CHARLES KRAUTHAMMER SPEECH OCT. 5
Charles Krauthammer
October 5, 2009
Manhattan Institute
The weathervanes of conventional wisdom are registering another round of angst about America
in decline. New theories, old slogans: Imperial overstretch. The Asian awakening. The post-
American world. Inexorable forces beyond our control bringing the inevitable humbling of the
world hegemon.
On the other side of this debate are a few–notably Josef Joffe in a recent essay in Foreign
Affairs–who resist the current fashion and insist that America remains the indispensable power.
They note that declinist predictions are cyclical, that the rise of China (and perhaps India) are
just the current version of the Japan panic of the late 1980s or of the earlier pessimism best
captured by Jean-François Revel’s How Democracies Perish.
The anti-declinists point out, for example, that the fear of China is overblown. It’s based on the
implausible assumption of indefinite, uninterrupted growth; ignores accumulating externalities
like pollution (which can be ignored when growth starts from a very low baseline, but ends up
making growth increasingly, chokingly difficult); and overlooks the unavoidable consequences
of the one-child policy, which guarantees that China will get old before it gets rich.
And just as the rise of China is a straight-line projection of current economic trends, American
decline is a straight-line projection of the fearful, pessimistic mood of a country war-weary and
in the grip of a severe recession.
Among these crosscurrents, my thesis is simple: The question of whether America is in decline
cannot be answered yes or no. There is no yes or no. Both answers are wrong, because the
assumption that somehow there exists some predetermined inevitable trajectory, the result of
uncontrollable external forces, is wrong. Nothing is inevitable. Nothing is written. For America
today, decline is not a condition. Decline is a choice. Two decades into the unipolar world that
came about with the fall of the Soviet Union, America is in the position of deciding whether to
abdicate or retain its dominance. Decline–or continued ascendancy–is in our hands.
Not that decline is always a choice. Britain’s decline after World War II was foretold, as indeed
was that of Europe, which had been the dominant global force of the preceding centuries. The
civilizational suicide that was the two world wars, and the consequent physical and
psychological exhaustion, made continued dominance impossible and decline inevitable.
The corollary to unchosen European collapse was unchosen American ascendancy. We–whom
Lincoln once called God’s “almost chosen people”–did not save Europe twice in order to emerge
from the ashes as the world’s co-hegemon. We went in to defend ourselves and save civilization.
Our dominance after World War II was not sought. Nor was the even more remarkable
dominance after the Soviet collapse. We are the rarest of geopolitical phenomena: the accidental
hegemon and, given our history of isolationism and lack of instinctive imperial ambition, the
reluctant hegemon–and now, after a near-decade of strenuous post-9/11 exertion, more reluctant
than ever.
Which leads to my second proposition: Facing the choice of whether to maintain our dominance
or to gradually, deliberately, willingly, and indeed relievedly give it up, we are currently on a
course towards the latter. The current liberal ascendancy in the United States–controlling the
executive and both houses of Congress, dominating the media and elite culture–has set us on a
course for decline. And this is true for both foreign and domestic policies. Indeed, they work
synergistically to ensure that outcome.
The current foreign policy of the United States is an exercise in contraction. It begins with the
demolition of the moral foundation of American dominance. In Strasbourg, President Obama
was asked about American exceptionalism. His answer? “I believe in American exceptionalism,
just as I suspect that the Brits believe in British exceptionalism and the Greeks believe in Greek
exceptionalism.” Interesting response. Because if everyone is exceptional, no one is.
Indeed, as he made his hajj from Strasbourg to Prague to Ankara to Istanbul to Cairo and finally
to the U.N. General Assembly, Obama drew the picture of an America quite exceptional–
exceptional in moral culpability and heavy-handedness, exceptional in guilt for its treatment of
other nations and peoples. With varying degrees of directness or obliqueness, Obama indicted his
own country for arrogance, for dismissiveness and derisiveness (toward Europe), for
maltreatment of natives, for torture, for Hiroshima, for Guantánamo, for unilateralism, and for
insufficient respect for the Muslim world.
Quite an indictment, the fundamental consequence of which is to effectively undermine any
moral claim that America might have to world leadership, as well as the moral confidence that
any nation needs to have in order to justify to itself and to others its position of leadership.
According to the new dispensation, having forfeited the mandate of heaven–if it ever had one–a
newly humbled America now seeks a more modest place among the nations, not above them.
But that leads to the question: How does this new world govern itself? How is the international
system to function?
Henry Kissinger once said that the only way to achieve peace is through hegemony or balance of
power. Well, hegemony is out. As Obama said in his General Assembly address, “No one nation
can or should try to dominate another nation.” (The “can” in that declaration is priceless.) And if
hegemony is out, so is balance of power: “No balance of power among nations will hold.”
The president then denounced the idea of elevating any group of nations above others–which
takes care, I suppose, of the Security Council, the G-20, and the Western alliance. And just to
make the point unmistakable, he denounced “alignments of nations rooted in the cleavages of a
long-gone Cold War” as making “no sense in an interconnected world.” What does that say about
NATO? Of our alliances with Japan and South Korea? Or even of the European Union?
This is nonsense. But it is not harmless nonsense. It’s nonsense with a point. It reflects a
fundamental view that the only legitimate authority in the international system is that which
emanates from “the community of nations” as a whole. Which means, I suppose, acting through
its most universal organs such as, again I suppose, the U.N. and its various agencies. Which is
why when Obama said that those who doubt “the character and cause” of his own country should
see what this new America–the America of the liberal ascendancy–had done in the last nine
months, he listed among these restorative and relegitimizing initiatives paying up U.N. dues,
renewing actions on various wholly vacuous universal treaties, and joining such Orwellian U.N.
bodies as the Human Rights Council.
To be sure, the idea of the “community of nations” acting through the U.N.–a fiction and a farce
respectively–to enforce norms and maintain stability is absurd. So absurd that I suspect it’s really
just a metaphor for a world run by a kind of multipolar arrangement not of nation-states but of
groups of states acting through multilateral bodies, whether institutional (like the International
Atomic Energy Agency) or ad hoc (like the P5+1 Iran negotiators).
But whatever bizarre form of multilateral or universal structures is envisioned for keeping world
order, certainly hegemony–and specifically American hegemony–is to be retired.
This renunciation of primacy is not entirely new. Liberal internationalism as practiced by the
center-left Clinton administrations of the 1990s–the beginning of the unipolar era–was
somewhat ambivalent about American hegemony, although it did allow America to be
characterized as “the indispensable nation,” to use Madeleine Albright’s phrase. Clintonian
center-left liberal internationalism did seek to restrain American power by tying Gulliver down
with a myriad of treaties and agreements and international conventions. That conscious
constraining of America within international bureaucratic and normative structures was rooted in
the notion that power corrupts and that external restraints would curb arrogance and
overreaching and break a willful America to the role of good international citizen.
But the liberal internationalism of today is different. It is not center-left, but left-liberal. And the
new left-liberal internationalism goes far beyond its earlier Clintonian incarnation in its distrust
of and distaste for American dominance. For what might be called the New Liberalism, the
renunciation of power is rooted not in the fear that we are essentially good but subject to the
corruptions of power–the old Clintonian view–but rooted in the conviction that America is so
intrinsically flawed, so inherently and congenitally sinful that it cannot be trusted with, and does
not merit, the possession of overarching world power.
For the New Liberalism, it is not just that power corrupts. It is that America itself is corrupt–in
the sense of being deeply flawed, and with the history to prove it. An imperfect union, the theme
of Obama’s famous Philadelphia race speech, has been carried to and amplified in his every
major foreign-policy address, particularly those delivered on foreign soil. (Not surprisingly, since
it earns greater applause over there.)
And because we remain so imperfect a nation, we are in no position to dictate our professed
values to others around the world. Demonstrators are shot in the streets of Tehran seeking
nothing but freedom, but our president holds his tongue because, he says openly, of our own
alleged transgressions towards Iran (presumably involvement in the 1953 coup). Our
shortcomings are so grave, and our offenses both domestic and international so serious, that we
lack the moral ground on which to justify hegemony.
These fundamental tenets of the New Liberalism are not just theory. They have strategic
consequences. If we have been illegitimately playing the role of world hegemon, then for us to
regain a legitimate place in the international system we must regain our moral authority. And
recovering moral space means renouncing ill-gotten or ill-conceived strategic space.
Operationally, this manifests itself in various kinds of strategic retreat, most particularly in
reversing policies stained by even the hint of American unilateralism or exceptionalism. Thus,
for example, there is no more “Global War on Terror.” It’s not just that the term has been
abolished or that the secretary of homeland security refers to terrorism as “man-caused
disasters.” It is that the very idea of our nation and civilization being engaged in a global mortal
struggle with jihadism has been retired as well.
The operational consequences of that new view are already manifest. In our reversion to pre-9/11
normalcy–the pretense of pre-9/11 normalcy–antiterrorism has reverted from war fighting to
law enforcement. High-level al Qaeda prisoners, for example, will henceforth be interrogated not
by the CIA but by the FBI, just as our response to the attack on the USS Cole pre-9/11–an act of
war–was to send FBI agents to Yemen.
The operational consequences of voluntary contraction are already evident:
* Unilateral abrogation of our missile-defense arrangements with Poland and the Czech
Republic–a retreat being felt all through Eastern Europe to Ukraine and Georgia as a signal of
U.S. concession of strategic space to Russia in its old sphere of influence.
* Indecision on Afghanistan–a widely expressed ambivalence about the mission and a serious
contemplation of minimalist strategies that our commanders on the ground have reported to the
president have no chance of success. In short, a serious contemplation of strategic retreat in
Afghanistan (only two months ago it was declared by the president to be a “war of necessity”)
with possibly catastrophic consequences for Pakistan.
* In Iraq, a determination to end the war according to rigid timetables, with almost no interest in
garnering the fruits of a very costly and very bloody success–namely, using our Strategic
Framework Agreement to turn the new Iraq into a strategic partner and anchor for U.S. influence
in the most volatile area of the world. Iraq is a prize–we can debate endlessly whether it was
worth the cost–of great strategic significance that the administration seems to have no intention
of exploiting in its determination to execute a full and final exit.
* In Honduras, where again because of our allegedly sinful imperial history, we back a Chávista
caudillo seeking illegal extension of his presidency who was removed from power by the
legitimate organs of state–from the supreme court to the national congress–for grave
constitutional violations.
The New Liberalism will protest that despite its rhetoric, it is not engaging in moral reparations,
but seeking real strategic advantage for the United States on the assumption that the reason we
have not gotten cooperation from, say, the Russians, Iranians, North Koreans, or even our
European allies on various urgent agendas is American arrogance, unilateralism, and
dismissiveness. And therefore, if we constrict and rebrand and diminish ourselves deliberately–
try to make ourselves equal partners with obviously unequal powers abroad–we will gain the
moral high ground and rally the world to our causes.
Well, being a strategic argument, the hypothesis is testable. Let’s tally up the empirical evidence
of what nine months of self-abasement has brought.
With all the bowing and scraping and apologizing and renouncing, we couldn’t even sway the
International Olympic Committee. Given the humiliation incurred there in pursuit of a trinket, it
is no surprise how little our new international posture has yielded in the coin of real strategic
goods. Unilateral American concessions and offers of unconditional engagement have moved
neither Iran nor Russia nor North Korea to accommodate us. Nor have the Arab states–or even
the powerless Palestinian Authority–offered so much as a gesture of accommodation in response
to heavy and gratuitous American pressure on Israel. Nor have even our European allies
responded: They have anted up essentially nothing in response to our pleas for more assistance in
Afghanistan.
The very expectation that these concessions would yield results is puzzling. Thus, for example,
the president is proposing radical reductions in nuclear weapons and presided over a Security
Council meeting passing a resolution whose goal is universal nuclear disarmament, on the theory
that unless the existing nuclear powers reduce their weaponry, they can never have the moral
standing to demand that other states not go nuclear.
But whatever the merits of unilateral or even bilateral U.S.-Russian disarmament, the notion that
it will lead to reciprocal gestures from the likes of Iran and North Korea is simply childish. They
are seeking the bomb for reasons of power, prestige, intimidation, blackmail, and regime
preservation. They don’t give a whit about the level of nuclear arms among the great powers.
Indeed, both Iran and North Korea launched their nuclear weapons ambitions in the 1980s and
the 1990s–precisely when the United States and Russia were radically reducing their arsenals.
This deliberate choice of strategic retreats to engender good feeling is based on the naïve hope of
exchanges of reciprocal goodwill with rogue states. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that the
theory–as policy–has demonstrably produced no strategic advances. But that will not deter the
New Liberalism because the ultimate purpose of its foreign policy is to make America less
hegemonic, less arrogant, less dominant.
In a word, it is a foreign policy designed to produce American decline–to make America
essentially one nation among many. And for that purpose, its domestic policies are perfectly
complementary.
Domestic policy, of course, is not designed to curb our power abroad. But what it lacks in intent,
it makes up in effect. Decline will be an unintended, but powerful, side effect of the New
Liberalism’s ambition of moving America from its traditional dynamic individualism to the more
equitable but static model of European social democracy.
This is not the place to debate the intrinsic merits of the social democratic versus the Anglo-
Saxon model of capitalism. There’s much to be said for the decency and relative equity of social
democracy. But it comes at a cost: diminished social mobility, higher unemployment, less
innovation, less dynamism and creative destruction, less overall economic growth.
This affects the ability to project power. Growth provides the sinews of dominance–the ability to
maintain a large military establishment capable of projecting power to all corners of the earth.
The Europeans, rich and developed, have almost no such capacity. They made the choice long
ago to devote their resources to a vast welfare state. Their expenditures on defense are minimal,
as are their consequent military capacities. They rely on the U.S. Navy for open seas and on the
U.S. Air Force for airlift. It’s the U.S. Marines who go ashore, not just in battle, but for such
global social services as tsunami relief. The United States can do all of this because we spend
infinitely more on defense–more than the next nine countries combined.
Those are the conditions today. But they are not static or permanent. They require constant
renewal. The express agenda of the New Liberalism is a vast expansion of social services–
massive intervention and expenditures in energy, health care, and education–that will
necessarily, as in Europe, take away from defense spending.
This shift in resources is not hypothetical. It has already begun. At a time when hundreds of
billions of dollars are being lavished on stimulus and other appropriations in an endless array of
domestic programs, the defense budget is practically frozen. Almost every other department is
expanding, and the Defense Department is singled out for making “hard choices”–forced to look
everywhere for cuts, to abandon highly advanced weapons systems, to choose between readiness
and research, between today’s urgencies and tomorrow’s looming threats.
Take, for example, missile defense, in which the United States has a great technological edge and
one perfectly designed to maintain American preeminence in a century that will be dominated by
the ballistic missile. Missile defense is actually being cut. The number of interceptors in Alaska
to defend against a North Korean attack has been reduced, and the airborne laser program (the
most promising technology for a boost-phase antiballistic missile) has been cut back–at the same
time that the federal education budget has been increased 100 percent in one year.
This preference for social goods over security needs is not just evident in budgetary allocations
and priorities. It is seen, for example, in the liberal preference for environmental goods. By
prohibiting the drilling of offshore and Arctic deposits, the United States is voluntarily denying
itself access to vast amounts of oil that would relieve dependency on–and help curb the wealth
and power of–various petro-dollar challengers, from Iran to Venezuela to Russia. Again, we can
argue whether the environment versus security trade-off is warranted. But there is no denying
that there is a trade-off.
Nor are these the only trade-offs. Primacy in space–a galvanizing symbol of American
greatness, so deeply understood and openly championed by John Kennedy–is gradually being
relinquished. In the current reconsideration of all things Bush, the idea of returning to the moon
in the next decade is being jettisoned. After next September, the space shuttle will never fly
again, and its replacement is being reconsidered and delayed. That will leave the United States
totally incapable of returning even to near-Earth orbit, let alone to the moon. Instead, for years to
come, we shall be entirely dependent on the Russians, or perhaps eventually even the Chinese.
Of symbolic but also more concrete importance is the status of the dollar. The social democratic
vision necessarily involves huge increases in domestic expenditures, most immediately for
expanded health care. The plans currently under consideration will cost in the range of $1
trillion. And once the budget gimmicks are discounted (such as promises of $500 billion cuts in
Medicare which will never eventuate), that means hundreds of billions of dollars added to the
monstrous budgetary deficits that the Congressional Budget Office projects conservatively at $7
trillion over the next decade.
The effect on the dollar is already being felt and could ultimately lead to a catastrophic collapse
and/or hyperinflation. Having control of the world’s reserve currency is an irreplaceable national
asset. Yet with every new and growing estimate of the explosion of the national debt, there are
more voices calling for replacement of the dollar as the world currency–not just adversaries like
Russia and China, Iran and Venezuela, which one would expect, but just last month the head of
the World Bank.
There is no free lunch. Social democracy and its attendant goods may be highly desirable, but
they have their price–a price that will be exacted on the dollar, on our primacy in space, on
missile defense, on energy security, and on our military capacities and future power projection.
But, of course, if one’s foreign policy is to reject the very notion of international primacy in the
first place, a domestic agenda that takes away the resources to maintain such primacy is perfectly
complementary. Indeed, the two are synergistic. Renunciation of primacy abroad provides the
added resources for more social goods at home. To put it in the language of the 1990s, the
expanded domestic agenda is fed by a peace dividend–except that in the absence of peace, it is a
retreat dividend.
And there’s the rub. For the Europeans there really is a peace dividend, because we provide the
peace. They can afford social democracy without the capacity to defend themselves because they
can always depend on the United States.
So why not us as well? Because what for Europe is decadence–decline, in both comfort and
relative safety–is for us mere denial. Europe can eat, drink, and be merry for America protects
her. But for America it’s different. If we choose the life of ease, who stands guard for us?
The temptation to abdicate has always been strong in America. Our interventionist tradition is
recent. Our isolationist tradition goes far deeper. Nor is it restricted to the American left.
Historically, of course, it was championed by the American right until the Vandenberg
conversion. And it remains a bipartisan instinct.
When the era of maximum dominance began 20 years ago–when to general surprise a unipolar
world emerged rather than a post-Cold War multipolar one–there was hesitation about accepting
the mantle. And it wasn’t just among liberals. In the fall of 1990, Jeane Kirkpatrick, -heroine in
the struggle to defeat the Soviet Union, argued that, after a half-century of exertion fighting
fascism, Nazism, and communism, “it is time to give up the dubious benefits of superpower
status,” time to give up the “unusual burdens” of the past and “return to ‘normal’ times.” No more
balancing power in Europe or in Asia. We should aspire instead to be “a normal country in a
normal time.”
That call to retreat was rejected by most of American conservatism (as Pat Buchanan has amply
demonstrated by his very marginality). But it did find some resonance in mainstream liberalism.
At first, however, only some resonance. As noted earlier, the liberal internationalism of the
1990s, the center-left Clintonian version, was reluctant to fully embrace American hegemony
and did try to rein it in by creating external restraints. Nonetheless, in practice, it did boldly
intervene in the Balkan wars (without the sanction of the Security Council, mind you) and openly
accepted a kind of intermediate status as “the indispensable nation.”
Not today. The ascendant New Liberalism goes much further, actively seeking to subsume
America within the international community–inter pares, not even primus–and to enact a
domestic social agenda to suit.
So why not? Why not choose ease and bask in the adulation of the world as we serially renounce,
withdraw, and concede?
Because, while globalization has produced in some the illusion that human nature has changed, it
has not. The international arena remains a Hobbesian state of nature in which countries naturally
strive for power. If we voluntarily renounce much of ours, others will not follow suit. They will
fill the vacuum. Inevitably, an inversion of power relations will occur.
Do we really want to live under unknown, untested, shifting multipolarity? Or even worse, under
the gauzy internationalism of the New Liberalism with its magically self-enforcing norms? This
is sometimes passed off as “realism.” In fact, it is the worst of utopianisms, a fiction that can lead
only to chaos. Indeed, in an age on the threshold of hyper-proliferation, it is a prescription for
catastrophe.
Heavy are the burdens of the hegemon. After the blood and treasure expended in the post-9/11
wars, America is quite ready to ease its burden with a gentle descent into abdication and decline.
Decline is a choice. More than a choice, a temptation. How to resist it?
First, accept our role as hegemon. And reject those who deny its essential benignity. There is a
reason that we are the only hegemon in modern history to have not immediately catalyzed the
creation of a massive counter-hegemonic alliance–as occurred, for example, against Napoleonic
France and Nazi Germany. There is a reason so many countries of the Pacific Rim and the
Middle East and Eastern Europe and Latin America welcome our presence as balancer of power
and guarantor of their freedom.
And that reason is simple: We are as benign a hegemon as the world has ever seen.
So, resistance to decline begins with moral self-confidence and will. But maintaining dominance
is a matter not just of will but of wallet. We are not inherently in economic decline. We have the
most dynamic, innovative, technologically advanced economy in the world. We enjoy the
highest productivity. It is true that in the natural and often painful global division of labor
wrought by globalization, less skilled endeavors like factory work migrate abroad, but America
more than compensates by pioneering the newer technologies and industries of the information
age.
There are, of course, major threats to the American economy. But there is nothing inevitable and
inexorable about them. Take, for example, the threat to the dollar (as the world’s reserve
currency) that comes from our massive trade deficits. Here again, the China threat is vastly
exaggerated. In fact, fully two-thirds of our trade imbalance comes from imported oil. This is not
a fixed fact of life. We have a choice. We have it in our power, for example, to reverse the
absurd de facto 30-year ban on new nuclear power plants. We have it in our power to release
huge domestic petroleum reserves by dropping the ban on offshore and Arctic drilling. We have
it in our power to institute a serious gasoline tax (refunded immediately through a payroll tax
reduction) to curb consumption and induce conservation.
Nothing is written. Nothing is predetermined. We can reverse the slide, we can undo dependence
if we will it.
The other looming threat to our economy–and to the dollar–comes from our fiscal deficits. They
are not out of our control. There is no reason we should be structurally perpetuating the massive
deficits incurred as temporary crisis measures during the financial panic of 2008. A crisis is a
terrible thing to exploit when it is taken by the New Liberalism as a mandate for massive
expansion of the state and of national debt–threatening the dollar, the entire economy, and
consequently our superpower status abroad.
There are things to be done. Resist retreat as a matter of strategy and principle. And provide the
means to continue our dominant role in the world by keeping our economic house in order. And
finally, we can follow the advice of Demosthenes when asked what was to be done about the
decline of Athens. His reply? “I will give what I believe is the fairest and truest answer: Don’t do
what you are doing now.”
Comments are closed.
