America and the Great Abdication
Don’t mistake Donald Trump’s withdrawal from the world for isolationism.
Richard Haaass / The Atlantic | 28 December 2017
When great powers fade, as they
inevitably must, it’s normally for one of two reasons. Some powers
exhaust themselves through overreach abroad, underinvestment at home, or
a mixture of the two. This was the case for the Soviet Union. Other
powers lose their privileged position with the emergence of new,
stronger powers. This describes what happened with France and Great
Britain in the case of Germany’s emergence after World War I and, more
benignly, with the European powers and the rise of the United States
during and after World War II.
To some extent America is facing a
version of this—amid what Fareed Zakaria has dubbed “the rise of the
rest”—with China’s ascendance the most significant development. But the
United States has now introduced a third means by which a major power
forfeits international advantage. It is abdication, the voluntary
relinquishing of power and responsibility. It is brought about more by
choice than by circumstances either at home or abroad.
Abdication is not isolationism. Donald Trump’s United States is not
isolationist. He has authorized the use of limited military force
against the Syrian government in a manner his predecessor rejected. U.S.
military operations have gone a long way toward defeating ISIS in both
Syria and Iraq. The Trump administration might employ force against Iran
or North Korea, or both, and has pressed for and secured new
international sanctions against the latter. It could well act (most
likely unilaterally) in the economic realm, applying tariffs or
sanctions as it sees fit against one or another trading partner. It is
trying its hand (thus far without success) at mediating several disputes
in the Middle East. The U.S. military effort in Afghanistan is to be
extended and possibly augmented.
But abdication describes U.S.
foreign policy all the same, as the United States is no longer taking
the lead in maintaining alliances, or in building regional and global
institutions that set the rules for how international relations are
conducted. It is abdication from what has been a position of leadership
in developing the rules and arrangements at the heart of any world
order.
For three-quarters of a century, from World War II through
the Cold War and well into the post–Cold War era, the United States was
the principal architect and builder of global rules. This is not to say
that the United States always got it right; it most certainly did not,
at times because of what it did, at other times because of what it chose
not to do. But more often than not, the United States played a large,
mostly constructive, and frequently generous role in the world.
Under Donald Trump, however, U.S. foreign policy shows clear signs of
significant departure. Support for alliances, embrace of free trade,
concern over climate change, championing of democracy and human rights,
American leadership per se—these and other fundamentals of
American foreign policy have been questioned and, more than once,
rejected. Trump is the first post–World War II American president to
view the burdens of world leadership as outweighing the benefits. As a
result, the United States has changed from the principal preserver of
order to a principal disrupter.
This change has major implications.
It will make it far more difficult to deal with the challenges posed by
globalization, including climate change and nuclear proliferation, to
regulate cyberspace on terms compatible with American interests, or to
help relieve the plight of refugees on terms consistent with American
values. It will make it more difficult to build frameworks that promote
trade and investment and to ensure that the United States benefits from
them.
The process of pulling back began in the opening minutes
of Donald Trump’s presidency, in his inaugural address. The new
president espoused a doctrine of “America First,” suggesting that for
decades what the United States had spent and done abroad had been to
America’s domestic detriment, and that the United States would no longer
put the interests of others ahead of its own. The focus was on
sovereign rights, not obligations, and on promoting national recovery
rather than international order.
Not surprisingly, this message
was not well received by American allies, who have made the strategic
decision to place the lion’s share of their security and well-being in
American hands and were taken aback by the notion that their interests
would be relegated to second place. It is important to keep in mind that
alliances are important both for what they do—they pool resources on
behalf of shared goals and defense—and what they discourage, including
proliferation and deferring to adversaries.
Attempts by two of Mr. Trump’s top aides to smooth matters did not succeed. Their statement—appearing in the form of a Wall Street Journal op-ed
in late May—that “America First does not mean America alone” was
inconsistent with their description of the world as a Hobbesian arena
where nations, nongovernmental actors, and businesses engage and compete
for advantage. This expression of pure realism was at odds with the
essence of alliances (best understood as strategic relationships) in
which long-term commitments and shared interests take precedence over
particular interactions or transactions and short-term considerations.
Mr. Trump’s own subsequent effort at the United Nations in September to
portray America First as nothing different from the priority any leader
would accord his country similarly failed to assuage concerns for the
simple reason that the United States has a role in the world that is
unlike that of any other country.
The inaugural address was also
explicitly protectionist—including a call to “Buy American and Hire
American.” Within days, Donald Trump translated these words into policy
when he took the United States out of the Trans-Pacific Partnership
(TPP), the 12-nation trade pact that had been painstakingly negotiated
among governments representing some 40 percent of global GDP. While far
from perfect—the TPP did not provide mechanisms for addressing currency
manipulation or state subsidies or forced transfers of technology—it
represented a major advance over existing trade pacts and would have
increased American access to the markets of others, most of whom already
enjoyed tariff-free access to the U.S. market. It also provided a
foundation for future innovations that could promote and protect U.S.
interests. Trade accords had been a staple of the post–World War II
world, providing a mechanism for economic growth, development, and
association with friends and allies, and a means of reining in would-be
adversaries who otherwise would have little incentive to act with
restraint. Walking away from the TPP was thus inconsistent with American
economic and strategic interests alike. The decision also ignored the
reality that it is not trade but innovation and productivity
enhancements that account for the lion’s share of recent job
disappearance.
Over
the ensuing months, the new president distanced himself further from
many of the country’s allies. He neglected to reiterate U.S. adherence
to Article 5 of the NATO treaty (which underscores that an attack on one
is an attack on all, triggered only once, in the wake of the 9/11
attacks on the United States) when speaking in Europe in May; instead,
the speech included several statements pressing the allies to spend and
do more on defense. The overall effect was to make the U.S. commitment
to Europe’s security appear conditional. The president’s subsequent
articulation (in Warsaw in July) of the U.S. commitment to Article 5 was
a classic case of too little, too late. Moreover, public criticism by
President Trump of South Korea, over both the terms of the bilateral
trade pact and its alleged “appeasement” of North Korea, reinforced the
notion that alliances and long-term relationships counted for little.
Just
as significant was the decision announced in June that the United
States intended to leave the Paris climate pact. This was an odd
decision on the merits, as the agreement constituted a form of
multilateralism that left all discretion with sovereign governments
rather than with any supranational authority. The decision to leave
raised questions (coming as it did on the heels of the decision to leave
the TPP) about the continued willingness of the United States to play a
role in upholding global order. Such questions increased in the wake of
the December 2017 U.S. boycott of the Mexico City meeting convened to
promote international cooperation on migration.
The net result was to give the United
States a reputation for parochialism and unreliability, something
inconsistent with its role as an ally and its hard-earned reputation for
global leadership. It is strangely reminiscent of the dictum of the
19th-century British statesman Lord Palmerston: “We have no eternal
allies, and we have no perpetual enemies. Our interests are eternal and
perpetual, and those interests it is our duty to follow.” One could
almost imagine Mr. Trump tweeting a version of the above.
Making
matters worse were proposed budget cuts and unfilled posts at home and
overseas that reduced the resources essential for an active diplomacy.
It added up to what appeared to be a doctrine of withdrawal. Barack
Obama, often reluctant to make large commitments, never could shed the
oxymoronic description of his foreign policy as “Leading from Behind.”
For Donald Trump, the tagline might well be “Leaving from Behind.”
U.S.
standing in the world also suffered for other reasons. It was fine, as
the president said in his speech to the United Nations in September,
that the United States would not impose its way of life on others. But
less clear is the country’s continuing ability to “shine as an example
for everyone to watch.” One of the most important mechanisms for
influence is the example set by what goes on inside this country:
politically, economically, and socially. But political dysfunction and
pronounced division reduce the appeal of American democracy, while the
government’s ability to advocate for democracy is further set back by
President Trump’s attacks on courts and media. Social fissures,
stagnating incomes, high inequality, increasing national debt (to be
exacerbated by the tax cut) and violence likewise have taken their toll
on respect for this country and what it stands for. Much the same can be
said about a much-reduced U.S. willingness to accept refugees in
general, and from certain predominantly Muslim countries in particular.
It
is impossible to know whether what we have witnessed to date is
something of an aberration or a new normal. In principle, Mr. Trump
could evolve or, even if not, his successor could embrace a more
familiar foreign policy. But it is also possible that Mr. Trump will be a
two-term president and that his successor will embrace at least some of
his approach to foreign policy. Regardless, the world that either a
reformed President Trump or a successor would inherit is already one of
increasing disarray. It is also far from assured that other governments
would ever again see the United States the same way in that, if such a
radical departure could happen once, it could happen a second time.
This
raises a larger, related point. There must be a presumption of
continuity in the foreign policy of a great power if allies are to
remain allied and if foes are to be deterred. Unpredictability may on
occasion make sense as a tactic, but not as a strategy. The many
departures introduced or threatened by the Trump administration (most
recently extending to both the NAFTA agreement and the 2015 nuclear
accord with Iran) create doubts as to U.S. reliability. This is not
meant as an argument for standing pat in foreign policy. The world is
changing and U.S. foreign policy must change with it. The argument,
though, is that the international project should be a renovation based
on the existing order, not a teardown.
It needs pointing out that to
recognize the revival of great-power rivalry, a prominent theme of the
recently released National Security Strategy, provides little in the way
of policy guidance. Countering Russian or Chinese challenges is
necessary but not sufficient; doing so will not position the United
States to meet regional and global challenges to its interests. What is
required is the forging of effective collective responses, if need be
without Russia and China, when possible with them.
The
question naturally arises as to whether such a world could come about
without the leadership of the United States, and in particular without
the enthusiastic backing of the president and the executive branch. An
optimist would argue that it could, that others in the United States and
around the world would take up the slack. Alas, such optimism is mostly
unwarranted.
It is true that Congress can do some things, such as
introduce sanctions. It can also reject appointments, review treaties,
hold hearings that shape public opinion, and withdraw or add funding. In
addition, states and cities can do a good deal to offset executive
disinterest in adopting policies to slow and adapt to climate change.
When
all is said and done, though, the reality remains that in the American
political system, most of the initiative when it comes to foreign policy
lies with the executive. Critical positions (such as that of national
security adviser) do not require confirmation, and the most important
international agreements tend not to be in the form of treaties, in part
to circumvent the need for Senate approval. Presidents have enormous
latitude to use military force, to enter into and withdraw from
negotiations and agreements, and to shape policy across the board,
including the realms of both trade and immigration. It is difficult for
Congress to restrain the executive—and even more difficult for it to
compel the president to act or take the initiative when he holds back.
An
optimist would also hope that other countries would pick up where the
United States left off in promoting international order. The fact is,
though, that there is no alternative great power willing and able to
step in and assume what has been the U.S. role. China is often
suggested, but its leadership is focused mostly on consolidating
domestic order and maintaining artificially high rates of economic
growth, lest there be popular unrest. China’s interest in regional and
global institutions (including both its regional trade mechanism and its
“One Belt, One Road” infrastructure initiative) seems more designed to
bolster its economy and influence than to help set rules and
arrangements that would be broadly beneficial. China’s assertiveness in
the South China Sea (including its rejection of an international legal
ruling challenging its claims) and its unwillingness to do all it could
to rein in North Korea casts further doubts as to its readiness to fill
the shoes of the United States.
There is no other candidate.
Russia under Vladimir Putin is a country with a narrowly based economy
that is focused on retaining power at home, reestablishing Russian
influence in the Middle East and Europe, and interfering in the internal
politics of Western democracies. It is mostly a spoiler prepared to use
those instruments of power it possesses (military, energy, and cyber)
to advance its aims. India is preoccupied with the challenge of economic
development and is tied down by its problematic relationship with
Pakistan. Japan is held back by its declining population, domestic
constraints, and the suspicions of its neighbors. Europe is limited in
what it can do by a lack of defense capability, and is distracted by
questions revolving around the relationship between member states and
the EU. The cold truth is that the alternative to a U.S.–led
international order is less international order.
All this comes at a time challenges
to order are many, including a China that is trying to extend its writ
over the South China Sea and a North Korea that appears intent on
developing the ability to place nuclear warheads on ballistic missiles
capable of reaching not just its neighbors but across the world and an
Iran with an imperial vision of its position in the Middle East. The
Middle East is a region of multiple conflicts of every sort—civil,
regional, proxy, and global—involving state and nonstate actors, as well
as a mixture of strong, weak, and failed states. There is as well the
continuing Russian occupation of Crimea and its destabilization of
eastern Ukraine, the undermining of democracy and economic deterioration
of Venezuela, and any number of governance failures in Africa, most
starkly in South Sudan. There has been a marked deterioration in U.S.
relations with Russia, the result not just of its military actions in
Ukraine and Syria but also of its interference in the 2016 U.S.
presidential election. And at the global level there is the continuing
gap between challenges and collective responses, none more pronounced
than in the domain of cyberspace.
True, it is important not to
overlook those positive developments and trends that do exist. The world
economy is growing at 4 percent. Oil and gas are likely to remain
relatively inexpensive. ISIS is losing its territorial hold in the
Middle East. Europe appears to have stemmed the tide of populism. The
new French president is tackling much-needed domestic reform while,
together with the chancellor of Germany, pushing for much-needed reform
of the EU. Brexit seems more an exception than a trend within Europe,
with the U.K. rather than Europe the principal loser. India is growing
at a robust pace, while a good many countries in Latin America and
Africa are examples of what improved governance can bring about. But
these positives do not offset the larger and more numerous negatives.
The net result is a world of growing
disarray. This trend is partly the result of what might be called
structural factors—the rise of China, globalization, the emergence of a
large number of entities (state and nonstate alike) with meaningful
capacity and often dangerous intentions, and the failure of regional and
international institutions (many created in the aftermath of World War
II) to adjust sufficiently to new distributions of power and new
challenges. In many cases, the gap between the challenge and the ability
of the world to come together to manage or regulate it is not just
large but growing. Rising disarray is, as well, the result of several
poor policy choices made by the administrations of George W. Bush and
Barack Obama—and, increasingly, Donald Trump.
The good news is
that the costs of promoting global order tend to be less than the costs
of not; the bad news is that this truth does not seem to be recognized
by many Americans, including the 45th president. Abdication is as
unwarranted as it is unwise. It is a basic fact of living in a global
world that no country can insulate itself from much of what happens
elsewhere. A foreign policy based on sovereignty alone will not provide
security in a global, interconnected world. Or, to paraphrase the jargon
of the day, America cannot be great at home in a world of disarray.
This piece is adapted from the afterword to the paperback edition of “A World in Disarray.”
Richard Haass is president of the Council on Foreign Relations and author of A World in Disarray: American Foreign Policy and the Crisis of the Old Order.
No comments:
Post a Comment