For twenty-five years, in a good many remote odd spots in the world, the United States has been locked in battle; or has been seconding some distant and sometimes dubious friend; or trying, by promising help, to deter the start of the trouble altogether. With so many and such far-flung commitments and no sign of letup, it is only natural that there should be a lively debate about their number and extent and how they fit our capabilities. The frustrations of these 25 years of engagements in remote wars, and not only the present long-drawn-out and uncertain struggle in Viet Nam, encourage a new isolationism.

The new isolationism differs in many ways from the old. It often fits the desire to turn over to the United Nations problems that we have dealt with mainly on a national basis-all of foreign economic aid, for example, and all or most of the problem of resisting local aggressions against allies or friends. However, the radical nationalism of the old isolationists had itself a good deal in common with the wishful sort of internationalism: both were ways to avoid the uncertainties and strains of dealing with a great many diverse and partially hostile political entities.

Today, sentiment favoring a withdrawal from international to domestic concerns may be based simply on fatigue; or on the familiar but unanalyzed feeling that very distant troubles are remote not simply in miles but in their likelihood of having any effect on us. But aside from a sense that distant troubles are irrelevant, there are more substantial beliefs. One belief (very influential, though usually inexplicit) holds that "the effectiveness of the power radiated from any national center decreases in proportion to the distance involved."[i] As a result, areas near the borders of a great power are dominated by that power. In these spheres ("spheres of influence" have figured prominently if rather ambiguously in recent Senate Hearings), a great power can forcibly exclude distant great challengers. The result is, then, a balance which it is futile to try to upset; and unwise: its persistence is a guardian of vital U.S. as well as opposing national interests.

The involvement of the United States in land war in Asia in particular is said to be unthinkable; and today this stricture against land war in Asia is accompanied by references to the limitations suffered by any "air and naval power" in opposing a "land power;" and it has been bolstered with much reverent or at any rate unquestioning citation of military authorities like General MacArthur by a good many people not accustomed to such piety. Because the United States, we are told, is a naval power, a kind of whale, or a naval and air power, apparently a sort of flying whale, it would seem it cannot project its strength on the land mass of Asia. In any dispute with a continental power, an "elephant" like China, the only hope for us lies in some negotiated settlement.

Such sweeping injunctions against distant ground wars are voiced not only by doves but by such accredited hawks as Mr. Goldwater. In fact, they fit the views of those whose impatience expresses itself by a desire to get matters over with quickly by bombing rather better than they fit the views of those who are skeptical of exclusive reliance on bombing but hope to reach a quick settlement by negotiations. For the stated limitations of air and sea power would affect both the agreements reached and the application of any sanctions against their possible violation. If it were really true that there were no alternative to negotiation of conflicts in Asia, then the negotiation would not be worth much. It would not represent a bilateral exchange leading to a stable resolution but a unilateral measure at the mercy of the Asian land power. Theories that strength weakens sharply with distance and that air and naval power can do little to affect remote land powers fit the old isolationism a little less awkwardly than the new.

In any case the theory that military strength declines in a straight line with distance has never been correct. Logistics support by water has in general been cheaper and easier than over land. References in earlier geopolitical writing to continental land masses, islands and the like, have been in fact a crude means of suggesting some of the differences then current between the logistics of land and water combat. In discussing geography, geo-politicians at best have been talking about the technologies of communications or transport or weapons range. Maxims so derived, however, are not eternal. These technologies have been changing at a rapid clip.

None the less, the agonies of Viet Nam have revived some rather old- fashioned geopolitics. Whatever one's view of Viet Nam (and I have substantial differences with U.S. policy there), the isolationism it has encouraged receives no adequate support from such theories. Distance bears no simple relation either to interests or military strength. In the case of nuclear relations, the defects of the old geopolitical treatment of distance are striking. However, its defects for describing variations in non-nuclear military strength with distance are also crucial.

It was rather common until recently to talk of the comparative disadvantage to the United States in fighting eight or ten thousand miles from home against an adversary whose home base is near the scene of conflict. While these dramatic long-haul distances catch the headlines, neither in current nor in past technology do they determine the matter of comparative disadvantage. This has been documented in detailed studies of the comparative logistics at present levels of technology in several areas of possible non-nuclear conflict-in Thailand, in the Himalayas, in Iran and in Lebanon-and in the actual conflict in Korea.[ii]

The most striking fact displayed by these studies is that the capacity for long-distance lift of the major powers massively exceeds that for short- distance lift inside the theater, especially in the very short ranges in which the battle would be joined. These bottlenecks inside the theater are largely determined by local factors: climate, terrain, harbors, port unloading facilities, railroads and roads, etc. They are not a function of the long-haul distances. The specific local circumstances and opportunities to change them may favor the combatant that starts from far off or the one that starts from nearby. On the Thai-Laos border the United States can lift, from 8,500 miles away, four times as much as China can from 450 miles away. Various potential combat areas in Iran would show a logistic stand- off between the neighboring Soviet Union and the United States. In the Himalayas, support for Chinese and for opposing forces would be measured in tons per day: the 200,000 tons per day the United States might deliver over the long haul from U.S. ports to Calcutta are not the critical matter.

The figures above describe the rate at which supply can be lifted steadily after the initial build-up. If one looks at rates of deployment and build- up where stocks are accumulated in advance in a potential trouble area, the conclusions are not altered. Moreover, if one looks at the matter in terms of cost, as distinct from capacity, the minor importance of the long haul appears even more vividly. Adding several thousand miles to the distance at which remote wars are fought increases the total cost of fighting by only a very tiny percentage. It appears, for example, that if the support of U.S. forces in Korea had been 2,000 miles further away, it would have meant adding less than three-tenths of a percent to the total annual cost of the war.

The studies cited deal with recent past technology. The technology of the 1970s will decrease military communication and transport costs further, but especially long-distance costs. Larger payload transport both on the surface and in the air will greatly reduce costs per ton-mile. Fast cargo ships might (Congress and the established shipbuilders being willing) combine with the planned massive increase in air cargo capacity to offer more efficient mixtures of pre-stockage and rapid deployment of men and material for the initial build-up. The C-5A will be operational in large numbers in the 1970s; it will have a ton-mile cost one-tenth that of the DC- 3 and will carry 2 1/2 times the pay-load of the largest jet now flying.

Synchronous communications satellites make the point even more clearly than improved transport.[iii] It has long been true in telephony, for example, that a very large part of the costs of long-distance service is traceable to such elements as local switching, operator charges and local lines. Communications satellites make the distance between transmitting and ground stations unimportant so long as both are within line of sight of the satellite, whereas undersea cables vary in cost directly with length. Satellites spanning the Atlantic and Pacific will greatly increase the capacity and reduce the costs of sending messages to far-off and isolated locations, and so will make possible a much more detailed and centralized control of classical wars in distant theaters.

If future technology reduces further the difference between fighting a war close by or far off, it can do this not just for the United States, of course, but for other nations as well. This is only one reason that technical developments should not fortify any illusion of omnipotence. We may contest some sorts of war badly almost anywhere, in particular revolutionary wars where recently improved weapons technologies seem to me largely irrelevant (though no more so in Viet Nam than they might be in Colombia or even in Cuba). Military strength is frequently a very poor and self-defeating way of protecting or fulfilling interests. This applies to military strength used nearby as well as military strength used far off. It is plainly better not to have to fight at all. Even more plainly, an ability to fight cannot be directly translated into political authority. Limits in the usefulness of American military strength are clear in relation to countries that are in varying degrees hostile to the United States, such as tiny nearby Cuba-perhaps even more so in relation to America's allies. In spite of the rhetoric about France's slavery to American despotism, General de Gaulle always struck me as a rather masterful slave long before he had even a façade of a force de frappe. The point can be made in reference to those allies most menaced and least able to defend themselves. McGeorge Bundy suggests that polemists using words like "puppet" have never been on the other end of the strings. It is rather more, I should think, like pushing than pulling strings. The fact that military technology can be projected by the United States and by others at great distances reveals some critical connections between remote parts of the world, but lends no support to the mechanical extension of American political hegemony.

Furthermore, though we can affect matters in some places close to us or far off, we frequently have no discernible interest in doing so. In the last year, the isolationist debate has shifted somewhat from capabilities to interests. A good many places interest none of us very much, and some that interest us can take care of themselves. That's almost always better. No one on either side of the debate is for intervention all over or for total escape. The genuine issues concern the right extent and places of commitment. They cannot be clarified wholesale. And they have not been by the endlessly tedious repetitions and denials of the phrase "policeman to the world."

A great many things-historic, political, ethnic, cultural, sentimental- affect national interests, including a residue of past technologies like the methods of ocean transport that durably linked Great Britain, Spain, France, Portugal and the Netherlands to some of the remotest parts of the world. But future technologies will affect interests too, and on the whole in a direction that makes the new isolationism pure nostalgia. Let me say something on interests of nations in cultural contact, in trade and the movements of capital, and in national safety.


Cultural interests have never fallen off directly with distance. Englishmen and North Americans find Australians and New Zealanders quite accessible culturally, and are sometimes greatly puzzled by their immediate neighbors. French contacts with some parts of North America were always considerable and lately seem to be much on the increase. The vast improvements coming in long-distance communications and transport will multiply remote cultural contacts just as they will increase the capacity to project military strength. Civilian supersonic passenger planes, the subsonic high-payload 747 stretch jets, a possible passenger version of the C-5, and the commercial satellites-all neatly parallel in the civilian field the military equipment that makes the problem of getting to a theater of war small compared to getting about in it. Travelers are already used to the sharp contrast between the speed with which they can hurtle between distant airports and the maddeningly slow pace getting to and from the airport, queuing up for tickets, taxis, baggage, porters and traffic lights.

High-payload jets will cover great distances still more quickly and cheaply, but may increase the queues. Supersonic jets will be economic only on long trips. Their principal result will be to bring the remote places closer. It has been pointed out that if sonic booms prevent supersonic aircraft from flying over land, New York will once again, as in the time before the building of the transcontinental railroad, be closer to Europe than to Los Angeles. Passenger traffic in the Pacific should increase still more strikingly. Travel time from Los Angeles to Tokyo may be cut by nearly two-thirds. It will take perhaps forty minutes more than to get from Los Angeles to New York.

For civilian communications as for civil transport, the right map cannot be drawn in kilometers or miles, in what François Perroux calls "banal distance/' Buenos Aires is closer now to Europe or the United States than to Caracas or Santiago. Telephone calls from Buenos Aires to Caracas go through New York. Calls between two points in Africa may go through switch points in both London and Paris. The new communications will alter optimal switching points and help local traffic, but in particular will bring together widely separated points.

From the standpoint of economic and strategic interests, one important result of improvements in communications and transport will be to increase the geographical extent of interests and simultaneously to reduce the specific importance of what are now critical bottlenecks at transit points. Suez is an example: reducing the costs of very long hauls cuts the added expense of a detour.

Indeed, most of what I have said about effects on cultural contacts applies quite directly to economic interactions: that is, to the movements of commodities and capital and possibly seasonal labor. Air freight capacity has been increasing rapidly for commodities of high value; the huge cargo aircraft now on the way will make distant air transport economic for new ranges of less valuable commodities. For bulky primary commodities, those that are lowest in value density, like oil, the development of supertankers drastically reduces long-haul costs. The economies of scale are enormous. A tanker with a capacity of 150,000 deadweight tons can move crude oil 5,000 miles at $1.69 per ton compared to $7.29 for a 10,000-ton tanker. Construction costs decrease with increasing tanker size from $220 per ton at 20,000 deadweight tons to less than $70 at 300,000 tons. Operating costs decrease, too, in particular with increased opportunities for automation. In fact, the Tokyo Maru, a tanker of about 135,000 deadweight tons, will be operated by a crew of 29, while tankers of 50,000 tons may use 35 men or more. The Japanese in the early 1970s will be constructing 500,000-ton tankers, something like ten times the size of the largest tankers available during the Suez Crisis of 1956. As a result of such changes, not only are detours around gateways like Suez cheaper than they were; they may, because of the limitations of the gateways themselves, be cheaper than the direct route. Suez at present can handle fully loaded tankers only up to 70,000 deadweight tons.

The lowered costs and increased capacity for both long-distance transport and long-distance transmission of messages increase the number of economic alternatives available, and make it feasible to go around choke points. These communications and transport developments reduce interest in specific gateways to remote places, but not the interest in remote places themselves. On the contrary, to the extent that they make links to distant points more reliable, they spread interests more evenly but farther. For example, Japan's growing trade with Europe in manufactures will be less in danger of arbitrary interruption. In reducing the risks of war or peacetime interruption, these technical changes counter one of the chief traditional arguments for economic autarky.

One argument for autarky current in many variants for nearly 150 years rests on technology. Robert Torrens in his 1821 essay on the production of wealth predicted that the industrialization of additional countries, population growth and diminishing returns on primary products would reduce the basis for foreign trade. This hypothesis of course entails as corollary the declining importance of trade among already industrialized countries in particular. It is not an argument for intraregional trade but for the autarky of nations even within the same region. In fact it suggests reduction of trade among regions within a single nation as these "converge" in economic structure.

This venerable thesis, frequently revived and modified, has several essential theoretical flaws. Except in some extremely simplified economic models, a convergence in overall average efficiency of trading countries does not entail fewer possibilities of specialization in particular products. Among other things there may be economies of scale. The argument neglects technical changes, like the global extension of communications, that tend to create world markets for specific products, and neglects techniques that increase the advantages of trade such as reductions in freight and communications costs. Increasing income itself creates a demand for variety and for products of higher value in which transport costs are in any case less important. Finally, like some sounder theories that oppose it, the Torrens and related hypotheses say nothing in principle about the way the benefits of trade vary with geographical distance, and in particular how transport costs as a complex function of distance may decline as techniques change.

Aside from its theoretical lacks, the belief that technology would reduce the role of trade does not square with available data, even though trade has been hampered by government barriers. World trade in manufactures in the go years after 1876, in spite of setbacks in the protectionist and depressed interwar period, increased per capita two or three times. Between 1950 and 1966 it has been increasing even faster than world production of manufactures-7.3 percent compared to 5.3 percent per annum.[iv] For the United States, in spite of claims to the contrary, from the 1870s to the 1960s neither exports nor imports declined relative to G.N.P. in real terms.[v] Similarly within the United States, interregional trade, as Richard Cooper has shown, has grown more rapidly than total output, in spite of an apparent "convergence" in economic structure of the various regions.

What is true of trade seems true also of the movements of capital when not constrained by artificial barriers. Improvements in long-distance travel and telecommunications encourage distant foreign investment by making it easier to manage. Data processing on a large scale may stimulate organizational innovation and in any case makes feasible much more detailed and far-flung control. All of this should continue to encourage the already significant growth of international corporations whose interests extend far beyond any narrow geographical region, and make economic autarky more inappropriate than ever. The distant projection of interest should not be taken, however, as applying only to the capital-rich countries, as an attribute of "imperialism." The underdeveloped world has perhaps even more obvious interests in the distant developed world as a source of aid and as a market for exports. Indeed, as Edwin Reischauer suggests, one of the more disturbing aspects of some of the new isolationism is an implication that "Asians, having their own distinctive cultures and special problems, should go their own way, presumably in poverty and turmoil, while we of the advanced nations go our own prosperous and peaceful way."

The revolution in transport and communications casts doubt not only on the new isolationism of a growing minority but also on the more respectable but rather mechanical regionalism that may frequently be found in both the Democratic and Republican establishments: the grand designs for Latin American common markets, Asian common markets, African unions, economic unities spanning the Middle East from Morocco to Afghanistan, and others. The composition of some of these groupings suggests how poor a criterion for association mere proximity is. Some have higher-cost communication and transport links among themselves than to the outside world. They may be mainly rival exporters of the same commodities, those in which they have the greatest comparative advantage. Yet a mechanical regionalism is not exclusively American. The head of the Commission of European Communities recently expressed his conviction that the world will inevitably organize itself into continents just as it organized itself into nations five centuries ago.

Reducing trade barriers inside a region may permit important economies of scale and indirect benefits to future growth as well as direct gains in efficiency at a given time. But this applies also to reducing trade barriers among countries that are not contiguous and that may be very widely separated. From a cosmopolitan view, the direct gains from a customs union depend on whether the increased trade and specialization within the union would outweigh the decrease in division of labor as between the union and the countries outside; whether in short it involves a net shift to higher or lower cost sources. Some unions might represent a gain; some surely would be a loss, particularly if their composition were determined solely on the basis of criteria as unrelated to economic efficiency as contiguity. Many groupings of countries outside the West seem little more than a literary or touristic convenience for Europeans and Americans, or a bureaucratic convenience for dividing up the work in their Foreign Offices. Various members of such a "region" may otherwise have had rather little economic or political interest in each other. Nor much interest in military coöperation.

Neighborhood in international relations, as Jacob Viner has pointed out, has never guaranteed neighborly feelings, and often has prevented them. Writings on international relations in the eighteenth century and later took proximity as one of the natural conditions of enmity. Indeed, one of the largest defects of regionalism in the postwar period has been a frequent neglect of the hard truths of differences in political interest inside regions and the varying bonds of interests with countries outside. Regionalism, which has seemed a halfway house between nationalism and a utopian universalism has itself sometimes been a kind of utopia for hard- headed Realpolitikers.

The historic antagonisms that divide a geographical region may of course be the very reason offered for a focus on regional association. But the network of conflicting and common interests extends far beyond a single region, and so do problems of conciliation. Today Germany is not the greatest menace to the English or the French. Just as generals are said to prepare always to fight the last war, statesmen and social scientists may be prone to prevent the last war, but not the next.

The increasing ease of communication and transport in the future should not be taken as simply irenic, leading to harmony and peace. On the contrary, it means an extension of the "neighborhood" to more remote areas, and such larger neighborhoods need not mean neighborliness any more than the small ones. The possibilities of coercion as well as coöperation increase. Which brings us back to the third interest, that of national safety.


National safety is the most critical matter and perhaps the least understood by those who think of it in terms of nineteenth-century and earlier technologies; or by those who conceive of it exclusively in terms of bilateral nuclear deterrence, the preoccupation of the mid-1950s. One essential here is that improvements in the technology of putting weapons on target and providing logistics affect not merely one's own capabilities and those of one's friends, but those of potential adversaries as well. These changes, then, extend drastically the range at which potential adversaries can do harm. This is most obvious in the case of the technologies for nuclear war. Not only the nuclear capabilities of the two largest powers, but also of others, will extend far beyond any single region, and will permit coercion if unopposed.

But improvements in technology extend the range at which classical, not just nuclear, conflicts may be fought, And as in the case of nuclear technologies, such improvements apply to potential adversaries too. While neither for the nuclear nor the classical case is distance without effect, the effects are complex; and very much more complex than is recognized by linear theories of the weakening of strength with distance. None the less, the upshot of these considerations of technology in the 1970s is that basic interests in safety will extend farther out than they ever have before. Many of the new isolationists in the United States were interventionists in World War II because they recognized that even then interests in security extended far beyond one's hemisphere.

A second essential is that bilateral mutual deterrence is not enough to prevent the international system from deteriorating. Even if a small nuclear force were able to make one country the equal of any other in deterrence, this would leave unsolved the problem of protecting non-nuclear countries from nuclear coercion. A few intrepid proponents of nuclear equalizers might be ready to distribute nuclear bombs to everybody. To most of us, however, the perils are plain in a spread of nuclear weapons rather less than worldwide. A country without nuclear weapons that feels menaced by a nuclear adversary is likely to seek nuclear weapons of its own unless it feels assured of nuclear protection by someone else. Moreover, since any country, nuclear or non-nuclear, is likely to have interests affected by the coercion of some non-nuclear nation-perhaps a neighbor, perhaps a more distant country-the issue of guarantees, of formal or informal commitments for nuclear protection, cannot be avoided.

On the other hand, getting stable isolated nuclear balances in particular regions, comprising as they do such diverse antagonisms and varying interests with respect to countries outside, will not be easy. Simple balances involving nuclear commitments from one or two member countries will be hard to make persuasive, and some of the members may feel more menaced than assured by the regional nuclear capabilities. Multiple regional nuclear balances would by definition involve an extensive spread of nuclear weapons with the attendant problems of a still further spread by a chain reaction affecting countries in and out of the region and increased probabilities of nuclear war by accident or design. Multilateral nuclear forces for such diverse "regions" as Asia seem much less feasible even than for the European counterpart. And an Arab-Israeli M.L.F. seems rather far off in the future. Or even a Saudi-Hashemite-Algerian-Egyptian one.

While a variety of forms of coöperation among countries in and out of a particular region may be useful, long-distance nuclear commitments by great powers have been essential at the very least to cancel long-distance threats by others. The growth of new long-distance nuclear forces like that of China will emphasize these. Long-distance commitments confer no perfect stability. But neither does any other alternative. I do not think that the deterrence between the United States and the Soviet Union is unconditional. In a many-nation world including, so far, five countries that have exploded nuclear devices and 130 that have not, unconditional deterrence, I would stress, is not a sensible goal. If each of the nuclear countries could unconditionally deter any other, this would mean nuclear instability, not stability. For then any nuclear power could threaten or safely use nuclear weapons against any non-nuclear nation within range.

Commitments for protection against nuclear coercion or attack, whether tacit or explicit, formal or informal, unilateral or in alliance arrangements or in the form of a U.N. collective security agreement, are a necessary element of stability on the international scene. Long-range commitments and defenses that make the risks of commitment commensurate with what is at stake are essential.

The word "commitment" is traumatic, given all the remote and uncertain conflicts in which our country has been engaged. A commitment, moreover, lessens autonomy one way or another for both the party committed and the recipient of the commitment. The United States commits itself in NATO to regard an attack on Europe as an attack on itself. It has extended commitments in varying degrees to other allies and to some nonaligned countries. This is sometimes painful, but it is not quixotic. If we do not commit ourselves and keep it plain that it is more in harmony with our interests and capabilities to fulfill the commitment than not to do so, the countries in question will feel they have to preserve their safety by their own means; and to try to obtain nuclear safety by nuclear means. In a great many cases these are likely to be even less effective than the long- distance commitment.

In sum, neither military capabilities, nor economic interests, nor interests in cultural contacts, nor in national safety seem likely to be narrowly circumscribed by geography, to be contained for example, by continents. Neither national nor regional autarkies look sensible in either strategic or economic or political terms. Orwell projected for 1984 a world split into a few huge blocs. I find such a prospect neither attractive nor likely to improve the chance of peace. Even inside a single nation sharp regional lines dividing the country into groups with different political, sentimental, ethnic and economic interests make civil war more likely. On a world scale it would be more ominous. Orwell showed his insight by having his huge continental blocs constantly at war. The fact that, so far as technology is concerned, the 1970s do not seem to be marching toward 1984 strikes me, then, as all to the good. There are many forms of coöperation, including, to be sure, some regional ones that are useful for specific and limited purposes. But perhaps it is just as well that the useful sorts of association are "cross-cutting"-that is, likely to vary in membership from one purpose to another.

We all believe in the importance of preserving options, of being able to defer decision in order to make a final resolve on the basis of the utmost in information about alternatives. We feel uneasy about getting involved, about "contracting in." None the less, commitment, foreclosing some options, is essential if we want to keep other options open in the future. The technologies of the 1970s suggest that many of the essential commitments will continue to be long-distance.

The new isolationists sometimes phrase their misgivings about American involvement in distant countries not in terms of traditional geopolitics- the range of weapons and the feasibility of transport-but in terms of our limited knowledge of the problems of these outlying peoples and the limitations of our wisdom, intelligence and perseverance. All of these are, sad to say, limited. But if mileage is today no criterion for increasing either our interests or our capabilities, it is even less plausible to suppose that our degree of knowledge is a simple linear function of distance from home, starting high and falling off very steeply. Sometimes we manage to be rather ignorant of countries close by; and while understanding of other countries is always limited (like self- understanding) , we have managed to amass a considerable store of knowledge about some remote spots. It is not evident, for example, that we know more, or are any wiser, about either Haiti or the Dominican Republic than we are about India or Australia. And since we can be greatly affected by distant troubles, we have to deal with them. If we are not adequately informed about them, there is really nothing we can do except to find out more and think harder.

[i] These are George Kennan's words. "Russia and the West Under Lenin and Stalin." Boston: Little Brown, 1962, p. 261. Cf. Nicholas John Spykman's statement that "power is effective in inverse ratio from its source," in "America's Strategy in World Politics." New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1942, p. 448. The term "neo-isolationist" is also Kennan's and he applies it to himself. Like him, I do not take it as a term of abuse.

[ii] For more detail on these studies, see Albert Wohlstetter and Richard Rainey, "Distant Wars and Far Out Estimates," monograph presented at the American Political Science Association meeting, New York, September 1966. Cf. also Albert Wohlstetter, "Theory and Opposed Systems Design," to be published in "New Approaches to International Relations," edited by Morton Kaplan. In this connection we are indebted to the work of Mary Anderson, Wallace Higgins, L. P. Holliday, Norman Jones and John Summerfield.

[iii] See Leland Johnson's "Some Implications of New Communications Technologies for National Security in the 1970s," presented at the ninth annual conference of the Institute for Strategic Studies, September 29, 1967.

[iv] See Alfred Maizels, "Industrial Growth and World Trade." Cambridge University Press, 1963, p. 79 ff; for an extension of his data through 1966, see Monthly Economic Letter, First National City Bank, New York City, Sept, 1967.

[v] See Robert Lipsey, "Price and Quantity Trends in the Foreign Trade of the United States." Princeton University Press, 1963.

You are reading a free article.

Subscribe to Foreign Affairs to get unlimited access.

  • Paywall-free reading of new articles and a century of archives
  • Unlock access to iOS/Android apps to save editions for offline reading
  • Six issues a year in print, online, and audio editions
Subscribe Now