What Happens When the U.S. Overestimates Its Power

'..[The US] should work to strengthen states—such as democracies in the Pacific Rim and in Europe—that emphatically want the U.S. to assist in their defense and security. Ukraine clearly wants to be in this group. American involvement should be seen as a prize, not a threat, and Ukraine’s example helps clarify what kind of countries would most benefit from—and deserve—that help: Are they willing to fight for themselves? And are they governed based on the consent of their residents?'

- Phillips Payson O’Brien, December 2, 2023


'..the US must learn to dial down significantly when it comes to its ambitions to control things or interfere in other nations..'

'Really pleased that this article has just appeared in @TheAtlantic It argues that the US must learn to dial down significantly when it comes to its ambitions to control things or interfere in other nations. Instead of calibrating policy based on possible enemies, do it by friendships--and always err on the side of non-intervention if in real doubt.'

- Phillips P. O’Brien (Source, December 2, 2023)


'..American hesitation in the past year has helped make the war bloodier, longer, and potentially more escalatory than if Washington had simply picked a side and given it all the support necessary to win.

Events in the Middle East are demonstrating the limits of Washington’s power in other ways. The Biden administration is seeking to manage the Israeli response to the Hamas terror attacks of October 7. Israel has shown a willingness to conduct an extensive bombing campaign in Gaza because the country’s leaders perceive that to be in their country’s interest, even though the U.S. is publicly urging it to act with greater military restraint.

To preserve, even maximize, its influence, a major power must understand what it can and cannot do—and, in moments of uncertainty, err on the side of thinking that achieving its goals will be hard, not easy. The more assertive and interventionist a power becomes, the more likely it is to reveal the limits of its influence. The collapse of European colonial empires after World War II, America’s defeat in Vietnam, and the fragmenting of the U.S.S.R. in 1990–91 all show how even powers that seem strong and permanent can wither or disappear in a remarkably short amount of time.

The U.S. should never be isolationist. Nor should it define its global role, as it has so frequently done since the beginning of the Cold War, in terms of simply countering its perceived enemies. Instead, it should proceed cautiously in regions, such as the Middle East, where its record of recent interventions offers ample reason for humility. It should work to strengthen states—such as democracies in the Pacific Rim and in Europe—that emphatically want the U.S. to assist in their defense and security. Ukraine clearly wants to be in this group. American involvement should be seen as a prize, not a threat, and Ukraine’s example helps clarify what kind of countries would most benefit from—and deserve—that help: Are they willing to fight for themselves? And are they governed based on the consent of their residents?'


What Happens When the U.S. Overestimates Its Power

American leaders keep overestimating their control over events in the Middle East, Ukraine, and around the world.

By Phillips Payson O’Brien
December 2, 2023
Source

Ever since a terror attack by Hamas triggered a war in Israel and Gaza in October, many commentators have presumed that the United States can in some way manage the course of the crisis—either by supporting Israel emphatically or by demanding greater restraint from that country’s leaders. Successive American administrations, including Joe Biden’s, have encouraged this belief in American control of events in the Middle East and around the world. Just days before the Hamas attack, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan boasted in an article in a Foreign Affairs article that the Biden administration had “de-escalated crises in Gaza.” The Middle East, he wrote, is “quieter than it has been for decades,” echoing comments he made at The Atlantic Festival in late September. (The online version of the article was subsequently edited to omit those statements.) In essence, the United States had mistaken a temporary lull in the Middle East for a more enduring period of relative peace—and ascribed the apparent boon to American influence.

The lesson the United States should be drawing is that it generally cannot enforce its will—however benevolent Americans believe it to be—in every area of the world. In region after region, the United States engages with movements and governments that are powerful actors themselves. Some will at least outwardly genuflect to the U.S., but all of them will pursue their own interests. In overestimating their own power, American presidents risk worse outcomes, both for the United States and for the causes it is trying to promote.

As I have previously argued, U.S. policy toward Ukraine has been bedeviled by indecision, poor calculation, and the presumption that the war will abide by American plans and expectations. Intimidated by Russian President Vladimir Putin’s threats of nuclear war, the U.S. has delivered mostly short-range battlefield aid to Ukraine, in the hope that such weaponry will be sufficient—while still denying the Ukrainians the ability to make supposedly rash moves, such as liberating Crimea from Russian rule. Although the United States has gradually agreed to provide more modern equipment with greater capabilities, the delays have given Russia time to rebuild its forces and strengthen its defenses against Ukrainian counterattack.

Supposedly great powers are usually anything but, as some of the world’s mightiest, most resource-rich nations have demonstrated in a series of stumbles, failures, and even outright humiliations over the past few years. The full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 is the most obvious example: Even with months to prepare for combat against a supposedly outgunned opponent, the Russians failed in a military operation of enormous interest to Putin. Nearly two years later, Ukraine remains independent. Although the invaders occupy significant territory, they lose personnel and equipment on a daily basis to a Ukrainian military armed with mostly older or limited-range weaponry from its NATO allies.

China—the state that has transformed the global order more than any other in recent decades—is stumbling badly too. Only a few years ago, it seemed fully ascendant as it staked claims around its borders, expanded its influence through its Belt and Road Initiative, built the world’s second-most-advanced military, and seemed poised to overtake the United States as the world’s largest economy. Today, the Chinese economy is in a significant slump, and the regime faces hostile and worried neighbors along a crescent that runs for thousands of miles—from India through the South China Sea, to Taiwan, South Korea, and Japan. Italy has signaled it will pull out of the Belt and Road Initiative; Sri Lanka, which is struggling to pay back Chinese loans that have yielded precious little economic benefit, is a cautionary tale for other nations about the potential dangers of Beijing’s largess. Recently, the Chinese government has been trying to patch up its relationship with the United States and persuade Americans to once again invest in China, to allow the latter some time to recover.

This rapprochement is not a sign that the U.S. has fared any better in great-power politics. The extraordinary debacle in Afghanistan in 2021 suggests otherwise. After conducting the longest overseas military operation in American history, spending more than $2 trillion to fund the war and military occupation of Afghanistan since 2001, and suffering the deaths of thousands of American service members, the United States pulled out with what looked like little preparation. The U.S.-backed Afghan government collapsed far faster than the regime that the Soviet Union left behind when it pulled out of Afghanistan in the late 1980s; in seemingly no time, the Taliban, the regime that the U.S. had invaded to overthrow in 2001, was back in charge.

After Russia invaded Ukraine last year, the U.S. seemed to regain its footing. Putin’s invasion was so ill-considered and bloodthirsty—and Ukrainian resistance so fierce, adept, and determined—that Western nations felt energized and steadfast in their support for the invaded country. Yet in retrospect, the short-term boost to NATO’s effectiveness seems like a lucky accident. American hesitation in the past year has helped make the war bloodier, longer, and potentially more escalatory than if Washington had simply picked a side and given it all the support necessary to win.

Events in the Middle East are demonstrating the limits of Washington’s power in other ways. The Biden administration is seeking to manage the Israeli response to the Hamas terror attacks of October 7. Israel has shown a willingness to conduct an extensive bombing campaign in Gaza because the country’s leaders perceive that to be in their country’s interest, even though the U.S. is publicly urging it to act with greater military restraint.

To preserve, even maximize, its influence, a major power must understand what it can and cannot do—and, in moments of uncertainty, err on the side of thinking that achieving its goals will be hard, not easy. The more assertive and interventionist a power becomes, the more likely it is to reveal the limits of its influence. The collapse of European colonial empires after World War II, America’s defeat in Vietnam, and the fragmenting of the U.S.S.R. in 1990–91 all show how even powers that seem strong and permanent can wither or disappear in a remarkably short amount of time.

The U.S. should never be isolationist. Nor should it define its global role, as it has so frequently done since the beginning of the Cold War, in terms of simply countering its perceived enemies. Instead, it should proceed cautiously in regions, such as the Middle East, where its record of recent interventions offers ample reason for humility. It should work to strengthen states—such as democracies in the Pacific Rim and in Europe—that emphatically want the U.S. to assist in their defense and security. Ukraine clearly wants to be in this group. American involvement should be seen as a prize, not a threat, and Ukraine’s example helps clarify what kind of countries would most benefit from—and deserve—that help: Are they willing to fight for themselves? And are they governed based on the consent of their residents?

The U.S. can engage in dialogue and seek areas of common interest with a variety of parties around the world. But it should use its power more judiciously than it has. By perpetuating the fiction that Washington can shape other countries’ destiny on its own terms, the U.S. is undercutting its own global position.



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