The idea that “there is no alternative to hegemony” or that “transition wars” would prevent the revolution are self-serving and self-defeating readings of history designed to serve the imperial narrative

Imperialism is an age-old phenomenon. In one form or another, it is likely to continue. There is insight in Thucydides’s suggestion that the “weak” will always be “subject to the strong,” and that the powerful seldom turn down “the opportunities of aggrandizement offered by superior strength.”20 But one problem with such venerable claims is that they tend to absolve the strong for exploiting the weak. Another problem is the danger of near banality passing for ancient wisdom: if there will always be rich and poor, then should we not worry about inequality? If some citizens will always commit crimes, then should we not try to find ways to mitigate the harm of such behavior? A commitment to a better world suggests that we seek to right the wrongs of the past. In a world of states, then, it is important to strengthen arrangements that discourage powerful states from imposing their will on weaker ones. It may well be the case that institutions cannot readily restrain the powerful in an “anarchic world.”21 If so, it is at least important to dissect the self-serving claims of the powerful; at minimum, the mighty should not to be allowed to define what is right. Throughout this volume I have interrogated several interrelated claims made by hegemonic states of the modern era: we really do not run an empire; if we do, it is only because it was offered to us; even when it was not offered to us, we had to take it, not for greed, but for the sake of our own security; and, in any case, the impact of our empire was, on balance, benign. My analysis has underscored the ways in which each of these claims is deeply misleading. With this core analysis in mind, I have a few final, speculative thoughts on the future of imperialism. Extrapolating from the recent past, two sets of comments are especially pertinent. First, what is the likely trajectory of American interventions in the developing world in the near future? Second, will emerging powers like China follow the expansionist patterns analyzed in this book? Is China also moving toward building an informal empire? As I turn to discuss these questions, an obvious but important caveat ought to be borne in mind: peering into the future is hazardous. Nevertheless, if the analysis of the past is correct, it ought to have some bearing on future projections. The United States has never really needed an empire. The analysis in this volume has suggested instead that unlike Britain, which really needed an empire to sustain prosperity in the nineteenth century, the United States in the twentieth century had merely wanted one. The tentativeness in the American imperial project is a function of this difference between need and want. American gains from imperial interventions in the global periphery have also been uneven. A case can be made that during the post–World War II period, the United States has been more successful in achieving its goals—at least short- to medium-term goals—via covert (or indirect) rather than overt, military interventions. For example, the former suggestion is supported by American interventions in Iran and Chile and by the most recent imposition of the Washington Consensus on Latin American countries. By contrast, US intervention in Vietnam was a heroic failure. The most recent military intervention in Iraq is still unfolding. But it is unlikely that the partial success in Iraq in deposing a despot and opening the oil wells of that country to foreign capital will ever be judged worth the cost in treasure, loss of life, and the unstable polity that the United States has left behind. The relative failures of US military interventions in the developing world are also comprehensible. Of course, the United States is a military giant and, if it so chose, it could readily defeat and occupy any (or most) developing countries. But that is not the American goal. The United States does not want colonies. What it wants instead are stable-but-subservient regimes in the global periphery. And these are increasingly hard to construct via military interventions. As I argue throughout this book, the building blocks of old-fashioned nineteenth century imperialism—ready collaborators in the periphery who benefited from maintaining commodity-exporting economies and clientelistic polities—have dissolved in the global periphery. Mass politics has replaced clientelism nearly everywhere. Plebiscitarian politics, in turn, encourages a variety of nationalists to the fore. Imperial efforts to overtly shape and control the politics of a developing country then readily run up against developing-country nationalism. Diem and others in South Vietnam, for example, could thus never be considered legitimate rulers of a sovereign South Vietnam; they were in fact puppets and were seen as such by the Vietnamese, no match for a Ho Chi Minh. The same is true elsewhere, such as in contemporary Iraq. This does not mean that modern-day imperialists cannot find ready collaborators in the developing world, or that commodity-producing elites and their political representatives do not have much to gain from quiet collaboration with industrialized countries, especially the United States. But as democracy spreads in peripheral countries, subservient rulers face power challenges from a variety of nationalists. The American preference for democracy, on the one hand, but for promotion of stable-but-subservient regimes in the developing world, on the other, are thus inherently in tension. When economic stakes are high, as in the case of oil-rich Saudi Arabia, the United States quietly sets aside the goal of democracy in favor of supporting the power of a stable-but-subservient regime. What is the likely shape of US interventions in the developing world in the near future? Enormous power disparities and the prospect of economic gain will tempt the United States to intervene in one developing country or another. Global norms of noninterference in the affairs of sovereign nations may put some brakes on imperial ambitions. American citizens’ awareness that US interventions in the developing world often bring misery to the lives of those who are already destitute may also retard the imperial urge. However, neither global norms nor public opinion is likely to make imperialism a relic of the past. The post–World War II record examined here sharply supports this projection. The more pertinent issue is what form American imperialism will take in the near future. Again, the record examined here suggests that the United States does economic imperialism better than military imperialism. To the extent that imperialism is rational, one should expect the United States to eschew military interventions but continue to seek economic advantage in the global periphery via the use of covert and indirect interventions. As this book goes to press, Iran and Venezuela, which both possess enormous oil resources, are the focus of American angst. Will the United States intervene militarily in these countries? A cost-benefit analysis of the past suggests that the United States ought not to pursue a military option in these countries. But what complicates this rational suggestion is the enormous power surplus that the United States enjoys in the world. This power surplus, in turn, enables American leaders to periodically ignore the costs of interventions, which, in any case, are borne largely by American taxpayers and soldiers, and to indulge their whims and hubris.