Evil 'empire'

Despite the debacle in Iraq, the rise of China, and the threat of terrorism, America wields global power on a hitherto unforeseen scale. But it is not an empire, and it is misleading to cast it as one. It undoubtedly possesses influence over many peoples and places; holds double standards linked to a belief that the 'rules' don't apply to it as hegemon; and exhibits a crusading sense of mission in the world. But so have many other non-empires. Its influence must become recognised authority, and its dominions permanent rather than transitory, before we can start discussing Washington as a new Rome. 'Empire' requires more than just an idea - more than, say, the (now-somewhat-tarnished) notion of democracy-promotion - whether or not this idea is articulated through the barrel of a gun.

In an attempt to make sense of the modern world it is natural to look to the paradigms of the past. But to talk of America as an empire is at best unnecessary and a worst a distraction from understanding the roots and consequences of American power. Take Dimitri Simes' 'lessons' from past empires for America's current 'imperial dilemma', for example. Empires "generate opposition", "have never been cost free", and "often alter their pre-imperial forms of government and ways of life". All of these conclusions are, indeed, true. But we do not need to invoke empire to come to any of them. All societies are susceptible to external pressures and impulses, America included, but of those it feels today, none are especially 'imperial'. Simes links illegal migration to his putative 'American empire', and thence to the experience of the British Empire and immigration from its former dominions, but today people move to the United States because of economics not empire, in flows shaped by geography (across, say, the Mexican boarder) and personal circumstances, not the global structures of American power. Foreign policy and power politics are not cost free for empires and non-empires alike. Indeed, warfare is often easier to bear for imperial powers who can draw upon resources beyond their own, than for states who must carry their burdens alone. Opposition, meanwhile, is intrinsic to politics, and even the smallest power can annoy its neighbours. The crucial distinction between empire and influence is how this opposition is dealt with. Even in Iraq today, with 140000 troops on the ground, America cannot simply call upon Governors and Viceroys to enforce its will, but must instead work with the Iraqi government; when it wants wholesale change, whether in pre-invasion Iraq or Iran today, it must go to war, and it must accept that supposed allies around the world are free to join in or criticise its endeavours as they please. Even if we suppose that America ultimately calls the shots Iraq today, this is no more than temporary dominion. The occupation is a much weaker phenomenon even than 'reluctant empire': Iraq is a responsibility that America is actively trying to shed.

More importantly, despite its ability to generate controversy and heated debate, Iraq and 'empire' is not the best place to look if we are to understand the underlying dynamics of American power; talk of empire leads us to look in the wrong places for its sources and outcomes. Its nuclear arsenal and overwhelming military might are not geared to hold down far flung dominions, but to act as a coiled spring to strike swiftly and decisively when informal pressure has failed and American interests are at stake. Its 'soft', cultural power is arguably America's biggest asset, but it is strong through its independent allures, not through imperial enforcement. America is the biggest economic power through mutually advantageous trade, not through the forced extraction of other peoples' resources. All these things point to an American hegemony; not uncontested, as China rises and Russia complains, but real nonetheless. But this is not 'empire', and the concepts associated with empire usually break down when applied to America's current predicament. Metaphors such as the oft-invoked 'imperial overstretch', are useful in so far as they conjure up images of an overburdened great power, but America's 'overstretch' is linked not to the demands of an 'empire' but to domestic fatigue; if there is an expiry date to the American occupation of Iraq, just as there was to that of Vietnam, it is not because of the strains of manifold imperial commitments, but because it has domestically lost the will to continue the fight. America is a powerful nation, but its power is not imperial. This power has limits, but its limitations are not those of 19th century Britain or ancient Rome. America is not an empire, and it is analytically distorting to think of it as such.