In arguing that the United States has achieved nuclear primacy and thereby made mutual assured destruction obsolete, Lieber and Press rely on some questionable assumptions about the status of Russia's strategic forces.

To make their case that the Russian strategic nuclear arsenal "has sharply deteriorated," Lieber and Press quote statistics showing that Russia today has "39 percent fewer long-range bombers, 58 percent fewer ICBMs, and 80 percent fewer SSBNs [ballistic-missile-launching submarines] than the Soviet Union fielded during its last days." These numbers are generally correct, but a similarly one-sided examination of U.S. forces would have painted a similarly dire portrait; after all, the U.S. nuclear arsenal today has 66 percent fewer strategic bombers, 50 percent fewer ICBMs, and more than 50 percent fewer ballistic missile submarines than it possessed during the Cold War.

Lieber and Press claim that Russia's strategic bombers "rarely conduct training exercises," implying that Russia's military is neglecting strategic aviation. Yet Russia's strategic air forces participated in four major exercises in 2005 alone. Similarly, Lieber and Press refer to a number of failures during launches of submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs) in 2004 to illustrate the decline of the Russian navy. But they do not mention the much larger number of successful launches or the Bulava SLBM development program, which has been quite successful so far.

It may be true, as Lieber and Press write, that "over 80 percent of Russia's silo-based ICBMs have exceeded their original service lives," but regular and successful tests of ICBMs that have been kept in silos for 25 years or longer suggest that this has not affected the missiles' reliability. Russia is decommissioning its ICBMs not because they are unreliable but because it does not need them. Lieber and Press claim that the development of the next-generation Russian ICBM, the Topol-M, has been "stymied by failed tests." But of 15 flight tests conducted to date, only one has failed -- a remarkable achievement for any missile-development program. It is true that the production rate of new Topol-Ms is low, but that may be because Russia has decided to concentrate on producing the mobile version of the missile, which it will begin deploying this year.

Lieber and Press are right to state that Russia may end up having as few as 150 land-based missiles by the end of the decade. But about half of those ICBMs would probably be road-mobile Topols and Topol-Ms, which, if operated properly, would have a good chance of surviving a first strike. Lieber and Press dismiss Russia's mobile missiles by saying that they "rarely patrol." In reality, very little is known about Russia's mobile-missile patrol rates, and although it is quite plausible that they are low, it is a stretch to assume that they are zero.

Lieber and Press describe Russia's early warning system as "a mess." In fact, although the system is past its prime, it has lost surprisingly little of its effectiveness. It may seem counterintuitive, but Russia would gain very little were its early warning system to be deployed to the fullest extent. Adding the capability to detect SLBM launches would not dramatically increase the time available to the Russian leadership for assessing attacks. The much-discussed "gaping hole" in the radar coverage east of Russia also should be put in context. Missiles launched from the Pacific could not cover the entire range of Russian targets that would need to be destroyed in a first strike. The scenario that Lieber and Press postulate, in which "Russian leaders probably would not know of the attack until the warheads detonated" because of flaws in their early warning system, is simply impossible.

Given Tehran's defiant response to the European and American effort to constrain its nuclear program, it is time for bolder diplomacy out of Washington. U.S. President George W. Bush should take a page from the playbook of Ronald Reagan, who negotiated with an evil Soviet regime--competing in the war of ideas, but addressing the enemy's security concerns through arms-control agreements.

Iran's intransigence is both deeply unfortunate and perfectly predictable. It is unfortunate because Tehran's refusal to suspend its uranium-enrichment operations immediately--as demanded in July by the U.N. Security Council in a legally binding resolution--suggests that Iran is moving more quickly than expected toward a nuclear-weapons capability. Tehran has now turned the nuclear crisis into a test of the whole U.N. Security Council system. And Russia and China's current position, threatening to veto any biting sanctions against Iran, suggests that the Security Council may well fail this crucial test.

Tehran's response is predictable, however, because the offer on the table contains both inadequate economic carrots and barely credible threats of sanctions and military force. The carrots appeared impressive at first glance--in return for a suspension of enrichment we reportedly promised to provide light-water nuclear reactors and to help Iran with civil aviation and telecommunications technology. But we did not offer the one incentive that might possibly work, security guarantees that could reduce Iran's desire for nuclear weapons.

This omission is striking. The Iranian government can't talk openly about their security concerns because that would blow their cover story that the nuclear program is only for energy production. And Washington does not want to discuss such worries because it wants to keep open the possibility of removing the regime by force. "Security assurances are not on the table," U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice too cleverly argued this spring: "It is a little strange to talk about security guarantees ... I thought the Iranian position was that they weren't developing a nuclear bomb."

This is partly a crisis of our own making, as the Bush administration has practiced the reverse of Teddy Roosevelt's maxim--speaking loudly and carrying a small stick. Think about how Tehran reacted when Bush stated (in his second Inaugural Address), "The rulers of outlaw regimes can know that we still believe as Abraham Lincoln did: 'Those who deny freedoms to others deserve it not for themselves; and, under the rule of a just God, cannot long retain it." Or when Bush dramatically told reporters last April that "all options are on the table," in direct response to a question about whether he was considering a nuclear attack against Iran. Such statements only encourage Iran to develop a nuclear deterrent quickly, before the United States can carry out its perceived aggressive intent. Last month, Iran's National Security Council Secretary Ali Larijani pointedly complained about such rhetoric. "How can a side that wants to topple the regime also attempt to negotiate?"

Given the current vulnerability of U.S. forces in Iraq, the deteriorating situation in Afghanistan, and the lack of Israeli success against Hizbullah, Iranian officials seem confident that they face no immediate threat of a U.S. military assault. But they are clearly worried that Bush just might attack Iran right before he leaves office in January 2009, or that his successor might do so once U.S. forces withdraw from Iraq.

The best way to prevent a nuclear Iran is for Washington to offer the kind of security assurances that might reduce support in Tehran for building a nuclear arsenal. It will be hard to make such assurances credible, but a public U.S. promise to take forcible regime change off the table, and a U.N. Security Council commitment to protect the "political sovereignty" of Iran could help. Involving the Security Council could also pull China and Russia back into the nonproliferation coalition and enhance the U.N.'s legitimacy.

There is very little time left, which means negotiations should begin despite Iran's unfortunate opening position. Tehran's response reportedly indicated a willingness to negotiate all aspects of its nuclear program, so working out an agreement for Iran to limit itself to low-level uranium enrichment might still be possible. This would work only if Tehran accepts full IAEA inspections and a freeze on future centrifuge construction. Will they? The one thing that might cause Tehran to do so, and that would compensate for any loss of face, would be an assurance that the United States will not launch another preventive war, as it did in Iraq, to remove the Iranian regime. If in turn we get a nuclear-free Iran, that's a good deal for the West as well.

The Center on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law (CDDRL) at Stanford University has concluded its second year of Stanford Summer Fellows on Democracy and Development. This year's fellows - 26 outstanding civic, political, and economic leaders from 21 countries in transition - were selected from more than 800 applications.

The summer fellows program brought leaders from important, transitioning countries such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, China, and Russia to Stanford for three weeks (this year, July 31 to August 18). The new summer fellows included presidential advisers, prominent journalists, key figures in human rights and democracy movements, academics, and representatives of international governmental and non-governmental organizations. The fellows participated in morning seminars with leading Stanford faculty, including CDDRL director Michael A. McFaul, Kathryn Stoner, Larry Diamond, Avner Greif, Erik Jensen, and Stanford President Emeritus Gerhard Casper. In the afternoons, fellows attended talks by keynote speakers and led class sessions themselves, sharing insight into how reform progressed (or failed to progress) in their home countries and exchanging ideas for positive change. This year's keynote speakers included Carl Gershman, the president of the National Endowment for Democracy; Joan Blades, co-founder of MoveOn.org; Marc Pomar, president of the International Research and Exchanges Board (IREX); and Judge Pamela Rymer, United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.

The Center on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law (CDDRL) at Stanford University's Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies (FSI) seeks to promote innovative and practical research to assist transitioning countries design and implement policies that will foster democracy, promote balanced and sustainable growth, and advance the rule of law. It supports specialized teaching, training, and outreach to assist countries struggling with political, economic, and judicial reform, constitutional design, economic performance and corruption.

North Korea's response to the United Nations resolution demanding that it suspend its ballistic missile program and resume a moratorium on launches was typically belligerent. But like the multiple launch of seven missiles earlier this month, the North Korean vow to continue to fire off its missiles should not be dismissed as mere political theater.

The missile tests were neither a gesture of defiance nor a desperate bid for negotiations. Nor can they be dismissed as the impulsive act of an irrational leader. It was, as Pyongyang itself so succinctly put it, a "military exercise."

The launches are only the latest evidence of a decadeslong effort by Pyongyang to redress the military balance in its favor. For North Korea, missiles are an attempt to compensate for weakness. The communist state has a large but technologically backward army, lacking the air power to compete with the United States and its South Korean ally. Rockets give it the firepower to back an assault on the South and to hold U.S. forces in Japan, the rear base for Korea, at bay.

The late North Korean leader Kim Il Sung set this goal as far back as 1965 when he established an academy to develop missiles and other modern weaponry.

"If war breaks out, the U.S. and Japan will also be involved," he said. "In order to prevent their involvement, we have to be able to produce rockets which fly as far as Japan."

I encountered one crucial tentacle of Kim's program some 14 years ago, in late October of 1992.

A group of 64 Russian rocket scientists, accompanied by their wives and children, were stopped just as they were about to board a flight to North Korea. The scientists were employees of a super-secret facility in the Urals, the V.P. Makeyev Design Bureau, responsible for the development of the Soviet Union's submarine-launched ballistic missiles.

As the bureau chief for the Christian Science Monitor, I pieced the story together later from Russian press accounts and interviews with the scientists and others. A middleman with apparent official backing had offered the bureau, starving for orders and left adrift by the sudden end of the Cold War, work in North Korea.

Scientists who were making the equivalent of $15 a month jumped at offers of up to $4,000 a month to help a former Soviet ally. In the spring, a group of 10 scientists had gone for an initial foray. The Koreans, one of the scientists told me, initially never directly asked about nuclear warheads or missile designs. They claimed only to be interested in rocket science.

The Russians came home that fall and signed up dozens of their comrades as recruits. But the project was not officially sanctioned, and the KGB held them outside of Moscow for two months while the broker tried to re-negotiate their departure. Russian officials later described the North Koreans' aim, without mentioning them by name, as an attempt to build "combat missile complexes that could carry nuclear weapons."

North Korea began with copies of Soviet short-range Scud missiles and moved on to medium-range "Nodong" missiles, but they lacked the range and accuracy to meet Kim's target. A decade after the airport incident, in 2003, credible reports emerged that the North Koreans were deploying a new, far more accurate missile based on the Soviet SS-N-6, a submarine-launched rocket developed by Makeyev in the 1960s. The Nodong-2, as some labeled it, could reach all U.S. bases in Japan and possibly even to Guam.

In the 1990s, the North Koreans developed a long-range missile, potentially reaching U.S. territory, to lend credence to claims they could deter a pre-emptive strike on their nuclear or missile facilities. Some experts believe the Nodong-2 also functions as the second stage of this missile. American intelligence officials believe an otherwise inexplicable leap in missile technology was thanks to the help of Russian scientists.

Still the self-imposed missile test moratorium that Pyongyang agreed to in 1999 made it difficult to move ahead. Late last year, according to a recent Wall Street Journal story, the North Koreans delivered a dozen Nodong-2 missiles to Iran, a close collaborator on missiles since the 1980s. Unconfirmed reports from Germany say Iran tested the missile in January.

The Nodong-2 may have been tested this month, one of the six short- and medium-range missiles set off in a wave or as a stage of the long-range missile. Data from the launch is not yet conclusive, according to U.S. and South Korean officials. Despite the failure of the long-range attempt, it may be more significant that Pyongyang carried out the first successful launch of a Nodong since 1993 and a nighttime barrage of Scuds and Nodongs.

The display of diplomatic unity at the United Nations may give Pyongyang pause. But the relentless nature of North Korea's pursuit of its ballistic missile strength suggests that this is not a bargaining chip that will be readily traded away.