The Costs of Conversation: Obstacles to Peace Talks in Wartime 9781501732218

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The Costs of Conversation

a volume in the series

Cornell Studies in Security Affairs Edited by Robert J. Art, Robert Jervis, and Stephen M. Walt A list of titles in this series is available at cornellpress​.­cornell​.­edu.

The Costs of Conversation Obstacles to Peace Talks in War­time

O r i ana S k y l ar M a s tro

Cornell University Press Ithaca and London

Copyright © 2019 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. Visit our website at cornellpress​.­cornell​.e­ du. First published 2019 by Cornell University Press Printed in the United States of Amer­ic­ a Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-­Publication Data Names: Mastro, Oriana Skylar, author. Title: The costs of conversation : obstacles to peace talks in war­time /   Oriana Skylar Mastro. Description: Ithaca : Cornell University Press, 2019. | Series: Cornell   studies in security affairs | Includes bibliographical references and  index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018012023 (print) | LCCN 2018012780 (ebook) |   ISBN 9781501732218 (pdf) | ISBN 9781501732225 (epub/mobi) |   ISBN 9781501732201 | ISBN 9781501732201 (cloth; alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Korean War, 1950–1953—­Peace. | Korean War,   1950–1953—­Diplomatic history. | Sino-­Indian Border Dispute,   1957—­Diplomatic history. | Vietnam War, 1961–1975—­Peace. |   Vietnam War, 1961–1975—­Diplomatic history. | War—­Termination—­   Decision making—­Case studies. Classification: LCC DS921.75 (ebook) | LCC DS921.75 .M37 2019   (print) | DDC 327.1/72—­dc23 LC rec­ord available at https://­lccn​.­loc​.­gov​/­2018012023 Cover photograph: U.S. soldiers from the 1st Stryker Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division, on patrol in Afghanistan, 4 September 2018. U.S. Army photograph.

To Arzan, who makes “having it all” pos­si­ble

Contents

Acknowl­edgments

ix

List of Abbreviations

xiii

Introduction: Diplomacy and War

1

1. A Framework for Explaining War­time Diplomatic Posture

12

2. Chinese Diplomatic Posture in the Korean War

35

3. Chinese Diplomatic Posture in the Sino-­Indian War

63

4. Indian Diplomatic Posture in the Sino-­Indian War

79

5. North Viet­nam­ese Diplomatic Posture in the Vietnam War

101

Diplomacy and War: Conclusions, Implications, and Recommendations

126

Notes 143 Index 189

vii

Acknowl­edgments

­ here have been so many friends, colleagues, mentors, and benefactors T who have made this book pos­si­ble—it is hard to know where to begin. The seed of this proj­ect germinated in the Politics Department at Prince­ton University. Aaron Friedberg and Jake Shapiro provided constructive criticism and pushed me on the core theoretical assumptions of my dissertation, which paved the way for the much revised and better explanation of diplomatic posture found in this book. Keren Yarhi-­Milo also read the manuscript and has since become a mentor and friend. Most of all, I thank my mentor Thomas Christensen for his guidance, knowledge, and support over the past de­cade. He is one of the few who have successfully struck a balance between public ser­vice, China expertise, and contributions to international relations theory—­a standard that pushes me to work harder. Moreover, his feedback was always spot on—­even if I had to have a few glasses of wine before I could ­handle reading through his detailed suggestions. A number of institutions and foundations provided support for this proj­ ect. First, the fieldwork was conducted thanks to support from Prince­ton University’s Mamdouha S. Bobst Center for Peace and Justice, the Prince­ton Institute for International and Regional Studies (PIIRS), the Bradley Foundation, the Smith Richardson Foundation World Politics and Statecraft Pre-­ doctoral Fellowship, and the Asia Foundation Faculty Research Grant on the Domestic Dimensions of IR. Jim Goldgeier and Charlie Glaser helped arrange a pre-­doc position at the Institute for Security and Conflict Studies at George Washington University, where this research proj­ect first took its current form. I also received support for this research from the Miller Center of the University of ­Virginia, where I was a National Fellow. Also, I thank the Council of Foreign Relations, where I sat as a Stanton Nuclear Security

ix

Acknowl­e dgments

Fellow, and the American Enterprise Institute (AEI), where I have served as a Jeane Kirkpatrick Scholar. Both of t­hese institutions provided me with research support and an intellectual home, which allowed me to make pro­ gress on a number of proj­ects, including this manuscript. AEI also provided me with additional research assistance and funding, which helped me put the final touches on this manuscript. I was able to take advantage of t­hese opportunities thanks to the support of Georgetown—­especially Jeff Anderson, Irfan Nooruddin, Bruce Hoffman, and Keir Lieber. I was lucky to find academic homes when I was abroad conducting research. My husband and I spent six blissful months at Campion Hall at Oxford University, where I was able to write the first drafts of two chapters thanks to the serenity and intellectually stimulating environment (and the port at Sunday lunch). The Institute for Defence Studies and Analy­sis (IDSA) in New Delhi provided me with library access and office space, and Beijing University, in par­tic­u­lar Wang Dong, provided me institutional support. But this book ­really came to fruition during my time as a professor of security studies at Georgetown University. I could not ask for a better academic home than the Security Studies Program (SSP) in the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Ser­vice (SFS). To be surrounded by top scholars who also engage in public debate and affect real-­world policy undoubtedly made this book better. SSP, partly through the Bilden Asian Security Studies Fund, and SFS also provided me with ample research funds to conduct fieldwork in India, China, the UK, and the United States—as well as to pres­ent earlier versions at APSA, ISA, MPSA, and ISSS-­ISAC annual conferences. Additionally, I received excellent research support; several research assistants made impor­tant contributions to this proj­ect over the years, including Denise Der, John Chen, Zachary Karabatak, Danni Song, Yilin Sun, Danni Wang, Christian Verhulst, Annie Kowalewski, Zi Yang, Elaine Li, and Lynn Lee. I would also like to thank my editor at Cornell University Press, Roger Haydon; the series editor, Robert Jervis; my production editor, Kristen Bettcher; and my manuscript’s anonymous reviewer for their feedback and insights. Also thanks to the many others at Cornell, along with Allison Van Deventer and Anne and Rob Holmes for their help in preparing the manuscript. The Mortara Center for International Studies at Georgetown also generously sponsored a book workshop, through which Keir Lieber, Kate McNamara, David Edelstein, Mike Green, Victor Cha, Thomas Mahnken, and Charlie Glaser pointed out issues and potential solutions, which helped take the book to the next level. Dani Reiter and Taylor Fravel did most of the heavy lifting as my honorable external reviewers. It is hard to overemphasize how critical ­these inputs ­were to the final product—­the discussion helped me resolve a few outstanding theoretical issues and led me to completely restructure the manuscript. Besides providing excellent feedback on

x

Acknowl­e dgments

the book, Kate McNamara and Liz Stanley have been excellent mentors and role models for me at Georgetown, and have also served as stellar role models as top ­women in the field. My ideas w ­ ere also sharpened by invaluable feedback at vari­ous pre­sen­ta­tions and seminars at MIT, Stanford, Prince­ton, Columbia, Harvard, Duke, and George Washington University. ­There are some ­people for whom ­there can never be enough thanks: my parents, Claudia and James, for stepping in to lend a helping hand whenever I have needed it (which has been often). I also acknowledge our faithful dog, Tava, who forces me to take breaks to walk around outside, and makes it impossible to be in a bad mood. Last but certainly not least, my husband, Arzan, to whom this book is dedicated. He left ­behind a fulfilling and successful ­career, and his old home in idyllic Australia, to make a new home in DC with me. He has been an iron-­handed editor and a sounding board for my ideas—­and most of my best ones ­were actually his. But most impor­tant, he saves me from myself, bringing balance, calm, and joy into our lives.

xi

Abbreviations

CC Central Committee CCP Chinese Communist Party CCPCC CCP Central Committee CIA Central Intelligence Agency CMC Central Military Commission CPV Chinese ­People Volunteers CPVF-­NKPA Joint Command DPRK Demo­cratic ­People’s Republic of ­Korea DRV Demo­cratic Republic of Vietnam FRUS Foreign Relations of the United States GVN Government of Vietnam ISIS Islamic State of Iraq and Syria JCS Joint Chiefs of Staff KPA Korean ­People’s Army LAC line of ­actual control NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organ­ization NEFA North-­East Frontier Agency NLF National Liberation Front NLFSV National Liberation Front of South Vietnam NMML Nehru Museum and Memorial Library NVN North Vietnam PLA ­People’s Liberation Army POW prisoner of war PRC ­People’s Republic of China ROK Republic of ­Korea (South ­Korea) SVN South Vietnam

xiii

Abbreviations

SVNLA UN UNC UNSC USSR VC VWP

xiv

South Vietnam Liberation Army United Nations United Nations Command United Nations Security Council Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Viet Cong Viet­nam­ese Workers Party

The Costs of Conversation

Introduction Diplomacy and War

­ fter a war breaks out, what ­factors influence warring parties’ decisions A about w ­ hether to offer talks, and when may their position on war­time diplomacy change? Decision makers and academics tend to believe that the transition from pure fighting to “talking while fighting” is pro­gress, but both tend to overlook or misunderstand how we get from one to the other. States currently lack a framework for understanding an opponent’s approach to war­time diplomacy and how to best shape it. This can lead to harmful miscalculations that may unnecessarily prolong wars, encourage escalation, and reduce third parties’ ability to mediate and bring peace to conflict areas. In some cases, decision makers have assumed, usually incorrectly, that escalating military pressure is the most effective way to convince an opponent to come to the negotiating t­ able. In o ­ thers, they put their faith in employing face-­saving mea­sures, often with similarly disappointing results. This debate about how to get the ­enemy to the negotiating ­table unfolded in the context of US war efforts in Af­ghan­i­stan. The 2009–10 US-­led surge was designed in large part to pressure Taliban insurgent leaders into negotiating an end to the war. As one se­nior official from the North Atlantic Treaty Organ­ization (NATO) explained, “­You’ve got to put pressure on the networks to get them to start thinking about alternatives to fighting.”1 Some experts cautioned that attempts to bleed out the insurgency would backfire, leaving the Taliban even less inclined to negotiate.2 The same debate is currently unfolding with re­spect to a potential conflict between China and the United States. In the event of a war, it has become a popu­lar idea that blockading China’s access to natu­ral resources would be effective at compelling the Chinese to enter into talks that could lead to a negotiated settlement to the South China Sea disputes.3 This is a very dangerous assumption, and one that is currently uninformed by rigorous research and analy­sis. Diplomacy plays a critical role in the management and resolution of armed conflict in the international system. At some point ­after a war breaks out,

1

Introduction

decision makers usually see the opening of talks as a constructive step in the conflict’s resolution; dialogue allows for deals to be brokered and implemented among all the relevant parties. Aspects of rationalist, psychological, and institutional approaches to international relations all accentuate how meeting and exchanging offers can facilitate war termination, albeit by focusing on dif­fer­ent mechanisms. B ­ ecause of t­ hese benefits, third parties often push for the belligerents to meet, and even direct participants in the conflict may actively try to launch peace talks. Despite war­time diplomacy’s positive effects, however, history is replete with examples of leaders refusing to talk to the ­enemy. In the Korean War, fighting ensued for over a year before an agreement to hold peace talks, fighting continued in the Iran-­Iraq War for almost eight years before both sides came to the ­table, and the US-­led co­ali­tion fought in Af­ghan­i­stan for a de­ cade before its leaders began publicly to consider integrating diplomacy into their war effort.4 In over half the wars since World War II, at least one belligerent refused to talk, privately or publicly, throughout the entire conflict.5 Po­liti­cal scientists have identified this “nearly universal tendency for states at war to simply fight for extended periods of time without making serious offers for a negotiated settlement.”6 Even when states are open to talks, they often do so with hesitancy. Former US secretary of state Hillary Clinton captured the challenges of shifting to a new sentiment in a statement about the US diplomatic position in Af­ghan­i­stan: “I know that reconciling with an adversary that can be as brutal as the Taliban sounds distasteful, even unimaginable. And diplomacy would be easy if we only had to talk to our friends. But that is not how one makes peace.”7 One famous case of a reluctance to talk concerns Winston Churchill’s success in convincing his colleagues not to open negotiations with Nazi Germany ­after the fall of France. During British War Cabinet meetings between May 24 and 28, 1940, Churchill made the case that the timing was not ripe for talks, largely ­because Britain had just suffered such a grievous defeat. Churchill was also concerned that entertaining talks would terribly damage British morale, which in turn would hurt the country’s ability to hold off an invasion.8 In other words, ­Great Britain needed to first demonstrate resiliency; in Churchill’s words, “If, ­after two or three months, we could show that we ­were still unbeaten, our prestige would return. . . . ​Let us therefore avoid being dragged down this slippery slope with France. The ­whole of this manoeuvre was intended to get us so deeply involved in negotiations that we should be unable to turn back.”9 The British ambassador to Japan did not inquire about the types of proposals Germany might be willing to make in talks when meeting with the Japa­nese foreign minister “for fear of encouraging belief that [­Great Britain] might be prepared to listen to them.”10 One of the main proposals considered was to approach the Italians and ask them to make inquiries with Germany about potential terms of peace.

2

DIPLOMACY AND WAR

But Churchill was against demonstrating any willingness to negotiate, fearing it would convey weakness to Hitler and make it impossible to credibly “return to a position of defiance.”11 Liberal leader A. Sinclair agreed that “any sign of weakness would encourage the Germans and Italians and also undermine morale at home.” The members of the war cabinet came to the agreement that the situation would improve only if ­Great Britain could demonstrate confidence in its ability to ­counter the Germans, and at this point this message could be conveyed only by refusing to negotiate.12 This book demonstrates that diplomacy and war fighting are best understood as integral aspects of a state’s war­time strategy that interact and shape each other, not as two separate state be­hav­iors. Decisions about diplomatic posture can impact one’s prospects for victory by helping or hindering one’s ability to fight and shaping the nature and intensity of the conflict. T ­ hese choices are purposive in that states survey their environment and, to the best of their ability, choose the diplomatic posture that maximizes their prospects of victory and minimizes the aggregate cost of conflict. All e­ lse being equal, states prefer genuine peace talks to the absence of talking while fighting. The prob­lem is that states are often uncertain about the true motivation ­behind an offer to talk. Willingness to talk may be construed as a sign of weakness, that one is less resolved or militarily weaker. The repercussions of communicating such information can be severe—an adversary may feel more optimistic about its own prospects and be encouraged to fight harder and longer as a result. B ­ ecause of this dynamic, leaders are often reluctant to take the risk for peace necessary for talks to emerge. Talks between states play a central role in prominent theories regarding peace, crisis, the onset of war, war duration, and war termination. In peacetime, direct talks allow states to bargain, coordinate positions, and implement agreements to realize strategic interests short of war. Neoliberal institutionalists argue that institutions may increase cooperation by reducing transaction costs of information transmission, something that is often done through verbal communication among member states.13 Some scholars point to the increased people-­to-­people interaction and communication that result from trade as a mechanism through which economic ties can lead to a reduced likelihood of war.14 From the rationalist perspective, direct communication can help maintain peace by enhancing the credibility of states’ threats and assurances.15 Research in the cognitive psy­chol­ogy tradition posits dif­fer­ent mechanisms through which talks are instrumental: face-­to-­ face interaction may help facilitate agreements b ­ ecause it allows states to demonstrate sincerity and build trust through personal impressions.16 Talking is also a key component of coercive diplomacy, or the simultaneous use of threats or limited military action and diplomatic efforts designed to persuade the target state to change its policies or be­hav­ior.17

3

Introduction

As tensions escalate between states, talks continue to be central to narratives about costly signaling in crisis bargaining.18 States’ decisions and responses that are often used to decipher ­whether they are a weak or strong type are often conveyed through talks, albeit implicitly.19 The argument of this book centers on the premise that states believe a willingness to talk could give away their type as weak, and therefore they need to signal strength and resiliency before such a step can be taken. Open communication channels can also signal conciliatory intentions, while refusal to engage underscores a state’s dedication to a contentious approach.20 A nascent research agenda looks at how states choose to communicate—­through private or covert talks or public posturing—­and the conditions u ­ nder which each method allows states to send credible signals.21 Robert Trager articulates that the existence of diplomatic channels affects the likelihood of conflict, and shows that leaders can learn from conversations b ­ ehind closed doors with potential adversaries.22 States’ willingness to talk also varies inversely with the likelihood that a disagreement ­will escalate to war. Direct communication is critical to avoiding miscommunication and miscalculation, which is why countries sometimes establish direct hotlines between leaders.23 Other work points out that states often cut off talks or diplomatic ties when they are on the brink of war without explaining the rationale b ­ ehind this decision.24 When war breaks out ­because states fail to credibly communicate their willingness and ability to fight, talks have a place in scholarly explanations of the duration and its termination of the military conflict. For example, Catherine Langlois and Jean-­Pierre Langlois argue that states may delay negotiations as part of an attrition strategy of holding out “in the hope that the other side ­will give in to outstanding demands.”25 In a conflict between rivals, war may be prolonged ­because domestic po­liti­cal interests prefer military victory over negotiated settlement—in other words, rivalry leads to heightened reluctance to talk to the ­enemy.26 Fi­nally, talks are one mechanism through which wars can come to an end. The bargaining model of war argues that wars break out b ­ ecause of incomplete information, and therefore conflicts should cease when beliefs about relative power, resolve, and cost sensitivity converge.27 Such learning can occur through the exchanging of offers, which tends to happen in the context of direct talks.28 This is not to say that talks always lead to the quick resolution of war, but they are one impor­tant causal pathway to peace. Moreover, war termination is theoretically more likely ­after talks emerge ­because of the informational value of direct engagement. The opening of negotiations can alter the positions of the belligerents, in part by strengthening the hands of the “doves” when ­there are competing domestic interests.29

4

DIPLOMACY AND WAR

The Imperative to Study Diplomatic Posture While direct talks are not the only way states communicate with each other, this review shows that many theoretical treatments distinguish this type of communication from o ­ thers ­because of the psychological impact of face-­to-­ face interaction, the effectiveness of direct information transmission, and the higher certainty of the source of the signal or target audience. But the existing lit­er­a­ture ­either ignores or gives a shallow treatment to how states approach talking to the e­ nemy. Instead, most of the existing lit­er­a­ture assumes states have a par­tic­ul­ ar diplomatic posture and proceed from ­there to explain peace, crisis signaling, and the onset, duration, and termination of war. Even the bargaining model of war, which goes to g ­ reat lengths to treat diplomacy as part of the war-­fighting pro­cess, provides ­little insight into the strategic choices shaping diplomatic posture.30 If peacetime diplomacy “is a fragmented field of study with a weak theoretical base,” then the study of war­time diplomacy—­whether states are willing to talk with the ­enemy—is virtually non­ex­is­tent.31 This creates a theoretical imperative to explain the variation we see in diplomatic posture across countries, conflicts, and time. Additionally, ­there is not an adequate appreciation of the distinctiveness of talking while fighting compared with peacetime or crisis diplomacy. In war­time diplomacy, the direct interaction between po­liti­cal entities, their principals, and accredited agents has lost its routine nature and takes place with vio­lence in the backdrop.32 This continuous state of vio­lence distinguishes war­time diplomacy from peacetime diplomacy in two impor­tant ways. First, war ensures that states pay real costs if they fail to negotiate a settlement, meaning t­ here is a constant and strong pull ­toward the negotiating ­table.33 Even if states manage to achieve a decisive victory, they could have potentially achieved their war aims at a smaller cost by talking while fighting. Second, war fighting also creates a situation in which diplomacy becomes an integral part of the coercive strategy “in which states use force and the threat of force to influence other states.”34 This backdrop of vio­lence creates the possibility that a readiness to talk w ­ ill be interpreted as conceding ­under military pressure, raising the strategic costs of conversation. Identifying the conditions ­under which states are more inclined to engage in war­time talks may serve to inform policy as well. Policymakers do not have a firm understanding of the concerns that discourage leaders from coming to the t­ able and how to allay them. By examining the historical rec­ ord, including instances in which countries ­were unable to get or delayed in getting key players to the negotiating ­table, lessons can be learned that ­will help members of the international community more effectively convince belligerents to negotiate with one another in the f­ uture. Such knowledge is

5

Introduction

especially impor­ tant in con­ temporary international relations, since an ever-­increasing majority of modern wars are limited wars that end in a negotiated settlement.35

Defining and Mea­sur­ing Diplomatic Posture This book is designed to provide the first comprehensive framework for under­ standing when and how states incorporate talking with the ­enemy into their war-­fighting strategies. The scope of analy­sis is limited to war­time decisions. Peacetime bargaining be­hav­ior is theoretically distinct in that states may delay resolution of an issue in­def­initely at negligible cost. Warfare ensures that states pay real costs if they fail to reach a negotiated settlement. I refer to the belligerent’s willingness to engage in direct talks with its ­enemy at a given point in a war as its diplomatic posture. Diplomatic posture is a country-­level variable that captures a country’s position as e­ ither open or closed to talking with the e­ nemy at a given time. Countries can exhibit both closed and open diplomatic postures during the course of a war. In an open diplomatic posture, the warring party is willing to talk directly with the ­enemy unconditionally in a given period, meaning ­under current conditions. States can appeal directly to their opponent for talks through public statements or secret channels. States can also ask third parties—­ individuals, international institutions, countries not party to the dispute— to communicate their readiness to engage. A country may also demonstrate its open diplomatic posture more passively, by accepting third-­party mediation or offers for direct talks made by the ­enemy. ­Because it is a country-­ level variable, an open diplomatic posture may not actually lead to peace talks. For talks to emerge, a state’s counter­parts must also be open. This definition and its values consist of a number of key components. First, talks and negotiations are used interchangeably so as not to artificially attach any judgments about the value or effectiveness of the engagement.36 Second, the emphasis on direct talks is impor­tant; if a state is willing to communicate only through third-­party interlocutors, it is not open. ­Because the critical ­factor is how one relates to the ­enemy, a government can still have an open diplomatic posture even if it pushes for secret talks, a strategy that can alleviate domestic po­liti­cal pressures. Third, unconditional willingness in a given period of time is an impor­tant feature. Once a state puts preconditions on talks, in practice it is not open to talks in the current period u ­ nder the current conditions. If t­ hese preconditions are met and the state does not create additional obstacles, then a state may move to an open posture. Simply put, for its diplomatic posture to be considered open, a belligerent needs to express both a desire for direct communication and ac­cep­tance of engagement without any conditions.37

6

DIPLOMACY AND WAR

When one of t­hese two conditions is not met, a belligerent’s diplomatic posture is considered closed. A country’s opposition to war­time diplomacy can entail (1) refusing to receive representatives from the other side, (2) opposing all international and multilateral efforts to bring belligerents to the negotiating ­table, or (3) receiving third-­party mediators only to communicate its rejection of direct diplomacy ­under current conditions. This opposition can be expressed as a blanket policy—­for example, the US policy of never negotiating with terrorists. States may alternatively pres­ent their closed posture as conditional, claiming they ­will be open to talks once certain conditions are met.38 At any given point in a war, a state may have ­either a closed or an open diplomatic posture. A country may also transition between diplomatic postures. While theoretically pos­si­ble, in practice states rarely revert back to a closed posture from an open one, so transitions tend to be unidirectional from closed to open. This does not imply that states are always talking; the schedule of interaction inevitably includes pauses between rounds, and sometimes states purposefully extend t­hese pauses to increase bargaining leverage. But it is difficult for a state to credibly communicate that it is intractably closed off to talking to the ­enemy over the issue when it previously opened itself up to negotiations ­after hostilities began. Moreover, states expect delays and walkouts as a bargaining tactic in negotiations, and therefore such moves do not provide new information needed to change expectations.39

Limitations, Caveats, and Scope Conditions In the next chapter I pres­ent the costly conversations thesis, which argues that decision makers are primarily concerned with the strategic costs of conversation; ­these costs need to be low before decision makers are willing to engage diplomatically with their e­ nemy. Specifically, leaders look at two ­factors when determining the costs of conversation: the likelihood the e­ nemy ­will interpret weakness from an open diplomatic posture, and how the ­enemy may change its strategy in response to such an interpretation. As leaders’ perceptions about ­these two ­factors evolve, so too does the cost-­benefit analy­sis of dif­fer­ent diplomatic postures. Only if a state thinks that it has adequately demonstrated strength and resiliency to avoid adverse inference and that its ­enemy does not have the capacity to prolong, escalate, or intensify the war in response ­will it choose an open diplomatic posture. The costly conversations thesis is a strategic choice approach to war­time diplomatic posture. It takes into account states’ preferences over outcomes, the strategies they may employ to get to t­ hose outcomes, and how the strategic environment impacts the attractiveness of t­ hose dif­fer­ent courses of action.

7

Introduction

The theory is designed to explain the decisions of a given state—­but it is also strategic, in that the inputs to this decision-­making pro­cess are determined by the beliefs and actions of other actors. The costly conversations thesis is designed primarily to explain diplomatic posture during limited interstate conflicts. However, its logic provides insight into the obstacles in getting states to the negotiating ­table in many other situations as well. In the next chapter I discuss how a narrower interpretation of the costly conversations thesis can explain diplomatic posture when states harbor absolute aims as well. Specifically, states may choose a closed diplomatic posture ­because they fear that a willingness to talk could mistakenly convey limited aims to their opponents, thereby encouraging them to persist in fighting rather than capitulate, which would increase the overall costs of the war. In the concluding chapters I discuss in greater detail how the logic of the costly conversations thesis can shed light on the diplomatic choices of combatants during civil wars and ­those of nonstate actors, as well as such decisions made outside of a war-­fighting scenario. T ­ here are many cases in which states have poor and tense relations and strug­gle to get talks started over critical security issues, but do not find themselves at war. The dynamics may be similar to a war if one of the countries is engaging in coercive be­hav­ior through other means, such as economic sanctions, which creates the possibility that coming to the t­able conveys weakness. Fears of encouraging greater coercion likely created obstacles in getting North ­Korea and Iran, for example, to the ­table to discuss their nuclear programs. The application of the costly conversations thesis to t­hese cases and crisis bargaining in general are explored in the conclusion. This is a book about the conditions u ­ nder which leaders are willing to talk to their enemies during the course of a war. It does not attempt to explain the content of offers exchanged at the negotiating t­able, when talks eventually lead to a war termination settlement, w ­ hether that agreement is upheld, or why talks break down. Moreover, my theory does not address in ­great detail the validity of decision makers’ fears about the repercussions of an open diplomatic posture. States have difficulty drawing inferences from ­others’ be­hav­ior, and they often guess wrongly. Perceptions of diplomatic posture are no exception.40 However, the evidence in this book suggests that for the most part states are correct in their assessments of how the ­enemy ­will perceive a willingness to talk at vari­ous stages of the war. Fi­nally, the costly conversations approach is a threshold theory. This means ­there is not an objective level of demonstrated resiliency or constrained ­enemy strategic capacity that all leaders believe to be adequate to allow for talks—it is pos­si­ble that leadership beliefs and personalities or domestic politics affect that threshold, though that is a question for f­ uture inquiry. The critical insight is that leaders consider t­ hese two ­factors when estimating the costs of conversation and choose a diplomatic posture accordingly.

8

DIPLOMACY AND WAR

While I argue that the costly conversations framework explains states’ diplomatic decisions in the vast majority of interstate conflicts, ­there are two caveats. First, the costly conversations framework may best explain states’ preferred diplomatic posture at a given time in a limited conflict; it is not always the case that ­these preferences alone determine the policies implemented. A leader, for example, may want to fight without talking but be forced to engage in peace talks or re­spect a ceasefire at the insistence of allies or the international community.41 Second, even when other countries do not have the ability to impose their diplomatic preferences on the combatants, they may still have the ability to change a belligerent’s incentives to continue fighting.42 This is most likely in extreme situations in which a belligerent relies on external support so heavi­ly that it could not continue fighting if support ­were rescinded.43 In this case, a state may be open to talks at an ally’s recommendation even if it believes it has yet to sufficiently mitigate the risks of repercussions.44 The idea that third-­party preferences may determine a belligerent’s diplomatic posture instead of its own cost-­benefit calculus is explored further as a competing hypothesis in the case studies.

Overview of the Book The first chapter describes the costly conversations thesis, which predicts that when the strategic costs are low, states ­will choose an open diplomatic posture; when the costs are high, they w ­ ill choose a closed diplomatic posture. I argue that leaders are chiefly concerned that a willingness to talk may signal weakness to the adversary in the form of lesser war aims, weaker resolve, or reduced military capability. Such information could embolden the ­enemy to seek a military advantage by prolonging, intensifying, or escalating force. In short, demonstrating a willingness to talk at an inopportune time can increase the costs of fighting and have adverse consequences for one’s prospects of success. I break down the two f­ actors states consider when making this cost calculus: the likelihood of adverse inference and the cost of adverse inference in terms of ­enemy response. I describe how states evaluate and shape t­hese two ­factors, presenting a series of hypotheses and observable implications derived from the costly conversations framework. I outline how the inclusion of a cost framework improves the bargaining model of war in three theoretically significant and practically impor­tant ways. The chapter then examines four alternative explanations and the methodology for testing the costly conversations thesis through a case study approach. The book then examines four cases of how states made decisions about diplomatic posture during interstate war. In the first, I trace Chinese diplomatic posture throughout the Korean War. China had a closed diplomatic posture from its entry on October 25, 1950, u ­ ntil July 2, 1951, when it shifted

9

Introduction

to an open diplomatic posture. Initially, China’s closed diplomatic posture resulted from Mao Zedong’s absolute aims—he planned to compel a complete UN withdrawal from the peninsula through force only. When states have absolute aims, decisions about talks are more closely related to the ­factors that determine when a state wants to ­settle. Therefore, Mao did not entertain the idea of talks during this period, ­because an open diplomatic posture may signal to the e­ nemy a downgrading to limited aims b ­ ecause of a loss of confidence. Mao did not want to encourage the United States to keep fighting, delaying its surrender and thereby increasing the expected costs of the war. ­After setbacks, China abandoned its absolute aims in February 1951 and planned for a war that would end by negotiated settlement. For the next four months, however, Mao still refused to engage in talks ­until Chinese forces could recover some of the losses of the fourth offensive to ensure China would not convey weakness in d ­ oing so. Once he determined ­after the fifth offensive that China had demonstrated resiliency and that the US ability to intensify or escalate its way out of a stalemate was limited, he moved to an open diplomatic posture. China hedged its bets, however, by probing the US position through a Soviet intermediary and agreeing to talks only ­after the United States did so. Moreover, Mao ordered an increase in force posture on the peninsula in case the United States, encouraged by China’s diplomatic posture, intensified the fighting. China’s approach to war­time diplomacy a de­cade ­later in the 1962 Sino-­ Indian War was quite dif­fer­ent: Beijing maintained an open diplomatic posture throughout the conflict. China’s premier Zhou Enlai actively tried to convince India’s prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru to engage in direct and unconditional talks, making the first proposal to talk only four days into the war. China was able to openly offer talks b ­ ecause it had assessed the strategic costs of conversation to be low. China had started the war and had destroyed the Indian army, clearly demonstrating that an open diplomatic posture was not the result of weakening capabilities or resolve. Moreover, given China’s asymmetric advantage over India, its leaders w ­ ere not concerned about how an open diplomatic posture may encourage India to prolong, escalate, or intensify; Beijing could easily match any such attempts. Therefore, China had the luxury of pursuing an open diplomatic posture early on and providing positive incentives in the form of a partial withdrawal to nudge India to the ­table. India, in contrast, maintained a closed diplomatic posture throughout the 1962 war with China. China’s surprise attack led to worst-­case-­scenario thinking about the extent of Beijing’s operational aims. Decision-­making elites strongly believed openness to talks would only invite more aggression, a fear that manifested itself in Indian domestic politics. India therefore prioritized demonstrating strength and resiliency in the face of military pressure, and thought a closed diplomatic posture with strict preconditions would communicate this message. But without a parallel military buildup

10

DIPLOMACY AND WAR

or any success in holding back the e­ nemy during the monthlong conflict, Indian leaders did not demonstrate sufficient resilience to mitigate the risks of an open diplomatic posture. Moreover, one month into the war, China seemed to face few constraints to its ability to prolong, intensify, or escalate the conflict. China had proved its willingness and capability to exploit any sign of weakness, and therefore it was still too risky for India to agree to talks, even ­after China declared a unilateral ceasefire. North Vietnam’s diplomatic posture varied during the Vietnam War, from a closed posture from March 1965 to April 1968 to an open posture thereafter. Internal deliberations in Hanoi indicated that Hanoi maintained a closed diplomatic posture for three years for fear the United States would infer weakness from an open diplomatic posture and consequently increase its military pressure. North Vietnam was nothing if not resilient, and it fought to prove that to the United States to discourage unnecessary prolongation, intensification, or escalation in US use of force. However, Hanoi assessed that it still had not convinced Washington of its resiliency in spite of US setbacks from 1965 to 1967. Moreover, given the prohibitively high costs associated with greater US involvement, Hanoi could not risk conveying weakness ­unless US strategic capacity was constrained in some way. For t­ hese reasons, Hanoi was closed to talks during the first three years of the war. But its leadership wanted to move to an open diplomatic posture, and the North Viet­nam­ese launched a major offensive in January 1968 to credibly communicate its resiliency to Washington once and for all. While the Tet Offensive did not go according to plan, in the aftermath Hanoi discovered that it had been surprisingly successful at demonstrating strength and resiliency to the United States. Moreover, Hanoi came to believe that US domestic politics created a situation in which President Johnson would not send more troops or increase the intensity or expand the scope of the bombing campaign. With the costs of conversation now low, Hanoi could fi­nally embrace an open diplomatic posture in April 1968 and incorporate the diplomatic front into its war efforts.

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A Framework for Explaining War­time Diplomatic Posture

­ nder what conditions ­will a belligerent demonstrate a willingness to talk U to its ­enemy? While scholars have recognized the need to develop theoretical structures that provide comprehensive accounts of all aspects of war, the focus to date has been mainly on its initiation, duration, outcome, termination, and postconflict issues.1 This has left the state of theory on war­time diplomacy relatively weak, with no theories specifically designed to explain the variation in diplomatic postures within and across cases. This chapter pres­ents the first comprehensive theory to explain diplomatic posture in interstate war.

How Talks Can Create Costs To understand leaders’ decisions about war­time diplomatic posture, we must consider a state’s subjective estimates of the aggregate utility of diplomacy, which include a consideration of cost. When states assess the expected costs of an open diplomatic posture to be high, they ­will choose a closed posture; when ­these costs are believed to be low, states ­will choose an open diplomatic posture. The main contribution of my approach is to construct the way states estimate ­these costs. The costly conversations thesis starts with a basic observation: states are concerned that the ­enemy may perceive a move to an open diplomatic posture as a concession made ­because of weakening resolve, degraded military capabilities, or reduced war aims. In this way, the willingness to talk can serve as a signal, an action whose meaning is established through tacit or explicit understanding between the belligerents.2 While never systemically studied, this idea of an open diplomatic posture leading to adverse e­ nemy inference is pervasive in po­liti­cal science.3 Thomas Schelling noted over five de­cades ago that “one side or both may fear that even a show of willingness

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A Framework for Explaining War­t ime Diplomatic Posture

to negotiate w ­ ill be interpreted as excessive eagerness.”4 Paul Pillar, in his study on bargaining during war­time, captures the dilemma leaders face when he warns to “be cautious in making the first ever offer to negotiate, lest the ­enemy interpret this as a sign of weakness and harden his position.”5 In a seminal piece on war termination, Donald Wittman articulates that de-­ escalating the war, which can be done through offering peace talks, may increase the value of continuing the war for the other side, and therefore decrease the chances of a settlement.6 The connection between talking and weakness is so hardwired into our thinking that it is also reflected in popu­ lar culture and personal relationships.7 The work in the formal tradition focuses on how accepting an offer can raise the opponent’s estimate of its probability of winning, raising its reservation value and therefore its demands.8 The contribution of the costly conversations thesis is to demonstrate that states may interpret an open diplomatic posture as the first concession, before any concrete proposals have been made. Thus, projecting weakness is not itself costly; any costs are created through the ­enemy response. I call the pathway through which an open diplomatic posture generates costs the strategic mechanism ­because e­ very country is “aware that [its] own actions are being interpreted and anticipated, each acting with a view to the expectations that [it] creates.” 9 One state, the proposer, may probe the other through offers to talk to learn about its assessment of the conflict. If the receiver adopts an open diplomatic posture and is willing to engage in talks, the proposer may take this as a sign that military coercion is working.10 The proposer could then reassess the likelihood that the receiving state would concede as higher if faced with a heightened or prolonged war effort.11 This in turn could encourage the proposer to make changes to its own war effort in a way that increases the expected costs associated with continued fighting for the other side.12 In the words of two sociologists who specialize in aggression, “Flexibility can be interpreted as a sign of weakness in war, causing the opponent to maintain or raise its aspirations and redouble its dedication to a contentious approach.”13 In the case of interstate war, the e­ nemy could be encouraged to prolong, intensify, or escalate the conflict. First, an e­ nemy may decide to prolong, or continue fighting, if it comes to believe it can outlast its opponent. Second, a state can intensify its war effort, increasing the rate at which it harms the other side.14 President George W. Bush’s decision to send an additional thirty thousand troops into Iraq, known colloquially as “the surge,” is one such example.15 Third, a country can escalate vertically in level of vio­lence or horizontally in space, to include new targets or countries. Prolongation, intensification, and escalation all drive t­ oward the same objective: increasing the costs associated with continuing the war into the next period. The idea that states are wary about the reputational effects of conceding ­under pressure also has firm foundations in po­liti­cal science.16 James Fearon notes that a government may ratchet down its peace offer if a rebel group

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reveals itself to be a weak type by accepting a peace offer.17 Hein Goemans argues that “when one side raises its estimate of its probability of winning, its reservation value increases, and it ­will therefore raise its demands.”18 Robert Powell’s research on power transitions highlights the challenge of accommodation b ­ ecause a competitor cannot make any concessions without fear that the opponent w ­ ill then ask for greater concessions.19 The contribution of the costly conversations thesis is first to demonstrate that states may interpret an open diplomatic posture as giving in to vio­lence, a reward for bad be­hav­ior, even before any concrete proposals have been made.20 Second, the effect of interest is not about signaling through content of offers but through agreement to talk.21 And third, the costs of signaling weakness may not be the ratcheting down of an offer or the ratcheting up of one’s demands, but a ratcheting up of the force used to increase the likelihood of achieving ­either one’s original aims or expanded demands. As Henry Kissinger wrote, “The frequently heard advice to ‘take risks for peace’ is valid only if one is aware that the consequences of an imprudent risk are likely to be escalation rather than peace.”22

Calculating the Strategic Costs of Conversation Leaders engage in cost-­benefit thinking when deciding on a diplomatic posture. When costs are considered high, they ­will choose a closed diplomatic posture. If a belligerent deems the costs low enough, it w ­ ill shift to an open diplomatic posture. The costly conversations thesis posits that states evaluate the expected strategic costs at any given period by assessing two main ­factors: (1) the likelihood that the ­enemy ­will infer weakness from an open diplomatic posture, and (2) the degree to which the e­ nemy can prolong, intensify, or escalate its war effort in response, which I call an ­enemy’s strategic capacity.23 adverse i n fer en ce o f wea kn ess When deciding on a diplomatic posture in the initial stage of conflict, and in reassessments ­later, a warring state considers the likelihood that the ­enemy ­will interpret an open diplomatic posture as a sign of weakness—of diminished ability or willingness to fight. States try to minimize this possibility by taking actions designed to demonstrate strength and resiliency. To be effective, ­these actions should be inextricably linked to one’s capabilities and intentions to carry some inherent evidence that this tough image is the correct one.24 I use the term resiliency to refer to the state’s ability to both absorb and deflect costs at a given level of vio­lence. The distinction between resolve and resiliency helps clarify the concept. In war, a country has two options for convincing the ­enemy that a cost-­imposing strategy ­will not work,

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A Framework for Explaining War­t ime Diplomatic Posture

thereby discouraging any further escalation. The first is demonstrating its resolve to maintain the course despite the costs.25 The second is communicating to the adversary that it has failed to impose the expected costs. Demonstrating resiliency means making use of both options; it refers to the state’s ability to both absorb and deflect costs at a given level of vio­lence.26 The goal is to create a shared recognition that while one state may not be able to win with overwhelming force, it also cannot be coerced through increased pain and pressure. A state is more likely to change to an open diplomatic posture when it believes it has sufficiently mitigated the possibility of adverse inference.27 Thus, states implement strategies designed to communicate resiliency so that they can open talks without risking adverse inference. The most direct way to sever the connection between talks and weakness is by increasing the tempo or intensity of fighting immediately before offering or accepting talks. Only the preponderantly strong, however, are able to sustain enough force to demonstrate such strength and resiliency in the early days of a conflict. Most states require more time and combat success to show their ability to withstand pressure. During this period of time, delaying talks—­and thereby deciding to continue the costly conflict without making concessions—­may be the only way a state can credibly signal its willingness to absorb the costs of war in f­ uture periods.28 Refusing to even entertain talks signals confidence in one’s ­future prospects, that what­ever the opponent is prepared to offer w ­ ill be insufficient.29 Diplomatic silence conveys a willingness to take extreme mea­sures, to fight and absorb costs to promote one’s policies, positions, or ­causes.30 When a country is pursuing absolute aims, rejecting negotiations can show it believes it ­will succeed.31 Some weaker countries never manage to create an image of strength and resiliency in the face of military pressure, which means they are likely to maintain diplomatic silence throughout the entire conflict or, at the extreme, surrender if they cannot continue fighting. To enhance the credibility of its demonstration of resiliency, a state often posits maximalist preconditions that must be met before talks can begin.32 North Vietnam issued preconditions for talks with the United States, the Four Points, which included unconditional cessation of the bombing of North Vietnam, the complete withdrawal of US troops from South Vietnam, and the recognition of the National Liberation Front as the sole representative of the South Viet­nam­ese p ­ eople at any talks. In the Vietnamese-­ Cambodian Border War of 1977–79, Cambodia declared a willingness to talk to Vietnam only if Vietnam withdrew its troops from Cambodian territory.33 During the Iran-­Iraq War, Iran refused to even consider talks ­until Saddam Hussein was removed from power in Iraq—­a precondition Iraq obviously refused.34 In the 1980s Af­ghan­i­stan war, the mujahedeen refused to negotiate with the Soviets u ­ ntil three conditions w ­ ere met: the unconditional withdrawal of Soviet troops, the overthrow of the regime in Kabul, and the

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establishment of an in­de­pen­dent and ­free Islamic state.35 In 2016, the Afghan Taliban emphasized a hard line in talks with Kabul, demanding that it be removed from international terror blacklists and that its po­liti­cal office in Doha be reopened.36 ­These maximalist demands serve three interrelated purposes. First, the unreasonableness of the demands shows the state is in no rush to end the conflict and therefore is not ­under duress. Second, in the unlikely case that any of the preconditions are met, the demanding country may pres­ent itself as agreeing to talks ­because it has received significant concessions, which overpowers the perceived connection between talks and weakness. And third, preconditions are often designed to constrain the adversary’s ability to escalate, intensify, or prolong the fighting, as discussed in the next section. s t rategic ca paci ty In addition to considering the likelihood of adverse inference when weighing diplomatic posture, states also concern themselves with how an ­enemy may respond to perceived weakness.37 Therefore, the ­enemy’s capacity to recalibrate its military strategy is a critical determinant of the risks of entertaining talks. I use the term strategic capacity to refer to the ­enemy’s capacity to prolong, intensify, or escalate its war effort, given material, motivational, international, and domestic ­factors. In ­simple terms, this variable combines power (latent and a­ ctual) with resolve (the willingness to wield it) to capture what a country can bring to a fight in the ­future. The risk of an open diplomatic posture is collinear with strategic capacity—­a low strategic capacity means the ­enemy is unlikely to increase its coercion even if it is encouraged by an open diplomatic posture. If an adversary’s strategic capacity is believed to be high, however, showing an eagerness to end the war may actually embolden the ­enemy. The adversary’s strategic capacity may be perceived as limited for a number of reasons. One side may think its adversary lacks the national military power necessary to ratchet up its war effort. For example, ­those opposing North Vietnam in the 1960s and 1970s, South K ­ orea in the Korean War, or Iran in the Iran-­Iraq War likely held this belief. Additionally, governments fighting civil wars or insurgencies usually face an adversary that they believe is holding l­ittle in reserve. Short of fighting at full capacity, a country can employ brute-­force tactics to destroy ­enemy forces quickly enough to make reconstitution, and therefore the prolongation, intensification, or escalation of the war, unlikely in f­uture periods. The material component of strategic capacity tends to decrease over the course of a war b ­ ecause of its destructive nature, but it may be boosted if another country joins a co­ali­tion, with a change in po­liti­cal leadership, or with the advent of certain technologies.

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A Framework for Explaining War­t ime Diplomatic Posture

A state may not be motivated to exercise its strategic capacity even when it has the resources at its disposal. A state ­will refrain from escalating to higher levels of vio­lence if it expects the military gains of increased vio­lence to be canceled out by the ­enemy’s counterescalation, or if it expects that an increase in vio­lence ­will expand fighting to intolerably destructive and costly levels.38 Therefore, demonstrating resiliency, the ability to absorb and deflect costs to continue fighting, can reduce an ­enemy’s motivation to escalate. States may also commit to restraining themselves, through unilateral moves or agreement to the other side’s preconditions, in an attempt to encourage peace talks if they do not care enough about the issue at hand to expend more resources. Domestic or international f­ actors can also place limitations on a state’s strategic capacity. This is especially the case for democracies that need to cater to domestic publics and are more likely to seek legitimacy in the eyes of the international community when they use force. Allies, partners, or external benefactors may be unwilling to support escalation or protracted conflict. A significant lack of domestic support for military escalation may also allow a state to reassure an opponent that offers to talk are genuine, given that ratcheting up the war effort is not an option. For example, in the Vietnam War, President Johnson’s offer to talk in March 1968 was considered genuine largely ­because his decision not to run for reelection, coupled with American and elite public opinion, suggested to Hanoi that domestic ­factors severely constrained the president’s ability to escalate, even if he deemed such an action would be effective.39 In short, the expected costs of an open diplomatic posture are determined by the likelihood of adverse inference and degree to which the e­ nemy is able to increase the cost of continued fighting in response. Favorable assessments of both strategic capacity and adverse inference are not required for an open diplomatic posture. The extremes of both situations highlight this point. If a country is fighting another with negligible military capability, then it is not concerned about the ­enemy’s capacity to respond to any perceived weakness. If a country is annihilating its e­ nemy, then it equally has l­ittle reason to fear that an open diplomatic posture w ­ ill indicate decreasing aims, capability, or resolve. But in less extreme situations, states ­will evaluate both ­factors when calculating the costs of an open diplomatic posture.

Summary of Predictions A number of predictions about state be­hav­ior can be derived from the argument that a state’s calculation of the cost of talking determines diplomatic posture. First, concern that talks may signal weakness should dominate elite discussions, along with concern about how such signaling could hurt the war efforts by encouraging the e­ nemy to intensify, prolong, or escalate

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the conflict. Second, the framework predicts that leaders take the following into account when calculating cost: (1) w ­ hether they have demonstrated adequate strength and resiliency to open up talks without looking weak, and (2) if they miscalculate the first f­ actor, w ­ hether the e­ nemy is likely to exploit residual signs of weakness by prolonging, intensifying, or escalating the fighting. Third, most countries lack the military power to demonstrate strength and resiliency immediately and do not face opponents who enter the conflict with limited strategic capacity. This means that in the majority of cases, we should expect states to initially estimate the costs of conversation to be too high, and therefore choose a closed diplomatic posture at the outset of a war. Major diplomatic initiatives or significant combat outcomes can spark midcourse assessments of the delaying strategy.40 To avoid adverse inference, states hope to create a shared recognition that while they may not be able to win decisively, cost-­imposing strategies w ­ ill fall short, which may take some time. However, t­ here is one situation in which a state may reach a point where strategic costs are low quite early in a conflict: when a state is significantly more power­ful than its adversary. The preponderantly strong are well equipped to use military might to ensure that a move t­ oward talks is not misconstrued as a sign of weakness. Moreover, given the relative power disparity, the state may not be concerned about its ­enemy’s strategic capacity—­any attempts to escalate can easily be countered. Concerns about projecting weakness and encouraging escalation, intensification, or prolongation of the conflict may still be a part of elite discussions, but in the end, ­these states ­will determine the strategic costs to be low enough to justify an open diplomatic posture. The preponderantly strong are thus likely to be the first to embrace an open diplomatic posture and to do so early in the conflict. The following is a summary of the observable and testable implications derived from the costly conversations framework regarding states’ expected be­hav­ior in the initial stages of a limited war and when, if ever, ­those positions are likely to change as the war progresses. Case-­specific observable implications for the costly conversations thesis and competing explanations are included in the case studies section to facilitate more precise predictions and tighter testing.41 1) Po­liti­cal and military elites w ­ ill express a fear that an open diplomatic posture may be interpreted as weakness, a sign of lower war aims, reduced estimation of one’s military capabilities, or a diminished willingness to continue fighting. a. Elites ­will express concern that such an adverse inference could increase the costs of continued fighting, with the greatest weight in decision making given to strategic costs. 2) A country ­will choose an open diplomatic posture when it assesses that the ­enemy is unlikely to ratchet up its war efforts, b ­ ecause it e­ ither can-

18

A Framework for Explaining War­t ime Diplomatic Posture

not (limited strategic capacity) or w ­ ill not (demonstrations of toughness have reduced the attractiveness of this option). Other­wise, it ­will adopt a closed diplomatic posture. a. Only the asymmetrically strong are likely to initially have ­great confidence that they already demonstrated toughness through escalating force as well as not be encumbered by the e­ nemy’s strategic capacity. Therefore, they may adopt an open diplomatic posture without preconditions relatively quickly a­ fter the conflict erupts to capture the potential benefits, both po­liti­cal and operational, of offering talks to the ­enemy. b. All other countries w ­ ill initially adopt a closed diplomatic posture. Their leaders ­will express suspicion about the purpose and motivation ­behind any offers to talk if the e­ nemy makes them. The countries are also likely to attach strict preconditions to talks ­after conflict erupts. ­These two main propositions and three subpropositions about war­time diplomacy make predictions about the probability of adverse inference, the ­enemy’s courses of action, and the state’s own ability to match any consequent increase in use of force, thereby determining its approach to direct contact with the ­enemy during the course of a conflict. ­These hypotheses do not tell us what level of strategic capacity or accumulation of toughness a leader ­will think sufficient to mitigate the costs of diplomacy. T ­ hese calculations, and w ­ hether they tip in f­ avor of or against diplomacy, are based on belligerents’ subjective perceptions. The state’s level of risk ac­cep­tance may greatly impact t­ hese calculations; being especially cautious is likely to delay the shift to an open diplomatic posture as it seeks to accumulate more successes or wait u ­ ntil the e­ nemy is severely limited in its ability to escalate. The size, type, and intensity of limited wars may influence the threshold in the cost-­benefit calculation—­with more at stake, a state is likely to desire even greater assurance that the risks of an open diplomatic posture have been minimized.

The Costly Conversations Thesis and Absolute Aims While the costly conversations thesis best explains diplomatic posture in limited interstate wars, a narrower interpretation can explain why states pursuing absolute aims often refuse to talk, and when they may shift to an open diplomatic posture. While absolute and limited aims are terms used to describe a broad range of military be­hav­ior, I use them ­here to distinguish between when ­there is a possibility of a negotiated settlement (limited aims) and when a state is unwilling to compromise and demands complete concessions with re­spect to the issue at hand (absolute aims).42 ­Because of their

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nature, states often have the option of pursuing absolute aims through brute force instead of relying on coercion. As Thomas Schelling notes, “With enough military force, a country may not need to bargain. Some ­things a country wants it can take, and some t­ hings it has it can keep by sheer strength, skill, and ingenuity.”43 However, attempts to forcibly attain absolute aims are relatively rare in modern international relations as an increasing majority of wars are limited conflicts that end by negotiated settlement.44 But it is a possibility, especially when ­there is a g ­ reat asymmetry of power between belligerents and the objective is to repel, expel, penetrate, occupy, seize, exterminate, disarm, confine, deny access, or directly frustrate an attack. For example, ­after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States enjoyed primacy of power, which created a ­great deal of flexibility in US foreign policy.45 As a result, the United States had the luxury of pursuing absolute aims in the 1991 Gulf War, in which the United States demanded Iraq’s complete withdrawal from Kuwait;46 the 1999 Kosovo War, in which the United States demanded the complete withdrawal of Serbian forces from Kosovo, refugees be allowed to return safely, and Slobodan Milosevic to adhere to the Rambouillet Accords;47 and initially in the Iraq War, regime change.48 States may also have absolute aims ­because the nature of the issue adds a winner-­take-­all quality to the conflict. Absolute aims are more common in intrastate wars, in which one group tries to forcibly eliminate another,49 as in the conflict between the El Salvadorian military-­led government and the Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front,50 the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia—­People’s Army and Colombian government, or Milosevic’s ethnic cleansing of Kosovar Albanians. Fi­nally, states may pursue absolute war aims to eliminate the commitment prob­lems that may have led to the outbreak of war in the first place. Such aims could include state death, regime change, or the destruction of the opposing state’s power to make the reigniting of the conflict at a ­later date close to impossible.51 A prime example of absolute war aims is during World War II, when the Allied powers sought the unconditional surrender of the Axis powers. In this case, the Axis powers surrendered, giving total control of their residual forces to the Allies. By accomplishing the objective of rendering the e­ nemy defenseless, total victory was achieved.52 When states have absolute aims and the military might to directly attain them, talks may still be considered costly, but in a slightly narrower way. Specifically, an open diplomatic posture may signal to the ­enemy that one has lost confidence in its ability to achieve absolute aims, and therefore has lowered its expectations to limited aims. This may encourage the e­ nemy to continue fighting, delaying surrender, and thereby increasing the expected costs of the war. In other words, states that are pursuing absolute war aims may still refuse to talk ­because of concerns about the ­enemy’s strategic capacity. However, in this context the aspect of strategic capacity most concern-

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A Framework for Explaining War­t ime Diplomatic Posture

ing is the e­ nemy’s ability to prolong fighting and delay surrender, not its ability to intensify or escalate the conflict. As President Bill Clinton warned in the case of the 1999 War in Kosovo, “We cannot act like w ­ e’re bombing timidly and making a plea for peace. That’s not a position we can afford to be in.”53 A state with absolute aims, therefore, is likely to have a closed diplomatic posture initially, and may move to an open diplomatic posture if it achieves its absolute aims and wants talks to facilitate the implementation of the ­enemy’s surrender or its attempts end in decisive defeat and it pursues talks to sue for peace.54 In ­these cases, the state’s move to an open diplomatic posture is somewhat trivial; warring parties are not negotiating a settlement as much as one side is implementing its demands.55 US diplomatic posture in the Gulf War, Kosovo, and Af­ghan­i­stan follows this pattern. In the case of the Gulf War, President George H. W. Bush refused to talk with Saddam Hussein ­because Washington would not stop using force ­until Saddam Hussein got out of Kuwait “with no concessions or no condition.”56 In Kosovo, the United States refused to talk to Milosevic u ­ ntil he completely gave in to US demands, which Milosevic did ­after seventy-­five days of NATO bombing.57 In the words of the top defense officials at the time, “We have indicated time and time again that we are not negotiating with Milosevic. We have laid down the five conditions that NATO has endorsed emphatically. He must meet t­hose conditions. Then, once t­hose conditions are met, ­there can be a proper resolution of this conflict. But ­until then, we ­will continue the air campaign and, indeed, w ­ e’re ­going to intensify it substantially.”58 In Af­ghan­is­ tan, the United States initially chose a closed diplomatic posture to credibly signal its absolute aims, the eradication of al-­Qaeda, and the end of the Taliban’s rule.59 A week ­after the United States began bombing Taliban military targets on October 7, 2001, the Taliban offered to enter into negotiations to hand over Osama bin Laden to a neutral party in return for the end to the bombing campaign.60 President Bush responded, “When I said no negotiations, I meant no negotiations. . . . ​If ­they’re interested in us stopping our military operations . . . ​they [­will] meet [our] conditions. . . . ​­There’s nothing to negotiate about.”61 ­After the United States toppled the Taliban in early December 2001 and the remnants of the Taliban emerged as an insurgency, the United States maintained a closed diplomatic posture for the next six years to show that it was still dedicated to its absolute war aims. Talking with the ­enemy was seen as “defeatist,” a sign that the United States was downgrading its aims, which would only encourage Taliban fighters to to prolong the fighting longer than they would have other­wise.62

The Contribution to the Bargaining Approach to War The costly conversations thesis makes three major theoretical contributions. First, it moves beyond the stylistic conceptualization of war as a pro­cess in

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which states are constantly talking while fighting.63 Instead, it allows for an initial period in which states are only fighting, and treats talks as the result of strategic thinking and planning. In this way, I add to the work on how states talk an explanation for when they talk. Second, the costly conversations thesis enriches the traditional bargaining model approach by incorporating an understanding of the expected costs of diplomatic openness. T ­ hese costs, in­de­pen­dent of and in addition to any incurred from concessions made through the settlement pro­cess, create potential pathways to outcomes that the current lit­er­a­ture on war termination, diplomacy, and strategic interaction does not address. Specifically, I can explain within-­case and across-­ country variation in war­time diplomatic posture that the traditional approach cannot. Third, I add an additional channel of information through which states can learn about their prospects of victory—­through the interaction of combat outcomes and the e­ nemy’s diplomatic posture.64 Refining and enhancing the traditional bargaining model in ­these three ways not only creates a more internally consistent theory that can explain variation in war­ time diplomatic posture but also provides significant practical suggestions for resolving conflict through combat and diplomacy. t h e ch aracte ri zati o n o f wa r Two de­cades ago, the call to treat war as a bargaining pro­cess, not as the result of a bargaining breakdown, led to a rich research agenda in war initiation, duration, and termination. While this was a step forward, academics continued to stylize war, this time as a pro­cess in which the belligerents are si­mul­ta­neously talking and fighting throughout the ­whole conflict.65 This is problematic not only ­because it pres­ents a poor repre­sen­ta­tion of the real world—­interstate wars universally exhibit periods in which states engage in pure fighting—­but also b ­ ecause this stylistic conceptualization of war has stalled pro­gress on understanding a number of critical decisions and be­hav­iors observed in wars. Why do countries sometimes reject talks? Why are ­there periods of conflict in which ­there is fighting without talking? Why do leaders often agonize over the timing of launching negotiations with the ­enemy? In short, how adversaries communicate, when they move from tacit communication (battlefield actions) to explicit communication (i.e., talks), is a critical knowledge gap the costly conversations thesis seeks to address. An additional side effect of this conceptualization is that the decision to talk is equated with the decision to s­ ettle, with the range of settlements available at a certain point determining both. Some bargaining theorists may even argue that once conditions are ripe for settlement, a bargain is struck and talks are incidental. Private diplomatic communications are considered “cheap talk since a state with low resolve may have no disincentive to sending them.”66 But observed be­hav­ior calls ­these assumptions into question.

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First, as w ­ ill become evident through the case studies, leaders clearly do not believe diplomatic posture to be unimportant or just cheap talk.67 They view the willingness to talk as the first concession made in a war, and they make deliberate decisions about diplomatic posture accordingly. For this reason, it is frequently the case that states do not articulate specific peace proposals at first—­only ­whether they are willing to come to the t­ able. Second, if talks w ­ ere costless, then we would expect to see some instances in which states do talk while fighting throughout a conflict. But we never observe this pattern in the real world—­instead, scholars have recognized that a period of diplomatic silence characterizes ­every war.68 My approach explains why most states tend to be closed to diplomacy for an initial period of fighting. However, t­ here is one situation in which a country may face minimal costs of conversation early on and therefore choose an open diplomatic posture: when a country is significantly stronger than its e­ nemy. In this situation, the country in question can demonstrate strength almost immediately through military might and its adversary’s strategic capacity is constrained from the onset due to material ­factors. But ­because two belligerents cannot both be confident in their preponderance in a given conflict,69 at least one belligerent ­will always choose a closed diplomatic posture initially, again creating the universal pattern of fighting without talking that characterizes the beginning stage of all wars. l e arn in g in wa r The bargaining model of war argues that wars break out ­because warring states have incomplete information about the balance of power and resolve, and ­those wars conclude when learning leads to convergence in beliefs about ­these two ­factors. Some scholars argue that states primarily learn through fighting ­because combat outcomes are a pure source of information that is less impacted by deception and manipulation.70 ­Others contend that the making and rejecting of offers has informational value that outweighs that provided by the battlefield.71 Ultimately, however, the debate about w ­ hether po­liti­cal environment or military environment shapes the dynamics of war termination is a false one—­both clearly impact the pro­cess and conclusion of war. My approach suggests that states learn from both combat outcomes and diplomatic postures in an interactive fashion; it specifies how information from the battlefield interacts with countries’ position on talks to shape the expectations of po­liti­cal and military leaders.72 Diplomatic posture provides states with a third source of information about the opponent’s beliefs in its military prospects amid the fog of war, often months or even years before any exchanging of offers actually occurs at the negotiating t­able. A willingness to talk can convey lower war aims, a reduced willingness to absorb costs, or a downgraded estimation of military capabilities, depending on prior beliefs and

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sources of uncertainty. ­After all, if t­ hings are not g ­ oing well and the e­ nemy wants to ­settle, the first step would be to start peace talks. The costly conversations thesis also introduces a new mechanism through which fighting facilitates a potential peace process—it reduces the potential costs of conversation. States can demonstrate through fighting an ability to withstand coercion, which allows them to ultimately engage diplomatically without looking weak. Also, b ­ ecause states can offer talks as a probe of resolve, with the intention of increasing the resources they put t­ oward the war if they think this may push the opponent to a conclusion on more favorable terms, it can be difficult for states to prove they are offering talks in good faith. War destroys strategic capacity and convinces the participants that escalation is not worth the additional effort, lessening concerns about ploys and the possibility of exploitation. t h e u tili ty o f d i plo macy States may enjoy a number of additional positive side effects from the diplomatic pro­cess, by accident or design, regardless of any agreement reached. For example, states may use pauses or a reduction in intensity of fighting to regroup, rearm, and in general become better prepared to fight.73 States may also be interested in war­time diplomacy as a means to gather critical intelligence to aid the war effort.74 A willingness to engage diplomatically with the ­enemy can curry ­favor with international and domestic audiences that ­favor peace, though the resulting benefits may be attenuated if one is not the first side to offer talks.75 Moreover, such an offer could heighten divisions in the ­enemy camp if certain leaders or alliance partners are pushing for talks while the warring party maintains a closed diplomatic posture.76 A belligerent may also pursue talks ­because the act of engagement creates the image that its adversary accepts its existence, use of force, war aims, or grievances to be legitimate.77 The possibility that states enter into talks to secure t­ hese benefits—­not to end the conflict at that time—­explains why, once launched, talks can often be unproductive, dragging on for months or even years. Three conclusions can be drawn from the lit­er­a­ture on the potential benefits of war­time diplomacy. First, it suggests that diplomatic posture is not merely the extension of the combat situation, b ­ ecause the aforementioned benefits are available to both t­ hose winning and t­ hose losing in any given period. Second, a focus on benefits by design fails to appreciate the empirical difficulties of getting all sides to the t­ able, and therefore provides no insight into the most effective way of ­doing so. Third, the existence of positive side effects for some at the expense of o ­ thers means that war­time talks can be exploited. For one side, diplomacy may be about information transmission, communication, and coordination to end the war; for the other, it could be about calibrating, coordinating, and sustaining fighting or improving communication of threats to contribute to a strategy of coercion. In short, war­

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time diplomacy can have negative externalities as well, which need to be incorporated into a framework to fully capture the incentives states face when deciding on a diplomatic posture.

Competing Theoretical Perspectives While talks play a crucial role in international relations theory, a comprehensive search through the existing lit­er­at­ ure yielded no specific competing hypotheses about the ­factors that determine belligerents’ diplomatic posture. However, I have pieced together a number of competing hypotheses from four strands of security studies lit­er­at­ ure: the bargaining model of war, ideational explanations, lit­er­at­ ure on domestic politics, and that on alliance dynamics. Since ­there is not one clear hypothesis for each strand, the most likely variants based on context w ­ ill be tested in each case study. While the ­factors presented are likely to emerge with varying degrees of importance depending on the case, I argue that consideration of the ­enemy’s potential to create costs dominates decision making in all but extreme scenarios. t h e tra di ti o na l ba rga i n i n g mo d el of wa r If theories are judged based on parsimony, it is impor­tant to evaluate ­ hether the bargaining model of war in its current form, without the introw duction of strategic cost consideration, can explain variation in diplomatic posture. The traditional bargaining model posits a number of situations in which we would expect states to refuse to talk largely ­because talking serves no utility. First, states may refuse to consider settlement b ­ ecause of lurking credible commitment prob­lems. States may be willing to end conflicts only when they are confident that their agreements w ­ ill be implemented and enforced. To reduce the likelihood of ­future conflict, and perhaps to obtain an even greater level of security than they enjoyed before the war, states may feel as though they need to gain a significant military advantage over their opponent before they stop fighting.78 While this lit­er­a­ture does not directly address the issue of opening peace negotiations, one could logically predict that a warring party chooses an open diplomatic posture only when it expects that any settlement reached would be durable, with minimal incentives for the warring parties to defect.79 A subtype of this argument focuses on war aims—­specifically that states ­will often refuse to engage in talks with their enemies b ­ ecause they seek total victory and unconditional surrender.80 The bargaining model also focuses on the role of information, specifically that wars start when states do not have a shared understanding of the balance of power and resolve, and therefore they cannot agree on a range of settlements they would prefer to war. Perhaps we can then expect a country

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to choose a closed diplomatic posture initially, and switch to an open posture to sue for peace only if it realizes that it is losing. One hypothesis stemming from this logic is that the losing side would be the first to offer talks ­because “it is for the weaker party to ask for the termination of hostilities and thus to induce negotiations.”81 Although this widely held view has numerous prob­lems, the assumption is still often found in the lit­er­a­ture.82 But the bottom line of this type of argument is informational; war ends when one side quits or both quit. This would imply that states are closed to talks and then switch to being open once they realize their fate or, less dramatically, when the costs of continued fighting outweigh the benefits.83 In short, three hypotheses about diplomatic posture can be derived from the traditional bargaining model of war approach: (1) belligerents are closed to talks ­unless they are defeated; (2) belligerents are closed to talks u ­ nless their beliefs converge about balance of power and resolve—in other words, all warring parties are closed initially and then all switch to open diplomatic postures at the same time; (3) states ­will choose an open diplomatic posture only if they believe a postwar settlement ­will endure and ­will be closed other­wise (though it is unclear what one’s diplomatic posture should be if it plans on violating any agreement). In the previous section I covered in greater detail the ways the costly conversations thesis improves the traditional bargaining model of war. But ­there are a few additional issues. First, the lit­er­a­ture in this tradition tries to explain the absence of talks with arguments that assume all sides are actively avoiding talks and have equal incentive to avoid bargaining, at least initially.84 In other words, the approach is not nuanced enough to explain why one belligerent may be open to talking while ­others are not. It also cannot explain why states pursuing absolute aims would have a closed diplomatic posture; it is equally logical that countries would be open to talks while pursuing total victory to facilitate the timely surrender of their ­enemy. Second, ­these predictions equate talking with settling, but empirically t­ here is often a g ­ reat deal of activity between agreeing to talks and when the war ends. Fi­nally, it predicts that the losing side would be the first to embrace an open diplomatic posture; the costly conversations thesis, on the other hand, predicts that the stronger country would be more likely to offer talks first. The historical rec­ord dissected in the case studies evinces that, indeed, it is the strongest countries that choose an open diplomatic posture first and earliest in wars. id eatio nal ­facto rs Three types of arguments in this research agenda may provide insights into state decisions about diplomatic posture. First, honor, which can be understood as “deference, esteem, just due, regard, re­spect, or especially, prestige,” has been seen as a power­ful motivating ­factor in international politics since the time of Thucydides.85 Other scholarship has argued that honor and

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fairness may influence decisions about when to end wars as well as impact larger geopo­liti­cal trends such as the breakup of empires or the anticolonial strug­gles of the late twentieth c­ entury.86 While honor historically had a basis in interest, “to the extent that states act in pursuit or protection of their honor in its modern form, they usually do so in opposition to their ­actual, mea­sur­ able, tangible interests.”87 If indeed states have more difficulty making concessions regarding disputes related to honor than ­those related to state interest, considerations of honor could also have an impact on when states choose to talk to their enemies.88 A state may refuse to engage diplomatically ­until its honor, or its “worthiness of good treatment, equality among peers, and moral acceptability,” is restored.89 Or a belligerent may pursue talks regardless of the military trends ­because the act of engagement creates recognition and potentially legitimizes its use of force, war aims, grievances, or even existence as a legitimate po­liti­cal actor.90 Terrorist organ­izations such as Hez­bollah or Hamas, for example, may actively seek negotiations ­because “talks appear to legitimize the aims and strength, if not the methods, of terrorist groups, thus elevating their status from violent criminals to potent po­liti­cal activists.”91 Second, the pro­cess of seeking legitimacy for one’s position may have unintended consequences, specifically it could make the issue at stake indivisible.92 If countries consider a par­tic­u­lar issue they are fighting over indivisible, then they may choose a closed diplomatic posture as ­there is no possibility of a negotiated settlement. Fairness, a generally neglected mechanism, could also motivate state be­hav­ior; game theory has been used to explain the phenomenon in which a country rejects an outcome that would result in net gains ­because the outcome is still viewed as unfair.93 Fi­nally, certain types of states or leaders may be more inclined ­toward diplomacy than o ­ thers b ­ ecause of their preferences and beliefs. A strand of the demo­cratic peace lit­er­at­ ure, for example, argues that domestic po­liti­cal be­hav­ior norms of resolving issues through peaceful means and compromised solutions extend to their foreign policy be­hav­ior.94 Another research agenda evaluates the personal beliefs of leaders and how t­ hose beliefs impact how they fight wars.95 Andrew Kennedy, for example, argues that individual leaders have beliefs about the relative efficacy of force versus diplomacy. He selects Mao as an example of a leader with strong martial beliefs and Nehru as one with strong confidence in diplomacy, and shows how ­these beliefs led to assertive military and diplomatic policies, respectively.96 But a constant such as ideology or aversion to diplomacy cannot be used to explain observed variation in diplomatic posture. B ­ ecause of this, ideational f­ actors tend to be used to explain only why states refuse to talk, and therefore cannot adequately explain why states choose an open diplomatic posture. Predictions based on the norms of one’s domestic po­liti­cal system fall short. As autocracies, China and North Vietnam should have been closed to diplomacy; and as democracies, India and the United States

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should always choose open diplomatic postures. However, China was open in the Sino-­Indian War, and both China in the Korean War and North Vietnam in the Vietnam War embraced an open posture at some point in the conflicts. Additionally, India was closed to diplomacy in the Sino-­Indian War, as was the United States initially in the Korean War. That is not to say ideational f­ actors have no impact on diplomatic posture; the influence may be more indirect. For example, ideology, honor, legitimacy, norms, and beliefs may influence leaders’ cost calculations. ­These ideational ­factors may also shape the point at which they feel they have demonstrated sufficient resiliency and strength to discount adverse inference. Or they could impact the degree to which an ­enemy’s strategic capacity has to be limited before it is reassured that an open diplomatic posture w ­ ill not be met by prolongation, intensification, or escalation of the conflict. Or put in other terms, leaders may have dif­fer­ent levels of risk tolerance depending on their personal beliefs or the framing of the situation.97 dom esti c co st s o f co n versati o n The third and fourth alternative arguments agree that leaders consider the costs of conversation when deciding on a diplomatic posture, but differ in the focal audience that could create costs for leadership if they are displeased with the diplomatic posture chosen. One possibility is that leaders may choose a diplomatic posture based on preferences of domestic po­liti­cal actors to avoid punishment at their hands. T ­ here are two ways costs can be created through domestic mechanisms. The first accepts the costly conversations thesis premise that talks can be seen as a sign of weakness, that one is willing to concede u ­ nder military pressure. Even if the leadership recognizes the clear military trends are not in its ­favor, the governing co­ali­tion may still refuse to engage in talks ­because “a radical change in strategy is not po­ liti­cally pos­si­ble without admitting failure.”98 Leaders may also prolong wars owing to high personal stakes or private benefits they gain from continuing the conflict.99 But the main audience ­here is the domestic public, who makes this inference and then punishes their leaders for losing the war u ­ nder certain conditions.100 In an authoritative history of the end of the Pacific War, Leon Sigal argues that many Japa­nese leaders wanted to end the war but failed to seek mediation for fear of opposition at home; “the need to avoid premature exposure to the domestic po­liti­cal risk of seizing the diplomatic initiative” prevented Japan from pursuing talks with the United States.101 The second way is broader in that it focuses on how domestic audiences may punish the leader for pursuing unpop­u­lar policies, w ­ hether through an open or closed diplomatic posture.102 For example, demo­cratic leaders may be pressured to pursue talks to end the war quickly, as casualties increase or the possibility of victory decreases.103 Or constituencies that the leader relies on to stay in power may f­ avor continued fighting, thereby push-

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ing the leader to choose a closed diplomatic posture to concede to their demands. While not directly addressed, the spirit of this approach suggests that talks w ­ ill emerge with change of leadership, change in the ruling co­ali­tion, when ­there is a g ­ reat deal of internal consensus on the purpose and utility of negotiations, or to placate domestic war-­weary constituencies.104 A subtype of this argument focuses not on costs directly imposed on the leader but on how domestic audiences may respond in ways that make victory less likely. Demonstrating a willingness to talk could crush troop morale, negatively impacting ­battle per­for­mance.105 In the same vein, embracing an open diplomatic posture could also undermine the public ­will to resist, which could result in defeat, especially in democracies.106 Domestic costs are most likely to be a primary consideration when (1) elites rely heavi­ly on domestic po­liti­cal support to fight the war and (2) elite preferences on diplomatic posture diverge with ­those of the general public. in ternatio nal co sts o f co n versati o n Fi­nally, leaders may choose a diplomatic posture based on the preferences of their power­ful patrons. Third-­party intervention has occurred in 27 ­percent of interstate wars between 1816 and 2007, and such actors can often affect the outcome of wars by taking sides.107 Small states may depend on larger, stronger countries b ­ ecause they cannot afford to maintain modern militaries or ­because they need external support to deal with internal threats.108 The dominant state then provides “ser­vices,” such as order, security, and governance, to subordinate states in return for compliance.109 In the case of war, part of this compliance may include adaptation of the dominant state’s preferred diplomatic posture. If the smaller state does not comply, patrons may refuse to perform their continuous support functions to punish unruly clients. Even external powers that intervene short of fighting—­providing material support, intelligence sharing, or financing—­may reduce that support if an unpop­u­lar diplomatic posture is pursued. Indeed, power­ful patrons design their relationships with weaker allies to exert maximum control over their allies’ actions.110 In this approach, expected costs of a diplomatic posture depend on an ally’s or partner’s response instead of that of the ­enemy. This may be a ­viable alternative hypothesis in cases in which (1) a country relies on power­ ful patrons for support and (2) the preferences about diplomatic posture of the dominant and subordinate state diverge. wh y strategic co st creati o n d o mi nat e s decisi o n m a kin g This book demonstrates that the strategic mechanism, through which an open diplomatic posture can generate costs, has the most explanatory power for a number of reasons. First, all warring parties in all types of wars have

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to consider the strategic costs, while in some cases the domestic or international costs are negligible b ­ ecause states do not need t­ hose players’ support to fight—or perhaps t­ hose audiences agree with the state’s choice of diplomatic posture. Second, the ­enemy’s capabilities and willingness to expend resources ­toward a conflict impact one’s prospects of victory more than any other ­factor, in most cases. Only in extreme circumstances ­will international or domestic f­ actors outweigh the strategic imperatives shaping diplomatic posture. For example, if a country cannot fight without the support of an ally, its diplomatic posture may be determined by the preferences of an outside power. Or, in a civil war in which the morale of insurgents is the greatest determinant of w ­ hether fighting continues, the domestic mechanism may play a greater role. Additionally, strategies are available for placating domestic or international audiences that do not mitigate the repercussions of revealing a readiness to talk to the ­enemy. For example, engaging in “secret” negotiations keeps an open diplomatic posture out of the public eye but not unknown to the ­enemy, circumventing only potential domestic and international costs if the relevant audiences are against diplomatic efforts. Countries can also minimize international pressure to talk by engaging with ­those partners, allies, and other members of the international community to reassure them and create a narrative in which they do not pres­ent the main obstacle to peace talks. In many cases, the domestic cost creation explanation can be intuitively satisfying ­because domestic actors are often the most vocally against or for talks. But as w ­ ill become apparent in the case studies, arguments against talks expressed domestically or internationally are often the strategic mechanism couched in indirect terms. For example, domestic public or po­liti­cal elites may push for a closed diplomatic posture ­because of concerns that a willingness to talk w ­ ill demonstrate weakness and encourage greater e­ nemy aggression. Or an ally may be against talks as well, for fear of demonstrating weakness that ­will spark the escalation or intensification of the ­enemy’s coercive efforts. In t­ hese cases, even though the actors of interest differ, the mechanism through which costs may be created is still strategic ­because it is primarily focused on ­enemy response. Pushing the level of analy­sis to the leader, domestic public, or power­ful patron in t­ hese cases does not solve the mystery of why certain individuals or groups prefer an open or closed diplomatic posture in a given period of time. For ­these reasons, the costs associated with the strategic mechanism supersede ­those created through the domestic and international mechanisms, and are therefore the most pertinent to predicting and explaining countries’ decisions regarding diplomatic posture. This is not to say that domestic and international costs are unimportant. They play a central role in this study, albeit through the mechanism of strategic capacity—­a country’s ability to prolong, intensify, or escalate a conflict is partly based on international and

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domestic ­factors. While strong support from ­these groups may help a country mobilize more resources to fight a war, counterintuitively, one’s opponent is more likely to agree to talks if weak domestic or international support limits one’s strategic capacity. Even so, I explore the possibility that the internationally and domestically generated costs determine diplomatic posture, along with other relevant hypotheses, in the case studies.

Testing the Argument This book addresses the complex calculations states make when choosing how to coordinate their diplomatic and combat strategies during a war, as well as the f­ actors affecting t­ hose choices. To evaluate the costly conversations framework—­with re­spect to competing explanations that prioritize the domestic or international over strategic cost-­creating mechanisms, or emphasize ­factors such as ideology, domestic po­liti­cal system, or leadership preferences—­I assess states’ strategic thinking at diplomatic decision points in four primary cases: China in the Korean War, China in the Sino-­Indian War, India in the Sino-­Indian War, and North Vietnam in the Vietnam War. For the Korean War, I look at diplomatic postures ­after China’s entrance, the Chinese third offensive with the UN resolution calling for talks in December 1950, and the Rus­sian mediation efforts in June 1951, with only the latter resulting in talks. For the Sino-­Indian War, I assess the diplomatic postures of both belligerents, focusing on diplomatic initiatives and responses a­ fter the first offensive and then ­after the ceasefire proposal. For the Vietnam War, I evaluate North Viet­nam­ese decision making surrounding the US peace offensive and the Tet Offensive. The choice of ­these junctures includes points in which the diplomatic posture could have changed but did not. ­These cases ­were selected from the thirty-­eight cases of interstate conflict since World War II coded by the Correlates of War proj­ect, with the twin goals of strengthening the basis of causal inference and controlling for confounding ­factors in mind.111 To control for regional effects and international conditions, all the primary cases occurred within a twenty-­year win­dow in Asia during the Cold War.112 Within ­these par­ameters, the specific cases ­were chosen without prior knowledge of the values of the dependent variable—­a testament to how l­ittle research has been done on diplomatic posture.113 Luckily, the sample captured the full range of empirically pos­si­ble values for the dependent variable in limited wars: China in the Korean War (closed to open), China in the Sino-­Indian War (open), India in the Sino-­Indian (closed), and North Vietnam in the Vietnam War (closed to open). This strategy also led to the inclusion of one case, India in the Sino-­Indian War, that may seem problematic ­because t­ here is no within-­country variation—­India never entertained talks during that conflict. But including this case is a useful test of the consistency of my argument.114 The costly conversations thesis

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pres­ents a number of hypotheses about the conditions ­under which a state ­will move from a closed to open diplomatic posture during the course of a war. It would strengthen confidence in the theory if a country that never made that transition lacked the ­factors identified as crucial antecedents to diplomatic openness.115 My approach relies on states acting rationally based on their cost-­benefit calculations, though I allow for perceptions to influence t­ hose calculations, meaning that they may draw incorrect conclusions from observed outcomes, like a state’s diplomatic posture. However, a country’s position on talking to the ­enemy may be a product of a number of potentially nonrational reasons resulting from the domestic po­liti­cal system, strategic culture, or personal tendencies of the leaders in power. To facilitate testing of alternative explanations, I chose two cases of the same country. ­These variables are held constant across the cases of Chinese diplomatic be­hav­ior in the Korean War and the Sino-­Indian War; if domestic po­liti­cal system or strategic culture is a greater determinant of diplomatic posture, we should see no variation in ­these countries’ positions across t­ hese conflicts.116 Moreover, if Mao Zedong’s personal beliefs of the efficacy of the use of force are the determining f­ actor, China should be closed to talks in both the Sino-­Indian War and the Korean War.117 China in K ­ orea and North Vietnam are also tough tests b ­ ecause they occurred during the Cold War, when Soviet support was a critical planning ­factor for the communist sides, thereby presenting the most likely cases for influence of allies as a determining ­factor. In gathering data on ­these cases, I employed a three-­tiered collection strategy designed to avoid systematic bias.118 First, I prioritized primary sources that rec­ord the thinking of key policymakers and po­liti­cal leadership of the country. ­These internal documents w ­ ere not written for public consumption and ­were written at the time of events, so the information found within has the greatest source reliability.119 I was able to access this level of material mostly at the Johnson Presidential Library and the British National Archives for the North Vietnam and India cases. Second, I turned to collections of g ­ reat diplomatic documents, including the Chinese Foreign Ministry archival collection, the eight volumes of letters between Nehru and Zhou, and the US State Department’s Foreign Relations of the United States series. Given the ongoing sensitivity of the 1962 border war with China, I was able to access the collections of personal papers of only key policymakers at the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, but not that of Nehru himself. For the two China cases, I supplement the Chinese archival material with official histories, biographies, con­temporary newspaper coverage, and memoirs. For the case of North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic strategy, I conducted semistructured interviews with Viet­nam­ese decision makers and military leaders active during the war period to reconstruct elite decision making in Hanoi during the Vietnam War. From t­hese sources, I gathered all data that referenced war­ time diplomacy during the relevant time periods to avoid data mining, yield-

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ing a compilation of approximately ten thousand primary sources close to the event in time and space. The in­de­pen­dence and diversity of t­ hese sources create an evidentiary rec­ord that, while incomplete, should be ­free of systematic bias.120 I also use secondary sources to provide historical context and alternative interpretations of the primary sources. Specifically, I examine w ­ hether reasons explic­itly cited by decision makers to support or reject talks and their decisions at dif­fer­ent points in time correspond with the causal logic of the relevant theories. My costly conversations thesis implies that states w ­ ill be explic­itly concerned about how the ­enemy ­will interpret and respond to a willingness to talk. Key data ­will be specific statements from decision makers who appear reluctant to entertain talks ­because of the costs that could inhibit the war effort. Such statements can be considered a smoking-­gun test b ­ ecause they would not exist in the historical rec­ord if war­time diplomacy ­were cost-­neutral, thereby increasing confidence in the costly conversations framework and casting doubt on the alternative explanations that rely on assumptions about the benefits of diplomacy.121 My main source of causal inference is within-­case analy­sis, with cross-­case comparison playing a secondary role. I chose this methodology for a number of reasons. First, each argument evaluated in the book offers dif­fer­ent predictions about the sequence of events connecting fighting to the emergence of talks. For the alternative arguments, I weigh the influence of the strategic mechanism of cost generation against the domestic and international ones in each case—­I also analyze the explanatory power of case-­ specific competing explanations. Case-­study research is particularly strong ­under ­these circumstances, especially in understanding rare events like war, ­because even a few cases can adjudicate among competing explanations as long as ­there is sufficient evidence accessible for pro­cess tracing.122 Second, pro­cess tracing is effective for examining detailed sequences in learning, such as changes in perceptions of cost over time. Pro­cess tracing also enhances the policy impact of this research; identifying the logic b ­ ehind diplomatic silence is necessary to devise policies that promote war­time diplomacy. Fi­nally, this methodology ­will help me navigate the challenges associated with what I consider to be threshold theories, ­those that predict a certain effect ­after an undetermined amount, degree, or level of a f­actor is pres­ent. The vast majority of strategic choice international relations, especially formal theories, fall into this category. For example, deterrence theory is premised on the fact that a country has to threaten to impose unacceptable costs to prevent an adversary from ­doing something that one does not want it to do. The credible commitment approach to war termination, which posits that one state has to destroy a sufficient amount of military capacity of the ­enemy to ensure any agreement would be self-­enforcing, is another example of a threshold theory. In this way, ­these inputs are not pure in­de­pen­dent variables, b ­ ecause they do not determine outcomes; instead, they shape the

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relative attractiveness of alternative actions. The costly conversations thesis falls within this category of explanation, in that I argue a state is open to diplomacy when it becomes sufficiently confident that the adversary w ­ ill not effectively exploit this position. For all ­these theories, the complexity of mea­ sure­ment is the result of their strategic nature—­the threshold is determined by the adversary, and even the state acting is uncertain what amount w ­ ill be sufficient to deter, to impose a durable settlement, or to open up the prospects of genuine negotiations. Therefore, pro­cess tracing is needed to decipher ­whether and how fighting led to a change in perceptions, and w ­ hether ­these evolving perceptions are responsible for changes in diplomatic posture. The following analytical questions guide the empirical work and clarify what type of evidence supports which explanation for variation across countries and time in their positions on war­time talks: What ­were belligerents’ diplomatic postures, and when, if at all, did that position change? What ­factors did leaders consider when deciding their diplomatic posture? What did leaders think their diplomatic posture communicated, if anything? How did leaders define the relationship between talking and fighting? And fi­nally, what conditions did leaders cite publicly and privately as prerequisites for the commencement of talks, and w ­ ere t­hese conditions fulfilled? While not crucial to the explanatory power of the theory, I also evaluate the degree to which diplomatic postures ­were perceived in the same way leaders thought they would be perceived. This common set of questions is designed to provide indicators of a state’s perceived utility of launching talks, including their cost calculation, and critical points throughout the conflict. I also derive relevant questions unique to each case study from the core historical prob­lems, conventional wisdom, and disagreements among historians about the diplomatic history.123 The systematic and extensive analy­sis of primary source documents in accordance with ­these questions ­will contribute to impor­tant historical debates as well as ­those within the field of international relations.

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Chinese Diplomatic Posture in the Korean War

On June 25, 1950, North Korean forces crossed the thirty-­eighth parallel in a blitzkrieg assault, thereby launching the Korean War.1 North Korean troops took Seoul in three days before driving fifty miles into South ­Korea the first week, forty miles the second week, and eigh­teen miles the third week to take over more than half of South K ­ orea.2 Two months before Kim Il-­Sung launched the invasion, he had visited Mao Zedong asking for assistance in a potential war, a request he had made of Joseph Stalin of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) earlier in April. Mao believed, though not with complete confidence, that the United States would not get involved in a war on the peninsula. Mao and his fellow Chinese Communist Party (CCP) leaders also believed that such an inadequate regional force posture would preclude any major US military intervention.3 Kim assured him that regardless of US intentions, the communists could capture all of South K ­ orea before US intervention would even be pos­si­ble.4 The Soviet Union also discounted the possibility of US intervention ­because of previous US congressional opposition to economic and military assistance to South ­Korea, US commitments in Eu­rope, and the lack of sufficient available forces in Japan to play any significant role.5 In addition to ­these operational limitations, a number of high-­level officials, including General Douglas MacArthur and Secretary of State Dean Acheson, had implicitly and explic­itly left South K ­ orea out of the US defense perimeter in public statements. Acheson had also made disparaging remarks about the power and purpose of the United Nations (UN) for military action, arguing that it would be useful only for po­liti­cal purposes.6 But to the surprise of North ­Korea and its communist allies, the United States responded quickly to the invasion, deciding in thirty-­six hours that it would dispatch troops to aid South ­Korea.7 The UN Security Council passed a resolution within two days condemning the attack and levying sanctions against the North Korean regime. President Harry S. Truman also ordered

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the Seventh Fleet into the Taiwan Strait to ensure that the CCP did not take advantage of the international crisis. Twelve days l­ater, the UN Security Council authorized the creation of a unified United Nations Command (UNC) directed by an American commander to expel the North Koreans—­a move made pos­si­ble ­because the Soviet Union was boycotting the meeting to protest Taiwan’s holding of China’s seat. Fifteen countries sent troops to support the UN mission against North ­Korea. By early August, the UNC had halted the North Korean advance and began to win major victories. At this point, a debate emerged in the United States about the merits of expanding its war aims to roll back communism—­ specifically, taking over North ­Korea and establishing a unified ­Korea. On August 10, US delegate to the UN Warren Austin stated publicly that the goal of UN action on the peninsula was a unified ­Korea.8 A month ­later US forces landed at Inchon, and within two weeks the US X Corps joined with General Walton Walker’s Eighth Army, which had been launching a counterattack out of the Pusan perimeter. With victory in sight, General MacArthur issued a demand for North ­Korea’s unconditional surrender, opening the ultimatum with “the early and total defeat and complete destruction of your armed forces and war-­fighting potential is now inevitable.”9 To try to slow down the reversal, Soviet foreign minister Andrey Vyshinsky presented a draft resolution to the Po­liti­cal Committee of the General Assembly of the UN calling for an immediate ceasefire on October 2.10 Numerous other countries made efforts to promote a ceasefire that would prevent the United States and UN from crossing the thirty-­eighth parallel.11 But crossing the thirty-­ eighth parallel to seek total victory had broad support within the United States, which only increased as US/UN troops achieved one military success ­after another.12 As US policymakers ­were debating the merits of expanding the war in August and September, China began to issue formal warnings and protests to the United States through its officials and media outlets.13 On September 24, in response to the alleged and accidental US bombing of a Chinese city close to the border, Zhou Enlai argued that the United States intended to “extend the war of aggression against ­Korea, to carry out armed aggression on Taiwan, and to extend further its aggression against China.”14 The next day, Chief of Staff General Nie Rongzhen of the P ­ eople’s Liberation Army (PLA) commented to the Indian ambassador to the P ­ eople’s Republic of China (PRC) that China could not “sit back with folded hands and let the Americans come to the border.”15 Nie hinted that the Chinese understood the risk of general war with the United States, but the PRC was not afraid to enter the war and strive for total victory by driving the UN off the peninsula. He intimated that “we know what we are in for, but at all costs American aggression has to be stopped. The Americans can bomb us, they can destroy our industries, but they cannot defeat us on land. . . . ​They may even drop atom bombs on us. What then? They may kill a few million p ­ eople.

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Without sacrifice a nation’s in­de­pen­dence cannot be upheld.”16 On September 30, Zhou issued a public warning to the United States that “the Chinese ­people . . . ​­will not supinely tolerate seeing their neighbors being savagely invaded by the imperialists.”17 But the United States did not believe ­these threats to be credible ­because analysts thought the new regime in Beijing was myopically focused on domestic issues and that if China ­were ­going to intervene, it would have done so before Inchon, when, as the US ambassador to Moscow Alan Kirk argued, “UN forces ­were desperately defending the small area of Taegu-­Pusan, when the influx of overwhelming numbers of Chinese ground forces would have proved the decisive f­ actor.”18 Within two months of the initial North Korean invasion, China had amassed more than 260,000 troops along the border, prepositioned a preliminary amount of supplies, and begun the domestic propaganda campaign necessary to mobilize the Chinese p ­ eople to support a Chinese intervention.19 But the United States ignored ­these warnings, doubting their credibility, and just six days ­later, on October 1, 1950, South Korean (Republic of ­Korea [ROK]) troops with US forces in tow crossed the thirty-­eighth parallel.20 For Mao, allowing the United States to occupy both Taiwan and K ­ orea up to the Yalu River posed too g ­ reat of a security risk to the CCP, which was still consolidating power ­after the civil war.21 Zhou agreed with Mao’s position, stating at the same meeting, “If the U.S. imperialists defeated North ­Korea, the cause of peace would suffer and the Americans would become more aggressive.”22 Peng Dehuai supported Mao’s desire to assist North K ­ orea, arguing that if China allowed US troops to advance to the banks of the Yalu River, Washington would “find a pretext to invade us at any time.”23 In other words, intervening in K ­ orea was necessary to prevent the United States from amassing forces and then using bases in K ­ orea and Taiwan to attack the PRC ­later. Given that the United States was not fully mobilized for war, it was better to fight the Americans in the fall of 1950 rather than ­later.24 As a result, as US troops approached the Yalu River, Chinese P ­ eople Volunteers (CPV) secretly crossed over into ­Korea around October 16, and China launched its first campaign against South Korean forces on October 25 in Unsan, successfully forcing a retreat.25 For the rest of the war, US-­led UN, Chinese, and Korean troops would clash on the ground while Soviet, Chinese, and US aircraft fought in the air. China’s diplomatic posture wavered from supporting talks between the belligerents, when it still stood on the sidelines of the war, to supporting a closed diplomatic posture once it became militarily involved in October 1950. China then maintained a closed diplomatic posture for the next eight months, refusing all third-­party proposals for direct talks and not making any offers itself. Chinese representatives also put forth strict preconditions for talks, insisting that po­liti­cal issues, such as its repre­sen­ta­tion to the UN and the Taiwan issue, be discussed in conjunction with resolving the Korean War.

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But on July 2, 1951, China switched to an open diplomatic posture and responded favorably to a Soviet suggestion that the United States and China begin peace talks. Direct talks among the belligerents ­were subsequently launched on July 10. Beijing maintained its open diplomatic posture, which it labeled a talking-­while-­fighting strategy, ­until a ceasefire was agreed to on July 27, 1953. Why was China initially closed to talking a­ fter it entered the war, and what convinced its leadership to open up the diplomatic front in July 1951? To parse out the forces b ­ ehind Chinese war­time diplomacy, I rely on the most authoritative sources available from the Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives as well as two dozen Chinese histories and biographies, many published by party or military presses.26 The latter is an indirect way to get to many primary sources that Chinese scholars, especially ­those affiliated with the party or military, have access to but foreign scholars do not. I also use translated Rus­sian archival sources from the Wilson Center’s Cold War International History Proj­ect and US intelligence assessments during that period to assess the degree of congruence in perceptions. The Korean War is a hard case for the costly conversations thesis. Right ­after the establishment of the PRC, when the government was trying to consolidate power, and at the height of the Cold War, when Beijing needed Moscow’s support, we would expect Mao to be primarily focused on the domestic and international costs of conversation. Moreover, this is a crucial case for ideational explanations, given that ideology was the protagonist in Mao’s China. Fi­nally, the Korean War is widely used to test the traditional bargaining approach to war termination, and therefore any refinement to existing theories must be able to explain the variation in China’s diplomatic posture better than extant lit­er­at­ ure.27 I argue that Chinese diplomatic posture went through three stages in the Korean War, all of which can be explained by understanding the strategic costs of conversation. First, from China’s entrance in October 1950 through the fourth campaign ending in mid-­February 1951, Mao a­ dopted a closed diplomatic posture b ­ ecause he was pursuing absolute aims, specifically to push UN forces completely off the peninsula.28 At this time, China considered the likelihood the ­enemy would take an open diplomatic posture as a sign of weakness and how it may change its war efforts in response, as the costly conversations thesis predicts. However, the dynamics of the cost calculation are slightly dif­fer­ent given the absolute aims. Specifically, a willingness to talk could convey to the United States that Beijing had lost confidence in its ability to achieve absolute war aims. Washington may then be encouraged to prolong the fighting, making China’s brute-­force strategy, though still successful, costlier than if the United States simply surrendered. In the second stage, Mao abandoned absolute aims in February 1951 and accepted that the war would end by negotiated settlement, but still maintained a closed diplomatic posture for an additional four months. I argue

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that, during this period, China was no longer concerned with just minimizing the costs of winning; now that losing was a distinct possibility, Beijing needed to avoid encouraging escalation, intensification, or prolongation of the conflict, which would hurt Beijing’s prospects of victory. Mao therefore concentrated on inflicting higher costs on UN forces to demonstrate Chinese strength and resiliency and ideally weaken the international support, domestic support, material resources, and ­will to fight that composed US strategic capacity. China accepted an open diplomatic posture in July 1951 only ­after its leaders assessed the likelihood of adverse inference to be low and US strategic capacity to be sufficiently limited, thereby ensuring the strategic costs of conversation to be low. However, to hedge against miscalculation and further reduce the likelihood of conveying weakness, Mao appealed to the Soviets to officially propose the two sides meet. Mao also ordered his military commander Peng Dehuai to increase Chinese force posture on the front lines in case the United States felt encouraged to hit China harder.

China’s Diplomatic Posture For the first nine months of the war, China made no offers to engage in direct talks and rejected all outside proposals to bring China and the United States to the negotiating t­ able. ­After China’s first and second campaigns concluded with Chinese troops approaching the thirty-­eighth parallel, in early December, representatives from India, ­England and Sweden and general secretary of the UN Trygve Lie inquired about the conditions ­under which China would agree to end military operations in ­Korea. ­These countries w ­ ere hoping China would be willing to return to and solidify the status quo ante bellum through negotiations.29 China was not responsive to t­ hese efforts largely b ­ ecause, in Mao’s words to Peng Dehuai, “we would never agree to start an armistice negotiation ­unless the US imperialists withdraw to south of the thirty-­eighth parallel.”30 Thirteen non-­Western countries, headed by India, stepped in anyway, and on December 5 they handed Beijing a peace proposal, urging Beijing to stop at the thirty-­eighth parallel and discuss the resolution of the ­Korea issue at a meeting of the big powers.31 ­Toward that end, on December 12 the Indians introduced two draft resolutions into the First Committee of the General Assembly. The first resolution called for a three-­person group to determine a realistic basis for a ceasefire, and the second called for a conference to ­settle issues of concern in the region.32 Two days ­later, the UN passed the thirteen-­nation resolution and established a working group to explore the basis for a ceasefire agreement that could be reached by all parties.33 The United States supported the proposal, but, according to Dean Acheson, did so with the hopes that China would reject it. The United States had faced a difficult choice between supporting it, which may lead to the loss of

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U.S. influence on the peninsula and criticism from Congress and the press, and not supporting it and losing legitimacy and leverage in the UN.34 If China had agreed, it is unlikely that talks would have emerged u ­ nder ­these conditions in any case. The Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) had put forth the acceptable US conditions for a ceasefire early in the month. T ­ hese terms all deliberately emphasized the military aspects of the conflict, and indicated the administration’s discomfort with attaching po­liti­cal conditions to a truce.35 Zhou officially rejected the UN resolution on January 17, almost three weeks ­after Chinese forces embarked on their third campaign to push beyond the thirty-­eighth parallel. Zhou also put forth strict and unrealistic preconditions for negotiations, which included a seven-­power meeting to be held in China, the PRC to return to its UN seat, and the withdrawal of all foreign troops from both ­Korea and Taiwan.36 China maintained its closed diplomatic posture in spite of the continued efforts of the international community. India, for example, attempted again to act as a mediator to convince all warring parties to engage in direct and unconditional talks with each other. This time, Delhi persuaded the Arab-­ Asian bloc to introduce a draft resolution requesting a seven-­nation group to secure a clarification and elaboration of China’s position.37 China maintained its opposition to talks and in response the United States successfully convinced the United Nations to pass a resolution on February 1, 1951, calling China the aggressor on the peninsula, ensuring that Beijing would never perceive that body as a neutral intermediary.38 Eleven days l­ater, China launched its fourth campaign. The diplomatic front was relatively quiet the next four months, with China not making any offers to open up direct talks with the US side and no major international initiatives requiring a response. China launched its fifth campaign on April 22, which UN forces stopped just north of Seoul. The CCP Central Committee (CCPCC) convened in late May 1951, ­after the second offensive of the fifth campaign, to discuss the next steps in the war. According to then chief of staff Nie Rongzhen, who was pres­ent at that meeting, “The opinion of the majority [was] that our forces should stop at the thirty-­ eighth parallel, talk while fighting, and seek to resolve the issue through talks.”39 The CCP prepared for protracted war, and Mao approached Stalin about facilitating the opening of the diplomatic front.40 On June 23, 1951, Soviet ambassador to the UN Jacob Malik gave a radio address in which he called for “a ceasefire and an armistice providing for the mutual withdrawal of forces from the thirty-­eighth parallel.”41 Soviet foreign minister Andrei Gromkyo clarified, to the satisfaction of the United States, that the talks would be between military commanders for the purpose of arranging a military armistice and would not include provisions regarding po­liti­cal and territorial ­matters. The ambassadors from the UN contributing countries met and approved the move to open negotiations, even though South ­Korea did not support the initiative. South ­Korea’s op-

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position stemmed from its absolute aims of reunification. As the South Korean prime minister noted, they “should not talk to Commies ­until all had been driven from K ­ orea.”42 The Chinese w ­ ere not enthusiastic about the idea of pursuing talks u ­ nder t­hose conditions; they had previously argued for po­ liti­cal issues to be included. But China agreed to direct talks on July 2, 1951, even though Taiwan, UN repre­sen­ta­tion for the PRC, and the removal of all foreign troops ­after the ceasefire ­were not explic­itly part of the agenda.43 The two sides met on July 10 at Kaesong, an ancient capital of ­Korea approximately midway between the two sides, to begin talks. China would maintain its open diplomatic posture of talking while fighting for the next two years, ­until a ceasefire agreement was reached July 27, 1953.

Deciphering the Costs of Conversation China’s diplomatic posture went through three phases: a closed diplomatic posture with absolute aims, a closed diplomatic posture with limited aims, and then an open diplomatic posture. In the last stage, China switched to an open diplomatic posture on July 2 believing that the likelihood and costs of conversation ­were low, but its leaders also took actions to hedge against the possibility they had miscalculated. c h i na’ s abso l u te a i ms The costly conversations thesis provides insight into why a state may refuse to engage in talks even though exchanging offers facilitates the reaching of a war termination settlement. The benefits of talking, therefore, are predicated on an assumption that ­there exists a possibility for a negotiated settlement—­that states’ aims are limited. In chapter 1, I discussed how when a state has absolute aims and the military might to pursue them, an open diplomatic posture does not engender the same expected benefits; talks are then merely a mechanism to implement one’s demands once the other side surrenders. When states have absolute aims, this is the one situation in which the decision to talk is the same as the decision to end the war, and any preconditions for talks are in real­ity conditions for surrender. Therefore, in an absolute aims scenario, the strategic costs of conversation are configured more narrowly than for the vast majority of wars in which ­there is a possibility of termination through negotiated settlement. Specifically, an open diplomatic posture may signal to the e­ nemy that a state has lost confidence in its ability to achieve absolute aims and has lowered its expectations to limited aims. This in turn may encourage the ­enemy to continue fighting longer that it would other­wise, delaying surrender and consequently increasing the aggregate costs of the war. It is t­ hese strategic costs, coupled with lower benefits of talking when a belligerent plans to achieve

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its absolute goals forcibly and directly, that make a belligerent closed to diplomacy. I argue that China’s diplomatic posture from its entrance into the Korean War ­until February 1951 follows this logic: China had absolute aims, its leadership thought agreeing to talks would only delay their achievement, and the preconditions expressed for talks w ­ ere in real­ity the conditions for surrender. While Mao was initially hesitant and wavered about ­whether to intervene, once China entered the war on October 25, it had the absolute aim of driving US-­led UN forces completely off the peninsula. Mao was confident this could be done. Chinese troops on the peninsula outnumbered UN forces three to one, China enjoyed shorter logistics and supply lines, and Mao personally believed that manpower and troop morale could overcome a technologically superior opponent.44 As Mao wrote to Stalin on October 15, “We should be able to concentrate our forces four times larger than the ­enemy . . . ​ and to use a firing power one and a half to two times stronger than that of the ­enemy . . . ​so that we can guarantee a complete and thorough destruction of one ­enemy army.”45 In an October 23 tele­gram to Peng Dehuai, Mao thought it would be pos­si­ble to force the United States into talks, but that depended on U.S. deployment of airpower and troop numbers.46 Given this, in the words of an October 24 report from the 18th Standing Committee of the First National Committee of the Chinese ­People’s Po­liti­cal Consultative Conference, China would consider talking only once “the e­ nemy gives up.”47 Thus, Mao pushed China into the Korean War, crossing the Yalu River on October 19 and fighting its first b ­ attle on October 25, 1950.48 Mao hoped to push “imperialist” UN forces off the peninsula for good and force the United States to accept a reunified ­Korea ­under North Korean control.49 The CPV successfully forced a retreat in its first campaign and was successful in subsequent ­battles against UN troops. China used US overconfidence to its advantage; Mao often instructed Peng to feign a withdrawal in order to “lure the ­enemy into the deep mountainous areas, and then surround and annihilate them.”50 On November 18, Mao sent a tele­gram to his commanders, including Peng and Deng Hua, stating that “the United States, E ­ ngland, and France ­can’t ­handle us, each one is engulfed by pessimism, our troops only need to achieve a few more victories, destroy tens of thousands o ­ f enemy troops, and the ­whole international situation ­will change.”51 In late November, UN forces entered deep into Chinese-­held areas, and on November 25 China launched its devastating second offensive, pushing UN troops so far south that by December CPV and Korean P ­ eople’s Army (KPA) troops had regained control over most North Korean territory.52 The successes of ­these first two campaigns (October 25 to November 7 and November 25 to December 24, respectively) further convinced Mao that his absolute aims ­were achievable.53 Reviewing the situation with Stalin and Kim, Mao articulated on December 3 that the United States should admit defeat and withdraw completely from the peninsula, or China would con-

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tinue fighting ­until it had eliminated all the e­ nemy troops, starting with the “puppet” South Korean forces.54 Major Chinese po­liti­cal and military leaders convened on December 15 and deci­ded to reject any offers to talk in ­favor of pursuing total victory on the peninsula.55 As part of that strategy, China devised five conditions ­under which it would be willing to engage in direct talks: (1) the withdrawal of all foreign troops from K ­ orea, (2) the withdrawal of American troops from the Taiwan strait and from the territory of Taiwan, (3) the Korean p ­ eople themselves resolving the Korean question, (4) PRC repre­sen­ta­tion in the UN and the exclusion of Taiwan, and (5) convening a conference of the ministers of foreign affairs of the four ­great powers for the preparation of a peace treaty with Japan. Zhou Enlai instructed China’s UN delegates to communicate that if t­ hese five conditions “for the cessation of military operations are accepted, the five ­great powers can send their representatives to convene a conference for signing the conditions of an armistice.”56 In other words, if the Western powers surrendered to China, Beijing would be willing to meet to hammer out the details of the implementation of China’s absolute demands.57 While China primarily chose a closed diplomatic posture ­because its strategy of forcibly achieving its absolute aims did not require talking to the ­enemy, its leaders also considered the costs of an open diplomatic posture. China did not want to give any impression of weakness that could impact the course of the war. Zhou instructed China’s UN delegates that when responding to UN calls for talks they should “still take the approach of ‘he is in a hurry but I am not’; do not give them chances to reconnoiter [probe their position]. Do not lay our cards on the ­table for them too early.”58 Mao wanted to launch a third campaign at this stage; he believed the failure to do so “would arouse the cap­i­tal­ist countries to speculate a g ­ reat deal [on our intentions].” Only by “annihilating a few more divisions or American units” would this “enhance the pessimism among them.”59 Chinese forces launched the third campaign on December 31 to destroy the ­enemy between the thirty-­ eighth and thirty-­seventh parallels.60 The weeklong offensive was largely a success, and the UN was forced to retreat to a line seventy miles below the parallel in the west to a point forty-­five miles above it in the east.61 Communist forces pushed through UN lines and retook Seoul on January 4.62 The goal of pushing the United States off the peninsula and “fully liberating North ­Korea” seemed even more within reach, with the next b ­ attle likely decisive on this account.63 In their cost calculus, Chinese leaders suspected the United States would exploit an open diplomatic posture at this juncture. In a January 28 call to Peng, Mao articulated his suspicion that the United States supported ceasefire talks as a means to convince Chinese troops to withdraw so they could restore the bridge between Inchon and Seoul, block the Han River to place Seoul u ­ nder threat, and then call for a ceasefire.64 Mao believed the United States hoped to buy some time to rest and regroup and then look for

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a favorable opportunity to counterattack.65 The USSR leadership agreed with China’s assessment that the UN proposal for ceasefire talks was “incorrect in the pres­ent situation, when American troops are suffering defeat and when the Americans more and more often are advancing a proposal about a cessation of military operations in K ­ orea in order to win time and prevent the complete defeat of the American troops.”66 Instead, Mao thought that a­ fter a fourth successful offensive, the e­ nemy would want to conduct peace talks to end the conflict on terms beneficial for China and North ­Korea; in his words, “If the e­ nemy is not destroyed, it w ­ ill not quit ­Korea.”67 Thus, talking at this point would be costly in that it would only serve to delay the ­enemy’s surrender. Additionally, a ceasefire before talks was absolutely out of the question, as it would be a de facto ac­cep­tance of the thirty-­eighth parallel, which would delay negotiations on the ­future of the peninsula in­def­initely.68 If China had taken back the peninsula, it would have likely chosen an open diplomatic posture that February to coordinate the logistics of the UN surrender and reunification of the peninsula ­under North Korean control.69 But the war took a dif­fer­ent turn. By the end of January 1951, the optimism in the communist camp had begun to diminish. Matthew B. Ridgway had taken command of UN forces on December 23 and began to take back territory that had fallen into communist hands. Ridgway abandoned Seoul with the goal of forcing the communists to overextend, which worked against China’s strategy of luring the e­ nemy in deep. The CPV and KPA moved into the city on January 4, but, as anticipated, their supply lines w ­ ere stretched to the breaking point. As a result, Peng Dehuai, commander of the CPV, called off the campaign. Mao was advocating for a fourth campaign, but Peng and Deng Hua (thirteenth army group commander) pushed back, saying their troops ­were suffering from combat fatigue and a shortage of supplies.70 Peng warned that “if the advance of our main forces [in a fourth campaign] is checked [by the e­ nemy], it is very likely that the [overall] war situation in ­Korea would turn on us.”71 Peng was correct to be concerned; the UN launched a major counteroffensive on January 25, and the fourth campaign came to a halt on February 11 by UN forces supplied by the air.72 Instead of opening up to talks to coordinate the UN surrender, in response to the heavy losses suffered, Chinese leaders maintained a closed diplomatic posture as they reconsidered the feasibility of their absolute aims.73 Peng rushed back on February 21, at the end of the fourth campaign, to convince Mao that they could not win a total victory on the peninsula; Mao agreed with the assessment and supported Peng’s strategy of withdrawing to the thirty-­eighth parallel and changing tactics.74 Mao told Peng, “If one can win a quick victory, then win a quick victory. But if you cannot win a quick victory, then win a slow one. ­Don’t be impatient and careless for success.”75 Mao’s goal thus changed a­ fter the fourth campaign from driving the UN forces off the peninsula to “eliminating several US and ROK divisions a year

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while defeating any ­enemy landing b ­ ehind the front line, a prolonged war.”76 Mao believed that it would take several years to inflict the thousands of casualties that would force the United States to retreat in the face of difficulties.77 Mao called Stalin on March 1 to inform him of the new plan to fight a limited war of attrition; limited aims would now have to be achieved through coercion of the ­enemy.78 Though Mao’s vision of the ideal settlement shifted with his confidence on the battlefield, at this stage reunification of the peninsula u ­ nder North Korean control was no longer a ­viable option. His discussion of UN retreat suggests that even if the thirty-­eighth parallel remained the demarcation between the two ­Koreas, Mao initially hoped to avoid a situation in which foreign troops remained in South K ­ orea ­after the war. The history of Chinese involvement in the Korean War seems to support Paul Pillar’s argument that changes in the perceived possibility of direct achievement enhance a country’s willingness to engage in talks.79 However, China’s diplomatic posture is not quite that ­simple. Beijing did not offer talks in February when it abandoned its absolute aims for more limited ones; instead, it maintained a closed diplomatic posture for an additional five months. In the next section, I piece together China’s assessment of the strategic costs of conversation a­ fter the fourth offensive and argue that high expected costs discouraged Beijing from changing its diplomatic posture. t h e h igh likeli h o o d o f a d verse i n fer e nc e As Mao began fighting a limited coercive war, he started to consider how to create the necessary conditions for a talking-­while-­fighting strategy. The CCPCC’s earlier guidance to avoid premature talks so as to give the impression of “he is in a hurry but I am not”80 became even more relevant. For the next four and a half months, China refused all negotiation proposals brought to Beijing’s attention through public and secret channels. This is surprising, especially b ­ ecause Mao had endorsed Peng’s plan to hold off on another offensive ­until mid-­March or April to allow the troops to rest and recuperate. Talks could have been leveraged as “a means to buy time for communist forces to build up their strength.”81 But demonstrating strength and resiliency before shifting to an open diplomatic posture, especially since losing the initiative with the fourth offensive, was the priority. At this stage, the United States still believed that its technological superiority would allow its troops to hold their position in the south. Mao assessed that the United States was still focused on securing its position, resting, and resupplying to launch counterattacks.82 To shake US confidence, Mao insisted that recovery of the thirty-­eighth parallel be a prerequisite to negotiating a truce.83 The success of Chinese troops in pushing US/UN forces back from the Yalu to the thirty-­eighth parallel would allow China to come to the ­table from a position of strength, even in the face of setbacks.84 He set about planning for the fifth offensive with this goal in mind.

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t h e h igh costs o f a d verse i n feren ce ­After initial successes and absolute aims of achieving a reunified peninsula devoid of foreign troops, Mao considered not only how the United States would perceive an open diplomatic posture but also how it might react. Assessing US strategic capacity and ­whether China would be in a position to match US force if it prolonged, intensified, or escalated the war was not a straightforward issue.85 The United States had the technological advantage in terms of weapons and equipment, but Washington had the logistical challenges of fighting across the Pacific as well as many global commitments, which siphoned off its resources.86 China, on the other hand, had shorter logistical lines of communications and more troops, imbued with the warrior ethos and well-­seasoned from de­cades of fighting.87 Chinese leaders considered soberly that their logistical challenges would only get worse if the United States intensified or expanded its bombing to include targets in China itself, such as supply lines.88 As Mao stated in a tele­ gram to Stalin in the days before the first offensive, the United States could very well “declare war against China, and prepare that at the very least they could use their bombers against Chinese cities and industrial centers, and conduct naval assaults against our coastal areas.”89 The United States could also use nuclear weapons against China, something the United States both considered and threatened.90 Besides the obvious economic and security costs of absorbing direct blows, Mao worried this would lead to dissatisfaction among the Chinese ­people.91 China understood its prospects of victory ­were highest if the fighting was restricted to the Korean peninsula and nowhere ­else.92 Moreover Mao had pinpointed the degree to which the United States would use airpower and the number of troops it would dedicate to the conflict as two of the three ­factors that would most impact the war situation.93 China’s initial decision to intervene militarily on the peninsula was, in the words of China scholar Thomas Christensen, “heavi­ly conditioned on how much support China was to expect from Stalin’s USSR.”94 Soviet support was not as timely or forthcoming as China was initially led to believe. Stalin did not provide air cover for the initial invasion, citing technical difficulties, though the Chinese believe he was purposefully withholding support ­because of fears of entering into a direct clash with the United States.95 The Soviet Union did provide some direct air support and support in the form of military equipment, but never to the degree China had hoped. As the possibility of greater Soviet support, to include the deployment of its air forces to protect Chinese cities, became more and more remote, fear of US escalation intensified.96 Thus, the success of China’s strategy was predicated on discouraging US escalation or intensification by making the United States believe that such moves would be counteracted by China’s strength and resiliency.97 In Mao’s estimation, by March 1951, both sides ­were preparing for a long war to last

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at least another two years.98 If China could sufficiently c­ ounter US offensive operations, this would diminish American motivation to intensify the conflict and allow China to embrace the open diplomatic posture necessary to engender a favorable negotiated solution.99 Favorable was a relative term whose meaning changed with the ebb and flow of combat, but the minimum entailed no loss of territory for North K ­ orea compared with the antebellum status quo—or the po­liti­cal goal of the liberation of North K ­ orea from foreign forces. But Mao also clearly hoped that Chinese forces could impose enough costs on the United States that it would willingly agree to a postwar situation that would ­favor the communists and include the removal of all foreign troops from the peninsula. t h e spri n g offen si ve: d ecrea si n g co s t s o f c o nv e r sat i o n A number of ­things occurred in April and May that decreased the costs of conversation significantly. First, US strategic capacity was becoming more constrained. On April 10, President Truman replaced General MacArthur, who was advocating for escalation, with General Ridgway as the supreme United Nations commander. The Chinese understood this move as a signal that the Truman administration had deci­ded on a limited war and was unlikely to expand fighting to China.100 China paid close attention to the publicly released information on the eight-­week Senate Armed Ser­ vices Committee and Foreign Relations Committee “inquiry into the military situation in the Far East and the facts surrounding the relief of General of the Army Douglas MacArthur.”101 The chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Omar Bradley, had rejected MacArthur’s call for escalation, stating, “This strategy would involve us in the wrong war, in the wrong place, at the wrong time and with the wrong e­ nemy.”102 Chinese leaders followed the April 19 Senate Armed Ser­vices Committee hearing that discussed the failures in ­Korea—­testimony that confirmed US decision makers had come to believe in the face of Chinese re­sis­tance that intensification of the conflict would not yield results. Moreover, the costs of the war ­were proving unpop­u­lar with the American p ­ eople, suggesting domestic constraints on escalation.103 Second, Mao focused on designing a fifth offensive that would demonstrate China had been unaffected by the fierce fighting of the fourth offensive and could still impose massive costs on UN forces, even if it could not run them off the peninsula. Stalin agreed with the plan, and within the week Mao issued ­orders to Peng to prepare for the fifth offensive to disrupt UN forces before they could reinforce and fortify their positions north of the thirty-­eighth parallel.104 Mao was committed to showing resiliency through the Spring Offensive, to shake US confidence by showing UN forces had not struck a decisive blow against Chinese forces in February.105 To that end, Mao and the Central Military Commission (CMC) committed to sending

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additional troops; the number of CPV more than doubled from 450,000 in January to 950,000 men by mid-­April.106 During the first phase of the offensive launched on April 22, the CPV forces achieved the minimal objective of crossing the thirty-­eighth parallel to recover territory lost during the fourth offensive. But given the casualties, Peng knew that his remaining forces would not be able to encircle and annihilate UN forces north of Seoul, so he deci­ded along with CPVF-­NKPA Joint Command to stop the offensive on April 29 and attempt to consolidate at their current positions. Chinese forces had fallen short of Mao’s objective in terms of inflicting casualties; in the end, they eliminated around thirty-­nine thousand ­enemy troops, not the desired fifty thousand, and had failed to destroy even one complete division or brigade.107 ­After regrouping, half a million communist troops attacked from the east in the second phase of the fifth offensive, from May 16 to 22, with the goal of annihilating five ROK divisions.108 Again, Chinese forces fell short of the goal but managed to demonstrate strength and resiliency on the battlefield. As the most authoritative history of the offensive notes, “Overall, the CPVF and NKPA forces had annihilated 23,000 UNF [UN forces] troops, ­doing particularly well in the Hyeon-ri area, where Chinese–­North Korean forces had wiped out most of the ROK 3rd and 9th Divisions and part of the US 2nd and 1st Marine Divisions, and had inflicted severe casualties and losses on the ROK 5th and 7th Divisions. In large part, the goals for the second step had been achieved.”109 The CCPCC convened in late May 1951, ­after the second phase of the fifth offensive, to discuss the next steps in the war. Chinese forces had managed to meet Mao’s goal of demonstrating strength and resiliency by pushing UN forces south of the thirty-­eighth parallel.110 Or, in the words of Nie, China “had already achieved our po­liti­cal goal, i.e., that the ­enemy should be driven out of northern K ­ orea.”111 Moreover, that the communists launched the largest and longest offensive to date, and the largest b ­ attle since World War II, even if they did not meet all their operational goals, at the very least proved without a doubt their resiliency. Chinese leaders felt that while Chinese forces may not be able to overpower US-­led UN forces, they had clearly demonstrated that e­ nemy forces could not overpower Chinese forces.112 The majority of the CCPCC meeting attendees agreed, “our forces should stop at the thirty-­eighth parallel, talk while fighting, and seek to resolve the issue through talks.”113 Reflecting on his decision to talk, Mao ­later wrote that the United States’ limited strategic capacity played a role in his decision. It was clear that the United States could not sustain a long war owing to the ­human and economic costs, especially with Washington’s commitments in Eu­ rope.114 When the United States moved from strategic offense to strategic defense ­after the fifth campaign, Chinese leaders took this as evidence that Washington had fi­nally come to grips with the real­ity of its constrained strategic

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capacity and was ­eager to get out of ­Korea.115 As a July 3 CCPCC Directive on North ­Korea Armistice Talks explained, the United States originally had no intention of reaching a genuine truce, and talks w ­ ere out of the question when it threatened to expand the war to China. But ­after its military hardships on the peninsula and the dismissal of MacArthur, if the United States ­were willing to talk, it would be to sue for peace. Therefore, the risk of an unfavorable US response to Chinese willingness to talk was low enough to consider opening to talks.116 In the CCP’s own words, “[We] have fought for eight months in ­Korea and forced the ­enemy to recognize our strength and give up its original plans for [further] aggression so that [we] have safeguarded the security of both the Demo­cratic ­People’s Republic of ­Korea and the ­People’s Republic of China. ­These are the direct outcomes of our war to resist Amer­i­ca and aid ­Korea.”117 In sum, operationally the fifth offensive fell short of expectations—­the CPV moved forward only eighty to ninety kilo­meters. Without air cover and logistic preparation, it was impossible to drive away the e­ nemy.118 Additionally, Peng called for a withdrawal to start on May 23 to above the thirty-­ eighth parallel, which was supposed to be orderly and uneventful. But against Chinese expectations and preparations, UN forces attacked, leading to many Chinese casualties in the ensuing chaos and disorder.119 Still, China had managed to create an obstruction such that the United States understood it could not escalate its way out of the stalemate. In this way, the fifth offensive created conditions that forced the United States to seek negotiations to end the war.120 hedgi n g aga in st th e po ten ti a l co sts o f c o nv e r sat i o n Even though China had adequately demonstrated resiliency by launching a major offensive that pushed UN troops south of the thirty-­eighth parallel so soon ­after the disappointment of the fourth campaign, and the United States seemed to lack the motivation to escalate, concerns about the strategic costs of conversation still lingered. Chinese leaders deci­ded the risks w ­ ere low enough to move to an open diplomatic posture, but they hedged their bets in two ways in case their assessment of the likelihood and costs of adverse inference proved incorrect. First, even though China had deci­ded to engage in talks, Mao did not want to seem ­eager for a resolution, to avoid conveying weakness.121 Therefore, to convey strength, he deci­ded to probe the US position indirectly through the Soviet Union and wait for the United States to make the first move. As Mao explained to Kim on June 13: Concerning how to raise the question of negotiations about an armistice, we consider it inadvisable for ­Korea and China themselves to advance this question t­ oday, since the Korean army and Chinese volunteer troops must

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­ ccupy a defensive position for the next two months. It is better to act in o this way: 1) To wait for the ­enemy to make an appeal. 2) It is hoped that, on the basis of the statement of [State Department official envoy George F.] Kennan, the Soviet government would make an inquiry to the American government about an armistice. It is pos­si­ble to bring this about in two ways si­mul­ta­neously, which are that from one side the Soviet government makes an inquiry, and from the other—if the ­enemy puts forth the question of an armistice, then K ­ orea and China w ­ ill express their agreement to this.122

In a radio address ten days ­later, the Soviet representative to the UN Jacob Malik called for a ceasefire and an armistice providing for the mutual withdrawal of forces from the thirty-­eighth parallel. Soviet foreign minister Andrei Gromkyo clarified to US satisfaction that the talks would be between military commanders for the purpose of arranging a military armistice, and would not include provisions regarding po­liti­cal and territorial ­matters.123 General Ridgway made the first direct move in response to Malik’s radio address. On June 30, 1951, he broadcasted to the communist forces commander that if they ­were prepared to enter into talks concerning a ceasefire and armistice as had been reported, Ridgway was willing to send representatives. China had deci­ded to agree to talks before this broadcast, but it made sure to accept the offer on July 2, only ­after the United States had demonstrated a willingness to do so.124 China agreed even though Taiwan, UN repre­sen­ ta­tion for the PRC, and the removal of all foreign troops ­after the ceasefire ­were not explic­itly part of the agenda.125 Chinese representatives continually stressed that the Soviet proposal was only a first step, implying that they ­were hoping to widen the terms of discussion. Moreover, the Chinese insisted on holding talks at Kaesong, which was then u ­ nder Chinese control. Beijing believed that holding talks in the ancient capital of K ­ orea, which was held by South ­Korea before the war, would be a further indicator that China came to the ­table not ­because of weakness but ­because it “won.”126 Another way China hedged against the possibility, though unlikely at this point, that the United States would escalate the conflict in response to China’s willingness to talk was that it prepared its forces just in case. Mao believed that the fact that China had “massed a large number of troops and already built up air and artillery forces” would impose some caution on the Western powers and that “the ­enemy [would have] to take [our force buildup] into consideration in the negotiations.”127 But Peng understood the potential risks of an open diplomatic posture, warning that China “could encounter many difficulties, even a complicated pro­cess and the need to undergo serious military fighting.”128 The United States may try, he thought, to demonstrate toughness before talks by “strik[ing] a blow” against their troops.129 As Stalin warned, “On the one hand we must carefully watch the military situation so as not to give the ­enemy the possibility of using this moment to his

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advantage, and on the other hand . . . ​[the Chinese and North Koreans] must . . . ​be prepared, in case of a demand by the e­ nemy to begin negotiations, to send corresponding representatives to conduct negotiations.”130 Chinese leaders therefore reinforced their defenses and prepared to react militarily to any subsequent escalation.131 Mao advised Peng and Kim on July 3 “to heighten vigilance up to the limit. Units of the first line must be prepared to repulse a pos­si­ble large scale attack by the ­enemy and intensive bombing of our rear e­ ither before or during negotiations, which the ­enemy may undertake in order to force us to sign a disadvantageous agreement.”132 Mao wanted to confirm with Peng that if the United States prepared a massive offensive before or during the talks to try to force China to accept its settlement terms, Chinese troops w ­ ere prepared to repel them.133 Chinese forces ­were also instructed to keep on fighting with the same determination regardless of what happened in the negotiations.134 The Chinese and the North Koreans w ­ ere determined not to allow the e­ nemy the possibility of using the moment, ostensibly of China’s ac­cep­tance of talks, to its advantage.135 If the United States was indeed using talks to probe China’s resolve, Beijing believed it could c­ ounter such moves and would have greater international support if it did so.136 With t­ hese precautions in place, China fi­nally moved to an open diplomatic posture on July 2, and talks between the two sides began a week ­later. For the next two years, China tried to use military pressure to gain advantage at the bargaining ­table. Neither side believed anything positive would come of the negotiations u ­ nless they ­were in a position of strength on the battlefield.137 But t­here ­were no decisive b ­ attles, and neither side was able to demonstrate the ability to overwhelm the other. Beijing abandoned large offensives to adopt a strategy of aggressive defense in which the prospects of increasing casualties and costs would hopefully cause the United States/ UN to agree to its minimum terms while decreasing its own ­human and material costs.138 Fi­nally, ­after two years of talks, the two sides signed an armistice agreement on July 27, 1953, that established the Korean Demilitarized Zone, put in force a ceasefire, and repatriated the prisoners of war (POWs). The protracted nature of the talks serves to reemphasize one of the central tenets of this book—­that the decision to talk is in­de­pen­dent from the decision to s­ ettle, and the costly conversations framework seeks to explain the former, not the course of negotiations once they begin.

Alternative Explanations I argue that China was closed to diplomacy initially ­because it had absolute aims, and talking would only serve to delay the achievement of t­ hose aims by wrongly signaling limited aims and encouraging the United States to keep fighting. ­After February, when China switched to fighting a limited

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coercive war, it maintained its closed diplomatic posture ­because of concerns about conveying weakness and encouraging US escalation. ­After the fifth campaign, Chinese leaders believed they had convinced the United States that further escalation, intensification, or prolongation would be costly and in­effec­tive, thereby reducing the costs of conversation and paving the way for an open diplomatic posture by July 1951. ­Here, I evaluate some potential alternative explanations for Chinese war­time diplomatic posture from the individual level to the structural level. While ­these approaches may be able to capture aspects of China’s diplomatic posture or why Mao pursued talks the way he did, they cannot explain the full variation of China’s diplomatic posture from its openness before involvement to a closed posture for the ten months of fighting, followed by a hedging strategy during the switch to an open diplomatic posture. t r ad iti o nal ba rga i n i n g a pproach The ­simple explanation for China’s diplomatic posture derived from the bargaining approach to war is that combat setbacks caused China to downgrade its estimates of eventual victory, so it was willing to make greater concessions to facilitate a ceasefire. This is definitely part of the story; Mao abandoned absolute aims in February 1951 b ­ ecause pushing UN forces off the peninsula seemed like an unachievable objective ­after the fourth offensive. While learning impacted war aims, without refinements, the model does not tell us what diplomatic postures are predicted for ­those aims. If ­there ­were no costs of conversation, China could have been open to direct talks to facilitate the US surrender during its absolute aims phase—or deci­ ded to open talks in February once it had degraded to limited aims. As Andrew Kennedy adds, “At that point, ­there was l­ ittle reason not to seek an end to hostilities.”139 But the Chinese did not seek talks at ­either stage; they waited almost five more months before they switched to an open diplomatic posture. ­There are two related information arguments about why China was willing to engage in direct unconditional talks in July but not earlier that deserve exploration. The first is a story of the vanquished seeking to end the war to prevent impending disaster. But China’s move to a talking-­while-­fighting strategy was not out of necessity and desperation—­Mao agreed to talks at a time when he was even more optimistic about China’s f­ uture prospects. In his words, “The position at the front in June ­will be such that our forces ­will be comparatively weaker than t­ hose of the e­ nemy. In July, we w ­ ill be stronger than in June, and in August we ­will be even stronger. We ­will be ready in August to make a stronger blow to the ­enemy.”140 ­After agreeing to talks, China prepared for bigger offensives, tripling the number of Chinese troops in K ­ orea from 271,000 in July 1951 to 947,000 in

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July 1952 and doubling communist fighter strength.141 According to a con­ temporary Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) report, Chinese combat effectiveness had improved over this period of time to “excellent” with the ability to launch major air or ground operations with l­ ittle warning. China was able to do this by postponing domestic reconstruction programs in order to dedicate more material and h ­ uman resources to the war effort.142 This, coupled with the fact that the Chinese continued to fight for another two years instead of trying to reach a ceasefire quickly, suggests an inability to continue fighting did not drive Chinese decision making about war­time diplomacy. The second related information argument posits that peace talks should emerge when combat has revealed enough information, so that warring parties have shared expectations about the range of agreements acceptable to both sides. But Mao, Kim, and Stalin did not start discussing what they would propose in terms of an agreement u ­ ntil ­after they had deci­ded to talk.143 Moreover, the participants spent the first three weeks of the talks just trying to finalize an agenda for what would be discussed.144 The fact that, in two years of fighting, l­ittle had changed on the battlefield and at the negotiating ­table “demonstrates the inefficiency of combat as a source of information.”145 Moreover, both sides’ unwillingness to offer concessions in the face of defeat on the battlefield is inconsistent with the information proposition that defeat makes concessions more likely.146 id eatio nal ­facto rs Given that China did eventually embrace an open diplomatic posture, arguments about how honor, legitimacy, or pride may preclude talks are not particularly relevant. The strongest ideational argument, therefore, focuses on Mao Zedong’s personal preferences and beliefs and how they may have ­shaped China’s decisions about diplomatic posture.147 Andrew Kennedy argues that Mao had a strong belief in martial efficacy, or the ability to overcome material disadvantages on the battlefield, but a weak belief in moral efficacy—­the ability to elicit cooperation from other states through diplomacy.148 Mao’s overconfidence in the effectiveness of force provides insight into many aspects of China’s Korean War strategy. First, it helps explain why Mao originally pursued absolute aims, which indeed limited the potential role for talks at that stage of the war. Second, his belief in the effectiveness of force also explains why it took him longer than some of his comrades, such as Peng Dehuai and Deng Hua, to realize direct attainment of absolute aims was infeasible. But once Mao switched to limited aims in February 1951, ­these martial beliefs do not explain why Mao maintained a closed diplomatic posture for an additional four months, and then why he shifted to an open diplomatic posture when he did, especially since t­hose beliefs remained constant.149

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Moreover, a focus on Mao’s skepticism about diplomacy and faith in force provides l­ittle insight into why Mao supported talks before China entered the war on North ­Korea’s behalf.150 The costly conversations thesis can explain this, however. T ­ hese costs come into play only when a country is making decisions ­under use of force, and therefore it makes sense that China was more open to talks before its direct involvement in October 1950.151 In short, Mao’s beliefs about the relative effectiveness of force and diplomacy did not determine China’s diplomatic posture, but they likely influenced his assessments about the point at which China had demonstrated “enough” resiliency and US strategic capacity was limited “enough” to merit low costs of conversation. Moreover, that Mao chose an open diplomatic posture for the duration of the Sino-­Indian War, explored in the next chapter, debunks any argument that relies on the particularities of Mao’s personality or aversion to diplomacy. dom esti c co st s Did Mao choose the diplomatic posture that best matched the preferences of domestic audiences to avoid cost imposition by t­ hose actors? Chinese domestic politics ­were indeed influential in convincing the leadership to get involved in the conflict in the first place. Mao thought it would help the CCP consolidate control over China and mobilize the population for a total transformation of Chinese society by increasing awareness of the external threat. Then he could use momentum and success on the peninsula to consolidate and strengthen his power in China and his role as the leader of the communist revolution in Asia.152 However, t­ here is no historical evidence to suggest that the war­time opportunity to “mobilize the masses as well as to inspire the comrade-­in-­arms” was a reason to delay talks initially or to accept them in July 1951.153 Moreover, ­there are no indications of domestic actors having strong divergent views on diplomatic posture, or that Mao considered the preferences of domestic audiences when choosing a diplomatic posture.154 The latter may have been ­because of Mao’s confidence in his ability to shape the domestic public’s perceptions about the war through propaganda, which the party strove to do throughout the ­whole war.155 Chinese state media consistently broadcasted stories of Chinese military successes, regardless of their veracity—­for example, claiming that the fifth campaign drove UN forces far south of the thirty-­eighth parallel.156 The party was particularly careful about selling its decisions to the troops to keep morale high.157 In sum, the CCP did not make strategic decisions about diplomatic posture based on the preferences of the ­people; instead, it was strategic about its approach to war­time diplomacy and carefully sold its decisions through propaganda campaigns to mobilize public support afterward.

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in ternatio nal co sts The Korean War broke out at the advent of the Cold War; it was a ­battle between communist and cap­i­tal­ist forces. Given that it was a proxy war between the United States and the Soviet Union to a degree, an alternative explanation may be that the Soviet Union dictated China’s position on peace talks. For this explanation to be convincing, the Soviet Union would need a sufficiently high level of influence over its communist allies. We would also expect that, in internal discussions, the preferences of the Soviet Union and the possibility that Moscow would impose costs if ­those preferences ­were ignored would dominate the discussion. In short, Chinese leaders should be mostly concerned about how the Soviets, not the Americans, would interpret and respond to their diplomatic posture. The USSR did provide military assistance to China, but it was limited in the broader scheme of the war.158 Moscow provided air cover to the Chinese against US planes along the Korean-­Manchurian border and also provided supplies, military equipment, and advisers to both Kim and Mao.159 The USSR also provided three thousand advisers to China as early as April 1950, though armaments and materiel did not flow in ­until August 1951.160 As the war progressed, the Soviets provided the Chinese with artillery and aircraft, and, according to one report, seventy thousand pi­lots, gunners, and technicians during the full duration of the war.161 But by January 1951, it was clear that Soviet military assistance would be more limited than Mao had expected when he agreed to help Kim and support the USSR foreign policy agenda more broadly.162 Mao would be further disappointed in June 1951, a­ fter the decision to engage in talks, when he received a tele­gram from Stalin expressing the limits of Soviet willingness to provide arms transfers to Mao.163 Tension sprouted in the relationship b ­ ecause of the Soviet Union’s failure to follow through.164 The United States even tried to exploit t­hese divisions; a leaflet distributed to Chinese troops stated that China was giving the Soviets manpower, wealth, and its freedom and in­de­pen­dence in return for the exploitation of its resources, mass sacrifice of its troops, bondage, and enslavement.165 Though Mao received assistance, he was not beholden to Stalin. Mao saw himself as Stalin’s equal, and as he was putting more resources on the line in ­Korea, he would make decisions that ­were best for the security of China. Moreover, ­because Stalin “was unwilling to send Soviet ground forces into ­battle, [he] relied heavi­ly on the resolve of the Chinese Communists to take the fight to the Americans.”166 Also, ­there is no documentary evidence that in conversations between Stalin and Mao the former dictated policy, though Mao often asked Stalin for advice.167 Stalin would most often respond to ­these queries with his support for Mao’s positions and include suggestions at times.168 Additionally, Stalin was happy to hand over the reins to Mao, possibly as a means to avoid escalation with the United States. Stalin supported

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a single command structure ­under China as well as China taking the lead in negotiations, arguing that the Soviet Union should not have direct contact with Kim during the talks.169 China did not always listen to the Soviet Union, often taking its own initiative. The Soviet Union tried to facilitate talks on numerous occasions before China fi­nally agreed to them in June 1951. Stalin had pushed for talks earlier, not wanting to risk direct confrontation with the United States in order to save Kim Il Sung’s regime.170 When China did fi­nally open its diplomatic posture, this was not at the behest of Moscow—­ China approached the Soviet Union about serving as an intermediary.171 However, China, along with the Soviet Union, most definitely dictated the diplomatic strategy for North K ­ orea, which relied heavi­ly on both countries’ military support to continue the fight.172 When China switched to talking while fighting, Kim Il Sung was not in agreement. In a visit to Beijing in June, the two sides ­were still not able to reach a consensus, as Kim was unwilling to accept the new strategy. He thought the CPVF-­NKPA forces still had the advantage, and that they would be in a better negotiating position a­ fter they destroyed a greater number of US/UN forces. But in the end, Kim was forced to yield to China’s position, given that he did not have the combat ability to fight the United States/UN in­de­pen­dently ­because Chinese troops made up the majority of combat power in ­Korea at the time.173 Once talks began, the DPRK wanted to bring them to a timely end. But China and the Soviet Union felt that a ceasefire agreement could not be reached ­unless the United States met some of their demands. The economic and ­human costs of war had taken a toll on Kim, who in February 1952 told Mao that he had “no desire to continue the war.”174 US bombing of the country was having a significant impact. In July 1952, the bombings put all the electrical stations in ­Korea out of operation, and in one twenty-­four-­hour period of the bombing of Pyongyang, the DPRK suffered six thousand civilian casualties.175 But China and the Soviet Union refused to make concessions on the POW issue necessary to bring the war to a close, as Stalin saw some benefits to keeping the United States tied down. Kim proposed that they appeal to the General Assembly and Security Council to facilitate the acceleration of the resolution of the Korean prob­lem, an idea Stalin rejected immediately on November 19, 1952.176 In sum, in extreme circumstances in which a state cannot fight without an ally’s support, the stronger patron may impose its preferred diplomatic posture, as was the case with North K ­ orea. But this scenario did not apply to the Sino-­Soviet relationship.177

A Note on US Diplomatic Posture in the Korean War Though the focus of this Korean War case study is on Chinese decision making, it is in­ter­est­ing to note that US diplomatic posture followed the same costly conversations logic. The United States maintained a closed diplomatic

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posture from its entrance on June 25, 1950, for about a year before switching to an open diplomatic posture. In the early months of the conflict before Chinese involvement, the United States’ closed posture was expressed in rejections of other countries’ “unsolicited” proposals to start talks.178 Initially, the Truman administration refused to talk b ­ ecause it faced high strategic costs—it wanted to avoid the impression of weakness and consequent encouragement of communist aggression broadly.179 In calculating the potential costs of demonstrating a readiness to talk, high-­level officials focused not only on North K ­ orea’s potential interpretation but also on what the Soviet Union would infer.180 The United States had therefore refused to talk with North ­Korea even before Chinese intervention ­until certain preconditions, such as withdrawal to the thirty-­eighth parallel, ­were met. As Acheson wrote on July 10, 1950, “Our policy is aimed at as early and complete a liquidation of the Korean aggression as was militarily pos­si­ble, without concessions that would whet Communist appetites and bring on other aggressions elsewhere.”181 As part of t­hese efforts to show ­there was no room for compromise, ­after the tide of the war began to turn in ­favor of UN forces, the United States deci­ ded to pursue absolute aims.182 On August 10, US delegate to the UN Warren Austin stated publicly that the goal of UN action on the peninsula was a unified ­Korea.183 ­There w ­ ere also strategic reasons to cross into North ­Korea; US policymakers believed that “stopping to negotiate at this juncture would incur greater risks than boldly marching forward.” Halting the movement north, it was thought, would be equated with indecisiveness and timidity.184 If history had stopped ­here, the United States most likely would have achieved its goals and then moved to an open diplomatic posture to facilitate North ­Korea’s surrender and the implementation of a US-­imposed peace settlement. But instead, Chinese forces entered the conflict, launching China’s first weeklong offensive on October 27, adding new dimensions to the costs and benefits of diplomacy. UN forces did not fare as well vis-­à-­vis Chinese forces, and the failed November offensive brought back US fears that talking to the communists ­under the wrong conditions would communicate weakness.185 In late November 1950, a number of foreign officials began again to brainstorm ways to bring China and the United States together in ceasefire talks.186 But the United States maintained its closed diplomatic posture ­because the Chinese communists would take a move t­oward talking as an indication of greatest weakness.187 Major General Charles L. Bolte, who was in the Army’s Plans and Operations division in Washington, agreed that a “show of strength [would] discourage further aggression, while weakness [would] encourage it.”188 The consensus was that General MacArthur should proceed with the “home by Christmas” offensive scheduled for November 24, and only when it was deemed successful should the United States consider po­liti­cal proposals.189

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While General MacArthur was pushing for absolute aims, most came to believe that the war would have to end through negotiated settlement. Even with limited aims in mind, State Department and Defense Department officials rejected in a joint December 2 meeting the possibility of approaching the Chinese ­either through the Indians or directly through the Rus­sians.190 The same week, Acheson received a note from George Kennan stressing that this was the worst time to negotiate with the communists—­the United States must do so only from a position of strength. If the United States moved to open talks now, especially ­after this ­great defeat, the communists “would correctly interpret it as weakness.”191 General George C. Marshall argued on December 1, 1950, that to consider talks when US/UN casualties ­were mounting would “represent a g ­ reat weakness on the part” of the United States.192 On December 2, 1950, the Truman administration rejected internal suggestions of approaching the Chinese or Rus­sians with a proposal for a ceasefire ­either through the Indians or directly through the Rus­sians.193 The administration deci­ded the best course of action would be to fight the Chinese to a standstill, not seek talks, and not escalate to bombing and blockading China.194 Talks ­were too risky, as “the question was ­whether you could buy [the e­ nemy] off or w ­ hether you would not merely get more pressure.”195 The Truman administration rejected further attempts at mediation in January on the basis that agreeing to talk when fighting was taking place, especially given UN setbacks, was not to its advantage.196 The United States tried to probe China’s position on secret talks through intermediaries but even delayed asking questions of their intermediary, so as not to seem too anxious.197 Around this time, the United States determined that UN forces did not have the wherewithal to liberate and unify the peninsula, and it therefore settled on more limited aims.198 On February 7 in a confidential memo, Dean Rusk wrote that b ­ ecause of the Chinese intervention, unification of the Korean peninsula was “no longer feasible.”199 In mid-­February, General Ridgway officially switched to a strategy of attrition with the hopes that heightened damage would bring the ­enemy to the negotiating ­table.200 The traditional bargaining model would predict that the United States would be open to talks at this point, when it was planning for the war to end by negotiated settlement. But the United States did not switch to an open diplomatic posture. Throughout April and May, US po­liti­cal elites continued to stress that no offers to talk could be made ­until a­ fter the Spring Offensive—­only then would the United States have demonstrated g ­ reat strength and resiliency such that an offer to talk would not look like a retreat.201 Additionally, the United States wanted to be sure that China had also grown weary of war and would not choose escalation over talking while fighting. The United States would first have to “deflate Chinese Communist po­liti­cal and military strength and prestige by inflicting heavy losses on Chinese forces in ­Korea through the pres­ent UN operation.”202

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In April, the argument was still being made that no proposals could be offered ­until ­after the Spring Offensive, again for fear of showing weakness and encouraging aggression.203 Through conversations between Department of State counselor Charles Bohlen and Vladimir Semenovich Semyonov (po­ liti­cal counselor of the Soviet Control Committee in Germany) during the first three weeks of April, the United States learned the Chinese still believed that they could push the United States off the peninsula—­and the Soviets agreed with this assessment.204 Offering talks at this point would only encourage China in its pursuit of absolute aims. The United States would have to delay a transition to an open diplomatic posture ­until the strategic costs ­were low. UN forces successfully blocked China’s fifth offensive (April 22 to May 23), forcing a Chinese retreat from all the territory it held south of the twenty-­ eighth parallel. ­Because of the successes of the UN forces, China made the internal decision—­which US decision makers learned of through intelligence gathering—to accept limited aims.205 Even so, the United States was wary of how China would interpret and respond to an open diplomatic posture. Thus, the United States tried to probe China’s position again through back channels and indirect contacts, “cast[ing] about like a pack of hounds searching for a scent.”206 In one instance, a Policy Planning Staff member, Charles Marshall, met with an anonymous individual who claimed to have a direct connection with Beijing’s top leadership to discuss the prospects of opening a secret communication channel. Interestingly, his interlocutor demanded reassurance that if he made efforts to bring the two sides together the United States would not then suddenly toughen its policy and intensify the war.207 Indeed, as chapter 3 lays out, China too was reluctant to agree to talk in May 1951 for fear of the strategic costs. The United States, like China, deci­ded that the Soviet Union was the key to further reducing the strategic costs of conversation. Using an intermediary would create deniability, reducing the risk of adverse inference. Moreover, the United States thought the Soviets, as China’s strong patron, ­were in a position to hamper Chinese ability to escalate or intensify the fighting. On May 31 and June 5, George Kennan met with the Soviet ambassador to the UN, Jacob Malik, to discuss prospects of a ceasefire.208 The purpose of this initiative, approved by President Truman, was to communicate US intentions and desires not to escalate further, switch to an open diplomatic posture, and probe the Soviet views. ­After an initial meeting on May 31, the two met again, and Malik communicated that the Soviet Union had been open to the idea of talks since early in the spring and wanted a truce at the “earliest pos­si­ble moment.”209 Given the stalemate on the peninsula and lack of Soviet enthusiasm, US leaders believed China’s strategic capacity was limited enough to make exploitation of an open diplomatic posture unlikely. However, to further mitigate the risks, the proposal to talk would have to come from elsewhere so as to further reduce the likelihood of adverse

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inference.210 Both sides, China and the United States, preferred to work through an intermediary, the Soviet Union, to probe each other’s positions and get talks started. ­After Malik’s radio address in which he called for the two sides to come together, the United States responded favorably. Both sides compromised their previously strict positions on preconditions to allow for the emergence of peace talks: the United States no longer found it necessary to take territory as punishment for the DPRK invasion, and China agreed not to discuss po­liti­cal conditions at the ceasefire talks. However, General Ridgway’s statement was carefully constructed “in order to avoid a sign of weakness on the UNC side” by suggesting that the communists took the initiative.211 In sum, the United States maintained a closed diplomatic posture from its entrance into the Korean War on June 25, 1950, for about a year before switching to an open diplomatic posture. Though the United States chose a closed posture ­because the strategic costs ­were high for the first year of the war, the specifics evolved over time. Initially, the United States was afraid an open diplomatic posture would communicate weakness in terms of resolve, and therefore encourage broader communist aggression. But once it looked as though UN forces would achieve the absolute aims of reunifying the peninsula, adverse inference took the form of communicating weakness in terms of downgrading of aims, which could encourage the e­ nemy to continue fighting—­together making the strategic costs high. ­After Chinese involvement and the abandonment of absolute aims, the United States thought offering talks would communicate weakness to the Chinese. The impression of reduced aims, low resolve, and inadequate capabilities would encourage China to impose even greater costs on UN forces in pursuit of its own absolute aims. Only once the United States believed it had demonstrated strength and resiliency by defeating China’s fourth and fifth offensives did the possibility of an open diplomatic posture emerge. But the strategic costs ­were still not low enough, and so to mitigate the risk, the United States used an intermediary—­the Soviet Union—to probe how China would perceive and react to a US willingness to talk. The United States learned that the Soviets did not support escalation, and with Chinese forces in retreat, Chinese strategic capacity was limited enough to permit a switch to an open diplomatic posture.

Conclusion China’s choice of diplomatic posture during the Korean War reflected deep consideration of the strategic costs of conversation at all stages. First, from its entrance into the war in October 1950 through the fourth offensive in February 1951, China chose a closed diplomatic posture largely ­because it was pursuing absolute aims. In this scenario, agreeing to talks would only

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incorrectly signal a downgrading of confidence to limited aims and allow the ­enemy to rest and regroup so it could fight longer than it would have other­ wise. This would delay the ­enemy’s surrender and increase the costs of the war. However, the rationale b ­ ehind China’s closed diplomatic posture a­ fter February shifted slightly, with Chinese leaders now concerned that the newly confident United States could be encouraged to escalate or intensify the war if China gave the impression of weakness. Mao therefore planned a fifth offensive to demonstrate resiliency and inflict casualties on US-­led forces, such that its ­enemy would lack the motivation to escalate in the ­future. While the offensive did not meet Mao’s expectations, communist forces managed to retake territory lost in the fourth offensive and inflict sufficient casualties. Additionally, the fifth offensive was the largest and longest communist offensive to date in the war, clearly showing resiliency even ­after months of fierce fighting. Given this, Chinese elites determined that the costs of conversation had adequately decreased by June 1951; hedging against miscalculation, they deci­ded to offer talks indirectly through the Soviet Union and surge forces in case their open diplomatic posture encouraged US escalation or intensification. While the benefits of talking outweighed the costs in July 1951, Chinese leaders had few illusions that the war would be brought to an end at this point.212 ­There was still a possibility that the United States would not negotiate in good faith. Also, Chinese leaders still believed t­ here was much room for learning. China was prepared to let the war drag on and believed its forces would need to impose significant costs “to give the e­ nemy greater losses and harder lessons” before it would truly be open to a peaceful solution.213 The inclusion of cost calculation of diplomatic openness provides an explanation for why talks emerged even though information asymmetries had yet to be sufficiently resolved to allow for a settlement. Though launching talks was a necessary first step, it unfortunately took approximately 575 meetings over two years for all sides to reach an armistice agreement to end the war.214 During this period of protracted talks, ­there ­were no decisive ­battles as the United States attempted to minimize losses by not taking on any major offensives;215 Beijing also abandoned large offensives to adopt a strategy of aggressive defense in which the prospects of increasing casualties and costs would hopefully cause the United States and UN to agree to its minimum terms while decreasing its own ­human and material costs.216 Instead, it was disagreement over the repatriation of POWs that obstructed an armistice agreement—­specifically ­whether the United States would allow the Chinese POWs to choose where to be released (the US preference) or ­whether all would be sent back to communist China. The fact that, in two years of fighting, l­ittle had changed on the battlefield and at the negotiating t­able calls into question a purely information approach to understanding the progression of the conflict. More than a quarter of the casualties occurred during the last two months of the war, in

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which the communists launched two major offensives to try to compel President Dwight D. Eisenhower to agree to better terms than his pre­de­ces­ sor. During ­those two months, it is estimated that the communists lost 108,458 ­people.217 About 45 ­percent of all US casualties occurred during ­these two years of talking while fighting.218 In the end, the settlement signed in July 1953 was practically identical to the U.S. and China negotiating positions two years earlier.219 Some scholars highlight President Eisenhower’s nuclear threats or Stalin’s death in March 1953 as critical f­actors that brought the Korean War to an end in July 1953.220 Less than a de­cade ­after the end of the Korean War, China would embark on another ground-­centric armed confrontation—­this time with India over disputed territory along its western border. But India was a much weaker opponent than the United States, with negligible ability to escalate, intensify, or prolong its conflict with Beijing. Moreover, Chinese leaders assessed that they had mitigated the costs of conversation rapidly, largely b ­ ecause Chinese strength and resiliency w ­ ere clearly demonstrated in the success of the initiative assault. Unsurprisingly, China pushed for war­time talks only four days into the war. The next chapter evaluates China’s open diplomatic posture during the Sino-­Indian War and the f­actors its leaders considered when making decisions about talking while fighting.

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Chinese Diplomatic Posture in the Sino-­Indian War

On October 20, 1962, China and India found themselves at war when Chinese artillery opened up a heavy concentration of fire on a weak Indian garrison in Namka Chu Valley in an eastern area China considers Southern Tibet and India calls Arunachal Pradesh (formerly North-­East Frontier Agency, or NEFA). China launched a simultaneous assault against the western sector, clearing Indian posts north of Ladakh. In a m ­ atter of days, China controlled all its claimed territory in the western sector and had overrun Indian posts along the McMahon Line in the east. By November 20, 1962, China had driven out all or­ga­nized Indian armed forces from any territory claimed by China in the eastern sector, allowing it to control the ­whole area between the McMahon Line (India’s recognized boundary line) and the Outer Line. The next day, China did something unpre­ce­dented in modern warfare: it announced a unilateral ceasefire and a withdrawal of troops to twenty kilo­meters from the line of ­actual control (LAC) in all sectors even though it was winning. Equally as striking, this move meant that the Sino-­ Indian war ended without the two sides ever meeting for talks. The under­lying cause of the war was a territorial dispute, which emerged ­after the PRC established control over Tibet in October 1950. The Sino-­Indian border is divided into eastern, ­middle, and western sectors, and the boundary has never been formally delimited, demarcated, and accepted by both governments. Both countries claim Aksai Chin in the western sector, which China considers a part of Xinjiang and India a part of Ladakh. In the east, India accepts the McMahon Line as its l­ egal border and refers to the disputed territory as Arunachal Pradesh. China disputes the McMahon Line and claims the territory in question is part of Tibet. In the ­middle sector, the two countries contend vari­ous points along two border junctions. In November 1961, India launched the Forward Policy, which directed Indian patrols to penetrate the spaces between Chinese posts to block any further Chinese advancement into Indian-­claimed territory and establish a greater presence

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in Aksai Chin. In the three years before the war, India set up forty-­three strong points in the west as part of this new border policy.1 The Forward Policy was highly provocative in the eyes of Beijing, which believed New Delhi was unilaterally changing the status quo with the use of force.2 This was particularly sensitive b ­ ecause the western sector was central to security of the Xinjiang-­Tibet highway in China, which was central to strengthening the central government’s recently established control over ­these territories. ­These roads, which connected PLA troops in Tibet with ­those facing Soviet troops in the northwest, became even more impor­tant as Sino-­Soviet relations deteriorated, reaching a nadir when Chinese and Soviet forces clashed in China’s Northeast along the Amur River at Damansk/ Zhenbao in 1969.3 China thus interpreted India’s Forward Policy as an attempt to maintain influence in Tibet and challenge Chinese authority t­ here.4 Beijing warned New Delhi many times in the years before the war that further encroachments in the western sector would invite retaliation across the McMahon Line.5 While China did not shy away from using force, its leaders, especially Zhou Enlai, consistently communicated China’s willingness to engage in direct unconditional talks with the Indian side. Four days into the war, Chinese premier Zhou Enlai put forth a three-­point proposal in which the two countries would agree to resolve the issue peacefully, pull back to the LAC, and or­ga­nize a meeting of the prime ministers.6 Zhou argued that war­time negotiations would “in no way prejudice the position of e­ ither side in maintaining its claims with regard to the boundary.”7 But Nehru refused, holding steadfast to the precondition that the Chinese military withdraw to the pre-­September 8 boundary.8 Chinese leaders “without exception had been receptive to any high-­level Indian exploratory approach to talks,” and the Chinese had tried “publicly and privately to persuade Nehru to drop his withdrawal precondition and to convince him of their desire to attain an overall settlement.”9 Zhou Enlai complained in a November 24 article, “They ­wouldn’t talk with us! What can I do?! We’ve tried many times, but it ­wouldn’t work.”10 In China’s view, it had consistently appealed for peace talks during the conflict while Nehru’s government maintained a closed diplomatic posture and “continue[d] to clamor for war.”11 Even though Chinese leaders ­were clearly exasperated, they maintained an open diplomatic posture throughout the war. What ­factors did China consider when it chose an open diplomatic posture from the early days of the conflict? I rely on three main sources to piece together the rationale ­behind China’s open diplomatic posture. First, I gathered materials on the Sino-­Indian War from the Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, which h ­ ouses over eighty thousand items dating from 1949 to 1966.12 Second, I collected relevant materials from two dozen Chinese histories and biographies, many published by party or military presses.13 This is an effective indirect approach, as Chinese scholars, particularly t­ hose affili-

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ated with the party or military, have greater access to primary sources, which they often use in their research. Third, I used the Indian Ministry of External Affairs’ fourteen-­volume series Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China, which contains a complete rec­ ord of the highest level of correspondence between the two sides during the conflict.14 ­These sources are supplemented by memoirs, biographies, and histories. The case of China in the Sino-­Indian War is a critical test for the costly conversations thesis, which, unlike the alternatives, seeks to explain not only why states often refuse to talk but also the conditions ­under which a country would be open to talks. I argue that China was in the enviable position of facing low strategic costs of conversation, which allowed it to capture some of the benefits of openness with minimal cost. Chinese leaders initially considered ­whether India would interpret their open diplomatic posture as weakness. However, by starting the war and crushing India militarily, Chinese leaders ­were confident that they had demonstrated sufficient strength and resiliency to avoid adverse inference. Moreover, Chinese leaders believed India’s strategic capacity to be limited—if India did persist, intensify, or escalate in response to an open diplomatic posture, Beijing would be able to ­counter it successfully and at acceptable cost. Therefore, Chinese leaders ­were ­free to extend offers of diplomacy to take advantage of some of its benefits—to probe the Indian position, strengthen international support for their cause, reduce potential military support to India, and ideally eventually open talks to resolve the border issue on terms favorable to China.

Background on the 1962 Sino-­Indian War About one year ­after establishing the PRC, Mao Zedong ordered an invasion of Tibet that led to PRC control over Tibet. Nine years l­ ater in March 1959, ­after uprisings and subsequent Chinese repression, the Dalai Lama and thousands of his followers fled Tibet and set up a government-­in-­exile in Dharamsala, India. Contemporaneously, tensions along the Sino-­Indian border started to heat up. On August 25, 1959, Indian troops intruded south of Migyitun and fired on Chinese border guards who returned fire, a skirmish known as the Longju incident.15 The second military confrontation erupted two months ­later when India sent a patrol of about seventy men of the special border police to Changchenmo valley to set up a border post ­there. They came into contact with Chinese troops at Kongka Pass, where China had already set up a post. A shooting exchange resulted in nine Indians killed, seven taken prisoner, and possibly one Chinese killed.16 ­After ­these two clashes, China took the initiative to try to bring about a dialogue. In a letter dated November 7, 1959, Zhou proposed talks, a demilitarized zone, and a meeting of prime ministers.17 Zhou tried to convince

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Nehru that the difference in opinion did not preclude talking, but instead “precisely requires its early realization so as to reach first some agreements of princi­ple as a guidance to concrete discussions and settlement of the boundary question by the two sides.”18 Nehru initially held firm, but then in January 1960 the Indian government agreed to a summit between the prime ministers to identify areas of disagreement over the border. Not surprisingly, ­little came of Zhou’s April visit despite his proposals for how the two sides could s­ ettle the boundary dispute and refrain from patrolling along the boundary in the meantime. The only tangible result was the establishment of an expert working group to determine the areas of disagreement between the two sides through examination of maps and documents. ­After the failed summit, Zhou complained that Nehru was “unreliable and impenetrable” and generally impossible to negotiate with.19 In July 1962, ­after another skirmish broke out in Chip Chap valley, Chen Yi approached Indian diplomats to reiterate China’s willingness to negotiate a settlement; Zhou himself would be willing to visit India again to sign an agreement.20 ­After two months of diplomatic stalemate, in early September Chinese forces suddenly advanced down the Thag La Ridge across the McMahon Line in the extreme west end of the Indo-­Tibetan border, launching what Indian decision makers considered to be the first phase of the war b ­ ecause it changed the status quo in Ladakh.21 ­After the incursion, Beijing “formally propose[d] that the two Governments appoint representatives to start t­ hese discussions from October 15 first in Peking and then in New Delhi, alternatively.”22 New Delhi refused to talk ­unless the status quo ante in Ladakh was restored. On September 20, regular battalions of the two countries exchanged fire for the first time since the Chinese had advanced to the Thag La Ridge.23 China reiterated its position that the two sides should pull back twenty kilo­ meters and launch discussions. India again said it would enter talks only if China withdrew from Thag La and acknowledged that talks would only be about mutual withdrawals in the western sector. China refused to accept any preconditions, and India responded with a blunt note stating it would “not enter into any talks and discussions u ­ nder duress or continuing threat of force.”24 The situation appeared to deteriorate when the Chinese launched a battalion-­sized assault on an Indian patrol entrenched in Tseng Jong on October 10 in which six Indians ­were killed, eleven ­were wounded, and China had a hundred casualties. Though both sides had been actively preparing for hostilities, this move convinced Lieutenant General B.M. Kaul, the newly appointed corps commander of the IV Corps, that the Chinese “meant business.”25 Ten days l­ ater, China launched the first massive attack, marking the official beginning of the war.26 The Chinese Acad­emy of Military Science’s official history marks the beginning of the war on October 20 with one short sentence: India launched a large-­scale attack into Chinese ter-

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ritory in the east and western sectors, forcing Chinese frontier defense troops to launch a counterattack in self-­defense border war.27

China’s Diplomatic Posture China’s diplomatic posture during the Sino-­Indian War is best characterized as open throughout the ­whole conflict since the government consistently offered direct talks to the Indian government, never with the attachment of preconditions. Two days ­after the war’s outbreak, the Chinese Ministry of Defense issued a statement on October 22 that “China would not rule out any possibility to stop border conflict and start peace talks to solve the issues.”28 In fact, in ­every letter Zhou Enlai sent to Nehru during the war, he included a plea for the two sides to meet to directly engage in war­time talks. In the first, sent four days ­after the start of the war, Zhou put forth a three-­ point proposal in which the two countries would agree to resolve the issue peacefully, pull back to the LAC, and or­ga­nize a meeting of the prime ministers.29 Zhou expressed a willingness to meet in e­ ither China or India and proposed that Chinese and Indian representatives negotiate “­matters relating to the disengagement of the armed forces of the two parties and the cessation of armed conflict.”30 The three-­point proposal was also issued as a public statement, and at the same time the General Staff ordered the PLA to stop attacking and not cross the river.31 Zhou wrote again on November 4, reiterating the proposals and asking Nehru to “reconsider and respond positively.”32 In a released statement, the Chinese reasserted its proposal to disengage and enter into talks. To put pressure on New Delhi, the statement also purposefully reminded international audiences that India had rejected China’s proposals for talks without preconditions three times.33 Openness to talks, however, does not mean China was willing to make ­great concessions to bring India to the ­table. Ever since the Chip Chap valley clash, China had rejected India’s proposed condition for resumption of talks that China withdraw its forces from all Indian-­claimed territory to create “the appropriate climate” for talks, stating that “­there need not and should not be any pre-­conditions for such discussions.”34 Thereafter each offer was confronted with the same obstacle: China wanted talks without preconditions and India refused to talk ­unless China completely withdrew. In a tele­gram to the Indonesian ambassador, the Chinese ambassador to India protested this precondition as “not fair, irrational and China cannot accept it.”35 From the Chinese perspective, they w ­ ere being generous in their willingness to negotiate even though “India occupied more than 90,000 square kilo­meters of Chinese territory in the eastern sector, provoked two border clashes in 1959 and made claim to large tracts of Chinese territory.”36 ­After a month of fighting, Indian leaders still refused to engage in border talks. This was in contrast to the expectations of the Chinese leadership,

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which had previously been confident that China’s military successes would compel India to negotiate on Chinese terms. As China’s then foreign minister Chen Yi lamented, “They ­will continue their foolhardy be­hav­ior, the Indians ­will only give up once they have hit a wall.”37 China subsequently changed strategies and tried to coax the Indians to the t­ able by adhering partially to New Delhi’s precondition for talks with a limited withdrawal from NEFA. This came in the form of a unilateral ceasefire proposal on November 20, which included a proposal for the prime ministers to meet. India stalled in its response, asking for further clarity on the terms of the ceasefire proposal. Zhou Enlai expressed regret in a November 28 letter for India’s lack of clear response to the ceasefire proposal and reiterated the desire to open talks.38 China argued that the failure to agree to exact terms ahead of time was “no reason for putting off a meeting of officials of the two sides, but exactly points to the urgent need for holding such a meeting. Difference can only be solved through meetings and discussions; they would never be reduced, let alone removed, if no meeting is held.”39 But China’s calls for talks fell on deaf ears. Chinese forces implemented the ceasefire proposal unilaterally, and war­time talks never emerged between the two sides.

Deciphering the Costs of Conversation The costly conversations thesis predicts that China chose an open diplomacy ­after determining the strategic costs to be low. Specifically, we would expect domestic discussions that conclude with the view that China had adequately demonstrated its strength such that an open diplomatic posture was unlikely to be misconstrued as a sign of weakness. Additionally, China would assess India’s strategic capacity to be limited, meaning that even if India ­were encouraged by China’s willingness to talk, any Indian moves to persist, intensify, or escalate would have minimal impact on Beijing’s chances of victory. t h e lo w likeli h o o d o f a d verse i n fer e nc e Like most leaders, Chinese leaders started with the concern that the willingness to talk would signal weakness, in this case a lack of resolve to use force. In the lead-up to the war, Chinese leaders ­were “obsessively concerned with the possibility of Indian duplicity and with avoiding any impression of weakness.”40 Chinese leaders ­were indeed concerned before the war that their openness to negotiations had given India the impression that Beijing may give in to increasing Indian coercion. Beijing had assessed that “the Indian side always regarded China’s self-­restraint and forbearance as a sign that China is weak and can be bullied.”41 In his report to Zhou Enlai about sources of Indian aggression, one influential Chinese general argued that the Forward Policy was the result of the belief in India that China “was weak

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and could be taken advantage of” and “barks but does not bite.”42 As Mao himself argued in a meeting with key leaders, “We cannot give ground, once we give ground it would be tantamount to letting them seize a big piece of land equivalent to Fujian province.”43 But China had military options at its disposal to set the rec­ord straight that its openness to talks was not ­because of mounting Indian coercion along the border.44 As Zhou asserted, “As I see it, to fight a bit would have advantages. It could set some ­people straight.”45 The CMC concluded in an October 6 meeting that a limited attack against India would achieve this objective of demonstrating toughness and discouraging further Indian aggression. In a letter to the Soviet Union, the Chinese government explained, “If one carries out only the policy of unprincipled adjustment and concessions to Nehru and the Indian government, not only would it not make them change their position for the better, but, on the contrary, in the situation of the growing offensive on their side, if China still does not rebuff them and denounce them, such a policy would only encourage their atrocity.”46 In the end, Mao believed “it’s better to burn out than to fade away! But we ­won’t fade away so easily. We ­either d ­ on’t fight at all, or we fight for power and prestige.”47 In other words, the objective of China’s invasion was to demonstrate strength and resiliency such that Beijing could then increase its diplomatic probes without the fears of adverse inference. Chinese historian Xu Yan notes how Chinese leaders thought a successful attack would teach “the invaders” that they would not be able to conduct similar “nibbling” in the f­ uture without severe costs.48 To the contrary, Beijing hoped that such a display of force would convince India to fi­nally agree to talks. According to Mao, what China needed was not a local victory but to inflict a defeat so crushing that it would “knock Nehru to the negotiating ­table.”49 According to an official military history, the CMC’s operational princi­ples w ­ ere “to teach India a lesson by military punishment. In one word: fight to make talks.”50 Chinese military leaders ­were confident that such stunning success would be achieved.51 In preparation, the CMC ordered on October 8 for veteran, high-­ quality divisions in Chengdu and Lanzhou military regions to move into Tibet. The war was to come in two phases. In the first, China strove to drive Indian troops across what it considered to be the border. Chinese decision makers believed t­ here would be an opportunity to reopen peace talks with India at this point.52 If India did not agree to open talks, China would launch another attack. The leadership also discussed the need to prepare for the possibility that India may refuse talks, cut off diplomatic relations, and declare war, though they thought this unlikely.53 ­After much deliberation, the Chinese leadership agreed on the plan and expressed confidence that they would be victorious over India.54 The first phase of the war went exactly as planned—­Chinese troops rolled through the border regions, and India proved helpless in its attempts to push

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them back. As a result, China had clearly demonstrated its strength and resiliency and therefore did not need to resort to delaying talks and issuing preconditions in an attempt to do so.55 Mao held a meeting in Zhongnanhai with Zhou Enlai first ­thing in the morning on October 23. ­There, they agreed to issue the three-­point proposal, which Zhou personally drafted, to clearly articulate their consistent policy of being open to direct negotiations about the border issue.56 In Mao’s words, “This ­battle proved it is easier to shake a mountain than the PLA. If we want to fight, we fight. If we want to stop, we stop. It was a piece of cake, like ­going to a place with no armies.57 t h e lo w cost o f a d verse i n feren ce Before attacking, Chinese leaders had assessed that India had limited ability to persist, escalate, or intensify even if New Delhi interpreted weakness from China’s open diplomatic posture. Specifically, India did not have the material wherewithal to succeed in a cost-­imposing strategy against Beijing. PLA intelligence in the days before the war concluded that the military balance in the front regions weighed heavi­ly in China’s ­favor in terms of number of troops, number of heavy weapons, and logistic roads supporting front-­line forces. China also had a local advantage in the immediate border areas ­under dispute—­Chinese troops ­were better trained and equipped with better weapons for the operational environment. Moreover, the terrain was favorable to Chinese approaches to the disputed areas, and Chinese infrastructure and India’s lack thereof provided them with some advantages, though they would decrease if China pushed farther in.58 In short, China had escalation dominance, as Mao articulated in his October 6 instructions to the PLA: “If they attack, ­don’t just repulse them, hit back ruthlessly so that it hurts.”59 While Beijing was confident that India did not have the strategic capacity to impose g ­ reat costs, its leaders did worry about international intervention that could boost India’s ability to persist, intensify, or escalate. Chinese leaders put firm limits on the level of force in hopes of avoiding outside involvement, but they still worried that India would be able to manipulate threat perceptions to gain outside assistance.60 Concerns about a potential US intervention during the second offensive in mid-­November ­were heightened ­after it was apparent that the Chinese assault had been a devastating success. Communist newspapers w ­ ere given the directive to use the terms “conflict, fighting or dispute” to describe the conflict to stress it was not a larger war but a localized conflict.61 In short, in the words of a con­temporary CIA report, “The Chinese apparently calculated that they could beat the Indians handily and that their opponents would fight alone.”62 Given China’s confidence that it could match any Indian move to persist, intensify, or escalate the conflict, the strategic costs of conversation ­were low.

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China could therefore leverage an open diplomatic posture for its benefits—­ probe India’s position and ideally create a channel to ­settle immediately ­after the first offensive on conditions favorable for China.63 The real­ity was, as a former Indian ambassador explained, “China was superior so [it] could afford to be magnanimous” in its readiness to talk.64 China paused for three weeks during the first and second phases of the military offensive to allow for the possibility that India would plead for, or at least agree to, talks. The CMC issued ­orders to the troops laying out the plan and reassuring them that “if India refused again to talk, we ­will again firmly attack the Indian reactionaries to compel them to sit down and talk.”65 The lull also gave policymakers in Beijing the space “to determine the necessity as well as the potential gains and risks of further military action.”66 c h i na’ s secon d o ffen si ve, cea sefi re o f f e r , a nd o p e n diplo m atic po stu re But the lull did not engender the Indian desire to talk that China was hoping for. As w ­ ill be discussed in greater detail in the next chapter, India refused to engage in talks u ­ nless China withdrew to its pre–­September 8, 1959, positions. The Chinese w ­ ere surprised that India chose to maintain a closed diplomatic posture. Instead of recognizing the dire nature of its situation, “Indian be­hav­ior communicated the intention to muster what­ever force was available indigenously and from foreign sources, particularly American and Rus­sian, for a counterattack at the earliest opportunity.”67 Chinese leaders had originally considered the possibility that India would not change its diplomatic posture. While surely disappointing, India’s closed diplomatic posture did not affect the low expected costs of conversation. A circular on the Sino-­Indian border dispute disseminated November 14 by the CMC to the ­whole country stated, “Worse case is we fight some more and the prob­lems ­will resolve eventually. On the other hand, the fight might force the Indians to talk. If so, stability ­will be brought to the border for a period of time. If this scenario happens a­ fter this war, it is more favorable to us.”68 Mao added, “If India initiates new aggression, we would counter-­attack harder. We ­shall not pursue the means to exacerbate the bilateral relations and ­will seek opportunities leading to talk. But if India wants to terminate the relationship and declare war, it would not be any surprise. We are g ­ oing to seize the chance to hit India hard po­liti­cally, put it into a more passive position.”69 Even though it seemed unlikely that India would be willing to talk, ­there was ­little downside to maintaining an open diplomatic posture throughout the second offensive, which would be launched on November 16. Chinese foreign minister Chen Yi, for example, articulated the leadership consensus that “India cannot completely avoid talks. According to our estimates, currently India w ­ ill fight for a short period and in the end it w ­ ill accept peaceful

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negotiations. . . . ​Winning victories [would] put pressure on India” and then China would be “willing to concede and disengage” to facilitate the emergence of peace talks.70 The second Chinese offensive was tactically successful, but India showed no signs of budging on talks. China not only continued its open diplomatic posture but also switched strategies to provide positive inducements to get India to the ­table. China would give up some of the territory gained to partially meet Nehru’s preconditions and credibly communicate its intentions to engage in genuine peace talks.71 China thought that a­ fter making a unilateral ceasefire proposal it would fi­nally get a positive Indian response to Zhou’s three princi­ples.72 Part of this optimism stemmed from Indian leaders’ public speeches, including ­those made by Nehru, that suggested a desire to resolve the conflict through peaceful negotiations.73 Zhou Enlai summoned New Delhi’s chargé d’affaires on November 19 and informed him that in two days the PLA would halt at the undisputed border of Assam, proclaim a unilateral ceasefire on all fronts, and withdraw from the territory taken in NEFA during the war.74 The proposal was that India would then take corresponding mea­sures, and subsequently the two countries would appoint officials to engage in talks about the logistics of the withdrawal, “­matters relating to the 20 kilo­meters withdrawal of the armed forces of each party to fix a demilitarized zone, the establishment of check posts by each party on its side of the line of ­actual control as well as the return of captured personnel.”75 China put pressure on India to abandon its more stringent preconditions, pointing out that, “­after withdrawing, the Chinese frontier guards ­will be far ­behind their positions prior to September 8, 1962.”76 While China had hoped that the ceasefire and withdrawal would be mutually discussed and agreed on, China articulated its willingness to unilaterally implement the ceasefire regardless.77 Chinese leaders considered w ­ hether making such concessions would reverse the previous demonstrations of resiliency, thereby introducing a higher likelihood of adverse inference. But they felt implementing a ceasefire to push for talks was an option for the strong, and even the “imperialist” countries would interpret the move as such.78 China could grant ­these concessions without the risk of adverse inference ­because of its stunning military victory. In the words of the Chinese official history of the PLA, “On November 22, Chinese frontier forces achieved victory in the self-­defense ­counter attack war on the Sino-­Indian border. The Chinese government announced that Chinese frontier defense troops along the Sino-­Indian border would actively stop fighting. From December 1, China would withdraw 20 kilo­meters from the November 7, 1959 LAC.”79 If India made such a m ­ istake in judgment, it still had a limited ability to respond. Just in case, India was put on notice to make no attempt to resume the Forward Policy in the western section of the border.80 The official ceasefire proposal included a warning that if China’s concessions and willingness

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to talk encouraged India to violate the ceasefire, China reserved the right to strike back in self-­defense and the Indian government would be held completely responsible for all the grave consequences arising therefrom. Then “the ­people of the world would then see even more clearly who is peace-­ loving and who is bellicose, who upholds friendship between the Chinese and Indian ­peoples and Asia-­African solidarity and who is undermining them, who is protecting the common interests of the Asia and African ­peoples in their strug­gle against imperialism and colonialism and who is violating and damaging t­ hese common interests.”81 Given the unchanged low strategic costs of an open diplomatic posture, China continued to press India to enter into direct talks without preconditions, reassuring India that during ­these official talks the two sides could address any specific details related to India’s questions and concerns about the ceasefire.82 But India continued to maintain that “­there must first be a cease-­fire and withdrawal arrangement commonly agreed by the two sides.” China argued that the failure to have such an agreement ahead of time was “no reason for putting off a meeting of officials of the two sides, but exactly points to the urgent need for holding such a meeting. Difference can only be solved through meetings and discussions; they would never be reduced, let alone removed, if no meeting is held.”83 India’s preconditions ­were considered “an unreasonable demand” b ­ ecause such agreement would “prejudice China’s position in regard to the boundary.”84 While the low strategic costs of conversation allowed China to leverage an open diplomatic posture to try to end the war on favorable terms and gain international support for its position, it was not willing to pay the price of agreeing to India’s preconditions just to begin discussions.85 As Zhou Enlai complained, India’s preconditions essentially demanded that “China satisfy the greater part of India’s territorial claims on China even before the negotiations start.”86 From the Chinese perspective, restoring the state of the boundary as it prevailed prior to September 8 meant validating India’s Forward Policy; the difference between the status quo and the November 1959 position proposed by Beijing was thousands of square miles of land that China considered its own.87 China believed its ceasefire proposal had “already shown ­great forbearance and accommodation” by using the LAC of November 7, 1959, which was the “result of India’s forcible violation of the traditional customary line and its seizure of large tracts of Chinese territory.”88 Moreover, Beijing was not convinced that once India’s preconditions ­were fulfilled it would “be prepared to negotiate the boundary question in earnest. . . . ​[Delhi] holds in effect that India-­occupied Chinese territory is not negotiable, that the question of Indian-­craved Chinese territory is not negotiable e­ ither, and that negotiations, if any, must be confined to China’s withdrawal or India’s entrance. . . . ​In ­these circumstances, it can be foreseen that no results w ­ ill be obtained even though boundary negotiations are held.”89

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Chinese suspicions would have likely proved true; as I discuss in the next chapter, India was unlikely to embrace an open diplomatic posture without first demonstrating resilience. Moreover, as long as Chinese strategic capacity remained relatively unconstrained, the expected costs of adverse inference would be too high. In real­ity, ­there was very ­little China could have done to get India to the ­table ­under ­these circumstances. In chapter 1, I highlighted that when a country’s military is significantly more power­ful than that of its adversary state it may reach a point where strategic costs are low quite quickly in a conflict. This was the case for China in 1962; it was able to demonstrate strength and resiliency immediately within days of its first offensive. Also, given that China had clear escalation dominance, its leaders ­were not particularly worried about encouraging India to persist, intensify, or escalate. ­These low strategic costs allowed China to embrace an open diplomatic posture early in the conflict. During the war, China had occupied all the contested territory in Ladakh and had overrun 3,750 square miles of NEFA. T ­ hese military successes ensured the costs of conversation remained low throughout the second offensive, allowing China to more actively pursue a diplomatic solution through its ceasefire proposal. This narrative calls into question the conventional wisdom that China declared a unilateral ceasefire b ­ ecause it encountered unexpected difficulties in sustaining operations.90 Historians argue that China withdrew ­because it would have had “­great difficulties” in moving supplies and reinforcements across the Himalayas in the winter to China’s front forces.91 Chinese historical accounts tell a slightly dif­fer­ent story, one in which China was not compelled by unforeseen events, but instead had planned this withdrawal as part of its war termination strategy—to launch overwhelming force and then pull back, though not to prewar levels, to seize military gains while also portraying itself as reasonable.92 In the midst of the conflict, Chen Yi indicated that “winning victories ­will put pressure on India” and that to pave the way for talks, China was “willing to concede and disengage.”93 Ironically, China thought that the most credible way of showing a sincere desire to resolve the border dispute through negotiation would be to acquire territory through force and then give it back.94 In Zhou’s words, “Our government’s position is very clear. . . . ​We have shown the ­whole world our genuine desire for peaceful negotiations, our side has initiated a ceasefire, withdrawal of troops, returned to India all the ammunition we seized, we have already taken many steps, but Nehru has not taken one step forward.”95 This is not to say that logistical considerations played no role, only that the unilateral ceasefire was also the result of po­liti­cal imperatives, the need to strike a delicate balance between teaching Nehru a lesson and not g ­ oing too far so as to further provoke Indian aggression.96

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Alternative Perspectives on Diplomatic Be­hav­ior I argue that Chinese leaders focused on the potential strategic costs of conversation in their internal discussions and w ­ ere able to choose an open diplomatic posture ­because ­those costs ­were low. One of the main weaknesses of competing explanations is that they have difficulty explaining why a state may choose an open diplomatic posture. However, I ­will evaluate the most likely hypotheses for this case from each of the four strands. t r ad iti o nal ba rga i n i n g mo d el o f war On the one hand, the bargaining approach seems to fit the case. T ­ here was a clear convergence in the expectations of the prospects of victory, and China designed a postwar posture to ensure India would be at a disadvantage if it reignited the conflict at a l­ ater date. But t­ hese facts do not explain why China was so open to direct and unconditional talks with India, only why the two sides should have been able to reach an agreement they both preferred to war. Moreover, the bargaining approach predicts ­either that the vanquished ­will sue for peace or that both sides w ­ ill be closed u ­ ntil a convergence of beliefs leads both to be open. But China chose an open diplomatic posture throughout the war. According to hypotheses in the bargaining tradition, as the winning power China should have increased its demands, potentially prolonging the war, instead of making concessions to pave a path to peace. In short, the addition of consideration of the strategic costs of conversation is a refinement needed to create testable, specific, and accurate predictions about diplomatic posture. id eatio nal ­facto rs Arguments that point to honor, legitimacy, or pride are usually to explain why states refuse to talk, and therefore do not provide much insight into China’s open diplomatic posture. However, evaluating leaders’ beliefs may be a fruitful ave­nue ­here, especially given Mao’s central authority and idiosyncratic tendencies. Mao was a highly personalistic dictator who most would agree was not a calm, circumspect, or self-­critical individual. Mao suffered from fatigue and irritability that his physician attributed to his deep-­ seated belief that ­there ­were few p ­ eople he could truly trust.97 He frequently manipulated ­those in his inner circle to keep pos­si­ble enemies off balance, and would often feign illness to test the responses of his coterie.98 Scholars have argued that Mao showed “strong signs of narcissism and was infatuated with grandiose fantasies of power.”99 Mao’s personal physician relates that Mao once described himself as “a god and law unto himself,”100 and

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noted that Mao “had an almost mystical faith . . . ​that his leadership, and only his leadership, would save and transform China.”101 If anyone w ­ ere a good candidate for theories that prioritize the role a leader may play in shaping war­time decisions, it would be Mao Zedong. But Mao had a dif­fer­ent approach to diplomatic strategy in the Korean War and the Sino-­Indian War. China was unwilling to offer talks against a more power­ful adversary in the Korean War for fear of projecting weakness; however, Chinese leaders did offer talks consistently to India to provide the weaker country a channel through which to capitulate. This suggests that the personal proclivities of Mao are poor predictors of diplomatic strategy. Mao may have had an unusual faith in the effectiveness of force over diplomacy that manifested itself in decisions about use of force, but t­ hese leadership beliefs cannot explain periods of China’s openness to diplomacy in both cases.102 dom esti c co st s Over the de­cade between the Korean War and the Sino-­Indian War, much had changed within China. Although China was more resource-­constrained ­after the failed G ­ reat Leap Forward, this did not preclude China from using force.103 But while Mao may have used international crises to mobilize ­people ­toward domestic goals, ­there is no evidence to suggest that fear of punishment by domestic audiences drove the leadership to choose an open diplomatic posture.104 Of the dozens of Chinese sources dissected for this case study, none suggested that (1) diplomatic posture was a contentious issue among elites or the Chinese ­people, (2) e­ither group preferred and pushed for the open diplomatic posture, or (3) Mao considered the preferences of ­either group when making decisions about diplomatic posture. For example, the decision to go to war seems to be unan­im ­ ous. According to an official Chinese source, Mao held a meeting with Liu Shaoqi, Zhou Enlai, Zhu De, Deng Xiaoping, Peng Zhen, Chen Yi, He Long, Nie Rongzhen, and Luo Ruiqing to discuss the self-­defense counterattack at 1:30 p.m. on October 17; the CMC issued the operational order to invade ten hours l­ ater. Chinese official histories also do not note any contention about the ceasefire, stating only that Mao talked to leaders such as Liu Shaoqi and Zhou Enlai and they all “settled through discussion” how to proceed with a statement about the ceasefire. Afterward, Mao Zedong issued an urgent notice of the CCPCC on how to best propagate and explain the declaration of the Chinese government to cadres and the masses.105 It is pos­si­ble that serious disagreements ­were pres­ent but not captured in official sources, but the disputes among Mao, Peng, Zhu, and Zhou during the Korean War ­were openly recognized and discussed.106

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in ternatio nal co sts At first glance, it seems pos­si­ble that the preference of China’s strongest partner, the Soviet Union, ­shaped China’s choices about diplomatic posture. The USSR was supportive of China’s efforts to open talks with India. Moscow promoted Zhou’s three-­point proposal in its newspapers and ­later at the United Nations on October 30, arguing that it provided an acceptable basis for negotiation.107 Khrushchev articulated that the USSR hoped both sides “would not be taken in by such provocations and would resort to common sense in settling their differences.108 As a result, the USSR urged both sides in a November 5 Pravda editorial to “sit down at the conference ­table as quickly as pos­si­ble” to find “a mutually acceptable solution” to avoid a situation in which the conflict led “to a prolonged bloody war.”109 But evidence suggests that Moscow did not shape China’s policy as much as voicing support a­ fter the fact. The USSR stopped short of trying to exert influence to compel both countries to enter into talks, partly b ­ ecause of other priorities—­the Soviet Union remained relatively neutral and disinterested given that the border war happened during the Cuban Missile Crisis.110 But Moscow was prob­ably realistically pessimistic about its ability to influence Beijing’s decision making. The relationship between China and the Soviet Union had begun to deteriorate as early as 1958 owing to ideological differences, distrust, and jealous rivalries for international leadership between Khrushchev and Mao.111 In mid-1959 the Soviet Union had abrogated its agreement to transfer a test nuclear weapon to China and withdrew its advisers in July 1960.112 In early 1962, t­ here was a brief thawing of bilateral relations as Vice Foreign Minister Wang Jiaxiang argued that it was strategically unsound to maintain poor relations with the Soviet Union and the United States, all while h ­ andling the disastrous domestic economic situation. But the possibility of detente was short-­lived; Mao demanded in August 1962 that China maintain its previous hostile strategic direction of pursuing a long-­term ideological strug­gle and opposition to Soviet revisionism in the international communist movement.113 China, therefore, did not prioritize the USSR’s position on the border dispute, a tendency that only grew with the Sino-­Soviet split. Moscow and Beijing did not see eye-­to-­eye on the issue.114 Beijing demanded Moscow’s unquestionable support, while Moscow wanted Beijing to think about the bigger picture and not push India into the arms of their Western enemies.115 In 1959 when China accused India of supporting Tibetan separatists, the Soviet Union refused to adopt China’s narrative and instead supported Western media reports attacking China’s policies ­toward Tibet and India. Then ­after the 1959 Sino-­Indian border clash at Longju, China asked the Soviet Union to take appropriate actions to support China, but the Soviet Union ignored Beijing’s requests.

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When the two sides discussed the issue, the atmosphere was far from cordial. For example, Chen Yi accused Khrushchev of being too neutral while his “­brother” was in distress, and Soviet calls for compromise w ­ ere “absolutely incorrect, [China] need[s] ­every inch of the territory, it belongs to us, and it is legitimate and reasonable.”116 China scolded the Soviet Union for providing military support to the Indians and claimed this affected Chinese troops along the border.117 In one meeting, Chinese interlocutors put it bluntly: “India is attacking socialist China with the support of imperialist United States, but you say India is a peaceful and neutral country. It is obvious that you are for India and against China.”118 For this and other reasons, Deng Xiaoping believed that “China must go her own way.”119 Then, during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, Mao Zedong criticized Khrushchev for withdrawing, further deteriorating the Sino-­Soviet relationship and leading up to the 1969 border skirmish between the two countries.120

Conclusion China openly offered talks without preconditions during the Sino-­Indian border war b ­ ecause it was confident that it need not worry about the strategic costs of conversation. Instead, it could try to leverage its asymmetric ability to escalate to compel the Indians to negotiate on China’s terms. When Beijing realized its military strategy was not working, it deci­ded to adhere in part to India’s preconditions for withdrawal by pulling back to the positions it had held in November 1959. Why did this unilateral withdrawal fail to convince India to come to the negotiating t­able? In the next chapter I evaluate the costs of conversations from India’s perspective to explain why New Delhi maintained a closed diplomatic posture throughout the war, thereby ensuring talks would never emerge. China’s sweeping military success, coupled with the shock of the invasion, inspired worst-­case-­scenario thinking about China’s ability to escalate and the extent of its war aims. Such escalation had to be discouraged, but unfortunately the Indian military was in no position to demonstrate the toughness necessary to avoid looking weak if India agreed to talks. In short, New Delhi felt the only way to demonstrate its resolve was to maintain strict preconditions against talks.

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Indian Diplomatic Posture in the Sino-­Indian War

To promote its claims, New Delhi launched the Forward Policy in 1961, which directed Indian patrols to penetrate the spaces between Chinese posts to block any further Chinese advancement into Indian-­claimed territory and establish a greater presence in Aksai Chin, which could be used l­ ater as bargaining leverage to compel a greater Chinese withdrawal. In the three years before the war, India had set up forty-­three strong points in the west as part of this new border policy, which sparked a number of clashes between the two sides.1 But the critical juncture from the Indian perspective occurred on September 8, when a Chinese force suddenly crossed the McMahon Line and advanced down Thag La Ridge against an Indian post in the eastern sector. This Chinese advance launched what Indian decision makers considered to be the first phase of the war by changing the status quo in Ladakh through the use of force. Nehru would return to this event when he insisted that India could not engage in talks as long as China occupied this ill-­gotten territory. The Indian government had insisted on the eviction of the Chinese force from the ridge but realized by October that it could not marshal enough force to accomplish this. The situation appeared to be deteriorating when the Chinese launched a battalion-­sized assault on an Indian patrol entrenched in nearby Tseng Jong on October 10, in which six Indians ­were killed and eleven ­were wounded, and China had a hundred casualties.2 In retrospect, it is surprising that Nehru’s government was not concerned that the Forward Policy could lead to war, especially given the skirmishes between the two sides. But China’s escalation from skirmishes to full-­blown conflict did come as a surprise to Indian leaders, who had overestimated the degree to which Chinese leadership had been distracted by the dire economic situation resulting from the ­Great Leap Forward, the ongoing civil war with the nationalists on Taiwan, and instability in Tibet and Xinjiang.3 Internationally, India believed its neutral status during the Cold War—­and Chinese

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fear of potential Soviet or US intervention in a border conflict—­would prevent China from following through on its threats to use force.4 Moreover, the two superpowers’ direct involvement seemed even more unlikely by mid-­ October 1962, when the Soviet Union and the United States faced off for thirteen days during the Cuban Missile Crisis. While the confrontation ended on October 28, the US blockade did not formally end ­until the light bombers and missiles ­were removed on November 20, the same day China declared a unilateral ceasefire. All ­these international and domestic difficulties caused Indian leaders to falsely believe that Beijing would be unable or unwilling to c­ ounter its provocative territorial policy. Chinese leaders, on the other hand, felt they had clearly communicated their dis­plea­sure with New Delhi’s Forward Policy. In contrast to China’s open diplomatic posture, India was vehemently against talking to the e­ nemy throughout the Sino-­Indian border war of 1962. China’s Zhou Enlai had called for peaceful negotiations and a meeting between the prime ministers of India and China only four days into the war.5 Nehru equated talking to conceding u ­ nder military pressure and “refused to acquiesce in the claims that China had established by force.”6 China made a second major attempt to open talks with its November 21 ceasefire proposal, which, among other ­things, suggested that officials of both sides meet to discuss the boundary issue.7 But at this stage, ­after China seemed likely to advance ­toward Lehi in the west and Assam in the east, the stakes w ­ ere too high to ­gamble on an open diplomatic posture.8 As a result, India did not even offer its negative response to China’s offer to talk u ­ ntil a­ fter China’s withdrawal was complete. Why did India refuse to talk directly with the Chinese during the conflagration, even a­ fter China’s unilateral ceasefire declaration? While t­ here have been extensive studies about the ­causes and failures of the war from the Indian perspective, none unpack the logic ­behind India’s refusal to talk to China during the war.9 This absence of diplomatic initiative becomes more intriguing when we take into account Nehru’s tendency to rely on diplomatic boldness and military restraint to promote India’s national security. In Nehru’s own words: “Broadly speaking, I have always said—­ not only about Premier Zhou Enlai, but every­body—­that I am always prepared to meet anybody, subject to con­ ve­ nience . . . ​ but I ­ shall never say no. Of course, sometimes a meeting may be more desirable and sometimes less desirable, but I never say no to a meeting, b ­ ecause that is the training I have had throughout my lifetime.”10 According to Andrew Kennedy, Nehru jettisoned his military restraint in this case and agreed to the aggressive Forward Policy b ­ ecause the leadership had limited aims they hoped to achieve quickly, believed (incorrectly) that the local balance of power was in India’s ­favor, and expected support from both the United States and the Soviet Union.11 While ­these ­factors provide compelling explanations for Indian miscalculations that led to war, this narrative does not provide a

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rationale for the other side of the coin—­Nehru’s neglect of the diplomatic front once the war began. I turn to a number of primary sources to unpack India’s diplomatic posture. First, I gathered letters, notes, and official documents from the private paper collections of ten active and influential men from the Nehru Museum and Memorial Library (NMML). I also conducted interviews with a dozen po­liti­cal and military figures who ­were active during the war. In addition to ­these personal accounts, I exploit the Indian Ministry of External Affairs’ fourteen-­volume series Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China, which contains a complete rec­ord of the highest level of correspondence between the two sides during the conflict. To better capture the role and potential influence of third parties, as well as put Indian beliefs in perceptive, I also collected documents on Sino-­Indian hostilities from the British National Archives and US archival material primarily from the Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS) series and published document compilations. ­These sources are supplemented by memoirs, biographies, and histories. I argue that considerations of the strategic costs of conversation inspired caution on the Indian side. China’s attack and uncertainty about the extent of Beijing’s operational aims made it imperative that India demonstrate ability to resist military coercion. The belief that openness to talks would only invite more aggression was prevalent among decision-­making elites and manifested itself forcefully in Indian domestic politics. India attempted to signal resiliency initially by attaching strict preconditions to talks, but without a parallel military buildup or any success at holding back the e­ nemy during the monthlong conflict, Indian leaders never managed to demonstrate sufficient resilience to mitigate the risks of an open diplomatic posture. One month into the war, China seemed to face few constraints to its ability to prolong, intensify, or escalate the conflict. Moreover, China had proved its willingness and capability to exploit any sign of weakness, and therefore it was still too risky to agree to talks even ­after China declared a unilateral ceasefire.

India’s Diplomatic Posture The Sino-­Indian War began in the early-­morning hours of October 20, 1962, with the Chinese launching two attacks—­one in the western sector, where they already controlled most of the territory in dispute, and one in the eastern sector, where they controlled almost none. Thus, in the western sector (which India considers Ladakh) Chinese forces did not advance beyond areas Beijing had claimed, but in the eastern sector they did, advancing one hundred miles into territory India considered NEFA, or ­today’s Arunchal Pradesh.12 The Indian military establishment most likely had some sense before the assault that a war would go poorly for India. Indian defense

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minister Krishna Menon allegedly reported at a full cabinet meeting on August 1 that, in a full clash, “Indian forward posts would be wiped out immediately, and the Chinese could, if they desired, push the Indians far beyond their 1960 claim without serious re­sis­tance.”13 Even internationally India was seen as the weaker power. Soviet leaders wrote in a February 1960 note dismissing Beijing’s claims that India instigated border skirmishes: “One cannot possibly seriously think that a state such as India, which is militarily and eco­nom­ically immeasurably weaker than China, would ­really launch a military attack on China and commit aggression against it.”14 While perhaps intelligence failures had led to miscalculations before the war, Indian leadership realized immediately that China had a significant advantage both locally and in terms of the force it held in reserve. Menon admitted at the onset of the conflict, “The Chinese have very considerable superiority in numbers and firepower. We have been heavi­ly outnumbered and outweaponed.”15 Moreover, any debate about China’s resolve to use force had dissipated with the first assault. The traditional bargaining model of war would predict that India would accept Zhou’s offer to discuss a ceasefire agreement at this point, when it was clearly losing. The Indian leadership faced two critical decision points with re­spect to diplomatic posture during the thirty-­day war. The first test of India’s diplomatic approach came four days into the war, when Nehru needed to decide how to respond to Zhou’s three-­point proposal. A meeting of the prime ministers was one part, but it also included an agreement to resolve the issue peacefully and mutually pull back to the LAC.16 Three days a­ fter receiving Zhou’s proposal, Nehru responded that India was willing to engage in talks to “arrive at agreed mea­sures which should be taken for the easing of tensions and corrections of the situation created by the unilateral forcible alter­ ation of the status quo along the India-­China boundary.” However, he added the clear precondition that India was willing to do so only if China pulled its troops back to the positions they had held on September 8.17 An open diplomatic posture is one in which a country expresses both the desire for direct communication and ac­cep­tance for engagement without any preconditions. By proclaiming that India was willing to talk to China only if it withdrew to the September 8 positions, Nehru established a closed diplomatic posture for India initially. ­Doing other­wise would be seen as rewarding bad Chinese be­hav­ior. In a letter to Zhou, Nehru writes: “India is always prepared to resolve differences by talks and discussions, but on the basis of decency, dignity and self-­respect and not ­under the threat of military might of any country, however strong it may be.”18 India’s insistence on preconditions became the focal point of diplomatic exchanges. With each reassertion of India’s closed position, Nehru’s tone grew more and more rigid. For talks to begin, he insisted that Chinese troops withdraw over Thag La Ridge and Indian forces return to their posts that had been set up u ­ nder the Forward Policy.19 While Nehru’s first letter to Zhou

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rejecting the three-­point proposal was considered civil, the second letter, written over two weeks l­ater, bared Nehru’s frustration and resentment ­toward his neighbor. China had resumed its attack that day, ­after a three-­ week lull in hostilities. Nehru wrote to Zhou that agreeing to talks without China first adhering to the preconditions “would mean mere existence at the mercy of an aggressive, arrogant, and expansionist neighbor.”20 From India’s point of view, China’s refusal to accept ­these preconditions presented the main obstacle to peaceful resolution. As Nehru noted, “We would like to sit at the negotiating t­ able with the Chinese. We are ready. But the government has explained to them that for this it is necessary that the position on the border that existed three months ago be restored.”21 China persisted in its attempts to persuade India to enter into talks without preconditions, contending that war­time negotiations would “in no way prejudice the position of ­either side in maintaining its claims with regard to the boundary.”22 The second decision point came a­ fter China launched its second offensive on November 16 and announced a unilateral ceasefire. Zhou Enlai summoned New Delhi’s chargé d’affaires on November 19 and informed him that in two days the PLA would halt at the undisputed border of Assam, proclaim a unilateral ceasefire on all fronts, and withdraw from the territory taken in NEFA during the war.23 Zhou again reached out to Nehru, hoping that the Indian government would respond positively by agreeing to official talks about the details of the ceasefire and other boundary issues.24 The ceasefire proposal, a­ fter all, did adhere partly to Nehru’s preconditions in that it included a partial withdrawal from NEFA. But India still could not be coaxed to the t­able, though its reply to the ceasefire proposal was delayed and indirect. Nine days and three letters a­ fter the ceasefire proposal was first delivered, the Indian Ministry of External Affairs responded, but only to ask a number of clarifying questions. China responded that “both sides should defer the differences on the boundary question for settlement by f­ uture negotiations, and refrain from haggling over them now endlessly.”25 Nehru himself then addressed the ceasefire proposals in a December 1 letter, positing five princi­ples on which the issue could be resolved peacefully: (1) create a proper atmosphere for peaceful settlement, (2) ­settle differences in a friendly way through peaceful talks and discussions, (3) make no attempt to force any unilateral demand on ­either side on account of the advances gained in the recent clashes, (4) ensure the preliminaries for talks should be consistent with the decency, dignity, and self-­respect of both sides, and (5) implement the proposed arrangements in a way that does not prejudice ­either side’s position in regard to the correct boundary alignment.26 Nehru, however, also asked for clarification on China’s ceasefire proposals and did not provide a definite answer as to ­whether India planned to re­spect them. In a December 8 memorandum, the Chinese government asked in frustration: “Does the Indian Government agree, or does it not agree, to a

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cease-­fire?”27 Again, the Chinese government reminded India that it had partly met its preconditions for talks: “It must be stressed that the Chinese frontier guards are withdrawing from the nearly 20,000 square kilo­meters of Chinese territory north of the traditional customary line in the eastern sector of the Sino-­Indian border in order to urge the Indian Government to make a positive response and seek a peaceful settlement of the Sino-­Indian boundary question.”28 But India remained ­silent, ensuring that war­time talks between the two sides would never emerge. This review of India’s diplomatic posture and its circumstances highlights a number of key points. First, the traditional bargaining model characterization of talking while fighting does not accurately capture the dynamic during the Sino-­Indian War, in which direct talks between the belligerents never emerged. Second, if the two sides could not come to an agreement beforehand ­because of uncertainty about the balance of power or resolve, ­those ­factors quickly became shared knowledge in the early stages of the war. But ­counter to the traditional bargaining model, India’s willingness to talk was reduced as its prospects for victory worsened. Third, Nehru clearly felt that refusing to talk u ­ nder duress was also needed to preserve India’s honor and dignity, suggesting an ideational explanation. But the primary mechanism is still the strategic costs of conversation in that if talking was not seen as showing weakness, then honor and dignity would not be at risk. Fi­nally, it is puzzling that India refused to accept talks a­ fter China declared a unilateral ceasefire. India benefited greatly from this move—­China gave up territory without being pushed out by Indian forces. India’s refusal to engage in talks even ­after this Chinese concession could have discouraged Beijing and endangered its troop withdrawal. What explains India’s diplomatic silence? What ­factors did Indian leaders consider, and how did they evaluate and weigh t­ hose ­factors to come to the determination that engaging in talks during the Sino-­Indian War would be against Delhi’s national interest? How did the po­liti­cal elite view an open diplomatic posture? How did they think China would interpret and respond to it? The next section puts together a more comprehensive picture of Delhi’s cost valuation by addressing ­these questions.

Deciphering the Costs of Conversation According to the costly conversations thesis, Indian leaders would be wary about an open diplomatic posture for fear it would signal weakness to China, which then may be encouraged to fight longer or harder. India, however, maintained a closed diplomatic posture throughout the war. If the costly conversations thesis explains this choice, we expect a domestic discussion about how China’s strategic capacity is not sufficiently limited, along with failed attempts to demonstrate resiliency, including the use of strict precon-

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ditions. Moreover, ­because of sensitivity to adverse inference, we would expect Indian leaders to be vigilant about the purpose and motivation ­behind China’s offers to talk. t h e li keli h oo d o f a d verse i n feren ce ­After Chinese forces overran Indian posts in a m ­ atter of days, Indian leaders ­were left shocked, outraged, and fearful of what was to come. The Forward Policy was seen as a legitimate means for India to consolidate control over territory it considered its own and undisputed; any Chinese attempts to undermine India’s efforts would be seen as aggressive and provocative. In any case, the expectation had been that China would not escalate to a full-­ out invasion, again b ­ ecause it was distracted by its own economic prob­lems in the aftermath of the ­Great Leap Forward, the need to consolidate control over Tibet and Xinjiang, and the ongoing civil war with the nationalists. Moreover, Indian leaders w ­ ere u ­ nder the impression that if the Forward Policy w ­ ere to provoke China, Indian forces would perform better at stopping the advance of Chinese troops. Nehru personally felt betrayed b ­ ecause he had been such a fervent supporter of the PRC since its founding. India had even relinquished its special British-­era privileges over Tibet and implicitly endorsed Chinese sovereignty ­there in the 1954 Sino-­Indian agreement. ­After the initial major assault, Nehru wrote to Zhou that “­there have been repeated declarations by [China] that they want to s­ ettle the differences on the border question with India by peaceful means,” but Chinese actions at the time ­were “in violent contradiction with ­these declarations.”29 ­After the Chinese assault, Nehru experienced “the complete loss of confidence in the bona fides of the professions for a peaceful settlement repeatedly made by the Government of China.”30 Nehru believed that ­unless China returned to the September 8 status quo (before its forces crossed the McMahon Line for the first time to take Thag La Ridge in the lead-up to the war), conceding to China’s desire to talk would be rewarding Chinese be­hav­ior and therefore could encourage greater Chinese aggression. This is the context in which decisions about diplomatic posture ­were being made: China was seen as a “power­ful and unscrupulous” opponent and its offers to talk as a veiled demand for Delhi to give in ­under military pressure.31 As disagreements arose over who was to blame for the operational failures against the Chinese, Indian decision makers could all agree that Delhi “could not talk ­under the shadow of a gun.”32 Agreeing to talk, therefore, would serve only to solidify a weak image and invite more abuse. Parliamentarians openly worried that any eagerness by the government to negotiate “put a premium on aggression.”33 ­Because of this, one member argued, “The mere suggestion that India should agree to talks must be treated as high treason.”34

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The idea that a closed diplomatic posture was necessary to demonstrate strength, at least initially, resonated with domestic audiences.35 Editorials ran in the Times of India with titles such as “Shattered Illusions,” “Another Failure,” and “A Trap.” The editorial titled “A Trap” argued that Beijing should understand Delhi’s refusing to negotiate as proof of its “determination to resist at its proper worth.”36 The editorial continues, “Nothing can be more certain than that any willingness by New Delhi to talk at this stage w ­ ill be immediately construed as a weakness against which the Chinese w ­ ill strike with ruthless force at a time of their own choosing.”37 India therefore needed to take a strong stance against talks to show strength, as dillydallying created the impression that it was susceptible to Chinese pressure.38 For some, the willingness to open up to negotiations even if China accepted India’s precondition to return to the September 8 status quo was ill advised: “[It] represent[ed] a concession to the e­ nemy. . . . ​Any such bargaining would amount to strengthening the Chinese conviction that the tactic of seizing territory and then surrendering it on t­hese terms is a profitable one in which they can indulge with e­ very expectation of success.”39 For t­hese reasons, Nehru’s “emphatic declaration that New Delhi ­will never ­under any circumstances negotiate on China’s terms [was] endorsed by the nation as a ­whole.”40 If China had no intention of negotiating a settlement in good faith, why was Zhou so adamant about opening talks? Theories circulated in Delhi about why China was offering talks even though it was likely to rely more on force and escalation to accomplish its goals. Zhou’s three-­point proposal, for example, merely “signaled a shift in tactics by Beijing: a pretense of conciliation and negotiation would replace border intimidation.”41 Alternatively, China wanted to legitimize its use of force a­ fter hostilities began, and in the lead-up to the war, offers to talk w ­ ere designed to test India’s intentions and allowed China “to prepare a public case for its position before further escalating its military pressure.”42 According to one parliamentarian, agreeing to talks u ­ nder aggression was “just a plea to put the formal seal of approval on the surrender of Indian territory.”43 India scholar Srinath Raghavan argues that China’s appeals for talks without preconditions ­were “aimed at convincing the international community of India’s intransigence.”44 Another theory was that China was using the diplomatic front to gain military advantage. According to a former commander of Ladakh, China’s main goal in offering talks was to legitimize its claim to Aksai Chin and stall while it obtained strategic depth for the western highway and gained control over certain features that would fortify protection of its gains.45 Nehru said just as much in a November 14 letter to Zhou, complaining that China “is now making the magnanimous offer of retaining the gains of the earlier aggression plus such other gains as it can secure by negotiations from the latest aggression on the basis of the Chinese three-­point proposals. If this is not the assumption of the attitude of a victor, I do not know what ­else it can

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be.”46 For another Indian general, talks ­were desired as a tactical ploy to allow the military to rest and recuperate.47 As Brigadier Dalvi argues, the Chinese tried to use the promise of talks to “sap [India’s] w ­ ill to fight” and “restrict [the Indian] military response to the low key of a border dispute”—­a strategy that, he laments, was partly successful.48 In other words, both signals, information that can be manipulated, and indices, observable data less subject to manipulation, ­were impor­tant in India’s strategic calculus. Even if India had wanted to signal an opening for diplomacy, it could not do so at acceptable risk b ­ ecause China read the “index” of India’s military capabilities as weak with a confidence that only grew over the course of fighting. t h e co st of a dverse i n feren ce If India had embraced an open diplomatic posture, and China understood this as the result of a reduced ability or willingness to fight, Indian leaders feared the costs would be severe, including the expansion of aims and loss of more territory.49 One elite noted that the CCP may not have yet determined the extent of its aims—­whether its priorities ­were more akin with the professed aim of recovering lost territories along with its historical status as a world power, or ­whether the real aim was dominance in Asia and supporting ­people’s wars in other in­de­pen­dent nations. India’s reactions could push Beijing to one side or the other.50 Moreover, uncertainty and the inaccurate prewar Indian thinking that China would never attack India caused Indian leaders to engage in worst-­ case-­scenario thinking about the repercussions of signaling weakness. The second wave of attacks launched on November 16 served only to reinforce this fear.51 As China pushed forward in Ladakh ­toward Chushul, Nehru fretted that the war was “no longer a border war between India and China; it is an invasion of India.”52 By November 19, the entire Brahmaputra valley was seriously threatened, and it seemed pos­si­ble that Chinese forces could occupy Assam, Tripura, Manipur, and Nagaland if they so desired.53 The army chief Lieutenant General Kaul even ordered his IV Corps headquarters to move from Tezpur to Gauhati b ­ ecause of fears that the Chinese would continue unchecked into Assam.54 Though perhaps a bit melodramatic, one editorial accused t­hose arguing for talks of having “visions of Assam becoming a Yennan from where [the Chinese] might launch their conquest of India.”55 In writing to President Kennedy to request air cover, Nehru characterized the situation as “­really desperate.”56 China was posed to take over Eastern India, and the failure to provide timely assistance would “result in nothing short of a catastrophe for [India].”57 Nehru worried that China’s ambitions “not only cover the Himalayan slopes on our side but also include impor­ tant parts of Assam. They have their ambitions in Burma as well.”58 Also, it

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was unclear what actions or policies would push Beijing to retaliate against Indian population centers.59 While Nehru had reason to exaggerate the threat given the need for US military assistance, and some doubted the accuracy of his assessment, it was not considered outlandish. Internal notes found in the Chinese archives show that the Chinese ambassador in India had explic­itly warned the Indian Ministry of External Affairs that if China w ­ ere provoked into a war, “such a war could possibly not stop at the border.”60 Moreover, India’s viewpoint was not unique; a con­temporary CIA assessment concurred that an open diplomatic posture was too risky “­because the Chinese ­were capable of making further border advances u ­ nder the guise of talks.”61 Many worried at the time that China might seize more territory to use as a bargaining chip to gain Ladakh or as a forward base for extending Beijing’s power through the subcontinent. China could also try to make Bhutan, Sikkim, and Nepal protectorates of China instead of India by revealing India’s inability to defend them.62 Notes from Chiefs of Staff Committee Meetings at the Ministry of Defense and tele­grams to the United States reveal a more moderate British view of China’s ability and willingness to escalate beyond the border, but they also note “it was impossible to say what degree of provocation would be needed” for China to escalate even to the point of “retaliat[ing] against Indian centers of population.”63 The disagreement centered on Chinese military capacity, but as US secretary of state Dean Rusk explained to a dubious British counterpart, China needed only to capture a few airfields to mitigate its supply prob­lems and allow for a deeper invasion.64 In retrospect, Indian elite concerns about China’s strategic capacity may have been unwarranted. We know now that China planned only for two major but short offensives. However, during the conflict, Indian leaders did not know that China would declare a unilateral ceasefire one month into the hostilities; among decision makers, including Nehru, t­ here was a general expectation of a long war.65 It was vital, therefore, that all aspects of India’s military strategy, including its diplomatic posture, discourage further Chinese escalation. Furthermore, while Indian concerns seem inaccurate in retrospect, it is impossible to know ­whether China would have been encouraged to expand its war aims if India had been willing to talk. Delhi needed reassurance that, ­after accepting talks, China would not be encouraged to advance farther.66 For this reason, India maintained a closed posture with strict preconditions, for “if the Chinese professions of peace and peaceful settlement of differences are r­ eally genuine, let them go back at least to the position where they w ­ ere all along the boundary prior to 8th September 1962.”67 Without such a move, which would also reduce China’s ability to escalate and push farther forward into the heartland of India, India could not take the risk of demonstrating an eagerness to talk. A closed diplomatic posture with strict preconditions was also the only way India could express its resolve while its forces w ­ ere struggling to maintain

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their positions.68 Before this policy could be reversed, India would have to demonstrate resiliency through fighting. c h i na’ s ceasefi re o ffer a n d i n d i a’s r e f u sa l t o ta l k ­After the first rounds of fighting and exchanges between Zhou and Nehru, Chinese operations died down. China hoped the lull in fighting would give India the opportunity to change its mind and come to the negotiating t­ able. But during the three-­week lull between China’s first and second offensives, Delhi did not seriously consider talks and instead used the time to improve its military position. Nehru proclaimed a state of emergency on October 26 to mobilize the public for a protracted war and reaffirmed publicly his resolve to oust the Chinese.69 India began to or­ga­nize new army units and move large amounts of troops and materiel to the eastern and western sectors; according to Chinese sources, as many as 389 packs ­were air-­dropped on November 10 alone.70 Parliament passed a resolution on November 14 vowing to win back e­ very inch of territory China had taken. While India had no prospect of demonstrating resolve in the short term, accepting negotiations would have been an ac­cep­tance of defeat, while refusing them allowed India to deflect the issue and maintain at least the resolve to fight over the issue at a ­later date. In response, China urged “the Indian side not to reject the good-­will and appeal of the Chinese side for a peaceful settlement and for avoiding the expansion of the conflict” and warned that it was “keeping a close watch on the movement of Indian troops.”71 Nehru also used the time to persuade the United States and Commonwealth countries to grant immediate military aid to India, with the first shipments arriving during the lull.72 But the Western powers’ willingness to support India was limited, primarily ­because of US and British relations with Pakistan and the difficulties of supplying arms to India when the dispute over Kashmir was outstanding.73 The United States clearly communicated to India that it lacked the appetite for large-­scale American involvement, wanting instead to be “one of a crowd of helpers.”74 Feeling more prepared to fight and armed with some American and British weapons, India launched an attack on China on November 14 at Walong in NEFA.75 But the Chinese beat back the attack with relative ease, inflicting heavy casualties on Indian forces before launching their own assault at dawn on November 16. Only a few hours l­ ater, India’s key defenses had fallen, and Lt. Gen. Kaul ordered the brigade to withdraw. India had failed to demonstrate resilience, and with this failure ended the only known instance of Indian offensive action during the war. ­After this, India was on the defensive, losing ­battle ­after ­battle ­until no semblance of an Indian Army remained in NEFA ­after November 20.76 At this point, China surprisingly declared a unilateral ceasefire, announcing it would partly withdraw its troops and once again encouraging

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officials from the two sides to meet. This new ceasefire proposal created an opportunity for India to reassess its diplomatic posture. For India to switch to an open diplomatic posture, its leaders would have to believe India had adequately demonstrated resilience to avoid adverse inference, and China’s ability and willingness to prolong, intensify, or escalate the fighting was limited. India maintained its closed diplomatic posture ­because the ceasefire proposal did not ­really do much to convince the Indians that conversation would not prove costly—­the same issues remained. First, Chinese intentions w ­ ere still unknown. If anything, the novelty and abruptness of the ceasefire only sparked Indian suspicions that China was harboring more nefarious intentions. ­There was nothing in the proposal that reassured India or its supporters that the ceasefire proposal was not just another probe. They still worried that Chinese “designs” may well “extend to the w ­ hole region.”77 An internal Commonwealth Relations Office memo gave a nod to the possibility that China could be encouraged by the prospect of success to embark on a more ambitious plan to seize impor­tant Indian territory farther south. India was strategically sound, therefore, to not only consider protection of the border but also prepare for an all-­out invasion.78 The US ambassador to India worried that if the Chinese “assess rightly the weakness of the Indians and come back again, they might succeed in setting up a puppet communist government in Delhi or Calcutta,” forcing the current government to flee.79 Second, the seemingly conditional nature of the ceasefire proposals made it seem as though China was just probing India’s resolve in a new way as part of a new coercive strategy.80 Perhaps China had made the proposals only “in the hope that they would be able to confuse world opinion u ­ nder the guise of peaceful intentions and, at the same time, succeed in compelling India to come to terms in accordance with the military dictates of China.”81 Indian domestic po­liti­cal discourse continued to support the central government’s position that talks ­were too risky. As a statement by the opposition parties (excluding the Communist Party) expressed, “The Chinese offer of a unilateral ceasefire is only another of their notorious maneuvers, calculated to cause confusion and disruption in our national front, gain time for consolidation, and build up for another infamous offensive, and prevent us from mobilizing resources from inside and outside and create doubts in the minds of our friends in world democracy.”82 China argued unconvincingly to India that the partial adherence to India’s preconditions of withdrawal “fully demonstrates China’s sincerity for a peaceful settlement.”83 But this move was not enough to convince India of China’s genuine desire to resolve differences peacefully and restrain its own use of force. The Chinese aggression since the September 8 move down the Thag La Ridge to the Dhola post in NEFA had made it “impossible to believe that Chinese professions for peace and peaceful discussions between the two Governments . . . ​could have been anything more than hypocritical”

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and served only to “expose the Chinese Government’s deception and duplicity.”84 The Indian elites instead believed that “China had no intentions to find a peaceful solution, but was bent on enforcing its untenable claims on Indian territory by military force.”85 It did not help that the proposals came with a threat of further escalation if India did not comply. Specifically, if Indian troops “continue their attack ­after the Chinese frontier guards have ceased fire . . . ​again advance to the line of ­actual control in the eastern sector . . . ​and/or refuse to withdraw but remain on the line of ­actual control in the ­middle and western sectors; and cross the line of ­actual control and recover their positions prior to September 8 . . . ​China reserves the right to strike back in self-­defense, and the Indian Government w ­ ill be held completely responsible for all the grave consequences arising therefrom.”86 China pointed out four areas in par­tic­u­lar that ­were sensitive and closed to Indian forces. Beijing implicitly warned that any effort on the part of India to establish a military presence ­there would be met with force. Moreover, if India started setting up check posts again anywhere e­ lse on the LAC or the Chinese side of it, China would inform the Colombo powers—­six nonaligned nations (Egypt, Burma, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, Ghana, and Indonesia) that had met in Colombo on December 10, 1962, to try to mediate on the border dispute—to garner international support and then move to destroy Indian forces.87 Zhou Enlai warned that without explicit Indian agreement, the ceasefire would be “unstable.”88 But even though the ceasefire proposals partly adhered to India’s preconditions for talks—­which Zhou, clearly annoyed with Indian intransigence, brought up many times in his letters—­Indian leaders still refused to engage in border talks. The Indian leadership “maintain[ed] that t­ here first be a ceasefire and withdrawal arrangement commonly agreed by the two sides” before representatives from the two countries could meet. The withdrawal of Chinese troops had to be complete; if China was basing the withdrawal on the LAC of November 7, 1959, this was unsatisfactory b ­ ecause it granted China 2,500 square miles of territory China had occupied over the previous three months of attacks and invasion.89 Any arrangement “can only be on the basis of undoing the further aggression committed by the Government of China on Indian territory on the 8th September, 1962.”90 As Nehru articulated to the lower ­house of Parliament ­after the Chinese proposed a ceasefire, “We cannot have any kind of talks, even preliminary talks, ­unless we are satisfied that the condition we had laid down—­about the 8th September position being restored—is met.”91 Third, India had yet to demonstrate resiliency through fighting. During the month of fighting, India never seized the initiative, nor did it inflict any significant losses on the Chinese side during the war.92 That the Chinese ceasefire was unilateral—­graciously returning all territory seized in NEFA, meticulously itemizing equipment that had been captured, and repatriating all four thousand Indian prisoners—­made it degrading for India. ­These steps

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further hammered home to “Asian sensitivities the disparity of power on the Himalayan front.”93 The war had “deflated Indian military pretensions” and “so intensely humiliated the India leaders and so vitally affronted the pride of the nation” that the desire for vindication was strong. Instead, India had failed to put up a serious fight; “The PLA had inflicted such a degrading defeat on India forces that Nehru was more than ever before unable to consider negotiations as a real course ­because such a course would have been viewed as surrender a­ fter the ­battle.”94 Given this, India still needed to avoid suggesting that the use of force was an effective tool, and therefore could “never agree to [the] military dictation” expressed in the ceasefire.95 Delhi still needed to leverage preconditions to communicate resolve and felt too vulnerable to communicate a readiness to talk, even as China began to pull back its troops. Beijing would never agree completely to India’s preconditions, ­because they demanded China give up its territorial claims along a contentious border, a position that would weaken its attempts to consolidate control over Tibet and Xinjiang and minimize external influence into t­hose autonomous regions. As a CIA postconflict assessment lamented, the border dispute “prob­ably w ­ ill remain unsettled for many years, primarily ­because the Indians w ­ ill continue to insist that the Chinese withdraw from the Aksai Plain.”96 For all t­ hese reasons, India refused to relax its preconditions, arguing in many dif­fer­ent ways in the month that followed China’s unilateral withdrawal that only by “restoring the status quo that existed prior to the further Chinese invasion of India on 8th September 1962” could China demonstrate its peaceful intentions.97 This was partly b ­ ecause adherence to preconditions would allow India to establish check posts to enhance its ability to defend itself against another Chinese assault. As Prime Minister Nehru reiterated on New Year’s Day, “Before a suitable atmosphere for any worthwhile talks between us is created, I think that at least the further aggression committed by the Chinese forces since the 8th of September 1962 should be removed and the positions as it existed then should be restored.”98 As the CIA reported on the ceasefire, “Chinese leaders continued to insist . . . ​on a ‘quick positive response’ as though they believed it might be forthcoming from the prime minister. If they believed, even for a short period, that Nehru would talk ­because he knew now that he could not fight, they ­were radically wrong. Their military attack had precisely the effect of ensuring that he would be forever their po­liti­cal ­enemy.” 99 Even though it refused to enter into talks, India accepted the Chinese ceasefire in a de facto fashion. India refused to explic­itly accept the ceasefire proposals ­because it did not want “to grant legitimacy to China’s ‘line of control,’ ” though this “would not change the fact that India was now forced to tolerate it.”100 India did accept the Colombo proposals two weeks l­ ater, which suggested that China withdraw twenty kilo­meters from the ceasefire line only in the western sector and India remain in place.101 However, India still

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insisted on preconditions for talking directly with China as long as they ­were still potentially in a state of war. India’s Forward Policy was not revived in the years that followed, and threats to force China “to vacate their aggression” died down in the early months of 1963.102 The real­ity was that the Indian Army was in no position to violate the ceasefire and seize their previous positions; in fact, the Indian Army was ­under o ­ rders to preserve the ceasefire and avoid provoking the Chinese even as India’s official stance remained no negotiations. Beijing’s policy, by all accounts, remained the same for the de­cades to follow, its “long-­ standing offer to negotiate a boundary settlement on the basis of the status quo when India is ready to do so still stands.”103 The expected costs of conversation remained too high for India, resulting in a rare case of fighting without talking. Moreover, even though the two countries did start official border talks in 1994, the border dispute remains a contentious issue to this day.

Alternative Perspectives on Diplomatic Posture I argue that India was concerned about the costs of demonstrating a willingness to talk, and it was primarily driven by the expected costs its ­enemy, China, could impose. ­There are four pos­si­ble alternative arguments. The first two, the traditional bargaining model of war and ideational f­ actors, challenge the premise that calculations of expected cost ­were a driver. The latter two challenge the idea that Indian leadership was primarily considering China as the cost creator, and argue instead that the leadership was mainly concerned about cost imposition by domestic actors or its allies and partners. t r ad iti o nal ba rga i n i n g mo d el o f war While ­there was uncertainty about China’s willingness to use force, India’s readiness level, and the reaction of ­great powers, ­little uncertainty about the balance of power remained a­ fter thirty days of Chinese victories. India’s continued refusal to talk, even once it was clearly losing, is a major counterexample to the traditional bargaining model of war approach. According to the bargaining model, India should have updated its assessment of the balance of power and started to negotiate to make concessions, but India did not seriously consider this course of action during the war. The costly conversations thesis can explain this seemingly odd be­hav­ior. The failure to achieve any victories is precisely why India refused to talk—­since it could not demonstrate resiliency through imposing costs on the e­ nemy, Delhi had to use a closed diplomatic posture to do so. This meant that switching to an open diplomatic posture would have had the opposite effect, potentially

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signaling to the Chinese that Delhi was weakened and could be compelled to concede to Chinese demands if China prolonged, intensified, or escalated the conflict. Adding the strategic cost considerations into the traditional bargaining model, therefore, is necessary to explain why Delhi chose a closed diplomatic posture and maintained it throughout the conflict, even ­after a convergence of beliefs. id eatio nal f­ acto rs: i n d i vi si bi li ty a n d t he l e g i t i m ac y o f c l ai m s In his seminal piece on bargaining and war, James Fearon argues that if an issue is considered indivisible, states may be unable to reach an agreement short of war.104 Stacie Goddard argues convincingly that indivisibility is a social construct designed to enhance the legitimacy of one’s claims. She contends that this pro­cess of legitimization can have structural consequences that “lock actors into bargaining positions where they are unable to recognize the legitimacy of their opponent’s demands.105 While t­ hese arguments are about why states are not able to reach agreements, the low likelihood of settlement created could lead states to refuse to talk at all. But this logic does not convincingly apply to India for two reasons. First, India was willing to meet with China to discuss the border dispute before and ­after the war, just not during the conflict. This suggests that India was in princi­ple willing to negotiate over the territorial dispute; hence, it perceived the territory to be divisible.106 For example, in the spring of 1958, representatives from the two countries met to discuss Bara Hot, a small town in the ­middle sector to which personnel from both countries had been sent.107 The internal debate over diplomacy intensified as the two sides fought a number of skirmishes from 1959 to 1962. The first of t­ hese, the Longju incident on August 25, 1959, began when Indian troops intruded south of Migyitun and fired on Chinese border guards, who returned fire. Nehru was still flexible about talks at this point and argued to the House in a discussion about the skirmish that even though “we think we are right, let us sit around a conference ­table and ­settle [the border issues].”108 He personally felt that refusing to talk to the Chinese was infantile: “It is childish nonsense . . . ​do not talk; do not have tea with him; do not have lunch with him! Is this the way to carry on this ­great debate, this ­great argument, in this ­great conflict with another country?”109 Second, India had agreed to talks even before Nehru’s skepticism that the exercise would yield any fruit. For example, the Indian government agreed to a summit between the prime ministers on the dispute that took place in April 1960.110 Nehru justified this to Parliament by saying that the summit “may lead to nothing. It may fail; it may do harm.”111 But he welcomed the meeting anyway ­because, “so far as I am concerned, whenever the time comes, whenever it is suitable, I s­ hall avail myself of that opportunity,

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­ ecause the issues are too serious for another course to be ­adopted.”112 This b flexibility was due to Nehru’s insistence that they only talk, not negotiate, as long as China held to the view that the boundary had never been delimited. However, the summit proceeded ­because “although any negotiations on the basis [China] suggested are not pos­si­ble,” Nehru still thought “it might be helpful” to meet with Zhou.113 The Indian interlocutors ­were ­eager to demonstrate a willingness to solve the border issue diplomatically.114 While India’s position against talks without a Chinese withdrawal was hardening ­after each skirmish, a degree of openness remained. On July 13, 1962, for example, Nehru allegedly told the Chinese ambassador to India that he was prepared to hold talks on the basis of the officials’ report.115 According to a recently declassified CIA report, the Sino-­Soviet dispute convinced some Indian leaders that China might soften its position and consider a partial withdrawal from Aksai Plain to facilitate the emergence of talks.116 Nehru agreed to allow the secretary general of the Ministry of External Affairs, R. K. Nehru, to stop over in China on his way to the fortieth anniversary of the founding of the Mongolian P ­ eople’s Republic to probe China’s position on border issues. Nothing came of the exchange in which R. K. Nehru reiterated India’s preconditions for talks, and China still adamantly refused to accept them.117 ­After R. K. Nehru left Shanghai on July 17, the Chinese expressed surprise that “a high-­level Indian official would travel to China merely to ‘repeat demands and adhere to positions’ which had been rejected.”118 On July 21, 1962, the third skirmish broke out in the Chip Chap valley; two Indian soldiers ­were wounded. As with the other skirmishes, this compelled India to embark on diplomatic moves designed to reduce tensions and enhance understanding between the two countries. According to numerous accounts, two days ­after the skirmish, both sides attempted to use a meeting in Geneva on the neutrality of Laos as an opportunity to defuse tensions; Nehru instructed Minister of Defense Krishna Menon to convey Delhi’s concerns, and Zhou directed Chen Yi to explore ways to arrest the deterioration in relations.119 It is impor­tant to note that Nehru urged Menon not to take the initiative in broaching the border dispute with Chen Yi, for concerns that this would be construed as a sign of weakness and willingness to accept a compromise settlement.120 Chen proposed that he and Menon issue a joint communiqué announcing f­ uture talks and initiatives to prevent border conflict, but unfortunate timing prevented this.121 A CIA report captures a dif­fer­ent story, in which Menon was acting of his own initiative and received only reluctant approval to talk to Chen “coupled with a warning to make no commitments to the Chinese foreign minister.”122 However, according to personal accounts, at this point India had deci­ded to open talks with China without any preconditions, which was a significant departure from its previous position.123 The chargé d’affaires in Beijing was instructed to “immediately see Zhou and inform him that the Government

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of India would be prepared to send a ministerial-­level del­e­ga­tion to Peking to discuss, without preconditions, all bilateral prob­lems and disputes.”124 This flexibility was also evident in a July 26 Indian Ministry of External Affairs note, which seemed to abandon India’s long-­standing insistence on withdrawal as a precondition for talks. Adopting an ambiguous position, the note posited that Delhi was “prepared, as soon as the current tensions have eased and the appropriate climate is created, to enter into further discussions on the India-­China boundary question on the basis of the report of the officials.”125 According to a declassified CIA report, it was Defense Minister Krishna Menon that had worked to establish this more flexible policy and succeeded in convincing Nehru to temporarily drop the withdrawal precondition for negotiations.126 In short, India’s peacetime policy demonstrates that its leaders w ­ ere not against talking about the border dispute in princi­ple. But before October 1962, Indian leaders ­were more open to the idea ­because the only cost of peacetime talks would be their potential failure. Indeed, the only tangible result of the 1960 summit talks was the establishment of an expert working group that would meet again to determine the areas of disagreement between the two sides through examination of maps and documents.127 But war is the exercise of compellence, and therefore its outbreak creates the possibility that talking ­will be misconstrued and exploited as weakness. The costly conversations thesis can better explain why any openness or flexibility India exhibited before the war dis­appeared with the Chinese advance. dom esti c co st s In this case study, I argue that the strategic mechanism in which perceptions about e­ nemy response shape cost calculations has the greatest impact on decision making. However, in chapter 1 I noted that diplomatic posture can also create costs through secondary domestic or international mechanisms. ­Were domestic or international audiences and their reactions the primary concern for Indian leaders? The domestic costs argument posits that when Nehru considered the costs of conversation, he was primarily concerned with t­hose that the domestic public could generate. While the border issue was not central in international relations, domestic audiences did pay g ­ reat attention to India’s response to China’s aggression. Citizens’ committees ­were formed to mobilize public opinion to support the government in its efforts to c­ ounter Chinese aggression. Speakers at a National Defense Day rally “appealed to all sections of the ­people to extend full support to the government.”128 Students in Kerala and Trivandrum took to the streets, pledging to serve the nation and burning effigies of Zhou Enlai.129 Nehru called on the ­people to put the defense of India before politics, but he was still anxious about threats to his power from both within and outside his party.130 His congress party and opposi-

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tion parties (the Socialist Party, the Swatantra Party, Jana Sangh, and even the Communist Party) demanded a firm and uncompromising attitude ­toward China.131 As historian Srinath Raghavan argues, “Nehru knew that any overtures on his part prior to conciliatory moves by Beijing would strongly be resented.”132 ­These developments raise the question: Was Nehru against talks b ­ ecause an open diplomatic posture would be domestically unpop­u­lar, or w ­ ere the strategic concerns of the leadership merely being voiced through domestic po­liti­cal debate? For domestic costs to have been a driver of India’s closed diplomatic posture, the domestic public had to be against talks and Nehru must have considered primarily how the domestic audience would punish him if he opened up to the Chinese. The first necessary condition of domestic costs was pres­ent—­the Indian public and its elites pushed for a closed diplomatic posture. In the section on the likelihood of adverse inference, I discussed how fears of conveying weakness to China resonated with domestic audiences. For example, an editorial in a top newspaper argued that “nothing can be more certain than that any willingness by New Delhi to talk at this stage w ­ ill be immediately construed as a weakness against which the Chinese ­will strike with ruthless force at a time of their own choosing.”133 Even so, we are left wondering why domestic audiences ­were adamant against talks. The rhe­toric mirrored that of a strategic cost calculation—­how China would interpret and respond to an open diplomatic posture. Therefore, it may be useful to think of the heated domestic politics supporting a closed posture as less the driver and more a mere vocalization of the strategic concerns at a lower level. But ­there is ­little evidence to suggest that Nehru was primarily concerned about the costs that could be created by domestic actors. The strategic costs ­were often articulated in domestic debates, but domestic po­liti­cal concerns ­were not articulated at the strategic level. None of Nehru’s letters to Zhou mention the pos­si­ble domestic po­liti­cal ramifications of talking. If domestic politics w ­ ere the primary consideration, it would have been beneficial for Nehru to leverage it. Nehru could have pointed to the hawkish domestic public or to the outraged elites to say that his hands w ­ ere tied, and credibly threaten China with escalation or persuade China to make greater concessions to get talks g ­ oing.134 Moreover, secret talks could have overcome any domestic po­liti­cal hurdles, but t­here is no indication in the historical rec­ord that Nehru ever considered this possibility.135 Nehru was also no stranger to implementing policies that w ­ ere seriously unpop­u­lar domestically but strategically sound. In 1960, Nehru agreed to a summit meeting with Zhou Enlai without preconditions to discuss the border issue, even though it led to outrage in the lower ­house.136 ­Under the heading “The Road to Dishonour,” the Hindustan Times chastised the government, claiming “it has all but sanctified the illegal gains of Chinese aggression in Ladakh as the price for the opening of a new round of negotiations

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with the overlords of Peking. In so ­doing it has broken faith with the ­people of India—­the ­people and the Parliament.”137 Nehru urged members of Parliament and the media to take a more moderate approach to China to avoid creating an atmosphere that made diplomacy and crisis management difficult.138 ­After the war broke out, domestic po­liti­cal outrage reached new heights. But Nehru still refused to break off diplomatic relations with China or submit the dispute to the United Nations, even though t­ here was im­mense domestic pressure to do so.139 Also, when Parliament demanded Nehru explic­itly reject the ceasefire, he came across as “seemingly flouting t­hose demands with reiterations of his old pledge to talk to anyone, at any time if the strategic conditions ­were right—­‘even to an ­enemy in the midst of war.’ ”140 In short, in bilateral communications, elite exchanges, and even public debate, shaping China’s choices was center stage, and Nehru was willing to pay domestic po­liti­cal costs for strategic gains. While domestic pressure was not the primary driver of India’s diplomatic posture, politics clearly pushed Nehru to frame his choices in a way that would gain the most public support. He leveraged his reputation as an expert diplomat, as well as the successes of his foreign policy in the past, to convince Parliament and the public that his objectives w ­ ere consistent with India’s national interests and traditional values.141 Domestic pressure against talks limited Nehru’s maneuverability and hardened his rhe­toric, but Nehru likely would have agreed to talks if he believed the benefits outweighed the strategic costs—in other words, if India had demonstrated resiliency and China’s strategic capacity had been constrained by domestic, international, material, or motivational ­factors.142 in ternatio nal co sts The international cost argument posits that India made decisions about diplomatic posture by evaluating how its allies and partners—in this case, the Soviet Union, the United States, and ­Great Britain—­may perceive and respond to its decisions. This scenario requires (1) India’s preferences to diverge with ­those countries, and (2) ­those countries having the ­will and means to impose costs on Delhi if India’s diplomatic posture did not conform with their preferences. The idea that India was against talks ­because the con­temporary g ­ reat powers, the Soviet Union and the United States, compelled Delhi to take that position is popu­lar in Chinese histories.143 A communist country and a neutral country fighting a war at the height of the Cold War in 1962 might have been a ripe manifestation of Cold War politics, and it is hard to imagine that the Soviet Union or the United States did not jump on this opportunity to extend its influence at the other’s expense. But given India’s nonaligned status and the beginnings of the Sino-­Soviet split, and perhaps ­because the

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Cuban Missile Crisis had distracted both superpowers earlier in October, the border war did not become a microcosm for Cold War politics. The Soviet Union supported talks between the two countries and communicated a neutral stance, which was the best India could hope for.144 When China declared a ceasefire, the Soviet newspaper Pravda presented the proposal as reasonable and urged the Indians to accept it.145 But India did not respond positively to the Soviet suggestions, even though Delhi hoped to maintain positive relations with Moscow and needed its MiG-21 fighter planes.146 The United States and G ­ reat Britain w ­ ere also involved in the conflict as military aid providers. A formal US-­Indian pact was signed November 14, 1962, and five days l­ater Nehru requested US and British bomber support to interdict the advancing troops. President Kennedy warned China on November 20 that “if China advanced any further, they would be forcing the hand of the President of the United States.”147 But the West’s insistence on a Kashmir settlement, coupled with its unwillingness to provide military assistance on the scale desired, limited its influence over India.148 As a former British colony and member of the nonalignment movement, India was also reluctant to get too close to the West. Nehru was careful to ensure that ac­cep­tance of Western aid did not hinder India’s strategic autonomy.149 Moreover, neither G ­ reat Britain nor the United States clearly articulated or promoted a preference for India’s diplomatic strategy. In short, the Soviet Union, the United States, and ­Great Britain all had weak preferences about India’s diplomatic posture, and none w ­ ere ready and willing to impose t­ hose preferences on India.

Conclusion The historical rec­ord shows that Indian leaders believed China would interpret an open diplomatic posture as proof of India’s weakness. Moreover, Indian leaders ­were uncertain about the extent of China’s aims and did not want to do anything that would give the Chinese the impression of success that could encourage greater aggression. This made understanding the motives ­behind Chinese offers to talk acutely impor­tant. Also, the need to demonstrate resiliency before talking was therefore paramount—­India held fast to preconditions to prove its resolve while it made military preparations that it hoped would allow it to show resilience on the battlefield, even ­after China declared a ceasefire. However, India never got to the point during the thirty-­day war in which it assessed China to be unlikely to ratchet up its war efforts, ­either b ­ ecause it could not (limited strategic capacity) or ­because it would not (demonstrations of resiliency reduced the attractiveness of the option). As Nehru said to his chief ministers on October 21, the goal of India’s strategy was to communicate that “India is no weak country to be frightened by threats and

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military might. . . . ​We ­will always be willing to negotiate a peace, but that can only be on condition that aggression is vacated. We can never submit or surrender to aggression.”150 This had yet to be accomplished a month ­later when China issued its ceasefire proposals. India had failed to put up a serious fight; “the PLA had inflicted such a degrading defeat on India forces that Nehru was more than ever before unable to consider negotiations as a real course ­because such a course would have been viewed as surrender ­after the ­battle.”151 Moreover, China had too much coercive power held in reserve for India to ­gamble that offers to talk w ­ ere made in good faith and not a probe. Even though India occupied over two times more territory claimed by China than the other way around, this was still not enough to convince India that negotiation would be beneficial.152 India’s diplomatic posture throughout the Sino-­Indian War is an exemplary case of how a state ­will remain closed to diplomacy in­def­initely if its expected costs of direct diplomatic engagement are not minimized through the pro­cess of fighting. The next chapter looks at a case in which a country, North Vietnam, begins in an unfavorable position similar to that of India in 1962. Faced with a militarily superior opponent with ­great capacity to escalate, intensify, or prolong the war, North Vietnam had to initially maintain a closed diplomatic posture with strict preconditions to signal toughness to the United States. However, North Vietnam’s path diverges from that of India three years into the Vietnam War; ­after the Tet Offensive, Hanoi assesses US capacity to be constrained largely owing to domestic politics and believes it has fi­nally demonstrated resiliency. ­Because of the lower costs of conversation, Hanoi was able to eventually switch to an open diplomatic posture.

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North Viet­nam­ese Diplomatic Posture in the Vietnam War

On January 30, 1968, in the midst of the Vietnam War, North Vietnam (NVN) and National Liberation Front (NLF) units unleashed a series of coordinated attacks across South Vietnam in what became known as the Tet Offensive. While ultimately US and South Viet­nam­ese forces w ­ ere able to repel attacks in the South or reverse ­enemy gains quickly, the fact that the ­enemy, ­after over three years of sustained bombing, still had enough capability to launch such a large-­scale attack psychologically shocked the United States. Tet signified the beginning of the end of US involvement in Vietnam. In Henry Kissinger’s words, Tet “marked the watershed of the American effort. Henceforth, no ­matter how effective [US] actions, the prevalent strategy could no longer achieve its objectives within a period or with force levels po­liti­cally acceptable to the American ­people.”1 While significantly less studied, the Tet Offensive marked another crucial turning point—it signified a major shift in NVN’s diplomatic posture. Prior to Tet, NVN had consistently rebuffed US diplomatic overtures. In March 1965, President Lyndon B. Johnson had fundamentally altered the US commitment to South Vietnam (SVN) by initiating regular bombing of the North and sending ground combat troops into the South for the first time. The US strategy, since then, had been based on the idea that gradually increasing military pressure would compel the North Viet­nam­ese to seek a settlement on favorable terms, specifically that the North would stop supporting and directing subversive operations in the South. During the three years that followed its entrance into the war, the United States tried to engage in talks with the North Viet­nam­ese, supporting over two thousand attempts to open direct talks without preconditions.2 North Vietnam ­either ignored or rejected ­every single attempt and made no offers of its own. Appeals made by neutral third parties, such as the United Nations, Pope Paul VI, and the International Control Commission, also fell on deaf ears. Even the efforts of nonaligned and socialist countries w ­ ere

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rebuked, though less vehemently. This search for negotiations with Hanoi between 1965 and 1968 has consequently been characterized as one of the most fruitless chapters in US diplomatic history.3 But then, a­ fter countless staunch rebuffs, Hanoi’s approach to war­time diplomacy suddenly changed. On March 31, 1968, President Johnson announced in a televised speech that the United States would seek a diplomatic solution to the war and that he had ordered an immediate end to bombing of North Vietnam above the twentieth parallel.4 In conjunction, he also informed the American public that he would not run for reelection. To the surprise of many, Hanoi, instead of its normal rebuke, responded favorably three days ­later to the US offer to launch talks. Discussions concerning the format and content of the talks began the next day, and the two sides fi­nally met in Paris in May 1968 to work ­toward a peace agreement. What explains Hanoi’s steadfast objection to engaging in talks with the United States in the first three years of the war and its sudden reversal? Why did Hanoi’s war­time diplomatic posture change in April 1968 even as the international environment, its domestic po­liti­cal system, and balance of power and resolve remained consistent? Walt Rostow sums up the general confusion about the ­factors that influenced decisions about diplomatic posture in a memo to the president a­ fter Tet: “­There can never be an ideal time for negotiations. If ­things are ­going well militarily, the natu­ral inclination is to look upon negotiations as unnecessary. If conversely ­things are ­going badly militarily, then the disposition is to look upon negotiations as disadvantageous.”5 What makes Hanoi’s initial refusal even more puzzling is that agreeing to talks sooner would have yielded some operational benefits. US offers to talk ­were tied to bombing pauses on five dif­fer­ent occasions with the tacit agreement that ­those would continue, easing some of the US military pressure on NVN, only if Hanoi would agree to talk. When Hanoi arrived in Paris with a fighting-­while-­negotiating strategy, it believed that the talks would help it win the war. Hanoi unabashedly took advantage of its newfound breathing room for operational gain. Almost immediately ­after the first meeting in May 1968, the NLF, arguably with Hanoi’s support, launched a rocket attack against Saigon.6 The Joint Chiefs lamented, “NVN intransigence at the negotiation ­table has been accompanied by a continued high level of offensive operations in SVN. Moreover, rather than restrictions by NVN, they have taken advantage of the bombing cessation by increasing the movement of men and materiel to the South. While US casualties have increased during this period, NVN has enjoyed immunity from attack in its heartland, its major cities, and its base of military aggression.”7 A month ­later, the Joint Chiefs reiterated, “NVN has the advantage of the use of certain sanctuaries for retreat and regroupment without fear of attack. The ­enemy has the advantage of uninterrupted importation of war material. He knows that certain restrictions on US military operations w ­ ill give him tactical advantage.”8

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Even when they ­were not conducting offensives, the North would use ceasefires to “step up transportation of provisions, weapons, and ammunition” to better prepare for f­ uture operations.9 According to a Viet Cong (VC) memoir, Le Duc Tho even used negotiations as a cover for preparations for the 1972 Easter Offensive.10 ­After President Nixon took office in 1969, Kissinger warned the North many times that if it did not start to negotiate seriously, the United States would resume bombing. In 1972, Nixon ordered tactical strikes against the Demo­cratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV), the aerial mining of Hanoi and Haiphong, and the heavy bombing of the North in Operation Linebacker. But Hanoi’s diplomatic openness post-­Tet still bought it almost four years of reprieve.11 In retrospect, it is clear that the North never backed away from its objective of total victory and that the US doves w ­ ere wrong when they argued that an agreement could be reached through diplomacy to neutralize Vietnam. At the very least, feigning interest and dragging out the pro­cess of talking about talking would have bolstered US confidence that halting aerial assaults heightened the prospect of peace. This could have allowed Hanoi to achieve and exploit longer bombing pauses for operational gain sooner in the conflict.12 Additionally, as an individual active in the DRV diplomatic corps during the war articulated, if other countries believed the United States was genuine in its offers to seek a peaceful settlement to the war, it may look bad in the eyes of world opinion for Hanoi to refuse.13 So why not agree to US offers to talk sooner? To understand why the potential benefits of talks ­were insufficient to persuade Hanoi to come to the ­table, we need to explore the potential costs of conversation and how states seek to minimize them to pave the way for diplomacy. This chapter pieces together the basic forces ­behind Hanoi’s diplomatic stance through a critical analy­sis of predominantly primary sources. First, I analyzed over two hundred North Viet­nam­ese Party and government documents that the United States captured and translated during the war.14 ­These internal documents w ­ ere not written for public consumption and w ­ ere written at the time of events, so the information found within has the greatest source reliability.15 I also conducted elite interviews in Hanoi with ten prominent Viet­nam­ese po­liti­cal and military leaders who ­were personally involved in the policy pro­cess during the war.16 ­These data, combined with relevant interviews conducted by the Texas Tech University Oral History Proj­ect and University of Southern California’s Vietnam Interviews Proj­ect, help further dissect North Viet­nam­ese thinking about diplomacy at dif­fer­ ent phases of the war. I also draw on other documentary sources, including memoirs, histories, con­temporary third-­party documentation of the conflict, and US executive memos and intelligence assessments. I argue that Hanoi’s expected costs of agreeing to talks changed from high (before April 1968) to low (­after President Johnson’s speech), and ­these cost valuations ­were the primary determinant of Hanoi’s diplomatic posture.

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Moreover, Hanoi’s leadership considered the strategic costs more than any potential international or domestic costs. Internal deliberations during the first three years stress that the United States would infer weakness from an open diplomatic posture and be motivated to escalate, prolong, or intensify the war in response. But ­after the psychological impact of Tet, Hanoi’s leadership assessed the strategic costs of conversation to be low b ­ ecause Hanoi had credibly demonstrated resiliency—­and domestic po­liti­cal ­factors now hampered US strategic capacity. With concerns about encouraging US military pressure mitigated, Hanoi could open up and capture the benefits of talks.

Hanoi’s Diplomatic Posture From March 1965 to April 1968, Hanoi consistently expressed its unwillingness to engage in direct talks with the United States without preconditions, thereby exhibiting a closed diplomatic posture. In April 1965, almost immediately ­after US Marines arrived in South Vietnam, Hanoi laid out its Four Points, which called for US withdrawal from Vietnam, adherence to the 1954 Geneva agreement, inclusion of the NLF in negotiations, and the ­future of the country to be determined by the ­people of Vietnam, ­free of foreign interference.17 While US analysts w ­ ere often confused about what Hanoi’s preconditions for talks actually w ­ ere, Pham Van Dong initially states that if this basis w ­ ere “recognized,” then an international conference along the lines of the 1954 Geneva Conference could be considered.18 ­Because of space constraints, I cannot cata­log the hundreds of US and international attempts to launch direct diplomatic contact and the vari­ous ways Hanoi rebuffed them.19 However, t­here are several notable attempts and major initiatives worthy of deeper discussion, including five occasions in which the US offers to talk ­were combined with bombing pauses. The first one was a five-­day bombing pause launched on May 13, 1965, code-­named MAYFLOWER; the second was a thirty-­seven-­day-­long bombing pause implemented on Christmas Eve 1965. Both w ­ ere coupled with frenetic diplomatic activity.20 Ho Chi Minh maintained that President Johnson’s calls for unconditional talks ­were insincere and completely unacceptable.21 In January 1966, Ho maintained his closed diplomatic posture, stating that the United States had to first recognize the Four Points as the basis for any negotiations and the NLF as “sole genuine representative of the South Viet­nam­ese ­people and engage in negotiations with it.”22 One of the most hopeful attempts was MARIGOLD, in which the Polish government attempted to facilitate talks from June through December 1966. MARIGOLD included the third and fourth bombing pauses to signal positive intentions and provide a face-­saving mea­sure for Hanoi.23 In an authoritative history, James Hershberg argues that NVN was willing to talk to the

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United States, but a series of misunderstandings led to the failure of the two sides to meet in the end. While Hershberg pres­ents a compelling narrative, ­there are two reasons NVN’s diplomatic posture is best coded as closed during this period. First, even if Hanoi had authorized Warsaw to talk with Washington on its behalf, ­there is insufficient evidence that Hanoi was willing to talk directly to the United States. All we know for certain is that the United States was open to talks, but the two sides never met. Second, even if Hanoi was interested in the prospect of talks, its interest was not unconditional, according to Hershberg’s own account. Nguyen Dinh Phuong, a DRV foreign ministry official, claims he was tasked with traveling to Poland to give the DRV ambassador instructions for a proposed meeting with his American counterpart. But ­those instructions w ­ ere to reiterate Hanoi’s preconditions—­that the United States would have to halt bombing and all other acts of war against North Vietnam before talks could begin.24 As Robert Jervis articulates, nothing in Hershberg’s account disputes the previous judgment that Hanoi was unwilling to talk without at least an unconditional indefinite US bombing halt.25 Taking Hershberg’s account at face value, without concern about bias in retrospective accounts of individuals involved, Hanoi was at best willing to talk about its preconditions with the United States indirectly, through an intermediary, which would still be a closed diplomatic posture. The following month, January 1967, the contours of Hanoi’s closed posture ­were somewhat clarified. Pham Van Dong said that the Four Points w ­ ere not preconditions for talks, just the basis for a settlement. However, the DRV’s lead diplomat in Eu­rope, Mai Van Bo, followed that with a public discussion in which he stated Hanoi may consider talks if the United States stopped the bombing “definitely and unconditionally,” accepted the NLF as the sole representative of the South Viet­nam­ese p ­ eople, and recognized the Four Points as the basis for negotiations.26 The same month, DRV foreign minister Nguyen Duy Trinh reiterated that “if [the United States] r­ eally wants talks, it must first halt unconditionally the bombing raids and all other acts of war against the DRV”—­only ­after this point “­there could be talks between the DRV and the United States.”27 The United States persisted in trying to get Hanoi to agree to direct unconditional talks in a series of efforts code-­ named SUNFLOWER/PLUS, which included a direct private appeal from President Johnson to Ho Chi Minh in February.28 Ho responded with four preconditions for talks, which ­were made public in March: the United States must first “stop bombing and other acts of war against North Vietnam, withdraw US and satellite troops from South Vietnam, recognize the NLFSV [National Liberation Front of South Vietnam], and permit the South Viet­nam­ese to ­settle their own affairs themselves.”29 The NLFSV representative to the DRV criticized US offers to talk as a “mere hoax,” arguing that the US “attitude is always to continue bombing” and “intensify the war.”30

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By the summer of 1967, the only proactive initiative coming from the Johnson administration was PENNSYLVANIA, a “concentrated, ‘all-­out’ effort to secure a negotiated settlement.”31 Using two French intermediaries, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara and Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach tried to develop a new formula for de-­escalation in which the United States would stop the bombing with the understanding that this move would lead, in a timely manner, to productive discussions and the DRV would not take advantage militarily. To show its serious intent, the United States paused bombing for the fifth time, from August 24 to September 4. Hanoi rebuffed this proposal, and President Johnson rejected McNamara’s request to extend the bombing pause.32 In sum, at no point from the introduction of US troops in March 1965 through March 1968 did Hanoi agree to direct talks without preconditions, the two conditions of an open diplomatic posture. When Hanoi did respond to offers to talk, it criticized US diplomatic attempts as “tricks,” condemned external attempts to meddle in its internal affairs, reiterated the Four Points, and articulated preconditions for talks, most often the unconditional cessation of bombing. But that changed in April 1968; Hanoi’s response to President Johnson’s March 31 call for talks did not reflect this pattern of a closed diplomatic posture. Even though Johnson had promised only a partial and potentially temporary bombing halt on March 31—­and hardly for the first time—­Hanoi responded favorably to a diplomatic overture for the first time since the outbreak of hostilities.33 Hanoi’s official response on April 3, 1968, is noteworthy: “It is clear that the American government has not seriously and fully met the just demands of the Demo­cratic Republic of Vietnam govern­ ment, or of progressive public opinion in the United States and the rest of the world. Nevertheless . . . ​the Demo­cratic Republic of Vietnam government declares that it is prepared to send representatives to meet and to determine with American representatives the unconditional cessation of the bombing and all other acts of war against the Demo­cratic Republic of Vietnam to start negotiations.”34 ­After Hanoi agreed to direct and unconditional talks, they began in May. President Johnson did not agree to a complete and total halt to US bombing missions over North Vietnam ­until October 31, five months into the talks. Hanoi proceeded to embrace a talking-­while-­fighting strategy for the rest of the conflict.

Deciphering the Strategic Costs of Conversation A complete and accurate explanation of Hanoi’s diplomatic posture needs to explain why Hanoi chose a closed diplomatic posture for so long and why it changed postures when it did. In this section, I evaluate the observed be­

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hav­ior of Hanoi and the internal deliberations of its po­liti­cal elite to dissect the main f­ actors driving its choice of diplomatic posture. From the onset of the war, Hanoi’s top leaders articulated that its closed diplomatic posture was likely temporary—­the result of unfavorable conditions, not some ideological or po­liti­cal aversion to negotiating with the Americans. Le Duan, general secretary and top decision maker at the time ­because of Ho’s poor health, had argued as early as May 1965 that talks would eventually be used “to contend with the ­enemy and restrict his brutality.”35 Almost a year ­later, he drafted a letter to disseminate to VC-­ controlled areas in the South on the March 1966 general resolution of the Central Committee (CC). Directed at ­those most committed to the fight, its contents reflected Vietnam’s most hard-­core thinking. And yet, in his discussion of the potential for diplomatic contacts with the United States, Le Duan calmly communicated that talks would eventually emerge at a time determined by the Politburo.36 North Viet­nam­ese Army general Nguyen Van Vinh, who essentially served as the VC commander in chief in the South, confirms this policy position in April 1966. In an internal speech to the VC’s fourth Central Office for South Vietnam, he articulated that ­there would be a period of only fighting, followed by fighting and negotiating, before the last stage of conflict—­the negotiations and signing of agreements.37 But while Hanoi embraced the idea that it would talk at some point, strategic considerations dominated the leadership’s decision making about the appropriate timing and conditions ­under which the talks could begin.38 Specifically, they concerned themselves with how the United States would interpret and respond to an open diplomatic posture. t h e h igh likeli h o o d o f a d verse i n fer e nc e , 1 9 6 6 In a series of internal authoritative speeches and writings, the DRV leadership promulgated the position that while talks would emerge at some point, the timing was not ripe in 1966 b ­ ecause Hanoi had yet to demonstrate its ability to resist US coercive efforts.39 That the United States consistently intensified its efforts and refused to adhere to Hanoi’s preconditions suggested to the North the United States’ continued confidence in its superior numbers and firepower.40 Brigadier General Tran Do’s speech on the Winter-­ Spring campaign of 1966–67, disseminated to high-­level po­liti­cal and military cadre in the South in early August, also emphasized that Washington had not yet reached the point where the setbacks it had experienced would induce a change in its perceptions about ­whether Hanoi would break ­under military pressure.41 Given this, Hanoi was gravely concerned that the United States would interpret an expression of interest in talks in 1966 as a sign of weakness. In the

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words of General Vinh, “We must put forth conditions to prove that we fight for the aspirations and interests of the ­people,”42 and the failure to do so before talks was “tantamount to implicitly accepting the Americans’ presence in the South.”43 The first princi­ple of General Vo Nguyen Giap’s strategy was that before talks began, the DRV would not respond to US offers made during bombing pauses to avoid suggesting that the bombing was effective in influencing their be­hav­ior.44 The DRV premier articulated, “We cannot take a position which the United States might understand as a sign of weakness. We have to be very careful.”45 To prevent adverse inference, Hanoi needed to first credibly demonstrate its resiliency. By ­doing so, Hanoi would convince Washington that ratcheting up its war effort would serve only to increase the cost of war, making an intensification, prolonging, or escalation of the conflict unattractive.46 For General Vinh, this realization would come to Washington when both sides ­were fighting indecisively so that the utility of talks would shift from a tool of coercion for the United States to a mechanism through which to negotiate a resolution to the conflict.47 In this way, the condition for talks was not to defeat the United States militarily, but to deal the United States enough blows so that Hanoi could enter into talks without looking weak.48 Therefore, top leaders advocated for “hitting the ­enemy harder” and “stepping up armed attacks so as to win greater victories”49 prior to initiating talks. As General Vinh asserted, “In a war between a power­ful country which waged aggression and a weak country, as long as we have not yet acquired adequate strength, a situation where fighting and negotiations are conducted si­mul­ta­neously does not exist.”50 Determining w ­ hether the Viet­nam­ese had “accumulated enough successes” to show resiliency at any point in time was difficult and contentious. The party had a mixed rec­ord at identifying US positions in the past, and therefore commissioned many internal studies with the aim of assessing US resolve and searching for indications of a genuine desire to end the war.51 The North Viet­nam­ese leadership saw ­great pro­gress in their military position ­after the first two years of the war—in spite of the US escalation of troops, equipment, and funds spent, Washington had been unable to “achieve a turning point t­ oward victory.”52 But DRV po­liti­cal and military leaders expressed no doubt that talks at the end of 1966 was still too soon, even if some of their patrons disagreed. In what was likely a thinly veiled reference to the Soviet Union, Brigadier General Tran Do admitted in a speech likely given in early 1966 that some “friends and allies” of Vietnam believed NVN had achieved enough success to enter into talks without looking weak. But Hanoi’s leaders w ­ ere adamant that this was not the case and warned against being “hypnotized by the peace mirage.”53 Tran Do rebutted, “We must gain military victories before even thinking [about] diplomatic strug­gle. And even when we are fighting diplomatically, we must go on with our war efforts.”54 Le Duan was more

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indirect in his criticism, intimating “­there are ­those who hold the view that the po­liti­cal strug­gle is of major importance, but such a view is dif­fer­ent from ours as to degree and time to use this strategy.”55 t h e h igh cost o f a d verse i n feren ce, 1 9 6 6 Agreeing to talks prematurely was more than a ­matter of pride. If the United States had interpreted an open diplomatic posture as a sign of weakness, it may have prolonged, intensified, or escalated the conflict in a way that would have made it impossible for Hanoi to persevere. The nature of US involvement in Vietnam changed drastically over the course of 1965 to 1966. From December 1963 to the end of 1966, US ground troops in Vietnam increased from 16,300 to over 400,000.56 In June 1966, the Johnson administration expanded bombing to attack North Viet­nam­ese petroleum, oil, and lubricant stores and moved bombing closer to major cities.57 In 1966, the United States flew 2.3 times more sorties and dropped 2.6 times more ordnance than in 1965.58 ­Under ­these discouraging conditions, the NVN leadership came together on March 12, 1966, to discuss ways forward. The previous two years had revealed g ­ reat US strategic capacity, and the dangers of encouraging the United States to apply more of it to the war in Vietnam. To discourage this, Hanoi needed to show the United States beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hanoi could not be coerced into submission.59 The North Viet­nam­ese harbored serious fears that if they responded to the graduated increase in military pressure in any way, the United States would conclude it was successfully softening the Viet­nam­ese ­will through military pressure.60 The North was therefore determined to maintain or even increase the operational tempo during bombing pauses b ­ ecause the Americans could understand any reciprocal restraint as a sign that bombing could change DRV policy. Ironically, ignoring US offers to talk during bombing pauses was thought to be Hanoi’s best bet in convincing the United States to stop the bombing altogether.61 If the North Viet­nam­ese gave in u ­ nder this mounting pressure, this could inspire the United States to intensify the conflict. Hanoi needed to avoid this if it ­were to have any hope of victory.62 As Le Duan argued in mid-­March 1966, “We must restrict the war within the limits of the south in order to defeat the ­enemy,” but they had to be ready in case the United States moved north.63 A sign of weakness could encourage the United States to support the South more, and perhaps even result in an attempt to expand the ground war to the North.64 In this way, North Viet­nam­ese leaders perceived the US peace offensive as a strategy to probe NVN’s confidence and pressure its leaders to begin talks on US terms.65 As Le Duan expressed, the United States was trying to compel the North to talk “to obtain some concessions they ­can’t get through fighting alone.”66 In other words, Hanoi believed the United States

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was pushing for talks to gauge and improve the effectiveness of its coercive bombing campaign.67 This is why the North referred to US diplomatic attempts as deceitful talk of peace or, as Pham Van Dong argued in January 1966, “a campaign of lies” designed to provide a veil of legitimacy to expansion of the war.68 Ho Chi Minh himself sent a letter to heads of state in January 24, 1966, to warn them that US proposals for talks w ­ ere “a smokescreen.”69 The troop buildup that was ongoing parallel to the peace offensive, which resulted in over half a million US combat troops in Vietnam, suggested to Hanoi that President Johnson was using the offers to start talks to justify the intensification of the US war effort.70 If Hanoi agreed to talks prematurely, it could hinder mobilization of the Viet­nam­ese ­people and international support, and encourage US aggression, causing the United States to bring in more troops and weapons.71 Then, from a position of strength, Washington could ­really “turn the screws” on Hanoi to force a reappraisal of its policy of supporting the South.72 Thus, Hanoi had to wait u ­ ntil US strategic capacity was constrained before it could entertain talks. Part of Hanoi’s strategy in achieving this was to destroy US military capacity, but as a means to impact the US ­will, so that it would lack the motivation to prolong, intensify, or escalate the war. In the words of Le Duan, “When speaking of defeating the US imperialists, we mean we are advocating the policy of destroying as much of their potential as pos­si­ble, checking their military purpose, crushing their aggressive scheme, thus preventing them from enlarging and protracting the war of aggression, and forcing them into submission on specific conditions and fi­ nally getting them out of Vietnam.”73 Hanoi was correct to be concerned that showing a readiness to talk at this stage would shape US beliefs and actions in ways that would not be beneficial for its war effort. US domestic advocates for war­time diplomacy focused on how the United States could “orchestrate” military pressures with diplomatic communications to enhance the effectiveness of its coercive strategy.74 Secretary McNamara supported peace initiatives before anticipated escalation as a good way to test w ­ hether escalation was producing tendencies in Hanoi ­toward negotiations.75 A willingness to talk on the part of Hanoi at this stage would have confirmed the wisdom of continued escalation, for which the United States still had many resources at its disposal. According to con­temporary US intelligence estimates, more than three-­quarters of the North’s war-­related industries and military supply systems ­were being insulated from attack due to US self-­ imposed target restrictions.76 Moreover, at its peak, in April 1969, the United States had only 543,400 troops in Vietnam when the total size of active duty forces was almost 3.5 million.77 In short, with the United States’ im­mense strategic capacity and Hanoi not yet having demonstrated resiliency, the strategic costs of conversation ­were too high to consider an open diplomatic posture as 1966 came to an end.

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Attempting to Lower the Costs of Conversation, 1967 As Hanoi entered into its third year of war against US involvement, the Viet­ nam­ese Workers Party (VWP) CC convened for three days in late January 1967 to evaluate its strategy. The assessment was that the military situation had not yet advanced to the point where introducing diplomacy would be beneficial, but trends w ­ ere ­going in the right direction and just needed a nudge.78 The leadership believed it was approaching a strategic win­dow of opportunity in which military success could have disproportionate positive effects on US perceptions of Hanoi’s resiliency and therefore open up Hanoi’s diplomatic options.79 Also, internal assessments of the war identified the mounting domestic opposition in the United States, and leadership came to believe that ­after more cost imposition, motivational and domestic po­liti­cal ­factors would hamper US strategic capacity. Encouraged by t­hese trends, Le Duan and Se­nior General Van Tien Dung first presented the plan that would become the Tet Offensive on July 18 and 19. They experienced re­sis­tance from other members of the Politburo and top military leaders, who thought the two men ­were overly optimistic in their ability to achieve such lofty military goals. But it seemed that such a major offensive was necessary to demonstrate resiliency—­incremental successes to date had been insufficient to convince the United States that it could not escalate its way to victory.80 But by September 1967, even though the United States had expressed setbacks, it continued to “widen the war” and was relentless in its confidence that it could “force [NVN] to the negotiation ­table for some concessions.”81 Hanoi’s elite determined that the United States was only just beginning to experience greater po­liti­cal and resource constraints on its ability to escalate, and had yet to be convinced that it had overestimated the degree to which it could use military coercion to achieve its goals.82 As General Giap pointed out in an internal speech on September 18, the United States had undertaken serious steps in escalation over the past two years but had been unable to break the North’s re­sis­tance.83 Giap warned that “although it is g ­ reat, the US economic and military potential is not boundless,” and at some point the United States would realize that more force would not extricate it from the strategic deadlock it found itself in.84 It would be at this point that ­there should be “an acid test” before talks could commence.85 On September 25, the Military Affairs Committee and Coordination and Operations Committee of Viet Cong My Tho issued a top-­secret draft directive explaining that the timing was right for a major offensive to accelerate this learning pro­cess.86 The Tet Offensive emerged out of this need to demonstrate resiliency once and for all and to create a situation in which the US strategic capacity to

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exploit any signs of weakness was limited, thereby sufficiently lowering the costs of conversation to allow for talks. In early November, the NVN Politburo came together again and reached the same conclusion—­that “the Americans are losing the ­battle . . . ​[but] they still have real war potentials.”87 The communists had maintained a continuous tempo of attacks against the ­enemy in spite of US efforts to destroy their war-­fighting capacity.88 The incremental impact was impor­tant, but not significant enough to guarantee the United States would not see an open diplomatic posture as proof that its graduated escalation strategy was working. But now Hanoi sensed hesitancy in the US policy—­a major push could fi­nally shake US confidence in the effectiveness of escalation.89 On November 12, 1967, the Central Headquarters of the VWP and Ho Chi Minh disseminated the attack order for the “General Offensive-­General Uprising,” known as the Tet Offensive.90 The order noted that the situation for a general offensive was favorable “in the wake of the successive victories achieved during the past few years.”91 At an enlarged conference of the Presidium launched on January 15, the final plans for the offensive w ­ ere likely discussed and approved.92 According to a notebook entry dated January 19, 1968, the Lao Dong Party Executive Committee and HQ South Vietnam Liberation Army proclaimed the Spring Campaign “the apex of this historical phase” in which NVN could demonstrate resiliency and create a situation of constrained US strategic capacity by inflicting casualties and wearing down the ­enemy.93 Training documents listed three aspirational components of the mission: destroy a large part of US forces, wreck SVN forces to the point that they could no longer defend the government, and initiate popu­lar uprisings in the city and countryside.94 The focus on “wip[ing] out a good deal of e­ nemy potential” highlights that Hanoi was trying to send the United States a message to undermine domestic and international support for further escalation. Also, NVN was optimistic about ­future trends in the conflict, not that it was “winning” but that the immediate situation was becoming favorable to launch a diplomatic front. Hanoi had maintained the ability to resist throughout 1967, and by demonstrating the ability to impact US operations in 1968, even a­ fter massive US bombing campaigns and ground troop buildup, it would break the US aggressive ­will and consequently obstruct any ­future escalation.95 As Le Duan wrote to the commanding officer of South Vietnam two weeks before the offensive, the purpose of Tet was to “deal [the e­ nemy] thunderous blows so as to change the face of the war, further shake the aggressive ­will of US imperialism, compel it to change its strategy and de-­escalate the war.”96 At that point, the conditions would be ripe for implementing the talking-­while-­fighting strategy first introduced in the thirteenth plenum resolution. While all this internal debate was u ­ nder way about how and when it would demonstrate sufficient resiliency to pave the way for talks, Hanoi’s

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public stance portrayed an unwavering opposition to war­time diplomacy. The day a­ fter the January 1967 plenum, two-­time DRV foreign minister Nguyen Duy Trinh stated in an interview with well-­known Australian journalist Wilfred Burchett that the United States would have to “first halt unconditionally the bombing raids and all other acts of war against the DRV” before talks could begin.97 This was not a principled position but a pragmatic one, to continue to show the United States that the bombing would not impact Viet­nam­ese be­hav­ior. Foreign Minister Nguyen in his interview articulated that the Viet­nam­ese would never be intimidated into submitting to the US desire to open up direct talks.98 Ho Chi Minh wrote in his response to the letter he received from President Johnson the month ­after that “the Viet­ nam­ese ­will never submit to force; they ­will never accept talks ­under the threat of bombs.”99 In April 1967, Nguyen highlighted in a CCP journal article the role of preconditions in screening US intentions, arguing that the United States would have to prove it was genuine in its offers for peace talks with deeds (i.e., accepting some preconditions that constrained its ability to escalate). Premier Pham Van Dong repeated Ho’s statement in his August 31, 1967, National Day speech, adding that the US strategy of forcing Hanoi into peace talks through bombing would fail.100

The Tet Offensive and Shift to Openness, 1968 On January 30, 1968, the North Viet­nam­ese and NLF units unleashed a series of coordinated assaults across South Vietnam, from the demilitarized zone to the Ca Mau peninsula, attacking thirty-­six out of forty-­four provincial capitals, five out of six major cities, sixty-­four district capitals, and fifty hamlets. They also struck symbols of the e­ nemy—­the US embassy, Saigon’s Tan Son Nhut Airport, the presidential palace, and the South’s general staff headquarters. On February 18, the NLF launched a second round in the form of artillery and mortar attacks against US and South Viet­nam­ese installations. The United States and the Army of the Republic of Vietnam w ­ ere able to repel attacks or reverse most e­ nemy gains quickly.101 The Tet Offensive was a tactical failure for the North Viet­nam­ese. Hanoi’s vision for the p ­ eople to rise up “like a surging wave that carries away every­ thing in its wake” clearly did not come to fruition. Also, the leadership had expected the offensive to be militarily devastating for the United States, which it was decidedly not. ­These failures ­were readily apparent to the North Viet­nam­ese leadership.102 NVN was open about ­these shortcomings and discussed with the cadre its assessment of its serious deficiencies.103

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t h e lo w likeli h o o d o f a d verse i n fer e nc e But to Hanoi’s surprise, even though Tet had been a failure by all operational mea­sures, initial responses suggested that the major offensive had fi­ nally convinced the United States of Hanoi’s resiliency, thereby reducing the likelihood that an open diplomatic posture would be interpreted as a sign of weakness.104 Tet had taken the United States by surprise partly ­because Washington had been underestimating Hanoi’s resiliency—as a top US intelligence officer noted, “Even had I known exactly what was to take place . . . ​ it was so preposterous that I prob­ably would have been unable to sell it to anybody.”105 US military and civilian leadership had told the American public that the communists ­were on their last legs in Indochina. The scale and organ­ization of Tet jolted the American p ­ eople, exposed Washington’s rosy narrative, and underscored the staying power of the ­enemy.106 Tet was a psychological shock to US leadership and the American p ­ eople precisely ­because it demonstrated Hanoi’s resiliency u ­ nder mounting US military pressure. Indeed, when asked to assess ­whether the DRV came to Paris out of weakness to accept a face-­saving mea­sure for peace, the State Department, the embassy in Saigon, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the field commanders all answered with a resounding no.107 In Henry Kissinger’s words: All consider it unlikely that Hanoi came to Paris e­ ither to accept a face-­saving formula for defeat or to give the US a face-­saving way to withdraw. ­There is an agreement that Hanoi has been subject to heavy military pressure and that a desire to end the losses and costs of war was an ele­ment in Hanoi’s decision. The respondents agree that the DRV is in Paris to negotiate the withdrawal of US forces, to undermine GVN [Government of Vietnam] and USG [United States Government] relations and to provide a better chance for VC victory in the South. . . . ​Hanoi’s ultimate goal of a unified Vietnam ­under its control has not changed.108

t h e lo w cost o f a d verse i n feren ce The first wave of Tet in January and February 1968 was also the final blow that created a situation in which US strategic capacity became more limited, largely owing to motivational and domestic f­ actors, reducing the expected costs of conversation. If Henry Kissinger was correct that war could not be settled through negotiations “­until ­there had been a military showdown,” the Tet Offensive was the closest approximation to that moment. Although NVN forces had been pushed back, they also inflicted the highest US casualty figures for a single week during the entire war: 543 killed and 2,547 wounded.109 ­After Tet, McNamara insisted that even if the military could come up with a plan that promised victory, it would not be worth the price.110 The bottom-­

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line assessment among advisers and the public was that “the war cannot be won on this basis without ever-­mounting commitments not worth the cost.”111 The Clifford task force, which conducted the first full-­scale strategic review of US policy in Vietnam since the start of war, concluded in February 1968 that “we seem to be in a sinkhole . . . ​we put in more—­they match it.” Clifford warned of “more and more fighting with more and more casualties on the US side and no end in sight.”112 And for the first time, the majority of President Johnson’s Se­nior Advisory Group recommended negotiations in their March meeting.113 While the North Viet­nam­ese would not have been privy to the internal deliberations in Washington, they came to similar conclusions about new constraints on US strategic capacity from public debates and policy decisions. The North Viet­nam­ese tracked protests in the United States and noted that Secretary McNamara was released from his duty as secretary of defense, to be replaced by Clark Clifford on March 1. They knew from press leaks that General William West­moreland requested 206,000 more troops and that President Johnson rejected the request.114 It is unclear w ­ hether ­these developments alone would have been enough to reassure Hanoi that the United States was unlikely to increase its military pressure in response to an open diplomatic posture. What we do know is that Hanoi did not shift to an open diplomatic posture during ­these immediate weeks a­ fter Tet. The timing of Hanoi’s shift suggests that President Johnson’s announcement that he would not seek reelection, coupled with the decision to limit bombing to areas south of the twentieth parallel without any reciprocal NVN de-­escalation, was a determining ­factor.115 President Johnson’s March 31 speech effectively brought to an end the US policy of gradual escalation in place since 1965, making it publicly clear to Hanoi that he did not have the ­will or domestic po­liti­cal support to prolong, intensify, or escalate the conflict.116 Interviews with North Viet­nam­ese military and po­liti­cal leaders who w ­ ere active during the war confirm the centrality of President Johnson’s concessions in shifting their expectations about US strategic capacity. North Viet­ nam­ese po­liti­cal and military leaders came to believe that they had somehow managed to demonstrate to the United States their ability to withstand escalating military pressure, even though the offensive had not gone according to plan.117 In the words of one VC memoir, “­There was l­ ittle doubt in our minds that the domestic pressure stimulated by our per­sis­tent military action was largely responsible” for Johnson’s decision not to run for reelection.118 As a former DRV ambassador succinctly summed up, the general offensive had convinced the world’s superpower to unilaterally de-­escalate and revise its Vietnam policy, and its leader to give up hope of ­future po­liti­cal power.119 Hanoi need not fear provoking increased US military pressure any longer. ­After Tet, Hanoi believed, and accurately so in retrospect, that it had demonstrated resiliency and that US strategic capacity was hampered. Given

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the reduced likelihood that the United States would perceive an NVN willingness to talk as a sign of weakness, and the limitations in US ability to exploit any such signal even if it w ­ ere received, the strategic costs of an open diplomatic posture w ­ ere now low. At this point, the Politburo deci­ded preliminary talks could be held with l­ittle risk, mainly “to win international sympathy and support; to divide and isolate the US and its allies; to gain an insight into the US game plan; and most significantly, to get the US to stop bombing the North unconditionally.”120 Hanoi now saw “some advantages of the diplomatic strug­gle” and no longer viewed an open diplomatic posture as a liability in the war effort, even though it still did not trust US intentions.121 As one Viet­nam­ese interlocutor clarified about the previous US calls for negotiations, “Our ears ­were not ‘deaf.’ We ‘heard’ you. And we gave you our answer ­after Tet.”122

Alternative Perspectives on North Viet­nam­ese Diplomatic Posture I argue that Hanoi was originally against talks ­because of the potential risk of looking weak and encouraging greater military pressure. Once t­ hese repercussions ­were mitigated through fighting, Hanoi changed its approach and became open to war­time talks. ­There are four pos­si­ble alternative explanations for North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic be­hav­ior during the Vietnam War. First, a traditional bargaining model argument, that Hanoi moved ­toward talks as the weaker power to sue for peace. Second, that ideology drove the DRV’s diplomatic decisions. Third, that Hanoi primarily considered international costs, specifically how its allies the Soviet Union and China would respond, when deciding on dif­fer­ent diplomatic postures. Fi­nally, leadership’s calculation of expected domestic costs of conversation dominated considerations about diplomatic posture. t r ad iti o nal ba rga i n i n g mo d el o f war The traditional information-­oriented approach to understanding war termination posits that if wars start b ­ ecause of a fundamental disagreement between states about how it w ­ ill unfold, then wars end when learning leads to a convergence in expectations about the outcome of the war. The timing corresponds with expectations; this approach expects that a­ fter a ­battle (in this case the Tet Offensive), the side that lost on the battlefield, which was undoubtedly NVN, would lower its confidence in victory and try to negotiate an end to the war. Did Hanoi move quickly to engage the United States only a­ fter presented with the certainty of defeat, possibly state collapse? The historical rec­ord is clear that US bombing precipitated unpre­ce­dented destruction. Cities w ­ ere leveled or severely damaged; total casualties ran about 2,800 per month in

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1967, with total damage of $600 million to the Viet­nam­ese economy.123 Compared with international wars from 1830 to 1980, Hanoi suffered unpre­ce­ dented military costs; while ­battle death statistics are uncertain, Hanoi most certainly lost more ­people than SVN and the United States combined.124 But this argument falls short when one evaluates the degree to which the United States was able to translate this damage into strategic gain—­the destruction was not sufficient to undercut Hanoi’s ability to continue fighting.125 Even though Hanoi incurred major losses in personnel, supplies, and materiel during the Tet Offensive, US con­temporary intelligence assessments noted NVN’s ability to recuperate.126 ­After Tet, US strategists expected a deceleration in operations as e­ nemy units waited for replacement flows and perhaps modifications to military strategy, but ­there was ­little doubt the VC could continue fighting.127 One case study argues in contrast that the NLF was able to “rise like a phoenix out of the ashes” ­because of grassroots support ­after Tet.128 Historian Allan Goodman sums up the rebuttal: “By the start of the Paris Talks, the DRV had, among other t­ hings, lost over 80 ­percent of its POL [petroleum, oil, and lubricants] storage facilities, two-­thirds of its electrical generation capacity, all of its steel and cement factories, and an estimated half a billion dollars since the bombing began. No one t­ oday holds that the 1965–1968 bombing brought Hanoi to Paris or that the threat of resuming it produced substantial concessions on Hanoi’s part.”129 Additionally, if Hanoi entered talks to sue for peace, we would expect some urgency in bringing the war to an end. But Hanoi did not agree to talks ­until two months ­after the initial offensives, and then the two sides took an additional month just to pick a location for the exchanges.130 Moreover, Hanoi was never willing to slow its infiltration in order to get the United States to stop bombing completely. Admittedly, the North was in a disadvantageous military position, but it launched a third wave of attacks even ­after ­these “talks about talks.”131 Moreover, the North Viet­nam­ese did not seem disturbed when the talks immediately deadlocked, and seemed prepared to “even read the telephone directory if necessary to keep non-­productive talks ­going.”132 The leadership “had no intention of pursuing Moscow’s desire for a speedy settlement in 1968,”133 as they had agreed to talks for “probing” purposes only.134 That talks dragged on for 174 negotiation sessions over the course of four years casts doubt on the idea that both sides w ­ ere open to talks by April 1968 ­because their beliefs about the range of settlements both preferred to war had converged.135 Hanoi said bluntly on the morning of April 3, 1968, that its rationale for talking was to gain some operational benefits, like the complete cession of US bombing and greater international support.136 Clearly, Hanoi’s decision to talk was made in­de­pen­dently of one to ­settle.137 On a more general level, this approach of information convergence leading to talks cannot explain when states are willing to talk—­only when they are willing to s­ ettle. For example, when the two sides met in Paris for the first time in May 1968, they still lacked consensus about the likely ­future

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course of the war; both sides thought they could turn the war around.138 ­After talks began in May 1968, Le Duan was not ready to advance talks beyond a point ­until it was undeniably clear that the third wave of attacks had failed. Hanoi began to take the diplomatic sphere seriously only once it exhausted its forces—­Hanoi’s lead negotiator Le Duc Tho laid out a negotiating strategy for the first time in late September of that year, which Le Duan accepted.139 By adding a theoretical understanding of the potential costs of diplomacy to the bargaining model of war, my approach offers a more accurate and complete understanding of decision making about war­time diplomacy. When Hanoi agreed to talks, it did so ­because it was fi­nally in a position to leverage the operational benefits of diplomacy at minimal cost, not b ­ ecause it planned on ending the war in a timely manner. To his credit, President Johnson was pessimistic about a negotiated settlement from the start, sensing that Hanoi sought talks to bring an end to only the bombing, not the war.140 This pessimism was warranted; t­ here ­were 174 negotiation sessions between January 25, 1969, and January 18, 1973, with no evidence on the rec­ ord that ­either side thought the deliberations would actually lead to the settlement of the war.141 ­Later, the North Viet­nam­ese del­e­ga­tion went so far as to call President Nixon’s offer a “farce” and vowed to sit in Paris “­until the chairs rot.”142 Additionally, this case study highlights the willingness to talk, not the content of peace proposals, as the main information source in the diplomatic realm when direct talks still have yet to emerge. In this case, the absence of evidence is strong evidence of absence. Nothing in the historical rec­ord suggests Hanoi learned what settlements would be pos­si­ble from US offers and deci­ded to engage in talks when it believed a favorable settlement was available. According to the available evidence, the US offers to talk ­were just that—­they never included specific proposals for a war termination settlement. Moreover, in internal deliberations, North Viet­nam­ese leaders never verbally expressed the pos­si­ble settlement as a consideration for ­whether to engage in talks.143 id eatio nal ­facto rs Another type of explanation focuses on the impact of ideology or honor on military strategy—­crediting Hanoi’s recalcitrance to the fact that the DRV would ­settle for nothing less than decisive and total victory.144 Official US assessments posited that Hanoi rejected or ignored all diplomatic efforts ­because “the objective of the Communist regime in the North continues to be decisive or complete victory,” which is defined by the complete destruction of SVN.145 But this predicts an unwavering closed diplomatic posture, which was not the case. In real­ity, DRV leaders ­were not against direct diplomacy in princi­ple—­the plan was always to embrace a talking-­while-­

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fighting posture at some point—­something that Hanoi leaders would have been less forthcoming about discussing internally if honor ­were a determining ­factor.146 In 1966, the American Bureau of the Viet­nam­ese Foreign Affairs Department had already been tasked with the responsibility of putting together dossiers to support ­future bilateral discussions with the United States.147 Militarily, the North Viet­nam­ese ­were hoping to avoid a major escalation of conflict with the United States, and consequently they limited their activities in the South while pushing for multilateral negotiations. Thus, in July 1962, se­nior Politburo member Le Duan ordered the southern re­sis­tance to keep the fighting confined to the mountain and rural areas of South Vietnam, thinking that attacks on urban environments would more likely induce an American intervention beyond its advisory presence.148 In late 1962, Ho Chi Minh himself was still calling for negotiations, albeit to facilitate the peaceful reunification of Vietnam.149 Even though the DRV was open to a po­liti­cal solution before the outbreak of war, North Viet­nam­ese officials approached the issue of diplomacy without urgency.150 They preferred a wait-­ and-­see approach to actively pursuing negotiations, partly b ­ ecause even then they did not want to be seen as “too ­eager for a peaceful resolution to the conflict in South Vietnam.”151 But Hanoi became much less flexible about its negotiating position ­after US air strikes began, ­because the costs of looking weak increased in tandem. A State Department analyst captured the transformation, arguing Hanoi demonstrated “a sudden reversal from a more open-­ended position on pos­ si­ble negotiations” to a hard position, a change that a staunch ideological opposition to talks cannot explain.152 In early March, Hanoi began to shut down all the channels it had used to try to open talks in the months before, such as contacts with the French, a Western news correspondent in Cambodia, and the connection with Canadian diplomat James Seaborn. On April 4, 1965, Pham Van Dong communicated to French diplomats stationed in Hanoi that negotiations ­were impossible in the foreseeable ­future. With the exigency to avoid war abandoned, Hanoi escalated in response, sending a sizable number of its own troops south. dom esti c co st s One type of explanation suggests that autocracies often continue to fight even when the prospects of military victory are dim, ­because the domestic po­liti­cal costs of making concessions for peace are too high. Specifically, a leader who expects high costs as a consequence of the terms of the settlement may prefer to continue fighting as long as the chance of eventual victory or improvement in the terms of peace is not negligible.153 But ­these domestic explanations predict an invariably closed posture, and perhaps even a hardening of the position the North held over the course of the war, which

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makes Hanoi’s embrace of diplomacy in April 1968 even more puzzling. Leadership changes often portend a change in policy, particularly in times of war.154 But in the case of the Vietnam War, relevant leadership changes occurred months ­after Hanoi’s policy reversal—­President Johnson stepped down in January 1969, and Ho Chi Minh died in September of that year. The possibility that diplomatic interactions would sap the p ­ eople’s determination to fight is another way costs could emerge through domestic mechanisms.155 North Viet­nam­ese leaders ­were no doubt sensitive to t­ hese issues—­their war effort relied on their ability to recruit and retain guerrilla fighters. Hanoi’s leadership was blunt about the need to “motivate our men to guard against the illusions of a false peace and to stand by their guns.”156 But if the objective of refusing talks was to communicate resolve to the Viet­ nam­ese ­people and not to the United States, as I argue, we would expect the same polemics and strong rhe­toric against talks to be communicated internally, especially to the VC. However, more than eight months before Hanoi publicly agreed to talks, its leadership began to methodically communicate its more flexible approach down to the lowest level cadre. Central leadership wanted t­ hose fighting to think of accepting negotiations or compromise as central to the revolutionary strategy, not a rejection of it.157 Hanoi’s actions suggest that morale was less a driver of its strategy and more something to be managed. Hanoi attempted to do this through po­liti­ cal indoctrination sessions that ­were designed to shape and control VC interpretations of Hanoi’s diplomatic posture.158 In the lead-up to the Tet Offensive, po­liti­cal sessions urged the cadre not to entertain “any vague expectations and illusions of an easy victory brought about by some po­liti­cal solution.”159 The CC appealed to all cadres to not be affected by US calls for peace and maintain their w ­ ill to fight.160 When they deci­ded to talk in April 1968, Hanoi consistently told the VC that nothing could be achieved at the negotiation ­table without military success first.161 in ternatio nal co sts One alternative explanation for why Hanoi changed to a strategy of talking while fighting when it did takes into account its reliance on the Soviet Union and China for support. Specifically, Hanoi may have chosen diplomatic postures based on the preferences of its stronger allies in order to avoid costs they may impose other­wise, such as retracting their military support. Hanoi was undoubtedly reliant on other countries to prosecute the war effort—75 ­percent of its weapons and half of the funds used in the South came from the socialist camp, with the majority of that coming from China.162 Hanoi’s air defenses, in par­tic­u­lar, ­were greatly strengthened through Soviet and Chinese support, which enabled Hanoi to send more of its p ­ eople south.163 From 1965 to 1971, 320,000 Chinese troops rotated in and out of the Viet­nam­ese theater, with a peak of 170,000 forces in country in 1967–68 and

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the last PLA units leaving in 1971.164 Moreover, the connection between Viet­ nam­ese communist leader Ho Chi Minh and Chinese communist leader Mao Zedong went much deeper than war materiel, foodstuffs, advisers, and international support.165 East Asia scholar Thomas Christensen argues that the Sino-­Soviet rivalry in par­tic­ul­ar created obstacles for the emergence of talks before 1968. The Soviets pushed Hanoi to engage in talks, but the Chinese w ­ ere pulling in the opposite direction.166 While this rivalry dynamic clearly made it difficult for the United States to obtain its objectives in Vietnam through coercive diplomacy, it cannot explain Vietnam’s initial opposition to war­time diplomacy or its policy reversal in April 1968.167 Hanoi’s diplomatic posture did not converge with e­ ither the Soviet or Chinese position. The Soviets, Leonid Brezhnev and Alexei Kosygin in par­tic­u­lar, “wanted to keep the Chinese from expanding their influence in North Vietnam and ­were sympathetic to any course—­including negotiations—­that would accomplish this aim.”168 The Chinese ­were against talks and advised Viet­nam­ese comrades that “the Soviet revisionists want North Vietnam to talk with the United States, to cast the NLF aside and sell out its b ­ rothers.”169 In other words, if the Soviet Union had its way, Hanoi would have agreed to direct talks in early 1965; if the Chinese ­were driving policy, the Viet­nam­ese would have rejected President Johnson’s March 1968 proposal.170 The diverging positions of the USSR and China, coupled with their intensifying competition, likely made it easier for Vietnam to defy them both without significantly risking their support.171 Moreover, the potential costs of disobeying its allies ­were not enough to supersede strategic calculations. When the DRV deci­ded to negotiate with Washington in­de­pen­dently of China’s views, it knew this would come at a cost. The Chinese ­were so against the move, they threatened to sever ties between the two countries’ communist parties if the Viet­nam­ese did not stop the negotiations.172 Coupled with a tightening relationship with the USSR, Hanoi’s decision to pursue talking while fighting in 1968 most likely caused China to reduce its military deliveries to Hanoi between 1968 and 1971 and withdraw all its troops, such as the anti-­air artillery units.173 In short, Hanoi successfully safeguarded its in­de­pen­dence in the face of the Sino-­Soviet rift.174 Hanoi was unresponsive to Moscow’s attempts to act as intermediary and “would accept no advice,” according to Chinese leaders, on “the question of ­whether or when to negotiate.”175 Viet­nam­ese members of the Politburo who ­were close to the Soviet Union ­were even purged in 1967 as a message to Moscow that Hanoi would not be pressured into negotiations.176 As Pham Van Dong expressed to Mao Zedong on November 17, 1968, “Ultimately, it is we [Viet­nam­ese] who make the decisions based on the ­actual situation in Vietnam and on how we understand the rule of war.”177 Hanoi pursued a diplomatic posture that was in its best interests even though it went against the preferences of its greatest benefactors.178 As

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a con­temporary JCS and field commanders assessment articulated, “Hanoi over the years has been extremely ­adept at balancing between [China and the Soviet Union],” and according to the State Department and Saigon embassy, “both powers appear to have limited leverage on decision making in Hanoi.”179

A Note on US Diplomatic Posture in the Vietnam War Though not the main focus of this chapter, it is impor­tant to note that US diplomatic be­hav­ior followed the same costly conversations logic as that of Hanoi, though on an accelerated timeline. While Hanoi was closed to talks for the first three years of the war, the United States, in contrast, moved to an open diplomatic posture almost immediately in the spring of 1965 with President Johnson’s Peace Offensive. During the three years that followed its entrance into the war, the United States tried to engage in talks with the North Viet­nam­ese to facilitate such a settlement directly and indirectly, supporting over two thousand attempts to open talks without preconditions.180 This search for negotiations with Hanoi between 1965 and 1968 has consequently been characterized as “one of the most fruitless chapters in US diplomacy.”181 The United States was able to move to an open diplomatic posture almost immediately a­ fter it introduced ground troops in March 1965 b ­ ecause the strategic costs w ­ ere low. This calculation was largely driven by Hanoi’s limited strategic capacity. The material aspect of US strategic capacity was im­ mense compared with that of Hanoi; what the United States would dedicate to the fight was more a ­matter of policy.182 While it still would have been hard for the Americans to rule out the possibility that the North would have seen the willingness to enter into talks as a sign of weakness and encouraged Hanoi to continue fighting, US elites w ­ ere confident that they could easily ­counter any North Viet­nam­ese response. As President Johnson said in response to concerns that the North may be encouraged to intensify fighting, “­Don’t you think if they get tougher, we have to get tougher?”183 Or as Assistant Secretary John McNaughton articulated in a memo on January 19, 1966, “It may be that while g ­ oing for victory we have the strength for compromise, but if we go for compromise, we have the strength only for defeat—­ this is ­because a revealed lowering of sights from victory to compromise (a) ­will unhinge the GVN and (b) ­will give the DRV the ‘smell of blood.’ [Any move t­ oward talks] requires a willingness to escalate the war if the e­ nemy miscalculates, misinterpreting our willingness to compromise as implying we are on the run.”184 The calculation of low strategic costs was also partially based on the fact that the United States could show strength through such direct demonstrations of its military might. Before US military involvement, most po­liti­cal

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elites believed the likelihood was too high that a willingness to talk would convey weakness, and as a result the United States had a closed diplomatic posture during this period. US officials spurned UN Secretary General U Thant’s attempts to get the relevant parties together in August 1964, explaining that President Johnson needed to focus on the election that November.185 The United States had to first demonstrate strength. In the words of National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy in August 1964: “­After, but only ­after, we have established a clear pattern of pressure hurting the DRV and leaving no doubts in South Vietnam of our resolve, we could even accept a conference broadened to include the Vietnam issue.”186 General Dwight D. Eisenhower conveyed to the president on February 17, 1965, that “negotiation from weakness is likely to lead only into deceit and vulnerability, which could be disastrous to us. On the other hand, if we can show a fine rec­ord of successes, or real and dramatic accomplishment, we would be in good position to negotiate.”187 It was unadvisable to many to offer talks before demonstrating strength, including Ambassador to South Vietnam Henry Cabot Lodge, who feared in July 1965 that “any further initiative by us now [before we are strong] would simply harden the communist resolve not to stop fighting.”188 ­These advisers ­were correct in their concerns; Le Duan took US offers to talk before escalation to war as a sign that the United States was weak and could not maintain its position in South Vietnam.189 But the rapid expansion of the US war effort in South Vietnam in 1965, with the beginning of air strikes and introduction of ground troops for offensive operations, changed this calculus. The troop buildup, which resulted in over half a million US combat troops in Vietnam, was ongoing in parallel with the peace offensive. Attack sorties had risen from four thousand per month at the end of 1965 to six thousand per month in the first quarter of 1966, and twelve thousand per month by October 1966.190 This escalation definitely showed the United States had a preponderance of power and was willing to use it—­therefore significantly reducing the likelihood that an open diplomatic posture would convey weakness.191 However, many thought strategic costs increased when the United States de-­escalated at the same time that it proactively offered talks, though not to the point of demanding a closed posture.192 As articulated in a JCS memo to Secretary McNamara on October 14, 1966, “Another bombing pause w ­ ill be regarded by the North Viet­nam­ese leaders, and our allies, as renewed evidence of lack of US determination to press the war to a successful conclusion.”193 The JCS noted that public offers to s­ ettle the war by peaceful means “are not only nonproductive, they are counterproductive. A logical case can be made that the American p ­ eople, our allies, and our enemies alike are increasingly uncertain as to our resolution to pursue the war to a successful conclusion.”194 In MARIGOLD, for example, President Johnson was concerned that a bombing halt would be interpreted by Hanoi as a sign of

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weakness.195 In his memoirs, Johnson would speculate that his offers to talk prob­ably convinced Hanoi that he desired peace at any price.196 Thus, the United States did primarily weigh the strategic costs when determining a diplomatic posture, but in this case t­hose costs ­were low once the United States escalated to full-­blown war in Vietnam. Before it became involved, the view that the United States needed to first show a “fine rec­ord of success” before it could open up to talks was also prevalent in internal US debates.197 The embassy of Vietnam complained that even third-­party efforts, such as feverish British and French diplomatic activity, could undercut US attempts at coercion.198 But once the United States committed the full weight of the US military, it was less concerned that Hanoi would understand an open diplomatic posture as a sign of weakness. Moreover, if it did and responded with more force, the United States could ­counter any such escalation. In short, the difference between the United States and NVN in the progression of diplomatic posture was timing—­the United States fulfilled the necessary conditions to minimize the potential costs of conversation three years before Hanoi, largely ­because of its sizable power advantage.199

Conclusion Hanoi chose to fight without talking for the first three years of the war with the United States for fear the United States would infer weakness from an open diplomatic posture and consequently increase its military pressure. Hanoi expected to end the war through a negotiated settlement, but its leaders felt the need to demonstrate first that US attempts to destroy its ability to fight ­were futile. NVN was nothing if not resilient, and it fought to prove that to the United States to discourage prolongation, intensification, or escalation in US use of force. Moreover, given the prohibitively high costs associated with a greater US involvement, Hanoi could not risk conveying weakness ­unless US strategic capacity was constrained in some way. While the Tet Offensive did not go according to plan, in the aftermath Hanoi discovered that it had successfully demonstrated resiliency and strength to the United States. Moreover, domestic politics created a situation in which President Johnson would not send more troops, increase the intensity, or expand the scope of the bombing campaign. With the costs of conversation low, Hanoi could fi­nally embrace an open diplomatic posture in April 1968 and incorporate the diplomatic front into its war efforts. Besides providing convincing evidence to buttress the costly conversations thesis, this case study also leads to two broader conclusions about the history of the war. First, it suggests that ­there ­were not ­really any “missed opportunities” for peace. The costly conversations thesis suggests that, short of destroying its capacity to fight, t­ here was “no possibility that Vietnam [would] yield” to American pressure even as bombing tonnage increased

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against NVN from 63,000 in 1965 to 136,000 in 1966 and to 226,000 in 1967.200 McNamara predicted the dilemma, arguing, “Short of threatening and perhaps toppling the Hanoi regime itself, pressure against the North ­will, if anything, harden Hanoi’s unwillingness to talk and her settlement terms if she does.”201 By October 1965, only 4 ­percent of targets on the JCS list remained to be attacked. On June 22, 1966, ­after months of debate, the air strikes ­were expanded to targets of petroleum, oil, and lubricants, but this too made l­ ittle difference in Hanoi’s ability to prosecute the war. And the former was not ­really an option, as it was clear as early as 1965 that the United States could not achieve the destruction of the DRV war machine through kinetic action.202 Meeting Hanoi’s preconditions turned out not to be necessary for talks. This suggests that the preconditions ­were not truly obstacles to peace but instead instruments Hanoi used to communicate that it would not give in to coercion when it had yet to demonstrate resiliency through fighting. This implies as well that t­here ­were no missed opportunities for peace—­the United States had offered equally enticing bombing pauses five times before, and Hanoi had rejected talks each time. Short of conceding to Hanoi’s preconditions completely or successfully destroying Hanoi’s ability to fight, ­there was ­little the United States could have done to convince Hanoi to enter into talks before Hanoi’s conditions of minimal costs of conversation w ­ ere met in April 1968.

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Getting belligerents to the negotiating ­table is complicated and fraught with difficulties, both in theory and in practice. While international relations theories ­either ignore the strategic nature of diplomatic posture or tout the benefits of talking, countries are not so sanguine. A willingness to talk is seen as the first concession, thereby impacting an adversary’s beliefs about balance of power and resolve even before offers are exchanged. This dynamic creates the need to study diplomatic posture in­de­pen­dently from the pro­ cess of talking, as closed diplomatic postures are often the first obstacles to peace. Continuing to assume that talks are occurring during fighting as a starting point for rational approaches to war termination inhibits our understanding of the pro­cess of war. This book provides the first framework to understand how states calculate the costs of conversation throughout a war. Specifically, they concern themselves with two ­factors: (1) the likelihood their adversary ­will infer weakness in the form of reduced war aims, degraded ability to fight, or waning resolve from an open diplomatic posture and (2) the ability of the ­enemy to respond to such an inference by escalating, intensifying, or prolonging the fighting, a variable I term strategic capacity. From strong countries like the United States to weaker ones like North Vietnam, from democracies to autocracies, and from the beginnings of the Cold War to t­ oday, leaders fighting interstate wars have considered the strategic costs of conversation above all ­else when deciding on a diplomatic posture. I find that leaders choose a closed diplomatic posture when the strategic costs are high, and shift to an open posture only when strategic costs are assessed to be low. This may be the case when states perceive the likelihood of adverse inference to be low and/or the e­ nemy’s strategic capacity to be limited. Countries often want to get to a position in which they can leverage the benefits of talks, and they therefore try to proactively shape t­hese two

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f­ actors to minimize the strategic costs. To c­ ounter adverse inference, countries ­will attempt to neutralize the signal of weakness associated with talks through pure demonstration of military might if they can, or, if not, through an accumulation of successes that proves their resiliency in the face of hostilities. If a warring party believes it has adequately demonstrated strength or resiliency through fighting, then it is less fearful that its adversary w ­ ill interpret a move t­ oward an open diplomatic posture as weakness. Belligerents also attempt to affect their ­enemy’s strategic capacity, contributing to a situation in which the e­ nemy does not have the material capability, the domestic or international support, or the motivation to intensify, escalate, or prolong the war. This book examined four cases of Asian countries and their diplomatic postures in Cold War–­era interstate wars to isolate decision making from broader regional or international effects. If we expected democracies, autocracies, or communist countries to act a certain way—or even Asian countries to have a cultural or historical disposition ­toward one type of diplomatic posture—­none of t­ hose expectations manifested themselves in t­ hese four cases. The country that opened up to talks the most quickly was China in the Sino-­Indian border war, expressing its willingness to talk directly to India without any preconditions a mere four days into the conflict. On the other hand, this same country with the same leadership had been against talks for nine months in the Korean War only a ­little more than a de­cade before. India and North Vietnam also provide in­ter­est­ing comparisons. ­These two countries are quite dif­fer­ent in many re­spects—­history, culture, domestic po­ liti­cal system, demographics—­and the natures of their wars are also quite dif­fer­ent. Yet both initially maintained a closed diplomatic posture ­because of a similar distribution of strategic costs. They similarly faced an opponent with a much greater strategic capacity, and therefore they needed to first demonstrate resiliency to discourage any escalation, intensification, or prolongation of the war if they w ­ ere to have any chance at winning. Hanoi was successful in its endeavors; a­ fter three years of continuing to fight in the face of heavy bombing and increasing US troop levels, it fi­nally convinced the United States of its resiliency ­after the Tet Offensive. Moreover, the US elite and public response to Tet, including President Johnson’s decision not to run for reelection, credibly demonstrated to Hanoi that US ability to escalate was constrained largely due to domestic and motivational ­factors. This allowed Hanoi to shift to an open diplomatic posture, given the new low strategic costs of conversation. India, on the other hand, never managed to sufficiently mitigate the costs of conversation. Unable to hold firm in the face of Chinese assaults, let alone achieve any success on the battlefield, it feared that an open diplomatic posture would solidify an image of weakness. Moreover, Indian elites thought China could easily escalate and expand its aims beyond the territory in dispute if Beijing ­were led to believe that India would cave

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­ nder greater pressure. Therefore, as Nehru often said, ­there was no way u India could agree to talks u ­ nder duress, and it maintained a closed diplomatic posture throughout the ­whole war. The principal rationalist, ideational, domestic, and international cost explanations emphasize ­factors that may have been pres­ent in some of ­these cases but did not universally come into play or dominate decision making about diplomatic posture in any of the cases. Contrary to the predictions of the traditional bargaining model of war, the relatively stronger belligerents, not the weak, w ­ ere more likely to embrace an open diplomatic posture earlier on in the conflict, which is consistent with the costly conversations thesis. Moreover, in practice, leaders treated the decision to talk as distinct from ­whether to ­settle and believed that diplomatic posture could impact the aggregate costs and likelihood of victory in the war. In other words, fighting affects the deal one gets, but diplomatic posture can affect the intensity, level, and duration of fighting. Ideational ­factors also do not completely explain why and when a country would shift to an open diplomatic posture. Emphasis on pride, legitimacy, or honor or leader beliefs in the effectiveness of force over diplomacy would all predict consistently closed diplomatic postures, which did not bear out in the case studies. Moreover, many of ­these theories implicitly rely on one of the key arguments of the costly conversations thesis—­that leaders view a willingness to talk as a concession. Without this assumption that an open diplomatic posture can be costly, it is unclear why honor, spite, or legitimacy would dictate a refusal to talk to the e­ nemy. The international costs approach also falls short, even though alliance politics had the best chance of being weighed heavi­ly in elite deliberations during the Cold War. But third parties could rarely threaten enough costs to override strategic cost considerations, ­whether it be Hanoi ignoring Chinese preferences, India ignoring the Soviet Union, or the United States dismissing its UN partners’ appeals to talk to China before Washington was ready. Fi­nally, the domestic costs approach did not manifest itself strongly in the cases ­either; even demo­cratic leaders often went against the preferences of their domestic publics in order to choose the diplomatic posture that was the most strategically beneficial. Moreover, the arguments against talks at lower levels often merely mirrored the strategic costs logic of conveying weakness that could incur greater costs from the ­enemy.

Theoretical Implications This research has broad implications for the study of international security. Talks often play an essential role in its theories on crisis bargaining, cause of war, war duration, and termination, yet ­these approaches do not address the conditions ­under which ­those talks may come about in the first place. The

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costly conversations thesis contributes to our understanding of war­time diplomacy by identifying the ­factors leaders weigh heaviest when calculating the costs of an open diplomatic posture. The bargaining model of war always treated concessions as potentially conveying weakness; this book goes a step beyond to argue that a willingness to talk is often considered a concession—­and therefore may have similar strategic repercussions. The costly conversations thesis also contributes to the costly signaling lit­er­a­ture by providing an additional way domestic publics can help leaders tie their hands when they want to credibly reassure the adversary. Specifically, in democracies the public can withhold support and threaten punishment for leaders that might other­wise escalate, intensify, or prolong fighting in response to an e­ nemy’s willingness to talk. By creating constraints on its own strategic capacity, this reduces the costs of conversation for the ­enemy, making talks more likely. ­Because this mechanism is not available to autocracies, it may be harder for t­hese regimes to signal they ­will not exploit an ­enemy’s open diplomatic posture if the material support to its strategic capacity remains strong. This dynamic could explain variation across autocratic, mixed, and demo­cratic dyads in talks that emerge during a conflict as well as the potential usefulness of third-­party involvement to bring about talks by serving as a guarantor that intensification of vio­lence would be punished. While the costly conversations framework best explains states’ decisions about diplomatic posture in interstate wars, it may also have some applicability to crisis be­hav­ior. For example, anecdotal evidence suggests that, a­ fter talks emerge, states may be more resistant to making concessions at the bargaining ­table when the proposal is coupled with intensification of vio­lence. China and the Soviet Union urged North ­Korea not to make concessions on the POW issue in July 1952, as the United States escalated its aerial bombing campaign, precisely for fear of encouraging even greater pressure. When President Nixon ordered intensive bombing attacks against North Viet­nam­ ese sanctuaries in Cambodia to compel Hanoi to negotiate on his terms, the DRV refused to make concessions and deci­ded to wait for a “more propitious opportunity.”1 This may be ­because, as they do before talks, states want to avoid conveying weakness ­under military pressure. However, once negotiations are ­under way, the costs of adverse inference may manifest themselves more in the content of offers than the degree to which the ­enemy can impose costs. In other words, a­ fter talks emerge, the state may become more concerned about the ratcheting down of offers than the ratcheting up of vio­ lence. The core idea of the costly conversations thesis—­that a willingness to talk can signal weakness to the ­enemy—­may also shed some light on why states often break off ongoing talks or diplomatic ties during a crisis. For example, in the Kosovo War, the Federal Republic of Yugo­slavia broke off diplomatic relations with the United States, Germany, G ­ reat Britain, and France on

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March 25, 1999, the day ­after bombing began.2 In his capacity as US special envoy to the Balkans, Richard Holbrooke met directly with Slobodan Milosevic three days earlier, but then the United States cut off talks and maintained a closed diplomatic posture ­until Milosevic completely capitulated to NATO’s demands on June 5, 1999.3 The United States was also willing to engage in talks with Iraq in the lead-up to the Gulf War—­a week before the United States began operations. Secretary of State James Baker met Iraqi foreign minister Tariq Aziz as part of the Geneva Peace Conference, which aimed to find a peaceful solution to the Iraqi occupation of Kuwait.4 Baker then cut off communications as a way to convey President George W. Bush’s position that “he’s got to get out of Kuwait. And he’s got to do it with no concessions or no condition.”5 Most of the lit­er­a­ture on crises notes that states quickly switch to a closed diplomatic posture on the precipice of conflict to signal their preference for fighting, but do not provide a clear rationale for this tactic.6 The costly conversations thesis, however, can provide context for this pattern—­states use a closed diplomatic posture to signal strength ­because they cannot yet do so through pure military might at this stage of a crisis. Even in peacetime it can often be difficult to get countries to the ­table when ­there is a contentious security issue at stake and the potential participants have limited or poor relations with one another. The talks that resulted in the signing of the Iran nuclear deal, or the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Attack, highlight some of the obstacles to launching talks. Ira­nian leader Ali Khamenei was hesitant to welcome the United States to the negotiating ­table, partly ­because of fears that demands that would make Iran “submissive to the West” would follow. When the Green movement erupted in Iran in 2009, President Barack Obama showed restraint by not supporting the protestors, which reassured Iran about US intentions ­toward the regime. This provided an initial opening as the two sides began to discuss a fuel swap in which Iran would receive the fuel rods if it gave up its low enriched uranium, a basic ingredient in nuclear fuel. Then, ­after the Arab Spring in 2011, the Obama administration made a concerted effort to change the rhe­toric surrounding US-­Iranian relations and aimed to negotiate constraints on Iran’s nuclear program in return for US sanctions relief. While the costly conversations thesis highlights military coercion as creating the most acute fear that agreeing to talk ­will be interpreted as conceding ­under pressure, the logic may apply to a lesser extent when the pressure is po­liti­cal or economic in nature. For example, in the Iran case, ­after the fuel swap was proposed, Khamenei rejected any further negotiations ­until the sanctions w ­ ere lifted as Iran was desperate for sanctions relief. Eventually, in an attempt to foster more direct communication, the United States signaled a willingness to concede on Iran’s right to enrichment in exchange for direct, bilateral negotiations with the agent for each head of state. Iran accepted, and in 2014 both sides began sending small, low-­profile

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cadres of individuals to secret meetings in Oman. The privacy of ­these meetings ensured that critics of Khamenei’s regime and third parties ­were not influencing the negotiations or the narrative surrounding the talks. In 2015, Iran agreed to stop installing new centrifuges, halt production at 20 ­percent enriched uranium, and give the International Atomic Energy Agency unpre­ ce­dented access to its nuclear facilities. In exchange, the United States, Rus­sia, France, ­Great Britain, China and Germany promised to unfreeze $4.2 billion in Iran’s foreign currency holdings, ease sanctions on Iran’s trade of petrochemicals and precious metals, and avoid implementing any further sanctions. This interim deal was eventually implemented as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Attack in December 2015.7 One needs to be cautious, however, when applying the costly conversations thesis to crisis bargaining or negotiations between countries with tense and poor relations. The dynamics of crises and war are fundamentally dif­ fer­ent; in crises, states make decisions u ­ nder the threat of force, not its active application. Thomas Schelling’s work shows us that deterrence is easier precisely for this reason—­there is greater uncertainty, and therefore more deniability, about why a state did not take some action ­under the threat of force.8 But the state of compellence that exists during war demands a policy reversal that is visibly done ­under duress, making it harder to neutralize the connection between talks and weakness. In other words, the strategic costs of conversation are inherently greater in war­time than during a crisis, which opens up the possibility that domestic or international costs may play a greater role in crisis bargaining or peacetime than in interstate war. Moreover, with the threat of war looming, the cost of not attempting to resolve a dispute diplomatically, as in the Iran or North K ­ orea case, may overshadow concerns about ­whether agreeing to talks conveys weak resolve. The findings of the costly conversations thesis are also relevant to the study of war duration. The thesis posits that when the belligerents or dominant co­ali­tion of partners all believe the other side’s ability to escalate is limited, and they have taken sufficient precautionary actions to avoid looking weak, talks emerge. All ­else being equal, we would expect that the greater the asymmetry in power, the longer it ­will take for the weaker side to mitigate the risks of talking—­that is, minimizing the e­ nemy’s strategic capacity and demonstrating toughness sufficiently. G ­ reat asymmetries in power between government forces and rebels, which create high costs of diplomacy for the rebels, may be why civil wars last on average ten times longer than interstate conflict. Governments may refuse to talk for fear that terrorists or insurgents would understand a willingness to talk as a sign of the effectiveness of vio­lence, reassess the likelihood they can outlast the government, and therefore be encouraged to persist in fighting when they may have given up other­wise.9 The government, on the other hand, may see any willingness to negotiate on the part of rebels as proof that they are almost at the breaking point, and with a ­little more force the movement could be destroyed.

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In interstate wars, the costly conversations thesis may explain why some conflicts continue without talks longer than o ­ thers. The power asymmetries in the three wars explored in this book varied from ­great disparity—­between the United States and Vietnam, and China and India—to greater parity between China and the United States during the Korean War. A hypothesis derived from the logic of the information approach posits that once countries’ beliefs about the balance of power converge, talks are more likely b ­ ecause ­there is a shared idea of the range of settlements both sides prefer to war. This convergence would logically happen more quickly when the balance of power is more asymmetric; it was clear in the first days of the Sino-­Indian War that India was outmatched by China, and Vietnam knew early on that the full application of US military might could mean its extinction. However, this book shows that the opposite is true when it comes to war­time diplomacy. The period of diplomatic silence, of fighting without talking, is likely to be longer in asymmetric dyads. This prediction plays out in the case studies. Talks never occurred between India and China, the United States and North Vietnam fought for over three years before agreeing to talks, and talks emerged ­after one year of fighting during the Korean War. This research also has substantial implications for the study of mediation, which focuses on how the nature of disputes, participants, mediator characteristics, their relationship to the disputants and biases, and strategies and tactics employed by mediators impact mediation effectiveness.10 If the decision to open talks is in­de­pen­dent from ­whether to ­settle—­which I have demonstrated ­here—­perhaps we need to think of the role of mediators differently in the pre-­talking stage.11 The greatest difference concerns the role of information. The focus during conflict resolution is on “enhancing communication between warring parties and providing information about the conflict that can help generate movement ­toward negotiated outcomes.”12 In the pre-­talking phase, however, transmission of information does not necessarily reduce the costs of conversation, and therefore tends to be insufficient to get belligerents to the ­table.13 Third parties may have better luck if they focus less on information transmission and more on serving as guarantors that belligerents are not dangling talks to probe each other’s positions, or to provide positive inducements so that talks are not interpreted as a concession given ­under military pressure. In any case, additional research could evaluate the conditions ­under which mediation is effective at getting all belligerents to shift to open diplomatic postures. Fi­nally, we might be tempted to apply the costly conversations thesis to decision making in intrastate conflicts to include nonstate actors’ approach to diplomacy, like terrorists or insurgents.14 But ­there are critical differences between interstate wars and intrastate conflict, state and nonstate actors, which limit the applicability of the costly conversations framework compared with the alternative hypotheses. First, belligerents in intrastate wars are more likely to have absolute and conflicting aims—­for example, the

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bringing down of a government, the implementation of an extreme ideology, or the disbanding or destruction of a rebel group. In the ongoing Syrian civil war, the Syrian government’s stated aim is to reestablish Bashar al-­Assad’s military and po­liti­cal control of all of prewar Syria. The ­Free Syrian Army demands the establishment of a demo­cratic and pluralistic Syrian government.15 Nationalist Jihadis want to establish a fundamentalist Islamic state within Syria, and the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) or al-­Qaeda wants to create a transnational Islamic state that includes Syria.16 In such a scenario, we are more likely to see situations of one-­sided war termination, in which both sides fight ­until one is vanquished and sues for peace. This is largely the result of the absolute aims and asymmetries in power more common in intrastate wars, but ­these ­factors can also at times be pres­ent in interstate wars.17 Second, ­there are par­tic­u­lar benefits to talks that exist in intrastate wars that are not relevant for interstate wars, which may skew the cost-­benefit calculus in ­favor of an open diplomatic posture. Nonstate actors may perceive an additional benefit of talks in that their existence could bestow formal recognition on them as a legitimate po­liti­cal entity.18 The Taliban sought talks with the United States largely for this reason, even g ­ oing so far as to negotiate a po­liti­cal office in Doha, Qatar, where such talks between the relevant parties could take place. This dynamic entails an ideational strategic cost to conversation for the other side that my interstate theory does not emphasize. Additionally, when nonstate actor groups are fractious, government talks with some can be used to split up the movement, weakening their ability to fight. A notable case of the success of this strategy occurred in the US war in Iraq, in which the United States was able to convince Iraqi Sunni tribal groups, many of which ­were linked to vari­ous insurgent organ­izations, to work with the co­ali­tion against al-­Qaeda in the country.19 Third, international costs of conversation may play a greater role in intrastate wars in which belligerents often rely heavi­ly on an outside party to be able to fight. In Syria, for example, Rus­sia provides much-­needed air support while Iran and Hez­bollah provide military advice, weapons, and troops to Syrian government forces in fighting rebel groups and the Islamic State;20 the United States, along with about a dozen other countries, has channeled military assistance to opposition forces to help them fight the Assad regime and ISIS.21 ­Because opposition forces are completely dependent on outside military assistance, it is pos­si­ble that international costs play a greater role, though given the desire of many groups to ­counter Rus­sia and/or undermine the Assad regime, opposition forces may feel confident that funding and support would not be suspended even if they did not adhere to their benefactors’ diplomatic preferences.22 Even with t­hese caveats, strategic costs are still likely to influence decisions about diplomatic posture when nonstate actors are involved. The Obama administration came to the conclusion that the Taliban could not be

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fully defeated and therefore it downgraded US goals from the outright defeat of the insurgency to “degrad[ing] the Taliban and set[ting] the conditions for accelerated transition to Afghan authorities.”23 Even though the administration was now pursuing limited aims, it did not meet with representatives of the Taliban ­until late 2010, a year ­after ­these new aims ­were established.24 The content of internal deliberations shows prime consideration of strategic costs in delaying—­Obama’s advisers debated ­whether they needed to accumulate more victories to demonstrate strength and resiliency before negotiating and ­whether to attach preconditions or merely communicate required outcomes of negotiations.25 By February 2011, the United States had abandoned preconditions to make way for an open diplomatic posture; the end of Taliban vio­lence, the Taliban’s renouncing of al-­Qaeda, and the Taliban’s support of the Afghan constitution became “necessary outcomes of any negotiations,” rather than preconditions for negotiations.26 At this point, the Taliban was fighting at full capacity and no closer to giving up, making the marginal costs of switching to an open diplomatic posture relatively low. Moreover, the costs of talking with the Taliban w ­ ere outweighed by the potential benefit of persuading some impor­tant Taliban leaders to break with al-­Qaeda and enter the po­liti­cal pro­cess, which could alleviate the security situation in Af­ghan­i­stan enough to allow the United States to abide by its self-­imposed timeline for reducing its military presence ­there.27 The Obama administration remained open to talks for the remainder of his term.28

­Future Ave­nues of Research While this book provides the first comprehensive framework for understanding how and when states incorporate diplomacy into their war efforts, many questions remain to be researched. First, what explains the variation in how states implement their open diplomatic postures—do they reach out to third parties, international institutions, private individuals, or government del­e­ga­tions to gauge the opponent’s interest in launching peace talks? Much scholarly attention has been paid to public signaling, which implies that international and domestic audiences can observe actions and outcomes.29 Secret negotiations, conducted outside the public view and often facilitated by back channels, may allow leaders to meet and reach agreements when the domestic public or domestic opponents hotly oppose such actions.30 But ­there is also a third communication type, private diplomacy, in which domestic publics and third parties (perhaps with some exceptions) are unaware of the efforts, but the government apparatus of each country is kept completely apprised of the situation. For example, in 1962, President Johnson’s privately communicated threat to suspend military aid and refuse to come to Turkey’s aid in the face of Soviet aggression if Turkey proceeded with the

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attack deterred it from invading Cyprus.31 An additional research proj­ect could evaluate the conditions u ­ nder which states express their open diplomatic posture for the first time privately, publicly, or secretly. The case studies provide significant evidence that states believe a willingness to talk may communicate weakness to the other side. One area that deserves further exploration is ­whether this belief accurately reflects real­ity—in other words, is it consistent with assumptions of rationality? Equating talks with weakness could be socially constructed or a type of cognitive bias that could be mitigated through norm creation or directed policies. In the case of war­time diplomacy, ­there is some evidence states had reason to be concerned that a willingness to talk could signal weakness to an opponent. In the Sino-­Indian War, Beijing purposefully designed the conflict with a lull to allow the Indians to come to the t­ able, believing that if Delhi did so, it would be a clear demonstration of lack of resolve. In the case of the Vietnam War, it was common for US officials to think Hanoi entering into talks would involve “a serious loss of face.”32 When the DRV fi­nally agreed to talks that included South Vietnam, many prominent American advisers agreed that this was a sign of weakness and implied that the United States had won militarily.33 Additionally, the North Viet­nam­ese foreign minister Pham Van Dong articulated to Mao Zedong that the sincere US desire for peace talks indicated weak resolve, and Hanoi was ­going to fight more fiercely in response to force a settlement favorable to the North Viet­nam­ese.34 But this is not to say that actors always made correct inferences. Counterfactuals and hy­po­thet­i­cals are hard to test—­but it is pos­si­ble, for example, that the United States would not have seen the North as weak if it had agreed to talks earlier, especially if Hanoi stonewalled once talks began. Relatedly, the North’s willingness to talk a­ fter Johnson’s speech rested in part on the belief that although it realized Tet was a terrible military defeat for itself, the United States did not recognize this—­a lucky US misperception from Hanoi’s vantage point. In other words, the difficulties in predicting what ­others ­will do and ensuring ­others “make desired predictions about their own be­hav­ ior” persist in the realm of war­time diplomacy.35 This mirrors a broader debate about the relative importance of empirical validity versus theoretical consistency that currently characterizes the broader lit­er­a­ture on reputation, for example. Some scholars argue that actions taken in one situation often do not impact the credibility of one’s commitment in a dif­fer­ent situation.36 As Jonathan Mercer has argued, when a state backs down, its enemies generally do not attribute that to an inherent characteristic of the state but to the situation.37 But prac­ti­tion­ers have long acted on the belief that other countries ­will predict ­future be­hav­ior based on past be­hav­ior. The findings of this research provide further evidence that the reputational effects of a decision are confined to a given situation and that the be­hav­ior of actors stems from the situation they are in, not personal characteristics or predispositions.38 In none of the cases did decision makers articulate concerns that

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they w ­ ere earning a broader reputation for weakness. The costs of conversation ­were predicated on how an e­ nemy would understand a willingness to talk given the context in which the decision was made. Another area of potential research falls within the work on elite cuing and public opinion, specifically w ­ hether the ­factors impacting elite perceptions about talking to the ­enemy are dif­fer­ent from ­those the domestic public considers. In the case of India in 1962, the ­people ­were against talks while India was losing the war, but in contrast, losses in Vietnam only increased public support in the United States for a negotiated settlement to the war and had no impact on US public opinion on the desirability of a negotiated settlement in the Korean War.39 Both Nehru and Truman ­were concerned that their oppositions would accuse them of being soft if they agreed to talks; Truman went against the grain and agreed anyway, while Nehru did not. The divergence in preferences between the elite and the domestic public on diplomatic posture is in­ter­est­ing, and worthy of greater exploration. Along similar lines, t­ here is much more work to be done on how and when the domestic po­liti­cal costs of conversation w ­ ill have a more dominant role in influencing decisions about war­time diplomacy. The cases presented in this book negate arguments that rely on domestic po­liti­cal systems alone—­ India and the United States, both democracies, refused to talk during the Sino-­Indian War and (most of) the Korean War, respectively. China, an autocracy, chose an open diplomatic posture in the Sino-­Indian War but refused to engage diplomatically for the first nine months of the Korean War. North Vietnam also changed its diplomatic posture from closed to open during the course of the Vietnam War, even while its domestic po­liti­cal situation remained constant. While all belligerents considered the domestic costs of conversation, leaders never dismissed the strategic considerations to choose a diplomatic posture based on the demands of the domestic public or critiques of the elite. But domestic politics still plays a critical role, albeit through a dif­fer­ent pathway than the lit­er­at­ ure on costly signaling and public opinion suggests. Specifically, elite politics, domestic public opinion, and domestic po­liti­cal system can all shape the strategic f­ actors that constitute the costs of conversation. A strong opposition or domestic po­liti­cal movement could constrain a po­liti­cal leader’s ability to escalate, intensify, or prolong a conflict—­and the ­enemy may read ­these indicators as such and be more open to negotiations as a result. Or the opposite could be true, in which opposition elites push for tougher policies, making it difficult for a country to signal to its adversary that offers to talk are genuine and not a way to gather information to recalibrate the war effort. ­These dynamics suggest that democracies should be able to more credibly signal a genuine willingness to engage in talks to end a war than autocracies.

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Practical Implications Beyond the theoretical imperative, understanding the conditions ­under which states are more or less inclined to engage in talks during war­time serves to inform policy as well. Po­liti­cal scientists have long recognized the dilemma of corpulence—­states may be reluctant to give in ­because of concerns that they are opening themselves to even more coercion in the f­ uture. Moreover, it can be difficult to reassure the target state that the pain w ­ ill indeed stop once a country concedes—­the compelling state can always issue additional demands.40 Talks are often seen in this context, as a concession compelled through force. This is largely why it can be counterproductive to attempt to coerce an e­ nemy to the negotiating t­ able during a war. To deal with such challenges, Todd Sechser recommends the stronger country issuing the compellent threat offer side payments or make lesser demands to assuage the reputational costs the target states may pay for acquiescing.41 This is exactly what the United States attempted to do in the case of Vietnam. Each of the six times the United States paused bombing, the goal was to “leave the DRV an opportunity to explore negotiations without complete loss of face.”42 In a memo that resulted in the first strategic bombing pause, Special Assistant for National Security Affairs Bundy vocalized what would be a recurring theme in US strategy in Vietnam: “We do not know if Hanoi is willing to negotiate, but we want to make it as easy for them to do so as pos­si­ble. By slowing down the bombing, you are allowing them to talk without looking as if they are being bombed into submission.”43 It was a common belief among neutral parties as well as US allies that a bombing pause would allow for the emergence of meaningful negotiations between the two sides.44 When the pauses failed to engender direct contacts, commentators blamed some misunderstanding or miscommunication, or argued that the pause was not long enough.45 To address the latter criticism, the United States paused bombing over Christmas 1965 and the Tet holiday of 1966 to allow the DRV to enter into serious negotiations without the “psychological barrier of bombing.”46 Chinese thinking followed a similar pattern in the Sino-­ Indian War. The Chinese leadership purposely timed lulls in the fighting to give India a “face-­saving” way to change from a closed to an open diplomatic posture. But what leaders fail to realize is that the success of face-­saving mea­sures depends on the target audience. Face-­saving mea­sures in the broader sense are actions that allow a state to preserve its dignity or prestige; more specifically, in the case of war­time diplomacy, they are actions that allow a state to agree to talks without looking weak. This can be achieved through a face-­ saving mea­sure only if the action increases the ­enemy’s uncertainty about the potential reasons for the shift in diplomatic posture. For example, if leaders are primarily concerned about domestic audiences, then accepting a

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face-­saving mea­sure from the ­enemy may allow elites to open up to diplomacy without paying domestic po­liti­cal costs. However, this book demonstrates that in most cases po­liti­cal elites are primarily concerned about the costs of looking weak to the ­enemy, not their domestic publics. In ­these cases, face-­saving mea­sures emanating from the e­ nemy do not actually allow one to save face; the two sides share the common understanding that the de-­ escalation is designed as a face-­saving mea­sure, and so replying favorably when one is relieved of pressure still suggests that military pressure is shaping be­hav­ior. In the case of the Vietnam War, US strategists recognized that “Hanoi [was] unwilling to ask directly or publicly for talks at this time for fear of exhibiting weakness,” but they mistakenly thought if they could ensure the secrecy of the talks, Hanoi might have gotten on board.47 Moreover, the United States was using the pauses to observe Hanoi’s reaction, the psychological impact of the pauses, to test DRV intentions and exploit any DRV internal divisions that ­were revealed.48 Therefore, Hanoi still lacked an alternative reason to agree to talks, besides giving in ­under duress, that would be credible to the United States. The same goes for India—if Delhi had agreed to talks when Beijing paused hostilities, this would have communicated to Beijing the effectiveness of its initial use of force. This finding is critical for policy. It suggests that when the proposer wants to facilitate the capitulation of a target state, it must undertake policies that create real ambiguity about the source of the face-­saving measure—or, if the target state chooses an open diplomatic posture, the f­actors that influenced this decision. The target state needs to have plausible deniability that it is accepting talks for reasons other than giving into coercion. While the limitations of face-­saving mea­sures emanating from the adversary are discouraging, t­ hese findings open up additional opportunities for third-­party mediation. Outside mediators can recast the issue or provide guarantees in ways that lessen the strategic costs of conversation that may be unavailable or unappealing to the disputants.49 Past research in mediation suggests that the ­factors that lead to intervention effectiveness broadly are similar to t­ hose that might encourage belligerents to embrace open diplomatic postures, such as “the saliency of a third party, its standing and prestige, the resources it could bring to bear, and its perceived ability to exert some influence on ­either party.”50 A country has to be power­ful militarily to be able to verify, monitor, and guarantee that participants ­will negotiate in good faith and not use talks to gain operational advantages or escalate to extract greater concessions. Patron states may be able to limit the strategic capacity of their client states, helping them move from contentious approaches to credibly signaling conciliatory intentions in their offers to talk. Additionally, the most power­ful countries tend to have the most tangible resources (e.g., informational, economic, and physical resources), and therefore are better positioned to offer significant positive inducements to allow

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states to talk without conceding. This suggests that manipulative strategies (including filtering information, adding incentives, threatening punishment or greater involvement, or withdrawal) have the most impor­tant role during the fighting-­without-­talking period, followed closely by a communication role of contacting the parties and transmitting messages.51 Unlike arbitration, a third party does not have to be accepted by all sides to be able to influence diplomatic posture.52

Implications for Con­temporary Issues ­ hese lessons about how states can mitigate or exacerbate the strategic costs T of conversation for their opponents could not be more impor­tant than in the context of US-­China tensions over Taiwan and management of territorial disputes in the South China Sea and East China Sea. China’s bilateral relationships with many regional actors have soured considerably over the past five years, largely owing to China’s increasingly assertive be­hav­ior in regional territorial disputes. US officials are acutely aware of t­ hese changes and have attempted to strengthen deterrence by increasing US military presence and operations in the region as well as expanding security cooperation and coordination with allies and partners. The United States has prioritized crisis management—­establishing a hotline, building strategic trust through routine and frequent exchanges, and establishing rules for encounters in the air and at sea. The focus on confidence-­building mea­sures to prevent unintended escalation of hostilities and build mutual trust parallels impor­tant scholarly research in crisis instability arguably inherent to rising powers.53 The involved countries should consider establishing openness to war­time talks as official standard policy before conflict erupts. Signals depend on agreement on the meaning of par­tic­u­lar be­hav­iors, usually implicit. The conventional wisdom about the meaning of a par­tic­u­lar action can be changed ­because “­there is nothing in most situations to compel the adoption of par­ tic­u­lar pairings of signals and meanings.”54 Countries should therefore work to destroy the linkage, or decouple the signal, between talks and weakness.55 For example, if the United States publicly announces a new policy to offer talks from the first day of any conflict, then the willingness to talk can no longer be interpreted as an informative signal b ­ ecause the country does it regardless of the progression of war. If such a policy proves po­liti­cally unfeasible, UN members could add to the UN mission a more explicit role as a default venue for talks to routinely begin on the first day of conflict. Major powers like the United States should also consider a policy of consistently proposing talks between combatants from the first day of a conflict, even if it is not directly involved. Third-­party attempts, while not always successful, did not exacerbate obstacles to talks in any of the four cases explored. Therefore, since working as a mediator is

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unlikely to exacerbate tensions and could provide a much-­needed channel if both sides are ready to talk but want to further mitigate the risk of adverse inference, this should become a primary component of US foreign policy. Fi­nally, and more broadly, strong countries should reevaluate their tendency to rely primarily on coercion—­whether through use of force, threats, or sanctions—to get an adversary to the negotiating ­table.56 Policymakers need to understand that while they may be increasing the costs of the target state continuing a certain action, this strategy also creates strategic costs to an open diplomatic posture. Given what is at stake in war­time, except for extreme cases in which ­these forms of coercion have destroyed a country’s ability to pursue its desired policies, building on coercion rarely works to get the ­enemy to the ­table.57 Most countries pursue a strategy similar to that of North Vietnam in the Vietnam War; if they have it “in their power to ‘prove’ that military escalation does not bring peace,” they w ­ ill do just that.58 In peacetime, this strategy may also fail to get a belligerent to the negotiating ­table when the strategic costs are greater than the coercive costs imposed. Policy ­toward North ­Korea has mirrored this flawed logic. The United Nations Security Council (UNSC) has been advocating for additional and enhanced multilateral sanctions on North ­Korea; in May 2017, France and G ­ reat Britain took the lead in calling for tougher sanctions. ­After North ­Korea launched its KN-15 medium-­range ballistic missile, the UNSC officially condemned the launch and recommended doubling the activity of the UNSC’s North Korean Sanctions Committee. Along the same lines, increasing the pain to compel Kim Jung-­Un back to the ­table—­potentially through coordination with China—­has been a central assumption of US policy reflected in the recommendations of many prominent policy reports.59 My findings suggest ­these efforts likely had the undesirable effect of forcing Kim to devise policies to demonstrate strength and resiliency before he could agree to talks.60 Specifically, Kim’s aggressive testing schedule, which culminated in the successful test of an ICBM and of a hydrogen bomb at least 100 kilotons in size, allowed North K ­ orea to declare its nuclear deterrent “complete” and come to the ­table without looking weak.61 While it is impor­tant to study the ­causes of war with the hope of preventing interstate militarized disputes, war is and ­will continue to be a part of the ­human experience. While US t­ rials and tribulations in Vietnam w ­ ere shocking to an American public that had watched the United States defeat greater military threats, such as Hitler’s Germany and Imperial Japan, for a new generation of Americans, limited wars—­and consequently the failure to achieve total military victory—­against less ominous threats are the new real­ity. This real­ity, as well as the rising fiscal constraints on US global power, has been particularly difficult for Cold War warriors to swallow. ­Every generation of scholars is affected by the world in which it lives, especially in terms of the topics it chooses to explore and the ­factors it consid-

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ers impor­tant in international politics. During the Cold War, diplomatic posture was understudied, possibly ­because the idea that wars could escalate to the point of a nuclear exchange made fighting and ending such a war unthinkable. But now that most modern wars are limited conflicts that end in negotiated settlement, understanding how military outcomes transition into po­liti­cal outcomes, how combat outcomes and diplomatic be­hav­ior interact to affect the likelihood of all sides coming to the ­table, is of greater importance. It is to the benefit of the international community to reduce the obstacles to negotiation and deter states from exploiting their power to harm as a means of maximizing their bargaining leverage. This book sheds some light on the ­factors that influence states’ decisions about talking to the ­enemy during wars and how ­future generations of policymakers can shape ­those ­factors for the sake of peace.

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Notes

Introduction 1. Dexter Filkins, “US Uses Attacks to Nudge Taliban ­toward a Deal,” New York Times, October 14, 2010. 2. Filkins, “US Uses Attacks to Nudge Taliban ­toward a Deal.” 3. Sean Mirski, “Stranglehold: The Context, Conduct and Consequences of an American Naval Blockade,” Journal of Strategic Studies 36, no. 3 (2013): 385–421. 4. It is pos­si­ble that the United States secretly made overtures sooner, as the full rec­ord is not yet public. 5. Conclusion reached based on a review of interstate wars in the Correlates of War dataset. 6. James D. Fearon, “Fighting Rather Than Bargaining,” Stanford University, working paper, October 16, 2013, https://­web​.­stanford​.­edu​/­group​/­fearon​-­research​/­cgi​-­bin​/­wordpress​ /­wp​-­content​/­uploads​/­2013​/­10​/­frtb6​.­pdf, 1. See also Paul R. Pillar, Negotiating Peace: War Termination as a Bargaining Pro­cess (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1983), 44; Catherine C. Langlois and Jean-­Pierre P. Langlois, “Does Attrition Be­hav­ior Help Explain the Duration of Interstate Wars? A Game Theoretic and Empirical Analy­sis,” International Studies Quarterly 53, no. 4 (December 2009): 1052. 7. Hillary Rodham Clinton, “Remarks at the Launch of the Asia Society’s Series of Richard C. Holbrooke Memorial Addresses,” US Department of State, February 18, 2011, https://­2009​-­2017​.­state​.­gov​/­secretary​/­20092013clinton​/­rm​/­2011​/­02​/­156815​.­htm. 8. John Lukacs, Five Days in London: May 1940 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999), 84. 9. Lukacs, Five Days in London, 148–149. 10. Lukacs, Five Days in London, 177. 11. P. M. H. Bell, A Certain Eventuality: Britain and the Fall of France (Farnborough, UK: Saxon House, 1974), 45. See also 41–42. 12. Both Viscount Halifax and Neville Chamberlain make statements to this effect. Bell, A Certain Eventuality, 47. 13. David H. Bearce, Kristen M. Flanagan, and Katharine M. Floros, “Alliances, Internal Information, and Military Conflict among Member-­States,” International Organ­ization 60, no. 3 (Summer 2006): 595–625; William Reed, “Information, Power, and War,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 97, no. 4 (2003): 633–41.

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14. The ­middle class, for example, is thought to be more pro-­trade b ­ ecause it is more educated, and therefore more cosmopolitan. Alastair Iain Johnston, “Chinese ­Middle Class Attitudes ­towards International Affairs: Nascent Liberalization?,” China Quarterly, no. 179 (September 2004): 603–28. The less educated, who also have less foreign experience, are thought to be against ­free trade ­because they are less tolerant, less cosmopolitan, and more xenophobic. Edward D. Mansfield and Diana C. Mutz, “Support for F ­ ree Trade: Self-­Interest, Sociotropic Politics, and Out-­Group Anxiety,” International Organ­ization 63, no. 3 (2009): 425–57. 15. Anne E. Sartori, Deterrence by Diplomacy (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2007), 50. 16. Marcus Holmes, “The Force of Face-­to-­Face Diplomacy: Mirror Neurons and the Prob­ lem of Intentions,” International Organ­ization 67, no. 4 (2013): 829; Todd Hall and Keren Yarhi-­ Milo, “The Personal Touch: Leaders’ Impressions, Costly Signaling, and Assessments of Sincerity in International Affairs,” International Studies Quarterly 56, no. 3 (2012): 560–73. 17. Alexander George, Forceful Persuasion (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1991). Some definitions are more narrowly based on the main actors and number of actors involved; o ­ thers are broader and similar to conceptions of foreign policy and statecraft. Christer Jonsson, “Diplomacy, Bargaining and Negotiation,” in Handbook of International Relations, ed. Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse, and Beth A. Simmons (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 213–14. 18. Fearon, “Fighting Rather Than Bargaining”; Darren Filson and Suzanne Werner, “Bargaining and Fighting,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 48, no. 2 (April 2004): 296–313. 19. While theoretically states can communicate their positions without engaging in direct talks with the ­enemy, the examples and case studies of such work reveal the implicit assumption that talks are indeed ongoing. For example, Todd Sechser uses the case of the 1939 Russo-­ Finnish Crisis in “Goliath’s Curse: Coercive Threats and Asymmetric Power,” International Organ­ ization 64, no. 4 (2010): 627–60; Goemans refers to the Seven Weeks’ War, in which Otto von Bismarck directly met with Napoleon III, in Hein E. Goemans, War and Punishment: The ­Causes of War Termination and the First World War (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2000). 20. Dean G. Pruitt and Sung Hee Kim, Social Conflict: Escalation, Stalemate, and Settlement, 3rd ed. (New York: McGraw Hill, 2004), 214–15. 21. Keren Yarhi-­Milo, “Tying Hands ­behind Closed Doors: The Logic and Practice of Secret Reassurance,” Security Studies 22, no. 3 (2013): 22–23, 405–35; Austin Carson and Keren Yarhi-­ Milo, “Covert Communication: The Intelligibility and Credibility of Signaling in Secret,” Security Studies 26, no. 1 (2017): 124–56; David Stasavage, “Open-­Door or Closed-­Door? Transparency in Domestic and International Bargaining,” International Organ­ization 58, no. 4 (Fall 2004): 667–703; Shuhei Kurizaki, “Efficient Secrecy: Public versus Private Threats in Crisis Diplomacy,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 101, no. 3 (2007): 543–58. 22. Robert Trager, Diplomacy: Communication and the Origins of International Order (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). 23. Avery Goldstein, “First ­Things First: The Pressing Danger of Crisis Instability in U.S.-­ China Relations,” International Security 37, no. 4 (Spring 2013): 49–89; Michael D. Swaine and Zhang Tuosheng, Managing Sino-­American Crises: Case Studies and Analy­sis (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 2006). War may break out when resolute states decline to communicate their intentions. Robert F. Trager, “Diplomacy Calculus in Anarchy: How Communication ­Matters,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 104, no. 2 (2010): 347–68. Also, crisis diplomacy can influence the likelihood of escalation to war by revealing information about resolve. Kristopher W. Ramsay, “Cheap Talk Diplomacy, Voluntary Negotiations, and Variable Bargaining Power,” International Studies Quarterly 55, no. 4 (2011): 1003–23. 24. P. Terrence Hopmann, “Asymmetrical Bargaining in the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Eu­rope,” International Organ­ization 32, no. 1 (Winter 1978): 159; Dean G. Pruitt, “An Analy­sis of Responsiveness between Nations,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 6, no. 1 (1962): 5–18; Glenn Herald Snyder and Paul Diesing, Conflict among Nations: Bargaining, Decision Making, and System Structure in International Crises (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2015), 53. 25. Langlois and Langlois, “Does Attrition Be­hav­ior Help Explain the Duration of Interstate Wars?,” 1052.

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26. Stephen B. Long, “Time Pres­ent and Time Past: Rivalry and the Duration of Interstate Wars, 1846–1985,” International Interactions 29, no. 3 (2003): 216–32. 27. Dan Reiter, How Wars End (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2009), 11–13. 28. Branislav Slantchev, “The Princi­ple of Convergence in War­time Negotiation,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 97, no. 4 (2003): 621–32; Robert Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 48, no. 2 (April 2004): 344–61. 29. James G. Hershberg, Marigold: The Lost Chance for Peace in Vietnam (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2012). 30. In the next chapter I discuss in more detail how the costly conversations thesis refines and contributes to the bargaining model of war to expand its explanatory power to diplomatic posture. 31. Jonsson, “Diplomacy, Bargaining and Negotiation,” 217. 32. This characterization is adapted from Keith Hamilton and Richard Langhorne, The Practice of Diplomacy: Its Evolution, Theory, and Administration (New York: Routledge, 1995), 1. 33. The unresolved contention between Taiwan and China is a good example of two governments unwilling to engage in talks about the issue in dispute without real consequences in the current period. 34. R. Harrison Wagner, “Bargaining and War,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 44, no. 3 (July 2000): 481. 35. Pillar, Negotiating Peace. Elizabeth Stanley refers to the lit­er­a­ture that assumes war ends when one side gives up and accepts the more power­ful side’s demands as the “realpolitik approach.” See Elizabeth A. Stanley, Paths to Peace: Domestic Co­ali­tion Shifts, War Termination, and the Korean War (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009), 45. 36. Negotiation is a formal pro­cess that relies on verbal communication. In the context of war­time talks, bargaining can be understood as a subclass that involves “the exchanging of offers and counteroffers, concessions and retractions.” See Jonsson, “Diplomacy, Bargaining and Negotiation,” 281. 37. Direct contact is defined as real-­time interaction between representatives of both sides. So when President Lyndon Johnson sent a letter to Ho Chi Minh asking to open talks, and Ho responded indirectly by publishing his negative response in Viet­nam­ese media, this exchange is not considered “talks” between the warring parties. 38. But ­these preconditions tend not to reflect a sincere interest in talks—­instead, they are maximalist demands used to justify intransigence and probe ­whether the other side wants to genuinely engage in talks to end the war. For example, in the Vietnam War, the North Viet­nam­ ese refused to engage in talks with the United States ­until Washington completely withdrew from the country and ceased all acts of aggression against Hanoi. Vietnam did not actually adhere to this policy in the end—­a central focus of this book is to understand when and why a country changes its diplomatic posture like this during a conflict. 39. Reiter, How Wars End, 17–18. 40. For some of the reasons states infer poorly, see Robert Jervis, Perception and Misperception in International Politics (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1976). 41. Orley Ashenfelter and Janet Currie, “Negotiator Be­hav­ior and the Occurrence of Disputes,” American Economic Review 80, no. 2 (May 1990): 417. At the extreme, the United Nations can launch a peace enforcement operation that includes military operations in support of diplomatic efforts to restore peace. Out of the 304 cases in which the United Nations played a role in brokering a ceasefire agreement, only 36 ­were interstate wars, and 13 of ­these involved Israel or the India/Pakistan dyad. One potential example of “success” was in the Iran-­Iraq War, in which the UN passed a resolution calling for an immediate ceasefire and then engaged in intense diplomatic activity u ­ ntil both sides agreed to comply. See Neil Lewis, “Security Council Demands a Truce in Iran-­Iraq War,” New York Times, July 21, 1987. 42. ­Virginia Page Fortna, “Does Peacekeeping Keep Peace? International Intervention and the Duration of Peace ­after Civil War,” International Studies Quarterly 48, no. 2 (2004): 269–92. 43. For example, in the case of asymmetric alliances, in which one partner receives autonomy benefits, the ability to advance its interests, and other security benefits. See James D. Morrow,

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“Alliances and Asymmetry: An Alternative to the Aggregation Model of Alliances,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 35, no. 4 (November 1991): 904–33. 44. This logic is derived from Songying Fang, Jesse C. Johnson, and Brett Ashley Leeds, “To Concede or to Resist? The Restraining Effect of Military Alliances,” International Organ­ization 68, no. 4 (Fall 2014): 775–809.

1. A Framework for Explaining War­time Diplomatic Posture 1. Dan Reiter, How Wars End (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2009), 2. 2. Definition adapted from Robert Jervis, The Logic of Images in International Relations (New York: Columbia University Books, 1989), 18. Jervis specifically mentions the extending or breaking of diplomatic relations as an example of a signal. 3. It is also pervasive in the lit­er­at­ ure on business and law. For example, “the mere willingness on the part of a defendant to negotiate a plea bargain with the district attorney might be perceived as an admission of guilt.” Robert H. Mnookin, “When Not to Negotiate: A Negotiation Imperialist Reflects on Appropriate Limits,” University of Colorado Law Review 74, no. 3 (2003): 1087. 4. Thomas Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980), 53. 5. Paul R. Pillar, Negotiating Peace: War Termination as a Bargaining Pro­cess (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1983), 246. 6. Donald Wittman, “How a War Ends,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 23, no. 4 (December 1979): 743–63. 7. The ­silent treatment is considered a social form of punishment, a manipulation tactic that draws its power from strategic ambiguity. It is pos­si­ble that this individual-­level belief that communication is a reward, and silence can be a useful tactic in conflict, aggregates to the state level. See Toni Falbo and Leticia Anne Peplau, “Power Strategies in Intimate Relationships,” Journal of Personality and Social Psy­chol­ogy 38, no. 4 (1980): 618–28; David M. Buss, “Se­lection, Evocation, and Manipulation,” Journal of Personality and Social Psy­chol­ogy 53, no. 6 (1987): 1214–21; Kipling D. Williams, Ostracism: The Power of Silence (New York: Guilford Press, 2001). For a pop-­culture example of talking as weakness, see 30 Rock, “­Today You Are a Man,” directed by Jeff Richmond, written by Tina Fey and Ron Weiner, aired February 2, 2012, on NBC. 8. James D. Fearon, “Fighting Rather Than Bargaining,” Stanford University, working paper, October 16, 2013, https://­web​.­stanford​.­edu​/­group​/­fearon​-­research​/­cgi​-­bin​/­wordpress​/­wp​ -­content​/­uploads​/­2013​/­10​/­frtb6​.­pdf, Hein E. Goemans, War and Punishment: The ­Causes of War Termination and the First World War (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2000), 9; Robert Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 48, no. 2 (April 2004): 344–61. 9. Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict, 21. 10. A similar dynamic is captured in economics lit­er­a­ture; if a buyer reveals it is a high-­ valuation buyer, then a seller w ­ ill ratchet up the prices, increasing the buyer’s ­future costs. John Kennan, “Repeated Bargaining with Per­sis­tent Private Information,” Review of Economic Studies 68, no. 4 (October 2001): 720. 11. Though distinct from the distribution of power, a state’s resolve determines what resources each side w ­ ill bring to bear and how they w ­ ill use them and is therefore intimately connected to ­battle per­for­mance. When militaries are d ­ oing poorly, they can give up, increase the level of activity, or change the activity. Evaluating per­for­mance, establishing a new strategic mea­sure of effectiveness, and changing one’s level of activity are all costly, however. See Stephen Rosen, Innovation and the Modern Military: Winning the Next War (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991). 12. James D. Smith, Stopping Wars: Defining the Obstacles to Ceasefire (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995), 57–58; Pillar, Negotiating Peace, 246. Furthermore, “the availability of com-

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munication channels may not only fail to generate pressures t­oward conflict but may actually escalate the conflict.” Jeffrey Z. Rubin, “Experimental Research on Third-­Party Intervention in Conflict: ­Toward Some Generalizations,” Psychological Bulletin 87, no. 2 (March 1980): 382. 13. Dean G. Pruitt and Sung Hee Kim, Social Conflict: Escalation, Stalemate, and Settlement, 3rd ed. (New York: McGraw Hill, 2004), 215. 14. Herman Kahn, On Escalation: Meta­phors and Scenarios (New York: Transaction Books, 2009), 10. 15. “Fact Sheet: The New Way Forward in Iraq,” US Government, January 10, 2007, https://­ georgewbush​-­whitehouse​.­archives​.­gov​/­news​/­releases​/­2007​/­01​/­20070110​-­3​.­html; Michael Duffy and Mark Kukis, “The Surge at Year One,” Time, January 31, 2008. 16. Robert J. Art, “The Four Functions of Force,” in International Politics: Enduring Concepts and Con­temporary Issues, 9th ed., ed. Robert J. Art and Robert Jervis (New York: Pearson 2009), 133; Thomas C. Schelling, Arms and Influence (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1966), 71–78. For a formal treatment, see Todd Sechser, “Goliath’s Curse: Coercive Threats and Asymmetric Power,” International Organ­ization 64, no. 4 (2010): 627–60. 17. Fearon, “Fighting Rather than Bargaining,” 1–46. 18. Goemans, War and Punishment, 9. See also Reiter, How Wars End, 15. 19. Robert Powell, “War as a Commitment Prob­lem,” International Organ­ization 60, no. 1 (January 2006): 169–203. 20. This language is also often used in the context of talking to terrorists. Peter R. Neumann, “Negotiating with Terrorists,” Foreign Affairs, January/February 2007. 21. Both the rationalist emphasis on what communication is credible and the rhetorical-­ argumentative approach, which focuses on how rhetorical style, justificatory argument, and modes of discourse impact beliefs and actions, focus on what is said, not w ­ hether it is said. For the most comprehensive review of both approaches, see Robert Trager, “The Diplomacy of War and Peace,” Annual Review of Po­liti­cal Science 19 (2016): 205–228. 22. Henry Kissinger, “The Viet Nam Negotiations,” Foreign Affairs 47, no. 2 (1969): 223. 23. This first component is a second-­order belief—it is a belief about what the other country believes a willingness to talk means. The second component is a first-­order belief—­the observer’s beliefs about the ­enemy’s ability to escalate. For more on first-­and second-­order beliefs, see Allan Defoe, Jonathan Renshon, and Paul Huth, “Reputation and Status as Motives for War,” Annual Review of Po­liti­cal Science 17 (2013): 374. 24. Jervis refers to this type of action as indices, in contrast to signals, which are easily manipulated and therefore less credible. Jervis, The Logic of Images, 18–40. 25. Joshua Kertzer, Resolve in International Politics (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2016), 3. 26. It is also dif­fer­ent from re­sis­tance b ­ ecause resilience includes speedy recovery afterward. While I am concerned about a state’s resiliency, the concept can be applied at any level of analy­sis—­individual, institutional, national, or structural. Barbara Lucini, Disaster Resilience from a So­cio­log­i­cal Perspective: Exploring Three Italian Earthquakes as Models for Disaster Resilience Planning (Cham, Switzerland: Springer International Publishing, 2014), 31–53. For example, ­there is a significant research agenda about the ability of soldiers to be resilient in the face of the psychological stress of war. Allison Howell, “Resilience, War and Austerity: The Ethics of Military ­Human Enhancement and the Politics of Data,” Security Dialogue 46, no. 1 (2015): 15–31. 27. Ramsay notes that encouraging and compromising messages can lead to adverse inference that hurts one’s bargaining position. Kristopher W. Ramsay, “Cheap Talk Diplomacy, Voluntary Negotiations, and Variable Bargaining Power,” International Studies Quarterly 55, no. 4 (2011): 1016. My model posits that a willingness to talk can be one such message, but it can actually lead to higher costs of fighting, not just a reduced bargaining position. 28. John Kennan and Robert Wilson, “Bargaining with Private Information,” Journal of Economic Lit­er­a­ture 31, no. 1 (March 1993): 45–104; Catherine C. Langlois and Jean-­Pierre P. Langlois, “Does Attrition Be­hav­ior Help Explain the Duration of Interstate Wars? A Game Theoretic and Empirical Analy­sis,” International Studies Quarterly 53, no. 4 (December 2009): 1051–73. Anat R. Admati and Motty Perry examine this dynamic ­under one-­sided incomplete

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information in “Strategic Delaying in Bargaining,” Review of Economic Studies 54, no. 3 (July 1987): 345–64; P. C. Cramton extends it to two-­sided incomplete information in “Strategic Delay with 2-­Sided Uncertainty,” Review of Economic Studies 59, no. 1 (January 1992): 205–25. 29. This dynamic is more commonly known in the lead-up to a war. P. Stuart Robinson, The Politics of International Crisis Escalation: Decision-­Making u ­ nder Pressure (New York: Tauris Academic Studies, 1996), 16. For example, Cambodia suspended relations with Vietnam during the Third Indochina War, Britain did it before the Falklands War, and Iraq broke off relations with the main co­ali­tion powers in early 1991 before the Gulf War. Geoff Berridge, Talking to the ­Enemy (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994), 7; Huynh Kim Khanh, “Into the Third Indochina War,” Southeast Asian Affairs 7 (1980): 328. 30. Berridge, Talking to the ­Enemy, 7. 31. Reiter, How Wars End, 38–39. 32. This is the war­time equivalent of favorably influencing the opponent’s view of one’s own resolve “by making hardline diplomatic statements [that] make one’s opponent rationally forego negotiations.” Ramsay, “Cheap Talk Diplomacy,” 1005. 33. Thu-­huong Nguyen-vo, “Khmer-­Viet Relations and the Third Indochina Conflict” (Long Beach, CA: California State University MA thesis, 1990), 203. 34. Helen C. Metz, ed., Iran: A Country Study (Washington, DC: GPO for the Library of Congress, 1987). 35. Ahmad K. Majidyar, “Negotiating with the Taliban: Lessons from History,” American Enterprise Institute, May 1, 2014, https://­www​.­aei​.­org​/­publication​/­negotiating​-­with​-­the​ -­taliban​-­lessons​-­from​-­history​/­. 36. “Afghan Taliban Stress Preconditions for Peace Talks,” Times of India, January 24, 2016, http://­timesofindia​.­indiatimes​.­com​/­world​/­south​-­asia​/­Afghan​-­Taliban​-­stress​-­preconditions​ -­for​-­peace​-­talks​/­articleshow​/­50709464​.­cms. 37. Pillar, Negotiating Peace, 246. 38. Fred Charles Iklé, ­Every War Must End (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 40. 39. George C. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War: The United States and Vietnam, 1950–1975, 4th ed. (New York: McGraw Hill, 2002), 248–52. 40. Joseph Lepgold and Brent L. Sterling, “When Do States Fight Limited Wars? Po­liti­cal Risk, Policy Risk, and Policy Choice,” Security Studies 9, no. 4 (1995): 131. 41. Andrew Bennett and Jeffrey T. Checkel, Pro­cess Tracing: From Meta­phor to Analytic Tool (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 18. 42. “Limited” is often used to describe a conventional war (in contrast to a nuclear one) or a conflict in which a state has not completely mobilized its society or does not demand the complete subjugation of its ­enemy (in contrast to a total war). 43. Schelling, Arms and Influence, 1. 44. Pillar, Negotiating Peace. 45. Charles Krauthammer, “The Unipolar Moment,” Foreign Affairs 70, no. 1 (1991): 23–33; William Wohlforth, “The Stability of a Unipolar World,” International Security 24, no. 1 (Summer 1999): 5–41. 46. George Bush, “Address to the Nation Announcing Allied Military Action in the Persian Gulf,” The American Presidency Proj­ect, January 16, 1991, http://­www​.­presidency​.­ucsb​.­edu​ /­ws​/­index​.­php​?­pid​=­19222. 47. Paul Heinbecker, “Kosovo,” in The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21st ­Century, ed. David Malone (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2004), 545; Tim Judah, Kosovo: War and Revenge (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000), 184–85. The Rambouillet Accords called for an end to vio­lence in Kosovo and the return of refugees and internally displaced persons. While stipulating re­spect for the territorial integrity of the Former Republic of Yugo­slavia, it established princi­ples of demo­cratic self-­government in Kosovo for three years, at the end of which the final status of Kosovo would be determined. 48. President Bush articulated at the start of operations on March 19, 2003, that US war aims ­were to “remove a threat and restore control of that country to its own p ­ eople.” George W. Bush, “Address to the Nation on Iraq,” The American Presidency Proj­ect, March 19, 2003,

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http://­www​.­presidency​.­ucsb​.­edu​/­ws​/­index​.­php​?­pid​=­63368&st=&st1=. Regime change meant removing from power not only Saddam Hussein but also the Baathist leadership, to include the military, security ser­vice, and secret police. Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004), 339, 425. 49. Robert Powell, “Taking Sides in Wars of Attrition,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 111, no. 2 (2017): 221. 50. Alvaro de Soto, “Multiparty Mediation: El Salvador,” in Herding Cats: The Management of Complex International Mediation, ed. Crester Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson, and Pamela Aall, (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace, 1999), 356; I. William Zartman and Alvaro de Soto, Timing Mediation Initiatives (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace, 2010), 20. 51. Bahar Leventoglu and Branislav L. Slantchev, “The Armed Peace: A Punctuated Equilibrium Theory of War,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 51, no. 4 (October 2007): 755–71; Alex Weisiger, Logics of War: Explanations for Limited and Unlimited Conflicts (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2010); Robert Powell, “Per­sis­tent Fighting and Shifting Power,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 56, no. 3 (July 2012): 620–37; Reiter, How Wars End; Elizabeth A. Stanley, Paths to Peace: Domestic Co­ali­tion Shifts, War Termination, and the Korean War (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009). 52. Paul Kecskemeti, Strategic Surrender: The Politics of Victory and Defeat (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, 1957). 53. National Security Council and Rec­ords Management Office, “Declassified Documents concerning Tony Blair,” Clinton Digital Library, accessed June 6, 2017, https://­clinton​ .­presidentiallibraries​.­us​/­items​/­show​/­48779. 54. Given power asymmetries between state and nonstate actors, “terrorists and insurgents are often inclined to seek early access to the negotiation ­table in order to guarantee their survival.” Isabelle Duyvesteyn and Bart Schuurman, “The Paradoxes of Negotiating with Terrorist and Insurgent Organisations,” Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 39, no. 4 (2011): 679. 55. States may ultimately decide on limited aims b ­ ecause absolute objectives are beyond their capacity, b ­ ecause the issue at hand does not merit that degree of effort, or b ­ ecause of concerns about pos­si­ble reactions from other actors. B. H. Liddell Hart, Strategy, 2nd rev. ed. (New York: Plume, 1991), 334; Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1976), 23. Once their aims are limited, the calculus ­behind their diplomatic posture should fit with all aspects of the costly conversations argument. 56. George Bush, “Exchange with Reporters on the Persian Gulf Conflict,” The American Presidency Proj­ect, January 17, 1991, http://­www​.­presidency​.­ucsb​.­edu​/­ws​/­index​.­php​?­pid​ =­19225. 57. “A Kosovo Chronology,” PBS Frontline, accessed June 6, 2017, http://­www​.­pbs​.­org​ /­wgbh​/­pages​/­frontline​/­shows​/­kosovo​/­etc​/­cron​.­html. 58. “Press Briefing by Secretary of Defense William Cohen, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Hugh Shelton, and Supreme Allied Commander of Eu­ro­pean Forces General Wesley Clark,” The American Presidency Proj­ect, May 5, 1999, http://­www​.­presidency​.­ucsb​ .­edu​/­ws​/­index​.­php​?­pid​=­47845. 59. George W. Bush, “Address to the Joint Session of the 107th Congress,” September 20, 2001, in Selected Speeches of President George W. Bush: 2001–2008, George Bush White House Archives, https://­georgewbush​-­whitehouse​.­archives​.­gov​/­infocus​/­bushrecord​/­documents​ /­Selected​_­Speeches​_­George​_­W​_­Bush​.­pdf, 68. US Department of State, “Gameplan for Polmil Strategy for Pakistan and Af­ghan­i­stan,” September 14, 2001, Secret/NODIS [Excised], accessed through the George Washington University National Security Archive. 60. Elisabeth Bumiller, “A Nation Challenged: The President Rejects Offer by Taliban for Negotiations,” New York Times, October 15, 2001. 61. Bumiller, “A Nation Challenged.” 62. David Morgan, “U.S. War Aims in Af­ghan­i­stan Grow Doubtful,” ­Reuters, November 3, 2008; Nile Gardiner, “No Negotiation with the Taliban,” The Heritage Foundation, August 5,

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NOTES TO PAGES 22–23

2009; Max Fisher, “­Will the Taliban Wait Us Out?,” The Atlantic, December 2, 2009. ­Later, when the Obama administration downgraded to limited aims and made this move public by announcing a timetable for withdrawal, many feared it had exactly this effect of encouraging the Taliban to prolong fighting. Even Richard Holbrooke, who opposed the surge, disagreed with setting a timetable for withdrawal, believing that it threw away the United States’ bargaining leverage over the Taliban. Vali Nasr, The Dispensable Nation: American Foreign Policy in Retreat (New York: Doubleday, 2013). 63. Branislav Slantchev, “The Princi­ple of Convergence in War­time Negotiations,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 97, no. 4 (2003): 621–32; Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting”; Alastair Smith and Allan C. Stam, “Bargaining and the Nature of War,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 48, no. 6 (December 2004): 783–813. 64. For ­those who argue that combat outcomes are more informative, see R. Harrison Wagner, “Bargaining and War,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 44, no. 3 (July 2000): 469–84; James Fearon, “Rationalist Explanations for War,” International Organ­ization 49, no. 3 (Summer 1995): 379–414; Kristopher W. Ramsay, “Settling It on the Field: Battlefield Events and War Termination,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 52, no. 6 (December 2008): 850–79; Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting,” 349; Smith and Stam, “Bargaining and the Nature of War.” 65. For some examples, see Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting”; Slantchev, “The Princi­ple of Convergence in War­time Negotiations”; Smith and Stam, “Bargaining and the Nature of War,” 784. Many models still treat war as a game-­ending move, in that t­ here is first talking, then fighting. See Fearon, “Rationalist Explanations for War”; Alastair Smith, “International Crises and Domestic Politics,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 92, no. 3 (1998): 623–38. 66. See James D. Fearon, “Domestic Po­liti­cal Audiences and the Escalation of International Disputes,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 88, no. 3 (September 1994): 590n2. The under­lying assumption of the audience-­costs lit­er­a­ture is that talk alone is cheap, and only ­under certain conditions—­when leaders ­will be punished for ­going back on their word—­will threats and promises have a modicum of credibility. 67. This disconnect also plagues the research on reputation in international relations, in which some work has found the theoretical conclusions to be problematic and unsupported by the evidence. See Alex Weisiger and Keren Yarhi-­Milo, “Revisiting Reputation: How Past Actions ­Matter in International Politics,” International Organ­ization 69, no. 2 (Spring 2015): 473–95. 68. Fearon, “Fighting Rather than Bargaining.” 69. First, for this dynamic to be relevant, the asymmetry of power has to be so ­great that ­there is not a situation in which the weaker power would assess itself to be stronger, even in the face of ­great uncertainty. Second, warring parties cannot both be rational and believe they ­will win, as this belief in the other should spark rethinking. Mark Fey and Kristopher W. Ramsay, “Mutual Optimism and War,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 51, no. 4 (October 2007): 738–54. 70. Wagner, “Bargaining and War,” 478; Fearon, “Rationalist Explanations for War,” 478; Ramsay, “Settling It on the Field,” 850–79; Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting,” 349; Smith and Stam, “Bargaining and the Nature of War.” 71. Slantchev, “The Princi­ple of Convergence in War­time Negotiations,” 621–32; Darren Filson and Suzanne Werner, “Bargaining and Fighting,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 48, no. 2 (April 2004): 296–313; Powell, “Bargaining and Learning While Fighting.” 72. Dan Reiter argues that dif­fer­ent types of battlefield information (favorable or unfavorable, expected or unexpected, clear or unclear outcome) affect perceptions differently. While I agree with this premise, my theory posits that leaders interpret this battlefield information differently depending on the corresponding bargaining be­hav­ior. Paul Pillar argues that leaders decide on terms of settlement and then use force to support ­those demands. This is dif­fer­ ent from my theory ­because it is not interactive; I argue that states w ­ ill determine what they can get and what it ­will cost at dif­fer­ent levels of vio­lence based on perceptions of the e­ nemy’s willingness to absorb and inflict costs. In other words, the degree of force and terms of settlement are not in­de­pen­dent of each other and must be considered si­mul­ta­neously. See Reiter, How Wars End; Pillar, Negotiating Peace.

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NOTES TO PAGES 24–27

73. Danneman formalizes the possibility of states using talks as a stalling tactic. See Nathan H. Danneman, “Committing to Bargain: How Mediation Contributes to the Onset and Success of Peace Talks” (PhD diss., Emory University, 2013), https://­legacy​-­etd​.­library​.­emory​ .­edu​/­view​/­record​/­pid​/­emory:f3zgg. President Bush was wary of talking to Saddam Hussein during the First Gulf War b ­ ecause he thought that “Saddam was only interested in regrouping to fight another day.” Lawrence Freedman and Efraim Karsh, The Gulf Conflict 1990– 1991: Diplomacy and War in the New World Order (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1993), 401. 74. Iklé, ­Every War Must End. 75. I thank Andy Kydd for this point. 76. This is one reason the United States originally offered talks in Vietnam. George C. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam: A Dif­fer­ent Kind of War (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1994), 176. 77. Hans Morgenthau, Politics among Nations (New York: McGraw-­Hill, 1993), 88. 78. Iklé, ­Every War Must End. 79. Reiter, How Wars End, 4. The loser would be willing to engage in negotiations at this stage to avoid state collapse, and the victor would pursue talks b ­ ecause it would be confident that a postwar rapid shift in power would be highly improbable. See Leventoglu and Slantchev, “The Armed Peace”; Fearon, “Rationalist Explanations for War”; Reiter, How Wars End. 80. Weisiger, Logics of War. 81. Nicholas S. Timasheff, War and Revolution (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1965), 217–18. 82. For a full review of the lit­er­a­ture on one-­sided war termination and its flaws, see Goemans, War and Punishment, 5–8. 83. Allan C. Stam III, Win, Lose, or Draw: Domestic Politics and the Crucible of War (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996). 84. For one example, see Langlois and Langlois, “Does Attrition Be­hav­ior Help Explain the Duration of Interstate Wars?,” 1069. They equate a willingness to talk with a willingness to make offers and posit that neither side offers the other anything ­until one side’s victory is clearly in sight. 85. Donald Kagan, “Our Interests and Our Honor,” Commentary 103, no. 4 (April 1997): 42–45. 86. Kertzer, Resolve in International Politics; Alexander Lanoszka and Michael A. Hunzeker, “Rage of Honor: Entente Indignation and the Lost Chance for Peace in the First World War,” Security Studies 24, no. 4 (2015): 662–95; Michael Donelan, Honor in Foreign Policy: A History and Discussion (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007); Richard Ned Lebow, A Cultural Theory of International Relations (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 87. Christopher J. Fettweis, The Pathologies of Power: Fear, Honor, Glory, and Hubris in U.S. Foreign Policy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 95. 88. Barry O’Neill, “Mediating National Honour: Lessons from the Era of Dueling,” Journal of Institutional and Theoretical Economics 159 (2003): 229–47. 89. Thomas Dolan, “Demanding the Impossible,” Security Studies 24, no. 3 (2015): 530. 90. Mnookin, “When Not to Negotiate,” 1089. Hans Morgenthau argues that the politics of prestige, of gaining social recognition, which is bestowed through diplomatic ceremony, is an instrument through which states can gain power. This explains why the Paris Peace talks ­were delayed for ten weeks while the United States, the South and North Viet­nam­ese governments, and the National Liberation Front (NLF) fought about the shape of the conference ­table. The United States did not want a square ­table that bestowed status on the Viet Cong (VC) as an in­ de­pen­dent negotiating party, since the US position was that North Vietnam controlled the VC, which was merely an extension of Hanoi. Morgenthau, Politics among Nations, 88. 91. Duyvesteyn and Schuurman, “The Paradoxes of Negotiating with Terrorist and Insurgent Organisations.” 92. For a comprehensive review of this lit­er­a­ture and the details of this approach, see Stacie Goddard, Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 1–17. While some arguments about issue indivisibility fit within the rationalist tradition, the most theoretically consistent and empirically valid approach to indivisibility focuses on legitimation strategies. For a review of indivisibility in the rationalist tradition, see Reiter, How Wars End, 47–50.

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NOTES TO PAGES 27–29

93. Matthew S. Fottfried and Robert F. Trager, “A Preference for War: How Fairness and Rhe­toric Influence Leadership Incentives in Crises,” International Studies Quarterly 60 (2016): 244; Thomas M. Franck, Fairness in International Law and Institutions (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995); Nina Tannenwald, “Justice and Fairness in the Nuclear Nonproliferation Regime,” Ethics & International Affairs 27, no. 3 (2013): 299–317; Ethan B. Kapstein, “Fairness Considerations in World Politics: Lessons from International Trade Negotiations,” Po­liti­cal Science Quarterly 123, no. 2 (Summer 2008): 229–45. 94. Bruce Russett and Zeev Maoz, “Normative and Structural ­Causes of the Demo­cratic Peace, 1946–1986,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 87, no. 3 (1993): 624–38. 95. Elizabeth N. Saunders, Leaders at War: How Presidents Shape Military Interventions (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2011). 96. Andrew Bingham Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 97. Expected utility theory allows for actors to have dif­fer­ent levels of risk tolerance, but the actor’s tolerance is viewed as a static trait. In other words, some actors are more risk averse, while ­others are more risk accepting, but this level of tolerance is more or less constant. Richard Ned Lebow and Janice Gross Stein, “Rational Deterrence Theory: I Think, Therefore I Deter,” World Politics 41, no. 2 (January 1989): 208–9. Prospect theory, on the other hand, uses behavioral economic theory to show that the context in which a choice is made changes an actor’s propensity for risk. Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, “Prospect Theory: An Analy­sis of Decision u ­ nder Risk,” Econometrica 47, no. 2 (March 1979): 263. T ­ hese approaches may provide insight into how costly a leader thinks talks may be, but I argue this cost calculation still remains the primary determinant of diplomatic posture. 98. Stanley, Paths to Peace, 56. 99. Sarah Croco, “The Decider’s Dilemma: Leader Culpability, War Outcomes, and Domestic Punishment,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 105, no. 3 (2011): 457–77; Goemans, War and Punishment; Sara McLaughlin Mitchell and Brandon C. Prins, “Rivalry and Diversionary Uses of Force,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 48, no. 6 (December 2004): 937–61. 100. Specifically, a leader who expects high costs as a consequence of making concessions to facilitate the end of the war may prefer to engage in riskier military strategies to increase the chances of success, which in turn increases the chances of a worse military defeat. ­Because mixed-­regime leaders have the greatest likelihood of losing power and facing the harshest punishment, they are the most likely to adopt this strategy of gambling for resurrection. See Goemans, War and Punishment. Leaders are more likely to be punished if they played a role in starting the war, or if the war is against a rival in which the selectorate has strong preferences for total victory. Sarah Croco, “The Decider’s Dilemma”; Stephen B. Long, “Time Pres­ent and Time Past: Rivalry and the Duration of Interstate Wars, 1846–1985,” International Interactions 29, no. 3 (2003): 216–32. 101. Leon Sigal, Fighting to the Finish: The Politics of War Termination in the United States and Japan (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1988), 27, 57. 102. The ability of domestic audiences to punish leaders lies at the heart of the lit­er­a­ture on audience costs, in which domestic publics or elites may punish leaders for escalating in a foreign policy crisis but then being seen as backing down. See Fearon, “Domestic Po­liti­cal Audiences and the Escalation of International Disputes,” 577–92; Jessica Weeks, “Autocratic Audience Costs: Regime Type and Signaling Resolve,” International Organ­ization 62, no. 1 (Winter 2008): 35–64. 103. Dan Reiter and Allan C. Stam III, “Democracy and Battlefield Effectiveness,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 42, no. 3 (June 1998): 259–77; Christopher Gelpi, Peter D. Feaver, and Jason Reifler, Paying the ­Human Costs of War: American Public Opinion and Casualties in Military Conflicts (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2009); Scott S. Gartner, “The Multiple Effects of Casualties on Public Support for War: An Experimental Approach,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 102, no. 1 (2008): 95–106. 104. Elizabeth A. Stanley and John P. Sawyer, “The Equifinality of War Termination: Multiple Paths to Ending War,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 53, no. 5 (October 2009): 651–76. For more on how an internal consensus is needed in addition to a consensus between governments

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NOTES TO PAGES 29–33

to end the war, see C. R. Mitchell and Michael Nicholson, “Rational Models and the Ending of Wars,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 27, no. 3 (September 1983): 495–520. 105. While many ­factors—­individual, intellectual, emotional, psychological, material, and military—­influence morale, perhaps nothing more directly impacts an individual’s willingness to fight than the willingness of his or her own country to do so. R. A. Brotemarkle, “Development of Military Morale in a Democracy,” Annals of the American Acad­emy of Po­liti­cal and Social Science 216, no. 1 (July 1941): 82. Sigal argues that the desire to bolster morale at the front lines partly affected Japa­nese military leaders’ adverse position on negotiations. Sigal, Fighting to the Finish, 244–45. For an empirical look at the relationship between morale and military effectiveness, see Reiter and Stam, “Democracy and Battlefield Effectiveness,” 261. 106. Reiter and Stam, “Democracy and Battlefield Effectiveness.” 107. Kyle A. Joyce, Faten Ghosn, and Resat Bayer, “When and Whom to Join: The Expansion of Ongoing Violent Interstate Conflicts,” British Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 44, no. 1 (January 2014): 205–38; Robert Powell, “Taking Sides in Wars of Attrition.” 108. David Vital, The In­equality of States: A Study of the Small Power in International Relations (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967); Brian Job, ed., The Insecurity Dilemma: National, Regime, and State Securities in the Third World (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1992); Mark J. Gasiorowski, U.S. Foreign Policy and the Shah (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991). 109. David A. Lake, Hierarchy in International Relations (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009). 110. Victor Cha, “Powerplay: Origins of the U.S. Alliance System in Asia,” International Security 34, no. 3 (Winter 2009/10): 158–96. 111. For a discussion of changes to that list, see Dan Reiter, Allan C. Stam, and Michael C. Horo­witz, “A Revised Look at Interstate Wars, 1816–2007,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 60, no. 5 (August 2016): 956–76. 112. ­These sample criteria are not correlated with the dependent variables, so valid inferences can be made from the resulting sample. See Barbara Geddes, “How the Cases You Choose Affect the Answers You Get: Se­lection Bias in Comparative Politics,” Po­liti­cal Analy­sis 2, no. 1 (1990): 131–50. 113. For critiques of d ­ oing other­wise, see David Collier, James Mahoney, and Jason Seawright, “Claiming Too Much: Warnings about Se­lection Bias,” in Rethinking Social Inquiry: Diverse Tools, Shared Standards, ed. Henry E. Brady and David Collier (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2004), 85–104. 114. Andrew Bennett and Colin Elman, “Case Study Methods,” in The Oxford Handbook of International Relations, ed. Christian Reus-­Smit and Duncan Snidal (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 505. 115. Geddes, “How the Cases You Choose Affect the Answers You Get,” 132. 116. For more on John Stuart Mill’s method of difference, see Alexander L. George and Andrew Bennett, Case Studies and Theory Development in the Social Sciences (Boston: MIT Press, 2005), 156. 117. For this line of argument on how Mao’s martial efficacy beliefs s­ haped his foreign policy, see Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru. This is an imperfect control, however, since dif­fer­ent adversaries might evoke dif­fer­ent po­liti­cal and cultural calculations. For example, the role of domestic politics and culture would be dif­fer­ent in a Chinese conflict with Japan as opposed to India, Vietnam, and o ­ thers mainly ­because of China’s historical experiences with Japan and the way they have been interpreted in con­temporary China. But this moves the explanation to a strategic one in which states evaluate the attributes of the ­enemy when estimating the costs of conversation. 118. For the basis of this approach, see chapter 5 in Marc Trachtenberg, The Craft of International History (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2006), 140. 119. Trachtenberg, The Craft of International History, 146–47. 120. Bennett and Checkel, Pro­cess Tracing, 27–28. 121. Gary Goertz and James Mahoney, A Tale of Two Cultures: Qualitative and Quantitative Research in the Social Sciences (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2012), 92; David Collier, Henry E. Brady, and Jason Seawright, “Sources of Leverage in Causal Inference: T ­ oward an

153

NOTES TO PAGES 33–37

Alternative View of Methodology,” Rethinking Social Inquiry: Diverse Tools, Shared Standards, ed. Henry E. Brady and David Collier (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2004), 257. 122. John Gerring, “What Is a Case Study, and What Is It Good For?,” American Po­liti­cal Science Review 98, no. 2 (2004): 351. 123. This method is promoted by Trachtenberg, The Craft of International History, 140.

2. Chinese Diplomatic Posture in the Korean War 1. Car­ter Malkasian, The Korean War 1950–1953 (Chicago: Osprey Publishing, 2001), 7. 2. Allen S. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu: The Decision to Enter the Korean War (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1960), 55. 3. Chen Jian, China’s Road to the Korean War: The Making of the Sino-­American Confrontation (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 126. 4. Malkasian, The Korean War, 16. 5. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 38–39. This assessment was largely predicated on the assumption that it would be a short war. 6. For the specific language of both comments, see Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 39. 7. Chen, China’s Road, 126. 8. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 70. 9. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 112. 10. Alexander Mansourov, “Stalin, Mao, Kim, and China’s Decisions to Enter the Korean War, September 16–­October 15, 1950: New Evidence from the Rus­sian Archives,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, nos. 6–7 (Winter 1995/96): 99–100. 11. Rosemary Foot, A Substitute for Victory: The Politics of Peacemaking at the Korean Armistice Talks (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1990), 25–26. Some of the countries involved include India, the Netherlands, the USSR, Ukraine, Poland, and Czecho­slo­va­kia. 12. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 25. 13. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi [The history of the Korean War], vol. 1 (Beijing: Acad­ emy of Military Science Press, 2014), 219–20; Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi [The official history of the Communist Party of China], vol. 2 (Beijing: Chinese Communist Party History Press, 2010), 70; Yang Feng’an and Wang Tiancheng, Beiwei Sanshibadu Xian: Peng Dehuai yu Chaoxian Zhanzheng [The thirty-­eighth parallel: Peng Dehuai and the Korean War] (Beijing: Central Party Lit­er­a­ture Press, 2012), 76. During the Korean War, Yang Feng’an served as the military secretary of Peng Dehuai and deputy director of the Office of the Volunteer Force HQ. 14. Chen, China’s Road, 164. 15. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 93. 16. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 107. 17. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 93. 18. Chen, China’s Road, 169. 19. Chen, China’s Road, 157; Chen Jian, Mao’s China and the Cold War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), 88. 20. One reason for this deterrence failure was that China’s need for secrecy in amassing troops for pos­si­ble intervention (tactical surprise consideration) made it hard to convincingly signal resolve and interests to the United States (strategic consideration) in ways that might have made deterrent warnings through diplomatic channels more credible. See Branislav L. Slantchev, “Feigning Weakness,” International Organ­ization 64, no. 3 (July 2010): 357–88. Thanks to an anonymous reviewer for this point. 21. Thomas Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith: Alliance Politics and Prob­lems of Coercive Diplomacy in Asia (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2011), 91. 22. Chen, China’s Road, 143. 23. Zhang Shuguang, Mao’s Military Romanticism: China and the Korean War, 1950–1953 (Lawrence: University of Kansas, 1995), 82. 24. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 92.

154

NOTES TO PAGES 37–42

25. Peng purposefully attacked South Korean troops, who he believed ­were of inferior training and experience. Xu Yan, Diyici Jiaoliang [The first trial of strength] (Beijing: China Radio Film & TV Press, 1998), 43–45. The CPV’s first fight against American troops did not take place ­until November 1. Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun Quanshi: Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun Qishi Nian Dashiji [History of the PLA: The impor­tant events of the PLA in the past seventy years], vol. 2 (Beijing: Junshi Kexue Chubanshe, 2000), 182. Hereafter cited as AMS History. 26. ­These presses included the Chinese Communist Party History Press, Central Party Lit­er­a­ ture Press, Central Committee of the Communist Party School Press, PLA Press, and the Acad­ emy of Military Science Press. 27. Dan Reiter, How Wars End (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2009); Elizabeth A. Stanley, Paths to Peace: Domestic Co­ali­tion Shifts, War Termination, and the Korean War (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009). 28. While Mao clearly articulated this objective, it was less clear ­whether the ultimate po­ liti­cal goal was the reunification of the peninsula u ­ nder Pyongyang’s control or just the liberation of North ­Korea ­after the UN advance. Given that the former goal was never mentioned, it seems more likely that Mao hoped to force a UN retreat than that he hoped to return to the status quo ante. 29. “7 December 1950, ciphered tele­gram from Roshchin conveying message from Zhou Enlai to Soviet Government,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 47, 52. 30. Xia Yafeng, Negotiating with the ­Enemy: U.S.–­China Talks during the Cold War, 1949–1972 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), 48. 31. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 91. 32. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 29. 33. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 91. 34. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 93. 35. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 31, 32. 36. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi [The rec­ords of the Korean War] (Beijing: PLA Press, 2008), 774; Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:36; Zhou’s instructions, “Tele­gram from Zhou Enlai to Wu Xiuquan and Qiao Guanhua,” December 13, 1950, History and Public Policy Program Digital Archive, Woodrow Wilson Center, Washington, DC (hereafter cited as Wilson Center Digital Archive). See also “Zhou Enlai Waizhang Guanyu Chaoxian ‘Ting-­Zhan’ Wenti tong Lianda Diyi Weiyuanhui Laiwang Dianwen” [Foreign Minister Zhou Enlai communicates with the U.N. General Assembly First Committee regarding the Korean cease-­fire question], January 13–18, 1951, PRC Ministry of Foreign Affairs Archive, File no. 1.13-00068-01 (1). Thanks to Andrew Kennedy for this source. 37. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 30. 38. For the text of the February 1, 1951, resolution, see “United Nations General Assembly Resolution 498(V),” February 1, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 39. Jiang Tingyu, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng [Understanding the Korean War] (Beijing: PLA Press, 2010), 133. Jiang Tingyu is a se­nior researcher of the Military Museum of the Chinese ­People’s Revolution. In addition, he is the executive director of academic organ­izations including the Chinese Communist Party History Research Society and the Mao Zedong Thought research branch of CCP Lit­er­a­ture Society. 40. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 268. 41. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 37. 42. “The Ambassador in K ­ orea (Muccio) to the Secretary of State,” Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1951, ­Korea and China, Vol. 7, Part 1, Doc. 394, June 30, 1951, https://­ history​.­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​/­frus1951v07p1​/­d394. The South Koreans could not go against UN/US preferences, so they conceded in the end. “The Ambassador in ­Korea (Muccio) to the Secretary of State,” FRUS, 1951, ­Korea and China, Vol. 7, Part 1, Doc. 400, July 2, 1951, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​/­frus1951v07p1​/­d400. 43. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 98. 44. By November 16 China had thirty divisions of nine armies in ­Korea and nine divisions of three armies in reserve. “Ciphered tele­gram, Zhou Enlai to Filippov (Stalin),” November 16, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive; on strategic lines of communication (SLOCs) see Chen,

155

NOTES TO PAGES 42–43

China’s Road, 144; on Mao’s confidence in manpower over technology, see Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 29; Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao [Mao Zedong’s military writings since the founding of the PRC], vol. 1 (Beijing: Acad­emy of Military Science Press and Central Lit­er­ a­ture Publishing House, 2010), 201–203, 226–228. 45. Chen, China’s Road, 176–77. Deng Hua, then commander of the 13th Army Corps, Peng Dehuai, and Zhou Enlai agreed with this assessment. ­There ­were some dissenters. Gao Gang, for example, argued that China could not fight the United States in a general war given its massive industrial production. Lin Biao also objected, stating that with limited artillery and no naval or air support, the losses would be massive. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 92. 46. Feng Xianzhi and Jin Chongji, Mao Zedong Z ­ huan [Life of Mao Zedong] (Beijing: Central Party Lit­er­at­ ure Press, 2003), 127. 47. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 73. 48. Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao, 266. 49. Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Wengao [Mao Zedong’s manuscripts since the founding of New China], vol. 1 (Beijing: Zhongyang Wenxian Chubanshe, 1987–1998), 589; Shen Zhihua, Mao Zedong, Sidalin yu Chaoxian Zhanzheng [Mao Zedong, Stalin, and the Korean War] (Guangzhou: Guangdong Renmin Chubanshe, 2016), 424. Mao considered that this may not be pos­si­ ble and that instead China would find itself in a protracted war, but the initial successes made it seem pos­si­ble. Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao, 179. 50. Mao Zedong Nianpu [The chronicles of Mao Zedong], vol. 1, CCP Central Committee Lit­ er­a­ture Research Center (Beijing: Central Party Lit­er­a­ture Press, 2002), 224, 231–32, 253–56. 51. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 245; Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao, 358. Mao thought the timing was favorable to “annihilate the e­ nemy and completely resolve the Korean issue.” Xu Yan, Mao Zedong yu kangmei yuanchao zhanzheng—­zhengque er huihuang de yunchouweiwo [Mao Zedong and the Korean War—­the right and glorious devising of campaign strategy] (Beijing: Jiefangjun chubanshe, 2003), 173. Peng instructed the troops to do so on November 13. AMS History, 183. 52. AMS History, 184. 53. Shen Zhihua, Lengzhan Zai Yazhou: Chaoxian Zhanzheng yu Zhongguo Chubing Chaoxian [Cold War in Asia: Korean War and China’s decision on sending troops to ­Korea] (Beijing: Jiuzhou Press, 2012), 261. 54. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 254–55. Mao articulated that, at the very least, he was confident they would achieve a complete UN withdrawal from North K ­ orea, which was the bare minimum before he would consider negotiations. Xu Yan, Mao Zedong yu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 178. 55. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 268; Intelligence Summary No. 3049, January 14, 1951, C/M-1a, Box 20, Rec­ords of the Far East Command, the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, and the United Nations Command, 1945–57 (Rec­ord Group 554), National Archives; Intelligence Summary No. 3057, January 22, 1951, C/M-2, Rec­ord Group 554, National Archives. 56. “7 December 1950, ciphered tele­gram from Roshchin conveying message from Zhou Enlai to Soviet Government,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 47. 57. For ­these conditions, see Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi, 74; Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:36; for Zhou’s instructions, see “Tele­gram from Zhou Enlai to Wu Xiuquan and Qiao Guanhua,” December 13, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 58. “Tele­gram from Zhou Enlai to Wu Xiuquan and Qiao Guanhua,” December 13, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 59. Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 129. 60. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 61. Already skeptical of China’s ability to achieve its absolute aims, Peng was hesitant to conduct an offensive ­because of the cold weather and the CPV’s unpreparedness and exhaustion. Mao responded in a December 24–26 tele­gram that the war may become a protracted one, but he insisted on continuing south to Pyongyang and crossing the thirty-­eighth. 61. Li Xiaobing, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea: The 1951 Spring Offensive (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2014), 53–58; Feng and Jin, Mao Zedong Zhuan, 145.

156

NOTES TO PAGES 43–46

62. AMS History, 185. 63. Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 125; Xu, Mao Zedong yu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 191. 64. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 293–94; Xu, Mao Zedong yu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 196. 65. Shen, Mao Zedong, Sidalin yu Chaoxian Zhanzheng, 431; Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi, 56; Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 63. 66. “7 December 1950, VKP(b) CC Politburo decision with approved message to Vyshinsky in New York,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 48, 52. 67. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 299. 68. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:35, 37; Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 63. 69. If the fourth campaign went well, then talks would be advantageous. “Tele­gram from Mao Zedong to I.V. Stalin, conveying 28 January 1951 tele­gram from Mao Zedong to Peng Dehuai,” January 29, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 70. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 293–94; Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 128. 71. Quoted in Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 138. 72. AMS History, 186. Xu Yan admits China experienced heavy casualties but argues it created positive conditions for the fifth offensive. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 71–73. According to Chinese official history, the fourth campaign did not end ­until April 21, the day before the fifth campaign began. AMS History, 188. 73. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 97. 74. Yang and Wang, Beiwei Sanshibadu Xian, 286. This likely occurred at a CMC briefing at the end of the month. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 77. 75. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 305. 76. For a detailed account of the discussion that led to the shift from absolute to limited aims, see Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 60–61. This change leads at least one Chinese scholar to speculate that the plan was always to strike the United States hard to force Washington to the negotiation ­table. Shen, Mao Zedong, Sidalin yu Chaoxian Zhanzheng, 424. 77. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, vol. 2, bk. 1, 77. Mao’s view of retreat evolved as his war aims did, from complete withdrawal from the Korean peninsula to withdrawing south of the thirty-­eighth parallel. H ­ ere, the term is likely used in a more general sense meaning to stop fighting and sue for a peaceful settlement. 78. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 310–11. 79. Paul R. Pillar, Negotiating Peace: War Termination as a Bargaining Pro­cess (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1983). 80. “Tele­gram from Zhou Enlai to Wu Xiuquan and Qiao Guanhua,” December 13, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 81. Andrew Bingham Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 95. 82. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:91. 83. Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 157. 84. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 97. 85. Given that it was the first time China had fought the United States, it proved difficult to make accurate predictions. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 39. 86. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 1:258. 87. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 72. 88. Yang and Wang, Beiwei Sanshibadu Xian, 261; Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi, 93; Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 128. 89. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 201. 90. Carl A. Posey, “How the Korean War Almost Went Nuclear,” Air and Space Magazine, July 2015; Harry S. Truman, News Conference, November 30, 1950, https://­trumanlibrary​.­org​ /­publicpapers​/­viewpapers​.­php​?­pid​=­985; Dwight D. Eisenhower, The White House Year: Mandate for Change, 1953–1956 (New York: Doubleday, 1963), 180–81. Mao considered this possibility when debating ­whether to intervene. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 184–85. 91. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 72; Shen, Mao Zedong, Sidalin yu Chaoxian Zhanzheng, 280.

157

NOTES TO PAGES 46–50

92. This point was made multiple times. See Peng Dehuai’s speech to army leaders on October 4, 1950, in Mao Zedong Junshi Sixiang Fazhanshi [The military thinking development of Mao Zedong] (Beijing: PLA Press, 1991), 360. 93. Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao, 278–79. 94. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 96. 95. For more on the discussion about ­whether Stalin purposefully misled the Chinese, see Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 96–100. 96. Malkasian, The Korean War, 8. 97. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 26. 98. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi, 97; Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:77. 99. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 72–73. 100. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 78. 101. John Edward Wirtz, “The MacArthur Hearings of 1951: The Secret Testimony,” Military Affairs 39, no. 4 (1975): 172. 102. H. W. Brands, “The Redacted Testimony That Fully Explains Why General MacArthur Was Fired,” The Smithsonian, September 28, 2016, https://­www​.­smithsonianmag​.­com​/­history​ /­redacted​-­testimony​-­fully​-­explains​-­why​-­general​-­macarthur​-­was​-­fired​-­180960622​/­. 103. “She Lun: Chaoxian Zhanzheng de Yinian” [Commentary: One year of the Korean War], ­People’s Daily, June 25, 1951, http://­www​.­people​.­com​.­cn​/­GB​/­channel1​/­10​/­20001012​ /­268932​.­html​.­ ­These articles also served the propagandistic purpose of demoralizing the US troops. 104. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 310–11, 326–27. 105. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 348–49. 106. Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 63. 107. Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 64–65, 124–25, 144, 147. 108. Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 149; AMS History, 188. 109. Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 180. 110. Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 217. 111. Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 216; see also Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:302. 112. The Chinese believed that China’s and North ­Korea’s armies had advantages in number and combat effectiveness on the ground but that the United States had the advantage at sea and in the air. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 265. 113. Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 133. 114. Mao Zedong Wenji [The selected works of Mao Zedong], vol. 5 (Beijing: P ­ eople’s Press, 1977), 67–68. 115. Yang and Wang, Beiwei Sanshibadu Xian, 351; Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjunshi [The history of the PLA], vol. 4 (Beijing: Acad­emy of Military Science Press, 2011), 208. This assessment turned out to be true. The United States did not have much left in reserve—85 ­percent of the US Air Force tactical airpower was already engaged in ­Korea. Brands, “The Redacted Testimony That Fully Explains Why General MacArthur Was Fired.” 116. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:357. 117. CCP Central Committee Instruction, “On Issues Related to Korean Armistice, Negotiation,” July 3, 1951, quoted in Xia, Negotiating with the ­Enemy, 51. 118. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 97. 119. The Chinese expected a counterattack, but ­those usually came ten days a­ fter Chinese/ Korean forces had stopped an offensive. Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 185. 120. Feng and Jin, Mao Zedong ­Zhuan, 155. 121. Shen Zhihua, Jiemi Sanshibadu Xian [Uncovering the thirty-­eighth parallel] (Taipei: Zhenhan Chubansheye, 2013), 418. China was right to be concerned. An intelligence report of the May decision articulated that China’s move t­oward talks was an attempt to save face and that China would ­settle for less to end the war. Intelligence Highlights, No. 3204, June 18, 1951, C-2, Box 30, Rec­ord Group 554, National Archives. 122. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 359–60. This translation comes from “14 June 1951, handwritten letter from Gao Gang and Kim Il Sung to Stalin, with 13 June 1951 handwritten letter from Mao

158

NOTES TO PAGES 50–53

Zedong to Gao Gang and Kim Il Sung,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 71, 61–62. 123. Mao thought this was suitable. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 365. 124. Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 133; Mao Zedong Nianpu, 364–65. From June 25 to 27, the CPV party committee held a meeting to convey the Central Committee’s guidelines for preparing for a long-­term fight and to seek a peace talk to end the war. AMS History, 189. 125. Now that the costs of conversation ­were low, China could enter into talks and use Taiwan and China’s UN seats as bargaining chips instead of as preconditions for talks. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi, 132; Shen, Lengzhan zai Yazhou, 441. China had indeed adequately demonstrated an ability and willingness to sustain costs in K ­ orea: “The e­ nemy has shown no indication that he intends to abandon his avowed purpose of driving UN forces from ­Korea.” See Intelligence Highlights, No. 3204, June 18, 1951, National Archives. 126. Xu Yan, Diyici Jiaoliang, 269–70. 127. Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 159. 128. Peng Dehuai, Peng Dehuai Junshi Wenxuan (Beijing: Zhongyang wenxian chubanshe, 1988), 413–14. 129. “Ciphered tele­gram, Filippov (Stalin) to Mao Zedong re meeting in Moscow with Gao Gang and Kim Il Sung,” June 13, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 130. “30 June 1951, ciphered tele­gram, Mao Zedong to Filippov (Stalin),” Cold War International History Proj­ect, Doc. 78, 64. 131. Kathryn Weathersby, “New Rus­sian Documents on the Korean War,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, 60–61; Feng and Jin, Mao Zedong C ­ huan, 159. A total of five armies ­were replaced in the field on May 13 to ensure that China had the freshest troops in place. Intelligence Highlights, No. 3204, June 18, 1951, National Archives. 132. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 368; Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao, 520. En­glish translation from “3 July 1951, ciphered tele­gram, Mao Zedong to Filippov (Stalin) conveying 2 July 1951 tele­gram from Mao to Peng Dehuai, Gao Gang, and Kim Il Sung,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 86, 67. 133. Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 138. 134. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:312. 135. “Ciphered tele­gram, Mao Zedong to Filippov (Stalin),” June 30, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 136. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 79; Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:357; Qi Dexue, Juren de Jiaoliang: Kangmei yuanchao gaoceng juece [High-­level decisions and the war to resist American aggression and aid ­Korea] (Shenyang: Liaoning renmin chubanshe, 2010), 165; Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjunshi, 4:209. 137. Jiang, Jiedu Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng, 133. 138. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 106. 139. Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru, 72. 140. “13 June 1951, ciphered tele­gram, Mao Zedong to Filippov (Stalin) via Roshchin,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 70, 61. This assessment assumed the ­enemy would not send new reinforcements to ­Korea or make an amphibious landing. 141. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 359–60; “Communist Capabilities and Probable Courses of Action in ­Korea,” National Intelligence Estimate 80, April 3, 1953, 2–3. 142. “Communist Capabilities and Probable Courses of Action in ­Korea,” National Intelligence Estimate 80, April 3, 1953, 5. 143. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 368–69, 370–73. 144. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, ix, 46. 145. Reiter, How Wars End, 64. 146. Reiter, How Wars End, 80. Reiter seems to suggest that the mere act of offering to engage in ceasefire talks is a concession, one that would send a credible signal of weakness. 147. Mao was very hands-on in the operational planning and execution. During offensives, Mao called two or three times a day to convey his instructions. See Mao Zedong Nianpu, 218–381.

159

NOTES TO PAGES 53–55

148. Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru, 4. 149. When he agreed in July to talks, he still did not put much hope in negotiations. Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru, 56. 150. China had responded positively to a number of UN initiatives that called for the ­belligerents to talk before October 1950, including one put forth by the USSR and another by India. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzheng Jishi, 7; Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 22–23. 151. General Lei Yingfu recalls that ­after the United States landed at Inchon, China hoped that the United States would propose peace talks once it reached the thirty-­eighth parallel—­ and if it had done so, China would not have squandered the opportunity to resolve the Korean conflict without sending troops. Zai Zuigao Tongshuaibu Dang Canmou: Lei Yingfu Jiangjun Huiyilu [As a staff officer in the Supreme Command: Memoirs of General Lei Yingfu] (Nanchang: Baihuachou Wenyi Chubanshe, 1998), 155. 152. Chen, China’s Road, 129–30, 218. 153. Quoted in Chen, China’s Road, 127. 154. Disagreement among Chinese leaders about the decision to assist North ­Korea is well documented, so we may expect historical rec­ords if ­there ­were any disagreements of that nature about diplomatic posture. Feng and Jin, Mao Zedong Z ­ huan, 118–19. For more on the initial disagreement, see Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 72–86. 155. Chen, China’s Road, 100, 157, 164. For example, an article in Renmin Ribao argued that Beijing had always supported a peaceful settlement to the K ­ orea issue, but it was not ­until recently that “severe blows to the American Army . . . ​[and] . . . ​the general demands for peace of the ­peoples of the world” compelled the United States to accept Malik’s proposal to launch talks. Xia, Negotiating with the ­Enemy, 50. 156. Intelligence Summary, No. 3192, June 6, 1951, C-3, Box 30, Rec­ord Group 554, National Archives. 157. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:359. On July 9, 1951, drafts of a speech to commemorate the twenty-­fourth anniversary of the PLA showed a concern that an open diplomatic posture may sap morale. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 373. 158. It was not lost on China that the Soviets ­were unwilling to fight the Americans. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 21–22. 159. Weathersby, “New Rus­sian Documents,” 32; “Letter from Zhou Enlai to Stalin,” October 14, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive; Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 69–71. 160. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 51; Li, China’s ­Battle for ­Korea, 90–91. The dispatching of air force advisers was agreed on in February 1951. “Ciphered Tele­gram, Filippov (Stalin) to Zhou Enlai via Zakharov,” February 16, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 161. Thomas J. Christensen, Useful Adversaries: ­Grand Strategy, Domestic Mobilization, and Sino-­American Conflict, 1947–1958 (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1996), 168. 162. “Ciphered tele­gram from Mao Zedong to Filippov (Stalin),” January 16, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. Mao had originally declined to provide support, u ­ ntil Stalin promised substantial Soviet assistance and air cover. For Mao’s original hesitation, see “Tele­gram from Matveev to USSR Council of Ministers,” October 7, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive. For the subsequent requests and Soviet promises, see “Tele­ gram from Soviet Ambassador to China N. V. Roshchin to Stalin,” October 7, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive; “Ciphered Tele­ gram, Roshchin to Filippov (Stalin),” October 13, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive. See also Christensen, Useful Adversaries, 168–69. 163. China needed and requested arms for sixty divisions in 1951, but Stalin replied on June 24 that this would be physically impossible and that they could support the production of arms for only ten divisions that year. “Tele­gram from Stalin to Mao Zedong,” June 24, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. Tom Christensen argues that the clear limitations of Soviet military assistance pushed the Chinese to genuinely pursue a sustainable ceasefire and accept more limited objectives. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 111–15. However, Mao had deci­ ded to pursue limited objectives four months earlier and had deci­ded on talks before he received this tele­gram. 164. Xu, Diyici Jiaoliang, 29–30.

160

NOTES TO PAGES 55–57

165. Intelligence Summary, No. 3193, June 7, 1951, Box 30, Rec­ord Group 554, National Archives. 166. Christensen, Useful Adversaries, 158. 167. For some examples, see Mao Zedong Nianpu, 293–94, 365, 368–69. “Cable, Mao Zedong to Joseph Stalin,” July 13, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive; “Ciphered tele­gram, Filippov (Stalin) to Mao Zedong,” July 3, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive; Jianguo Yilai Mao Zedong Junshi Wengao, 511. 168. See “VKP(b) CC Politburo decision with approved o ­ rders to Vyshinsky in New York and Roshchin in Beijing with message for Zhou Enlai,” December 5, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive; “Ciphered tele­gram, Gromyko to Roshchin Transmitting Message from Filippov (Stalin) to Zhou Enlai,” December 7, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive; “Cable, Joseph Stalin to Mao Zedong,” July 14, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 169. “Tele­gram from Mao Zedong to Peng Dehuai,” November 17, 1950, Wilson Center Digital Archive; “Ciphered tele­gram, Filippov (Stalin) to Mao Zedong,” June 30, 1951, Wilson Center Digital Archive. 170. Chen, China’s Road, 161. 171. Feng and Jin, Mao Zedong ­Zhuan, 157. Once talks began, Moscow and Beijing coordinated their positions. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 115. 172. The Demo­cratic ­People’s Republic of ­Korea (DPRK) was so reliant that Elizabeth Stanley characterizes North ­Korea as a “powerless player” instead of a primary belligerent. Stanley, Paths to Peace, 70–75. 173. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 97–98. On the other side, the United States largely dictated South Korean policy. Seung-­Man Rhee was initially opposed to the negotiation for a truce. His position often conflicted with that of Washington and US forces. 174. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 118. 175. “16 July 1952, ciphered tele­gram, Kim Il Sung to Stalin via Razuvaev,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 106, 77. 176. “19 November 1951, VKP(b) CC Politburo decision with approved message from Gromkyo to Razuvaev,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 96, 72. 177. This does not mean that Kim stopped trying. As late as March 29, 1953, Kim made his case again to a USSR representative, “underscor[ing] that the time has come to show initiative from our side on the question of the conclusion of the war in K ­ orea and achievement of peace.” See “29 March 1953, ciphered tele­gram from Kuznetsov and Fedorenko in Pyongyang,” Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, Doc. 113, 83. 178. Acheson criticizes the British Foreign Office, asserting that it believed without g ­ reat evidence that the Soviet Union would negotiate to compromise on difficult issues. Acheson considered ­these proposed solutions almost an act of surrender. See Dean Acheson, The Korean War (New York: Norton Publishing, 1971), 35. 179. “Baptism by Fire: CIA Analy­sis of the Korean War Overview,” in The Korean Situation: Soviet Intentions and Capabilities, Central Intelligence Agency, July 7, 1950, 407. 180. Acheson, The Korean War, 89. 181. Acheson, The Korean War, 37. 182. Bruce Cumings, The Korean War: A History (New York: Modern Library, 2010), 14. The first major UN victory occurred in the second week of August, when twenty thousand US/UN troops counterattacked the DPRK Sixth Division near Masan. 183. Whiting, China Crosses the Yalu, 70. 184. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 26–27. 185. Reiter, How Wars End, 80. 186. UK foreign minister Ernest Bevin, for example, raised the possibility of setting up a demilitarized zone south of the Yalu River and then retreating to the neck of the peninsula (around the fortieth parallel) on November 13. See Peter Lowe, The Origins of the Korean War, 2nd ed. (New York: Routledge, 2014), 233. Minister Clement Atlee rushed to Washington to persuade Truman to make an offer to Beijing, such as a seat in the UN and the return of Taiwan, in exchange for a ceasefire. “British and Indian efforts at mediation,” FRUS, 1950, ­Korea, United

161

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States Department of State Vol. 7, Docs. 1860516, July 1, 1950, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​ /­historicaldocuments​/­frus1950v07​/­comp3 187. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 27; Acheson, The Korean War, 82. 188. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 27. 189. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 27. 190. Acheson, The Korean War, 78. 191. Acheson, The Korean War, 82. 192. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 30. 193. Acheson, The Korean War, 78. The United States deviated slightly from its closed diplomatic posture, supporting a December 14 UN resolution to start a working group to explore the basis for a ceasefire agreement. The United States supported the proposal not to support talks, but only so it could brand China the aggressor when Beijing inevitably rejected the proposal. The United States had faced a difficult choice between supporting the proposal, which could have led to the loss of the Koreans and the fury of Congress and the press, and not supporting it and losing legitimacy and leverage in the UN. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 93. 194. FRUS, 1950, ­Korea, Vol. 7, Doc. 959, December 4, 1950, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​ /­historicaldocuments​/­frus1950v07​/­d959. 195. FRUS, 1950, K ­ orea, United States Department of State (1950): 1452. 196. For more on this discussion, see FRUS, 1951, ­Korea and China, Vol. 7, Part 1, Doc. 35; Doc. 58, Doc. 69. Tele­gram 3337, 51. 197. “Memo by Charles B. Marshall (January 31, 1951),” FRUS, Vol. 7, Part 2, 1542–43. 198. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 33. 199. Reiter, How Wars End, 81. 200. Malkasian, The Korean War, 40. 201. Reiter, How Wars End, 80. 202. NSC 48/5, US Department of State, FRUS, 1951, Asia-­Pacific, 36. 203. Reiter, How Wars End, 80. 204. FRUS, 1951, K ­ orea and China, Vol. 7, Part 1, Doc. 255, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​ /­historicaldocuments​/­frus1951v07p1​/­d255. 205. Intelligence Highlights, No. 3,204, June 18, 1951, Box 30, Rec­ord Group 554. 206. Acheson, The Korean War, 119. 207. “Memo by Charles B. Marshall” (Hong Kong, May 17, 1951), FRUS, 1951, Vol. 7, Part 2, 1668–69. 208. This move followed early feelers sent out to lower-­level US officials by Malik. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 112. 209. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 36. 210. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, 31. 211. Xia, Negotiating with the ­Enemy, 50. 212. This was obvious at the time, even to the United States. “Communist Capabilities and Probable Courses of Action in ­Korea,” National Intelligence Estimate 80, April 3, 1953, 8–9. 213. Kangmei Yuanchao Zhanzhengshi, 2:359; Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi, 79. 214. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, ix. 215. Acheson, The Korean War, 127. 216. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 106. In October 1951, the Chinese called off the sixth campaign, designed to put pressure on the United States by expanding operations, ­because of their logistical vulnerabilities. Chen, Mao’s China and the Cold War, 105. 217. Acheson, The Korean War, 129. 218. Foot, A Substitute for Victory, ix; Gideon Rose, How Wars End: Why We Always Fight the Last ­Battle (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2010), 156. 219. Rose, How Wars End, 125. 220. Malkasian, The Korean War, 87; Stanley, Paths to Peace, 100–108. President Eisenhower began to consider the use of the atomic bomb in K ­ orea in early 1953, but the suggestion was contentious. See “Memorandum of Discussion at the 131st Meeting of the National Security Council on Wednesday, February 11, 1953,” FRUS, 1953–1954, ­Korea, Vol. 15, Part 1, Doc. 391, February 11, 1953, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​/­frus1952​-­54v15p1​/­d391;

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NOTES TO PAGE 64

“Memorandum of Discussion at a Special Meeting of the National Security Council on Tuesday, March 31, 1953,” FRUS, 1952–1954, K ­ orea, Vol. 15, Part 1, Doc. 427, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​ /­historicaldocuments​/­frus1952​-­54v15p1​/­d427; “Memorandum of Discussion at the 143d Meeting of the National Security Council Wednesday, May 6, 1953,” FRUS, 1952–1954, ­Korea, Vol. 15, Part 1, Doc. 500, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​/­frus1952​-­54v15p1​/­d500. ­After much discussion and many briefings over the course of three months, the use of atomic weapons to ensure a “successful military conclusion of the Korean war” was included in a May 19, 1953, JCS memo. “Memorandum by the Joint Chiefs of Staff to the Secretary of Defense,” FRUS, 1952– 1954, ­Korea, Vol. 15, Part 1, Doc. 535, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​/­frus1952​ -­54v15p1​/­d535.

3. Chinese Diplomatic Posture in the Sino-­Indian War 1. M. Taylor Fravel, Strong Borders, Secure Nation (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2008), 178–79. 2. Qiu Meirong, 1959–1962 de Zhongyin Waijiao Guanxi: Guoji Weiji Guanli de Yanjiu Shijiao [Sino-­Indian diplomatic relations 1959–1962: A perspective on international crisis management] (Shanghai: Tongji University Press, 2014), 159; “Zhu yindu dashi Pan zili liren shi xiang yinfang cixing baihui qingkuang” [The situation in which Pan from the Chinese embassy leaves his post and pays an official visit to say goodbye] Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 10501807-01, July 16, 1962, 28. 3. Relations began to worsen ­after Stalin’s death in 1953 and the ideological divide widened with China’s G ­ reat Leap Forward and Khrushchev’s destruction of Stalin’s cult of personality. The relationship reached a perigee in 1969 when the two countries clashed for two days on their shared border in the northwest. 4. Fravel, Strong Borders, Secure Nation, 177–78; John W. Garver, “China’s Decision for War with India in 1962,” in New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, ed. Alastair Ian Johnston and Robert S. Ross (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 86–130. 5. The Chinese foreign ministry issued t­ hese warnings directly. Zhonghua Renmin Gongheguo Duiwai Guanxi Wenjianji [Collection of documents of the foreign relations of the ­People’s Republic of China], vol. 9, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 35; also Jiang Siyi and Li Hui, eds., Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi [The history of the counterattack in self-­defense on the Sino-­Indian border] (Beijing: Acad­emy of Military Science, 1994), 59, e-­book available at http://­www​.­doc88​.­com​/­p​-­79621044964​.­html; Shi Bo, 1962: Zhongyin Dazhan Jishi [1962: Sino-­ Indian War rec­ ord] (Beijing: Zhongguo Dadi Press, 1993), 209, 211. Chinese con­ temporary party newspapers ­were filled with warnings that if India did not back off, it would be responsible for the consequences. For examples see “Wo zhengfu jiu zhongyin bianjie wenti zhaohui yindu zhengfu,” [Chinese government pres­ents a note to the government of India on Sino-­Indian border], Jiefangjun Bao, April 14, 1962; “Yindu dangju buyao dacuo suanpan,” [The Government of India should refrain from miscalculations], Renmin Ribao, July 21, 1962. Moreover, when war broke out, it was India’s fault ­because of its aggressive territorial policies (“Yindu qinluejun zai bianjie dongxi liangduan quanmian jingong,” [India moves army to East and West border to comprehensively attack], Renmin Ribao, October 21, 1962) and ­because India had been warned. Wang Xianjin, Rexue Bingshan [Warm Blood and Cold Iceberg] (Beijing: The Party School of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China Press, 1993), 103. 6. “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to Prime Minister of India, 24 October 1962,” in Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China: White Paper 8 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1959–66), 1. 7. “Memorandum given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 26 November 1962,” in Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China: White Paper 8 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1959– 66), 20.

163

NOTES TO PAGES 64–66

8. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India, to Premier Chou En-­lai, 14 November 1962,” in Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China: White Paper 8 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1959–66), 12. 9. Central Intelligence Agency, “The Sino-­Indian Border Dispute, Section 3: 1961–1962,” CIA Report reference title Polo XIV, May 5, 1964, v–vi, 37 (hereafter cited as CIA Report). 10. Zhou Enlai JunshiWenxuan [Selected works of Zhou Enlai on the military] (Beijing: Renmin Press, 1997), 471. 11. “Yinni gejie duizhong, yindu bianjie chongtu de fanying” [Indonesia’s comprehensive reaction to China and the Sino-­Indian border dispute], November 14, 1962, Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 105-01493-04, 16. 12. The collection was l­ater seriously restricted and then fi­nally closed to the public. Patrick Boehler, “China’s Foreign Ministry Curtails Access to Declassified Historic Archives,” South China Morning Post, August 9, 2013, http://­www​.­scmp​.­com​/­news​/­china​-­insider​ /­article​/­1295456​/­chinas​-­diplomats​-­curtail​-­access​-­their​-­historic​-­archives. 13. Some publishing ­houses include the Chinese Communist Party History Press, Central Party Lit­er­a­ture Press, Central Committee of the Communist Party School Press, PLA Press, and the Acad­emy of Military Science Press. 14. Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China: White Paper, vol. 8 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1959–66). Hereafter cited as White Paper 8. ­There are fourteen volumes, but 1962 is covered in volume 8. 15. India recounted the skirmish as exactly the opposite, with Chinese forces entering Indian territory and engaging its border guards. Cheng Feng and Larry M. Wortzel, “PLA Operational Princi­ples and Limited War: The Sino-­Indian War of 1962,” in Chinese Warfighting: The PLA Experience Since 1949, ed. Mark A. Ryan, David M. Finkelstein, and Michael A. McDevitt (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 2003), 177. 16. Neville Maxwell, India’s China War (New York: Pantheon Books, 1970), 110. 17. “Premier Chou En-­lai’s Letter to Prime Minister Nehru, November 7, 1959,” in Documents on the Sino-­Indian Boundary Question (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1960), 14–17. Though Nehru rejected this, he did submit a counterproposal. For the details of that proposal, see Mohan Ram, Politics of Sino-­Indian Confrontation (New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House PVT, 1973), 85. 18. “Premier Chou En-­lai’s Letter to Prime Minister Nehru, December 17, 1959,” 27. 19. Maxwell, India’s China War, 270. 20. Fravel, Strong Borders, Secure Nation, 95. 21. China claims it took place in Tibetan territory north of the border. “The Himalayan Border Crisis—­Chinese Offensive in Ladakh and North-­East Frontier Agency—100-­Mile Chinese Advance in N.E.F.A.—­Unilateral Cease-­Fire by Chinese Forces,” Keesing’s Rec­ord of World Events, vol. 8, December 1962, 19109, http://­web​.­stanford​.­edu​/­group​/­tomzgroup​ /­pmwiki​/­uploads​/­2094​-­1962​-­12​-­KS​-­a​-­JHS​.­pdf 22. “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 13 September 1962,” in White Paper 7 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1961–62), 73 (hereafter referred to as White Paper 7). 23. See J. P. Dalvi, Himalayan Blunder: The Curtain-­Raiser to the Sino-­Indian War of 1962 (Bombay: Thacker, 1969), chapter 9. 24. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 6 October 1962,” White Paper 7, 101. 25. Dalvi, Himalayan Blunder, 292. 26. The Chinese media suggested that India had made the first move and that China’s attack was in defense. “Woguo zhengfu hu yu yindu zhengfu dui shangshu jianyi zuochu jiji xiangying,” [The government of China appeals to the government of India to take active mea­sures about the above recommendations], Jiefangjun Bao, October 24, 1962; “Yindu jundui shi zenyang qinzhan zhongguo lingtu de?,” [How does the Indian military invade and occupy Chinese territory?], Renmin Ribao, October 28, 1962; “Woguo zaici yaoqiu yindu yansu kaolü sanxiang jianyi,” [China once again requests India to seriously consider three recommendations], Jiefangjun Bao, November 7, 1962. For more on how China’s change in its estimation of India’s

164

NOTES TO PAGES 67–69

aggressiveness led to this decision, see Thomas J. Christensen, “Win­dows and War: Trend Analy­sis and Beijing’s Use of Force,” in New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, ed. Alastair Ian Johnston and Robert S. Ross (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 50–85. 27. Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun Quanshi: Zhongguo Renmin Jiefangjun Qishi Nian Dashiji [History of the PLA: The impor­tant events of the PLA in the past seventy years], vol. 2 (Beijing: Junshi Kexue Chubanshe, 2000), 246 (hereafter cited as AMS History). Interestingly, this official chronology does not mention any of the previous incidents, only the start and end of the war. 28. Wang, Rexue Bingshan, 103. 29. “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to Prime Minister of India, 24 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 1; Zhou Enlai Nianpu: 1949–1976 [Zhou Enlai yearbook: 1949–76], vol. 2 (Beijing: Central Party Lit­er­a­ture Press, 1997), 505. 30. “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to Prime Minister of India, 24 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 1. 31. Mao Zedong Nianpu, vol. 5, CCP Document Research Center (Beijing: Central Authority Document Publishing, 2002), 166–67. 32. Zhou Enlai Nianpu, 510. 33. Shanti Prasad Varma, Strug­gle for the Himalayas: A Study in Sino-­Indian Relations (New Delhi: University Publishers, 1965), 372–73. 34. “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 4 August 1962,” White Paper 7, 18. 35. “Wo zhu yindu shiguan he yinni zhu yindu shiguan guanyu zhong-yindu bianjie wenti de jiechu” [Exchange between our embassy in India and Indonesia’s embassy in India concerning the Sino-­Indian boundary question], Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 105-01493-06, November 13, 1962, 6. 36. “Statement of the Chinese Government, 24 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 2. 37. “Chen Yi fuzongli jiejian yinni zhuhua dashi Sukani tanhua jilu (guanyu yafei huiyi hezhong, yindu bianjie wenti) [Rec­ord of discussion, Vice Premier Chen Yi meets with Indonesian ambassador to China (regarding the India boundary question during the Afro-­Asia meeting)], Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 105-01789-07, November 17, 1962, 3–4 (hereafter cited as “Chen Yi Discussion”). 38. “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to the Prime Minister of India, 28 November, 1962,” White Paper 8, 24. 39. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 29 December, 1962,” White Paper 8, 46. This theme was echoed in the Chinese media. See “Wo bochi yindu zhengfu zai bianjie wentishang de wuli lichang,” Jiefangjun Bao, December 31, 1962. 40. CIA Report, 41. 41. “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 6 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 63. This theme was repeated in con­temporary coverage. See “Yindu zhengfu yinggai xuanyalema,” [The government of India should pull back before it is too late], Jiefangjun Bao, July 10, 1962. 42. Lei Yingfu, as told to Chen Xianyi, Zai ZuigaoTongshuaibu Dang Canmo—­Lei Yingfu ­Jiangjun Huiyilu [Serving on the staff of the high command: Memoir of General Lei Yingfu] (Nangchang, Jiangxi: Baihuazhou wenyi chubanshe, 1997), 209. 43. Zhao Weiwen, Yinzhong Guanxi Fengyunlu [Rec­ord of Sino-­India relations] (Beijing: Shishi chubanshe, 2000), 172. 44. Zhou Enlai Nianpu, 511. 45. Shi, Zhongyin Dazhan Jishi, 189. 46. “On the Visit of the Soviet Party-­Governmental Del­e­ga­tion to the ­People’s Republic of China—­Sino-­Indian Border War, 1962, December 18, 1959, Cold War International History Proj­ect Bulletin, 261, http://­digitalarchive​.­wilsoncenter​.­org​/­document​/­112989. 47. Qiu, Zhongyin Waijiao Guanxi, 215. 48. Xu Yan, Zhongyin Bianjie Zhizhan Lishi Zhenxiang [The historical truth of the Sino-­Indian War border] (Hong Kong: Tiandi Tushu, 1993), 110.

165

NOTES TO PAGES 69–72

49. Zhou Weiping, Bainian Zhongyin Guanxi [A ­century of China-­India relations] (Beijing: World Affairs Press, 2006), 301. 50. Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 181. 51. Garver, “China’s Decision,” 118. Mao allegedly asked the commander of the military region ­there ­whether China would win, to which he replied: “­We’ll win, ­don’t worry Chairman Mao, we can definitely win.” Chen, Lei Yingfu Jiangjun Huiyilu, 210; see also Yin Jiamin, “Mao zedong juece zhongyin bianjie zhi zhan qianhou” [Mao Zedong’s decisions before and a­ fter the Sino-­Indian War], The Lit­er­a­ture on the Communist Party History 3 (2004), http://­www​.­laomu​.­cn​ /­wxzp​/­ydzx​/­wenxueqikan​/­Dswy​/­dswy2004​/­dswy20040320​.­html. 52. This position was articulated in a document distributed by the CCPCC titled “The Propaganda Outline Concerning the End of the Sino-­Indian Border Conflict and the Issue of Sino-­ Indian Relations.” See Niu Jun, “1962: The Eve of the Left Turn in China’s Foreign Policy” (Cold War International History Proj­ect, Working Paper 48, July 2011), 30. 53. Zhou, Bainian Zhongyin Guanxi, 310. 54. Mao did urge them, however, not to underestimate India. The individuals at that meeting included Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, Liu Shaoqi, Zhu De, Deng Xiaoping, Chen Yi, He Long, Luo Ruiqing, Yang Chengwu, Zhang Guohua, Wang Shangrong, Zhang Hanfu, Qiao Guanhua, and Lei Yingfu. Chen, Lei Yingfu Jiangjun Huiyilu, 210. 55. Fravel makes a related argument about China’s be­hav­ior in territorial disputes, claiming that “regime insecurity magnified the perceived nature and severity of external threats, further increasing the utility of using force to signal resolve to China’s adversaries.” See Fravel, Strong Borders, Secure Nation, 219. 56. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 5:166. 57. Chen, Lei Yingfu Jiangjun Huiyilu, 212. 58. Garver, “China’s Decision,” 121. Con­temporary US intelligence estimates reached a similar conclusion. Chinese troops along key parts of the border outnumbered Indian troops, and China had at least five times the reinforcement capabilities of India. China also enjoyed advantages in air power, though the estimate was correct that neither side was likely to introduce air operations. “Short-­Term Outlook and Implications for the Sino-­Indian Conflict,” Special National Intelligence Estimate, No. 13, 31–62, 3, 7–8. 59. Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 84. 60. Xu, Zhongyin Bianjie Zhizhan Lishi Zhenxiang, 188; “Chen Yi Discussion,” 3. While public criticisms of this Indian tactic ­were partly designed to portray India as the aggressor in the eyes of the developing world, the fact that a secret foreign affairs document also argued that India was using the border dispute to get American military assistance for its defense modernization suggests this was indeed a real Chinese concern. “Yindu yu meiguo de guanxi: Xin qingkuang” [US-­India relations: A new situation], Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 105-01519-02, December 30, 1962, 17. 61. CIA Report, 62–63. 62. CIA Report, v. 63. This position was articulated in a document distributed by the CCPCC titled “The Propaganda Outline Concerning the End of the Sino-­Indian Border Conflict and the Issue of Sino-­ Indian Relations.” See Niu, “1962: The Eve of the Left Turn in China’s Foreign Policy,” 30. 64. Author’s interview with former Indian ambassador to Rus­sia, New Delhi, August 2012. 65. Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjiang Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 124. 66. Allen L. Whiting, The Chinese Calculus of Deterrence (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1975), 137. 67. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 138. This was China’s impression as well. Wang, Rexue bingshan, 123. 68. Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 124. This announcement was likely drafted by Zhou Enlai on the instructions of Mao on November 13 and then approved by Mao. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 5:168. 69. Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 124. 70. “Chen Yi Discussion,” 6.

166

NOTES TO PAGES 72–73

71. Mao Zedong Junshi Sixiang Fazhanshi [The history of Mao Zedong’s military thinking development] (Beijing: PLA Press, 1991), 463; Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 165. 72. Mao Zedong Nianpu: 1949–1976 [Mao Zedong yearbook: 1949–1976] (Beijing: Central Party Lit­er­a­ture Press, 2013), 5:169; “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 19; “Wo bochi yindu zhengfu zai bianjie wentishang de wuli lichang,” Jiefangjun Bao, December 31, 1962; Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 166. “Minutes of Conversation between Chinese Vice Foreign Minister Huang Zhen and Cambodian King Norodom Sihanouk,” November 30, 1962, History and Public Policy Program Digital Archive, PRC Foreign Ministry Archive document #106-01398-04, 57–61; “Minutes of Conversation between Chinese Vice Foreign Minister Zhang Hanfu and Ambassadors from Socialist Countries on Beijing’s Decision to Unilaterally Withdraw Its Forces,” November 21, 1962, History and Public Policy Program Digital Archive, PRC Foreign Ministry Archive document #109-03798-03, 11–14. 73. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 5:169. 74. For the text of the ceasefire proposal, see “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 19. 75. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 20; “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to the Prime Minister of India, 28 November, 1962,” White Paper 8, 25. 76. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 19–20. 77. Shi, Zhongyin Dazhan Jishi, 334. 78. Jiang and Li, Zhongyin Bianjing Ziwei Fanji Zuozhanshi, 166. 79. AMS History, 246. 80. Zhou, Bainian Zhongyin Guanxi, 320. 81. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 20. See also Mao Zedong Nianpu, 5:169–170. 82. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 8 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 35. 83. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 29 December, 1962,” White Paper 8, 46. 84. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 29 December, 1962,” White Paper 8, 45. This theme was repeated in Chinese official media. See “Woguo zaici yaoqiu yindu yansu kaolü sanxiang jianyi.” 85. Chinese leaders proactively tried to lobby foreign governments to support China’s position. See “Chen Yi Discussion,” 3–4; Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the P ­ eople’s Republic of China, “Cable from the Chinese Foreign Ministry, ‘Instructions on the Sino-­Indian Boundary Issue,’ ” November 15, 1962, Wilson Center Digital Archive, PRC Foreign Ministry Archive 11100596-01, 1–3; “Wo zhu yindu shiguan he yinni zhu yindu shiguan guanyu zhong-yindu, bianjie wenti de jiechu, Gaoxu wuguan qu yinni shiguan tanhua zhongdian” [The exchange between China’s embassy in India and Indonesia’s embassy in India about the Sino-­Indian border question, the impor­tant points of the defense attaché Gao Xu’s visit to the Indonesian embassy], PRC Foreign Ministry Archive 105-01493-06, November 19, 1962, 67. 86. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 18. 87. Zhou Enlai Nianpu, 506. The exact amount is unclear—to convince Nehru to agree to the ceasefire, Zhou claimed the difference between the Indian-­demanded September 8 line and the November 7, 1959, line was only 2,500 square miles. Nehru claimed that it was twice that. See “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 19 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 38; Annexure to letter dated 14 November 1962, from the Prime Minister of India. In real­ity, India had not gained much territory from the Forward Policy, though it may have blocked further PRC advances short of war. 88. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 8 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 33.

167

NOTES TO PAGES 73–77

89. “Text of Chinese Government Note dated the 9th October, 1963, in reply to Government of India’s notes dated the 3rd April, 1963 and the 6th September, 1963,” White Paper 10 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1964), 10. 90. Sarvepalli Gopal, Jawaharlal Nehru: A Biography, vol. 3 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1984), 230; Sun Shao and Chen Zibin, Ximalayashan de xue: Zhong Yin zhanzheng shilu [Himalayan snow: An account of the China-­India War] (Taiyuan, China: Beiyue Wenyi Chubanshe, 1991), 448–49. For more on the remarkable nature of this decision, see Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 163–64. 91. Garver, “China’s Decision,” 121. 92. Waijiaobu Waijiaoshi bianjishi [Department of Foreign Affairs History in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs]; Xin Zhongguo Wai Jiao Feng Yun [Stories of New China’s diplomacy], vol. 1 (Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe, 1990), 74. 93. “Chen Yi Discussion,” 6. 94. Sun and Chen, “Ximalayashan de xue: Zhong Yin zhanzheng shilu,” 451. 95. “Gengbiao fuwaizhang jiejian yinnizhuhuadashi sukani tanhua jiyao (tan guanyu zhong-yindu bianjie wenti, malaixiya wenti, yafeihuiyi wenti deng)” [Minutes of the talks between assistant foreign minister and Indonesia ambassador to China (talking about the Sino-­ Indian border issue, the Malaysian issue, the Afro-­Asian conference, ­etc.)], Beijing Foreign Ministry Archives, No. 105-01160-01, January 24, 1963, 2. 96. Xu, Zhongyin Bianjie Zhizhan Lishi Zhenxiang, 188. 97. Li Zhisui, The Private Life of Chairman Mao (New York: Random House, 1994), 110. Some do not consider this to be an authoritative psychological assessment. However, Mao did demonstrate deep concern about the loyalty of his comrades. 98. Li, The Private Life of Chairman Mao, 81, 105–6. 99. Andrew Bingham Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 54. See also Lucian Pye, “Rethinking the Man in the Leader,” China Journal 35 (1996): 108–12; Michael Sheng, “Mao Zedong’s Narcissistic Personality Disorder and China’s Road to Disaster,” in Profiling Po­liti­cal Leaders: Cross-­Cultural Studies of Personality and Be­hav­ior, ed. Ofer Feldman and Linda O. Valenty (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2001), 111–27. 100. Li, The Private Life of Chairman Mao, 120. 101. Li, The Private Life of Chairman Mao, 115. 102. Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru. 103. Qiu, Zhongyin Waijiao Guanxi, 154; Chen, Lei Yingfu Jiangjun Huiyilu, 209. 104. On the first part, see Thomas J. Christensen, Useful Adversaries: ­Grand Strategy, Domestic Mobilization, and Sino-­American Conflict, 1947–1958 (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1996). 105. Mao Zedong Nianpu, vol. 5, 165, 169. 106. For more on disagreement in the Korean War, see Thomas Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith: Alliance Politics and Prob­lems of Coercive Diplomacy in Asia (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2011), 72–86. 107. “Report from the Chinese Foreign Ministry, ‘The Soviet Union’s Stance on the Sino-­ Indian Boundary Question and Soviet-­Indian Relations,’ ” April 1963, Wilson Center Digital Archive, PRC Foreign Ministry Archive #105-01272-01, 1–119. 108. Kuldip Nayar, Between the Lines (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1969), 194. 109. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 141. 110. “Entry from the Journal of Soviet ambassador to India Benediktov, Conversation with ‘Comrade E,’ ” October 10, 1962, Wilson Center Digital Archive, 147–48. 111. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 157. See also Lorenz M. Luthi, The Sino-­Soviet Split: The Cold War in the Communist World (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2010); Shen Zhihua and Xia Yafeng, Mao and the Sino-­Soviet Partnership, 1945–1959: A New History (Lanham, MD: Harvard Cold War Book Series, 2015). 112. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 158–59. 113. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith, 170–71. 114. Shi, Zhongyin Dazhan Jishi, 228–31.

168

NOTES TO PAGES 77–80

115. Zhou Enlai Nianpu, 291; China thought it was too late—­India was already in the Western camp. “Yindu fanhua huande daliang mei ‘yuan,’ ” Jiefangjun Bao, October 12, 1962; “Mei yuan’ yu yindu fanhua de guanxi,” Jiefangjun Bao, October 20, 1962. 116. Zhou Enlai Nianpu, 284; Shi, Zhongyin Dazhan Jishi, 229. 117. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 164. The Soviet Union also signed an agreement with India the next year to assist in India’s new five-­year plan with a major loan, which made private PRC-­ USSR differences on the issue blatantly public. Zhongguo Gongchandang Lishi: 1949–1978 [The official history of the Chinese Communist Party: 1949–1978], vol. 2 (Beijing: Chinese Communist Party History Press, 2010), 407. 118. “Minutes of Conversation between Chinese Deputy Director of the Department of Soviet and Eu­ro­pean Affairs Yu Zhan and Charge d’Affaires of the Soviet Union Nikolai Mesyatsev on the Sino-­Indian Boundary Issue,” December 12, 1962, Wilson Center Digital Archive, PRC Foreign Ministry Archive document #109-03804-04, 84. 119. Harold P. Ford, “Calling the Sino-­Soviet Split,” CIA, last updated June 27, 2008, https://­w ww​.­c ia​.­g ov​/­l ibrary​/­c enter​-­f or​-­t he​-­s tudy​-­o f​-­i ntelligence​/­c si​-­p ublications​/­c si​ -­studies​/­studies​/­winter98​_­99​/­art05​.­html#rft3. Chinese histories cite the Soviets’ decision to “side with India” as one of the f­actors that led to deterioration of the bilateral relationship. Zhou Enlai Nianpu, 258, 280. 120. Enrico Maria Fardella, “Mao Zedong and the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis,” Cold War History 14, no. 1 (2015): 73–88; Chen Jian, “The Tibetan Rebellion of 1959 and China’s Changing Relations with India and the Soviet Union,” Journal of Cold War Studies 8, no. 3 (2006): 54–101.

4. Indian Diplomatic Posture in the Sino-­Indian War 1. M. Taylor Fravel, Strong Borders, Secure Nation (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2008), 178–79. 2. Xuecheng Liu, The Sino-­Indian Border Dispute and Sino-­Indian Relations (Lanham, MD: University Press of Amer­ic­ a, 1994), 34. 3. Srinath Raghavan, War and Peace in Modern India: A Strategic History of the Nehru Years (New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2010), 278–79. 4. Thomas J. Christensen, “Win­dows and War: Trend Analy­sis and Beijing’s Use of Force,” in New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, ed. Alastair Ian Johnston and Robert S. Ross (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 63–64. To be fair, con­temporary US intelligence estimates shared the view that Chinese use of force was unlikely at that time. See “Chinese Communist Capabilities and Intentions in the Far East,” Special National Intelligence Estimate No. 13-3-61, November 20, 1961, 6. 5. Neville Maxwell, India’s China War (New York: Pantheon Books, 1970), 373. 6. Raghavan, War and Peace, 306. In talks in 1960, India deciphered that China’s aim was to trade its ac­cep­tance of India’s position in NEFA for Delhi’s agreement to its position in Ladakh. See “Memorandum from Foreign New Delhi,” Nehru Museum and Memorial Library (NMML), April 27, 1960, 41. 7. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” Notes, Memoranda and Letters Exchanged and Agreements Signed between India and China: White Paper 8 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1959–66), 20 (hereafter cited as White Paper 8). 8. Raghavan, War and Peace, 308. 9. A number of studies cover Indian decision making about the operational aspects of the war. See P. B. Sinha and A. A. Athale, History of the Conflict with China 1962 (New Delhi, India: Indian Ministry of Defence, 1992); Steven A. Hoffman, India and the China Crisis (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 176. For the official Indian government review, see the Henderson Brooks-­Bhagat Report on the 1962 War, vol. 1, available at http://­www​ .­indian​defencereview​.­com​/­wp​-­content​/­uploads​/­2014​/­03​/­TopSecretdocuments2​.­pdf. 10. “Prime Minister’s Invitation to Chou Enlai: Reply to Lok Sabha Discussions,” P. N. Haksar Papers I–­II, Subject File 25, Part E, NMML, February 22, 1960, 178.

169

NOTES TO PAGES 80–85

11. Andrew Bingham Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 230–31. 12. “The Himalayan Border Crisis—­Chinese Offensive in Ladakh and North-­East Frontier Agency—100-­Mile Chinese Advance in N.E.F.A.—­Unilateral Cease-­Fire by Chinese Forces,” Keesing’s Rec­ord of World Events, vol. 8, December 1962, 19109, http://­web​.­stanford​.­edu​/­group​ /­tomzgroup​/­pmwiki​/­uploads​/­2094​-­1962​-­12​-­KS​-­a​-­JHS​.­pdf. 13. Central Intelligence Agency, “The Sino-­Indian Border Dispute, Section 3: 1961–1962,” CIA Report reference title Polo XIV, May 5, 1964, 40 (hereafter cited as CIA Report). 14. Liu, The Sino-­Indian Border Dispute, 37. 15. Shanti Prasad Varma, Strug­gle for the Himalayas: A Study in Sino-­Indian Relations (New Delhi: University Publishers, 1965), 153. One con­temporary British source estimated China had deployed sixty thousand to seventy thousand into the area where India had only forty-­five thousand. See “Sino-­Indian Hostilities,” COS (62) 73rd meeting, Folder DEFE 4/149, British Archives, 1. A history written over a de­cade a­ fter the war presented a picture of the summer of 1962, in which sixty Indian posts faced a full Chinese division, meaning they w ­ ere outnumbered five to one. Allen L. Whiting, The Chinese Calculus of Deterrence (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1975), 78. 16. “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to Prime Minister of India, 24 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 1. Beijing defined the LAC as that which existed on November 7, 1959; Zhou’s proposals therefore implied that China would keep the areas it occupied in the west while India would give up areas where it had sited posts. See Raghavan, War and Peace, 306. 17. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India to the Prime Minister of China, 27 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 4–7. According to China’s account, the Indian government rejected the three-­point proposal the same day it was issued, though Nehru’s letter came l­ater. Mao Zedong Nianpu, 5:166–67. 18. “Annexure to letter from the Prime Minister of India to Premier Chou En-­lai, 27 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 6–7. 19. Maxwell, India’s China War, 377. 20. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India, to Premier Chou En-­lai, 14 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 12. 21. J. Hershberg and K. Weathersby, “Entry from the journal of Soviet ambassador to India Benediktov, conversation with General Secretary of the Communist Party of India, E.M. Nambudiripad,” Archive of Foreign Policy, Rus­sian Federation, Vol. 90, Doc. 6, 134–139, http://­www​ .­archieve​.­claudearpi​.­net​/­maintenance​/­uploaded​_­pics​/­Nambdiripad​_­October​_­26​.­pdf. 22. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India, to Premier Chou En-­lai, 14 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 8. 23. For the text of the ceasefire proposal, see “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 19. 24. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 20. 25. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 26 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 23. 26. Slightly paraphrased from “Letter from the Prime Minister of India to the Prime Minister of China, 1 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 28–29. 27. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 8 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 34. 28. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 8 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 35; emphasis added. 29. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India, to Premier Chou En-­lai, 27 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 5. 30. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India, to Premier Chou En-­lai, 14 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 11. 31. This term was taken from Nehru’s address to the nation on October 22, 1962. “Every­thing Else Is Secondary to the Freedom of Motherland,” Hindustan Times, October 22, 1962. Nehru interpreted China’s offers to talk as nothing short of “a demand for surrender.” See “Annexure to letter dated 14 November 1962, from the Prime Minister of India,” White Paper 8, 17.

170

NOTES TO PAGES 85–88

32. Author’s interview with Indian military general, former commander of Ladakh, New Delhi, August 2012. 33. Maxwell, India’s China War, 139. 34. Maxwell, India’s China War, 376. 35. Author’s interview with former Indian ambassador and participant in the India-­China Joint Working Group on the boundary issue, New Delhi, August 2012. 36. “A Trap,” Times of India, October 25, 1962, 8. 37. “A Trap,” Times of India, October 25, 1962, 8. 38. “A Shattered Illusion,” Times of India, October 27, 1962, 8. 39. “Evasive,” Times of India, October 26, 1962, 8. 40. “Heartening,” Times of India, November 22, 1962, 8. 41. John Rowland, A History of Sino-­Indian Relations: Hostile Co-­existence (Prince­ton, NJ: D. Van Nostrand, 1967), 137. 42. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 109. 43. Nancy Jetly, India China Relations, 1947–1977: A Study of Parliament’s Role in the Making of Foreign Policy (New Delhi: Radiant Publishing, 1979), 167. 44. Raghavan, War and Peace, 291–92. 45. Author’s interview with Indian military general, former commander of Ladakh, New Delhi, August 2012. 46. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India, to Premier Chou En-­lai, 14 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 12. 47. Author’s interview with Brigadier Gurmeet Kanwal, New Delhi, August 2012. 48. J. P. Dalvi, Himalayan Blunder: The Curtain-­Raiser to the Sino-­Indian War of 1962 (Bombay: Thacker, 1969), 221, 160. 49. Author’s interview with Indian military general, former commander of Ladakh, New Delhi, August 2012; author’s interview with Indian journalist who covered events during the war, New Delhi, August 2012. 50. R. K. Nehru, “Speeches and Writings by Him,” No. 5, NMML, 11. 51. Author’s interview with former Indian ambassador and participant in the India-­China Joint Working Group on the boundary issue, New Delhi, August 2012. 52. Rowland, A History of Sino-­Indian Relations, 172. 53. “Nehru to Kennedy, 19 November 1962, India Nehru Correspondence, 11 November 1962 to 19 November 1962,” NSC Box 11, John. F. Kennedy Presidential Library. 54. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 146. 55. “On Probation,” Times of India, November 5, 1962, 6. 56. Letter from Nehru to Kennedy, November 19, 1962, JFKL. 57. Letter from Nehru to Kennedy, November 19, 1962, JFKL. 58. Dalvi, Himalayan Blunder, 491. 59. “COS (62) 80th Meeting, December 13, 1962,” Folder DEFE 4/150, British Archives, 2; “From Washington to Foreign Office Tele­gram No. 2899,” November 19, 1962, Folder CAB 21/5687, British Archives. 60. “Zhu yindu dashi Pan zili liren shi xiang yinfang cixing baihui qingkuang” [The situation in which Pan from the Chinese embassy leaves his post and pays an official visit to say goodbye] Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 105-01807-01, July 16, 1962, 28. 61. CIA Report, 37. 62. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 163. 63. “COS (62) 80th Meeting, December 13, 1962”; “Foreign Office Tele­gram No. 2793, November 5, 1962,” Folder CAB 21/5687, British Archives. 64. “Washington Tele­gram No. 2902 to Foreign Office, November 20, 1962,” British Archives, Folder CAB 21/5687, 2. 65. Sarvepalli Gopal, Jawaharlal Nehru: A Biography, vol. 3 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1984), 221. 66. Author’s roundtable discussion at the United Ser­vices Institution of India, New Delhi, August 2012. It is pos­si­ble that greater mediation efforts by a third party could have provided this guarantee. According to the Indian vice consul in Shanghai, India would have been

171

NOTES TO PAGES 88–90

prepared to negotiate “if ­there ­were a third party that could mediate, like the Soviet Union.” But no offer was ever made, most likely ­because neither the Soviet Union nor the United States wanted to entangle itself in the conflict. See “Shanghai yindu lingguan he yinqiao dui zhongyin bianjie chongtu de fanying” [Shanghai Indian consulate and overseas Chinese reflections on the Sino-­Indian border dispute], Chinese Foreign Ministry Archives, Doc. 118-01044-02, November 8, 1962, 7. 67. “Annexure to letter from the Prime Minister of India to Premier Chou En-­lai, 27 October 1962,” White Paper 8, 6. 68. As one Indian parliamentarian remarked in ­favor of unconditional talks, “If you want to take back all the territory from China, before the start of the negotiations, then what is ­there to negotiate?” See Jetly, India China, 168. 69. “PM reaffirms resolve to oust Chinese,” Times of India, November 9, 1962. 70. “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 6 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 64; “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 16 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 63. 71. “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 16 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 66. 72. “Sino-­Indian Hostilities: Supply of Arms,” Cabinet Office File #19/6/675/12, British National Archives; “Tele­gram to Commonwealth Relations Office,” CAB 21/5687, November 22, 1962. The first shipment of US aid arrived November 3. See “Memorandum for the Rec­ord,” November 19, 1962, Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1961–1963, No. 202; “Editorial Note,” Vol 11, Doc. 197, FRUS, Cuban Missile Crisis and Aftermath, 1961–1963, https://­history​ .­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​/­frus1961​-­63v11. 73. “COS (62) 68th Meeting, October 30, 1962,” DEFE 4/148, British Archives, 4; “Memorandum Col. Howard L. Burris, Spec. Asst. to the Vice Pres., to the Vice President, November 6, 1962” and “Memorandum FM Embassy New Delhi to the White House, December 8, 1962,” in Marta Vanduzer-­Snow and Praveen Chaudry, The United States and India: A History through Archives: The ­Later Years, vol. 2 (New Delhi: Sage Publications, 2011), 41, 46. 74. “From Washington to Foreign Office Tele­gram No. 2899,” 3; Letter from Shri Sudhit Ghosh to Prime Minister Nehru, in T. T. Krishnamachari Correspondence with J. L. Nehru (December 1, 1962), 82, NMML. Rusk had pushed for G ­ reat Britain to take the lead b ­ ecause of a lack of domestic support and for fear of encouraging Soviet support of China. See “From Washington to Foreign Office Tele­gram No. 2899”; Memorandum for Rec­ord, November 19, 1962, in Vanduzer-­Snow and Chaudry, The United States and India, 43. 75. ­Little foreign equipment could reach forward Indian positions for immediate use, much less allow time for familiarization and for the systematic stockpiling of spare parts and ammunition. See Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 145. 76. Maxwell, India’s China War, 145–46. 77. “Memo from American Embassy New Delhi to the White House,” December 8, 1962, in Vanduzer-­Snow and Chaudry, The United States and India, 46. 78. “Outward Tele­gram from the Commonwealth Office,” November 26, 1962, p. 2, Folder CAB 21/5687, British Archives. The Joint Intelligence Committee, however, had assessed four days earlier that terrain and logistics difficulties would prob­ably prevent China from launching a large-­scale invasion deep into India. See “Memo from the Ministry of Defence to the UK High Commissioner, New Delhi,” November 22, 1962, folder CAB 21/5687, British Archives. 79. “Memo from Ambassador Galbraith to the Secretary of State,” February 15, 1963, in Vanduzer-­Snow and Chaudry, The United States and India, 63–64. John Kenneth Galbraith’s statement is especially telling ­because he was normally much more level-­headed. I thank Robert Jervis for this point. 80. Hoffman, India and the China Crisis, 225. 81. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 4 January 1963,” White Paper 8, 78. 82. Maxwell, India’s China War, 420. 83. “Note Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 31 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 73.

172

NOTES TO PAGES 91–95

84. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 5 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 69–70. 85. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 5 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 69–70. 86. “Statement Given by the Chinese Government, 21 November 1962,” White Paper 8, 20. 87. CIA Report, 70; “Gengbiao fuwaizhang jiejian yinni zhuhuadashi sukani tanhua jiyao (tan guanyu zhong, yindu bianjie wenti, malaixiyawenti, yafeihuiyi wenti deng).” 88. “Letter from Premier Chou En-­lai to the Prime Minister of India, 30 December 1962, White Paper 8, 47. 89. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 19 December, 1962,” White Paper 8, 38. 90. “Memorandum Given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Peking, to the Embassy of India in China, 29 December, 1961,” White Paper 8, 44. 91. Maxwell, India’s China War, 431. 92. According to PLA archival rec­ords, China’s losses included 722 soldiers killed, 1,697 wounded, and none captured. India fared worse, with 4,897 killed or wounded and 3,968 captured. See Cheng Feng and Larry M. Wortzel, “PLA Operational Princi­ples and Limited War: The Sino-­Indian War of 1962,” in Chinese Warfighting: The PLA Experience Since 1949, ed. Mark A. Ryan, David M. Finkelstein, and Michael A. McDevitt (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 2003), 188. 93. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 149. 94. CIA Report, 64. 95. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 5 December 1962,” White Paper 8, 70–71. 96. CIA Report, 69. 97. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 4 January 1963,” White Paper 8, 75, 78. 98. “Letter from the Prime Minister of India to the Prime Minister of China, 1 January 1963,” White Paper 8, 49, 51. 99. CIA Report, 64–65. 100. Hoffman, India and the China Crisis, 226. 101. The proposals made by representatives of six Asian and African states ­were more beneficial to India than China’s ceasefire proposals ­because India could have check posts right on the ceasefire line in Ladakh and even go beyond it. 102. Maxwell, India’s China War, 442. 103. Maxwell, India’s China War, 443. 104. James Fearon, “Rationalist Explanations for War,” International Organ­ization 49, no. 3 (Summer 1995): 379–414. 105. Stacie Goddard, Indivisible Territory and the Politics of Legitimacy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 18. 106. While Nehru was not willing to submit the McMahon Line to the pro­cess of negotiation before the war, he was willing to talk about minor adjustments along the border and par­tic­ u­lar portions like Longju. See Maxwell, India’s China War, 75. 107. “A Note on the Border Disputes, September 26, 1959,” in Documents on the Sino-­Indian Boundary Question (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1960), 108–10. 108. However, broader discussions about the McMahon Line w ­ ere unacceptable ­because national dignity and self-­respect ­were felt to be at stake. See Maxwell, India’s China War, 117. 109. Jetly, India China Relations, 170. 110. For a transcript of the meeting, see “Proceedings of Meeting between Indian and Chinese Officials at Ministry of External Affairs,” April 22, 1960, NMML; “The Interpretation of Chinese Intentions from Dutt Ministry of External Affairs Report,” April 22, 1960, NMML, 61–62. For more on the joint statement that followed the summit, see “Rec­ord of Talks between P.M. [Jawaharlal Nehru] and Premier Chou En Lai [Zhou Enlai],” P. N. Haksar Papers I-­II, Subject File 24, NMML, April 24, 1960, 90–98. 111. “Prime Minister’s Invitation to Chou Enlai: Reply to Lok Sabha Discussions,” 180. 112. “Prime Minister’s Invitation to Chou Enlai: Reply to Lok Sabha Discussions,” 180.

173

NOTES TO PAGES 95–98

113. “Prime Minister Nehru’s Letter to Premier Chou En-­lai, February 5, 1960,” Documents on the Sino-­Indian Boundary Question, 143. One of the benefits would be the ability to probe the Chinese position. See Maxwell, India’s China War, 148, 163. 114. Sardar Swaran Singh makes this point directly to Marshal Chen Yi. “Notes on Conversation between Sardar Swaran Singh and Marshal Chen Yi,” April 23, 1960, NMML, P. N. Haksar Papers I–­II, Subject File #26, 17, 21, Archive 147, 150. 115. “Zhu yindu dashi Pan zili liren shi xiang yinfang cixing baihui qingkuang.” Zhou Enlai also mentioned this in an interview years l­ ater. See Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 80. 116. CIA Report, 11. 117. CIA Report, 11. 118. CIA Report, 13. 119. “Zhu yindu dashi Pan zili liren shi xiang yinfang cixing baihui qingkuang,” 28. 120. CIA Report, 11. The Indian desire for a face-­to-­face meeting at Geneva was also conveyed to the Chinese ambassador in Delhi. See “Zhu yindu dashi Pan zili liren shi xiang yinfang cixing baihui qingkuang.” 121. John W. Garver, “China’s Decision for War with India in 1962,” in New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, ed. Alastair Ian Johnston and Robert S. Ross (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 111; Raghavan, War and Peace, 288. China wanted to issue a joint statement before the end of the conference, but Nehru’s approval came ­after the convention had already ended. A Chinese source suggests the timing issue was on purpose, that Menon was avoiding Chen Yi at the conference. Shi Bo, 1962: Zhongyin Dazhan Jishi [1962: Sino-­Indian War rec­ord] (Beijing: Zhongguo Dadi Press, 1993), 185–86. 122. CIA Report, 38. 123. Raghavan, War and Peace, 290. Moscow’s desire for a negotiated solution may have played a role. See P. K. Banerjee, My Peking Memoirs of the Chinese Invasion of India (New Delhi: Clarion Books, 1990), 52. 124. Maxwell, India’s China War, 51. 125. “Note Given by the Ministry of External Affairs, New Delhi, to the Embassy of China in India, 26 July 1962,” White Paper 7 (New Delhi: Ministry of External Affairs, 1961–62), 4. 126. CIA Report, iv. 127. “Rec­ord of Talks between P.M. [Jawaharlal Nehru] and Premier Chou En Lai [Zhou Enlai]”; “Rec­ords of Conversation with Prime Minister Nehru,” April 24, 1960, NMML; “Verbatim Proceedings of Indian and Chinese Officials,” April 24, 1960, NMML, 60. 128. “Nation Is Determined to Push Back Chinese,” Hindustan Times, October 22, 1962. 129. “Nation Is Determined to Push Back Chinese.” 130. “Every­thing Else Is Secondary to the Freedom of Motherland,” Hindustan Times, October 22, 1962. 131. For more on the positions and strategies of t­hese parties, see Yaacov Vertzberger, Misperceptions in Foreign Policymaking: The Sino-­Indian Conflict, 1959–1962 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1984). 132. Raghavan, War and Peace, 283. 133. “A Trap,” Times of India, October 25, 1962, 8. 134. See Kenneth Schultz, “The Politics of Risking Peace: Do Hawks or Doves Deliver the Olive Branch?,” International Organ­ization 59, no. 1 (Winter 2005): 1–38; Jessica Chen Weiss, “Authoritarian Signaling, Mass Audiences, and Nationalist Protest in China,” International Organ­ization 67, no. 1 (January 2013): 1–35. 135. See Keren Yarhi-­Milo, “Tying Hands ­behind Closed Doors: The Logic and Practice of Secret Reassurance,” Security Studies 22, no. 3 (2013): 405–35; Austin Carson and Keren Yarhi-­ Milo, “Covert Communication: The Intelligibility and Credibility of Signaling in Secret,” Security Studies 26, no. 1 (2017): 124–56. 136. “Prime Minister’s Invitation to Chou Enlai: Reply to Lok Sabha Discussions,” February 22, 1960, NMML, 180–81; “India China Prob­lem,” J. P. Kripalani Papers, Subject File 24, 56. 137. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 87. 138. Vertzberger, Misperceptions, 145.

174

NOTES TO PAGES 98–102

139. “From Washington to Foreign Office Tele­gram no. 2899”; Roderick MacFarquhar, The Origins of the Cultural Revolution 3: The Coming of the Cataclysm, 1961–1966 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 309. 140. Maxwell, India’s China War, 431. 141. Vertzberger, Misperceptions, 148. 142. Jetly, India China Relations, 171. 143. See Zhao Weiwen, Yinzhong Guanxi Fengyunlu [Rec­ord of Sino-­India relations] (Beijing: Shishi chubanshe, 2000), 193. 144. Subimal Dutt File No. 43, NMML, 44. Outright USSR support for India, given its communist ties to China, was seen as highly unlikely. “T. T. Krishnamachari Correspondence with J. L. Nehru,” December 16, 1962, NMML, 180–81. 145. “Memorandum from President’s Deputy Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Kaysen) to President Kennedy, October 26, 1962,” FRUS, 1961–1963, No. 181. 146. Whiting, Chinese Calculus, 141; CIA Report, 61; Maxwell, India’s China War, 146. 147. Liu, The Sino-­Indian Border Dispute, 40. US documents suggest the willingness to support India in this contingency was genuine. “Tele­gram from the Department of State to the Embassy in the United Kingdom,” May 13, 1963, FRUS, 1961–63, No. 295. 148. “Memorandum from Secretary of State Rusk to President Kennedy,” May 8, 1963, FRUS, 1961–1963, No. 292. The United States did not want to make demands of India, even a­ fter the border conflict, for fear of pushing it closer to the Soviets. “Tele­gram from the Department of State to the Embassy in the United Kingdom,” May 13, 1963, FRUS 1961–63, No. 295. 149. Averell Harriman did hint that the promise of US arms was dependent on India resolving the Kashmir issue with Pakistan. While t­here was never a chance India would have surrendered a large part of the Kashmir valley in return for military aid, Nehru did humor the Americans by meeting with Pakistan president Ayub Khan to “talk” but not “negotiate.” See Maxwell, India’s China War, 436. 150. Gopal, Jawaharlal Nehru: A Biography, 3:221. 151. CIA Report, 64. 152. China lays claim to more than 35,000 square miles ruled by New Delhi in the eastern sector of the Himalayas, and India claims 14,600 square miles occupied by China on the Aksai Chin plateau in the west. Ben Blanchard, “China Expresses Concern about Indian Missiles on Border,” ­Reuters, August 25, 2016.

5. North Viet­nam­ese Diplomatic Posture in the Vietnam War 1. Henry A. Kissinger, “The Viet Nam Negotiations,” Foreign Affairs 47, no. 2 (January 1969): 216. 2. For a discussion of all major initiatives, see “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945– 1967,” Office of the Secretary of Defense, National Archives and Rec­ords Administration, https://­nara​-­media​-­001​.­s3​.­amazonaws​.­com​/­arcmedia​/­research​/­pentagon​-­papers​/­Pentagon​ -­Papers​-­Part​-­VI​-­A​.­pdf; also Allen E. Goodman, The Lost Peace: Amer­i­ca’s Search for a Negotiated Settlement of the Vietnam War (Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press, 1978), 26. US diplomatic posture during the Vietnam War is discussed more in the next chapter. 3. Goodman, The Lost Peace, 24. See also Wallace J. Thies, When Governments Collide: Coercion and Diplomacy in the Vietnam Conflict, 1964–1968 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980); David Kraslow and Stuart H. Loory, The Secret Search for Peace in Vietnam (New York: Random House, 1968). 4. The decision to limit bombing was likely made on March 7. George C. Herring, Amer­ i­ca’s Longest War: The United States and Vietnam, 1950–1975 (Boston: McGraw-­Hill Education, 2014), 241. 5. Walt Rostow to Lyndon B. Johnson (LBJ), “Memo,” March 16, 1968, Vietnam Country File, National Security File (NSF), Box 94, “Peace Initiatives: General International Initiatives (Retrospective Accounts)” Folder, Lyndon B. Johnson Library (LBJL).

175

NOTES TO PAGES 102–106

6. Memorandum from Secretary of State Rusk to President Johnson, May 18, 1968, Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), January 1968–­August 1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 237. 7. Memorandum from the Joint Chiefs of Staff to Secretary of Defense Clifford, May 29, 1968, FRUS, January 1968–­August 1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 256. 8. Memorandum from the Joint Chiefs of Staff to Secretary of Defense Clifford, June 4, 1968, FRUS, January 1968–­August 1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 260. 9. Memorandum from Secretary of State Rusk to President Johnson. 10. Truong Nhu Tang, A Vietcong Memoir (San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1985), 194. 11. Air operations between November 1968 and April 1972 consisted of strikes against Laos and Cambodia, but the bombing of the DRV was ostensibly limited to tactical (not strategic) reprisals and restricted to below the twentieth parallel. This was ­until the United States resumed strategic bombing of the DRV on April 10, 1972, with the buildup to Operation Linebacker. It is impor­tant to note that NVN did not experience a paralleled reprieve in the ground campaign—­US forces reached their peak at 543,400 total troops in the country in April 1969. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 182. 12. For more on how states use diplomacy to gain operational advantages, see Nathan Danneman, “Committing to Bargain: How Mediation Contributes to the Onset and Success of Peace Talks” (PhD diss., Emory University, 2013). 13. Point made by former DRV ambassador and spokesperson. Author’s interviews, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 14. ­These documents ­were translated by US intelligence agencies during the war. 15. Marc Trachtenberg, The Craft of International History: A Guide to Method (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2006), 146–47. For ­these same reasons, I do not rely on the official history of the war written by the Military History Institute of Vietnam, translated by Merle L. Pribbenow, Victory in Vietnam: The Official History of the P ­ eople’s Army of Vietnam, 1954–1975 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2002). The internal documents, which indicate that party leaders ­were disappointed with the results of Tet, more reliably capture what the leadership was thinking in 1967–68. 16. The interviews ­were also conducted through an official Diplomatic Acad­emy translator in Viet­nam­ese and Mandarin. 17. “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945–1967,” 7. 18. On initial US confusion about the Four Points, see “Memorandum from Chester L. Cooper of the National Security Council Staff to President Johnson, January–­June 1965” May 25, 1965, FRUS, 1964–1968, Vietnam, Vol. 2, Doc. 315, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​/­historical​ documents​/­frus1964​-­68v01. 19. For a rec­ord of diplomatic attempts and the Viet­nam­ese communists’ response, see “The Rec­ord of Vietnam Peace Bids,” April 1968, NSF, Box 94, “Peace Initiatives: General International Initiatives (Retrospective Accounts)” Folder, LBJL. 20. George C. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam: A Dif­fer­ent Kind of War (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1994), 97. 21. “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945–1967,” 15. 22. “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945–1967,” 16. 23. ­These pauses ­were brief: December 24–26 and December 31, 1966, to January 2, 1967. 24. James G. Hershberg, Marigold: The Lost Chance for Peace in Vietnam (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2012), 284–88. 25. Robert Jervis, Response to H-­Diplo Roundtable Review 14, no. 6 (November 2, 2012), http://­ www​.­h​-­net​.­org​/~diplo​/­roundtables​/­PDF​/­Roundtable​-­XIV​-­6​-­Jervis​.­pdf. 26. “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945–1967,” 42. 27. “Foreign Minister’s Interview with Burchett,” January 30, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 157, “Ho Chi Minh-­Wilfred Burchett Interview” Folder, LBJL, 2. 28. “SUNFLOWER PLUS: A Chronology,” February 12, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 256, “Sunflower and Sunflower Chronology” Folder, LBJL. 29. “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945–1967,” 50. 30. “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945–1967,” 54. 31. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam, 115.

176

NOTES TO PAGES 106–108

32. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam, 117–18. 33. Johnson did not agree to halt bombing completely ­until six months ­later, in October 1968, u ­ nder the tacit understanding that the North Viet­nam­ese would limit infiltration of supplies and fighters across the demilitarized zone and cease rocket and mortar attacks on South Vietnam cities. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 262. 34. Pierre Asselin, A ­Bitter Peace: Washington, Hanoi, and the Making of the Paris Agreement (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002), 5. 35. Le Duan, Letters to the South (Hanoi: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1986), 32. 36. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Vietnam, Press Releases on Captured Documents” Folder, LBJL. 37. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL. Brigadier General Tran Do rearticulated this position. See Translation Report, May 7, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (1 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 24. 38. Author’s interview with former diplomat and prominent historian, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. A former army officer who was on the international commission for control and supervision of the Geneva Accords and participated in the Paris Peace Talks also articulated this point, as did several other high-­ranking ­career diplomats. 39. Le Duan, Letters to the South, 41. 40. Saigon to Department of State, “Le Duan Letter,” March 7, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (1 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 13, 15; Translation Report, May 7, 1967, LBJL, 6. 41. Earlier analy­sis placed the speech in late 1966. Amembassy Saigon to Department of State, “Speech by COSVN Po­liti­cal Officer on State of War in South Viet Nam,” February 3, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 153, “Captured Documents Cables (1 of 2)” Folder, LBJL. 42. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 5. 43. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 6. 44. Allan Goodman, “Fighting While Negotiating: The View from Hanoi,” in Communism in Indochina: New Perspectives, ed. Joseph J. Zasloff and MacAlister Brown (Lexington, KY: Lexington Books, 1975), 88–90. See also Russell Stetler, The Military Art of ­People’s War: Selected Writings of General Vo Nguyen Giap (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1970). 45. James G. Hershberg, “Who Murdered ‘Marigold’? New Evidence on the Mysterious Failure of Poland’s Secret Initiative to Start U.S.–­North Viet­nam­ese Peace Talks, 1966,” Cold War International History Proj­ect, Working Paper 27, July 7, 2011, https://­www​.­wilsoncenter​.­org​ /­publication​/­who​-­murdered​-­marigold​-­new​-­evidence​-­the​-­mysterious​-­failure​-­polands​-­secret​ -­initiative​-­to, 46. 46. “Le Duan Letter,” March 7, 1967, LBJL, 11; “Merle Pribbenow Interview with Luu Van Loi,” Hanoi, June 4, 2007, Vietnam Interviews Proj­ect, Annenberg School for Communication, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, California, 25. 47. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 4. 48. Author’s interviews with former DRV ambassador, high-­ ranking ­ career diplomat, prominent Viet­nam­ese academic, and liaison officer and official DRV note taker during the Paris Peace Talks, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011; INR (Thomas L. Hughes) to Dean Rusk, “Hanoi’s Attitudes, as Reflected in Recently Captured Documents,” April 21, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 157, “1966 Documents” Folder, LBJL, Appendix 5. 49. “VC/NVA Policy on Peace Negotiation and Outline Plan for General ­Counter Offensive and General Uprising,” August 4, 1967, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967,” Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (2 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 11. 50. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 4. 51. Author interviews with former DRV ambassador and spokesperson, Hanoi, Vietnam, 2011; “Hanoi’s Attitudes, as Reflected in Recently Captured Documents,” April 21, 1967, LBJL, 3. 52. “Tab A: General Policy Statements and International Strategy,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (1 of 3)” Folder, LBJL.

177

NOTES TO PAGES 108–110

53. Translation Report, May 7, 1967, LBJL, 24. 54. Translation Report, May 7, 1967, LBJL, 23. 55. “Le Duan Letter,” March 7, 1967, LBJL, 26. 56. “Memorandum from Secretary of Defense McNamara to President Johnson,” January 24, 1966, FRUS, 1966, Vol. 4, Doc. 36. 57. See “Walt Rostow on POL Bombing” and “JCS Order POL Attacks,” in The Pentagon Papers, ed. George C. Herring (New York: McGraw-­Hill, 1993), 144–45. 58. Intelligence Memorandum, November 1966, FRUS, 1966, Vol. 4, Doc. 292. 59. Translation Report, May 7, 1967, LBJL, 20–22. 60. Hanoi’s purpose was to convince the United States to question its bombardment strategy. Author’s interview with liaison officer and official note taker, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 61. Author’s interview with Viet­nam­ese academic, Vietnam National University, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 62. Author’s interviews, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. Most interviewees—­including a former DRV ambassador and spokesman, a ­career diplomat active during the war, a lieutenant general who was on active duty during the war, a DRV liaison officer and official note taker for the Paris Peace talks, and several other high-­ranking ­career diplomats—­articulated this position. See also “Le Duan Letter,” March 7, 1967, LBJL, 11; “Tab A: General Policy Statements and International Strategy,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (1 of 3)” Folder, LBJL. 63. “Le Duan Letter,” March 7, 1967, LBJL, 10. General Vinh also expressed that the war should be confined to the South if pos­si­ble. “Hanoi’s Attitudes, as Reflected in Recently Captured Documents,” April 21, 1967, LBJL, 3. 64. Author’s interview with a lieutenant general in the Viet­nam­ese Air Force who was active during the war, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. General Giap also warned that they needed to be prepared for a US expansion of the ground war into the North; see “Tab A: General Policy Statements and International Strategy,” LBJL. General Vinh believed that ­there ­were some limitations on the United States given that Washington did not want to provoke Chinese involvement. See INR (Thomas L. Hughes) to Dean Rusk, “Hanoi’s Attitudes, as Reflected in Recently Captured Documents,” Appendix 6. 65. Author’s interview with a prominent academic at Vietnam National University, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 66. “Le Duan Letter,” March 7, 1967, LBJL, 26. 67. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 4. 68. “Captured Training Document States Viet Cong Current ‘Fighting Objectives,’ ” February 8, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Press Releases on Captured Documents” Folder, LBJL, 7. 69. “The Rec­ord of Vietnam Peace Bids,” April 1968, LBJL. 70. Author’s interviews with a former army officer who participated in the Paris Peace talks and a lieutenant general with experience working with the Po­liti­cal Bureau of the General Staff, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 71. Author’s interviews with a former DRV ambassador and spokesperson, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. While I argue that the third f­actor, encouraging the US to bring in more troops and equipment, was the most influential, the ambassador stressed the importance of all three. 72. It was often noted that the United States was more inclined ­toward talks ­because it could demonstrate toughness through military might. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL. 73. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL. In November 1965, Le Duan had defined “decisive” as “obtaining a basic victory in [a] given concrete situation of the war.” Le Duan, Letters to the South, 57. 74. Coercion lay at the heart of US strategy. See “Washington Approves Rolling Thunder,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 114; “Memorandum of a Meeting with President Johnson,” February 17, 1965, FRUS, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 133. 75. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam, 9.

178

NOTES TO PAGES 110–112

76. See Goodman, The Lost Peace, 34. One main reason for ­these restrictions was concern that escalation to that level would bring the USSR and/or China into the fight. 77. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 182. 78. Ang Cheng Guan, “Decision-­Making Leading to the Tet Offensive (1968): The Viet­nam­ese Communist Perspective,” Journal of Con­temporary History 33, no. 3 (1998): 343. 79. “Report by Nguyen Duy Trinh to the 13 Plenum of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Vietnam,” January 23, 1967, History and Public Policy Program Digital Archive, Archive of the Party Central Committee, Hanoi, Translated for the Cold War International History Proj­ect by Merle Pribbenow; MACV Bulletin No. 7135, ­Enemy Documents, September 6, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (1 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 1; “NLF Thoughts on Peace Negotiations, World Policies, a Cadre’s Notes on a High Level 1967 Re­orientation Course,” January 1968, “Vietnam, Press Releases on Captured Documents,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Press Releases on Captured Documents” Folder, LBJL. 80. Allegedly, Le Duan set the highest bar for what would be a sufficient demonstration of resiliency before talks could begin. Lien-­Hang T. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War: An International History of the War for Peace in Vietnam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012), 90–91, 100–102. 81. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL. 82. Translation Report, October 29, 1967, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (2 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 5; “Tab A: General Policy Statements and International Strategy,” LBJL. 83. “Tab A: General Policy Statements and International Strategy,” LBJL. 84. “Tab A: General Policy Statements and International Strategy,” LBJL. 85. CIA Report, February 20, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 11 (1 of 2)” Folder, LBJL, 2. 86. “Documents Show Viet Cong Plans for 1967–1968 Winter-­Spring Campaign,” February 13, 1968, “Vietnam, Press Releases on Captured Documents,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Extracts from Captured Documents and Copies” Folder, LBJL, 6. 87. Translation Report, October 29, 1967, LBJL, 7. 88. “Captured Document Indicates Final Phase of Revolution at Hand,” January 5, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Vietnam, Press Releases on Captured Documents” Folder, LBJL, 12. 89. “Captured Training Document States Viet Cong Current Fighting Objectives,” February 8, 1968, LBJL, 10; “­Enemy Documents,” September 6, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (1 of 3)” Folder, LBJL. 90. For the text of the order, see Translation Report, November 19, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 153, “CDEC Bulletin, Vol. 1 (2 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 12. 91. “Captured Training Document States Viet Cong Current Fighting Objectives,” February 8, 1968, LBJL. This was not just propaganda—­even as the frequency and intensity of US bombing increased, the infiltration r­ ose from thirty-­five thousand in 1965 to ninety thousand in 1967. The cost of war was skyrocketing for the United States. By one estimate, the United States had to spend $9.60 for ­every dollar of damage inflicted on NVN. Casualties w ­ ere also at a historical high in 1967 at 9,377—­over 4,000 more than the year before. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 178–79, 267. 92. “Documents Show Viet Cong Plans,” February 13, 1968, LBJL. 93. Memo, Art McCafferty to Walt Rostow, November 14, 1967, “Winter-­Spring Campaign,” February 21, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 1” Folder, LBJL. 94. Memo, Art McCafferty to Walt Rostow, November 14, 1967, “Winter-­Spring Campaign,” March 5, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 1” Folder, LBJL. 95. “Captured Training Document States Viet Cong Current Fighting Objectives,” February 8, 1968, LBJL, 3. This position was heavi­ly represented in the US summary of eigh­teen Viet­nam­ ese documents on the Winter-­Spring offensive.

179

NOTES TO PAGES 112–115

96. Le Duan, Letters to the South, 97. 97. “Foreign Minister’s Interview with Burchett,” January 30, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 157, “Ho Chi Minh–­Wilfred Burchett Interview” Folder, LBJL, 2. 98. “Foreign Minister’s Interview with Burchett.” The foreign minister reiterated the point two weeks ­later. See “The Rec­ord of Vietnam Peace Bids,” April 1968, LBJL, 15. 99. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 8. While many argue that Johnson’s letter showed a genuine desire to reach a po­liti­cal settlement to the war, it was still impossible for Ho to agree to talks ­under such direct military pressure. Author’s interview with a former diplomat who now holds a prominent position with Vietnam’s diplomatic history studies, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 100. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 10–11. 101. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 228–31. 102. “Merle Pribbenow Interview with Tran Trong Trung,” Hanoi, June 12, 2007, Vietnam Interviews Proj­ect, 78; “Communist Uprising Plans for 1968,” May 1, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Captured Documents” Folder, LBJL, A-1; “Central Office for South Viet-­ Nam February 1 Assessment of the Situation,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 11 (2 of 2)” Folder, LBJL; “Communist Uprising Plans for 1968,” May 1, 1968, LBJL. 103. “January 29 Initiative,” CDEC #03-2378-68, Bulletin 10, 681, April 10, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 11 (2 of 2)” Folder, LBJL; “January 29 Initiative,” CDEC #03-2166-68, Bulletin 10, 522, April 9, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 11 (2 of 2)” Folder, LBJL; Victory in Vietnam, 224. 104. “Central Office for South Viet-­Nam February 1 Assessment of the Situation,” LBJL, 1–3. 105. Quoted in William C. West­moreland, A Soldier Reports (New York: Da Capo Press, 1976), 321. 106. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 226; Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 88; Anthony Edmonds, “The Tet Offensive and Middletown: A Study in Contradiction,” in The Tet Offensive, ed. Marc Jason Gilbert and William Head (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers, 1996), 135–42. Instead, the connection between Tet and diplomacy is usually articulated as an indicator of Hanoi’s desperation, a realization ­after the attack that only a stalemate would be pos­si­ble. See Ronald H. Spector, ­After Tet: The Bloodiest Year in Vietnam (New York: ­Free Press, 1993), xv–­xvii, 311–16; James S. Robbins, This Time We Win: Revisiting the Tet Offensive (New York: Encounter Books, 2010), 1–15. 107. Goodman, “Fighting While Negotiating,” 104. 108. Goodman, “Fighting While Negotiating,” 91. 109. Clark Clifford with Richard Holbrooke, Counsel to the President: A Memoir (New York: Random House, 1991), 469. 110. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam, 155. 111. Rostow to LBJ, March 16, 1968, “Memo,” LBJL. 112. Clifford, Counsel to the President, 493–94. 113. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 236. 114. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 236. 115. Johnson prob­ably made this decision much earlier, on March 7. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 241. 116. Henry Kissinger, The White House Years (New York: L ­ ittle, Brown, 1979), 1016–17; Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 209. 117. Author’s interview with former DRV ambassador and spokesperson, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011; Bui Tin, From ­Enemy to Friend: A North Viet­nam­ese Perspective on the War (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2002), 65. US historians came to similar conclusions, that t­ hese concessions ­were proof that US leaders had fi­nally come to the realization that escalation was not working; they had vastly underestimated North Viet­nam­ese re­sis­tance and needed to seriously examine alternative strategies. See Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 172. 118. Tang, A Vietcong Memoir, 143. 119. Author’s interview with former DRV ambassador and spokesman, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. Tet did force the United States to de-­escalate the war. “Merle Pribbenow Interview with Tran Trong Trung,” Hanoi, June 12, 2007, Vietnam Interviews Proj­ect, 79; “Achievements of

180

NOTES TO PAGES 116–118

the Tet Offensive,” Memo, Art McCafferty to Walt Rostow, May 22, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 152, “Captured Documents” Folder, LBJL. 120. Ang Cheng Guan, Ending the Vietnam War: The Viet­nam­ese Communists’ Perspective (New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004), 11. NVN could use talks to exploit fissures in the United States, especially during the presidential election. Robert J. McMahon, “Turning Point: The Vietnam War’s Pivotal Year, November 1967–­November 1968,” in The Columbia History of the Viet­nam­ese War (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011), 208; see also Bui Tin, From ­Enemy to Friend, 93; Luu Van Loi, Fifty Years of Viet­nam­ese Diplomacy 1945–1995, vol. 1, 1945–1975 (Hanoi: Gioi Publishers, 2000), 178. 121. Author’s interview with a ­career diplomat who participated in the Paris Peace Talks, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011; author’s interview with a former DRV ambassador and spokesperson, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011; “Zhou Enlai and Pham Van Dong, Beijing, September 17, 1970,” in “77 Conversations,” ed. Odd Arne Westad, Chen Jian, Stein Tonnesson, Nguyen Vu Tungand, and James G. Hershberg, No. 51, Cold War International History Proj­ect, Working Paper 22, May 1998,1998), 77, https://­www​.­wilsoncenter​.­org​/­sites​/­default​/­files​/­ACFB39​.­pdf. 122. Robert S. McNamara and James G. Blight, Argument without End: In Search of Answers to the Vietnam Tragedy (New York: Public Affairs, 1999), 301. 123. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 74. 124. Mueller puts the estimate at five hundred thousand to six hundred thousand, or 2.5–3 ­percent of its prewar population. John E. Mueller, “The Search for ‘the Breaking Point’ in Vietnam,” International Studies Quarterly 24, no. 4 (December 1980): 498, 507. 125. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 174. 126. Intelligence Memorandum, February 13, 1968, FRUS, January–­August  1968, Vol. 2, Doc. 73. 127. “Memorandum to the White House: The E ­ nemy Offensive,” March 6, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 76, “2H (3) Strategic Reconsiderations ­after Tet (2 of 2)” Folder, LBJL, 2; Tele­gram from the Embassy in Vietnam to the Department of State, February 9, 1968, FRUS, January–­August  1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 62; “Memorandum for General Wheeler: Rationale for Additional Troops,” March 4, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 76, “2H (3) Strategic Reconsiderations a­ fter Tet (2 of 2)” Folder, LBJL. 128. Guan, Ending the Vietnam War, 17. 129. Goodman, “Fighting While Negotiating,” 99. 130. Lloyd C. Gardner, The Search for Peace in Vietnam, 1964–1968 (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2004), 325. 131. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 122. 132. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 256. In the words of the FRUS editorial team, “­These public sessions quickly devolved into polemics” and “provided l­ittle more than a forum for propaganda and public posturing.” See “Editorial Note,” FRUS, January–­August  1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 230. 133. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 118. 134. Luu, Fifty Years of Viet­nam­ese Diplomacy, 188–89. 135. Goodman, The Lost Peace, 91. 136. Gardner, The Search for Peace in Vietnam, 322; Luu, Fifty Years of Viet­nam­ese Diplomacy, 190. 137. Guan, Ending the Vietnam War, 13. 138. Jeffrey Kimball, Nixon’s Vietnam War (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1998), 283. 139. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 122–23, 126. 140. Goodman, The Lost Peace, 24. That President Johnson took a hard-­line approach to the Paris Peace Talks did not help the situation; it offered ­little incentive to the DRV to enter into substantive discussions. See Herring, LBJ and Vietnam, 170. 141. Henry Kissinger, Ending the Vietnam War: A History of Amer­i­ca’s Involvement in and Extrication from the Vietnam War (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003), 429. 142. Robert Shaplen, The Road from War: Vietnam, 1965–1970 (New York, NY: Harper & Row, 1970), 300–301.

181

NOTES TO PAGES 118–120

143. Given the extensive primary source material available on the Vietnam War, including oral histories and memories by active high-­level participants, the probability that Hanoi based its decision to talk primarily on its expectations about the ultimate peace proposal, but that no observable evidence was generated to this effect, is very low. Moreover, the North Viet­ nam­ese did not have control over the documents captured, and the United States was forced by law to declassify what it had, so it is equally unlikely that such documents w ­ ere successfully hidden or deliberately withheld. See Andrew Bennett and Jeffrey T. Checkel, eds., Pro­ cess Tracing: From Meta­phor to Analytic Tool (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 19, 295. 144. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL. 145. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL. 146. “Merle Pribbenow Interview with Luu Van Loi,” 28; author’s interviews with former DRV ambassador and spokesperson, Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 147. “Merle Pribbenow Interview with Luu Doan Huynh,” Hanoi, June 6, 2007, Vietnam Interviews Proj­ect, 44. 148. Fredrik Logevall, Choosing War: The Lost Chance for Peace and the Escalation of War in Vietnam (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 8. 149. Jeffrey Kimball, To Reason Why: The Debate about ­Causes of the U.S. Involvement in the Vietnam War (New York: McGraw-­Hill, 1990), 1. 150. For more on the potential reasons for this lack of urgency, see Logevall, Choosing War, 10–12. 151. Logevall, Choosing War, 12. 152. Logevall, Choosing War, 366–67. 153. Hein E. Goemans, War and Punishment: The ­Causes of War Termination and the First World War (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2000). 154. Elizabeth A. Stanley, Paths to Peace: Domestic Co­ali­tion Shifts, War Termination, and the Korean Peninsula (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009); Benjamin F. Jones and Benjamin A. Olken, “Hit or Miss? The Effect of Assassinations on Institutions and War” (NBER Working Paper 13102), May 2007. 155. In the end, while morale was an issue, communist defection rates w ­ ere actually quite low. “Special National Intelligence Estimate,” June 6, 1968, FRUS, January–­August  1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 263. 156. “VC/NVA Policy on Peace Negotiation and Outline Plan for General ­Counter Offensive and General Uprising,” August 4, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Vietnam, Key Communist Documents and Public Pronouncements, 1967 (2 of 3)” Folder, LBJL, 11. 157. “Negotiations,” January 15, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 1” Folder, LBJL. 158. “VC/NVA Policy on Peace Negotiation,” August 4, 1967, LBJL, 11, 17–18. Tran Do urged troops not to let promises of peace disturb their determination. See Translation Report, May 7, 1967, LBJL, 25. 159. “Captured Training Document States Viet Cong Current Fighting Objectives,” February 8, 1968, LBJL, 11. 160. Art McCafferty to Walt Rostow, “Memo,” November 14, 1967, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 1” Folder, LBJL. 161. ­There are many documents to this effect. For some calls to continue to fight instead of stalling ­until peace was reached, see “Peace Talks,” June 5, 1968; “Peace Talks,” July 1, 1968; “Paris Peace Talks,” July 12, 1968; “Peace Talks,” August 6, 1968, Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 164, “Captured Documents, Vol. 11 (1 of 2)” Folder, LBJL. 162. “Hanoi’s Attitudes, as Reflected in Recently Captured Documents,” April 21, 1967, LBJL, Appendix 8. Another con­temporary estimate was that $250 million in aid came from China and $750 million from the Soviet Union, but the small arms and at least half of the anti-­air munitions came from China. Cheng Guan Ang, The Vietnam War from the Other Side (Abindong, UK: Routledge, 2002), 122–23. 163. John Prados, Vietnam: The History of an Unwinnable War, 1945–1975 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2009), 153; Guan, War from the Other Side, 98.

182

NOTES TO PAGES 121–123

164. Thomas J. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith: Alliance Politics and Prob­lems of Coercive Diplomacy in Asia (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2011), 184. For more on the Chinese contribution to the war, see John Prados, The Blood Road: The Ho Chi Minh Trail and the Vietnam War (New York: Wiley, 2000), 362–63. 165. In 1966–67 alone, China provided North Vietnam with approximately five hundred thousand tons of food. See “Mao Zedong, and Pham Van Dong, Vo Nguyen Giap, Beijing, April 11, 1967,” in “77 Conversations,” Westad et al., No. 26, 103. 166. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith. 167. For more, see chapter 6 in Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith. 168. Logevall, Choosing War, 291. 169. “Zhou Enlai, Deng Xiaoping, and Ho Chi Minh, May 17, 1965,” in “77 Conversations,” Westad et al., No. 10, 85. 170. The Chinese ­were still concerned in April 1968 that North Viet­nam­ese willingness to negotiate proved that “Viet­nam­ese comrades find it easy to compromise. The world’s ­people ­can’t help thinking that you are facing some difficulties in your strug­gle.” See “Zhou Enlai and Pham Van Dong, April 13, 1968,” in “77 Conversations,” Westad et al., No. 22, 122. China thought continuing to oppose talks was the correct way to ensure success without provoking an American attack on the North (and maybe then even China). “Communist China and Asia,” Special National Intelligence Estimate, #13–69, March 6, 1969, 4. 171. Christensen, Worse Than a Monolith. 172. Guan, War from the Other Side, 139. 173. Zhai Qiang, “Beijing and the Vietnam Conflict, 1964–1965: New Chinese Evidence,” Cold War International History Proj­ect, www​.­wilsoncenter​.­org; Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 128. 174. Melvin Gurtov, Negotiations and Vietnam: A Case Study of the 1954 Geneva Conference (Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, 1968), 81. 175. Goodman, “Fighting While Negotiating,” 11–12. 176. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 96. 177. Stein Tonnesson, “Tracking Multi-­Directional Dominoes” in “77 Conversations,” Westad et al., No. 22, 40. 178. “The Position of North Vietnam on Negotiations,” October 1967, LBJL, 4. 179. Goodman, The Lost Peace, 106. 180. For a discussion of all major initiatives, see “United States–­Vietnam Relations 1945– 1967”; see also Goodman, The Lost Peace, 26. 181. Goodman, The Lost Peace, 24. 182. For example, President Johnson accepted Secretary McNamara’s recommendation that the United States should have four hundred thousand troops in theater by the end of 1966, based on his assessment that the North Viet­nam­ese would enlarge their forces from the equivalent of 110 battalions to 150 by the end of 1966. “McNamara’s November 1965 Assessment of the War,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 134–35. 183. As told by Forrestal to John Prados. Prados, Vietnam: The History of an Unwinnable War, 110. 184. “McNaughton Hints at Compromise,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 140. 185. ­After the election, U Thant tried once again, communicating to the US ambassador to the UN, Adlai Stevenson, that the Burmese government had agreed to host talks. The US response was unwelcoming; Secretary of State Dean Rusk told the secretary general to shelve the proposal ­because the time was not right for talking. Logevall, Choosing War, 210–12, 295–97; Thies, When Governments Collide, 48–49. 186. “Memorandum from the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Bundy) to the President,” August 13, 1964, FRUS, 1964, Vol. 1, Doc. 313. 187. “Memorandum of a Meeting with President Johnson,” February 17, 1965, FRUS, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 133. 188. “McNamara Urges Major Expansion of Ground Forces,” July 20, 1965, in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 131. 189. Le Duan, Letters to the South, 21. 190. “McNamara Opposes Escalation,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 161–62.

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NOTES TO PAGES 123–131

191. Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 155–56. 192. The allies had difficulty understanding the US aversion to initiating bombing pauses to facilitate the start of talks. Given the preponderance of US power, “the risk would be low that Hanoi could take any appreciable advantage of an end to the bombing, which was, a­ fter all, only one aspect of the war.” Goodman, The Lost Peace, 37. 193. “JCS Oppose Cutback in Bombing,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 171. 194. “JCS Oppose Cutback in Bombing,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 172. 195. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam, 106. 196. See Lyndon B. Johnson, The Vantage Point (Austin, TX: Hold, Reignhart and Winston, 1971). Dean Rusk, secretary of state at the time, made the same observation in his memoirs. See Dean Rusk, As I Saw It (London, UK: Penguin Books, 1991). 197. For this par­tic­u­lar quote, see “Memorandum of a Meeting with President Johnson,” February 17, 1965, FRUS, Vietnam 1965, Doc. 133, 3; Memorandum from the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Bundy) to President Johnson, February 19, 1965, FRUS, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 146. 198. “Tele­gram from the Embassy in Vietnam to the Department of State,” FRUS, Vietnam, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 187, March 8, 1965, https://­history​.­state​.­gov​/­historicaldocuments​ /­frus1964​-­68v02​/­d187. 199. According to a former DRV diplomat, NVN thought US offers to talk ­were not exactly a sign of weakness given its demonstrations of military might, but Johnson’s March 1968 speech did reveal a genuine desire to end the war. Author’s interview with a former DRV ambassador in Hanoi, Vietnam, March 2011. 200. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War, 173; “Zhou Enlai and Pakistani President Ayub Khan, Karachi,” April 2, 1965, in “77 Conversations,” Westad et al., No. 6, 77. Zhou Enlai makes similar assertions during the course of the conversation. 201. “McNamara Turns Dove,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 199. 202. Prados, Vietnam: The History of an Unwinnable War, 159–62.

Diplomacy and War 1. George C. Herring, Amer­i­ca’s Longest War: The United States and Vietnam, 1950–1975 (Boston: McGraw-­Hill Education, 2014), 278. 2. “A Kosovo Chronology,” PBS Frontline, Last accessed May 2, 2018, http://­www​.­pbs​ .­org​/­wgbh​/­pages​/­frontline​/­shows​/­kosovo​/­etc​/­cron​.­html. 3. Tim Judah, Kosovo: War and Revenge (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000), 227. 4. Robert Brigham, The United States and Iraq Since 1990 (Singapore: Wiley-­Blackwell, 2014), 19. 5. George Bush, “Exchange with Reporters on the Persian Gulf Conflict,” The American Presidency Proj­ect, January 17, 1991, http://­www​.­presidency​.­ucsb​.­edu​/­ws​/­index​.­php​?­pid​ =­19225. 6. Robert H. Mnookin, “When Not to Negotiate: A Negotiation Imperialist Reflects on Appropriate Limits,” University of Colorado Law Review 74, no. 3 (2003): 1077–108; Paul Gordon Lauren, “Ultimata and Coercive Diplomacy,” International Studies Quarterly 16, no. 2 (June 1972): 146. 7. Trita Parsi, Losing an ­Enemy: Obama, Iran, and the Triumph of Diplomacy (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017). 8. Schelling, Arms and Influence. 9. The lit­er­a­ture on terrorism is replete with arguments against talks for fear of inciting greater vio­lence. See Harmonie Toros, “ ‘We ­Don’t Negotiate with Terrorists!’ Legitimacy and Complexity in Terrorist Conflicts,” Security Dialogue 39, no. 4 (August 2008): 407–26; Carolin Goerzig, Talking to Terrorists: Concessions and the Renunciation of Vio­lence (London: Routledge, 2010), 3; Jonathan Powell, Talking to Terrorists: How to End Armed Conflicts (London: Bodley Head, 2014), 17–18.

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NOTES TO PAGES 132–134

10. I. William Zartman and Saadia Touval, “International Mediation: Conflict Resolution and Power Politics,” Journal of Social Issues 41, no. 2 (July 1985): 27–45; Jacob Bercovitch, “Mediation in International Conflict: An Overview of Theory, a Review of Practice,” in Peacemaking in International Conflict: Methods and Techniques, ed. I. William Zartman and J. Lewis Rasmussen (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1997), 125–54; Andrew Kydd, “Which Side Are You On? Bias, Credibility, and Mediation,” American Journal of Po­liti­cal Science 47, no. 4 (October 2003): 597–611. For more on the qualities a mediator must have to be effective in helping belligerents reach a war termination agreement, see Jacob Bercovitch, Social Conflicts and Third Parties: Strategies of Conflict Resolution (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1984), 111; Dean G. Pruitt and Sung Hee Kim, Social Conflict: Escalation, Stalemate, and Settlement, 3rd ed. (New York: McGraw-­Hill, 2004), 243; William J. Long and Peter Brecke, War and Reconciliation: Reason and Emotion in Conflict Resolution (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003). 11. The difference is reflected in some of the arbitration lit­er­a­ture, which defines mediation as third-­party assistance that helps conflicting parties reach an agreement. If the third parties are serving mainly as go-­betweens, shuttling back and forth merely to communicate positions, they are referred to as intermediaries. This task is particularly useful when belligerents are reluctant to talk directly to each other, which tends to be the case for at least one party in the initial stages of a conflict. See Pruitt and Kim, Social Conflict, 232–44. 12. Patrick M. Regan, Richard Frank, and Aysegul Aydin, “Diplomatic Interventions and Civil Wars: A New Dataset,” Journal of Peace Research 46, no. 1 (2009): 138. 13. Third parties, in some cases at the urging of the war participants and in o ­ thers in­de­pen­ dently, attempted to facilitate the emergence of talks in all of the case studies, only to effect in the Korean War. 14. For a concise discussion of the difference between ­these two categories, see Daniel Byman, “Talking with Insurgents: A Guide for the Perplexed,” Washington Quarterly 32, no. 2 (April 2009): 136. 15. Zachary Laub, “Who’s Who in Syria’s Civil War,” Council on Foreign Relations, April 28, 2017, https://­www​.­cfr​.­org​/­backgrounder​/­whos​-­who​-­syrias​-­civil​-­war. 16. Laub, “Who’s Who in Syria’s Civil War.” 17. The Gulf War and Kosovo are two such examples. In both, the United States achieved its absolute aims, and the opponent sought talks to sue for peace. Benjamin Lambeth, NATO’s Air War for Kosovo: A Strategic and Operational Assessment (Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2001), xix; George Bush, “Address to the Nation Announcing Allied Military Action in the Persian Gulf,” The American Presidency Proj­ect, January 16, 1991; Lawrence Freedman and Efraim Karsh, The Gulf Conflict 1990–1991: Diplomacy and War in the New World Order (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1993), 418. Initially in the 2003 Iraq War, the United States held the absolute aim of Saddam Hussein’s removal and regime change. Therefore, the two sides never met, even ­after Saddam hinted he would accept exile, and then not even ­after the United States achieved this objective. Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004), 265–67, 314, 369. 18. Byman, “Talking with Insurgents,” 129. 19. Byman, “Talking with Insurgents,” 125. 20. Laub, “Who’s Who in Syria’s Civil War.” 21. Jeremy Bender, “­Here’s a Look at the Weapons the US Is Sending to Syrian Rebels,” Business Insider, April 11, 2016; Aamer Madhani, Jim Michaels, and Tom Vanden Brook, “Source: Obama Approves Arming Syrian Rebels,” USA ­Today, June 13, 2013; Michael R. Gordon and Eric Schmitt, “Trump to Arm Syrian Kurds, Even as Turkey Strongly Objects,” New York Times, May 9, 2017. 22. For more on their funding, see Ken Sofer and Juliana Shafroth, The Structure and Organ­ ization of the Syrian Opposition, Center for American Pro­gress, May 14, 2013, https://­www​ .­americanprogress​.­org​/­wp​-­content​/­uploads​/­2013​/­05​/­StructureAndOrganizationSyrianOpp osition​-­copy​.­pdf. 23. Bob Woodward, Obama’s Wars (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2010), 385. 24. ­There was no US involvement in the reconciliation pro­cess between the Taliban and the Af­ghan­i­stan government. Ewan MacAskill and Simon Tisdall, “White House Shifts Af­ghan­i­stan

185

NOTES TO PAGES 134–137

Strategy ­towards Talks with Taliban,” The Guardian, July 19, 2010. The Af­ghan­i­stan policy review conducted during the first year of the Obama administration involved “no discussion at all of diplomacy and a po­liti­cal settlement.” Vali Nasr, “The Inside Story of How the White House Let Diplomacy Fail in Af­ghan­i­stan,” Foreign Policy, March 4, 2013. 25. MacAskill and Tisdall, “White House Shifts Af­ghan­i­stan Strategy ­towards Talks with Taliban”; Nasr, “The Inside Story of How the White House Let Diplomacy Fail in Af­ghan­i­ stan”; Rajiv Chandrasekaran, “ ‘­ Little Amer­ i­ ca’: Infighting on Obama Team Squandered Chance for Peace in Af­ghan­i­stan,” Washington Post, June 24, 2012; Ginger Thompson, “Gates Acknowledges Talks with Taliban,” New York Times, June 19, 2011; Woodward, Obama’s Wars. 26. Chandrasekaran, “ ‘­Little Amer­i­ca.’ ” This was the first public mention of the new open diplomatic posture, but secret talks had been held earlier in November 2010. “U.S. Envoy in Af­ghan­i­stan to Discuss Peace, Taliban,” CNN, January 21, 2012. 27. Steve Coll, “U.S.-­Taliban Talks,” New Yorker, February 28, 2011. 28. Richard D. Hooker Jr. and Joseph J. Collins, eds., “Annex B: Af­ghan­i­stan Timeline,” in Lessons Encountered: Learning from the Long War (Washington, DC: National Defense University Press, 2015), 449–50; Matthew Rosenber and Graham Bowley, “Karzai Gives a Lukewarm Welcome to Taliban Talks,” New York Times, January 4, 2012; Karen DeYoung, “U.S. to Launch Peace Talks with Taliban,” Washington Post, June 18, 2013; Eric Schmitt and Charlie Savage, “Bowe Bergdahl, American Soldier, Freed by Taliban in Prisoner Trade,” New York Times, May 31, 2014. 29. Yevgeniy Kirpichevsky and Phillip Y. Lipscy, “The Dark Side of the Demo­cratic Advantage: International Crises and Secret Agreements” (working paper, Stanford, CA: Stanford University) http://­stanford​.­edu​/­~plipscy​/­papersecretagreements​.­pdf; James Fearon, “Alliances: Why Write Them Down?,” in Annual Review of Po­liti­cal Science, vol. 3., ed. Nelson W. Polsby (Palo Alto, CA: Annual Reviews, 2000), 63–83. 30. Keren Yarhi-­Milo, “Tying Hands ­behind Closed Doors: The Logic and Practice of Secret Reassurance,” Security Studies 22, no. 3 (2013): 405–35. 31. Anne E. Sartori, “The Might of the Pen: A Reputational Theory of Communication in International Disputes,” International Organ­ization 56, no. 1 (Winter 2002): 123. 32. Allen E. Goodman, The Lost Peace: Amer­i­ca’s Search for a Negotiated Settlement of the Vietnam War (Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press, 1978), 57. 33. George C. Herring, LBJ and Vietnam: A Dif­fer­ent Kind of War (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1994), 173. 34. “Mao Zedong and Pham Van Dong, Beijing, November 17, 1968,” in Westad et al., “77 Conversations,” No. 39 Cold War International History Proj­ect, Working Paper 22, May 1998, 144–45. 35. Robert Jervis, How Statesmen Think: The Psy­chol­ogy of International Politics (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2017), 108. 36. For a full review of this lit­er­a­ture, see Daryl G. Oress, Calculating Credibility: How Leaders Assess Military Threats (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2005), 11–20. 37. Jonathan Mercer, Reputation and International Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996). 38. Jervis, How Statesmen Think, 109. 39. Dan Reiter, How Wars End (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 2009), 87–88. 40. Thomas C. Schelling, Arms and Influence (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1966). 41. In his case study of the winter war between Finland and the Soviet Union, he speculates only that “it would have been pos­si­ble for the Soviet Union to avoid war by making smaller demands or offering more compensation” but provides no empirical evidence for this belief. Todd S. Sechser, “Goliath’s Curse: Coercive Threats and Asymmetric Power,” International Organ­ization 64, no. 4 (2010): 649. 42. Letter from Director of Central Intelligence Raborn to President Johnson, May 8, 1965, Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), January–­August 1968, Vol. 6, Doc. 286. T ­ here ­were three additional bombing pauses before the Paris Peace talks that ­ were not part of this strategy—­each was only a day long to re­spect a par­tic­u­lar holiday. 43. Memorandum from the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Bundy) to President Johnson, April 23, 1965, FRUS, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 272.

186

NOTES TO PAGES 137–140

44. “The Rec­ord of Vietnam Peace Bids,” April 1968, LBJL, 7, 15. 45. David Kraslow and Stuart Loory, The Secret Search for Peace in Vietnam (New York: Random House, 1968). 46. “Tele­gram from the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Bundy) to President Johnson, in Texas,” December 6, 1965, FRUS, June–­December  1965, Vol. 3, Doc. 220; Notes of Meeting, December 18, 1965, FRUS, June–­December  1965, Vol. 3, Doc. 235; Memorandum for President Johnson, November 9, 1965, FRUS, June–­December  1965, Vol. 3, Doc. 194; Memo from the Ambassador at Large (Harriman) to President Johnson and Secretary of State Rusk, February 2, 1967, FRUS, June–­December  1965, Vol. 3, Doc. 34. 47. “Negotiating Initiatives on Vietnam,” Vietnam Country File, NSF, Box 94, “Peace Initiatives–­General International Initiatives (Retrospective Accounts)” Folder, LBJL, 2. 48. FRUS: Letter from Director of Central Intelligence Raborn to President Johnson, May 8, 1965, FRUS, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 286; FRUS: Tele­gram from the Embassy in Vietnam to the Department of State, May 11, 1965, FRUS, January–­June  1965, Vol. 2, Doc. 289. 49. Pruitt and Kim, Social Conflict, 226. 50. Bercovitch, Social Conflicts and Third Parties, 112. 51. Bercovitch, “Mediation in International Conflict,” 137–38. The lit­er­a­ture includes a third category, formulation strategies that include arranging the mediation setting and protocols, shaping the agenda, controlling timing and maintaining parties’ focus, and suggesting concessions, options, and settlement proposals. 52. For more on arbitration, see Pruitt and Kim, Social Conflict, 245–46. 53. Avery Goldstein, “First ­Things First: The Pressing Danger of Crisis Instability in U.S.-­ China Relations,” International Security 37, no. 4 (Spring 2013): 49–89. 54. Robert Jervis, The Logic of Images in International Relations (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989), 139. 55. For more on decoupling, see Jervis, The Logic of Images in International Relations,142–45. Iklé suggests this primarily so that, when talks do occur, this does not spark an adverse reaction among the troops and domestically when talks become unavoidable. Fred Charles Iklé, ­Every War Must End (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 86. 56. For more on this tendency in US strategy, see Gideon Rose, How Wars End: Why We Always Fight the Last ­Battle (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2010), 168. On Chinese strategy, see Oriana Skylar Mastro, “The Theory and Practice of War Termination: Assessing Patterns in China’s Historical Be­hav­ior,” International Studies Review, February 2018, https://­doi​.­org​/­10​ .­1093​/­isr​/­vix061. 57. Examples in which the United States was able to destroy the ­enemy’s capacity to fight and compel it to capitulate to US-­led co­ali­tion terms include the First Gulf War and the Kosovo War. 58. “McGeorge Bundy Opposes Escalation,” in Herring, The Pentagon Papers, 188. 59. For example, see A Sharper Choice on North ­Korea, Council on Foreign Relations, Task Force Report (September 2016); US Policy t­ oward China, Asia Society, Task Force Report (February 2017); ­Toward a New Policy and Strategy for North K ­ orea, George W. Bush Institute (December 2016); and The Next Generation of Sanctions, Center for a New American Security (September 2016). 60. ­Others have also called for an open diplomatic posture b ­ ecause coercion makes negotiations less likely. See John Delury, “Instead of Threatening North ­Korea, Trump Should Try This,” Washington Post, April 23, 2017; Zachary Cohen, “Markey to Trump: Negotiate with King Jong Un,” CNN Politics, April 8, 2017; Jane Harman and James Person, “The U.S. Needs to Negotiate with North ­Korea,” Washington Post, September 30, 2016; David Krieger, “North ­Korea ­Doesn’t Want War—­Trump Needs to Negotiate,” The Hill, May 8, 2017. 61. Sophie Jeong, W ­ ill Ripley, and Euan McKirdy, “Kim Jong Un: North ­Korea No Longer Needs Nuclear Tests,” CNN​ .­ com, April 22, 2018, https://­www​.­cnn​.­com​/­2018​/­04​/­20​/­asia​ /­north​-­korea​-­closes​-­nuclear​-­site​/­index​.­html.

187

Index

Acheson, Dean, 35, 39, 57, 161n178 Afghanistan-­Soviet War (1980s), 15–16 Afghanistan-­US War, 1, 2, 21, 134, 150n62, 185n24. See also Taliban aims, absolute, 15, 19–21, 185n17; in bargaining model, 25, 26, 52; and insurgencies, 21, 132–33; in Korean War, 38, 41–45, 46, 51, 53, 57–60, 156n60; vs. limited, 8, 10, 19; in Vietnam War, 103, 118 aims, Chinese: in Korean War, 41–45, 51, 60, 156n60; in Sino-­Indian War, 78, 81, 87, 88, 99, 127–28 aims, conflicting, 132–33 aims, limited, 12, 20, 23, 149n55, 150n62; vs. absolute, 8, 10, 19; in bargaining model, 52; and inference of weakness, 18, 126; and insurgencies, 134; in Korean War, 41, 45, 47, 51, 53, 58–61, 160n163; in Sino-­ Indian War, 78, 80, 81, 87, 88, 99, 127–28 aims, US, 185n17; absolute, 21, 42; in Korean War, 42, 47, 58, 59, 60 Aksai Chin, 63, 64, 79, 86, 175n152 alliance dynamics, 128, 145n43; in Cold War, 32; and diplomatic posture, 9, 25, 29–30; in Korean War, 35, 38, 55–56, 58. See also international community al-­Qaeda, 21, 133, 134 arbitration lit­er­a­ture, 185n11 Arunachal Pradesh (North-­East Frontier Agency; NEFA), 63, 68, 72, 74, 81, 83, 89, 90, 91, 169n6 Assad, Bashar al-­, 133 Assam, 72, 80, 83, 87 Atlee, Clement, 161n186

audience-­costs lit­er­a­ture, 150n66, 152n102 Austin, Warren, 36, 57 autocracies, 27–28, 119, 126, 127, 129, 136 Aziz, Tariq, 130 Baker, James, 130 Bara Hot (India), 94 bargaining model, 4, 5, 9, 21–25, 128, 129, 147n27; aims in, 25, 26, 52; characterization of war in, 22–23; information in, 23–26, 52, 53; and Korean War, 38, 52–53, 58; and Sino-­Indian War, 75, 82, 84, 93–94; and Vietnam War, 116–18 beliefs, 126, 128, 147nn21–23; of leaders, 8, 27–28, 31, 32, 75–76; of Mao Zedong, 27, 32, 45, 53–54, 75–76, 153n117, 156n44, 168n97; in Sino-­Indian War, 27, 81. See also ideational ­factors Bevin, Ernest, 161n186 Bhutan, 88 bin Laden, Osama, 21 Bohlen, Charles, 59 Bolte, Charles L., 57 Bradley, Omar, 47 Brezhnev, Leonid, 121 Bundy, McGeorge, 123, 137 Burchett, Wilfred, 113 Burma, 87, 91, 183n185 Bush, George H. W., 21 Bush, George W., 13, 21, 130, 148n48, 151n73 Cambodia, 15, 91, 129, 148n29, 176n11 ceasefires: in bargaining model, 52, 53; in Korean War, 36, 38–41, 43–44, 50, 51, 56,

189

INDEX

ceasefires (continued) 59, 159n146; in Sino-­Indian War, 31, 63, 68, 72–74, 76, 78, 80, 82–84, 88–93, 98, 99, 100; in Vietnam War, 102–6, 108, 123, 125, 137, 177n33, 184n192, 186n42 Chamberlain, Neville, 143n12 Chen Yi, 66, 68, 71, 74, 76, 78, 95, 166n54, 174n121 China, P ­ eople’s Republic of (PRC): ceasefire proposals of, 31, 63, 68, 72–74, 76, 78, 80, 82–84, 88–93, 98, 99, 100; domestic politics in, 37, 38, 46, 54, 76, 153n117; ideational ­factors in, 27–28, 32, 45, 53–54, 75–76, 153n117, 156n44, 168n97; and inference of weakness, 10, 38, 39, 43, 45–47, 49, 61, 68–71, 76; and Iran nuclear deal, 131; in Korean War, 9–10, 31, 32, 35–62, 129, 158n121, 160n150; and North Vietnam, 116, 120–22, 128, 183n170; potential costs for, 49–51, 68–71; in Sino-­Indian War, 10, 31, 32, 63–78, 79–100, 132, 137; in South China Sea, 1, 139; and Taiwan, 36, 37, 40, 41, 43, 50, 79, 139, 145n33, 161n186; and Tibet, 63–65, 69, 77, 79, 85, 92, 164n21; and US, 1, 59, 178n64; and USSR, 77–78, 95, 98, 121, 163n3, 169n117, 172n74; and Vietnam War, 178n64, 179n76, 182n162, 183n165; Xinjiang region of, 63, 79, 85, 92. See also aims, Chinese; diplomatic posture, Chinese; strategic capacity, Chinese Chinese Communist Party (CCP), 35, 37, 40, 54 Chinese ­People Volunteers (CPV), 37, 42, 44, 48 Christensen, Thomas, 46, 121, 160n163 Churchill, Winston, 2–3 CIA (Central Intelligence Agency; US), 88, 92, 96 civil (intrastate) wars, 8, 16, 20, 30, 131, 133. See also insurgencies Clifford, Clark, 115 Clinton, Bill, 21 Clinton, Hillary, 2 coercion, 5, 13–16, 20, 24, 30, 137–40; economic, 8, 130; in Korean War, 45, 52; and negotiations, 3, 137, 138; in Sino-­ Indian War, 68, 69, 81, 90, 100; in Vietnam War, 107–11, 121, 124, 125 Cold War, 31, 32, 126–28, 140, 141; and Korean War, 38, 55; and Sino-­Indian War, 79, 98, 99 Colombia, 20 Colombo meeting (1962), 91, 92 combat: in bargaining model, 52; Chinese effectiveness in, 52–53; and inference of weakness, 24, 51, 129, 130; information from, 23, 34, 53, 150n72; to make talks, 51,

190

69; vs. negotiations, 34; outcomes of, 22, 23, 29; and resolve, 24, 146n11; while talking, 1, 3, 5, 22, 23, 38, 40, 41, 45, 48, 52, 56, 58, 62, 102, 106–8, 112, 118–19, 121, 126; without talking, 124, 139 Communist Party (India), 90, 97 concession: negotiation as, 23, 86, 128, 137; open diplomatic posture as, 12–14, 67, 126, 129, 132; in Sino-­Indian War, 72–73, 75 Correlates of War proj­ect, 31 costly conversations thesis, 7–9, 12–34, 126–28; and absolute aims, 19–21; alternatives to, 21–31, 33, 51–56, 75–78, 93–99, 116–22, 128; and calculation of costs, 12, 14–17; and crisis diplomacy, 129, 130, 131; exceptions to, 9; and ­future research, 134–36; and Korean War, 38–39, 51, 54, 56; practical implications of, 137–39; predictions from, 17–19; and security studies, 128–34; and Sino-­Indian War, 65, 68, 75, 84–93, 96; testing of, 18–19, 31–33; and Vietnam War, 103, 122, 124–25; and war duration, 131–32 costly signaling theory, 4, 5, 129, 136 costs, 3–9, 12–19, 20, 22–25, 28–34; in Af­ghan­i­stan, 134; attempts to lower, 111–13; in bargaining model, 22, 52; calculation of, 12, 14–19, 28, 34, 97; and combat, 24, 100, 150n72; of concessions, 14, 152n100; domestic, 28–29, 30, 111, 127, 137–38; early in conflict, 10, 18, 23, 64, 74; economic, 46, 48, 56; and ­enemy response, 9, 13, 29, 30, 33; of inference of weakness, 14–18, 46–47, 109–10, 114–16, 123, 126, 129–30, 137–38; international, 29, 30, 31, 127; in international relations theory, 126–28; in Korean War, 43, 47, 49–51, 52, 57, 59–62, 124; to leaders, 28, 29, 30, 152n100; of open diplomatic posture, 9, 12–17, 23, 29–31, 43, 49, 129, 140; perceptions of, 7, 19, 32, 33, 34; potential, 49–51, 68–71; reputational, 13, 135–36, 137; in Sino-­Indian War, 62, 65, 68–74, 78, 81, 87–89, 93, 100; and strategic capacity, 14, 16–17, 30, 111–12, 127; and US diplomatic posture, 57, 59, 60, 122–23, 124, 126; in Vietnam War, 11, 106–13, 118, 119, 125, 126, 140 credible commitment theory, 33 crisis diplomacy, 3, 4, 5, 128, 139, 144n23; and costly conversations thesis, 129, 130, 131 Cuban Missile Crisis, 77, 78, 80, 99 Cyprus, 135 Czecho­slo­va­kia, 154n11 Dalai Lama, 65 demilitarized zones, 51, 65, 72, 161n186

INDEX

democracies, 27–28, 29, 127, 128, 129, 136 demo­cratic peace lit­er­a­ture, 27 Demo­cratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV). See North Vietnam Deng Hua, 42, 44, 53, 156n45 Deng Xiaoping, 76, 78, 166n54 deterrence theory, 33, 131 dilemma of corpulence, 137 diplomatic posture, 3–11, 126–28; and alliance dynamics, 9, 25, 29–30; in bargaining model, 25; and combat, 22, 24; in Gulf War, 130; and information, 23, 34; perceptions of, 8, 32, 34, 38; prediction of, 17–19; preferred vs. ­adopted, 9; research on, 5–6, 134–36, 141 diplomatic posture, Chinese, 35–78; and absolute aims, 38, 41–45, 46, 51, 53, 57–60, 156n60; closed, 39–45, 51–52, 53, 60–61; and inference of weakness, 10, 38, 39, 43, 45–47, 49, 61, 68–71, 76; in Korean War, 9–10, 35–62; open, 38–41, 44, 45, 47, 49–52, 64–65, 67–78; in Sino-­Indian War, 63–78, 80; stages of, 38–39, 41 diplomatic posture, closed, 2, 4, 6–7, 9; and absolute aims, 21; and costs, 100; early in conflict, 18, 23; in Korean War, 127, 162n193; North Viet­nam­ese, 104–6; and strategic capacity, 19, 20; of US, 7, 162n193. See also diplomatic posture, Indian diplomatic posture, Indian, 31, 64, 79–100, 127–28; and Chinese ceasefires, 83–84, 88, 89–93, 98, 99, 100; and Chinese escalation, 86, 88, 94; and costs, 62, 68–74, 78, 81, 87–89, 93, 100; and domestic politics, 84, 86, 93, 96–98; and ideational f­ actors, 27–28, 84, 93, 94–96; and inference of weakness, 10–11, 84–87, 95, 96, 99; and information, 84, 87; and international community, 86, 88, 93, 96, 98–99; and Nehru, 79, 80–84, 88, 94–96, 98, 99–100, 128; open, 95–96; and preconditions, 82–86, 88, 95, 96, 99; and resilience, 10–11, 84, 89, 93, 98, 99; and resolve, 82, 84, 88, 99; and strategic capacity, 82, 84, 87, 88, 98, 99–100; and USSR, 95, 98, 99, 128; and Zhou Enlai, 82–83, 95–96, 97 diplomatic posture, North Viet­nam­ese, 31, 101–25, 183n170; alternative perspectives on, 116–22; closed, 104–6; and costs, 106–10, 118, 119, 125; and ideational ­factors, 116, 118–19; and inference of weakness, 11, 104, 107–10, 114–16, 124, 129, 135, 138; and information, 116, 117; and international community, 104, 116, 117, 120–22; and LBJ, 105, 124, 127; and North Viet­nam­ese domestic politics, 104, 116, 119–20; open, 106, 107, 112, 114–16,

124, 127; preconditions in, 104–6, 113; and resilience, 104, 110, 125; and resolve, 102, 120; and Tet Offensive, 116, 117, 124; and US domestic politics, 100, 104, 106, 110, 111, 112, 124; and US escalation, 100, 104, 108, 110, 119, 124, 180n117; and US strategic capacity, 17, 102, 104, 107, 110, 124; and USSR, 116, 117, 120–22 diplomatic posture, open, 2, 4, 6–9; in Af­ghan­i­stan, 134; and aims, 20, 21, 41; and alternative theories, 22, 75; antecedents to, 32; in bargaining model, 22–23, 25–26; Chinese, 38–41, 44, 45, 47, 49–52, 64–65, 67–78; and coercion, 3, 137, 138; as concession, 12–14, 23, 67, 86, 126, 128, 129, 132, 137; costs of, 9, 12–17, 23, 29–31, 43, 49, 129, 140; earliest adoption of, 26; Indian, 95–96; and inference of weakness, 8, 12–16, 127, 129, 139, 146n7, 159n146; in intrastate wars, 133; and morale, 153n105, 160n157; North Viet­nam­ese, 106, 107, 112, 114–16, 124, 127; and power disparities, 18, 19, 23; as settlement, 22, 26, 51, 117, 128, 132; in Sino-­Indian War, 63–78, 80; and strategic capacity, 16–19; as surrender, 41, 100, 170n31; and Tet Offensive, 114–16 diplomatic posture, US: closed, 7, 162n193; and costs, 57, 59, 60, 122–23, 124, 126; and inference of weakness, 57, 58, 59–60, 122–23, 124; in Korean War, 56–60, 162n193; in Kosovo War, 130; and LBJ, 122, 123, 124, 180n99; and third parties, 57, 58, 124; and UN, 57, 128; and USSR, 57, 58, 59, 60; in Vietnam War, 101–2, 178n72 domestic politics, 24–33, 127–29, 131, 134; Chinese, 37, 38, 46, 54, 76, 153n117; and diplomatic posture, 4, 8, 25, 28–29, 84, 86, 93, 96–98, 100, 104, 106, 110–12, 116, 119–20, 124; and elites vs. public opinion, 136, 138; in Korean War, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 46, 47, 54, 136; and leaders, 28–29, 152n102; North Viet­nam­ese, 104, 116, 119–20; and reputational costs, 137–38; in Sino-­Indian War, 10, 76, 81, 84, 86, 90, 93, 96–98, 136; and strategic capacity, 16, 17, 30–31, 129; and trade, 144n14; US, 36, 40, 100, 104, 106, 110–12, 124, 136; in Vietnam War, 11, 100–102, 104, 106, 110–12, 114–16, 119–20, 124, 136 Easter Offensive (1972; Vietnam War), 103 economic issues, 138, 146n10; Chinese, 77, 79, 82; costs, 46, 48, 56; Indian, 82; sanctions, 8, 35, 130–31, 140; trade, 3, 35, 144n14; US, 111 Egypt, 91

191

INDEX

Eisenhower, Dwight D., 62, 123, 162n220 El Salvador, 20 elites, 18, 29, 30, 32, 128, 136, 138; in Korean War, 58, 61, 76; in Sino-­Indian War, 10, 76, 81, 84, 87, 88, 91, 97, 98, 127; in Vietnam War, 17, 103, 107, 111, 122–23, 127 escalation, prolongation, or intensification of conflict, 1, 13–18, 21, 24, 28, 131; and alliance dynamics, 30, 55; Chinese, 58–60, 74, 75, 78, 79, 86, 88, 90, 91, 94; and domestic politics, 30–31, 136; Indian, 62, 68, 70, 74, 97; and inference of weakness, 17–18, 126; in Korean War, 10, 39, 46, 47, 49–52, 55, 59, 61; in Sino-­Indian War, 62, 65, 68, 70, 74, 75, 78, 79, 81, 86, 88, 90, 91, 94, 97; unintended, 139; US, 47, 49–52, 55, 59, 61, 100, 104, 107, 108, 110–12, 115, 119, 123, 124, 179n91, 180n117, 180n119; in Vietnam War, 100, 104, 107, 108, 110–12, 115, 119, 123, 124, 129, 179n91, 180n117, 180n119. See also strategic capacity Eu­rope, 35 expected utility theory, 152n97 Falklands War, 148n29 Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front (FMLN; El Salvador), 20 Fearon, James, 13, 94 Finland, 186n41 Forward Policy (1961; India), 63, 64, 68, 72, 73, 79, 80, 82, 85, 93 Four Points (Vietnam War), 15, 104, 105, 106 France, 2, 42, 119, 124, 129, 131, 140 ­Free Syrian Army, 133 Galbraith, John Kenneth, 172n79 game theory, 27 Gao Gang, 156n45 Geneva Conference (1954), 104 Geneva Peace Conference (1991), 130 Germany, 2–3, 129, 131, 140 Ghana, 91 Giap, Vo Nguyen, 108, 111, 178n64 Goddard, Stacie, 94 Goemans, Hein E., 14, 144n19 Goodman, Allan, 117 ­Great Britain, 2–3, 148n29; and Iran nuclear deal, 131; and Korean War, 39, 42, 140, 161n178, 161n186; and Kosovo War, 129; and Sino-­Indian War, 88, 89, 98, 99, 172n74; and Vietnam War, 124 ­Great Leap Forward, 76, 79, 85, 163n3 Gromkyo, Andrei, 40, 50 Gulf War (1990–91), 20, 21, 130, 148n29, 185n17, 187n57 Hamas, 27 Harriman, Averell, 175n149

192

He Long, 76, 166n54 Hershberg, James, 104–5 Hez­bollah, 27, 133 Hitler, Adolph, 3 Ho Chi Minh, 107, 110, 112, 121; death of, 120; diplomatic posture of, 104, 119, 180n99; and LBJ, 105, 113, 145n37 Holbrooke, Richard, 130, 150n62 honor, 26–27, 28, 128; costs to, 13, 135–36, 137, 150n67; in Korean War, 53; in Sino-­Indian War, 75, 84; in Vietnam War, 118, 119 Hussein, Saddam, 15, 21, 149n48, 151n73, 185n17 ideational ­factors, 25, 26–28, 31, 128; and Chinese diplomatic posture, 27–28, 32, 38, 45, 53–54, 75–76, 153n117, 156n44, 168n97; and Indian diplomatic posture, 27–28, 84, 93, 94–96; in intrastate wars, 133; and North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic posture, 27–28, 116, 118–19. See also beliefs India, 10–11, 63–100; aims of, 80; and Chinese diplomatic posture, 63–78, 153n117; Communist Party of, 90, 97; economic issues in, 82; escalation by, 62, 68, 70, 74, 97; Forward Policy of, 63, 64, 68, 72, 73, 79, 80, 82, 85, 93; and ideational ­factors, 27–28; and Korean War, 39, 40, 58, 154n11, 160n150; and Ladakh, 63, 66, 74, 79, 81, 86, 87, 97, 169n6, 173n101; strategic capacity of, 62, 65, 68, 70, 82, 87, 99–100, 132, 166n54, 166n58, 170n15; and UN, 98, 145n41; and US, 58, 175nn147–49; and USSR, 128, 169n117, 175n148. See also diplomatic posture, Indian Indochina War, Third, 148n29 Indonesia, 91 information, 4, 132; in bargaining model, 23–26, 52, 53; from combat, 23, 34, 53, 150n72; and Indian diplomatic posture, 84, 87; in Korean War, 52, 53, 61; and North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic posture, 116, 117 insurgencies, 16, 21, 30, 131, 132–34, 133, 149n54 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), 131 international community, 9, 24, 128, 134, 141; and costs, 29, 30, 31, 127; and crisis bargaining, 131; and Indian diplomatic posture, 86, 88, 93, 96, 98–99; and Korean War, 40, 51; and North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic posture, 104, 116, 117, 120–22; and Sino-­Indian War, 65, 67, 70, 71, 73, 77–78, 86, 88, 89, 91, 93, 96, 98–99; and strategic capacity, 17, 30–31; vs. strategic mechanism of cost generation, 33; and Syria, 133; and Tet Offensive, 112, 116;

INDEX

and Vietnam War, 101–4, 110, 112, 116, 117, 120–22 International Control Commission, 101 international relations theory, 25, 33–34, 126–28, 150n67 Iran, 8, 15, 16, 130, 133 Iran nuclear deal (Joint Comprehensive Plan of Attack; JCPA), 130–31 Iran-­Iraq War, 2, 13, 15, 16, 145n41 Iraq, 15, 20, 130, 148n29, 148n48. See also Gulf War Iraq War (2003), 20, 133, 185n17 ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria), 133 Israel, 145n41 Italy, 2, 3 Japan, 2, 28, 35, 43, 140, 153n105, 153n117 Jervis, Robert, 105, 146n2, 147n24, 172n79 Jiang Tingyu, 155n39 Johnson, Lyndon B. (LBJ), 11, 101–6, 110, 118, 120, 177n33; and Ho Chi Minh, 105, 113, 145n37; March (1968) speech of, 17, 102, 103, 106, 115, 135, 184n199; and North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic posture, 105, 124, 127; and Paris Peace Talks, 181n140; and Tet Offensive, 115; and Turkey, 134–35; and US diplomatic posture, 122, 123, 124, 180n99; and US strategic capacity, 17, 183n182 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Attack (JCPA; Iran nuclear deal), 130–31 Kashmir, 89, 99, 175n149 Katzenbach, Nicholas, 106 Kaul, B.M., 66, 87, 89 Kennan, George F.J., 50, 59 Kennedy, Andrew, 27, 52, 53, 80 Kennedy, John F., 87, 99 Khamenei, Ali, 130, 131 Khrushchev, Nikita, 77, 78, 163n3 Kim Il-­Sung, 35, 42, 49, 51, 53, 154n7; and alliance dynamics, 55, 56; and USSR, 161n177 Kim Jung-­Un, 140 Kirk, Alan, 37 Kissinger, Henry, 14, 101, 114 Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), 51 Korean ­People’s Army (KPA), 42, 44 Korean War, 2, 32, 35–62, 154n20, 158n121; first campaign in, 37, 39, 42, 57, 60; second campaign in, 39, 42; third campaign in, 31, 40, 43, 44; fourth campaign in, 38, 40, 44, 49, 52, 60, 61, 157n72; fifth (spring) campaign in, 40, 47–49, 52, 54, 58, 59, 61, 157n72; sixth campaign in, 162n216; absolute aims in, 41–45; alternative interpretations of, 51–56; armistice in, 40, 43, 49, 50, 51, 61;

casualties in, 48, 56, 61–62, 157n72; costs in, 41–51; diplomatic postures in, 9–10, 35–62, 127, 162n193; domestic politics in, 35–38, 40, 46, 47, 54, 136; events in, 35–39; ideational ­factors in, 38, 53–54; inference of weakness in, 10, 38, 39, 43, 45–47, 49, 61; Kaesong talks in, 41, 50; limited aims in, 41, 45, 47, 51, 53, 61, 160n163; and Sino-­Indian War, 76; sources on, 38; strategic capacity in, 16, 39, 46, 47, 48–49, 54, 56, 59, 60, 132, 158n112, 161n172; third-­party mediation in, 185n13; thirty-­eighth parallel in, 37, 39, 40, 43–45, 47–50, 54, 57, 59, 156n60, 157n77, 160n151 Kosovo War (1999), 20, 21, 129–30, 148n47, 185n17, 187n57 Kosygin, Alexei, 121 Kuwait, 20, 130. See also Gulf War Ladakh (India), 63, 66, 74, 79, 81, 86, 87, 97, 169n6, 173n101 Langlois, Catherine, 4 Langlois, Jean-­Pierre, 4 Laos, 95, 176n11 Le Duan, 107–12, 118, 119, 123, 179n80 Le Duc Tho, 103, 118 leaders, 4, 24, 34; changes in, 16, 29, 120; costs to, 28, 29, 30, 152n100; and domestic politics, 28–29, 152n102; personal beliefs of, 8, 27–28, 31, 32, 75–76; sources from, 32–33. See also par­tic­u­lar individuals legitimacy, 17, 24, 27–28, 53, 128, 133; Chinese, 75, 78, 86, 92; and indivisibility of issues, 94; US, 40, 110 Lei Yingfu, 160n151, 166n54 Lie, Trygve, 39 Lin Biao, 156n45 Liu Shaoqi, 76, 166n54 Lodge, Henry Cabot, 123 Longju incident (1959), 65, 77, 94 Luo Ruiqing, 76, 166n54 MacArthur, Douglas, 35, 36, 47, 57–58 Mai Van Bo, 105 Malik, Jacob, 40, 50, 59, 60 Mao Zedong: aims of, 42–45, 51, 157n77; beliefs of, 27, 32, 45, 53–54, 75–76, 153n117, 156n44, 168n97; diplomatic posture of, 39–40, 52; and domestic politics, 37, 38, 46, 54; and Ho Chi Minh, 121; on India, 166n54; and inference of weakness, 45–47; and Khrushchev, 78; and Korean War, 10, 35, 37–40, 42–56, 61, 76, 154n7, 156n49, 156n54, 160n147; on reunification of ­Korea, 155n28; and Sino-­Indian War, 54, 65, 69, 70, 71, 75–76, 77, 166n54, 166n68; and Stalin, 55–56; and USSR, 78, 160n162; and Vietnam, 121, 135

193

INDEX

MARIGOLD (bombing pause; Vietnam War), 104, 123 Marshall, Charles, 59 Marshall, George C., 58 MAYFLOWER (bombing pause; Vietnam War), 104 McMahon Line, 63, 66, 79, 85, 173nn106–8 McNamara, Robert, 106, 110, 114, 115, 123, 125, 183n182 McNaughton, John, 122 mediation, 132, 138–39, 171n66, 185nn11–13, 187n51 Menon, Krishna, 82, 95, 96, 174n121 Mercer, Jonathan, 135 Milosevic, Slobodan, 20, 21, 130 morale, 2, 3, 29, 30, 120, 153n105, 160n157, 182n155; in Korean War, 42, 54 Morgenthau, Hans, 151n90 National Liberation Front (NLF; Vietnam), 15, 101, 102, 104, 105, 113, 117, 151n90 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organ­ ization), 21, 130 NEFA (North-­East Frontier Agency; Arunachal Pradesh), 63, 68, 72, 74, 81, 83, 89, 90, 91, 169n6 negotiations, 3–7, 145n36; in bargaining model, 22–23, 25–26; and coercion, 3, 24, 137, 138; conditional vs. unconditional, 6–7, 10; direct, 4, 5, 6, 10, 101, 118, 144n19, 145n37; face-­to-­face, 3, 5; and fighting, 24, 34; before fighting, 150n65; while fighting, 1, 3, 5, 22, 23, 38, 40, 41, 45, 48, 52, 56, 58, 62, 84, 106–8, 112, 118–21, 126; incentives for, 10, 137, 138–39; positive and negative effects of, 24–25; and power asymmetries, 132; private, 4, 134–35; recognition through, 27, 133, 151n90; secret, 6, 58, 59, 97, 131, 134, 138, 143n4; with terrorists, 7, 184n9; timing of, 102, 107. See also diplomatic posture Nehru, Jawaharlal, 10, 32, 86, 164n17, 174n121; beliefs of, 27; and ceasefire proposal, 89, 91, 92; and China, 85; and Chinese diplomatic posture, 64, 66, 67, 69, 72, 74; and Indian diplomatic posture, 79, 80–84, 88, 94–96, 98, 99–100, 128; and international aid, 99; and public opinion, 136 Nehru, R. K., 95 Nepal, 88 Netherlands, 154n11 Nie Rongzhen, 36, 40, 76 Nixon, Richard, 103, 118, 129 NLFSV (National Liberation Front of South Vietnam), 105 nonstate actors, 8, 132, 133–34. See also insurgencies; terrorists

194

North ­Korea, 8, 47, 131; and POW issue, 51, 56, 61, 129; and reunification, 36, 42, 44, 45, 46, 57, 60, 155n28; sanctions on, 35, 140; strategic capacity of, 56, 158n112, 161n172; and UN, 56, 140; and US diplomatic posture, 56–60, 57, 162n193. See also Korean War North Vietnam: absolute aims of, 103, 118; and China, 128, 183n165; domestic politics in, 104, 116, 119–20; and ideational ­factors, 27–28; inference of weakness of, 11, 104, 107–10, 114–16, 124, 129, 135, 138; and Mao Zedong, 121, 135; at Paris Peace talks, 151n90; preconditions of, 15, 100, 104–6, 107, 113, 125, 145n38; strategic capacity of, 16, 101, 102, 122, 126, 127, 132; and USSR, 32. See also diplomatic posture, North Viet­nam­ese; Vietnam War nuclear weapons, 46, 62, 77, 140, 141, 162n220 Obama, Barack, 130, 133–34, 150n62 Operation Linebacker (1972; Vietnam War), 103, 176n11 Pakistan, 89, 145n41, 175n149 Paris Peace Talks (1968), 102, 114, 117, 151n90, 181n140 Paul VI (pope), 101 peacetime diplomacy, 3, 5, 6, 130 Peng Dehuai, 37, 39, 42–45, 47, 48, 50, 51, 53, 154n13, 155n25, 156n45, 156n60 Peng Zhen, 76 PENNSYLVANIA (bombing pause; Vietnam War), 106 Pham Van Dong, 104, 105, 110, 113, 119, 121, 135 Phuong, Nguyen Dinh, 105 Pillar, Paul, 13, 45, 150n72 Poland, 104–5, 154n11 POW issue, 51, 56, 61, 129 Powell, Robert, 14 power asymmetries, 18–20, 23, 132, 133, 149n54, 150n69 preconditions, 15–16, 17, 19, 34; in bargaining model, 52; Chinese, 37, 39, 40, 43, 60, 70; Indian, 66–68, 71–73, 78, 82–86, 88, 90–93, 95, 96; in Korean War, 36, 37, 39, 40, 42, 43, 52, 57, 60; North Viet­nam­ese, 15, 100, 104–6, 107, 113, 125, 145n38; in Sino-­Indian War, 64, 66–68, 70–73, 78, 81–86, 90–93, 95, 96, 99, 127; as surrender, 42, 43; and Taliban, 16, 134; US, 36, 40, 57, 60, 101, 122, 134; in Vietnam War, 101, 122, 134 pro­cess tracing, 33–34 prospect theory, 152n97

INDEX

psychological theory, 2, 3 public signaling, 134 Qiao Guanhua, 166n54 Raghavan, Srinath, 86, 97 Rambouillet Accords, 20, 148n47 rationalism, 3, 147n21, 151n92 rationalist international relations, 2 Reiter, Dan, 150n72 reservation value, 13, 14 resilience, 2–4, 7–8, 14–15, 17, 18, 127, 147n26; Chinese, 45–47, 49, 52–54, 61, 69, 70, 72; and ideational f­ actors, 28; Indian, 10–11, 74, 81, 84, 89–91, 93, 98, 99; in Korean War, 39, 45–47, 49, 52–54, 58, 60, 61; North Korean, 140; North Viet­nam­ese, 11, 100, 104, 108, 110–12, 114–15, 124, 125, 179n80; in Sino-­Indian War, 10–11, 62, 65, 69, 70, 72, 74, 81, 84, 89–91, 93, 98, 99; and Tet Offensive, 112, 114, 115; US, 58, 60, 123, 134; in Vietnam War, 11, 100, 104, 108, 110–12, 114–15, 123–25, 179n80 resolve, 14–16, 148n32; in bargaining model, 26; Chinese, 51, 55, 68, 82, 166n55; and combat, 24, 146n11; and crisis diplomacy, 144n23; and domestic politics, 29; Indian, 78, 88, 89, 90, 99; and inference of weakness, 126, 135; in Korean War, 42, 51, 55; North Viet­nam­ese, 102, 120; perceptions of, 42; vs. resilience, 14–15; in Sino-­Indian War, 68, 78, 82, 84, 88, 99, 166n55; US, 60, 102, 108, 123; in Vietnam War, 102, 108, 120, 123 Rhee, Seung-­Man, 161n173 Ridgway, Matthew B., 44, 47, 50, 58, 60 risk tolerance, 19, 28, 152n97 Rostow, Walt, 102 Rusk, Dean, 58, 88, 172n74, 183n185, 184n196 Rus­sia, 131, 133. See also Soviet Union Schelling, Thomas, 12, 20, 131 Seaborn, James, 119 Sechser, Todd, 137, 144n19 security studies, 25, 128–34 Semyonov, Vladimir Semenovich, 59 Sigal, Leon, 28, 153n105 Sikkim, 88 Sinclair, A., 3 Sino-­Indian agreement (1954), 85 Sino-­Indian War, 28, 32, 63–78, 79–100, 132, 137; first offensive in, 31, 69–70, 71; second offensive in, 70, 71–74; alternative interpretations of, 75–78, 93–99; background of, 65–67; and bargaining model, 75, 82, 84, 93–94; and border talks (1994), 93; casualties in, 79, 89, 95, 173n92;

ceasefires in, 31, 63, 68, 72–74, 76, 78, 80, 82–84, 88–93, 98, 99, 100; Chinese aims in, 78, 81, 87, 88, 99, 127–28; Chinese diplomatic posture in, 63–78, 80; Chinese strategic capacity in, 74, 84, 88, 92, 98, 166n58, 170n15; and Cold War, 79, 98, 99; costly conversations thesis on, 84–93; costs in, 62, 65, 68–74, 78, 81, 87–89, 93, 100; domestic politics in, 10, 76, 81, 84, 86, 90, 93, 96–98, 136; inference of weakness in, 10–11, 65, 68–72, 74, 78, 81, 85–89, 135, 138; and international community, 65, 67, 70, 71, 73, 77–78, 86, 88, 89, 91, 93, 96, 98–99; and Korean War, 76; and Mao Zedong, 54, 65, 69, 70, 71, 75–76, 77, 166n54, 166n68; preconditions in, 64, 66–68, 70–73, 78, 81–86, 90–93, 95, 96, 99, 127; sources for, 64–65, 81; and US, 70, 71, 77, 78, 80, 166n60, 169n4, 172n66; and USSR, 64, 69, 71, 77–78, 172n66, 172n74, 174n123. See also diplomatic posture, Indian Sino-­Soviet split, 77–78, 95, 98, 121, 163n3, 169n117 South China Sea disputes, 1, 139 South ­Korea, 16, 35–37, 40–41, 43, 50, 154n7, 161n173 South Vietnam, 101, 105, 112, 135, 151n90 Soviet Union (USSR): in Af­ghan­i­stan, 15–16; and China, 77–78, 95, 98, 121, 163n3, 169n117, 172n74; in Cold War, 32; and Finland, 186n41; and ­Great Britain, 161n178; and India, 95, 98, 99, 128, 169n117, 175n148; and Korean War, 10, 31, 35–39, 44, 46, 49, 55–60, 129, 154n11, 160n150, 160n162, 161n177; and Mao Zedong, 78, 160n162; and North Vietnam, 32, 116, 117, 120–22; and Sino-­Indian War, 64, 69, 71, 77–78, 80, 95, 98, 99, 128, 169n117, 172n66, 172n74, 174n123, 175n148; and Turkey, 134; and US, 20, 55, 57, 58, 59, 60, 160n158; and Vietnam War, 32, 108, 116, 117, 120–22, 179n76, 182n162 Sri Lanka, 91 Stalin, Joseph: death of, 62, 163n3; and Korean War, 35, 40, 42, 45–47, 50–51, 53, 56, 154n7, 158n95, 160nn162–63; and Mao, 55–56 Stevenson, Adlai, 183n185 strategic capacity, 16–20, 24, 126–29, 131, 138, 140; asymmetries in, 18, 23, 132; Chinese, 59, 60, 74, 84, 88, 92, 98, 158n112, 166n58, 170n15; and costs, 14, 16–17, 30, 111–12, 127; destruction of, 187n57; and domestic politics, 16, 17, 30–31, 129; and ideational ­factors, 28; Indian, 62, 65, 68, 70, 82, 84, 87, 88, 98–100, 132, 166n54, 166n58, 170n15; and international

195

INDEX

strategic capacity (continued) community, 17, 30–31, 133; in Korean War, 16, 39, 46–49, 54, 56, 59, 60, 132, 158n112, 161n172; North Korean, 56, 158n112, 161n172; North Viet­nam­ese, 16, 101, 102, 122, 126, 127, 132; in Sino-­Indian War, 62, 65, 68, 70, 74, 78, 84, 88, 92, 98–100, 132, 166n54, 166n58, 170n15; and technology, 16, 45, 46; and Tet Offensive, 112, 114, 115; US, 17, 39, 46–49, 54, 60, 102, 104, 107, 110–15, 122, 124, 126, 132; in Vietnam War, 16, 17, 102, 104, 107, 110–15, 122, 124 strategic mechanism of cost generation, 13, 29–31, 33, 96 SUNFLOWER/PLUS (bombing pause; Vietnam War), 105 Sweden, 39 Syria, 133 Taiwan: and China, 36, 37, 40, 41, 43, 50, 79, 139, 145n33, 161n186; and Sino-­Indian War, 79, 85; in UN, 36, 43, 159n125, 161n186 Taliban, 1, 2, 16, 21, 133–34, 150n62, 185n24 terrorists, 7, 27, 131, 132, 147n20, 184n9. See also insurgencies Tet Offensive (1968), 11, 31, 100, 101, 113–17, 127, 135, 176n15, 180n119; and North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic posture, 116, 117, 120, 124, 180n106; planning for, 111–12 third parties, 128, 129, 132–34; and diplomatic posture, 6, 7, 9, 29; and Iran nuclear deal, 131; in Korean War, 10, 37, 57, 58, 160n150; mediation by, 138–39, 171n66; in Sino-­Indian War, 80–81, 171n66, 173n101; in Vietnam War, 101–2, 104–5, 106, 119, 124 threshold theories, 33–34 Thucydides, 26 Tibet, 63–65, 69, 77, 79, 85, 92, 164n21 Trager, Robert, 4 Tran Do, 107, 108 Trinh, Nguyen Duy, 105, 113 Truman, Harry S., 35–36, 47, 57, 58, 59, 136, 161n186 Turkey, 134–35 U Thant, 123, 183n185 Ukraine, 154n11 United Nations (UN), 139; China in, 36, 37, 40, 41, 43, 50, 159n125; and India, 98, 145n41; and Korean War, 10, 31, 35–37, 39–41, 42, 44, 47, 161n186, 162n193; and North ­Korea, 56, 140; and Sino-­Indian War, 77, 98, 145n41; Taiwan in, 36, 43, 159n125, 161n186; and US, 57, 128; and Vietnam War, 101

196

United Nations Command (UNC), 36 United States (US): in Af­ghan­i­stan, 1, 2, 21, 134, 150n62, 185n24; aims of, 21, 42, 47, 58, 59, 60; and China, 1, 59, 178n64; CIA of, 88, 92, 96; domestic politics in, 28, 36, 40, 100, 104, 106, 110–12, 124, 136; escalation by, 47, 49–52, 55, 59, 61, 100, 104, 107, 108, 110–12, 115, 119, 123, 124, 179n91, 180n117, 180n119; and ideational ­factors, 27–28; and India, 58, 88, 98, 99, 175nn147–49; and Iran, 130, 131; in Korean War, 10, 35, 37–39, 42, 43–45, 47, 58, 59, 60; and Kosovo War, 20, 129–30; legitimacy of, 40, 110; at Paris Peace talks, 151n90; and POW issue, 129; preconditions of, 36, 40, 57, 60, 101, 122, 134; resilience of, 58, 60, 123, 134; and Sino-­ Indian War, 58, 70, 71, 77, 78, 80, 88, 89, 98, 99, 166n60, 169n4, 172n66, 175nn147–49; and South ­Korea, 161n173; strategic capacity of, 17, 39, 46–49, 54, 60, 102, 104, 107, 110–15, 126, 132, 158n115; and Syria, 133; and Taliban, 133, 185n24; and terrorists, 7; and UN, 57, 128; and USSR, 20, 55, 57, 58, 59, 60, 160n158; in Vietnam War, 11, 15, 31, 100, 101–2, 104, 110, 137, 138, 178n64. See also diplomatic posture, US US-­India pact (1962), 99 Van Tien Dung, 111 Viet Cong (VC), 103, 117, 120, 151n90 Vietnam, 148n29, 153n117. See also North Vietnam; South Vietnam Vietnam War: and bargaining model, 116–18; bombing pauses in, 104, 105, 106, 108, 123, 125, 137, 177n33, 184n192, 186n42; casualties in, 102, 112, 114, 116–17, 179n91; coercion in, 107–11, 121, 124, 125; costs in, 11, 106–13, 118, 119, 125, 126, 140; domestic politics in, 11, 100–102, 104, 106, 110–12, 114–16, 119–20, 124, 136; Easter Offensive in (1972), 103; elites in, 17, 103, 107, 111, 122–23, 127; escalation in, 100, 104, 107, 108, 110–12, 115, 119, 123, 124, 129, 179n91, 180n117, 180n119; Four Points in, 15, 104, 105, 106; ideational ­factors in, 28; inference of weakness in, 11, 104, 107–10, 114–16, 124, 135, 138; and international community, 101–4, 110, 112, 116, 117, 120–22; morale in, 182n155; Operation Linebacker in (1972), 103, 176n11; preconditions in, 15, 100, 101, 104–6, 107, 113, 125, 145n38; sources on, 103, 182n143; strategic capacity in, 16, 17, 102, 104, 107, 110–15, 122, 124; Tet Offensive in (1968), 11, 31, 100, 101, 111–17, 120, 124, 127, 135, 176n15,

INDEX

180n106, 180n119; World War II vs., 140. See also diplomatic posture, North Viet­nam­ese; diplomatic posture, US; North Vietnam Viet­nam­ese Workers Party (VWP), 111 Vietnamese-­Cambodian Border War (1977–79), 15 Vinh, Nguyen Van, 107, 108, 178nn63–64 Vyshinsky, Andrey, 36 Walker, Walton, 36 Wang Jiaxiang, 77 Wang Shangrong, 166n54 war: credible commitment theory of, 33; duration of, 3, 4, 5, 22, 128, 131–32; and economic relations, 3; initiation of, 22; limited, 8, 19, 20, 140–41, 148n42; onset of, 3, 5; termination of, 3, 4, 5, 22, 23, 24, 33, 126, 128 war­time diplomacy, 1–12, 129, 131, 132, 135–40; vs. peacetime diplomacy, 5, 6, 130; and policy, 5–6, 137–40 weakness, adverse inference of, 3–5, 7–11, 13–19; and aims, 18, 126; and Chinese diplomatic posture, 10, 38, 39, 43, 45–47, 49, 61, 68–71, 76; and combat, 24, 51, 129, 130; costs of, 14–18, 46–47, 109–10, 114–16, 123, 126, 129–30, 137–38; in crises, 129–30; and domestic politics, 28, 30; and empirical validity, 135; ­enemy response to, 13–14, 16–17, 19, 30; further research on, 135–36; and ideational f­ actors, 28; and Indian diplomatic posture, 10–11, 84–87, 95, 96, 99; in international relations theory, 126–28; in Korean War, 10, 38, 39,

41, 43, 45–47, 49, 57–61, 76; likelihood of, 19, 38, 39, 41, 45, 97, 107–9, 114, 123, 126; and negotiations, 139, 146n7, 147n27, 159n146; and North Viet­nam­ese diplomatic posture, 11, 104, 107–10, 114–16, 124, 129, 135, 138; and open diplomatic posture, 8, 12–16, 127, 129, 139, 146n7, 159n146; in Sino-­Indian War, 10–11, 65, 68–72, 74, 76, 78, 81, 84–89, 90, 95, 96, 97, 99, 135, 138; situational limits of, 135–36; and US diplomatic posture, 57, 58, 59–60, 122–23, 124; in Vietnam War, 11, 104, 107–10, 114–16, 122–24, 129, 135, 138 West­moreland, William, 115 Wittman, Donald, 13 World War II, 2–3, 20, 28, 140 Xinjiang (China), 63, 79, 85, 92 Xinjiang-­Tibet highway, 64, 86 Xu Yan, 69, 157n72 Yang Chengwu, 166n54 Yang Feng’an, 154n13 Yugo­slavia, 129–30, 148n47 Zhang Guohua, 166n54 Zhang Hanfu, 166n54 Zhou Enlai, 10, 32, 156n45, 166n54; and Korean War, 36, 37, 40, 43; and Sino-­ Indian War, 64–70, 72–74, 76, 77, 80, 82–83, 86, 89, 91, 95–97, 166n68; three-­ point proposal of, 64, 67, 70, 77, 82, 83, 86, 170n17 Zhu De, 76, 166n54

197