Chiang, Kai-shek. 1967. “An Excerpt from Jiang’s Meeting with Sado, the Minister of Foreign

Ministry, Japan.” In Qin Xiao-Yi: The Thoughts and Speeches Collection of President ChiangKai-shek, 121–23. Taipei: Executive Yuan, ROC/Archives 40.

———. 1971. “Address to the Nation on the Withdrawal from the United Nations.” In Qin Xiao-Yi: The Thoughts and Speeches Collection of President Chiang Kai-shek, 259–263.Taipei: Executive Yuan, ROC/Archives 34.

Chien You-hsin. 2002. The ROC’s 2002 Report on Foreign Policy. Taipei: Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Christensen, Thomas J. 2007. “A Strong and Moderate Taiwan U.S.-Taiwan Business Council.” Annapolis : American Institute in Taiwan.

Dumbaugh, Kerry, and Mark P. Sullivan. 2005. China’s Growing Interest in Latin America. CRS Report for Congress.

Foreign Ministry of the PRC. 2000. The PRC’s Glorious Journey on Developing Foreign Relations.Foundation of Medical Professional Alliance in Taiwan. 2008. “The Harm of Taiwanese Hu-

man Right,” http://www.taiwan-for-who.org.tw/chinese/say/say_area/content.asp?id=3.Garver, John W. 2000. Face Off: China, the United States, and Taiwan’s Democratization.

Seattle: University of Washington Press.Government Information Office. 2003. “Health for All: Let Taiwan Join the Who.” http://

www.gio.gov.tw/taiwan-website/5-gp/join_who/2003/who12.htm.———. 2004. “Support Taiwan’s entry into the World Health Organization,” http://www.gio.gov.tw/taiwan-website/5-gp/join_who/2004/who11.htm.

Guibernau, Montserrat. 1999. Nations without States: Political Communities in a Global Age. Cambridge: Polity.

Hopf, Ted. 1996. “Russian Identity and Russian Foreign Policy in Estonia and Uzbekistan.”In The Sources Of Russian Foreign Policy After The Cold War, edited by Celeste A. Wal-lander and Anne Wildermuth, 147–72. Boulder: Westview Press.

———. 2002. Social Construction of International Politics. Identities and Foreign Policies, Moscow 1955 and 1999. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

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Kan, Shirley. 2007. Taiwan: Major U.S. Arms Sales Since 1990. Report to Congress. Wash-ington DC: Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defense and Trade.Lee, Teng-hui. 1995. What the People Want is Always in My Heart. Taipei: Office of the

President.———. 1999. Taiwan’s Proposals. Taipei: Yuanliu Publishing Housing.———. 2004. Witness Taiwan: President Chiang, Ching-kuo and Me. Taipei: Yunchen.Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 1994. “The UN General Committee Discusses the Agenda of

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Strait Relationship. PhD dissertation, University of Bristol.






171

Chapte r 9

Recognition, the Non-Proliferation

Regime, and Proliferation Crises

Alexandre Hummel

Nuclear proliferation is generally seen as a security problem, and decisions by statesto develop nuclear weapons, or to prevent other states from acquiring them, are mostcommonly explained with at least some reference to the notion of “threat.” The ideathat nuclear weapons are a response to a threat and themselves create threats for othersis at the core of the “proliferation” concept, which is an amended version of the securitydilemma: a mechanistic increase in states’ military capabilities provoked by a spiralof reciprocal fear and hostility. According to this conventional logic, “strategic-chainreaction” will take place because acquisition of nuclear weapons by a state is likely toprovoke repercussions elsewhere, and the non-proliferation regime is the device stateshave found to tackle this problem. For most proliferation analysts, individual choicesby states and their national identity do not heavily matter; what is most important isthe geo-strategic position of states, their alliances, and the state of the internationalnon-proliferation regime. Realists stress that states in a threatening environmentwill inevitably seek a nuclear security guarantee that can only be obtained throughnuclearization or alliance with a nuclear power. Liberals are somewhat more optimisticand think that an effective regime can be decisive in avoiding a suboptimal situationof generalized proliferation. Nevertheless, both schools of thought share a commonrationalist, utility-maximizing perspective about nuclear choices: states will balance

between threats, rewards, and costs when considering nuclearization and/or adhesionto the non-proliferation regime. States that do not want nuclear weapons have every




172 ✻ Alexandre Hummel

incentive to join the nuclear non-proliferation regime and to strengthen it in orderto avoid nuclearization by their neighbors. States that do want nuclear weapons will

only join the regime to cheat and will try to violate it at a lesser cost and maximumbenefit. Non-proliferation advocates thus concentrate their efforts on the strengthen-ing of verification provisions in order to distinguish cheaters from honest participants.

This chapter focuses far more on states’ individual choices, national identity con-ceptions, and considerations about international fairness. I want to show that choicesabout non-conventional weapons are not only a response to threats or inducementsbut also involve patterns of recognition-denial and face-saving. This is particularlytrue in the nuclear field because the non-proliferation regime is one of the very fewexamples of discrimination in international law; it therefore inevitably clashes witha central feature of the international scene: the myth of sovereign equality. This

tension if further aggravated by the symbolic dimension that nuclear weapons havetaken—states tend to be far more passionate in this field than a cold-blooded securityanalysis would suggest. Indeed, an important feature of this debate in the post-1991world is how a vast ensemble of states feels genuinely hurt by the inconsistencies ofnon-proliferation and the attitude of the nuclear weapon states (NWS) that emphasizea tough line on counter-proliferation while keeping and developing their own nucleararsenals. Such normative inconsistencies can be considered a source of symbolic vio-lence, especially when a vast majority of states in the world are not engaged in anysense toward nuclearization but nevertheless face pressure and increasingly stringentcontrols. According to a traditional perspective, this should not be a problem: these

states will comply because it is in their interest to do so. However, a closer look atthe symbolic side of the story shows that the current status of the regime is deeplyresented outside of the Western world. Normative frustration was, for example, akey cause in the failure of the 2005 Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) Review Con-ference where states were not even able to agree on an agenda due to acrimoniousdisagreements. In other words, there is some evidence that, while many states aretruly committed to non-proliferation, they also increasingly resent the unfairness ofcounter-proliferation policies.

Approaches focusing on recognition-denial and symbolic violence can thus bemobilized to understand even hard-core security problems like tensions linked to theproliferation of nuclear weapons and other weapons of mass destruction (WMD). Inthis chapter, I argue that proliferation crises—when two or more states enter a con-frontation because of proliferation, real or suspected—are not only caused by securityconsiderations but also frequently encompass emotional dimensions. These crises canbe precipitated and aggravated by patterns of struggle for recognition, which meansthat international tension can exist and grow in ways that a purely security-basedapproach would not have expected. This is especially true when the state suspected ofregime-violating behavior claims a very elevated self-image. In such a case, the widegap between the lowly status of a “rogue” state and claimed identity can encourage

leaders to engage in confrontational behavior that one cannot only explain throughmaterial considerations. This is because simply giving in to the international diktat




Recognition, the Non-Proliferation Regime and Proliferation Crises ✻ 173

would be equated with a loss of face. If a state sees itself as a proud, exceptionalcountry, pressures exerted in the name of the non-proliferation regime thus have

every chance to backfire. This pattern could explain why most proliferation crisessince the 1960s have involved countries with a peculiar sense of national identity,while the ones that have been the most eager to cooperate are states with a freshlyrenewed self-image—South Africa, Ukraine, Belarus, and Kazakhstan all gave awaytheir nuclear weapons in the early 1990s.

I will first detail how the normative context surrounding nuclear weapons andnon-proliferation can be a source of frustration and resentment for states. I will thenpresent two paths that can lead to increased international tension and proliferationcrises at least in part through the struggle for recognition. The first is the case ofstates that may fail to comply with the non-proliferation regime despite having no

military nuclear ambitions. The second is the case of states that may twist toward aquest of nuclear weapons at least in part as a tool for self-affirmation.

The Setting: Normative Ambiguities andNuclear Weapons (Non-) Proliferation

On the surface, there is wide acceptance of a norm that is first declaratory: stateswill not openly recognize that they seek nuclear weapons or even that they want toobtain a military nuclear capability. The further spread of nuclear weapons is gen-

erally considered to be a bad thing, and only a few academics and military expertspublicly endorse the opposite view that selective proliferation could act as a stabilizingforce in the international system. Proliferation was unanimously labeled as a “threatto international peace and security” by the Security Council in 2004, reflecting aninternational consensus on this point.1 This widespread agreement has been progres-sively emerging and reinforcing itself since the middle of the 1960s when the idea ofnon-proliferation first took off as an international priority. Before that, the spread ofnuclear weapons was not viewed as a particularly horrendous thing, especially if allieswere concerned. At the same time, countries like France and the People’s Republic ofChina were openly proclaiming, and even boasting, their nuclear ambitions. Sincethen, the NPT has gained almost universal adherence and was extended indefinitelyin 1995. It has been supplemented by other agreements like International AtomicEnergy Agency (IAEA) safeguards, nuclear weapons free zones (NWFZ), exportcontrols or the proposed Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty (CTBT), whichall start from the premise that an increase in the number of states armed with nuclearweapons would be detrimental to regional and global security.

The main evidence pointing to the existence of a taboo stigmatizing open declara-tion of nuclear ambitions is the fact that all nuclear powers outside of the five NWStook great care to dissimulate the true nature of their nuclear programs at least until

their first nuclear tests. In 1974, India was the first country to proclaim that its testwas a “peaceful nuclear explosion.” Israel has always refused to admit that it possesses





a nuclear force, resorting to ambiguous statements. This attachment to ambiguitygoes far beyond cosmetics as exemplified by the case of Mordechai Vanunu, an Is-

raeli citizen who was convicted of treason and espionage and served eighteen yearsin prison for revealing details of the country’s nuclear program. The South Africannuclear program was also kept clandestine until its dismantlement was announcedin 1993. This pattern of concealment, or “opaque proliferation,” is one of the maindifferences between the first nuclear era and the second nuclear age.2. Proliferation isnow opaque because it is widely considered to be bad, forcing states to explore subter-ranean ways to procure nuclear materials and know-how in order to avoid sanctionsand stigmatization. Even states that finally openly reveal their possession of nuclearweapons somehow feel the need to justify themselves, citing imperious security rea-sons and re-affirming their ultimate commitment to a world free of nuclear weapons.

This necessity for proliferators to hide before crossing the threshold and to justifythemselves afterward is usually explained by the fact that most great powers placenon-proliferation as one of their top foreign policy priorities and are ready to punishstates seen as embarking on nuclearization. According to this logic, if non-proliferationis valued by the great powers to the point that they are ready to intervene militarilyto defend it, it seems more prudent for most states not to embark on the nuclear-ization course.3 However, a quick look at recent history reveals that power politicsalone cannot explain states’ unusual shyness when it comes to nuclear ambitions.

Jumping through the threshold in 2006 has not significantly harmed North Korea’ssituation, for example—quite the contrary. Ultimately, successful proliferators have

been tacitly accepted into the nuclear club even by the most vocal proponent ofcounter-proliferation, as evidenced by American cooperation with India, Israel, andPakistan. The fight against proliferation is not always as intense as declarations ofintentions suggest and at least depends on other strategic considerations. It mighteven be in the established nuclear powers’ interest to assist the newcomers in orderto obtain “safe” proliferation.4

Since the fight against proliferation is not always as resolute as it may seem atfirst, denial of military intentions and concealment of existing weapons could alsosignal the existence of a wider, prescriptive norm pushing aside the acquisition of anuclear force.5 It can be described as an individual inclination for states to abstainfrom building nuclear weapons and to avoid helping other states to attain this goal,as expressed by the rules specified in articles I and II of the NPT. This does not meanthat all states will refrain from building nuclear weapons all the time, or that nuclearweapons possession is stigmatized, but rather that a vast majority of states do notconsider nuclearization as a legitimate option and expect their counterparts to do thesame, or at least that they say so. The wide diffusion and internalization of this beliefwould provide another explanation for the absence of proper nuclear “proliferation”that has puzzled strategic theorists since 1945. Many pessimistic anticipations haveindeed been proved wrong over the years, as nuclear weapons have actually been

spreading quite slowly. The NPT is nowadays the arms-control agreement that isthe closest to universality, with 191 state parties. NWFZ, unilateral renunciations





to nuclear weapons, and even the dismantling of existing arsenals are further signspointing toward the rise of the abstention norm, which is, as many other norms, a

“standard of oughtness” offering states a possibility to affirm their identity as peace-loving, responsible nations.6 The effectiveness of this norm and its constraining effecton state behavior are questionable since it has suffered notable exceptions, and moststates that respect it do not have the capacities or the utility to build nuclear weap-ons anyway. However, this relative weakness actually contributes to its popularitybecause nuclear abstention is a cheap and easy way for most states to proclaim goodfaith and dedication to international peace. Indeed, this possible abstention norm issomewhat different from the abstinence perspective found in most realist and liberalaccounts of states without nuclear weapons.7 The latter suggests the active repressionof a drive to do something perceived as at least partly attractive, while the former is a

more passive or even unconscious decision not to do something. Nuclear abstentionembedded in the NPT does not seriously constrain most states’ strategic choices andis therefore easily embraced.

This abstention—or non-nuclearization—norm should be carefully distinguishedfrom the non-proliferation regime that is partially built on it. A regime is an institutiondesigned to allow and facilitate cooperation between states, whereas nuclear abstentionis an individual prescription that states may feel is legitimate to respect independentlyof treaty provisions.8 This is exemplified by the attitude of states that claim to respectthe norm even if they are not, or are not yet, members of the regime. States can ad-here to the norm while rejecting the regime, but the opposite is impossible. Another

important difference between non-nuclearization and non-proliferation is that, whilethe former is uncontroversially admitted, there is a growing disagreement betweenstates on the latter. The regime is currently under strain with a widening rift betweenthe nuclear “haves”—NWS, especially the Western ones, and their allies—on oneside, and the “have-nots” on the other side. This trend was evidenced at the 2005NPT Review Conference when states were unable to agree on a final document.This failure of the review process is a direct result of the radicalization of positionson each side. In 2005, Western NWS refused to even consider discussion on nucleardisarmament, while many non-nuclear weapons states (NNWS) were increasinglysensible to radical Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) rhetoric.9

Things are further complicated by the fact that some non-proliferation regimespecifications have become “symbols of condensation” in the international diplomaticarena—they have been reified and acquired a substance of their own.10 Empiricalresearch has shown that, in many fields of international negotiation, states do notlook only at their self-interest but pay attention to broader considerations of fairness.11

Agreements that are deemed to be fair have, on an equal-interest basis, more chanceof being accepted and implemented. Even a realist like Scott Sagan concurs in sayingthat “to be most effective over the long term, even strong powers must craft their poli-cies to take into account the ethical concerns of other actors, including the weak.”12

The symbolic and emotional dimension renders the debates about the NPT morepassionate and far-reaching than other arms-control issues. Practical considerations





are mixed with broader feelings about the international order. The disarmamentcomponent in non-proliferation has for example become a symbol of international

equality and justice. The refusal of NWS to even discuss the question is thereforetaken as an insult and easily leads to accusations of imperialism and arrogance thatreveal resentment far beyond the issue of nuclear weapons. Similarly, NNWS, espe-cially those from the South, pay great attention to provision about the “inalienableright” to the development of nuclear energy for peaceful purposes, which is explicitlylinked to the economic-development issue. Hence, non-nuclearization should, for theradical NNWS, be only one element in a whole web of norms and rules dedicated todisarmament and development, whereas Western NWS see it primarily as an end initself, a tool to tackle a security problem. This deep dichotomy between the “South”and the “West” leads to multiple divergences both inside and outside the regime, the

main one being the issue of restrictive safeguards on nuclear installations promotedby Western NWS and denounced by the NAM as a violation of article IV. Otherdisagreements include the extent of sanctions, security guarantees, or export controls.

Because of this normative row and the perceived unfairness of their attitude, Western NWS are frequently under fire, especially during multilateral meetings.Their position rests on an unresolved underlying tension—the contradiction betweendeterrence and non-proliferation. If one really believes in deterrence, it is not coher-ent to oppose proliferation as deterrence optimists have long argued.13 On the otherhand, a strong non-proliferation policy can hardly escape reflection on the dangersof all nuclear weapons, as suggested by proliferation pessimists.14 NWS ignore this

abstract debate and continue to openly rely on deterrence while at the same timepromoting stricter non-proliferation rules. They resort to a third approach to theconsequences of proliferation, “political relativism,” the idea that the problem is notso much nuclear weapons as the states that possess them.15 This position is in sharpcontradiction with the disarmament provisions in the NPT, but also somewhat indisagreement with the non-proliferation grammar—the idea that every additionalnuclearization is bad. These inconsistencies weaken the public position of NWS: theyare increasingly perceived as following egoistically their national interest to the detri-ment of the common good. This resentment is worsened by the fact that NWS pursuepolicies outside the regime that aggravate the existing discrimination between “haves”and “have-nots,” especially export controls and the Proliferation Security Initiative.

The gap between a widely accepted norm and a deficient regime can be inter-preted as a source of symbolic violence. This normative battle provides the settingfor two paths that can lead to increased international tensions through patterns ofstruggle for recognition. The first one happens when a state will respect the normbut refuse to comply with regime provisions because it feels that these violate itssovereignty. Here, the nuclear abstention norm can be superseded by considerationsabout sovereignty: a state may have no nuclear weapons but nevertheless be reluctantto dissipate suspicions because swift compliance with the regime would be seen as

humiliating and detrimental to national independence. In extreme consequences, astate might even prefer to refuse to acknowledge that it has no nuclear weapons in





front of international pressure because to do so would be equated with a loss of face.This reluctance to cooperate in the face of external pressure can lead to a spiral of

suspicion and resentment. The second path happens when states, or groups insidestates, feel that they suffer from recognition-denial because of the non-proliferationregime and therefore come to consider nuclearization as a tool for national affirma-tion, a way to redress the inequality inherent in the regime, or at least a way to gaininternational attention.

Heavy Words Are So Lightly Thrown:Proliferation Suspicions and National Pride

As noted earlier, nuclear abstention is an individual prescription states feel is legitimateto respect, whereas the non-proliferation regime presents itself as a cooperation devicedesigned to tackle agency problems like free-riding. Hence, a state may consider thatthe verification and monitoring provisions included in the regime are superfluous,or even that the regime itself is pointless because even in its absence, states wouldrespect a norm that has been widely internalized. According to the NAM line, theIAEA should ideally be an institution dedicated mainly to assistance, its originalmission, rather than to verification. States advocating a tougher line on proliferationand monitoring institutions hold the opposite view and promote a strengthening ofverification provisions and safeguards to combat nuclear trafficking. The underly-

ing logic is that, if a state has nothing to hide, it will have no difficulty cooperatingwith international monitoring agencies and will easily accept inspections on its soil.However, the historical record reveals that this is not that simple, with several cases ofstates suspected as proliferators actually having no intention to build nuclear weaponsand no functioning program underway. Unwillingness to comply with verificationprovisions of the non-proliferation regime when a state is not trying to violate thenon-nuclearization norm cannot easily be explained by power or security consider-ations. In order to fully understand this apparent enigma, one has to concentrate onpatterns of recognition-denial and face-saving.

Verification provisions are among the most wildly discussed, with some statesconsidering them insufficient and others finding them already too intrusive and incontradiction with NPT’s article IV. This debate about rules and procedures has fora long time been one of the most acrimonious within the non-proliferation regimeand may explain why some states prefer to stay outside or on the margins of it. Astate may refuse to adhere to the NPT because it does not want any infringement onits sovereignty, because it is reluctant to have its sites visited by foreign inspectors atany time, or because it considers the ability to engage in whatever activity it likes itsright. A state may also ratify the NPT hoping to benefit from article IV’s provisionson free access to nuclear technology, but then ultimately feel frustrated by the balance

between verification and assistance. It is therefore possible to refuse monitoring ofnuclear activities while harboring no real military intentions. On the surface, however,





this attitude is difficult to distinguish from covered proliferation, in which a state willdeny having nuclear intentions at least until it has a well-advanced enough program

to intimidate other states. Here again, the discrepancy between norm and regimecan lead to tension, suspicion, and ultimately, conflict.

Argentina is a good example of a state that has been unduly suspected of prolifera-tion. The country was for more than twenty years, together with its neighbor Brazil, onthe “usual suspects” list of proliferators. The situation indeed appeared like a possibletextbook-case of proliferation, with two rival regional powers seeking sensible materi-als and technologies outside of the non-proliferation regime. Argentina’s acquisitionof natural uranium-fueled reactors aroused suspicion, as these were known to be lesscost-efficient but to produce more plutonium than concurrent devices. Clandestineresearch on uranium enrichment also caused concern. The 1990 agreement between

Buenos Aires and Brasilia, and the subsequent ratification of the NPT and the Tlate-lolco treaty on the Latin America NWFZ by both countries, were therefore generallysaluted as successes of non-proliferation.16 As it appeared, two states of concern werefinally joining the non-proliferation regime, sending a clear signal to other states stilloutside of it. However, the most recent research on the Argentinean nuclear programreveals the absence of any coherent scheme to build a nuclear weapon. The country’sonly military research in the nuclear field was conduced on submarine propulsion,and no nuclear bomb program was launched. Argentina’s attitude is described by

Jacques Hymans as a typical example of “sportsmanlike nationalism” where leaderswill be very sensitive to national rights and autonomy while not seriously consider-

ing equipping themselves with a nuclear force.17 In this perspective, states will valuetheir self-image over the potential benefits of joining the non-proliferation regime.

According to a former Atomic Energy Commission head, Argentina’s leaders refusedto consider signing the NPT at the time of its inception—a move that would havebeen profitable to the national nuclear industry—because they felt this would meana “diminution of [their] dignity.”18 Non-proliferation pressures in this context there-fore have the potential to backfire, pushing the suspected state even further towardnuclear ambiguity, since clarification and pure compliance could be understood tomean a loss of face. The whole “carrot-and-sticks” approach to non-proliferation oftenprivileged by Western experts can thus be considered humiliating by a state with astrong sense of national pride.

Although states staying outside the NPT or other arms-control regimes may arousesuspicion, they cannot be accused of violating international law and obviously cannotface sanctions in this respect. Their case is therefore somewhat less problematic thanthe one of states that are parties to various treaties but do not fully comply with theverification and monitoring obligations to which they have voluntarily agreed. Thereluctance of these states to accept inspections may of course be explained by thefact that they harbor clandestine activities. However, there is at least one prominentexample of a state refusing to fully cooperate with international inspectors while

having no prohibited activities under way: Iraq, during the lead-up to the 2003 war.The unwillingness of Saddam Hussein’s regime to swiftly accept extensive inspections





and provide a comprehensive clarification about its activities linked to WMD wasone of the main arguments of those militating for a tough line toward Iraq. Accord-

ing to the logic, if Iraq really had nothing to hide, it would quickly have compliedwith non-proliferation when asked to do so. With such an approach in mind, Iraq’shalf-hearted cooperation with inspection teams could only be interpreted as a signthat the country clandestinely owned WMD or was secretly seeking them. Iraqiproclamations of good faith and willingness to cooperate were dismissed as purehypocrisy, a tactic designed to slow down the inspection process and foster divisionin the international community. Ultimately, Iraq’s alleged failure to comply was takenas the main argument in support of the invasion.

In the absence of first-hand source material, it is difficult to draw definitiveconclusions about what exactly provoked Iraqi reluctance to fully cooperate and

dismiss doubts about suspect activities. We can nevertheless assume that SaddamHussein’s attitude was not driven by security considerations, as it clearly was inIraq’s national interest to cooperate. Rapid disclosure of information and full ac-ceptance of inspections would not have avoided the invasion with certainty, butit would at least have deprived the US administration of a potent argument andthus weakened support for a war that was already divisive. The only coherentpower-based explanation is that Iraq wanted to maintain some doubt on its WMDcapacities in order to benefit from existential deterrence, but this makes little sensesince the United States was publicly committed to going to war because Iraq wassuspected to have WMD.19 Existential deterrence is something one tries to obtain

before a threat surfaces; it makes no sense to seek it when one is already targeted,with the main casus belli being precisely this quest for a deterrent. We thereforeneed to look at the symbolic side of the story to try to find some logic behind theevents. In his personal account of the 2002 to 2003 events, Hans Blix frequentlyinsists on the absolute necessity for inspection teams to avoid humiliating theIraqis when making requests for access and information. He shows that coopera-tion was more easily obtained when demands where formulated in a respectful,diplomatic manner preserving at least the appearance of Iraqi sovereignty.20 Forexample, the fact that aerial surveillance of Iraqi sites was to be conducted notonly by American planes but also by French and Russian aircrafts helped to gainacceptance of the overflights.21 Inspectors also acceded to an Iraqi demand not topublish any pictures from the destruction of Al Samoud 2 missiles. 22 AlthoughBlix never clearly says that Iraq could simply not openly give in to internationaland American pressure or admit that its efforts toward WMD were inconclusivebecause this would mean a loss of face, the idea is suggested in his book. 23 Thisidea also appears in the Iraq Survey Group (ISG) findings.24 We can assume that,in the case of pure and simple submission, Saddam Hussein’s image as a ruthless,charismatic, and independent leader would have been badly damaged, especiallyinside the Iraqi and Arab opinion. Acrimonious words and deeds on both sides

also rendered the issue very emotional, thereby making a cold-blooded assessmentof the situation impossible. The Iraqi leader could well have decided that it was





better and more honorable to lose a war than to simply cede to US pressure. Thisdoes not necessarily mean that recognition-denial and face-saving played a decisive

role during the crisis, but the hypothesis at least deserves attention until furtherprimary material surfaces.

States can therefore refuse to be fully transparent regarding their nuclear recordfor reasons other than just a willingness to hide a secret program and cheat on theinternational non-proliferation regime. Non-proliferation and counter-proliferationadvocates often fail to take this possibility into account, thus creating spirals of sus-picion and hostility. Another negative effect of the regime is that a state may resent itsperceived unfairness to such a point that it considers defying the non-nuclearizationnorm as a way to seek redress and self-affirmation.

Catch Me If You Can: Nuclearization and Self-Image

While a vast majority of states at least pay lip service to the non-nuclearization norm,some may embark on exactly the opposite course, emphasizing the acquisition ofa nuclear force as not only a security or power benefit but also as a way to fosternational assertiveness and to speak on an equal footing with great powers. Becauseperceptions of recognition-denial are essentially inter-subjective, it is possible to haveat the same time a vast majority of states affirming their identities by respecting thenon-nuclearization norm and a minority deciding that they have to build a nuclear

weapons option for exactly the same reason. It is a pervasive myth of internationalpolitics that possession of nuclear weapons is a key criterion to becoming a truegreat power, despite the fact that they are useless to obtaining actual gains.25 In fact,possession of nuclear weapons seems to be more a result than a cause of great powerstatus, but this rough conjunction can nevertheless exacerbate some states’ desirefor a national deterrent. In this case, nuclear weapons are valued more as an endin themselves than as a foreign policy asset. Morgenthau cites nuclear tests as oneprominent example of the “policy of prestige” when one state will boast its militarycapability or its economic might in order to impress its neighbors and rivals and toobtain recognition.26 He is careful to note that prestige should not automatically beequated with a frivolous demonstration of force; some leaders may conclude that, forvarious reasons, they imperiously need to resort to the policy of prestige or at leastdemonstrate some force.27 In the case of nuclear-weapons acquisition, states may beeager to display their technological abilities and their willingness to play a majorrole in international politics by mastering the most formidable “absolute” weapon.Reflecting on France’s acquisition of a nuclear force, Raymond Aron noted that thismove had far more to do with considerations about statehood and sovereignty thanwith national security.28 States with a strong tendency toward exceptionalism areparticularly sensible to this status-through-nuclearization logic because they are ready

to see themselves as a particular case in the international crowd and may therefore feellegitimate in derogating to the non-nuclearization norm while acknowledging that





general proliferation would certainly be a bad thing. The discrimination inherent inthe international regime may thus encourage the existing tendencies of some states

to see themselves as above others, or at least as apart from them. Building nuclearweapons and joining the so-called nuclear “club” can be a clear way to demonstrateassertiveness even though—and indeed just because—this means defying the in-ternational regime and a widely accepted norm. This leads to a paradoxical effectof the non-proliferation regime that can, in some cases, contribute to proliferationinstead of stopping it.

The inconsistencies of non-proliferation also exacerbate the tendency of some statesto cherish national pride and independence above observance of international norms.Individuals and groups who are very sensible to their country’s perceived positionin the world or to moral conceptions of international justice may conclude that the

regime is a source of symbolic violence because of its inequity and the duplicity ofNWS, particularly if they think that their country should enjoy a privileged positionsimilar to the one granted to these five great powers. This can lead them to considerthat nuclear abstention, although possibly valuable in itself, should not be pursuedbecause this would mean acquiescing to the humiliating non-proliferation structure.

Acquisition of a nuclear force, or at least of a nuclear capacity, can therefore take ona very significant symbolic and emotional dimension where nuclearization is equatedwith the rejection of an unfair international structure and of a junior position ininternational politics.

India is the main example of such a course among states equipped with nuclear

weapons. India’s nuclearization is the longest of all states, with a twenty-four-yearinterval between their first nuclear explosion (1974) and ultimate nuclear testingwith the acknowledged possession of weapons (1998). This peculiar course cannot beexplained through security and power considerations alone, since these would suggesta far quicker process. As much as a progression toward the bomb, India’s complicatedstory with nuclear weapons can be interpreted as a succession of decisions not to crossthe threshold of nuclear possession. Confronted with intense domestic pressure infavor of the bomb, Indian leaders refrained first from building nuclear weapons andthen from deploying them.29 Moral considerations seem to have played an importantpart in this process, pushing alternately toward both nuclearization and restraint.There is a true tendency to reject WMD all the way in India that dates back toNehru. India’s first prime minister, who genuinely abhorred nuclear weapons, neverpublicly considered the option of building them and was one of the first voices tocall for a test-ban treaty in 1954.30 India was a strong supporter of arms control anddisarmament with a clear willingness to act as a global voice for peace and justice ininternational forums. While internal developments may have been more ambiguous,India maintained its official stance throughout the 1960s: nuclear weapons were bad,deterrence could not be trusted, and the only ultimate solution was to stop and thencurb the arms race. This position was maintained despite defeat against China in

1962 and the Chinese nuclear tests in 1964, as Indian leaders refused to rush to thebomb, choosing instead to develop only an option.31





Ultimately, India’s alternative conception of arms control failed as a large groupof states, including some non-aligned ones, sided with the conception promoted by

the superpowers—discrimination between NWS and NNWS—in exchange forsome concessions on ultimate disarmament. India refused to sign the treaty. Thenon-proliferation debate had a great resonance inside India’s strategic elite, leadingto some resentment against the great powers and a strong feeling of injustice.32 Frus-tration did not provoke nuclear ambitions, as these clearly predate the NPT, but itundoubtedly strengthened the position of those who were militating in favor of theacquisition of a nuclear military capability.33 The growing rift between India, theinternational regime, and the United States ultimately led to the 1974 “peaceful nuclearexplosion.” By using this terminology and refraining from building weapons, Indiawanted to signal its refusal to obey a rule perceived as unfair while also re-affirming

its Nehruvian abhorrence toward WMD. The country stayed on this line at leastuntil the 1980s when nuclear weapons were finally built but, at first, not deployed.34 Ultimately, it was again after a heated arms-control debate, the one on CTBT, thatIndia definitely crossed the threshold of open nuclear weapons possession in 1998.35

This does not mean that India’s nuclearization can unambiguously be describedas a reaction to recognition-denial. India’s attitude in the international discussionsabout arms control has frequently displayed characteristics of what Stephen Krasnercalls “organized hypocrisy,” when a state will claim to adhere to a consensual butambiguous norm while actually behaving egoistically in terms of national interests.36 The perceived unfairness of non-proliferation has often been exploited as a pretext,

and its imperfections do not automatically lead to the conclusion that nuclearizationshould be pursued. Nevertheless, it would be equally erroneous to refuse to take intoconsideration the emotional and symbolical dimension of India’s eventual nucleariza-tion. Normative frustration at least provided bomb supporters with a potent argumentto convince their counterparts that India needed a nuclear force even though theweapons were inherently bad. Recognition-denial may well have been instrumental-ized, but this does not mean that it has no analytical validity, quite the contrary: iffeelings about unfairness are so strong that they can be mobilized to provoke a changeof course, their presence stands as a decisive variable to explain variations in nationalpolicy. An exceptionalist state like India that claims an elevated self-image will feelhumiliated if, in return, it gets only a regular position as a minor player among oth-ers. The perceived insult is magnified in the case of non-proliferation by the fact thatsome states benefit from the favored position that India is denied. Indeed, some inIndia have advocated inclusion in the nuclear club, and there are reasons to thinkthat, if this would be granted, India’s critique of the regime would become milder.37

This collision between non-nuclearization and non-proliferation leading to nucle-arization by defiance can be considered the most extreme case of a general pattern inwhich states will play along with a non-proliferation regime they resent for reasonslinked to recognition-denial. The case of states that at least tacitly back suspected

proliferators in international arenas because they are equally or more fed-up with thecounter-proliferation policies of Western NWS is a typical example. This mounting





defiance and the subsequent difficulty to even agree on an agenda on arms controlhave led the NWS to accentuate their tendency to act outside of the regime to combat

proliferation. This, in turn, accentuates the NNWS’ normative frustration leadingto a perverse spiral further blocking any international agreement on arms control.

Another case of regime defiance is when a state will toy with nuclearization in order togain attention and obtain the right to speak on a bilateral footing with great powers.Nuclear aspirations in North Korea have led to the setting up of a specific diplomaticmechanism involving all the major powers in the region and dedicated only to thismatter. In addition, a direct negotiation channel between Pyongyang and Washingtonhas also been opened. Through these diplomatic contacts, North Korea has been ableto exert notable concessions and even ridicule the great powers on several occasionswhile escaping strong punishment. This contrasts favorably with the country’s very

limited material capabilities. In this case, the use of nuclear capacities as a bargainingchip through a form of blackmail has improved North Korea’s position, especially ifone takes into account the overall dire situation of the country. Another case werenuclear intentions have won some bargaining leverage is Libya, a state that, in 2003,was able to exchange the end of its little-advanced nuclear program and other WMDactivities against re-integration inside the international community. Like North Korea,Libya was granted a special status and negotiated directly with great powers before complying fully with IAEA safeguards and other verification provisions. Both caseswere therefore settled mainly outside of the different arms-control regimes. As HansBlix wrote, “Demands for recognition seem to be an important motive. Recognition

and status may be important to governments that, for various reasons, have beenisolated: for example, Libya, North Korea and Iran.”38 In this respect, it is interestingto note that Teheran has long demanded recognition by the United States and theopening of high-level bilateral talks.

Conclusion

This chapter does not claim that all proliferation-related crises are linked to strugglesfor recognition nor even than most of them are. Material considerations obviouslyplay an important role in states’ nuclear choices. More modestly, I aim to point toa somewhat neglected dimension of the (non-) proliferation debate—its emotionaland symbolic dimensions. Demands about disarmament and technological assis-tance are too easily dismissed as demagogy. There is evidence that a good portion ofthe international crowd feels genuinely hurt by ambiguities and inconsistencies inthe non-proliferation regime, most of them being linked to the behavior of NWS.Immediate nuclear disarmament and free access to technology certainly are utopiaand propaganda themes, but abrupt refusal to even take these highly symbolical is-sues into consideration appears to have significantly damaged the legitimacy of the

powers that promote a tougher line on non-proliferation. At the 2005 NPT ReviewConference, an Arab state and close US ally, Egypt, was the most virulent critic of





the NWS position, heavily contributing to the failure of the whole meeting. Cairowas thus acting as a tacit ally of Iran. In this normative context, a strictly applied

non-proliferation regime has a clear potential to backfire in the most problematiccases, which it is actually supposed to solve. There are, consequently, reasons to thinkthat its presence leads to more international tension than what would exist with thesimple individual observance of the non-nuclearization norm. This leads to the con-clusion that the regime is ineffective, albeit not for the reason its detractors usuallyinvoke—its inefficiency to prevent cheating by proliferators—but rather because thefocus on cheating and excessive suspicion may look like an offense to some states andlike an incitement to proliferate to others.

Notes

1. Nuclear Threat Initiative 2004. 2. Frankel and Cohen 1991, 201ff. 3. This is one of the elements in what T. V. Paul calls “prudential realism.” See Paul 2000,232ff. 4. Feaver, and Niou 1996, 209–233. 5. This tentative nuclear abstention norm must be carefully distinguished from the farmore established nuclear taboo norm. According to Nina Tannenwald, the taboo stigmatizesnuclear weapons use but not detention, and its impact on nuclearization choices by states isonly consequential: if the taboo is so strong that no nuclear use can be considered, then deter-rence will lose any credibility and nuclear weapons possession will be useless. However, thisis still a remote possibility in Tannenwald’s taboo perspective. See Tannenwald 2007, 472ff. 6. Finnemore and Sikkink 1998, 891–905. 7. For this abstinence perspective, see Paul 1995, 356ff. 8. In a similar vein, Legro has demonstrated that decisions by states to escalate or notto escalate accidents involving submarine warfare, strategic bombing, and chemical warfareduring World War II were best explained as individual decisions consisting of a confronta-tion between norm and identity—in this case military culture—rather than by traditionalrationalist and internationalist explanations. See Legro 1997, 31–63. 9. For accounts of the 2005 Review Conference, see Müller 2005, 33–44; Sauer 2006,

333–340. 10. On symbols of condensation, see Edelman 1985, 117–124. 11. Albin 2001, 282ff. 12. Sagan 2004, 77. 13. Waltz 2003, 3–45. 14. Feaver 1992, 160–87; Sagan 2003, 46–87. 15. Lavoy 1995, 695–753. 16. For an overview on Argentina and Brazil up to 1990, see Reiss 1995, 45–88. 17. Hymans 2006, 141–170. 18. Interview with Admiral Oscar Quihillalt in ibid., 144–145. 19. Existential deterrence is a version of minimum deterrence in which the slightest doubt

of its nuclear capabilities could offer a state a degree of protection. See Bundy 1988, 735ff.





The Iraq Survey Group report claims that Saddam Hussein held such a view. See Iraq SurveyGroup 2004.

20. Blix 2004, 285ff. I am indebted to Thomas Lindemann for this bibliographicalsuggestion. 21. “It was as if the humiliation was diminished when the presence of U.S. planes wouldbe diluted by planes from less hostile countries.” Ibid., 120–122. 22. “The Iraqi side asked us in Baghdad not to publish pictures of the operation, sayingit was painful to them. This might have been true. There was certainly a pride that they hadsucceeded in designing and producing these missiles and a corresponding pain in destroyingthem. Conceivably this could contain a clue as to why the Iraqis chose to destroy biologicaland chemical weapons without inspectors present, as they claimed. They might have felt ithurt their pride.” Ibid., 189. 23. Blix first evocates this explanation in an interrogative manner: “Now that we feel nearly

certain that there were no weapons to hide in Iraq, the explanations for the Iraqi reluctanceon the two categories of violations, as on many others, must be sought elsewhere than in awish to hide weapons. At the time when we encountered and reported on the reluctance, itundoubtedly hurt the claim of the Iraqis that they were providing immediate cooperation. Why where they reluctant in these matters? Self-respect? Pride?” Ibid., 151. Later in the book,he is a bit more affirmative, citing the face-saving hypothesis among “elements [that] mayhave been relevant.” “A sense of humiliation might have led the Iraqis to balk at giving theinspectors access in some cases, especially to various sites they associated with the sovereigntyof their country.” Ibid., 265. 24. “[Saddam Hussein] sought to balance the need to cooperate with UN inspections—togain support for lifting sanctions—with his intention to preserve Iraq’s intellectual capital

for WMD with a minimum of foreign intrusiveness and loss of face.” Iraq Survey Group 2004,1. Emphasis added. “In the late 1990s, Saddam [sic .] realized he had no WMD capabili-ties but his ego prevented him from publicly acknowledging that the Iraqi WMD program wasineffective, according to the former Minister of Higher Education and Scientific ResearchHumam ‘Abd-al-Khaliq ‘Abd-al-Ghafur.,” Ibid., 35. Emphasis added. Despite these fewtwists toward an emotional analysis of Saddam Hussein’s behavior, the ISG report generallysticks to the deception thesis and does not investigate in detail the reasons for the failure ofSaddam Hussein to find an optimal balance between national security, the lifting of sanc-tions, and the preservation of a WMD capacity. It concludes that Iraq’s chief objective wasto have sanctions lifted and then only to maintain as much WMD capabilities as possible. Although this appraisal can coherently explain Iraq’s attitude up to 2002, it clearly doesnot stand against the record of the 2002/2003 events when the country was threatenedwith immediate war. According to the ISG report, Saddam’s attitude during this periodwas plagued by “miscalculation” and “poor decisions,” but the reasons for these errors arenot thoroughly discussed. Ibid., 61. 25. Betts 1987, 240ff; Jervis 1989, 266ff. 26. Morgenthau 2006, 89–90. 27. Ibid., 90–93. 28. Aron 2004, 613–615. 29. Hymans 2006, 171–203. 30. Perkovich 1999, 13–59.

31. Ibid., 60–85.





32. Ibid., 133–145; Frey 2004, 293–297. 33. Frey writes that, “The negotiations on the NPT in the mid-1960s thus had the paradox

effect of further fuelling India’s nuclear program rather than limiting nuclear proliferation.”Ibid., 293–94. 34. Ganguly and Hagerty 2006, 223ff. 35. Frey 2004, 324–347. 36. Krasner 1999, 248ff. 37. COMP: keep 1 line for this fn 38. Blix 2008, 49.

Bibliography

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Aron, Raymond. 2004. Paix et guerre entre les nations. Paris: Calmann-Lévy.Betts, Richard K. 1987. Nuclear Blackmail and Nuclear Balance. New York: Brookings In-

stitution Press.Blix, Hans. 2005. Disarming Iraq: The Search for Weapons of Mass Destruction. London:

Bloomsbury.———. 2008. Why Nuclear Disarmament Matters. Cambridge: MIT Press.Bundy, George. 1988. Danger and Survival: Choices about the Bomb in the First Fifty Years.

New York: Random House.

Edelman, Murray. 1985. The Symbolic Uses of Politics. University of Illinois Press.Feaver, Peter D. 1992. “Command and Control in Emerging Nuclear Nations.” InternationalSecurity 17 (3): 160–187.

Feaver, Peter D., and Emerson M. S. Niou. 1996. “Managing Nuclear Proliferation: Condemn,Strike, or Assist?” International Studies Quarterly 40 (2): 209–233.

Finnemore, Martha, and Kathryn Sikkink. 1998. “International Norm Dynamics and Politi-cal Change.” International Organization 52 (4).

Frankel, Benjamin, and Avner Cohen, eds. 1991. Opaque Nuclear Proliferation: Methodologicaland Policy Implications. London: Routledge.

Frey, Karsten. 2004. “Elite Perception and Biased Strategic Policy Making: The Case of In-dia’s Nuclear Build-up.” Inaugural Dissertation, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg.

Ganguly, Sumit, and Devin T. Hagerty. 2006. Fearful Symmetry : India-Pakistan Crises in theShadow of Nuclear Weapons. Seattle : University of Washington Press.

Hymans, Jacques E. C. 2006. The Psychology of Nuclear Proliferation: Identity, Emotions andForeign Policy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

The Iraq Survey Group. 2004. “Comprehensive Report of the Special Advisor to the DCIon Iraq’s WMD, Volume 1.” http://www.foia.cia.gov/duelfer/Iraqs_WMD_Vol1.pdf.

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189

Chapte r 10

Recognizing the Enemy

Terrorism as Symbolic Violence

Andreas Behnke

Terror and the Problem of Meaning

The purpose of this chapter is to return again to the question of meaning in al-Qaeda’sterrorist acts. It will focus on the “Event” of 9/11 as the paradigmatic example of suchviolence, but the argument is also relevant in a wider context of al-Qaeda-sponsoredviolence in London, Madrid, and other places.1 To put the matter simply: What sensedoes it make to fly planes into buildings? What possible political purpose can suchan act have? This puzzle has occupied scholars for the last eight years now, and theanswers vary significantly. To return to this question in this essay and to add to thelist of explanations is justified by the conviction that a distinctive, so far over-lookedsocial mechanism is at play in this act. We need, this essay argues, to recognize therole of recognition in al-Qaeda’s actions. More precisely, we need to understand al-Qaeda’s desire to become recognized as a political, indeed quasi-sovereign, ratherthan criminal actor in the global system. Indeed, as will be argued, it is the extra-ordinary level of violence, the sublime and horrific nature of its attacks that lead tothis interpretation. In this interpretation, 9/11 was an aesthetic act; that is, an actthat finished “in the explosive brilliance [éclat ] of the beautiful and sublime, that

doubled rivalry for sovereignty.”

2

Hence, rather than making the act incomprehensibleand utterly meaningless, the horrendous nature of the act in fact gives it meaning.




190 ✻ Andreas Behnke

The assessment of 9/11 as inherently (an sich) meaningless, as an act of pure violencewithout any purpose beyond itself, relies on interpretations of political order that

cannot account for the violence involved in the contestation over, and the foundationof, such order.3 Given this truncated notion of the political, scholars such as MichaelIgnatieff or Wolfgang Sofsky have to deduce the meaning(-lessness) of the act fromthe act itself and its horrendous characteristics. Thus, for Ignatieff,

[w]hat we are up against is apocalyptic nihilism. The nihilism of their means—theindifference to human costs—takes their actions not only out of the realm of politics,but even out of the realm of war itself. The apocalyptic nature of their goals makes itabsurd to believe they are making political demands at all. They are seeking the violenttransformation of an irremediably sinful and unjust world. Terror does not express

a politics, but a metaphysics, a desire to give ultimate meaning to time and historythrough ever escalating acts of violence, which culminate in a final battle betweengood and evil. People serving such exalted goals are not interested in mere politics.4

And in Sofsky’s words, “The terror campaign [Terrorkrieg ] . . . aims at killing peoplein large numbers, wants to create a scare, to paralyze life through fear.” 5 Therefore,a “political aim could not be discerned. The attack meant nothing, it was an act ofdestruction without a deeper meaning [Hintersinn].”6 And finally, “what excites thespectator is the violence itself. It repulses, frightens, entices, and enthrals.”7

As Hans Kippenberg has observed, such an argument can only declare the (politi-

cal) irrationality of the act and thus ends up in a mere aesthetics of horror.8 This point,however, deserves closer scrutiny. What is most interesting about both Ignatieff ’s andSofsky’s statements is that the initial declaration of the meaninglessness of 9/11 endsup bestowing a particular meaning upon the act. For Ignatieff, the act is aestheticizedand exalted within a Manichean metaphysics. For Sofsky too, 9/11, due to its excessiveviolence, becomes a purely aesthetic performance. For both authors, therefore, 9/11remains outside the realm of politics, as it does not reflect or express any instrumentalrationality. In both cases, the aesthetic, the sublime, and the horrible are defined inopposition to the political. The acts are actually not meaningless at all; rather, theirmeaning cannot be reconciled with the authors’ respective notions of the political.

This essay will not contest the aesthetic or sublime nature of 9/11. What it takesissue with is the distinction, indeed opposition, between the realm of aesthetics andthe realm of the political that scholars like Ignatieff and Sofsky employ in order tocondemn the event as politically irrational and hence irrelevant. As will be demon-strated, this distinction is both ontologically unstable and analytically unproductive,as it elides the crucial role of the sublime in the constitution of sovereign agency. If wetake sovereignty to be a contested concept, not only in terms of its meaning but alsoregarding its status as a political objective for different groups, we need to be able toaccount for the processes involved in claiming and recognizing it. By ostracizing theaesthetic and sublime from the horizon of the political, Ignatieff and Sofsky in effect

reify sovereignty and define the contest for sovereignty as irrational and meaningless.




Recognizing the Enemy: Terrorism as Symbolic Violence ✻ 191

Other researchers have offered different interpretations of 9/11 that try to reconcilethe extra-ordinary level of violence with a political purpose. Rather than focusing on

the pure phenomenology of the act itself, these interpretations consider the symbolicnature of the Event. In Jennifer Bajorek’s words,

Terrorism, before it is an act, is a calculation, on the basis of future traces, in anticipa-tion of how traces yet to be made will someday be read. As such it is more than casuallybound up with the complex movements of textuality on both sides—on the side . . . ofboth the sender and the receiver of the message.9

Some “post-modern” interpretations turn 9/11 into a sign of the aporias of modernity.For Jean Baudrillard, the attacks on the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in

New York become a symbol of a generalized mode of resistance of the singular, ofdistinctive cultural and social identities against globalization and its “generalizedsystem of exchange.” Faced with a monopolized world, and power consolidated withina technocratic machine and the dogma of globalization, terrorism is the only viableform of resistance.10 As such, the terror of globalization meets the globalization ofterror. 9/11 is, therefore, the viral, “almost automatic” response to the very operationof the global system. It cannot be explained by reference to Islamic ideology, as suchconceptual boundaries miss the pervasive nature of terrorism. “The globe itself isresistant to globalization.”11

While Baudrillard identifies 9/11 as a viral response of the particular or “singular”

against the discipline and order of globalization, Slavoj Žižek sees the event ratheras an expression of the modern “passion for the Real.” The Real is opposed to theplurality and contingency of everyday social reality. Violence then is the price to bepaid “for peeling off the deceptive layers of reality” and to reveal the true, unified,and foundational Truth of the Real. Twentieth-century ideologies, from Nazism toStalinism to the radical movements of the Left in the 1960s and 1970s, competed forthe definition, and the realization of the Real through radical, indeed terrorist actions.This then, according to Žižek, indicates the fundamental paradox of the “passion forthe Real”: “it culminates in its apparent opposite, in a theatrical spectacle—from theStalinist show trials to spectacular terrorist acts. [The] passion for the Real ends up

in the pure semblance of the spectacular effect of the Real.”12

While their respective perspectives differ, both Žižek and Baudrillard appropriatethe Event of 9/11 by subsuming it into a systemic logic of which 9/11 becomes but oneinstance or one case. Its apparently singular and exceptional nature becomes qualifiedand limited as the expression of a general principle.13 For Baudrillard, it becomes theinstantiation of a general resistance to the modern project of globalization, while inŽižek’s interpretation, it appears as the expression of the modern universalist project.Moreover, and most significantly for the purpose of this essay, in both cases, politicalagency vanishes from the analysis.

If we compare the radical interpretations of Baudrillard and Žižek to the ex-

planations offered by Ignatieff and Sofsky, it becomes apparent that they share a





commonality. Both camps dissolve the aporia of the Event in favor of one structuralprinciple. For the latter camp, the tension between singularity and appropriation is

resolved in favor of the former, with 9/11 defined by its singular meaninglessness.For Baudrillard and Žižek on the other hand, the tension is decided in favor of thelatter. Neither side is therefore willing to recognize the monstrosity of the Event,its ineluctable suspension between appropriation and “unappropriability,” betweenpolitical purpose (be it resistance or revelation) and the experience of the sublime.In neither case does the Event become productive, its constitutive potential absorbedeither by insulating the political against the aesthetic and the sublime, or by foldingthe latter into a modernist radical political agenda.14

Between these two extremes we can locate approaches that focus in a variety ofways on the role of social mechanisms related to recognition in international politics.15

The Problem of Recognition and Violence: A Hegelian Turn

Approaches focusing on recognition have produced a number of fascinating insightsinto the social grammar of 9/11. For Paul Saurette, the Event of 9/11 can be understoodas an attempt by al-Qaeda to humiliate the United States and thereby to “disciplinethe humiliated party’s behaviour.”16 Reinhard Wolf offers a complementary analysisto Saurette’s “theory of humiliation.” For him, acts like 9/11 can be understood asattempts to gain respect for al-Qaeda, and for the Islamic community. The focus

of his analysis is therefore less the effects the attacks had on the United States, andmore on the increased reputation and respect for al-Qaeda as an organization that“showed it” to the United States.17 However, both Saurette and Wolf seem to relyin their respective analyses on an ontologically given subject that is either denied(through humiliation) or granted (through respect) what is duly his. Humiliationand respect are therefore secondary and regulatory processes that affect the behaviorof ontologically given subjects. In order to function, both humiliation and respectpresuppose the status and standing of the subject as subject.

Yet, as philosophers and political theorists have argued, recognition does not onlyinfluence the conduct of given actors, it also constitutes and establishes their status.

In the international system, one theory at least holds that a state is only a state ifit is recognized as such by the international community.18 Recognition is thereforenot only a regulative but also a constitutive mechanism through which the subjectcomes into being.

Drawing on Fichte, Hegel, and Schmitt, Tarik Kochi develops an “ethics of recog-nition” that accounts for such a constitutive role. Moreover, and equally significantly,he demonstrates the inherent relationship between recognition and violence andexclusion. In doing so, he outlines an approach within which the Event of 9/11 canbe understood as the enactment of a radical claim to sovereignty. Kochi draws onHegel’s account of the constitution of the self through the delineation of the other.

The starting point for this philosophical investigation is the question of how the self





can be certain “that what it intuits as itself (the ‘I’) is actually itself and not, in factsomething other?”19 The establishment of the “I” is accomplished by distinguishing

it from what it is not, from the “not-I,” or the other.20 Knowledge of the self thereforeproceeds through knowledge of the other. Through the experience of the non-selfand its qualities, the self reflectively acquires knowledge of itself. Being is thereforealways mediated being, the knowing subject and the known object are constitutedtogether, the “I”s act of thinking is always an act of mediation with its self and withits other.21 For Hegel, it becomes important to emphasize, contra Fichte—for whomthis process takes place only on the mental or cognitive level—that the delineation ofthe self from its other entails material and physical consequences.22 It involves “harm,destruction, killing, violence.”23 To set yourself apart, to differentiate yourself fromwhat you do not want or desire to be, is therefore violent on the ontological as well as

ontic level. The mediated and therefore always “plural” nature of the self puts recogni-tion at the center of its successful constitution.24 A successful moment of recognitionis accomplished when “each self recognizes itself as mutually recognizing the other.”25

What is recognized is not just the other as such, but the other in the self, the neces-sity of the other in the differential constitution of the self. “Recognition involves anaffirmation by the self that a necessary and essential element of itself resides in theother and the relation of mediation with it.”26 While Kochi identifies the sources ofa regulative and pacifying role for recognition in this successful moment of recogni-tion, for the purpose of this essay, it is imperative to recall the inherent relationshipbetween recognition and violence.27 For Hegel, war plays a productive role in the

international system. War in his view produces and re-affirms the ethical-politicalcommunity that organizes itself within a state.28 As Kochi elaborates, Hegel can beread as developing “an account of an ethics of exclusion.” 29 A state constitutes thecondition of possibility for such a community, as within a state it becomes possibleto create and sustain a set of shared norms, ethics, and customs within a defined ter-ritory. War in this view becomes the affirmation of such a community, expressed inthe willingness to “put it on the line” and fight for its (continued) existence.

The higher significance of war is that, through its agency, . . . the ethical health of na-tions is preserved in their indifference towards the permanence of finite determinacies,

just as the movement of the wind preserves the sea from the stagnation which lastingcalm would produce—a stagnation which a lasting, not to say perpetual, peace wouldalso produce among nations.30

As Steven Smith emphasizes, “these passages should not be taken as glorifying war.They are more an argument about what is, conceptually speaking involved in state-hood” and thus, in sovereignty.31 War makes states, as much as states make war. Inwar, the state-sovereign asserts himself in a duel between equals. War can only bedeclared by, and conducted between, sovereign entities. Warfare, therefore, contains anelement of recognition within it. It is not an exercise in pure violence, but conducted

according to rules that recognize the sovereign equality of the opponent.





The situation becomes more complicated if we introduce the Partisan. In orderto conceptually accommodate the violence this non-state actor brings into the inter-

national society, Kochi suggests expanding the concept of war to include not onlyconflict between sovereigns but also conflict about sovereignty. For, as Schmitt remindsus, the Partisan is a political, rather than a criminal actor; his purpose is not personalenrichment, but the establishment of a new, different public order.

These partisans are completely modern, they view their acts of violence as that whichwill destroy an old legal order and through which a new order will emerge: they wishto posit, raise up and create a new human order through action, and if necessary,through violence.32

One might add that in the contest for sovereignty, violence is the only available mode.For the Partisan, the distinction between legal and political violence is irrelevant.The Partisan exposes that all sovereign and therefore legitimate power rests on politi-cal violence. Many, if not all, political orders have been founded, and maintainedthemselves, through terror in its different guises. Legal violence, the law itself, isin this view a “glorified, mystified, and fetishized form of political violence.”33 Thedesignation and de-legitimization of certain forms of violence as “terrorism” drawson and reproduces such a “naturalization” of law. The foundation of law in politi-cal violence “is made in order to hide it; by its essence, it tends to organize amnesia,sometimes under the celebration and sublimation of the grand beginnings.”34 In order

to appear legitimate, law needs to hide its own foundations in violence and presentitself as self-immanent, as emerging from itself. Confronted with the Sublime, withthe violent or the irrational out of which it itself emerged and yet which it can nolonger acknowledge, the modern (Western) state becomes violent, even terrorist againin order to destroy it.35 If we reject the mystification and fetishization that producesthe semblance of self-immanence of the sovereign, we can expand the definition ofwar as a general act of political violence, and consider “terrorism” to be a more specificstrategy of violence.36 Yet while Kochi considers “terrorism” to be the equivalent to“non-sovereign” war and thus maintains a residue of the reification of sovereigntythat his argument seeks to deconstruct, for the purpose of this essay, “terror” shall

be considered the hyper-realization of war and thus, of sovereignty. We can find support for this conceptualization in Jean-Luc Nancy’s argumentabout war as the techn – e, the art of sovereignty, as the execution of its Being, as thecarrying out of sovereignty to the limit of its own logic.37 It is in war that sovereigntycomes to itself, shedding the mythology and fetishization of its self-immanence.

War borders on art [as] techn – e . . . as a mode of the execution of Being, as its mode offinishing in the explosive brilliance [éclat ] of the beautiful and sublime, that doubledrivalry for sovereignty that occurs within the blossoming of physis. Moreover, physis nolonger takes place except as mediated through techn – e, or one could say that it never takesplace “in itself,” or in any other way, except as the image of the sovereignty of

techn

–

e.

38





The sovereign right to wage war cannot be subjected to law, yet it belongs to it, bothas an origin and as an end. War, Nancy adds, is the Event par excellence, “the Event

that suspends and reopens the course of history, the sovereign event. Our kings,generals, and philosophers have only ever thought of it this way.”39 One might addthat lately, al-Qaeda has thought of it in this way, too.

We are now in a position to return to 9/11 as an Event and to understand its rolein the contest(-ation) for sovereignty. 9/11 is such an Event in which recognition assovereign is claimed by producing the “explosive brilliance of the sublime.” To suc-cessfully claim sovereign status in international politics requires the ability to producethe “explosive brilliance of the sublime,” as well as the recognition of the status by theaddressee of the Event. These two aspects are, as we will argue, inherently related.

Claiming Sovereignty

In order to understand the operation of al-Qaeda, we turn to Carl Schmitt’s Theoriedes Partisanen.40 Here Schmitt develops a genealogy that traces the historical develop-ment and increasing radicalization of the partisan from the Spanish War of Indepen-dence to Mao’s writings. For Schmitt, the distinguishing feature of the Partisan ishis political nature. The Partisan fights on a political front; this sets him apart fromthe common thief and criminal, whose motives are aimed at private enrichment.41 As

such, the Partisan fights a public enemy for a public cause. The recognition of thispublic and political motivation derives, according to Schmitt, from the involvementof a third party, usually a state, that supports and instrumentalizes the Partisan forits own purposes. Both materially and ideologically, the involvement of a state washistorically crucial for the Partisan. It is this recognition by a third party that preventsthe Partisan from sliding back into the realm of the a-political, that is, the criminal.

In the long run, the irregular has to find its legitimacy in terms of the regular, and forthis there are only two options; either the recognition by an extant regular authority,or the enforcement of a new regularity by its own means.42

With al-Qaeda, a new form of partisan has entered the global political stage.43 Al-Qaeda’s cause is no longer defined by the interests of a third party or state. Moreover,al-Qaeda has radicalized the mobility of the Partisan, and with that has overcomeand transcended his “tellurian” nature, that is, its ties to a particular geographicalspace and political community.44

While the recognition of the political struggle of the traditional Partisan wastied to the support of a third state, al-Qaeda appears to operate without such directsupport links to states. It defines its goals independent of, and in conflict with, thestate system. As such, al-Qaeda cannot rely on third party states for the recognition

of its political nature. It therefore only has the second option available: to produce





its own sovereign status and to escape the criminalization of its campaign by theinternational community.

Unlike traditional partisans, al-Qaeda has to declare its own war to declare its ownsovereignty. Sovereignty becomes autopoietic, as it cannot be derived from third partiesor from international law. It establishes itself through the successful self-designationas the political enemy in a moment of decision against its designated opponents.

As indicated previously, terrorism, or rather the enactment of terror, should be con-sidered the most radical expression of political violence and war. Following Schmitt, ifpolitical order is based on the production and performance of an intense antagonismthat divides and thereby constitutes communities, terror is but the ultimate expres-sion of such an ontogenetic Event. As William Connolly observes, the “territory”of a nation-state is often understood to refer to “terra,” that is, the earth or land on

which it rests. Yet as he points out, the Oxford English Dictionary suggests that theform of the word “territory” derives from “terrere ”: to frighten, with territory being“a place from which people are warned off.”45 Terror therefore defines the sublimebrilliance of sovereignty in which enemies are made, and in which al-Qaeda escapesthe slide into the realm of the merely criminal.

Interestingly enough, Osama bin Laden is employing this grammar of terror ina justification of al-Qaeda’s strategy. In an interview with the American network

ABC, he explains

[T]errorism can be commendable and it can be reprehensible. Terrifying an innocent

person and terrorizing him is objectionable and unjust, also unjustly terrorizing peopleis not right. Whereas, terrorizing oppressors and criminals and thieves and robbers isnecessary for the safety of people and for the protection of their property. There is nodoubt in this. Every state and every civilization and culture has to resort to terrorismunder certain circumstances for the purpose of abolishing tyranny and corruption. Everycountry in the world has its own security system and its own security forces, its ownpolice and its own army. They are all designed to terrorize whoever even contemplatesto attack that country or its citizens. The terrorism we practice is of the commendablekind for it is directed at the tyrants and the aggressors and the enemies of Allah, thetyrants, the traitors who commit acts of treason against their own countries and theirown faith and their own prophet and their own nation. Terrorizing those and punishingthem are necessary measures to straighten things and to make them right.46

The monstrosity of 9/11 is therefore nothing but a reflection of the monstrosity ofsovereignty. It deconstructs the claim to self-immanence of political order and laysbare the foundations of such order in an act of transgression. It founds al-Qaedaas a representative of a transcendental ummah in a violent act against its other, theUnited States. In doing so, it actually conducts a double move. In constituting itsown sovereignty, that is, its status as a (political) enemy rather than a mere criminal,it also deconstructs American sovereignty.

“Death, or identification in a figure of (the) death (which is the entirety of whatwe call sacrifice, of which war is a supreme form), provides the aim of sovereignty.”47





Man must fear death as the greatest evil in order for sovereignty to function, to be ableto forget and cover up the void of violence from which it emerges, and to establish an

ontic order.48 Hence the sacrifice of the nineteen al-Qaeda perpetrators on 9/11, theirfearlessness of death, transgresses the limit sovereignty establishes and implodes itsorder by inserting radical Islamic belief into its structure. In the words of an al-Qaedaspokesperson, “[t]here are thousands of the Islamic nation’s youths who are eager todie just as the Americans are eager to live.”49 In this act of sacrifice that deconstructsthe immanence of one political order, another order, another ethical-political com-munity, is constituted a community “worth dying for.” While the boundaries estab-lished by the American sovereign are transgressed and invalidated, a new sovereignboundary is drawn that does not follow the distinction between life and death, butthe one between Dar al-Islam, the “Abode of Islam,” the metaphysical space defined

by religious and universal truths found in the Koran, and Dar al-Harb, the “Abodeof War,” the site of conflict and infidelity, the area in which Islamic law is not (yet)observed.50 In the definition of the ethical-political community that is establishedin this move, death does not define a terminal limit, but a gateway to the final real-ization of ethical being. What Western political onto-theology would consider the“Beyond,” is an integral part of the metaphysical community.51 The deconstructionof American sovereignty therefore does not aim at the in-statement of a newly definedsecular community, does not define the creation of another state as its goal, but ratherseeks to spread the fear of God among the infidels and demonstrate his superiority.

Here then we encounter the first interplay between terror and recognition in 9/11.

The ethical-political community, and in a sense al-Qaeda as its agent, only becomerecognizable in the Event itself. There is no form given to them other than throughthe act, no phenomenology other than the experience of the violent strike againstthe extant structure of sovereign authority. The specter-like “nature” of al-Qaedathat has produced so many fruitless discussions about its precise constitution (anorganization, a franchise, a network, an ideology . . . ) refuses and eludes any kind offixation. Al-Qaeda only exists through the violent enactment of sovereignty. Whetherthis act is ordered by a central core of the organization or executed by self-designated“franchisees” is immaterial from this point of view. The recognizability of al-Qaedaand the claim to sovereign status that affects the violence do not depend on theprecisely identifiable source of the order, but on the nature and extremeness of theviolence. The epistemic recognition (Erkennen) is therefore tied into the recognitionof its status ( Anerkennen) as sovereign.

The claim to sovereignty that al-Qaeda produced with 9/11 is therefore a puretransgression. The constitutive move of sovereignty that hides, mystifies, and mytholo-gizes the violence or coup de force at the foundational moment and that constitutesthe possibility of order remains suspended. While “all foundation is transgressive,”not all transgression is foundational.52 The terror of al-Qaeda, as realized in 9/11,never aims at converting the Event into Order, converting exteriority into interiority

or transcendence into immanence.

53

The tension with sovereignty between Eventand Order is radically resolved in favor of the former. Or more precisely, the Order





that al-Qaeda envisions can only be constituted in the permanent Event. 9/11 inparticular, and terror in general, therefore constantly mobilizes the supplementary

aspect of sovereignty. All order is constituted in an act of violence, only to disavowthis moment and to produce the semblance of self-immanence. Al-Qaeda’s terrorholds the latter aspect in constant abeyance and constantly reproduces the sublimemoment of the founding of a transcendental community that exceeds the boundariesof secular political order. In order to assert this sovereignty, the relevant Event hasto be of such sublime power so as to not leave the addressee any choice to deny it.From this perspective, 9/11 set a “sovereignty trap” that the United States and other

Western nations could not escape. Simply put, it was inconceivable to respond to9/11 with “normal measures.”

Recognizing Sovereignty

As noted above, the Partisan needs to avoid the criminalization of his practices andhis status. The acts need to be distinctly enacting the Political; they need to produceexclusive rather than inclusive moves. The act has to be so dramatic and sublimeas to escape the inclusion into the normal criminal and legal disciplinary regime ofstates. The act has to become an Event, insubordinate to any extant normative grid.The Event has to express the “monstrous obscenity” of sovereignty, instantiating theexcess of violence that brings into being political order and community, yet always

also escapes from it.54 How can such an act be recognized? Recognition, after all, isusually understood as an inclusive move through which previously excluded actors,or their so-far ignored grievances, are addressed and incorporated in a shared moralor political structure.55

Contrary to this conceptualization, derived from social and political dynamicswithin domestic society, recognition in the international society entails an exclusionarylogic. Sovereignty is recognized in the acknowledgement of the mutually exclusiveauthority over territorially defined space. Recognition thus renounces, rather thanproduces, a common moral or legal structure, as the latter is secondary and subordinateto the assertion of sovereignty. As the latter is the constitutive principle of the inter-

national society, any commonalities between states are always derivative and parasiticupon the initial foundational differentiation of states within it. It is only through thisdifferentiation and mutual alienation that the inclusion into the international societyvia the recognition of sovereign statehood can be accomplished. Here, the positivityof statehood and territoriality are the referent points for the process of recognition.

In the case of non-state sovereignty and of al-Qaeda’s terror, the logic of recogni-tion becomes even more complicated. Al-Qaeda never transmogrifies the violent actof founding into an (apparently) immanent order. Instead, it constantly reiterates thesublime brilliance of the founding act. Yet such a transgressive Event does not define apolitical space because transgression “is not a site beyond limits but a nonspace devoid

of positive content.”56 Recognition here cannot refer to the positive order established





by the act, it can only refer to the act itself and recognize it as the instantiation ofa global Partisan that emerges in this act [Erkennen] and as the radicalized act of a

political non-state sovereign [ Anerkennen ].The latter process can be discerned in the responses of the West in general, and the

United States in particular, to 9/11. To declare a “War on Terror” and to institution-alize exceptional measures as part of this war constitute the “functional equivalent”of recognizing a claim to sovereignty. The realization that the declaration of a Waron Terror had such an effect among political leaders in the West can be observed inthe recent renunciations of the concept. In 2006, a headline in the British newspaperObserver read “Britain stops talk of ‘war on terror.’” And the article continued,

A Foreign Office spokesman said the government wanted to “avoid reinforcing and

giving succor to the terrorists’ narrative by using language that, taken out of context,could be counter-productive. . . . Whitehall officials believe that militants use a senseof war and crisis and a “clash of civilizations” to recruit supporters, and thus the use ofterms such as “war,” “war on terror,” or “battle” can be counter-productive.57

As Joseph Nye elaborates, “al-Qaeda and affiliated groups use a simple yet effectivenarrative to recruit young Muslims to cross the line into violence. . . . [It] is the lan-guage of war and a narrative of battle that gives recruits a cult-like sense of status andlarger meaning that leads to action.” And further, “British officials have concludedthat when we use the vocabulary of war and jihad, we simply reinforce al-Qaeda’s

single narrative and help their recruiting efforts.”58

The first such protestation was delivered as early as October 30, 2001, when Mi-chael Howard criticized the “natural but terrible and irrevocable error” of declaringwar on terror. Contrasting it with the British experience in Palestine, Ireland, Malaya,and Cyprus, he points out that the

terrorists were not dignified with the status of belligerents: they were criminals, to beregarded as such by the general public and treated as such by the authorities. To declarewar on terrorists or, even more illiterately, on terrorism is at once to accord terroristsa status and dignity that they seek and that they do not deserve. It confers on them a

kind of legitimacy.59

All three previously noted authors recognize war as a narrative, or as a “discoursebetween the human and ‘the other’” in which certain syntactical rules apply.60 Whatall three hint at can be further substantiated with reference to Nancy’s definitionof the relationship between war and sovereignty. The conferring of legitimacy thatHoward alludes to is the recognition of the political, rather than criminal, status of thePartisan, the recognition of his status as a representative of a public cause, and aboveall his ability to strike in such a fashion so as to elude the normalizing mechanismsof domestic and international law. To declare war is the prerogative of the sovereign

against the sovereign, and the recognition that the other cannot be subsumed and





disciplined within extant legal structures. War returns conflict to the realm of thepolitical, in which (legal) order is deconstructed, not executed. As noted, terrorism is

but the most radical form of war as a conflict over the ability to define political order.Could the events of September 11, 2001, have been dealt with differently? Is it

conceivable that the United States could have responded with a criminalization ofthe acts, thus escaping al-Qaeda’s sovereignty trap? Howard suggests a

police operation conducted under the auspices of the United Nations on behalf of theinternational community as a whole, against a criminal conspiracy whose membersshould be hunted down and brought before an international court, where they wouldreceive a fair trial and, if found guilty, be awarded an appropriate sentence61

only to dismiss this “ideal world” solution as unlikely, nay, impossible. As he notes,at stake in the response was also American honor; the outrage and insult that 9/11meant for the Americans “cried for immediate and spectacular vengeance to be in-flicted by America’s own armed forces.”62

From the perspective of this essay, Howard does not go far enough in his insightinto the impossibility of the normalization and criminalization of 9/11. He seems tounderestimate the “meaninglessness” of the Event that is reflected in the interpretationsby Ignatieff, Baudrillard, and Žižek, who either insist on the impossibility of makingsense of it, or who place it within the Grand Narrative of Western Modernity—eitheras a virus working against it, or as the radical expression of its logic. In either case,

9/11 remains a void, the Event deprived of any inherent meaning. And as such, itcannot be subsumed under a criminal or disciplinary regime. Such a move presup-poses that the meaning of the act can be ascertained, that a verdict can be passedon the “appropriate sentence.” But the Event of 9/11 escapes this logic, its “explosivebrilliance of the sublime” blinding our sense of justice.

Conclusion: Re-cognizing Recognition

Recognition has become a central concept in critical theory, where it is more oftenthan not tied to notions of expanding zones of inclusion of social subjects, and, tiedto this, a concept of moral progress within societies. As such, mutual recognition isexpected to resolve conflicts in a peaceful fashion, address grievances, and re-defineand expand the moral code of ethical-political communities.63

In an interesting turn at the end of his treatise on recognition and violence, TarikKochi tries to import this inclusive logic into the grammar of war and terror. He notesthat judgments on the just nature of war are usually partisan judgments in which par-ticular claims of right, a form of life, or an ethical commitment hide behind claims touniversality. Yet on closer inspection, “partisan judgments on the rightness of war lose

much of their brilliance. They appear more often as confused, limited, self-contra-dictory claims over the legitimacy of violence.”64 In order to escape this conundrum,





which only feeds into fanaticism and militancy, Kochi wants to solve the problem of judgment by turning to a praxis of recognition. Instead of the usual condemnation of

the enemy and its violence, he calls for a different practice : “recognizing the ethics ofthe other’s war.”65 This recognition seeks to consider “that there is a certain rightnessembodies within the other’s act of war,” or that the other might have a right of his ownin his use of war. Any act of violence takes place, and is authorized, within a norma-tive structure, posits an ethical claim, and aims to realize particular potentialities ofpolitical life.66 Such recognition therefore aims at understanding the rightness of ourown moral claims and of our violence in relation to the rightness of the violence of theother. As such, this process of recognition can lead to an understanding of the rightnessof war that at least approaches a certain level of “universality.”67

Kochi is careful not to overstate the role recognition can play as a “conflict resolu-

tion” tool. The approach he offers is not an answer to the problem of war, but to theproblem of judgment. Recognition of the possible rightness of the other’s ethical pointof view might facilitate the “pragmatics of negotiation” and thus prevent a logic ofextermination. Recognition may moderate conflict, but it cannot abolish it. Yet oncloser inspection, even this modest proposal becomes problematic. The normativepromise of recognition to provide a peaceful settlement of social and political conflictscannot be realized within the realm of the international. Here, the recognition is tiedto the constitution of communities and not their regulation. Kochi’s reflections focusexclusively on the regulative aspects of recognition, while the constitutive aspects ofrecognition, war, and violence are obscured. Recognition therefore only pertains to

the political or ethical grievances and concerns of extant “others,” not to the formationof such agents through war. This is all the more surprising as Kochi tries to develophis concept of recognition through a critical engagement with Hegel.

Yet even on these truncated terms, it seems doubtful that recognition can fulfillKochi’s expectations. Firstly, if it is true that most partisan judgments are “confused,limited, self-contradictory,” it remains ultimately unclear how the recognition of such

judgment on the side of the other can really contribute to a better understandingand open up spaces for political negotiation. The process of recognition that Kochidescribes demands a modicum of coherence and normative structure within theother’s judgment. It is difficult to imagine recognition forthcoming for the partisan

judgment that lacks these qualities.Secondly, Kochi’s notion of recognition seems to pre-suppose what it claims to

produce. The “universal” judgment that is supposed to emerge from the recognitionof the other’s ethics of violence is in fact only conceivable, if a prior shared moralcode is in effect. The possibility of recognizing some rightness in the other’s violencerequires a common set of values according to which such an assessment can be made.The other, in other words, is not a radical other; his violence does not reflect theextreme ontological rift between friend and enemy that is involved in the constitutionof ethical-political communities.68

Kochi also seems to overlook a point here that features prominently in his dis-cussion of Hegel’s theory of recognition: the ontological subordination of ethics





to sovereignty.69 Only within a regime of sovereignty can moral-truth claims bearticulated and realized in a political context. Any claim to universality is in fact

particularistic, always offered as an expression of a particular point of view of adistinctive political community.70 The judgment on violence and the decision to goto war is therefore first and foremost the expression of a desire for sovereignty andthe formation of a different, an alternative, ethical community. We therefore needto recognize that recognition does not offer a chance to moderate or mitigate themonstrous effects of sovereignty and war. As the discussion of al-Qaeda and its terrorin this essay has demonstrated, a critical-theoretical engagement with recognition inthe international society should not aim to fulfill the futile and ever-receding goal ofreplacing its structure of violence with a diagram of morals. The critique of recogni-tion must instead focus on the constitutive role that it plays in this society and the

space it opens for the articulation of new political subjectivities.

Notes

I would like to thank the editors for their comments on an earlier draft, and the fellow membersof the “Liberal Way of War” Programme at the University of Reading, in part icular ChristinaHellmich, for their respective feedback. 1. I am referring to 9/11 as an “Event” here in the sense that Jacques Derrida does, thatis, as an act that resists immediate subsumption to a given structure of meaning, a law, or a

truth, yet demands such a move in a dramatic fashion. Yet this “appropriation” of the Eventfalters in the absence of a given horizon of anticipation and experience. Borradori and Derrida2003, 90. It is therefore the “Event”-character of this event that induced the search for mean-ing. One could also say that from a political perspective, an Event “suspends and reopens thecourse of history,” Nancy 2000, 107, as it establishes new points of references, structures ofmeaning, and practices out of the aporia of the Event’s interpretations. 2. Nancy 2000, 122. 3. Cf. Prozorov 2005. 4. Ignatieff 2001. 5. Sofsky 2002, 177. 6. Ibid.,178. 7. Sofsky, 1996, 107. 8. Kippenberg 2004, . 9. Bajorek 2005, 874. 10. Baudrillard 2002. 11. Ibid. Although focusing more on the role of the United States within the system, Jacques Derrida comes to a similar conclusion. For him, 9/11 constitutes a “double suicide,”or a case of “suicidal autoimmunity”: “let us not forget that the United States had in effectpaved the way for and consolidated the forces of the ‘adversary’ by training people like ‘binLaden,’ who would here be the most striking example.” Borradori and Derrida 2003, 95. TheUnited States, in other words, became the victim of a suicidal, auto-immunitary aggression

on 9/11.





12. Žižek 2002, 9–10. 13. Frow 2003, 69.

14. Borradori and Derrida 2003, 91. 15. Haacke 2005. 16. Saurette 2006, 503. 17. Wolf 2008, 28. 18. This is the constitutive theory of recognition. It is opposed by the declaratory theory,which considers the recognition of states to be little more than the confirmation of an alreadyeffective statehood. Ultimately, as shall become clear from the following, neither theory fullygrasps the functioning of recognition. 19. Kochi 2009, 139. 20. Ibid., 141. 21. Cf. ibid., 143.

22. Cf. ibid., 137–139. 23. Ibid., 141–142. 24. Nancy 2000. 25. Kochi 2009, 143. 26. Ibid., 143. 27. Ibid., 135. 28. Cf. Smith 1989, 158. 29. Ibid., 159. 30. Hegel 1991, 361. This is of course a dig against Kant’s project of Eternal Peace. Forthe reason why it is ultimately unjustified, see Behnke 2009. 31. Smith 1989,160.

32. Kochi 2009, 213. 33. Ibid., 209. 34. Derrida 2001, 57. 35. Ringmar 2006. 36. Kochi 2009, 230. 37. Nancy 2000, 118. 38. Ibid., 122. 39. Ibid., 107. 40. Schmitt 1995. 41. Ibid., 21. 42. Ibid., 78. 43. Behnke 2004. 44. Ibid., 308–11. 45. Oxford English Dictionary 2008; cf. Connolly 1995, xxii. 46. bin Laden 1998. 47. Nancy 2000, 139. 48. Blits 1989, 426. 49. Ghaith 2001, 252. 50. bin Laden 2002, 174. 51. See the text of the “Spiritual Guidance” and its critical interpretations in Kippenbergerand Seidensticker 2004. An English translation of the text was published in The Observer on

September 30, 2001 (“Last Words of a Terrorist” 2001).





52. Prozorov 2005, 95. 53. Ibid., 93.

54. Prozorov 2004, 281. 55. Honneth 1995. 56. Simons 2000, 52. 57. Burke 2006. 58. Nye 2007. 59. Howard 2002, 8. 60. Mansfield 1982, 236. 61. Howard 2009, 9. 62. Howard 2002, 10. 63. Haacke 2005; Honneth 1995; Roberts 2009. See also Allan and Keller’s contributionto this book, in which “thick recognition” of the other’s identity becomes a prerequisite for

just peace. 64. Kochi 2009, 250. 65. Ibid., 256. 66. Ibid., 257. 67. Ibid., 257. 68. Schmitt 1991. 69. Cf. Prozorov 2005, 100–107. 70. Walker 1993, 63.

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Bajorek, Jennifer. 2005. “The Offices of Homeland Security, or, Hölderlin’s Terrorism.”Critical Inquiry 31 (4): 874–902.

Baudrillard, Jean. 2002. “L’Esprit du terrorisme.” Harper’s Magazine. http://harpers.org/archive/2002/02/0079058.

Behnke, Andreas. 2004. “Terrorising the Political: 9/11 Within the Context of The Globalisa-tion of Violence.” Millennium 33 (2): 279–312.

bin Laden, Osama. 1998. “Interview: Osama Bin Laden, May 1998.” Frontline : “HuntingBin Laden.” http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/binladen/who/interview.html#video.

———. 2002. “Al-Qa’ida Recruitment Video.” In Anti-American Terrorism and the MiddleEast: A Documentary Reader, edited by Barry Rubin and Judith Colp Rubin. New York:Oxford University Press.

Blits, Jan H. 1989. “Hobbesian Fear.” Political Theory 17 (3): 417–431.Borradori, Giovanna, and Jacques Derrida. 2003. “Autoimmunity: Real and Symbolic Suicides:

A Dialogue with Jacques Derrida.” In Philosophy in a Time of Terror: Dialogues with JürgenHabermas and Jacques Derrida. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Burke, Jason. 2006. “Britain Stops Talk of ‘War on Terror.’” The Guardian, December10.http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2006/dec/10/uk.terrorism.

Connolly, William. 1995. Ethos of Pluralization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.Derrida, Jacques. 2001. On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness. London: Routledge.





Frow, John. 2003. “The Uses of Terror and the Limits of Cultural Studies.” Symploke 11(1–2): 69–76.

Ghaith, Suleiman Abu. 2002. “Al-Qa’ida Statement, (October 10, 2001).” In Anti-AmericanTerrorism and the Middle East : A Documentary Reader, edited by Barry Rubin and JudithColp Rubin. New York: Oxford University Press.

Haacke, Jürgen. 2005. “The Frankfurt School and International Relations: On the Centralityof Recognition.” Review of International Studies 31(1): 181–194.

Hegel, G. W. F. 1991. Elements of the Philosophy of Right. Cambridge: Cambridge UniversityPress.

Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Lon-don: Polity Press.

Howard, Michael. 2002. “What’s in a Name? How to Fight Terrorism.” Foreign Affairs 81(1): 8–13.

Ignatieff, Michael. 2001. “It’s a War—But It Doesn’t Have to be Dirty.”The Guardian, October1. http://www.guardian.co.uk/Archive/Article/0,4273,4267406,00.html.

Kippenberg, Hans G. 2004. “Einleitung.” In Terror im Dienste Gottes: Die “Geistliche Anlei-tung” der Attentäter des 11. September 2001, edited by Hans G. Kippenberg and TilmanSeidensticker. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag.

Kippenberg, Hans G., and Tilman Seidensticker, eds. 2004. Terror im Dienste Gottes: Die“Geistliche Anleitung” der Attentäter des 11. September 2001. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag.

Kochi, Tarik. 2009. The Other’s War: Recognition and the Violence of Ethics. London: Taylorand Francis.

“Last Words of a Terrorist.” 2001. The Observer, September 30. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2001/sep/30/terrorism.september113.

Mansfield, Sue. 1982. The Gestalts of War: An Inquiry into Its Origins and Meanings as a SocialInstitution. New York: Dial Press.

Nancy, Jean-Luc. 2000. Being Singular Plural. Stanford: Stanford University Press.Nye, Joseph S. 2007. “Just Don’t Mention the War on Terrorism.” International Herald Tri-

bune, February 8. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/08/opinion/08iht-ednye.4523392.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=Joseph%20S.%20Nye%20Jr,%202007&st=cse.

Oxford English Dictionary. 1989. Oxford: Oxford University Press.http://dictionary.oed.com.Prozorov, Sergei. 2004. “Three Theses on ‘Governance’ and the Political.” Journal of Inter-

national Relations and Development 7 (3): 267–293.———. 2005. “X/Xs: Towards a General Theory of the Exception.” Alternatives 30 (1): 81–112.Ringmar, Erik. 2006. “Liberal Barbarism and the Oriental Sublime: The European Destruc-

tion of the Emperor’s Summer Palace.” Millennium 34 (3): 917–933.Roberts, Neal. 2009. “Recognition, Power, and Agency.” Political Theory 37 (2): 296–309.Rubin, Barry, and Judith Colp Rubin, eds. 2002. Anti-American Terrorism and the Middle

East: A Documentary Reader. New York: Oxford University Press.Saurette, Paul. 2006. “You Dissin Me? Humiliation and Post 9/11 Global Politics.” Review

of International Studies 32 (3): 495–522.Schmitt, Carl. 1991. Der Begriff des Politischen. Text von 1932 mit einem Vorwort und drei

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Duncker & Humblot.





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Dates. London: Verso.




Part III

Conclusions






209

Chapte r 11

Concluding Remarks

on the Empirical Studyof International Recognition

Thomas Lindemann

What does recognition mean and how does the concept apply to the empirical studyof international conflicts? This book provided some answers based on theoreticalconsiderations as well as on empirical case studies of the origins of internationalconflict and terrorist violence. Drawing on these theoretical and empirical perspec-tives, I will formulate some testable hypotheses about recognition and the origins ofwar. In the first section, I will propose a definition of non-recognition and explainwhy the concept of recognition can be applied to interstate relations. In the secondsection, I will formulate some hypotheses about the link between non-recognitionand the origins of war. In a final section, I will outline some methods to empiricallyinvestigate these hypotheses.

Non-Recognition in International Relations

Almost all of the contributions to this book defended an interactionist conceptionof non-recognition that includes the offended actors’ self-conceptions as well as their

confirmation or non-confirmation by others. Drawing inspiration from sociologicaltheory, we can summarize denials of recognition as the difference between a claimed




210 ✻ Thomas Lindemann

self-image and the image we perceive others to give us.1 If there is a rough equiva-lence between this self-image and how we are treated, our self-image is recognized.

If, on the other hand, we have a more positive image of ourselves than the image ofus projected by others, we are not recognized.2 The recognition of an actor does notnecessarily imply that other actors completely share their self-images but solely thatthey treat them according to the way they understand themselves. More than “sin-cere” recognition, what matters to actors is to preserve their face in social interaction.

Ideally we should distinguish between two aspects of non-recognition. In the firstcase, actors do not feel recognized because their self-descriptions are not confirmedby other actors. The difficulty in satisfying these hubristic identities (inflated self-descriptions3) is highlighted by studies of Germany’s self-images before World War II,of the sacred character of Israeli ’s self descriptions, and of the “virile” self-images (that

is, the cult of physical force and the search for domination) attributed to the Bush ad-ministration.4 This identity-related denial of recognition is traditionally described as a“struggle for prestige,” and more linked to the subject’s identity than to the disrespect-ful behavior from others.5 In the second case, actors may feel as if they have not beenrecognized because socially expected standards of consideration have been violated. Inthis volume, the contributions of Charles Doran on Wilhelmian Germany’s difficultyin acquiring responsibilities in line with its potential power, and Alexandre Hummel’sstudy of the discriminatory aspects in the application of the non-proliferation treatyshow how the violation of socially accepted standards of recognition fuel aggressivereactions.6 These kinds of struggles are best defined as “struggles for dignity” because

they are motivated by the desire to be considered as a normal member of a communitymore than as a special member with a superior identity. Struggles for identity anddignity are related to each other. For example, Richard Lebow’s study in this volumesuggests that self-glorification often is the result of a process of stigmatization by whichexcluded actors transform their negative differences into something particularly posi-tive, transforming a “pariah people” into an “elected people.”

Some may object that it is confusing to define non-recognition as the negativedifference between a self-image and a received image, whether the source of non-recognition be a grossly inflated self-image or a denial of equality. Indeed, ethicallyit would not be justified to recognize actors with inflated self-images. However,recognition is for most of the authors in this book not a normative concept but an“independent variable”: what matters is the actors’ subjective feeling that they arenot recognized, and it is this “symbolic frustration” that is a possible motivation toengage in international conflict.

For many contributions in this book, especially those by Axel Honneth and Rein-hard Wolf, transporting the concept of recognition to the field of interstate relationsstill appears relatively problematic, at least in its psychological dimension. Does notsuch a transposition result in an illegitimate anthropomorphism of the state?7 Whyshould state decision-makers feel offended when the refusal of recognition is directed

at the political entity and not at the person? Only people and not states have a need foraffection or for self-esteem. Moreover, is it not true that bureaucratic and decisional




Concluding Remarks on the Empirical Study of International Recognition ✻ 211

logics inside democratic political entities oblige political decision-makers to contendwith a multitude of political forces?8 Such a pluralist configuration of power channels

the anger provoked by insults. It is also true that applying the recognition problematicto interstate relations is tricky from an ethical point of view: it is indeed difficult toargue in favor of a state’s basic needs against the rights of individuals.

However, interestingly enough, Honneth and Wolf conclude their argumentswith a strong plea for the application of the concept of recognition to the study ofinterstate relations. A sociological argument for such an interstate application ismade in this volume by Philippe Braud, who insists on the “identity” value that anabstract institutional entity can possess for the officials of such an institution. Inorder for individuals to be able to embrace a role such as that of government leader,it is necessary for them to be identified at least partially with the institution that has

conferred this role.9 The identification of political officials with their state is all themore probable when the prestige associated with the institution strongly influencestheir personal prestige. In addition, political elites, as opposed to economic ones,seem to value prestige and power more than wealth. Political activities select “alpha”personalities that should be particularly sensitive to recognition denials.10

The “representative link” (Braud) between the governed and the governing ex-plains why populations seldom are indifferent to attacks on their collective symbols.Emotional dynamics initiated by an act of contempt against a state are far fromimpossible to ignore. The reference markers of collective identity, “the founding refer-ences” of groups, such as religious beliefs, constitute an “emotionally invested” site.11

An objection, discussed by Honneth and Wolf, asserts that political decision-makersin modern democracies are so strongly inserted into bureaucratic processes that theyshould not easily succumb to such emotional dynamics. Accordingly, only dictatorslike Adolf Hitler, Saddam Hussein, or Kim Jong-Il make wounds to their self-esteeman object of contention. However, emotions are not necessarily individual but canalso be collective, especially if the offense is targeted against a head of state in his orher official rather than personal capacity. Thus, taking hostage of a co-national ormassacres inside another state can stimulate emotions in the formation of internalopinion, making it difficult for political decision-makers to remain inactive. Evenan emotionally insensitive decision-maker cannot easily ignore offense felt by his orher community.12

Interestingly, this perspective invites us to take into account the strategic aspectsof recognition in political decisions. Indeed, as suggested by Honneth, we cannotassume that decision-makers define interests of power and wealth-maximizationindependently of the moral expectations of their constituencies. Moreover, politicaldecision-makers often instrumentalize questions of identity and pride to find reso-nance among public opinion. In the first place, they could try to appease the adver-sary’s public opinion through recognition in order to delegitimize war—as suggestedby Honneth. Secondly, recognition and non-recognition can be exploited to trigger

international conflict. Bismarck’s Ems Dispatch

13

offers a good illustration of howdecision-makers may be able to force a war by insulting a nation.





Strategic calculations concerning recognition apply not only to the domestic arenabut also to the international. The success of a “tit for tat” strategy in Robert Axelrod’s

famous game theory tournament shows that people with the reputation to respondreasonably to provocations have a better chance to succeed in the competition.14 Bear-ing this in mind, when a state is not preoccupied with its reputation in internationalsociety, it risks losing its authority and independence.15 As the realists would haveit, “reputation” and “credibility” are crucially important for a state’s ability to deteraggression.16 However, in a “Kantian” anarchy, founded on the rule of non-violenceand mutual aid instead of military honor, this same “strategic” interest in preservinga “good reputation” can also play in favor of advocating moderate policies.17

Finally, applying the recognition problematic to international relations is an empiri-cal question. It is worth investigating whether political entities with strong national

identities, holistic conceptions of society and states personified by their leaders—l’étatc’est moi— are more vulnerable to offenses than others. The identification with stateentities on the part of different actors will always be variable and multidimensional.State identification cannot be abstractly postulated without investigating sociologi-cally the variety of historical situations.

The Empirical Study: Some Hypotheseson Non-Recognition and International Violence

From these premises about a state’s symbolic motivation, it is possible to formulateseveral hypotheses about the link between non-recognition and armed violence.

War, according to the main thesis, will become an option when the perceived netrecognition benefits of war are superior to the perceived net recognition benefits ofpeace.18 There is a recognition net benefit when an actor improves his self-imageas conveyed by significant others by choosing a policy. Without claiming that it ispossible to exactly quantify the recognition benefits of war and peace, the assump-tion that decision-makers only consider the economic and strategic costs of war isunrealistic. Leaders calculate, subconsciously at least, the symbolic costs and gainsin war. Symbolic calculations have their own particular logic and therefore cannot beapproached in the same way as material benefits.19 Some may argue that for decision-makers, losing a war always signifies humiliation and thus a loss of face. If this weretrue, our calculations could be simplified, since the most powerful would always bethe ones who best preserve their reputation. However, we know that state leadersmay gain reputation and national support even in military defeat—especially whenconfronted with an overwhelming power.20

It is thus necessary to consider which types of variables determine the symbolicbenefits of peace and war. First, the symbolic costs depend on identities. War will bemore likely to promote an actor’s self-image if he has a hubristic identity because ac-

tors with inflated self-descriptions are easily offended.

21

War can also be an attractiveoption if the instigators have few moral feelings of guilt or shame, which is the case





where the actors fail to positively identify with the victim of the aggressive action.Second, the interest of a state not to resort to force will depend on whether other

states or non-state actors treat it according to normal standards of recognition. Inthis case, the struggle for recognition is not a struggle for a special identity but fordignity; that is, a socially accepted and generally acknowledged standard of respect.

The identity-motivated recognition struggles and dignity-motivated recognitionstruggles represent two modalities of an actor’s quest for self-esteem. In the first case,the quest for self-esteem is animated by a strategy of distinction: a positive self-imageis cultivated by exaggerating differences with others and in stressing one’s superior-ity.22 In the second case, actors seek to obtain self-esteem by identifying with a valuedsocial group and by demonstrating their similarity with other members of a com-munity. The two aspects of recognition are related. It is often by stigmatization that

actors, like Nazi Germany, develop idealized and negative identities that especiallyserve to enhance their self-esteem. In other words, an actor’s strategy of distinctionis often not a choice but a necessity because the valued community does not acceptthem.23 Extensive empirical investigations are needed to validate the thesis about thesymbolic origins of wars, and the more modest aim here is to show that the historicalevidence presented in this volume and elsewhere about the origins of interstate warsis consistent with the hypotheses that follow.

If actors have hubristic identities and do not identify with other actors, and if theyare denied dignity and identity, we can say that war is a probable option becausethe symbolic net benefits in favor of war are higher than the symbolic net benefits

of peace. This formula also includes both the emotional and material costs relatedto non-recognition. All of the following hypotheses are based on the idea that warsoften occur when self-images are not recognized. The first and second hypothesesstress the importance of idealized and shared identities while the third and fourthhypotheses stress the dignity-related aspects of non-recognition. The fifth linksboth identity and dignity, since it is through non-recognition of dignity that actorsconstruct problematic identities that are a possible cause of war.24

Hypothesis 1: Hubristic Identities as a Possible Cause of War

Many contributions to this volume suggest that actors with hubristic identities areparticularly vulnerable to “narcissistic wounds.” Hubristic identities are defined by theaspiration for recognition by other actors on the international scene of one’s superiority,which is not recognized by other major international actors. For instance, National-Socialist pretention of “racial superiority” over other nations is an extreme expressionof such hubristic identity because this pretention is very different from great powerambitions to participate in international leadership by virtue of international normsthat are formalized. In the first case, superiority is totally subjective and hence discon-nected from any international norm of recognition. In the second case, superiority is

recognized by others on the basis of well-established norms. Inflated self-descriptionsare not necessarily restricted to “crazy” authoritarian leaders.25 However, one can argue





that these hubristic self-images are better channeled by democratic institutions, towhich these leaders are accountable, than by dictatorships.

There are several links between hubristic identities and war. First, such identitiesare more vulnerable than egalitarian identities. Perceiving others’ actions as insultsinitially depends on actors’ self-image. To paraphrase Alexander Wendt, “I cannotknow what insults me if I do not know who I am.” Communities conveying hubristicidentities will take every opportunity to feel humiliated, even by minor provocations.

Second, when officials of several states lay claim to superiority over each other,an identity dilemma emerges—one’s identity assertion implies the non-recognitionof the other.26 Even if respected as equals, actors with hubristic identities are easilyoffended if others refuse to admit their own inferiority. Thus hubristic identities areexposed to the loss of a sense of continuity of the self (ontological insecurity) in case

of their non-confirmation by a significant other.27 Yana Zuo’s study in this volumeillustrates the link between ontological insecurity and international conflict in thecase of Taiwan, particularly how changes in self-identification demand recognitionby others.

On the other hand, all claims to superiority imply the depreciation of others. Anarmed conflict follows when an actor, confronted by another’s identity pretensions,is not satisfied with having a “slave identity.”

Third, as Wolf explains, representatives of a culture of prestige are more inclinedto take risks, even at the price of their security and that of their community. Stateofficials asserting superiority tend to prefer glory to physical security.28 They also

prefer absolute victory, which is more costly but more prestigious, to relative, piece-meal victories. The attempts to conquer Russia by Napoleonic France, then by NaziGermany, are typical examples of such foolish taste for high risks.

Moreover, virile identities that are the cult of physical force and the search fordomination are an important factor in explaining the resort to force. Virile identitiescan be considered a subtype of hubristic identities stressing “physical” and mental,and not “intellectual” or moral, superiority over others. An entire body of literaturein international relations, as much psychological as feminist, has promoted the im-portance of virile images as a possible cause of armed confrontations. 29 Responses toprovocations can range from verbal protest to the use of force via economic sanctions.The governmental representatives of a virile culture are the ones most anxious to avoidan admission of weakness and are, as a consequence, most willing to resort to force.Thus, as stressed in this volume by Richard Lebow, societies characterized by thecult of honor did not have the same possibility to make concessions without compro-mising their identities as Athens, antimilitarist ex-FRG, or contemporary Sweden.30

Hypothesis 2: The Propensity for Armed Aggression between Political Actorsis Higher When There is No Positive Identity Link between Them

A collective identity assumes that others belong to the same community as oneself,even if our similarity is reduced merely to the affiliation of mankind.31 A collective





identity also implies identification with others; a minimal emotional participation intheir distress and their needs. Identification rests on the perception that others deserve,

as human beings, protection of their lives.32 “The Kantian anarchy” of NATO wheremember states are identified with others is an illustration. The empirical identificationof a collective identity does not presume that various qualities are objectively sharedby two communities. What counts is instead an awareness of belonging to the samecommunity, forming an “imagined community.”33

The prospect of recognition explains why shared identities are a source of peace. Actors who resort to force against a friendly state for economic and political reasonscontribute to the depreciation of their own image—because I identify others asanathema, I can cut them down without compromising my positive self-image.34 Thecolonial European powers did not have any scruples in waging wars of extermination

against African people, whether in the Belgian Congo or German South-West Africa. At the worst, political actors can even presuppose that others convey values that arethe exact opposite of their own. In this case, others represent a threat to our identity.35

The link between the lack of shared identities and recognition through interna-tional violence is explored in this volume by Andreas Behnke’s contribution dedicatedto al-Qaeda. When others are stigmatized or when differentiation is valued, actorsmay seek recognition through a logic of otherness instead of inclusion. Internationalsociety is founded on the affirmation of sovereignty, which entails exclusion by theacknowledgement of the mutually exclusive authority over territorially defined space.In such a system, violence is productive in establishing subjectivity. Indeed in war

“the state-sovereign asserts himself in a duel between equals” (Behnke). Thus 9/11can be understood as al-Qaeda’s desire “to become recognized as a political, indeedquasi-sovereign, rather than criminal actor in the global system.” However, in addingto Behnke’s analysis, it would be pertinent to investigate not only the designers ofal-Qaeda’s attacks but also those who carry them out. For this latter group, concreteexperiences of discrimination—for example, by stigmatized Muslims in Westerncountries—should count more than the abstract social fact of sovereignty in theinternational system.36

Hypothesis 3: The Denials of Accepted Standards of a State’s UniversalDignity to a Particular State Are Likely to Incite Wars

States are not only struggling for individuality but also for dignity. In this perspective,it is not a desire to affirm one’s superiority that is at the origin of a rivalry betweenstates, but a desire to avoid disregard and the unequal affirmation of superiority byothers. These kinds of recognition struggles are not for a special identity but fordignity, meaning that states are striving to be recognized as full members of a com-munity. In this case, recognition is strongly linked to the problem of justice.

Many international norms of respect may be open to interpretation, contesta-

tion, and therefore to opposite reactions and behaviors. However, it would be rashto conclude that dignity entirely depends on an actor’s perceptions. While it is rare





that an actor will feel offended by the refusal to obtain the annexation of its neigh-bor, it is more than likely that a state actor will feel non-recognized by violations of

widely accepted norms, such as “non-interference in internal affairs.” Some norms ofinternational respect are so deeply anchored in social practices and the expectationsof state actors that their violation universally triggers feelings of non-recognition.

The universal dignity of the state, meaning the abstract respect for an actor asa member of a community of states and not as an actor with special qualities, isprotected by a great number of conventions. For instance, normal states are recog-nized by others and engage in official diplomatic relations with them. This kind of“thin recognition” implies that each party recognizes the other’s right “to exist andto continue to exist as an autonomous subject,” to quote the contribution of Pierre

Allan and Alexis Keller. A recognized state enjoys the right of territorial integrity.

“Thick recognition” means treating other states as equal members of a shared com-munity. There are norms that claim respect for the hierarchical status and autonomyof states. Equal sovereignty means that each state is its own master and free fromany external authority.37 Even small powers will jealously protect their rights, suchas the immunity of their ambassadors and the preeminence of those ambassadorsover lower-ranking diplomats of “big” powers. Moreover there exist more informalnorms of equal dignity among states. The norm of reciprocity is probably one of theuniversal principal components of moral codes. Symmetry in behavior and mutualrenouncement (Allan and Keller) means that nobody suffers any discrimination.Finally, since the Vienna Alliance (1815) system, there has been the rule among great

powers to integrate all great powers into some common institutions.38 Many studiessuggest that recognition/non-recognition of accepted standards of visibility and equaldignity is a possible cause of peace and war.39 Newly created state-entities, not fullyrecognized in the international community, such as Communist China until 1971and the Hamas entity in 2008, often use violence to establish themselves as existingactors in international relations.

In the same way, the denial of equal dignity is an important motivation for inter-state conflicts.40 Punitive and discriminating peace treaties, verbal depreciation of theother’s status, and harsh injunctions, such as ultimatums, can trigger violent reactionsthat aim for the re-establishment of a state’s threatened dignity.41 Non-recognition ofgreat powers that have the means to punish the offender will especially fuel humiliationand violent reactions. Nations treated as “parvenu powers” (Lebow) such as Wilhel-mian Germany (Murray, Doran) or stigmatized powers are more likely to engage inarmed conflicts or displays of military might than integrated and accepted powers.

Thus, Michelle Murray shows in her study how Germany’s armament policybefore World War I was an attempt to secure identity in light of its non-recognition.German demands to be treated as an equal on par with the other great powers wentunrecognized, leading to an intense spiral of symbolic escalation to which Germanyresponded with increased belligerence. For Charles Doran, the experience of mis-

recognition by German decision-makers motivated their brinkmanship in the 1914 July crisis.42 This misrecognition is founded on an “unusual lag between Germany’s





power and role in the international system.” The origins of World War II are alsolinked to the refusal on the part of the Allies of accepted standards of “great power

dignity.” Lebow’s study shows how Germany’s nationalism was fueled more by thosearticles of the treaty that were considered offensive to German honor, such as article231’s “guilt clause,” than by those inimical to German security.

Hypothesis 4: Attacks on Specific Identities such as a State’sPolitical or Cultural References or a Lack of Empathy Are AlsoLikely to Encourage the Outbreak of Armed Conflicts

Non-recognition may hurt a state’s more “particularistic identity” as an actor withspecific values and a right to obtain special attention from other members of the

international community. Attacks on specific state identities are identifiable by depre-ciation of its national values or by the negation of past traumas, as well as indifferencetoward the suffering of victims in national catastrophes. There exist two forms of astate’s struggle for identity. In the first case, treated in the first hypothesis, states tryto affirm inflated self-descriptions, which produce identity dilemmas. In the secondcase, a state’s struggle for identity is canalized by reference to general internationalnorms and not incompatible with tolerance of the other’s culture.

Many legal and moral norms have progressively been developed in the interstatesystem to assure respect for a state’s specific identity. The development of normsregarding mutual tolerance is linked to the traumatic experience of destructive

religious and ideological wars where state actors realized that without a principle ofinternal sovereignty involving the respect for political independence, there wouldbe a permanent threat to their survival.43 It is easy to show how often this norm ofpolitical tolerance is violated, especially by great powers when they are confront-ing smaller nations. However, normative expectations of internal sovereignty havesurvived even when violated. Thus, states proclaim their right “to determine theirpolitical, economic and social systems, without interference.”44 Great powers assurethe norm of “internal independence” in relations among themselves by operationalrules, such as those of “peaceful coexistence” during the Cold War.45 Furthermore,offenses against national symbols such as flags are condemned and identified as dom-mage moral in international law.

Finally, informal international norms endow states with the right to receive someempathy from others and the reciprocal duty to offer some to others. Some normsof empathy such as respect for traumatic historical experiences and recognition ofpast crimes shape, at least since the end of the Second World War, the normativeexpectations of state and non-state actors.46 The lack of empathy reveals itself inparticular by indifference toward human suffering, which is especially offensive inthe context of the rise of humanitarian norms. For this reason, it is important toexamine the reaction of actors if a state suffers a human or natural disaster. Other

experiences of indifference by state actors can be triggered by stressing others’ dif-ference or insignificance.”47





Some empirical evidence—such as the case studies about the Versailles treatyand nuclear non-proliferation presented in this book—supports the thesis that viola-

tion of a state’s specific identity may trigger violence. Concerning the violation of astate’s internal sovereignty, the most obvious link connects ideological messianismand armed conflicts. Thus, homogeneous international orders are more stable thanheterogeneous ones, especially if the latter are governed by powers spreading theirideology, such as during the Thirty Years War or the French Revolution.48 ClassicRealist scholars such as Hans Morgenthau and Henry Kissinger consider ideologicalmessianism as a cause of war because it neglects power realities. However, it is alsoworth investigating the symbolic effect of political moralism on such state leaders asKim Jong-Il or Saddam Hussein. Peaceful international crisis management involvingpowers of different types presupposes the recognition of the coexistence principle,

such as during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962.Some empirical studies also show that indifference toward a state’s fate or its

historical traumas fuels aggressive reactions.49 State actors seek empathy when theyare struck by humanitarian catastrophe. For instance, American leaders were deeplyoffended by Saddam Hussein’s and the Taliban’s state celebrations of the 9/11 terror-ist attacks.50 Peace researchers underline that rhetorical practice stressing differencesbetween “in-group” and “out-group” helps to fuel conflicts, whereas the display ofsome empathy toward others by stressing a shared identity often is able to pacifyinternational conflicts.

Hypothesis 5: Attacks against a State’s Dignity Are Also Likelyto Encourage Interstate Violence Via the Formation of Stigmatized Identities which Can Be Transformed into Idealized Identities

The more subjective and inter-subjective aspects of recognition—the struggle forinflated self-descriptions and struggle for dignity—are related because it is oftenthrough stigmatization that actors develop idealized identities.

The need for the confirmation of an identity by others explains why actors con-struct their identities while looking at themselves through the eyes of others.51 In theinterstate system, the “significant others” are normally great powers or neighboringstates. Hubristic and negative identities, such as extreme nationalism or religiousfundamentalism, are often the result of a process of stigmatization, through whichothers transform the initially negative difference into a positive quality. The con-struction of hubristic and negative identities rests on contemptuous behaviors, suchas humiliating peace treaties. The sentence “anarchy is what states make of it” onlymakes sense under the assumption that there are behaviors of recognition that arelikely to turn Hobbesian anarchy into Kantian anarchy.52 It is true that state identi-ties are constructed by domestic processes, but systemic factors such as recognitionand non-recognition from great powers have constantly been minimized in works

about state chauvinism.





Some empirical studies, such as Lebow’s contribution to this book, show theutility in linking non-recognition through stigmatization and state exclusion on the

one hand, and construction of idealized and warlike identities on the other. Thus,Germany’s symbolic humiliation by the Versailles treaty explains partly why NationalSocialism could exploit honor-related themes. The development of fundamentalismsis often exacerbated by external threats and by behaviors of stigmatization.

However, it should be noted that even conciliatory movements within a na-tion—as is suggested by Honneth’s contribution—are not automatically perceivedby another nation’s public opinion. National political leaders are often able to selectand reinterpret information from the outside world. Indoctrinated by the legends ofbackstabbing and strong resentment about the humiliation of Versailles, Germany’spublic never fully realized the softening of the Versailles treaty induced by the United

States and Great Britain that took place in the 1920s and against French opposition.53 These concessions were surely too incremental to be of any tangible effect. To be ef-ficient, a politics of recognition has to address itself quite directly and spectacularlyto another state’s public opinion. Willy Brandt’s Kniefall to victims of the WarsawGhetto Uprising and Anwar El Sadat’s speech before the Knesset in 1977 illustratethe important symbolic dimensions of a politics of recognition.

It is also worth investigating—as suggested by Wolf in our volume—whether hu-bristic identities could not result from an excess of recognition. Permanently flatteredpeople progressively develop inflated self-descriptions and are therefore more easilyprovoked and prone to risky behavior. Studies of “group-think” have stressed that

decision-makers whose views are never contested rapidly develop feelings of invulner-ability, overconfidence and self-glorification.54 Another possible effect of a submissiveentourage is that such decision-makers find it difficult to confront the internationalcommunity that may contradict their inflated self-descriptions.

International Recognition Study Methods

The recognition studies in this volume suggest that all kinds of methods are help-ful in understanding or measuring the impact of non-recognition in internationalpolitics: correlation studies, case studies, and more interpretative methods. Inorder to investigate a possible co-variation between recognition and internationalconflict, it is necessary to objectify non-recognition independently from frustrationand mental states expressed by actors. For instance, it is possible to detect idealizedself-images by analyzing the architectural characteristics of governmental build-ings, important statues, military parades, and national ceremonies.55 In the sameway, the lack of shared identities among states can be objectified by the existence ofmessianic great powers with differentiated identity types (for example, authoritarianregimes compared to democratic states) or linguistic analyses such as the frequency

of dichotomous discourses (reinforcing an “us and them” rhetoric). Dignity-related





non-recognition is even more easily detected than identity-related non-recognitionbecause it transgresses inter-subjective standards as opposed to specific ideas held by

some “megalomaniac” and idiosyncratic actors.56 As already suggested, it is possibleto investigate the extent to which fundamental norms of recognition are formalizedin international relations in a given period. Thus dignity is not an individual mentalstate that escapes empirical analysis. The inter-subjective character of identity anddignity makes it possible to grasp the material existence of non-recognition. Onceobjectified, we can establish co-variation between non-recognition and phenomenasuch as peace and war. For example, it should be possible to measure whether inter-national orders founded on idealized, virile identities, different identity types, harshpunishment, and stigmatization of vanquished powers are more war prone than ordersthat conform to social standards of recognition. Doran’s study of Germany’s “power-

role gap” before World War I is a prime example of how to statistically analyze thelink between non-recognition and international violence.

However, correlations need to be explained and completed by a study of the waysin which actors understand situations in order to grasp how such objectified non-recognition is experienced in situ. Are they aware of non-recognition, and is theirunderstanding of it comparable with the indicators the researcher has constructed?57 The significance of non-recognition will vary as a function of an actor’s cognitivemap. The study of an actor’s subjective drives and representations is also importantfor grasping the relationship between variables and to identify intervening stepsin the process leading from peace to war.58 For example: Why is it that hubristic

identities lead to war? Is it because they are more vulnerable to provocations, or is itbecause actors with such identities are more prone to take risks? It is also very inter-esting to distinguish different steps of the decision-making process: identificationof non-recognition; evaluation and risk assessments of different policy alternatives;interaction with the offender and domestic and international audiences; and the finalchoice between peace and war.

A first approach to grasping actors’ subjective understanding is to detect feel-ings of humiliation. As made clear in this volume, the detection of such emotionspresents considerable problems for the analyst. In this way, the perpetrators of mostwars and international violence justify their actions by the existence of injustices.To take public indignations at face value means exposing oneself to the risk of cir-cular reasoning: one identifies the refusal of recognition by violence, which is thenexplained by the existence of an identity frustration. One way to avoid such circularreasoning is to scrutinize many more private sources from actors, such as personaldocuments that may give a better clue to true motives than do public discourses. Itis also worth examining the rapidity of decisions in order to verify whether they arespontaneous and thus possibly fueled by emotions.59 Other clues to actors’ emotionsare their inner circles of advisers, since they get to witness external expressions offeelings of humiliation, such as outbreaks of anger. However, one should not only

focus on the emotional aspects of recognition but also on its strategic motivation.Policy-makers may rationally evaluate how a decision affects self-image and reputation





in domestic and international audiences because their legitimacy depends greatlyon these symbolic factors. Even actors driven by glory or humiliation may carefully

repress immediate emotions to better serve their long-term aims, as is well expressedin the popular adage, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” More strategic expressionsfor the quest of recognition can be empirically analyzed by studying the frequencyof words such as “reputation” or “credibility” in an actor’s discourses and by payingspecial attention to whether domestic and international challenges to the symboliccapital of governmental authorities are correlated with a radicalization of decisionsrelated to international security.60

It is also possible to test explanations in terms of recognition against other explana-tions, as demonstrated by Lebow and Murray’s contributions. We can contrast thestrategic and economic costs and benefits of a decision with recognition-related logics.

However we should avoid turning recognition into a purely residual variable to beused only when rationalist explanations fail. The reduction of the quest for recogni-tion to emotions such as self-esteem will reduce it to a purely psychological approach,stressing the limits of rationality. Yet, the quest for rationality is often quite strategic,and reputation is a resource in the struggle for power and wealth. The works of FrankSchimmelfennig and Honneth and Hummel’s articles in this volume suggest howactors elaborate true presentation strategies, which means that they try to maximizetheir self-image and to lessen those of others by instrumentalizing accepted normsfor their political purpose.61 Thus, to test the value of recognition against realist orliberal approaches, we should also consider the emotional aspects of recognition as

well as its strategic aspects. Such calculations can even be externally deduced byasking questions about the symbolic net benefits of options related to peace and war.

Epilogue

The contributions in this volume provide tentative evidence for the thesis thatnon-recognition matters in international politics. Most of our cases are related tointernational conflict and are therefore hard cases for recognition because scholarsexpect that here physical survival should easily come before vanity. Against suchintuitive understanding of armed conflicts, the evidence presented in this book sug-gests that the quest for recognition is as much a cause of international conflict as thatof security concerns or profits in terms of power and economics. Whoever studiesinternational conflicts should therefore not only pay attention to what actors wantto have but also to how they want to appear and how these self-images are reflectedby others. In this manner, physical violence is often preceded by “symbolic violence”(Braud). This diagnosis should also, as Honneth suggests, have normative implica-tions for the prevention of war. The perspective of recognition suggests an alternativemeans to the carrot-and-stick approach in the pacification of contentious powers

such as China, Russia, North Korea, or Iran. One should examine in more detailthe recognition aspirations of these states. Such politics of recognition is also aimed





at internal audiences of the aggressive state in order to delegitimize the war optionfor the decision-makers of these states. The politics of recognition is not expensive,

but its benefits can be huge.

Notes

I am grateful for comments provided by Michael Ahmed, Elena Aoun, Philippe Braud, JustinCook, Elisabeth Etienne, Volker Heins, Alexandre Hummel, Stephen Humphreys, PeterKoenigs, Ned Lebow, Christian Olsson, Erik Ringmar, and Reinhard Wolf. 1. Goffman 1999; Braud 1996; Honneth 1996. 2. Lindemann 2010; Wolf 2008. 3. Plato 2008, 46–49. 4. White 1970; Saurette 2006. 5. Lebow 2008, 45–121; O’Neill 2004, 85–100; Markey 1999. 6. Doran 1991. 7. Walker 1993, chapter 6; Ashley 1988. 8. Rosen 2005, 50–55. 9. Crawford 2000; Braud 1996. 10. Saurette 2006. 11. Braud 2004. 12. Saurette 2006. 13. The Ems Dispatch was an internal message from the Prussian king to Bismarck

related to the French demand that the king should guarantee that he would never approvethe candidacy of a Hohenzollern to the Spanish throne. Bismarck “sharpened” the dispatchand released it to the press. It was designed to give the impression that King William I hadinsulted the French Ambassador Count Benedetti. 14. Axelrod 1984. 15. Schelling 1960. 16. Tang 2004; Mercer [1996] 2009. 17. Wendt 298–299. 18. On materialist rational choice perspectives, see Fearon 1995. 19. See Erik Ringmar’s introduction. 20. Jervis 1988.

21. Ringmar 1996. 22. Braud 1996, 153–169. 23. Elias 2009. 24. Lindemann 2008. 25. Tajfel and Turner 1986. 26. Ringmar 2002. 27. Mitzen 2006. 28. Vertzberger 1998. 29. Tickner 1996; Steinberg 1996. 30. Lebow 2008, 61–72 and chapter 3; Rosen 2005. 31. Adler and Barnett 1996.

32. Finnemore 1996.





33. Anderson 2006. 34. Wendt 1999, 259–278.

35. Risse-Kappen 1995. 36. Khosrokavar 2006. 37. Osiander 2001; Bartelson 1995. 38. Bull 1995, 40. 39. Lebow, 2008; Allan and Keller 2006; Lindemann 2001; Ringmar 1996; Schroeder1994; Doran 1991. 40. Albin 2001, 47. 41. Schroeder 1994; Doran 1991. 42. See also Lindemann 2001. 43. Bull 1995, 35. 44. Cf. General Assembly from October 24, 1970. Anghie 2007.

45. Bull 1995, 41. 46. Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide of 9thDecember 1948. Anghie 2007. 47. Albin 2001, 26. 48. Aron 1984. 49. Long and Brecke 2003; Scheff 1994. 50. Lindemann 2010. 51. Wendt 1999, 327. 52. Ibid., chapter 7. 53. Cohrs 2008. 54. Janis 1972; Lebow 1981.

55. Abdelal et al. 2009. 56. Farrell 2002, 60. 57. Vennesson 2008, 234–236. 58. George and Bennett 2005. 59. Rosen 2005, chapter 2. 60. Bourdieu 1979. 61. Schimmelfennig 2003.

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