Inadvertent Escalation: Conventional War and Nuclear Risks

Preface

The purpose of this book is to show how the interplay between conventional military operations and nuclear forces can inadvertently produce pressures for nuclear escalation in conflicts among states armed with both conventional and nuclear weaponry. It is premised on the assumption that knowledge of these hidden pressures may aid some future decision maker to avoid a catastrophe. Thus, this book continues in the tradition of the limited-war literature of the late 1950s and early 1960s. In Bernard Brodie’s words, Today…we speak of limited war in a sense that connotes a deliberate hobbling of a tremendous power that is already mobilized (nuclear forces) and that must in any case be maintained at a very high pitch of effectiveness for the sake only of inducing the enemy to hobble himself to like degree. No conduct like this has ever been known before.¹

I base the analysis on the peculiarities of the East-West military competition in Europe, and its surrounding oceans and seas, in the 1980s. I believe, however, that it is relevant to all military competitions between states armed with both conventional and nuclear weaponry. Thus, this book speaks to some of the problems that will attend the proliferation of nuclear weaponry—especially to ongoing regional conflicts.

A great many suggestions for ways to limit a superpower war grew out of the early limited-war literature. Only two have had any longterm impact. The first was to have an assured nuclear retaliatory capability; the second was to have limited-war forces, which is to say conventional forces. Almost no new analysis of the requirements of limited war has been undertaken since.² The most outstanding exception, Richard Smoke’s War: Controlling Escalation (1977), received less attention than it should have.³

The early limited-war theorists were influenced by three important problems: the record of costly, unintended escalation in the Korean War; the overdependence on nuclear forces of the Eisenhower massive-retaliation strategy; and the apparent instability of the strategic nuclear balance. The memory of Korea was washed away by Vietnam, an altogether different kind of catastrophe; the United States and its allies have purchased conventional forces in abundance since 1960; and the strategic balance came to seem so stable by the early 1970s that attention turned from fear that nuclear escalation might be too rapid to fear that the Soviets would not be deterred from anything by U.S. threats to escalate. Indeed, U.S. strategic nuclear weapons policy since the early 1970s has tried to generate more usable strategic nuclear forces, which has had the effect of rendering the strategic nuclear balance less stable rather than more.

My interest in the problem of limited war was kindled by two alarming developments in the public debate on U.S. national security policy in the late 1970s: the tendency to talk about a NATO-Warsaw Pact conventional war as a replay of World War II, as if nuclear weapons did not exist; and the tendency to talk about nuclear war as if it were a conventional artillery duel. Since these images of East-West conflict seemed implausible to me, an examination of the special qualities of conventional warfare among nuclear powers struck me as essential.

Since the 1960s the United States has pursued a two-pronged, internally inconsistent approach to its military forces. Secure second-strike capabilities and large conventional forces were bought to try to reduce the necessity and the temptation for rapid escalation to nuclear war. On the other hand, strategic nuclear counterforce capabilities have been acquired in an attempt to increase the adversary’s perception that nuclear escalation might indeed occur. The United States acquired offensively postured conventional forces to add extra uncertainty to the task of any Soviet military planner and extra risks in the event of war. What U.S. policy makers did not do was examine the possibility that in actual practice these objectives could have proved inconsistent. In the event of war, NATO’s offensive conventional operations would have damaged Soviet nuclear forces in ways that encourage nuclear escalation. Similar tensions existed in Soviet military strategy throughout the 1980s.

With the lessening of great-power political hostility at the end of the decade, both parties to the competition seem disposed to reduce some of the offensive potential of both their nuclear and non-nuclear forces. But military doctrines and force postures tend to change slowly, and many of the problems outlined in this book will likely remain in some form for years to come. Even if these issues diminish in importance in the U.S.-Soviet military relationship, the spread of weapons of mass destruction to regional conflicts suggests that they will emerge in a slightly different, but arguably even more frightening guise.

From my perspective, the most important purpose of the book is to develop a sense of the hidden fundamental dynamics that would likely govern a large-scale conventional war between nuclear-armed adversaries. With three credible theories as our lenses, we are attempting to peer into a murky, horrible, possible future, the better to avoid it.

This effort has received generous support from the following institutions: the Carnegie Corporation of New York, the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, and the Ford Foundation under the auspices of the Defense and Arms Control Studies Program at MIT; the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars at the Smithsonian Institution; the Rockefeller Foundation; the Council on Foreign Relations; and the Center for International Affairs at Harvard University. John Mearsheimer, Jack Snyder, and Stephen Van Evera provided invaluable advice on the final rewrite of the manuscript. At various stages of the project, conversations with Bruce Blair, Joshua Epstein, Richard Kugler, and Steven Miller proved extremely useful. Robert Art, as usual, has far exceeded his responsibilities as an editor of this series. Laura H. Peters ably assisted in the editorial process. My wife, Cindy L. Williams, patiently supported my efforts to complete this project; although it often deprived me of my good humor, it never deprived her of hers.

BARRY R. POSEN

Cambridge, Massachusetts

1 Bernard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age (Princeton, 1959; reprint, 1965), p. 311.

2 Many studies and analyses have been written in the government and by government consultants on limited nuclear war, especially its force structure requirements. This literature actually discusses controlled nuclear escalation, which is not the subject of this book. Although some limited-war theorists have considered inadvertent nuclear escalation, it was not the primary focus of the limited-war literature.

3 I believe this book suffered in the defense policy community from its focus on pre-World War II historical cases at a time when history was out of favor and, more important, from its lack of a few clear-cut, policy-relevant conclusions. It presented a rich menu of informed hypotheses more suitable to an academic audience.

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Introduction: A Model of Inadvertent Escalation

Can nuclear powers fight conventional wars with each other and avoid the use of nuclear weapons? Although this question has usually been raised in the context of the superpower competition, it is also relevant to future disputes in a world where nuclear weaponry has proliferated, including disputes among nuclear powers of every class, from the very great to the very small.

The most common view of how a conventional war could become a nuclear war stresses the initial stakes of the dispute. For example, had NATO found itself losing a conventional ground battle for control of Western Europe, the United States’ most vital overseas interest, the United States might have reached for nuclear weapons in the hopes of salvaging its position. Alternatively, the Soviets would have expected such an event and preempted it with either a theater-wide or even an intercontinental attack. Although the issue is seldom discussed, this scenario has an analogue in terms of any dispute that would directly threaten the territory of a nuclear power. The French promise to employ nuclear weapons rather than see their territory violated by aggressor ground forces. Presumably, the United States or the Soviet Union would do the same, if either was threatened with conquest of its territory. These are quite standard views of the escalation process. They stem from the assumption that states are unlikely to leave such effective weapons unutilized in a struggle for vital political interests. This is a valid hypothesis and represents one plausible way that nuclear powers could move from conventional to nuclear conflict. Because of its simplicity, it is also a way that has been anticipated by political actors.

I propose in this book a second mechanism by which nuclear powers locked in conventional conflict might move to the use of nuclear weapons. Unpredicted by the political and military leaders who permit or order them, large-scale conventional operations may come into direct contact with the nuclear forces of an adversary and substantially affect the victim’s confidence in his future ability to operate these forces in ways that he had counted upon. The most dangerous conventional attacks would be those that substantially degraded the basic nuclear retaliatory capability of the victim—his second-strike capability—for among nuclear powers this capability is the only insurance policy against nuclear coercion or annihilating attack. This fact suggests that the problems outlined herein will loom especially large for small and medium-sized nuclear powers, since they will have the most difficult time building nuclear forces that can survive. But lesser threats could also prove problematic, depending on peculiarities of each side’s nuclear doctrine. For example, a series of non-nuclear attacks that degraded one side’s ability to use its nuclear forces in discriminate ways for very limited attacks might be perceived as a major problem if that side had stressed this use of nuclear weapons in its prewar doctrine. Alternatively, if one side depended on a launch-on-warning or launch-under-attack posture, conventional damage to its early warning systems might be viewed as a major escalation.

I call this class of events inadvertent nuclear escalation. It is a broad concept. I exclude from it occasional accidental conventional attacks on nuclear weapons—which are bound to happen in a conventional conflict. I also exclude from it deliberate and sustained conventional attacks on nuclear weapons that are explicitly developed and approved to alter a local or general nuclear-force relationship. In one short-lived incarnation the U.S. Navy’s maritime strategy explicitly aimed to alter the nuclear correlation of forces through conventional attacks on Soviet ballistic missile submarines. During the 1980s the Soviet Union planned to attack NATO tactical nuclear forces with air-delivered conventional ordnance at the outset of any conflict in Europe for the purpose of reducing NATO’s tactical nuclear capabilities. Neither of these scenarios ought to be viewed as inadvertent.

I would, however, include a rather broad range of events. For example, incidental conventional attacks on nuclear forces—conventional attacks that self-consciously threaten nuclear forces as a means to achieve a conventional mission—ought to be considered part of the problem of inadvertent escalation. The longer-lived incarnation of the U.S. Navy’s maritime strategy, which deliberately threatened Soviet strategic missile submarines for the purpose of diverting to their defense Soviet attack submarines that might otherwise threaten the sea lines of communication (SLOC), would be an example of incidental attacks. Since such operations were proposed and presumably approved on the basis of their contribution to a cherished conventional mission, I credit their advocates with lack of foresight, although some might argue they were simply disingenuous. Similarly, large-scale conventional operations conducted in a particularly sensitive area, which create the potential for multiple accidental encounters between conventional and nuclear forces, would also be included in the category of inadvertent escalation.

Thus, occasional encounters between conventional and nuclear units are not the main concern; rather, large-scale conventional operations that produce patterns of damage or threat to the major elements of a state’s nuclear forces are the principal issue. Direct conventional attacks on critical nuclear forces, attacks that degrade strategic early warning or command and control systems, or even attacks on general-purpose forces that protect strategic nuclear forces, could all produce strong reactions from the party on the receiving end.

Large-scale conventional attacks on nuclear forces or their supporting structure are thus already a form of inadvertent nuclear escalation. The salience of nuclear forces for the conflict is raised inadvertently, before the imminent loss of the stakes that precipitated the conflict raises the nuclear specter. The threatened party could respond in many ways. It could ignore these attacks—a likely reaction if the state subscribed to a simple countervalue deterrence doctrine and the attacks really did not substantially erode the security of its retaliatory capability. If the state had not subscribed to a simple deterrent doctrine, it might suddenly be converted to such a doctrine—again ignoring these attacks unless they eroded the state’s retaliatory capability. But if the attacks did erode the state’s assured destruction capability, or the state subscribed to a strategy that called for the limited use of strategic nuclear weapons for purposes of bargaining or damage limitation and these capabilities were damaged by conventional attack, then stronger reactions from the threatened party are likely. And if its adversary was known to have a counterforce doctrine, a strong reaction seems even more likely. The most plausible response would be heightened preparations for nuclear operations, including the loosening of central civilian control over nuclear weapons and the dissemination of launch authority to military commanders. Among small nuclear powers this could be particularly dangerous, since their early warning and command and control apparatuses are likely to be less redundant and resilient than those found today in the medium-sized and great powers. More dangerous would be responses that actually employed nuclear weapons, ranging from limited demonstrative or tactical employment, through large-scale theater attacks, to full-scale counterforce exchanges.

Inadvertent nuclear escalation is clearly a difficult problem to study. We have no examples of such escalation so I cannot simply review multiple case studies and infer some lessons. Prospective analysis of plausible conventional wars among nuclear or near nuclear powers outside the superpower competition founders on an utter lack of data in most cases. The Israelis have told the world very little about their real military capabilities, and the Iraqis were equally reticent.

The NATO–Pact military competition—particularly in the 1980s—does provide useful material for this study. This period is notable for the extraordinary flow into the public domain of large amounts of data about both the military capabilities and the nuclear and conventional strategies of the East and West. Moreover, both sides had very large and very capable conventional and nuclear forces of tremendous range and striking power. Both stressed offensive operations of one type or another in both the conventional and nuclear realms.

U.S. AND SOVIET NUCLEAR FORCES AND STRATEGIES IN THE 1980S

Aside from the loss of the stakes that precipitated war in the first place, the most long-lived and plausible hypothesized cause of nuclear escalation is perceived first-strike advantage. Standard criteria of strategic stability apply as much to escalation from conventional to nuclear war as they do to day-to-day strategic nuclear relationships. When both sides have large survivable retaliatory capabilities, nobody wants to move first. If one does and the other does not have a second-strike capability, then the dominant actor will be tempted to strike because he can thus save his country. Knowing this, the weaker, although he cannot save himself by striking first, may choose to operate his forces in ways that permit launch on warning or launch under attack in order to convince the dominant party not to try to exploit his capability. Some crisis instability may ensue.

The problem is, of course, much worse if both sides perceive that they have sizable first-strike advantages. Each will likely be tempted to strike first to exploit the advantage. If each also knows that the other perceives the world this way, they may both be tempted to strike first because of fear that the other will do so. Finally, there may even be reciprocal fear of surprise attack. I think that you will go first because you fear that I will go first, so I might as well go first.¹ When both sides perceive themselves and their adversary to have offensive advantages, it is very hard to imagine that serious, full-scale, conventional warfare could go on for long without one side or the other succumbing to the pressures and temptations of the situation and launching a nuclear preemption. Limited-war theorists of the late 1950s and early 1960s specified that secure second-strike capabilities were a precondition for sustained intense conventional combat.²

What would have induced either NATO or the Warsaw Pact to use nuclear weapons in the 1980s? Attitudes toward the first use of nuclear weapons among the western security elite were (and remain) contradictory. From one perspective, it came to be widely believed that neither the United States nor the Soviets have particularly itchy nuclear trigger fingers. Each side has deployed such massive nuclear forces, of such variety, that neither can generate a particularly plausible theory of victory for nuclear war.³ Since the Cuban missile crisis, political leaders have shown great restraint whenever nuclear weapons were involved, and one suspects that the long-feared clever briefer would need powers of salesmanship that would put the most successful American used-car dealer to shame. Although mutual assured destruction (MAD), a purely punitive strategy based more or less exclusively on the ability to retaliate against adversary values, enjoyed no official political favor in either the United States or the Soviet Union in the 1980s and continues to be unpopular, it appears that civilian decision makers have for a long time had very low confidence that any other nuclear war outcome is likely.⁴ From the perspective of political leaders and their revealed propensity for risk, any first use of nuclear weapons has seemed quite improbable since the U.S. nuclear alert of the 1973 Arab-Israeli war, and even the heating up of Soviet-U.S. relations in the late 1970s and early 1980s did not increase the propensity for nuclear risk. Nevertheless, it is important to consider the potential energy for nuclear first use that has remained. On close inspection it seems to have been, and still is, surprisingly powerful. It is a worthwhile exercise to apply the most mature theories we have to try to predict the circumstances under which it might be released.

During the 1980s both superpowers organized their strategic nuclear forces to wage general thermonuclear war with objectives that were consistent with classical military thinking—the destruction of the adversary’s forces.⁵ Indeed, it is now clear that U.S. strategic nuclear forces have had a warfighting doctrine almost since their inception. Given the ineffectiveness of defenses against these forces, any possibility of unilaterally limiting damage to one’s own country, should war come, depended on the strength of the offensive, the elimination of the adversary’s nuclear weapons. Each side labored persistently and patiently in an effort to find ways to destroy the other’s forces in the event of nuclear war. As of the period in question, each side had achieved only modest, and highly scenario dependent, success in this endeavor. For example, although the 1970s ended with a U.S. panic that predicted an imminent Soviet first-strike capability against the U.S. ICBM force, the 1980s ended with a slightly less pessimistic assessment of Soviet capability. Official sources estimated that a Soviet ICBM attack could have destroyed, assuming no U.S. launch on warning or launch under attack, some 75 percent of the U.S. ICBMs.⁶ This estimated outcome was hardly a splendid first-strike capability, but the Soviet capability it reflected scarcely seems unintended. The Soviet military was trying to target the ICBM force. For the most part, any success in these damage-limiting endeavors would have been dependent on beating the other side to the punch. The lethalness of the likely residuals (secure second-strike capabilities) was very large and severely reduced the incentives of political leaders to permit soldiers to strike either first or early. All the same, the competition continued; political leaders may have been quite cautious about the first use of these weapons, but they were also quite unwilling to deny themselves the option to use them to reduce damage to their countries should some unforeseeable chain of circumstances have compelled it. This remains the situation as of publication.

In an effort to buy the time to track and kill the adversary’s second-strike capability, military planners on both sides in the 1980s, perhaps earlier, turned their attention to the exploitation of the main potential weak link in the strategic nuclear forces—their command and control.⁷ Modern communications systems are fragile, considering the damage that nuclear weapons can do. Nuclear command and control centers present a relatively small set of targets, partly as a natural consequence of bureaucratic hierarchy and partly as a consequence of the stress placed on the primacy of political control over these weapons.⁸ It was hoped that because of the destruction or temporary disablement of the brain of the adversary’s strategic nuclear forces, those parts of the body that survive a first attack could be hacked up at leisure. There are, of course, grave risks associated with this strategy. The possibility that surviving forces will act with no, or partial, authorization cannot be denied. Given the destructiveness of single nuclear units (a lone bomber, ICBM squadron, or especially an SSBN at sea can wreak incredible havoc on urban targets), the consequences of such insubordination could be extraordinary. Nevertheless, attacks on command and control may be one of the few sources of leverage in a nuclear war.⁹

Thus the 1980s presented inherent contradictions in superpower attitudes toward nuclear weapons and nuclear war. Neither side showed any optimism about its ability to fare well in such a war. But both sides built their forces in the hopes of finding a way to do so. Any chance of faring well depended on getting the jump on the other side, but it is very hard to imagine circumstances in which the probability of success would have outweighed the risks of failure. The potential energy was there, however. In crisis, and especially in conventional war, the military commanders of the nuclear forces, at minimum, would have pointed out the costs of conceding the initiative to the other side. Military organizations on both sides would probably have pressed for ever higher levels of alert in order to better discourage preemption by the adversary, and better prepare for preemption themselves. Soviet and American nuclear commanders would have pointed out each other’s preparations to their respective political masters in the hopes of eliciting still higher levels of alert. At some point recommendations for nuclear attacks were possible. These problems will remain with us so long as the strategic nuclear forces of both parties retain a commitment to damage limitation; it is likely (for reasons discussed below) that they will want to preserve this commitment in the future and that they will persuade civilian authorities to let them do so.

Conventional operations that degrade second-strike capabilities were thus rendered especially dangerous by the ambivalent strategic nuclear doctrines of the two superpowers. If both superpowers had subscribed to the much criticized doctrine of MAD and postured their forces accordingly, it would have taken a great deal of conventional damage to provoke one side or the other to use some nuclear weapons as a vehicle for saving the rest.¹⁰ In general, the greater the counterforce capabilities in Soviet and American strategic nuclear forces and the greater their commitment to counterforce strategies for nuclear warfighting, the greater the likelihood that the factors discussed in this book will lead to nuclear escalation. What might ordinarily seem an accidental or ambiguous conventional threat to one’s strategic forces is more likely to be seen as deliberate and direct if one’s adversary is believed to have a counterforce nuclear doctrine. What might seem a minor loss if one had a large, invulnerable second-strike capability could appear as a major loss if one’s adversary were known to have many counterforce options. In this sense, large counterforce capabilities, which are often presented as a tool to control and limit damage in a superpower conflict, may become a cause of escalation from conventional to nuclear war.

If each superpower had dedicated its 1980s level of strategic nuclear resources to the simple task of assured retaliation, it would have been very difficult to do enough damage with conventional operations to produce a nuclear response. This was true for three reasons. The victim would easily have retained an imposing retaliatory capability for a very long time, so he would not have needed nuclear operations to save his deterrent. The victim would have known that the attacker had little incentive to attempt a nuclear counterforce attack to exploit his conventional successes, since the attacker’s nuclear forces would have lacked the capability for effective counterforce operations; thus, the defender would not have needed to preempt the conventional attacker’s possible nuclear strike. Finally, the victim would have known that the attacker knew that the defender’s retaliatory capability remained powerful. Escalation for the purpose of saving the remainder of one’s nuclear forces was clearly not impossible in this situation, however. It is plausible that conventional operations could, over a very long time, succeed in taking away nearly all the defender’s retaliatory capability. As the trend worsens, the defender might begin to fire nuclear weapons to indicate his fear and convince the attacker to desist. Nevertheless, in a self-consciously MAD world, inadvertent escalation from conventional to nuclear war seems unlikely. But the 1980s were not such a world, and we do not now live in such a world.

In spite of their continued attention to counterforce nuclear capabilities and doctrines, during the 1980s both superpowers gave some evidence of having developed the expectation that a very large conventional war might indeed be possible. U.S. views were clearer than Soviet and provide a good example.¹¹

Since Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara began the review that culminated in NATO’s 1967 adoption of MC 14/3, the strategy of flexible response, the achievement of a Western conventional force posture that would permit open-ended non-nuclear resistance has been a consistent U.S. objective.¹² Early in the Reagan administration decision makers embraced the idea of preparing for a long conventional war, as evidenced by its concern with the mobilization potential of the American defense industry.¹³ Insufficient Western conventional capabilities were often portrayed as the most probable cause of precipitate nuclear escalation. For example, in 1984 Gen. Bernard Rogers, then supreme allied commander in Europe, declared, Because of our lack of sustainability—primarily ammunition, materials to replace losses on the battlefield, tanks, howitzers, trained manpower—I have to request the release of nuclear weapons fairly quickly after a conventional attack. And I’m talking about in terms of days, not in terms of weeks or months.¹⁴ By 1987 Caspar Weinberger could declare that US strategy seeks to limit the scope and intensity of any war, and confine it to conventional means. Our goal is to end hostilities on favorable terms to us by employing conventional forces that do not engender or risk escalation.¹⁵ Underlying this policy was the belief that the United States should be prepared to fight a war that, in duration and character, would resemble World War II.¹⁶ As of the date of publication many American strategists continue to seem optimistic about their chances of avoiding nuclear escalation in such a war if they so desire, providing they have sufficient quantities of conventional forces, weapons, and munitions to avoid conventional defeat.

Thus by virtue of data, forces, strategies, and beliefs, the East-West military competition in the 1980s seemed an ideal prospective case study. It also has the merit that much of the substantive information and insights developed from this period will have considerable relevance for the next decade and thus to current defense-policy debates. Political developments are calling into question some element of the 1980s case. Most notably, the conventional ground balance in Central Europe has improved mightily by virtue of political changes in Eastern Europe that have all but eliminated the reliability of Eastern European forces as Soviet allies. But basic capabilities remain great, and it is unlikely that the offensive caste of military operational plans will change as quickly as public rhetoric.

THE MODEL OF INADVERTENT ESCALATION: THEORETICAL FOUNDATIONS

The causes of inadvertent escalation are derived from three bodies of theory: the work of Robert Jervis (and others) on the security dilemma; the application of organization theory to the behavior of military organizations; and Carl Von Clausewitz’s analysis of the phenomenon of war itself, especially the concept of the fog of war.

The Structure of the Situation: The Security Dilemma

The measures that one state takes to defend itself may seem offensive to the state against whom they are directed. Military resources acquired for the purpose of protecting national sovereignty often have the potential to threaten the security of others. Because international politics is a self-help system in which states have no recourse to higher authority if they are threatened, they tend to eye each other warily. When they perceive an increase in the offensive potential of others, they tend to assume the worst and initiate compensating political or military activity. This situation is called the security dilemma.¹⁷ The state that initiates a particular improvement in its military resources may have no choice but to take such actions, even if its leaders understand that they threaten assets that others value highly. Sound political and military reasons may induce states to adopt explicitly offensive military strategies and to develop offensive military capabilities. But special dangers often arise because the leaders of states frequently do not understand how threatening their behavior, though defensively motivated, may seem to others. Thus, when those affected react, as is generally the case when vital interests are threatened, the initiator is surprised and may respond even more extremely.

The security dilemma is a concept generally employed to discuss peacetime spirals of increasing political hostility and military preparations—from arms races to crisis mobilizations and even preemptive war. To my knowledge, it has not been employed to examine the escalation of violence after military conflict begins.¹⁸ But one of the critical aspects of the security dilemma is its inadvertent operation. The structure of the situation and the frequently amorphous nature of military capabilities permit states inadvertently to threaten each other and stumble into spirals of mutual hostility and competitive military preparations.¹⁹

Conventional war between nuclear powers involves elements of conflict and cooperation. If one or both states wanted to have a nuclear war, they could easily initiate hostilities with nuclear weapons. For analytic purposes, and consistent with the major defense policy assumptions of the NATO alliance for the past twenty-five years and with the evidence from Soviet military doctrine and practice, this analysis assumes that a war begins with conventional fighting. By the weapons they choose, the disputants indicate that they do not want the war to escalate to the use of nuclear weapons, even if they are willing to run the risks that it might. They have a shared interest in the avoidance of nuclear escalation. Thus, it is appropriate to examine the potential for nuclear escalation from the perspective of the security dilemma—duly adapted to the problem at hand.

Of course, no one can say with much certainty that what would induce a civilian or military leader to advocate, much less order, the use of nuclear weapons against an adversary so armed. It would surely be the most frightening decision any leader would ever have made. Nevertheless, we should be alert to the basic ingredients of the security dilemma as an engine of escalation in a conventional war among nuclear powers. These ingredients are as follows.

(1) Each side has nuclear forces that it values highly. Its nuclear forces are a core security asset, a vital interest. Threats to their integrity will be viewed with utmost seriousness. If the nuclear competition follows the pattern of the superpower arms race, in which each side tries deliberately to preserve a damage-limitation capability against the other, then the nuclear forces will be on high levels of alert, and nuclear planners will be looking for signs that the other side intends to operate its doctrine. Civilian cognizance of the delicacy of the situation may not be as high as is warranted since nuclear war plans are likely to be closely held by the military, and civilian leaders tend not to want to think about nuclear war in times of international quiet.

(2) Conventional operations devised by either side to achieve success from the perspective of conventional warfare may nevertheless have deleterious consequences for nuclear forces. This is a subtle amendment to the basic assumption of the security dilemma—that states undertake military efforts that they perceive to be defensive. In this case, states may undertake conventional operations that an unbiased observer would concede were defensively motivated, and yet for reasons discussed below have offensive implications for nuclear warfare. Or states may undertake conventional operations that they know are offensive from a perspective of conventional war but that, unknown to the initiator, are also offensive from the perspective of nuclear warfare.

(3) The effects on the adversary’s nuclear forces are sufficiently exotic, and the conventional plans themselves are sufficiently arcane, that political leaders are unlikely to have foreseen these consequences.

(4) Harsh reactions by the threatened party will thus probably be misconstrued as new indications of fresh malign intent, not reactions to one’s own operations. Hence, new and more violent maneuvers may seem warranted, which when launched will be even more frightening to the other party.

(5) By virtue of the fact that conventional conflict is already under way, each side would be in a state of heightened competitiveness. Thus, the spiral of action and reaction is likely to be much more intense than it would be in time of peace.

In standard discussions of the security dilemma, both geography and technology can exert strong influences on whether or not offensive and defensive capabilities and actions are distinguishable.

In the case of the NATO–Pact competition, geography has been and will likely remain a particularly important contributor to this identification problem: territory necessary for defense may also facilitate offense. One geographic problem, for example, that would plague efforts to limit an east-west war is the proximity to Soviet borders of much of what the United States seeks to defend. The competition between the two alliances in Europe has created two major military asymmetries that substantially affect the relative security position of the two superpowers.²⁰ U.S. decision makers often seem to forget these asymmetries. The Soviet Union faces the possibility of very intense conventional military conflict close to its national boundaries; the United States does not. The Soviet Union faces an impressive array of