Keywords

Introduction

John A. Hobson (1905, 3) begins his Imperialism: A Study by noting that “to lay one’s finger accurately upon any ‘ism’ so as to pin it down and mark it out by definition seems impossible.” Despite this seeming impossibility, Hobson goes on to offer a sustained analysis and critique of imperialism whilst adding “more precision” to a term that he describes as being “on everybody’s lips and which is used to denote the most powerful movement in the current politics of the Western world” (Hobson 1905, v). Hobson’s study addresses both the economics of imperialism and the politics of imperialism, or what is often termed the mission civilisatrice (or civilizing mission) dimension of imperialism. Whatever the difficulties in pinning it down, a working definition of imperialism is a necessity: In a general sense, imperialism refers to the imposition of one nation’s authority over another nation (or nations) or peoples through the establishment of political, economic and/or cultural dominance. Whilst it is often used interchangeably with colonialism, imperialism is a somewhat broader process in that it includes informal modes of control that do not necessarily require territorial domination, annexation or settlement. As with colonialism, imperialism is characterized by unequal and exploitative relations of power between the core or metropole and the periphery, including a general lack of independence or autonomy over many aspects of personal, social, political, cultural and economic life in the periphery.

Writing in the early 1930s, William Langer (1972, 67) suggests that “in this [general] sense, imperialism is probably as old as recorded history.” He notes that there are well-documented accounts, including early work by Joseph Schumpeter, going “back to the Assyrians and the Egyptians,” along with extensive studies of “both Greek and Roman imperialism.” Perhaps, in part, because of Hobson’s influence, within three decades of the publication of his study, Langer (1972, 67) observed that “Imperialism is a word which is now in bad repute, partly because of a psychological reaction to what it was supposed to stand for, partly because it is generally used in so loose a sense that it means nothing to the historian or the political scientist.” Not long after Langer made these observations, Lord Hailey, the British colonial administrator and author of the African Survey (1938), stated in 1940 that “Imperialism is not a word for scholars.” Another forty-odd years later, Michael Doyle begins his book Empires (1986, 11) with an epigraph that is this very same quote from Lord Hailey. Doyle (1986, 11) subsequently reiterates that in Hailey’s time, effectively the interwar years, “Imperialism was not in the mainstream of scholarly literature on world politics,” to which Doyle adds, “nor is it today.”

This poses the question: How do we reconcile the suggestion that at the start of the twentieth century-imperialism was said to be a term that was on “everybody’s lips,” but for much of the rest of the century it is described as of “bad repute” and “not a word for scholars” of world politics? Hobson was writing his study during the middle of a period of significant colonial expansion that is commonly referred to as an age of “New Imperialism.” It was “new” because it followed the first wave of European colonial expansion, which corresponds roughly with the Age of Discovery, or the Age of Exploration, from around the beginning of the fifteenth century until the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century. The second wave of New Imperialism refers to the period of colonial expansion, primarily European, but also by the United States and Japan, during the late nineteenth century into the early twentieth century. Opinions differ about the most appropriate start and end dates, but they roughly correspond with those that are the subject of Eric Hobsbawm’s The Age of Empire 1875–1914 (1989). The significance of this period of imperial expansion is captured by Langer (1972, 67), who explains that long after it has passed, “this period will stand out as the crucial epoch during which the nations of the western world extended their political, economic and cultural influence over Africa and over large parts of Asia.” As he notes, this “tremendous outburst of expansion” was “crowded into a couple of generations, the peak of the movement being reached in the last decade of the nineteenth and the first decade of the twentieth centuries.”

From just after the publication of Hobson’s study until a peak in 1945, the end of the Second World War, there was, in fact, a significant increase in published and scholarly discussions of imperialism. The decade from 1945 to 1955 saw a slow decline in discussions of imperialism, which would accord with growing anti-imperial sentiments following the War. From 1955 to 1968, there is another significant spike in the discourse on imperialism, which would be accounted for by a range of developments, including anti-imperial movements, particularly in Sub-Saharan Africa, Soviet expansion followed by the issuing of the Truman Doctrine and the further emergence of the Cold War, and the slow but steady build-up of the war in Vietnam. From 1968, when most former colonies had achieved independence, there is a steady decline in discussions of imperialism that flattens off around the mid-1990s. Despite the end of formal colonialism in most parts of the world, imperialism has remained a topic of interest, in part, because of the emergence of theories such dependency theory and world systems theory, the former of which in particular highlights the continuation of imperial-like relationships between wealthy “core” states and poorer underdeveloped states of the “periphery” (Frank 1966; Wallerstein 2004).

There have long been debates about the rationale or reasoning behind the imperial enterprise, about which there is anything but consensus. Similarly, there have long been debates about the merits of imperialism in its various incarnations, and this too brings mainly disagreement. Langer (1972, 68) points out that “there is no agreement among those who have analysed imperialism as to what the motives are that impel a state or people to expand its territory or control.” The “liberal-bourgeois writers,” he adds, “generally deny that there is any natural link or necessary connexion between capitalism and imperialism.” Marxian theorists will argue the exact opposite. Hobson, who was anything but a Marxist, agreed. Lenin, who was, also agreed, as detailed in Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism (1917). Schumpeter (1955, 5) proposed a different view again, arguing “whenever the word imperialism is used, there is always the implication … of an aggressiveness for its own sake, as reflected in such terms as ‘hegemony’, ‘world dominion’, and so forth.” He adds that history is replete with examples of “nations and classes … that seek expansion for the sake of expanding, war for the sake of fighting, victory for the sake of winning, dominion for the sake of ruling.” Whilst that might be the case, few nations are inclined to admit as much.

The two sides of these debates are evident in the United States in the following examples. At the end of the Spanish–American war in late 1898, with the US on the verge of formally moving from colony to colonizer, opinion was deeply divided. For many, such as Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, it was a matter of the indignity of being “branded as a people incapable of taking rank as one of the greatest world powers” if the Treaty of Paris were to be rejected. Anti-imperialists such as Senator George Frisbie Hoar argued that the “Treaty will make us a vulgar, commonplace empire, controlling subject races and vassal states, in which one class must forever rule and other classes must forever obey.” On the other side, Senator Knute Nelson insisted that “Providence has given the United States the duty of extending Christian civilization. We come as ministering angels, not despots.” As history records, the US Congress ratified the Treaty of Paris on February 6, 1899, 57 votes in favour, 27 opposed; the following day President McKinley signed the treaty and the US formally took possession of the Philippines, Guam, Puerto Rico and Cuba (Beisner 1968). A few years later, Hobson (1905, 74) summarized this development in these terms, “Was this a mere wild freak of spread-eaglism, a burst of political ambition on the part of a nation coming to a sudden realisation of its destiny? Not at all. The spirit of adventure, the American ‘mission of civilization’, were as forces making for Imperialism, clearly subordinate to the driving force of the economic factor.”

More than a century later, the same uncertainties persist. When then US Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, was asked by a reporter on April 28, 2003 about empire-building, he responded, “We don’t seek empires. We’re not imperialistic. We never have been. I can’t imagine why you’d even ask the question.” The reason the question was asked is because the year prior a senior adviser to President George W. Bush declared, “We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we’ll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors… and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do” (Suskind 2004, 51).

It is because of precisely such thinking that the term New Imperialism has been born again in the late twentieth and persists into the early twenty-first century. The book resulting from David Harvey’s Clarendon Lectures delivered at Oxford University in February 2003 bares precisely that title, New Imperialism (2003). In it, Harvey (2003, 1) takes a “look at the current condition of global capitalism and the role that a ‘new’ imperialism might be playing within it.” He does “so from the perspective of the long durée and through the lens” of what he terms “historical–geographical materialism,” which is effectively a Marxian tradition. Works by post-Marxist thinkers Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, first Empire (2000), followed by Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire (2004), and then Commonwealth (2009), whose target is “the republic of property,” have similarly reinvigorated the idea of New Imperialism.

New Imperialisms

The term imperialism has come to be coupled to or prefixed by a wide range of labels and descriptors, many of them still controversial or contested. Examples that readily come to mind include neo-imperialism, economic imperialism, cultural imperialism (Rothkopf 1997), liberal imperialism (Cooper 2002), humanitarian imperialism, democratic imperialism (Kurtz 2003), Western imperialism, American imperialism and moral imperialism (Hernández-Truyol 2002), some of which will be discussed further below. The level of controversy and contestation tends to depend on factors such as one’s social, political, economic or cultural perspective. For many, to be accused of being an imperialist is a pejorative term but, as noted above, over the years it has been regarded by some as a badge of honour and a measure of national esteem. Some of these different views can be attributed in part to competing accounts of the roles played by empires and imperialism in world history: virtuous bringer of civilization to the masses or ruthless exploiter of the oppressed?

Expanding the bounds of imperialism has the potential to lead to a situation observed by Doyle (1986, 13) when he noted, “in a field in which Hobson warned about the use of ‘masked words’ to rally bemused intellectual support for brutal policies, in which Lenin feared the impact of jingoistic ideas on a labor aristocracy bought by imperialistic gold, and in which Schumpeter discussed the use of imperialism itself as a ‘catchword’, one has to be especially careful not to contribute to obfuscation.” As Doyle (1986, 13, 20) further notes, “Empires have conventionally been defined in narrow terms as the formal annexations of conquered territory,” or what we call colonialism. Yet empires are also increasingly defined more “broadly as any form of international economic inequality, as international power, as international exploitation, and as international order—even as the extension of civilization (presumably that of the conquerors)” (see Bowden 2009). This helps to explain why the label imperialism is attached to so many of the unequal power relationships that constitute the vast web of connections in an increasingly globalized world. Moreover, imperialism does not just apply to the usurpation of political sovereignty; it can also be applied to realms beyond the purely political, including the economy, social and cultural domains, and systems of values and morals.

An important question to ask is: Why imperialism at all? Might Langer be right in that the term has lost all meaning and relevance? Not so according to some; old-fashioned imperialism remains a necessity because “Empires are in the business of producing world order” (Maier 2002, 31). Or as Michael Ignatieff (2002, 54) has put it, “imperialism doesn’t stop being necessary just because it becomes politically incorrect. Nations sometimes fail, and when they do, only outside help—imperial power—can get them back on their feet.” Much of the general issue of imperialism continues to revolve around claims to superiority and the notion of a hierarchy of peoples, races, states or whatever the particular collective might be. Throughout much of recent history, it was Europe that was said to represent the highest stage of progress and development, and it was a condition that other peoples at various stages of “arrested development” were encouraged to aspire to. In more recent times, it is the United States that is held up as the shining light of modernity, the epitome of a fully-developed, individualist and commercial and consumer society. The line of argument remains much the same as that proposed by John Stuart Mill (1962, 73–74) in defending imperial government whereby he claimed that, like children, “backward states of society in which the race itself may be considered at its nonage” are incapable of self-government. As such, paternalistic “despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided the end be their improvement.” Whilst the choice of language might have changed, it is still argued by many that “traditional” or “underdeveloped” societies still require a good measure of tutelage to help them “develop” and achieve “modernity.” Western-style modernization or development programs raise a range of questions relating to imperialism. Dean Tipps (1973, 210) makes the point that whilst not “all modernization theorists are necessarily apologists of American expansionism,” nevertheless, it is a theory that tends to necessitate a “form of ‘cultural imperialism’.” That is, “an imperialism of values which superimpose American or, more broadly, Western cultural choices upon other societies, as in the tendency to subordinate all other considerations (save political stability perhaps) to the technical requirements of economic development.”

A rather blunt example of cultural imperialism is David Rothkopf’s (1997, 45) suggestion that it is in the Unites State’s interests to “ensure that if the world is moving toward a common language, it be English; that if the world is moving toward common telecommunications, safety, and quality standards, they be American; that if the world is becoming linked by television, radio, and music, the programming be American; and that if common values are being developed, they be values with which Americans are comfortable.” More alarming for some is his claim that the “United States should not hesitate to promote its values.” Rothkopf goes on to argue (1997, 48–49) that “Americans should not deny the fact that of all the nations in the history of the world, theirs is the most just, the most tolerant, the most willing to constantly reassess and improve itself, and the best model for the future.” Many would argue against such a claim on various grounds. Whilst it might seem like a good idea to impose some kind of order on the international states system, as Charles Maier (2002, 31) notes, “not all orders are alike: some enhance freedom and development; others oppress it.” As was the case in the colonial era, the “issues of inclusion and exclusion, belonging and estrangement, the peace of empire and the violence it generates despite its efforts, is what twenty-first-century politics, certainly since September 11, is increasingly about” (Maier 2002, 31). But there is more to the story of new imperialism than that which was ushered in by the post-September 11, 2001 wave of enthusiasm for intervention in rogue states. For some time now there have been advocates for imposing some form of imperialism-cum-colonialism in failed or collapsing states; or what some describe as humanitarian imperialism.

Humanitarian Imperialism

Richard Shweder (2002, 121) made the point that “with the end of the Cold War, the temptation in the ‘West’ to engage in ‘Enlightened’ interventions into other peoples’ ways of life has become irresistible, once again.” The rationale behind this humanitarian style of interventionism differs slightly to the competition of Cold War interventions when winning over unaligned states to one bloc or the other was seen as all-important. Rather, it seems to have more in common with the logic of good old fashioned “civilizing missions” that seek to bring the blessings of good governance as dictated by the rationale of progress and the moral imperative of civilization. The language used to justify such interventions appears to indicate as much. Such interventions have not necessarily been undertaken whenever and wherever the opportunity presents itself; rather, for one reason or another—determinations of national interest high amongst them—the penchant for intervention is applied rather selectively: too-little-too-late in Rwanda, near all-out in the Former Yugoslavia. And, of course, there are pragmatic and practical limits as to what is possible; for instance, the West is not about to intervene in China to put an end to the persecution of ethnic or religious minorities.

An early advocate of humanitarian interventionism was Paul Johnson [1993] in a 1993 feature article in the New York Times Magazine, bluntly titled, “Colonialism’s Back—and Not a Moment Too Soon.” He began by arguing that in much of the Third World, and in Africa in particular, the “the most basic conditions for civilized life have disappeared,” primarily because these countries are unable to govern themselves. His claim here is remarkably similar to those made five hundred years earlier about the plight of other “savage” peoples who were allegedly incapable of self-government; his solution is similarly reflective of an earlier era. The problems and “horrors” of Africa and elsewhere, he insisted, are neither a hangover from nor the vestiges of colonialism, and nor are they caused by “demographics or natural disasters or shortage of credit.” Rather, they come about because of “bad, incompetent and corrupt government, usually all three together, or by no government at all.” This incapacity for self-government, he claimed, has made way for the “revival of colonialism, albeit in new form;” a trend that “should be encouraged … on practical as well as moral grounds.” Colonialism, he contends, has a long and proud history; it was “invented” by the Greeks who “founded city-colonies to spread their civilization,” the Romans then followed suit, and so on down to the “European powers and then Russia and the United States.” Whilst colonialism does have a long history, this is very much a rose-tinted view of colonialism.

At around the same time, William Pfaff (1993, 155–58) argued that the “new elites of the new African nations governed unsophisticated and illiterate populations, agricultural or pastoral peoples living at levels of social and economic development that had characterized Northern Europe centuries earlier.” This supposed “backwardness by the criteria of social, economic, and political development imposed by contemporary civilization” led him to the conclusion that the “immediate future of Africa, including that of majority-ruled South Africa, is bleak, and it would be better if the international community would reimpose some form of paternalist neocolonialism in most of Africa.” Both Ignatieff and Michael Walzer similarly suggested in the mid-1990s that a return to old style trusteeships or protectorates, lasting years if necessary, where the institutions of state and civil society can be nurtured, might be a workable option for failing states. Walzer (1995, 61) proposed that two styles of “long-lasting intervention,” trusteeship and protectorate, both of which he acknowledges have past associations with “imperial politics, now warrant considering.” Under trusteeship, the “intervening power actually rules the country it has ‘rescued,’ acting in trust for the inhabitants.” Under a protectorate system, intervening forces bring “some local group or coalition of groups to power,” which is then sustained only defensively to guard against the return of a “defeated regime or the old lawlessness.” This has much in common with the mandate system outlined in Article 22 of the Covenant of the League of Nations:

To those colonies and territories which as a consequence of the late war have ceased to be under the sovereignty of the States which formerly governed them and which are inhabited by peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world, there should be applied the principle that the well-being and development of such peoples form a sacred trust of civilisation and that securities for the performance of this trust should be embodied in this Covenant.

Despite the best of intentions, as has almost always been proclaimed in matters colonial, it is not too hard to imagine how a powerful intervening force could abuse either of these proposals, as happened at times during the implementation of the League’s mandate.

More recently, Ignatieff (2003a, 24) has suggested that twenty-first-century imperialism “is a new invention in the annals of political science;” it is what he calls “an empire lite, a global hegemony whose grace notes are free markets, human rights and democracy, enforced by the most awesome military power the world has ever known,” the United States. Why? Because the “case for empire is that it has become, in a place like Iraq, the last hope for democracy and stability alike” (Ignatieff 2003b, 54). As Ignatieff (2002, 30) and others note, “nation-building has become a multi-billion dollar business,” and the “new mantra of this industry is governance.” A further argument is made that “Economic development is impossible and humanitarian aid is a waste of time,” unless the particular country being intervened in “has effective governance: rule of law, fire walls against corruption, democracy and a free press.” The central tenets of this general argument are not particularly new; “governance” or “good governance” might be the catch-phrase of the times, but a capacity for competent self-government has long been the measuring stick of civilized society. And if a society is deemed incapable of self-government, at present as in the past, there are ready and willing tutors and governance professionals waiting to show the ill-governed how it is done.

Large-scale international humanitarian missions such as nation-building are inevitably accompanied by a veritable caravan of non-government organisations (NGOs) that administer, either independently or as sub-contractors, any number of humanitarian programs; from healthcare to housing the homeless. Not without some justification, there are critics of imperialism who claim that, as part of the occupying expedition, NGOs are also implicated in the extension of the imperial mission. It is not too much of an overstatement to say that some of these organizations do bring a certain degree of condescension and missionary zeal to their work. In respect to this sector more generally, James Petras (1999, 440) argues that “NGOs fit into the new thinking of imperialist strategies” in that whilst the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank and multinational corporations work on developing world “domestic elites … to pillage the economy, the NGOs engage in complementary activity at the bottom neutralizing and fragmenting the burgeoning discontent resulting from the savaging of the economy.”

Not all left-leaning thinkers support such interventionism. For those opposed it is still the case that there are no excuses for imperialism, even if it is dressed up as humanitarian intervention on behalf of an oppressed or endangered minority. For instance, following the NATO intervention in Kosovo on what were widely regarded by most observers as humanitarian grounds, Ellen Meiksins Wood (1999) pleaded, “Where … are the tens, even hundreds, of thousands who used to come out to protest US imperialism, in Vietnam or Central America? Where, in particular is the left? Have people stopped caring, or is it possible that people don’t recognize imperialism when they see it?” At the time, Meiksins Wood’s protestations had much to do with the left’s long-standing objections to economic imperialism. Her ire being sparked by a comment from then US President Bill Clinton, to the effect that NATO intervention had as much to do with advancing US economic interests as it did with saving Kosovars. He is reported to have said, “If we’re going to have a strong economic relationship that includes our ability to sell around the world, Europe has got to be key … That’s what this Kosovo thing is all about.” In all likelihood there was a humanitarian side to the story as well; rarely are such issues black and white. Whatever the circumstances of this particular case, this again highlights the issue of globalization and its association with economic imperialism.

Economic Imperialism

Much has been written about economic imperialism, particularly by those on the left of politics in relation to neo-liberal economic orthodoxy and economic globalization, including on the continuities between globalization and earlier manifestations of economic imperialism. The role of multi- or transnational corporations in extracting resources or transferring wealth from the periphery to the core has also been examined at length. The role played by international financial institutions such as the World Bank and the IMF in implementing Structural Adjustment Programs (SAPs) in heavily indebted poor countries is worth taking a closer look at. It is worth looking at because of claims such as David Fidler’s (2000, 407) that “SAPs represent the capitulations of the era of globalization.” In essence, Structural Adjustment Programs are economic and monetary policies that (usually poorer or indebted) countries must follow in order to qualify for ongoing World Bank and IMF lending, whether it be for particular development projects or simply to service debt. Although SAPs are usually tailored to individual country needs, they are marked by a set of general guiding policy principles or prescriptions. Included in these are the privatization and liberalization of monopoly state enterprises and utilities; the promotion of export-led growth; and the “opening up” of the economy to unfettered foreign investment and “free” market enterprise. SAPs also usually demand that a country devalue its currency (to enhance exports); abolish tariffs, quotas and any other impediments to imports and exports, including the removal of subsidies and price controls; and deliver a balanced budget, usually through tax increases and lower spending on social services.

Fidler (2000, 389) argues that in effect, “Capitulations and SAPs are kindred in their fundamental message;” that those on the receiving end do not measure up to certain standards of economic modernity. In order to be able “to engage fully in international relations, your behavior has to conform to expectations, policies and rules established by the prevailing powers.” The more specific point is that “SAPs aim to establish some fundamental conditions for economic interaction between the developed and developing worlds;” as was the aim in the colonial era. The primary objective is the reduction of “political, economic and legal uncertainty and risk for private enterprise” when it comes to “trade and investment between developed and developing countries.” Fidler (2000, 389–99) suggests that “because much of what is required under a SAP involves legal changes, SAPs can be seen as a sophisticated form of legal harmonization to facilitate the conduct of global trade and investment.” And, as was the case with the colonial era’s system of “capitulations, this harmonization is imposed on the developing world country by country, slowly building up a systemic harmonization in international relations.” The crux of the issue is that instead of “a harmonization based on mutual negotiation and compromise, Western forms of economic policy and law have been selected as the basis of harmonization and imposed on the developing countries through SAPs.” As Fidler (2000, 403, 405) pertinently highlights, this means that to “be considered a globalized state, a developing country subject to a SAP has to admit the inadequacy of its government and society and permit massive interference with its internal affairs.” Ultimately, in the same way that “capitulations laid the groundwork for the universal extension of the Western system of states and conception of international law, SAPs help lay the groundwork for the universal extension of the processes of globalization.”

The trade liberalization component of the Washington consensus (see Serra and Stiglitz 2008) that informs such policies received further emphasis following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Not long after the attack, then US President George Bush declared that the “terrorists attacked the World Trade Center, and we will defeat them by expanding and encouraging world trade.” The Bush administration’s commitment to free trade as a weapon to combat terrorism was reaffirmed in the US National Security Strategy (NSS), issued a full year after the attacks of the previous September. In the preface to the document the president (White House 2002) declares, “We will actively work to bring the hope of democracy, development, free markets, and free trade to every corner of the world.” Section VI of the NSS (2002, 17–18), titled, “Ignite a New Era of Global Economic Growth through Free Markets and Free Trade,” states that the “concept of ‘free trade’ arose as a moral principle even before it became a pillar of economics. If you can make something that others value, you should be able to sell it to them. If others make something that you value, you should be able to buy it. This is real freedom, the freedom for a person—or a nation—to make a living. To promote free trade.”

In discussing the “exertion of such indirect imperial control” via trade, Anatol Lieven (2003, 25–30) argues that “it is possible to draw a rather straight line from the Monroe Doctrine to the Bush Doctrine.” Others have made similar imperial arguments about earlier White House administrations. On a related note, Lieven suggests that the difference between the imperialism of the Clinton administration and that of the Bush administration was that “Clinton packaged American imperialism as globalism.” And Clinton, he argues, “was also genuinely motivated by a vision of global order in which America would lead rather than merely dictate.” The imperialism of the Bush administration, on the other hand, was an imperialism driven by “the domestic political fuel” of a “wounded and vengeful nationalism.” And like any other nationalist sentiment or movement, the administration was “absolutely contemptuous of any global order involving any formal check whatsoever on American action” and expressions of power. The Obama and Trump administrations have subsequently brought a mixed bag of foreign and economic policies; the latter perhaps having more in common with the realism of George H. W. Bush than either of his immediate predecessors, George W. Bush or Clinton. But arguments about economic imperialism tend to extend well beyond who occupies the White House at any given moment.

Western/American Imperialism

This leads to the explicit issue of Western, or more specifically American imperialism, or what has been referred to as “the empire that dared not speak its name” (Maier 2002, 28), albeit one that has been widely discussed from an equally wide range of perspectives in the early twenty-first century (Ferguson 2003, 2004; Vidal 2004; Harries 2004; Odom and Dujarric 2004; Ninio 2004). As noted above, there have long been contrasting views on American imperialism, some of which can be traced to the ongoing influence of Thomas Jefferson’s call for America to be an “empire of liberty,” or an “empire for liberty.” In contrast to the position of the British Empire in North America and beyond, it would be an empire free of a corrupt and exploitative imperial ruling class (Onuf 2000). The reinvigoration of such debates is in large part because American power and influence is thought to be greater at the start of this century than ever before. Paul Kennedy, for instance, suggests that nothing past or present “has ever existed like this disparity of power” between the US and its allies and rivals. Charles Krauthammer is more strident in insisting the “fact is no country has been as dominant culturally, economically, technologically and militarily in the history of the world since the Roman Empire” (Eakin 2002). Thus, it is the US which is inclined to take the lead and seeks to set the tone across all manner of spheres: political, economic, legal, military, technological, cultural and more.

With the end of the Cold War in sight, Craig Snyder (1989, 4) claimed that beyond exporting democracy, the United States’ “efforts to see a better world in the new century must involve all three components of our [American] social system … political, economic, and social.” In respect to the Bush administration, a period when talk of US imperialism was particularly prominent, Sebastian Mallaby (2002, 2–7) suggests that the “logic of neoimperialism is too compelling for the Bush administration to resist.” Why? Because the “chaos in the world is too threatening to ignore, and existing methods for dealing with that chaos have been tried and found wanting.” Mallaby goes on to argue that “a new imperial moment has arrived, and by virtue of its power America is bound to play the leading role.” Therefore, the “question is not whether the United States will seek to fill the void created by the demise of European empires but whether it will acknowledge that this is what it is doing.” Stephen Rosen (2002, 30–31) similarly claims that a “political unit that has overwhelming superiority in military power, and uses that power to influence the internal behavior of other states, is called an empire.” But he suggests that the US is not like earlier empires, because it “does not seek to control territory or govern the overseas citizens of the empire, we are an indirect empire, to be sure, but an empire nonetheless.” Rosen adds that if this is the most appropriate description of the US, then “our goal is not combating a rival, but maintaining our imperial position, and maintaining imperial order.” In contrast to Rosen, Chalmers Johnson (2004, 2006) makes the point that given the number of US military personnel and bases spread across so many continents, it is time to acknowledge that American democracy has given rise to a “global empire.”

Another twist to the American imperialism debate is the perspective of those predicting or describing its downfall at the same time as others insisting it is an empire on the rise (Wallerstein 2002, 2003). In a similar vein to this line of argument, Lieven (2003, 29) suggests that “given its immense wealth, the United States can afford a military capable of dominating the earth; or it can afford a stable, secure system of social and medical entitlements for a majority of its population; or it can afford massive tax cuts for its wealthiest citizens and no tax rises for the rest. But it cannot afford all three.” At the very least, it is highly unlikely that the US would be able to sustain all three for any significant length of time. And if it decides to forego social services at home in order to maintain its military domination, then as Arnold Toynbee forewarned, most empires crumble from within because of overreach. It could be argued that the Trump administration, intentional or otherwise, heeded such advice in seeking to wind back some of the many United States’ commitments abroad.

Moral Imperialism

Questions of moral imperialism lie at the intersection of debates about ethical/moral universalism and cultural relativism. Moral universalism refers to the position that some system of values or ethics applies universally; that is, to all people in all places at all times regardless of their differences, be they cultural, national, racial, religious, gendered or related to sexuality or any other distinguishing feature one might choose to apply. The justification for claims to universality of such a system of values might be based on understandings of human nature and the demands of universal reason, or assertions about what existing moral codes hold in common, such as the similar requirements of various religions. An example of this is the ethic of reciprocity, or the so-called “Golden Rule,” which is a fundamental moral principle common to most major religions. Whilst it is expressed in a range of ways, the essence of the ethic of reciprocity is captured in the phrase, “treat others as you would like to be treated.”

Cultural relativism, on the other hand, refers to the principle that one’s values, beliefs and general way of life are dependent on and possibly unique to one’s own culture. The central argument is that systems of morals or ethics have no universal or timeless claims. The values, beliefs and principles by which one lives their life are only relevant or valid for the time and place in which that person or collective live by those beliefs, values or superstitions. Such arguments have been used to challenge claims about the universal nature and applicability of things such as individual human rights. It is argued by some that the human rights tradition is based on a particularly liberal mode of politics which, although generally accepted in the West, is not necessarily the norm elsewhere. It is further argued that the foundation of human rights lies in influential liberal thinkers, such as John Locke and John Stuart Mill, who are not only of the West but were involved in establishing imperial policies and the running of European empires. (This is despite the fact that Mill, and Jeremy Bentham even more so, did not subscribe to the idea of human rights, the latter famously referring to such rights as “nonsense upon stilts.”) This is essentially what moral imperialism is all about; it involves attempts by one cultural group, usually a dominant group, to impose their values on others at the expense of their own values and, potentially, much of their way of life. One of the key questions claims to universality raises is: If one group has to define and promote their values amongst the various groups holding different values, then are they really universal values at all? As Naeem Inayatullah and David L. Blaney (2004, 6–7) highlight, of real concern is “that claims of universal values are accompanied by a temptation to impose values on the recalcitrant, resulting in violence and domination.”

By definition, the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) enshrines rights that apply to all human beings equally, regardless of their various differences. Contrary to this view, the cultural relativism argument claims that not all human rights are universal; some might actually conflict with some cultures’ beliefs and values and could even threaten their survival. Significant cultural critics of the individual nature of universal rights include proponents of “Asian Values,” in which filial piety is a major consideration. For instance, in the early 1980s the Iranian representative to the UN, Said Rajaie-Khorassani, declared that the UDHR was “a secular understanding of the Judeo-Christian tradition,” which could not be implemented without breaching Sharia law (Littman 2003). Similarly, the then prime ministers (and again in the latter’s case) of Singapore and Malaysia, Lee Kuan Yew and Mahathir bin Mohamad, respectively claimed in the 1990s that Asian values are different from Western values and include a sense of loyalty and the foregoing of personal freedoms for the sake of social stability and prosperity (Zakaria 1994). This was countered by former (and effectively again) Malaysian deputy prime minister, Anwar Ibrahim (2006, 6–7), who argued, “To say that freedom is Western or un-Asian is to offend our traditions as well as our forefathers, who gave their lives in the struggle against tyranny and injustices,” both internally and externally imposed.

An oft-cited example of what is claimed to be a double-standard is female genital cutting, which occurs in different cultural groups in Africa, Asia and South America; and in diasporas elsewhere. Whilst it is not mandated by any religion, it has become a tradition in a number of cultures. Cutting is considered by many to be a violation of women’s and girls’ rights and is outlawed in some countries. At the same time, it is noted by some that the male equivalent, circumcision, is based on a broadly Jewish cultural tradition and is legal in many countries: hence claims of hypocrisy or moral imperialism. One response to such claims is that arguments about cultural relativism are often resorted to by those who wield power in societies or cultures that commit human rights abuses, and that the people whose human rights are abused are in fact themselves powerless. One difficulty in assessing claims of universalism versus relativism lies in part on who is claiming to represent a particular culture; is it a dictator, acting in their own interests, or is it a genuine community leader standing up for the rights of her people? Either way there is likely to be some measure of moral imperialism going on.

Conclusion

Early on in his study of imperialism, Hobson (1905, 5–6) states that it is hard to find a better account of the “true nature and limits of nationality” than that offered by Mill in Representative Government. In that essay, Mill (1962, 359–60) wrote that a “portion of mankind may be said to constitute a Nationality if they are united among themselves by common sympathies which do not exist between them and any others.” A little further on he adds:

This feeling of nationality may have been generated by various causes. Sometimes it is the effect of identity of race and descent. Community of language, and community of religion, greatly contribute to it. Geographical limits are one of its causes. But the strongest of all is identity of political antecedents; the possession of a national history, and consequent community of recollections; collective pride and humiliation, pleasure and regret, connected with the same incidents in the past. (Mill 1962, 359–360)

Based on such an account of the nation and its identity, Hobson (1905, 6) asserted that it “is a debasement of this genuine nationalism, by attempts to overflow its natural banks and absorb the near or distant territory of reluctant and unassimilable peoples, that marks the passage from nationalism to a spurious colonialism on the one hand, Imperialism on the other.” One of the issues, as explained by John Seeley (1914, 54–55) a little earlier, is that “when a nation extends itself into other territories the chances are that it will there meet with other nationalities which it cannot destroy or completely drive out, even if it succeeds in conquering them. When this happens, it has a great and permanent difficulty to contend with. The subject or rival nationalities cannot be perfectly assimilated, and remain as a permanent cause of weakness and danger.” This was an issue for the second wave of New Imperialism just as it was for earlier European colonial enterprises that met with various levels of local resistance. It was also true for latecomers to the imperial enterprise, such as the United States experienced in the Philippines. At the end of his extensive discussion of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century-wave of New Imperialism, Hobson (1905, 367) concluded that the “new Imperialism differs in no vital point from …[the] old.”

This is not necessarily so for the New Imperialism of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. As discussed, this era of imperialism takes a range of guises, including cultural and economic imperialism, that do not require formal occupation. But that is not to say that they do not also meet with resistance, the anti-globalization and alter-globalization movements being prominent examples. Moreover, imperial-like missions that do involve a measure of territorial occupation, including the establishment of military bases, whether they be coalitions of the willing led by the United States in Afghanistan or Iraq, or Russian expansion on the Crimean Peninsula, more often than not meet with resistance from those being imposed upon. That said, there are instances when intervention and the establishment of a foreign military presence is welcomed, even encouraged, such as when a powerful and potentially aggressive neighbour looms large. Whether the intervention and occupation is seen as a form of imperialism or as a guarantor of security and liberty will likely depend on one’s position in the broader geopolitical context.

New or old, at the core of imperialism is the claim, explicit or implied, that one way of doing something, be it organizing society and the economy or a system of social values, is superior to another way. As such, all forms of imperialism inherently have a moral dimension to them. Imperialism says, often forcibly, that my way of doing this or that is superior to yours, my beliefs and values and way of life are superior to yours, as such you will be compelled to give up what you hold dearly so that you can live by my rules. In short, it suggests, and sometimes shouts, I am morally superior to you. That is the essence of all forms of imperialism—political, humanitarian, cultural or economic. They are all a form of moral imperialism.