Defence is a policy sector central to international relations. If war and conflict lie at the heart of traditional, Realist analyses of interstate relations, this derives in no small part from the claim that states are continually putting themselves in a position of readiness to wage such wars and triumph in conflict. If, as some commentators maintain, the nature of military doctrine, and national defence policies—offensive or defensive—can condition the nature of interstate relations, an explanation of the nature of national defence policies is vital in order to fully comprehend the nature of international relations.

This article makes theoretical and empirical contributions to the recent literature on the socialisation and punishment of state and non-state actors. First, it argues that the English School can add significantly to our understanding of the socialisation and punishment processes because of the theory's emphasis on great powers as ‘custodians’ of the society of states. Second, it analyses the policies of the United Kingdom, France, and, to a lesser degree, a number of other powers toward the Bolsheviks and the Whites during the Civil War and beyond (1917–1924). The basic argument is that London, Paris, and other capitals acted like ‘guardians’ of the society of states in their attempt to punish and socialise the participants in the Civil War.

For a long time the intractable nature of the Jerusalem problem ensured that it was persistently swept under the rug in Middle East peace negotiations. Indeed, the widespread belief has been that the dispute over the city’s future political status cannot be settled until most other issues in the Israeli–Arab conflict have been resolved. Under the terms of the Oslo Declaration of Principles signed in September 1993, Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) agreed to settle the thorny issue of Jerusalem in the final stage of permanent status negotiations.The Oslo Declaration of Principles, based on the secret Israel–PLO talks in Norway, established a staged approach and a timetable for reaching a permanent settlement. First, the interim negotiations would result in Israeli military withdrawal from Jericho and the Gaza Strip, the transfer of power to a nominated Palestinian National Authority, and the beginning of a five-year transitional period of Palestinian self-government under this Authority. Secondly, the Palestinians would elect a Council and achieve early ‘empowerment’ (self-government) in five spheres in the rest of the West Bank. Thirdly, the permanent status negotiations — to cover Jerusalem, Jewish settlements, refugees, security arrangements and borders, among other issues — would commence by the start of the third year of the interim period, and the resulting final settlement would take effect at the end of the interim phase. The negotiations leading to the signing of the Gaza-Jericho Agreement in May 1994 achieved the first objective. The signing of the Israel-Palestinian Interim Agreement (also termed Oslo II and the Taba Agreement) in September 1995 set the stage for a partial implementation of the second goal: Palestinians gained full control over six main West Bank towns and administrative responsibility for almost the entire Palestinian West Bank population. A Palestinian Council was elected in January 1996.

Some time before the middle of this century Europe ceased to be a self-regulating political system. This is much the most upsetting event in European history for centuries. It means that Europeans now look beyond their continental confines, not if and when and where they wish, but because they must. During the past 500 years or so—from the emergence of strong centralized French and English monarchies to the disruption of the polyglot empires of eastern Europe by self-determination—Europe has been increasingly articulated into secular sovereign states constructed and fuelled by national languages and national passions. These states have existed in a condition of conflict with one another. But their conflicts, however intense, were never perpetual, so that conflict itself became systematized and found its most characteristic expression in two things: in changes of alliance for the purpose of preserving the multinational system and in war. Europe was a political system which operated through alliances, reversals of alliances and war; and whenever one state threatened to become powerful enough to destroy or atrophy the system, there was always at hand an alliance of other states capable of checking its advance and ensuring the system's essential fluidity. There was, in consequence, no need to go outside the system in order to preserve it.

The first difficulty facing an enquiry into the Richardson theory, apart from the quirky and unconventional style of Richardson's own presentation of his ideas (and I am emphatically not referring to his use of mathematics), is to decide precisely what the theory refers to. Richardson seems first to formulate his model in terms of the relationship between the rate at which a state acquires additional armaments and the level or stock of armaments at that moment in time in its possession and that of its presumed, probable opponent. He does this, reasonably enough, by connecting the rate at which each state acquires armaments directly and positively to the level of its opponent's stock of armaments and negatively to its own, and to a term independent of the size of stocks.

It is a great thrill to find that someone has picked up the gauntlet thrown into the arena at a time when the Cold War seems to many to be nothing but remote history. Here are my brief answers to Michael Cox's gallant repartee:

• Tito did not ‘defect’ he was expelled from the Cominform by Stalin. Moscow did not ‘stay put’ altogether; Tito's expulsion was supposed to be followed by a putsch by the Stalinist faction within the CP of Yugoslavia, which failed, however. Here, as with the Berlin Blockade and later in condoning aggression in Korea (hardly ‘cautious, circumspect’ policy decisions), Stalin made a great mistake.

• Western analysts did predict the attack on South Korea. In May 1950 Kennan himself thought Stalin was looking for an area to have a ‘limited war’, and thought Yugoslavia a likely danger area. Mr Kennan's later Memoirs and memory are here, once again, not very reliable.

• The Communist victory in China and the Soviet explosion of an atomic device, far from being of little concern to the West, caused Truman to ask for NSC-68 to be written.

• The economically weak USSR was far from inferior to the West in manpower, as Dr Cox rightly notes, and it should be remembered that the Red Army had held its own against the formidable Wehrmacht for quite a while. The massive rearmament of the satellites of the USSR only started in 1948. Matthew Evangelista's article only deals with the period up to 1948, and its findings can not be applied to the 1949–1953 period. Satellite rearmament took off in 1950, peaking in 1952. By 1952 Rumania, Hungary and Bulgaria alone had as many forces (including small naval and air forces) as the 800,000 Western troops available on the Central Front in 1948.

In the last three years or so the Nine have been more active in promoting consultation, co-ordination and occasionally common action in the realm of the external relations of the European Community than in fostering the integration process within the Community. However, a good deal of this activity has been procedural in nature rather than substantive and at times such modest progress as has been achieved has been extolled beyond its due, if only to conceal the lack of progress on the internal side. Moreover, it is as well to remember that each of the Nine member governments continues to rely mainly upon its nexus of bilateral relations for promoting its own particular interests with the outside world. Thus to focus on the external relations of the Community per se is to highlight only part - and not necessarily the most significant part - of the spectrum of the external relations of individual members. Nevertheless, the inauguration of a new European Commission on the 6 January 1977 provides a convenient moment to assess the state of the Community's external relations1 and, in particular, to try and separate the achievements of substance from those of a more shadowy or procedural nature.

The necessity for the United Nations Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP) arose from a crisis in relations between the island's Greek and Turkish communities precipitated by an attempt on the part of President Makarios in November 1963 to adjust the 1960 Constitution in such a way as to lessen the influence of the Turkish minority within the state's institutions. An early unsuccessful attempt at mediation by Britain in the first weeks of 1964 (which aimed at a solution within the context of Nato) gave way to Security Council consideration at a series of meetings in February and March which resulted in a motion to dispatch a peacekeeping force.

Introduction

Prior to the Suez crisis of 1956, the United Nations found itself restricted in its military response to threats to international peace and security. The authors of the UN Charter had originally called for member states to make armed forces available to the UN Security Council under a set of special agreements to be concluded in the post-war period. These would furnish the UN with the military means to take collective action against aggression which was to be the essential precondition of the success of the UN. The body responsible for the conclusion of these special agreements under Article 43 of the UN charter was the Military Staff Committee (MSC), which comprised the Chiefs of Staff of the five permanent members of the Security Council. However, the divisions of the developing Cold War permeated the MSC from 1946 and it became clear that there were major differences amongst the permanent members on the military role that the UN should play in the post-war international system. As a result, the Article 43 special agreements were stillborn and the UN was left without a formal system to provide it with its own armed forces.

1976 was a vintage year for Clausewitzian studies. No less than three major works were published; Raymond Aron's two volume study Penser la Guerre, Peter Paret's Clausewitz and the State and a new English translation of Vom Kriege by Michael Howard and Peter Paret. In curious way all three works are complementary; we have a modernized text complete with introductory essays by Michael Howard, Peter Paret and Bernard Brodie, together with a reader's guide; a full biographical study placing Glausewitz in his intellectual and political milieux; and an extensive critical analysis of his thought with an attempt at relating it to the modern world. There is no longer any excuse for Glausewitz to be “well-known, but little read”. Taken together they make an impressive oeuvre, of interest to the historian, whether of ideas or of war and to the strategic theorist. One thing all these writers have in common is their conviction that Vom Kriege has a continuing relevance to the study of war. It is with this, in particular the relation between theory and practice, that this article is primarily concerned. Consequently, it is first to Aron, who devotes most of his study to this question, that I turn.

This article seeks to take further some themes that were touched on in an exchange of views that the author had with Gerald Segal in the Review in 1985. It aims to widen the scope of the theoretical discussion, to stipulate a more specific target for criticism and to clarify why the issues under scrutiny are so important.

As the covert and clandestine practices of states multiplied in the twentieth century, so did these practices’ footprint in public life. This footprint is not just visual and material but sonic and aural, sounding the ‘secret state’ into being and suggesting ways of ‘listening in’ on it. Using multisensory methodology, this article examines Careless Talk Costs Lives, a UK Second World War propaganda campaign instructing citizens on how to practice discreet speech and listening in defence against ‘fifth columnist’ spies. This campaign reproduced the British secret state in the everyday: it represented sensitive operations as weaving in and out of citizens’ lives through imprudent chatter about ‘hush-hush’ activities and sounds you shouldn't overhear. The paradox at the campaign's heart – of revealing to people the kind of things they shouldn't say or listen to – made the secret state and its international operations a public phenomenon. Secret sounds therefore became entangled within productions of social difference, from class inequalities to German racialisation. Sound and listening, however, are unwieldy phenomena. This sonic life of the secret state risked undermining political legitimacy, while turning public space and idyllic environments into deceptive soundscapes – for international espionage, it seemed, sounded like ordinary life.

This article examines the neo-conservative critique of global liberal governance. It provides a theoretically oriented assessment of the neo-conservative case against international law and human rights regimes, and draws out the main political and ethical implications for American democracy and American foreign policy. It is argued that the neo-conservative critique of global governance rests upon an interpretation of the normative order that weaves together democracy, individual rights and national autonomy through a volatile identity politics which is fundamentally at odds with both the pluralist character of ‘Westphalian diplomacy’ and the universal order of rights envisaged by advocates of global governance. More than just the policy autonomy of the US, what is really at stakes in those debates for neo-conservatives is the whole structure of cultural and socio-economic interests that is tied to the substantive interpretation of democracy upon which their domestic commitments to neo-liberal capitalism and liberal freedoms are predicated.

The mainstream literature on the UN has been underlain by a methodological individualist philosophy, according to which all social phenomena, and particularly the functioning of all social institutions, should always be seen as resulting from the decisions of individual actors, as if the whole (organisation) was never more than the sum of its parts (members of an organisation). Such a fallacy has been denounced by social constructivist approaches which account for the existence of certain emergent properties of the UN, such as collective identity, which cannot be reduced to its constituent units, namely, states. These accounts, however, have offered a partial picture of the holistic understanding of the UN, as they have failed to comprehend, or perhaps simply ignored the causal powers of such emergent properties. This article enhances constructivist approaches by dint of the critical realist models of Synchronic Emergent Powers Materialism and Transformational Model of Social Activity. The value added of these two models in comprehending the powers associated with the UN Security Council lies in their ability to function as instructive metaphors; they allow for the independent and irreducible existence of certain mechanisms by which the Council controls international conflicts but nevertheless recognises that these can only emerge from the mutual interaction between agents (states) and structure (UN institutions).

Twice since the Cold War ended in 1990, Turkey has been with roughly the same dilemma: a US-led multinational force requested Turkey’s cooperation in launching a military attack against Iraq, ostensibly to enforce UN resolutions. Public and elite opinion was largely against Turkish involvement in both 1990 and 2003, and when Turkey did cooperate with the US-led coalition during the former, it was almost entirely due to efforts of then Turkish President Turgut Özal.In many ways, the dilemma faced by Turkey during these two Gulf Wars finds a fascinating parallel to the situation it faced with the Korean War half a century before. At that time, Turkey had to decide whether to join the US-led multinational force that had been authorised by the UN to reverse North Korea’s unprovoked attack on its southern neighbour. Turkey in 1950, however, was much more eager to play an active role than in 1990 or 2003 – to the point where it eagerly committed significant ground forces, despite the fact that the war in question did not directly threaten Turkey’s security interests. This article examines the forces that motivated Turkey to send nearly 5,000 troops almost 5,000 miles away from home, and concludes with thoughts on the implications for alliance theory.

How do scenarios of dangerous futures imagined in the framework of the post-9/11 counterterrorism shape security institutions? Critical Security Studies (CSS)'s dominant answer is that state apparatus are significantly transformed by the use of new technologies of prediction that are very prolific in imagining potential risks. The present article questions this technologically determinist thesis. Introducing the notion of weak field in the study of pre-emption, it argues that the political sociology of transnational fields of power can help us in historicise and assess more precisely the impact of imagination over power and control in the pre-emptive era. The article analyses NATO's reaction to 9/11 as a case study. It shows how the fabrication of potential terrorist threats by NATO's practitioners, that served to justify the pre-emptive use of the collective self-defence clause of the Washington Treaty (Article 5), evolved into an ambiguous support for NATO's military policing of the Mediterranean basin and into its involvement in migration control.

For a discipline as philosophically and temporally sensitive as International Relations, it is curious that Martin Heidegger, widely considered the most important philosopher of the twentieth century, has only recently begun to receive disciplinary attention. It is also noteworthy that as IR begins to grapple with right-wing extremism, it has not addressed Heidegger’s fascist politics. Conducting a close reading of his account of existence in time, this article argues that from his magnum opus to his final diaries, Heidegger prefigured many existentialist discussions, but his particular conceptualisations of time, temporality, and authentic Being lent political life a dangerous edge. Scrutinising both the conceptual and practical consequences of Heidegger’s thought, this article traces key tensions in his claims that, to realise true Selfhood, we must overcome social time on the road to death. This antagonism encourages overly individuated and aggressive habits of thought and action that reject the possibilities of co-existence. We can see this in how Heidegger’s obsession with authenticity over time pushed him deeper into Nazism, and in the ways that his existential vernacular resounds through today’s right-wing renaissance. Juxtaposing authenticity, then and now, helps draw out the distinctively temporal dynamics of Heidegger’s existentialism as well as the existential politics of our time.

This paper aims to un-suture common-sense assumptions based on Westphalian International Relations (IR) from South Korea’s non-essentialist and situated perspective, in the context of decolonising IR. Towards this end, the paper methodologically investigates a South Korean novel, A Grey Man, published in 1963 during South Korea’s early post-colonial period at the height of the Cold War. Using a non-Western novel to conduct a contrapuntal reading of Westphalian IR, this paper constructs a different type of worlding, conceptualising ‘the international’ through ‘the cultural’. It explores the following questions: How do ‘yellow negroes’ (the subject race) make sense of themselves and their roles and life-modes in a world defined for them by the white West (the master race)? How do yellow negroes understand and respond to the white West, which is hegemonic in world politics and history? In what ways does the protagonist of A Grey Man resist, engage with, and relate to the hegemonic West, which he has already internalised? In addressing these questions, the paper attempts to access different IR words to think with, such as race, white supremacy, intimacy without equality, sarcastic empathy, and disengagement. These provide an arena in which we can think otherwise, while un-suturing dominant Westphalian IR thinking.