If the 1990s was the decade of the “paradigm wars” in international relations, then we might describe recent years as the “war on paradigmism.” Few scholars in the United States are willing to defend the practice of paradigmism, that is, the notion that: a) IR ought to be organized into major schools of thought; b) those schools of thought must be differentiable with respect to core “assumptions” that cannot be easily reconciled; and c) the most important scholarship within IR contributes to the debate among proponents of these schools of thought.
Proponents of such phrases as “postparadigmism,” “analytical eclecticism,” and “puzzle-driven research” wage war against opponents who have basically abandoned the battlespace. Few, including those scholars once closely identified with the most recent “isms” of U.S. IR—“realism,” “liberalism,” and “constructivism”—are willing to defend the theory and practice of paradigmism. The real conflict takes place within the (often very) loose antiparadigms coalition; it concerns the terms of surrender: does the defeat of paradigmism mean a period of “normal science,” defined by statistical and quasi-statistical inference, the triumph of “soft rationalism” (read: causal explanations resting upon veto points, credible commitments, basic cost–benefit calculations, and so forth), an “engaged pluralism” in which scholars are free to make use of a wide variety of theoretical and analytical tools, or something else entirely?
Irrespective of the distribution of spoils, the waning of the war on paradigmism raises some pressing questions. What should we do with the remnants of the last war—articles and books whose contributions to collective knowledge will be difficult to parse once “liberal institutionalism” becomes about as meaningful to the average reader as “phlogiston”? How should we (and should we) understand the “isms” if we no longer accept their status as paradigms? What the heck is “puzzle-driven research” if we have no baseline theoretical expectations, let alone “analytical eclecticism,” without heterogeneous schools of thought?
The books by J. Samuel Barkin and Charles L. Glaser suggest answers to these questions, but they have more direct implications for another one: Whence realism (and realists) in this brave new postparadigmatic world? Both would like to see realist theories focus on foreign policy, but from there their approaches diverge markedly.
In Realist Constructivism, Barkin advocates enriching realism through a mutual engagement with constructivism. Over 10 unusually accessible chapters on IR theory, he builds his case that (among other things) theoretical aggregates such as realism, constructivism, and liberalism are best differentiated not with reference to incommensurable differences but to “core concepts”; that realism's core concept is power politics (rather than state-centrism or rationality); that constructivism and realism are not competitors; and that both gain through intellectual engagement.
In particular, Barkin believes that realists need to abandon their romance with “scientificism” and rational-choice theory. These trajectories lead to a narrow focus, on the one hand, on putatively objective and quantifiable “material power” and, on the other hand, on shallow conceptions of “national interests” in terms of survival and territorial expansion.
Although many realists acknowledge the limitations of treating power as a simple function of military capabilities, Barkin notes that they have done little to develop rigorous concepts and methods for analyzing nonmaterial (and nonmilitary) instruments of power politics (p. 35). Indeed, contemporary realism often comes across as surprisingly anodyne, with little to say about the messy business of domination, resistance, and manipulation that so interested Machiavelli. Even a realist analysis of war deals largely with the start and end of hostilities, rather than the process of warfare itself—despite frequent invocations of Clausewitzian adages about politics by other means.
At the same time, Barkin notes, “many realists have reified the idea of state survival as the only national interest worthy of note.” He argues that “realists [who] wish to remain relevant beyond the very rare instances when the … survival of great powers is at issue” need to recognize that interests are socially constructed, variable, and inflected by a broad array of normative considerations (p. 172). Both of these endeavors require, in his view, a turn toward realist constructivism.
If Barkin is right, then Glaser's book represents precisely the wrong direction for realist theory. Glaser proposes a strategic-choice theory that seeks to explain—and to assess the relative salience of—interstate cooperation and conflict in international politics. He finds, contra different varieties of self-described realists, that cooperation and competition both—depending on the circumstances—comprise rational state behaviors.
In Rational Theory of International Politics, Glaser builds his theory over the course of four chapters. He argues that three variables matter most for accounting for these patterns—or, at least, what these patterns should look like if states behave rationally: 1) whether relevant states are security seekers who just want to be safe, or greedy political communities that desire more territory for its own sake; 2) the material conditions that shape the military capabilities of states, including the relative efficacy of offensive and defensive military action (the “offense–defense balance”); and 3) the information available to states concerning a) potential rivals' motives and b) potential rivals' understanding of their motives.
Additional disaggregation of these variables follows. For example, Glaser advances an insightful distinction between the motives of states (what they want) and their intentions (what they are prepared to do about it). This highlights how greedy states may be status quo oriented—they would like larger tracts of land but judge that the costs of acquiring them outweigh the benefits—and security seekers may be revisionist—they may believe, as did the British Empire when contemplating South Asia, that only expansion can secure their territorial integrity.
Glaser's variables interact to determine the existence and severity of security dilemmas and deterrence challenges. These in turn influence the desirability of adopting cooperation or competitive strategies toward one another. Glaser elucidates the underlying logics of these strategies, as well as how different conditions shift their relative efficacy, with great clarity and nuance. Subsequent chapters extend the framework to address related issues, such as the causes of war; contemplate counterarguments and objections; locate his arguments with the landscape of IR theory; evaluate the theory “from within” (in terms of its logic, assumptions, etc.), assess the theory with respect to some briefly sketched cases (the end of the Cold War, post–Cold War Europe and Northeast Asia, and the behavior of Nazi Germany); apply it to major twentieth-century arms races; and wrap up with a summary and discussion of policy implications. Throughout, the author eviscerates a great deal of muddled thinking associated with current realist concepts and associated theoretical claims.
What does this all amount to? Glaser offers his theory, quite sensibly, as “normative”: It describes what states should do if they were rational cost–benefit calculators making choices with reference to the variables he identifies. Indeed, he demonstrates ably that we can tell fairly persuasive stories about world politics from such a baseline. Along the way, however, he also shows that, whatever we call them, “paradigms” still delineate intellectual styles and communities in IR.
First, while noting the “realist lineage” of his framework, Glaser argues for avoiding a “debate over terminology” irrelevant to the “substance” of his “analysis” (p. 15). But the significance of his arguments—let alone a good many of the debates that occupy his attention—is likely to elude many nonrealists. Second, despite Glaser's unusually careful attempt to engage with nonrealist traditions, my nonsystematic estimate is that not a single “constructivist” scholar who Barkin cites as an exemplar of realist-constructivist theorizing is cited by Glaser in any capacity whatsoever. In other words, Glaser's intellectual map of the field, to the extent that it reflects that of mainstream realism, is radically different from Barkin's.
This difference helps account for the reason that Barkin's arguments are unlikely to move many self-identified realists. Some view what Barkin bemoans about contemporary realist theory as features rather than bugs. Others will consider the absence of any middle-range theories, let alone empirical content, evidence of an underlying vacuousness in Barkin's vision. In this respect, much of the postparadigmism crowd will find little of interest beyond Barkin's criticisms of paradigmism. Indeed, he faces a fundamental dilemma: how to simultaneously oppose paradigmism and yet build a book entirely around a discussion of international relations theory. The fact that he carries this off at all is a testament to his tenacity.
If, as I expect, postparadigmism is emerging as the dominant paradigm force in U.S. international relations, then the question “whence realism?” is likely to be of diminishing interest in the field. If this is the case, then Glaser's book occupies an important Janus-faced position. It stands as a (possibly definitive) coda for a series of debates that dominated the security subfield in the 1980s and 1990s. In its self-conscious transcendence of realism and presentation as a strategic-choice theory (albeit with realist roots), it may reflect the beginning of the end for “Big Realism” as a substantively distinctive mode of inquiry.
This suggests that the odds weigh against Barkin's book making much of a dent on the realist imagination. Instead, it may signal an increasing, if largely unacknowledged, passing of Machiavelli's torch to scholars outside of what Glaser terms the “realist lineage.” While not necessarily a cause for celebration, it could be much worse for everyone involved—whether they choose to follow Glaser's or Barkin's path.
