By many measures, 2020 is looking to be the worst year that
humankind has faced in many decades. We’re in the midst of a
pandemic that has already claimed more than 280,000 lives,
sickened millions of people, and is certain to afflict millions more
before it ends. The world economy is in free fall, with unemployment
rising dramatically, trade and output plummeting, and no hopeful
end in sight. A plague of locusts is back for a second time in Africa,
and last week we learned about murderous killer wasps threatening
the bee population in the United States. Americans have a head-inthe-
sand president who prescribes potentially lethal nostrums and
ignores the advice of his scientific advisors. Even if all those things
magically disappeared tomorrow—and they won’t—we still face the
looming long-term danger from climate change.
Given all that, what could possibly make things worse? Here’s one
possibility: war. It is therefore worth asking whether the combination
of a pandemic and a major economic depression is making war more
or less likely. What does history and theory tell us about that
question?
For starters, we know neither plague nor depression make war
impossible. World War I ended just as the 1918-1919 influenza was
beginning to devastate the world, but that pandemic didn’t stop the
Russian Civil War, the Russo-Polish War, or several other serious
conflicts. The Great Depression that began in 1929 didn’t prevent
Japan from invading Manchuria in 1931, and it helped fuel the rise of
fascism in the 1930s and made World War II more likely. So if you
think major war simply can’t happen during COVID-19 and the
accompanying global recession, think again.
But war could still be much less likely. The Massachusetts Institute of
Technology’s Barry Posen has already considered the likely impact of
the current pandemic on the probability of war, and he believes
COVID-19 is more likely to promote peace instead. He argues that the
current pandemic is affecting all the major powers adversely, which
means it isn’t creating tempting windows of opportunity for
unaffected states while leaving others weaker and therefore
vulnerable. Instead, it is making all governments more pessimistic
about their short- to medium-term prospects. Because states often go
to war out of sense of overconfidence (however misplaced it
sometimes turns out to be), pandemic-induced pessimism should be
conducive to peace.
Moreover, by its very nature war requires states to assemble lots of
people in close proximity—at training camps, military bases,
mobilization areas, ships at sea, etc.—and that’s not something you
want to do in the middle of a pandemic. For the moment at least,
beleaguered governments of all types are focusing on convincing
their citizens they are doing everything in their power to protect the
public from the disease. Taken together, these considerations might
explain why even an impulsive and headstrong warmaker like Saudi
Arabia’s Mohammed bin Salman has gotten more interested in
winding down his brutal and unsuccessful military campaign in
Yemen.
Posen adds that COVID-19 is also likely to reduce international trade
in the short to medium term. Those who believe economic
interdependence is a powerful barrier to war might be alarmed by this
development, but he points out that trade issues have been a source of
considerable friction in recent years—especially between the United
States and China—and a degree of decoupling might reduce tensions
somewhat and cause the odds of war to recede.
For these reasons, the pandemic itself may be conducive to peace. But
what about the relationship between broader economic conditions
and the likelihood of war? Might a few leaders still convince
themselves that provoking a crisis and going to war could still
advance either long-term national interests or their own political
fortunes? Are the other paths by which a deep and sustained
economic downturn might make serious global conflict more likely?
One familiar argument is the so-called diversionary (or “scapegoat”)
theory of war. It suggests that leaders who are worried about their
popularity at home will try to divert attention from their failures by
provoking a crisis with a foreign power and maybe even using force
against it. Drawing on this logic, some Americans now worry that
President Donald Trump will decide to attack a country like Iran or
Venezuela in the run-up to the presidential election and especially if
he thinks he’s likely to lose.
This outcome strikes me as unlikely, even if one ignores the logical
and empirical flaws in the theory itself. War is always a gamble, and
should things go badly—even a little bit—it would hammer the last
nail in the coffin of Trump’s declining fortunes. Moreover, none of the
countries Trump might consider going after pose an imminent threat
to U.S. security, and even his staunchest supporters may wonder why
he is wasting time and money going after Iran or Venezuela at a
moment when thousands of Americans are dying preventable deaths
at home. Even a successful military action won’t put Americans back
to work, create the sort of testing-and-tracing regime that competent
governments around the world have been able to implement already,
or hasten the development of a vaccine. The same logic is likely to
guide the decisions of other world leaders too.
Another familiar folk theory is “military Keynesianism.” War
generates a lot of economic demand, and it can sometimes lift
depressed economies out of the doldrums and back toward prosperity
and full employment. The obvious case in point here is World War II,
which did help the U.S economy finally escape the quicksand of the
Great Depression. Those who are convinced that great powers go to
war primarily to keep Big Business (or the arms industry) happy are
naturally drawn to this sort of argument, and they might worry that
governments looking at bleak economic forecasts will try to restart
their economies through some sort of military adventure.
I doubt it. It takes a really big war to generate a significant stimulus,
and it is hard to imagine any country launching a large-scale war—
with all its attendant risks—at a moment when debt levels are already
soaring. More importantly, there are lots of easier and more direct
ways to stimulate the economy—infrastructure spending,
unemployment insurance, even “helicopter payments”—and
launching a war has to be one of the least efficient methods available.
The threat of war usually spooks investors too, which any politician
with their eye on the stock market would be loath to do.
Economic downturns can encourage war in some special
circumstances, especially when a war would enable a country facing
severe hardships to capture something of immediate and significant
value. Saddam Hussein’s decision to seize Kuwait in 1990 fits this
model perfectly: The Iraqi economy was in terrible shape after its long
war with Iran; unemployment was threatening Saddam’s domestic
position; Kuwait’s vast oil riches were a considerable prize; and
seizing the lightly armed emirate was exceedingly easy to do. Iraq also
owed Kuwait a lot of money, and a hostile takeover by Baghdad would
wipe those debts off the books overnight. In this case, Iraq’s parlous
economic condition clearly made war more likely.
Yet I cannot think of any country in similar circumstances today. Now
is hardly the time for Russia to try to grab more of Ukraine—if it even
wanted to—or for China to make a play for Taiwan, because the costs
of doing so would clearly outweigh the economic benefits. Even
conquering an oil-rich country—the sort of greedy acquisitiveness
that Trump occasionally hints at—doesn’t look attractive when
there’s a vast glut on the market. I might be worried if some weak and
defenseless country somehow came to possess the entire global stock
of a successful coronavirus vaccine, but that scenario is not even
remotely possible.
If one takes a longer-term perspective, however, a sustained economic
depression could make war more likely by strengthening fascist or
xenophobic political movements, fueling protectionism and
hypernationalism, and making it more difficult for countries to reach
mutually acceptable bargains with each other. The history of the
1930s shows where such trends can lead, although the economic
effects of the Depression are hardly the only reason world politics
took such a deadly turn in the 1930s. Nationalism, xenophobia, and
authoritarian rule were making a comeback well before COVID-19
struck, but the economic misery now occurring in every corner of the
world could intensify these trends and leave us in a more war-prone
condition when fear of the virus has diminished.
On balance, however, I do not think that even the extraordinary
economic conditions we are witnessing today are going to have much
impact on the likelihood of war. Why? First of all, if depressions were
a powerful cause of war, there would be a lot more of the latter. To
take one example, the United States has suffered 40 or more
recessions since the country was founded, yet it has fought perhaps
20 interstate wars, most of them unrelated to the state of the
economy. To paraphrase the economist Paul Samuelson’s famous
quip about the stock market, if recessions were a powerful cause of
war, they would have predicted “nine out of the last five (or fewer).”
Second, states do not start wars unless they believe they will win a
quick and relatively cheap victory. As John Mearsheimer showed in
his classic book Conventional Deterrence, national leaders avoid war
when they are convinced it will be long, bloody, costly, and uncertain.
To choose war, political leaders have to convince themselves they can
either win a quick, cheap, and decisive victory or achieve some
limited objective at low cost. Europe went to war in 1914 with each
side believing it would win a rapid and easy victory, and Nazi
Germany developed the strategy of blitzkrieg in order to subdue its
foes as quickly and cheaply as possible. Iraq attacked Iran in 1980
because Saddam believed the Islamic Republic was in disarray and
would be easy to defeat, and George W. Bush invaded Iraq in 2003
convinced the war would be short, successful, and pay for itself.
The fact that each of these leaders miscalculated badly does not alter
the main point: No matter what a country’s economic condition
might be, its leaders will not go to war unless they think they can do
so quickly, cheaply, and with a reasonable probability of success.
Third, and most important, the primary motivation for most wars is
the desire for security, not economic gain. For this reason, the odds of
war increase when states believe the long-term balance of power may
be shifting against them, when they are convinced that adversaries
are unalterably hostile and cannot be accommodated, and when they
are confident they can reverse the unfavorable trends and establish a
secure position if they act now. The historian A.J.P. Taylor once
observed that “every war between Great Powers [between 1848 and
1918] … started as a preventive war, not as a war of conquest,” and that
remains true of most wars fought since then.
The bottom line: Economic conditions (i.e., a depression) may affect
the broader political environment in which decisions for war or peace
are made, but they are only one factor among many and rarely the
most significant. Even if the COVID-19 pandemic has large, lasting,
and negative effects on the world economy—as seems quite likely—it
is not likely to affect the probability of war very much, especially in
the short term.
To be sure, I can’t rule out another powerful cause of war—stupidity—
especially when it is so much in evidence in some quarters these days.
So there is no guarantee that we won’t see misguided leaders
stumbling into another foolish bloodletting. But given that it’s hard to
find any rays of sunshine at this particular moment in history, I’m
going to hope I’m right about this one.