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The Screaming Twenties: How Elite Overproduction May Lead to a Decade of Discord in the United States

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Fighting was common in Congress in the Antebellum United States. Congressmen frequently brawled and dueled one another, and some openly carried knives and pistols.
Photo Credit: US Library of Congress

One of the great stories about the United States in recent years has been the rise of political polarisation and instability. Though the growing strife at the heart of the nation has been in the making for decades, the last year alone has seen the Covid Crisis, the death of George Floyd and the subsequent Black Lives Matter movement, as well as an election process that climaxed with the storming of the U.S Capitol Building. To any observer, it is apparent that these events have continued to exacerbate cleavages in American political life, and it seems that such divides will not be bridged anytime soon. The great fear is that US in the 21st Century may be facing a period of political instability, competing radical ideologies and ever-widening inequality. The last century in the US saw a post-World War One resurgence in the Roaring of the 1920s- will the 2020s in contrast see us dragged Screaming through the decade?

The United States is not alone in facing this problem. France has faced nationwide protests since 2018 with the gilets jaune movement, whilst the United Kingdom faced political paralysis and partisan infighting with the Brexit referendum (while Northern Ireland faced some of the worst riots its seen in years in part due to the Irish Sea Border). Many hypotheses have been put forward about the source of the discontent that has been rising in the United States and the rest of the Western world. Yet no theorisation, I believe, can claim to be as unique or intriguing as that of elite overproduction, and there is reason to believe that the 2020s will continue to see increasing political instability because of it.

Peter Turchin, whose work has been gaining increased recognition as of late, uses Structural Demographic Theory alongside a way of studying the long-term dynamics that create conditions for political stability, and in turn, political disintegration, and uses this to analyse history. Turchin proposes that all structural-demographic variables that influence the (in)stability of a given society are encompassed within three forces: the population, the state, and the elites (with each of these categories subject to change in response to structural shifts).

The main components of Structural-Demographic Theory. Photo Credit: Peter Turchin

Though there is more to this theory that can be outlined here (if interested, Turchin’s Ages of Discord and blog come highly recommended), what is perhaps most compelling are the dynamics of intra-elite warfare, caused by what Turchin dubs elite overproduction.

Who are the elites? It is not just the capitalist class as such, but also lawyers, professionals, journalists, and cultural figures. These are the most highly vaunted positions within society that aspiring elites seek to enter in order to move up the social ladder. Yet what happens when the numbers of the elite and those who wish to enter the elite classes become too high for the society to adequately accommodate? This is what is known as elite overproduction.

When there is an oversupply of elites and elite aspirants, this creates the conditions for elite overproduction. Elite overproduction is usually created and influenced by factors such as labour oversupply which leads to increased competition for resources and jobs), popular immiseration, and declining living standards thus further swelling the ranks of elite aspirants seeking to work their way into the elite classes in order to secure a future for themselves, as well as the revenues of the state and its ability to absorb these candidates. The result of these factors can be an increasingly large class of elite aspirants who find themselves spurned, a government and society that hasn’t the capacity to absorb them, as well as an elite class that benefits from these conditions and will often go to great lengths to protect their position.

Elite Overproduction mapped against popular well-being in the US. Image Credit: Peter Turchin

So where can we see elite overproduction? Turchin uses the case of Law graduates in the United States, as well as US wealth inequality as measurements of this phenomenon. Law happens to be one of the most popular degrees chosen by those wishing to enter politics, and is seen by aspiring elites as a way to attain professional prestige. Yet the value of a Law degree is relative and is not above the laws of supply and demand. Of those graduating in 2015, only 63% of law graduates entered jobs that required the bar, and as of July 2020, those who majored in Criminal Justice had an underemployment rate of 73% ( meaning they are working jobs that don’t utilise their skills and are unable to work the hours they’d wish to).

Whilst it is certainly true that not all those that graduate in Law intend to practice it, there is a great deal of evidence to suggest that a large surplus of Law graduates is created in the U.S every year- a problem that is only compounded by the large student debt that they are left with, as well as the high hopes that many had for themselves. And this is only looking at Law graduates in the US. In the UK for example, nearly one-third of graduates were underemployed pre-Covid, and this likely to be much higher in the near future with the added complications of the Covid Crisis and the recession that followed it. When this is combined with declining living standards and anemic economic growth, you will see the creation of a class of embittered and scorned counter-elites, who hopes to join the elite classes has transmuted into resentment against them. It was understanding this frustration that led to the rise of politicians like Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn, who capitalised on the anger of many elite aspirants in the U.S and the U.K respectively.

Yet elite overproduction is not just about the elite rejects per se, but also about conflict amongst the elites themselves. It is no secret that wealth inequality has been on the increase for decades, leading to vast wealth gains not only amongst the economic hyper-elite, but also creating a proliferation in the number of millionaires within the US. What is perhaps less well understood is the effect this has on inter-elite dynamics. Wealthier citizens are typically more politically engaged than the rest of the populace and may even run for office themselves. Yet the supply of political offices to pursue within the United States has largely remained flat. For example, the number of congressional seats has remained at 435 since 1913, whilst the supply of those seeking political influence and potential candidates only continues to rise. Elite overproduction can therefore even lead to a kind of elite class warfare, where the elites who feel themselves to left out of power and influence begin to fight those who they see as standing in their way, and the elite class itself begins to fracture under such conditions.

So how do elites react to these circumstances, and how does it lead to further political destabilisation? Turchin argues that there are essentially three cardinal sins that the elites often make in these conditions. Firstly, when there is a labour oversupply, the elite classes stand to benefit most from this as they are frequently the beneficiaries of cheaper labour and may even promote mass immigration for this very reason, and thus inequality begins to sky-rocket. Secondly, in an attempt to make their own positions more secure, they raise the bar to elite entry, kicking the ladder away from their would-be competitors and securing not only their own position but also that of their offspring, who will benefit from their built-up economic and social resources and stand a better chance of circumventing the obstacles they have raised. Lastly, the top earners of the society will often do anything to resist taxation and to maintain their own wealth at the expense of public spending – which leads to a dysfunctional and indebted state that people begin to lose faith in and respect for. Fundamentally, these elites stand to gain from the status quo, and many of them would rather defend their privileges than reform the system for the betterment of their country. This is a failing that does not go unnoticed. As Turchin writes, ‘Such selfish elites lead the way to revolutions’.

So what happens when the established elites and the counter-elites (both the spurned elite-aspirants as well as the excluded, competing elites) clash?. The elites who seek to maintain their own positions end up fighting amongst themselves over power and begin to fragment as a result, and they also face the embittered counter-elites that seek reform (and even revenge). The resulting situation is an increasingly unstable society in which the elites themselves attempt to hold onto their privileges at all costs against their competitors, whilst the counter-elites, who view themselves as having been betrayed by the status quo, fight to change this situation and seek the recruit some of the aggrieved population to join their cause. The political situation in such a society sees a breakdown in cooperation in the elite classes as they squabble over power, the breaking of acceptable norms as the fighting becomes more vicious, and an increasing amount of political instability and violence. With the events of 2020 still fresh in our memories, one cannot help but see some truth in this analysis. But what is concerning is that, as seen in the graphs above, is that the events of 2020 may not, in fact, be an aberration. Instead, 2020 may be a particularly memorable representative of a wider trend. As popular immiseration only deepens, as government debt only increases, and as elite overproduction shows no meaningful signs of slowing down, 2020 may have only been a warm-up for what is coming next.

So, what does this mean for the next decade? Though there seems to have been some stability restored to American politics with the election of Joe Biden, one would have to be very optimistic that the political polarisation and increasing levels of violence and protest in the United States are gone for good. Some 45% of Republicans according to one poll actually supported the actions of the Capitol Hill rioters, and some 68% didn’t consider it a threat to democracy- a worrying sign that extreme action is becoming increasingly acceptable in some quarters of American politics. Though the Democratic party controls both legislative chambers in Congress, their majorities are slim, and will likely require a great deal of political skill from Joe Biden to pass even the most modest legislation, never mind offering up bold solutions to America’s woes. It is highly unlikely that the increasing levels of polarisation and instability that 2020 seemed to typify are going anywhere anytime soon.

What the work done by Turchin seems to suggest is that the next decade is likely going to see an exacerbation of the trends that led America down its path to instability, and the 2020s may well be a decade of discord for the U.S. The real question at this point is not a case of whether unrest and instability will unfold, but rather how serious will it get? If reform is not taken and cooperation continues to break down among the elites, the next decade may be Screaming rather than Roaring. Though it is not impossible for these trends to be effectively challenged and reversed, it would require a certain degree of unity and purpose amongst American elites to take the necessary actions, and it is this unity and leadership that America has been sorely lacking. Perhaps an understanding of just how dangerous the situation is and may become could change this. Time will tell.

If America is back, the EU must look forward

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Rock Cohen / NATO EUFOR ceremony 31-MARCH-2003 / Licensed under Creative Commons

The role of military force as a deterrent necessitates a forward-looking strategy that breaks free from the logic of legislating for the last crisis.

‘America is back’.

Joe Biden’s tweet on November 24th was meant to symbolise a return to the multilateral system - with the US in the driving seat - on issues ranging from climate change to defence cooperation. The sentiment was hammered home by his speech at the Munich Security Conference, touting the commitment of the US to the western alliance system. His most recent actions - notably signalling a willingness to enter negotiations with Iran brokered by the EU - support the idea of a normalisation of the transatlantic relationship, not least through a diplomatic charm offensive coinciding with the G7 summit.

However, despite the defeat of Trump, the transatlantic military relationship is beset by the legacy of four years of tense relations and is undermined by scepticism about the usefulness of NATO in the 21st century. Media narratives surrounding the willingness of the USA to go to war over the territorial integrity of far-flung countries like Latvia are symbolic of a loss of trust in the ability of NATO to deter military aggression. This is only amplified by long-standing demands for Europeans to shoulder the burden by spending 2% of GDP on defence and Macron’s comments about NATO’s ‘brain death’.

With a resurgent Russia and ascending China, navigating the current global order requires greater transatlantic cooperation - perhaps more than ever before. Yet, the west’s response to threats ranging from increasing Chinese assertiveness in the South China Sea to Russian aggression in Ukraine and disinformation campaigns throughout Europe risks being stunted by divisions stemming from a security architecture built for the Cold War.

An EU Army?

One way to strengthen European military capacity and potentially rekindle transatlantic cooperation is to create an EU army within NATO structures; a proposal spearheaded by (amongst others) the liberals in the European Parliament and echoed by the Commission’s calls for ‘Strategic Autonomy’.

On the one hand, it would be a way to ensure that the 162 billion euros spent by EU members on defence are invested in a more efficient way. Integrating R&D, procurement and command structures would augment operational capacity whilst lowering the cost per capita. Increased military effectiveness, in turn, enables greater engagement with the USA, lowering the tension surrounding the 2% target.

On the other hand, a European army would encourage the USA to come to the defence of all EU member states, no matter how small, much like other NATO members would come to the defence of an invasion of Alaska. The need for such concrete deterrence vis-à-vis Russia is augmented by the US ‘Pivot to Asia’, formulated by Barack Obama and continued by Biden. The focus on containing an increasingly aggressive China has relegated the European theatre from the US perspective as domestic political attention embraces the narrative of a second Cold War. Importantly, integrating European defence policy would enable greater power projection in contested Asian regions such as the Indo-Pacific.

Despite a broad consensus on the need for a more integrated European defence policy, notably in France and Germany, concrete progress remains a pipe dream held by European federalists in university classrooms. So far, the EU Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) has a narrow mandate with a focus on joint humanitarian, peace-keeping and rescue missions. Meanwhile, the activation of Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO) in 2017, intended to develop combat-ready European task forces, has been stunted by an inability of Member States to agree on operation parameters due to different risk-appetites and concerns over deployment cost.

So far this may all sound reasonable enough. But why hasn’t it happened until now? What makes cooperation on defence policy so difficult?

Institutional Inertia

One reason for piecemeal EU defence integration is the unanimity requirement for any decision-making in the European Council on related matters. By endowing each of the 27 Member States with an effective veto, policy formulation becomes bogged down in a ‘Joint Decision Trap’ as formulated by Fritz Scharpf. If each decision requires unanimous agreement, the set of outcomes everyone can agree to become small and often non-existent. The result is slow, fractured progress, with many of the benefits of defence integration being watered down by proposals for ‘two-speed’ integration.

Moving away from unanimity by instituting qualified majority voting, whereby at least 55% of Member States representing 66% of the EU’s population can make decisions on behalf of the EU, would be a way to overcome the gridlock. However, such a move would require treaty change which is itself subject to unanimity, enabling fears held by smaller member states about encroachments on national sovereignty to stall reform.

‘Never Waste a Crisis’

Yet despite being beset by institutional inertia, European integration has powered forward in other policy areas, notably monetary and fiscal. One explanation given by scholars highlights the role of crises in forcing decisive action.

An example is the Euro Area sovereign debt crisis, which led to the creation of the European Banking Authority. The role of banks and the European financial system in the Euro crisis necessitated a watchdog that monitored financial institutions on a European level to identify systemic risks before they become critical. The threat of Spanish default forced the German chancellor Merkel to agree to the establishment of such an institution despite long-standing opposition on the grounds of creating moral hazard.

Similarly, the coronavirus pandemic forced previously ‘hawkish’ northern EU Member States to u-turn and agree to the issuance of debt on an EU-level, a huge step towards the creation of a true fiscal union. Fears over a renewed sovereign debt crisis meant that the costs of inaction grew dramatically, shifting veto points and leading to consensus. The increased costs of inaction even led politicians to ignore hostile public opinion, as shown by Germany’s willingness to support Eurobonds despite 65% of the public being opposing the idea.

But is betting on a ‘Europe forged in crisis’, as prophesied by Jean Monnet, a feasible approach for defence integration?

A Defence Crisis

The kind of ‘reactive’ policy-making which may work in economic policy areas - where an already-integrated EU can tweak existing institutions to soothe markets - would not work to react to the type of crisis severe enough to shift veto positions on defence policy.

Firstly, because crises in the defence field are often existential - picture a military invasion of Latvia - waiting for such a crisis to shift positions in favour of an EU army would be ineffective. The role of military force as a deterrent necessitates a forward-looking strategy that breaks free from the logic of legislating for the last crisis.

Even if the nature of military confrontation has changed (as many argue), the type of hybrid warfare pursued by Russia does not shift veto positions sufficiently to inspire substantial reform. Incremental disinformation campaigns, political interference and false flag attacks wrapped up in plausible deniability make any decisive attribution of blame difficult. When compared to the furious reactions to Greek default during the Euro crisis, European responses to Russian activities in Ukraine or Estonia do not even register.

The nature of modern, hybrid military conflicts makes policymaking on the back of a sense of urgency difficult. The fact that the invasion of Ukraine, support of far-right parties throughout Europe and targeted disinformation campaigns seeking to undermine trust in democratic institutions has not led to substantial progress on defence integration speaks for itself.

Member States have an obligation to look beyond the political business cycle to kickstart the long process towards European military integration. A starting point could be developing an ERASMUS scheme for soldiers during training whilst lowering barriers to joint battle group deployment. The French-led operation ‘Barkhani’, aiming to support the government of Mali in fighting Islamist militants, is a promising first step. The time for pre-emptive policymaking is now - by the time the costs of inaction become high enough, it could already be too late.

Sino-ASEAN relations: a marriage in crisis?

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The 18th ASEAN-China Summit in Kuala Lumpur, November 2015 , Licensed via Creative Commons

The partnership between China and ASEAN countries has seen its ups and downs.

The period between 2003 and 2013 was hailed as a “Golden Decade” of Sino-ASEAN relations, where the two parties built political trust and strong economic ties. Concurrently, the decade between 2014 and 2024 was optimistically introduced as the “Diamond Decade”, with ambitions to further promote partnership and friendship between the two. However, events did not proceed as either had hoped. Instead, during the so-called Diamond Decade, the once prosperous relationship has become a rocky marriage. Geographical neighbors with an ongoing territorial dispute in the South China Sea, China and ASEAN nations have recently grown mutually suspicious and, after the harmony of the Golden Decade, the Diamond Decade seems to have ended in a vicious cycle of distrust.

Dialogue between ASEAN and China began in 1991. By 2002 the two began to work towards a free trade agreement. Eventually established in 2010, today the ASEAN-China Free Trade Area (ACFTA) is the world’s largest FTA by population, and the third largest by economic size, after the North American Free-Trade Area (USMCA) and the European Union (EU). China and ASEAN countries have also proved highly complementary in energy cooperation, with ASEAN countries richness in natural resources met by China’s insatiable demand for enormous amounts of energy to power its economic machine. Indonesia, Malaysia, and Brunei are abundant in oil and gas, while Vietnam, Laos and Myanmar boast hydropower resources. China National Offshore Oil Corporation (CNOOC), China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC), and Sinopec, have participated in oil and gas production since the 1990s in countries like Indonesia, from land and shallow water to deep sea. Thus, where ASEAN countries lack proper infrastructure, China provides oil and gas exploration technology.

Unfortunately for both sides, economic cooperation is not enough to tie together a geopolitical relationship. Over recent years, having become the dominant regional power, China has implemented a “Push and Pull Strategy” towards ASEAN countries. Through the territorial disputes in the South China Sea, China “pushes” and advances its position at the expenses of ASEAN interests, displaying growing assertiveness. While, on the other side, China “pulls” ASEAN countries towards its orbit, using massive development projects such as the Belt and Road Initiative. Thus, in the eyes of ASEAN countries, Beijing today represents an emerging threat while remaining a key trading partner – a source of opportunities, and a source of challenges. The union between China and ASEAN countries continues, yet in the Diamond Decade the spectre of doubt starts to creep in.

The US Navy, US Coast Guard, Royal Malaysian Navy, and Malaysian Maritime Enforcement Agency are sailing side-by-side in the Strait of Malacca. Photo Credit: US Pacific Fleet, licensed via Creative Commons

The intervention of major powers in the region has added a new layer of complexity to the situation, dividing the region even further. The Quadrilateral Security Dialogue, also known as the Quad, has recently been revitalized, as anti-Chinese sentiments have hardened not only in the United States, but also in Australia, India, and Japan. Additionally, the navies of France, Germany, UK, and the Netherlands are deploying naval forces to the South China Sea to support Quad activity. Recently, the warships of India, Japan, Australia and the US have been exercising near the Strait of Malacca, which is a key waterway for Beijing, with 80% of its oil supply passing through it. If tensions in the region were to escalate, this narrow passage could be strangled by China’s rivals, affecting Beijing’s energy security, a possibility that former Chinese President Hu Jintao branded the “Malacca Dilemma”. In order to reduce its dependence on the Strait, today China is searching for new land routes for its energy imports, especially through its Belt and Road Initiative. To achieve this, Beijing has turned to ASEAN countries, planning huge investments in Southeast Asian infrastructure. Myanmar, for example, will host the China-Myanmar Economic Corridor (CMEC), a section of the Belt and Road Initiative that is intended to connect the oil trade from the Indian Ocean to China via Myanmar, thus reducing Chinese dependence on the Strait of Malacca.

“Don’t force us to choose”, ASEAN countries have repeatedly asked. Unfortunately, as US-China tensions flare up time and again, neutrality doesn’t seem a viable option. The bloc seems to follow an ambivalent policy. Some of the 10 member states, like Cambodia, Laos, and the Philippines, opted to stay in the Chinese orbit, hungry for economic gains. Others, like Vietnam and Singapore, appear more interested in Western protection against a rising China, and tend to align with Washington. Although these positions are likely to shift over time, the only certainty is that ASEAN is now trapped in the middle of a power struggle. However, there might be a way for Southeast Asian countries to escape the trap. ASEAN nations could choose to collaborate with middle powers such as Australia and Japan, thus creating middle-power agency and reducing the need of a binary choice between the US and China. They could therefore keep their security ties with the US, while at the same time maintaining their economic relations with China.

ASEAN originally emerged as a response to the tensions of the Cold War, when a confrontation between capitalism and communism could threaten the balance of the newly independent states of Southeast Asia. Quite ironically, today the ASEAN region, and the South China Sea in particular, are again becoming a proxy for great power competition. This could split ASEAN countries along different ideological lines once again, just as happened during the first Cold War. Trapped in the power struggle of the 21st century, they now find themselves walking a tightrope. Unlike the Golden Decade, the Diamond decade seems to be one of uncertainty, where the union between China and ASEAN nations is increasingly vulnerable to the forces of geopolitics.

Challenges to the Rule of Law in Times of Crisis Series: America strikes again - Thoughts on Biden’s first military airstrike in Syria

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A U.S. Air Force B-1B Lancer flies over northern Iraq after conducting air strikes in Syria against ISIL targets. Photo Credit: US Department of Defense, Public Domain.

This article is part of our series on Challenges to the Rule of Law in Times of Crisis. Read the series introduction at this link.

America is back in business, and a significant part of its stock in trade is the use of military force. Syria knows as much after being hit by two consecutive administrations in the past four years. Whatever differences Donald Trump and Joe Biden may have in style, demeanour, rhetoric, and politics, when it comes to the use of force their international record so far looks very similar.

Although the US is not formally engaged in an international armed conflict with the state of Syria, over the last years it has deployed military personnel on Syrian territory to stave off the threat of ISIS, and reportedly also to provide a geopolitical counterweight against Russian presence in the region. Moreover, the US has carried out military airstrikes on Syrian territory, most notably in 2017, again in 2018 alongside European allies, and recently on 25 February 2021. Ironically, Trump’s strikes against the Syrian government in 2017 and 2018 were prompted by an ostensible humanitarian rhetoric that is absent in Biden’s justification for his recent decision to strike Iran-backed non-governmental militias operating in Syria.

Indeed, among other grounds such as self-defence and an alleged mandate by the international community, four years ago Trump famously invoked humanitarian concerns in light of the shock produced by the Syrian government’s use of chemical weapons against its own population. Conversely, no chemical weapons were involved this time, and Biden steered clear of such humanitarian rhetoric and stuck to the traditional right of self-defence under the UN Charter to address attacks against US and its allies in Iraq.

This recent strike has been met with immediate condemnation by international law experts, mainly on the grounds that the right of self-defence must be exercised – always in a necessary and proportionate manner – against an armed attack that has occurred, or that is imminent. Since Biden’s strike was carried out ten days after the events motivating it, this US extraterritorial response seems to be too late to qualify as self-defence against an ongoing or imminent threat. Rather, it has been decried as an act of armed reprisal, which is illegal under international law.

Many questions remain to be answered or at least discussed from an international law perspective, bearing on the proverbial who, when and what. These include the legality of the use of force by one single state with no mandate in lieu of the collective security system represented by the UN Security Council; the deterrence of future threats instead of responding to current or past attacks; and the possibility of considering a series of discrete but coherent actions, in this case by non-governmental actors, as a single armed attack under the ‘accumulation of events’ doctrine.

Alongside international law, legal experts have also reflected on the justification for this recent attack under US domestic law, especially considering that this time the battered Authorization for the Use of Military Force or ‘AUMF’ – passed by the US Congress in 2002, its use spanning over two decades of strikes against Iraq, ISIS, and Iranian official Qasem Soleimani – was left on the shelf. Instead, Biden claimed to have direct authority under the US Constitution to conduct the attack.

Thus, the picture legal experts have painted when analysing Biden’s debutant strike is one of plausible justification under domestic law, and of highly dubious lawfulness under international law.

But even if all lawyers agreed that the attack was illegal under both domestic and international law, is the legal rationale the only one we need to take into account to assess Biden’s first use of military force? Is there something else we might say from a moral perspective? Even notorious legal positivists admit there is always room for moral scrutiny beyond the law. This becomes particularly relevant when legal discourse is quickly exhausted, as it is often the case with the scant provisions of international law bearing on the use of force. What will we do when we label an act as illegal, and yet global powers continue to commit it? Will we surrender to the cynicism of realpolitik, or will we fall back to a broader normative language to keep our moral judgments on the ball?

In the case of the use of force between nations, the articulation of such moral enquiries has taken over the centuries the form of the ‘Just War’ tradition, which unfolds into two separate lines of inquiry: when is it justified to resort to armed force (jus ad bellum)? And, what is permitted and prohibited in the conduction of hostilities once the war has begun (jus in bello)? In recent years the discussion has branched out into new avenues, including jus post bellum and jus ad vim (from the Latin vim or ‘force’). The latter was first suggested by Michael Walzer in the preface to the 2006 fourth edition of his canonical Just and Unjust Wars. Reflecting on the controversial invasion of Iraq a few years before, Walzer wrote:

“the Iraqi case invites us to think about the use of force-short-of-war; the containment regime of 1991-2003 that the UN endorsed and the United States enforced is only one possible example of this use. (…) force-short-of-war obviously comes before war itself. The argument about jus ad bellum needs to be extended, therefore, to jus ad vim. We urgently need a theory of just and unjust uses of force. This shouldn’t be an overly tolerant or permissive theory, but it will certainly be more permissive than the theory of just and unjust war.” (p. xv)

And we may add, certainly more permissive than international law, which clearly prohibits any ‘use of force’ by states under article 2(4) of the UN Charter, with very few exceptions (i.e. self-defence and Security Council authorization). But as we saw, the law is not the only framework to analyse instances of the use of force, and some scholars have taken up Walzer’s challenge, laying the groundwork for a new theory of jus ad vim. Among such theorists we find Daniel Brunstetter and Megan Braun, who in 2013 published their influential article titled “From Jus ad Bellum to Jus ad Vim: Recalibrating Our Understanding of the Moral Use of Force.”

According to these authors under jus ad vim a just cause for using force is aggression, whether by states or non-state actors, warranting recourse to the right of self-defence. The use of force must be also proportional, a last resort, authorized by a legitimate authority, and carried out with the right intent (all traditional jus ad bellum criteria). The thrust of their argument is that the use of force must always reduce the probability of escalation. In other words, vim resulting in bellum evidences a failure in the application of the characteristically de-escalatory rationale underlying jus ad vim. As to international law, Brunstetter and Braun argue that jus ad vim should ideally be anchored in that normative regime, but if international law proves to be too narrow to respond to the needs of states, then it will have to evolve through customary law to mirror the evolution of our shared ethical judgments.

Based on the foregoing, can we say that the recent US airstrike in Syria satisfies jus ad vim? There might be some room to argue that US forces and allies were attacked in Iraq and, therefore, that the use of force-short-of-war in self-defence was warranted. And even if we were extremely generous as to concede that the other criteria of last resort, legitimate authority, and right intent were met, a considerable problem from the perspective of jus ad vim remains: however localized and discriminate, such attacks risked escalating hostilities in an already hot and unstable environment. And considering the heavy involvement of Russia in the Syrian quandary, the risk of escalation of the armed conflict to turn into a Cold War-style proxy war between the US (and its allies) and Russia (and its allies) must be an ever-present consideration in every policy decision made by the US, regardless of who sits in the Oval Office.

America is back in business, but for many it just feels like business as usual. Yet, this does not mean that the use of force can continue simply unchecked or that we should surrender to pure realism, for there is a full normative framework in place to assess the legality and morality of such acts under the principles of international law, jus ad bellum and jus ad vim. By using the legal view as a departure point for further moral discussion, the interplay between all these standards offers the potential to strengthen our convictions and hone our judgments about the use of force and war.

Arm the Coast Guard with More Drones in the Caribbean

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A crewmember from the US Coast Guard Cutter Stratton launches a Scan Eagle UAS during testing. Source: Defense Visual Information Distribution Service

This article is a part of our 2021 Series on Caribbean Maritime Security. Read the Series Introduction at this link.

In February, a P-3 ‘Orion’ maritime surveillance aircraft identified and tracked a suspicious vessel suspected of trafficking cocaine and vectored in a US Coast Guard cutter to make the interdiction. The Coast Guard seized the vessel and found more than 3,300 pounds of cocaine aboard. US Customs and Border Protection, an agency within the Department of Homeland Security, operates P-3s and other aircraft from Naval Air Stations in Corpus Christi, Texas and Jacksonville, Florida. From these bases they help provide domain awareness over the maritime approaches to the United States in the Caribbean and the Eastern Pacific. Operations, like the one in February, are often lauded as interagency triumphs – with multiple agencies working together to secure America’s borders. However, they also highlight the lack of maritime surveillance assets within the US Coast Guard itself, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the Caribbean where the Coast Guard is forced to rely on interagency cooperation for aerial maritime surveillance. The Coast Guard urgently needs to invest in its own family of unmanned systems that can provide it with the maritime domain awareness that it relies on other agencies for.

The US Coast Guard is responsible for law enforcement and policing in the territorial waters and exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of the United States, this encompasses eleven specific missions. The Coast Guard also routinely deploys forces globally in support of the Department of Defense and other national priorities like ‘freedom of navigation’ exercises, including to the Strait of Taiwan or its long-standing patrol force in the Persian Gulf. But within the Western Hemisphere alone, the Coast Guard is responsible for policing over 4.2 million square miles of water and nearly a hundred-thousand miles of coastline. In this vast expanse, by far the most vulnerable points are the Caribbean and East Pacific approaches to the United States. The US government’s Drug Enforcement Agency estimates that as much as 80% of the cocaine leaving the Andean region in South America travels by maritime means, with approximately 90% of it eventually landing in Central America before crossing over the US-Mexico border on its way to US consumers. Illicit narcotics, however, are not the only issue the Coast Guard needs to address, US partners in the region are increasingly concerned about illegal, unregulated and unreported (IUU) fishing. This has lead the Coast Guard to deploy cutters to support operations across Latin America from Ecuador to Argentina, to deal with the threat. Of all the regions where it operates, the Coast Guard is perhaps most important in the Caribbean where it works with dozens of smaller partners to address trans-national issues like narcotics trafficking, providing the maritime capacity that oftentimes smaller nations lack.

US Law enforcement agencies have long identified the Caribbean and the Eastern Pacific, often referred to as the “transit zone,” as ideal for interdicting illegal shipments, whether the cargo is drugs, weapons or trafficked humans. Maritime narcotics shipments are almost always made in bulk, and the further they travel from their point of origin, the more valuable they become, making seizure in the transit zone much more costly to traffickers than seizures in South America. Additionally, ocean interception represents a low-risk area for interdiction – that is to say that once assets are detailed for interdiction traffickers are not likely to resist capture. But before shipments can be interdicted in the transit zone they need to be found – and searching for go-fast boats and semi-submersibles with surface vessels is nearly impossible, primarily because the vessels are difficult to see. Radars mounted on law enforcement vessels are limited to the horizon by the curvature of the earth. Also critical is loiter time – manned platforms are limited by fuel constraints and eventually by the limits of human endurance. If you want to monitor large areas of the ocean you need to be up in the sky or using a fleet of networked sensors.

Analysts often lament how poorly resourced the US Coast Guard is compared to the other military services. Though considered an ‘armed service’ the Coast Guard is not part of the military, instead, since reforms following 9/11 it has resided in the Department of Homeland Security. It has just over 40,000 active-duty guardsman and a fleet of cutters and aircraft. In part because of this small size the Coast Guard relies on surveillance and detection from other agencies like Customs and Border Protection (CBP) aircraft, a barrage of high-altitude balloons or US military assets including high-end weapon systems like B-1 ‘Lancer’ bombers and Arleigh Burke-class destroyers. While certainly effective, these platforms were designed to fight the Soviet Union and are far more expensive than what is required to track smugglers, the B-1 costs over $60,000 an hour to operate and the destroyers cost nearly a billion dollars per vessel. CBP operates a fleet of maritime patrol aircraft and large unmanned platforms that are much more cost effective. However, these assets are all based in the continental United States and the Coast Guard operates globally. The Coast Guard needs in-house assets that are effective at maritime surveillance and detection, and that can operate wherever the Coast Guard is deployed.

Thankfully, putting unmanned aerial assets on every medium and large cutter is a goal of the current Commandant, Admiral Karl Schultz, and investing in unmanned systems is a part of the service’s strategic plan. Such a move will significantly improve the maritime domain awareness of Coast Guard units at sea and help mitigate their dependence on assets and support loaned from the military and other agencies. But the current Coast Guard program for ship-based UAS is contractor owned and operated while the Coast Guard looks for a permanent solution and experimentation is ongoing. Two new types of UAS look particularly promising for the Coast Guard – vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) UAS, and unmanned surface vessels (USVs). Both of these technologies were successfully demonstrated last year, VTOL UAS was operated from a cutter during a deployment as were two different unmanned surface vessels, each with a mission endurance as long as 30 days.

Ultimately, what is needed is a family of systems that can provide the Coast Guard with an organic and layered maritime surveillance network. Realizing this for the Coast Guard will free up CBP and military assets for other missions more in line with their respective institutional priorities and further empower the Coast Guard. These platforms are desperately needed in the Caribbean and Eastern Pacific where the Coast Guard is the lead agency in intercepting illicit narcotics traffickers but also in the fighting against IUU fishing and maritime crime. In setting acquisition priorities for the Coast Guard it would be wise to remember Roger Barnett’s assertion in his book Navy Strategic Culture that “…the most difficult problem in naval warfare is finding the adversary.” Investments in unmanned systems will help support Coast Guard missions not just in counter narcotics but across their 11 statutory missions around the globe, it all starts with domain awareness.