Can We Talk About the "Trump Doctrine"?

Shortly after the US’s preventive attack on Iran’s nuclear sites a few weeks ago, Vice President J. D. Vance informed us there is a “Trump Doctrine” of American foreign policy. As he described it:

“Number one, you articulate a clear American interest…Number two, you try to aggressively diplomatically solve that problem. Number three, when you can’t solve it diplomatically, you use overwhelming military force to solve it, and then you get the hell out of there before it ever becomes a protracted conflict.”

This is hardly a “doctrine.” It’s too simplistic. It doesn’t tell us what American interests are. It doesn’t tell us what diplomatic efforts are appropriate or when they haven’t worked. It doesn’t tell us what kind of military force is appropriate and when. And it doesn’t tell us how you can always combine the use of overwhelming military force and the ability to “get the hell out of there.”

Perhaps most strikingly, there is no rationale provided for it: how is it different from conventional doctrines and why? At least the notorious “Bush Doctrine” was clearly elaborated and fairly sophisticated. However flawed, it was a self-conscious response to a specific security concern, articulated how it was departing from previous policy, and still recognized meaningful constraints on the use of military force.

The “Trump Doctrine” is also clearly false. Trump doesn’t abide by this doctrine and everyone knows it. He reacts to each situation according to his whims. And he doesn’t always pursue the country’s interests. He often chases his egotistical desires, responding favorably to countries that praise him, give him lavish gifts, or offer investment opportunities for his businesses.

Vance is merely trying to give the appearance of principle and forethought to an administration that has neither.

But the “Trump Doctrine” does seem to capture something about the President’s foreign policy. In general, he pursues narrow, sometimes personal, interests by using coercion, both diplomatic and military. And there is virtually no limit to the types of coercive threats he is willing to use. Consider his outrageous talk of using the military against Denmark, Canada, and Panama to expand US territory, for example.

The “Trump Doctrine” does not restrict the use of coercion in any way. It says that any interest will be pursued by any means necessary. It doesn’t matter if we have to kill people. If we want it, we’ll take it. This seems like a fairly accurate description of the administration’s foreign policy.

As someone who studies justice and war, you may not be surprised to hear that I think this is disgusting. Justice matters. We do wrong if we do whatever we want regardless of the interests or rights of others. We should not commit injustice, even if it benefits us.

But the “Trump Doctrine” also exhibits something that I have been thinking a lot about lately: the belief that there is a deep tension between justice and national self-interest. According to this thinking, foreign policy decisions regularly have to choose between doing what is right and doing what we need or want. To make ourselves safer, for instance, we will often have to do wrong to others.

This belief is widespread. It even pervades theories of justice and war. Military ethicists usually conceive their job as building moral bulwarks against rational military strategies that would do wrong to win. The phrase “fighting to win,” for example, usually means abandoning all restraints and ruthlessly pursuing victory.

I’ve come to think this is all a great confusion. There is no deep tension between doing right and self-interest on the world stage. Of course, there is not a perfect alignment between justice and interest. But morality protects us a lot more than we appreciate. Abandoning morality makes everyone, even the powerful, less safe.

I recently re-read Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War (only parts, not the whole thing!). I saw in it a powerful criticism of policies like the “Trump Doctrine” that cast justice aside and mercilessly pursue self-interest. (My friend Nir Eisikovits made the same connection some months ago.)

In one of the most famous passages, Thucydides creates an imagined conversation between Athenian generals and the leaders of the island city-state, Melos. The Melians had been trying to stay neutral in the war between Athens and Sparta. Athens, however, demanded Melos submit to the Athenian empire and they threatened Melos with destruction if they refused.

In Thucydides’ dialogue, the Athenians make the case for submission to Melos by portraying international relations in very Trumpian terms. They reject justice and assert the privilege to do whatever they want. “[Y]ou know as well as we do,” they say, “that right, as the world goes, is only in question between equals in power, while the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.”

The Melians, however, have an interesting reply. While they insist that justice matters in itself, they also argue that by treating Melos and others unjustly Athens is making itself less safe. For them, justice protects us all and those who cast it aside when they can make themselves more vulnerable in the long term. “[Y]ou should not destroy what is our common protection, namely, the privilege of being allowed in danger to invoke what is fair and right,” the Melians say.

By rejecting what is fair and right, the Melians add, Athens risks alienating their allies and generating a desire for revenge. Athens may feel that they have the power to run these risks today, but tomorrow these may pose real dangers.

In the end, the Melians refuse to accept Athenian dominion and Athens, true to its word, lays waste to Melos. They kill all the men and enslave all the women and children. So, invoking justice did not work to protect Melos. But their argument was about Athens: they claimed Athens was threatening its own long-term interests.

Were they right? Was it in Athens’ interests to ignore justice and ruthlessly do what it wanted?

The Melian’s warning turns out to be prophetic. In the end, Athens loses the war in part because, when its power was diminished, its allies quickly switched their allegiance to Sparta. This reveals the shallowness of the “empire” their self-serving brutality had created. And, in defeat, Athens faced the prospect of being slaughtered by its opponents. Indeed, many in the Spartan alliance preferred to annihilate Athens rather than negotiate and, because of its behavior, many Athenians expected to be massacred.

Athens was spared, however. It appears that Melian reasoning led the Spartans to conclude that it was in their best interest to preserve but demilitarize Athens and bring it into the new Peloponnesian League.

So, the Melians had a point. The “privilege of being allowed in danger to invoke what is fair and right” is our “common protection.” It is only short-term thinking on the part of the powerful that fails to appreciate this.

Situations change. Today you may have the power to do what you want, justice be damned. But tomorrow you may not. If you reject the force of justice when it is in your interest to do so, you cannot invoke justice when it serves you.

The lesson here for the “Trump Doctrine” is this. By treating others as a resource to be exploited by force and rejecting the relevance of justice, the US is making it harder to invoke justice when it needs it. The ability to assert to the world that we have been wronged (when we have) and to expect the world to respond accordingly is something we benefit from.

The “Trump Doctrine” makes our appeals to justice hollow. We are like the bully who picks on others because it’s fun and then cries about unfairness when the tables turn. The hypocrisy is so rich that it makes the appeal to justice empty: it is just another attempt at self-serving manipulation. The “common protection” of justice is no longer available to the bully to invoke.

As an objective fact, justice may still apply to the bully. But the bully has undermined the social practice of invoking justice. He can no longer appeal to justice and expect the world to respond. For justice to effectively work to protect him, the bully needs a social world with merciful people who are responsive to his moral claims, the very thing his behavior has undermined.

What will happen in the near future if there is another 9/11? Or a major natural disaster in America? Or a financial meltdown that disproportionately impacts the US? Or the US is attacked by Russia and China?

There will be moments when justice is a vital resource for us. The “Trump Doctrine” is putting it out of reach.