The National Interest

Fall 2002

One Year On: A September 11 Anniversary Symposium

 

The End of a Contradiction?

by Robert W. Tucker

. . . Multilateralists have often confused form with substance. American foreign policy has never been quite as multilateral as many of them have imagined. Nevertheless, during the long period of the Cold War, American power was to a substantial degree subordinated to a larger community. This goes a long way in accounting for the degree of trust that power enjoyed. Now, when we are at the plentitude of our power, a president has apparently decided that he can dispense with the sanction of this larger community and go his own way. The new "strike first" military policy is simply the most revealing expression to date of the administration's determination to follow its own path regardless of the views of long-standing allies.

Too weak to oppose American power, yet fearing its exercise, most other nations may be expected to comply with our wishes. Nevertheless, the world's loss of confidence in the benign purview of American power might well turn out to be the principal legacy of the war on terror. It could turn out to be a high price to pay for victory. . . .

What Friends Are For

by Michael Howard

. . . The Bush Administration has clearly lost confidence in the capacity of the existing international order to guarantee America's national security, and with very good reason. At the moment it seems prepared to use American power to take on the job all by itself, like some benevolent dictator moving to clear up the Augean stables of a corrupt and ungovernable democracy. But then what? The record tends to show that once dictators, however benevolent, have assumed that responsibility, they find it very hard to disentangle themselves and retire peacefully to their farms. America is in danger of unilaterally involving itself in a host of conflicts whose consequences could irrevocably divert it from what it has always held to be its true and best purposes.

The "war against terror" can end only when the United States has either re-established the old world order in a more effective form, or created a new one more appropriate to the global challenges of the 21st century. Neither task can be achieved unilaterally, or can even be contemplated so long as the United States remains isolated, splendidly or not, from world opinion. American unilateral action, whether against Iraq or any other perceived adversary, is unlikely to command international support unless it can be shown to be a necessary step toward the creation of a more viable structure of international order than that which already exists. . . .

A Case of Continuity

by Gary Schmitt

. . . Although the changes in U.S. strategy brought about by September 11 are real and significant, the overarching strategy as articulated by President Bush is not new; it is more or less a continuation of U.S. foreign policy as it has existed since World War II. As that war was coming to a close, American statesmen were determined to create a new international order, one that would rest on American political and economic principles and, when necessary, the application of American power. The lesson of the 1920s and 1930s was that disengagement was not a viable alternative, and the swift post-World War II rise of the Soviet threat in all its ideological and military facets confirmed it.

The President's decision to return to this path was not inevitable. He could have confined his administration's response to September 11 to a "police action." But to his credit, within a few weeks of the terrorist attack, he began to comprehend and speak to the larger, underlying nature of the threat we face. Central to that understanding is his appreciation of the fact that, in a world in which terrorists have global reach and hostile states weapons of mass destruction, what matters most is the nature of our adversaries' regimes. The risk is too great to leave some in place; détente is not an option with the likes of Iraq and Iran. Hence, promoting liberal democratic governance in their place is less an idealistic option than a strategic imperative. The United States is back in the business of shaping a world order—with a vengeance. . . .

Hearts and Minds

by John J. Mearsheimer

. . . Rather than pursue an empire with the sword to defeat Al-Qaeda, the United States should adopt a "hearts and minds" strategy that concentrates on reducing Islamic hostility toward it. Instead of building an empire—which will increase anti-American hatred and put U.S. forces on the front lines around the world—the United States should seek to reduce its military footprint and use force sparingly.

A hearts and minds strategy contains four main ingredients. First, the United States should not engage in a global war on all terrorist organizations wherever they might arise, but should focus on destroying Al-Qaeda and its close allies. Otherwise, it will squander resources on secondary threats and create enemies out of terrorist organizations that have no special quarrel with America.

Second, the United States should place the highest priority on locking up the fissile material and nuclear weapons in the former Soviet Union, because that is where a terrorist is likely to acquire the ultimate weapon. Some conservatives justify a war on Iraq by claiming that Saddam might give Al-Qaeda or other such groups nuclear weapons if he had them. But this claim is unconvincing, because bin Laden would use them against the United States or Israel, who would almost certainly respond with a nuclear strike against Iraq. Saddam is an aggressive despot, but there is no evidence that he is suicidal. If we are really worried about terrorists getting their hands on weapons of mass destruction (and we should be), we should concentrate on the most likely source (Russia) rather than on far less imminent dangers (Iraq).

Third, America should emphasize intelligence, diplomacy and covert actions over military force in its campaign against Al-Qaeda. Of course, circumstances might arise that call for large-scale military assaults, but they should not be our preferred method of operation. . . .

Of Hubs, Spokes and Public Goods

by Josef Joffe

. . . American diplomacy during the Cold War executed this task in exemplary fashion by providing the world with essential services. In social science parlance, the United States acted as foremost producer of global public goods. Just to note the acronyms that stand for those goods—UN, IMF, GATT, OEEC/OECD, NATO, WTO, PfP—is to recognize that all were "made in the U.S.A." These institutions upheld international security and free trade and thus cemented America's preponderance by giving other key players potent reasons for choosing cooperation over ganging up.

Alas, during the Cold War it was obviously in America's interest to deliver the goods and, in a certain sense, to contain itself as well as the Soviet Union. The problem today is that the United States seems to take more out of the system than it invests in it. The clumsy but benign elephant of yore has donned a lion's clothing, and America's response to September 11 has only made the change more obvious. America is no predator going a-conquering like yesterday's hegemons, but by the intermittent growl of his voice and swipe of his mighty paw, this beast tells the rest: "I am the king; go along, or I'll go it alone." . . .

Avoiding Empire

by James Chace

. . . The likelihood of a balance of power—military, economic or political—directed against the United States depends on the skills and intelligence of American statecraft. Our behavior will determine whether the great powers and weak states will see the United States as a non-threatening, if not a wholly benevolent, power. If they do, then no balancing against America will take place. If they do not, then the United States will be faced with far greater disorder and eventual threats to its well-being than now appear plausible.

How should the United States act, then, to be perceived as non-threatening? One way is to accept some of the constraints that international agreements require—for example, adhering to the rules of the International Criminal Court, signing a comprehensive test-ban treaty, joining with other nations to curb environmental damage—which will mean that the United States surrenders some degree of its sovereignty. A more daring policy, however, would be for America to lead the world into a new internationalism. An international police force, for example, need not be an American one, but it would require American backing to be useful; and the United States alone has the technology and the resources to make such a force effective. An International Criminal Court will almost surely be ineffective without American participation, but an engaged American leadership could make it effective and, at the same time, incorporate Washington's justifiable concern about vendettas aimed at U.S. citizens as a result of American predominance. . . .

City, and Citadel, on the Hill

by Wang Gungwu

. . . The idea of the City on the Hill, in Governor Winthrop's famous locution, expresses a national messianism close to the hearts of most Americans. But, until roughly a half-century ago, Americans lacked the power to project that light upon the world. Since then, however, American leaders have striven to use U.S. power for good, for humanity, for civilization - at least as they have seen it. For most people outside, including in Asia, that is not America's only heritage, however. Consciously or not, the United States became the successor to diminished European empires, particularly to the great but short-lived empire the British had erected around the globe. Some of the remnants of this heritage, notably in Asia, were placed in American care after the end of World War II. America is thus both exemplar and empire, both a City on a Hill and a citadel that dispatches gunboats and loans with strings attached.

The Cold War was a secular civil war whose origins were established long before World War II by European ambitions to dominate the world; when those ambitions failed, the United States and the Soviet Union, two self-appointed interpreters of the Enlightenment, sparred over the wreckage. Thanks to the Cold War's Manichean characteristics, however, the United States could emphasize the light that its people stood for against the darkness of godless communism. Accusations of American imperialism or neo-colonialism, and a host of other unflattering images, were brushed aside. This was made easier by the fact that the Communist opposition could not disguise its ruthlessness, was poor in marketing its ideological wares and was ultimately a failure in economic performance. With the end of the Soviet Union, however, the second side of the American metropolis came into clear view; in glaring light, the imperial side of the City, its citadel, could not be hidden. Without a zone of darkness in opposition, the double American heritage of civilizing mission and informal empire stood more sharply exposed than ever before.

September 11, and the understandably forceful response to that tragedy, have together brought America's dual international personality to the global center stage. America's actions now, more than ever, will affect which side of its character will predominate. Above all, the actions that matter most fall into two categories: how America sees its allies and friends, and how it sees its adversaries and challengers. . . .

Misreading September 11th

by Charles A. Kupchan

. . . Rather than changing the underlying dynamics of international politics, the events of September 2001 have only added the need to combat terrorism to an already long list of priorities. Perhaps the main danger ahead is that U.S. policymakers will continue to believe that the international system has changed much more than it has, holding a view of a global landscape that bears little resemblance to that envisaged by the rest of the world. If this misperception continues, the United States may well succeed in eliminating the Al-Qaeda network, but at the expense of the alliances and institutions that remain the bedrock of international peace and prosperity. . . .

Definitions, Doctrines and Divergences

by Pierre Hassner

. . . It is legitimate to speak metaphorically of a war against terrorism as one speaks of the war against drugs, cancer or poverty, and even to connect it to the eternal war between good and evil. But as religious writers from Reinhold Niebuhr to Michael Novak have warned, seeing ourselves as the Children of Light fighting against the Children of Darkness carries the danger of self-righteousness and hubris, and may lead us ultimately to become fanatics ourselves. One should never lose sight of Arthur Koestler's saying during the fight against communist totalitarianism: "We are defending a half-truth against a total lie."

However that may be, this never-ending conflict and this metaphysical confrontation must be sharply distinguished from the concept of war in the Western tradition, lest we fall into the trap laid by bin Laden's declaration of jihad. A war, classically, is an organized activity with a beginning and an end, and with rules concerning both the legitimate ways of waging it (jus in bello) and the legitimate causes for declaring it (jus ad bellum). Of course, our time offers many examples of undeclared and unfinished war, but this does not obviate the need for rules and standards. This is essential, too, for defining the status of combatants who must either be protected as prisoners of war or prosecuted as presumed criminals.

Of course, terrorists pose a special problem. Necessity may dictate executing them summarily in times of war. Necessity may also, in an emergency, lead to a selective disregard for legal guarantees in order to prevent an imminent crime or catastrophe (although it should never justify torture with such thin alibis as practicing it by proxy or outside one's own territory). But the point is that the burden of proof should be on those who practice the exceptional treatment. What is deeply worrying is not that principle be breached in extreme circumstances, but that the breach should be made into a generalized doctrine, the criticism of which should then be branded as anti-American. . . .