The end of pax Americana?

Under a new US president, will the United States stand by Ukraine, potentially risking war with Russia? Will it stand by its NATO treaty obligations? Will it support Israel to properly defend itself, potentially risking war with Iran? Will it prevent Iran acquiring nuclear weapons, including by using force, if necessary? Will it defend Taiwan, should China seek to use force to annex that democratic society?

Will it defend the Philippines, or Japan, or other Indo-Pacific treaty allies in the event of their being attacked by China? Will it defend South Korea were it to be attacked? Will it continue to shield its non-nuclear allies under the protection of extended nuclear deterrence? Will it continue to protect the world’s sea lanes?

Closer to home, will it honour its commitment to supply nuclear-powered attack submarines to Australia, as doubts swirl around its industrial capacity to meet US Navy requirements?

These and other similar questions will be on the agenda over the course of the coming presidential term, irrespective of who wins on 5 November.

While these questions are vitally important in their own right, what is of greater interest is how the result of the election might affect the future shape and structure of world order which, since the end of the Second World War, has been underpinned by the ‘Pax Americana’—the ‘American peace’ which links and frames all of these issues, and more besides. This ‘peace’ has meant the avoidance of a catastrophic nuclear war. It has not meant the absence of confrontation, conflict, or war otherwise.

Without the assertion and projection by the United States of its stupendous economic and military power after the Second World War, a Eurasian hegemon would have emerged in the strategic heartland of the world. Since 1948, when it broke the Berlin blockade, the United States has been the crucial actor in the prevention of the emergence of such a hegemonic power in Eurasia.

Were it ever to emerge, such a power, with strategic and military dominion over the population, resources, and economic might of Eurasia, would be the leading global power, and today we would be dealing with entirely different questions.

By the end of the coming presidential term in 2028, the future world order will be clearer in three crucial respects—namely, will the United States have the wherewithal, whether on its own or in partnership with others, to continue to counter the rise of such a power; will it have the interest and inclination to do so; and will the Pax Americana hold?

A Eurasian hegemon would itself not have the wherewithal, initially perhaps, to subjugate the United States, which would be secure in its hemispheric citadel, protected by the geographical barrier of great oceans, a vast arsenal of nuclear weapons, and advanced defensive shields to deal with missile, cyber, and space attacks.

Such a United States would, from its citadel, project power selectively and only in relation to strictly defined interests and narrowly couched objectives. It would have few, if any, alliances. It would still be a powerful economic actor, fuelled by a massive domestic market, deep sources of private wealth, leading edge innovation, healthy population growth, and the enduring role of the US dollar as a favoured store of value.

A Eurasian hegemon would be satisfied with such a world order, pleased that a materially-focused United States, which was more interested in making money than waging war, would not be an obstacle to its strategic designs, unless it were to be threatened directly.

To glean the future of the Pax Americana, it would be helpful to consider its development and evolution. Initially, in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, the United States appeared to be willing to place its faith in the dual promise of the United Nations and the new economic architecture that became known as the Bretton Woods system.

While the yearning for a universal order that would see the prevention of war seemed to be within reach, after the horrors of 1914-45, it became soon apparent to the Truman administration that the possibility of Soviet Russia achieving hegemonic mastery in Eurasia would both stymie this noble vision, and be detrimental to the interests of the United States.

Under Truman, Eisenhower, and Kennedy (two Democrats and a Republican), the United States countered Soviet Russia, to the point of risking nuclear war, in October 1962.  Under Johnson, Nixon, Ford, and Carter (two Democrats and two Republicans), the United States chose the path of co-existence and eventually détente with Soviet Russia, while contesting it in proxy struggles around the world.

Under Reagan, there was a marked departure in US policy. The United States began to act on the radical policy premise that a state of confrontation with Soviet Russia, which carried with it the risk of global nuclear war, need not be accepted as a permanent condition.

Then with the collapse of Soviet Russia, Bush senior, Clinton, and Bush the younger (two Republicans and a Democrat) sought to refashion global security arrangements, including by bringing post-Soviet Russia and Communist China into a globally integrated economy, where greater trade and investment flows, and reformed multilateral institutions, would engender a more peaceful world.

With the global financial crisis of 2008, and the onset of war weariness in the United States under Obama, Trump, and Biden (two Democrats and one Republican), strategic restraint became increasingly the organising principle of US policy.

This has not been without benefit in terms of the struggle for mastery in Eurasia. Allies have been challenged to do more, which has seen a degree of strategic awakening in Europe and in the Indo-Pacific. In Europe, modest rearmament and mobilisation is underway, especially in the wake of Putin’s illegal invasions of Ukraine in 2014 and 2022.

NATO has become more active and re-engaged on its core mission, after years of searching for relevance after the demise of Soviet Russia. In the Indo-Pacific, which lacks the organising structure of NATO, the ‘latticework’ of US-centred alliances and security partnerships is being steadily strengthened, including by way of the basing of US combat forces in northern Australia.

The United States is unlikely to ever again play the role of preponderant power, as it did in the period 1948-62. For analytical purposes, there are interesting questions to examine, such as the nature, dimensions, and actuality or otherwise of ‘US primacy’; the relative power balance between the United States and China; and the lessons of historical patterns of how ‘rising’ and ‘declining’ powers compete with, and confront, one another.

For policy, the more relevant question is this: will the United States leverage its own power (however measured in absolute and relative terms), and that of allies and partners, to ensure that no globally powerful, hegemonic power can establish itself in Eurasia, while at the same time ensuring that the Pax Americana endures.

The United States has always ‘pivoted’ in accordance with its interests and capacities, and its resolve. There is nothing new in that. For instance, in July 1969, Nixon made clear at Guam that the United States had a different—and more restrained—sense of its obligations in terms of security assurances in Asia, as compared with its iron resolve to deter a Soviet attack on Western Europe, and to wage war on Soviet Russia if necessary.

What is different today is the advent of the formidable Axis of China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea, which presents the United States with a choice: knowing that it cannot hold the entire strategic perimeter of Eurasia without leveraging the significant military and economic resources of the European Union, Japan, India, Australia, South Korea, and others, does it seek to reset the burden sharing parameters of the Pax Americana—including by demanding that allies and partners increase defence spending to at least 3 percent of GDP, and possibly more—while still leading in countering the emergence of a Eurasian hegemon, or does it commence the process of withdrawing into its citadel?

Preferably, we will see continued US leadership, with greater contributions from its allies and partners. However, a weary and divided United States, which was concerned with its strategic solvency—where it was spending more on the cost of servicing its federal debt than on defence—might well recalculate its interests, taking a dim view of those who consume US security without contributing meaningfully.

The United States might well decide to revert to what it did for the first 170 years of the republic—pursuing abundance at home, and restraint abroad. Could one blame the United States for pursuing such a course if those whom it seeks to protect refuse to make greater sacrifices in order to better defend themselves, having grown accustomed to the protection of the Pax Americana? Unless US allies and partners, Australia included, do more for themselves, this might be more than an academic question.

This article was published by The Strategist.