By Elbridge Colby
Thursday, December 05, 2019
The United States needs a new framework for thinking
about its role in the world. And this need is especially pressing for American
conservatives. We are entering a world in which the dominant foreign-policy
paradigms of the post–Cold War years are of little to no help, and are often
downright harmful.
This is as true on the right as on the left. In the
post-1989 world, with American power unchallenged, many on the right were
tempted by breathtakingly expansive aims little tethered to traditional
conservative verities of realism, prudence, and balance: universalizing
democracy and free markets throughout the world, forcibly replacing hostile
with congenial governments, transforming the Middle East, and eliminating all
meaningful guardrails on the operation of the market.
Indeed, it was often difficult to distinguish the goals
of the ascendant latter-day “neoconservatism” from those of the center-left.
Both sought to transform, flatten, and “globalize” the world, to hasten toward
what Francis Fukuyama memorably termed an end to history in which postmodern
social-market systems and values would dominate across a borderless world.
Notionally “conservative” foreign policy differed little from the aims of, for
instance, Bill Clinton, distinguished only by being more hawkish, unilateral,
and hostile to restrictions on trade and markets.
This venture has foundered. Part of the reason is that it
proved far harder than anticipated. Significant parts of the world proved more
resistant to being so transformed than had been widely expected in the 1990s
and 2000s. American missions in Iraq and Afghanistan revealed the limits of
U.S. ability to remake countries. More broadly, China’s holding to an
authoritarian political model and heavy state involvement in the economy,
Russia’s turn away from the West, the results of the Arab Spring, and the mixed
record of democratization and market liberalization in, for example, Southeast
Asia and Latin America showed that the march toward this vision of
universalized postmodernity was far from inexorable.
Part of the reason, too, is that Americans began to
question whether the whole effort was worthwhile. Even more, they began to
wonder whether the goals being pursued were the right ones — a reaction, it
should be noted, shared in other parts of the world, especially Europe. The “new
world” of thoroughgoing globalization that was enthusiastically anticipated by
the center-left and little challenged by the dominant foreign-policy thinking
on the right seemed ultimately destined to lead to the leveling and enmeshing
of everything, essentially doing away with nations, borders, and particular
identities as meaningful realities. This might have appeared to some a
glittering vision in the boom days of the 1990s. By the 2010s, with the
financial crisis, consistent wage and job pressure on the lives of working
Americans, an opioid epidemic, a migration crisis in Europe, and, indeed, what
looked to many like an increasing malaise in American (and, more broadly,
Western) life, that vision was much less attractive.
Finally, something fundamentally more foreboding than
disillusion with hyper-globalization was afoot on the global stage. This was
the return of great-power politics. Above all, China’s growing wealth and power
were casting a broadening and darkening shadow. The rise of the People’s Republic
meant that American strategic and market leverage were declining. At the same
time, China’s military buildup and increasing geopolitical assertiveness
indicated that Beijing did not think that its primary purpose in the world was
to fit nicely into the preexisting “liberal international order” so often
bruited about. Russia, meanwhile, had recovered its equipoise and some of its
strength and turned decidedly — in some ways, violently — against a friendly
approach toward the West. America’s traditional partners in Europe, meanwhile,
were fractious and inward-looking.
***
It all meant that, for the first time in a generation,
Americans would live and work in a world defined not simply by the overwhelming
strength of the United States and its historical allies but also by the immense
and growing power of China, to a lesser but still important extent by an
alienated Russia, and by a general diffusion of power away from the network of
traditional U.S. alliances.
By the 2010s, then, something fundamental was off in
America’s approach to the world. The dizzyingly high goals and “count not the
cost” attitude of post–Cold War foreign policy were markedly out of sync with
what Americans actually seemed to want and fear and what they were prepared to
sacrifice for.
This disjuncture was particularly vivid on the right. The
neoconservative ascendancy of the 1990s and 2000s was a bizarre period for
conservatism. Neoconservatism was a kind of muscular liberalism — more an
aggressive Wilsonianism than conservative, more Gladstone than Disraeli.
Conservatism is in essence about the limits of what power — including state
power — can accomplish; hence Michael Kinsley’s quip about conservatives’
“treasured sense of futility.” Yet the putatively conservative foreign policy of
the post–Cold War period preached that such power could be used to transform
first the Middle East and then the whole world.
Moreover, conservatism accepts that a regulated
self-interest must be the basis for serious policy — that governments must
think first about their own if they are ever to be able to do good for others.
Yet Republican policymakers in those years often endorsed grand missions of
pacifying and evangelizing the world, callings connected to the concrete
interests of normal Americans in only the most strained sense. By the mid
2010s, then, it had become evident to Americans in general and to Republicans
in particular that the post–Cold War orthodoxies were seriously misaligned with
reality.
This was all very odd and could not last. It did not.
Enter Donald Trump. The election of President Trump
represented a stunning, overdue registration by American voters of their
recognition that things had gotten off-kilter. A decisive departure from the
attitudes of the previous generation was needed, especially given how
entrenched they were among wide segments of the American elite. The Trump
administration has delivered this, despite the fervent opposition of those
wedded to post–Cold War ways.
But breaking from the past is only the beginning. Recognizing
that our old paradigms were badly awry and that the world is more competitive
than we had expected is a start. But we do not yet have a suitable framework
for the future. We do not yet know where we are going or how to get there.
This is especially perilous because of the siren song of
a general withdrawal from the world. Having been stung by the overreach of
neoconservatism, the Right now runs the risk of seeing full withdrawal from the
world as a solution. Yet that would be as unrealistic and unconservative as
neoconservatism. Our interests are in the world and the world is shaped by
power and its application, and so we must deal with it as it is, not hope that
our problems will address themselves on their own.
In a world of great-power competition in which Americans
cannot simply get their way, then, we must have a clearer sense of just what
the purposes of American foreign policy should be. Which goals should we
pursue, and with which should we dispense? Which risks should we run and which
sacrifices should we make — and which not? To answer those questions requires
that we define our interests more carefully. That will tell us what matters and
what does not.
Until quite recently, there had been little to chew on
about this from leading Republicans. Fortunately, this is now changing, thanks
in particular to a seminal speech Senator Josh Hawley of Missouri delivered at
the Center for a New American Security (CNAS) in Washington, D.C., in November.
Hawley is not alone. He is among a crop of younger Republican members of
Congress — including Senators Marco Rubio, Todd Young, and Tom Cotton and
Representative Mike Gallagher — who are wrestling with what a new conservative
foreign and defense policy should look like in a world of great-power
competition.
But Hawley in his speech provides the most compelling and
lucid framework of what a new conservative foreign policy should be about. He
roots American foreign policy where it belongs — in the interests of the broad
American middle, the proverbial “working, everyday American.” Indeed, Hawley’s
might be called a truly republican approach to foreign policy.
Hawley places at the center and orienting point of our
policy, domestic and foreign, the well-being of our community, our nation; he
does not seek to progressively erode it away within a broadening
transnationalism, what he calls a progressive “universalist dream.” He roots
our care — our orientation for what our foreign policy should be for —
in the flourishing of a particular community, our own. As Hawley emphasizes,
this distinguishes him not only from progressives but also from the many
Republicans of the preceding generation who essentially subscribed to this “universalist
dream,” even if they wanted to pursue it in a different way than those on the
center-left. As Hawley put it, too many “conservatives have not fundamentally
disagreed with their counterparts on the Left about the ultimate goal of
creating a progressive international system. It’s just that they doubted it
could be realized through multilateral institutions.”
Moreover, Hawley has a particular conception of what this
community is about. Following the Founders, Tocqueville, and a tradition dating
back at least to the Greeks, he contends that our community is rooted in a
“middle class” orientation as its core identity. America, Hawley argues, is in
essence “a middle-class nation,” a nation defined by the “independen[ce,] . . .
dignity and power of the working man and woman.” People obviously don’t have to
be in the middle class to be great Americans, but our nation is at its core
about the ability of ordinary people to live lives dignified by meaningful
work, family, community, and faith. The middle class defines our regime — what
characterizes us as a political entity.
It is this identity and the need to sustain it that
should serve as the guiding principle for our policy. This is not a humdrum
statement. Hawley’s approach is fundamentally different from a policy designed,
for instance, to unfetter the market and let the chips fall where they may and
from one designed progressively to integrate America into the rest of the
world. Hawley is for a free market, but he has a higher goal — the well-being of
the middle class. And his field of regard is international, but his purposes
are not transnationalist — he is committed to a particular community and its
flourishing.
Hawley’s contention is that our policy has strayed from
serving the well-being of this critical core of our republic — and that our
middle class has struggled as a result. As he has pointed out in other
contexts, America’s middle class is enduring an opioid epidemic, rising suicide
rates, intense pressure on wages, and decreasing job security, all while
sacrificing in wars in the Middle East. Taken together, this has made America’s
core middle weaker and less confident. This is more than a tragedy for our
middle class — it is a threat to our very essence as a republic. If we do not
have a strong, confident, prosperous middle class, we are no longer, in a very
real sense, America. We are a different — and worse — nation.
***
If this is where we are, then whatever we have been doing
in the past years has not been working. Hawley has spoken in other contexts
about how we need to take a fresh look at our domestic policies. In his speech
at CNAS, he emphasized this also means a very different approach to our foreign
policy. Hawley is of no doubt that our interests require an international
orientation. A flourishing middle class requires a congenial international
environment; autarky is a route to penury. As he put it, “We seek an
international order where we can practice our unique way of democracy . . .
[and] that will allow our working people to prosper and to maintain their
political and economic independence.”
Hawley has a limpid sense of what this necessitates. To
enable the prosperity of our middle class, he observed,
We manufacture and trade — and not
among ourselves only, but with others beyond our borders. Our middle-class
character makes us a commercial nation, and for that reason, a trading nation
too. And so American interests are inseparably bound up with access to other
regions of the world on open and equal terms. American security requires that
this nation be free to seek out commercial partners and free to negotiate with
those partners for terms favorable to all sides.
And this in turn requires a clear standard for policy in
the world: “We can only pursue those ends if no region of the world, no key
area vital to us, is dominated or controlled by another power.” A hegemonic
state could discriminate against others — and in the past such states have
regularly done so. The Soviet Union, imperial Japan, Wilhelmine Germany, and
Napoleonic France all sought to create economic zones that would benefit them
and disfavor and weaken others. The United States cannot afford to allow that
to happen in the world’s great markets if its middle class is to prosper.
From this, Hawley makes a logical deduction: Since Asia
is by far the world’s largest market, and China the strongest state other than
the United States in the international system, China’s dominance over Asia is
the challenge of our time. Beijing has already demonstrated in the South China Sea,
in Hong Kong, and in the pressure applied to Disney, the NBA, and Nike what
kind of treatment of Americans — and others — would result from its dominance
of the region. Hawley is unafraid to draw the proper conclusion: “China’s bid
for domination is the greatest security threat to this country in this century.
And our foreign policy around the globe must be oriented to this challenge and
focused principally on this threat.” Conscious of the pressure Americans are
under and sensitive to the scale of the challenge, Hawley admonishes that
“American might is not limitless, nor are the lives and treasure of the
American people. Now we must make hard choices and articulate clear priorities
in order to meet the challenge before us.”
Some have criticized Hawley for not providing enough
detail. But they miss the point. The new senator from Missouri has laid out a
republican framework for how to orient and develop our foreign policy for a new
era. It is realistic but not pessimistic or isolationist; nationalist but
internationalist; self-interested but enlightened, principled, and aligned with
the interests of others. It is designed to resuscitate and sustain America in
its truest sense in a world in which that cannot be taken for granted. Thus it
is the right frame for the nation — and particularly for conservatives — to use
to think and decide about our actions abroad in a much tougher era. Especially
given how far we have strayed in the past generation, this is an enormous step.
No comments:
Post a Comment