The Fault Lies Not with the Polycrisis
As if we didn’t have enough problems, or, perhaps because we have too many problems, informed opinion now holds the view that we are in the midst of a “polycrisis.” Although not quite a Kobayashi Maru (look that up if you must), polycrisis implies a tsunami of dangers from which there is no obvious safe passage. More than simply a major crisis, or the simultaneous presence of several crises, as Adam Tooze described in his influential 2022 essay, “In the polycrisis the shocks are disparate, but they interact so that the whole is even more overwhelming than the sum of the parts.” In support of this claim Tooze invokes Larry Summers, who today observes “the most complex, disparate and cross-cutting set of challenges that I can remember in the 40 years that I have been paying attention to such things.”
Personally, I find that somewhat reassuring, as Summers, one of the four horsemen of the financial apocalypse responsible for the Global Financial Crisis of 2007-08, is a serial profferer of inaccurate pronouncements. That said, it certainly does seem like we are experiencing “a cluster of distinct and interacting crises whose effects are tending to reinforce each other”—the definition of polycrisis that political economist Eric Helleiner settled on in his inquest into the origins of the term.
it certainly does seem like we are experiencing “a cluster of distinct and interacting crises whose effects are tending to reinforce each other”
How does this matter for the U.S. on the world stage? Is it possible for America to orient and well orchestrate its foreign policy practices in the context of a polycrisis? The good news is that, as the man once said, yes, I think it can be very easily done. The bad news is that it is unlikely to happen.
A polycrisis makes for stormy and unpredictable seas, which is an unwelcome environment for steering the ship of state. But while navigating that maelstrom will prove challenging and tumultuous, the course is relatively straightforward to chart: simply follow the lodestar of the National Interest. Frustrations will still invariably abound – foreign policy is often about making the least bad choice – but that lighthouse in the distance will illuminate the best option available.
What is the national interest? The concept is contestable, and worse, easily misunderstood. The first building blocks are straightforward: security from military attack and conquest by other states, and the ability to retain domestic policy autonomy (as opposed to having it encroached upon by powerful outsiders). But beyond that things become more nuanced.
As Arnold Wolfers observed, “nations engaged in international politics are faced with the problem of survival only on rare occasions.”1 This is especially true for great powers, and even more so for the contemporary U.S. Thus, for most great powers, most of the time, the pursuit of the national interest is designed to advance what Wolfers dubbed “milieu goals”: foreign policy measures undertaken by states to influence world politics in ways that make the international environment conducive to the thriving of their national values, and one in which political allies feel secure and content in their shared affinities.
for most great powers, most of the time, the pursuit of the national interest is designed to advance what Wolfers dubbed “milieu goals”
The policies designed to advance milieu goals – which, again, is what great power foreign policy is all about – are invariably far-sighted, because, in world politics, the road is long. Relatedly, with regard to political allies, in these dark times it is worth remembering that warm and intimate political relationships with friendly powers – often in the form of defensive alliances like NATO and the U.S.-Japan security treaty – serve America’s self-interest well, even by the narrowest metric. Those affiliations enhance American power and influence; the benefits of having the right friends is not to be underestimated. As John Maynard Keynes argued presciently in 1938,
Prime Minister Chamberlain “is not escaping the risks of war. He is only making sure that, when it comes, we shall have no friends and no common cause.”2
America’s alliances are the foundation of what has been the gold standard of grand strategy for nearly a century: that what happens in East Asia and Europe matters. (Actually, the gold standard is a terrible practice—I’m just using it as a figure of speech.) In East Asia, the United States continues to have an interest in preventing any single power from achieving political domination over the entire region. The U.S. is also well served by a Europe that is peaceful, stable, and democratic—a state of affairs more likely to hold in the presence of a sustained U.S. commitment to regional security.
Beyond that, in the context of understanding the limits of its own power and the calculus of its interest, the U.S. shares, with most states, a preference that unanticipated economic, political, and military crises (which will inevitably erupt) not cascade. And, although better insulated than most, America is not immune from the consequences of various calamities of the global commons, nor can it be indifferent to large scale human tragedies, the implications of which rarely respect national borders.
the U.S. shares, with most states, a preference that unanticipated economic, political, and military crises (which will inevitably erupt) not cascade.
So, sure, it’s a polycrisis out there, and unexpected challenges will arise, often bitter trade-offs will be necessary, and imperfect, compromised choices are inevitable. But knowing what you want – that is, following the lodestar of the national interest – will serve as a steady guide to practice, and is suggestive of a far-sighted international engagement, with eyes, always, on the international political consequences of various courses of action.
Just one thing, however. America is unlikely to handle the polycrisis well—for reasons hinted at by Tooze. As he writes, such a setting is “nerve-wracking” and “the diversity of problems is compounded by a growing anxiety.” And, worst of all, “At times one feels as if one is losing one’s sense of reality.” Most students of international relations don’t trot out such variables—but they are needed here. The problem isn’t the polycrisis; the problem is that America is at present quite ill-disposed to handle it.
The problem isn’t the polycrisis; the problem is that America is at present quite ill-disposed to handle it.
Good foreign policy begins at home, and U.S. domestic social-political dysfunction is the Achilles heel of its power. Like France in the 1930s, America is increasingly characterized by what one historian called “The Embrace of Unreason.” “Basically, France didn’t exist any longer,” Raymond Aron recalled, as an eyewitness to that dark decade. “It existed only in the hatred of the French for each other.” This was particularly the case after 1934 (when the February 6 riots in the capitol brought down an elected government), and as the “exacerbation of social conflicts” left “one half of the nation loathing the other.” In that context, both sides saw international political questions through the lenses of that domestic political conflict, and each defined the existential threat as coming from within.
Countries like that tend not to have nuanced, skillfully managed, far-sighted foreign policies. Polycrisis is indeed a cause for alarm—and the least of our problems.
Arnold Wolfers, “Statesmanship and Moral Choice,” World Politics 1:2 (1949), p. 189.
John Maynard Keynes, “A Positive Peace Programme,” New Statesman and Nation, March 25, 1938.