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likelihood that an
existing conflict will escalate to war.
Neither are these dynamics likely to
lessen the potential for conflict
between libertarian and non-libertarian
states. Third, this paper reviews
some indirect empirical support for this
argument.
What a Libertarian
Peace Is Not
James Lee Ray addresses R. J. Rummel's
hypothesis that “libertarian
systems mutually preclude violence”
early in his literature review of the
democratic peace theory. Like many
other scholars, Rummel emphasizes the
importance of democracies’ norms and
institutions on their foreign policies.
From a cultural or normative
perspective, he claims that “between
libertarian states there is a
fundamental sympathy of their peoples
toward each other’s system, a
compatibility of basic values.”[3]
This is a common view of the role that
democratic norms plays, but it differs
slightly from Bruce Russett’s more
specific thesis.[4]
Russett contends that, because
“democratic political culture encourages
peaceful means of internal conflict
resolution,” democratic leaders are
willing to apply these norms “across
national boundaries toward other
democratic states,” and they expect
their foreign counterparts to do the
same.[5]
Yet, in both explanations, democratic
dyads are peaceful because their members
arrive at “positive perceptions of other
democracies.”[6]
And it is this attitudinal outcome that
Christopher Layne finds lacking in his
case studies of “modern historical
instances in which democratic great
powers almost came to blows”[7]
(this paper incorporates Layne’s
observations below).
Addressing democratic institutions,
Rummel places a “Kantian stress on the
role of pacifistic public opinion and
interest groups.”[8]
Here he embraces another familiar causal
mechanism: Democratic leaders are wary
of entering wars, primarily because they
can be voted out of office by the same
citizens who “pay the price for war in
blood and treasure.” Other
scholars highlight additional structural
constraints on democratic leaders,
including “political competition” and
“the pluralism of the foreign policy
decisionmaking process.”[9]
But in both variants of the
institutional argument, “democratically
elected leaders are unable to act
quickly,” and this sluggishness has a
dual impact. On the one hand,
“this cautious foreign policy behavior
reduces the likelihood that a conflict
will escalate to war.” On the
other hand, these institutions signal to
other states that they should
“anticipate a difficult and lengthy
process before [a] democracy is likely
to use significant military force
against them.” As a result, these
other states will expect – and
capitalize on – a greater “opportunity
to reach a negotiated settlement.”[10]
Yet while normative hypotheses explain
why a dyad must consist of two
democracies before it can achieve a
democratic peace, structural arguments
tend to posit that one state’s
democratic institutions will lower the
likelihood of war with a second state,
to an extent that does not depend on
whether the second state is democratic.
Accordingly, institutional arguments
“cannot account for a democratic
public’s willingness to fight wars
against nondemocracies” more frequently
than against democracies.[11]
Layne asserts simply that
“[i]nstitutional constraints do not
explain the democratic peace,” and he
does not bother to test their influence
in his case studies.[12]
As these structural hypotheses limit
their theoretical traction over the
dynamics of democratic dyads, they also
take us farther away from the approach
outlined in this paper’s introduction:
They treat democracy not as a source of
regimes’ (shared) interests, but rather
as a device for reconciling states’
(conflicting) interests. Whereas
cultural arguments speculate that
democratic dyads produce a joint
normative interest in peace, the
aforementioned institutional theses
claim – at most – that individual
democratic leaders have an interest in
avoiding war.
Kenneth Schultz’s structural approach in
Democracy and
Coercive Diplomacy goes even
farther. He notes that “[t]he
availability of information, and the
nature of strategic interaction under
conditions of uncertainty, intervene in
the causal chain between interests and
outcomes”; his book therefore
concentrates “on information rather than
on preferences.”[13]
Specifically, he argues that because a
democracy experiences “[o]pen political
competition,” it cannot help but reveal
some information about its preferences
or capabilities “to both domestic and
foreign audiences.” This reduction
in asymmetric information helps it and
its adversaries to “identify a
settlement that both sides prefer to
war.”[14]
In fact, Schultz implies that
institutional arguments can be collapsed
into informational theories: Dictators
may run greater “political risks” in
going to war than do elected officials,
but “the political risks generated by
their threats are [less] obvious to
outsiders,” and the scarcity of
information makes war more likely.[15]
Nevertheless, actors’ interests retain
substantial causal weight – unless
states have “conflicting preferences
over the allocation of disputed goods,”[16]
information is of little value to them.
Institutional approaches to the
democratic peace theory, then, seem to
have surrendered their explanatory power
– both to cultural and even neorealist
arguments that build upon states’
preexisting preferences,[17]
and to Schultz-like and neoliberal
arguments that stress the importance of
shared information for achieving
cooperative outcomes. Therefore it
may come as a surprise that this paper
advances an institutional
explanation of a libertarian peace.
As foreshadowed in the introduction, it
contends that libertarian institutions
preclude conflicts of interest within
libertarian dyads.
The Dynamics of a
Libertarian Peace
Rummel, too, frames libertarianism in
institutional terms. “Freedom
inhibits violence,” he writes;
“libertarian states have natural
inhibitions on involvement in violence,”
and “economic institutional
arrangements” assume a unique importance
in his thinking.[18]
However, James Lee Ray suggests that
Rummel’s causal mechanisms focus largely
on the variables discussed in this
paper’s previous section, including “the
responsiveness of elected leaders to
domestic interest groups or public
opinion, which ordinarily will oppose
violence, tax increases and
conscription.”[19]
Therefore this section will develop a
separate model of a libertarian peace,
first examining the nature of a
libertarian regime – including its
“inhibitions on…violence” – and then
deducing this regime’s inherent
constraints on foreign policymaking.
In ideal-typical form, a libertarian
government has the sole purpose of
protecting private property rights.
This fundamentally negative aim
prevents the libertarian regime from
adopting any positive
objectives: It cannot interfere with its
citizens’ properties; it cannot
interfere with its citizens’ exchange of
their properties. It cannot spend
tax monies on anything other than the
physical defense of its citizens’
properties; if it did, it effectively
would be confiscating its citizens’
monetary properties. In Weberian
terms, a libertarian regime cannot use
its monopoly on the legitimate use of
violence except to protect
private property rights. In even
simpler terms, it may not initiate the
use of violence – it may defend its
citizens’ properties only.
This principle parallels Rummel’s notion
of libertarian “inhibitions
on…violence.” If we were to treat
it as a norm – similar to the
democratic norm of peacefully resolving
disputes – then we could devise a
cultural explanation for a libertarian
peace. But Rummel implies, and the
preceding paragraph makes clear, that
the non-initiation of violence is an
institutional function of a libertarian
regime.
Therefore a dyad of libertarian states
cannot experience a conflict of
interests that could lead to war.
In an anarchical system where “each
unit…is responsible for ensuring its own
survival,” both states may seek to
increase their military capabilities
through internal balancing or external
alliances. But because anarchy
also sets each state “free to define its
own interests and to employ means of its
own choice in pursuing them,”[20]
each libertarian regime will advance
only the “interests” of its citizens’
property rights. Put differently,
it will forswear any “means” that entail
the initiation of violence. And
without the initiation of violence –
without any contradictory interests – a
libertarian peace will ensue.
Of course, a libertarian regime will
have no “inhibitions on…violence”
against a non-libertarian state – even a
democracy – if the latter violates its
citizens’ property rights. Like
the norm-based models discussed in the
preceding section, the libertarian peace
can obtain only within a libertarian
dyad.
Reviewing the
Evidence for a Libertarian Peace
One tentative implication of this
libertarian peace thesis is that a
purely majoritarian democracy – the
near-opposite of a libertarian regime,
in that it elevates collective interests
over its citizens’ individual rights –
is especially likely to go to war
against other democracies.[21]
This proposition finds support in Edward
Mansfield and Jack Snyder’s
Electing to Fight,
which finds that “electorates in
transitional democracies,” who
disproportionately adopt collectivist
ideologies such as “belligerent
nationalism,” are also especially likely
to wage wars against “regimes of all
types” – “even against democracies.”
In fact, Mansfield and Snyder appear to
merge these two correlates into a single
dependent variable – “belligerent
nationalism” – that they explain in
terms of democratizing states’ internal
politics.[22]
Another implication of the libertarian
peace hypothesis is that case studies of
“historical instances in which
democratic great powers almost came to
blows” – in which democracies exhibited
conflicting interests even though they
did not initiate violence – should
reveal that at least one democracy in
each dyad adopted non-libertarian
goals. (However, if war did not
ensue, then neither democracy need have
acted on those goals.)
Christopher Layne’s four case studies
support this hypothesis – each portrays
one or both states (a) violating the
property rights of the other state’s
citizens, or (b) adopting political
goals beyond the protection of
its own citizens’ property rights.[23]
Thus, while a libertarian peace theory
cannot summon overwhelming empirical
support from this week’s readings, it
does appear to be conceptually plausible
and invites additional qualitative
testing.
[1]
Miriam Fendius Elman,
Paths to
Peace: Is Democracy the Answer?
(Cambridge, MA: MIT Press,
1997), pp. 47-48.
[3]
James Lee Ray,
Democracy
and International Conflict: An
Evaluation of the Democratic
Peace Proposition
(Columbia, SC: The University of
South Carolina Press, 1995), pp.
15-16.
[4]
Schultz also makes this
distinction. Kenneth A.
Schultz,
Democracy and Coercive Diplomacy
(Cambridge:
Cambridge
University Press, 2001),
pp. 12-13.
[5]
Elman, pp. 11-12. Layne
makes the same points, pp.
161-162.
[6]
Christopher Layne, "Kant or
Cant: The Myth of the Democratic
Peace," in
Debating
the Democratic Peace,
eds. Michael E. Brown, Sean M.
Lynn-Jones, and Steven E. Miller
(Cambridge, MA: MIT Press,
1996), p. 161.
[15]
Ibid., pp. 14-15, pp. 18-19.
[17]
Of course, neorealist arguments
would derive state preferences
from the properties of the
international system. The
question is whether these
preferences outweigh those
created by democratic
institutions.
[21]
Here I consider “other
democracies” to be an extremely
rough proxy for “other
majoritarian democracies.”
The aim is to determine whether,
as a state becomes less
libertarian, it is increasingly
likely to wage war against other
states that share its regime
type.
[22]
Edward D. Mansfield and Jack
Snyder,
Electing to Fight: Why Emerging
Democracies Go to War (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2007), pp. 10-23.
[23]
Each case study supports both
realism and the libertarian
peace thesis developed above:
First case study: In
1861, a
United States
frigate “acting without express
orders from Washington” boarded a British mail ship in a
neutral port and arrested two
Confederate passengers –
apparently breaching British
property rights in addition to
“international law.”
Washington
eventually released the
passengers because it could not
“afford” an Anglo-American war.
Layne, pp. 168-173.
Second case study: In
1895 and 1896, the United States
insisted that Great Britain seek
arbitration for “an obscure
long-standing dispute between
London and Caracas over the
Venezuela-British Guiana
boundary” – not out of concern
for its citizens’ South American
properties, but as a “pretext
for asserting America’s claim to
geopolitical primacy in the
Western hemisphere.” This
time London
gave in to
Washington because
of America’s military strength and Britain’s
international isolation.
Ibid., pp. 174-177.
Third case study: In
1898,
Britain
and
France
nearly went to war over Fashoda,
on the
Upper Nile.
France
sent an expedition to Fashoda –
not to secure its citizens’
African possessions, but “to
force the British to negotiate
the Egyptian question and thus
to increase
France’s
great-power prestige.” Britain, too, dispatched a military force to
Fashoda – not to achieve
political ends (e.g., protecting
private property) but to satisfy
an economic need (i.e.,
Egypt’s
dependence on the
Nile). France eventually retreated in
recognition of British naval
power. Ibid., pp. 180-185.
Fourth case study: In
1923,
France
occupied the Ruhr in order to
fulfill its own economic desire
(increasing its aggregate
economic strength relative to
Germany) –
not to protect French properties
within the
Ruhr. Too weak
to mount a military defense, Weimar
Germany
adopted only a passive
resistance. Ibid., pp.
185-189.
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