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school primers could incorporate them, politicians could invoke them, and policymakers could chart their course by them-all without anyone blink­ ing an eye. Indeed an ideology is most potent not when it is formally laid out but when it is so widely accepted that it can be left largely tacit and eas­ ily invoked. Tills last feature is especially important in the American case. Use of the term "ideology" struck me as a good way to counter the com­ monplace but misguided view frequently entertained by American com­ mentators that others have ideology while pragmatic Americans follow self-evident truths.

My line of argument about a U.S. policy ideology began to crystallize in the course of the 1970s, as a result of my research on U.S.-China relations. But the roots of my interest in ideology are in fact deeper and as much per­ sonal as professional. World War II pulled my father into the U.S. Army, where he remained through the first Cold War decades. Instead of growing up in a culturally insular, economically pinched small south Texas town, I became a wanderer. For substantial stretches of time between 1949 and 1970, I lived in Japan, Turkey, Vietnam, Taiwan, Italy, and Iran. Each place confirmed my sense that other cultures were like great buffet tables, an end­ less source of pleasure and novelty. I recognize today that my family mem­ bers were players in a massive scatteringofAmericans across the globe, be­ ginning in the early 1940s, when some 15 million went to war. They and those who followed during the Cold War encountered new cultural worlds. At least for some, the experience was profoundly transformative. It cer­ tainly was for me.

My Cold War itinerary along the containment line left me with two abid­ ing impressions, both central to my historical scholarship. One was the im­ portance of taking the long view, a point first driven home in the mid-1950s (then in my early teens) as I surveyed Greco-Romansites in westernTurkey and traipsed across Rome during one memorable family visit. It began to dawn on me how monumentally audacious-foolish increasingly seemed the better word-it was to see the United States as the pivot of human ex­ perience and the foundation of some stable civilizational order. The second was the more complicated realization that notions of how the world works retailed by Washington and the U.S. media ill fit withmy on-the-ground ob­ servations. Tills insight began tojell during the summers of 1962 and 1963 in Saigon, where my father was working in the military advisory mission. Home from college and on the lookout for insights on a vigorous "Viet Cong" insurgency, I stumbled on Bernard Fall's Street without Joy, a dis­ cerning account of the French difficulties in regaining control of their Viet­ namese colony. When I suggested the book to my father's colleagues, they

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waveditaway.Theywere confidentthattheexperienceof acountry lessal­ truistic and powerful than the United States was not relevant. Who could doubt that Americans would master a situation that had left the French stymied and ultimately humbled? When I turned to the weekly news­ magazinesforilluminationonSaigonpolitics anda countryside toodanger­ ous tovisit, Idiscoverednot for the last timeanother disconnect. Reportage on Vietnam alternated between the inexplicably upbeat and pessimistically baffled.

Having discoveredthatthelong historicalview mattered andthatcultural blinkers were dangerous, I foundmyself atfirst in an awkward relationship with the certitudes of the ColdWar consensus and then increasingly alien­ ated from some of the dominant assumptions animating U.S. policy.Long college bull sessions followed by an intense, enduring relationship with a like-minded young woman (now Paula Hunt) helped push me along; so too did witnessing the seemingly endless destruction visited on Indochina and the deepening bitterness at home. Among the historians to whom I turned for enlightenment, none was more important than William Apple­ man Williams. I discovered The Tragedy ofAmerican Diplomacy in a Baltimore used bookstore in 1965 and spent the next couple of decades wrestling with his claims. I was particularly impressed by his insistence that historians consider policy in relation to societal forces, that they take into account the U.S. impact on other countries and peoples, and that they proceedin a more methodologically self-consciousway. It's fair to say that myfundamentalconvictionsabouthistoryandculture, testedanddeepened by these various formative experiences, became the animating impulse be­ hind virtually all that I have written.

The actual impetus for writingIdeology came during a lunch with Chuck Grench sometime in the 1979-1980 academic year. He had recently be­ come an acquisitions editor at Yale University Press, and I was on leave fromColgateUniversity, usingthe familiarstacksofSterlingMemorialLi­ brary to complete a book on early U.S.-China relations. Grench invited me to lunch at George and Harry's restaurant onTemple Street, several blocks from the Press offices. (The restaurant is long gone and no plaques memo­ rialize this meeting.) At some point in the meal he sprang the trap with a simple question: "If you could get encouragement to write any book, what would it be?" I responded with an outline of Ideology. He asked for a pro­ posal, I supplied one in short order, and he signed me up. Once my U.S.­ China book (published as The Making of a Special Relationship in 1982) was in press, I plunged into this challenging new project and made good progress thanks totheresearch andwritingopportunitiesaffordedby a new

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job in the History Department at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. By mid-1983 I had presented drafts of the first three chapters to Grench. In the course of 1984-1985 I submitted the full manuscript, got readers' reports, and responded to those reports to the satisfaction of the Press. The manuscript went into production in early 1986; I had a cloth­ bound copy in hand a year later. A paper edition followed in 1988. No less important, I had established a fruitful working relationship with an editor willing to give an off-beat idea a critical hearing. Patient and supportive, he would guide two more of my books into print (with one more on the way).

In retrospect, I can see that by the time of the fateful lunch I was primed to tackle this new project. In doing my first two books (a revised disserta­ tion and then the volume published in 1982) I had noticed how broad ideas about national identity and race kept creeping into U.S. policymakers' thinking about China. Teaching the full span of U.S. foreign relations, first at Yale and then at Colgate, helped me to see that those views were not something out of the ordinary but part of a broader pattern of how Ameri­ cans understood their place in the world. A critical part of this discovery was made as I assembled class readings made up of letters, articles, and speeches by early American statesmen. Their divergent conceptions of"na­ tional greatness" (as I came to call it in Ideology) was the first to strike me, followed by a realization of their heavy reliance on racial classification along lines familiar to later Americans. My interest in revolution as a ma­ jor theme was the last to develop. My personal encounter with Vietnam sparked that interest, which was reinforced as I studied Chinese history, with its own revolutionary tradition (in its final Maoist phase) playing out before my eyes. Preparing lectures on the U.S. reaction to the French and Bolshevik revolutions revealed the persistence, or at least recurrence, of an American allergy to violent political and social upheavals. By the time I had lunch with Grench, these concerns with nationalism, race, and revolu­ tion had me firmly in their grip.

Committing to this project did give rise to some doubts. I was not sure anyone would take me seriously. I had no track record of writing broad­ gauged synthetic work. I knew that my proposition about the importance of ideas, so distinctly at odds with some of the reigning interpretive notions, would meet resistance in some quarters of the profession. On the other hand, doing Ideology seemed a worthwhile gamble. A circle of close col­ leagues-notably Glenn May, Thomas Hietala, and John Coogan-rein­ forced my conviction on these points. Finally, I should add to this list of motives an excess of youthful professional spirit and a feeling that I needed a new challenge.

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After the publication of Ideology in 1987 I moved on to other projects. But to a striking degree the concerns that the book had embodied continued to preoccupy me. In 1990 the Journal ofAmerican History gave me space to reflect on ideology in a roundtableconsidering diverse approaches to the study of U.S. foreign relations.1 The Genesis of Chinese Communist For­ eign Policy, which sought to unpackage the guiding notions of China's rev­ olutionary leaders, took an insight generated by my work on the United Statesand applied it toanother, dramatically different case. Focusingon the role of ideas in Chinese as well as U.S. policy had sensitized me to the gap between perception and reality in international relations (a theme central to Crises in U.S. Foreign Policy) while also suggesting an explanation for the American plunge into war in Vietnam (treated in Lyndon Johnson's War). Even my most recent work-an essay in the Journal ofAmerican History on post-9111 U.S. policy and a book titled TheAmericanAscendancy-re­ veals the continuing influence of my one good idea.

***

Happily for me, readers have found the arguments developed in Ideology not only worth wrestling with but in broad terms compelling. The process of scrutiny and appraisal began almost at once after publication in early 1987. Reviews ranged from the sharply critical to the enthusiastic. Asenior historian congenitally averse to broad generalizations pronounced the vol­ ume "perhaps more jerelniad than history" in the pages of the main U.S. diplomatic history journal. Others found more to like, calling it "a bold piece of criticism and advocacy," "a work of intellectual vigor and daring, impressive in its scholarship and imaginative in its use of material," and "a brilliant essay." But eventhe friendliest reviewers quarreled withone or an­ other part of the study. The book's narrow treatment of animus toward rev­ olutions, its studied downplaying of economic and strategic pressures on policymakers, and its concluding plea for a more modest U.S. foreign pol­ icy all came in for special critical attention.2 Reading those reviews today, I am impressed by the thoughtful way reviewers probed weaknesses in my treatment.

I am no less impressed by the impact of my argument on historians and others interested in international affairs. They have taken up my call to give more interpretive prominence tothe role of ideas. Workson U.S. foreignre­ lations published since 1987 have steadily raised the visibility of beliefs, assumptions, and discourses in the field's general interpretive schema. This new literature has applied a loose, culturally informed notion of ideology to policy (as I had tried to do), but it has also extended that notion to include a

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wide variety of peoples caught up in the wash of international forces. Thus the prospect notedatthe end of my 19901oumal ofAmericanHistoryessay -that ideology as an interpretive tool could "help expand the concerns and methods of diplomatic historians"-has been realized to a degree and in a fashion almost impossible to imagine when I first contemplated this proj­ ect.3 No less important in appraising the impact of Ideology, its specific in­ terpretive claim about the centrality of attitudes toward mission, race, and revolution has stood the test of time remarkably well.

A review of published work over the past two decades should underline the point about the rising interest in the role of ideas and the broad accep­ tance of the specific set of ideas developed inIdeology. For the sake of con­ venience, the followingdiscussion divides the literature into five thematic clusters: national mission, race, gender,Americanization, and empire.

Of the various thematic clusters, national mission is the most venerable and still the most central. Works highlighting the missionary strains in the U.S. approach to the world impress me with the vitality and diversity of their approaches. They have confirmed my insight on the centrality of this outlook but have also deepened and at points gone well beyond what I saw. Anders Stephanson's slim but ambitious synthesis, Manifest Destiny, is a good example. Drawing on his training as an intellectual historian, Ste­ phanson traces the evolution of a national identity marked by unusually universalist claims, by a pronounced missionary impulse, and by an ex­ traordinary durability such that it persisted well into the twentieth century. To this point our arguments coincide. Where we differ is in Stephanson's greater stress on the Calvinist origins and messianic features of U.S. na­ tionalism, in contrast to my emphasis on classic republican and Enlight­ enment values stressing political virtue and political rights.4 Perhaps the United States really is (as G. K. Chesterton observed) "a nation with the soul of a church."5 Where to strike the balance between religious and secu­ lar sources of mission remains a fascinating problem of some intricacy. Other notable studies that take the long view include Tony Smith'sAmer­ ica's Mission, Frank Ninkovich's Wilsonianism, Walter Russell Mead's

Special Providence, Anatol Lieven's America Right or Wrong, and Walter Hixson's The Myth of American Diplomacy.6 More focused works have considered afresh the late eighteenthand nineteenth-century rise of a na­ tionalist construct? its Cold War incarnation,8 and its post-Cold War and post-9111 manifestations.9

This persistent sense of mission has been strongly inflected by racial codes atevery stage of its development. Studies dealing withthis topic con­ stitute a major thematic cluster closely related to the first. Who was prop-

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erly suited to take in hand the direction of other peoples, and who among those other peoples were most eligible for tutoring or disciplining? These were the questions that led me to the notion of a racial hierarchy. Subse­ quent works have further developed this notion in relation to topics as di­ verse as the turn-of-the-century imperial drive,10 the Cold War struggle,11 and dealings with China and Japan.12

But the literature has gone on to explore several points that I did not con­ sider. One avenue of scholarship investigates the role of religious faith and technological advantage as a source of a sense of superiority apart from overtly racial characterizations of other peoples. Sophisticated tools of warfare, a burgeoning economy, and strong sense of heavenly favor each bolsteredAmerican confidence in superiority over others.13 A second con­ cern is the resistance thatAmericans on the receiving end of subordination and prejudice have directed at race-inflected policies. Penny Von Eschen's Race Against Empire offers a good example. She traces the rise among African Americans of a nationalism with strong liberationist and trans­ national dimensions. World War II brought to a pitch their hopes for a new deal not only for themselves at home but also for Africans still subject to European rule.14 Yet a third fresh way of understanding domination is through the lens of"orientalism." EdwardW. Said's brilliant but frustrating Orientalism, the foundational text, drew attention to the pervasive, often tacit sense of superiority associated with Western interpretations of the Muslim world.15 Like many historians of U.S. foreign relations, I was ini­ tially not so much wary as oblivious to an approach much in vogue among literary scholars. But within the past decade neglect has turned to a lively interest in orientalism to explain how ideas about other peoples and cul­ tures frequently cast them in subordinate positions and in extremity de­ humanized them and justified otherwise unthinkable brutality. Orientalist insights have helpedilluminate U.S. relations with the ThirdWorld, includ­ ing, appropriately and prominently, the Middle East.16

Athird cluster has sprung up around issues of gender.What attentionIde­ ology gave to the ways foreign-policy thinking was gendered was limited essentially to the cartoons I selected and the captions I supplied. They em­ phasized the way images of a feminized world made the case for leading, protecting, and even dominating vulnerable countries. No sooner had I fin­ ished Ideology than such leaders of women's studies as Joan Scott and Nancy Cott began making a forceful case for women's place in a more in­ clusive rendition of European andAmerican history. Their insights on gen­ der made their way quickly into U.S. diplomatic history. A stream of new studies found gendered dimensions theretofore neglected in such well-

206 * Afterword

worn topics as late nineteenth-century expansion, interwar foreign rela­ tions, and the ColdWar.17These new works moved along two fairly distinct lines. One, focusing on gender discourse and representation, began devel­ oping systematically what I had suggested only casually: that notions of manhood shaped policymakers' self-image as well as their views of other peoples while also informing popular discussions of foreign affairs.18 The second line opened to study the neglected role of women in U.S. foreign re­ lations. Studies of the latter sort began exalnining the ways women drew from their experiences and concerns in "figuring out" their positions on in­ ternational questions and the kinds of categories and language that resulted from that effort. Sometimes women aligned with the dominant paradigms advocated by men, and sometimes they challenged those paradigms (as for instance in the peace movement and international campaigns for women's rights).19

The attention devoted to both Americanization and empire-the last two clusters-reflects the rise of global history, with its emphasis on broad, long-term processes and on comparative analysis.As the talk of globaliza­ tion became commonplace in 1990s America, historians began to subject popular tropes to historical scrutiny and in the process created aflourishing new specialty.20 Scholarship in this area has been especially helpful in thinking about U.S. policy ideology in ways broader and more intricate than I had conceived. Global history offered a fresh "outside" perspective on the U.S. place in the world-less burdened by past controversies and tacit nationalist biases.Perhaps the most significant upshotwas the impetus that global history gave to studying the soft issues of spreading the Ameri­ can way and the hard questions raised by U.S. attempts at policing and di­ recting other peoples.

The now extensive writings on Americanization have systematically de­ veloped insights well beyond my grasp in 1987. Those writings have traced the rise of a distinctly American path to modernity by the interwar period and the sweep of U.S. cultural and economic exports around the globe. The emerging consumer society at the core of this multifaceted U.S. model was marked by a highly productive, technologically driven economy coupled with high levels of mass consumption. Whether they loved or hated it, for­ eigners were increasingly in awe of what theAmericans had created.21

This American model had pronounced ideological implications. It con­ firmed nationalist confidence in the United States as a world changer and thus served in effect as a bridge between two eras. It carried forward no­ tions of manifest destiny and gave those claims a fresh, potent dimension critical tothe global ambitionsthat markedU.S. policy during the ColdWar

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era and beyond. And it made it easier for those devoted to changing the world to think in more expansive terms, including such areas as the fiscal policies and retail practices of other peoples.22 ButAmericanization was a process so diffuse that it unfolded largely beyond the control of U.S. offi­ cials, and it often had unanticipated effects. Societies under the sway of the U.S. model incorporated it not whole cloth but piecemeal and even then transformed it to suit local conditions and tastes. The resulting gap between American expectations and foreign practice proved frustrating and puz­ zling to U.S. leaders. Moreover, they had to face the resentment and resis­ tance that the American model sometimes sparked. These consequences of Americanization are most evident in the well-developed literature onWest­ ern Europe, with Victoria de Grazia's Irresistible Empire the most recent and sophisticated contribution. De Grazia traces the economic and atten­ dant social transformations associated with Americanization, the role of American emissaries in effecting those changes, and the largely futile struggle to stem the American invasion.23 Literature now ranging beyond Western Europe has confirmed the complexity and unanticipated conse­ quences associated withAmericanization.24

Closely related to Americanization is a renewal of interest in empire in American thinking as well as policy practice. Ideology had little to say on the subject, even though my core policy ideas arguably provided the basis for U.S. imperial projects. My silence was considered. I did not want to get caught up in a debate sparked by New Left historians in which empire was poorly defined and distinctly pejorative. I would not be so silent today in large measure because of the way the discussion of U.S. empire has revived over the first decade of the twenty-first century, especially in the wake of operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. Polemical works led the way, and his­ torians then intervened in what has turned into a full-throated debate over empire. Some of the academic works examined regional cases, while others compared the U.S. imperial project with earlier imperial enterprises.25 Taken together, these works provide a reminder that the empire label needs to be applied with discrimination and that carefully drawn comparisons among imperial cases can be revealing. More specialized treatments have explored the ways U.S. policymakers have imagined modes of dominance (informal as well as formal), sought to rationalize that distinctly undemo­ cratic exercise of control, and managed the tensions imperial questions have repeatedly injected into U.S. political life. They seem to bear out the claim in Ideology that even the most freedom-minded U.S. policymakers have had an easy time accepting dominion over other peoples.26

The mounting and multifaceted concern with ideas evident in these five

208 * Afterword

clusters has significantly transformed the field of U.S. diplomatic history over the past decade. Ideology was part of that process. Who is a historian of foreign relations and what topics and approaches define that field­ already blurring by the early 1990s-have become even less clear. This blurring has accompanied a reorientation of the lines of affiliation culti­ vated by diplomatic historians. Their once-close ties to political science have attenuated in favor of links to regional and cultural studies, anthropol­ ogy, and sociology. Divergent understandings of ideology and culture have been one solvent of this old alliance. While the political scientists and in­ ternational relations specialists, at least in the United States, have by and large clung to a notion of ideology as a belief system that is both formally articulated and pointedly political, historians have embraced a less restric­ tive, more flexible definition along the lines championed by Ideology.27

***

Abook advancing a broad historical argument at odds with leading schools of interpretation over such an eminently debatable issue as the nature of ideology and the direction of U.S. policy was a standing invitation to test, disagree, and modify. And readers have done just this, first in the reviews and later in the books and articles from the various topical clusters dis­ cussed above, as well as in correspondence and conversation with me. This is a good place to respond to some of their fundamental and recurrent con­ cerns and to consider what in hindsightI wishI had said. In general, readers have seemed less preoccupied with my reading of the evidence and more with the broad conceptual questions raised by use of the term "ideology." Let me lay out whatI take to be four kindsof objections and respond to each in turn briefly.

"Ideology is not a notion that is applicable to the United States." This ob­ jection is based on the premise that ideologies are consistent programs of action formally articulated and widely and systematically indoctrinated. This understanding seems to reflect a lingering Cold War association of ideology with Joseph Stalin's Soviet Union and Mao Zedong's China. It implicitly sets the United States apart from a putative "totalitarian" pattern and thus logically denies the possibility of meaningful comparisons. This understanding of ideology in relation to totalitarianism has not fared wellin recent scholarship. A new international history of the Cold War based on Soviet, East European, and Chinese sources has established ideology as an important feature on both sides of the Cold War struggle. Rejecting the old assumption of a sharp distinction, historians such as OddArneWestad have identified a great cacophony of ideas as old nationalist self-conceptions on

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both sides warred with internationalist commitments and loyalties in the heads of every Communist leader. Even Stalin, Nikita Khrushchev, and Mao (to take the most telling examples) did not follow a self-consciously formal, doctrinally rigid belief system but instead chose selective borrow­ ings from Marxism that shifted over time, that differed from one leader to another, and that incorporated indigenous, non-Marxist strains of thought. The emerging picture suggests that Soviet and Chinese no less thanAmeri­ can policymakers were imprisoned in their own particular and often ten­ sion-filled set of assumptions and preoccupations in ways that invite rather than foreclose comparisons.28

"Hunt's conception ofideology construes the outlook of U.S. policymak­ ers too narrowly." This objection has two sources. One is readers with real­ ist or New Left loyalties who bridle at my tendency to marginalize the international system or material interests. My response here is to be concil­ iatory-to argue that historians employing a diversity of approaches may in practice achieve a more searching and intricate perspective on the mak­ ing of U.S. policythan if theyproceedblinkered by a single reductionistno­ tion. In any case I have never meant to claim that ideology explains every­ thing. I may have overstated my point about the primacy of ideology in 1987 in order to get readers to take seriously the wondrous variety of preju­ dices, misconceptions, and ideals that play in the minds of all kinds of peo­ ple and that serve as sources of fundamental discourses at home and behav­ ior abroad. That preoccupation with driving home the argument may have left unclear my actual conviction that policymakers' conceptions about identity and the broader world interact intimately and constantly with other forces, including dangerous international threats and crises, raw political calculations, and powerful economic pressures.

The other objection to ideology as overly narrow comes from readers de­ voted to the new cultural history. They ask why resort to ideology when some other concept such as identity, mentalite, sentiment, representation, or worldview might serve better? These alternatives did not seem to me to fit the specific set of central ideas I saw operating in relation to U.S. policy. Those ideas seemed puzzlingly persistent, not evanescent; strikingly sta­ ble, not fluid; surprisingly uniform, notdiverse; relativelycoherent, not dif­ fuse; and broadly applicable to a wide range of social and political issues. Ideology seemed to best capture these features. It could moreover ac­ commodate a wide variety of texts that diplomatic historians might other­ wise neglect. Reading novels, films, cartoons, television performances, and paintings would allow multiple voices to speak, their messages inflected in a wide variety of ways. Employed in a flexible way, ideology could give

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subjectivity its due and thus underline the constructed and contingent na­ ture of individual and group outlooks. Finally, ideology could help keep thissubjectivityfromturning ideas intoelusivewill-o'-the-wisps-vague, free-floating abstractions perpetually in flux and without clear correspon­ dence to patternsof behavior, socialandeconomic structures, or the chang­ ingcharacterofhistoricalepochs.Ididnotwantmytextsendingupasfrag­ ments in a field of meaning whose complexity and lack of boundaries defied useful generalization or compelling claims about relational signifi­ cance. Thus the case for ideology, at least as I have employed it, is that it provides explanatory power by drawing attention to recurrent themes in texts, by keeping ideas anchored in cultural practices and beliefs, and by taking seriously specific relationships of power.29

"Ideology implies that a fixed set of principles leads policymakers in­ evitably and invariably to a particular course of action." One possible premiseofthischarge-thatpolicyideasareessentiallyfluid, perhapseven formless-is one that I simply disagree with. At least in the U.S. case my reading of the record suggests that a set of core ideas has persisted despite repeated challenges at home and testing abroad. At the same time, the ob­ jection seems not to notice that my argument allows-even insists on­ substantialvariationinthekindsof policiesthese core ideashave givenrise to. Notions of national greatness have cut in two distinctly different direc­ tions: one cautious and the other assertive. Racial antipathy has given rise to aversion and avoidance as well as to dominance andbrutality.Attitudes towardrevolutionarychangehavebeennotablyvariable, rangingfrommo­ mentary enthusiasm to longer-lasting anxiety andhostility.Individual pol­ icymakers have hadto define their ownposition oneach ofthese inherently ambiguous points, and they have combined their stance on each in ways thatweredistinctlyidiosyncraticandthathaveledtoquitedistinctandeven unpredictable policies. Thomas Jefferson, the great apostle of national re­ straint, stretchedpresidential powers andboldly took much of a continent, while that archjingo Theodore Roosevelt proved to be a surprisingly cau­ tious policy practitioner in the White House. Franklin Roosevelt followed Woodrow Wilson in his broad conception of national greatness, but his evolving understanding of that concept led him to policies that were strik­ ingly different on major issues. Jimmy Carter became president as a cham­ pion of human rights and policy restraint but turned into a cold warrior. Much depended on the mix of ideas with personality andcontext.

The other possible premise-that policy rhetoric embodying my core ideas may well diverge substantially from policy action-is one I agree with. Resilient ideas reveal policymakers' predilections-their sense of

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who they are and how the world works-but not an invariable guide to ac­ tion. As we all learn, stuff happens. Situations develop in which favored ideas do not apply well or at all, in which those ideas may lead to serious and unwanted consequences, or in which the validity of those ideas are even called into question. In addition, policymakers do change as people, and even the simple and rapid transition from office seeker to office holder can have its own chastening effects. The cases of Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin Roosevelt noted above offer perfect instances of all these points. They both learned as they went through life, they cultivated a keen sense of what was politically possible at home as well as internationally, and they ended up as presidents sounding and acting in ways different from what their earlier record would have suggested.

"Ideology suggests a monolithic view of the world that could not possi­ bly capture the outlook of all Americans." This objection reflects a mis­ reading of my argument. The ideas I dealt with were preeminently those as­ sociated with the world of policy. They were not accepted by all Americans, not even all within the circumscribed foreign-policy public. Ethnic com­ munities, nongovernmental organizations operating on a transnational ba­ sis, women's groups, tourists, and academics (to take a diverse set of ex­ amples) became increasingly important from the late nineteenth century onward in terms of numbers, global range, and influence. Their outlooks, diverse to begin with, took turns distinctly at odds with the dominant policy perspective. As useful reminders on this point, we could point to the case of African Americans discussed above or to Christopher Endy's study of Cold War tourists bent on their own pleasures, resistant to the restrictions and high-minded purposes government officials might have wanted to im­ pose.30 But U.S. policy ideas, however much subject to bouts of con­ tention, have retained a remarkablepotency. For example, in the late 1940s, U.S. officials wielded Cold War arguments backed by the power of the state (including congressional investigations and passport control) to marginal­ ize such impatient advocates for black freedom as W. E. B. DuBois and Paul Robeson. Similarly, a better-traveled America remained capable of crudely stereotyping other countries and cultures (for example, Iran) and of indulging bouts of nationalist excesses (for example, after 9111) in ways all too familiar from earlier, more insular times.

The passage of time, wider reading, and (one hopes) greater wisdom have inspired wistful reflections on two points that I wish I had made. The first is a more emphatic insistence that the U.S. policy ideas were a direct expres­ sion of nationalism, indeed nationalism of a very particular kind. My think­ ing on this point was prompted initially by a revived interest in theories of

212 * Afterword

nationalism that was beginning to take shape as I was launching Ideology and that was fully formed by the early 1990s, not long after Ideology ap­ peared in print. In this renaissance in writings on nationalism, the con­ structivist position, which makes national identity not a matter of timeless essence but one of argument, contention, and education, has been notably inftuentiaP1

Tills literature, together with more recent writings in global history, has helped me sharpen my sense of the U.S. case as an instance of ethnic na­ tionalism closely tied to the country's experience as a settler colony. U.S. nationalism had itsoriginsin the views associated with an embattled ethnic group that self-identified first as English, then as British, and then as Euro­ pean White. That group carried forward a particular set of cultural prac­ tices, political structures and norms, and social forms that made the United States distinct and that informed its view of the world.

True to the general pattern, the U.S. variant of ethnic nationalism was al­ most constantly in confrontation with proximate dangerous others during its formative phase from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries. The struggle to establish territorial as well as cultural dominance proceeded against native Americans, the Spanish, and the French. It also required the social control and ideological containment of a large slave population. Tills long-forming sense of identity may well have reached an important turning point in the mid-eighteenth century, when a swelling British national pride diminished the honor and standing of colonials in North America. Alien­ ated from an overbearing and demeaning metropole, the colonists took refuge in a sharper sense of themselves as separate people with a differ­ ent destiny. In time the settler links to Britain would recuperate, especially as other threats-waves of Catholic immigrants and Chinese laborers­ emerged over the course of the nineteenth century. The task of schooling, curbing, or expelling this new foreign element provoked U.S. elites to a telling outburst ofAnglo-Saxonism in which once powerfully felt affinities with Britain came back to life.

While in recent decades the UnitedStates has posed asa multicultural na­ tion open to anyone willing to embrace the common creed, that creed bears the marks of its settler faiths-the Calvinist, classical republican, and lib­ eral values carried by early English migrants to the eastern seaboard. The concept of settler colonialism may offer a fresh way of thinking about U.S. nationalism and thus account for the striking persistence of the U.S. policy ideology. But it still leaves the puzzle of the precise mechanisms that make U.S. nationalism so stable and enduring in contrast to the instability and contention often associated with other nationalist constructs. How did An-

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glos maintain control, especially when challenged in a democratic system where numbers counted heavily?32

The second point I see in need of developing is the impact on policy ide­ ology of the sustained encounter with the world from the end of the nine­ teenth century onward. The historical literature appearing since 1987, es­ pecially works with a distinctly global history twist, suggests that this encounter not only confirmed but also reinforced, constrained, and redi­ rected the views of Americans in the grip of a strong sense of their own moral worth and cosmic importance. At least three important facets to that encounter are pertinent to the treatment of ideology in chapters 5 and 6 of

Ideology.33

One was the impact of the forces of globalization, which engulfedAmer­ icans for the first time late in the nineteenth century and pushed them in contradictory directions over the following two decades. In particular, the greater power of corporations and the rise of a strong U.S. state had impli­ cations for policy ideology that I see clearly only now. On the one side, globalization elevated the power and prominence of U.S. corporations as they emerged as players on the world stage and grew in size and clout. As the corporate-dominated market loomed larger and larger as the source of all sorts of material and moral goods, policymakers accorded these eco­ nomic giantsprestige andautonomy that in turn deepened the official aver­ sion to true revolutions, with their threats to foreign investments, their dis­ ruption of the marketplace, and their affront to good sense and basic rights.

Viewed in broad terms, turn-of-the-century globalization broughtAmer­ icans face-to-face with an array of unsettling trends. At the top of the list were imperial rivalry, technological dynamism (notably in communica­ tions, transport, and warfare), globalmarket pressures, andlarge immigrant flows. These trends played out violently across the twentieth century and created a peril known to American policymakers as totalitarianism. This monster with many faces mixed revolutionary violence with an irrational hostility to markets, a calculated repression of freedom, and a relentless ex­ pansionist drive. Already at the beginning of the twentieth century, anxious policymakers had become advocates of a muscular American state that could not only cope with external threats but also serve as the voice of a uni­ fying nationalist faith during dangerous times. But from the outset these statist leaders faced difficult questions. Would they have a strong state es­ sential to security and order or a minimalist one conducive to liberty? Would the UnitedStatesexercise colonial dominionor stand for freedom as a principle with universal application? Would Americans embrace a com­ mon creed or cultivate the many identities inherent in a multiethnic country

214 * Afterword

in which everyone was ultimately an immigrant? The answers were never in doubt, even though a wide variety of groups put up a strikingly stubborn resistance.

A second facet of this encounter took the form of overseas imperial proj­ ects that were quite distinct from the continental conquests associated with the settler phase. Americans found empire in both its formal and informal guise attractive precisely because of outlooks handed down from the for­ mative settler experience. To William McKinley and his circle belongs credit for working out justifications for dominion abroad, honing the tools essential for effective economical control of distant possessions, training an informal cadre of imperial proconsuls and envoys, and marginalizing the domestic critics of empire. But there were problems. The American impe­ rial impulse took shape just as empire was beginning to come under orga­ nized attack by colonial nationalists. The discontent of the elites began to spread to the broader population after World War I and would culminate in the 1960s in a sustained assault on empire on a broad front. Direct rule­ even in its supposedly benevolent U.S. variety-faced no less serious re­ sistance at home. From the late nineteenth century onward, polemicists and scholars repeatedly lamented the betrayal of fundamentalAmerican values in claiming empire and the waste of national treasure and life in making good on those claims. Formal empire as a consequence of this ferment abroad and at home lost its luster and made an informal variant more at­ tractive. Informal control proved its effectiveness in the interwar years and served thereafter as the standard and widely applied approach during the ColdWar.

As the civil rights movement drove overtly racial justifications for em­ pire into the shadows, fresh notions such as modernization and nation building filled the gap. They repackaged the old sense of a civilizing mis­ sionincumbent on a superior people.Where modernization theoriessounded too high flown, policymakers could still fall back on the presumed virtues of strongman rule. Authoritarian regimes under U.S. sway promised to cre­ ate order in the short term and in the long term provide guarantees against advances by the totalitarian left and keep the door open to democratic de­ velopment. These justifications were supposed to remove the taint of em­ pire even as Washington exercised mastery over other countries and suf­ fered the ingratitude and outright resistance all too familiar from classical cases of colonialism.34

The third and last facet of the momentous U.S. encounter with the world was the establishment of pervasive economic and cultural influence-what might be described as hegemony. Woodrow Wilson gave voice to hege-

Afterword * 215

monic aspirations that had in view (prematurely, to be sure) nothing less than the remaking of the world. Already in the 1920s American values and institutions were having a widening impact, and they grew even greater after World War II. Washington's success at establishing an international leadership historically unprecedented in its breadth had important ideo­ logical consequences. Above all, it confirmed long-standing assumptions about an exceptional U.S. role in the world: people everywhere must deep down admireAmericans, would gladly (if possible) becomeAmerican, and surely looked to Washington as a repository of wisdom to which all coun­ tries should defer.

Less noticed was how this special postwar standing created problems at home and set limits on U.S. action abroad. Dominance spawned resent­ ments that on occasion inspired direct resistance and made hegemony more difficult to exercise. Faced with surly foreigners, perplexed officials tried to speak more clearly or more loudly. But the angry voices persisted, while a consumer-minded electorate wondered why bother with a benighted and ungrateful world. More serious still, these claims to international leader­ ship imposed constraints on U.S. policymakers and their public. Americans had to actually know something about the world they claimed to lead. This was an inherently difficult task given the breadth of the U.S. reach. Making it even more trying was the notoriously insular nature of U.S. society, with its strongly nationalist bent shaped by animosity to one external threat after another. Compounding the problem, the public put an ever-higher value on individualism and consumerism. Citizens devoted to their distinctly mate­ rialist and individualistsense of the good life wanted ever-rising abundance and proved allergic, even phobic, when faced with military service or higher taxes. Further complicating the exercise of hegemony, policymakers limited their own freedom of action by paying obeisance to the invisible hand of the marketplace and embracing the utopian notion of a world turned over to international market forces in which corporations rather than states represented the highest form of human organization and activity. Policymakers operating on the global stage found themselves bound in yet another way-by the need to pay attention to the opinion of other interna­ tional leaders as the price for securing deference and maintaining legiti­ macy. These crosscurrents engulfing U.S. policymakers over the twentieth century are an important part of any effort to understand the career of my core policy ideas.

These several neglected dimensions to my argument have major implica­ tions for the controversial call in the concluding chapter of Ideology for a more modest (some might say "isolationist") foreign policy. I now have to

216 * Afterword

concede that I was on the wrong trail.The United States is now implicated in world affairs in such a deep and complex fashion that a retreat is hard to imagine and if attempted might produce dire consequences overseas, no­ tably a breakdown of global integration, with internationalanarchy a likely prospect.Moreover, an assertive U.S.nationalism is so important in pro­ viding social glue for a diverse, mobile people that a repudiation of the country'sleadingroleontheinternationalstagemightwellprovedeeply di­ visive at home and spawn bitter cries of betrayal. Finally, pressing domes­ tic problems are now inextricably entangled with international trends and pressures, ranging from climate change to global finance and trade to re­ sourcescarcity to immigrant pressuresgenerated by failedstates and stag­ nant economies.

Rather than calling for a more modest foreign policy, I would now praise mid-twentieth-century U.S.leadersfor followingavisionary policy thatin­ cluded the Bretton Woods reforms for the international economy, the cre­ ationof the UnitedNationsandother international organizations, the asser­ tion of basic humanrights, the decision to hold state leadersresponsible for their crimes, and the priority given to economic recovery and relief.These measures were all conducive to world order and prosperity.U.S.leaders in recent decades deserve censure precisely because they neglected or even repudiated the public goods that the United States as hegemon is obligated toprovide.Apolicy atoncemore territorially interventionist (imperial) and hands-off (neoliberal) in matters of global governance endangers the sys­ tem of values and institutions promoted in the wake ofWorldWar II.The problemIamleftwithtoday isnotmuchdifferentfromtheonethathaunted me in the conclusionofIdeology twenty years ago.How doesone create an ideological foundation for a different kind of policy-one that serves the American people well while also advancing the cause of human welfare? Reflecting on this question has provided a chastening but useful reminder that ideologies are a lot easier to identify and explore than to construct or transform.

***

This new edition leaves the text of the original intact.The decision not to embark on a major revision took some time to reach.In part, I finally rec­ ognized that my most obviousscholarly goal in writing Ideology had been achieved.The book has helped promote a theoretically and culturally in­ formedapproachtoU.S.foreignrelations.Later workshaveconfirmedthat ideas do have impressive explanatory power.They have helped diplomatic historians better understand what makes influential individuals tick (espe-

Afterword * 217

cially those running the apparatus of state) and how groups of people visi­ ble dimly, if at all, in older, state-dominated accounts fit in the broader pat­ tern of U.S. foreign relations. Moreover, by exploring the manifold ways in which ideas can be important, they have encouraged a diversity and eclec­ ticism of inquiry friendly to new departures in the intellectual and cultural history of U.S. foreign relations. There seemed little point in plunging back into an argument that seems satisfactorily settled.

Sticking with the original text also made sense because any attempt to en­ compass the wide range of insights suggested by the new literature meant not just adding a few pages here and there but producing an entirely new book. Incorporating insights on settler colonialism, the rise of a globalized international order, the career of empire, and the forms of hegemony might well result in an account so large and sprawling that frustrated readers might find better use for it as a doorstop.Anew book would have to take ac­ count of thechangingtemper of the times as well as a rich new historical lit­ erature. Post-Vietnam War preoccupations marked the argument in Ideol­ ogy from the first page to the last. It was published in 1987, on the eve of new era. The ColdWar was about to give way to a rising sensitivity to glob­ alization; this new posture not only threw policymakers into disarray but also reframed the concerns of historians and other observers. The aftermath of 9111-notably, a messy and open-ended "war on terrorism" and a failed occupation in Iraq-haspushed the termsof public debate still further from those confronting me when Ideology was gestating in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

While my hope that Ideology would promote fresh scholarship has been amply fulfilled, a broader and more important original goal remains unreal­ ized and makes the argument advanced here still timely. I wanted to get readers to recognize the sturdy roots anchoring our vision of the world to our national past. Such a recognition seemed to me the precondition for transcending, reshaping, or even simply acknowledging the existence of sturdy attitudes about the world. Without a long-term perspective, it is vir­ tually impossible to see those attitudes as a construct that has influenced U.S. foreign policy across its entire course and that has survived repeated challenges and changing domestic and international circumstances. This task of raising public awareness seems as urgent now as when I wrote. Abit to my surprise, the essentials of the old policy ideology retained a firm grip on U.S. policy after the end of the Cold War and the attendant transfor­ mation of international relations. In an even bigger surprise, that ideology assumedstarkform in thepolicy pursuedby the administration of GeorgeW. Bush. Perhaps the least self-conscious president in memory, in an adminis-

218 * Afterword

tration that always had answers and seldom asked questions, he proved un­ der the spur of a terrorist outrage the very model of a hypernationalist. He was impatient with peoples and countries not on his wavelength, relentless in contending that his conception of political and economic freedom was universal, and starkly opposed to the Islamist forces that threatened to rip apart American plans for a remake of the Middle East. So much was clear from the public rhetoric, which provided the rationale for the activist course of military action and occupation that the president steered. The only matter in doubt would appear to be which grand convictions figured centrally in the making of policy within the Bush inner circle and within the mind of the president himself. That a particular group of policymakers fol­ lowed a time-honored script so faithfully may be less of a surprise than that the voting public, the media, and many international relations specialists succumbed as well. The major problem that prompted Ideology in the first place remains very much in place. The book will continue to earn its keep if it gets readers to reflect on how their country relates to the world and with what consequences. A heightened degree of national self-awareness seems the prerequisite for taking up a long-overdue discussion about where we go from here and whether a refashioning of the old vision of the United States in the world might serve better.

This afterword benefited from the skillful editorial guidance of Laura Davulis and John Palmer; from the recollections of Chuck Grench; from comments by reviewers secured by Yale University Press (Emily Rosen­ berg, Thomas Borstelmann, and Elizabeth Shakman Hurd, along with one anonymous response); from discussions with Shannon Nix, Teo Radford, and Eliot Spencer in the course of a spring 2008 seminar; from follow-up comments by Spencer and Nix; and from an especially helpful reading by Nancy Mitchell. The following were good enough to give me permission to use here portions of earlier writings: Professor Yi Hyunhwee, who, along with Professor Gweon Yonglib, undertook a Korean translation of this volume and who elicited a preface that anticipates this one; Robert Schul­ zinger, who gave me an opportunity to sketch out some autobiographical details in "Personal Reflections on SHAFR at Forty," Diplomatic History 31 (June 2007): 403-04; and Michael J. Hogan, who convinced me to up­ date my discussion of "Ideology" for the second edition of Explaining the History ofAmerican Foreign Relations, ed. Hogan and Thomas G. Paterson (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 221-40. Nancy Ovedovitz graced this edition with a cover design as striking as the one she did for the first edition.

220 * Essay on the Historical Literature

John Lewis Gaddis. His books on the Cold War and his essays (foremost a July 1977 contribution to the journal Foreign Affairs) celebrate Kennan's "realistic" insights in the realm of policy. Kennan's impact as a historian, though equally significant and widely recognized, has yet to be carefully scrutinized. A generation of diplomatic historians whose works dominated the 1950s and 1960s borrowed heavily from Kennan and his fellow realist, Hans J. Morgenthau. The successor generation in contrast has on the whole been less taken by "realism." Thomas Paterson's sketch of Kennan in Frank Merli and Theodore Wilson, eds., The Makers of American Diplomacy (1974), vol. 2; Jonathan Knight, "George Frost Kennan and the Study of American Foreign Policy," 20 (March 1967); Barton Gellman, Contending withKennan: Toward aPhilosophy ofAmerican Power (1984), all reflect this latter-day tendency to question Kennan's acu­ men, clarity, and consistency, whether as policymaker, historian, or political philosopher. Any interested reader would be well advised to give Kennan the last word by turning to American Diplomacy, his two-volume memoir (1967, 1972), where his talents as a sensitive observer are well framed, and his critique in The Cloud of Danger (1977) and The Nuclear Delusion (1982) of the Cold War policy he had earlier helped articulate.

A good deal of general commentary and interpretation has recently flowed from the pen of William Appleman Williams, in particular The Roots of Modern American Empire (1969), History as a Way of Learning (1973), and

Empire as a Way of Life (1980). Tragedy, however, remains his seminal work. It supplied the intellectual capital on which much of Williams' later efforts would draw as well as the rallying point for a group of like-minded historians, many trained at the University of Wisconsin by Williams or his mentor, Fred Harvey Harrington. This group, which includes Walter La­ Feher, Lloyd Gardner, and Robert Freeman Smith, has been variously labeled "New Left revisionists," "new economic determinists," or simply "the Wisconsin school." No more monolithic than the realists, members of this group often share little more than a common belief that economic interests make the world go round and that foreign relations is no exception to the rule.

Mainstream academic historians have by and large been unpersuaded by these propositions and critical of Williams' logic and use of evidence, some­ times intemperately S(}-as in Robert J. Maddox, The New Left and the Origins of the Cold War (1973). The best overall appraisals are Robert Tucker, The Radical Left andAmerican Foreign Policy (1971); J. A. Thomp­ son, "William Appleman Williams and the 'American Empire,' " Journal

7 (April 1973); and Bradford Perkins, "The Tragedy

Essay on the Historical Literature * 221

of American Diplomacy: Twenty-five Years After," Reviews in American History, 12 (March 1984). Historians on the left, such asEugene Genovese in ''William Appleman Williams on Marx and America,'' Studies on the

Left, 6 (Jan.-Feb. 1966), have also been unhappy with Williams, in their case for his lack of rigor in employing Marxist terminology and theoretical constructs.

My own interests in ideology as a way of moving beyond realism and the open-door interpretation have led me at least part way up a mountain of literature shrouded for the most part in a fog of abstraction. Unusuallysensible and suggestive from a historian's vantage point are the reflections by Clifford Geertz in''Ideology as a Cultural System,'' in DavidE. Apter, ed., Ideology and Discontent (1964); Sidney Verba's discussion of "Comparative Political

Culture," in LucianW. Pye and Verba, eds., Political Culture and Political Development (1965), especially pp. 512-17; the essay in definition by Willard A. Mullins, "On the Concept of Ideology in Political Science,"

American Political Science Review, 66 (June 1972); Raymond Williams' sophisticated reinterpretation of''Base and Superstructure in Marxist Cultural Theory" included in his Problems in Materialism and Culture (1980); and T. J. Jackson Lears' thoughtful exploration of "The Concept of Cultural Hegemony: Problems and Possibilities," American Historical Review, 90

(June 1985).

The notion of ideology rooted in culture is hardly a new one for historians, as is made clear by Ronald G.Walters, "Signs of the Times: Clifford Geertz and the Historians," Social Research, 47 (Autumn 1980), and Robert F. Berkhofer, Jr., ''Clio and the Culture Concept: Some Impressions of a Chang­ ing Relationship in American Historiography,'' Social Science Quarterly, 53 (Sept. 1972). Robert Kelley's The Cultural Pattern in American Politics: The First Century (1979) and his "Ideology and Political Culture from Jef­ ferson to Nixon," American Historical Review, 82 (June 1977), are adven­ turesome applications of the cultural approach to ideology that every diplomatic historian could read with profit.

Any exploration of the nationalist context in which foreign-policy ideology took shape has a large literature on which to draw. GeoffEley, "Nationalism and Social History, Social History, 6 (Jan. 1981), is an especially helpful attempt to synthesize two classic approaches--{)ne, championed by Hans Kohn and later Elie Kedourie, stressing the development and diffusion of nationalist ideas; the other, pioneered by Karl Deutsch, emphasizing the socioeconomic developments contributing to the rise of national conscious­ ness. Other helpful accounts are John Breuilly, Nationalism and the State (1982), especially the chapter on "The Sources and Forms of Nationalist

222 * Essay on the Historical Literature

Ideology"; Anthony D. Smith, Theories of Nationalism, 2d ed. (1983); Smith, Nationalism in the Twentieth Century (1979); and K. R. Minogue, Nationalism (1967).

Chapter 2: Visions ofNational Greatness

The Jefferson-Hamilton contest inaugurating the struggle over the future of American foreign policy has attracted a remarkable succession of realist historians, each championing the superior insights of one or the other of the two protagonists. The latest in th.at line is Jerald Combs in The Jay Treaty: Political Battleground of the Founding Fathers (1970). He sides with Ham­ ilton and the Federalists. Cecelia M. Kenyon, "Alexander Hamilton: Rous­ seau of the Right," Political Science Quarterly, 73 (June 1958), and Felix Gilbert's To the Farewell Address: Ideas of Early American Foreign Policy

(1961) are important earlier works that evaluate the basic principles of early American foreign policymakers in the familiar terms of realism and idealism.

Notable New Left works on this period stress not conflict but a fundamental consensus on the goal of expansion, with Hamilton oriented toward the sea and Jefferson the continent. See for example the essays by William Appleman Williams in William and Mary Quarterly, 3d series, vol. 15 (Oct. 1958), and by Walter LaFeber in Williams, ed., From Colony to Empire (1972), as well as Richard W. Van Alstyne's general interpretation, The Rising

American Empire (1960).

Neither interpretive approach deals adequately with the republican as­ sumptions influencing policy. A small army of intellectual historians mo­ bilized by Bernard Bailyn's The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution (1967) has devoted itself to pinning down republicanism and exploring the context in which it operated. Robert E. Shalhope proves an excellent guide in his two surveys of the resulting literature in William and Mary Quarterly, 3d series, vol. 29 (Jan. 1972) and vol. 39 (April 1982). The most impressive attempts so far to relate republicanism and foreign policy are in Gerald Stourzh, Alexander Hamilton and the Idea of Republican Gov­ ernment (1970), chaps. 4 and 5; Drew R. McCoy, The Elusive Republic: Political Economy in Jeffersonian America (1980); Lance Banning, The Jef­ fersonian Persuasion: Evolution of a Party Ideology (1978); and Roger H. Brown, The Republic in Peril: 1812 (1964).

The study of the 1840s, the period of the second major collision over the aims of U.S. foreign policy, was the life work of Frederick Merk. Mission and Manifest Destiny (1963), his major study, distinguishes between a benign sense of national mission and the harmful influence of an aggressive expan­ sionism that led the nation momentarily astray, first in 1846 and again in

Essay on the Historical Literature * 223

1899. Merk's argument constitutes in effect an oblique attack on Albert K. Weinberg's massive compendium, Manifest Destiny (1935), which remains important for its insistence on treating even the more pugnacious forms of expansionism as genuine, if unfortunate, expressions of American nation­ alism. Merk also seems to endorse George Kennan's contention that an emotional public is one of the chief threats to a sound U.S. foreign policy. Merk has, not surprisingly, set Polk's critics in a favorable light in his contribution to Dissent in Three American Wars (1970).

Merk's treatment of antebellum expansionists should be supplemented by

Empire on the Pacific: A Study in American Continental Expansion (1955) by Norman Graebner, a realist whose interpretation here incongruously an­ ticipates the New Left; by Charles Sellers' multivolume biography of Polk (1957- ), which has yet to round out the presidential years; by Robert V. Remini's three-volume biography of Andrew Jackson (1977-84); by David M. Pletcher, The Diplomacy of Annexation: Texas, Oregon, and the Mexican War (1973); by Thomas R. Hietala, Manifest Design: Anxious Aggrandize­ ment in Late Jacksonian America (1985), a fresh look at the major strands of expansionist thought; and by Robert E. May, The Southern Dream of a Caribbean Empire, 1854-1861 (1973), on the cooling effect sectional conflict had on expansionist policy. On the opponents of expansion the most recent study is by John H. Schroeder, Mr. Polk's War: American Opposition and Dissent, 1846-1848 (1973). Nationalist thought for this period is described in broad terms by Fred Somkin, Unquiet Eagle: Memory and Desire in the idea of American Freedom, 1815-1860 (1967); Major L. Wilson, Space, Time and Freedom: The Quest for Nationality and the Irrepressible Conflict, 1815-1861 (1974); and Rush Welter, The Mind of America, 1820-I860

(1975).

The 1890s have been exhaustively examined, as befits a period long and widely regarded as a watershed. McKinley and his supporters are seen in an unflattering realist perspective in Ernest May, Imperial Democracy: The Emergence of America as a Great Power (1961), and Richard Hofstadter, "Manifest Destiny and the Philippines," in his The Paranoid Style in Amer­ ican Politics (1966). Though not usually associated with the realist school, Hofstadter in this well-known essay (published in its original form in 1952) does put opportunistic politicians and an emotional public at the center of the historical stage. Walter LaFeber, The New Empire: An Interpretation of American Expansion, 1860-1898 (1963), and to a lesser extent David Healy,

US Expansionism: The Imperialist Urge in the I890s (1970), represent the revisionist perspective. These last two authors credit expansionists with more insight and adroitness than do their realist detractors. LaFeber can be read

224 * Essay on the Historical Literature

as an elaboration of Williams' argument in The Tragedy of American Di­ plomacy and as a rebuttal to Julius W. Pratt, Expansionists of 1898: The Acquisition of Hawaii and the Spanish Islands (1936), itself an assault on an economic interpretation. Robert L. Beisner's From the Old Diplomacy to the New, 1865-1900, 2d rev. ed. (1986), is a helpful and accessible intro­ duction to the scholarly controversies over this era.

McKinley's critics lost the policy debate but not the interest of historians. Fred Harvey Harrington's early sketch of "The Anti-Imperialist Movement in the United States, 1898-1900," Mississippi Valley Historical Review, 22 (Sept. 1935), remains a serviceable introduction. It has, however, been greatly amplified by a flurry of research prompted by a search for a usable past inspired by the VietnamWar. Robert L. Beisner, TwelveAgainst Empire: The Anti-Imperialists, 1898-1900 (1968), was the first (and still is the most engaging) account in the resulting string of publications. Other items include Frank Freidel's essay in Dissent in Three American Wars (1970); E. Berkeley Tompkins, Anti-Imperialism in the United States: The Great Debate, 18901920 (1970); Daniel B. Schirmer, Republic or Empire: American Resistance to the Philippine War (1972); Richard E. Welch, Jr., Response to Imperi­ alism: The United States and the Philippine-American War, 1899-1902 (1979); and Thomas J. Osborne, "Empire Can Wait": American Opposition to Hawaiian Annexation, 1893-1898 (1981). John W. Rollins, "The Anti­ Imperialists and Twentieth Century American Foreign Policy,'' Studies on the Left, 3 (1962), is noteworthy as an early example of the tendency on the part of New Left historians to look for a consensus on expansion in the 1890s and to minimize the importance of the contemporary debate over Hawaii and the Philippines.

Chapter 3: The Hierarchy ofRace

Perhaps no topic in recent decades has engrossed historians of the United States more than race and ethnicity. The phenomenon has been broken down and examined from a dizzying variety of perspectives. The most useful overview for the purposes of this study is Ruth Miller Elson's Guardians of Tradition: American Schoolbooks of the Nineteenth Century (1964), based on a thousand of the most popular texts used in the first eight years of schooling. While it does not reveal what the common man thought about race, this work does indicate what he was told at a formative age to believe­ and to recite as an aid to memory. Other broad studies include Thomas F. Gossett, Race: The History of an Idea in America (1963); Gary B. Nash and Richard Weiss, eds., The Great Fear: Race in the American Mind (1970); George Sinkler, The Racial Attitudes of American Presidents from Abraham

Essay on the Historical Literature * 225

Lincoln to Theodore Roosevelt (1971); Rubin F. Weston, Racism in U.S. Imperialism: The Influence of RacialAssumptions onAmerican Foreign Pol­ icy, 1893-1946 (1972); Ronald T. Takaki, Iron Cages: Race and Culture in Nineteenth-Century America (1979); and Robert W. Rydell, All the World's a Fair: Visions of Empire atAmerican International Expositions,

(1984). Stimulating general discussions that help set the American case in perspective are to be found in David B. Davis, The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (1966), chaps. 2 and 15; Pierre van den Berghe, Race and Racism: A Comparative Perspective (1967); and Dante A. Puzzo, "Racism and the Western Tradition,"Journal of the History of Ideas, 25 (Oct.-Dec.

1964).

Blacks and Indians, the two peoples of color drawn most deeply into American life and mythology, have attracted attention commensurate with their prominence. Good starting points for understanding how thinking on race became a central strand in the fabric of national life are Winthrop D. Jordan, White Over Black: American Attitudes Toward the Negro,

1812 (1968); George M. Fredrickson, The Black Image in the White Mind: The Debate on Afro-American Character and Destiny, 1817-1914 (1971); and MichaelMcCarthy,Dark Continent:Africa as Seen byAmericans (1983).

The woeful tale of the Indian's abasement can be followed through Henry F. Dobyns, Native American Historical Demography: A Critical Bibliog­ raphy (1976); Roy Harvey Pearce, The Savages of America: A Study of the Indian and the Idea of Civilization (1953, rev. ed. 1965); Francis Jennings, The Invasion of America: Indians, Colonialism, and the Cant of Conquest (1975); Reginald Horsman, Expansion and American Indian Policy, 17831812 (1967); Horsman, "AmericanIndian Policy and the Origins of Manifest Destiny," University of Birmingham Historical Journal, vol. 11, no. 2 (1968); Bernard W. Sheehan, Seeds of Extinction:Jeffersonian Philanthropy and the American Indian (1973); Robert V. Remini, Andrew Jackson and the Course ofAmericanEmpire, 1767-1821 (1977); Remini,AndrewJackson and the Course ofAmerican Freedom, 1822-1832 (1981), chap. 15; Remini, AndrewJackson and the Course ofAmericanDemocracy, 1833-1845 (1984), chap. 20; Ralph K. Andrist, The Long Death: The Last Days of the Plains Indians (1964); and Robert M. Utley, The Indian Frontier of the American West, 1846-1890 (1984). Robert K. Berkhofer, Jr., The WhiteMan's Indian: Images of the American Indian from Columbus to the Present (1978), and Brian W. Dippie, The VanishingAmerican: WhiteAttitudes and U.S. Indian Policy (1982), are two recent entries in a growing literature on perceptions of native Americans.

The place of the Latino in American thinking can be establishedwith some

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help from Arthur P. Whitaker, The United States and the Independence of Latin America, 1800-I830 (1941); David J. Weber, " 'Scarce more than apes.' Historical Roots of Anglo American Stereotypes of Mexicans in the Border Region,'' in Weber, ed., New Spain's Far Northern Frontier: Essays on Spain in the AmericanWest, 1540-1821 (1979); Raymund A. Paredes, "The Origins of Anti-Mexican Sentiment in the United States," in Ricardo Romo and Paredes, eds., New Directions in Chicano Scholarship (1978); Paredes, "The Mexican Image in American Travel Literature, 1831-1869,"

New Mexico Historical Review, 52 (Jan. 1977); Arnoldo De Leon, They Called Them Greasers: Anglo Attitudes toward Mexicans in Texas, 18211900 (1983); Robert W. Johannsen, To the Halls of the Montezumas: The MexicanWar in the American1magination (1985); and Gerald F. Linderman, The Mirror ofWar: American Society and the Spanish-AmericanWar (1974), particularly chap. 5, which deals with images of Cubans and the Spanish.

The images and policies evoked by East Asian immigrants have been studied systematically and in depth. See in particular Stuart C. Miller, The Unwelcome Immigrant: The American Image of the Chinese, 1785-1882 (1969); Michael H. Hunt, The Making of a Special Relationship: The United States and China to 1914 (1983); and Roger Daniels, The Politics of Prej­ udice: The Anti-Japanese Movement in California and the Struggle for Jap­ anese Exclusion (1962).

Anglo-Saxonism and the racial ideas that dominated the battles over ter­ ritorial acquisitions in the 1890s have been treated in Reginald Horsman,

Race and Manifest Destiny: The Origins of American Racial Anglo-Saxonism (1981); Stuart Anderson, Race and Rapprochement: Anglo-Saxonism and Anglo-American Relations, 1895-1904 (1981); Stuart C. Miller, "Benevolent Assimilation": The American Conquest of the Philippines, 1899-1903

(1982); James P. Shenton, "Imperialism and Racism," in Donald Sheehan and Harold C. Syrett, eds., Essays in American Historiography (1960); and Christopher Lasch, ''The Anti-Imperialists, the Philippines and the Inequality of Man," Journal of Southern History, 24 (Aug. 1958). These should be supplemented by the items cited above that deal with the 1890s debate over liberty and national greatness.

Chapter 4: The Perils of Revolution

The American response to revolution is the subject of a remarkably motley collection of literature. An impressive portion of it dates back forty or more years; another substantial body appeared in a surge during the 1970s. Some of the still-relevant works deal primarily with attitudes, others emphasize policy, and yet others combine both elements in various proportions.

Essay on the Historical Literature * 227

Works dealing with the earliest American reaction to revolution illustrate this diversity in vintage and approach. Charles D. Hazen, Contemporary

American Opinion of the French Revolution (1897), a venerable study un­ abashedly neo-Federalist in tone, draws on the writings of the political elite, whereas Gary B. Nash's more recent "The American Clergy and the French Revolution," William and Mary Quarterly, 3d series, vol. 22 (July 1965), uses sermons as a barometer of opinion.Similarly, Charles C. Griffin's The United States and the Disruption of the Spanish Empire, 1810-1822 (1937) and Arthur P. Whitaker's The United States and the Independence of Latin America, 1800-1830 (1941), both political narratives based on periodicals, congressional records, and the writings of special-interest groups, contrast with Winthrop D. Jordan's White Over Black: American Attitudes Toward the Negro, 1550-1812, chap. 10, a 1968 study of the anxiety evoked by the rise of the Haitian republic.

Much of the seminal work on the UnitedStates and the mid-nineteenth century revolutions appeared in the 1920s and 1930s, when shockwaves from the recent plunge into European war and diplomacy sent historians off on a search for the roots of this unprecedented American entanglement in Old World affairs. The best of that earlier generation of scholarship are Edward Mead Earle, ''American Interest in the Greek Cause, 1821-1827,''American Historical Review, 33 (Oct. 1927); John G. Gazley, American Opinion of German Unification, 1848-1871 (1926), a massive compilation covering turmoil not just in Germany but in France and Hungary as well; Eugene N. Curtis, ''American Opinion of the French Nineteenth-Century Revolutions,''

AmericanHistorical Review, 29 (Jan. 1924); Elizabeth Brett White,American Opinion of France: From Lafayette to Poincare (1927); and Howard R. Marraro, American Opinion of the Unification of Italy, 1846-1861 (1932). The work on France should be supplemented by George L. Cherry, ''Amer­ ican Metropolitan Press Reaction to the Paris Commune of 1871," Mid­ America, 32 (Jan. 1950). Paul Con tantine Pappas, The United States and the Greek War for Independence, 1821-1828 (1985), is a slim new synthesis that confirms the main lines of earlier accounts.

Merle Curti deserves special mention as the author of two interpretive articles important to an understanding of this second revolutionary era­ " 'Young America,' " American Historical Review, 32 (1926), and "The Impact of the Revolutions of 1848 on American Thought," Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 93 (June 1949). Curti's treatment of the Hungarian Revolution in " 'Young America' " and in a traditional diplo­ matic study published in 1926 in Smith College Studies in History, vol. 11, has been largely superseded by DonaldS.Spencer, Louis Kossuth and Young

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America: A Study of Sectionalism and Foreign Policy, 1848-1852 (1977), with its ''realist'' interpretive slant.

The literature on the early twentieth-century revolutions is 'On the whole of recent origin, though it reveals no less than the rest of the literature a wide variation in its handling of public opinion and policy. New Left his­ torians have shown a special interest in what they interpret as a consciously and vigorously counterrevolutionary American stance. William Appleman Williams, America Confronts a Revolutionary World: 1776-1976 (1976), a collection of his essays that develops themes familiar from his other work, comes closest to a general account. Special studies of this era with a New Left cast include Jerry Israel, Progressivism and the Open Door: America and China, 1905-1921 (1971); N. Gordon Levin, Jr., Woodrow Wilson and World Politics: America's Response to War and Revolution (1968); Lloyd

C. Gardner, Wilson and Revolutions: 1913-1921 (1976); and Gardner's full­ scale study, Safe for Democracy: The Anglo-American Response to Revo­ lution, 1913-1923 (1984).

The New Left literature should be read alongside Link's multivolume biography of Wilson (1947- ) and James Reed's The Missionary Mind and American East Asian Policy, 1911-1915 (1983), chap. 4. On Russia, useful studies include Arthur W. Thompson and Robert A. Hart, The Uncertain Crusade: America and the Russian Revolution of 1905 (1970), supplemented by Filia Holtzman, "A Mission That Failed: Gor'kij in America," Slavic and East European Journal, 6 (Fall 1962); Peter G. Filene, Americans and the Soviet Experiment, 1917-1933 (1967), chaps. 1 and 2; John Lewis Gad­ dis, Russia, the Soviet Union, and the United States (1978), chap. 3; and Robert K. Murray, R.ed Scare: A Study of National Hysteria, 1919-1920

(1955). Eugene P. Trani, "Woodrow Wilson and the Decision to Intervene in Russia: A Reconsideration,'' Journal of Modern History, 48 (Sept. 1976), is a judicious and well-documented introduction to a long-running historical controversy.

Chapter 5: Ideology in Twentieth-Century Foreign Policy

Historians of twentieth-century foreign relations, a prolific lot, have provided considerable grist for the mill of any student of ideas. Some have traveled the path cleared by Kennan and Williams-and hence make somewhat pre­ dictable interpretive points. Others have gone their own way in examining particular policymakers or problems, putting forward results that are often fresh and helpful in establishing links to older intellectual patterns.

Students of the Roosevelt-Wilson era have led the way in the search for the intellectual roots of a foreign policy that virtually all see as related in

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some way to a special progressive temper or mentality. The most important of these works are N. Gordon Levin, Jr.'s study (noted above) and William E. Leuchtenburg's "Progressivism and Imperialism: The Progressive Move­ ment and American Foreign Policy, 1898-1916," Mississippi Valley His­ torical Review, 39 (Dec. 1952). Leuchtenburg's essay gave rise to an academic cottage industry devoted to testing its claims on the domestic roots of policy and to wrestling with those two supremely slippery concepts jux­ taposed in the article's title. Joseph M. Siracusa, "Progressivism, Imperi­ alism, and the Leuchtenburg Thesis, 1952-1974," Australian Journal of

Politics and History, 20 (Dec. 1974), is a useful guide to the ensuing discussion.

The period between the two world wars, long treated as a barren era of ''isolationism,'' is undergoing substantial revision at the hands of corporatist historians influenced to one degree or another by Williams. Books by Michael

J. Hogan (1977), Burton I. Kaufman (1974), Melvyn P. Leffler (1979), Carl P. Parrini (1969), and Joan Hoff Wilson (1971) have demonstrated how powerful interest groups, corporations and banks not least among them, worked with Washingtonto sustain the United States at a considerablyhigher level of international involvement than previouslyallowed by realist morality plays. This new approach is sympathetically showcased by Thomas J. McCormick, "Drift or Mastery? A Corporatist Synthesis for American Dip­ lomatic History," Reviews in American History, 10 (Dec. 1982), while John Braeman offers a critical look in ''The New Left and American Foreign

Policy during the Age of Normalcy: A Reexamination," Business History Review, 62 (Spring 1983).

The argument for continuity is further strengthened by those biographies dealing with the social background and basic values of the leading interwar personalities-Henry Cabot Lodge (William C. Widenor [1980]); Charles Evans Hughes (Merlo J. Pusey [1951]); Frank B. Kellogg (L. Ethan Ellis

[1962]); Calvin Coolidge (Donald R. McCoy [1967]); Herbert Hoover (Joan

Hoff Wilson [1975]); Henry L. Stimson (Elting E. Morison [1960]); and Franklin D. Roosevelt (Robert Dallek [1979] and Robert A. Divine [1969]). Special studies that add to the case for ideological continuity are Douglas Little, "Antibolshevism and American Foreign Policy, 1919-1939," Amer­ ican Quarterly, 35 (Fall 1983); Hugh De Santis, The Diplomacy ofSilence:

The American Foreign Service, the Soviet Union, and the Cold War,

1947 (1981); Mark L. Chadwin, The Hawks of World War II (1968); and Robert A. Divine, Second Chance: The Triumph ofInternationalism in Amer­

Philip H. Burch, Jr., Elites in American History (1980-81), vols. 2-3; G. William Domhoff, Who Rules America?

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(1967); and Robert D. Schulzinger, The Wise Men of Foreign Affairs: The History of the Council on Foreign Relations (1984), are equally useful in highlighting elite predominance in foreign affairs not only during the interwar period but also well beyond.

Those who sought to check an activist policy are treated in biographies of William E. Borah (Robert J. Maddox [1969]), Charles A. Lindbergh (Wayne S. Cole [1974]), and Gerald P. Nye (Cole [1962]). These accounts should be supplemented by John Milton Cooper, Jr., The Vanity of Power:

American Isolationism and the First World War, 1914-1917 (1969); Alex­ ander DeConde, ''The South and Isolationism,''Journal of Southern History,

24 (1958); Thomas N. Guinsburg, The Pursuit of Isolationism in the United

States Senate from Versailles to Pearl Harbor (1982); Manfred Jonas, Iso­ lationism in America, 1935-I941 (1966); Cole, America First: The Battle against Intervention, 1940-1941 (1953); Robert Griffith, ''Old Progressives and the Cold War," Journal of American History, 66 (Sept. 1979); and Justus D. Doenecke, Not to the Swift: The Old Isolationists in the Cold War Era (1979).

Historians struggling to make sense of a cold war still in progress have published prodigiously over the last several decades (as will quickly become evident to anyone who consults the relevant chapters in Bums, Guide to American Foreign Relations since 1700). What follows here can only be a selection of some of the signal contributions to our understanding of guiding foreign-policy ideas.

Containment, easily the most studied and controverted policy conception, is set in a realist framework in John Lewis Gaddis' careful Strategies of

Containment: A Critical Appraisal of Postwar American National Security Policy (1982). Gabriel Kolko's The Politics of War: The World and United

States Foreign Policy, 1943-1945 (1968) and Joyce and Gabriel Kolko's

The Limits of Power: The World and United States Foreign Policy, 19451954 (1972), both audacious in scope, treat containment in New Left terms.

Other influential ideas closely associated with containment receive their due in Ernest R. May, "Lessons" of the Past: The Use and Misuse of History in American Foreign Policy (1973); Les K. Adler and Thomas G. Paterson, "Red Fascism: The Merger of Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia in the American Image of Totalitarianism, 1930's-1950's," American Historical Review, 75 (Aprill970); and Daniel M. Smith, "Authoritarianism and Amer­ ican Policy Makers in Two World Wars," Pacific Historical Review, 43 (Aug. 1974). Geopolitics awaits a thorough treatment, though for a prelim­ inary look see Joseph S. Roucek, "The Development of Political Geography

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and Geopolitics in the United States," Australian Journal of Politics and History, 3 (May 1958); Geoffrey J. Martin, The Life and Thought of Isaiah Bowman (1980); and Alan Henrikson, "The Map as an 'Idea': The Role of Cartographic Imagery during the Second World War," American Cartog­ rapher, 2 (April 1975).

The obvious starting point for understanding development as a theory and as a policy is Robert A. Packenham, Liberal America and the Third World: Political Development Ideas in Foreign Aid and Social Science (1973). It should be supplemented by Robert A. Nisbet, Social Change and History: Aspects of the Western Theory of Development (1969); Joseph R. Gusfield, ''Tradition and Modernity: Misplaced Polarities in the Study of Social Change," American Journal of Sociology, 72 (Jan. 1967); Dean C. Tipps, "Modernization Theory and the Comparative Study of Societies: A Critical Perspective," Comparative Studies in Society and History, 15 (1973); and Aidan Foster-Carter, ''From Rostow to Gunder Frank: Conflicting Paradigms in the AnalysisofUnderdevelopment," WorldDevelopment, 4 (March 1976).

Chapter 6: The Contemporary Dilemma

A storm has been brewing in the last decade over the basic direction of American foreign policy, sending observers of all stripes scurrying to their typewriters. The search for the lessons of Vietnam offers a handy barometer by which to gauge the nature, intensity, and direction of the storm. Although attempts to draw lessons were underway even before the war ended, the first full dress examination did not appear until 1976. That was The Vietnam Legacy: The War, American Society and the Future of American Foreign Policy, edited by Anthony Lake and sponsored by the Council on Foreign Relations. It was followed the next year by W. Scott Thompson and Don­ aldson D. Frizzell, eds., The Lessons of Vietnam. The reaction against the early, predominantly disillusioned view of the Vietnam experience is evident in Guenter Lewy, America in Vietnam (1978), and Harry G. Summers, Jr.,

On Strategy: A Critical Analysis of the Vietnam War (1982). The most recent efforts to sort matters out are in Harrison E. Salisbury, ed., Vietnam Re­ considered: Lessons from a War (1984); Gabriel Kolko, Anatomy of a War: Vietnam, the United States, and the Modern Historical Experience (1985); Loren Baritz, Backfire: A History of How American Culture Led Us into Vietnam and Made Us Fight the Way We Did (1985); and John Hellman, American Myth and the Legacy of Vietnam (1986).

Deserving a place alongside the Vietnam literature is the wide-ranging and perceptive work by reformist critics of American policy. Prominent among

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them are Richard J. Barnet, Melvin Gurtov, Richard E. Feinberg, Robert A. Packenham, Earl C. Ravena], David P. Calleo, I. M. Destler, Leslie Gelb, and Anthony Lake. (Their work is cited in the notes for chapter 1.)

Custodians of policy through the recent stormy period have been quick to justify themselves once out of office. The Nixon and Kissinger memoirs (1978 and1979-82 respectively) were soon followed by those of Ford (1979), Carter (1982), Vance (1983), and Brzezinski (1983). Haig (1984) has already provided the first glimpses into the Reagan presidency, and no doubt others liberated by the end of the first term will want to tell their tales too. These memoirs, whatever their inherent dangers as exercises in concealment and special pleading, will remain essential, along with the policymakers' public statements, until a fuller historical record becomes available.

The problems of recent policy derive in large measure from the collapse of the Cold War consensus and misperception of revolutionary change. The former is well handled by John E. Mueller, War, Presidents and Public Opinion (1973), which examines Vietnam and Korea, and Ole R. Holsti and James N. Rosenau, American Leadership in World Affairs: Vietnam and the Breakdown ofConsensus (1984). There is a large literature on the latter topic. I have found particularly instructive Bruce Cumings, "American Policy and Korean Liberation,'' in Frank Baldwin, ed., Without Parallel: The American­ KoreanRelationship Since 1945 (1974); James Peck, "The Roots of Rhetoric: The Professional Ideology of America's China Watchers," in Ed Friedman and Mark Selden, eds., America's Asia (1971); David McLean, "American Nationalism, the China Myth, and the Truman Doctrine: The Question of Accommodation with Peking, 1949-50," Diplomatic History, 10 (Winter

1986); Jeffrey Race, War Comes to Long An: Revolutionary Conflict in a Vietnamese Province (1972); Richard H. Immerman, The CIA in Guatemala: The Foreign Policy ofIntervention (1982); Richard E. Welch, Jr., Response to Revolution: The United States and the Cuban Revolution, 1959-1961 (1985); Walter LaFeber, Inevitable Revolutions: The United States in Central America (1983); and Barry Rubin,Paved with Good Intentions: The American t-xperience and Iran (1980).