Will Americans ever escape this 'imperialist realism'?

Last week, after nearly two decades of fighting, the U.S. finally pulled the plug on its seemingly endless war in Iraq.

Like our exit from Afghanistan just a few years ago, the end of fighting in Iraq was met with an eerie quiet. It doesn’t take much to figure out why so little attention is paid to the end of these wars: they mark yet another loss for America and the people in Washington who insist our military power can solve every problem, everywhere. Both conflicts are examples of American hubris — strategically incoherent wars fought with American lives at the expense of too many Iraqis and Afghans lives.

But, of course, we refuse to learn our lesson. The week before Americans finally vacated Iraq, President Donald Trump took to his proverbial pulpit at the U.N. to brag about his exploitation of Venezuela for oil, declaring “to the victor goes the spoils.” It was a stark expression of how America’s domination of the global order — it’s imperialism, if you will — really works. And it came in a place where Washington usually goes to great lengths to disguise this reality.

As we extend our fingers around the globe — Venezuela, Cuba, Yemen, Somalia, and more — we are moved to ask: is it easier for Americans to imagine the end of the world than the end of the U.S. empire?

This is precisely the question motivating Daniel Bessner in his latest book, “Imperialist Realism.” Drawing on Mark Fisher’s earlier “Capitalist Realism,” which uses cultural touchstones to show how deeply embedded we are in capitalism, Bessner proposes that we are embedded in imperialism that structures our world, experiences, and culture.

We spoke with Bessner about his new book for our latest episode of Always at War.

As Bessner explains, "Imperialist Realism” comprises three main features: cynicism (few people actually believe the U.S. effectively “spreads democracy”); missionism (despite this cynicism, Americans believe they need to continue to act); and tragic guilt (the emotion that results from the tension between cynicism and missionism).

Bessner points to former Secretary of State Antony Blinken as one example of tragic guilt in action. During his tenure, Blinken repeatedly stressed America's solemn duty to lead the world, to "put our hand on the rudder of history and chart a path forward," because "in the absence of us" leading, "someone else will do it." Blinken, Bessner suggests, understands that the United States "isn't necessarily spreading its ideals. It's really acting in the realm of power politics and he feels bad about that."

But the “structure of feeling” that is Imperialist Realism doesn’t just affect our leaders, it infects our culture. Take for example, the superheroes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. In Captain America: Civil War, there is a civil war between superheroes who will accept being regulated and superheroes who won’t. When the superheroes who won’t go on the lamb, the pro-regulation team allows them to escape, as if to say: sometimes you need to exist outside the law. That’s imperialist realism in a nutshell.

What would it take to change this grim reality that we’ve resigned ourselves to, where America is always at war? A lot of work, no doubt. Bessner suggests meaningfully reforming the national security state would be an enormous undertaking that would require extraordinary expenditures of political capital, credibility and courage.

If what we really need to change American foreign policy is a brave, selfless politician…it’s no wonder Americans are so sure things will never change.