So much has been written about the decline of American power that the adherents to the idea keep turning to new ways to describe the phenomenon. Now, it is not the case that America is declining, per se, but that other powers are rising. This variation may be true, whatever the political reality is on the ground. The ways by which so-called declinism affect the collective mindset is another matter.
Already we see the emergence of a more subtle and broad-minded American approach to global issues. Some would say this is a consequence of an America in decline or in the words of Dick Cheney—a finite, “existential” power. That is—so far as power goes—use it or lose it.
In truth, the opposite tends to be the case. When a nation relies on its existing power to get its way, that power strengthens in direct proportion to the extent to which it is not used, or at least not used badly. Weakening or insecure powers, like Wilhelmine Germany or the United States of the late 1960s and early 1970s, tend to crave the appearance of power for its own sake while becoming badly demoralized in the process.
Today, we measure power at face value for what it is without much reference to abstractions. In retrospect, abstractions—like Francis Fukuyama’s case for the end of history (one that he now claims only made sense at the time)—would seem to be a luxury of what the French blithely called a “hyperpower,” or a hegemon.
Simply put, as President Barack Obama likes to say, we ought to judge power by whether or not it works. This is a particularly American notion and it’s hardly new. Benjamin Franklin, one of the wiliest of diplomatic artists, taught us that power is best used discreetly—akin, in some ways, to what is now fashionably called “soft power.” Americans, or at least some Americans, have long been good at denying themselves the outward trappings of national power in order to extend its benefits.
The only difficulty with discretion it that it flies in the face of another critical component of power in the United States: the support of the American people. This is critical, not only because leaders are elected on the success of their policies, but also because the people—in the form of the U.S. Congress—hold the power of the purse. For better or worse, most Americans are unwilling to support activism abroad unless well convinced of its necessity.
That tends to come in the form of buzzwords, often called “doctrines”: don’t tread on me, the open door, the good neighbor, containment. Former president Bill Clinton often complained of the need for a post-Cold War doctrine, but failed to develop one. By contrast, the buzzword of the day, globalization, is not a doctrine or policy to be implemented but a phenomenon.
Now Obama promises the world an unclenched fist. This might be called a doctrine of “benevolent power.” But America can’t, or won’t, be benevolent all of the time. A better policy would be one of fair play where rules are enforced when need be, but we don’t make them up as we go along.
Some may charge the United States with hypocrisy for this new approach to power; others will cry naiveté. Purists will claim that international matters involving life and death are anything but a game. But in some places, and at some times in a country’s history, honesty really is the best policy. Franklin surely would have agreed.
(Dedicated to Professor Ernest R. May, 1928-2009)
Kenneth Weisbrode is the Vincent Wright Fellow in History at the Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies of the European University Institute.