Domestic Politics in the Era of Superpower and Empire

By its military and economic weight on the international stage, the U.S. rightly fits the definition of an empire. To stand, it needs to deny ordinary Americans a genuine democracy.

By definition, an empire dominates, and the United States effectively imposes a militarily and economically superior-inferior relationship on the international stage. However, unlike other historical empires, it did not need to rule or occupy foreign territories for several generations. Its imperial concern is primarily economic, and the military is, in this regard, just one of the means to use. Consequently, says Sheldon Wolin, the United States’ power is “‘projected, at irregular intervals over other societies rather than institutionalized in them. Its rule tends to be indirect, to take the form of ‘influence,’ bribes, or ‘pressure.'”

Domestically, this imperial logic of power can only have detrimental effects on political life. Its antics against American democracy are well-known: “Halliburton’s power begins in Texas, extends to Washington, and then connects with projects (often without competitive bidding) in Afghanistan and Iraq; it returns to the ‘homeland’ enriched and eager to invest its profits in politicians. Politicians, in turn, become responsive to the new sources of pressure, contributions, and lavish favors. The district or constituent back ‘home’ shrinks in significance. The politician’s postponed gratifications: the higher rewards of lobbyist or corporate executive.” This is undoubtedly why “no major politician or party has so much as publicly remarked on the existence of an American empire.”

Even though the American empire’s reality is evident by its military expenditures and subsidies to globalizing corporations, policymakers will be the least likely ones to acknowledge it. At a time when corporations are people and money is speech, most of them hold their office thanks to corporate money. Why, therefore, would they denounce the momentous anti-democratic shift operated in the exercise of power by money in politics?

It would nevertheless be a mistake to believe that it all started with some big bad CEOs conjuring together the corruption of politicians. The beginnings of inverted totalitarianism—or corporate empire—were unpremeditated, even innocent. They must be traced back to suggestions within the world of politics itself about the best way to go.

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In 1950, the American Political Science Association (APSA), a professional organization of political scientists, published Toward a More Responsible Two-Party System. “A major assumption of the report, says Sheldon Wolin, was that ‘politics’ is identical with, or exhausted by, the activities of political parties. And by implication, politics was properly the monopoly of the parties, and a two-party system was the natural or obvious form. The role of the citizen was pretty much reduced to ‘choice’ between competing candidates.”

Looking at the political system through the lens of efficiency was probably the authors’ core mistake. From a technocratic standpoint, there is no more straightforward expression of people’s voices than their vote. However, the quantitative outcome of elections hides that political engagement is much broader and more diverse than choosing a political party at the ballot box. As citizens, our influence on public affairs can also be personal and direct through various forms of engagement that reflect our genuine hopes and concerns much more closely.

Reducing a citizen’s role to her vote means giving her no say other than “yes” and “no” over programs and priorities that might or might not address the issues of ordinary people. On the other hand, as political parties become the exclusive vectors of political life, they have no incentive to open up the debate to contradicting views. Even though this would not necessarily be detrimental to their political aims, political parties gain steam by managing the masses rather than by having people educate themselves about collective issues. This is why a democracy needs more than just elections.

“Without intending to do so,” says Sheldon Wolin, “the APSA report foreshadowed the difference between classical and inverted totalitarianism: one sought to eliminate politics, the other to contain politics by introducing structures designed to facilitate managerial control. Unlike the democratic citizen, who, through the experiences of participation, grows into a political being, the voter is akin to a response system engineered by public opinion surveys, pollster strategies, and media advertising that first stimulates voters to vote and afterwards encourages them to relapse into their accustomed apathy. The voter is the flip side to the imperial subject.”

In this same efficiency perspective, a two-party system may look like the best option since it seems to guarantee the possibility of debate, which is vital to democracy. This is forgetting that without the input of actual citizens on the ground, this debate may easily turn into a systematic but superficial opposition between two contenders for power. For its part, the population is left with no choice but to opt for one side or the other by default only, based on broad values people perceive as theirs instead of specific policy projects that would improve actual living conditions for most. Moreover, party duopoly mechanically entrenches the “us and them” logic of political flags waving, eventually splitting the electorate into two roughly equal parts. In turn, this results in a politics of near gridlock with narrow majorities or a majority limited to one of the two chambers of Congress.