Limits of Might

Events are making clear America’s lack of ability and desire to keep overseeing regional power meridians. The results could be far-reaching.

There is one fact that is the most important when marking a decade since Sept. 11. This detail may be forgotten in the ocean of words, strategic assessments and horror pictures from that bright and ghastly morning. Sure enough, what is taken for granted does not receive proper attention, even if it is the most essential point. The thing of greatest significance is what we all know — that the 9/11 happenings were a single event that has not repeated itself. Neither in terms of the scale, nor in terms of the planning behind it and definitely not in terms of the number of deaths.

Newspaper headlines, a day after the event, asserted that this launched “a war on America” or, simply put, “a declaration of war.” There was something nostalgic in these statements that sought to return to the surge of U.S. emotion after Pearl Harbor and national mobilization in the name of victory. The truth was that the Sept. 11 declaration of war was, at least in the last decade, the peak of the strength of radical and terrorist Islam. That was its first dazzling success and, in a certain sense, also the last triumph. Yes, there were terrible terror attacks in Madrid, London and other places, but over the past 10 years, al-Qaida did not manage to reproduce one hundredth of the hideous capacity it demonstrated on that bitter day.

When the U.S. is attacked or feels that its security is threatened, it expands [territorially]. The practical annexation of Texas, in fact, took place on the grounds of potential security issues with Mexico. In World War I the U.S. acquired a broad military presence, and in World War II it widened its military presence to dimensions the world had never seen before. The American soldier never headed home. Every place he fought and won, he remained behind — from the war against Spain in the Philippines in the 19th century where American bases remained, through Japan or Germany, where America retains its forces.

Today, it’s customary to pour criticism on Bush’s decision to go to war in Iraq and Afghanistan. Actually, Bush behaved in a way reminiscent of classic American policy: He talked about transferring the battle into enemy territory and focusing the terrorists’ attention not on America but on American army troops overseas. In this sense, and apparently solely in this sense, Bush’s policy was successful. Perhaps the thousands killed in Afghanistan and Iraq, and turning these countries into the frontline of the global jihad, have prevented another attack in the heart of America.

Notwithstanding, it’s doubtful that Bush realized the price, which has been an imperial legacy. The empire was forced to defend itself from barbarians, so it sent its legions to fight them in their home. As its boundaries extended, as its war was burning, the burden on its economy grew heavier. Major forces in human history suffered from similar genetic disorders. The disease of empires is over-expansion and overstretching themselves.

With civilization, there come barbarians and, along with them, defense spending, followed by a military buildup that leads to impoverishment and a controlled or scared retreat. As for the edges of the empire, the ramifications are especially serious. There will be no doubt: that we find shelter under the spacious and generous wings of the American empire. And there are some among our leaders who like to say that we are an outpost of an empire. Should they be right, the United States is the big power safeguarding this outpost, providing cover and supply routes.

In a way peculiar in history, this is a power that does not strive for occupation or subjugation. The goings-on in the Middle East over the last months make clear the limits of America’s might and the lack of its ability and desire to keep being in charge of regional power channels. The implications for Israel, a little frontier settlement in the world of American influence, are tremendous. The American fatigue and need to reorganize afresh dictate a brand new reality, where a hint from Washington to an Arab ruler does not suffice to calm the front or resolve a local problem.

Yes, President Barack Obama can still rescue six security guards besieged in the Israeli Embassy in Cairo, but America won’t be able to create and save the entire peace any longer. Israel’s strategic situation in the region is in severe crisis, but the issue is that it intersects with a historical weakening in the effectiveness of American influence. The consequences could be far-reaching.

On a blue and beautiful day yesterday in New York, America remembered the perished. Hearing the speeches exemplified that there is only one superpower in the world so committed to the very specific words of “freedom” and “justice.” National tragedy awakens the fundamental ethos of a nation, and this ethos was seen in the expressions of the victims’ families, presidents and public figures — a republic of liberty. In the age of American dominance, it seems natural to us that there’s a power like this in the world — a power that speaks openly and resolutely about the necessity of democracy, freedom and equality.

Yet again, it’s not obvious. On our side, many deliberate on the lessons that America should learn, 10 years later, but we are not Americans. We are the rest of the world, which is not part of the U.S. To this world, the object lesson of 9/11 is clear-cut: America is not self-evident. On such a day, it deserves words of support and not angry prophecies about its withering away.

(The author is the foreign news editor of Channel 10.)