Whatever its mistakes, the idea that America brought the onslaught upon itself is absurd
Sep 20th 2001
WHO is to blame? The simple answer—the suicide attackers, and those behind them—is hardly adequate, just as it would hardly be adequate simply to blame Hitler and his henchmen for the second world war, without mentioning the Treaty of Versailles or Weimar inflation. But that does not exculpate the perpetrators of last week's onslaught, just as the Versailles treaty does not excuse Auschwitz: whatever their grievances, nothing could excuse an attack of such ferocity and size. So what explains it? A surprising number of people, and not just gullible fanatics looking for someone to hold responsible for the hopelessness of their lives, believe that to a greater or lesser extent America has reaped as it sowed.
If this charge is to be taken at all seriously, it must first be separated from the general anti-Americanism fashionable in some left-wing circles in Europe, say, or even Latin America. It may be reasonable to dislike the death penalty, a society so ready to tolerate guns, even the vigour of a culture that finds its expression in unpretentious movies and McDonald's hamburgers, but none of these could conceivably explain, let alone justify, a single act of terrorism. Similarly, though globalisation clearly arouses fury among protesters, and concern among some more moderate critics, it would be ridiculous to think that last week's attack was prompted by any American antipathy towards welfare payments, closed economies or restraints on speculative capital movements.
The charge that in politics the United States is arrogant, even hypocritical, may deserve more notice. America has recently brushed aside some good international agreements (on nuclear testing, for example, a world criminal court, land mines), as well as dismissing some bad ones (the Kyoto convention on global warming) with an insouciance unbecoming to the world's biggest producer of greenhouse gases. Its understandable determination to pursue a missile shield threatens to upend the system of deterrence and arms control that has so far saved the world from nuclear Armageddon. It has refused to pay its dues to the United Nations, even as it has cut its aid for the world's poorest. Its eagerness to prosecute African and Balkan war criminals while refusing to allow its own nationals to submit to an international court has made it seem unwilling to hold itself to the standards it imposes on others.
Were these actions unwise? Possibly. Have they caused resentment? Yes. But could that resentment plausibly have motivated a single one of last week's suicide attackers? No.
The seeds of discord
Perhaps it would be more profitable to look deeper into the past. During the half-century of the cold war, the United States undoubtedly subordinated principles as well as causes to the overriding concern of defeating communism. The great upholder of laws at home was happy to trash them abroad, whether invading Grenada or mining Nicaraguan harbours. It propped up caudillos in Latin America, backed tyrants in Africa and Asia, promoted coups in the Middle East. More recently, it has been willing to kick invaders out of Kuwait, to strike at ruthless states like Libya and Iraq and, moreover, to go on trying to contain them with sanctions and, in Iraq's case, with almost incessant bombardment. Is it here perhaps—especially in the Middle East—that America has gone wrong?
No. The Economist has not been an uncritical supporter of American policy in the Middle East. We have been more ready to argue the Palestinian case than have recent administrations and believe that the United States could sometimes have done more to restrain Israel. We have also pointed out that the policy of sanctions against Iraq, whatever its intention, in practice punishes innocent Iraqis and thus allows Saddam Hussein to blame the West, notably America, for the deaths of thousands of Iraqi children. Perhaps nothing does more to fuel anti-American resentment in the Arab world. Such criticisms as we have made, however, in no way imply that we think America was wrong to fight the Gulf war or to try to disarm Saddam afterwards. It was also right to stand by Saudi Arabia as an ally, however much that annoyed zealots. Similarly, whatever Israel's mistakes, America can hardly be accused of having failed to try to bring it to a peace: every administration of recent years has attempted to bring the two sides together, and none has come closer than Bill Clinton's last year.
America defends its interests, sometimes skilfully, sometimes clumsily, just as other countries do. Since power, like nature, abhors a vacuum, it steps into places where disorder reigns. On the whole, it should do so more, not less, often. Of all the great powers in history, it is probably the least territorial, the most idealistic. Muslims in particular should note that the armed interventions in Bosnia and Kosovo, both led by America, were attacks on Christian regimes in support of Muslim victims. In neither did the United States stand to make any material gain; in neither were its vital interests, conventionally defined, at stake. Those who criticise America's leadership of the world's capitalist system—a far from perfect affair—should remember that it has brought more wealth and better living standards to more people than any other in history. And those who regret America's triumph in the cold war should stop to think how the world would look if the Soviet Union had won. America's policies may have earned it enemies. But in truth, it is difficult to find plausible explanations for the virulence of last week's attacks, except in the envy, hatred and moral confusion of those who plotted and perpetrated them
Sep 20th 2001
WHO is to blame? The simple answer—the suicide attackers, and those behind them—is hardly adequate, just as it would hardly be adequate simply to blame Hitler and his henchmen for the second world war, without mentioning the Treaty of Versailles or Weimar inflation. But that does not exculpate the perpetrators of last week's onslaught, just as the Versailles treaty does not excuse Auschwitz: whatever their grievances, nothing could excuse an attack of such ferocity and size. So what explains it? A surprising number of people, and not just gullible fanatics looking for someone to hold responsible for the hopelessness of their lives, believe that to a greater or lesser extent America has reaped as it sowed.
If this charge is to be taken at all seriously, it must first be separated from the general anti-Americanism fashionable in some left-wing circles in Europe, say, or even Latin America. It may be reasonable to dislike the death penalty, a society so ready to tolerate guns, even the vigour of a culture that finds its expression in unpretentious movies and McDonald's hamburgers, but none of these could conceivably explain, let alone justify, a single act of terrorism. Similarly, though globalisation clearly arouses fury among protesters, and concern among some more moderate critics, it would be ridiculous to think that last week's attack was prompted by any American antipathy towards welfare payments, closed economies or restraints on speculative capital movements.
The charge that in politics the United States is arrogant, even hypocritical, may deserve more notice. America has recently brushed aside some good international agreements (on nuclear testing, for example, a world criminal court, land mines), as well as dismissing some bad ones (the Kyoto convention on global warming) with an insouciance unbecoming to the world's biggest producer of greenhouse gases. Its understandable determination to pursue a missile shield threatens to upend the system of deterrence and arms control that has so far saved the world from nuclear Armageddon. It has refused to pay its dues to the United Nations, even as it has cut its aid for the world's poorest. Its eagerness to prosecute African and Balkan war criminals while refusing to allow its own nationals to submit to an international court has made it seem unwilling to hold itself to the standards it imposes on others.
Were these actions unwise? Possibly. Have they caused resentment? Yes. But could that resentment plausibly have motivated a single one of last week's suicide attackers? No.
The seeds of discord
Perhaps it would be more profitable to look deeper into the past. During the half-century of the cold war, the United States undoubtedly subordinated principles as well as causes to the overriding concern of defeating communism. The great upholder of laws at home was happy to trash them abroad, whether invading Grenada or mining Nicaraguan harbours. It propped up caudillos in Latin America, backed tyrants in Africa and Asia, promoted coups in the Middle East. More recently, it has been willing to kick invaders out of Kuwait, to strike at ruthless states like Libya and Iraq and, moreover, to go on trying to contain them with sanctions and, in Iraq's case, with almost incessant bombardment. Is it here perhaps—especially in the Middle East—that America has gone wrong?
No. The Economist has not been an uncritical supporter of American policy in the Middle East. We have been more ready to argue the Palestinian case than have recent administrations and believe that the United States could sometimes have done more to restrain Israel. We have also pointed out that the policy of sanctions against Iraq, whatever its intention, in practice punishes innocent Iraqis and thus allows Saddam Hussein to blame the West, notably America, for the deaths of thousands of Iraqi children. Perhaps nothing does more to fuel anti-American resentment in the Arab world. Such criticisms as we have made, however, in no way imply that we think America was wrong to fight the Gulf war or to try to disarm Saddam afterwards. It was also right to stand by Saudi Arabia as an ally, however much that annoyed zealots. Similarly, whatever Israel's mistakes, America can hardly be accused of having failed to try to bring it to a peace: every administration of recent years has attempted to bring the two sides together, and none has come closer than Bill Clinton's last year.
America defends its interests, sometimes skilfully, sometimes clumsily, just as other countries do. Since power, like nature, abhors a vacuum, it steps into places where disorder reigns. On the whole, it should do so more, not less, often. Of all the great powers in history, it is probably the least territorial, the most idealistic. Muslims in particular should note that the armed interventions in Bosnia and Kosovo, both led by America, were attacks on Christian regimes in support of Muslim victims. In neither did the United States stand to make any material gain; in neither were its vital interests, conventionally defined, at stake. Those who criticise America's leadership of the world's capitalist system—a far from perfect affair—should remember that it has brought more wealth and better living standards to more people than any other in history. And those who regret America's triumph in the cold war should stop to think how the world would look if the Soviet Union had won. America's policies may have earned it enemies. But in truth, it is difficult to find plausible explanations for the virulence of last week's attacks, except in the envy, hatred and moral confusion of those who plotted and perpetrated them
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