For those who believed the Cold War was history, last week's events may appear confusing. There was the sight of Russia's President Vladimir Putin smiling affably along with leaders of other major powers at the G8 summit in Italy. But, just as Putin was discussing global problems with his country's previous deadly enemies, another event was taking place behind the scenes. The US formally notified Russia that, in its quest to build a shield against incoming missiles, Washington may soon breach the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty (ABM), hitherto the cornerstone of arms control agreements.
Smiles to the public but a new military confrontation in the offing? All the arms control assumptions which governed the behaviour of the major military powers for the last five decades are being overturned. This is the final act in the Cold War.
And the events are certainly not proceeding according to the optimistic script of the early 1990s, when the end of communism appeared to promise celestial peace.
The US has a long history of attempting to provide itself with defences against incoming ballistic missile attacks. The first efforts were taken in the 1960s, but abandoned when it became clear they only encouraged the Soviet Union to increase its quantity of nuclear-tipped missiles with multiple warheads. The result was the ABM Treaty of 1972 which severely limited each side's defensive systems. President Reagan revived dreams of a missile shield in the early 1980s, with his Strategic Defence Initiative. This also faded, partly because the available technology could not deliver Reagan's vision, and partly because the Soviet empire started to disintegrate. So why is it that when US global influence is at its peak, missile defence is now its most urgent military preoccupation? The answer lies in technological advances, coupled with the US's own view of the world and, just as importantly, of itself.
A few decades ago the military knowledge required to produce weapons of mass destruction and missile systems which can deliver them was confined to a small number of powers. Some of these capable countries included America's closest allies, while others were either enemies which could be contained by other military and political means (the Soviet Union, China), or nations which were not necessarily America's direct enemies (India or Pakistan).
Agreements to prevent the proliferation of such weapons have worked well, but they were never able to prevent totally the seepage of technology. Some of the world's most underdeveloped countries, such as Iran, Iraq, North Korea or Libya, can now produce many of these weapons. And paradoxically, although the end of the Cold War has improved security co-operation among the world's former enemies, it has also increased the proliferation of weapon technology. Redundant Russian nuclear scientists were suddenly able and willing to travel freely, offering their services to the highest bidder, while the decrepit military of former Soviet republics regarded weapon sales as a way to earn precious foreign currency.
The US is not blameless on proliferation; Washington has often turned a blind eye to the acquisition of top-notch military technology by its own allies, such as Israel. But the result was clear: a cluster of states around the world, with theoretical capability to hit the US ma inland, controlled by what Americans regard as irresponsible governments, consumed by an undying hatred of the US.
These rogue states, as Washington branded them, cannot be contained by reason and negotiation, and can no longer be deprived of access to technology. They must be opposed at all levels, including the building of a shield which would make the US impregnable to their attacks.
Yet, if it is easy to see what the Americans want from their missile shield, it is just as easy to find faults in the concept. First, the technical criticism: hitting a tiny "bullet" in space, particularly one plunging to earth at 24,000 kilometres an hour, is the stuff of cinemas. Moreover, although a test on July 14th was successful, three out of the previous four tests have either failed, been postponed, or had their results doctored.
The cost of the project is estimated at just under $50 billion for the next decade. Is such a vast expense justified, particularly as the shield is primarily intended to target third-rank basket-cases? Then there are the political costs. Russia, China, and most of Europe have declared their opposition, for good reasons. Russia's claim to great-power status depends on its military; the US missile shield would either render its nuclear arsenal irrelevant, or push the Kremlin into another arms race. The Chinese, who have until now adhered to a limited nuclear programme, may also be tempted to increase their arsenals to reassert their primacy in Asia in the face of a renewed US presence. Nor are the implications for most Europeans appealing, for they can suffer either way, if the US project succeeds and if it fails. The collapse of the arms control agreements and the potential humiliation of Russia will initially affect the European continent most. Furthermore, if the project succeeds, the US would acquire protection which the Europeans will not enjoy. The result may well be that Washington would be less ready to come to Europe's assistance in crises; the essence of NATO, which depended on sharing military risks equally, would be shattered.
But the reality remains that many of these criticisms are exaggerated. No American military planner has ever claimed the shield would provide total protection against every incoming missile. Yet that is no argument against trying to intercept some. Every weapon system has its vulnerabilities, and a balance has to be struck between costs and advantages.
It may be argued that a vast US spending on this futuristic system is unjustified: not even Saddam Hussein or North Korea's rulers are crazy enough to assume they could hit the US mainland and avoid complete annihilation. But the fact that such countries could have this capability would give them a leverage in their dealings with the US. The creation of a missile shield would, therefore, act as an additional deterrent, removing the need for Washington to take such rogue states seriously.
The arguments against upsetting the current arms control agreements are more serious. But even they are not as clear-cut as they appear. Much of the arms control depends on two concepts which are becoming untenable: that the US and Russia are equal militarily, and
that terror, provided it is equally distributed, creates stability. The basis of the Cold War strategy was Mutual Assured Destruction, that both superpowers would refrain from attacking each other if both faced total Armageddon.
For decades, peace activists around the world used the concept's acronym to deride the idea, by calling it truly MAD. Yet, suddenly, the same activists are clinging to mutual terror as the cornerstone of stability. What most critics of the missile shield fail to understand is the impact of the end of the Cold War on the US itself.
The Europeans and the Asians, living cheek-by-jowl and being relatively small in size and military power, are used historically to the fact they will always be vulnerable. The task for these nations has been how to reduce their vulnerability, not eliminate it. Yet for the US, the vulnerability of its own territory is a relatively recent affair, which started with the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour 60 years ago.
Given their history, the Europeans instinctively regard an impregnable shield as an idle dream; for many Americans this still looks not only plausible, but a just return on their investment in winning both the second World War and the Cold War.
No American politician is able to persuade the public that this quest for total invulnerability should be given up just when their country is at the peak of its military prowess, when the technology is supposedly available and when the economy can afford the costs.
And the idea that citizens of the world's only superpower would be persuaded to accept the concept of mutually assured destruction to preserve a treaty concluded three decades ago with another superpower which no longer exists is nonsense. The US's missile shield plan is therefore unavoidable. This does not mean, however, the world would be plunged into another arms race.
There are signs the Europeans have already abandoned their public opposition. This is undoubtedly correct. By giving up on theological disputes which serve no purpose, the Europeans gain valuable influence in Washington over the shape of the programme. They also would be able to ensure the missile shield covers Europe as well, thereby preventing divisions across the Atlantic. Russia has already admitted it has no plans to launch a new arms race with the US; the Europeans could serve as good interlocutors between Washington and Moscow to ensure the Russians benefit from a system which, after all, could protect it from future dangers. And the Chinese should be encouraged to engage in arms control in South East Asia, which sorely lacks such arrangements.
No doubt, the US programme is still riddled with contradictions and, if not handled correctly, could create further instability. But the task for most European governments is to manage this process, rather than clinging to old concepts of arms control which are no longer applicable. The US missile shield programme is here to stay; the only question is how extensive it would be.
Dr Jonathan Eyal is director of studies at the Royal United Services Institute for Defence Studies. Tomorrow: the United States Deputy Secretary of Defence, Paul Wolfowitz, argues the case for Star Wars