Realism

My Realist Journey, Part 3: Strategy After Hiroshima (State of Doom).

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Liberty , , , , , , , ,

As I updated and expanded my States of Mind series in the 2000s and 2010s, I found the need for a fourth, then a fifth, then a sixth, and finally a seventh volume to complete my treatise. What became volume 5 was an outgrowth of volume 3 (State of Awe), drilling in on the nuclear age which had culminated in volume three my with discussion of order in the age of total war.

While this was indeed, a single era as war industrialized and later nuclearized, achieving absoluteness in its destructiveness, I felt both the need and the desire to explore the nuance of the nuclear age, in part in homage to Waltz whose neorealism, like Brodie’s deterrence theory, sought to tame the terror of the nuclear age (and did for a little while).

Both can be thought of as nuclear realists, but as I wrote, I came to find the literature on neorealism rather light and lacking in substance, while the literature on nuclear strategy was refreshingly complex and nuanced and provided the true foundation of the nuclear order (a dangerously brittle one that collapsed like a house of cards under the unforeseen massing of Gandhian people power in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union.)

My 600-page dissertation, Bernard Brodie and the Bomb: At the Birth of the Bipolar World (published in book form in 2011 by Continuum (now Bloomsbury) as the much shortened (by 300 pages!) State of Doom: Bernard Brodie, the Bomb, and the Birth of the Bipolar World), stands as a definitive professional biography and philosophical investigation of one of the 20th century’s most vital strategic minds. It explores how Bernard Brodie (1910–1978) earned his reputation as “America’s Clausewitz” or the “Clausewitz of the Nuclear Age.” 

By tracing Brodie’s intellectual journey from his pre-World War II writings on naval engineering to his foundational texts on atomic deterrence and his late-career work translating Carl von Clausewitz’s classic On War, it reveals the existential dilemma of the modern era: How can a state utilize military force for political objectives when the weapons at its disposal threaten total planetary destruction? Brodie answered these questions, which were left unanswered, uncomfortably so, by Waltz’s neorealism (which left all the heavy lifting to the imagined “system,” as if a cult or new religion structured upon God’s grace and infinite wisdom.)

Introduction: The Strategic Crucible of the Bipolar World

I frame his exploration around the transition from a multipolar global system to the rigid, highly tense bipolar structure of the Cold War. In this landscape, the United States and the Soviet Union faced an unprecedented security environment defined by the “balance of terror.” At the center of this transformation was Bernard Brodie. As one of the first civilian defense intellectuals to bridge the gap between academia and military policy—most notably through his long tenure at the RAND Corporation—Brodie fundamentally redefined the purpose of military force.

My core thesis is that Brodie’s intellectual life was a lifelong project to reconcile classic military theory with technological shifts. When the splitting of the atom yielded the absolute weapon, traditional concepts of victory, total mobilization, and kinetic warfare were shattered. Throughout his career, Brodie fought to bring politics back into command of military strategy, preventing the machine of war from triggering a global apocalypse.

Before the Bomb: Sea Power and Technological Determinism

Before becoming the premier architect of nuclear strategy, Brodie was a scholar of naval history and sea power.  I emphasize that understanding Brodie’s early work is essential, as it established his analytical framework for evaluating how technological paradigm shifts alter strategic realities.

Sea Power in the Machine Age (1941)

Brodie’s first major academic contribution analyzed the profound transition of naval warfare during the industrial revolution. He tracked four great technological revolutions that fundamentally altered naval architecture and strategy:

  1. The transition from sail to steam propulsion.
  2. The replacement of wooden hulls with iron and steel armor plating.
  3. The evolution from solid shot to explosive shells and rifled ordnance.
  4. The introduction of submarine warfare and the torpedo.

Brodie observed that military establishments are historically slow to grasp the true strategic implications of new inventions. Tacticians often attempt to force revolutionary technologies into outdated operational doctrines. I highlight this as Brodie’s first encounter with technological determinism—the idea that technology drives changes in human history and warfare, requiring an equal revolution in strategic thought to prevent catastrophe.

A Layman’s Guide to Naval Strategy (1942)

Published right after the attack on Pearl Harbor, this book established Brodie as a clear-eyed strategic communicator. It arrived at a moment when many critics believed the airplane had rendered the surface fleet obsolete.

Brodie took a nuanced, balanced view. He argued that while air power changed the tactics of naval engagement, it did not change the fundamental strategic purpose of sea power: the control of maritime lines of communication. This early insight previewed his nuclear-era philosophy—technological leaps change the means and costs of warfare, but they do not automatically erase basic geopolitical realities.

The Absolute Weapon: The Invention of Nuclear Deterrence

The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945 completely upended Brodie’s strategic worldview. Within months of these events, Brodie edited and co-authored a foundational text, The Absolute Weapon: Atomic Power and World Order (1946). It was in this work that modern nuclear deterrence theory was born.

The Inversion of Military Utility

I analyze this iconic quote to illustrate how profoundly Brodie broke from traditional military tradition. For centuries, military strategy focused on securing victory through the destruction of the enemy’s armed forces.

Brodie recognized that the atomic bomb rendered total war obsolete as an instrument of statecraft. Because an atomic exchange could destroy entire civilizations in a matter of hours, a war fought with such weapons could yield no rational political benefit. Therefore, the military’s primary job shifted from war-fighting to war-averting.

The Pillars of Early Deterrence Theory

In The Absolute Weapon, Brodie laid out the core principles that would govern U.S. and Soviet interactions for the next four decades:

  • The Futility of Defense: Brodie argued that there was no foreseeable, reliable defense against an atomic attack. Even if a defensive system intercepted 90% of incoming bombers, the remaining 10% would still deliver unacceptable, civilizational ruin.
  • The Primacy of Retaliation: Since defense was impossible, security could only be achieved through the guaranteed threat of overwhelming retaliation. A potential aggressor must understand that attacking would trigger their own destruction.
  • The Irrelevance of Superiority: Once a state possesses enough nuclear weapons to destroy its opponent’s society, acquiring thousands more offers little strategic advantage. Nuclear utility hits a point of saturation.

Preserving Order in the Age of Apocalyptic War

As the 1940s turned into the 1950s, the strategic landscape grew vastly more complex and dangerous. I detail how Brodie’s early, clean models of deterrence were severely tested by fast-moving historical developments.

The Loss of the American Monopoly (1949)

When the Soviet Union detonated its first atomic bomb in August 1949, the United States lost its nuclear monopoly much faster than Washington political elites had predicted. This shift created a symmetric balance of terror, giving rise to the truly bipolar world.

Brodie had to adapt his theories to a world where both sides could instantly retaliate. This eliminated any lingering illusions that the atomic bomb could be used as an offensive tool of diplomatic coercion without risking domestic annihilation.

The Thermonuclear Revolution

The strategic equation changed again with the development of the Hydrogen Bomb (the thermonuclear weapon), first tested by the United States in 1952 and the Soviet Union in 1953.

While the atomic bomb measured its yield in kilotons (thousands of tons of TNT equivalent), the thermonuclear bomb measured its yield in megatons (millions of tons of TNT). Fission bombs were city-killers; fusion bombs were region-killers, capable of poisoning massive geographic areas with lethal radioactive fallout.

I point out that while some defense intellectuals, like those in the Air Force, viewed the H-bomb as just a larger explosive tool for strategic air power, Brodie saw it as a qualitative leap into absolute absurdity. The H-bomb removed any remaining doubt about his 1946 thesis: total war with thermonuclear weapons was absolute suicide.

Rethinking the Unthinkable: Escalation and Limited War

With total war off the table as a rational choice, Brodie turned his focus to preventing brushfire conflicts from escalating into all-out thermonuclear exchanges. My analysis of this period highlights Brodie’s tenure at the RAND Corporation, where he interacted and frequently sparred with other giants of nuclear strategy, such as Herman Kahn, Albert Wohlstetter, and Henry Kissinger.

The Problem of Massive Retaliation

During the Eisenhower administration, U.S. defense policy relied heavily on the doctrine of Massive Retaliation. This policy declared that the U.S. would respond to any communist aggression globally—even local, conventional incursions—using overwhelming nuclear forces at times and places of its own choosing.

Brodie emerged as a sharp critic of Massive Retaliation. He argued that the threat lacked credibility in an era of nuclear parity. If the Soviet Union launched a localized conventional attack in Europe or Asia, would an American president truly risk the destruction of New York and Washington to defend a distant border?

Brodie asserted that a non-credible threat fails to deter. If the enemy exposes the bluff, the U.S. would face a terrible choice: launch a suicidal nuclear war or suffer an embarrassing geopolitical retreat.

The Architecture of Limited War

To solve this credibility gap, Brodie helped develop the theory of Limited War, which he detailed in his 1959 masterpiece, Strategy in the Missile Age.

Brodie argued that to make deterrence function at lower levels of conflict, the United States had to develop the capability and political will to fight limited wars using restricted means and targeting limited objectives.

  • Limitation of Means: Intentionally holding back maximum military power—such as avoiding the use of tactical nuclear weapons—to signaling a desire to avoid total war.
  • Limitation of Objectives: Fighting not for the unconditional surrender of the enemy or the total overthrow of their regime, but for specific geopolitical corrections (e.g., restoring a pre-war border).

I highlight the deep irony Brodie wrestled with: to prevent an absolute war, a superpower must become proficient at fighting restrained, sometimes frustratingly inconclusive limited wars.

A Clausewitz for America: Reuniting War and Politics

The final chapters of my book dive into the philosophical culmination of Brodie’s career: his deep engagement with the writings of Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz:

The Clausewitzian Renaissance

In the late 1960s and 1970s, disillusioned by the strategic failures of the Vietnam War, Brodie dedicated himself to a deep reassessment of classical strategic philosophy. He collaborated with historian Peter Paret to produce the landmark 1976 Princeton University Press translation of Clausewitz’s On War, providing an extensive commentary that contextualized the Prussian master for the nuclear age.

Brodie discovered that Clausewitz provided the perfect philosophical toolkit to fight the technocratic, math-heavy trends that had taken over American defense planning. Strategists like Robert McNamara had tried to turn war into a bureaucratic exercise of systems analysis, body counts, and raw cost-benefit equations. Brodie used Clausewitz to remind the world that war is inherently an unpredictable, messy, human phenomenon driven by emotion, chance, and politics.

Reconciling the Famous Dictum

The core of Clausewitzian theory rests on the famous dictum: “War is the continuation of politics by other means.” This means that military violence must always serve as a tool for a specific political objective, and the political goal must entirely dictate the scale of military effort.

I carefully map out how Brodie solved the paradox of applying this 19th-century rule to the thermonuclear era:

  • The Separation Point: In an all-out nuclear war, the sheer scale of destruction breaks the connection between violence and statecraft. Because no political goal can justify the total annihilation of one’s own society, total thermonuclear war cannot be a continuation of politics. It is simply madness.
  • The Solution: Therefore, the only way to keep war Clausewitzian in the modern era is through nuclear deterrence and strict limitation. Deterrence uses the threat of force to achieve the political objective of stability and peace. When kinetic conflict does break out, it must be kept strictly limited so that the costs of fighting never outgrow the political value of the goal.

By aligning deterrence with Clausewitz, Brodie elevated it from a temporary military fix to a permanent, morally grounded framework for preserving global order.

The Lingering Legacy of the (Brief) Bipolar Peace

In my analysis, it becomes clear that Bernard Brodie’s contributions were central to preventing the Cold War from turning hot. The stable bipolar order was not an accidental byproduct of technology; it was a constructed intellectual architecture designed by thinkers who walked the world back from the brink of doom.

Brodie’s evolution reflects the journey of an era:

  • Technology and War: He began by studying how technology changes the machinery of war (Sea Power in the Machine Age, and Guide to Naval Strategy).
  • The Bomb and Obsolescence of Total War: He recognized when technology had made total war obsolete (The Absolute Weapon).
  • Escalation: He built the operational guardrails of escalation management (Strategy in the Missile Age and Escalation and the Nuclear Option).
  • He grounded the entire system in the timeless truth that military power must always serve political ends (“Guide to Reading On War“ and War and Politics).

I conclude that while the modern international system has continued its shift away from the bipolarity of the Cold War into a complex, multipolar landscape featuring asymmetric threats and nuclear proliferation, Brodie’s insights remain essential. The challenge of the 21st century mirrors that of 1946: ensuring that human political wisdom stays in control of our terrifying capacity for technological destruction.

My Realist Journey, Part 2: Our Enduring Realist Tradition; 2500+ Years of Constructive Realism.

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Liberty , , , , , ,

In my four-volume The Realist Tradition in International Relations: The Foundations of Western Order, I unpack 2,500+ years of strategic history. To me, “constructive realism” is not a tragic acceptance of endless war, but a tool of heroic idealism—a systematic, philosophical effort by key thinkers across millennia to use power, strategy, and statecraft to actively craft order out of chaos.

My framework is fundamentally the conceptualization, explication and defense of Constructive Realism. By focusing on these states of mind, I attempt to revive the first Waltzian image (the psychological, human, and sub-state level of analysis). I argue that international order is not just an accident of systemic architecture, but a conscious, evolving philosophical product constructed by human actors responding to the changing nature of violence. I structure my exploration chronologically through four distinct eras, using an historic roster of foundational thinkers, military leaders, and strategists to illustrate this concept.

Volume 1: The Classical Foundations (State of Hope)

In the ancient world, where systemic chaos reigned supreme, thinkers laid down the cognitive and linguistic tools needed to conceptualize international order.

  • Thucydides: The ancient Greek historian who chronicled the Peloponnesian War. I  treat him not as a pessimist who famously declared that “the strong do what they can,” but as a constructive pioneer who first mapped out the objective mechanics of the security dilemma, allowing future societies to consciously design balances of power.
  • Socrates & Plato: I highlight the philosophical pivot toward defining justice, structural stability, and the idea of the “Philosopher King.” Plato  epitomizes the constructive realist effort to intellectualize governance, arguing that true political order requires aligning supreme power with supreme wisdom.
  • Aristotle: The father of empirical political science. I also view Aristotle as a pioneering constructive realist who analyzed the anatomy of various state constitutions to determine how practical, balanced, and stable governance could survive internal and external shocks.

Volume 2: The Rise of the Modern State (State of Fear)

Confronting the brutal collapses of regional orders, early-modern theorists sought to build an unshakeable sovereign foundation to protect humanity from its own destructive nature.

  • Niccolò Machiavelli: The Florentine diplomat famous for The Prince. I look past the caricature of Machiavellian ruthlessness to reframe him as a visionary of sovereign creation. Machiavelli’s dream was the journey from a fractured prince’s rule to a stable, enduring republic capable of defending its people through civic virtue and martial readiness.
  • Thomas Hobbes: Dubbed by me as the “Ultimate Constructive Realist.” Hobbes famously described life in the anarchic state of nature as “nasty, brutish, and short” (somewhat like life on the “Island” during the final season of Lost). I note that Hobbes’ response was a masterpiece of constructive statecraft: inventing the Leviathan (the modern state), which trades total individual freedom for collective security under a centralized authority.
  • Frederick the Great: The Prussian king who embodied the transition from theory to practice. I chronicle Frederick’s journey from writing his idealistic critique of Machiavelli (Anti-Machiavel) to ruling as a pragmatic “Philosopher King” who used a highly disciplined military apparatus to stabilize Central European geopolitics.
  • Napoleon Bonaparte: The ultimate catalyst of total war. I view Napoleon’s legacy as the structural shockwave that forced the European continent to graduate from limited Westphalian warfare into industrialized, nationalized conflict, testing the limits of state-built order. Theorists of modern war, Carl.von Clausewitz and Antoine-Henri Jomini serve as the intellectual bridge at the end of Volume 2, dueling over how to impose order onto the chaotic explosion of the Napoleonic Wars.
  • Antoine-Henri Jomini: The Swiss officer and military theorist who sought to reduce the chaotic genius of Napoleon into a reliable, scientific manual. I frame Jomini as an early champion of a highly structured, geometric approach to strategy. To Jomini, war could be mastered through immutable principles—lines of operation, concentration of force, and geometric symmetry. He modernizes constructive realism by codifying these precise rules, so that states could make warfare a predictable, manageable instrument of national policy.
  • Carl von Clausewitz: The Prussian general and philosopher of war whose masterwork, On War, serves as the ultimate counterweight to Jomini. Rather than trying to iron out chaos with geometry, Clausewitz embraced it. He introduced concepts like “friction” (the unexpected things that go wrong in war) and the “fog of war.” I position Clausewitz as a cornerstone of modern constructive realism because he fundamentally reconnects violence back to human order, famously declaring that “war is the continuation of politics by other means.” By subordinating raw military destruction to rational political objectives, Clausewitz provided the conceptual guardrails to prevent war from consuming civilization in the age of total war.

Volume 3: The Nuclear Era and Neorealism (State of Awe)

The advent of the atomic bomb forced 20th-century strategic minds to completely redefine the relationship between state survival and total destruction.

  • Bernard Brodie: Known as “America’s Clausewitz,” Brodie was one of the first to grasp the reality of the nuclear age. I  examine how Brodie brilliantly adapted classical military theory to the absolute weapon, asserting that the primary purpose of the military had fundamentally changed: it was no longer to win wars, but to avert them through deterrence. (My chapter on Brodie in State of Awe later evolved into a separate volume entirely in my States of Mind treatise, becoming State of Doom.)
  • Herman Kahn: The legendary (and provocative) nuclear strategist who wrote On Thermonuclear War. I note Kahn took a “Jominian” (highly calculated, geometric, and systematic) approach to strategic thinking. By boldly “thinking about the unthinkable,” Kahn constructively mapped out scenarios to ensure that even if deterrence failed, escalation could be controlled and civilization could survive (albeit with much denial on the lingering consequences of nuclear fallout and radiation).
  • Kenneth Waltz: The father of structural realism (neorealism), a critique of which began my own realist journey as I sought to reinvigorate the First Image (the individual), and de-emphasize the Third (system level). I focus on Waltz and his peers as the “wizards of automation.” Waltz shifted the lens away from human psychology to system architecture, illustrating how the bipolar structure of the Cold War created an equilibrium that mechanically preserved global stability (until it didn’t!)

Volume 4: The Age of Peoples’ War & Insurgency (State of Siege)

In the contemporary era, the traditional state’s monopoly on violence is challenged by asymmetric, decentralized, and non-Western movements. I highlight that these architects of upheaval are often visionaries constructing alternative political models and sovereign structures.

  • Sun Tzu: The ancient Chinese strategist whose philosophy anchors modern asymmetric conflict. I utilize Sun Tzu to show how strategic order can be achieved by prioritizing deception, subversion, and psychological manipulation over costly, direct state-on-state clashes.
  • Mao Zedong: The architect of modern insurgent warfare. I analyze Mao’s theory of “People’s War,” framing him as a constructive theorist who successfully weaponized marginalized, agrarian populations to overthrow an established political order and forge an alternative state model.
  • Mahatma Gandhi: Pioneering theorist of “People Power.” I explain how Gandhi’s nonviolent resistance (and Gene Sharp’s structural/theoretical interpretation of Gandhi) framework for civilian-based defense are highly strategic, calculated exercises of power designed to dismantle oppressive regimes without the traditional tools of kinetic war.
  • Osama bin Laden: The infamous mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks. I analyze bin Laden through a dark realist lens—not as a nefarious, chaos-inducing terrorist, but as a sub-state strategic actor attempting to challenge the global Westphalian model and build an alternative transnational, faith-based political order through militant jihadism.

My Realist Journey: Looking Back Upon 2,500 Years of Realist Theory as America Turns 250

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Liberty , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Part 1: An American State of Mind

It’s amazing how fast 250 years can go by!

Celebrating America’s 250th anniversary since its momentous Declaration of Independence certainly makes a quarter millennium feel like the blink of an eye. Especially after the triumph of people power brought President Trump back into office in a sweeping indictment of the deep state and its subversion of American values and constitutional principles.

Ultimately, the American experience has been an experiment in achieving a realist vision of the world, and crafting a modern republic built upon the same balanced “trinity of power” (a liberating alignment of the people, the state and the armed forces) that has empowered the Western order since the days of Socrates, Plato and Xenophon.

But to fully grok the universal significance of the American experiment, we must look back not just 250 years, but much farther — to the start of the Western experiment 2,500 years ago!

And it just so happens that I have penned just such a retrospective analysis, originally (before the Cold War ended) called Visions of Order, a three-volume work (Volume 1: State of Hope; Volume 2: State of Fear; and Volume 3: State of Awe); and later, States of Mind, an expanded four-volume work with the added volume, State of Siege, which soon again expanded to include a fifth, sixth and seventh volume, State of Chaos, State of Doom and State of Recovery. 

My original three-volume treatise (Visions of Order) concluded, in State of Awe, with the bipolar Cold War peace, and was penned in the mid-to-late 1980s, coming to completion just as Cold War ended, collapsing the seemingly millennial era of bipolarity (like all such millennial dreams of everlasting order), and with the swiftness of that collapse, unmasking neorealism and most other Cold War IR theories (with notable exceptions like Regime Theory) as brittle ideological dogmas masquerading as theories.

Visions of Order was going to be my dissertation, a rebuttal of Ken Waltz’s neorealism written under Waltz’s apoplectic supervision (he hated it, but at the same time, loved it, but mostly hated it!) His other students were unwilling to stand up to him, and he loved a good debate (as Scott Sagan came to appreciate with their post- Cold War debate on nuclear proliferation). But when the Cold War ended, imploding the now obsolete field of Soviet and East European Studies, and unmasking a whole generation of IR theorists as delusional navel-gazers and Waltzian butt-kissers, I proposed a new subfield in Circumpolar Studies to replace the now-obsolete field of Soviet and East European Studies (itself a fiction of Russian imperialist fantasy), but was laughed at by the pompous defenders of obsolete subfields.

Rather than kick a dead horse, I hopped on my 250cc Honda Rebel motorbike and road up the Alaska Highway to Whitehorse, and from their up the Klondike Highway to Dawson, and from there up the Dempster Highway to Inuvik on the Mackenzie River Delta near the Beaufort Sea Coast, where over the next decade I penned another three-volume treatise on the foundations of international relations, based upon my observations and experiences in the Western Arctic (and which is discussed in the companion to this retrospective theoretical memoir, “My Arctic Journey.”)

Two decades later, as the dust and debris of 9/11 was settling, I pulled out my handwritten draft of my completed, three-volume Visions of Order on spiral bound notebooks, and hired a wonderful typist on Craigslist to digitize the manuscript for me for the Internet era, with the idea of adding new volumes to bring what I was now calling States of Mind up to date (as both tribute to, and defiant mockery of, the nonsensical, and overly ideological, Constructivist school that has colonized the hive mind of academia after neorealism became obsolete with the 1989 fall of the Berlin Wall to people power.)

As my updated expanded treatise approached completion, I decided it was time to publish it. Waltz was still alive, and still beating the dead horse of neorealism, even arguing in The New York Times that an Iranian bomb would be good for world peace. Though too late to become a dissertation under his supervision, he did enthusiastically agree to serve as an external reader, but unfortunately passed away before the public defense, owing to an overly eager junior faculty member insisting on yet another revision to bring the work current with the literature, since I wrote the first draft just before the end of the Cold War, resulting in a year delay that we simply did not have as Waltz’s precarious health deteriorated.

With Waltz no longer with us, I refocused my attention on State of Awe, in tribute to Waltz, and wrote the expanded State of Doom which further evolved into a strategic biography of Bernard Brodie, a contemporary of Waltz’s who did for deterrence and strategic theory what Waltz did for IR theory: wedded it to the existential nuclear challenge of the post-Hiroshima world.

States of Mind further evolved into what ultimately became a seven-volume treatise and I ended up dividing the work in two to ensure the entire work could be published. Praeger Security International agreed to publish the original Visions of Order with the addition of the post-9/11 State of Siege, while Continuum Books agreed to publish State of Doom, State of Chaos, and State of Recovery.

Thus, in 2011, my four-volume, twenty-five century chronicle of realism across the ages (The Realist Tradition in International Relations: The Foundations of Western Order) came to press—the first part of my seven-volume States of Mind project. In it, I present a sweeping and provocative (if I do say so myself!) reinterpretation of realist theory.

Challenging the systems-centric neorealist tradition of structural realism as articulated by Waltz—one of the two most stubborn mentors I’ve ever had, the other being Gene Sharp, another realist thinker of Waltz’s generation who was as unyielding on strategic nonviolence as Waltz was on systemic structure—I frame the evolution of realist thought through the eyes of two-and-a-half millennia of individual realist thinkers and their respective quests to tame the chaos of their times, from the era of city-states and classical empires to global nuclear superpowers, yielding an evolving but strikingly consistent philosophical and theoretical tradition.

I conclude that the foundations of world order are built upon these evolving “states of mind” that correspond to distinct historical eras and their respective technologies, strategies and paradigms of warfare. I organized this framework into four distinct “states of mind,” each examined in its own volume, capturing how political leaders, philosophers, and strategists responded to, and yearned to transcend, the chaos of their times.

Volume 1: State of Hope: Order in the Age of Classical War

  • The Era: Classical Antiquity (tracing back to Thucydides and ancient Greece).
  • The Concept: This state of mind emerges from a baseline of supreme geopolitical chaos. It is a “state of hope” because it represents humanity’s earliest philosophical efforts to conceptualize, predict, and ultimately tame international anarchy. Rather than accepting perpetual vulnerability, classical realism sought the intellectual foundations necessary to construct a predictable, sustainable balance of power out of raw conflict.

Volume 2: State of Fear: Order in the Age of Limited War

  • The Era: The early-modern period through the Enlightenment (and the rise of the Westphalian states system).
  • The Concept: Driven by a collective psychological dread of endless religious and civil bloodbaths (such as the Thirty Years’ War), this state of mind prioritized survival and stability above all else. This collective “fear” directly catalyzed the birth of the modern sovereign nation-state. By monopolizing violence and establishing strict borders, states constrained the scope of conflict, transitioning the world into an era of structured, “limited” warfare governed by clear diplomatic rules.

Volume 3: State of Awe: Order in the Age of Total War

  • The Era: The 20th century through the Cold War (both World Wars and the nuclear age).
  • The Concept: The rise of absolute industrialized warfare and the advent of the atomic bomb shifted humanity into a state of psychological “awe”—a paralyzing realization of our capacity for total self-destruction. Realist strategy during this period evolved to manage unprecedented systemic danger. It gave rise to the philosophy of nuclear deterrence and strategic stability, where order was paradoxically maintained through the terrifying equilibrium of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD).

Volume 4: State of Siege: Order in the Age of Insurgency

  • The Era: The post-Cold War and post-9/11 contemporary world.
  • The Concept: This modern state of mind reflects the fragmentation of the traditional nation-state’s monopoly on security. As globalized networks, tribal factions, and asymmetric actors rose up against Western modernization, states found themselves in a perpetual “state of siege” from within and below. This era shifts the realist focus away from massive, state-on-state clashes toward navigating non-state insurgencies, counter-terrorism, and localized border friction.

The Return of the State of Doom: Drone Strikes, Desperation, and Putin’s Nuclear Temptation

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Liberty , , , , , , , , ,

How Ukraine’s Successfully Waged War of Asymmetric Attrition Could Trigger Russia’s Nuclear Escalation, and Collapse the Western Order.

The skies over Moscow, once an untouchable symbol of Russia’s impenetrable imperial security, have become the Ukraine War’s latest contested territory.

As Ukrainian drones routinely slip past Russian air defenses to strike at the heart of Vladimir Putin’s capital, the psychological, economic and strategic landscape of the war in Ukraine is undergoing a tectonic shift. It is a stunning display of asymmetrical ingenuity and a testament to Ukraine’s unbroken resolve four years into a brutal war.

But for those of us who study the grim calculus of international relations, realist theory, and nuclear strategy, this tactical triumph casts a profound existential shadow. We are edging precariously close to the terrifying reality that Bernard Brodie—the founding father of modern nuclear strategy—recognized at the dawn of the atomic age. We are re-entering a state of doom.

Fifteen years ago, in my 2011 book, State of Doom: Bernard Brodie, The Bomb, and the Birth of the Bipolar World, I explored how the advent of the absolute weapon fundamentally altered the nature of war and statecraft. Brodie famously observed in 1946 that, until the atomic bomb, the chief purpose of a military establishment was to win wars. “From now on,” he wrote, “its chief purpose must be to avert them.” For 80 years, this logic of deterrence has held firm. Nuclear weapons became the ultimate insurance policy against regime collapse and total state defeat, creating a stable, if terrifying, equilibrium among superpowers.

But what happens when that insurance policy is held by an authoritarian leader who launched a war of choice, only to find himself entangled in a humiliating, multi-year quagmire—and suffering more than one million casualties and counting?

As we navigate 2026, the conflict has evolved into a grinding war of attrition that has systematically bled Russian conventional forces. Now, with drones detonating in Moscow, the illusion of Russian invulnerability has been entirely shattered. The war is no longer a distant “special military operation” broadcast safely on state television; it is rattling the windows of the Kremlin.

From a classical realist perspective, a state’s primary imperative is survival. However, in my research on the tribal foundations of world politics, I have often noted that beneath the veneer of the modern Westphalian state, older, primal loyalties dictate behavior—rooted in an unyielding tribalism. Putin’s Russia has increasingly shed the trappings of a modern institutional state, reverting to an insular, tribal autocracy run by the its security elite (the siloviki). For this ruling clan, the survival of the Russian state and the survival of their regime are inextricably linked.

The drone strikes on Moscow are not measured strictly in military terms; they are profound political humiliations. They signal to the Russian elite and the public that Putin cannot protect his own stronghold. In the brutal logic of power politics, humiliation breeds desperation. And when the tribe’s inner-most sanctum is breached, the leadership’s risk calculus can radically change.

This is precisely where the architecture of nuclear deterrence begins to buckle. Deterrence relies on rationality—on the shared understanding that the costs of crossing the nuclear threshold outweigh any conceivable benefit. But rationality is subjective, bound by the specific pressures and fears of the decision-maker. If Putin believes that a conventional defeat in Ukraine, or the steady erosion of his domestic authority brought about by persistent strikes on the Russian homeland, will lead to his downfall, the unthinkable suddenly becomes thinkable. Using the bomb, of which Putin has so many, becomes a viable strategic option when their continued non-use could cause both military defeat and regime collapse.

The immediate fear has never been that Putin will launch a strategic first strike against Washington or London, triggering the near-certainty and totality of Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD). The far more chilling and realistic peril is the use of a non-strategic, or “tactical,” nuclear weapon within the Ukrainian theater. A low-yield detonation—perhaps over a military concentration, an infrastructure hub, or even as a demonstration over the Black Sea—would serve a dual purpose for a desperate autocrat.

First, it would aim to reverse the fortunes of a failing conventional campaign, dramatically persuading Kyiv to compromise via the same unimaginable explosive shock that did the same for the unyielding Emperor of Japan eighty years earlier.

Second, it would test the ultimate resolve of the West. Putin may gamble that while NATO is willing to supply advanced conventional technology to maintain Ukrainian territorial integrity, it is not willing to risk Western capitals for Kyiv. Putin might calculate that a limited nuclear strike would paralyze the Western alliance with the fear of further annihilation.

Western analysts often comfort themselves with the assumption that a nuclear strike would turn Russia into a global pariah, completely alienating its remaining partners. But they may be dangerously wrong. In a fracturing global order, a successful, unpunished tactical nuclear strike could achieve the exact opposite of isolation: it would send a seismic shockwave through the international system, demonstrating that the West is ultimately a paper tiger when confronted by the East’s absolute resolve.

Rather than repelling Beijing, Tehran, or Pyongyang, such an unapologetic display of power might further unite the autocratic world around a newly dominant center of gravity. It could reinvigorate Russia’s diplomatic leadership among revisionist states, positioning Moscow as the ultimate vanguard against Western hegemony.

This is the hidden trapdoor of the current crisis: the very real temptation that nuclear brinkmanship could pay off, rewriting the rules of global governance in favor of autocracy. Hence the temptation for Putin; hence the danger for us.

We are currently witnessing a volatile collision between the paradigms of modern conflict. Asymmetric, unconventional tactics are now colliding with the rigid, devastating power structures of traditional states. Ukraine has brilliantly exposed the hollow core of Russian conventional might, utilizing decentralized, high-tech drone warfare to outmaneuver a lumbering superpower. Yet, in doing so, it has inadvertently increased the utility of Russia’s unconventional, apocalyptic deterrent.

By bringing the pain of war to Moscow, Ukraine is effectively cornering the bear. And a cornered bear, armed with the world’s largest nuclear arsenal, could become the most dangerous actor in the international system.

Recognizing the danger of Putin’s nuclear temptation is not a call for appeasement; it is a prerequisite for survival. For years, the West has walked a geopolitical tightrope: arming Ukraine sufficiently to defend its sovereignty without provoking a Russian nuclear response. The drone strikes on Moscow represent a fraying of that tightrope.

Brodie warned us that the absolute weapon demands an absolute transformation in how we manage conflict. In this renewed state of doom, the ghosts of the Cold War have returned, armed with new anxieties and asymmetric triggers. As waves of drones continue to fly east toward Moscow, the distance between conventional humiliation and nuclear retaliation shrinks by the day.

We must tread ever carefully, for the absolute weapon forgives no miscalculation.

Escaping the Fatalism of the Thucydides Trap: A Manifesto for Constructive Realism

Barry Scott Zellen, PhD Liberty , , , , ,

We’ve long been told by the foreign policy establishment (aka the Blob) that war between great powers is mathematically encoded into the structure of international politics. For generations, the Blob’s dark, deterministic and devoutly bipartisan fatalism has taken root in the corridors of power. Analysts and statesmen have viewed the shifting tectonic plates of global power as an inescapable conveyor belt leading directly toward interstate conflict.

This deep geopolitical anxiety has found its modern vocabulary in the “Thucydides Trap.” The concept, popularized by political scientist Graham Allison, warns that when a rising power threatens to displace an established ruling power, war becomes the historically expected outcome. Scholars constantly point back to the ancient Greek historian Thucydides’ famous assessment that “it was the rise of Athens, and the fear that this inspired in Sparta, that made war inevitable.”

Today’s strategists map this ancient framework onto the contemporary turbulent relationships between established great powers and their ascendant rivals, treating geopolitical friction not as a series of manageable human errors, but as an unalterable, structural law of nature.

However, I reject such systemic and ubiquitous fatalism. Fifteen years ago, my sweeping exploration of the realism (The Realist Tradition in International Relations: The Foundations of Western Order, PSI, 2011) convinced me that we are not helpless prisoners of historical cycles, nor are states passive victims of structural fate. The Thucydides Trap is a psychological prison of our own making, and we possess the agency to break its locks.

To do this, I proposed a framework I call Constructive Realism. This approach reconciles the harsh truths of power politics with the profound reality of human agency. It acknowledges that structural constraints exist, but it refuses to let those constraints dictate our destiny. Leaders can consciously shape their strategic choices, reject the false binary of zero-sum competition, and avoid the devastating cycles of hegemonic war.

The Problem with Structural Fatalism

Traditional realism assumes that the international system is anarchic, states are rational actors seeking survival, and the distribution of material power dictates state behavior. Under this view, when a rising state gains economic and military might, the established power panics. The rising state feels a growing entitlement to prestige and global influence, while the ruling state interprets every single move as an existential threat. A classic security dilemma follows: actions taken by one side to ensure its own security are viewed by the other as active preparations for war.

However, traditional realism commits a critical error by removing human choice and agency from the equation. It reduces complex nations to uniform billiard balls knocking into one another on a table. It implies that regardless of who is in power—whether statesmen are wise, reckless, diplomatic, or deeply paranoid—the structural outcome remains predetermined.

This structural fatalism is inherently dangerous. When leaders fully believe that war is inevitable, their behavior shifts fundamentally. They stop looking for diplomatic off-ramps. They begin to treat compromise as a weakness and dangerous escalation as prudence. The shared belief that a conflict is inevitable becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, and fear, rather than rational calculation, takes the steering wheel of global statecraft.

The Alternative: Constructive Realism

Constructive realism offers a vital corrective to this flaw. It bridges the gap between traditional realism and constructivism. While realism focuses heavily on material power and structural anarchy, constructivism reminds us that international relations are socially constructed. The identities, core interests, and threat perceptions of states are not fixed in stone; they are continuously forged through human interaction, political rhetoric, and strategic choice.

Constructive realism asserts that geopolitical reality is malleable. The international structure sets the stage, but human leaders write the script.

First, consider agency over structure. While structural conditions impose clear constraints, the actual paths nations take are determined by deliberate strategic choices. The transition of power does not mechanically trigger global war. History shows us that peaceful power transitions are entirely possible. Structure did not doom earlier generations to fight, just as structure does not doom us today.

Second, we must actively manage fear. Traditional realism correctly identifies fear as a primary driver of conflict, but it treats fear as an unmanageable constant. Constructive realism focuses on diagnosing and actively managing the psychological drivers of geopolitical insecurity. It requires dominant powers to understand a rising power’s legitimate desire for respect and integration into the global order. Simultaneously, it requires rising powers to recognize and respect the ruling power’s deeply-rooted security concerns.

By addressing these perceptions directly through diplomatic engagement, states can open doors for mutual accommodation. We can maintain a stable balance of power through careful, empathetic diplomacy, rather than relying solely on brute deterrence and military mobilization. (This was, to my great relief, on display during President Trump’s cordial summit with President Xi in Beijing, where the Thucydides Trap was openly discussed by the very world leaders most able to escape it.)

Transcending the Trap

To transcend the Thucydides Trap, emerging and dominant powers must actively construct entirely new narratives of cooperation. For generations, international relations discourse has been overly saturated with zero-sum competition, where the Blob saw every economic policy, technological breakthrough, and diplomatic summit through the distorted lens of an impending cold war. If one side won a trade agreement or a technological race, the other side assumed it had lost vital ground.

Instead, constructive realism demands that we build positive-sum frameworks. There are vast, critical arenas where the ultimate interests of great powers converge, including global economic stability, climate volatility, pandemic prevention, and collaborative management of disruptive technologies such as artificial intelligence. When states anchor their relationships in their shared vulnerabilities, they can agilely rewrite the rules of their engagement.

The Path Forward

The Thucydides Trap is not a law of physics. The rise of Athens and the fear of Sparta did not make war inevitable; the specific choices made by Athenian and Spartan leaders made war seem inevitable. They allowed fear to blind them to alternative paths, choosing pride over prudence, and military mobilization over diplomatic negotiation. Add in a little bit Hellenistic hubris to this volatile mix, and the ruinous path to tragedy came to be perceived as all but inevitable. It wasn’t.

We stand today at a similar historical crossroads; the structural pressures of a shifting global balance of power are real, and they are immense. But they do not hold the pen that writes our future. We do.

By embracing constructive realism, we can acknowledge the realities of power without succumbing to its worst, most destructive impulses. We can recognize that our rivalries are real, but also accept that our survival is shared.

We have the agency to shape our strategic choices. We can manage our fears, rewrite our competitive narratives, and deliberately choose a path of peaceful coexistence. The trap is open, it always has been; it’s up to us to see this, and carefully avoid its grasp.

Some Monday Links

Michalis Trepas Links , , , , ,

John Mearsheimer and the dark origins of realism (The New Statesman)

How Did Asian Countries Vote on the UN’s Ukraine Resolution? (The Diplomat)

Sisyphus’s breaktime (SMBC)

Liberalism in International Relations

Bruno Gonçalves Rosi Liberty, Philosophy , ,

Besides Realism, Liberalism is one of the greatest schools of knowledge in International Relations. Just like Realism, it is not easy to define Liberalism, for liberals come in many shapes and colors. However, I believe we can point to some core characteristics of liberals in International Relations.

One of the difficulties we find when discussing liberalism in International Relations is the same difficulty we have with Liberalism in general. Different from Marxism, for example, Liberalism is a very broad intellectual tradition, with many different thinkers. Sometimes I ask my students “who is the most important Marxist thinker?”. I hope they will answer Marx! And then I ask “who is the most important liberal thinker?”. Besides that, Liberalism went through a major transformation between the 19th and 20th centuries. One of the ways to make a distinction between the old and the new liberalism is to talk of classical liberalism and modern liberalism. Classical liberalism is very similar to what we call conservatism (or even Realism!). Modern Liberalism is often associated with the Democratic Party in the US.

In any case, I believe that the central tenet of liberalism is the defense of liberty. Liberals (especially classical liberals) believe that if individuals are set free from outside constraints, the natural result is progress. In other words, Liberals have great faith in the possibility of change – positive change. This contrasts with the general pessimism of Realists.

In very practical terms, although they agree with Realists that the International System is anarchic, Liberals see more space for cooperation between states towards a more pacific and prosperous World. Where Realists see competition, Liberals see at least the potential for cooperation. One of the ways that states can cooperate with one another is through shared values. These values can be fleshed into international organizations, such as the UN or the WTO.

In sum, liberals agree on a lot with Realists but have much more hope for international cooperation. I must say that I really want them to be right, but think that they are wrong. Realists seem to have a very strong point when they show how much the anarchy in the international system stops greater cooperation. And Liberals themselves are not waiting for a World government that will somehow solve that. I’m not saying that cooperation and progress are impossible or that they are undesirable. I’m just saying that I’m not convinced that they can happen the way Liberal Theory of International Relations describes.

Theories of International Relations: Realism

Bruno Gonçalves Rosi Liberty, Politics , , , , , ,

Someone (I don’t remember who) said that International Relations is the academic discipline of disagreement. Internationalists disagree on mostly everything, beginning by how to view their object of study. With that said, the discipline of International Relations has been historically dominated mostly by two theoretical schools, Realism and Liberalism. Some other minor schools, such as Constructivism and the English School also have significant influence. With that in mind, I believe it might be useful to post something here about the theory of International Relations.

Although the chronology is highly disputed, it can be defended that Realism is the first theory of International Relations, going back to Thucydides in Ancient Greece or to Machiavelli in late medieval/early modern Europe. In any case, Realism is arguably the most influential theory of International Relations, partially for its influence in actual statecraft (in opposition to academic thinking). Realists come in many shapes and colors, but I believe that most of them present some core characteristics:

The first thing that most (or in this case, all) Realists believe in is that the international system is anarchic. Actually, this is something that virtually any student of International Relations believes in, because… it is! When we say that the international system is anarchic, we are not saying that it is a mess or a state of permanent war. In international relations, the definition of anarchy is more simple: it means that there is no formal hierarchy of power between countries. Of course, countries have a clear hierarchy of power, with some being much more powerful than others. However, all countries are formally sovereign and independent. Countries recognize themselves as their ultimate authority. Each one of them.

A second thing that Realists believe is that countries (or in the more technical vocabulary, states) are the main actors of the international relations. Although we can speak of international corporations and international institutions, in the end, the actors that really matter are countries, especially great powers. That is so mainly because they have military capabilities. Coca-Cola may have lots of money, but not an army.

Finally, Realists believe that countries have a relationship of competition. They tend to see each other as potential enemies. Maybe not actual enemies, but certainly potential ones. Because of that, countries have to defend themselves against one another.

There are many more characteristics that we could add to this list, but I believe that these are the essential points of realist thinking in International Relations. Realists call themselves realists because they believe they see reality as it is, not in an idealized manner. I tend to agree. I believe that history proves that unfortunately, International Relations work in a realistic way. And this is something that, I believe, is key for at least many realists, and that is too often misunderstood: realists are not saying that international relations should be this way. They are saying that [sadly] they are this way. If you analyze international relations objectively, you will find out that countries (even the ones you like) and politicians (even the ones you believe are so nice) act in very selfish ways.

Realists are accused of leaving little or no room for change. But is this a fair assessment? I wish! But most other schools of International Relations fail to present plausible ways in which the international system could be improved, leading to more peace and prosperity for all.

Can you spot the most important information in this title?

Brandon Christensen Liberty , , , , , ,

The Diplomat has a piece up with the following title: “Russia’s Sole Aircraft Carrier to Be Fitted With Advanced New Air Defense System.”

The author of the piece goes on to wax poetic about the advanced new air defense system, but that’s not the most important information being conveyed. It’s the fact that Russia – Russia – has a single aircraft carrier.

Here is Popular Mechanics on countries and their aircraft carriers.

From the Comments: The “Strong Defense” argument against libertarian realism

Brandon Christensen Current Events , , , , ,

Dr Delacroix claims to have spotted a weakness in libertarian foreign policy theory (known as “liberal realism” in political science circles):

Millions of registered Republicans (like me) and independents (like younger people close to me) are unable to buy the Libertarian line because they see or sense that it contains a central inconsistency: I want less or much less government, government is crushing me, it’s inimical to freedom, but what I want can only be had within a strongly defended polity. Such a polity usually requires a powerful defense establishment. Such an establishment, in turn undermines the possibility of smaller government.

This type of argument has been repeated ad nauseum in popular discourse and here on the blog, so it is – as Dr Delacroix points out – fair game as far as debunking (over and over again) goes. I have just three things to add.

1. The fact that “millions of registered Republicans” believe in something does not make it true. Millions of registered Republicans also believe that a radical Jewish rabbi came back to life three days after being crucified by the Roman state.

Even if billions of people believed that something false was actually true it would not make the falsehood any less false. Free trade is another great example of this phenomenon. Billions of people falsely believe that free trade is a bad thing, including some very smart people.

2.  Big does not mean strong. In fact, bigness often leads to weakness. This is the point that libertarians have been making for hundreds of years. The US could conceivable cut its defense budget in half while Russia and China could double their defense budgets and the US would still outspend the entire world on defense. A large military is often overstretched and therefore unable or unwilling to respond to threats elsewhere. Libertarians do not advocate for a smaller state because it makes the state weak. Libertarians advocate for a smaller state so that it can perform the few duties ascribed to it (courts and diplomacy/defense) with a ruthless efficiency.

3. A more libertarian foreign policy would be one with a much smaller budget, a much smaller role for the military, and a much more serious role for the military. If a libertarian US were to go to war it would declare that war and fight the enemy until it surrendered completely. I’ve already dealt with this in “Would a libertarian military be more lethal?” and “A cheaper, stronger army?” Dr Delacroix is either arguing from ignorance or he does not read much outside of his preferred circles.

In a society dedicated to the freedom of the individual, war is the last resort in diplomacy. As such, it should viewed with the utmost seriousness and skepticism. Even if millions of people feel otherwise.