On the edge of a knife
Americans are torn between a sense of betrayal and a sense of obligation, writes Todd May*
Many people outside the US are puzzled at the seeming passivity of the American public in the face of recent events surrounding the invasion of Iraq. There has been no discovery of weapons of mass destruction. The evidence for nuclear weapons development was fabricated. The links between Saddam Hussein's government and Al-Qa'eda have not been revealed. Why are Americans not more unsettled about what has happened? Why are they not protesting against their government? Do they not care that their war was based upon lies and deception?
To generalise about the mood of a national population is generally a brazen project. Nations comprise many people of many moods, the United States no less so than other countries. Nothing in what is said below, for instance, should be taken to apply to America's minority populations, in particular its African American population, which almost universally opposed the invasion. There are some generalities that can be made about the dominant American mood on Iraq, however, and it is worth understanding that mood. A shift in the sentiment of the American populace could well alter US policy towards Iraq and indeed towards the entire Middle East.
Historically, Americans' view of the world has been coloured by a tension between isolationism and a sense of historical destiny. US isolationism was on display during the early period of both of the last century's world wars, and was recently -- and successfully -- appealed to by candidate Bush when he was running for president. On the other hand, Americans have also long seen themselves as a beacon of democracy. From the anti- communism of the last century to the recent invasion of Iraq, Americans' sense of their country as holding the key to democracy has been an article of faith. Alongside the invocation of national security, the claim of exporting democracy has always been brought forward as a justification for US intervention into the affairs of other countries, from Central America to southeast Asia to the Middle East.
It is against this background that the effects of the events of 11 September 2001 should be gauged. On the one hand, the attacks violated the sense of security isolationism brings with it -- if we leave the world alone, it will leave us alone. On the other hand, they flew in the face of Americans' sense of their historical destiny -- how does one attack the world's moral exemplar?
The Bush administration has, thus far, successfully mobilised the effects of 11 September in order to marginalise US isolationism in favour of a more preemptive and interventionist foreign policy. Although it should be recalled that this success has had critics in the hundreds of thousands marching in America's streets. The message has been this: We can no longer afford to ignore those who reject our way of life; we must bring it to them, mostly for our sake but also for the sake of those others who would embrace our way of life if they could.
Illustration by Gamil Shafiq
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This message was on full display in the run- up to the invasion of Iraq. At issue was both the threat to our way of life through the development of weapons of mass destruction and support for terrorism and the tyranny of Saddam Hussein towards his own people. Without the events of 11 September, there could only be the appeal to tyranny, which would not have been enough to overcome Americans' deeply embedded isolationism. Recall that in the first Gulf War, it was also the appeal to weapons of mass destruction that tipped public opinion in favour of belligerence.
Now things have changed. The first part of the justification for war has been eliminated, albeit retrospectively. No weapons of mass destruction, no relevant links with Al-Qa'eda, no threat to America. What does this do to the American mood about what happened and is continuing to happen in Iraq?
The mood can perhaps best be described with two words: contradiction and paralysis. First the contradiction, since it is the basis for the paralysis. Americans feel a sense of betrayal. This sense is directed both towards the Bush administration and towards the Iraqi people. Towards the Bush administration, there is a growing concern that the trust Americans placed in their government has been misused. One should not overestimate the depth of this concern. Many Americans are still hopeful that evidence will prove the administration's claims about weapons of mass destruction to be justified. Nevertheless the concern is growing. Towards the Iraqi people, there is a growing sense that they are ungrateful. After all, the US rids the country of a vicious dictator, and its people immediately turn against us.
If this were all, there would be vigorous protest against the continued US presence in Iraq. But it is not all. It is a truism in the US (that is to say, a false belief) that during the Vietnam war, protests against the war were directed largely at those who fought in it. Therefore, it is argued, to protest against this war is to fail to support the troops who are risking their lives over there. In the wake of 11 September, this argument, however misdirected, holds an even stronger grip on the American psyche. Reinforced by such news outlets as Fox news, and implicitly endorsed by much of the mainstream media, the message has been clear: in this day and age, protest is unpatriotic. As President Bush put the matter, either you're with us or you're with the terrorists.
The passivity that most Americans have shown the world is therefore best understood as paralysis. It is not that Americans do not care; it is that they are torn. Torn between a sense of betrayal and a sense of obligation. Torn between what they are beginning to see and what they have been told they need to feel. Torn between the temptation of isolationism and the argument for national security.
To be torn is not a passive state of mind. It is more like being on a knife's edge than being in a black hole. This is important for the immediate future of US foreign policy. The Bush administration can no longer count on the continued support of the majority of the American people. The historical legacy of isolationism, the growing sense that Americans have been deceived, the lack of a connection between current policy and the events of 11 September are hedging against administration policy. If I may speculate here, either of two factors could push things over the edge into overt protest.
First, a continued low-level loss of American life in Iraq. The Iraqi resistance (wherever it is coming from) understands this. Three or four more months and another hundred or so deaths will likely mobilise far more massive criticism than one currently witnesses. Second, continued stagnation in the economy. Spending money on intervention abroad flies in the face of the current cuts in education and social programmes. It is unclear that Americans will allow such a situation to persist.
There are those who, having read these lines, will say that the US attitude has fed itself on helpings of self-deception. This is both true and unremarkable in the history of nations. What should be borne in mind is that America is still largely, if decreasingly, a democracy. What Americans think and feel has bearing on US policy. Under the right conditions, it could well determine that policy.
* The writer is professor of philosophy at Clemson University in South Carolina and co- editor of Operation Defensive Shield: Witnesses to Israeli War Crimes.
