And, of course, there is no
guarantee
that the cars will not collide.
Schelling - The Manipulation of Risk
President Johnson,remember,referredtoanineteen-yeartraditionofnon- use; the breaking of that tradition (which grows longer with each passing year) will probably be, especially if it is designed to be, a most stunning event.
It will signal a watershed in mili- tary history, will instantly contradict war plans and military ex- pectations, wilf generate suspense and apprehension, and will probably startle even those who make the decision.
The first post-Nagasaki detonation in combat will probably be evi- dence of a complex and anguished decision, an embarkation on ajourney into a new era of uncertainty.
Even those who propose readier use of nuclear weapons must appreciate that this is so, because of the strong inhibitions they encounter during the dispute.
This is not an event to be squandered on an unworthy mili-
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 116 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT I17
before they were old enough to drive and before automobiles were invented. The earliest instance I have come across, in a race with horse-drawn vehicles, antedates the auto by some time:
The road here led through a gully, and in one part the win- ter flood had broken down part of the road and made a hol-low. Menelaos was driving in the middle of the road, hoping that no one would try to pass too close to his wheel, but Antilochos turned his horses out of the track and followed him a little to one side. This frightened Menelaos, and he shouted at him:
"What reckless driving Antilochos! Hold in your horses. This place is narrow, soon you will have more room to pass. You will foul my car and destroy us both! "
But Antilochos only plied the whip and drove faster than ever, as if he did not hear. They raced about as far as the cast of quoit . . . and then [Menelaos] fell behind: he let the horses go slow himself, for he was afraid that they might all collide in that narrow space and overturn the cars and fall in a struggling heap.
This game of chicken tookplace outside the gates of Troy three thousand years ago. Antilochos won, though Homer says
? tary objective. The first nuclear detonation can convey a mes- sage of utmost seriousness; it may be a unique means of communicationinamomentofunusualgravity. Todegradethe signalinadvance,todepreciatethecurrency,toerodegradually a tradition that might someday be shattered with diplomatic effect, to vulgarize weapons that have acquired a transcendent status, and to demote nuclear weapons to the status of merely efficient artillery, may be to waste an enormous asset of last re- sort. One can probably not, with effect, throw down a gauntlet if he is known to toss his gloves about on every provocation. One may reasonably choose to vulgarize nuclear weapons through a campaign to get people used to them; but to proceed to use them out of expediency, just because they would be tactically advantageous and without regard to whether they
ought to be cheapened, would be shortsighted in the extreme.
Face,Nerve,and Expectations
? Cold war politics have been likened, by Bertrand Russell and others, to the game of "chicken. " This is described as a game in which two teen-age motorists head for each other on a highway - usuallylate at night, with their gangs and girlfriends looking
? -
who does is then called "chicken. "
on
to see which of the two will first swerve aside. The one
The better analogy is with the less frivolous contest of chicken that is played out regularly on streets and highways by people who want their share of the road, or more than their share, or who want to be first through an intersection or at least not kept waiting indefinitely.
"Chicken" is notjust a game played by delinquent teen-agers with their hot-rods in southern California; it is a universal form of adversary engagement. It is played not only in the Berlin air corridor but by Negroes who want to get their children into schools and by whites who want to keep them out; by rivals at a meeting who both raise their voices, each hoping the other will yield the floor to avoid embarrassment; as well as by drivers of both sexes and all ages at all times of day. Children played it
somewhatungenerously
"by trick, not by merit. "
-
-Even the game in its stylized teen-age automobile form is
worth examining. Most noteworthy is that the game virtually disappears if there is no uncertainty, no unpredictability. If the two cars, instead of driving continuously, took turns advancing exactly fifty feet at a time toward each other, a point would be reached when the next move would surely result in collision. Whichever driver has that final turn will not, and need not, drive deliberately into the other. This is no game of nerve. The lady who pushes her child's stroller across an intersection in front of a car that has already come to a dead stop is in no par- ticular danger as long as she sees the driver watching her: even
6 The Iliad, W H D Rouse, trand (Mentor Books, 19501, p 273
? ? ? 118 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT I19
? ? if the driver prefers not to give her the right of way she has the winning tactic and gets no score on nerve. The more instruc- tive automobile form of the game is the one people play as they crowd each other on thehighway,jockey their way through an intersection, or speed up to signal to a pedestrian that he'd better not cross yet. These are the cases in which, like Antil- ochos' chariot, things may get out of control; no one can trust with certainty that someone will have the "last clear chance" to
Another important characteristic is that, though the two play- ers are cast as adversaries, the game is somewhat collaborative. Even in the stylized version in which they straddle the white line, there is at least an advantage in understanding that, when a player does swerve, he will swerve to the right and not to the left! And the players may try to signal each other to try to co- ordinate on a tie; if each can swerve a little, indicating that he will swerve a little more if the other does too, and if their speeds are not too great to allow some bargaining, they may manage to turn at approximately the same time, neither being proved chicken.
They may also collaborate in declining to play the game. This is a little harder. When two rivals are coaxed by their friends to have it out in a fight, they may manage to shrug it off skillfully,
? avert tragedy and will pull back in time.
These various games of chicken- the genuine ones that in-
volve some real unpredictability- have some characteristics that are worth noting. One is that, unlike those sociable games it takes two to play, with chicken it takes two not to play. If you are publicly invited to play chicken and say you would rather not, you have just played.
at stake but reputations, expectations, and precedents. That is, accommodation or obstinacy, boldness or surrender, merely establishes who is an accommodator, who is obstinate or bold, who tends to surrender or what order of precedence is to be observed. A second, not easily distinguished in practice, occurs when something is consciously put at stake (as in a gambling game or trial by ordeal) such as leadership, deference, popularity, some agreed tangible prize, or the outcome of certain issues in dispute. (The duel between David and Goliath, mentioned in the note on page 144, is an example of putting something at stake. ) The third, which might be called the "real" in contrast to the "conventional," is the case in which yielding or withdrawing yields something that the dispute is about, as in road- hogging or military probes: that is, the gains and losses are part of the immediate structure of the contest, not attached by convention nor resulting entirely from expectations established for future events. The process of putting something at
? Second, what is in dispute is usually not the issue of the mo- ment, but everyone's expectations about how a participant will behave in the future. To yield may be to signal that one can be expected to yield; to yield often or continually indicates acknowl- edgment that that is one's role. To yield repeatedly up to some limit and then to say "enough" may guarantee that the first show of obduracy loses the game for both sides. If you can get a rep- utationforbeingreckless,demanding,orunreliable- and appar- ently hot-rods, taxis, and cars with "driving school" license plates sometimes enjoy this advantage- you may find conces-
sions made to you. (The driver of a wide American car on a narrow European street is at less of a disadvantage than a static calculation would indicate. The smaller cars squeeze over to give him room. ) Between these extremes, one can get a reputa- tion for being firm in demanding an appropriate share of the road but not aggressively challenging about the other's half. Un- fortunately, in less stylized games than the highway version, it is often hard to know just where the central or fair or expected division should lie, or even whether there should be any recog- nition of one contestant's claim. 7
7. Analytically there appear to be at least three different motivational structures in a contest of "chicken. " One is the pure "test case," in which nothing is
- stake
? if what is at stake involves third parties- may not be within the control of the participants; nor, in the second and third cases, can future expectations be disassociated (unless, as in momentary road-hogging, the participants are anonymous). So most actual instances are likely to be mixtures. (The same distinctions can be made for tests of endurance rather than risk: wealthy San Franciscans were reported to settle disputes by a "duel" that involved throwing gold coins into the hay, one after the other, until one was ready to quit: and the "potlatch" in both its primitive and its contemporary forms is a contest for status and reputation. ) A fourth and a fifth case may also deserve recognition: the case of sheer play for excitement, which is probably not confined to teen-agers, and the case of "joint ordeal" in which the contest, though nominally between two (or among more than two) contestants, involves no adversary relation between them, and each undergoes a unilateral test or defends his honor independently of the other's.
? ? ? ? ? ? 120 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT
but only if neither comes away looking exclusively responsible for turning down the opportunity. Both players can appreciate a rule that forbids play; if the cops break up the game before it starts, so that nobody plays and nobody is proved chicken, many and perhaps all of the players will consider it a great night, especially if their ultimate willingness to play was not doubted.
In fact, one of the great advantages of international law and custom, or an acknowledged code of ethics, is that a country may be obliged not to engage in some dangerous rivalry when it would actually prefer not to but might otherwise feel obliged to for the sake of its bargaining reputation. The boy who wears glasses and can't see without them cannot fight if he wants to; but if he wants to avoid the fight it is not so obviously for lack of nerve. (Equally good, if he'd prefer not to fight but might feel
obliged to, is to have an adversary who wears glasses. Both can hope that at least one of them is honorably precluded fromjoin- ing the issue. ) One of the values of laws, conventions, or tradi- tions that restrain participation in games of nerve is that they provide a graceful way out. If one's motive for declining is manifestly not lack of nerve, there are no enduring costs in re- fusing to compete.
Since these tests of nerve involve both antagonism and co- operation, an important question is how these two elements should be emphasized. Should we describe the game as one in which the players are adversaries, with a modest admixture of common interest? Or should we describe the players as part- ners, with some temptation toward doublecross?
121
emphasis between the antagonistic and the collaborative mo- tives, a distinction should be made. The distinction is between a game of chicken to which one has been deliberately challenged by an adversary, with a view to proving his superior nerve, and a game of chicken that events, or the activities of bystanders, have compelled one into along with one's adversary. If one is repeatedly challenged, or expected to be, by an opponent who wishestoimpose dominanceortocauseone'salliestoabandon him in disgust, the choice is between an appreciable loss and a fairly aggressive response. If one is repeatedly forced by events into a test of nerve along with an opponent, there is a strong case for developing techniques and understandings for minimiz- ing the mutual risk.
In the live world of international relations it is hard to be sure which kind of crisis it is. The C u b m crisis of October 1962 was about as direct a challenge as one could expect, yet much of the subsequent language of diplomacy and journalism re- ferredtoPremier Khrushchev'sandPresidentKennedy'shaving found themselves together on the brink and in need of states- manship to withdraw together. 8The Budapest uprising of 1956 was as near to the opposite pole as one could expect, neither East norWest havingdeliberatelycreatedthesituationasatest of nerve, and the Soviet response not appearing as a direct test of Western resolve to intervene. Yet expectations about later American or allied behavior were affected by our declining to acknowledge that events had forced us into a test. This appears to have been a case in which the United States had a good ex-
8. "Brinkmanship" has few friends, "chicken" even fewer, and I can see why most people are uneasy about what, in an earlier book, I called "the threat that leaves some- thing to chance. " There is, though, at least one good word to be said for threats that intentionally involve some loss of control or some generation of "crisis. " It is that this kind of threat may be more impersonal, more "external" to the participants; the threat becomes part of the environment rather than a test of will between two adversaries. The adversary may find it easier- less costly in prestige or self-respect- to back away from a risky situation, even if we created the situation, than from a threat that is backed exclusively by our resolve and determination. He can even, in backing away, blame us for irresponsibility, or take credit for saving us both from the consequences. Khrushchev was able to claim, after the Cuban crisis, that he had pulled back
? ? ? ? This question arises in real crises, not just games. Is a Berlin c r i s i s - o r a Cuban crisis, a Quemoy crisis, a Hungarian crisis,
? or a crisis in the Gulf of Tonkin -
mainly bilateral competi- tion in which each side should be motivated mainly toward win-
ning over the other? Or is it a shared danger
a case of both
being pushed to the brink of war -
bearance, collaborative withdrawal, and prudent negotiation should dominate?
It is a matter of emphasis, not alternatives, but in distributing
-
in which statesmanlike for-
? ? ? 122 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT 123
and potent. It would be hard to design a war, involving the forces of East and West on any scale, in which the risk of its getting out of control were not of commensurate importance with the other costs and dangers involved. Limited war, as re- marked earlier, is like fighting in a canoe. A blow hard enough to hurt is in some danger of overturning the canoe. One may stand up to strike a better blow, but if the other yields it may not have been the harder blow that worried him.
How does one get out of playing chicken if he considers it dangerous, degrading, or unprofitable? How would the United States and the Soviet Union, if they both wished to, stop feeling obliged to react to every challenge as if their reputations were continually at stake? How can they stop competing to see who will back down first in a risky encounter?
First, as remarked before, it takes at least two not to play this kind of game. (At least two, because there may be more than two participants and because bystanders have so much influ- ence. ) Second, there is no way in the short run that, by turning over a new leaf, one can cease measuring his adversary by how he reacts to danger, or cease signaling to an adversary one's own intentions and values by how one reacts to danger. Confi- dence has to be developed. Some conventions or traditions must be allowed to grow. Confidence and tradition take time. Stable expectations have to be constructed out of successful experi- ence, not all at once out of intentions.
It would help if each decided not to dare the other again but only to react to challenges. But this will not turn the trick. The definition of who did the challenging will not be the same on both sides. At what point a sequence of actions becomes a deliberate affront is a matter ofjudgment. Challenges thrust on East and West will never be wholly unambiguous as to whether they were created by one side to test the other or to gain at the other's expense. If all challenges were clear as to origin and could only arise by deliberate intent of the adversary, a condi- tional cessation would quiet things once for all. But not all crises are so clear in interpretation. And there is too much at stake for either to sit back and be unresponsive for a period
cuse to remain outside, and chose even to take that position officially.
The Berlin wall is an ambiguous case. The migration of East Germans can be adduced as the impelling event, not a deliber- ate Soviet decision to challengethe allied powers. Yet there was something of a dare both in the way it was done and in its being done at all. The Berlin wall illustrates that someone forced into a game of chicken against his better judgment may, if all goeswell,profitnevertheless. TheU-2incidentof 1960isinter- esting in the wealth of interpretations that can be placed on it; a U S . challenge to Soviet resolve, a Soviet challenge to U. S. resolve, or an autonomous incident creating embarrassment for both sides.
A good illustration of two parties collaborating to avoid being thrust into a test of nerve was the Soviet and American response to the Chinese- Indian crisis of late 1962. It probably helped both sides that they had ready excuses, even good rea- sons, for keeping their coats on. For anyone who does not want to be obliged into a gratuitous contest, just to preserve his reputation and expectations about future behavior, a good ex-
cuse is a great help.
It may seem paradoxical that with today's weapons of speedy
destruction brinkmanship would be so common. Engaging in well-isolated small wars or comparatively safe forms of harass- ment ought to be less unattractive than wrestling on the brink of a big war. But the reason why most contests, military or not, will be contests of nerve is simply that brinkmanship is un- avoidable
from the brink of war, not that he had backed away from President Kennedy. It is prudent to pull out of a risky situation- especially one that threatens everyone- where it might appear weak to pull away from the threatening opponent. If war could have arisen only out of a deliberate decision by President Kennedy, one based on cool resolve, Khrushchev would have been backing away from a resolved American President; but because the risk seemed inherent in the situation, the element of personal challenge was somewhat diluted. In the same way a rally or a protest march carries the threat of an unintended riot; officials may yield in the interest of law and order, finding it easier to submit to the danger of accident or incident than to submit directly to a threat of deliberate violence.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? 124 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
long enough to persuade the other that it can safely relax too. What is at stake is not only the risk of being exploited by one's partner. There is also the risk that the other will genuinely misinterpret how far he is invited to go. If one side yields on a series of issues, when the matters at stake are not critical, it may be difficult to communicate to the other just when a vital issue has been reached. It might be hard to persuade the Soviets, if
the United States yielded on Cuba and then on Puerto Rico, that it would go to war over Key West. No service is done to the other side by behaving in a way that undermines its belief in one'sultimatefirmness. Itmaybesaferinalongruntohewto the center of the road than to yield six inches on successive nights, if one really intends to stop yielding before he is pushed onto the shoulder. It may save both parties a collision.
It is often argued that "face" is a frivolous asset to preserve, and that it is a sign of immaturity that a government can't swal- low its pride and lose face. It is undoubtedly true that false pride often tempts a governme-nt's officials to take irrational risks or to do undignified things to bully some small country that insults them, for example. But there is also the more seri- ous kind of "face," the kind that in modern jargon is known as a country's "image," consisting of other countries' beliefs (their leaders' beliefs, that is) about how the country can be expected to behave. It relates not to a country's "worth" or "status" or even "honor," but to its reputation for action. If the question is raised whether this kind of "face" is worth fighting over, the an- swer is that this kind of face is one of the few things worth fight- ing over. Few parts of the world are intrinsically worth the risk of serious war by themselves, especially when taken slice by
slice, but defending them or running risks to protect them may preserve one's commitments to action in other parts of the world and at later times. "Face" is merely the interdependence of a country's commitments; it is a country's reputation for action,theexpectationsothercountrieshaveaboutitsbehavior. We lost thirty thousand dead in Korea to save face for the United States and the United Nations, not to save South Korea for the South Koreans, and it was undoubtedly worth it. Soviet
THE MANIPULA TION OF RISK 125
expectations about the behavior of the United States are one of the most valuable assets we possess in world affairs.
Still, the value of "face" is not absolute. That preserving face- maintaining others' expectations about one's own behavior- can be worth some cost and risk does not mean that in every instance it is worth the cost or risk of that occasion. In particular, "face" should not be allowed to attach itself to an unworthy enterprise if aclash is inevitable. Like any threat, the commitment of face is costly when it fails. Equally important is to help to decouple an adversary's prestige and reputation from a dispute; if we cannot afford to back down we must hope that he can and, if necessary, help him.
It would be foolish, though, to believe that no country has in- terests in conflict that are worth some risk of war. Some coun- tries' leaders play chicken because they have to, some because of its efficacy. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. " If the main participants wish to stop it, the game can probably be stopped, but not all at once, not without persistence, some luck, and recognition that it will take time.
And, of course, there is no guarantee that the cars will not collide.
? ? ? ?
This is not an event to be squandered on an unworthy mili-
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 116 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT I17
before they were old enough to drive and before automobiles were invented. The earliest instance I have come across, in a race with horse-drawn vehicles, antedates the auto by some time:
The road here led through a gully, and in one part the win- ter flood had broken down part of the road and made a hol-low. Menelaos was driving in the middle of the road, hoping that no one would try to pass too close to his wheel, but Antilochos turned his horses out of the track and followed him a little to one side. This frightened Menelaos, and he shouted at him:
"What reckless driving Antilochos! Hold in your horses. This place is narrow, soon you will have more room to pass. You will foul my car and destroy us both! "
But Antilochos only plied the whip and drove faster than ever, as if he did not hear. They raced about as far as the cast of quoit . . . and then [Menelaos] fell behind: he let the horses go slow himself, for he was afraid that they might all collide in that narrow space and overturn the cars and fall in a struggling heap.
This game of chicken tookplace outside the gates of Troy three thousand years ago. Antilochos won, though Homer says
? tary objective. The first nuclear detonation can convey a mes- sage of utmost seriousness; it may be a unique means of communicationinamomentofunusualgravity. Todegradethe signalinadvance,todepreciatethecurrency,toerodegradually a tradition that might someday be shattered with diplomatic effect, to vulgarize weapons that have acquired a transcendent status, and to demote nuclear weapons to the status of merely efficient artillery, may be to waste an enormous asset of last re- sort. One can probably not, with effect, throw down a gauntlet if he is known to toss his gloves about on every provocation. One may reasonably choose to vulgarize nuclear weapons through a campaign to get people used to them; but to proceed to use them out of expediency, just because they would be tactically advantageous and without regard to whether they
ought to be cheapened, would be shortsighted in the extreme.
Face,Nerve,and Expectations
? Cold war politics have been likened, by Bertrand Russell and others, to the game of "chicken. " This is described as a game in which two teen-age motorists head for each other on a highway - usuallylate at night, with their gangs and girlfriends looking
? -
who does is then called "chicken. "
on
to see which of the two will first swerve aside. The one
The better analogy is with the less frivolous contest of chicken that is played out regularly on streets and highways by people who want their share of the road, or more than their share, or who want to be first through an intersection or at least not kept waiting indefinitely.
"Chicken" is notjust a game played by delinquent teen-agers with their hot-rods in southern California; it is a universal form of adversary engagement. It is played not only in the Berlin air corridor but by Negroes who want to get their children into schools and by whites who want to keep them out; by rivals at a meeting who both raise their voices, each hoping the other will yield the floor to avoid embarrassment; as well as by drivers of both sexes and all ages at all times of day. Children played it
somewhatungenerously
"by trick, not by merit. "
-
-Even the game in its stylized teen-age automobile form is
worth examining. Most noteworthy is that the game virtually disappears if there is no uncertainty, no unpredictability. If the two cars, instead of driving continuously, took turns advancing exactly fifty feet at a time toward each other, a point would be reached when the next move would surely result in collision. Whichever driver has that final turn will not, and need not, drive deliberately into the other. This is no game of nerve. The lady who pushes her child's stroller across an intersection in front of a car that has already come to a dead stop is in no par- ticular danger as long as she sees the driver watching her: even
6 The Iliad, W H D Rouse, trand (Mentor Books, 19501, p 273
? ? ? 118 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT I19
? ? if the driver prefers not to give her the right of way she has the winning tactic and gets no score on nerve. The more instruc- tive automobile form of the game is the one people play as they crowd each other on thehighway,jockey their way through an intersection, or speed up to signal to a pedestrian that he'd better not cross yet. These are the cases in which, like Antil- ochos' chariot, things may get out of control; no one can trust with certainty that someone will have the "last clear chance" to
Another important characteristic is that, though the two play- ers are cast as adversaries, the game is somewhat collaborative. Even in the stylized version in which they straddle the white line, there is at least an advantage in understanding that, when a player does swerve, he will swerve to the right and not to the left! And the players may try to signal each other to try to co- ordinate on a tie; if each can swerve a little, indicating that he will swerve a little more if the other does too, and if their speeds are not too great to allow some bargaining, they may manage to turn at approximately the same time, neither being proved chicken.
They may also collaborate in declining to play the game. This is a little harder. When two rivals are coaxed by their friends to have it out in a fight, they may manage to shrug it off skillfully,
? avert tragedy and will pull back in time.
These various games of chicken- the genuine ones that in-
volve some real unpredictability- have some characteristics that are worth noting. One is that, unlike those sociable games it takes two to play, with chicken it takes two not to play. If you are publicly invited to play chicken and say you would rather not, you have just played.
at stake but reputations, expectations, and precedents. That is, accommodation or obstinacy, boldness or surrender, merely establishes who is an accommodator, who is obstinate or bold, who tends to surrender or what order of precedence is to be observed. A second, not easily distinguished in practice, occurs when something is consciously put at stake (as in a gambling game or trial by ordeal) such as leadership, deference, popularity, some agreed tangible prize, or the outcome of certain issues in dispute. (The duel between David and Goliath, mentioned in the note on page 144, is an example of putting something at stake. ) The third, which might be called the "real" in contrast to the "conventional," is the case in which yielding or withdrawing yields something that the dispute is about, as in road- hogging or military probes: that is, the gains and losses are part of the immediate structure of the contest, not attached by convention nor resulting entirely from expectations established for future events. The process of putting something at
? Second, what is in dispute is usually not the issue of the mo- ment, but everyone's expectations about how a participant will behave in the future. To yield may be to signal that one can be expected to yield; to yield often or continually indicates acknowl- edgment that that is one's role. To yield repeatedly up to some limit and then to say "enough" may guarantee that the first show of obduracy loses the game for both sides. If you can get a rep- utationforbeingreckless,demanding,orunreliable- and appar- ently hot-rods, taxis, and cars with "driving school" license plates sometimes enjoy this advantage- you may find conces-
sions made to you. (The driver of a wide American car on a narrow European street is at less of a disadvantage than a static calculation would indicate. The smaller cars squeeze over to give him room. ) Between these extremes, one can get a reputa- tion for being firm in demanding an appropriate share of the road but not aggressively challenging about the other's half. Un- fortunately, in less stylized games than the highway version, it is often hard to know just where the central or fair or expected division should lie, or even whether there should be any recog- nition of one contestant's claim. 7
7. Analytically there appear to be at least three different motivational structures in a contest of "chicken. " One is the pure "test case," in which nothing is
- stake
? if what is at stake involves third parties- may not be within the control of the participants; nor, in the second and third cases, can future expectations be disassociated (unless, as in momentary road-hogging, the participants are anonymous). So most actual instances are likely to be mixtures. (The same distinctions can be made for tests of endurance rather than risk: wealthy San Franciscans were reported to settle disputes by a "duel" that involved throwing gold coins into the hay, one after the other, until one was ready to quit: and the "potlatch" in both its primitive and its contemporary forms is a contest for status and reputation. ) A fourth and a fifth case may also deserve recognition: the case of sheer play for excitement, which is probably not confined to teen-agers, and the case of "joint ordeal" in which the contest, though nominally between two (or among more than two) contestants, involves no adversary relation between them, and each undergoes a unilateral test or defends his honor independently of the other's.
? ? ? ? ? ? 120 ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE ART OF COMMITMENT
but only if neither comes away looking exclusively responsible for turning down the opportunity. Both players can appreciate a rule that forbids play; if the cops break up the game before it starts, so that nobody plays and nobody is proved chicken, many and perhaps all of the players will consider it a great night, especially if their ultimate willingness to play was not doubted.
In fact, one of the great advantages of international law and custom, or an acknowledged code of ethics, is that a country may be obliged not to engage in some dangerous rivalry when it would actually prefer not to but might otherwise feel obliged to for the sake of its bargaining reputation. The boy who wears glasses and can't see without them cannot fight if he wants to; but if he wants to avoid the fight it is not so obviously for lack of nerve. (Equally good, if he'd prefer not to fight but might feel
obliged to, is to have an adversary who wears glasses. Both can hope that at least one of them is honorably precluded fromjoin- ing the issue. ) One of the values of laws, conventions, or tradi- tions that restrain participation in games of nerve is that they provide a graceful way out. If one's motive for declining is manifestly not lack of nerve, there are no enduring costs in re- fusing to compete.
Since these tests of nerve involve both antagonism and co- operation, an important question is how these two elements should be emphasized. Should we describe the game as one in which the players are adversaries, with a modest admixture of common interest? Or should we describe the players as part- ners, with some temptation toward doublecross?
121
emphasis between the antagonistic and the collaborative mo- tives, a distinction should be made. The distinction is between a game of chicken to which one has been deliberately challenged by an adversary, with a view to proving his superior nerve, and a game of chicken that events, or the activities of bystanders, have compelled one into along with one's adversary. If one is repeatedly challenged, or expected to be, by an opponent who wishestoimpose dominanceortocauseone'salliestoabandon him in disgust, the choice is between an appreciable loss and a fairly aggressive response. If one is repeatedly forced by events into a test of nerve along with an opponent, there is a strong case for developing techniques and understandings for minimiz- ing the mutual risk.
In the live world of international relations it is hard to be sure which kind of crisis it is. The C u b m crisis of October 1962 was about as direct a challenge as one could expect, yet much of the subsequent language of diplomacy and journalism re- ferredtoPremier Khrushchev'sandPresidentKennedy'shaving found themselves together on the brink and in need of states- manship to withdraw together. 8The Budapest uprising of 1956 was as near to the opposite pole as one could expect, neither East norWest havingdeliberatelycreatedthesituationasatest of nerve, and the Soviet response not appearing as a direct test of Western resolve to intervene. Yet expectations about later American or allied behavior were affected by our declining to acknowledge that events had forced us into a test. This appears to have been a case in which the United States had a good ex-
8. "Brinkmanship" has few friends, "chicken" even fewer, and I can see why most people are uneasy about what, in an earlier book, I called "the threat that leaves some- thing to chance. " There is, though, at least one good word to be said for threats that intentionally involve some loss of control or some generation of "crisis. " It is that this kind of threat may be more impersonal, more "external" to the participants; the threat becomes part of the environment rather than a test of will between two adversaries. The adversary may find it easier- less costly in prestige or self-respect- to back away from a risky situation, even if we created the situation, than from a threat that is backed exclusively by our resolve and determination. He can even, in backing away, blame us for irresponsibility, or take credit for saving us both from the consequences. Khrushchev was able to claim, after the Cuban crisis, that he had pulled back
? ? ? ? This question arises in real crises, not just games. Is a Berlin c r i s i s - o r a Cuban crisis, a Quemoy crisis, a Hungarian crisis,
? or a crisis in the Gulf of Tonkin -
mainly bilateral competi- tion in which each side should be motivated mainly toward win-
ning over the other? Or is it a shared danger
a case of both
being pushed to the brink of war -
bearance, collaborative withdrawal, and prudent negotiation should dominate?
It is a matter of emphasis, not alternatives, but in distributing
-
in which statesmanlike for-
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THE ART OF COMMITMENT 123
and potent. It would be hard to design a war, involving the forces of East and West on any scale, in which the risk of its getting out of control were not of commensurate importance with the other costs and dangers involved. Limited war, as re- marked earlier, is like fighting in a canoe. A blow hard enough to hurt is in some danger of overturning the canoe. One may stand up to strike a better blow, but if the other yields it may not have been the harder blow that worried him.
How does one get out of playing chicken if he considers it dangerous, degrading, or unprofitable? How would the United States and the Soviet Union, if they both wished to, stop feeling obliged to react to every challenge as if their reputations were continually at stake? How can they stop competing to see who will back down first in a risky encounter?
First, as remarked before, it takes at least two not to play this kind of game. (At least two, because there may be more than two participants and because bystanders have so much influ- ence. ) Second, there is no way in the short run that, by turning over a new leaf, one can cease measuring his adversary by how he reacts to danger, or cease signaling to an adversary one's own intentions and values by how one reacts to danger. Confi- dence has to be developed. Some conventions or traditions must be allowed to grow. Confidence and tradition take time. Stable expectations have to be constructed out of successful experi- ence, not all at once out of intentions.
It would help if each decided not to dare the other again but only to react to challenges. But this will not turn the trick. The definition of who did the challenging will not be the same on both sides. At what point a sequence of actions becomes a deliberate affront is a matter ofjudgment. Challenges thrust on East and West will never be wholly unambiguous as to whether they were created by one side to test the other or to gain at the other's expense. If all challenges were clear as to origin and could only arise by deliberate intent of the adversary, a condi- tional cessation would quiet things once for all. But not all crises are so clear in interpretation. And there is too much at stake for either to sit back and be unresponsive for a period
cuse to remain outside, and chose even to take that position officially.
The Berlin wall is an ambiguous case. The migration of East Germans can be adduced as the impelling event, not a deliber- ate Soviet decision to challengethe allied powers. Yet there was something of a dare both in the way it was done and in its being done at all. The Berlin wall illustrates that someone forced into a game of chicken against his better judgment may, if all goeswell,profitnevertheless. TheU-2incidentof 1960isinter- esting in the wealth of interpretations that can be placed on it; a U S . challenge to Soviet resolve, a Soviet challenge to U. S. resolve, or an autonomous incident creating embarrassment for both sides.
A good illustration of two parties collaborating to avoid being thrust into a test of nerve was the Soviet and American response to the Chinese- Indian crisis of late 1962. It probably helped both sides that they had ready excuses, even good rea- sons, for keeping their coats on. For anyone who does not want to be obliged into a gratuitous contest, just to preserve his reputation and expectations about future behavior, a good ex-
cuse is a great help.
It may seem paradoxical that with today's weapons of speedy
destruction brinkmanship would be so common. Engaging in well-isolated small wars or comparatively safe forms of harass- ment ought to be less unattractive than wrestling on the brink of a big war. But the reason why most contests, military or not, will be contests of nerve is simply that brinkmanship is un- avoidable
from the brink of war, not that he had backed away from President Kennedy. It is prudent to pull out of a risky situation- especially one that threatens everyone- where it might appear weak to pull away from the threatening opponent. If war could have arisen only out of a deliberate decision by President Kennedy, one based on cool resolve, Khrushchev would have been backing away from a resolved American President; but because the risk seemed inherent in the situation, the element of personal challenge was somewhat diluted. In the same way a rally or a protest march carries the threat of an unintended riot; officials may yield in the interest of law and order, finding it easier to submit to the danger of accident or incident than to submit directly to a threat of deliberate violence.
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long enough to persuade the other that it can safely relax too. What is at stake is not only the risk of being exploited by one's partner. There is also the risk that the other will genuinely misinterpret how far he is invited to go. If one side yields on a series of issues, when the matters at stake are not critical, it may be difficult to communicate to the other just when a vital issue has been reached. It might be hard to persuade the Soviets, if
the United States yielded on Cuba and then on Puerto Rico, that it would go to war over Key West. No service is done to the other side by behaving in a way that undermines its belief in one'sultimatefirmness. Itmaybesaferinalongruntohewto the center of the road than to yield six inches on successive nights, if one really intends to stop yielding before he is pushed onto the shoulder. It may save both parties a collision.
It is often argued that "face" is a frivolous asset to preserve, and that it is a sign of immaturity that a government can't swal- low its pride and lose face. It is undoubtedly true that false pride often tempts a governme-nt's officials to take irrational risks or to do undignified things to bully some small country that insults them, for example. But there is also the more seri- ous kind of "face," the kind that in modern jargon is known as a country's "image," consisting of other countries' beliefs (their leaders' beliefs, that is) about how the country can be expected to behave. It relates not to a country's "worth" or "status" or even "honor," but to its reputation for action. If the question is raised whether this kind of "face" is worth fighting over, the an- swer is that this kind of face is one of the few things worth fight- ing over. Few parts of the world are intrinsically worth the risk of serious war by themselves, especially when taken slice by
slice, but defending them or running risks to protect them may preserve one's commitments to action in other parts of the world and at later times. "Face" is merely the interdependence of a country's commitments; it is a country's reputation for action,theexpectationsothercountrieshaveaboutitsbehavior. We lost thirty thousand dead in Korea to save face for the United States and the United Nations, not to save South Korea for the South Koreans, and it was undoubtedly worth it. Soviet
THE MANIPULA TION OF RISK 125
expectations about the behavior of the United States are one of the most valuable assets we possess in world affairs.
Still, the value of "face" is not absolute. That preserving face- maintaining others' expectations about one's own behavior- can be worth some cost and risk does not mean that in every instance it is worth the cost or risk of that occasion. In particular, "face" should not be allowed to attach itself to an unworthy enterprise if aclash is inevitable. Like any threat, the commitment of face is costly when it fails. Equally important is to help to decouple an adversary's prestige and reputation from a dispute; if we cannot afford to back down we must hope that he can and, if necessary, help him.
It would be foolish, though, to believe that no country has in- terests in conflict that are worth some risk of war. Some coun- tries' leaders play chicken because they have to, some because of its efficacy. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. " If the main participants wish to stop it, the game can probably be stopped, but not all at once, not without persistence, some luck, and recognition that it will take time.
And, of course, there is no guarantee that the cars will not collide.
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