Trump 2.0’s foreign policy has revitalised “old school” realists who, after years of being challenged by neo-realists, idealists, liberal internationalists and constructivists, have embraced the return of Great Power politics based on balancing power capabilities, national self-interest and geopolitical notions of spheres of influence, drawing on historical antecedents for policy-making precedent. This brings back memories of my own education in the discipline, where I studied under some of the foremost International Relations (IR) scholars of the late 20th century (including Hans Morgenthau’s last lectures as an emeritus professor and sit-in attendance at Henry Kissinger’s first course in academia after leaving government service) as well as people like Albert Wohstetter and Paul Ello for nuclear strategy and Morton Kaplan on international systems theory.
During that period of time I also was introduced to the study of comparative politics by the likes of Adam Przeworski, Philippe Schmitter, Guillermo O’Donnell, Loyd and Susanne Rudolph, something that made me appreciate the nuances and differences between national political systems (both authoritarian and democratic) as well as their impact on foreign policy and International relations. Przeworski, Schmitter and O’Donnell as well as other colleagues and students were the driving force in the study of comparative authoritarian regime decline in the late 1970s and early 1980s and then of the transitions to democracy in the late 1980s. Although fourth generation scholars have resurrected the focus (or perhaps reinvented the analytic wheel) on democratic backsliding or decay and the ways in which authoritarians emerge in democracies, the earlier works remain fundamental to understanding the dynamics of regime change, be it to or from democracy/dictatorship.
Sadly, the international relations literature (and US policy-makers) ignored and continue to ignore these and other aspects of comparative politics, thereby leaving a void in IR understanding of how foreign policy and strategic perspectives are made in different national contexts. The focus on the State as a unitary actor in a world of similars blinds it to the differences between States the it comes to addressing the external world. Geopolitics recognises that size, for example, matters, but it does not recognise how size and size differentials, resource endowments, etc.–the basis of geopolitics–translates into foreign policy perspectives and making. Think of it this way: even if both are small liberal democratic primary good exporters, NZ has a very different political culture and foreign policy than Uruguay. They are not uniform in their approaches to the world and even if both are mice in a global elephant show, they react very differently to many world events.
In light of these analytic deficiencies in the IR field, I made comparative foreign policy a regular feature of my own research and teaching because I felt that there was a gap between the study of international relations, especially the realist school of IR theory, and the study of comparative politics, which tended to be more region-specific and usually did not extend beyond the borders of the country under study. However, comparative politics research (at least then) required language training and cultural immersion, which was the main reason why I chose my adopted home country, Argentina, as the subject of my Ph.D. research ( I spent my childhood and teenage years there so was immersed in the culture and politics of the place). I also began to see that although thorough reading of Thucydides, Hobbes, Metternich, Clausewitz and Sun Tse were essential to understanding the history of IR and warfare, old school realism, back then and now in its resurgence, suffers from the same intellectual flaws: selective historicism and a lack of political depth when its comes to cross-national engagement. The State as unit of analysis is fine as a broad brush stroke, but it is in the finer, sometimes idiosyncratic aspects of foreign policy making where the differences between States are made. That should be better accounted for.
For example, let’s start with the notion of “spheres of influence.” Apparently the Trump 2.0 foreign policy “brain” trust has decided that a return to dividing the world into Great Power spheres of influence–that is, geographic areas in which their interests dominate and their power is unchallenged–is a good thing. The US reclaims the Western Hemisphere and Greenland under the 1823 Monroe Doctrine, Russia gets East Europe and Central Asia, the PRC gets East continental Asia, the Middle East is considered shared influence space and they agree to compete for influence and territory in Africa (because, as Kissinger once joked, it was a good place to trial weapons). The historical precedent for this “neo-Gilded” view is the McKinley presidency and that of his successor Teddy Roosevelt during the so-called “golden age of imperialism” in the late 1800s-early 1900s, something that I have recently written about here.
The “spheres of influence” posture derives from geopolitical theory. Geopolitics is about the relationship between geography, political power and power projection. There are three main types of geopolitical theory, one being a continental view based on control of land masses (MacKinder), the second being a maritime focused view based on control of the seas (Mahan), and the third being aerial (or vertical) geopolitical theory focused on air power domination (de Seversky, Douhet, Mitchell). Spheres or zones of influence (as per MacKinder) are areas within the physical control or direct influence of a given power and where its interests prevail unchallenged by competing powers.
As weapons technologies have advanced, so have the scope of geopolitical thought, leading to hybrid theories (cyber warfare and joint forces automated warfare) and the expansion of the reach of sub-types into space and nuclear weapons (aerial), submarine and seabed warfare (maritime) and irregular guerrilla warfare (continental). Great Powers such as the US and PRC now embrace all geopolitical perspectives in their national security strategies, with smaller powers left to focus on a more limited range of strategies based on their resource capabilities and geographic location.
The trouble is that the “spheres of influence” scheme is a product of a different, less technologically advanced era when physical barriers to power projection were more important to strategic calculations. In today’s strategic environment those impediments have been increasingly overcome by technological advancement (especially hybridisation and joint force automation), so the notion that a Great Power can wall off entire regions as as if they were its own is archaic at best and ludicrous at worst. Moreover, it fails to account for how the nation-states located in a given region react to attempted Great Power sphere of influence projection. The original premise of the term was based on strategic conceit born of overwhelming military superiority, where a Great Power forced nation-states within its self-proclaimed sphere of influence to bend to its will while strategic competitors acquiesced to or at least did not dare challenge the claim in the face of a bilateral overmatch.
This ignores the true historical record. Take the Western Hemisphere and the Monroe Doctrine. The US proclaimed it as the foundation of its approach to “its” region at a time when it was hard for competitors like France, Germany and Russia to reclaim or lay claims to Western Hemisphere territory. But some did (think of the French, UK and Dutch presence in the Caribbean), and later during the Cold War both Soviet and Chinese covert operations worked hard to support Marxist-Leninist/Maoist insurgencies against US backed (most often authoritarian) regimes. That is because Western Hemisphere societies, including elements within political elites, did not recognise the Monroe Doctrine as anything other than an imperialist statement of intent. Only the most craven boot-licking dictators like Somoza, Batista or Trujillo bent to Uncle Sam’s will back in the day. But even then many in their societies did not, a sentiment that was and is wide-spread throughout the region to this day. Other than contemporary brownnosers like Bukele and Miilei, few in the Western Hemisphere consent to being part of a US sphere of influence. Many will not acquiesce either if push comes to shove.
On a practical level, although the US can bully Venezuela and other small neighbouring states, it is entirely different matter when it comes to larger countries like Brazil, Colombia and Mexico (and Canada!). Moreover, the PRC has developed extensive infrastructure facilities and networks throughout the region (including the largest container port and hub distribution center in South America in Peru) and is heavily invested in extractive enterprises as well as supplying advanced telecommunications technologies to regional clients. Although PRC firms relinquished control of container processing terminals on either end of the Panama Canal when the US pressured Panama on the matter, it is the largest Latin American agricultural commodity purchaser, including of soybean quotas normally allocated to the US but disrupted by Trump 2.0’s tariffs (which Argentina and Brazil happily stepped in fill). Other entities like the EU also have extensive economic ties to the Western Hemisphere, so without using military means extra-regional actors have created a situation that is far from conducive to a repeat of the “Gilded Age’ where the US called the shots using, as I have mentioned before, Gunboat Diplomacy and the Big Stick policy in order to do so. Finally, global lines of communication, including supply chains and telecommunications networks, make it impossible to return to a sphere of influence-based international system. There are simply too many systemic variables and changes to allow for a return to the past.
Put simply, the US may be selling the Monroe Doctrine as the bottom line when it comes to claiming that the Western Hemisphere as its sphere of influence, but the inhabitants of the region, to now include economic, social and political elites not beholden to the US and who have developed ties to non-regional actors like the PRC and EU, are not buying the idea that the claim has a legitimate basis for it. To the contrary, only the US has a long history of military and covert interventionism in regional affairs, so there is a large reservoir of ill-will towards it that is now once again being tapped. Other than the bullying antics and influence-peddling in a few instances, for most of the Western Hemisphere the US claims and threats are more of the same ole’, same ‘ole, but this time with more bluster than substance.
That brings up another realist chestnut: the notion of a “hegemon” that dominates a given geopolitical space and the networks established within it, be they regional or global in nature. Here again, the lack of analytic depth and comparative politics cross-pollination is evident. For realists hegemony is equal to domination based on power asymmetries and national resource capability differentials. Since national interest determines the foreign policy of Great Powers and power is the currency used to secure that interest, Great Powers work to dominate other powers in contested areas and especially within spheres of influence. Given contending or opposing national interests, this inevitably leads to conflict, which itself can be cultural, economic, diplomatic, social and/or both overt and covert military/kinetic. Conflict is the systems regulator and the exercise of national power is the ultimate determinate of conflict outcomes. In that view, durable peace is an anomaly, not a normality, which is why establishing spheres of influence provides for international systems stability via balance of power politics.
The trouble here is that realism does not recognize domestic agency on the part of individual nation-states. They are just units of analysis in a larger power-balancing game. Although scholars have raised the issue of the “second image” in recent years, that is, the role of domestic factors in shaping foreign policy, realists remain fixated at the nation-state level, treating it as a homogenous actor with uniform preferences and interests. With that variable controlled, realists can then focus (fixate?) on power balancing within the international system rather than on the causes and motivations of decision-makers operating within it.
Comparative politics helps in this regard. For example, in the neo-Gramscian school of IR theory, the notion of consent is introduced in order differentiate between domination (which is unilateral imposition of preferences on others and their subordination and acquiescence to that superior force), and hegemony understood properly as social order based on consent. For realists hegemony and domination are synonymous and consent does not matter–subordination and acquiescence do.
For comparative politics theorists consent is the core feature that distinguishes between democracy and authoritarianism. Democracies are based on mass contingent consent, reproduced and reinforced via things like regular open elections and freedoms of association, movement, speech and the like. Authoritarianism, on the other hand and whatever its specific guise, is based on the domination of one social group over all others. In some cases the dictatorship is theocratic. In others it is military. In others still, it is clan, ethnic, tribal or class-based. In all cases it is imposed rather than consented to.
Therein lies the problem with the selective historicism and shallow analytic approach that serves as the realist foundation for Trump foreign policy 2.0. It confuses acquiescence with consent, hegemony with domination and removes agency from actors other than the US while using outdated concepts to make revisionist claims on other people’s territory. Trump and his entourage may think that might makes right and that a new era of Great Power balancing based on spheres of influence is at hand, but it does not have the Might or Right to re-make the global system in its preferred retrograde vision because, quite frankly, times have changed and it has neither the internal unity or external capabilities or will to pay the costs required to effectively secure a sphere of influence-based balance of power in an increasingly polycentric (as opposed to multipolar) context.
In that sense, Trump foreign policy 2.0 is that of a hollow hegemon, devoid of the moral, ethical, intellectual and ultimately physical ability to fully cash in the checks that the mouths of Trump and his sycophantic minions are writing. They can certainly deliver on some short-term promises (say, impeding drug trafficking) and achieve short-term goals (e.g., influencing foreign elections) while doing harm to others and the US reputation, but over the long term the self-appointed role of the US as global hegemon will be hollowed out to the point that all that will remain is a paper tiger growling in a cage of its own making.
Truth be told, the US has started to look like the Soviet Union in its decline. It is a military giant, but a bloated one as well, with waste, fraud and corruption embedded throughout the military-industrial complex. It is ruled by a self-serving, corrupt, pandering and highly partisan political society that is disconnected from the social realities of most of its citizens and obsequious to the interests of the economic elites that fund them (the so-called “techbros” and Wall Street being foremost amongst them). And it is deeply divided–one might say increasingly splintered–along racial, religious, ethnic, sectarian, cultural and political lines that serve as diversions from and disguises for the class divisions that underpin the increasingly frayed social fabric. That is not the stuff that a hegemon is made of.
Because in the end the real measure of power is social cohesion, political unity and policy-making discipline grounded in practical reality coupled with a realistic strategic vision that takes account the a nation’s comparative global position given the tenor and technologies of the times rather than the performative symbolism of political theatre–or perhaps better said, the cruel and vacuous circus side-show–that the Trump 2.0 administration has become.