Ana Palacio
Ana Palacio, a former Spanish foreign
minister and former Senior Vice President of the World Bank, is a
member of the Spanish Council of State, a visiting lecturer at
Georgetown University, and a member of the World Economic Forum's Global
Agenda Council on the United States.
WASHINGTON,
DC – The late British historian Eric Hobsbawm famously called the
period between Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s assassination in 1914 and the
Soviet Union’s collapse in 1991 the “short twentieth century.” For Hobsbawm, the end of the Cold War marked a new and distinct era in world affairs.
Now,
with more perspective, we should reconsider this classification. Rather
than constituting a break from the past, the quarter-century following
the fall of the Berlin Wall actually turned out to be a continuation –
indeed, a culmination – of what came before. But Donald Trump’s
inauguration as President of the United States represents a definitive
break from the past; the long twentieth century has now come to a close.
It
is too early to guess what will come next, just as it was in June 1914.
Since Trump’s election victory, one popular prediction is that the
world will revert to nineteenth-century spheres of influence, with major
players such as the US, Russia, China, and, yes, Germany, each
dominating their respective domains within an increasingly balkanized
international system.
Trump reinforced this view with his stark inaugural address,
in which he asserted a “right of all nations to put their own interests
first.” But even if this is how Trump’s America will behave, no one in
today’s interconnected world can turn back the clock. As Chinese
President Xi Jinping – now the default champion of globalization – pointed out at Davos this year, “Whether you like it or not, the global economy is the big ocean from which you cannot escape.”
The
top-down, strongman model that seems to be in ascendance today does not
portend the future; rather, it is a last gasp from an earlier time – a
nostalgic rehash of an obsolete model. Governance has been disaggregated
and hybridized by the rise of non-state actors, and we have scarcely
begun to consider the far-reaching implications of new technologies such
as artificial intelligence. These trends are precursors to a very
different international model that has yet to emerge – one that will be
distinct from both the nineteenth century’s “balance of power” and the
twentieth century’s “community of states.”
In
1994, Hobsbawm believed that there could “be no serious doubt that in
the late 1980s and early 1990s an era in world history ended and a new
one began.” But it is now clear that the subsequent period, between the
early 1990s and today, marked the culmination of a process that began in
Sarajevo in 1914.
That
process gradually built the liberal international order, first with an
aborted attempt after World War I – embodied in the ill-fated League of
Nations – and then after World War II, with the founding of the United
Nations and the Bretton Woods institutions. In the post-Cold War period,
the flower came fully into bloom as democracy and free markets spread
around the globe. This model held a moral umbrella over the existing
Westphalian state system, by creating a universal structure within which
national governments could collaborate in the pursuit of progress.
For
most of the twentieth century, this framework applied only to a core
group of countries; but with the end of the Cold War, it was suddenly
available to all. And yet, just when this moral order was in a position
to be fully realized around the world, it lost its center and began to
drift. Free markets and material prosperity, once regarded as means to
larger ends, had become ends in themselves. The 2008 financial crisis
revealed the soullessness of this approach, and set the stage for the
unraveling on display today.
This
is all in the past now. The world has pushed off from the shore of a
rules-based system that was founded on the Enlightenment idea of
universal progress. As for what lies ahead, three immediate approaches
have emerged. The first is to revive familiar nationalist and nativist
tropes, such as Trump’s vow that “From this day forward, it’s going to
be only America first,” or British Prime Minister Theresa May’s appeal to Little England: “If you believe you’re a citizen of the world, you’re a citizen of nowhere.”
The
second possibility, epitomized by the European Union’s leaders, is to
continue down the twentieth-century path, but with more rhetorical
flourishes. The third, comprising perhaps the largest camp, is to
retreat below deck and wring one’s hands, bemoaning the expulsion from
paradise and fearful of a looming apocalypse.
None
of these responses is constructive. We cannot return to the world of
yesterday or simply stand still; and we do not yet know what the world
of tomorrow has in store for us. When sailors cannot rely on maps or
charts, they must navigate by sight, and that is precisely our situation
today. Until the world regains its bearings, this is not the time to
charge in bold new directions, or to let the currents push us toward
potential hazards.
Instead,
we need decisive, concrete action that addresses tangible and
discernible problems in governance and public policy. Before we can move
forward into this brave new world, we must first reestablish the idea
of common purpose – and wait for the fog to lift.
Trump’s
inauguration marks a new epoch in world history – a new geopolitical
“century.” Nobody can yet say if it will be a time of conflict or
harmony, advancement or retrenchment. But, before attempting to chart a
new course forward, we must make our way into calmer waters.
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