Six grand illusions of America’s foreign policy

Life is full of illusions. We all need them to survive: Hard work and honesty really do guarantee success, we tell ourselves; I really am indispensable at work. But illusions seem particularly abundant in politics, policy and governments’ behaviour — where they do more harm than good.

On the domestic side, illusions keep turning up like weeds in a flower garden. Hardcore Democrats and Republicans believe that their parties have all the answers to what ails America, Tea Partiers yearn to recreate an America that is no longer practical or possible, GOP ideologues hype a fiscal fix that can somehow avoid both tax increases and entitlement reform, and Barack Obama’s supporters and detractors respectively think he is either one of the greatest American presidents or the latest manifestation of Satan’s finger on Earth.

Idealised conceptions of reality have long characterised American foreign policy, too. Here is a collection of my favourites, which have marked Democratic and Republican administrations alike.

American foreign policy must be principled and consistent

It is not and rarely is. America has have upheld its principles in the past and will do so again in the future. But the world is just too complicated, the need for flexibility is too imperative and American interests are too diverse ever to imagine doing so all the time. Even consistently supporting a set of general principles — freedom and democracy, say — is a bridge too far. America supports an Arab Spring in Egypt (at least in the beginning), but not in strategically located countries like Bahrain; it intervenes in Libya and overthrows the evil Muammar Gaddafi, but will not intervene in Syria to get rid of the equally evil Bashar Al Assad. America can talk to jihadists in Iraq and Afghanistan who have the blood of Americans on their hands — but it will never consider engaging with Hamas or Hezbollah.

Contradictions and hypocrisy are part of the job description of every great power — and many smaller ones too. The US can try to iron out the bumps, but holding out hope for consistency and principle? Give me a break. I would be happy if every Democratic and Republican administration would mean what they say, say what they mean, and think carefully about the consequences of America’s actions before they acted.

The key question for US action is: ‘Can we do it?’

There are bigger questions to ask. Too many times America acts because it can, without thinking through the consequences or the objectives of what it is doing. It embarks on massive nation-building efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan and tries to make peace between the Israelis and Palestinians. Because hey, why not? This is America, and it needs to fix things.

But capacity is hardly the only variable, particularly when military force is involved. There are at least three other central questions that need to be debated before America launches itself into another endeavour — political or military. What is America doing it for? Should it be doing it at all? And what will it cost? These questions are the holy trinity of foreign policy. Answering them will not guarantee success, but America has a better chance of reducing the odds of failure if Americans raise questions. For a country now emerging from its two longest — and arguably among its most profitless — wars, they are now more imperative than ever.

Trying and failing is better than not trying at all

Not necessarily. The notion — to quote both former president Bill Clinton and Secretary of State John Kerry — that there is nothing wrong with being caught trying really is in need of some serious work. The old college try is precisely that — it is appropriate for the Michigan Wolverines (Go Blue), but it is not a substitute for the foreign policy of the world’s greatest power. Failure has costs. So does inaction, to be sure. The two have to be constantly weighed against one another and a balance has to be found. There is no way to guarantee success — but if you are basing your approach on a wing and a prayer (see: the Iraq war, the 2000 Camp David peace summit, the Geneva peace talks on Syria), you are headed for trouble. Even the Camp David and Geneva talks may have been OK if America had some sort of plan B. But it didn’t and left the kind of vacuum that leads folks to believe (correctly) that America does not know what it is doing.

Domestic politics and foreign policy should never mix

Sure they do, and they must. Diplomats are generally purists on this subject: They hate domestic politics, and many also cannot stand Congress. They view politics as a dirty affair compromising the nation’s true interests, which only the foreign-policy elite can understand. This is ridiculous. Domestic politics matters even in authoritarian societies — who are we kidding to think it does not matter in a democracy, particular one in which power is diffused? In a democracy, a sustainable foreign policy depends on a sustainable domestic consensus. And that consensus is in turn shaped by many factors in our system — public opinion, interest groups, lobbies and the media.

It is a competition, really — and it is in the very nature of the American system. Get over it. Whining about domestic lobbies (consider the American Israel Public Affairs Committee) makes little sense, as does blasting presidents when they turn to domestic politics because they have priorities other than Middle East peace. Indeed, strong and wilful presidents pursuing smart policies can hold their own — even trump domestic pressures.

It is the 21st Century: Doesn’t the rest of the world get it?

No they don’t. And it is perfectly understandable why. When Kerry talks about Russian President Vladimir Putin behaving in a 21st Century world, as if he were still living in the 19th Century, I wonder if America is really getting it. America may not pay attention to history and geography, but other nations are bound by them. September 11 notwithstanding, America is detached from the cruelties of the world in a way no other great power has ever been. It may subscribe to the notion that all countries have a stake in one another’s success in this newly globalised world and that concerns over political identity, survival, national honour and dignity are relics of some long-forgotten world when dinosaurs walked the Earth. But just ask the Iranians, the Palestinians, the Egyptians, the Israelis, the Turks or the Chinese whether they have got over the past and feel as secure and upbeat as Americans do in this supposedly reformed world.

I think the world is actually getting better and that the present has been informed positively by the lessons of history. But that does not mean the transition is complete or that the past does not cast a long shadow over the behaviour of other nations or leaders.

American exceptionalism is dead

No it is not. It is just not for export. Travellers to the US in the 19th Century, from Alexis de Tocqueville to Lord Bryce, reported the obvious: America was different from Europe. It is unique, really — and that is still true today. Three elements define American exceptionalism: The detachment and physical security that two oceans and weak neighbours provide, America’s physical size and abundance of resources, and a political system based on the idea that individuals really do matter and that they can advance by virtue of their merit. No other democracy in the world today could have elected a man of colour and made him the most powerful leader in the world. The Brits could not elect a man of colour to lead them; nor could the French, the Australians or the Israelis.

None of this makes America morally superior, nor the keepers of good governance. But it can position America well to be a force for good in the world. What we need to understand is that American exceptionalism is idiosyncratic: It cannot be shipped abroad as a model for others to follow. America gets itself into trouble when it lectures the rest of the world about how they should try to be like America and follow what has worked for America. The best America can do is to use its power to help create an environment in which countries are free to make their own choices consistent with their values, history and geography. And as we now see with Ukraine and Syria, that is easier said than done.

I am under no illusion that America is going to give up its illusions anytime soon. Most of these flow from the most basic of conditions — who we are, or at least who we think we are, and our own conception of America. These kinds of things do not change easily, or sometimes at all. Americans are preternaturally optimistic, hypocritically principled, convinced they are morally superior, incredibly judgmental, and at times quite pragmatic. This mix can make Americans insufferable, endearing — and quite influential, too. Indeed, when America articulates a clear foreign-policy objective, get the means and ends right, is risk-ready and does not allow its aims to exceed its capacity, it can actually accomplish quite a bit (consider Jimmy Carter’s mediation for an Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty, or George H.W. Bush’s Iraq war).

But who are we kidding? Those are the exceptions, not the rule. Most of the time, America is just flapping around and just trying to get by — caught up in a world that is largely beyond its capacity to control. Many Americans may wish it were not so, but I think many of them are secretly relieved that their days of trying to save the world are over — at least for a while.

— Washington Post

Aaron David Miller, Foreign Policy columnist, is vice-president for new initiatives and a scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Centre for Scholars. His forthcoming book is titled The End of Greatness: Why America Can’t Have (and Doesn’t Want) Another Great President.