Almost a half-century ago, Herbert Kelman argued that there can be no really autonomous psychological theory of war and international relations, only a general theory of international relations in which psychology plays a part. That assessment still holds, and Thomas Lindemann's book can be construed in this spirit. Despite its all-encompassing title, this little book aims at a very modest target: The source of war identified here is nonrecognition—defined as attacks (real or imaginary) on an actor's self-image. The author does not set out to displace other theories of war; his goal is simply to posit that war can be motivated by the need to preserve actors' self-images, just as much as the desire for security or profits.

While Lindemann recognizes that some desires for recognition are socially constructed, some are based on elementary psychological needs—for respect, for social self-esteem and identity, for self-confidence, and for empathy. Drawing on the works of Axel Honneth, Abraham Maslow, Anthony Giddens, and others, he argues that these are universal motivations of human nature, the denial of which can lead to aggressive behavior.

Lindemann lays out four hypotheses, each of which identifies a link between nonrecognition and war associated with a different motivation. The four motivations are not mutually exclusive and frequently intersect in the same war: 1) Leaders with “hubristic identities” may cause wars for prestige. Leaders of states with self-superior identities—racial, cultural, religious, or political—are particularly vulnerable to narcissistic wounds inflicted by other states that reject their superiority. 2) The propensity for “wars of antipathy” is increased if actors lack a mutual positive identity. The absence of collective identity is associated with indifference, which increases the likelihood of nonrecognition. (The author notes that the majority of interstate conflicts involve heterogeneous political regimes.) 3) Attacks against accepted standards of a state's universal dignity are likely to incite wars. Compared to integrated and accepted states, we should expect newly created states or newly emergent major powers excluded from leading international institutions to be prone to war or militarized conflicts, as should defeated states subjected to humiliating treaties, and even states on the receiving end of harsh ultimatums or sanctions. 4) Attacks on a state's specific political or cultural identity can lead to wars for “particular dignity.” As Lindemann says, “States are far from being people or “living beings,” but they are governed by people in flesh and bones who are sensitive to emotional dynamics”(p. 42).

The author's tests consist of two sets of case studies. In the first, he examines four international (sub)systems, two stable (Congress of Vienna, 1815–53, and peace between democracies, 1945–91) and two unstable (interwar period 1919–39 and early Cold War 1945–53). He is interested in whether variation in hubristic identities (as indicated by “megalomaniac” architecture—probably the least effective of his ideas), absence of shared identities, exclusion of great powers from global institutions, unequal application of international norms, and punitive treatment for great powers in postwar treaties covary with war and militarized disputes. In the second sets of case studies, he examines four crises, two of which result in war (the Six Day War and the Iraq War) and two of which do not (the Cuban Missile Crisis and the US-Libyan crisis, 1986–2004). (He uses an exceedingly broad definition of crisis: relations between two states where tensions could lead to war.) When war is the outcome, it is presumed to occur because crisis managers fail to use the “politics of recognition.” Peaceful outcomes are associated with the granting of symbolic concessions, saving face for both sides, rhetorical sensitivity to the other's sovereignty, and refraining from acts that might humiliate others. However, the hypothesis applies only when the instigating state is motivated by perceptions of military or symbolic vulnerability rather than gains. The politics of recognition would not have appeased revisionist states such as Nazi Germany.

Lindemann's brief case studies, based largely on secondary sources, generally support the explanatory utility of the theory. However, the results—while plausible—must be seen as impressionistic, speculative, and suggestive. For example, it is possible that in 1967 Gamal Abdel Nasser's provocative rhetoric “collided with the Holocaust and Masada syndrome. Instead of intimidating Israeli leaders, the threats of annihilation hurled by Arab leaders and Radio Cairo announcers revived the trauma created by the memory of genocide,” attacking the cultural and political identity of Israeli leaders (p. 104). But how do we know? Lindemann simply cites the opinion of other sources for it. Likewise, it is possible that the events of 9/11 and Saddam Hussein's insensitive comments on that occasion “were likely to inflict narcissistic wounds on American leaders” (p. 109). For evidence, he merely says that the “very ‘passionate’ comments of the American president towards the Iraqi leader emphasize the ‘identity’ character of the opposition to Iraq. In March 2002, the president stated to Rice: ‘Fuck Saddam. We're taking him out’” (p. 109). Proving these assertions are clearly difficult; determining the causal significance of these egoistic slights is even more problematic.

Despite its evidentiary limitations, the importance of this book is that it brings analysis of war squarely back to the individual level. This is a welcome corrective to a field that has emphasized system-level theories. Somewhat like Jonathan Renshon's Why Leaders Choose War: The Psychology of Prevention (2006), it carves out a niche in which psychological theories may help us understand certain wars. Lindemann's theory closely parallels the psychological critique of deterrence theory associated with Richard Ned Lebow, Janice Gross Stein, and Robert Jervis, who point out that psychological factors (misperceptions, personality, ego-defense mechanisms) are likely to mean that defensive-motivated deterrent threats will be interpreted as provocative offense threats. The difference is that Lindemann's theory is more narrowly focused on adverse reactions to threats to one's self-image. Like the former scholars' policy of “reassurance,” Lindemann's “recognition policy” posits that deterrence based on coercion and humiliation is likely to be counterproductive: “[T]hreats often constitute attacks on self-images and also fuel fears about future behavior” (p. 97). In the author's two crises that end in war, firmness, threatening postures, rhetorical excess, militarized actions, and coercive “dissuasion” backfired. At the very least, his work constitutes another nail in the coffin of the use of realpolitik tactics—what John Vasquez (The War Puzzle [1993]) calls “power politics.”

Recognition theory is, as the author notes, also compatible with rational choice theory: The pursuit of symbolic interests such as recognition can be instrumental, and protecting one's prestige may be important in deterring one's enemies. While the two theories may be compatible, that does not mean their differing causal logics are easy to untangle. Having been “disrespected” by a rival state, leaders may indeed take military action to save face. But is this the result of a psychological reaction by a leader internally compelled by the need for recognition and to maintain one's self-image, self-regard, and identity? Or is it compelled by a desire to maintain political power at home in the face of emotional reactions of one's own citizens to the international “disgrace” perpetrated against the nation's honor? Or is the action due to a cold, conscious desire not to appear weak so that one's deterrent credibility will be kept intact? Lindemann's case studies admit the difficulty of this endeavor.

Lindemann's conception of nonrecognition is clearly constructivist and interactionist: Nonrecognition exists to the extent that there is a difference between one's self-image and the image we perceive that others hold of us. Both threats and identities, central to his theory, are socially constructed. The author blends psychological theory so closely with constructivism that in many places it is difficult to determine which of the two is doing the heavy lifting. For instance, his explanation for the post–World War I democratic peace is that “cooperative behavior between democracies has promoted shared identities, creating in turn cooperative practices” (p. 60). While the absence of shared identities might increase the propensity for mutual nonrecognition, socially constructed identities seems more important here than the presence of recognition.

Lindemann's arguments are almost certainly complemented by current studies on the importance of emotion based on the findings of neuroscientists (see Antonio Damasio, Descartes' Error: Emotion, Reason and the Human Brain, 1996). One of Lindemann's central conclusions is that coercive tactics that do not allow opponents an honorable way out, that humiliate them and damage their self-images, are dangerous. Recent psychological studies would posit that such reactions are at least in part emotional responses to stimuli. Finally, it would also be useful to consider how cultural and personality factors interact with the need for self-esteem. For instance, one might assume that leaders embedded in “honor cultures” would more likely be affected by the social-psychological dynamics Lindemann describes. Likewise, one might hypothesize that leaders with certain personalities or traits might be more susceptible to slights to their self-esteem.

In sum, the book is a useful corrective to those who might disregard individual-level phenomena in the causes of war. At the same time, the real question remains: How much causal weight can we can assign to nonrecognition? If Lindemann does not furnish us with an answer to this question, he does succeed in showing us why it is one worth asking.