There is a paper from 1978 that remains undercited in the current geoeconomics literature. It anticipates, and in some ways surpasses, half of what is now being written about trade leverage, sanctions power, and economic coercion. Its author is Albert Hirschman. The paper is not actually about geoeconomics. It is a public act of self-criticism in which one of the twentieth century’s most important social scientists tears apart his own foundational work and explains what he got wrong.

Geoeconomics is obviously having a moment. The literature has grown fast and sophisticated. Most of it rediscovers and builds on Hirschman’s 1945 book National Power and the Structure of Foreign Trade: trade asymmetry generates leverage, leverage generates dependence, dependence can be weaponized. Fine. But almost none of it has absorbed what Hirschman wrote thirty-three years later, when he looked back at that book and called its conclusions “infinitely naive.”

The Man Behind the Theory

To understand what Hirschman got wrong in 1945, and what he finally corrected in 1978, you need to know something about who he was when he wrote it. Born Otto Albert Hirschmann in Berlin in 1915, he left for Paris at eighteen, one of the first wave of Jewish exiles fleeing Nazi repression, two days after his father died of cancer. By the time he was thirty, he had studied at the London School of Economics, fought in the Spanish Civil War, graduated from the University of Trieste under a false name, and spent six months in Marseille running an escape network that helped over a thousand refugees, among them Hannah Arendt, Marc Chagall, and Marcel Duchamp, flee Nazi-occupied Europe. His preferred tool of tradecraft was a false-topped suitcase. He reasoned that customs officers would eventually learn to check the bottom, so he switched.

The Marseille operation is worth pausing on, because it is directly relevant to his later theory. Hirschman was the operational brain of the whole thing. Varian Fry, the American journalist who fronted it, called him “the best of them all.” What the operation required was a very specific cognitive style: improvisation over planning, local knowledge over general rules, exploiting gaps in bureaucratic systems, reading specific situations rather than applying doctrine. A structurally overwhelming opponent, the Vichy state, the German occupation, an uncooperative American consulate, was outmaneuvered repeatedly by a small group of people who understood that even the most asymmetric power relationship contains room for maneuver if you look for it carefully enough. Hirschman looked for it, found it and got over a thousand people out.

Part of what made this possible was an intellectual formation that is easy to underestimate. In Trieste, between 1937 and 1938, Hirschman had lived in the orbit of Eugenio Colorni, his sister Ursula’s husband, an Italian philosopher and antifascist who was eventually murdered by a Nazi gang in Rome in May 1944, six days before the city was liberated. Colorni gave Hirschman the concept of castelluzzi, little castles, as against the grand Marxist edifice most of his peers were building. Small, ironic, self-doubting ideas rather than systems. A preference for the particular mechanism over the general law. Hirschman later dedicated Exit, Voice and Loyalty to Colorni, “who taught me about small ideas and how they may grow.” The castelluzzi sensibility is ultimately what allows Hirschman in 1978 to identify the counter-tendency his 1945 self couldn’t see. But it took thirty years, and the path there is not straightforward. Getting there took thirty years, and in 1941, sitting down in Berkeley to write his first book, he was nowhere close.

National Power and the Structure of Foreign Trade was drafted in those years. Bulgaria conducted 52% of its trade with Germany while Germany’s trade with Bulgaria was 1.5% of its own total, and the asymmetry was generating political subordination exactly as the theory predicted. Having shown that fortuna est servitus (fortune is servitude), that the gain from trade itself is the mechanism of dependency, Hirschman proposed a supranational institution to internationalize trade sovereignty. His reviewers called it unrealistic. He later called it “infinitely naive.” They were both right.

The Grandfather Repents

The 1978 paper, “Beyond Asymmetry,” published in International Organization, is where Hirschman finally names what he missed. He is introducing himself at a symposium on dependency theory as its “frequently unacknowledged founding grandfather,” but the paper quickly becomes something more uncomfortable: a methodological autopsy of his own work and, by extension, of the entire dependency literature he helped inspire.

The charge is precise. Both National Power and the dependencia theorists, Cardoso, Sunkel, Prebisch, identified the structure of domination with great sophistication. Neither went further. Having demonstrated that asymmetric trade relations generate leverage, and that leverage generates self-reinforcing dependency, they concluded the system was essentially closed. Revolution, when invoked at all, was an act of faith, not a finding.

Hirschman calls this antipossibilism: the refusal to take mechanisms seriously that are possible but not yet probable, not yet reducible to historical frequency. The standard social scientific move is to treat a causal factor as worth examining only once you have sufficient empirical instances to estimate a probability. Before that, it is speculation. The problem is that this is epistemically self-fulfilling. A theory that treats escape as structurally impossible discourages the search for escape mechanisms. Those mechanisms, unstudied, remain theoretically underdeveloped. The theory continues to predict no escape. When believed, it tends to make itself true, discouraging precisely the concentrated diplomatic effort in dependent states that the attention asymmetry would otherwise enable.

The sharpest version of this critique appears near the end of the paper, where Hirschman compares dependencia’s logical structure to the Stalinist doctrine that the closer a country approaches Communism the more intense the class struggle must become. Both theories absorb all counter-evidence as confirmation. Industrialization deepens dependency? Proof of the theory. Industrialization shifts the form of dependency? Also proof of the theory, in a subtler way. A theory structured like this is not really a theory. It is closer to a theology, and Hirschman says so with appropriate bluntness.

There is also a harder version of this critique, which Hirschman does not quite make explicitly. Consider what 1941 actually felt like. Germany had taken France in six weeks. Eastern Europe was absorbed. Operation Barbarossa had just been launched and the Wehrmacht was advancing into the Soviet Union at a pace that seemed to confirm everything about the irresistibility of concentrated power. The United States had not yet entered the war. From Berkeley, where Hirschman arrived in the spring of that year, the map of Europe looked like a demonstration that asymmetric power, applied with sufficient ruthlessness, simply worked. He was writing National Power from inside a moment when resistance appeared not just unlikely but almost definitionally futile. The actual absorption of Eastern Europe into Germany’s sphere made the counter-tendencies invisible, not because Hirschman lacked the intellectual tools to see them, but because the world around him offered no evidence they existed. He did not easily theorize escape because escape seemed impossible. But he had just spent six months in Marseille demonstrating the opposite: that even a structurally overwhelming opponent contains gaps, that bureaucratic incoherence creates room for maneuver, that determined actors with local knowledge can outmaneuver structurally superior ones. The man who invented the tubogram, a secret message wrapped in a condom inside a toothpaste tube for sending reports across the Atlantic, wrote a book arguing dependent states have no structural escape routes.

He admits the intellectual failure clearly. The biographical explanation is an inference from reading the paper in light of his life, not a statement in it, and worth distinguishing. But it makes the 1978 revision feel less like a theoretical update and more like a belated reckoning with something he already knew in practice forty years earlier.

The Attention Asymmetry

The self-critique is not the most interesting part of the 1978 paper. The most interesting part is the counter-tendency Hirschman proposes, the argument he should have written in 1945 but didn’t.

Start with the same asymmetry that generates leverage in the original book. Country B conducts 80% of its trade with country A. Country A’s trade with B is 3% of its total. A has leverage over B because the relationship is existential for B and marginal for A. This is the 1945 argument and it is correct.

But here is what the 1945 argument missed. The same disparity that gives A structural leverage also gives B a structural advantage in attention. B is watching the relationship obsessively, knowing exactly where the red lines are, how to probe them, how much drift it can sustain before triggering a response. A, meanwhile, is preoccupied with its more vital interests: its relations with other great powers, other crises, other spheres. The hegemon’s attention is finite, spread across every relationship it manages, which means the more dominant it becomes, the thinner that attention is stretched.

Connected to the theory of imperial overstretch, this asymmetry manifests as what Burke called “wise and salutary neglect,” which was not a virtue but a structural inevitability, inscribed in the asymmetric trade percentages just as legibly as the facts of dependence themselves.

Coercive power depends on credibility, and credibility depends on attention. The threat of economic punishment only works if the hegemon will notice a violation and respond fast enough. But the attention asymmetry means the dependent state can accumulate small autonomy gains that never individually cross the threshold for a serious response, while cumulatively shifting its structural position. Hirschman is careful here about a distinction the current literature mostly ignores. There are two regimes. In the normal regime, which is most of the time, attention asymmetry dominates and the dependent state accumulates small gains unimpeded. In the threshold regime, when the dependent state does something sufficiently dramatic (nationalizing foreign assets, aligning with the opposing superpower, threatening to exit the sphere entirely), high-level political attention snaps back into focus and the full weight of objective capabilities comes to bear. Guatemala in 1954. Chile in 1973. The question of where the threshold sits, and whether a sophisticated dependent state can learn to stay just below it while still making progress, is one of the most practically important strategic questions the 1978 paper raises, and leaves unanswered.

There is a related point about bureaucratic politics that Hirschman makes only briefly but which deserves more attention. When the hegemon’s high-level gaze is elsewhere, policy gets made by lower-level actors with narrower interests: traders, bankers, corporate lobbying groups. Hirschman makes the counterintuitive argument that this is actually better for the dependent country than coherent strategic attention from the top. Policies formed by competing business interests are short-sighted, internally contradictory, and reasonably predictable. They are no match for a determined adversary who has been watching the relationship far more carefully. The moments of greatest US effectiveness in Latin America were precisely the moments of highest-level attention, which were also the rarest. The rest of the time, the incoherence of US policy was itself a structural resource.

The current geoeconomics literature has inherited the 1945 Hirschman without the 1978 corrective. It maps asymmetries well: who depends on whom, for what, by how much. What it has not developed is a dynamic theory of how those asymmetries evolve and what counter-tendencies they contain. Hirschman points toward one such mechanism the field badly underweights: preference asymmetry. He raises it briefly, invoking Tolstoy’s critique of military experts who count men and weapons while ignoring fighting spirit, then sets it aside as insufficiently structural. He wants a counter-tendency built into the system itself, not one that depends on contingent political will. The instinct is methodologically reasonable. But it misses something important about where the will comes from.

Iran’s willingness to absorb decades of sanctions is not random stubbornness. It is the direct product of 1953, of Mossadegh, of a CIA-backed coup that remains constitutive of Iranian political identity seventy years later. China’s tolerance for trade confrontation draws on the Century of Humiliation narrative, produced by nineteenth-century Western and Japanese imperial predation. In both cases, the preference for autonomy over welfare gains was not present at the start of the asymmetric relationship. It was produced by it. The longer and more intense the coercion, the higher the dependent state’s pain threshold and the lower the hegemon’s effective leverage, not because of exogenous stubbornness but because the relationship itself generates the resistance as an output. Preference asymmetry is not a wildcard. It is as structural as the attention asymmetry, just slower to accumulate.

These mechanisms interact in ways that are hard to fully specify but easy to recognize in retrospect. A distracted hegemon fails to foreclose option accumulation early. Accumulated outside options raise the pain threshold. A higher pain threshold deepens the ideological legitimacy of resistance. By the time the hegemon finally pays attention, the coercive landscape has shifted underneath it. Whether this sequence is inevitable or merely common, it is the dynamic question the field is not yet asking.

Which brings us to Hirschman’s most uncomfortable point. Many of the counter-tendencies worth theorizing are possibilities rather than certainties, and social scientists often consider it beneath their dignity to engage with possibility until after it has become probability. But that is precisely when it is too late. The statecraft that matters identifies eroding leverage before it has fully eroded. Geoeconomics is good at mapping power as it stands. What it has not yet learned from Hirschman is to look for power as it is quietly ceasing to be, below the threshold of attention.

Picture: Otto Albert Hirschmann’s false identity card under the name of Albert Hermant. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, D.C.