In his 2017 inauguration speech, Donald Trump made a vow to the American people: “A new vision will govern our land, from this day forward, it’s going to be only America first.” Every decision on trade, taxes and foreign affairs, he continued, will “be made to benefit American workers and American families”. Today, Trump is campaigning on that same premise: if he wins the election in November, he promises to embrace a foreign policy posture described as “America First”.
The trouble is that “America First” might be an appealing sales pitch, but Trump does not have a coherent foreign policy vision. Instead, the former president has consistent (and concerning) foreign policy dispositions: wariness of allies, admiration for authoritarians, and deep-seated protectionist instincts. Moreover, he is untutored in (and incurious about) most foreign policy questions, is often impulsive, and easily swayed by flattery — attributes that matter because, in contrast to the first Trump Administration which was largely staffed by experienced professionals, the second would likely be populated by sycophants and yes-men.
The fact is, America First is disingenuous, tissue-thin rhetoric. No administration in modern US history did not think it was prioritising the American national interest. Certainly, different presidents had distinct visions regarding how those interests might best be advanced, but none of them — none — however profoundly misguided their actions might appear in retrospect, ever pursued a foreign policy course that they did not think would be the best choice for the country.
What is distinct about America First is its tactics and vision. It is short-sighted and transactional, viewing every interaction with other countries, friends and foes alike, as a zero-sum confrontation in which the objective is to extract the largest possible share of the perceived visible gains. This is to be achieved by uninhibited, sharp-elbowed diplomacy, with little regard for historical legacies or long-run implications. In this vision, alliances are viewed with scepticism, representing an albatross of unnecessary obligations, which, like a protection racket or a mercenary force, only makes sense if they turn a monetary profit.
Some advocates of America First will call this Realism. It is not. The realist approach to international relations emphasises the consequences of anarchy: that international relations are commonly characterised by clashes of interest, and in that context actors in world politics may resort to the use of force to get what they want — and there are no guarantees the behaviour of those others will not descend into horrifying barbarism. Thus states must be prepared to defend themselves and look out for their own interests.
This is admittedly a gloomy perspective, but there is nothing in Realism that implies what America First suggests. If anything, the opposite is true: it is a rare realist indeed who imagines that the path to geopolitical paradise is paved by short-sighted, nakedly selfish measures. Indeed the US tried this approach once before, after the First World War, and it was a catastrophic failure. After victory, an America First disposition led the US to pursue obtusely myopic demands for repayment of the debts incurred by its wartime allies, whose exhausted economies lay in ruins. A young John Foster Dulles urged the US to forgive those obligations, not because he placed priority on the interests of others, but because it was in America’s own best interest to do so. As he argued cogently, pursuing the apparent immediate interest — which the US had every right to do — was foolish, unrealistic, and would undermine “the big objective” of global “political and financial stability”.
Similarly, as the economic going got tough, the US also turned to an America First trade strategy, most famously with the Smoot-Hawley Tariff of 1930. More than 1,000 economists urged President Hoover to veto that tariff bill, again, not because they were looking out for the interests of other countries, but because they thought it would be bad for America. They were right. Imports to America fell dramatically — but America’s exports fell even more, as the legislation engendered retaliation and contributed to the collapse of world trade and the deepening of the global Great Depression.
And, of course, there was the signature foreign policy of America First, isolationism. It is possible that by withdrawing from Europe and acting timidly in Asia, the US naively thought that the world’s problems would somehow not encroach upon its shores. However, as Jacob Heilbrunn details in America Last: The Right’s Century-Long Romance with Foreign Dictators, many of the prominent proponents of isolationism were also, at best, authoritarian curious, and, at worst, rooting for the wrong team. “America First” now, in both its politics and its economics, is a direct descendant of America First then.
Neither incarnation is well described as Realism. Indeed, after the Second World War, the US learned the lessons of its previous, self-mutilating policy choices and chose instead to embrace a more far-sighted foreign policy vision. In pursuit of what classical realist Arnold Wolfers would describe as “milieu goals”, it sought, often at some cost, to shape the international political environment in ways that would be conducive to the long-run American national interest. With the generosity of the Marshall Plan and the cultivation of alliances , America’s postwar grand strategy, measured, as Raymond Aron would insist, against the only metric that matters — what otherwise might have been — could not have been more successful.
Of course, all things must pass, and America now is not America then. Its foreign policy disposition should, and must, adjust to present realities. It is not just wise, but essential, to take stock of the National Interest and assess how best it might be advanced. A survey of contemporary world politics suggests that America First, take two, will be as disastrous for the US as it was the last time around.
Nowhere is the folly of American First redux more plainly visible than with regard to the Russia-Ukraine war. Reputable scholars can debate the long-run underlying causes of Russia’s invasion; also up for legitimate discussion is how deeply the US ought to be (indirectly) engaged in that conflict, and whether some of its policies might invite unintended and dangerous risks. There is no doubt, however, that the murderous authoritarian Vladimir Putin initiated this war of conquest, and that it is in the strong interest of the West for the lesson of the war to be that “wars of conquest by Russia do not pay”. Yet team Trump is eager to see this conflict end on exactly Russia’s terms, likely due not to reasoned geostrategic analysis, but the former president’s personal pique at Ukraine’s leadership, and his bizarre admiration for ruthless dictators.
More generally, it is hard to imagine US membership in Nato surviving a second Trump term. Once again, the former president’s analysis is curious, imagining the alliance as a dues-paying organisation in which the Europeans are not adequately kicking back to their American protectors. In his mind, the US would save money by pulling out. The first argument is fatuous, the second somewhat far-fetched, as the US is almost certain to increase rather than decrease its defence spending, regardless of its Nato membership.
Here at least the argument against Nato can be expressed in a more sophisticated way: should the US leave the alliance, some smart scholars argue, its European members would (finally) increase their own defence spending. That is a deductively sound argument, although not necessarily an experiment that most realists, whose watchwords are politics and prudence, would want to run. A post-Nato Europe might emerge as a more coherent and capable force, or the withdrawal of American participation might expose and invite political rifts across the continent; in either event it would surely reduce US political influence there. Given that Europe is one of the world’s political and economic epicentres, those are not risks to be embraced casually.
In marked contrast, the one region of the world where the isolationist instincts and alliance wariness of America First make the most sense is the Middle East. US security commitments in the Persian Gulf might have had an underlying logic to them in the Seventies, but they are plainly anachronistic today, given basic changes to world energy markets, the nature of security threats to the region, and limits of American power. In addition, if Israel explicitly renounces any commitment to a two-state solution, or devolves into its own version of a radical theocracy, it becomes increasingly hard to understand how that special relationship would continue to reflect the American national interest.
Here the experiment of withdrawing American power and risking what might follow makes much more sense. Unfortunately, and uncharacteristically in US history, Trump’s foreign policy instincts are more similar to those of a personalist authoritarian than the temporary steward of democratic state. Thus for reasons of family business (Saudi Arabia has a multi-billion-dollar investment in his son-in-law, for example) and domestic politics (for the crucial conservative Christian base of his support, an unconditional US commitment to Israel is an inviolable act of faith, not the cool calculation of strategic interest), even under Trump the US might remain deeply enmeshed in the region, preventing the often-strained logic of America First from prevailing in the one part of the world where it might actually well apply.
Setting aside the prospect that a second-term President Trump — now unrestrained by anything remotely resembling “adults in the room” — might do something impetuous and outlandish (such as bombing Mexico), a proper reckoning of the consequences of America First must look to Asia. Here again the prospects are less than heartening. Trump talks forcefully about confronting China, and on this one issue, there does seem to be a general bipartisan consensus in the US. The barriers to success of an America First approach in this new epicentre of the world’s geopolitical chessboard, however, are formidable. Rhetoric, swagger, and more militarised confrontations are ill-suited to the challenge at hand. As American diplomat George F. Kennan emphasised during the Cold War, the problem — and the prize — are political. The danger is not that China will serially invade its neighbours, in a foolish and self-defeating bid for regional hegemony; the danger is that China might come to dominate the Asia-Pacific politically.
But America First is not very good at politics. A sound China policy will require close political partnerships with key countries throughout the region. And here is where Trump’s hatred of allies (or freeloaders, as he imagines them) might prove most catastrophic. The former president previously made noises about abandoning Korea, and his foreign policy instincts cannot but raise concerns in Japan. Moreover, if the US indeed undermines Nato, actors in Asia might further question whether the US would stay committed to the region. Whereas China is going to stay in the region, indefinitely, for obvious reasons of geography. Thus the risk is that US heavy-handedness with allies, alongside assessments of its reduced reliability more generally, might lead some states to “bandwagon” with China — that is, reach some political accommodation with Beijing that cedes to its preferences on major international issues. Such an outcome would not be in the US national interest, no matter how narrowly defined.
Compounding all of this, enormously, will be the Trump Tariffs, a centrepiece (indeed obsession) of both his domestic and foreign policy vision. There are precious few consistencies across Trump’s political thinking over the decades, but he has always been a passionate protectionist. And, as noted, if Trump is re-elected, it would be shocking if we did not witness what will surely be celebrated as Huge Tariffs. Again, one can responsibly debate the fine grained tactics of trade policy. The protectionism-as-panacea fantasy, however, will swiftly prove to be a nightmare. It will be both very bad for the US economy, and very bad for the world economy — miseries likely to be compounded by retaliatory tariffs imposed by others, which will likely not bring out the best in an administration that prides itself on “toughness”.
Worst of all, perhaps, is that the enormous economic distress caused by Trump Tariffs, among otherwise friendly states in Europe and Asia, will further undermine the broader goals of US foreign policy, and likely spark a growth inhibiting trade war that will contribute to a panoply of geopolitical stressors globally. In sum, America First will likely lead to America Alone, getting less of what it wants, in a more dangerous world, populated by players increasingly disposed to find distance from the madness of its king.
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Source: UnHerd Read the original article here: https://unherd.com/