Federal departments and agencies received just above $133 billion in R&D funds in 2013. To put that figure in perspective, World Bank data for 2013 shows that, 130 countries had a GDP below that level; U.S. R&D is larger than the entire economy of 60 percent of all countries in the world.

The chart below shows how those funds are allocated among the most important federal departments and agencies in terms of R&D.

Those looking at these figures for the first time may be surprised to see that the Department of Defense takes about half of the pie. It should be noted however that not all federal R&D is destined to preserve U.S. military preeminence in the world. From non-defense research, 42 percent is destined to the much-needed research conducted by the National Institutes of Health, 17 percent to the research of the Department of Energy—owner of 17 celebrated national laboratories—16 percent for space exploration, and 8 percent for understanding the natural and social worlds at a fundamental level. The balance category is only lumped together for visual display not for its importance; it includes for instance the significant work of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and the National Institute of Standards and Technology.

Despite the impressive size of defense R&D, we hear little about it. While much of defense research and development is classified, in time, civilian applications find their way into mainstream commercial uses—the Internet and GPS emerged from research done at DARPA. Far more visible than defense R&D is biomedical research, clean energy research, or news about truly impressive discoveries either in distant galaxies or in the depths of our oceans.

What produces this asymmetry of visibility of federal R&D work?

In a recent Brookings paper, a colleague and I suggest that the answer lies in the prominence of R&D in the agencies’ accounting books. In short: How visible is R&D and how much the agency seeks to discuss it in public fora depends not on the relative importance, but on how large a portion of the agency’s budget is dedicated to R&D.

From a budget perspective, we identified two types of agencies performing R&D: those agencies whose main mission is to perform research and development, and those agencies that perform many functions in addition to R&D. For the former, the share of R&D in the discretionary budget is consistently high, while for the latter group, R&D is only a small part of their total budget (see the chart below). This distinction influences how agencies will argue for their R&D money, because they will make their case on the most important uses of their budget. If agencies have a low R&D share, they will keep it mixed with other functions and programs; for instance, research efforts will be justified only as supporting the main agency mission. In turn, agencies with a high R&D share must argue for their budgets highlighting the social outcomes of their work. These include three agencies whose primary mission is research (NASA, NSF, NIH), and a fourth (DoE) where research is a significant element of its mission.

There is little question that the four agencies with high R&D share produce greatly beneficial research for society. Their strategy of promoting their work publicly is not only smart budget politics but also civic and pedagogical in the sense of helping taxpayers understand that their tax dollars are well-spent. However, it is interesting to observe that other agencies may be producing research of equal social impact that flies under the public radar, mainly because those agencies prefer as a matter of good budget policy to keep a low profile for their R&D work.

One interesting conclusion for institutional design from this analysis is that promoting a research agency to the level of departments of government or its director to a cabinet rank position may bring prominence to its research, not because more and better research will necessarily get done but simply because that agency will seek public recognition for their work in order to justify its budget. Likewise, placing a research agency within a larger department may help conceal and protect their R&D funding; the politics of the department will focus on its main goals and R&D would recede to a concern of secondary interest in political battles.

In the Politics of Federal R&D we discuss in more detail the changing politics of budget and how R&D agencies can respond. The general strategies of concealment and self-promotion are likely to become more important for agencies to protect a steady growth of their research and development budgets.

Data sources: R&D data from the American Association for the Advancement of Sciences historical trends in Federal R&D. Total non-discretionary spending by federal agency from the Office of Management and Budget.

       

A review essay of “Governance of Socio-technical Systems: Explaining Change”, edited by Susana Borrás and Jakob Edler (Edward Elgar, 2014, 207 pages).

Phasing-out a useful and profitable technology

I own a Nokia 2330; it’s a small brick phone that fits comfortably in the palm of my hand. People have feelings about this: mostly, they marvel at my ability to survive without a smart-phone. Concerns go beyond my wellbeing; once a friend protested that I should be aware of the costs I impose onto my friends, for instance, by asking them for precise directions to their houses. Another suggested that I cease trying to be smarter than my phone. But my reason is simple: I don’t need a smart phone. Most of the time, I don’t even need a mobile phone. I can take and place calls from my home or my office. And who really needs a phone during their commute? Still, my device will meet an untimely end. My service provider has informed me via text message that it will phase out all 2G service and explicitly encouraged me to acquire a 3G or newer model. 

There is a correct if simplistic explanation for this announcement: my provider is not making enough money with my account and should I switch to a newer device, they will be able to sell me a data plan. The more accurate and more complex explanation is that my mobile device is part of a communications system that is integrated to other economic and social systems. As those other systems evolve, my device is becoming incompatible with them; my carrier has determined that I should be integrated.

The system integration is easy to understand from a business perspective. My carrier may very well be able to make a profit keeping my account as is, and the accounts of the legion of elderly and low-income customers who use similar devices, and still they may not find it advantageous in the long run to allow 2G devices in their network. To understand this business strategy, we need to go back no farther than the introduction of the iPhone, which in addition to being the most marketable mobile phone set a new standard platform for mobile devices. Its introduction accelerated a trend underway in the core business of carriers: the shift from voice communication to data streaming because smart phones can support layers of overlapping services that depend on fast and reliable data transfer. These services include sophisticated log capabilities, web search, geo-location, connectivity to other devices, and more recently added bio-monitoring. All those services are part of systems of their own, so it makes perfect business sense for carriers to seamlessly integrate mobile communications with all those other systems. Still, the economic rationale explains only a fraction of the systems integration underway.

The communication system of mobile telephony is also integrated with regulatory, social, and cultural systems. Consider the most mundane examples: It’s hard to imagine anyone who, having shifted from paper-and-pencil to an electronic agenda, decided to switch back afterwards. We are increasingly dependent of GPS services; while it may have once served tourists who did not wish to learn how to navigate a new city, it is now a necessity for many people who without it are lost in their home town. Not needing to remember phone numbers, the time of our next appointment, or how to go back to that restaurant we really liked, is a clear example of the integration of mobile devices into our value systems.

There are coordination efforts and mutual accommodation taking place: tech designers seek to adapt to changing values and we update our values to the new conveniences of slick gadgets. Government officials are engaged in the same mutual accommodation. They are asking how many phone booths must be left in public places, how to reach more people with public service announcements, and how to provide transit information in real-time when commuters need it. At the same time, tech designers are considering all existing regulations so their devices are compliant. Communication and regulatory systems are constantly being re-integrated.

The will behind systems integration

The integration of technical and social systems that results from innovation demands an enormous amount of planning, effort, and conflict resolution. The people involved in this process come from all quarters of the innovation ecology, including inventors, entrepreneurs, financiers, and government officials. Each of these agents may not be able to contemplate the totality of the system integration problem but they more or less understand how their respective system must evolve so as to be compatible with interrelated systems that are themselves evolving.  There is a visible willfulness in the integration task that scholars of innovation call the governance of socio-technical systems.

Introducing the term governance, I should emphasize that I do not mean merely the actions of governments or the actions of entrepreneurs. Rather, I mean the effort of all agents involved in the integration and re-integration of systems triggered by innovation; I mean all the coordination and mutual accommodation of agents from interrelated systems. And there is no single vehicle to transport all the relevant information for these agents. A classic representation of markets suggests that prices carry all the relevant information agents need to make optimal decisions. But it is impossible to project this model onto innovation because, as I suggested above, it does not adhere exclusively to economic logic; cultural and political values are also at stake. The governance task is therefore fragmented into pieces and assigned to each of the participants of the socio-technical systems involved, and they cannot resolve it as a profit-maximization problem. 

Instead, the participants must approach governance as a problem of design where the goal could be characterized as reflexive adaptation. By adaptation I mean seeking to achieve inter-system compatibility. By reflexive I mean that each actor must realize that their actions trigger adaption measures in other systems. Thus, they cannot passively adapt but rather they must anticipate the sequence of accommodations in the interaction with other agents. This is one of the most important aspects of the governance problem, because all too often neither technical nor economic criteria will suffice; quite regularly coordination must be negotiated, which is to say, innovation entails politics.

The idea of governance of socio-technical systems is daunting. How do we even begin to understand it? What kinds of modes of governance exist? What are the key dimensions to understand the integration of socio-technical systems? And perhaps more pressing, who prevails in disputes about coordination and accommodation? Fortunately, Susana Borrás, from the Copenhagen Business School, and Jakob Edler, from the University of Manchester, both distinguished professors of innovation, have collected a set of case studies that shed light on these problems in an edited volume entitled Governance of Socio-technical Change: Explaining Change. What is more, they offer a very useful conceptual framework of governance that is worth reviewing here. While this volume will be of great interest to scholars of innovation—and it is written in scholarly language—I think it has great value for policymakers, entrepreneurs, and all agents involved in a practical manner in the work of innovation.

Organizing our thinking on the governance of change

The first question that Borrás and Edler tackle is how to characterize the different modes of governance. They start out with a heuristic typology across the two central categories: what kinds of agents drive innovation and how the actions of these agents are coordinated. Agents can represent the state or civil society, and actions can be coordinated via dominant or non-dominant hierarchies.

	Change led by state actors	Change led by societal actors
Coordination by dominant hierarchies	Traditional deference to technocratic competence: command and control.	Monopolistic or oligopolistic industrial organization.
Coordination by non-dominant hierarchies	State agents as primus inter pares.	More competitive industries with little government oversight.

Source: Adapted from Borrás and Adler (2015), Table 1.2, p. 13.

This typology is very useful to understand why different innovative industries have different dynamics; they are governed differently. For instance, we can readily understand why consumer software and pharmaceuticals are so at odds regarding patent law. The strict (and very necessary) regulation of drug production and commercialization coupled with the oligopolistic structure of that industry creates the need and opportunity to advocate for patent protection; which is equivalent to a government subsidy. In turn, the highly competitive environment of consumer software development and its low level of regulation foster an environment where patents hinder innovation. Government intervention is neither needed nor wanted; the industry wishes to regulate itself.

This typology is also useful to understand why open source applications have gained currency much faster in the consumer segment than the contractor segment of software producers. Examples of the latter is industry specific software (e.g. to operate machinery, the stock exchange, and ATMs) or software to support national security agencies. These contractors demand proprietary software and depend on the secrecy of the source code. The software industry is not monolithic, and while highly innovative in all its segments, the innovation taking place varies greatly by its mode of governance.

Furthermore, we can understand the inherent conflicts in the governance of science. In principle, scientists are led by curiosity and organize their work in a decentralized and organic fashion. In practice, most of science is driven by mission-oriented governmental agencies and is organized in a rigid hierarchical system. Consider the centrality of prestige in science and how it is awarded by peer-review; a system controlled by the top brass of each discipline. There is nearly an irreconcilable contrast between the self-image of science and its actual governance. Using the Borrás-Edler typology, we could say that scientists imagine themselves as citizens of the south-east quadrant while they really inhabit the north-west quadrant.

There are practical lessons from the application of this typology to current controversies. For instance, no policy instrument such as patents can have the same effect on all innovation sectors because the effect will depend on the mode of governance of the sector. This corollary may sound intuitive, yet it really is at variance with the current terms of the debate on patent protection, where assertions of its effect on innovation, in either direction, are rarely qualified.

The second question Borrás and Edler address is that of the key analytical dimensions to examine socio-technical change. To this end, they draw from an ample selection of social theories of change. First, economists and sociologists fruitfully debate the advantage of social inquiry focused on agency versus institutions. Here, the synthesis offered is reminiscent of Herbert Simon’s “bounded rationality”, where the focus turns to agent decisions constrained by institutions. Second, policy scholars as well as sociologists emphasize the engineering of change. Change can be accomplished with discreet instruments such as laws and regulations, or diffused instruments such as deliberation, political participation, and techniques of conflict resolution. Third, political scientists underscore the centrality of power in the adjudication of disputes produced by systems’ change and integration. Borrás and Edler have condensed these perspectives in an analytical framework that boils down to three clean questions: who drives change? (focus on agents bounded by institutions), how is change engineered? (focus on instrumentation), and why it is accepted by society? (focus on legitimacy). The case studies contained in this edited volume illustrate the deployment of this framework with empirical research.

Standards, sustainability, incremental innovation

Arthur Daemmrich (Chapter 3) tells the story of how the German chemical company BASF succeeded marketing the biodegradable polymer Ecoflex. It is worth noting the dependence of BASF on government funding to develop Ecoflex, and on the German Institute for Standardization (DIN), making a market by setting standards. With this technology, BASF capitalized on the growing demand in Germany for biodegradables, and with its intense cooperation with DIN helped establish a standard that differentiate Ecoflex from the competition. By focusing on the enterprise (the innovation agent) and its role in engineering the market for its product by setting standards that would favor them, this story reveals the process of legitimation of this new technology. In effect, the certification of DIN was accepted by agribusinesses that sought to utilize biodegradable products.

If BASF is an example of innovation by standards, Allison Loconto and Marc Barbier (Chapter 4) show the strategies of governing by standards. They take the case of the International Social and Environmental Accreditation and Labelling alliance (ISEAL). ISEAL, an advocate of sustainability, positions itself as a coordinating broker among standard developing organizations by offering “credibility tools” such as codes of conduct, best practices, impact assessment methods, and assurance codes. The organization advocates what is known as the tripartite system regime (TSR) around standards. TSR is a system of checks and balances to increase the credibility of producers complying with standards. The TSR regime assigns standard-setting, certification, and accreditation of the certifiers, to separate and independent bodies. The case illustrates how producers, their associations, and broker organizations work to bestow upon standards their most valuable attribute: credibility. The authors are cautious not to conflate credibility with legitimacy, but there is no question that credibility is part of the process of legitimizing technical change. In constructing credibility, these authors focus on the third question of the framework –legitimizing innovation—and from that vantage point, they illuminate the role of actors and instruments that will guide innovations in sustainability markets.

While standards are instruments of non-dominant hierarchies, the classical instrument of dominant hierarchies is regulation. David Barberá-Tomás and Jordi Molas-Gallart tell the tragic consequences of an innovation in hip-replacement prosthesis that went terribly wrong. It is estimated that about 30 thousand replaced hips failed. The FDA, under the 1976 Medical Device Act, allows incremental improvements in medical devices to go into the market after only laboratory trials, assuming that any substantive innovations have already being tested in regular clinical trials. This policy was designed as an incentive for innovation, a relief from high regulatory costs. However, the authors argue, when products have been constantly improved for a number of years after an original release, any marginal improvement comes at a higher cost or higher risk—a point they refer to as the late stage of the product life-cycle. This has tilted the balance in favor of risky improvements, as illustrated by the hip prosthesis case. The story speaks to the integration of technical and cultural systems: the policy that encourages incremental innovation may alter the way medical device companies assess the relative risk of their innovations, precisely because they focus on incremental improvements over radical ones. Returning to the analytical framework, the vantage point of regulation—instrumentation—elucidates the particular complexities and biases in agents’ decisions.

Two additional case studies discuss the discontinuation of the incandescent light bulb (ILB) and the emergence of translational research, both in Western Europe. The first study, authored by Peter Stegmaier, Stefan Kuhlmann and Vincent R. Visser (Chapter 6), focuses on a relatively smooth transition. There was wide support for replacing ILBs that translated in political will and a market willing to purchase new energy efficient bulbs. In effect, the new technical system was relatively easy to re-integrate to a social system in change—public values had shifted in Europe to favor sustainable consumption—and the authors are thus able to emphasize how agents make sense of the transition. Socio-technical change does not have a unique meaning: for citizens it means living in congruence with their values; for policy makers it means accruing political capital; for entrepreneurs it means new business opportunities. The case by Etienne Vignola-Gagné, Peter Biegelbauer and Daniel Lehner (Chapter 7) offers a similar lesson about governance. My reading of their multi-site study of the implementation of translational research—a management movement that seeks to bridge laboratory and clinical work in medical research—reveals how the different agents involved make sense of this organizational innovation. Entrepreneurs see a new market niche, researchers strive for increasing the impact of their work, and public officials align their advocacy for translation with the now regular calls for rendering publicly funded research more productive. Both chapters illuminate a lesson that is as old as it is useful to remember: technological innovation is interpreted in as many ways as the number of agents that participate in it.

Innovation for whom?

The framework and illustrations of this book are useful for those of us interested in the governance of system integration. The typology of different modes of governance and the three vantage points from which empirical analysis can be deployed are very useful indeed. Further development of this framework should include the question of how political power is redistributed by effect of innovation and the system integration and re-integration that it triggers. The question is pressing because the outcomes of innovation vary as power structures are reinforced or debilitated by the emergence of new technologies—not to mention ongoing destabilizing forces such as social movements. Put another way, the framework should be expanded to explain in which circumstances innovation exacerbates inequality. The expanded framework should probe whether the mutual accommodation is asymmetric across socio-economic groups, which is the same as asking: are poor people asked to do more adapting to new technologies? These questions have great relevance in contemporary debates about economic and political inequality. 

I believe that Borrás and Edler and their colleagues have done us a great service organizing a broad but dispersed literature and offering an intuitive and comprehensive framework to study the governance of innovation. The conceptual and empirical parts of the book are instructive and I look forward to the papers that will follow testing this framework. We need to better understand the governance of socio-technical change and the dynamics of systems integration. Without a unified framework of comparison, the ongoing efforts in various disciplines will not amount to a greater understanding of the big picture. 

I also have a selfish reason to like this book: it helps me make sense of my carrier’s push for integrating my value system to their technical system. If I decide to adapt to a newer phone, I could readily do so because I have time and other resources. But that may not be the case for many customers of 2G devices who have neither the resources nor the inclination to learn to use more complex devices. For that reason alone, I’d argue that this sort of innovation-led systems integration could be done more democratically. Still, I could meet the decision of my carrier with indifference: when the service is disconnected, I could simply try to get by without the darn toy.

Note: Thanks to Joseph Schuman for an engaging discussion of this book with me.

       

       

Editors' Note: How can the U.S. government better counter ISIS propaganda? As the State Department overhauls its counter messaging program, Will McCants and Clint Watts examine what makes ISIS’s online magazine, Dabiq, so successful, and the obstacles to the U.S. government producing a publication that effective. This piece originally appeared on The Daily Beast.

The Obama administration attributes much of ISIS’s success at communicating to its technological savvy, which has elevated the group to a global media and terrorist phenomenon. The president has gone so far as to say that the Paris attackers were a “bunch of killers with good social media.”

Despite the praise heaped on the so-called Islamic State for its cutting-edge propaganda online, one of its most effective products is decidedly low tech. Dabiq, ISIS’s online news magazine, has a small but devoted readership that spans the globe. News of advances on the battlefield excite them—more evidence that God’s kingdom on earth has returned and grows. Stories of fighters inspire them—more models to emulate as they contemplate what role they can play in the divine drama unfolding.

Journalists and analysts read it with almost the same intensity as ISIS fans; the contents of each volume fill newspapers and think-tank reports soon after it’s released. And no wonder: the magazine clearly states the organization’s goals; provides news of its activities that advance those goals; showcases personal stories of the people engaged in the activities; and announces major developments in the organization’s fight against its enemies. It’s a wealth of information presented between two covers every few months.

Can you name a single U.S. government publication or online platform devoted to the anti-ISIS fight that is as informative or as widely-read as Dabiq? Is there anything that tells us what all these air sorties are for? Who’s fighting this fight on the ground? What advances the coalition has made and why we should we care? We couldn’t come up with one either.

That got us to thinking: why can’t the U.S. government publish something like Dabiq online? Lack of imagination isn’t the reason. A news magazine isn’t a very creative idea—Americans perfected the form, which ISIS copied. And if anything, folks inside the government have too many overly-imaginative ideas, most of them involving whiz-bang technology. If you’ve thought it, they’ve thought it. A social media campaign for youth to come up with ways to counter violent extremism? Check. Sock-puppetry? Check.

The only real obstacle impeding the U.S. government is itself. The executive branch’s complicated bureaucracy, legal strictures, and sensitivity to criticism from media and Congress make it tough to publish a Dabiq-style magazine. To see what we mean, let’s look at two of Dabiq’s regular features and see what would happen if the U.S. government tried to mimic them:

Attack Reports: Each issue of Dabiq details its attacks on its enemies. One entry in issue 12 chronicled ISIS’s efforts to capture an airbase in Dayr al-Zawr, Syria. Another described four suicide attacks on the Saudi-led coalition fighting southern Yemen. Pictures accompany most entries, some quite gruesome.

The U.S. government routinely writes these types of reports for internal consumption. But when they’re public—and thus under the scrutiny of Congress that holds the pursestrings and the media that holds the careerstrings—routine gives way to caution and quarreling.

If the president asks his government to write attack reports for the public, the U.S. Department of State and the Department of Defense will quarrel about who will take the lead in writing and publishing them. Then they and the intelligence agencies will quarrel over which reports should be included. Will this report counter the president’s insistence that we have no boots on the ground? Will that report make it look like our Iraqi partners aren’t carrying their weight? Does this one tell the enemy too much about our game plan? Does that picture make U.S. soldiers look too menacing? Will this report later be discredited by the media? Will these battlefield successes be reversed in the future? Does anyone know if another agency has said this or its opposite? Will anyone trust what we’re saying? Shouldn’t someone else be saying this?

When something finally slides off the serpentine conveyor belt months later, it will be a bland blob devoid of detail and relevance. Meanwhile, ISIS will have added twelve more volumes to its shelves.

Biographies of Fighters: Dabiq sometimes profiles its fighters, including the young men on the front lines dying for ISIS’s cause. The fighters tell their stories and explain their reasons for fighting. In issue 8, for example, there is a Q&A with the man who murdered a prominent politician in Tunisia. He explains why he did it and how it advances the greater goals of the Islamic State.

The United States military used to feature these sorts of stories, too—back when the American war in Iraq was a massive, overt affair. Now, that’s not the case. The identities of the Americans fighting in Syria and Iraq are a well-guarded secret because the government does not want them or their families to become targets. The government would also frown on them for nonchalantly talking about killing lest the American public get upset. And then there’s that boots on the ground thing.

Without personal stories, we’re left with drones buzzing in the sky, and buzz-cut officers droning through stale Pentagon briefings. The human cost on both sides is reduced to numbers on slides, which means Americans can’t appreciate the true costs of war and foreigners can’t appreciate the sacrifices Americans are making on their behalf.

Some readers might feel that the U.S. government should be constrained in these ways. They want the government to be sensitive to public opinion and exceedingly cautious when talking about war and violence. If so, they shouldn’t complain when the U.S. government explains its anti-ISIS fight in the vaguest possible terms—that’s the outcome of extreme caution compounded by bureaucratic bargaining on a mind-boggling scale. Others might feel we need to reform the way government does messaging. If so, don’t propose to change the system first. Rather, ask the system to perform a simple task like the one we’ve described and see where it breaks down. Then you’ll know what to fix.

Making a news magazine probably isn’t the high tech solution the government is looking for, at least judging by Friday’s pilgrimage of senior security officials to Silicon Valley and the revamping of State Department’s online counter messaging campaign. But if our byzantine, poll-sensitive government can’t do something so basic, it won’t perform better when it’s tasked with something more complicated no matter how much technology it uses.

      

       

       

For Europe, it has been a rough year, or perhaps more accurately a rough decade. The terrorist attacks in London, Madrid, and elsewhere have taken a toll, as did the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. But things really got tough beginning with the Great Recession—and its prolonged duration for Europe, including grave economic crises in much of the southern part of the continent. That was followed by Vladimir Putin’s aggression against Ukraine, as well as the intensification of the Syrian, Libyan, and Yemeni conflicts with their tragic human consequences, including massive displacement of people and the greatest flow of refugees since World War II. The recent attacks in Paris and Brussels have added to the gloom and fear. This recent history, together with the advent of nationalistic and inward-looking policies in virtually all European Union member states, makes it easy to get despondent—and worry that the entire European project is failing.

To be sure, these are not the best of times. Europe is perceived by some, including Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, as failing to invest enough in its own security, since NATO allies spend less than 1.4 percent of GDP on their armed forces while the United States spends twice that. However, we must not lose sight of the key structural advantages—and the important policy successes—that have brought Europe where it is today. For example, Europe’s recent progress in energy policy has been significant—good not only for economic and energy resilience, but also for NATO's collective handling of the revanchist Russia threat. 

[W]e must not lose sight of the key structural advantages—and the important policy successes—that have brought Europe where it is today.

For many years, analysts and policymakers have debated the question of Europe's dependence on natural gas from Russia. Today, this problem is largely solved. Russia provides only one-third of Europe’s gas. Importantly, Europe’s internal infrastructure for transporting natural gas in all desired directions has improved greatly. So have its available storage options, as well as its possibilities to import alternatives either by pipeline or in the form of liquefied natural gas. As a result, almost all member states are currently well-positioned to withstand even a worst-case scenario. 

Indeed, European Commission analyses show that even a multi-month long supply disruption could be addressed, albeit at real economic cost, by diversification and fuel switching. Progress in energy efficiency and renewable energy investments also help. There is more to do to enhance European energy security, but much has been done already. The Europeans have shown that, with ups and downs, they can address energy security themselves.

Already this energy success has contributed to a strategic success. Europe has been heavily criticized for not standing up more firmly to Russia in response to the annexation of Crimea and the conflict in eastern Ukraine. In fact, all EU member states have agreed to keep economic sanctions in place against Moscow. In addition, lifting the sanctions has been firmly attached to the implementation of the Minsk II agreement—and despite recent cracks in European solidarity, we hope that this stance will hold going forward. 

The notion that Europe is weak and dependent on Russian natural gas is a relic from the past.

The notion that Europe is weak and dependent on Russian natural gas is a relic from the past. Europe has a strong regulatory framework with which commercial entities, including Gazprom, have to abide. For those who doubt the impact of these regulations, just ask Google or Microsoft. With the end of so-called destination clauses, natural gas can be re-sold whenever required, as long as sufficient infrastructure is in place. Just last year, Germany re-exported over 30 billion cubic meters of gas, mostly Russian, in particular to Central and Eastern Europe (including Ukraine). That volume exceeds the annual consumption of every European state with the exceptions of Germany, Italy, France, and Britain.

In theory, Europe could even substantially wean itself off Russian gas if need be. To be sure, that would come at a major expense: over 200 billion euros of additional investments over a period of two years or more, and then an annual 35 billion euros, according to some calculations. That will almost surely not happen. But as a way of bounding the worst-case scenario, it is still informative. One might say that Europe has escalation dominance over Russia; the latter needs to export to Europe more than Europe need Russian hydrocarbons.

The internal energy market is not finished, but Europe’s energy security has significantly improved in recent years. Even though world markets are currently awash in resources, there is no time for complacence, and European leaders should finish the job, foremost by safeguarding the swift construction of the so-called Projects of Common Interest (key energy infrastructure projects that address the remaining bottlenecks in the EU market), so that the U.S. State Department can take new infrastructure projects like Nord Stream 2 off its priority list, and make energy policy another true European success story. It is already much of the way there, and Western security is the better for it.

      

Presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump’s idea to withdraw American forces from Asia—letting allies like Japan and South Korea fend for themselves, including possibly by acquiring nuclear weapons—is fundamentally unsound, as I’ve written in a Wall Street Journal op-ed.

Among the many dangers of preemptively pulling American forces out of Japan and South Korea, including an increased risk of war between Japan and China and a serious blow to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, such a move would heighten the threat of war between China and Taiwan. The possibility that the United States would dismantle its Asia security framework could unsettle Taiwan enough that it would pursue a nuclear deterrent against China, as it has considered doing in the past—despite China indicating that such an act itself could be a pathway to war. And without bases in Japan, the United States could not as easily deter China from potential military attacks on Taiwan. 

Trump’s proposed Asia policy could take the United States and its partners down a very dangerous road. It’s an experiment best not to run.

       

The terrible attack in Nice on July 14—Bastille Day—saddened us all. For a country that has done so much historically to promote democracy and human rights at home and abroad, France is paying a terrible and unfair price, even more than most countries. My colleagues Will McCants and Chris Meserole have carefully documented the toll that France, and certain other Francophone countries like Belgium, have suffered in recent years from global terrorism. It is heart wrenching.

From what we know so far, the attack was carried out by a deeply distraught, potentially deranged, and in any case extremely brutal local man from Nice of Tunisian descent and French nationality. Marital problems, the recent loss of his job, and a general sense of personal unhappiness seem to have contributed to the state of mind that led him to commit this heinous atrocity. Perhaps we will soon learn that ISIS, directly or indirectly, inspired the attack in one way or another as well. My colleague Dan Byman has already tapped into his deep expertise about terrorism to remind us that ISIS had in fact encouraged ramming attacks with vehicles before, even if the actual manifestation of such tactics in this case was mostly new. 

This attack will again raise the question: Why France? On this point, I do have a somewhat different take than some of my colleagues. The argument that France has partly brought these tragedies upon itself—perhaps because of its policies of secularism and in particular its limitations on when and where women can wear the veil in France—strikes me as unpersuasive. Its logical policy implications are also potentially disturbing, because if interpreted wrongly, it could lead to a debate on whether France should modify such policies so as to make itself less vulnerable to terrorism. That outcome, even if unintended, could dance very close to the line of encouraging appeasement of heinous acts of violence with policy changes that run counter to much of what French culture and society would otherwise favor. So I feel the need to push back.

Here are some of the arguments, as I see them, against blaming French culture or policy for this recent string of horrible attacks including the Charlie Hebdo massacre, the November 2015 mass shootings in Paris, and the Nice tragedy (as well as recent attacks in Belgium):

• Starting with the simplest point, we still do not know much about the perpetrator of the Nice killings. From what we do surmise so far, personal problems appear to be largely at the root of the violence—different from, but not entirely unlike, the case with the Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen.
• We need to be careful about drawing implications from a small number of major attacks. Since 2000, there have also been major attacks in the Western world by extremist jihadis or takfiris in New York, Washington, Spain, London, San Bernardino, Orlando, and Russia. None of these are Francophone. Even Belgium is itself a mixed country, linguistically and culturally.
• Partly for reasons of geography, as well as history, France does face a larger problem than some other European countries of individuals leaving its country to go to Syria or Iraq to fight for ISIS, and then returning. But it is hardly unique in the scale of this problem.
• Continental Europe has a specific additional problem that is not as widely shared in the United Kingdom or the United States: Its criminal networks largely overlap with its extremist and/or terrorist networks. This point may be irrelevant to the Nice attack, but more widely, extremists in France or Belgium can make use of illicit channels for moving people, money, and weapons that are less available to would-be jihadis in places like the U.K. (where the criminal networks have more of a Caribbean and sub-Saharan African character, meaning they overlap less with extremist networks).
• Of course, the greatest numbers of terrorist attacks by Muslim extremists occur in the broader Muslim world, with Muslims as the primary victims—from Iraq and Syria to Libya and Yemen and Somalia to South Asia. French domestic policies have no bearing on these, of course.

There is no doubt that good work by counterterrorism and intelligence forces is crucial to preventing future attacks. France has done well in this regard—though it surely can do better, and it is surely trying to get better. There is also no doubt that promoting social cohesion in a broad sense is a worthy goal. But I would hesitate, personally, to attribute any apparent trend line in major attacks in the West to a particular policy of a country like France—especially when the latter is in fact doing much to seek to build bridges, as a matter of national policy, with Muslims at home and abroad. 

There is much more to do in promoting social cohesion, to be sure, even here in America (though our own problems probably center more on race than on religion at the moment). But the Nice attacker almost assuredly didn’t attack because his estranged wife couldn’t wear a veil in the manner and/or places she wanted. At a moment like this in particular, I disagree with insinuations to the contrary.

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

I had been mulling a rebuttal to my colleague and friend Jon Rauch’s interesting—but wrong—new Brookings paper praising the role of “hacks, machines, big money, and back room deals” in democracy. I thought the indictments of Chris Christie’s associates last week provided a perfect example of the dangers of all of that, and so of why Jon was incorrect. But in yesterday’s L.A. Times, he beat me to it, himself defending the political morality (if not the efficacy) of their actions, and in the process delivering a knockout blow to his own position.

Bridgegate is a perfect example of why we need fewer "hacks, machines, big money, and back room deals" in our politics, not more. There is no justification whatsoever for government officials abusing their powers, stopping emergency vehicles and risking lives, making kids late for school and parents late for their jobs to retaliate against a mayor who withholds an election endorsement. We vote in our democracy to make government work, not break. We expect that officials will serve the public, not their personal interests. This conduct weakens our democracy, not strengthens it.

It is also incorrect that, as Jon suggests, reformers and transparency advocates are, in part, to blame for the gridlock that sometimes afflicts our American government at every level. As my co-authors and I demonstrated at some length in our recent Brookings paper, “Why Critics of Transparency Are Wrong,” and in our follow-up Op-Ed in the Washington Post, reform and transparency efforts are no more responsible for the current dysfunction in our democracy than they were for the gridlock in Fort Lee. Indeed, in both cases, “hacks, machines, big money, and back room deals” are a major cause of the dysfunction. The vicious cycle of special interests, campaign contributions and secrecy too often freeze our system into stasis, both on a grand scale, when special interests block needed legislation, and on a petty scale, as in Fort Lee. The power of megadonors has, for example, made dysfunction within the House Republican Caucus worse, not better.

Others will undoubtedly address Jon’s new paper at length. But one other point is worth noting now. As in foreign policy discussions, I don’t think Jon’s position merits the mantle of political “realism,” as if those who want democracy to be more democratic and less corrupt are fluffy-headed dreamers. It is the reformers who are the true realists. My co-authors and I in our paper stressed the importance of striking realistic, hard-headed balances, e.g. in discussing our non-absolutist approach to transparency; alas, Jon gives that the back of his hand, acknowledging our approach but discarding the substance to criticize our rhetoric as “radiat[ing] uncompromising moralism.” As Bridgegate shows, the reform movement’s “moralism" correctly recognizes the corrupting nature of power, and accordingly advocates reasonable checks and balances. That is what I call realism. So I will race Jon to the trademark office for who really deserves the title of realist!

      

       

       

As government funding for disability insurance is expected to run out next year, Congress should re-evaluate the costs of the program.

Nine million people in America today are receiving Social Security Disability Insurance, double the number in 1995 and six times the number in 1970. With statistics like that, it’s hardly surprising to see some in Congress worry that more will enroll in the program and costs would continue to rise, especially since government funding for disability insurance is expected to run out by the end of next year. If Congress does nothing, benefits would fall by 19% immediately following next year’s presidential election. So, Congress will likely do something. But what exactly should it do?

Funding for disability insurance has nearly run out of money before. Each time, Congress has simply increased the share of the Social Security payroll tax that goes for disability insurance. This time, however, many members of Congress oppose such a shift unless it is linked to changes that curb eligibility and promote return to work. They fear that rolls will keep growing and costs would keep rising, but findings from a report by a government panel conclude that disability insurance rolls have stopped rising and will likely shrink. The report, authored by a panel of the Social Security Advisory Board, is important in that many of the factors that caused disability insurance to rise, particularly during the Great Recession, have ended.

• Baby-boomers, who added to the rolls as they reached the disability-prone middle age years, are aging out of disability benefits and into retirement benefits. 


• The decades-long flood of women increased the pool of people with the work histories needed to be eligible for disability insurance. But women’s labor force participation has fallen a bit from pre-Great Recession peaks, and is not expected again to rise materially. 


• The Great Recession, which led many who lost jobs and couldn’t find work to apply for disability insurance, is over and applications are down. A recession as large as that of 2008 is improbable any time soon. 


• Approval rates by administrative law judges, who for many years were suspected of being too ready to approve applications, have been falling. Whatever the cause, this stringency augurs a fall in the disability insurance rolls.

      

       

The idea of a universal basic income (UBI) is certainly an intriguing one, and has been gaining traction. Swiss voters just turned it down. But it is still alive in Finland, in the Netherlands, in Alaska, in Oakland, CA, and in parts of Canada. 

Advocates of a UBI include Charles Murray on the right and Anthony Atkinson on the left. This surprising alliance alone makes it interesting, and it is a reasonable response to a growing pool of Americans made jobless by the march of technology and a safety net that is overly complex and bureaucratic. A comprehensive and excellent analysis in The Economist points out that while fears about technological unemployment have previously proved misleading, “the past is not always a good guide to the future.”

Hurting the poor

Robert Greenstein argues, however, that a UBI would actually hurt the poor by reallocating support up the income scale. His logic is inescapable: either we have to spend additional trillions providing income grants to all Americans or we have to limit assistance to those who need it most. 

One option is to provide unconditional payments along the lines of a UBI, but to phase it out as income rises. Libertarians like this approach since it gets rid of bureaucracies and leaves the poor free to spend the money on whatever they choose, rather than providing specific funds for particular needs. Liberals fear that such unconditional assistance would be unpopular and would be an easy target for elimination in the face of budget pressures. Right now most of our social programs are conditional. With the exception of the aged and the disabled, assistance is tied to work or to the consumption of necessities such as food, housing, or medical care, and our two largest means-tested programs are Food Stamps and the Earned Income Tax Credit.

The case for paternalism

Liberals have been less willing to openly acknowledge that a little paternalism in social policy may not be such a bad thing. In fact, progressives and libertarians alike are loath to admit that many of the poor and jobless are lacking more than just cash. They may be addicted to drugs or alcohol, suffer from mental health issues, have criminal records, or have difficulty functioning in a complex society. Money may be needed but money by itself does not cure such ills. 

A humane and wealthy society should provide the disadvantaged with adequate services and support. But there is nothing wrong with making assistance conditional on individuals fulfilling some obligation whether it is work, training, getting treatment, or living in a supportive but supervised environment.

In the end, the biggest problem with a universal basic income may not be its costs or its distributive implications, but the flawed assumption that money cures all ills.  

       

A 2010 publication of the U.S. Geological Survey caused major excitement in Cyprus, an island that at the time was suffering from the economic collapse of its neighbor and major trading partner, Greece. According to the publication, the seabed of the Eastern Mediterranean could contain up to 120 trillion cubic feet (tcf) of natural gas.3 Three years later, the Cypriot administration has high hopes that natural gas exports may get Cyprus—the third smallest European Union member state—back on its feet, after its own financial collapse in 2012. Unfortunately for the Cypriots, the reality on the ground is sobering, and it is currently unclear whether Cyprus will become a producer, or an exporter, of natural gas. Around Cyprus, other countries hope to benefit from the energy potential as well, including Israel, Lebanon and the Palestinian Authority. In the Israeli Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), in particular, substantial reserves of natural gas have been found, though the verdict is out whether these will in fact all be produced.

Exploration of Cyprus’s offshore concessions is at an early stage. Energy majors such as ENI and Total are among the first to explore possible gas (and oil) reserves and they expect results not before 2015. To date, only two test wells have been drilled by Houston-based Noble Energy. Proven reserves have been downgraded since and are currently estimated to be between 3 and 5 tcf. At this level of reserves, investing in a natural gas liquefaction terminal, which the Cypriot administration has supported, is not economically viable. A better alternative would be to construct a pipeline to Turkey, which has a large and rapidly growing market for natural gas.

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• Politics Trump Economics in the Complex Game of Eastern Mediterranean Hydrocarbons

       

Recent developments in Turkey and Israel—on energy security and domestic politics, in particular—may help pave the way for a long-awaited rapprochement between the two countries.

It’s been five and a half years since the May 2010 Israel raid on the Mavi Marmara (part of the Gaza flotilla), which soured relations between Ankara and Jerusalem. At present, they’re characterized by distrust and suspicion at the top level, personal animosity between the leaders, a limited dialogue between the two governments, and ambassadors yet to be appointed. However, trade is booming and Israeli tourists are flocking back to Turkish vacation destinations.

Wanted: Energy supply and cooperation on Syria

Turkey’s downing of a Russian SU-24 fighter jet along the Syrian border on November 24 has provoked crisis in its relationship with Russia, with Russian President Vladimir Putin characterizing Turkey’s action as “a stab in the back.” Extending beyond bilateral relations, that crisis affects Turkey’s foreign policy more broadly. For Turkey, the most critical element in this feud is its energy security. 

Turkey imports most of its natural gas from Russia, and the two sides have long been engaged in talks to expand this relationship through the proposed Turkish Stream natural gas pipeline, which would channel gas to Turkey and Europe underneath the Black Sea (circumventing Ukraine). But on November 26, Russian Minister of Development Alexi Ulyukayev announced the cancellation of the project, sending shock waves throughout Turkey. The move has prompted concerns among the Turkish leadership about the reliability of Russian gas and a corresponding search for alternative supplies in the region. In addition to discussions with Qatar and Azerbaijan, there have been more statements in recent weeks from Turkish politicians, energy companies, and others calling for talks with Israel about future natural gas imports.

The Syrian crisis is another issue on which Turkey may seek quiet Israeli support—particularly the support of Israeli intelligence, which may prove crucial to Turkish war efforts.

Politically, the timing could be convenient: the Justice and Development Party (AKP)-led government could approach Israel and begin talks where they left off nearly two years ago. The dust has settled over the November 2015 elections and the AKP is not facing any serious domestic political challenges in the near future. The ball is now in President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s court. He commented to reporters in Paris on November 30 that he believes he’s “able to fix ties” with Israel, hinting at his willingness to move forward. He then stated on December 13 that the “region definitely needs” Turkish-Israeli normalization, citing previous Turkish demands for compensation to the families of the victims of the Mavi Marmara incident as well as the lifting of the Gaza blockade as his conditions for normalization.

Wanted: Energy demand and cooperation on Syria

From Jerusalem’s perspective, Israeli energy security may provide a “fig leaf” for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government to reach out to Turkey. Netanyahu and his cabinet have been stuck for nearly a year in attempts to approve and launch a compromise between the government and the gas companies (Delek and Noble) to begin the crucial phase of development of Israel’s largest Eastern Mediterranean gas field, Leviathan. About to clear the last hurdle before launching the deal, Netanyahu is under pressure to demonstrate the national security benefits of developing the gas. In this context, he and the Minister of Energy Yuval Steinitz have said that Turkey is being seriously considered as a future export destination. In a Knesset hearing, Netanyahu went even further by revealing that Israel has recently been engaged in discussions with Turkey to further explore the export option. 

The Syrian crisis provides Israel another reason to engage with Turkey. Israel is quite weary of the situation in Syria and may benefit from Turkish analysis and intelligence on this issue. 

Politically, Netanyahu will not face problems within his narrow coalition if he decides to warm up relations with Turkey. Former Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman, a staunch critic of Turkey and its leadership, is no longer in office. The recently appointed Chief of Mossad (currently National Security Advisor) Yossi Cohen, in contrast, is known to be a proponent of closer ties between Israel and Turkey. 

Re-friending?

Official visits between the two sides have been increasing: in June, Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ Director General Dore Gold and his Turkish counterpart Feridun Sinirlioğlu met in Rome; in September, Professor Guven Sak (the head of the government-supported research institute of the Turkish industrialists and businessmen, TEPAV) led the first official visit to Israel by a Turkish political delegation; on December 3, Israeli news outlet NRG reported on a visit by Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ Deputy Director General for Europe, Aviv Shiron's visit to Ankara and Istanbul in an attempt to warm relations between the two countries. 

There is no love lost between Israel and Turkey, and many issues still need to be resolved. Erdoğan has stated his conditions for normalization, and Netanyahu is reportedly insisting that Turkey expel Hamas operative Saleh al-Arouri (who has been directing Hamas terrorist activities in the West Bank) from its territory, as a condition. However, the current convergence of interests may pave the way to a resolution of the crisis between these two former strategic allies. In March 2013, President Obama helped orchestrate a formal Israeli apology to Turkey over the Mavi Marmara incident. Moving forward, more American senior-level diplomacy is needed. The United States—which has been active behind the scenes—will likely need to further push the two sides toward one another.