Noah Rothman and the Primacists

Tackling the cliches that perpetuate a uniquely American ideology

I

Noah Rothman is an unabashed American primacist. As the world makes what can only be described as an epochal transition away from unipolarity, the National Review columnist hews closely to the dissipating reality of his country’s preeminence. And amid the litany of crimes and catastrophes perpetrated by successive presidential administrations since the Cold War’s end, he clings to the naive belief that the US is an untrammelled source of peace and stability. Unable (or perhaps unwilling) to acknowledge a changing international order, Rothman continues to preach stale and orthodox notions of American hegemony.

Rothman’s recent tweet to a US congressman about Ukraine is a case-in-point. With it, he manages to create a nest of facile claims and tendentious assumptions — all held together by primacist bromides, and underwritten by his neo-conservative convictions. Of course, Rothman is not alone in this views, for they command wide assent across the political spectrum. Whether cashed out in terms of power projection or liberal idealism, politicians both Left and Right have long embraced the idea that the United States ought to remain at the apex of the international system. Rothman’s missive, brief though it is, pithily captures what has long been an article of faith for many American political and intellectual elites.

II

Let’s work backwards. When it comes to Ukraine’s war with Russia, “as long as it takes” has by now become something a shibboleth within American foreign policy circles — to say nothing of a broad entourage of journalists, pundits, and think-tank residents. The Biden Administration itself has made regular recourse to the phrase as a way of advertising America’s brand as a reliable security partner. But contrary to Rothman, it’s far from “self-explanatory”.

Much of the ambiguity hinges on the deceptively simple word “it” and the ultimate aims contained therein. Ukraine has been clear on what its overarching goals are: the complete liberation of all Ukrainian territory under Russian control, including the Crimean Peninsula. Given the calamity that has befallen the country as a result of Russia’s invasion, this is entirely understandable. However, while Kiev and its Western allies have laboured sedulously to avoid any impression of discord, it’s apparent that agreement — and with it, declarations of unceasing support — is more rhetorical than substantive.

Indeed, the US and its partners are increasingly wary of Ukraine’s maximalist war aims, with Ukraine’s allies pressing for more modest goals. To take but one example, Western allies have “little appetite” for Kiev’s avowed aim of recapturing Crimea, and are unlikely to encourage a campaign that carries a non-trivial risk of nuclear escalation. A flagging Ukrainian counter-offensive has raised further doubts as to the wisdom of pursuing the country’s complete liberation, fuelling calls for a negotiated end to the conflict.

Amid these divisions, the West’s objectives remain frustratingly opaque. Even sympathetic officials are divided on what victory for the country actually entails, with declarations regarding the restoration of Ukrainian sovereignty jostling with suggestions that some kind of ceasefire — along with possible territorial sacrifices —is inevitable.

Prevailing confusion isn’t alone in undermining presidential pledges of support. They’re also compromised by the sobering reality that allied governments are struggling sustain the flow of arms and materiel to Ukraine. Such problems are sharply captured by Kiev’s insatiable need for munitions — a key issue for both parties, given the importance of this kind of ordnance in a war of attrition. According to reports, the Ukrainian military is firing approximately 8,000 155mm artillery rounds per day, which far exceeds the 24,000 units the US currently produces each month. While American and European arms industries have attempted to increase production, their efforts may yet be dwarfed by Kiev’s appetite. This could lead to a dangerous depletion of allied artillery stocks — jeopardizing the security of Western nations while raising painful questions about the limits of their assistance. Any desire or willingness to buttress Ukraine’s war effort is beside the point; hard truths concerning finite resources and allied defence plans simply overwhelm them.

As a consequence, American politicians and their aides have privately informed their Ukrainian counterparts that enduring foreign assistance cannot be guaranteed. With a seemingly intractable conflict on the horizon, war fatigue is likely to set in, accelerating calls for a resolution. This is especially acute given the possibility that a Republican Party leavened by war scepticism will regain power at next year’s US election. In light of a widening gulf, the prospects of achieving Ukraine’s goals — however just they may be — are dim, while “it” starts to look like an empty place-holder.

III

Hollow mantras notwithstanding, Rothman and his ilk are convinced that arming Ukraine in perpetuity is a key plank in efforts to “preserv[e] the US-led post-Cold War order” — the foundations of which, he thinks, have been weakened by Russia’s molestation of Ukraine. His assertions, while hardly unique, raise uncomfortable questions concerning America’s wider engagement with the world.

To be sure, there is just enough truth in Rothman’s claims to render them superifically plausible. Consider the post-Cold War order. Politicians and commentators alike talk easily (if somewhat vaguely) of a new international structure emerging since the the collapse of the Soviet Union three decades ago. Accounts of this structure bear a number of common features: the solidification of national borders; the decline of imperialism and a corresponding emphasis on state sovereignty; consolidation of norms and rules, especially in the realm of conflict resolution; the growth of free trade and prosperity; and a steadily expanding zone of democracy. While anarchy remains a “basic reality” in global affairs, the 1990s seemed to herald a new phase, in which most states — save for pockets of misery and violence in the Middle East or Africa — could operate within a framework of relative peace and stability.

Moreover, Rothman isn’t wrong to highlight recent Russian conduct: Moscow’s invasion has been destabilising in the extreme. Since February 2022, it has brutalised Ukraine, violating the sanctity of international borders. It has waged a savage war of attrition that has seen hundreds of thousands (including countless civilians) killed or maimed. The conflict has also triggered a wave of refugee flows, with some 11 million Ukrainians fleeing their homes. In a bid to strangle Ukraine’s economy, Russia has created energy and grain crises in Europe and the Global South, imperilling the lives of millions. Meanwhile, Vladimir Putin has alluded darkly to nuclear retaliation, upsetting the global consensus on weapons of mass destruction. Russia has been a hostile actor in the international system, richly deserving all the opprobrium it receives.

It’s also true that the US hegemony has bestowed a degree of structure upon the post-Cold War world. American naval power has arguably preserved freedom of movement and trade throughout the global commons, leading to an explosion of economic intercourse that has enriched millions. Several international and regional institutions established by the US have also fostered the development of norms and trust between other actors, while the Greenback has long underwritten global lending patterns. As the most powerful state in the interntional system, the US enjoys a unique ability to shape events and channel its interests; while often self-regarding, its conduct has imbued an otherwise anarchic environment with a certain order.

IV

Generous concessions aside, however, Rothman’s assertions about the international system since 1991 ultimately fail under examination. His implied faith in US leadership — redolent of post-Cold War encomiums concerning the “indispensible nation” — studiously ignores the many ways in which American power has had a baleful effect upon global order, courting chaos and violating the very principles it claims to cherish.

Examples are legion. In 1999, United States and its NATO allies subjected Serbia to a 78-day bombing campaign, with the ostensible goal of preventing Slobodan Milosevic and his forces from carrying out a ghastly project of ethnic cleansing against Kosovar Albanians. Even though they failed to gain UN approval for the operation, President Bill Clinton and his advisors were undeterred. The result was an illegal war against a state that had not attacked any NATO belligerent, exacerbating the very problems it was intended to resolve. Some twelve years later, an American-led operation to establish a no-fly zone over parts of Libya during the early stages of the Arab Spring morphed into an exercise in de facto regime change — deposing the country’s leader, Muammar Gadaffi, and transforming it into a vortex of cruelty and bloodshed that continues to haunt the region.

And since 2015, the US has given its blessing — not to mention material support — to Saudi Arabia’s ill-fated military campaign against Houthi rebels in Yemen. Coalition aircraft have relentlessly strafed their targets, indiscriminately striking civilians in the process. As of two years ago, some 18,000 Yemeni non-combatants had been killed or injured by airstrikes that have widely been described as war crimes. As if this wasn’t sufficiently abhorrent, Saudi Arabia and the UAE have ruthlessly maintained a blockade of Yemeni ports, condemning hundreds of thousands of innocents — including 85,000 children — to famine, cholera, and death. What was already the Arab world’s poorest country has subsequently been plunged into economic ruin. Until recently, the US only offered offered pro forma statements of concern; meanwhile, it actively assisted Saudi Arabia and its partners with logistics, ordnance, and in-flight refueling, allowing coalition planes to continue their brutal operations unimpeded.

These debacles and fragile “Rube Goldberg solutions”, however, are overshadowed by the worst American foreign policy failure of the post-Cold War era: the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Fueled by a dangerous combination of alarmism, ideology, and hubris, the United States sought to vanquish Saddam Hussein’s regime, re-assert its dominance after the trauma of 9/11, and transplant liberal democracy in an act of missionary zeal. What transpired instead was a grim carnival of suffering and destruction that lasted more than a decade. Following another act of military lawlessness, the United States disembowelled the Iraqi state, allowing violent anarchy to spread like a cancer; even now, the country remains fragile, menaced by the prospect of open sectarian conflict. And although the US deposed Saddam as part of an alleged crusade against Islamist terrorism, the Iraq War ironically fuelled this scourge — creating a new generation of embittered young men and spawning what eventually became ISIS.

It’s not simply America’s headline-grabbing catastrophes that have destabilized the post-Cold War world. Through a combination of coercion, malign neglect, or expediency, its actions routinely call into question the legitimacy of the system it purports to lead. It harangues other countries for their lawless conduct during times of war, advertising itself as the custodian of moral order. But in addition to supporting their own coterie of foreign war criminals, US officials have consistently refused join the ICC, lest American soldiers be hauled before its judges. Unlike other nations, the US refuses ban the use of cluster munitions — this, despite the fact that they are inherently indiscriminate and seed the ground with death long after a conflict has subsided. It has also made a habit of withdrawing from various bi- and multi-lateral treaties, raising doubts about its devotion to international norms; witness the Bush Administration’s unilateral decision to leave the ABM in 2002, which some analysts have argued undermined trust with Russia and fuelled a new arms race.

And what of double-standards? The US wages economic war against certain states — causing untold harm and penury — in attempts to coerce their acquiescence. Meanwhile, American politicians offer unbending support to equally repressive autocrats committing the most egregious crimes against both domestic and foreign civilians.

Instances such as these make a mockery of the idea that the global order is simply underwritten by a wise and selfless hegemon. The application of American power has repeatedly transgressed or ignored international norms, bringing violence or instability in its train — from the fiery cauldron of post-Saddam Iraq to nuclear brinkmanship on the Korean Peninsula. The “rules-based international order” is often little more than a mirage, while ritualistic paeans to American leadership cannot conceal the fact that the US materially contributes to the sum total of disorder in the international system.

US great power strategy is also vulnerable to these pathologies. While lauded by Rothman and his ideological allies, America’s determined efforts to maintain primacy have triggered a regional arms race in East Asia, as it tries to contain a rising China. Far from ensuring stability, its actions have aggravated existing tensions and “heighten[ed] the risk of preventable accidents that could spiral into conflict”. Fixation on hegemony — and invariably relying on militarised responses to growing Chinese influence — simply invites the kind of defensive reactions that are transforming East Asia into a “powder keg”. Of course, no one could seriously deny that China’s actions have themselves undermined regional stability. Its military buildup over the past two decades — seen particularly in the rapid expansion of its navy — is certainly alarming, and has done nothing to quell tensions with other actors in the Western Pacific. But the evidence provides little refuge for champions of the United States as regional pacifier.

Even Russian perfidy over the past year-and-a-half can be explained as a retort to Western/American actions in Europe since the end of the Cold War. Contrary to the conventional wisdom favoured by today’s primacists, it’s unlikely that Putin sought to reconstitute the Soviet Union with his invasion of Ukraine. A more plausible interpretation would suggest that Moscow has undertaken a savage rendition of balance-of-power politics — pushing back against what it sees as an existential security threat in the form of NATO expansion and Ukraine’s permanent drift into the West’s orbit. To that extent, Rothman’s claim about Russia projecting power is misleading; while narrowly true, it fails to account for the history of provocations and rolling security dilemmas that led to this fateful moment. And what he and other advocates of US supremacy propose as a response to the current crisis — indefinite support to Ukraine — simply threatens to prolong an already-calamitous war. How this “preserves” the post-Cold War order is not immediately clear.

American’s efforts to assert its dominance has predictably triggered a groundswell of resentment and dissent, further destabilising the international system. Smaller nations have chafed under the weight of what they regard as imperious and unprincipled behaviour by the globe’s sole superpower. Meanwhile, the US has furnished a dubious example for states powerful enough to exert influence over other actors; as a consequence, larger challengers have sought to oppose its militarised foreign policy through their own interventionist projects. Uniting them all is the belief — often self-serving, yet frequently justified — that the US acts with ill-concealed hypocrisy.

V

Such moral and strategic failures littering the post-Cold War landscape should chasten advocates of ongoing US primacy. And yet Rothman considers American preeminence to be a necessary — indeed, the necessary — principle of world affairs. He and others like him remain disciples of this uniquely American myth, one that has etched itself into the national psyche. In their telling, Washington has enduring “global commitments” to regulate the present order. This is the United States as beneficent hegemon, who, by force of circumstance and its own exceptional character, must take up its providential mandate to bring harmony to a restive world. Never mind that America’s self-proclaimed leadership — resting uneasily between naked realpolitik and high-minded idealism — has frequently destabilised the very order it earnestly claims to preserve. If Rothman’s tweet is any indication, the dogma of American supremacy persists undimmed in the hearts of true believers.