Knowing peace as a concept is no less difficult that knowing peace as a human being. Throughout various historical, cultural, and analytical contexts, the concept of “peace” has accumulated many different definitions, often measured against the antithetical concept of “conflict.” In order to make sense of the so-called “Asian Peace,” let us first attempt to make sense of peace from the perspective of Eastern philosophical tradition, before differentiating peace into “positive” or “negative” varieties.
In the Asian context, a profound cultural emphasis on peace endures. Soft imagery such as that of wind and water are prevalent through Eastern philosophical canon. The Daodejing of Laozi, the ancient classic that serves as the foundational text of Daoism, is rife with water metaphors, helping to popularize the practice of Daoism as The Watercourse Way. The Way of Laozi is one where virtue lies in peaceful means, not through strength of arms. The ways of life preached by Confucius and Mo Zi likewise emphasize that peace is mankind’s ultimate mission (Barash and Webel 6). Confucianism upholds harmony through stable hierarchy as the means of achieving lasting peace, whereas Mohism preaches a universal love for all (6). While Eastern philosophy also holds bravery in battle and strength in encounters with violence as virtues in high regard, the way of peace remains a commanding narrative in Asian culture. In the modern day, the People’s Republic of China has sought to characterize its regime as one that follows the way of peace, hence favoring messaging that portrays a “peaceful rise” to power. Chairman Xi Jinping insisted that, “The love of peace is in the DNA of the Chinese people.” These attitudes attempt to paint a picture wherein Asia simply has an ingrained affinity for peace, a commitment formed by thousands of years of philosophical meditation. Under this narrative, the recent decades' absence of war in the region of East Asia seems like the fruits of an exceptional way of peace.
The so-called Asian Peace, marked by a rapid decline in battle-related deaths and the absence of new interstate wars since 1979, is far more complicated than the imagined monolith of a peace-loving Asia finally realizing its philosophical principles. While the shortcomings of the Asian Peace rightfully deserve to undergo scrutiny, this article will also examine whether the onslaught of criticism directed at the Asian Peace is wholly fair, or if skeptics are overzealous in pursuit of defending U.S. hegemony at the expense of dismissing positive effects on human security. That said, the limitations of the Asian Way of Peace are manifold. For one, the Asian Peace only really encompasses East Asia, excluding India, for example, due to the Kargil War with Pakistan. Some have even called it the ASEAN Way, narrowing down the geography further to Southeast Asia. Many remain critical of peace in East Asia as founded upon political and civil repression in order to achieve economic growth. This argument often upholds positive peace, where human freedoms flourish, as the kind worth celebrating, whereas negative peace merely refers to the absence of war. Coined by 20th century French philosopher Raymond Aron, the term negative peace mostly operates as the complement to conflict; one well-known example of a robust negative peace is the Pax Romana, which the Roman empire maintained through force and subjugation of enemies (Barash and Webel 7). On the other hand, positive peace, most fully explored by Johan Galtung’s writings on structural violence, refers to the absence of barriers to human well-being and potential to succeed (7). With the exceptions of Mongolia, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, most modern East Asian countries fail to earn a “free” score according to Freedom House’s most recent data set. Lack of access to political representation and denial of civil liberties are clear examples of structural barriers to free participation in society. Still, even without the distinction between positive and negative peace, East Asia has not been without tumult and conflict. The Senkaku or Diaoyu islands remain in dispute between Japan and China, the South China Sea experiences periodic disturbances, and Taiwan maintains de facto independence to the PRC’s great displeasure. The Korean Peninsula is locked in a frozen armistice. The Rohingya minority in Myanmar faces genocide amidst the ongoing civil war. The Philippines continues to grapple with insurgencies, separatist movements, and religious strife. The Asian Peace is not all that peaceful, and yet, in both relative and absolute terms, the region has far and away defied the predictions made under realism in the post-Cold War order.
Rather than devolving into violent conflict to settle an uncertain balance of power, East Asian states have chosen cooperation with one another in the majority of cases, which has resulted in relative restraint when conflicting interests do arise. One explanation is that the great power contest between China and the U.S-Japan alliance replaced Cold War bipolarity, while other realist explanations emphasize the importance of ASEAN and its partners as a type of security arrangement. Increasingly, research around Asian Peace has revolved around the question of U.S. global hegemony and China’s rise to the position of regional hegemon. However, this focus does not align with the view that ASEAN is the epicenter of the Asian Peace. In fact, some research suggests that U.S. hegemony is not at all correlated with regional East Asian security, and is even negatively correlated with the security of U.S. allies. The ASEAN Way of Peace viewpoint relegates China to a more minor role in the community of nations committed to no war, conflict avoidance, and face-saving measures. The ASEAN Way also finds favor in liberal thinking, the school of thought that believes economic interdependence between ASEAN members and dialogue partners allows them to prioritize business pursuits above territorial ones. This explanation more fully accounts for the northeast region managing to get along, which tends to have chillier relations than the warmer community in the southeast. China and Japan, for example, have relations commonly described as “hot economics, cold politics.” Most scholars, including those that call for a constructivist assessment of the Asian Peace, conclude that the phenomenon cannot be attributed to any one cause. Over time, attention from both researchers and policy makers has become more focused on the interactions China has with the “neighborly community” it currently finds itself enmeshed in.
A constructivist reading of the security structures and liberal economic interests is also an important lens through which to consider the ramifications of cultural violence in the region. Cultural violence refers to the norms and attitudes about violence reinforced by the dominant societal discourses (Barash and Webel 7). Cultural violence normalizes, legitimizes, and may even celebrate the use of force. Structural and cultural violence are intimately entwined and usually reinforce one another. Together they can result in a negative peace, whereby people may suffer from censorship, limits on assembly, lack of representation, and stifled economic opportunity, but have come to accept the narratives that there are no ways to change the system for the better. Cultural violence in Asia contrasts with the culture of peace that seems evident with a cursory glance at Asian philosophy. However, it is important to note that “structural” and “cultural” violence are not wholly uncontested concepts, and this may contribute to philosophical discrepancies. For example, peace and conflict literature is unclear whether all forms of hierarchy commit some form of structural violence, and whether norms particular to one culture or another can be considered violence (Barash and Webel 8). For understanding the Asian Peace this presents particular problems, especially given the great importance afforded to hierarchy as the mechanism for social harmony under Confucianism. It is therefore important to keep in mind that these peace and conflict concepts were largely formulated with Western philosophical traditions in mind, and that grafting them onto the Asian context is not uncontroversial.
At the same time, given the rather slow development of political and civil freedoms in East Asia, there is some valid anxiety about democratic backsliding undoing any progress at all. Economic disruptions are a key source of vulnerability to autocracy. Between the fallout from COVID-19, supply chain disruptions exacerbated by conflict elsewhere, and trade wars between the U.S. and China, should economic conditions worsen in the region, there is a limited likelihood of a positive sort of peace ever emerging. There is even some speculation about the possibility of an “East Asian Spring,” echoing the emergence of violent protests in the Middle East as a response to repression in the early 2010s. From this point of view, it is only a matter of time before the Asian Peace erupts into violent dissatisfaction. In the U.S., this kind of discourse supports the prediction that China is bound to spoil the seeming calm on the surface. The popular consensus reached in Washington is often peace through deterrence and domination. The U.S. likes to take a lot of credit for the peace in East Asia, and while it's true that alliances in the region and normalization of relations with China have helped to stabilize the situation, there is also an argument to be made that the U.S. is the most likely party to be the spoiler, not China. This is connected to the argument that world domination by the U.S., a Pax Americana, is not a path to sustainable peace, much less a positive one. For example, many U.S.-based policy makers assume it is a foregone conclusion that China is bound to invade Taiwan and therefore call for heightened security measures, whereas the Taiwanese themselves do not see a military response as a viable solution. The U.S. attempts to enforce a worldview where peace can only be maintained by fear of American military might, even though fear is neither an ingredient in positive peace nor a sustainable foundation for peaceful communities. The U.S. has grown more defensive over Taiwan in proclaiming its love for democracy. For all the U.S. maintains a poor track record in installing democratic polities, it is true of both Taiwan and South Korea that they managed to transition from authoritarian regimes under martial law to societies that enjoy high levels of political and civil freedom. These transformations took place with relatively limited bloodshed, and they happened in spite of the U.S. originally backing the authoritarian governments it had helped bring to power. Although, some might insist that seeking U.S. approval eventually helped create the conditions for democratization. If we take democracy as a prerequisite for anything resembling a positive peace, then it is important to note that these transformations took place in the context of an emerging regional norm of negative peace. Negative peace is an unskippable step towards the loftier goals of positive peace and should not be treated as a failure in and of itself.
So why is there so little hope for the rest of East Asia to democratize and work towards a more positive peace? Fears about China’s rise typically play a role, but so too does American antagonism. Washington tends to focus on China as a threat meant to be contained rather than focusing on how to create conditions favorable to continuing the peace in East Asia. East Asian countries are under pressure from the U.S. to choose sides, but choosing sides is something that’s done in anticipation of a conflict context, not in a community committed to peace. The U.S.’s affinity for a conflict-oriented approach is unsurprising, given the culture of war that permeates American society. A look at U.S. history reveals that war is the mechanism of community-building in the American context; the Civil War was the trigger point for the disjointed states to become the singular United States. The creation of the American identity came to hinge on violent contexts throughout the 20th century wars as well. Addressing American cultural violence does not detract from the fact that China today inherently commits structural violence against its people by virtue of being an authoritarian dictatorship. There is a real risk of the East Asian peace disappearing under the stressors of this rivalry, but assuming the worst outcomes is defeatist. Peace is worth fighting to maintain, and the examples of South Korea and Taiwan suggest that there is precedent in the Asian context for positive peace to emerge without devastating revolution or protracted armed conflict.
Maybe China really could adhere to the principles of a peaceful Asia and make a peaceful rise up the global hierarchy. As it stands, realism is the most common lens applied to make predictions about the fate of Asian security, which imbues a deep cynicism about great power rivalry between the U.S. and China. Without a doubt, China’s rhetoric about peace needs to be taken with a grain of salt, but so too do the narratives discounting the power of peace, negative though it may be. For one, critics often characterize Chinese messaging about regional harmony and cooperation as evidence that, like the U.S., the PRC has decided it is time to ask their neighbors to choose sides, that they are dissuading other countries from seeking recourse in international law for grievances, and that they are creating the conditions for regionalism with themselves at the helm. China’s peace rhetoric is dismissed as a means of weeding out U.S. influence, both as a regional player and as the de facto leader of global institutions such as the International Court and the World Bank. Moreover, ASEAN’s preference for informal approaches to security rather than formal arrangements is taken as evidence that East Asia is distancing itself from the global security framework that the U.S. commands. Proponents of realism frame these situations in narratives that envision inevitable conflict between the rising power and the waning one. This worldview draws sides in a conflict that has yet to fully manifest, if it ever will. From this perspective, China’s rise carries the implicit threat of America’s downfall. The peaceful or potentially violent means of China’s choosing are relatively irrelevant to these fears of a shifting world order.
Some might say that the U.S. has a greater interest in maintaining its own hegemony than it does in promoting sustainable peace around the globe. A more charitable reading is one that suggests the U.S. simply has not learned yet that its primacy is no longer a guarantor of peace in the long term. The U.S. has a habit of equating its own brand of democracy with peace, and any alternative to that formula is a clear threat. On balance, however, the U.S model of positive peace is less than exemplary. Setting aside the various oversea projects that have exacerbated conflict, America itself is a violent place: mass incarceration, poverty, high maternal death rates, systemic racism, mass shootings, and barriers to healthcare and education are only a few examples of ways America exhibits both direct and structural violence within its own borders. In fairness, China does not lose out to its seeming rival in the realm of rampant violence; in addition to the political repression mentioned earlier, domestic and sexual abuse remains widespread, as does restriction of LGBTQ+ rights. Moreover, crackdowns in Hong Kong, Tibet, and Xinjiang are worryingly restrictive and violent. Perhaps there’s something to be said, to the credit of the realist point of view, that those at the top of the global hierarchy do not become hegemon through pacifism and a righteous commitment to positive peace. However, skepticism should be more-even handed; dismissing the prospect of an enduring Asian Peace out of fear of China runs the risk of turning a blind eye to the damage done by the United States in its tenure at the top. Worse, this runs the risk of refusing to believe better, more peaceful outcomes are possible. Positive peace is an ideal, much like the concept of a more perfect union, but when we start to imagine a more perfect world order, it cannot begin by accepting the inevitability of conflict.
Barash, David P., and Charles Webel. Peace and Conflict Studies. SAGE Publications, Inc., 2022.