Yes, America's Military Supremacy Is Fading (And We Should Not Panic)
In the Science of Muddling Through, Charles Lindblom suggested that organizations and decision-makers rarely revisit core assumptions when making decisions. Instead of examining the roots of a problem, organizations settle on two or three easily understandable options, then base their decisions upon a set of pre-established metrics. Decision-makers rarely look at the big picture, in part because looking at the big picture only rarely tells them something useful about the day-to-day decisions they need to make.
As a strategic framework, muddling through has its merits. It refrains from deep theorization, and allows an organization (in this case, the United States) to evaluate decisions based on intelligible, readily available evidence. Muddling through can lead to altogether better outcomes than an effort to impose a grand theoretical framework on the world.
But muddling through is particularly susceptible to bad choices in baseline. If we lack an intellectual framework that can help us understand the huge, enduring advantages that the United States possesses, we will likely overstate the importance of short run trends. Conversely, if we choose as a baseline a moment that was essentially ephemeral (the zenith or nadir of national power, for example), we run the risk of completely misunderstanding foundational shifts in the international balance of power.
The Weird 1990s:
And this is where we find ourselves now. The theorists and analysts who expressed concern about the long-term viability of U.S. power in the 1990s were right; predictable long-term trends were going to lead to the diminishment of U.S. superiority over potential challengers. The advantages that the U.S. enjoyed over China, Russia, and others in the 1990s were ephemeral, and the shrinking gap is the consequence of a return to a more “normal” balance of international power.
The question isn’t whether unipolarity will persist, or whether U.S. primacy will endure. “Unipolarity” and “primacy” do not necessarily include the military, economic, and diplomatic capability of dictating terms on Russia’s borders, or at China’s twelve mile limit. The United States will never feel as invulnerable as it did in the 1990s, mostly because the 1990s were a deeply weird period in the history of modern geopolitics.
A wise man once pointed out that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. Relative to the 1970s and 1980s, the United States is almost incomparably powerful and secure, enjoying presumptive military advantage over any opponent or plausible coalition of opponents. We sometimes forget, for example, that there is some history to the idea of Russian troops freely operating in Ukraine.
And the point is not that the United States deserves some kind of comeuppance for its arrogance. Geopolitics isn’t a Shakespearean drama, or a morality play. Noting that Russia, China, and others have the growing capability to act independently in their regions does not imply that they will act justly, or that they have any special right to torture their neighbors.
Nor is it to suggest that the Bush and Obama administrations deserve no blame for their foreign policy choices. Allowing that they are not responsible for U.S. relative decline is different than suggesting that neither President has made serious mistakes. Moreover, there’s nothing wrong with the steps that the United States has taken designed to ensure future military superiority. The “third offset” won’t bring back the 1990s, but it will help keep the United States more than competitive against potential challengers.
But the appropriate question should be “will the offset (and various other policy initiatives) help maintain U.S. military superiority?” not “will it help ensure U.S. military supremacy?” Moving forward, the U.S. military will need to navigate a world in which it enjoys advantages that are merely large, but not overwhelming. That’s not such a bad place to be. For better and worse, the 1990s are gone.