Conflict Prevention

Early in 2006, I volunteered to head the first Provincial Reconstruction Team in Iraq. As an American diplomat then serving in Europe, I was hardly an expert in overseeing development in a combat zone. But I believed, along with others, that it was unfair (and ultimately, counterproductive) to ask the U.S. military to lead the task of nation-building in Iraq. Whatever the merits of the U.S. incursion there, we the civilians owed it to our colleagues in uniform to step forward and become a practitioner of applied diplomacy on the ground.

I headed a team of 50, dedicated to job creation, promotion of good governance, infrastructure development, and rule of law. We sought to protect the extraordinary historical heritage of Mosul: its architecture, its markets, its meeting places. We worked with dedicated Iraqi colleagues in what was then a diverse and largely undamaged and yet crumbling city, trying to find common ground among Sunni Arabs, Kurds, various Christian and other minority groups. I remember most of all a cultured, wise, and modest engineer named Omar, who gently but firmly led efforts to rebuild bridges that had decayed under the sanctions of the Saddam Hussein era or redesign roads to meet new needs of citizens. There was little, if any, tradition of democratic governance at the provincial level at that time. But Iraq was a place of sophisticated persons like Omar, well trained and hard working, and Mosul, the second largest city in Iraq, was home to many of them.

In the background was the violence: the bloody fight for Tal Afar, west of Mosul. There were attacks in the countryside, in places like Sinjar, now famous for the predatory behavior of Daesh. There were sullen resentments, usually between the mainly Arab inhabitants west of the Tigris in the old city (some of them deeply hostile to us) and the well organized Kurds on the east bank (usually more supportive of our efforts). The provincial governor, an Arab who sought Kurdish backing, survived any number of assassination attempts, though many of his family members perished. Things were especially tense after the bombing of the Golden Mosque in Samarra that year, but we pushed ahead and sought to make a difference for the people of Mosul.

I departed from Mosul before the "surge" of 2007. Unfortunately I've lost track of former colleagues like Omar. Now, after the capture of the city two years ago by Daesh, I can only hope that he made his way to Irbil or Baghdad. But in the charged politics of Iraq these days, I wonder if a thoughtful, secular Sunni professional can find his place in the main city of the Kurdish region or in the now overwhelmingly Shia capital. Still, I have hopes that he's safe, and the monuments of Mosul still stand, despite the terrible stories of the dynamiting of the tomb of Jonah by Daesh.

Now the battle to recapture Mosul from Daesh will begin this month. I think of the scenes from Aleppo, another once beautiful ancient metropolis in the region. I fear that the fighting will be bitter, and that, once again, it will be the people caught in the crossfire who will suffer worst. I fear that any prospect for partnership, even under the most difficult of circumstances a decade ago, that we found with Iraqi citizens of talent and goodwill will disappear.  

The liberation of Mosul will be a major step in the fight against Daesh. But I do hope that the efforts of EWI and other global institutions will lessen the chances that such a potentially awful battle will need to take place. In our determination to prevent conflict before it starts, it's sometimes necessary to take an unblinking look at what happens when we fail: I think of my friends in Mosul and hope that, from their suffering, we learn anew the patience, character, and hope so necessary to our own work.

In the October 2 episode of Voice of America's International Edition, EWI CEO and President Cameron Munter discussed the new clashes along the Kashmir border between the rivaling neighbors.

Munter, a former U.S. ambassador to Pakistan, said "what happened recently was there was an attack by the Indians across the line of control at suspected terrorists in Pakistan. The dilemma this posed for the Pakistanis was if they were to respond, they would be implying that they supported suspected terrorists."

Click here to listen to the interview. Munter's comments start around the 8:55 mark.

As China’s unilateralism and conflicts with its South China Sea neighbors have increased over the last decade, so has the Association of Southeast Asian Nations’ (ASEAN) focus on implementing a binding Code of Conduct to obligate a peaceful resolution of the region’s territorial disputes. Last week, ASEAN and China issued a Joint Statement commemorating 25 years of dialogue and declaring progress on a variety of security and economic frameworks, including the elusive Code of Conduct. But ASEAN’s effort toward such a Code is now well into its third decade, which should temper excitement over any news of progress. Over those 25 years, ASEAN claimants have seen their positions in the South China Sea eroded in favor of China. Meanwhile, China has faced neither economic nor significant political costs for its actions, nor perceived unacceptable risk of armed conflict over them. Binding diplomatic progress appears unlikely until it does.

The challenge facing China-ASEAN diplomacy is that China controls the pace of conflict escalation. China’s military predominance means ASEAN nations typically de-escalate incidents, least one spark a conflict they couldn’t win. As the precipitator of most of those incidents, China retains the option to back off if one threatens greater escalation than it desires.

It was thus ASEAN’s recognition of its weaker position that motivated the idea of diplomatically limiting Chinese behavior in the South China Sea. ASEAN first proposed a binding Code of Conduct in 1992 after China adopted a controversial territorial law declaring sovereignty over the islands in the South China Sea and considered much of the sea itself to be territorial or internal waters. China’s occupation of the Philippines-claimed Mischief Reef in 1995 heightened ASEAN’s alarm over China’s regional intentions and strengthened calls for a binding Code of Conduct. China rebuffed those efforts until 1999, and subsequent negotiations led to a Joint Statement and Declaration on Conduct in 2002.

In 2003, Professor Leszek Buszynski, now at Australian National University, examined what finally brought China to the table with ASEAN. He showed that China was uninterested in participating in a Code of Conduct until 1998, when the Philippines sought to involve the U.S. in the dispute through new defense agreements and by restarting joint exercises. Around the same time, seeing a linkage with its obligations to Taiwan, the U.S. began deploying carrier strike groups to the South China Sea.  

Nonetheless, China and ASEAN’s objectives remained divergent. ASEAN sought to place limits on a stronger China that it saw as an instigator and aggressor. China wished to use the negotiations to placate anxious ASEAN states, limit deeper U.S. involvement in the region, and prevent a final agreement from restricting its interests. Since even the appearance of Chinese conciliation could be touted as a victory for ASEAN, China held the diplomatic upper hand. The result was not a binding Code of Conduct, but a non-binding Declaration on Conduct wherein the parties “undertake” to resolve disputes by peaceful means (not “commit” or “pledge”) and agree to work on a Code of Conduct based on consensus, a diplomatic “out” insisted on by the Chinese delegation.

Professor Buszynski’s key insight was that a militarily- and economically-dominant party would only place voluntary limits on itself if it faced balancing risks or costs from its behavior. In the late 1990s, new U.S. involvement in the region provided the prospect of such risks and costs, inducing China to come to the negotiating table. But that new power balance was insufficient to get favorable terms for ASEAN. Since the 2002 Declaration, China has built significant port, radar, and airfield facilities on features in the Spratly Islands, attempted unilateral oil exploration in areas contested by Vietnam, and used its Coast Guard and Maritime Militia to evict fishermen and government vessels of other South China Sea claimants.

Nonetheless, recent China-ASEAN statements still provide only ambiguous restrictions on behavior:

• Fourteen years after agreeing to continue to discuss a binding Code of Conduct, and 24 years after ASEAN first proposed the idea, last week’s Joint Declaration continues to merely “undertake” to resolve disputes by peaceful means and is committed to “working substantively” towards a binding Code of Conduct, which still must be “based on consensus.”

• The July 25th Joint Statement by ASEAN Foreign Ministers and China on implementation of the Declaration on Conduct states signatories will “undertake to exercise self-restraint” on activities that threaten peace and stability, to include “refraining from action of inhabiting on the presently uninhabited islands,” language that may implicitly recognize the disputed features China already occupies. Further, since the only major feature left that China may want to occupy is Scarborough Shoal—where the U.S. has explicitly warned China against construction—a non-binding prohibition against new occupation does not concede much.

• A September statement on use of the Code for Unplanned Encounters at Sea (CUES) by China and ASEAN seems to oblige parties to use its voluntary communications and safety protocols when their ships or aircraft meet and interact. But the agreement only applies to naval units and not the Coast Guards and irregular maritime units responsible for most harassment and incidents in the region.

China has delayed meaningful diplomatic progress on a binding Code of Conduct for decades by spacing out superficial concessions, and perpetually committing—and then affirming its commitment— to make progress towards that goal. China’s aggressiveness has not come without a price; many ASEAN nations now cooperate more closely with the U.S. on security, while significantly building up their own militaries. But China’s military spending is still five times the combined defense budgets of the major ASEAN powers. At the same time, studies show a narrowing gap between U.S. power projection and Chinese capabilities to counter it, suggesting that unlike the early 2000s, the mere presence of U.S. military power may be a diminishing motivation for China to engage in meaningful diplomacy. China is still largely setting the pace of events in the South China Sea, and ASEAN should not expect better diplomatic outcomes unless China perceives genuine costs or risk from its actions.

Steven Stashwick is a writer and analyst based in New York City. He spent ten years on active duty as a U.S. naval officer with multiple deployments to the Western Pacific. He writes about maritime and security affairs in East Asia and serves in the U.S. Navy Reserve. The views expressed are his own. Follow him on Twitter.

The views expressed in this post reflect those of the author and not that of the EastWest Institute.​

It would be imprudent to describe the growing tensions between Russia and the West as a “new Cold War,” primarily because doing so risks inviting inaccurate historical comparisons between Vladimir Putin’s Russia and the Cold War-era Soviet Union. Formulating these modern tensions as such would require exaggerating Russia’s current economic and military strength as well as its internal political stability, while also underestimating the asymmetry between the West and Putin’s Russia when it comes to all of these categories. 

First, the gap between the West and the Soviet Union during the Cold War was far narrower than the gap that exists between just the United States and Russia today, in terms of both defense spending and economic vitality. A declassified CIA report drafted in 1985 estimated Soviet defense spending as running between 12 percent and 13 percent of the country’s gross national product (GNP) between 1965 and 1983; according to the World Bank and the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), Russian defense spending was roughly five percent of the country’s gross domestic product (GDP) in 2014. 

A similar disparity exists today when it comes to Russia’s economy; the same CIA report estimated the Soviet Union’s GNP at 57 percent of U.S. GNP in 1975. Today, based on recent World Bank data, Russia’s GDP in 2015 was little more than 15 percent of the U.S. GDP. Thus, it can be simultaneously true that both sides are engaging in heightened competition when it comes to defense spending and that these developments do not merit being described as a “new Cold War.” 

There are also major differences between Russia’s ability to shape world events today and the influence exerted by the Soviet Union during the Cold War. Russia’s military intervention in Syria, annexation of Crimea, and less-than-subtle support of separatist forces in eastern Ukraine are the three most commonly used examples of heightened Russian aggression today. However, in these three situations, we see Putin’s Russia reacting to urgent crises in nearby areas, rather than proactively shaping political developments from a distance. 

When it comes to this reality, Daniel Treisman described Vladimir Putin in a recent essay in Foreign Affairs as “a leader who is increasingly prone to risky gambles and to grabbing short-run tactical advantages with little apparent concern for long-term strategy.” Clearly, Russia today is capable of limited action, of occasionally disrupting the aims of more powerful actors, but less capable of shaping world events to the same extent that the Soviet Union could during the Cold War. Considering these reasons, describing the current state of relations between Russia and the West as a “new Cold War” appears to be too deeply problematic to justify using the term. 

This is not to say, however, that Russia and the West currently enjoy placid, non-controversial interactions. The ongoing developments in Ukraine, for example, illustrate Russian concerns about the continued growth of NATO’s influence as well as Western concerns about the heightened aggression on Russia’s part when it comes to nearby trouble spots. Yet, in the end, the most important factors involved in the current state of relations between Russia and the West bear little resemblance to the forces that shaped the Cold War of the previous century, especially when the sheer magnitude of that conflict is considered. 

Accurately examining historical precedent is undoubtedly helpful in understanding and addressing contemporary challenges; conversely, incongruous comparisons between past developments and present issues can be dangerously ill-advised. One particular error here would be viewing a multipolar geopolitical climate with new actors like China and India through a “new Cold War” lens that assumes a more bipolar geopolitical dynamic. In the case of Russia and the West, resorting to “new Cold War” kinds of language can create the false impression that the continued conflict between those actors is somehow on the same scale or occupies the same central place of importance as the Cold War itself. Russia is far less able to compete with the West in terms of its defense spending and economy now than the Soviet Union was for most of the Cold War. 

Additionally, Russia’s future will be as characterized by concerns about internal stability and political continuity as its present is characterized by concerns over Putin’s foreign policy recklessness and the national economy. Importantly, it is hard to believe that a political system that revolves entirely around Vladimir Putin will enjoy the same longevity of the Soviet Union’s political leadership. 

Therefore, in spite of what may seem like heightened tension between Russia and the West, we are far from anything that resembles the protracted contest that shaped the latter half of the past century, far enough to argue that we are not entering a “new Cold War.”

This essay was the first place winner in the 2016 Nextgen Essay Contest. Mr. Estep is currently a junior at Eastern Nazarene College in Quincy, Massachusetts, double-majoring in history and religion. Upon completing his undergraduate degree in 2018, Estep hopes to pursue further education and a career in public policy, international relations, and American politics. In addition to his interest in these areas, Estep is passionate about integrating the responsible use of history and historical research with other professions, as well as educating young people about the American political process. 

More information about Nextgen is available at ewinextgen.com

"I'm Cameron Munter, President and CEO of the EastWest Institute in New York. Today, we mark the fifteenth anniversary of the attack on New York. The fifteenth anniversary of 9/11. We reflect on that anniversary and the task ahead all of us that we want to make sure that we prevent conflict before it starts, that we learn to understand where the sources of conflict are, that we understand the people who are the players in the international scene with whom we need to speak, the trends we have to understand, and most of all that we act with those people of goodwill around the world who wish to make sure that we can solve problems before they start."

I spent much of last week at a meeting of around 100 Middle Eastern leaders: former officials, journalists, academics, who came to a European capital from Iran to Morocco, from Israel to the Gulf, from Egypt to Turkey. As a co-chair of this discreet effort to bring diverse views together, I was able to hear a great deal from a variety of sources, and wish to share some of the insights that they shared with me as well as a handful of other Americans and Europeans.

Regarding America, many in the region are cool to the prospect of a Hillary Clinton presidency because of her stances over the years on issues from Iraq to women's rights. But all are utterly terrified by the prospect of a Donald Trump presidency, with its manifest anti-Muslim overtones and a sense of unpredictability. As is often the case in that part of the world, many blamed America ("it's all because of 2003") while at the same time beseeching the U.S. to engage ("you've withdrawn"). While America is much less absent than they claim, what's important is that this has become such a common shibboleth. 

And just as America's perceived absence is overstated, so is Russia's new presence. Many stated that Russia is in a position to call shots, not only in Syria, but as far away as Egypt or Iran. There were voices reminding the group of Russia's weaknesses as well, but for the most part, Russia loomed large.

There was hardly a mention of global issues, as economic trends other than oil prices and demographic issues (from youth bulge to brain drain) were relegated to the sidelines and the words China and India were not mentioned at all. An interesting session on Brexit served as a snapshot of Europe's inward turn, latent hostility to outsiders, and the challenges facing Muslim communities in Europe.   

It was fascinating to hear, though, of the affinity among Israel, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Egypt and other countries for one another's stances—clearly, some of the old post-1948 verities of Arab solidarity against Israel have changed, and there may be new trends in the offing. Of course, the immediate cause of this seeming rapprochement is the perceived threat of Iran's influence in Iraq, Syria and Lebanon. Israelis and Saudis both disparage of the Nuclear Deal. ISIS worries them less than Iran. The complexity of the picture, however, became manifest when discussing Turkey and its warming with Russia (itself seen to be an enabler for Iran).  

What of Israel and Palestine? As both sides put it, there was once a time in the not-so-distant past when the prospect of land-for-peace was backed by a belief in the stability of those who might make an agreement. But for Israel to give land, a Mubarak or a Hafeez Assad needed to give peace. Even moderate Israelis and Palestinians noted that there was no one to enforce such a peace.

Turkey had everyone worried, not the least the Turkish participants who were clearly frantic in efforts to predict what course the country would take. The Europeans in attendance began to see the outlines of a new set of crises on their flank, as the German-Turkish deal on migrants might be just one of the victims of the aftermath of the failed coup.

And yet there were those who sought to go beyond old ways of thinking, to try to take advantage of the realignment of states and power to look for new possibilities. One Saudi suggested that the equivalent of Europe's Coal and Steel Community—which rose from the ashes of post World War II Europe—might be a regional Oil and Water Community, looking at those mainstays of the region that matter to all, regardless of history or sect. Attempts to think regionally, and to redefine multilateralism, were common, and left at least some hope that after this period of extraordinary turmoil, newer modes of statecraft might emerge. In sum, as one Israeli participant said that if he were asked, in one word, how things are going, he might say "good"; but that if he were asked in three words the same question, he might then answer, "not so good." It's a matter of perspective—as well as hard work and engagement during a time of crisis.

China’s approach to resolving disputes has been guided predominantly by Confucian moderation and harmony, in which a middle path is sought and followed. In this Confucian way, unilateral and radical actions are to be shunned and rebuked. Since the early 1980s, China’s management of international affairs has also reflected Deng Xiaoping’s dictum for humbleness: “keeping a low profile and hiding brightness.” Combined, the two strategies have resulted in China’s approach to foreign relations being shaped by three guiding principles: respecting and accepting multiple perspectives when dealing with the international community; seeking mutual benefit in the negotiation processes; and aiming at building a harmonious world. These constructive principles are to be applied particularly in those cases where the disputes are complex and sensitive.

For example, during a meeting with Japanese leaders on May 31, 1979 to discuss the Sino-Japanese disputes over the Diaoyu/Senkaku Islands in the East China Sea, Deng recommended that China and Japan should "set aside disputes and pursue joint development," and leave territorial disputes to future generations who will be better equipped to do so. Arguably, this moderate approach underlined China’s successful international relations for 30 years since its opening up, including its relations with the U.S. and Russia, its management of border disputes with India and Bhutan, and its implementation of the one country two systems approach to reintegrate Hong Kong and Macau into the motherland.

Until recently, Beijing followed this moderate middle path in its territorial disputes in the South China Sea (SCS) by implementing the “Declaration on the Code of Conduct on the South China Sea.” Proposed to ASEAN members in 2002, it is aimed at finding mutually beneficial individual agreements with the different countries involved in the conflict and jointly developing SCS natural resources.

In the last five years, however, China has abandoned this approach and has adopted an assertive, often belligerent stance, in pursuit of its extensive territorial claims in the SCS. President Xi Jinping’s “Chinese Dream” campaign, which is aimed at reviving China’s past glories and world status, has made Beijing’s stance more antagonistic and aggressive. Beijing’s assertive discourse aims at legitimizing and rendering indisputable China’s territorial sovereignty ambitions and silence arguments and claims put forward by the neighboring states involved. Consequently, the territorial disputes that primarily pit China against the rest of the claimants have grown in intensity and threatened to escalate into military confrontation.

This new approach to international affairs flatly rejects Confucian moderation and Deng’s more humble approach in the international arena. A review of the current discourse and declarations made by the claimants underscores the fact that their claims are incompatible. Evidence of this are the statements made by the Chinese and Filipino Foreign Ministries, with the former arguing for China’s indisputable sovereignty over the islands and adjacent waters, and the latter rejecting China’s claims to the SCS encompassed by the ‘nine-dash line’ as contrary to convention and exceeding China’s maritime entitlements under UNCLOS.

In the wake of the Permanent Court of Arbitration's ruling on July 12, 2016, overwhelmingly supporting the Philippines’ territorial claims, China has not only emphatically declined to abide by the ruling, but has also become more assertive and aggressive in its claims and actions. President Xi and Premier Li Keqiang insist that they want friendly relations with their neighbors and peacefully resolve disputes, but Beijing’s messaging and actions on the ground stand in contrast. A bellicose rhetoric and the building of militarized islands in the SCS indicate that China is prepared for potential escalation in regional tensions and even military engagement.

Why has China undertaken such a radical departure in its foreign policy approach, as regards the SCS? One possible theory is that the Communist Party of China (CPC) wants an external conflict to divert attention of the Chinese people from numerous domestic tensions. The CPC is aware that most Chinese, including those who are unhappy with its leadership domestically, will rally behind them if China enters into a military confrontation over territorial claims. This is evidenced, in part, by the large majority of Chinese who are convinced that the SCS is indisputably part of China.

Another hypothesis, albeit difficult to document, is that President Xi needs to escalate tensions in the SCS to help him in his unprecedented fight to uproot decades-long corruption among CPC members and, in particular, China’s military leadership. President Xi is in the process of reshuffling the military leadership and fundamentally restructuring the military, resulting in some commanders offering resistance, fearful of a loss in lucrative privileges. Growing disputes in the SCS have given President Xi a robust argument for the need to restructure the military.

A third hypothesis for Beijing abandoning the Confucian middle path and adopting an aggressive stance in the SCS, is that the CPC is testing how much the U.S. is willing to yield to China’s expanding sphere of influence, to then deal more effectively with its other major conflict, the one over the Daiyu/Senkaku with Japan. This is particularly relevant for Beijing due to the additional strategic and military challenge that the U.S. pivot to Asia Pacific represents concerning China’s desire to establish itself as the dominant regional power.

If the Communist Party of China is genuinely interested in a peaceful resolution of the disputes in the SCS, it should return to the moderate Confucian middle way by respecting and integrating the arguments and claims of all parties involved in the conflict, and seeking mutual benefit in the negotiation processes. This approach will provide an environment in which the SCS territorial disputes can be resolved and, ultimately, contribute to China’s ambition to build a harmonious world.

Patrik K. Meyer is currently a visiting Professor at Visiting Professor in International Relations at Muhammadiyah University, Yogyakarta, Indonesia.

The views expressed in this post reflect those of the author and not that of the EastWest Institute.

The chasm was fuelled largely as a result of the toxic state of bilateral relations between Tokyo and Beijing over their territorial dispute in the East China Sea surrounding the Senkaku (Diaoyu to China) islands. Compounding the tensions in this triangle are historical issues from the World War II period and the perception, widely held in Seoul and Beijing, that Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe is bent on revising the traditional narrative of Japan's culpability during the war.

Despite the rocky relations, there remains a pressing need for trilateral cooperation between the three sides. Tokyo, Beijing and Seoul are highly interdependent economically and—combined—have a gross domestic product worth more than 16.5 trillion USD (14.7 trillion euros), nearly matching that of the United States and more than doubling that of India, Russia, Australia and ASEAN combined.

To access the entire commentary on Deutsche Welle, click here.

The proliferation of unmanned aerial vehicles is accelerating around the globe and U.S. policy needs to catch up.

This summer, Microsoft’s Innovation Center in Karachi announced that an 11-year-old boy designed a UAV that can fly to 1,500 feet and be armed with small weapons. Such developments are evidence that unmanned technologies are rapidly changing the global security environment. As such, will American policy adapt in time to shape these changes or will the United States be forced to react to the leadership of others?

Militaries around the globe are keen to acquire advanced UAV technology and will eventually do so in one of three ways: by developing them indigenously, by acquiring them from non-U.S. foreign suppliers or by purchasing them from the United States. The United States cannot stop this technological proliferation, but it can influence how UAVs are safeguarded and employed by partnering more closely with nations around the globe. The U.S. has both a national security and commercial imperative to pursue such partnerships.

UAVs are increasingly vital to defense policy and war planning as well as law enforcement, anti-smuggling, coastline monitoring and border surveillance. From Beijing to Moscow, Tehran to Istanbul, Abu Dhabi to Tel Aviv, there is a fierce competition underway to develop UAV technology and capture export markets. Like fighter aircraft cooperation in the 20th century, UAV cooperation will shape international alliances and military partnerships in the 21st century.

The United States also has a vital interest preventing UAVs from being used to deliver weapons of mass destruction. Today, U.S. policy aims to do this through a cautious interpretation of the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR)—a non-proliferation arrangement established in 1987 to restrict the export of WMD-capable missiles. In 1992, MTCR members decided to treat UAVs with a 500kg payload and 300km range, like ballistic missiles, based on the premise that UAVs require these features to deliver nuclear weapons.

These technical parameters are arbitrary. The 500kg payload is supposed to be a minimum size of a viable nuclear weapon. Yet, Harvard’s Belfer Center reports that the minimum weight for a nuclear device is as little as 30 kg. The range restriction is also capricious considering that basic aircrafts, like blimps, can travel beyond 300 km. Whatever merit this policy had in 1992, it is illogical and self-defeating in today’s world of proliferated drones.

Nor can the MTCR guidelines credibly claim to prevent WMD employment when the regime does not restrict other methods of WMD delivery. These include all manned aircraft and artillery, as well as unconventional mechanisms like delivery by truck or container ship or through improvised nuclear devices. It was reasonable in 1987 to assume that WMDs would be delivered by missiles and similar systems, but that is not the case today, where unconventional, terrorist violence is the dominant form of warfare.

Rather than restricting UAV sales, WMD threats would be better addressed by promoting a consensus against attaching WMDs to UAVs. This is not a difficult argument to make. Only an extremely reckless government would allow WMDs to be attached to unmanned systems, given the risk of loss of control. But the best way to ensure that this view becomes the policy of foreign governments is by having the U.S. military cooperate with foreign militaries on UAV tactics, techniques, procedures and doctrine. Such cooperation would encourage end-use monitoring arrangements that prevent diversion of sensitive technology, along with other safeguards. Moreover, ensuring that the United States is the UAV partner of choice is an essential means of maintaining a global balance of military power that promotes peace and stability.

The United States also has a clear commercial imperative for expanding its UAV partnerships. As noted by the Congressional Research Service, “much new business is likely to be generated in the [UAV] market, and if U.S. companies fail to capture this market share, European, Russian, Israeli, Chinese or South African companies will.” Chinese officials publicly acknowledge that they are “taking advantage of the hole in the market” created by America’s restrictive export policy. China is now able to fill that hole with UAVs that look remarkably similar to America’s MQ-1B Predator and MQ-9 Reaper (so close that some might wonder where China got the designs).

Indian UAV demand is a prime example of what American industry has to lose. The Indian Ministry of Defense reportedly has plans to acquire 3 billion USD worth of UAVs over the next decade. For the United States to maintain its dominance in UAV technology and production, it cannot afford to surrender this kind of market opportunity to foreign industry. Today, the United States is the undisputed leader in UAV design and production, but this isn’t guaranteed to last. A forward thinking approach that reflects today’s realities around UAV capability and demand, which helps engage more deeply partner countries globally, is both logical and essential to U.S. interests.

Benjamin Schwartz served as an advisor for Countering WMD in the Office of the Secretary of Defense and is the director for defense and aerospace at the U.S.-India Business Council.

The views expressed in this post reflect those of the author and not that of the EastWest Institute.