American Exceptionalism in the Age of Obama

Stephen Brooks

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9781136196225
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: Political History & Theory
• Index: Politics & International Relations

The election of President Obama in 2008 and the apparent decline of American power in the world has rekindled an old and important debate. Is the United States exceptional in its values and institutions, as well as in the role that it is destined to play in world affairs?

In this book, Stephen Brooks argues that American exceptionalism has been and continues to be real. In making this argument he focuses on five aspects of American politics and society that are most crucial to an understanding of American exceptionalism today. They include the appropriate relationship between the state and citizens, religion, socio-economic mobility, America's role in the world, and ideas about the Constitution.

American exceptionalism matters in domestic politics chiefly as a political narrative around which support for and opposition to certain policies, values and vision of American society coalesce. But in world affairs it is not the story but the empirical reality of American exceptionalism that matters. Although the long era of America's global economic dominance has entered what might be called a period of diminished expectations, the United States remains exceptional—the indispensable nation—in world affairs and is likely to remain so for many years to come.

1 Bush, Obama, and the Reemergence of an Old Question

Is America in decline? At roughly the mid-point of Barack Obama’s first term as president this question occupied center stage in serious discussions of American foreign policy and the country’s status in the world. In his muchread article in Foreign Affairs, the influential monthly publication of the Council on Foreign Relations, Joseph Nye (2010) answered “yes,” but with qualifications. China, he argued, would inevitably surpass the United States as the world’s foremost economic power within another generation or two. But, Nye added, American decline is a relative phenomenon and it is unlikely that any other country will rival the United States’ global influence, which depends on more than economic dominance, for quite some time.

Nye was responding to a mounting wave of analyses, some of which were not so qualified in their assessments of American decline. The historian Niall Ferguson (2004), picking up the torch carried by another Harvard historian, Paul Kennedy (1989), two decades earlier, argued that the United States was on the downward slope of the same cycle that had been experienced by the British Empire a century earlier. Oxford’s Timothy Garton Ash (2004) arrived at a similar diagnosis of America’s contemporary condition and celebrated what he argued was the rise of the European model as a rival to that of the United States. James Fallows (2011), editor for The Atlantic, was among those who focused on the rise of China and an inexorable shift in the balance of global economic power as the root cause of America’s waning influence in the world. Bestsellers by Thomas Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum, That Used to Be Us: How America Fell behind in the World It Invented and How We Can Come Back (2011), and Fareed Zakaria, The Post-American World (2008), contributed greatly to the popularization of the idea of American decline. Their prognoses were not quite as bleak as some, but their focus on decline received much more attention in the media than the solutions that either Friedman or Zakaria proposed.

The popular momentum that declinism had achieved was clearly evident by March 2011 when Time magazine made the subject of American decline its cover story and CNN’s “Zakaria GPS” addressed the issue. “Restoring the American Dream: Getting Back to #1” was the title of CNN’s contribution to this debate. Americans were, not surprisingly, resistant to this idea of national decline. The idea is, after all, so very much at odds with the dominant narrative of American history as this has developed over the centuries and with the optimistic spirit that is characteristic of Americans. As in a Hollywood movie, a happy ending must be within reach. “Restoring the American Dream” and “Getting Back to #1” promised just such happiness. It will not be easy, Fareed Zakaria told CNN’s viewers, but it is achievable. What it will require, he argued, it that Americans remain faithful to the values that made their society the world’s dominant power.

This conversation on American decline—Is it real? What are its causes? What are its consequences? Can it be reversed?—was taking place at the same time as another and related question was being asked. Is America still an exceptional nation? Some commentators were of the view that it never was and that the concept of American exceptionalism has always been based on false premises and a sort of imperialistic hubris. But real or not, the question was asked at the margins of the American political conversation as early as 2008, when presidential candidate Barack Obama was accused by some of his critics of not believing in American exceptionalism. It became more prominent leading up to and during the 2010 congressional election campaign, when the question served, in fact, as a sort of sub-text for conservative criticism of President Obama and his actions in office. High levels of unemployment, dramatic growth in government debt, and passage of the so-called Obamacare reforms, the package of health care measures signed into law by the president, were the key issues in 2010. But they were discussed against a background of nagging questions and fears that the country was being transformed into something less than it had been, and that the president himself did not think that American exceptionalism amounted to anything more than a natural and widespread belief, held by peoples throughout the world, that their story and history were unique and therefore exceptional.

These two questions, “Is America in decline?” and “Is America still exceptional?” are not the same. They are, however, often treated as though they are. Those who lament America’s relative economic decline in the world often conclude that American exceptionalism is also much diminished or that it no longer exists. This reasoning is based on a particular understanding of American exceptionalism that associates it with a group of superlatives, including being the biggest, richest, and most powerful. So when America falls from first place in per capita income (which actually happened a few decades ago, although per person purchasing power in the United States continues to be exceeded only by Norway and Luxembourg among western democracies) and when other national economies come to rival it and even threaten to surpass it in some of the categories conventionally used to signify economic might, it is understandable that the word “exceptional” is no longer seen to be an appropriate description for an erstwhile colossus. Likewise, when America’s ability to influence foreign affairs appears to be less sure than in the past and setbacks appear to be more frequent, it is unsurprising if observers conclude that what may once have been exceptional about America and that warranted its characterization as the sole “superpower,” the “indispensable nation,” “le mâitre du monde” and, in Secretary of State Dean Acheson’s words, “the locomotive at the head of the train of history” no longer exists. Or at least the presence of this quality is much diminished.

Properly understood, however, the historical concept of American exceptionalism is neither the same as, nor dependent on, American economic and military dominance. In fact the roots of the idea that America is exceptional, that its character and contribution to world history place it in the necessarily small category of societies and civilizations that deserve to be counted among the defining chapters in the narrative of mankind, is about five hundred years old. America was believed by some western intellectuals to be exceptional long before it became the dominant power of the 20^th century. What made it exceptional, they believed, was not wealth, military force, or the capacity to influence events far from its shores. It was exceptional because of features of the human condition that arose and were permitted to develop in the New World and that became associated with the idea of America.

The emergence of the United States as the world’s foremost economic and military power produced both more talk about American exceptionalism and some important changes in how this concept was understood. “Mr. Big,” to use Josef Joffe’s (2001) term for the America that dominated the global stage after World War II, was richer and stronger, with a much larger global footprint, than any other country. It was inevitable that some would associate American exceptionalism with this dominance, concluding that America was exceptional because it was richer, stronger, and freer, or that it was richer, stronger, and freer because of the values, beliefs, and institutions associated with American exceptionalism. Of course many people arrived at both conclusions. Superior prosperity, freedom, and influence were the signs of American exceptionalism and also the consequences of the American way of life, ethos, creed, customs, mores, and so on. In short, it was the nation’s due and inevitable reward for having the bundle of attributes thought to be characteristic of American society and that distinguished it from other societies, past and present.

One sees how easily such notions can slide into the realm of moral judgments. Indeed, it is all too human to conclude that greater prosperity and influence are the just desserts that follow from the superiority of one’s values and institutions. And this may even be true. Unless we are prepared to argue that all belief systems and institutional arrangements are equally likely to produce desirable outcomes in terms of affluence, population health, human dignity, and life satisfaction, then we must acknowledge that some are better than others. Nevertheless, a moment’s reflection and the example of societies and empires whose wealth and power were based on enslavement, repression, and violence are enough to alert us to the fact that these outward signs of success may be produced by factors other than morally superior belief systems and social structures.

Critics of American exceptionalism are quick to pounce on what they argue, and not always without reason, are the moral undertones and sometimes downright preening that often accompanies the use of this concept. President George W. Bush was obviously and unapologetically a believer in American exceptionalism, incurring the enmity and disdain of those at home and abroad who saw in this an arrogance and lack of curiosity when it came to other cultures and institutions that were not American. President Obama, on the other hand, is criticized by some at home and applauded by admirers abroad for not believing in American exceptionalism, or at least for not speaking and acting in the manner of his predecessor when it comes to America’s role in the world. Obama may well believe in American exceptionalism, or perhaps he does not. But if he does, it is clear that his understanding of the concept is quite different from that of President Bush. At a minimum, Obama is not inclined to use the moral and missionary language of such presidents as Bush, Ronald Reagan, or even John F. Kennedy in characterizing the historical significance of America and its current role and responsibilities in the world.

So at a moment when the question of American decline is discussed everywhere from the pages of Foreign Affairs to those of Time and Newsweek and when the only Americans who have not heard it said that their country is in decline are those whose media horizon does not extend past “America’s Got Talent,” the question of whether America is or ever was exceptional is also very much part of the public conversation. Both questions prompt us to ask a third, namely, does it matter? What are the consequences for a world in which American influence is much diminished from what it was during the 20^th century? Does it matter if whatever may have contributed to American exceptionalism when Tocqueville visited the country is now a memory?

The question of American decline has, I believe, been intelligently dealt with by many of the most prominent writers on the United States in world affairs, including Joseph Nye (2010), Josef Joffe (2009), Michael Kazin (2011), and others. I have nothing to add to their conclusion that American decline ought to be understood as relative and that the United States is likely to remain the single most influential country on the world stage—the “default power,” as Joffe puts it—for quite some time. History will determine whether the 21^st century will be the American century, as was the 20^th, or whether another country or configuration of international power will emerge as the hallmark of the era that is unfolding.

The question that this book aims to answer is whether America is still exceptional in ways that go beyond the rather trivial and inconsequential. This question has by no means been put to rest, despite the enormous number of commentaries, analyses, and polemics devoted to the subject. Indeed, it strikes me that opinions on this matter are as polarized as ever and that the importance of the question for an understanding of American domestic politics and for the country’s role in the world remains undiminished. A number of developments and analyses from the past several years have convinced me of the continuing importance of this question. In the following section I will discuss three of them.

EUROPE’S PRESIDENT, BHL’S VISIT, AND THE AMBITIOUS DEBUNKING OF AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM

The 2008 election of Barack Obama was rightly seen as a milestone event in America’s progress toward racial equality. This sentiment was widely shared across the ideological spectrum and among supporters of both the Republican and Democratic political parties. But in Europe, Obama’s victory was viewed somewhat differently. There was, of course, some acknowledgment that the election of a Black American to the presidency signified that racist tendencies so often attributed to American society had softened. But the rejoicing that took place in Europe—and rejoicing is not too strong a word for the explosion of joy that was unleashed once Obama’s victory was confirmed—was not caused mainly by the conviction that a breakthrough in racial equality had been achieved. Rather, the celebratory mood was caused by the widespread belief, particularly among opinion-leaders across western Europe, that the new president shared their ideological beliefs and world view. Obama was, they believed, very much a European in his sympathies and policies. Americans finally had elected a “European” president.

Andrei Markovits spoke for many Americans when he protested what he called Europe’s attempt to appropriate Obama’s victory (2008). By focusing on what they perceived to be the new president’s ideological leanings, which they saw as being in tune with their own, Europeans interpreted the election result as a victory for themselves and a rejection of what they saw as the antithetical values—unilateralist, militaristic, anti-statist, etc.—of the Bush administration that was so loathed across most of western Europe. This interpretation, Markovits rightly objects, directs attention away from where it properly belongs, namely the election of the first Black president in a country with a troubled racial history. The triumph belonged to Americans, he argues, not Europeans.

But Markovits does not deny that Obama’s ideological leanings and world view might place him broadly in sympathy with the ideas and preferences of the European journalists, politicians, and intellectuals who felt triumphant when Obama won. For these Europeans the important thing was that the new president did not represent American exceptionalism. Instead, he represented what French intellectuals have often called l’Amérique qu’on aime, an America with strong affinities to the more statist, collectivist, and pacifist currents in European life and culture. In a 2004 essay published in Le Nouvel observateur, this America was said to be embodied by such persons as Naomi Klein (who is actually Canadian, but never mind), Michael Moore, Ralph Nader, and Howard Dean. The America that we love is the one that we understand and that understands us.

Obama’s victory represented, for western Europeans, the hope that American exceptionalism was over and that the values gap that many believed had widened during the Bush years was being closed. Bush’s born-again Christianity, his tendency to characterize international conflicts in terms of good and evil, his willingness, indeed his eagerness according to his legion of critics, to bypass diplomacy and multilateralism in favor of the use of military force and unilateral action, and his ties to Big Oil and the related belief that he was a puppet of the corporate powers thought by many to rule America were all factors that tended to alienate Europeans (as well as Bush’s critics at home!). That he was elected and, even more disconcertingly for Europeans, reelected by American voters appeared to prove that America marched to a very different drummer, one whose rhythms were incomprehensible to many in Europe. The fact that Americans turned their backs to Bush during his last years in office, when his public approval rating hit lows not plumbed since the Truman presidency and comparable to those experienced by Richard Nixon during the darkest days of the Watergate scandal, and the 2008 election of Barack Obama were interpreted as signs that Americans were coming to their senses.

Europe’s reaction to the election of Barack Obama was, in short, a story about American exceptionalism. To over-generalize, Europeans had not liked what they saw as evidence of American exceptionalism during the Bush years. They perceived the election of Barack Obama as an important step toward American values and the U.S. government’s policies becoming more like those of Europe. This story of American exceptionalism was one of a narrowing of differences and relief, indeed joy, that this was happening.

But another and very different story of American exceptionalism was told by the French philosopher and media star Bernard-Henri Lévy. BHL, as he is called in France, was commissioned by The Atlantic to retrace the steps of his illustrious compatriot Alexis de Tocqueville. Not to retrace them literally, but to spend several months travelling across the United States in order to write a series of articles about what he experienced and what it meant. Tocqueville’s original purpose in visiting America with his colleague Gustave Beaumont was to study the American penitentiary system. BHL decided to spend some of his time visiting and reflecting on American prisons. But like Tocqueville he spent most of his time engaged in a much broader study of America, its customs and moeurs, as Tocqueville would have said.

The end result was the 2005 series of articles commissioned by The Atlantic and a book, American Vertigo, published a year later. Vertigo is a state of mental disorientation that can be accompanied by such physical symptoms as dizziness and falling. BHL’s choice of the word to characterize America has two sides. One is the impact on the observer who finds himself unmoored from his usual bearings in a place where much is unfamiliar and puzzling. But the other side involves what might be described as the undercurrents of history, the larger forces and transformations that are not evident at the surface of daily life and media commentary on what it means. Indeed these forces and transformations are usually concealed by this activity and turmoil and by the failure to achieve a critical detachment and personal distance from the day to day of existence. Tocqueville sought in America “the image of democracy itself.” (1899: Author’s Introduction) “So I went,” says BHL, consciously following in Tocqueville’s footsteps, “to answer questions that are of my own time, and to learn not just about you, my American friends, but about us all.” (2006: 8)

What he found was a society quite different from his own. Some of these differences he admired and others he found to be contemptible, absurd, or worse. But his emphasis is on difference. BHL has no doubt that American exceptionalism exists, and like Tocqueville before him he does not have praise for all that he finds exceptional in America.

A point of clarification is necessary. Difference is not the same as exceptionalism. Any society measured against any other society will be found to have differences large or small. The concept of American exceptionalism, when it is not used in a merely ideological and judgmental manner, involves differences that are historically important, whose conseque...