Two cheers for a classic idea that’s been out of fashion
for too long: state sovereignty.
By Stephen M. Walt
July 04, 2020 "Information
Clearing House" - What’s the dumbest
idea affecting the foreign policy of major powers? There
are plenty of candidates—the domino theory; the myth of
the short, cheap war; the belief that a particular deity
is “on the side” of one nation and will guarantee its
success; etc. But right up there with those worthy
contenders is a country’s belief that it has found the
magic formula for political, economic, social, and
international success and that it has the right, the
responsibility, and the ability to spread this gospel
far and wide.
In some cases, this impulse arises from (mostly)
benevolent aims: The leaders of some country genuinely
believe that spreading (through force, if necessary)
their ideals and institutions to others will genuinely
benefit the recipients. Defensive motives may also be
operating: A state may believe that it cannot be
reliably secure unless other countries have similar if
not identical institutions. U.S. leaders once worried
that America could not survive alone in a world
dominated by fascism, and Joseph Stalin believed the
Soviet Union needed “friendly” countries on its borders,
by which he meant countries governed by Leninist parties
patterned after the Soviet model.
Of course, such claims may simply be a reassuring
story that ruling elites propagate to justify aggressive
actions undertaken for more selfish reasons. Whatever
the motivation, if their efforts were successful the
world would gradually converge on a single model for
political, economic, and social life. Individual
national variations would be modest and declining in
importance, limited to purely local concerns (such as
national holidays, cuisine, preferred musical styles,
etc.). In theory, even some of these features might
begin to lose their individual features over time.
This hasn’t happened, however, due to an intriguing
paradox. Thus far, the only political form that has
commanded nearly universal global acceptance is the
territorial state itself, along with the closely related
idea of nationalism. As
Hendrik Spruyt,
Stephen Krasner,
Dan Nexon, and
others have explored, the territorial state was only
one of several political forms coexisting in early
modern Europe, and its eventual emergence as the
dominant political form was a contentious process that
might have turned out differently. Many factors
contributed to its ultimate success, and one of them was
the idea of sovereignty: the principle that every
government got to run its own affairs as its rulers (or,
eventually, its citizens) saw fit. And once that
principle took firm hold, individual local variations
were reinforced and entrenched.
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Add to this notion the emerging idea of
nationalism—the belief that different groups of people
have distinct identities based on language, culture,
shared history, etc. and that such self-aware groups are
entitled to govern themselves—and you have a couple of
powerful and mutually reinforcing ideals. As John
Mearsheimer argues in
The Great Delusion, nations want
their own state so that they can protect themselves in
an insecure world, and states often encourage
nationalism in order to unify the population and enhance
state power.
The gradual spread of these twin ideas—nationalism
and sovereignty—has had far-reaching if uneven effects.
Nationalism undermined and eventually destroyed the
Spanish, Portugeuse, British, French, Belgian, Ottoman,
Austro-Hungarian, and Soviet empires, and decolonization
eventually swelled the United Nations from its original
50-odd members to nearly 200 states today. In this way,
the territorial state became the dominant political
form in the contemporary world, but the specific
content within each state still varied
enormously. Democracies, monarchies, oligarchies,
one-party authoritarians, military dictators, religious
regimes, etc. all coexisted within the basic framework
of the sovereign state, along with a number of different
economic systems.
Throughout this process, a number of countries have
at one time or another seen themselves as models for the
rest, and they have tried in various ways to convince
others to adopt their formula. The leaders of
revolutionary France sought to topple foreign monarchs
and spread liberty to Europe and beyond, and Napoleon
subsequently tried to impose his own order on the
countries he had conquered. Soviet Russia was explicitly
committed to spreading its particular form of socialism,
and pan-Arabists, Nasserites, and assorted Islamic
fundamentalists have sought to convince or coerce others
into adopting their preferred model within the Arab and
Islamic world.
Although Americans were initially ambivalent about
whether their newfangled republic could be a model for
others, confidence that other states would benefit if
they become more like the United States grew as the
country rose to great-power status and became the
world’s strongest power. The impulse to remake the world
in America’s image kicked into overdrive when the
so-called unipolar moment arrived: The tides of history
seemed to be running America’s way, liberal democratic
capitalism was said to be the inevitable end point of
political and social development, and there were no
rival great powers who could prevent the United States
from wielding its vast economic and military power in
the service of liberal ideals.
Not surprisingly, in the unipolar era the United
States increasingly favored a one-size-fits-all approach
to other countries. Foreign countries may still have
been regarded as formally sovereign, but the United
States increasingly sought to influence (if not dictate)
some of their national policy decisions. In the military
realm, states that sought weapons of mass destruction
were sanctioned, ostracized, attacked, or overthrown,
even as U.S. leaders declared that America’s own nuclear
arsenal was still essential for its security. Rising
powers such as China were
advised to forgo “advanced military capabilities” on
the grounds that this was “an outdated path” that would
“hamper its own pursuit of national greatness.” (For
some strange reason, Beijing chose to ignore this
friendly advice.) Where possible, the United States
sought to recruit new states into security institutions
that it already led, thereby obtaining more influence
over other states’ security policies.
In politics, Washington sought to promote democracy
where and when it could, whether by providing money and
advice to nascent civil society groups, supporting human
rights more generally, or acting to topple regimes that
were unlucky or unwise enough to attract Washington’s
particular ire. The goal, as President George W. Bush
put it, was “a generation of democratic peace,” and U.S.
power could be used to speed up the timetable and get
the globe there as quickly as possible.
Lastly,
as my colleague Dani Rodrik argues convincingly,
U.S. efforts to promote what he calls
“hyperglobalization” led other states to alter their
domestic arrangements in ways that would attract foreign
capital, expand trade opportunities, and bring them into
greater conformity with U.S. preferences. Whether in the
form of the 1990s Washington Consensus or trade
agreements like the stillborn Trans-Pacific Partnership,
a world with fewer barriers to the movement of goods,
people, or capital left national governments less able
to chart their own course or insulate their populations
from global market forces. As practiced,
globalization meant states either had to put on what Tom
Friedman dubbed
“the Golden Straightjacket” or fall by the wayside.
The past 15 years has not been kind to this ambitious
vision of a world increasingly united by shared values
and similar institutions. Efforts to prevent adversaries
from acquiring WMD were only partly successful (and at
considerable cost). Key states such as China did not
liberalize as expected yet continued to prosper. The
spread of democracy slowed, stalled, and
then went into reverse, and the state of America’s
own democracy become deeply troubling.
Even before the coronavirus pandemic, a broad
backlash against globalization was underway, whether in
the form of Brexit, Trumpism, the growing segmentation
of the internet, and the partial decoupling of the U.S.
and Chinese economies. As I’ve
written elsewhere, the pandemic has accelerated and
deepened these tendencies, and raised the walls that the
United States and others had been trying to lower before
the arrival of Donald Trump.
The common taproot to these various trends is simple.
It is the desire of leaders or peoples in different
states to have a greater say in how they live, even if
it means somewhat less material prosperity. The leaders
of the Brexit campaign may have been supremely cynical
in the many false claims they made to sell their scheme,
but the supporters who voted to “take back control” were
utterly sincere. They wanted to defend a particular way
of life against changes they saw as disruptive and as
threats to a cherished “way of life.” Much the same
instinct lies behind efforts to curb immigration in many
countries, or the every-state-for-itself impulse that is
leading many nations to
seek a COVID-19 vaccine for themselves first and
others later.
What we are seeing, in short, is a reassertion of
sovereign independence on the part of great and small
powers alike. The Westphalian model of sovereignty has
never been absolute or uncontested, but the idea that
individual nations should be (mostly) free to chart
their own course at home remains deeply embedded in the
present world order. The territorial state remains the
basic building block of world politics, and, with some
exceptions, states today are doing more to reinforce
that idea than to dilute it.
Although there are clearly areas where our future
depends on states agreeing to limit their own freedom of
action and conform to global norms and institutions,
greater respect for sovereignty and national autonomy
has some obvious benefits. First, states that interfere
in foreign countries rarely understand what they are
doing, and even well-intentioned efforts often fail due
to ignorance, unintended consequences, or local
resentment and resistance. A stronger norm of
noninterference could make some protracted conflicts
less likely or prolonged.
Second, trying to impose a single model on other
countries inevitably raises threat perceptions and
increases the risk of serious great-power conflict. The
Westphalian idea of sovereignty was created in part to
address this problem: Instead of continuing to fight
over which version of Christianity would hold sway in
different countries (one of the key drivers of the wars
that preceded the Westphalian peace), European states
agreed to let each ruler determine the religious
orientation of their realm. Similarly, a powerful
state’s efforts to shape the domestic arrangements of
another country will inevitably be seen as threatening
by the target: Just look at how Americans now react to
the possibility of Russian interference in our political
system.
Third, creating a more stable international economic
order while preserving most of the benefits of trade and
comparative advantage will require fashioning trade and
economic arrangements that permit great national
autonomy, even at the price of slightly lower global
growth rates. Not only might this reduce the risk of
global financial panics, but allowing individual states
greater freedom to set the terms of their international
economic engagement could also reduce the anti-free
trade backlash that is currently fueling costly trade
wars.
Finally, a world in which a single political and
economic model prevails is probably impossible anyway,
at least for the foreseeable future. To believe that one
size could fit all ignores the enormous diversity that
still exists in the world and the powerful tendency for
ideas and institutions to morph and evolve as they
travel from their point of origins. Take pop music:
Elvis Presley creates a new amalgam of rhythm and blues,
gospel, and rockabilly (with a jolt of testosterone),
his influence arrives in England and helps inspire the
Beatles, who lead the “British invasion” of America in
the 1960s, which then combines with Bob Dylan and the
folk music movement to create the sound of groups like
The Byrds. Or look at how Lin-Manuel Miranda combined
hip-hop with his deep appreciation of traditional
Broadway styles to create something new like
Hamilton. These examples just scratch the surface
of how music changes when different cultural streams
begin to interact; I could just as easily have cited
examples from Africa, Latin America, the Middle East,
or the Silk Road.
Because humans are boundlessly creative social beings
who resist conformity, and because no social or
political arrangements are ever perfect, dissidents will
always arise and contending visions will emerge no
matter how fiercely they are repressed. Institutions
created in one place may travel to other locations, but
they will mutate and evolve in the process and exhibit
different forms wherever they take root.
And that’s why I’ll raise two cheers for the (partly)
sovereign state. A world made up of contending
nationalisms is hardly a utopia, with the ever-present
possibility of conflict and war and many obstacles to
mutual cooperation. But trying to fit a diverse humanity
into a uniform box is doomed to fail—and no small source
of trouble as well. Even if we hold certain values to be
sacred and are tempted to act when other states violate
them, continued respect for boundaries and sovereignty
is also a norm that can keep simmering rivalries in
check. Libya would not have multiple powers interfering
in it today had Britain, France, and the United States
not decided to meddle there back in 2011.
As A.J.P. Taylor once archly observed, leaders in the
19th century “fought ‘necessary’ wars and killed
thousands; the idealists of the 20th century fought
‘just’ wars and killed millions.” Looking ahead, greater
respect for national sovereignty and fewer efforts to
force the whole world into one way of living will help
emerging rivalries stay within bounds and help countries
with very different values cooperate on those critical
issues where their interests overlap.
Stephen M. Walt
is the Robert and Renée Belfer professor of
international relations at Harvard University. - -
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The
views expressed in this article are solely those
of the author and do not necessarily reflect the
opinions of Information Clearing House.