Global nuclear expansion now – dozens of countries

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And, imagining scenarios, even if unlikely or flawed is a pre requisite to good analysis – the aff isn’t a research paper, just dismiss poorly constructed impacts

Wimbush, 08 – director of the Center for Future Security Strategies

(S. Enders, senior fellow at the Hudson Institute and the author of several books and policy articles, “A Parable: The U.S.-ROK Security Relationship Breaks Down”, Asia Policy, Number 5 (January 2008), 7-24)

What if the U.S.-ROK security relationship were to break down? This essay explores the alternative futures of such a scenario. Analyzing scenarios is one technique for trying to understand the increasing complexity of strategic environments. A scenario is an account of an imagined sequence of events. The intent of a scenario is to suggest how alternative futures might arise and where they might lead, where conflicts might occur, how the interests of different actors might be challenged, and the kinds of strategies actors might pursue to achieve their objectives. Important to keep in mind is that scenarios are nothing more than invented, in-depth storiesstories about what different futures could look like and what might happen along plausible pathways to those futures. The trends and forces that go into building a scenario may be carefully researched, yet a scenario is not a research paper. Rather, it is a work of the imagination. As such, scenarios are, first, tools that can help bring order to the way analysts think about what might happen in future security environments; second, scenarios are a provocative way of revealing possible dynamics of future security environments that might not be apparent simply by projecting known trends into the future. Scenarios are particularly useful in suggesting where the interests and actions of different actors might converge or collide with other forces, trends, attitudes, and influences. By using scenarios, to explore the question “what if this or that happened?” in a variety of different ways, with the objective of uncovering as many potential answers as possible, analysts can build hedging strategies for dealing with many different kinds of potential problems. Though they may choose to discount some of these futures and related scenarios, analysts will not be ignorant of the possibilities, with luck avoiding having to say: “I never thought about that.”

No prior questions – prefer rational choice theory

Owen, 02 [David Owen, Reader of Political Theory at the Univ. of Southampton, Millennium Vol 31 No 3 2002 p. 655-7]

Commenting on the ‘philosophical turn’ in IR, Wæver remarks that [a] frenzy for words like “epistemology” and “ontology” often signals this philosophical turn’, although he goes on to comment that these terms are often used loosely.4 However, loosely deployed or not, it is clear that debates concerning ontology and epistemology play a central role in the contemporary IR theory wars. In one respect, this is unsurprising since it is a characteristic feature of the social sciences that periods of disciplinary disorientation involve recourse to reflection on the philosophical commitments of different theoretical approaches, and there is no doubt that such reflection can play a valuable role in making explicit the commitments that characterise (and help individuate) diverse theoretical positions. Yet, such a philosophical turn is not without its dangers and I will briefly mention three before turning to consider a confusion that has, I will suggest, helped to promote the IR theory wars by motivating this philosophical turn. The first danger with the philosophical turn is that it has an inbuilt tendency to prioritise issues of ontology and epistemology over explanatory and/or interpretive power as if the latter two were merely a simple function of the former. But while the explanatory and/or interpretive power of a theoretical account is not wholly independent of its ontological and/or epistemological commitments (otherwise criticism of these features would not be a criticism that had any value), it is by no means clear that it is, in contrast, wholly dependent on these philosophical commitme

nts. Thus, for example, one need not be sympathetic to rational choice theory to recognise that it can provide powerful accounts of certain kinds of problems, such as the tragedy of the commons in which dilemmas of collective action are foregrounded. It may, of course, be the case that the advocates of rational choice theory cannot give a good account of why this type of theory is powerful in accounting for this class of problems (i.e., how it is that the relevant actors come to exhibit features in these circumstances that approximate the assumptions of rational choice theory) and, if this is the case, it is a philosophical weakness—but this does not undermine the point that, for a certain class of problems, rational choice theory may provide the best account available to us. In other words, while the critical judgement of theoretical accounts in terms of their ontological and/or epistemological sophistication is one kind of critical judgement, it is not the only or even necessarily the most important kind. The second danger run by the philosophical turn is that because prioritisation of ontology and epistemology promotes theory-construction from philosophical first principles, it cultivates a theory-driven rather than problem-driven approach to IR. Paraphrasing Ian Shapiro, the point can be put like this: since it is the case that there is always a plurality of possible true descriptions of a given action, event or phenomenon, the challenge is to decide which is the most apt in terms of getting a perspicuous grip on the action, event or phenomenon in question given the purposes of the inquiry; yet, from this standpoint, theory-driven work is part of a reductionist program’ in that it ‘dictates always opting for the description that calls for the explanation that flows from the preferred model or theory’.5 The justification offered for this strategy rests on the mistaken belief that it is necessary for social science because general explanations are required to characterise the classes of phenomena studied in similar terms. However, as Shapiro points out, this is to misunderstand the enterprise of science sincewhether there are general explanations for classes of phenomena is a question for social-scientific inquiry, not to be prejudged before conducting that inquiry’.6 Moreover, this strategy easily slips into the promotion of the pursuit of generality over that of empirical validity. The third danger is that the preceding two combine to encourage the formation of a particular image of disciplinary debate in IR—what might be called (only slightly tongue in cheek) ‘the Highlander view’—namely, an image of warring theoretical approaches with each, despite occasional temporary tactical alliances, dedicated to the strategic achievement of sovereignty over the disciplinary field. It encourages this view because the turn to, and prioritisation of, ontology and epistemology stimulates the idea that there can only be one theoretical approach which gets things right, namely, the theoretical approach that gets its ontology and epistemology right. This image feeds back into IR exacerbating the first and second dangers, and so a potentially vicious circle arises.

No lash out – institutional safeguards check

Buchanan 7 [Allen, Professor of Philosophy and Public Policy at Duke, 2007, Preemption: military action and moral justification, pg. 128]

The intuitively plausible idea behind the 'irresponsible act' argument is that, other things being equal, the higher the stakes in acting and in particular the greater the moral risk, the higher are the epistemic requirements for justified action. The decision to go to war is generally a high stakes decision par excellence and the moral risks are especially great, for two reasons. First, unless one is justified in going to war, one's deliberate killing of enemy combatants will he murder, indeed mass murder. Secondly, at least in large-scale modem war, it is a virtual certainty that one will kill innocent people even if one is justified in going to war and conducts the war in such a way as to try to minimize harm to innocents. Given these grave moral risks of going to war, quite apart from often substantial prudential concerns, some types of justifications for going to war may simply be too subject to abuse and error to make it justifiable to invoke them. The 'irresponsible act' objection is not a consequentialist objection in any interesting sense. It does not depend upon the assumption that every particular act of going to war preventively has unacceptably bad consequences (whether in itself or by virtue of contributing lo the general acceptance of a principle allowing preventive war); nor does it assume that it is always wrong lo rely on a justification which, if generally accepted, would produce unacceptable consequences. Instead, the "irresponsible act' objection is more accurately described as an agent-centered argument and more particularly an argument from moral epistemic responsibility. The 'irresponsible act' objection to preventive war is highly plausible if— but only if—one assumes that the agents who would invoke the preventive-war justification are, as it were, on their own in making the decision to go to war preventively. In other words, the objection is incomplete unless the context of decision-making is further specified. Whether the special risks of relying on the preventive-war justification are unacceptably high will depend, inter alia, upon whether the decision-making process includes effective provisions for reducing those special risks. Because the special risks are at least in significant part epistemic—due to the inherently speculative character of the preventive war-justification—the epistemic context of the decision is crucial. Because institutions can improve the epistemic performance of agents, it is critical to know what the institutional context of the preventive-war decision is, before we can regard the 'irresponsible agent' objection as conclusive. Like the 'bad practice' argument, this second objection to preventive war is inconclusive because it does not consider— and rule out—the possibility that well-designed institutions for decision-making could address the problems that would otherwise make it irresponsible for a leader to invoke the preventive-war justification.

Rejection of securitization causes the state to become more interventionist—turns the K

Tara McCormack, ’10, is Lecturer in International Politics at the University of Leicester and has a PhD in International Relations from the University of Westminster. 2010, (Critique, Security and Power: The political limits to emancipatory approaches, page 127-129)

The following section will briefly raise some questions about the rejection of the old security framework as it has been taken up by the most powerful institutions and states. Here we can begin to see the political limits to critical and emancipatory frameworks. In an international system which is marked by great power inequalities between states, the rejection of the old narrow national interest-based security framework by major international institutions, and the adoption of ostensibly emancipatory policies and policy rhetoric, has the consequence of problematising weak or unstable states and allowing international institutions or major states a more interventionary role, yet without establishing mechanisms by which the citizens of states being intervened in might have any control over the agents or agencies of their emancipation. Whatever the problems associated with the pluralist security framework there were at least formal and clear demarcations. This has the consequence of entrenching international power inequalities and allowing for a shift towards a hierarchical international order in which the citizens in weak or unstable states may arguably have even less freedom or power than before. Radical critics of contemporary security policies, such as human security and humanitarian intervention, argue that we see an assertion of Western power and the creation of liberal subjectivities in the developing world. For example, see Mark Duffield’s important and insightful contribution to the ongoing debates about contemporary international security and development. Duffield attempts to provide a coherent empirical engagement with, and theoretical explanation of, these shifts. Whilst these shifts, away from a focus on state security, and the so-called merging of security and development are often portrayed as positive and progressive shifts that have come about because of the end of the Cold War, Duffield argues convincingly that these shifts are highly problematic and unprogressive. For example, the rejection of sovereignty as formal international equality and a presumption of nonintervention has eroded the division between the international and domestic spheres and led to an international environment in which Western NGOs and powerful states have a major role in the governance of third world states. Whilst for supporters of humanitarian intervention this is a good development, Duffield points out the depoliticising implications, drawing on examples in Mozambique and Afghanistan. Duffield also draws out the problems of the retreat from modernisation that is represented by sustainable development. The Western world has moved away from the development policies of the Cold War, which aimed to develop third world states industrially. Duffield describes this in terms of a new division of human life into uninsured and insured life. Whilst we in the West are ‘insured’ – that is we no longer have to be entirely self-reliant, we have welfare systems, a modern division of labour and so on – sustainable development aims to teach populations in poor states how to survive in the absence of any of this. Third world populations must be taught to be self-reliant, they will remain uninsured. Self-reliance of course means the condemnation of millions to a barbarous life of inhuman bare survival. Ironically, although sustainable development is celebrated by many on the left today, by leaving people to fend for themselves rather than developing a society wide system which can support people, sustainable development actually leads to a less human and humane system than that developed in modern capitalist states. Duffield also describes how many of these problematic shifts are embodied in the contemporary concept of human security. For Duffield, we can understand these shifts in terms of Foucauldian biopolitical framework, which can be understood as a regulatory power that seeks to support life through intervening in the biological, social and economic processes that constitute a human population (2007: 16). Sustainable development and human security are for Duffield technologies of security which aim to create self-managing and self-reliant subjectivities in the third world, which can then survive in a situation of serious underdevelopment (or being uninsured as Duffield terms it) without causing security problems for the developed world. For Duffield this is all driven by a neoliberal project which seeks to control and manage uninsured populations globally. Radical critic Costas Douzinas (2007) also criticises new forms of cosmopolitanism such as human rights and interventions for human rights as a triumph of American hegemony. Whilst we are in agreement with critics such as Douzinas and Duffield that these new security frameworks cannot be empowering, and ultimately lead to more power for powerful states, we need to understand why these frameworks have the effect that they do. We can understand that these frameworks have political limitations without having to look for a specific plan on the part of current powerful states. In new security frameworks such as human security we can see the political limits of the framework proposed by critical and emancipatory theoretical approaches.

Non-proliferation regime key to global disarm – America won’t feel secure enough to disarm otherwise

Wilson 13 [“The Myth of Nuclear Necessity”, WARD WILSON, a senior fellow at the James Martin Center for Nonproliferation Studies at the Monterey Institute of International Studies, is the author of “Five Myths About Nuclear Weapons”, January 13, 2013, New York Times]
NOT everyone wants nuclear weapons. What most people don’t realize is that 12 countries have either abandoned nuclear programs, dismantled existing weapons, as South Africa did in the early 1990s, or handed them over, as Kazakhstan did after the 1991 breakup of the Soviet Union. By contrast, only nine have nukes today (the United States, Russia, Britain, France, China, India, Israel, Pakistan and North Korea).¶ It’s often assumed that Israel would be the last nation to give up nuclear weapons, given its history and a deep sense of responsibility to protect the Jewish people after the horrors of the Holocaust. But Israel has a powerful conventional military, is allied with the strongest country in the world and its leaders have a keen appreciation of military realities. They understand that nukes pose a greater danger to small countries than large ones. Twenty nuclear weapons used on Israel would do far more overlapping damage than 20 used on Iran. Small nations have always been vulnerable. In a world without nuclear weapons they would preserve themselves as they always have: by forming alliances with the powerful and avoiding antagonizing neighbors. France, not Israel, would most likely be the last country to give up nuclear weapons, which help preserve its image as a world power. In a nuclear-free world, France would just be another middle-size power with great cuisine. The real value of nuclear bombs is as status symbols, not as practical weapons.¶ America and other nuclear powers must pursue the gradual abolition of nuclear weapons, but it will not be easy. Many leaders have little interest in giving up power, real or perceived. Any agreement would have to include stringent inspections and extensive safeguards. It would have to include all current nuclear-armed states in a complicated diplomatic process. But bans on other dangerous but clumsy armaments, like chemical and biological weapons, have been negotiated in the past. These bans — like laws are sometimes broken. But the world is far safer with the bans than it would be without them. As Reagan knew, nuclear weapons make the world more dangerous, not less. Imagine arming a bank guard with dynamite and a lighter and you get a good idea of nuclear weapons’ utility: powerful, but too clumsy to use.

Prolif impacts outweigh the K and flip ethics

Ford 11 [Chris Ford, Senior Fellow at the Hudson Institute in Washington, D.C. He previously served as U.S. Special Representative for Nuclear Nonproliferation, Principal Deputy Assistant Secretary of State, and General Counsel to the U.S. Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, 1/10/11, Havea and Have-Nots: "Unfairness in nuclear Weapons possession,"]
First, however, let’s provide some context. As I noted above, it is fascinating that in the long history of military technological have/have not dynamics, the international politics of nuclear weaponry has acquired such a strong flavor of moral critique. To my knowledge, after all, one did not see Xiongnu politics emphasizing how darned unfair it was of those nasty Chinese Emperors to monopolize the presumed secrets of China’s bingjia strategic literature. Nor does the unfairness of Byzantine efforts to control the recipe for Greek Fire seem to have become a prevalent trope of Frankish or Persian diplomacy. “Have nots” have surely always coveted powerful tools possessed by the “haves,” or at least wished that the “haves” did not possess them. It seems pretty unusual, however, for non-possessors to articulate such understandable envy and resentment in the moral language of “unfairness,” and to assume that this presumed injustice should motivate the “haves” to change their behavior. This argument seems to be a curiously modern phenomenon.¶ One might respond that the very specialness of nuclear weapons makes such a position appropriate. After all, while a local monopoly on iron swords may have given the Vikings some advantage in skirmishes with Native Americans in what the Norsemen called Vinland, such technological asymmetry was not strategically decisive. (Indeed, the Vikings seem ultimately to have been pushed out of the New World entirely.) If iron had threatened to offer the Vikings an insuperable advantage, would the Skraelings have been justified in developing a moral language of “have/have not” resentment that demanded either the sharing of iron weaponry or Viking disarmament in the name of achieving a global “iron zero”? I’m skeptical, but for the sake of argument let’s say “maybe.”¶ The argument that nuclear weapons are “special,” however, is a two-edged sword. Perhaps they are indeed so peculiarly potent and militarily advantageous that their asymmetric possession is sufficiently “unfair” to compel sharing or disarmament. Such an argument, however, sits only awkwardly – to say the least – with the simultaneous claim by many advocates of the “have/have not” critique that nuclear weapons have no real utility in the modern world and can therefore safely be abandoned by their possessors. After all, it is hard to paint nuclear weapons as being strategically decisive and useless at the same time. (If they are indeed useless, the conclusion of “unfairness” hardly sounds very compelling. If they aren’t useless, however, it may be appropriately hard to abolish them.)¶ More importantly, any argument about the destructively “special” character of nuclear weaponry cuts against the “unfairness critique” in that it is this very specialness that seems to rob the “have/have not” issue of its moral relevance. Unlike iron swords, the bingjia literature, Greek Fire, or essentially all other past military technologies the introduction of which produced global control/acquisition dynamics, nuclear weapons have introduced existential questions about the future of human civilization which utterly swamp the conventional playground morality of unfair “have/have not” competition. No prior technology held the potential to destroy humanity, making nuclear weapons – with the possible exception of certain techniques of biological weaponry – a sui generis case to which the conventional “unfairness” critique simply does not very persuasively apply. III. Implications¶ Let me be clear about this. The moral critique of nuclear weapons possession may yet speak to the issue of whether anyone should have them. (This is not the place for a discussion of the feasibility of the remedies proposed by the disarmament community, but let us at least acknowledge the existence of a real moral issue.) But this matter has nothing to do with “unfairness” per se – and to the extent that it purports to, one should give it little credence. If indeed nuclear weapons do menace the survival of humanity, it is essentially irrelevant whether their possession is “unfairly” distributedand it is certainly no solution to make the global balance of weaponry more “fair” by allowing more countries to have them. (Disarmament advocates hope to address the fairness problem by eliminating nuclear weapons, of course, but this is just icing. Disarmament is almost never articulated as being driven primarily by fairness; the critical part of that argument is instead consequentialist, stressing the dangers that any nuclear weapons are said to present.) As a moral critique, in other words, the fair/unfair dichotomy fails to speak intelligibly to the world’s nuclear dilemma. It isn’t really about “fairness” at all.¶ Given the entanglement of nuclear weapons issues with quasi-existential questions potentially affecting the survival of millions or perhaps even billions of people, moreover, it stands to reason that an “unfair” outcome that nonetheless staves off such horrors is a perfectly good solution. On this scale, one might say, non-catastrophe entirely trumps accusations of “unfairness.” Questions of stability are far more important than issues of asymmetric distributionThis, of course, has powerful implications for nonproliferation policy, because pointing out the hollowness of the “unfairness” argument as applied to nuclear weapons suggests the moral sustainability of nonproliferation even if complete nuclear disarmament cannot be achieved and the world continues to be characterized by inequalities in weapons possession. We forget this at our collective peril.¶ Don’t get me wrong. “Unfairness” arguments will presumably continue to have a political impact upon the diplomacy of nuclear nonproliferation, either as a consequence of genuine resentment or as a cynical rationalization for the destabilizing pursuit of dangerous capabilities. (Indeed, one might even go so far as to suspect that the emergence of the “unfairness” critique in modern diplomatic discourse is in some sense partly the result of how morally compelling nonproliferation is, in this context, irrespective of the “fairness” of “have/have not” outcomes. Precisely because the moral case for nonproliferation-driven inequality is so obvious and so compelling if such imbalance serves the interests of strategic stability, perhaps it was necessary to develop a new rationale of “fairness” to help make proliferation aspirations seem more legitimate. Skraelings, one imagines, did not need an elaborate philosophy of “fairness” in order to justify trying to steal iron weapons; the desirability of such tools was simply obvious, and any effort to obtain them unsurprising and not in itself condemnable.) But even in this democratic and egalitarian age, merely to incant the mantra of “unfairness” – or to inveigh against the existence of “haves” when there also exist “have nots” – is not the same thing as having a compelling moral argument. Indeed, I would submit that we lose our moral bearings if we allow “unfairness” arguments to distract us from what is really important here: substantive outcomes in the global security environment.¶ “Unfairness,” in other words, is an overrated critique, and “fairness” is an overrated destination. At least where nuclear weapons are concerned, there are more important considerations in play. Let us not forget this.

Prolif threats real

Harvey 01 (Frank P., a member of a the Canadian International Council, “National Missile Defence Revisited, Again a Reply to David Mutimer,” International Journal, Vol. 56, No. 2 (Spring, 2001), pp. 347-360, Canadian International Council)

'Before any argument supporting NMD can be taken seriously, there-fore, we must accept that a "rogue state threat" exists' (p 340). I couldn't agree more. But this is perhaps the most fascinating of all of Mutimer s assertions because he himself acknowledges the 'facts' of the rogue state threat - and I thought only proponents shared the burden of proving the case for NMD. Consider the following quotes: • The rogue state needs, therefore, to be seen for what it was: the creation of the United States military to justify its claim on resources ... The rogue state, however, is a myth. [It] is not mythical in the sense that it is not real, but rather in the sense that it has been vested with a totemic importance by the United States' (p 344) (emphasis added). • 'Rogues are the enemies that make high levels of military spending legitimate. They are not a lie told by knowing capitalists in an instrumental fashion to hoodwink Congress into passing over-inflated budgets (p 345, n 24) (emphasis added). I am not arguing that the United States fabricated evidence, but rather that it produced a particular frame within which to interpret that evidence' (p 345) (emphasis added). • 'The imagined nature of threats does not mean that there is no real danger or that nothing need ever be done about risks' (p 345). • 'The issue, therefore, is not the evidence but rather how the "facts" are "evidence" of a particular form of threat labelled "proliferation" by actors labelled "rogue"' (p 344, n22). • 'There is, therefore, no need for me to engage in a discussion of the evidence of proliferation assembled, for example, in the Rumsfeld Report to bolster the case for NMD. At issue are not "the facts" but the ways in which those facts are assembled and the interpretation that is given to them' (p 344, n 22). Mutimer s honesty is refreshing but not surprising. Ballistic missile proliferation is difficult to deny. It is a 'real' security threat, driven by technological progress, the spread of scientific knowledge related to these weapons systems, diminishing costs, ongoing regional security threats in the Middle East and Asia, and, most importantly, time.

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