London: Every now and then there takes place one of those mysterious shifts in public opinion which in retrospect can be seen as a response to subterranean changes in the domain of political and military planning. In the middle and later 30’s, people gradually became aware of the probability of another great European war toward the end of that decade. Similarly, there is now a tendency for public men and professional commentators to fix upon 1975 as the probable date of the great Sino-American confrontation in Asia. Reasoning from these assumptions, one can begin to see why the British government made its second bid for entry into the European Economic Community in the same month in which it apparently decided to arrange for a gradual withdrawal from Singapore and the Far East in general. One can also see why and how the current upheaval in the Middle East will accelerate the British and European retreat from overseas responsibilities that are liable to involve these countries in military showdowns between the U.S. and the USSR.
The interplay between political and military planning is, of course, an old story. Between 1919 and 1939 the approach of the next European war was governed by a set of factors ultimately determined by the speed of Germany’s industrial, military, and psychological recovery from the defeat of 1918. The technical side of this recovery had to do with the time it took to rearm once the Reichswehr had helped Hitler into the saddle—that is to say, once the Conservatives and their plebeian allies had come to terms about their political and military objectives. Had the collapse of the Weimar Republic resulted in an ordinary military dictatorship (which would have been, so to speak, the normal alternative to parliamentary democracy), the business of rearming would still have taken five or six years—probably longer, since Hitler and Schacht, by employing “Keynesian” monetary techniques, were able to speed things up a bit. It is a remarkable fact that between 1933 and 1939 Germany was the only major industrial country to go in wholeheartedly for deficit financing, even though the “Keynesian revolution” had not yet occurred and a different sort of verbiage had therefore to be employed in order to justify this departure from orthodox monetary management. Being then the dominant power in Europe, Germany set the pace, in economics as well as in military matters, so that in the end the Western democracies were reluctantly obliged to follow suit—to the extent of doing away with unemployment via rearmament.1
In the present context, what determines the shape of global strategy is evidently nothing so trivial as a row among the Europeans, but rather the bipolarity symbolized by the Sino-American antagonism, with the USSR apparently undecided whether to stay neutral or come down on the side of China. But within this general context there is once more a technical factor, namely the time-scale involved in replacing one “generation” of nuclear weapons by another. In the case of certain arms relevant to the competition between the super-powers and the rest, this replacement problem, for all sorts of technical reasons, points to 1975 as the crucial year. Consequently, when one hears it said on good authority that 1975 is the date of Britain’s military withdrawal from Singapore, and of the equally probable British incorporation in an enlarged Western Europe (after a trial period to give time for adjustments), one is entitled to think that the continuously recurrent mention of this date is more than a coincidence. And when finally one is reminded that the U.S. Defense Department foresees the likelihood of a substantial Chinese nuclear delivery power by the end of the 1970’s, the remaining pieces of the jigsaw fall into place. Or so at least one would gather from recent semi-private utterances by some of the highest British defense authorities (on both the Government and the Opposition side of the increasingly meaningless political dividing line).
Before going further into this subject, let me cite a characteristic utterance by a French military spokesman, General André Beaufre, currently Director of the Institut Français d’Etudes Stratégiques and formerly French representative on the NATO council in Washington. In his Deterrence and Strategy (translated under that title by Major-General R. H. Barry2), General Beaufre has this to say about the current political lineup in the world and the perils it poses for the future:
There is the danger of hegemony by the superpowers, the United States and the USSR, which will increase as they draw closer together; there is the danger of serious crisis, and even of war, as a result of possible German claims in Central Europe or over-hasty liberalization in one or more of the satellite states; there is the danger that the Vietnam conflict may escalate; finally in the background there is disquiet for the future because of the Chinese danger, together with the threats which may arise from the Third World or the color problem in America.
General Beaufre of course is a Gaullist (by conviction it would seem). Mr. J. Enoch Powell, former British Cabinet Minister and Conservative spokesman on defense matters, is an intelligent Tory with a good deal of military experience and a disillusioned outlook on world affairs. Recommending Beaufre’s book last March in the Conservative Spectator (now rapidly going Gaullist, like the Tory leadership in general) he disputed the prevailing NATO doctrine, according to which nuclear war is the only possible sort of war (at any rate in Europe), from which it is supposed to follow that there will be no war as long as the West has a credible nuclear deterrent. Mr. Powell is skeptical of this doctrine, which in his opinion serves the West Europeans as a tranquilizer and an excuse for not developing larger conventional forces. His own preference is for an accelerated withdrawal from Singapore and concentration on Western Europe. (He is also reputed to believe that the Americans have got into a hopeless mess in Vietnam, and that the British would be fools to align themselves with them.) Now when one takes all this in conjunction with the sudden Tory enthusiasm for a joint Anglo-French nuclear force—either limited to those two or “held in trust for Europe”—one has the makings of a politico-military strategy for the 1970’s. Once this is agreed to, it hardly matters whether the British Government after 1970 is headed by Mr. Wilson or by Mr. Heath (in some respects it does not greatly matter even now). The decision will have been taken, and if any French regime après de Gaulle wants to get rid of the force de frappe, it will have the option of a “nuclear Europe.” This of course will not please those who believe that Europe had better get out of the nuclear game altogether, but they can always be told that armed neutrality is a safer bet than trusting to the benevolence of the Big Two. Armed neutrality, from being a purely Gaullist notion, is becoming the Conservative line in Britain, and may shortly become the Christian-Democratic election plank in West Germany. A certain degree of independence from Mr. Johnson’s America is now respectable in all these circles, so much so that those who cling to the liberal Atlanticism of the Kennedy era are liable to encounter raised eyebrows and sorrowful head-shaking in quarters where until quite recently to be suspected of Gaullism was no passport to popularity.
Does this matter in the long run? It certainly matters to the British, who in these difficult months have to decide how far they want to go in loosening their trans-Atlantic ties. That the European option involves military withdrawal from Southeast Asia has not yet been spelled out in public, but the signs are unmistakable. It is here that the magic date 1975 takes on a precise meaning, for by then London will either have to replace its Polaris fleet of nuclear submarines with the Poseidon type (monstrously expensive and to be obtained only from the U.S.) or, as the Economist puts it, “enter a European consortium.” For technical reasons, Polaris will cease to be “credible” after 1975 (meaning its missiles will no longer be able to penetrate the Russian defenses). Thereafter the choice lies between the improved American model, which will probably not be offered to the Europeans anyway, and a joint European substitute. Between now and 1975, British policy is thus bound (to cite the Economist once more) to be “Janus-faced, with one face turned toward the Indian Ocean and the other toward the long-term problem of providing a credible nuclear defense for Britain itself.” The further choice (as the writer correctly perceives) lies between European cooperation and “dropping the nuclear force altogether.” This last is what the left wing of the Labour party would like, and what Mr. Wilson is supposed to be committed to; but then Mr. Wilson is not famous for his loyalty to electoral commitments. The “European” solution is the Tory recipe, and will presumably become official policy by 1970, unless Britain is definitely excluded from “Europe.” In the latter case, the decision will lie between Atlanticism and isolation. With or without Britain, though, the continentals—thanks to France—are going to have their own nuclear force, and probably their own foreign policy.
On the assumption that the next British government, if not the present one, manages to overcome continental (not merely French) doubts about Britain’s Europeanism, one does not see how the “special relationship” between Washington and London can survive. This is now largely a matter of cooperation in the nuclear field, and of continued U.S. support for sterling as a “reserve currency,” in exchange for verbal British military involvement in the Far East: all highly objectionable in Gaullist eyes. To get into the EEC, the British will somehow have to persuade the other West Europeans that they are willing to do without these links. Given the degree to which Mr. Wilson has, quite needlessly, assumed the role of America’s Trojan Donkey (not least during the recent “Kennedy round” of negotiations on tariff cutting, which saw Britain once more in the role of Washington’s principal ally), it is questionable whether he can now change course fast enough to work his way into the community of the Rome Treaty. If he fails, one may expect fresh life to be breathed into the project for a free-trade area embracing the United States, Canada, Britain, Scandinavia, Australia-New Zealand, and possibly Japan. This is the natural fall-back position for any British government which has given up hope of getting into the EEC, and in some ways it would be the obvious Anglo-American riposte to Gaullism and European neutralism. The snag is that it would alienate the continentals and speed the disintegration of NATO. It would also confirm French leadership of the continental bloc, since France is alone among the Six in possessing anything that can be called a national leadership and a foreign policy. That policy, in the last resort, is determined by the desire to stay out of the triangular conflict among the U.S., the USSR, and China. If a politically united Europe comes into being, it will adopt this French orientation—for the excellent reason that there is no other worth mentioning.
It is clear that a good deal is going to depend on whether or not Britain in the end joins the EEC, since failure to do so would not only split the Western world, but give greater weight to the tighter and more formalized Anglo-American association which may come into being if the United Kingdom is permanently excluded from the European grouping led by France and Germany. Granting this, Western Europe will be all the more resistant to American leadership if the British are out rather than in. This hardly serves American interests, which is why Washington has been urging the British government to join on any terms it can get. Let us assume the current attempt fails, as it probably will—if only because de Gaulle reputedly expects the Tories to return to office in 1970, and to come down firmly on his side thereafter. Suppose Mr. Wilson, having been rebuffed by the General, eats his words in public (he is becoming expert at this job, if at no other) and applies for membership in an American-controlled Atlantic club. In what way will this alter the status of Paris as the unacknowledged capital of Europe? In no way at all, for all the cries of distress that are then likely to go up from Brussels and The Hague. France has the commanding position and will keep it. Nor is it likely that French leadership can be undermined by raising the federalist issue. The vision of a Europe federalized on American lines is, by common consent, not a matter for the immediate future. Even the hard-core federalists admit that it can scarcely be realized before the end of the century. “Spaakistan” is no longer a card to be played against de Gaulle’s Europe des patries, if only because M. Spaak himself has virtually accepted the Gaullist aim of “confederation” (whatever that may mean in practice). In short, whether or not the British come in by 1970 or thereafter, the dream of a Western Europe securely controlled from Washington and London has already gone the way of the Alliance for Progress and other fantasies of the Kennedy era.
Against this background it may be useful to take a look at what is currently holding up agreement on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty. The unending argument over this particular piece of business is part of the complicated tangle already described—the tangle symbolized by the magic date, 1975. But it also helps to clear up the murky subject of Anglo-American relations. The fact is that defense policy, arms control, East-West relations, “East of Suez,” sterling devaluation (a growing probability if Britain finally joins the EEC), and the end of Atlanticism, all hang together. (The End of Atlanticism, by the way, is going to mean, for quite a lot of people, the End of Ideology: liberal ideology in this case, notably in the shape of that watered-down Keynesianism which for its devotees has come to possess some of the magical properties attributed elsewhere to Leninism.)
Insofar as the main provisions of the Anglo-American draft have become known, they reduce themselves to a fairly general statement of intent: the nuclear powers undertake not to place nuclear arms in the hands of others, and the non-nuclear powers undertake neither to manufacture them nor to acquire them from abroad. The immediate difficulty here is that two of the five existing nuclear powers—namely France and China—refuse to have anything to do with the proposed treaty. Of the remaining three—the U.S., the USSR, and Britain—only two are genuine superpowers, with Britain acting as a broker between the Big Two. A second obstacle arises from the resistance offered by the non-nuclear powers—mainly West Germany, but also Canada, India, Japan, and others—to the provision placing all their relevant industries and science laboratories under international inspection, to make sure they do not manufacture nuclear arms on the sly. Setting aside the danger of industrial espionage, which seems to worry the Germans and the Japanese, this provision relegates all the lesser countries to the status of suspects. There would be some logic in this, albeit of an unpleasant kind, if China had been allotted the Security Council seat now occupied by Formosa, since it could then at least be argued that the superior status enjoyed by the nuclear five was an extension of the voting provisions made when the UN was founded. As matters stand, the proposed treaty (if it is ever signed) will confer upon three of the nuclear five an exceptional position in international law, leaving France and China in the role of nuclear rebels who, it is hoped, will sign at some later date (why should they, especially China?). The purpose of the operation, one is told, is to freeze the nuclear status quo, and the principal reason one is given is that the alternative is too awful to be contemplated.
What then is the alternative? So far as the matter can be understood by a layman, it seems to be agreed that by 1975 (once more the magic date) some eighteen additional countries will have the basic infrastructure necessary to manufacture weapons-grade plutonium. The ability to make plutonium is an aspect of civilian nuclear-energy programs, which cannot be forbidden, but may be inspected by an international authority supported, in the first instance, by the Big Three. The steady diffusion of the industrial capacity for making plutonium is the crucial factor, for once a country is in possession of a plutonium supply, it does not take a great deal of energy or ingenuity to make a few nuclear bombs. This, one is told, is intolerable: consider what would happen if in 1980 there were from fifteen to twenty countries equipped with primitive nuclear weapons, but without the sophisticated outlook (not to mention the range of strategic options) allegedly possessed by the Big Two. At this point one is invariably reminded that Israel probably has the capacity to make such weapons or will acquire it shortly, with all that this implies if the Israelis should in some future crisis be driven to desperation by the hostility of their neighbors and the unreliability of their allies or protectors.
On the other hand, consider what it would mean if all concerned (save France and China) adhered to the proposed treaty. The latter, if signed, would in effect lay it down that China—Mao Tse-tung’s China, that is—shall be free to develop her present rather modest nuclear facilities until she has reached parity with the U.S. and the USSR, whereas Canada, Japan, and India—not to mention more than a dozen others—will be forbidden to possess or purchase any nuclear weapons whatsoever. This is remarkable enough, but there is more to come. The Chinese, one might think, would welcome such a proposal. Not at all: they have said categorically that they prefer India and Japan to have their own nuclear arms rather than be policed by the Big Two. On Maoist principles this is less paradoxical than it sounds. Japan and India may be rivals and potential enemies, but they are less dangerous than America. Anyway, Peking does not want to lend the slightest support to anything proposed jointly by the United States and the Soviet Union.
Now take the timing of the proposed treaty and the fact that after three years of seemingly purposeless argument the Disarmament Committee at Geneva finally had before it a draft which both the U.S. and the USSR found acceptable (until Washington began to develop second thoughts about the probable effect upon its remaining allies in NATO). If one had not already guessed it, one would have realized from the accompanying semi-official publicity that the treaty is, among other things, meant to diminish the risks arising from yet another costly arms race between the Big Two: this time in the area of anti-missile defense. At present America enjoys a threefold or fourfold advantage in intercontinental delivery capacity—an important consideration at a time when alliances are loosening. The current Soviet attempt to close the gap by developing antimissile defenses will presumably evoke American countermeasures, thus heightening the tension—unless the Big Two can at least agree on non-proliferation, and generally come to terms about the East-West strategic balance. In the context of such an overall agreement, it will be less dangerous from the American viewpoint to let the Russians come closer to parity and less dangerous for the Russians to let the U.S. have the edge in delivery power. From Britain’s standpoint, agreement is desirable because it means stabilizing the “balance of terror” at its present technological level. Once this level is left behind by a race to provide anti-ballistic-missile defenses for the civilian population, the British defense planners will have to find a better warhead than Polaris—or contract out of the race. Hence Whitehall’s anxiety for success in the Geneva negotiations: failure would mean having to make the big decision now, instead of being able to put it off until Britain is safely inside the EEC.
In the end it hardly matters, since the Russians will continue to aim at parity, and at some stage this will set off a race in the anti-ballistic-missile field. But at what stage? ABM defense costs money—more than any European country can spare. Moreover, once the Big Two have taken shelter behind their respective ABM’s protecting the civilian population (or part of it), will it still be credible to tell others that they can rely upon their nuclear protection? Is it not likely that Western Europe will “go neutral,” in the arms field and therefore in general policy, if there is something like nuclear parity between the Big Two? The projected Anglo-French bombe des patries would then be the guarantor of West European neutrality in any U.S.-Soviet conflict (itself unlikely). This is almost certain to be the situation in the 1970’s, whatever anyone may pretend to the contrary. By now Washington is probably resigned to this outcome, as Moscow must be getting resigned to the corresponding drift in Eastern Europe which is carrying the two halves of the divided continent closer together. If the Germans can be kept under control, this trend may be expected to continue until by the mid-70’s the Big Two can pull their forces back from the center of Europe, leaving behind not a dangerous vacuum, but a guaranteed peace settlement. Minor details, such as formal West German recognition of the Oder-Neisse line, and acceptance of the existence of a divided Germany, need not be imposed: they will follow automatically, once it is plain to all concerned that the 1945 settlement is final. So far as Europe is concerned, the cold war will then be over.
It will of course get all the hotter in Asia. Here one comes back to the probable effect of nuclear proliferation upon outsiders capable of raising themselves to nuclear status. For all the publicity surrounding German resistance to the proposed treaty, the major perils lurking in proliferation have little to do with Europe. What the West Germans are worried about is falling behind in the industrial race—they know quite well they will never be allowed to get a finger on the nuclear arms trigger. Asia is a different matter, though here too the industrial issue is prominent at the moment. Germany is supervised by its neighbors. Japan is controlled only from afar by Washington with its erratic policymakers. India is controlled by no one, being too large and chaotic to lend itself to foreign guidance.
If Japan and India decide to enter the nuclear weapons field (conceivably after having first signed an anti-proliferation treaty for a limited period, and then denounced it on some pretext furnished, say, by China), there will be no stopping them. Inspection can be thrown off or evaded by any country able to get hold of a plutonium supply and possessing a few capable scientists. Even having signed the treaty, such countries may be able to manufacture nuclear arms in secret. A nation which revolts against the treaty provisions can be brought back under control only at the cost of a major police operation. Is such an operation likely to be mounted against a Japan which asserts its independence from China, or against an India which claims that it cannot rely on promises of protection and must have a few nuclear arms of its own? If these nations convince themselves that in a crisis they may stand alone and unprotected, then their governments will have public support if they set out to manufacture nuclear weapons, and if they are sufficiently determined, they will get away with it internationally. The same, needless to say, applies to Israel. As for Egypt, any military dictator in Cairo who raves loudly enough about “Western imperialism” can probably count on technical aid from the USSR, even if he kills or jails all the local Communists. In short, the next round of the Middle Eastern conflict is quite likely to be escalated to the nuclear stage, unless there is a fundamental change in outlook on the part of those who have consistently clamored for the physical destruction of Israel.
What are the chances of India “going nuclear” in the foreseeable future? This is a subject of some delicacy for anyone in London, and not only because official British policy envisages the retention of some Indian Ocean bases (to be operated jointly with the U.S.) even after the evacuation of Singapore in the mid-70’s. The awkwardness arises from the hangover of the Anglo-Indian connection or—as someone has put it—from the fact that the British Commonwealth is but the ghost of the Indian Empire, sitting crowned upon the grave thereof. Although the connection with India lasted for little over two hundred years (small change by Indian standards), it has left a sediment of attitudes and illusions on both sides, though mostly on the British side: vide Mr. Harold Wilson’s ludicrous rhetoric in 1965 about Britain’s frontiers being on the Himalayas, and his solemn offer to the late Dr. Shastri (then briefly in charge of Nehru’s heritage) to provide India with a “nuclear umbrella.”
While such fantasies have now been quietly abandoned, there remains the question whether the option can be picked up by the Americans. Whether they are going to saddle themselves with this sort of obligation is uncertain. What is certain is that Delhi will want some sort of “nuclear guarantee” as the price of signing the non-proliferation treaty, but may not attach much value to it thereafter. Does this matter? At the moment one is assured by those in the know that there is no public demand for an Indian bomb, but this kind of sentiment can spring up (or be manufactured) overnight. In the long run, Indian nationalism is not likely to put up with a legal status different in principle from that of China. It is true that the present generation of Indian leaders does not regard the country as a rival to China. It is also true that the bomb would be irrelevant to India’s security problems on the Northeastern frontier, and doubly irrelevant to the perennial quarrel with Pakistan. But it may not take much to start a psychological landslide in the other direction. The propagandist case for the bomb is going to rest in the future, as it has done in the past, on its prestige value in the so-called rivalry between democratic India (itself a farcical term) and totalitarian China. In practice it is more likely to become a factor in the arms race between the Pakistani military regime and whatever combination of army officers and nationalist politicians takes over in Delhi after the Congress party has finally dissolved into fragments.
What will happen thereafter is anyone’s guess. Even on the hopeful assumption that India will somehow hold together as a nation and not disintegrate into a congeries of rival states—which, after all, is what she has been for most of her history—the most likely outcome is some sort of purely defensive position along the Himalayan frontier, backed by an American (possibly a joint Soviet-American) nuclear guarantee against Chinese aggression. The alternative of a more nationalist and militarist Indian policy, though disagreeable, would be far from world-shattering, since no one supposes that India, even with a few nuclear arms of her own, can do more than preserve her existence. If China has a rival in Asia it is Japan, not India. But here too one must guard against illusion: Japan, with its already accomplished industrial revolution, is no model for countries struggling with rural overpopulation and falling output. Socially and politically, the Japanese case is unique, and the other Asians can only envy her success, while trying to climb into the industrial age by exploiting and perverting some form of socialist ideology.
This last consideration may seem irrelevant in the context of our discussion, but consider what would happen if an Atlantic free-trade zone, plus Australia-New Zealand and Japan, comes into being in the 70’s. The only fully industrialized country in Asia would then be lined up with the West in an exclusive association of the rich: exclusive because, for all the liberal rhetoric about free trade, only the rich are really able to trade on equal terms with each other. The poor need high tariff walls (and probably state control of foreign trade) to give their own industries a chance to grow, and to protect their citizens against the flood of useless and expensive consumer goods which their merchants are certain to import wherever trade barriers come down. Japan can afford this kind of nonsense. India and Pakistan cannot: vide their present economic distress, in part at least caused by the expenditure of scarce foreign currency on useless imports (useless from the national viewpoint, that is). This is why “socialism” of some kind (meaning in practice state control over the economy) is the winner in the ideological competition in all these backward countries: it is the only way in which they can raise themselves from their misery. For even if their local entrepreneurs were more enterprising than they usually are, this would still not be enough to shield their societies from the devastating consequences of economic liberalism. Indeed, the industrial bourgeoisie is the real force behind the clamor for greater state control. For this reason, if for no other, one may confidently predict that the coming military dictatorship in India (a certainty by 1975, if not earlier) will adopt some sort of national-socialist program. The alternative would be to hand power to the Communists (probably their Maoist wing at that). On this subject, at least, the British, with two hundred years’ experience of the subcontinent, have few illusions. They have sensed the tremors presaging the coming earthquake, and they are quietly beginning to pull out.
Which brings one back to General Beaufre’s remarks, cited at the beginning of this article. It is the fashion in Anglo-American circles to dismiss Gaullism as an archaic form of nationalism, but for all their traditional language the French are ahead of Messrs. Johnson and Wilson in their realistic estimate of coming upheavals in the Third World of pre-industrial countries. They have, after all, had the experience of Algeria, which has taught them (in addition to a few other lessons, such as that nationalist resistance movements are difficult to fight), that economic liberalism does not work in these regions. What does work is some form of socialism (not necessarily the Maoist kind). This is now realized in Paris, if not elsewhere. In all the international conferences held in recent years to discuss possible aid to the “underdeveloped,” the French have been well to the Left of the Americans and the British: a circumstance duly concealed from the Anglo-American public, which instead has been treated to soporifics about the benefits of free trade and monetary convertibility. While the liberal establishment drugs itself with these illusions, the political and military elites (largely the same people) in the backward countries have begun to see the writing on the wall.
In this context, French pessimism about America’s role in Vietnam takes on the aspect of a more or less clearly articulated critique of the whole system of ideas underlying the policies pursued by successive U.S. administrations, notably in Latin America. For just as the so-called “war on poverty” at home—on the evidence of so respectable a witness as Mr. Robert Kennedy—has degenerated into a system of handouts, so American “aid” to the “underdeveloped” seems to have little positive effect, save in a few privileged areas where the basic transition to modernity has already been more or less accomplished. Elsewhere it is more likely to promote pauperization than economic growth. This is not to say (pace Mr. Robert Heilbroner) that Communism is the only answer. But it does mean that not much can be expected from liberal-democratic exercises such as the “Alliance for Progress” (setting aside the fact that this particular operation never got beyond the public-relations stage). The basic trouble stems not from too little liberalism, but from an excess of that commodity: a hard saying, but until it has been grasped, Americans and Europeans will continue to talk past each other.
1 Insufficient attention is given to this topic in Mr. Robert Lekachman's recent work, The Age of Keynes. But then Mr. Lekachman, as a good Keynesian liberal, makes the assumption that politicians can do nothing until a suitable rationale has been provided for them by academic economists. Hitler, an economic illiterate, did not think so, which is why he was able to get rid of unemployment by rearming. It is true that Roosevelt and Chamberlain did nothing, or almost nothing, even after Keynes had converted his colleagues. This has not prevented the liberal school from imposing upon textbook writers the legend that Keynes saved Western civilization by showing governments how to secure full employment. What really did the trick was World War II and the long overdue disappearance of the uncontrolled market economy.
2 Praeger, 174 pp., $6.95.