American empires: past and present*.
Mann, Michael
OF COURSE, MANY AMERICANS DENY THEY ever had an empire. But this is
not unique. So did many nineteenth-century Brits, for whom the term also
possessed negative connotations. They said they were only spreading
freedom around the world. Since British history textbooks of the time
had as their main theme the growth of freedom, most of them took the
American side in the War of Independence (Porter 2005:66-72). Of course,
British actions often differed from rhetoric. Prime Minister Gladstone
was a noted anti-imperialist, an upholder of "the rights of the
savage," but under his administrations the Empire expanded more
than under his supposedly proimperial predecessor Disraeli. So to equate
empire with freedom, or to avoid the word while doing empire, is nothing
new.
CONCEPTS AND THEORIES
The frequency of empire denial makes it essential to define what we
mean by empire. The word derives from the Latin imperium, the power
wielded by a general commanding an army and a magistrate armed with
law--a combination of political and military power. Modern usage adds a
geographical element--power exercised over a peripheral by a core power.
Thus my definition is
an empire is a centralized, hierarchical system of rule acquired
and maintained by coercion through which a core territory dominates
peripheral territories, serves as the intermediary for their main
interactions, and channels resources from and between the
peripheries.
As Motyl says (2001:4), an empire is like a rimless wheel: the
peripheries communicate to and through the core but not directly to each
other, so that the core controls the flow of all major resources. All
roads led to Rome, all gold flowed to Cadiz, all 5-year plans were made
in Moscow, while today imperial authority flows from two capital cities,
Washington (the political/ military capital) and New York (the capital
of capital).
Empires initially grow mainly through military power, deployed or
threatened, and repeated if rebellions occur. Empires often claim to be
charities, selflessly bringing good to the world. They may indeed bring
benefits to those they rule. But this is not the point of acquiring
empire in the first place. If you want to help others, you do not march
into their homes, kill young men, rape young women, steal their
possessions, and then impose an authoritarian political regime from
which some benefit may later flow. You do not more modestly even dictate
the terms of trade. The initial point of empire is to plunder the land,
possessions, and souls of others precisely because you have the military
power to do so. Of course, then an empire may dominate by wielding other
sources of power--political, economic, and ideological--and benefits may
perhaps flow. Modern empires have contained an unusual degree of
economic imperialism, because capitalism can better integrate the
economies of core and periphery than did previous modes of production.
This has been prominent in the British and especially the American
empires.
Obviously, empires have been very varied. I distinguish several
types and subtypes of empire.
(1) Direct empire occurs where territories are conquered and then
politically incorporated into the realm of the core. Historic examples
were the Roman and Chinese empires in their maturity. In direct empire,
the sovereign of the core also becomes the sovereign over the periphery.
Once institutionalized, a fairly uniform set of political institutions
radiates outward from the center to the periphery. The logo SPQR (Senatus Populusque Romanus--the Senate and People of Rome) was
emblazoned on the standards of all the legions and on drainpipes
throughout the Roman territories. Roman law came to govern all.
Provincial economies also became fairly integrated, and finally the
empire completed a peaceful "disappearing act" when the
conquered peoples became ideologically incorporated, acquiring a
"Roman" or "Han Chinese" identity. Power had thus
moved successively through military to political to economic to
ideological forms. But modern empires have been unable to perform this
disappearing act. They have been racist, preventing conquered peoples
from identifying themselves as British or French or Japanese, while
nationalism presented a barrier to cultural assimilation from below.
Without large numbers of settlers, direct rule has been difficult to
accomplish and expensive to maintain, especially overseas. So modern
empires have turned more to:
(2) Indirect empire involves a claim of political sovereignty by
the imperial core, but the rulers of the periphery retain autonomy and
in practice negotiate the rules of the game with the imperial
authorities. As British Pro-Consul Lord Cromer said, "We do not
govern Egypt, we only govern the governors of Egypt" (Al-Sayyid
1968:68). Locals staff most of the army and administration, and dominate
provincial and local governments. This was the real practice on the
ground in most modern colonies and protectorates. The British would
retain some central power through a "Resident" or
"advisers" wielding substantial military power in the
background, so that they could repress any revolts, but rule required
collaboration between them and native elites.
These first two types involve colonies, unlike those that follow.
(3) Informal empire occurs where peripheral rulers retain
sovereignty but with autonomy constrained by intimidation from the
imperial core. This became the predominant modern form, because it
centered on capitalist coercion) Gallagher and Robinson (1953:2-3)
developed the concept, saying that in the nineteenth century British
policy was "trade with informal control if possible; trade with
rule when necessary." Robinson (1984:48) later summarized its
policies: "Coercion or diplomacy exerted for purposes of imposing
free trading conditions on a weaker society against its will; foreign
loans, diplomatic, and military support to weak states in return for
economic concessions or political alliance; direct intervention or
influence from the export-import sector in the domestic politics of weak
states on behalf of foreign trading and strategic interests; and lastly,
the case of foreign bankers and merchants annexing sectors of the
domestic economy of a weak state." The concept has been criticized
for imprecision about coercion, and so I distinguish subtypes involving
differing degrees of military or economic coercion.
(a) Gunboats. Here military force is flourished threateningly and
occasionally deployed in the form of short, sharp military
interventions. The gunboat cannot conquer or rule, but it can administer
pain by shelling ports and landing marines who may force a change of
policy on the local regime. The European Empires, the United States, and
Japan all jointly administered such pain for China in the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries through "unequal
treaties," supervised by controlling Chinese customs revenues and
budgets reinforced by intermittent military interventions where
necessary. The United States followed on in its own hemisphere at the
beginning of the twentieth century with "Dollar Diplomacy."
This is direct military intimidation, but without colonies.
(b) Proxies. In the 1930s, U.S. subcontracted coercion to sovereign
local despots backed by a local comprador class who supported U.S.
foreign policy in return for a promise of nonintervention plus limited
economic and military aid. They were dictators because the local
population had to be coerced to follow the policies desired by the
United States. Then in the post-World War II period, the United States
added more covert, deniable military operations of its own, including
through the newly formed CIA. These are both less direct forms of
military intimidation.
(c) Structural adjustment. Here military is replaced by economic
coercion. In the second half of the nineteenth century, Britain tired of
the cost of launching gunboats across the globe and turned toward more
purely economic coercion. Take Argentina. Its trade with Britain was
more crucial to it, since it contributed only about 10% of
Britain's trade, while Britain received over 50% of
Argentina's. Britain also provided the vast bulk of its investment
capital. Argentina tried to raise more capital in New York, Paris, and
Berlin, but failed. So Britain could say to the Argentine government,
"You adopt this policy, or we will strangle your economy."
Britain actually did apply devastating sanctions on Peru in 1876, which
helped persuade Argentina to become something of a client state in
matters of concern to Britain. Today comparable policies are called
"structural adjustment," purely economic interventions in
peripheral economies by international banks in which the United States
has the predominant power. But if such policies are applied routinely,
they may become institutionalized and begin to blur into my fourth type
of domination.
(4) Hegemony is used here in the Gramscian sense of routinized
leadership by the core over peripheral sovereign states, which is
regarded by them as "legitimate" or at least
"normal." (2) Because hegemony is built into peripheral
everyday social practices, if needs little coercion. Whereas indirect
and informal empire both depend upon local clients feeling constrained
to serve the imperial master, they see themselves as deferring
voluntarily to a hegemon, accepting its rules of the game as normal,
natural. Hegemony involves more than Joseph Nye's notion of
"soft power." He defines this purely in terms of ideological
power, as "the ability to get what you want through attraction
rather than coercion or payments. It arises from the attractiveness of a
country's culture, political ideals, and policies" (2004:x).
This seems naive. I doubt whether the United States could command other
states merely by offering attractive values and policies. Sweden or
Canada cannot. The United States differs because some of its practices
are built into the everyday lives of others, compelling them to act in
certain ways, as those of Sweden or Canada are not.
The British wielded for a time a degree of economic hegemony
(though hot a more general hegemony). The imposition of free trade,
sterling and "sound finances" on Argentina was initially
experienced as coercion, because it trimmed the powers of the Argentine
government and harmed locals in sectors needing tariff protection. Yet
since most Argentine political elites were not drawn from these sectors,
and they were desperate for foreign investment, they came to see British
terms as being in their own interests. Thus they eventually adhered
fairly unthinkingly to them (though there was discontent among their
compatriots) and they self-regulated along British lines (Cain and
Hopkins 2002:244-73). Today, the rule of the dollar results in
foreigners investing in the United States at extremely low rates of
interest, benefiting Americans disproportionately. Yet most foreigners
see this as simply what one does with one's export surpluses. The
Cold War period gives an example of political and ideological hegemony:
the Western part of "the free world" accepted U.S. leadership
as legitimate because it needed the United States to defend it against
communism. But hegemony will do a "disappearing act" if its
benefits allow peripheral states to become autonomous of the hegemon.
The British brought economic benefit to their white settler colonies and
to European states, and they became fully autonomous of and equal to
Britain. By 1900 sterling was being maintained as the reserve currency
of the world only with the help of the German and Russian central banks.
British hegemony transmuted into mutual interdependence, which means no
domination at all. There have also been American tendencies in this
direction.
My typology involves descending levels of military and ascending
levels of political, economic, and ideological power as we move from
direct to indirect empire, through the subtypes of informal empire, to
hegemony, and finally to mutual interdependence. Overall, this lightens
empire. Of course, since these are "ideal-types," no
real-world empire has fitted neatly within any single category. In fact,
they generally contain bits of all of them--as have American Empires. My
first task is to place the American Empire amid this typology.
I will also attempt some explanation. Doyle's (1986: esp 22-6)
overall model of empire makes much sense. He says explaining it must
include three main elements: forces from within the core, from within
the periphery, and from the overall international relations system. He
says we must go beyond "metrocentric" explanations based on
the core, like the Hobson/Lenin theory of imperialism, the
"gentlemanly capitalism" thesis of Cain and Hopkins (1986), or
an exceptionalism located in distinctive American traditions. Ditto with
"pericentric" explanations focused on the periphery, like
Gallagher and Robinson's (1953) explanation of informal empire in
terms of instability in the periphery luring imperial expansion forward.
Ditto with "structural realist" theories reducing empires to
the systemic properties of international relations. Doyle uses this
model to analyze the so-called New Imperialism at the end of the
nineteenth century. In a single paper I cannot do likewise across the
whole of the American Empire, though I will make a few suggestions as to
why empires are desired and why they grow.
At one level, the answer is easy. All motives for empires
presuppose a perceived preponderance of military power, enabling seizure
of desired things by force (Waltz 1979:26). Only if that exists will
there be imperial expansion; and when it does, the temptation to expand
may be irresistible. But perception may be inaccurate. Military power
has a delusional simplicity, luring would-be empires forward toward
hubris. Battlefield victory may be easier than sustained pacification or
rule. Disaster may follow if past expansion has brought great success
but the world has changed, or because the success was due to
unrecognized reasons which no longer apply. Military hubris is not
uncommon, as we shall see. But at the level of motives, confidence in
military success has been primary in determining expansion.
Historians of most empires then tend to identify two further main
motives, economic gain and strategic security--and then they vigorously
debate their relative strength. Economic motives are obvious: one may
gain wealth by seizing it from others by force. "Security," as
the word implies, often portrays itself as "defensive,"
against a potential threat to the core state or against the new threats
that expansion itself may bring. All expansion brings new potential
rivals and new frontier anxieties. The bigger and more rapidly acquired
the empire, the more diffuse the sense of threat. If rival empires are
expanding at the same time, then they may seek to
"defensively" preempt each other--as in the "Scramble for
Africa" at the end of the nineteenth century. Today the United
States is preempting the actions of peripheral actors. It is often
difficult to distinguish economic and strategic motives from each other,
because they are so often bound together in what is generally called
"realist" policies.
Historians also identify a fourth, usually subsidiary motive, an
ideological and ideal sense of Mission to the world. The Romans said
they brought order and justice, the Spanish the Word of God, the British
civilization and free trade, the French la mission civilisatrice. The
American Mission has been to bring freedom in the sense of democracy,
free enterprise, and free markets. Mission statements typically
strengthen after an expansion has begun, for they offer more elevated
motives than mere profit or security, they deflect attention from the
underlying militarism of the project, and they are useful in giving
moral uplift, to the imperialists themselves as well as to the public
back home. Of course, once elevated, a Mission may take on a life of its
own, and drive on further expansion. Some have seen U.S. expansion as
being especially driven by missionary "Wilsonian" values,
usually liberal, though today perceived as conservative (e.g., Ninkovich
1999, 2001; Mead 2001). Is this claim to American exceptionalism valid?
There are also ideological influences on motives that make them less
commendable or less rational. Racism dominated early modern empires,
though more recent enemies have been demonized as "communists"
or "terrorists." It is difficult to deal rationally with such
"demons," as Americans have shown. A sensed imperial
"dignity" also makes empires reluctant to "lose
face" or accept "humiliation" at setbacks inflicted by
lesser powers. The lives of imperial soldiers and civilians become
"sacred." Such sentiments may lead to a ferocity of
retaliation which is appalling and perhaps counter-productive. Nor is it
easy for empires to accept their own decline. The French Empire fought
to the bitter end in Algeria and Vietnam, though the British chose a
wiser course, pretending to become instead a "Commonwealth of
Nations." Which choice will Americans make?
Of course, we should not reify "the Empire" as a single,
rational actor. Imperial expansion seems often somewhat accidental,
while the expansionists on the ground may be settlers, missionaries,
trading companies or armed adventurers, all with some autonomy. They may
provoke native resistance, making the core state feel compelled to
intervene to protect them, sometimes against its better judgment.
Domestic pressure groups are also important. Yet since such actors are
beyond my scope here, I will engage in stylistic reification, crediting
action to "the United States" or "the
administration," though the actors and pressure groups involved
were always plural and varied.
PHASE 1: CONTINENTAL EMPIRE 1783 to 1883
In its first phase of imperialism (white) Americans conquered and
settled what is now known as the continental United States. This was the
most colonial phase of American imperialism. It was also the most
lethal, causing the deaths of about 97% of the 4-9 million natives
living there. Little was distinctively American about this. The early
settlers were mainly British. True, the pace of settlement and of
ethnocide/genocide quickened when the United States attained
independence from Britain and when California and the Southwest were
wrested from Spain and Mexico. But this quickening also happened in
Australia, and to a lesser extent in Canada, New Zealand, and South
Africa, when the white settlers achieved self-government. Settlers were
usually more ferocious in their imperialism than were colonial or church
authorities. The more the de facto self-government, the greater the
killing. I have documented this in The Darkside of Democracy: Explaining
Ethnic Cleansing (2005, chap. 4). This phase was normal settler
colonialism, whose main motive was economic, to seize the land and its
resources (usually without native laborers). If it involved more
settlers and more deaths than elsewhere, this was merely due to its
being in the most fertile of the temperate zones where Europeans could
comfortably settle. There was no liberalism and little uniqueness in
this phase.
More distinctive (though to the Americas as a whole) was to replace
native labor with slaves imported from Africa. The Portuguese reinvented
modern slavery, and the British became the main carriers, but after
slavery was abolished in the British Empire in 1833, the United States
became the main home of slavery (apart from Africa itself). Thus this
first phase of U.S. imperialism also generated a racial hierarchy:
"civilized" whites on top, above "decadent" Latinos
below, then "primitive," unfree African Americans, with the
natives seen as incapable of "improvement" on the margins of
society altogether. This had consequences for phase 2 of U.S.
imperialism, where the same racial groups were involved in the
hemisphere.
PHASE 2: HEMISPHERIC EMPIRE 1898 to 1941
During this period U.S. imperialism was largely confined to Central
America and the Caribbean, plus a few islands in the Pacific. I focus
here on the American "backyard" plus the Philippines. This
imperialism built up slowly. Though the Monroe Doctrine of 1823 made an
early claim for hemispheric dominance, it could only become a reality
when Britain and its navy turned away to focus on expansion in Asia and
Africa, when the United States filled up its own continent, when the
second industrial revolution made the United States a major economic
power, and when the United States acquired a substantial navy. All this
was well under way by the 1890s, meaning that now the United States
could seek profit and security by military power exerted in its
neighborhood--and of course imperial expansion was already an American
tradition.
Nonetheless the desirability of overseas expansion remained
bitterly contested, right up until the outbreak of war with Spain in
1898. This war involved very mixed motives. There was a strategic
opportunity to finally remove the Spanish Empire from the hemisphere,
and imperialists were encouraged by the global surge in colonialism new
occurring. Defensively, the United States sought te prevent other
empires from moving into the colonies of declining Spain. The depression
and class conflict of the 1890s within the United States encouraged
distinctively capitalist imperialism. It was believed that expanding
overseas markets could remedy sagging domestic demand (though expansion
need net be by military force), while "social imperialists"
argued that expansion abroad could deflect domestic class and ethnic
conflicts into a common patriotism. (3) But though American business
interests in the Spanish colonies were expanding, most probusiness
Senators and Congressmen still favored securing business stability by
propping up the Spanish Empire. The debate on how te expand had net been
settled.
A trigger was needed te produce a resolution, and this was supplied
by a peripheral country, Cuba. A bloody insurrection began there in
1895. Spain responded with repression including the invention of the
concentration camp. In the United States this provoked an unusual degree
of public mobilization around rival Mission statements. Imperialists
like Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge urged the United States te
kick Spain out of the hemisphere and take on Britain's imperial
civilizing mission. On the same side in the debate was a very different
"humanitarian interventionist" camp, advocates of "Cuba
Libre," urging that American constitutional traditions involved
assisting neighbors find freedom too. They were bolstered by a more
general popular outrage at the devastation Spanish repression was
wreaking on the Cubans--which was being exaggerated by the new
"yellow press." These very different arguments for war were
countered by their opposites--military intervention abroad was a
betrayal either of the white race or of American constitutional
liberties. The motley interventionists only finally overcame the motley
isolationists when the U.S. battleship Maine was sunk in Havana harbor
(popularly attributed te the Spanish, but probably an accident).
Responding te pressure, Congress then pressured President McKinley te
declare war in April 1898. He feared losing the next election if he did
net de this, he probably favored intervention anyway for economic and
strategic reasons, the military assured him of victory, and indigenous
allies seemed abundant in Cuba and in the Philippines too. The war was
overdetermined, from forces in the core and the periphery (Offner
1992:ix and 225, says it was finally inevitable). But few had much idea
of what it would result in.
The war, unexpectedly for most Americans, brought the United States
its first overseas colonies--Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines,
plus a clutch of small Pacific islands. But they were only
"virtual" colonies, because the word "colony" was
net acceptable. The Supreme Court declared them to be
"nonincorporated territories." The Court had earlier
established that constitutional freedoms must follow the flag, yet few
Americans wanted to absorb so many peoples of "lower races,"
and so these territories could not fly the Stars and Stripes. The
American fear of race pollution seems greater than that of other
contemporary imperialists. The British and French were used to ruling
through native elites, and they freely mixed with them in the public
sphere (though not in the private sphere, where racism was their
Achilles' heel). McKinley said he did not want to admit into
"a share in this government of a motley million and a half of
Spaniards, Cubans, and Negroes, to whom our religion, manners, political
traditions and habits, and modes of thought are, to tell the honest
truth, about as familiar as they are to the King of Dahomey."
Ironically, racism did not aid; it hindered U.S. colonialism. The
Democratic Party platform of 1900 expressed perfectly the
"bipolar" anti-imperialism: "the Filipinos cannot be
citizens without endangering our civilization; they cannot be subjects
without emperiling our form of government" (Schoultz 1998:142).
Racism and constitutionalism both prevented full colonialism. Mission
statements had mattered in this imperial surge, but in a contradictory
way.
American ambivalence about colonialism was enhanced by subsequent
events in Cuba and the Philippines. The Americans showed the arrogance
of inexperienced conquerors, generating hubris. Their decision to form
their own government without even consulting the local rebels provoked
the latter to move from being allies to rebels. A 3-year colonial war killed anywhere between 200,000 and 400,000 Filipinos, many in
concentration camps adapted from the Spanish. Over 4,000 American
soldiers died. Had McKinley known all this in advance, he might not have
claimed the islands. It generated the first serious anti-imperialist
movement in the United States, the Anti-Imperial League, with Mark Twain
its most famous spokesman. But the best case was made by a Professor of
Sociology at Yale University, William Graham Sumner. He declared in the
striking title of a famous essay that the concentration camps of the
Philippines and Cuba represented "The Conquest of the United States
by Spain" (Sumner 1899). He meant that in acquiring colonies the
United States had been conquered by Spanish imperialist values.
So the Americans learned what British and French imperialists had
earlier learned. Repression would work when harnessed to a deal struck
with local elites--indirect empire. Filipino elites then helped quell
the revolt, and afterwards the United States could lighten its rule. It
researched British imperial practices in Asia, especially in Malaya and
Fiji--but with a difference. The "colonies" were only
conceived of as temporary, until the "childlike" natives could
be brought to "maturity." It was the duty of the white race to
"uplift the darker races," who were like women or children,
"emotional, irrational, irresponsible, unbusinesslike, unstable,
childlike," "lacking manliness, effeminate." Latinos and
Filipinos came below whites but above Negroes in the race hierarchy, and
"savages" lived in remoter islands. All had been
"debased" by Spanish rule, but with tutelage all except
savages (and Muslims) might govern themselves. Cubans and Filipinos were
"little brown brothers" in need of guidance and protection
(Hunt 1987: chap. 3; Rosenberg 1999:31-5; Smith 2000:48-9; Go 2005).
Popular cartoons showed a very large Columbia or Uncle Sam or a GI
giving a helping hand or showing a light or a path to small, childlike
Filipinos or Latinos or Chinamen. Some depicted parental chastisement,
like forcible bathing of a bawling black Cuban by General Wood, or
Columbia cutting off a Chinaman's pigtail (symbol of a reactionary
society) with scissors whose blades were labeled "twentieth century
progress." Yet children and little brothers eventually become
adults. This was a patriarchal and racial yet optimistic and progressive
Mission. Races were not permanently inferior. The 1904 St. Louis World
Fair imitated the British Empire's Crystal Palace Exhibition of
1851 in including a live colonial exhibit of villages complete with
natives, flora, and fauna. The Philippine Exhibit included 1,000
"savages" and "non-Christian tribes," arranged by
degree of civilization. The savage Igorots, head-hunters, dog-eaters,
nearly naked, were the biggest crowd-pullers. The most civilized were
U.S.-trained Filipino soldiers, demonstrating the American ability to
civilize.
Though American notions were borrowed from the British claim to a
"Trusteeship" over conquered peoples, the British (some
Liberals excepted) saw it lasting indefinitely, at least until after
World War I. Yet by 1912 native Filipinos controlled their government
except for defense and education. The United States had rapidly moved
from direct to indirect rule to substantial self-government, and by the
mid-1930s independence was being planned. This was more advanced than in
any other colony of the time. From about 1900 the United States only
envisaged temporary colonies, acquired again in 1945 and in 2001 to
2003. We must consider the original causes of this enduring American
aversion to longer-term colonies.
Many have emphasized the contradictory American values of racism
and constitutionalism. Though these "metrocentric" factors did
play a role, they could be resolved by the constitutional fictions
devised by the Supreme Court, and we must also explain why the Americans
first sought to impose virtual colonial rule, but then abandoned it.
More decisive were the relations between domestic power resources, the
nature of the periphery and the imperial system as a whole (Go 2005,
also makes some of these points).
(1) The United States sent out virtually no settlers. In Africa at
this time the British Empire was being prodded, often reluctantly, into
acquiring new colonies by the provocative actions of British settlers
and adventurers on the ground. But settlers were still entering, not
leaving, the United States. The exception proving the rule was Hawaii
where an incoming population of American planters ensured that Hawaii
did become an American colony, controlled by them. After World War II,
of course, it became assimilated as a State of the Union. But in general
there was no big settler constituency in the United States itself, and
no settlers abroad provoking colonialism, unlike all the other imperial
Powers, including Japan.
(2) At this moment in world-historical time the Europeans were
midway through the "Scramble for Africa," caused by
interimperial rivalry in the core plus their decisive military
superiority over the natives given by the Maxim gun, steamships, and
quinine. For a time, Germany supported French activity in Africa against
Britain. But when the British heard that French expeditions were setting
out for the headwaters of the Nile, they hastily sent one out too. There
was a difficult moment when their rival expeditions actually reached
Fashoda, on the Nile, at the same time, but since the British had a
gunboat and the French did not, the French backed off, and settled for
territories to the west. Then when Bismarck changed tack and suddenly
went for colonies, landing forces in present-day Tanzania, the British
"defensively" grabbed neighboring Uganda and Kenya to protect
their lines of communication. So Africa was colonized substantially for
"defensive" strategic reasons, to prevent one's rivals
from grabbing it. Though Americans like Roosevelt and Lodge were
influenced by this more global "civilizing Mission," of which
1898 was obviously a part, the Americas were different. No one else was
scrambling for it--though Germany or Japan might be tempted into the
Philippines (and so the British encouraged the United States to stay
there). The maximum threat in the American hemisphere was a foreign
gunboat or two, and the United States could scare them away without
colonies and exercise control by cheaper informal means-which, as
Gallagher and Robinson observed, the British also preferred.
(3) This moment came after three centuries of European expansion.
Britain and France already had colonizing institutions in
place--colonial civil service, settlers, trading companies with monopoly
licenses, colonial armies, and navies. These carried on doing what they
had become proficient at. Late-coming Germany and Japan had militarism
and state-assisted companies--and Japan also sent out settlers. The
late-coming United States did not have such institutions, except for a
navy that was more suited to informal empire than colonies. The United
States improvised for Cuba and the Philippines, but there was always a
shortage of Americans willing to go there. Compared with the other
empires the United States lacked colonial institutions, expertise, and
personnel.
(4) This moment saw the beginning of the age of nationalism, when
educated propertied elites on the periphery were beginning to articulate
anti-imperial ideologies making it more difficult to establish colonies,
except in backward areas. European empires had conquered societies
comparable to the Philippines or Cuba rather earlier, before modern
nationalist movements had arisen, and all the empires were now
conquering more backward regions where nationalism had not yet appeared.
There were three exceptions. Also in 1898 an Italian army was defeated
at the battle of Adowa by an Ethiopian monarch mobilizing a Christian
nationalism nurtured by long struggles against Muslim neighbors. From
1899 to 1902 the British in South Africa were shocked by a rebellion of
the Boers, settlers of Dutch stock and with their own
"national" culture. Third, over exactly the same years came
the rebellions against the United States, by rebels whose nationalism
had already just developed in their struggles against the Spanish
Empire. Italy was kicked out of Ethiopia. But, like the British in South
Africa, the Americans yielded more self-government to the locals. The
Americans did it by adopting the imperial strategy of persuading these
privileged groups to assist them to rule over the masses below. This was
a "cacique democracy," as Anderson (1988) says, borrowed (like
the term itself) from metropolitan Spain of this time, with elections
controlled by the patron-client networks of the major landowning
families, the caciques, though in the Philippines called
illustrados--indicating their education and sophistication. They were
willing to share power with the United States if this would help
preserve their property rights. But the United States failed to achieve
anything comparable elsewhere and so sought less colonial modes of
control.
(5) This moment saw the rise of corporate capitalism, where large
agro-business and banking trusts were seeking to buy property and
extract monopoly concessions abroad. The provinces and then the
successor states of the Spanish Empire, unlike many parts of the world,
already had Western-style states guaranteeing established property
rights and issuing enforceable monopoly licenses. Many regimes were
corrupt and conflict-ridden, but coercively reforming rather than
destroying them was the simpler tactic for foreign corporations. The way
to greater profit in the hemisphere was not to colonize but to coerce
existing states with gunboats. That is what the British were already
doing in the hemisphere and that form of imperialism was now taken over
by the Americans.
Thus the United States had the military power to intervene abroad,
but its resources (including the absence of settlers), the peripheral
places and the imperial system of the time favored gunboat informal
empire more than colonies. Indeed, between 1899 and 1930 the United
States launched 31 punitive military interventions, one a year.
Twenty-eight of them were in Central America and the Caribbean. U.S.
forces overthrew governments or suppressed rebels to obtain friendly
client regimes. The United States would then take over the
countries' customs houses and control their state budgets to ensure
"sound finances." The marines stayed for anything between 3
months and 25 years (in Nicaragua) without the United States claiming
sovereignty--with Panama as a half-exception because of the unique
economic-strategic importance of the canal. The interventions would also
be followed by an expansion in the country of U.S. agro-business trusts,
intensifying capitalist production relations, as Ayala (1999) for
example shows happened in the Caribbean sugar industry. Interventions
only began to diminish in frequency in the 1920s. The supposed liberal
Woodrow Wilson sent the marines in more than the self-proclaimed
imperialist Theodore Roosevelt (just like Gladstone and Disraeli!). Nor
was Taft correct in claiming that his own version of this "Dollar
Diplomacy" was more peaceful than Roosevelt's Imperialism.
From 1900 until the mid-1930s American Mission statements were
subordinate to profit taking (Brands 1999; Rosenberg 1999). U.S.
administrations did intermittently claim that their interventions were
to restore "democracy," by which they meant rule by propertied
white elites under male property franchises, and some rule of law. But
whenever liberal or populist governments or movements appeared to
threaten U.S. business interests in these countries, or if they appeared
to be encouraging European investment or trade, the United States
overthrew them with short, sharp intervention (Leonard 1991:79-81;
Schoonover 1991:173; Whitney 2001:138-9). Profit and strategic security
were the dominant motives. The United States used all necessary military
force so that American corporations could control the most profitable
export and the financial sectors. Rather unusually, virtual colonies
Puerto Rico and the Philippines did rather better economically than
those under gunboat empire, at least during the periods when they
enjoyed free trade with the United States. But in general the empire was
there to benefit Americans, not the natives. The American public showed
relatively little interest in such informal imperialism. Not until after
World War I did anti-imperialism revive. Until then, this was
essentially private diplomacy, costing relatively little, since for
enforcement the United States also relied on the local propertied
classes and their clients, the comprador class of the hemisphere. Class
undercut nation and defused nationalism, which during the twentieth
century was steadily becoming imperialism's greatest enemy.
But gunboat empire worked progressively less well. The marines went
in and usually soon left, leaving Wall Street "money doctors"
in charge of the country's finances. But the supposedly
"client" regimes often subverted their prescriptions, whether
out of nationalism or corruption. Opposition and even guerilla warfare
against U.S. forces became more persistent as anti-imperialism spread
(LaFeber 1984:16-8, 302, 361; Leonard 1991:60-8). There were no dramatic
moments of hubris, but the United States was growing weary. In the 1920s
even U.S. bankers decided that gunboat diplomacy was not yielding
results. In 1928 Herbert Hoover and his defeated Democrat challenger Al
Smith both campaigned on a softer foreign policy, out of pragmatism
rather than liberalism.
The United States had already found a new tactic, training
indigenous paramilitaries to suppress opposition. From the
paramilitaries' ranks came client dictators who would keep order
themselves, with only indirect American military and economic
assistance. The downside of this was that the United States had to
abandon the last shreds of any democratizing mission. "He may be a
son-of-a-bitch but he's our son-of-a-bitch" may be apocryphal,
though it is conventionally attributed to Cordell Hull, FDR's
Secretary of State, describing Rafael Trujillo, dictator of the
Dominican Republic. But it was also apposite for other repressive U.S.
allies of the period--Anastasio
Somoza Garcia in Nicaragua, Juan Vicente Gomez followed by Marcos
Perez Jimenez in Venezuela, Fulgencio Batista in Cuba, and Francois
("Papa Doc") Duvalier in Haiti. There have been many more
sons-of-bitches (and a few bitches) since then. A long period of proxy
informal imperialism began.
The United States had been burned by its first colonies and then by
gunboat diplomacy. Since there were no longer serious imperial rivals in
the hemisphere, the United States did not need to preempt other empires.
By the late 1930s there was a concern to keep Nazi Germany out of the
hemisphere. But the client dictators, despite the lure of fascism, knew
on which side their bread was buttered. During World War II only
Argentina failed to support the United States. Indirect coercion through
proxies did not unduly strain finances or manpower or alarm the public.
American corporations made profits, and so did the local comprador
class. The United States got its Panama Canal at low cost. Means
appeared to be roughly calculated in relation to goals, with only one
brief period from 1898 when ideological notions of imperial Mission had
disturbed them.
Roosevelt named this his "Good Neighbor Policy," but it
was neither liberal nor "Wilsonian," only a change of means.
The United States conceded advantages that had become obsolete while
retaining those necessary to its economic and strategic interests (Wood
1961; Gellman 1979, 1995; Roorda 1998:22-30). Yet the policy did give
the dictators breathing space to pursue their own interests, and some of
them engaged in national development projects, which had been earlier
discouraged by Dollar Diplomacy (they later developed into ISI programs). Moreover, during the New Deal the United States seemed to be
developing a more benign form of capitalism, encouraging Latin Americans to believe the United States might soon encourage economic reform in the
hemisphere. Unfortunately, World War II interrupted such a prospect, and
then the moment was gone.
This proxy or comprador class version of informal empire began long
before the Cold War, and its origins predated the Bolshevik Revolution.
American policy toward the hemisphere remained fairly constant over a
hundred years. The appearance and dominance of the Soviet Union made
surprisingly little difference. There were two reasons. First, U.S.
policy always supported American businesses holding monopoly licenses to
make profits in local enclave economies and the financial sector. It
ruthlessly suppressed attempts by leftists, workers, and peasants to
introduce social reforms, and also attempts by Latin American Liberals
at more balanced national economic development. Second, the policy
remained irrational, though the sources of irrationality shifted. It was
irrational because U.S. business interests as a whole would have been
better served through national development projects with reformist
tinges. Costa Rica was the local proof of that, while the more
independence a Latin American country had from the United States, the
more economic growth it achieved. This had also been the case in the
British Empire: the lighter the British rule, the better off were the
natives, and the more they contributed to the imperial economy (with
India as the exception to the latter). But irrationality was contributed
by a shifting mixture of racism and fear of revolution. Though FDR
likened "the brown people" to "minor children.., who need
trustees" and Truman had derogatory racial terms for most of the
world's peoples, racism declined through the period (it virtually
disappeared in the late 1950s). But increasing fear of communism
compensated. The fear was less that leftists could achieve revolution,
more that they could not rule stably. Chaos was the fear--undesirable
not only for American business but also for the population of the region
itself (Hunt 1987, chaps. 3 and 4). Leftists were feared because they
were chaos, liberals because they would open the floodgates to chaos.
The tragic irrationality of U.S. policy was that it made chaos more
likely, since it deepened inequality, corruption, dictatorship--and so
conflict. This was not a period of benevolent imperialism, even though
its techniques had lightened from virtual colonies and then through the
first two types of informal empire, and they were also lighter than the
average rule in other empires of the time, which had inherited more
colonialism from the past. But the reasons for this lay in relative
efficiency of means rather than in distinctive ends.
PHASE 3: GLOBAL EMPIRE, 1945 to 2005
The true uniqueness of American Empire was revealed during the two
stages, from 1945 and from 1991, when it became the only global empire
ever. 1945 came after two world wars which the United States had not
started but from which it was the main beneficiary. Thus expansion had a
substantially unintended character--though not entirely so. The
administrations of Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt also saw the
wars' ends as an opportunity to downsize all other empires.
Wilson's liberal internationalism--his 14 points, his sponsorship
of the League of Nations--was no naive idealism but an attempt to
undermine the colonial Powers. It mostly failed. Then in World War II
Roosevelt linked giving wartime aid to Britain to gaining economic
controls over its Empire. From 1945, finding themselves in military
occupation of much of the world, and with half the world's GDP, the
Roosevelt and Truman administrations consciously strove to consolidate
this into dominion across the "free world." Again, the
underlying motive of empire was revealed: the (accurate) perception of
U.S. military, and also economic, dominance. It was to be an empire of
free trade, plus democracy (where possible), backed by collective
security institutions dominated by the United States, emanating outwards
from a global network of military bases, though focused especially on
Europe and East Asia (Hearden 2002). In the Cold War period it is almost
impossible to disentangle the further motives of profit and strategic
security. They were important and entwined, for this was the capitalist
versus the communist empire. But they were now joined by an important
Mission statement.
But what kind of empire was this? Americans said they were
anti-imperial, which was true if we realize that by this they meant
anticolonial. The United States again only had strictly temporary
colonies. Occupation was quickly accepted as legitimate by most Germans
and Japanese--making them unique colonies in the history of imperialism.
Indeed, most governments were pleased to be in the American "free
world." They welcomed U.S. bases as part of their own defenses,
they accepted the rule of the dollar, they welcomed U.S. investment and
multinational corporations, they watched Hollywood movies, and a few
even played baseball. So was this American hegemony, rather than empire:
leadership accepted as legitimate or normal, built into the practices of
everyday life? Did it lack the military coercion present even in
informal empire? To answer, we must distinguish between different
macroregions of the world and also take account of two later imperial
intensifications, one occurring from 1970, the other from 1990. I will
briefly deal with four macroregions.
(1) The West consisted of allies being defended by the United
States against Soviet communism. It had taken the United States a year
or two to go wholeheartedly for this alliance. Some U.S. policy makers
had favored destroying German power with punitive measures; others
wanted to keep the Europeans divided. But this gave way to recognizing
the interdependence of the American and European economies and
militaries, followed by U.S. encouragement of plans for European
cooperation. A strong European economy and a politically united Europe
was considered good for America, to better contain the Soviets and tie
Germany peacefully into Europe. The United States required only that
Europe not seek to become an independent Third Force, and that European
rearmament fit into "the larger Atlantic framework," the code
for American domination. Conversely, the Europeans understood that they
paid for their defense by subsidizing the dollar.
In the Bretton Woods negotiations the British were overruled, while
the others were allowed almost no contribution. They were all aware of
the coercive element in the new international regime. But overall they
believed that American hegemony was the necessary price for economic
growth and military protection. Even more so did Australians and New
Zealanders, who had been protected from the Japanese only by the United
States. Lundestad (1998) calls this "Empire by Invitation" a
nice contradiction in terms. In my terms this macroregion was hegemony,
not empire.
But we should not exaggerate the power of the United States over
its allies (as do Maier 1987a, 1987b, and Hogan 1987). Even in the
immediate aftermath of war, the United States had to be sensitive to
European views of their own reconstruction. Along with its British
junior partner, the United States sought to repress fascists and
especially communists. But parties and unions calling themselves
socialists--that is, social democrats--were too powerful to suppress.
Though the United States preferred them to focus on productivity not
redistribution, economic growth allowed both. The center-right--mainly
Christian Democrats--needed to be cultivated against fascists, the
center-left against communists. The United States accepted plans for
German codetermination--unions playing a role in the management of
German corporations. It accepted greater government intervention in the
economy through nationalizations of industry, Keynesian planning to
maintain full employment, growth and stability, and the application of
these principles to pan-European projects. This was the great
Christian--Socialist compromise that had eluded the continent in the
first half of the century, jointly accepting that Europe required a more
"social" blend of capitalism and democracy than was by now
favored within the United States itself. Their unity meant the United
States had to accept what would have been anathema to Congress if
suggested as a recipe for the American economy.
In the United States the New Deal had collapsed as wartime and
postwar economic growth seemed to bring general prosperity through
apparently market forces. Further reforms were considered unnecessary by
most political elites. Labor union growth peaked in 1945. American
communists and leftists were purged as the Cold War set in, by the union
leaders themselves as well as by the resurgent political right.
Liberalism later became centered more on the politics of identity than
of class. Social democracy became anathema to the United States at home,
and remained so in its policies toward Latin America and most other
poorer countries of the world. American economic imperialism again
became fairly reactionary--more so than British or French imperialism
was during its last decades. Only in the West in this period was a
social, nota purely liberal, conception of citizenship accepted by the
United States.
Most planners in Europe (and some Americans too) justified social
democracy as a way of avoiding the social and political polarization in
Europe which had followed the post-World War I settlement. Some of the
Americans were New Dealers who would have ideally wished such plans on
the United States too. More pragmatically, some perceived by 1947 that
more piecemeal programs had not worked. There was also a
"civilizational" solidarity. Because Europeans were as
civilized as Americans and were from the same racial "stock,"
they could be relied on to produce sound and responsible government, and
they seemed united in their views as to what would work locally. These
were not irresponsible natives (Katzenstein 2005:57-8). But Congress
only finally supported the Marshall Plan because of its perception of a
Soviet threat, made real by the Soviet coup in Czechoslovakia (Bonds
2002).The United States also needed Europe. The Marshall Plan only
assisted a European economic growth which was already underway, but if
provided a flexible stabilizing mechanism, fostering national solutions
based on bargaining between local political and economic forces that
provided capitalism with a more social and human face, redefining the
historic competition between capitalism and socialism (Cronin 2001). The
uses to which national government put the funds were their own. In fact
the French used them to finance their colonial wars! But the result was
cumulatively phenomenal economic growth throughout western Europe over
the next two decades, coupled with political stability and increasing
social equality and civility (Aldcroft 2001:128-62). The United States
had helped create a serious economic rival, but seemed not to mind. It
had even supported the creation of pan-European institutions, collective
organization on the periphery (normally banned by imperialists) for
purposes of strategic defense and economic growth. This was hegemony,
nothing more. The Europeans ruled themselves, and in some respects
hegemony was giving way to mutual interdependence. A Mission Statement
also bound the West together. The struggle against communism emerged
almost seamlessly from the struggle against fascism, both seen as the
defense of freedom and democracy. This Mission was important, popular
and broadly true (Brands 1999). It had a slightly different meaning in
the United States and Europe. Whereas the United States continued
rhetorically to justify its realm in terms of freedom as the combination
of democracy, free enterprise, and free markets, the Europeans saw it in
more social terms. Both versions remained fairly defensive. The Mission
was primarily to defend democracy at home, not extend it
abroad--containment of communism more than a Mission to the world. The
latter only became resurgent in the last days of the Cold War.
(2) East and Southeast Asia. Here the main issue was quite
different--decolonization, which across the world was generating a rival
form of political and ideological hegemony, of nation-states and
nationalism. Nationalist movements finished off the colonial empires and
weakened the chances for foreign rule based on ethnic and religious
divide-and-rule. Rule through comprador classes was not easy in this
region, for the war had undermined traditional ruling classes
(especially landlords) who had tended to ally with the defeated European
and Japanese empires. This region saw the greatest conflicts during the
early Cold War period, entwining domestic class struggles with imperial
rivalry. The United States lost civil wars in China and Vietnam, fought
a draw in Korea, but kept communism at bay elsewhere with the help of
right-wing authoritarian nationalists. The United States ran temporary
(indirect) colonies in Korea and Vietnam. In Korea (unlike Vietnam) it
favored progressive land reform, but though it talked about democracy it
did not practice it. Needing the support of Britain and France, the
United States had also stopped denouncing their empires. Any Mission was
here subordinated to strategic defense, especially of the Japanese
economy (McMahon 1999).
In time, American-aided capitalist development plus slow political
reforms achieved with little help from the United States contrasted with
more stagnant authoritarianism in the communist zone. East Asian
development changed the "West" into the "North" and
America became in rime hegemonic here too. As in Europe, the
"development states" of the region became autonomous. Again,
the unity of local elites meant that the United States had to tolerate
the distinctive social planning styles of the East Asian countries. In
this macroregion, American imperialism had gone through a transition
from virtual colonialism to hegemony, which was then partially
disappearing into mutuality and autonomy. However, the 1990s were to
bring more attempted imperialism.
(3) The American Hemisphere. Here American informal empire remained
largely unchanged, though it was now creeping farther southward. This
region was seen as being of relatively low strategic and economic value,
receiving less economic or military attention from the United States
than the other regions I discuss. The bigger states of the hemisphere
pursued their own development path of ISI, while the United States was
generally content to influence the smaller states of its own backyard
through comprador regimes sharing the U.S. preference for conservative
forms of capitalism. However, these regimes were confronted by populist
forces wanting social reform. If these reached power, they tried to
drive hard bargains with American corporations and financial interests.
Alternatively, where local class conflict intensified, the United States
perceived a danger of escalation to "chaos" and then perhaps
to "communism." Both outcomes were believed to threaten U.S.
interests. Only in one country was there a real Soviet strategic threat.
Fidel Castro was stupid to believe that an alliance with the Soviets 80
miles from the United States would buy him anything except political
isolation and economic strangulation. The Soviet Union was initially
astonished at its good luck, in contrast to its almost complete lack of
influence elsewhere in the hemisphere (Miller 1989). There were some
communist, though not Soviet, influences on Allende in Chile in 1973 and
even on Arbenz in Guatemala in 1954. But the overthrow of Bosch in the
Dominican Republic, Goulart in Brazil, Jagan in Guyana, and many others
revealed varying degrees of paranoia about chaos or fear of social
democrats, not reasoned fear of communists. Intervention was now spread
right through the hemisphere, not merely in the backyard, and in states
big and small. There were brief indications of a more progressive
policy--in the State Department (though not the Pentagon) in 1946, in
the beginnings of Kennedy's Alliance for Progress, and in
Carter's early years. None of these lasted long, and the Cold War
period ended with the United States sponsoring the terrible Contra
proxies in Nicaragua, causing mayhem, undermining the country's
economy, and destabilizing its neighbors.
During this 45-year period, the United States launched a few open
military interventions but far more covert or proxy ones. So this third
macroregion continued to contrast with the first two. It saw an informal
Empire, mixing gunboats with proxies, but without colonies. It was
sometimes justified as the spread of democracy, because communism
everywhere was seen as democracy's enemy. But this Mission
statement was undercut by the U.S. preference for authoritarian allies.
In the 1980s the United States adapted to the spread of democracy across
the hemisphere, conducting a policy of "democracy by applause"
from the sidelines, as Latin Americans made their own democratic gains
(Carrothers 1991). Hardly a Mission, but at least a decline in paranoia.
And through the period this was usually milder imperialism than the
Soviet version in its zone of control.
(4) The Middle East. This was the most difficult macroregion for
the United States. It had become of major strategic and economic
significance, close to the Soviet bloc and with most of the world's
oil. It was swept first by leftist nationalism and then by rightist Islamism, both equally hostile to imperialism (American and Soviet), and
the United States failed to establish allies who were loyal, useful, and
enduring. After overthrowing Mossadeq in Iran in 1952, the United States
tried the Shah of Iran, who was loyal but endured only until 1979. Nor
was Iran especially useful, because it was neither an Arab nor a Sunni
country and so had little influence over other oil countries. Israel has
been loyal and enduring but not useful, for its actions only enrage Arabs and oil producers. The United States was stuck with propping up
the Gulf sheikdoms and Saudi Arabia, useful in guaranteeing oil supplies
but unwilling to openly assist the United States. Obviously, they had
nothing to do with freedom or democracy. This region saw a form of
informal gunboat empire. Israel and the Sheikhs were sovereign states
being propped up by massive American military might, but acting rather
autonomously. The oil kept flowing, but U.S. administrations were uneasy
about how long its more reactionary oil allies could survive. This was
unfinished imperial business.
Overall, the U.S. role in the postwar world was very varied. East
Asia converged on Europe to enlarge the zone of American hegemony, but
elsewhere informal empire predominated, embodying varying degrees of
coercion. Thus it is possible to depict a very benign hegemon, on the
basis of the U.S. role in the West and (later) East Asia. It is equally
possible to depict a more malign empire based on American policy in
Latin America and the Middle East. As with the British Empire, few
generalizations will apply across all of it. Yet the American Empire was
almost everywhere a much lighter form of rule than what was by the 1970s
the only rival, the Soviet Empire. The United States remained, as it had
been since about 1902, the lightest empire.
But in the 1970s the United States seemed to be in relative
decline. Instead of having half the world's GDP, as in 1950, this
had gone down to about a quarter. Europe and Japan were beginning to
challenge the United States, it was widely said. The beginnings of
economic crisis around 1970 also persuaded some, including world-systems
theorists, that American hegemony was ending, presaging more turbulent
Hobbesian times with an uncertain outcome (e.g., Chase-Dunn and Podobnik
1995). Yet the next three decades actually intensified American
imperialism. The economic crisis of the 1970s resulted in an
intensification of economic imperialism, while the collapse of the
Soviet Union heightened American military power and the temptation to
engage in more military imperialism. Yet these two intensifications were
somewhat disconnected from each other, not part of a coordinated
offensive.
THE NEW ECONOMIC IMPERIALISM, 1970
The world had benefited from American hegemonic regulation of the
postwar economy. Its economy boomed in the 1950s and 1960s, boosted
first by the growth of the United States, then Europe, then Japan. This
was a lower tariff regime than during the interwar period and so it
boosted trade. All continents shared to some extent in growth. Though
the Bretton Woods system had given the U.S. privileges, it was
administered by agreements between states, giving them leeway to
implement their own development plans and repress international flows of
capital. But then came crisis. A slowdown at the end of the 1960s took
the form of "stagflation" which Keynesian counter-cyclical
policies seemed only to worsen. The prices of export commodities on
which poorer countries depended were falling, creating balance of
payments difficulties which their ISI programs could not resolve. The
sharp hike in oil prices in 1973 worsened their problems.
The Bretton Woods financial system collapsed between 1968 and 1971.
The slowdown, plus U.S. deficits compounded by spending in Vietnam, and
increasing financial volatility all meant that financial repression was
faltering. This forced a shiff from pegged to floating exchange rates,
with the dollar being taken off the gold standard. The United States was
importing and spending abroad much more than it was exporting, resulting
in big American deficits. Because the dollar was at first still on the
gold standard, this resulted at the end of the 1960s in a run on its
gold. The French and German central banks led the rush to cash in their
surplus dollars for gold. Fort Knox was being emptied. This seemed at
the time to be a threat to American power. The United States might
conceivably have gone the way of Britain in the 1940s: after the gold
disappeared, the United States might have been forced to sell off its
investments abroad to pay for its military activity abroad. Foreigners
might have also used their surplus dollars to buy up American
industries, as Americans had done in Britain. But after some
arm-twisting by U.S. diplomats, the major central banks agreed as a
stopgap measure to stop converting their dollars into gold, thereby
sacrificing their immediate economic interest to the common good
produced by American global responsibilities. At this point neither they
nor the U.S. administration realized how costly this would become. This
informal mutual restraint held the line until August 1971 when President
Nixon took the dollar off the gold standard--to save his war, his
expansionary economic policies and his reelection chances (Kunz
1997:192-222).
The dollar remained the reserve currency. The only use for surplus
U.S. dollars held abroad was now to invest them in the United States.
Most were held by central banks, which rarely undertake risky ventures
like buying up foreign corporations (Congress could also make foreign
buyouts difficult). So they bought U.S. Treasury notes in hulk, which
lowered their interest rate. U.S. adventures abroad could now be
financed by foreigners, despite American current account deficits, and
at a very low interest rate. The alternative, the foreigners felt, was
worse: disruption of the world's monetary system, weakening U.S.
resolve to defend them, and a fall in the value of the dollar, making
U.S. exports cheaper than their own. Hudson (2003:20) concludes:
"This unique ability of the U.S. government to borrow from foreign
central banks rather than from its own citizens is one of the economic
miracles of modern times." This miracle of economic imperialism
meant that U.S. governments were now free of the balance of payments
constraints faced by other states. Americans could spend more on social
services, fight in Vietnam, and consume more, all at the same time. This
held off the current European challenge in the "real economy,"
as it was later to hold off the Japanese and then the Chinese challenge.
American officials had hit on this only as a short-term solution to what
they saw as a crisis. But with hindsight, for the United States it was
not a crisis at all, but an opportunity to enhance its
"seigniorage" over the world economy. As in previous history,
the most successful empires are those that can seize unexpected, even
accidental, opportunities that come their way.
This intensification of imperialism was entwined with a shift of
power toward private, transnational finance capital. The sharp rise in
oil prices in the autumn of 1973 generated an increase in the dollar
earnings of oil states too big to be absorbed into their own economies.
These "petro-dollars" had to be recycled into productive
investment in the rest of the world economy. The Europeans and the
Japanese favored doing this through central banks and the IMF. But the
United States, backed by Britain, insisted that it be done mainly by
private banks. The United States had more influence with the oil sheikhs
and abolished all restrictions on funds flowing in and out of the United
States. The French socialist government of the early 1980s tried to hold
onto its Keynesian control of capital accumulation but the Reagan
administration defeated it through high dollar and interest rates.
Europe caved in. As its states adopted floating exchange rates and free
movement of capital, they surrendered control of monetary policy to
Europe's private financial markets. Though Japan held on,
preserving its arcane statism while expanding its influence over East
Asia, the Bretton Woods system of financial repression was effectively
ended.
So though this was American economic imperialism, it was not that
alone. It also shifted power from interstate to transnational-market
relations. A state's credit now depended less on agreements between
central banks and the IMF than on private international financial
markets run on neo-liberal principles. In 1981 the Reagan administration
gave Wall Street the same offshore unregulated status enjoyed by the
City of London. Gowan (1999, chap. 3; cf. Soederberg 2004) calls this
"the Dollar-Wall Street Regime," because it gave both the U.S.
government and American financiers far more power over the world's
monetary and financial relations than had the Bretton Woods regime. But
it was at the expense of global stability. The end of financial
repression has made for wilder swings in the value of the dollar, which
has reinforced unprecedented levels of volatility in the world economy,
forcing other states to hold larger reserves in dollars. But though
other states, including the main allies of the United States, perceive
coercion in all this, until they are willing to shift to an untested
system of multiple reserve currencies, they will accept dollar
seigniorage as the way the world economy works. Though many emphasize
the inherent instability and risks of such arrangements, the
alternatives seem riskier. It remains American hegemony, though it is
not felt to be entirely legitimate.
But the global South experienced more coercion. The OPEC oil price
rise made European and especially American banks awash with
petro-dollars, because the oil producers could not absorb all their
increased profits. U.S. banks, newly freed from investing in Treasury
notes, were awash with funds. This generated an
"overaccumulation" crisis, a mass of liquid wealth unable to
find sufficient avenues of productive investment (a belated realization
of the Hobson/Lenin thesis). Now the banks became much more interested
in the South, offering low (sometimes effectively negative) interest
rates to Southern countries, which borrowed massively to finance their
sagging economies. Then in 1979 the United States suddenly tripled its
interest rates, for domestic reasons. Others had to follow U.S. rates
upward. A Southern debt crisis ensued.
The "Unholy Trinity" (Peet 2003) of the WTO, the IMF, and
the World Bank now became a key part of the new economic imperialism.
The two international banks shifted their main focus from the North to
the South, and their core activity became "structural adjustment
programs." These were the cutting edge of an economic imperialism
all the more effective because its practitioners sincerely believed it
was merely rational economics, a reflection of economic reality, and
therefore good for everyone concerned. Indeed it did reflect more
market-, inflation-, debt, and finance-driven economic realities.
Led by the U.S. Treasury, the banks exemplified what became known
as the "Washington Consensus" (though it also represented the
wisdom of Wall Street in New York, the City in London, and finance
capitals everywhere). These banks would ball out the indebted countries,
agreeing to "restructure" their loans in return for deep
economic reforms--an austerity program of cutting central and local
government spending, imposing high interest rates, stabilizing the
currency, privatizing state-owned enterprises, abolishing tariffs,
freeing labor markets from union restrictions, and opening up local
capital markets and business ownership to foreign business. This was
backed by a rhetorical neoliberalism declaring that morality and
efficiency alike required reducing the power of governments, communal
land ownership, and labor unions. The freedom of markets and private
property rights must rule. It exemplified Karl Polanyi's thesis
that the triumph of capitalist markets would require the destruction of
community around the world. As Mrs. Thatcher famously declared,
"there is no such thing as society."
However, the full dosage was administered only to the natives of
the periphery, for this was imperialism. Though neoliberalism also
imposed austerity on workers in the North, U.S. administrations would
never dare impose the full radical program on Americans, though their
debts dwarfed those of all other countries. An IMF program applied in
the United States to reduce the level of debt would have been electoral
suicide for any administration. Note that the European representatives
in the international banks were also endorsing policies abroad which
they would never impose on their own countries. It would have even more
grossly flouted the norms of their more community-oriented Christian and
Social democracies. Of course, these decision makers were also bankers,
conservative economists, and corporate lawyers. Austerity was in the
interests of their friends and relations, because it would get their
loans repaid and they could acquire foreign assets at bargain prices.
But because they made the common human error of equating their own
interests with the good of humanity, they genuinely believed in the
ability of structural adjustment to bring wealth and freedom to all--the
economist as missionary.
This was imperialism because strict enforcement of the loan terms
exacted by the core would restructure peripheral economy, weaken its
government and increase its dependence on the states and businesses of
the core. But it was not merely state imperialism. Though led by
American power, it was more diffuse collective domination by
"Northern" transnational and financial capital. Coercion was
strictly economic--no gunboats. The peripheral state remained sovereign
and could in principle reject the loan offer, though the consequence
might be bankruptcy, future higher interest rates and even possible
exclusion from the international economy. It was an offer which most
Third World governments felt they could not refuse. In any case, most
governments rather like getting money.
As in all informal imperialism, structural adjustment required
cooperation from local elites. They often welcomed
"conditionality" because it enabled them to introduce reforms
they wanted while deflecting local criticism onto external
"villains" (Vreeland 2003:126, 153). The programs were usually
unpopular, with the core opposition coming from organized labor and
those dependent on the state. Democratic governments were more reluctant
to sign up and most programs were introduced by authoritarian regimes,
which made the IMF appear to favor dictatorships over democracies, just
as the United States did politically and militarily in this period
(Biersteker 1992:114-6; Vreeland 2003:90-102). Some even see the demise
of ISI as driven by politics on the periphery, not in the core. They say
ISI had so empowered workers that military coups needed buttressing by
the new economics. General Pinochet in Chile, a fervent class warrior,
introduced the most rigorous reforms, followed by the military regimes
of Uruguay, Argentina, and Turkey, all repressing protest by unions and
NGOs against dismantling ISI policies (Weaver 2000:141-4). As
experienced, structural adjustment did not seem like freedom.
IMF and World Bank programs contained diverse elements with varying
effects, applied to varied local conditions. So the results differed.
But overall, they did enable debt repayment--the main goal of the
creditors-and they tended to further countries' integration into
the global economy, shrink budget deficits and end hyperinflation. These
are all broadly beneficial effects. If the state in question had been
thoroughly incompetent or corrupt (and many were), cutting it back might
also do some good, though perhaps only if the incompetent or corrupt
were not in charge of the program! But the programs tended also to
redistribute from the poor to the rich, from labor to capital, and from
local to foreign capital. Overall, they widened inequality. The
financial reforms that began to be prominent from the 1980s also
increased inflows of short-term foreign capital, which tended to
destabilize the economy while allowing Northern businesses and banks,
especially American ones, to buy up local economic assets at bargain
prices. The bottom line was supposed to be economic growth, which might
in the long run justify what neoliberals themselves admitted were
short-terre side effects. Unfortunately, growth rarely materialized.
Vreeland provides the most rigorous analysis. He examined 135 countries
which in total between 1952 and 1990, were subjected to 1,000 years
under IMF programs. He also controlled for many intervening variables.
The more assistance they received, the worse they did. The cost of
tutelage was on average 1.6% less economic growth per annum, a sizable
amount. When he repeated the analysis on a different (and perhaps less
reliable) data set for the 1990s, he got 1.4% less growth (2003:123-30).
Given such a poor record, why would states persist with the
programs? Countries with strong states and cohesive civil societies
might be able to take decisive macroeconomic action themselves, which
would avoid the need to go to the banks. Vreeland (2003:134-51) notes
that most loan-recipient states were dominated by oligarchies who
benefited from redistribution from labor to capital. He calculates that
because the share of labor in national income dropped an average of 7%,
capital made a net gain, despite the overall GDP slowdown. IMF programs
benefited the rich, and harmed the masses. They seemed deliberately
designed that way (says Hutchinson 2001). This was also happening under
neoliberal programs within the United States and Britain. Market forces
unrestrained by states typically favor those who can bring more
resources to markets--though inequality may also be widened by predatory
states. As in the past, economic imperialism also benefited the
comprador class. But now it also benefited the private financiers who
usually supplement IMF loans. Because the IMF sees their loans as
crucial to its packages, it defers to "bank-friendly
conditions," to get loans repaid and to gain control over foreign
financial sectors (Gould 2003). IMF and World Bank loans are more likely
to be given to, and the loan conditions are less likely to be enforced
on, states that are heavily indebted to U.S. banks, receiving official
U.S. aid, or voting at the UN with the United States--or indeed France
(Oatley and Yackee 2004; Stone 2004). The two banks represent
overlapping but not identical interests, and Northern capitalist and
American state imperialisms sometimes tug in conflicting directions,
making for a sometimes incoherent informal imperialism through
structural adjustment.
East Asia was at first spared this. But as a consequence of the
"Asian crisis" of 1997, its economies became more vulnerable.
The U.S. Treasury, pressured by American financial firms, pressured the
IMF to pressure the South Korean authorities to open up the
country's financial sector to foreigners. The United States
prevailed, and foreigners were allowed to establish bank subsidiaries
and brokerage houses in Korea in 1998. Though the IMF believed this was
the right thing to do, United States motives had been more
self-interested. "Lobbying by American financial services firms,
which wanted to crack the Korean market, was the driving force behind
the Treasury's pressure on Korea," says Blustein. IMF
officials had become cynical about such "ulterior motives,"
"focussed more on serving U.S. interests than Korea's, in
particular ... greater opportunities for foreign brokerage firms."
One said, "The U.S. saw this as an opportunity, as they did in many
countries, to crack open all these things that for years have bothered
them." In most IMF crisis negotiations, the United States pursued
the toughest neoliberal line. It also shot down a Japanese attempt to
lead a rival East Asian financial consortium to solve the crisis
(Blustein 2001:1435; 164-70). An imperial power does not like collective
organization on the periphery. What was permitted in Europe remained
banned in Asia. Here the U.S. government and American financial
corporations were pursuing identical informal imperialism through
structural adjustment. Yet this offensive may have ground to a halt, as
the East Asian economies have resumed earlier policies of financial
repression, somewhat amended.
The banks' offensive was matched by one by GATT. In the 1970s
it too was turning away from an exclusive concern with Northern
economies toward opening up the markets of the South. Its reach was
widening, extending freer trade beyond agriculture and manufacturing
into services, especially financial services, and intellectual property
rights. But its grasp was also deepening, as its rulings became backed
by a growing body of international law restraining the North as well as
the South. By the twentyfirst century the WTO (the successor body to
GATT since 1995) was punishing forms of ad hoc protection like Bush the
Younger's steel tariffs, while the Europeans' ban on
GM-modified crops is also likely to be punished. This reflected and
reinforced the power shift occurring within Northern capitalism,
including American capitalism, diminishing the power of sectors favoring
protection and increasing those favoring liberalization, especially
finance.
But the impact of the WTO has been more dramatic on the South. Its
main responsibility is to press for free trade. The interest of all
countries is to free up the markets of others but not their own. This is
especially so for poor countries who know that the rich countries
(including the United States) became rich by initially protecting their
infant industries, repressing finance, subsidizing exports, etc. The
poor would benefit most by retaining such powers while gaining access to
rich countries' markets (if the American Empire were a charity with
a Mission to develop the world, it would agree to this, but obviously
this is not the case). The second-best solution for the poor countries
would be free trade for all, since their lowercost agriculture and
low-end manufacturing could enable them to export more. But the WTO
pressures them to open up their markets while the rich countries protect
their agriculture, which is almost the worst possible regime for them,
and the most imperialistic. Despite an ostensibly democratic
constitution (unlike the two banks), the WTO has been dominated by the
rich countries, the so-called "Quad"--the United States, the
EU, Japan, and Canada. Thus the gain in relative economic strength by
Europe and Japan against the United States resulted in this arena less
in rivalry than a degree of collaborative Northern imperialism. Poorer
countries complained about lack of transparency, closed-door, late-night
sessions, late release of meeting transcripts, and being excluded from
the decisive "green room" meetings. Countries refusing to
support Quad initiatives were placed on a blacklist of unfriendly states
and some had their preferential trade agreements suspended. Jawara and
Kwa (2003) say:
Favorite instruments are the promise of benefits under the African
Growth and Opportunity Act (by the US.... ), limited concessions
on trade restrictions directed toward individual countries (notably
on textiles), debt reduction (e.g., the sudden completion of
Tanzania's long-overdue debt reduction under the HIPC initiative
soon after Doha) and aid (offered to Pakistan, for example). Many
of the promises were fulfilled; others either were quietly
forgotten or turned out to be worthless.
This coercion was strictly economic--no gunboats sail under the WTO
flag--confined to offering or withdrawing economic benefits.
The greatest achievement of this Northern offensive was the 1994
Agreement on Trade-Retated Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights
(TRIPS). This fine-sounding agreement protected the patent rights of
inventors and the copyrights of writers, musicians, and
artists--obviously useful to struggling and creative individuals. But
the most important impact of TRIPS was to shift control of the most
commercially viable creativity and public knowledge into the realm of
transnational corporations (Drahos and Braithwaite 2002). Its biggest
beneficiaries are big pharmaceutical companies, mostly American but some
European. Their malign influence on AIDS has been widely noted. Their
patented drugs against AIDS are too highly priced to be used widely in
poor countries--they are often soldat higher prices there than in the
corporation's home country. Thus thousands, perhaps millions, die.
"Generic" drugs costing a fraction of the price can be
produced by poorer countries--and India produces many of them. But TRIPS
prevented their sale. TRIPS kept a Northern lock on creativity in
cutting-edge technologies making it harder for others to move into these
high-profit fields, reinforcing the economic power of the North, which
registers over 90% of the world's patents. TRIPS had largely
resulted from corporate lobbying. Sell ( 2002:171-2; cf. Drahos and
Braithwaite 2002: 72-3, 114-9) says TRIPS was "a significant
instance of global rule-making by a small handful of well-connected
corporate players and their governments." The chief executives of
"powerful American-based multinational companies" with
"superb access to the top levels of policy-making both at domestic
and multilateral levels" became the founding members of an
"Intellectual Property Committee" which lobbied for TRIPS
within GATT. Governments must support the interests of their own
citizens, but in practice this means those who are well connected. So
this was a triumph for the Quad states and their big corporations,
working in concert.
But they had exceeded their power. When most of the 120 countries
who had signed up to TRIPS realized the consequences, they revolted.
Resentment over this and other issues boiled over at the Seattle
Ministerial Meetings in 1999, and they broke up in disarray. After
bitter, lengthy negotiations, some breaches of TRIPS were allowed. In
2003 an agreement allowed developing countries to import generic drugs
for the treatment of diseases that are "public health
threats," though the verification procedures are long and costly.
The United States had also suffered reverses within the OECD through the
Multilateral Agreement on Investment. The United States had not been
able to end members' controls over capital accounts and financial
services movements, or to permit complete freedom of foreign
corporations to set up foreign branches and buy up local companies to
the point where they could dominate local product markets. In 1998
France, followed by others, refused to sign. The United States then
turned to the WTO and secured a provisional commitment at Singapore in
2003 to pursue more open investment, financial competition,
transparency, and government procurement. This would include an
agreement to liberalize financial services to the point where foreign
financiers would have identical rights to locals. But this also provoked
opposition, because it was informal imperialism.
The disputes continue. The "Doha Development Round" of
WTO negotiations has been blocked for 7 years. The United States, Japan,
and the EU have taken turns to block progress on agriculture, the item
of greatest concern to poor countries. The entry of China (pushed by the
United States) has added a large ally to India, Brazil, and the other
members of the G-20 organization formed at the Cancfin meeting in 2003.
Such collective organization by the peripheral South is a direct
challenge to American/Northern imperialism. There are also allies in the
Northern streets, a motley but quite effective alliance of
protectionists and anti--or alternative globalists, environmentalists,
feminists, indigenous peoples, and others--for the new imperialism
affects them too. Their power to disrupt and to command media attention
at the beginning of the twenty-first century has forced the WTO and the
World Bank to make big rhetorical shifts and smaller shifts in actual
policy (Aaronson 2001; Rabinovitch 2004). It is not good news that the
WTO is stalled, because poor countries would benefit from freer trade.
But it is a sign of collective resistance on the periphery to economic
imperialism.
The United States and the EU have sought to counter this by making
more bilateral and regional agreements with poorer countries. This is
the traditional imperial tactic: peripheral countries will communicate
with the core but not with each other (Smith 2000:333). But recently
resurgent Latin American leftists have stalled the U.S. plan for the
Free Trade Area of the Americas. Though it is too early to be sure, the
balance of power may have shifted a little against American and Northern
capitalist imperialism, so that at the least the intensification of
economic imperialism seems to have ceased. The new economic imperialism
did reverse the relative economic decline of the United States: by 2000
it had 28% of the world's GDP, a slight increase since 1970. But
add the continued rise of China and India, and perhaps predictions of
relative American decline were merely premature. Finance capital and the
dollar (now supported by the Chinese economy), may ensure that a lesser
hegemony survives.
Yet it is economic hegemony of a very peculiar debt-dominated kind.
The United States continues to operate as the hub of the world's
financial markets. In 2003 83% of the $3 trillion daily foreign exchange
dealing involved the U.S. dollar, 59% of world foreign exchange reserves were held in U.S. dollars, and U.S. government bonds comprised over half
of all world bonds. The United States needs this to continue in order to
finance its everincreasing trade and budget deficits. Americans'
debts to foreigners probably totalled over $2.7 trillion, over a quarter
of its GDP, and so the United States requires an inflow of about $2
billion per day to pay for it. Thus the United States depends on two
things. First, it must keep capital markets open and prevent any return
elsewhere to policies of "national development" involving
capital controls. Second, the foreigners must continue to want to invest
in the United States, rather than elsewhere. The first explains why it
continues to push financial neoliberalism so strongly: it may be bad for
the world, but it is absolutely vital to maintain present American
economic and fiscal policies (Soederberg 2004:125). But it is beginning
to resemble British financial hegemony of a century ago, actually kept
going by a multilateral collaborative effort among the biggest national
economies, aided by transnational Western (then) and Northern (now)
capitalism (Eichengreen 1996). This would mean slow American relative
economic decline, cushioned by a successor consortium of capitalist
Powers. This could be graceful decline. But the rise and fall of new
militarism was anything but graceful.
THE NEW MILITARY EMPIRE, 1990
The collapse of the Soviet Union seemed to most Americans to be the
triumph of freedom over dictatorship, that is of American ideological
power (Nye's "soft Power"). Now democratic capitalism could be expanded as a global Mission without incurring the risk of
world war. It also left enormous American military preponderance in the
world, with half the entire world's military budget---obviously
uniquely American since no other empire had ever approached such
superiority. This was a great imperial opportunity. Yet the customary
imperial paradox also showed up: the more the United States expanded
across the world, the more strategically vulnerable it felt, because
threats might come from anywhere. Because global empire brings global
anxieties, military preponderance brought the temptation of
"preemptive strikes" against two sources of anxiety.
(a) U.S. policy makers feared the global proliferation of nuclear,
chemical, and biological weapons, which are indeed potentially great
levelers. Poorer states can acquire them, and only a few weapons are
needed to deter the mighty United States from punitive interventions.
Some "rogue states," mostly Muslim ones, seemed to be nearing
them.
(b) The U.S. presence in the Middle East remained precarious. The
network of U.S. bases had been geographically unbalanced by the postwar
defense of Europe and East Asia. By 1988 there were only seven bases
across the whole of the Middle East and Africa, and from only four bases
(two in Greece and two in Turkey) could U.S. forces directly strike at
the Middle East. The Pentagon remained dependent in the region on
potentially vulnerable carriers and long-range bombers. Politically, the
United States was propping up authoritarian regimes increasingly beset
by the new populist Islamist jihadis arising after the American-assisted
collapse of socialist and nationalist Arab alternatives. The alliance of
the United States with Saudi Arabia and Israel eventually brought
Islamist terrorists into action against American troops and civilians,
culminating in 9-11. Both weapons of mass destructions and terrorists
are global threats. The homeland feels threatened from many places
across the world, though with the Middle East heading the threats.
These two perceived vulnerabilities combined with perceived
military preponderance to generate a new military imperialism. The
administrations of Bush the Elder and Clinton gradually extended the
range of U.S. military interventions against enemies called "rogue
states," who represented unfreedom just as the Soviets had done.
The invasion of Panama in 1989 had a big impact on American military
strategy, success seen as resulting from launching overwhelming force.
It was followed by a much bigger intervention in Iraq in 1991, and then
by major airstrikes in Yugoslavia. The results were encouraging (though
not the Somalian intervention), and military bases were acquired in
Saudi Arabia and the Balkans. The United Nations seemed compliant,
willing to accept American leadership. Russia and China barely demurred,
and showed no interest in allying to "balance" U.S. power.
That seemed to them a pointless venture, as it did to the Europeans.
Madeleine Albright called her emerging policy "aggressive
multilateralism," while other Clinton staffers coined the phrase
"multilateralism if we can, unilateralism if we must," and
American generals chafed at the "crippling" restraints placed
on them by the multilateral NATO command structure in the Yugoslav
campaign (e.g., Clark 2001:203). But Clinton was focused on trade and
countering relative economic decline, not on the military. In foreign
policy, his administration drifted, split between "realists"
and "globalists," who saw the expansion of democracy across
the globe as replacing the containment of communism (Hyland 1999).
Madeleine Albright had asked a pertinent question of Joint Chiefs
Chairman Colin Powell in 1995: "What are you saving this superb
military for, Colin, if we can't use it?" (Albright 2003). The
question was also asked by out-of-office Republicans. Their response was
based on their reading of past successes and failures. In the words of
Donald Kagan, when adversaries "read strength and a strong will,
they tend to retreat and subside. When they read weakness and timidity,
they take risks." The first half of this referred to the Cold War,
the second to the 1990s. What neoconservatives saw as feeble recent
policies--not marching on Baghdad in 1991, appeasing North Korea,
allowing Iraq to manipulate sanctions, ignoring China's human
rights violations--must be reversed. They did reverse Clinton's
priorities, being uninterested in economic issues but obsessed by
military strength. As Jim Mann says, "reflecting on what they saw
as a thirty rive year rise in American military capabilities ... as
America's principal tool in dealing with the world," they
arrived at the doctrine of preemptive strikes by a greatly enlarged
military capable of carrying a Mission of freedom and forestalling
strategic threats all around the globe (all these opinions, plus silence
on economic issues, pervade Kagan and Kristol 2000). Mann suggests that
these "Vulcans" (Condoleeza Rice's term for the new
hawks) represented the views of most of their generation, for
Republicans had won six out of nine Presidential elections held from
1968 onward, with foreign policy often looming quite large in them
(2004:222-3, 371-2). Led by the firm military/ideological stand of
President Reagan, the view was that Americans had caused the collapse of
the Soviet Union, not Soviet citizens themselves. This dwarfed memories
of hubris in Vietnam (in which only Powell and his deputy Armitage among
the leading policy makers had fought). All this also tended to elevate
the Pentagon over both State and Treasury in the conduct of foreign
policy, and to generate a novel kind of "isolationism," with
faith in American power overriding any knowledge of the world outside--I
will call it the "isolationism of ignorance."
The Pentagon itself had developed a military machine without much
local knowledge. Instead it relied on a universal blueprint for victory,
regardless of terrain or adversary. It had been geared to fight a
defensive, hitech, and possibly nuclear war against the Soviets. It
relied heavily on bombing and in intensive tire power on the ground, and
it did not much matter what the ground was. But it did not have an
enormous number of ground troops and these were mostly slow and heavily
armored. During the 1990s control of the Pentagon remained contested
between the heavyarmor and the high-tech brigades, and little was done
to remedy this weakness. By the year 2000 fewer than 200,000 of the 1.4
million-strong U.S. armed forces could be placed on the ground to fight,
with a serious shortage of light forces suitable to fight guerilla
movements armed with Kalashnikovs and IEDs. The United States retains a
military better geared to World War II-style battles against organized
armies than to imperial pacification. One reason for this is not merely
technical. Because the lives of U.S, soldiers are considered sacred,
light troops must not be left with insufficient "force
protection." Thus more of the troops are assigned to protect each
other than is consonant with fighting guerillas. The overall result is a
wilful ignorance of the enemy.
The new military imperialism was at first an escalation of previous
trends, though there was a jump forward with the foreign policy of Bush
the Younger, overwhelmingly staffed by people variously described as
"neo-conservatives," "conservative Wilsonians,"
"democratic imperialists," or "Vulcans" (Bacevich
2002; Daalder and Lindsay 2003; Mann 2004, Packer 2005). There seem to
have been two main strands among them, a more ideological
neoconservatism with a Mission of taking liberal democracy and
freemarket capitalism to the world (which appealed additionally to
America's religious right), and a nationalism dedicated more simply
to preserving and extending American domination of the world. The
leading neoconservatives were men like Wolfowitz, Feith, and Perle, the
leading nationalists were Cheney and Rumsfeld. In public, however, both
coupled the Mission statement to the gigantic military existing since
the 1940s, while explicitly abandoning the traditional defensive posture
of both. Now the Mission statement would be carried aggressively and
preemptively to the world. Though their policy closely entwined realist
strategic interests and mission statements, they either ignored or
concealed economic interests--for it is always difficult to interpret
silence. In particular, they rarely mentioned off, though this was
clearly a necessary precondition of their Middle Eastern policy.
They were both provoked and liberated by 9-11. Twice in 3 years, in
Afghanistan and Iraq, they sent the U.S. military to invade, conquer,
and restructure large countries. When initially these ventures seemed to
be going well, they also threatened Syria, Iran, and North Korea. This
seemed to neoconservatives to be merely repeating the successes of 1898
and 1945: temporary colonies creating friendly and democratic client
regimes (Boot 2002). There was some payback from Afghanistan. It and its
neighbors now house new U.S. bases strategically located between China,
Russia, and the new as well as the old oil and gas fields of the
Caucasus and the Middle East. But Iraq was the high-value target--a
large, fairly secular, oil-rich Arab country with an unpopular dictator.
Here surely was the possibility to finally acquire a compliant and
useful client state in the Middle East, the first since the Shah.
Strategic and economic reasons probably came together again in the
thinking of the Bush administration, though the Mission statement was
also important for some of its members and was essential for legitimacy.
The threats of terrorism and weapons of destruction were more than
pretexts but less than being the main motives for the invasion of Iraq.
(4) Their main role after 9-11 was to mobilize mass support for the
invasion. Oil was a more important motive, though within the context of
the traditional strategic goal of asserting U.S. control over the
region, and this also comprised defense of Israel as a significant
motive among some neoconservatives and the religious right (with the
bonus of an electoral payoff from America's Jews). The argument
(made in Incoherent Empire) that a better way of securing oil would be
to leave it to market forces had little appeal in an imperial America,
for no U.S. administration, Republican or Democrat, had done this in the
past. Indeed, markets alone would not work without multilateral
agreements among the oil consumers, for Japan and China have been trying
to secure their own oil supplies by buying up oilfields. The United
States had grown accustomed to countering potential threats in the
region with the threat of military violence, and the Gulf War of 1991
had openly justified maximum force in terms of oil. The then National
Security Adviser Brent Scowcroft later wrote in his memoir: the
"core of our argument" was "preserving the balance of
power in the Gulf, opposing unprovoked international aggression, and
ensuring that no hostile regional power could hold hostage much of the
world's oil supply." As usual, once the intervention got
underway, a Mission statement began to dominate American rhetoric. Bush
the Elder says he himself experienced this shift. After initially seeing
Saddam as a "dangerous strategic threat," he shifted as the
invasion loomed to seeing it as a "moral crusade," repeatedly
comparing Saddam's incursion into Kuwait to Hitler's
aggression, and Saddam's repression to the Holocaust (Bush and
Scowcroft 1998:340,374-5, 388, 399).
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, and in the light of the
interventions of the 1990s, administrations grew confident that the
military, if used wholeheartedly, could overcome all enemies. If it was
not used to secure something as important as oil, when would it ever be
used? The notion of dismantling or substantially downsizing it was
almost unthinkable in imperial America, especially in Congress,
dominated by pork-barrel politics. The military had to be used from time
to time. Had the invasion worked, and the United States had secured a
less repressive client state guaranteeing oil supplies, exercising a
moderating influence across the region, with the invasion scaring other
rogue states into negotiations--then who would be complaining? Of
course, deluded by a deceptive military preponderance, they believed it
would work.
Before the invasion the Mission statement was proclaimed less
stridently than the threat of either WMDs or terrorists, and it was then
aimed more at removing an evil dictator than bringing democracy. The
American "Plan A" was actually to provoke a revolt by Iraqi
generals, installing a new military regime. Afterwards it was the Grand
Ayatollah Sistani who first pressed elections on the United States
(Diamond 2005). But later, as is customary, the Mission statement loomed
larger. By 2005 it was deafening, extended to bringing democracy to the
whole region, even to the detriment of U.S. economic and strategic
interests (as some establishment critics began to perceive). Under Bush
the Younger the Mission is now probably more important than at any time
in the American past or indeed in any empire since the early Spanish
one. Is this because the intervention has been uniquely ineffective in
achieving more tangible goals? The United States did eventually accept
elections in Iraq but, as the Shia' and Kurdish parties had
intended, elections became the means for them to dominate Iraq. This is
less democracy than ethnocracy. In elections only about 10% vote across
ethnic lines or for cross-ethnic parties. Afterwards, there is rule by
majority ethnic groups, as elections in Northern Ireland and Israel have
long brought.
I have written about the disaster that is the Bush foreign policy
elsewhere (Mann 2003). I repeat in amended form my argument there that
this is no longer the age of empires but of nationalism and the
nation-state. In the mid-twentieth century the European empires were
expelled by self-styled "nationalist" movements. In Asia some
movements did genuinely represent widespread sentiments of national
identity (as in Vietnam or India). In Africa most comprised small groups
of civil servants, teachers, and union organizers able to mobilize
mainly urban support without much shared sense of "national"
(i.e., colony-wide) sentiment. "African nationalism" meant
what its title indicated: a racial struggle, Africans against whites.
But all these movements could mobilize hatred of the alien
oppressor--that is, anti-imperialism. The world religions (Hinduism,
Buddhism, and Islam) reinforced anti-imperialism more than nationalism
because they are transnational (less Hinduism). But since freedom from
the imperialists involved struggling politically at the level of the
colony, these anti-imperialists movements were gradually
"naturalized," coming to see themselves as
"nationalists." The nation-state and nationalism thus came to
be "officially" hegemonic politically and ideologically across
the world, even though real identities on the ground were often more
localized. We have seen glimpses of this anti-imperialist trajectory in
the history of the American Empire, though it was much more evident in
the decline and fall of the European Empires.
American imperialism after World War II had countered the growth of
anti-imperialism in two ways. One, mainly in Asia, had involved using
conservative nationalists to act as clients against more radical
ones--like the Indonesian military against communists. The other,
dominant in Latin America, was to use class to undermine nation, allying
with comprador classes against subordinate ones. Both strategies enjoyed
some success, though they led toward informal empire or hegemony not
colonies. It is doubtful today whether a large-scale American invasion
would win popularity in any large invaded country, because it would
offend nationalism and anti-imperialism almost everywhere.
But Islam, especially in the Middle East, present even greater
difficulties. No European Empire had been able to penetrate Muslim civil
society. They had resorted to divide and rule, supporting some emirs,
sheikhs, and religious brotherhoods against others. On the ground,
Muslim notables ruled, not the British or the French. The origins of
Sunni dominance over Iraq lay in British dependence on a Sunni monarch
and Sunni tribes after a failed attempt at brutal repression in the
1920s, including substantial bombing. After decolonization, in
relatively self-standing Muslim countries like Indonesia or Malaysia or
Iran, Islam boosted national consciousness, making foreign intervention
there extremely difficult. Though American support for the Shah had
increased his ability to repress and even to bring some economic
development to his country, it always undercut his popularity among the
masses. Elsewhere Islam, and often also the Arabic language, cut across
national borders and weakened nationalism. Arab nationalism never
acquired popular roots, and all Ba'athist parties had to compromise
more with clerical and tribal leaders and repress more. The
radicalization of Islam in the 1990s, with its pronounced anti-imperial
tendencies, only increased the difficulties. The United States could now
find "safe" clients only among reactionary Arab monarchs like
the Saudis (though repressive Egypt or Jordan would consent to be
"arms-length" allies if sufficiently rewarded). In the Middle
East the Gulf sheikhs might be a comprador class, but they can only rule
through extreme repression. Whoever represents the future of Muslim
states, the sheikhs do not.
The United States invaded Iraq without significant allies on the
ground except Kurdish nationalists. That was a major error, a product of
the new "isolationism of ignorance"--overweening military
confidence, sidelining the State Department, relying for local knowledge
on Iraqi exiles with their own agenda. But it was not a
"mistake" in the sense of being an oversight. There were no
such allies available, and nor could there be elsewhere in the Middle
East (except perhaps the Lebanon, though its Christians are only a
minority). The American invaders were perceived as imperialist aliens,
however much Iraqis might want rid of Saddam Hussein. The United States
cannot put back together the Iraqi nation-state, having first destroyed
its precarious infrastructures. All it can do is divide-and-rule between
ethnic/ religious groups, encouraging regional nationalisms which might
break up this country into three. Nor could either the Shi'a or the
Sunni leaders become pliable allies (though Kurds might, since they
might continue to need American help to preserve their autonomy). The
mess in Iraq is further strengthening the dominance of Iran over the
Gulf.
The United States has acquired more bases in Iraq, enabling it to
withdraw its forces from Saudi Arabia. The Middle Eastern and Caucasian
oil and natural gas resources are now surrounded by U.S. bases. But what
purpose do these bases serve? They have not influenced President Karimov
of Uzbekistan to moderate his repression. In response to such pressure,
he asked U.S. troops to leave. The U.S. bases cannot pacify Iraq nor can
they even extract as much Iraqi oil as Saddam did. The bases are without
local purpose. They grew up as part of a global strategy of defense
against the rival Soviet/Chinese empire. Then they seemed to promise a
gunboat empire, capable of delivering sharp punishment to "rogue
states," or perhaps even to Russia or China. Yet Iran and North
Korea have already shown this to be partly bluff and are acquiring
nuclear weapons while the United States is tied down in Iraq and
Afghanistan. More locally, the intervention in Iraq continues to
strengthen the regional power of Iran, a bizarre outcome, because the
United States had successfully used Iraq under Saddam Hussein as a
counterweight to Iran.
As the United States failed, it resorted to state terrorism, which
drew more blowback. It bombed cities which it had supposedly pacified
and which its clients supposedly ruled. Perhaps 200,000 Iraqis have
died. The United States resorted to concentration camps, torture, and
rendition, from Guantanamo Bay to Bagram to Abu Ghraib. I paraphrase
William Graham Sumner: this reveals the conquest of the United States by
Saddam Hussein. Such atrocities have happened many times before in other
empires. Comparable ones were committed by the British against the Mau
Mau in Kenya, the French in Algeria, and the Soviets in Eastern
Europe--all as late as the 1950s. These were all losing ventures, of
course. But in the twenty-first century, there are no other comparable
imperial atrocities (unless we count China in Tibet, or minor regional
empires, like the Indonesian). The United States uniquely gets denounced
for imperialism.
Could the United States escalate further, to become a brutally
effective colonial empire? Niall Ferguson (2004) urges the United States
to emulate Britain, though his is a sanitized version of the British
Empire. For Iraq, more appropriate would be the Roman model described by
the Gaulish chief quoted by Tacitus "They make a desert and call it
peace"--massive coercion lasting over a decade, bouts of exemplary
repression--Fallujahs all over Sunni areas, the execution of Muqtada
al-Sadr and all other Shi'a "trouble-makers," etc. It
would cost many more dollars and American lives, and lose the remaining
allies. I doubt Americans could stomach this (Ferguson doubts they could
stomach even his sanitized empire). Global opinion has turned steadily
against empires over the last century. Empires are no longer normal. The
United States has the military power to conquer, but not to pacify; the
economic power to finance both, but not the economic will; and it lacks
the political or ideological power to woo Iraqis or bring outside
support for this latter-day imperial venture.
The best strategy might be to cut and run, now, leave Iraq and
probably Afghanistan too. Leave these countries to sort out their own
problems--or not. Muslim countries can more easily deal with their
jihadis if unencumbered by American leadership (they did in the early
1990s). Arabs need to sell their oil, the Japanese and Europeans are
desperate for it, and Americans need a little of it. Let the market
rule, supplemented by multilateral regulation. If the Iranians are not
to acquire nuclear weapons and the North Koreans are not to acquire more
of them, the United States should probably stop threatening them and
instead buy out their weapons programs. The United States would still
retain its disproportionate military power, which could be used in more
legitimate, multilateral (and probably UN-backed) interventions. It
would also retain a degree of global economic hegemony mixed with
structural adjustment, though as I have indicated, this may be slightly
declining. Solidarity with either the UN against rogue states or with
the North against the South are the possible rearguard actions for
American Empire, diffusing empire onto broader configurations of power.
But the United States will probably not cut and run, at least not
soon. Curiously, whenever this possibility is raised by
"Realists," the answer is couched in terms of the interests
not of the United States but of Iraq--"civil war would break
out," it is said (it already has). This is part of the domination
of American public discourse by the Mission statement. In 1941 Henry
Luce famously urged the United States to carry to the world greater
freedom, equality, independence, justice, humanity, and truth to create
the first great "American Century" (the essay is reprinted in
Hogan 1999). Slightly more than halfway through the Century, the same
Mission statement is undermining American power. But to abandon the
ideal of making Iraq (the world) better would be worse imperial
humiliation than experienced in Vietnam. This time locals cannot be
found to rescue the American Empire by signing a face-saving peace
agreement. The insurgents probably cannot be bombed to the negotiating
table as the North Vietnamese were by Nixon. The security situation in
Iraq is also far worse than it was in Vietnam or Korea--or perhaps than
in any American intervention. Afghanistan may be the second worst
situation. Moreover, since 9-11 was real, and the "war against
terror" has become a self-fulfilling prophecy involving Iraqis,
U.S. administrations can still mobilize popular support to keep some of
intervention going for a while yet. Most Americans seem not to accept
that it was U.S. foreign policy over a long period of time that
alienated many (perhaps most) Muslims in the Middle East. Just getting
rid of the Bush administration might make rather little difference. It
needs substantial reduction of U.S. imperialism in this region, yet few
politicians seem to accept this. The American Empire seems trapped,
unable to overcome the enemy, unable to save itself by retreat.
Europeans are also trapped between the Americans and the jihadis, and
they are more vulnerable to the latter. The principal justification for
empire throughout the ages has not been democracy but order, and this
one cannot provide it, at least in this region of increasing
significance for the world.
The United States has overreached itself through military hubris
coupled with an aggressive sense of Mission, generating a isolationism
of ignorance. The Bush administration has not accepted that even
temporary colonialism may be dead, that the overall trajectory of the
American Empire, like the British, was toward lighter forms of rule. It
neglects America's greatest asset, hegemony, essentially a
routinized and only marginally imperial resource, which is gradually
shading off into mutual interdependence. This burst of militarism and
temporary colonialism has been, quite simply, a mistake. The Bay of Pigs is perhaps the most comparable American misadventure, in that those
knowledgeable of the local situation within the administration knew it
would likely fail (Vietnam was not like that). It was the same mistake:
no local allies on the ground. But the Bay of Pigs was a trivial fiasco.
The U.S. invasion of Iraq may rank closer to Hitler's invasion of
the Soviet Union or Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor as decisions
that still bewilder scholars. The three share common attributes:
imperial arrogance fueled by recent military successes resonating amid
an aggressive sense of Mission to the world, producing overconfidence in
one's own material and moral military power, while sidelining more
pragmatic diplomatic and military advice. These three big mistakes
demonstrate the limited role of reason in human affairs. The first two
changed the world, and the third one also has such potentiality.
CONCLUSION
The United States has always been imperial, though in very
different ways in different times and places. Its first continental
phase was direct and highly repressive empire--curiously the most
romanticized period in American history. It was followed by a short
burst of overseas colonialism from 1898, though this quickly lightened
into informal empire. This was due less because of any uniqueness of
American domestic institutions or character than because of
America's distinctive implantation in the world at that time. Its
informal empire further lightened from gunboats to proxies during the
1920s and 1930s. During this period, American imperialism was most
geared to economic and strategic interests, though racism and fear of
revolution reduced the realism of policy. After World War II the United
States acquired a uniquely global empire, using gunboats, proxies or
hegemony, according to region. It still blended economic and strategic
interests, though now adding a defensive Mission statement which was
more significant than any prior sense of Mission. Through the twentieth
century until the 1970s U.S. imperialism also continued to lighten, and
was also usually lighter than the imperialism of its rivals.
But lightening ended in the 1970s as informal empire by structural
adjustment intensified, though folded into a more transnational,
financial and Northern capitalist imperialism. This provoked some
collective resistance by the periphery in the late 1990s, whose outcome
remains unclear. With the collapse of the Soviet Empire came
intensification of military imperialism, seeking to repeat the temporary
colonialism of 1898 and 1945, transforming the postwar Mission statement
from defense to offense. But this quickly bogged down, generating
damaging blowback. I have distinguished four main motives of empire. Two
of them, a perception of military predominance, which is false, allied
to an aggressive sense of Mission are now undermining the other two,
American economic and strategic interests. American exceptionalism, in
the guise of conservative Wilsonianism, is finally dominant and has led
to failure. There were good realist reasons why American imperialism has
not generally been ideologically exceptional!
This reinforces my argument that the two imperial intensifications
were not closely related to each other. It is unlikely the U.S. chose
military aggression to reverse relative economic decline, which is the
argument of world-systems theorists (Harvey 2003; Wallerstein 2003). The
two seem unconnected within recent administrations: Clinton focused on
international trade and finance, uninterested and pushed into
militarism. Bush the Younger had the reverse priorities and his
militarism-cum-idealism has obstructed economic-cum-strategic. Nor had
there been relative decline in American economic power between 1970 and
2000.
But these two American intensifications were by now the only
significant imperial expansions in the world, and they were occurring
after a century of growing anti-imperialism. Much of the world now knows
nothing worse than the American form of imperialism (it has forgotten
the British, Japanese, Nazi, and Soviet empires), and this brings
substantial legitimacy loss. I doubt empire can still be accomplished,
especially by military power. There will probably be no new global
empire or hegemon. American power, other than military, is declining
relative to its main rivals, but neither Europe, Russia, China, or India
could singly supplant it. The world is again acquiring a number of Great
Powers, but they are probably unable to exert more than a hegemonic
influence over their own regional peripheries, while any more enlarged
sphere hegemony will likely be multilateral, thus shading off into
mutual interdependence. Expressed more simply, empires are dying. Yet
the United States can make the death a prolonged and unpleasant
experience for the world if it so chooses.
In 1945 British conservatives still expected the Empire to last for
many years. Though others knew the game was up in India, African
developments were a surprise to all. Twenty years later the British
Empire was gone. American power has been much greater than British
power. But Muslims now may play the role of Africans then. It is not
possible to predict the future of American Empire, since human behavior
is not rational. But things are not looking good.
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MICHAEL MANN University of California-Los Angeles
* An earlier version of this paper was presented February 23, 2006
as the 37th Annual Sorokin Lecture, Department of Sociology, University
of Saskatchewan, Canada. I would like to thank the Department for giving
me the honor of presenting this lecture.
(1) It is worth noting here how utterly wrong Schumpeter's
well-known theory of imperialism was. He saw capitalism and imperialism
as completely unrelated, the latter being only an atavistic hangover
from earlier more militaristic times (1955:88-9). Yet of course early
global capitalism relied on the combination of free labor in the core
and militm-ily coerced labor in the colonial periphery, as Wallerstein
noted. Then, though unfree labor gradually declined within capitalism,
informal empire became the principal capitalist contributor to
imperialism
(2) So I am hot using it in the political science/International
Relations Theory senses of either domination more generally or global or
regional domination by a single power, nor in Doyle's (1986:40}
sense of a dominance exercised only over foreign and not domestic
policy.
(3) But the Hobson/Lenin theory of imperialism could net be applied
te the United States in this period, since it was still a net importer
of capital (as was Japan in its expansionist phase).
(4.) It is difficult to assess the relative con tributions of lies
and self-delusion in the minds of the perpetrators. Lies may have
predominated in the terrorism rhetoric. However, even if they knew (as I
and much of the CIA did) that Saddam Hussein had virtually no effective
WMDs (of course, he actually had none), they believed that attacking him
would be a deterrent signal to other regimes that were trying to acquire
them. So this was a genuine motive (though expressed falsely) when
considered in a wider context.