US foreign policy? You have to wonder if America is even trying

Ah, the United States and foreign policy—a tale as old as time, or at least as old as Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points. Here we have a nation that bestrides the globe like a colossus, yet somehow manages to trip over its own shoelaces with alarming regularity. The question isn’t whether America is good at foreign policy—it’s whether it’s even trying. 

Let’s start with the obvious: America is an empire in denial. Unlike the British, who at least had the decency to admit they were running the show, the US prefers to cloak its ambitions in the language of democracy, freedom, and, of course, cookies. Yes, cookies. Because nothing says “diplomacy” like treating your adversaries like pre-schoolers in need of a gold star and a smiley face. Well, in 2009 Obama’s special envoy to Sudan, retired Air Force Maj. Gen. J. Scott Gration believed that the best way to deal with your enemies is to treat them like children: “We’ve got to think about giving out cookies” and that “kids, countries — they react to gold stars, smiley faces, handshakes, agreements, talk, engagement.” The Canadian author Mark Steyn has described this as the “Sesamezation” of foreign policy (based on the TV show Sesame Street): “It bears primary responsibility for what the Canadian blogger Binky calls the de-monsterization of childhood – the idea that there are no evil monsters out there at the edges of the map, just shaggy creatures who look a little funny and can sometimes be a bit grouchy about it because people prejudge them until they learn to celebrate diversity and help Cranky the Friendly Monster go recycling.”

Another example of this would be US policy towards Afghanistan. Greg Mortensen’s Three Cups of Tea became the Bible of US Afghan policy, peddling the charming but delusional idea that all it takes to turn a tribal, war-torn society into a Nordic utopia is a few rounds of chai and some well-meaning schoolhouses. Never mind that 19th-century imperialists—men like Lord Curzon or Cecil Rhodes—would have laughed at such naivety. They understood that cultures are fundamentally different, and that not everyone wants to be a Western liberal democrat. But America? America prefers to believe that the world is full of potential friends who just haven’t been hugged hard enough. 

This isn’t a new phenomenon. It goes back to FDR, who, in his eagerness to cozy up to Stalin, practically handed the Soviet Union the keys to Eastern Europe on a silver platter. As Sean McMeekin details in Stalin’s War, Roosevelt’s administration was riddled with Soviet agents, and his policies enabled Stalin to emerge from World War II as a superpower. FDR even mused about Sovietizing India, because why not? The man who hated British imperialism more than Soviet expansionism was a walking contradiction—and a dangerous one at that. 

And then there’s China. Nixon’s opening to Beijing was supposed to be a masterstroke of realpolitik, but it’s hard to see it as anything other than a colossal blunder in hindsight. The US helped turn China into the economic and military juggernaut it is today, all while ignoring the fact that the Chinese Communist Party has no interest in playing by Western rules. The same goes for radical Islam, which America once saw as a useful tool against the Soviets. That worked out well, didn’t it? 

The problem, of course, is that America’s foreign policy oscillates between isolationism and idealism, with little room for realism in between. Wilson’s dream of “making the world safe for democracy” was noble, but it is also a recipe for disaster. The US can win wars—just ask Saddam or the Taliban—but it has no idea what to do with the peace. The belief that elections alone will magically produce liberal democracies is not just naïve; it’s dangerous. 

And yet, for all its flaws, America remains indispensable. Its military might is unmatched, and its alliances—however strained—are still the bedrock of global stability. But here’s the thing: friends tease, they don’t threaten. The Trump administration’s habit of picking fights with Europe and Canada was as baffling as it was counterproductive. If Washington wants its allies to step up, fine—but talking about annexing Greenland or turning Canada into the 51st state isn’t the way to do it. 

So, is America bad at foreign policy? The answer, sadly, is yes—but not for lack of power or potential. It is bad because it refuses to accept the realities of the world it inhabits. The British may have acquired their empire in “a fit of absence of mind,” but once they had it, they played the game with ruthless efficiency. America, by contrast, seems determined to fumble its way through history, armed with cookies, tea, and a stubborn belief that the world is just waiting to be remade in its image. 

The truth is, the world is a messy, complicated place, and not everyone wants to be your friend. Until America learns that lesson, its foreign policy will remain a tragicomedy of errors—one that the rest of us are forced to watch, whether we like it or not.