Just over a week ago, a seismic tremor with a magnitude of approximately 4.2 rumbled through Northeast Asia, revealing that North Korea has become the world’s eighth nuclear power. U.S. intelligence experts estimated that the underground explosion’s yield was less than a single kiloton (whereas the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima yielded more than 10 kilotons). Yet the event was still enough to consume the schedules of top diplomats from the five nations that have been trying to negotiate through this proliferation crisis for the past few years. What has been at stake this week is summed up by a tale of two constitutions — one well within the media spotlight, the other hardly mentioned. I am speaking of Chapter 7 of the United Nations Charter and Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution.

The controversy over Chapter 7 of the UN Charter, which allows for military action to enforce a Security Council resolution in case of a North Korean violation, has been out in front. While the United States has argued that the threat of military action is a key credibility-giver to the resolution, China and Russia have considerable reservations about such a commitment. Ultimately, this disagreement revolves around certain lessons China and Russia have taken from Iraq — namely, that the U.S. is not omnipotent. It may, in fact, mishandle a military operation and it may not have the commitment to fully rebuild the resulting mess.

On the other hand, the gray eminence of George Schultz offered some justification of the American approach this weekend at Maples Pavilion. There is no such thing as diplomacy without credible consequences, he argued: “in the Marines, they taught me that my rifle was my best friend, but never to point unless I was willing to shoot.” The U.S. diplomats responsible for the negotiations in Northeast Asia seem to make the same argument. Compelling though this logic may be, I would argue against the American preference in this case, for the following reason.

North Korea is very good at provoking crises. It is a “rogue,” unpredictable state, but its upstart foreign policy relies very much on the predictable behavior of the five nations that hedge it in. To invoke Chapter 7 would be to declare our preparations to the Kim regime. In this scenario, the North could either call our bluff or escalate the military situation, thereby provoking a bloody conflict on the peninsula that would be tailored to Pyongyang’s terms and intentions. Our predictability in this regard would provide Kim with an opportunity for reaction. Thus, by the same logic that a definite timetable is undesirable for the withdrawal of U.S. troops from Iraq, it was correct for the United States to compromise with the Chinese and Russians by removing the references to Chapter 7.

The more intractable question is Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, which reads, “The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized.” The question of this “pacifist clause” requires some historical background. Arming Japan is part of a debate that is several decades old. Article 9 is the product of an evolving argument about the military role of Japan in the region. This is clear when Article 9 is compared with the directives of Douglas MacArthur, who served in effect as Japan’s military dictator in the immediate aftermath of World War II and who inspired the so-called “pacifist” element of the constitution. MacArthur insisted that Japan renounce war “even for preserving its own security” and that “no Japanese Army, Navy or Air Force will ever be authorized.” Some months later, the actual constitution tweaked this so that a military could be maintained for self-defense, but not aggression.

Even the supposedly iron fist of MacArthur could not prevent the new Japanese state from maintaining some sort of military institution. In this light, it is clear that debate over the remilitarization of Japan stems from the drafting of the 1947 Constitution. The process of making Japan a “normal country” — of revising Article 9 — is a drawn-out event taking place over the long term, and it would be foolish to rashly hasten it in order to punish China or North Korea, or make an example of Pyongyang for the sake of Tehran. The dangers and complexities of the current geopolitical scene should not overly distract us from the principal issue at play, the remilitarization of Northeast Asia.

This region is among the most economically important in the world. It was also the stage, almost a century ago, for brutal Japanese imperialism that remains a source of powerful resentment among today’s Chinese and Koreans. To quote Theodore McNelly, “today two of the leading questions in Japanese politics are how much Japan should rearm and whether rearmament requires a change in the Constitution.” Interestingly, this diagnosis was not offered to describe the current crisis. It was written in 1952, shortly before the end of the war that divided the two Koreas in the first place.

Although these questions return today, their answers should be the same. The eventual abrogation of Article 9 and the development of Japan into a normal country are most certainly inevitable. But this time of high tensions, strained coalitions and broken trust is unquestionably not the hour for rearmament.

The same holds all the more so for the idea of nuclearizing Japan. At this point, the United States can make no principled argument that proliferation is unacceptable for enemies but desired among friends. This year’s American nuclear policy developments vis-a-vis India and Pakistan reflect the moral incoherency of our diplomacy. We cannot condemn with one hand what we promote with the other, and the Great Powers cannot enforce what they cannot justify. The United States and all other nuclear-armed countries must make a comprehensive effort to explain why they should be the sole guardians of this unholy fire. If the case cannot be made, we must make it clear that we, the nuclear-armed nations, intend to dispossess it.

Peter Durning reads and writes about problems like this. If you feel he has neglected to discuss a particularly Big Trouble in Little China, email him at pdurning@stanford.edu