WASHINGTON RULES.

AMERICA'S PATH TO PERMANENT WAR.

by ANDREW J. BACEVICH.

INTRODUCTION: SLOW LEARNER.

Worldly ambition inhibits true learning. Ask me. I know. A young man in a hurry is nearly uneducable: He knows what he wants and where he's headed; when it comes to looking back or entertaining heretical thoughts, he has neither the time nor the inclination. All that counts is that he is going somewhere. Only as ambition wanes does education become a possibility.

My own education did not commence until I had reached middle age. I can fix its start date with precision: For me, education began in Berlin, on a winter's evening, at the Brandenburg Gate, not long after the Berlin Wall had fallen.

As an officer in the U.S. Army I had spent considerable time in Germany. Until that moment, however, my family and I had never had occasion to visit this most famous of German cities, still littered with artifacts of a deeply repellent history. At the end of a long day of exploration, we found ourselves in what had, until just months before, been the communist East. It was late and we were hungry, but I insisted on walking the length of the Unter den Linden, from the River Spree to the gate itself. A cold rain was falling and the pavement glistened. The buildings lining the avenue, dating from the era of Prussian kings, were dark, dirty, and pitted. Few people were about. It was hardly a night for sightseeing. insisted on walking the length of the Unter den Linden, from the River Spree to the gate itself. A cold rain was falling and the pavement glistened. The buildings lining the avenue, dating from the era of Prussian kings, were dark, dirty, and pitted. Few people were about. It was hardly a night for sightseeing.

For as long as I could remember, the Brandenburg Gate had been the preeminent symbol of the age and Berlin the epicenter of contemporary history. Yet by the time I made it to the once and future German capital, history was already moving on. The Cold War had abruptly ended. A divided city and a divided nation had reunited.

For Americans who had known Berlin only from a distance, the city existed primarily as a metaphor. Pick a date-1933, 1942, 1945, 1948, 1961, 1989-and Berlin becomes an instructive symbol of power, depravity, tragedy, defiance, endurance, or vindication. For those inclined to view the past as a chronicle of parables, the modern history of Berlin offered an abundance of material. The greatest of those parables emerged from the events of 1933 to 1945, an epic tale of evil ascendant, belatedly confronted, then heroically overthrown. A second narrative, woven from events during the intense period immediately following World War II, saw hopes for peace dashed, yielding bitter antagonism but also great resolve. The ensuing stand-off-the "long twilight struggle," in John Kennedy's memorable phrase-formed the centerpiece of the third parable, its central theme stubborn courage in the face of looming peril. Finally came the exhilarating events of 1989, with freedom ultimately prevailing, not only in Berlin, but throughout Eastern Europe.

What exactly was I looking for at the Brandenburg Gate? Perhaps confirmation that those parables, which I had absorbed and accepted as true, were just that. Whatever I expected, what I actually found was a cl.u.s.ter of shabby-looking young men, not German, hawking badges, medallions, hats, bits of uniforms, and other artifacts of the mighty Red Army. It was all junk, cheaply made and shoddy. For a handful of deutsche marks, I bought a wrist.w.a.tch emblazoned with the symbol of the Soviet armored corps. Within days, it ceased to work. expected, what I actually found was a cl.u.s.ter of shabby-looking young men, not German, hawking badges, medallions, hats, bits of uniforms, and other artifacts of the mighty Red Army. It was all junk, cheaply made and shoddy. For a handful of deutsche marks, I bought a wrist.w.a.tch emblazoned with the symbol of the Soviet armored corps. Within days, it ceased to work.

Huddling among the scarred columns, those peddlers-almost certainly off-duty Russian soldiers awaiting redeployment home-const.i.tuted a subversive presence. They were loose ends of a story that was supposed to have ended neatly when the Berlin Wall came down. As we hurried off to find warmth and a meal, this disconcerting encounter stuck with me, and I began to entertain this possibility: that the truths I had acc.u.mulated over the previous twenty years as a professional soldier-especially truths about the Cold War and U.S. foreign policy-might not be entirely true.

By temperament and upbringing, I had always taken comfort in orthodoxy. In a life spent subject to authority, deference had become a deeply ingrained habit. I found a.s.surance in conventional wisdom. Now, I started, however hesitantly, to suspect that orthodoxy might be a sham. I began to appreciate that authentic truth is never simple and that any version of truth handed down from on high-whether by presidents, prime ministers, or archbishops-is inherently suspect. The powerful, I came to see, reveal truth only to the extent that it suits them. Even then, the truths to which they testify come wrapped in a nearly invisible filament of dissembling, deception, and duplicity. The exercise of power necessarily involves manipulation and is ant.i.thetical to candor.

I came to these obvious points embarra.s.singly late in life. "Nothing is so astonishing in education," the historian Henry Adams once wrote, "as the amount of ignorance it acc.u.mulates in the form of inert facts." Henry Adams once wrote, "as the amount of ignorance it acc.u.mulates in the form of inert facts."1 Until that moment I had too often confused education with acc.u.mulating and cataloging facts. In Berlin, at the foot of the Brandenburg Gate, I began to realize that I had been a naif. And so, at age forty-one, I set out, in a halting and haphazard fashion, to acquire a genuine education. Until that moment I had too often confused education with acc.u.mulating and cataloging facts. In Berlin, at the foot of the Brandenburg Gate, I began to realize that I had been a naif. And so, at age forty-one, I set out, in a halting and haphazard fashion, to acquire a genuine education.

Twenty years later I've made only modest progress. This book provides an accounting of what I have learned thus far.

In October 1990, I'd gotten a preliminary hint that something might be amiss in my prior education. On October 3, communist East Germany-formally the German Democratic Republic (GDR)-ceased to exist and German reunification was officially secured. That very week I accompanied a group of American military officers to the city of Jena in what had been the GDR. Our purpose was self-consciously educational-to study the famous battle of Jena-Auerstadt in which Napoleon Bonaparte and his marshals had inflicted an epic defeat on Prussian forces commanded by the Duke of Brunswick. (The outcome of that 1806 battle inspired the philosopher Hegel, then residing in Jena, to declare that the "end of history" was at hand. The conclusion of the Cold War had only recently elicited a similarly exuberant judgment from the American scholar Francis f.u.kuyama.) On this trip we did learn a lot about the conduct of that battle, although mainly inert facts possessing little real educational value. Inadvertently, we also gained insight into the reality of life on the far side of what Americans had habitually called the Iron Curtain, known in U.S. military vernacular as "the trace." In this regard, the trip proved nothing less than revelatory. The educational content of this excursion would-for me-be difficult to exaggerate. less than revelatory. The educational content of this excursion would-for me-be difficult to exaggerate.

As soon as our bus crossed the old Inner German Border, we entered a time warp. For U.S. troops garrisoned throughout Bavaria and Hesse, West Germany had for decades served as a sort of theme park-a giant Epcot filled with quaint villages, stunning scenery, and superb highways, along with ample supplies of quite decent food, excellent beer, and accommodating women. Now, we found ourselves face-to-face with an altogether different Germany. Although commonly depicted as the most advanced and successful component of the Soviet Empire, East Germany more closely resembled part of the undeveloped world.

The roads-even the main highways-were narrow and visibly crumbling. Traffic posed little problem. Apart from a few sluggish Trabants and Wartburgs-East German automobiles that tended to a retro primitivism-and an occasional exhaust-spewing truck, the way was clear. The villages through which we pa.s.sed were forlorn and the small farms down at the heels. For lunch we stopped at a roadside stand. The proprietor happily accepted our D-marks, offering us inedible sausages in exchange. Although the signs a.s.sured us that we remained in a land of German speakers, it was a country that had not yet recovered from World War II.

Upon arrival in Jena, we checked into the Hotel Schwarzer Bar, identified by our advance party as the best hostelry in town. It turned out to be a rundown fleabag. As the senior officer present, I was privileged to have a room in which the plumbing functioned. Others were not so lucky.

Jena itself was a midsized university city, with its main academic complex immediately opposite our hotel. A very large bust of Karl Marx, mounted on a granite pedestal and badly in need of cleaning, stood on the edge of the campus. Briquettes of soft coal used for home heating made the air all but unbreathable and coated everything with soot. In the German cities we knew, pastels predominated-houses and apartment blocks painted pale green, muted salmon, and soft yellow. Here everything was brown and gray. Briquettes of soft coal used for home heating made the air all but unbreathable and coated everything with soot. In the German cities we knew, pastels predominated-houses and apartment blocks painted pale green, muted salmon, and soft yellow. Here everything was brown and gray.

That evening we set out in search of dinner. The restaurants within walking distance were few and unattractive. We chose badly, a drab establishment in which fresh vegetables were unavailable and the wurst inferior. The adequacy of the local beer provided the sole consolation.

The following morning, on the way to the battlefield, we noted a significant Soviet military presence, mostly in the form of trucks pa.s.sing by-to judge by their appearance, designs that dated from the 1950s. To our surprise, we discovered that the Soviets had established a small training area adjacent to where Napoleon had vanquished the Prussians. Although we had orders to avoid contact with any Russians, the presence of their armored troops going through their paces riveted us. Here was something of far greater immediacy than Bonaparte and the Duke of Brunswick: "the other," about which we had for so long heard so much but knew so little. Through binoculars, we watched a column of Russian armored vehicles-BMPs, in NATO parlance-traversing what appeared to be a drivers' training course. Suddenly, one of them began spewing smoke. Soon thereafter, it burst into flames.

Here was education, although at the time I had only the vaguest sense of its significance.

These visits to Jena and Berlin offered glimpses of a reality radically at odds with my most fundamental a.s.sumptions. Uninvited and unexpected, subversive forces had begun to infiltrate my consciousness. Bit by bit, my worldview started to crumble. infiltrate my consciousness. Bit by bit, my worldview started to crumble.

That worldview had derived from this conviction: that American power manifested a commitment to global leadership, and that both together expressed and affirmed the nation's enduring devotion to its founding ideals. That American power, policies, and purpose were bound together in a neat, internally consistent package, each element drawing strength from and reinforcing the others, was something I took as a given. That, during my adult life, a penchant for interventionism had become a signature of U.S. policy did not-to me, at least-in any way contradict America's aspirations for peace. Instead, a willingness to expend lives and treasure in distant places testified to the seriousness of those aspirations. That, during this same period, the United States had ama.s.sed an a.r.s.enal of over thirty-one thousand nuclear weapons, some small number of them a.s.signed to units in which I had served, was not at odds with our belief in the inalienable right to life and liberty; rather, threats to life and liberty had compelled the United States to acquire such an a.r.s.enal and maintain it in readiness for instant use.2 I was not so naive as to believe that the American record had been without flaws. Yet I a.s.sured myself that any errors or misjudgments had been committed in good faith. Furthermore, circ.u.mstances permitted little real choice. In Southeast Asia as in Western Europe, in the Persian Gulf as in the Western Hemisphere, the United States had simply done what needed doing. Viable alternatives did not exist. To consent to any dilution of American power would be to forfeit global leadership, thereby putting at risk safety, prosperity, and freedom, not only our own but also that of our friends and allies.

The choices seemed clear enough. On one side was the status quo: the commitments, customs, and habits that defined American globalism, implemented by the national security apparatus within which I functioned as a small cog. On the other side was the prospect of appeas.e.m.e.nt, isolationism, and catastrophe. The only responsible course was the one to which every president since Harry Truman had adhered. status quo: the commitments, customs, and habits that defined American globalism, implemented by the national security apparatus within which I functioned as a small cog. On the other side was the prospect of appeas.e.m.e.nt, isolationism, and catastrophe. The only responsible course was the one to which every president since Harry Truman had adhered.

For me, the Cold War had played a crucial role in sustaining that worldview. Given my age, upbringing, and professional background, it could hardly have been otherwise. Although the great rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union had contained moments of considerable anxiety-I remember my father, during the Cuban Missile Crisis, stocking our bas.e.m.e.nt with water and canned goods-it served primarily to clarify, not to frighten. The Cold War provided a framework that organized and made sense of contemporary history. It offered a lineup and a scorecard. That there existed bad Germans and good Germans, their Germans and our Germans, totalitarian Germans and Germans who, like Americans, pa.s.sionately loved freedom was, for example, a proposition I accepted as dogma. Seeing the Cold War as a struggle between good and evil answered many questions, consigned others to the periphery, and rendered still others irrelevant.

Back in the 1960s, during the Vietnam War, more than a few members of my generation had rejected the conception of the Cold War as a Manichean struggle. Here too, I was admittedly a slow learner. Yet having kept the faith long after others had lost theirs, the doubts that eventually a.s.sailed me were all the more disorienting.

Granted, occasional suspicions had appeared long before Jena and Berlin. My own Vietnam experience had generated its share, which I had done my best to suppress. I was, after all, a serving soldier. Except in the narrowest of terms, the military profession, in those days at least, did not look kindly on nonconformity. Climbing the ladder of career success required curbing maverick tendencies. To get ahead, you needed to be a team player. Later, when studying the history of U.S. foreign relations in graduate school, I was pelted with challenges to orthodoxy, which I vigorously deflected. When it came to education, graduate school proved a complete waste of time-a period of intense study devoted to the further acc.u.mulation of facts, while I exerted myself to ensuring that they remained inert. its share, which I had done my best to suppress. I was, after all, a serving soldier. Except in the narrowest of terms, the military profession, in those days at least, did not look kindly on nonconformity. Climbing the ladder of career success required curbing maverick tendencies. To get ahead, you needed to be a team player. Later, when studying the history of U.S. foreign relations in graduate school, I was pelted with challenges to orthodoxy, which I vigorously deflected. When it came to education, graduate school proved a complete waste of time-a period of intense study devoted to the further acc.u.mulation of facts, while I exerted myself to ensuring that they remained inert.

Now, however, my personal circ.u.mstances were changing. Shortly after the pa.s.sing of the Cold War, my military career ended. Education thereby became not only a possibility, but also a necessity.

In measured doses, mortification cleanses the soul. It's the perfect antidote for excessive self-regard. After twenty-three years spent inside the U.S. Army seemingly going somewhere, I now found myself on the outside going nowhere in particular. In the self-contained and cloistered universe of regimental life, I had briefly risen to the status of minor spear carrier. The instant I took off my uniform, that status vanished. I soon came to a proper appreciation of my own insignificance, a salutary lesson that I ought to have absorbed many years earlier.

As I set out on what eventually became a crablike journey toward a new calling as a teacher and writer-a pilgrimage of sorts-ambition in the commonly accepted meaning of the term ebbed. This did not happen all at once. Yet gradually, trying to grab one of life's shiny bra.s.s rings ceased being a major preoccupation. Wealth, power, and celebrity became not aspirations but subjects for critical a.n.a.lysis. History-especially the familiar narrative of the Cold War-no longer offered answers; instead, it posed perplexing riddles. Easily the most nagging was this one: How could I have so profoundly misjudged the reality of what lay on the far side of the Iron Curtain? became not aspirations but subjects for critical a.n.a.lysis. History-especially the familiar narrative of the Cold War-no longer offered answers; instead, it posed perplexing riddles. Easily the most nagging was this one: How could I have so profoundly misjudged the reality of what lay on the far side of the Iron Curtain?

Had I been insufficiently attentive? Or was it possible that I had been snookered all along? Contemplating such questions, while simultaneously witnessing the unfolding of the "long 1990s"-the period bookended by two wars with Iraq when American vainglory reached impressive new heights-prompted the realization that I had grossly misinterpreted the threat posed by America's adversaries. Yet that was the lesser half of the problem. Far worse than misperceiving "them" was the fact that I had misperceived "us." What I thought I knew best I actually understood least. Here, the need for education appeared especially acute.

George W. Bush's decision to launch Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003 pushed me fully into opposition. Claims that once seemed elementary-above all, claims relating to the essentially benign purposes of American power-now appeared preposterous. The contradictions that found an ostensibly peace-loving nation committing itself to a doctrine of preventive war became too great to ignore. The folly and hubris of the policy makers who heedlessly thrust the nation into an ill-defined and open-ended "global war on terror" without the foggiest notion of what victory would look like, how it would be won, and what it might cost approached standards. .h.i.therto achieved only by slightly mad German warlords. During the era of containment, the United States had at least maintained the pretense of a principled strategy; now, the last vestiges of principle gave way to fantasy and opportunism. With that, the worldview to which I had adhered as a young adult and carried into middle age dissolved completely. which I had adhered as a young adult and carried into middle age dissolved completely.

What should stand in the place of such discarded convictions? Simply inverting the conventional wisdom, subst.i.tuting a new Manichean paradigm for the old discredited version-the United States taking the place of the Soviet Union as the source of the world's evil-would not suffice. Yet arriving at even an approximation of truth would entail subjecting conventional wisdom, both present and past, to sustained and searching scrutiny. Cautiously at first but with growing confidence, this I vowed to do.

Doing so meant shedding habits of conformity acquired over decades. All of my adult life I had been a company man, only dimly aware of the extent to which inst.i.tutional loyalties induce myopia. a.s.serting independence required first recognizing the extent to which I had been socialized to accept certain things as unimpeachable. Here then were the preliminary steps essential to making education accessible. Over a period of years, a considerable store of debris had piled up. Now, it all had to go. Belatedly, I learned that more often than not what pa.s.ses for conventional wisdom is simply wrong. Adopting fashionable att.i.tudes to demonstrate one's trustworthiness-the world of politics is flush with such people hoping thereby to qualify for inclusion in some inner circle-is akin to engaging in prost.i.tution in exchange for promissory notes. It's not only demeaning but downright foolhardy.

This book aims to take stock of conventional wisdom in its most influential and enduring form, namely the package of a.s.sumptions, habits, and precepts that have defined the tradition of statecraft to which the United States has adhered since the end of World War II-the era of global dominance now drawing to a close. This postwar tradition combines two components, each one so deeply embedded in the American collective consciousness as to have all but disappeared from view. since the end of World War II-the era of global dominance now drawing to a close. This postwar tradition combines two components, each one so deeply embedded in the American collective consciousness as to have all but disappeared from view.

The first component specifies norms according to which the international order ought to work and charges the United States with responsibility for enforcing those norms. Call this the American credo. In the simplest terms, the credo summons the United States-and the United States alone-to lead, save, liberate, and ultimately transform the world. In a celebrated manifesto issued at the dawn of what he termed "The American Century," Henry R. Luce made the case for this s.p.a.cious conception of global leadership. Writing in Life Life magazine in early 1941, the influential publisher exhorted his fellow citizens to "accept wholeheartedly our duty to exert upon the world the full impact of our influence for such purposes as we see fit and by such means as we see fit." Luce thereby captured what remains even today the credo's essence. magazine in early 1941, the influential publisher exhorted his fellow citizens to "accept wholeheartedly our duty to exert upon the world the full impact of our influence for such purposes as we see fit and by such means as we see fit." Luce thereby captured what remains even today the credo's essence.3 Luce's concept of an American Century, an age of unquestioned American global primacy, resonated, especially in Washington. His evocative phrase found a permanent place in the lexicon of national politics. (Recall that the neoconservatives who, in the 1990s, lobbied for more militant U.S. policies named their enterprise the Project for a New American Century.) So, too, did Luce's expansive claim of prerogatives to be exercised by the United States. Even today, whenever public figures allude to America's responsibility to lead, they signal their fidelity to this creed. Along with respectful allusions to G.o.d and "the troops," adherence to Luce's credo has become a de facto prerequisite for high office. Question its claims and your prospects of being heard in the hubbub of national politics become nil. high office. Question its claims and your prospects of being heard in the hubbub of national politics become nil.

Note, however, that the duty Luce ascribed to Americans has two components. It is not only up to Americans, he wrote, to choose the purposes for which they would bring their influence to bear, but to choose the means as well. Here we confront the second component of the postwar tradition of American statecraft.

With regard to means, that tradition has emphasized activism over example, hard power over soft, and coercion (often styled "negotiating from a position of strength") over suasion. Above all, the exercise of global leadership as prescribed by the credo obliges the United States to maintain military capabilities staggeringly in excess of those required for self-defense. Prior to World War II, Americans by and large viewed military power and inst.i.tutions with skepticism, if not outright hostility. In the wake of World War II, that changed. An affinity for military might emerged as central to the American ident.i.ty.

By the midpoint of the twentieth century, "the Pentagon" had ceased to be merely a gigantic five-sided building. Like "Wall Street" at the end of the nineteenth century, it had become Leviathan, its actions veiled in secrecy, its reach extending around the world. Yet while the concentration of power in Wall Street had once evoked deep fear and suspicion, Americans by and large saw the concentration of power in the Pentagon as benign. Most found it rea.s.suring.

A people who had long seen standing armies as a threat to liberty now came to believe that the preservation of liberty required them to lavish resources on the armed forces. During the Cold War, Americans worried ceaselessly about falling behind the Russians, even though the Pentagon consistently maintained a position of overall primacy. Once the Soviet threat disappeared, mere primacy no longer sufficed. With barely a whisper of national debate, unambiguous and perpetual global military supremacy emerged as an essential predicate to global leadership. consistently maintained a position of overall primacy. Once the Soviet threat disappeared, mere primacy no longer sufficed. With barely a whisper of national debate, unambiguous and perpetual global military supremacy emerged as an essential predicate to global leadership.

Every great military power has its distinctive signature. For Napoleonic France, it was the levee en ma.s.se levee en ma.s.se-the people in arms animated by the ideals of the Revolution. For Great Britain in the heyday of empire, it was command of the seas, sustained by a dominant fleet and a network of far-flung outposts from Gibraltar and the Cape of Good Hope to Singapore and Hong Kong. Germany from the 1860s to the 1940s (and Israel from 1948 to 1973) took another approach, relying on a potent blend of tactical flexibility and operational audacity to achieve battlefield superiority.

The abiding signature of American military power since World War II has been of a different order altogether. The United States has not specialized in any particular type of war. It has not adhered to a fixed tactical style. No single service or weapon has enjoyed consistent favor. At times, the armed forces have relied on citizen-soldiers to fill their ranks; at other times, long-service professionals. Yet an examination of the past sixty years of U.S. military policy and practice does reveal important elements of continuity. Call them the sacred trinity: an abiding conviction that the minimum essentials of international peace and order require the United States to maintain a global military presence global military presence, to configure its forces for global power projection global power projection, and to counter existing or antic.i.p.ated threats by relying on a policy of global interventionism global interventionism.

Together, credo and trinity-the one defining purpose, the other practice-const.i.tute the essence of the way that Washington has attempted to govern and police the American Century. The relationship between the two is symbiotic. The trinity lends plausibility to the credo's vast claims. For its part, the credo justifies the trinity's vast requirements and exertions. Together they provide the basis for an enduring consensus that imparts a consistency to U.S. policy regardless of which political party may hold the upper hand or who may be occupying the White House. From the era of Harry Truman to the age of Barack Obama, that consensus has remained intact. It defines the rules to which Washington adheres; it determines the precepts by which Washington rules. Century. The relationship between the two is symbiotic. The trinity lends plausibility to the credo's vast claims. For its part, the credo justifies the trinity's vast requirements and exertions. Together they provide the basis for an enduring consensus that imparts a consistency to U.S. policy regardless of which political party may hold the upper hand or who may be occupying the White House. From the era of Harry Truman to the age of Barack Obama, that consensus has remained intact. It defines the rules to which Washington adheres; it determines the precepts by which Washington rules.

As used here, Washington is less a geographic expression than a set of interlocking inst.i.tutions headed by people who, whether acting officially or unofficially, are able to put a thumb on the helm of state. Washington, in this sense, includes the upper echelons of the executive, legislative, and judicial branches of the federal government. It encompa.s.ses the princ.i.p.al components of the national security state-the departments of Defense, State, and, more recently, Homeland Security, along with various agencies comprising the intelligence and federal law enforcement communities. Its ranks extend to select think tanks and interest groups. Lawyers, lobbyists, fixers, former officials, and retired military officers who still enjoy access are members in good standing. Yet Washington also reaches beyond the Beltway to include big banks and other financial inst.i.tutions, defense contractors and major corporations, television networks and elite publications like the New York Times New York Times, even quasi-academic ent.i.ties like the Council on Foreign Relations and Harvard's Kennedy School of Government. With rare exceptions, acceptance of the Washington rules forms a prerequisite for entry into this world.

My purpose in writing this book is fivefold: first, to trace the origins and evolution of the Washington rules-both the credo that inspires consensus and the trinity in which it finds expression; second, to subject the resulting consensus to critical inspection, showing who wins and who loses and also who foots the bill; third, to explain how the Washington rules are perpetuated, with certain views privileged while others are declared disreputable; fourth, to demonstrate that the rules themselves have lost whatever utility they may once have possessed, with their implications increasingly pernicious and their costs increasingly unaffordable; and finally, to argue for readmitting disreputable (or "radical") views to our national security debate, in effect legitimating alternatives to the status quo. In effect, my aim is to invite readers to share in the process of education on which I embarked two decades ago in Berlin. the origins and evolution of the Washington rules-both the credo that inspires consensus and the trinity in which it finds expression; second, to subject the resulting consensus to critical inspection, showing who wins and who loses and also who foots the bill; third, to explain how the Washington rules are perpetuated, with certain views privileged while others are declared disreputable; fourth, to demonstrate that the rules themselves have lost whatever utility they may once have possessed, with their implications increasingly pernicious and their costs increasingly unaffordable; and finally, to argue for readmitting disreputable (or "radical") views to our national security debate, in effect legitimating alternatives to the status quo. In effect, my aim is to invite readers to share in the process of education on which I embarked two decades ago in Berlin.

The Washington rules were forged at a moment when American influence and power were approaching their acme. That moment has now pa.s.sed. The United States has drawn down the stores of authority and goodwill it had acquired by 1945. Words uttered in Washington command less respect than once was the case. Americans can ill afford to indulge any longer in dreams of saving the world, much less remaking it in our own image. The curtain is now falling on the American Century.

Similarly, the United States no longer possesses sufficient wherewithal to sustain a national security strategy that relies on global military presence and global power projection to underwrite a policy of global interventionism. Touted as essential to peace, adherence to that strategy has propelled the United States into a condition approximating perpetual war, as the military misadventures of the past decade have demonstrated.

To anyone with eyes to see, the shortcomings inherent in the Washington rules have become plainly evident. Although those most deeply invested in perpetuating its conventions will insist otherwise, the tradition to which Washington remains devoted has begun to unravel. Attempting to prolong its existence might serve Washington's interests, but it will not serve the interests of the American people. the Washington rules have become plainly evident. Although those most deeply invested in perpetuating its conventions will insist otherwise, the tradition to which Washington remains devoted has begun to unravel. Attempting to prolong its existence might serve Washington's interests, but it will not serve the interests of the American people.

Devising an alternative to the reigning national security paradigm will pose a daunting challenge-especially if Americans look to "Washington" for fresh thinking. Yet doing so has become essential.

In one sense, the national security policies to which Washington so insistently adheres express what has long been the preferred American approach to engaging the world beyond our borders. That approach plays to America's presumed strong suit-since World War II, and especially since the end of the Cold War, thought to be military power. In another sense, this reliance on military might creates excuses for the United States to avoid serious engagement: Confidence in American arms has made it unnecessary to attend to what others might think or to consider how their aspirations might differ from our own. In this way, the Washington rules reinforce American provincialism-a national trait for which the United States continues to pay dearly.

The persistence of these rules has also provided an excuse to avoid serious self-engagement. From this perspective, confidence that the credo and the trinity will oblige others to accommodate themselves to America's needs or desires-whether for cheap oil, cheap credit, or cheap consumer goods-has allowed Washington to postpone or ignore problems demanding attention here at home. Fixing Iraq or Afghanistan ends up taking precedence over fixing Cleveland and Detroit. Purporting to support the troops in their crusade to free the world obviates any obligation to a.s.sess the implications of how Americans themselves choose to exercise freedom. a.s.sess the implications of how Americans themselves choose to exercise freedom.

When Americans demonstrate a willingness to engage seriously with others, combined with the courage to engage seriously with themselves, then real education just might begin.

1.

THE ADVENT OF SEMIWAR.

Speaking to the throngs gathered in Chicago's Grant Park on the night of his election to the presidency, Barack Obama summoned his fellow citizens "to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day."1 That history has a readily apparent direction and that Americans are called upon to determine its trajectory are propositions his listeners likely took for granted. Americans have long since become accustomed to their leaders making such claims. That history has a readily apparent direction and that Americans are called upon to determine its trajectory are propositions his listeners likely took for granted. Americans have long since become accustomed to their leaders making such claims.

Bending the arc of history necessarily entails vast exertions on a sustained basis. It likewise implies a capacity to discern the arc's proper shape. It a.s.sumes not only the possession of great power, but also a willingness to expend that power so as to ensure the accomplishment of history's purposes.

In what was billed as her first major foreign policy address, Hillary Clinton, Obama's secretary of state, made the point explicitly. Citing with approval the famous words of Revolutionary-era radical Tom Paine-"We have it within our power to begin the world over again"-Clinton went on to declare, "Today ... we are called upon to use that power." of Revolutionary-era radical Tom Paine-"We have it within our power to begin the world over again"-Clinton went on to declare, "Today ... we are called upon to use that power."2 This self-adulatory vision captures the essence of what Americans commonly understand by the phrase global leadership global leadership. In his speech, Obama was implicitly affirming his commitment to everything signified by that phrase. Change was coming to America but that did not mean the United States was about to shirk its responsibilities. On the contrary.

Since taking office, President Obama has acted on many fronts to adjust the way the United States exercises that leadership. Yet these adjustments have seldom risen above the cosmetic. When it comes to fundamentals, he has stood firm. The national security consensus to which every president since 1945 has subscribed persists. On this score, change has not come to America.

Once installed in office, President Obama and his chief lieutenants wasted little time in signaling their allegiance to this consensus and to the four a.s.sertions on which it rests. Every president since Harry Truman has faithfully subscribed to these four a.s.sertions and Obama is no exception.

First, the world must be organized (or shaped). In the absence of organization, chaos will surely reign.

Second, only the United States possesses the capacity to prescribe and enforce such a global order. No other nation has the vision, will, and wisdom required to lead. Apart from the United States, no other nation or group of nations (and certainly no supra-national inst.i.tution) can be entrusted with that role. Leadership in this sense implies that Washington demonstrate a voracious appet.i.te for taking on new obligations, never acknowledging that limits exist on how much Americans can afford. Once shouldered, obligations become permanent-the consequences of pulling out of Afghanistan after 1989 demonstrating the penalty that results from violating this dictum. become permanent-the consequences of pulling out of Afghanistan after 1989 demonstrating the penalty that results from violating this dictum.

Third, America's writ includes the charge of articulating the principles that should define the international order. Those principles are necessarily American principles, which possess universal validity. That specific American principles may themselves evolve in no way compromises their universality. However much American att.i.tudes regarding nuclear weapons or noncombatant casualties or women's rights may change, the most recent articulation of principle is the one that counts and to which others must conform.

Finally, a few rogues and recalcitrants aside, everyone understands and accepts this reality. Despite pro forma grumbling, the world wants the United States to lead. Indeed, what keeps world leaders up at night is the possibility that Americans may someday tire of the responsibilities that history plainly intends them to bear and which they are so admirably equipped to fulfill.

Mainstream Republicans and mainstream Democrats are equally devoted to this catechism of American statecraft. Little empirical evidence exists to demonstrate its validity, but no matter: When it comes to matters of faith, proof is unnecessary. In American politics, adherence to this creed qualifies as a matter of faith. In speeches, state papers, and official ceremonies, public figures continually affirm and reinforce its validity. Like the sales pitches woven into commercial TV programming, it is both omnipresent and hidden in plain sight.

Mainstream Republicans and Democrats are also committed to the proposition that implementing this creed entails the exercise of power. In this regard, singular responsibilities require singular prerogatives. Not content simply to deflect threats, Washington seeks to remove them. Rather than waiting on events, national security elites favor an activist posture. The misleadingly named Department of Defense serves in fact as a Ministry of Global Policing. to deflect threats, Washington seeks to remove them. Rather than waiting on events, national security elites favor an activist posture. The misleadingly named Department of Defense serves in fact as a Ministry of Global Policing.

When it comes to projecting power, the United States exempts itself from norms with which it expects others to comply. The notorious Bush Doctrine of preventive war provides the ultimate expression of the prerogatives to which Washington lays claims. Yet in promulgating the doctrine that bears his name, George W. Bush was adhering to a well-established practice. Ever since 1904 when Theodore Roosevelt enunciated his famous "corollary" to the Monroe Doctrine-a.s.serting authority to "exercise international police power" throughout the Caribbean whenever the United States found evidence of "chronic wrongdoing"-his successors have played variations of TR's theme. The eponymous doctrines of Presidents Truman, Eisenhower, Carter, and Reagan number among the results.3 That the United States should also maintain a far-flung network of bases and other arrangements to facilitate intervention abroad emerges as an essential predicate. Whereas the United States once erected bases in places like Hawaii, Panama, or the Philippines to defend outposts of empire, for decades now a central purpose of "forward presence" has been to project power anywhere on earth. As a result, Americans have long since become accustomed to the stationing of U.S. troops in far-off lands. This global military presence is ostensibly essential to the defense of American freedom even in places where the actual threat to American freedom is oblique or imaginary.

Precisely because American purposes express the collective interests of humankind, Washington expects others to view U.S. military power, the Pentagon's global footprint, and an American penchant for intervention not as a matter of concern but as a source of comfort and rea.s.surance. The good intentions inherent in the credo of American global leadership render the triad of principles defining U.S. military practice benign. and an American penchant for intervention not as a matter of concern but as a source of comfort and rea.s.surance. The good intentions inherent in the credo of American global leadership render the triad of principles defining U.S. military practice benign.

Americans take all this for granted and so are blind to its significance. Like corruption or hypocrisy, this national security consensus has long since become part of the wallpaper of national life, attracting attention only when some especially maladroit escapade comes to light.

What makes headlines is not a congressman accepting bribes, but that he stashes the cash in his kitchen freezer. That a married senator keeps a mistress on the side qualifies as a bit ho-hum; that he's trumpeted his devotion to family values as a member of Promise Keepers and was in the forefront of those demanding Bill Clinton's impeachment over the Lewinsky affair gives the story its special juice. So, too, with the Washington rules: It's only when something especially egregious occurs-most commonly a botched war-that members of the public take notice, and even then only briefly. That the Washington rules are are the problem rather than offering the solution to problems seldom commands any attention. the problem rather than offering the solution to problems seldom commands any attention.

For some comparative perspective, consider this possibility: In light of his country's status as a rising power, China's minister of defense announces plans to - increase Chinese military spending so that annual expenditures by the People's Liberation Army (PLA) will henceforth exceed the combined defense budgets of j.a.pan, South Korea, Russia, India, Germany, France, and Great Britain.

- create a constellation of forward-deployed PLA garrisons in strategically sensitive areas around the world, including, say, Latin America, expressing the global range of Chinese interests. including, say, Latin America, expressing the global range of Chinese interests.

- negotiate access agreements and overflight rights with dozens of nations to facilitate humanitarian intervention and augment the PLA's ability to a.s.sist in maintaining global stability.

- part.i.tion Planet Earth into sprawling territorial commands, with one four-star Chinese general a.s.signed responsibility for the Asia Pacific, another for Africa, a third for the Middle East, and so on-to include a Chinese North America Command, charged with monitoring conditions on that continent, and a Chinese s.p.a.ce Command responsible for the cosmos.

- inst.i.tute a vigorous program of war games and exercises in countries around the world, to include the Western Hemisphere, while maintaining in instant readiness the land, air, and naval forces needed to convert such games and exercises into combat operations.

- form a PLA Long-Range Strike Force, capable on very short notice of conducting intercontinental attacks, employing conventional or nuclear weapons or operating in cybers.p.a.ce.

No doubt the defense minister would caution other nations not to view this program as posing any threat, the People's Republic being sincerely committed to living in harmony with others. The minister might even argue that China, both a venerable civilization and a vigorous, rising nation-state, has an inherent responsibility to contribute to global stability. Few observers in the United States (or elsewhere for that matter) would take comfort in such a.s.surances. In Washington, Tokyo, Moscow, and other capitals, China's true intentions might be subject to debate, but no responsible official would accept the a.s.sertion that such a huge investment in military power reflected China's desire to advance the cause of peace. The rhetorical camouflage would fool no one. would accept the a.s.sertion that such a huge investment in military power reflected China's desire to advance the cause of peace. The rhetorical camouflage would fool no one.

The imaginary Chinese program described above pales in comparison to the existing military posture of the United States. Some highlights of that posture include the following: - With current Pentagon outlays running at something like $700 billion annually, the United States spends as much or more money on its military than the entire rest of the world combined.4 - The United States currently has approximately 300,000 troops stationed abroad, again more than the rest of the world combined (a total that does not even include another 90,000 sailors and marines who are at sea);5 as of 2008, according to the Department of Defense, these troops occupied or used some 761 "sites" in 39 foreign countries, although this tally neglected to include many dozens of U.S. bases in Iraq or Afghanistan; as of 2008, according to the Department of Defense, these troops occupied or used some 761 "sites" in 39 foreign countries, although this tally neglected to include many dozens of U.S. bases in Iraq or Afghanistan;6 no other country comes even remotely close to replicating this "empire of bases"-or to matching the access that the Pentagon has negotiated to airfields and seaports around the world. no other country comes even remotely close to replicating this "empire of bases"-or to matching the access that the Pentagon has negotiated to airfields and seaports around the world.7 - The Pentagon has divvied up the planet (and universe) into "unified commands," each headed by a four-star general or admiral. Pacific Command Pacific Command, "committed to preserving the security, stability, and freedom" of the Asia-Pacific region, polices a region comprising 50 percent of the earth's surface, and more than half of its population;8 Central Command Central Command, spanning the Greater Middle East, currently presides over wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Pakistan as it seeks "to promote security, stability, and prosperity";9 European European Command Command, established in Germany at the end of World War II, remains committed to the proposition that a need exists "for continuing and expanded U.S. engagement throughout the command's area of focus";10 Africa Command Africa Command, created in 2007, conducts "military-to-military programs, military-sponsored activities, and other military operations" in fifty-three nations in order "to promote a stable and secure African environment";11 Southern Command Southern Command, encompa.s.sing Central and South America and the Caribbean, strives to "ensure stability," "enhance security," and "enable partnerships";12 Northern Command Northern Command, established in the wake of 9/11, tends to North America; and, by no means least of all, s.p.a.ce Command s.p.a.ce Command, responsible for the biggest region of all, conducts "joint s.p.a.ce operations," including "s.p.a.ce Force Support, s.p.a.ce Force Enhancement, s.p.a.ce Force Application, and s.p.a.ce Force Control."13 - Each of the six regional commands manages its own frenetic schedule of war games, command post exercises, workshops, conferences, seminars, training missions, and disaster relief operations, all conducted under the rubric of "engagement"; Pacific Command's program of recurring exercises, for example, includes Talisman Saber, Tandem Thrust, Kingfisher, Crocodile, Cobra Gold, Balikatan, Keen Sword, Keen Edge, and Rim of the Pacific, a list that does not include the seven hundred ship visits made each year throughout the region by units of the Navy's Pacific Fleet.14 - Finally, not to be forgotten, is Strategic Command Strategic Command-formerly known as Strategic Air Command-with its sea- and land-based ballistic missiles and its fleet of long-range bombers standing ready "to deliver integrated kinetic and non-kinetic effects to include nuclear and information operations" anywhere in the world at any time; and information operations" anywhere in the world at any time;15 information operations is a euphemism for cyberwarfare, that mission soon to be a.s.sumed by yet another new headquarters to be called CYBERCOM. information operations is a euphemism for cyberwarfare, that mission soon to be a.s.sumed by yet another new headquarters to be called CYBERCOM.

Inside the Washington Beltway, none of this qualifies as controversial. Beyond the Beltway, the Pentagon's global posture generates far less interest than the latest doings of Hollywood celebrities.

Call it habit or conditioning or socialization: The citizens of the United States have essentially forfeited any capacity to ask first-order questions about the fundamentals of national security policy. To cast doubts on the principles of global presence, power projection, and interventionism, as Ron Paul and Dennis Kucinich did during the 2008 presidential primaries, is to mark oneself as an oddball or eccentric, either badly informed or less than fully reliable; certainly not someone suitable for holding national office.

Because these concepts are so deeply entrenched, what pa.s.ses for a "debate" over national security policy seldom rises above technical issues. Bureaucratic process-the never-ending review of and wrangling over budgetary priorities-becomes a mechanism for perpetuating the status quo and for distracting attention from the extent to which the Washington rules-the American credo of global leadership and the sacred trinity of U.S. military practice-commit the United States to what is in effect a condition of permanent national security crisis.

James Forrestal, the first person to serve as secretary of defense, coined a term to describe this permanent crisis. He called it semiwar semiwar.16 Conceived by Forrestal at the beginning of the Cold War, and reflecting his own anticommunist obsessions, Conceived by Forrestal at the beginning of the Cold War, and reflecting his own anticommunist obsessions, semiwar semiwar defines a condition in which great defines a condition in which great dangers always threaten the United States and will continue doing so into the indefinite future. When not actively engaged in hostilities, the nation faces the prospect of hostilities beginning at any moment, with little or no warning. In the setting of national priorities, readiness to act becomes a supreme value. dangers always threaten the United States and will continue doing so into the indefinite future. When not actively engaged in hostilities, the nation faces the prospect of hostilities beginning at any moment, with little or no warning. In the setting of national priorities, readiness to act becomes a supreme value.

Semiwarriors created the Washington rules. Semiwarriors uphold them. Semiwarriors benefit from their persistence.

Regardless of what threats actually exist, semiwarriors, some in uniform, others wearing suits, concur in the need to sustain high levels of military spending. Even as they sometimes make a show of bemoaning a stupendously profligate military-industrial complex, they routinely write off tens of billions of wasted taxpayer dollars. Professing alarm at the prospect of any would-be adversary gaining an edge anywhere in anything, they devote huge sums not just to enhancing existing U.S. capabilities, but to developing entirely new ones-weapons systems sometimes set decades into the future and blue-sky technologies that sound like material for science-fiction novels. Although careful to genuflect before the historic achievements of the citizen-soldier, they also nurture a warrior cla.s.s largely divorced from the society it serves. Never missing an opportunity to proclaim their undying devotion to peace, these semiwarriors insist that nothing should impede U.S. preparations for war.

Amid this constant clatter of sabers being honed, rattled, drawn, and thrust, fundamental questions about efficacy go unasked. The commonplace a.s.sertion that an ever-quickening pace of change confronts the United States with ever more complex problems reinforces this tendency. If the challenges of the present are without precedent, then the past has little of relevance to offer. So habits become entrenched. Contradictions go unnoticed. Above all, what gets lost along the way is accountability. the past has little of relevance to offer. So habits become entrenched. Contradictions go unnoticed. Above all, what gets lost along the way is accountability.

The scathing complaint of foreign policy critic Roger Morris, registered some thirty years ago, remains apt today. Average Americans, he wrote then, their attention absorbed by the problems of daily life at home, "give the rest of the planet only a distracted, fleeting glance." Easily persuaded that the United States is called upon to lead, they leave it to others to work out the details. As a result, ordinary citizens remain "heedless of the people and closed politics," cloaked in secrecy, that formulate policies advertised as essential to the nation's safety and well-being. From time to time, "dour, mostly anonymous men" emerge from behind closed doors "to announce discreetly some fresh disaster." Although inquiries and investigations inevitably ensue, the net effect is not to fix responsibility but to disperse it. Then the game continues, the terms of reference all but unaffected, the cast of characters largely unchanged, with Republican and Democratic insiders simply exchanging portfolios at periodic intervals.

"Aside from shedding a handful of figures too badly stained by Vietnam"-Morris was writing in 1980; today we might subst.i.tute the Greater Middle East-"no other field of American endeavor over the past two decades has been so little revived by fresh energy, talent, and perspective as our in-grown national security establishment." The burden of paying for the disasters concocted by this establishment, he continued, fall[s] most savagely on the majority of Americans with incomes under $20,000, the people whose pocketbooks do the paying and whose sons tend to do the dying for foreign policy but whose voices are largely absent in its making. do the dying for foreign policy but whose voices are largely absent in its making.

Morris unleashed his salvo in the wake of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan with the drama surrounding the Iran hostage crisis still unfolding. This book appears, in the wake of George W. Bush's Iraq War, in the midst of what has become Barack Obama's Afghanistan War. Yet Morris's central complaint still pertains.

The lethal fault of American foreign policy is a matter of neither left nor right, neither liberal cowardice nor conservative conspiracy, but rather a relatively ba.n.a.l bipartisan mediocrity.... A loss of competence more than a loss of nerve, it is not different from nepotism and misrule in one's county commission or school board, a decrepit commuter railroad or an expiring automobile manufacturer like Chrysler.17 To restore accountability requires first understanding how we got where we are. How exactly did such principles come to be enshrined as central to our national security consensus? Answering this question requires rea.s.sessing-and reframing-the narrative of contemporary U.S. history.

The standard story line, promulgated by journalists and indulged by scholars, depicts that history as a succession of presidential administrations. The occupant of the White House defines the age. The inauguration of a new chief executive wipes the slate clean. Each new president starts anew and puts his personal stamp on all that follows. So the period from 1945 to 1952 becomes the Truman era. The Eisenhower era follows, and in Eisenhower's wake comes John F. Kennedy's abbreviated yet perpetually mourned age of Camelot. And so on down the line until the age of Obama, informed by the conviction, proclaimed even before the last ballot had been counted, that "tonight ... change has come to America." John F. Kennedy's abbreviated yet perpetually mourned age of Camelot. And so on down the line until the age of Obama, informed by the conviction, proclaimed even before the last ballot had been counted, that "tonight ... change has come to America."

When it comes to justifying the erection of ever more lavish, self-referential postpresidential libraries, this reliance on the presidency as a vehicle for organizing U.S. history has proven eminently useful. Yet when it comes to a.s.sessing reality, slicing the past into neat four- or eight-year-long intervals conceals and distorts at least as much as it illuminates. The fact of the matter is: No president starts with a clean slate. Upon entering the Oval Office each confronts an imposing and often problematic inheritance. Constraints, some foreign, others domestic, limit his freedom of action. Struggling to control (or even to understand) that inheritance and to elude those constraints, presidents fail at least as often as they succeed.

Pretending to the role of Decider, a president all too often becomes little more than the medium through which power is exercised. Especially on matters related to national security, others manufacture or manipulate situations to which presidents then react. Only in the most nominal sense did Harry Truman decide to bomb Hiroshima. By the summer of 1945 the momentum dictating that the atomic bomb should be used had become all but irresistible. Much the same can be said about John F. Kennedy's 1961 decision to launch the Bay of Pigs operation, Lyndon Johnson's 1965 decision to commit U.S. combat troops to Vietnam, or even George W. Bush's decision to invade Iraq in 2003. In each case, the erstwhile commander in chief did little more than ratify a verdict that others had already rendered. Yet with rare exceptions, all presidents-even those held responsible for astonishing blunders-maintain the fiction of having remained fully in charge from start to finish. Thus do they sustain the cult of the modern presidency. for astonishing blunders-maintain the fiction of having remained fully in charge from start to finish. Thus do they sustain the cult of the modern presidency.

Dwight D. Eisenhower's justly famous "Farewell Address" stands out as one of those rare exceptions.18 On the eve of leaving office-although not before-Eisenhower offered the American people a glimpse of powerful forces that lay behind and beyond presidential control. He honestly, accurately, and courageously (if belatedly) let his fellow citizens in on the secret that, in Washington, appearances were profoundly deceptive. In describing and decrying what he called the "military-industrial complex," Ike provided a sobering tutorial in political reality, disabusing Americans of civics book notions of a political apparatus purposefully committed to advancing some collective vision of the common good. On the eve of leaving office-although not before-Eisenhower offered the American people a glimpse of powerful forces that lay behind and beyond presidential control. He honestly, accurately, and courageously (if belatedly) let his fellow citizens in on the secret that, in Washington, appearances were profoundly deceptive. In describing and decrying what he called the "military-industrial complex," Ike provided a sobering tutorial in political reality, disabusing Americans of civics book notions of a political apparatus purposefully committed to advancing some collective vision of the common good.

What Americans mistook for politics-the putative rivalry that pitted Democrats against Republicans, the wrangling between Congress and the White House-actually amounted to little more than theater, he implied. Behind the curtain, a consensus forged of ambition, access, money, fevered imaginations, and narrow inst.i.tutional interests determined the nation's actual priorities. Although Eisenhower was about to surrender his office to a handsome young successor who promised dramatic change-neither the first nor last president to make such a commitment-he knew that John Kennedy's personal qualities, however attractive, counted for little given the forces arrayed against him. "The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist," the outgoing president warned. "We should take nothing for granted."