chhotemianinshallah
2009-09-21 13:43:49 UTC
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1207803,00.html
Birth Of A Superpower
By Paul Kennedy Sunday, Jun. 25, 2006
The facts were blindingly obvious, claimed the precocious Harvard
graduate in his book The Naval War of 1812, or the History of the
United States Navy During the Last War with Great Britain. First, in
the eternal Darwinian struggle that took place between calculating,
egoistic nation-states, it was essential for one country--in this
case, the U.S. at the close of the 19th century--to avoid "a miserly
economy in preparation for war." And for a state as dependent on sea
power as America, it was unthinkable that the nation "rely for defence
[sic] upon a navy composed partly of antiquated hulks, and partly of
new vessels rather more worthless than the old." The U.S. was rising
to world-power status, but it could do so only on the back of a
powerful and efficient Navy.
Phew! Who was saying this? The writer in question was none other than
Theodore Roosevelt, then a mere 24 years old. He was just a short time
out of college when his book was first published, in 1882, but already
making waves. Here is one of the few examples in recent history--
Churchill is another--of a young, highly ambitious man who could
foresee his own impact on the future international order. From early
on, Churchill seemed to have possessed a premonition that he would
lead his nation and empire in an age of great peril. In much the same
way, T.R. appeared destined--and felt destined--to preside over, and
manage, the U.S.'s emergence as one of the global great powers. He
believed also that his leadership would be decisive because he had
understood, before many of his contemporary political rivals and
friends, the importance of naval power in buttressing the
international position of the U.S.
Roosevelt was, for an American, unusually familiar with naval history.
Two of his uncles, brothers of his Southern-born mother, had been
involved in the Confederate navy in the Civil War. (One of them, James
D. Bulloch, was a Confederate naval agent who commissioned the C.S.S.
Alabama, the famous commerce raider on which his younger brother
Irvine served.) The young Theodore had grown up with stories about
earlier naval battles and eagerly read works on the history of war.
Yet it would be fair to say that his notions about sea power--build
bigger warships, concentrate the fleet--were primitive until the late
1880s, when he was introduced to one of the greatest luminaries of
naval thought, Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan. At the time of their first
meeting, Mahan, then in his late 40s, was giving lectures at the Naval
War College in Newport, R.I., lectures that would culminate in the
1890 publication of his international best seller, The Influence of
Sea Power upon History 1660-1783.
Mahan's book, which Roosevelt devoured in one reading, is at first
sight a detailed account of the many battles fought by the British
Royal Navy as it rose to become sovereign of the seas. But it is much
more than that, for Mahan claimed to have detected the principles that
underlay the workings of sea power, and had determined the rise and
fall of nations. With great skill, the author showed the intimate
relationships among productive industry, flourishing seaborne
commerce, strong national finances and enlightened national purpose.
Great navies did not arise out of thin air; they had to be built up
over time with the most modern warships, well-trained crews and
decisive admirals. Ultimately, though, it was the man or the men at
the top--those steering the nation through war and peace--who had to
understand the great influence that navies could exert on
international politics. Sea power, if properly applied by such
leaders, was the vital tool for any country aspiring to play on the
world stage.
Here was a road map for the rest of T.R.'s life, or at least the part
of it that would be focused on foreign affairs. In Roosevelt's future
naval policies we see the embodiment of Mahan's larger principles.
Moreover, this conjuncture of Mahan the theoretician and Roosevelt the
man of action arrived at just the right time in the history of the
U.S. Its industries were booming, its commerce thriving and its
merchants fighting to gain markets overseas in the face of tough
foreign competition. All of that pointed to the need for a strong
Navy. And, to be sure, the nation was getting one. The fleet was no
longer the dilapidated collection of small warships it had been when
Roosevelt wrote his book about the War of 1812. By the late 1890s, it
could be reckoned among the top four or five in the world.
But it was Roosevelt, more than anyone else, who turned U.S. sea power
into the manifestation of the nation's outward thrust. His first
demonstration of that counts among his most famous decisions. By 1897
he was Assistant Secretary of the Navy, a position in which he could
act out his ambitions, especially since the Secretary, John D. Long,
was a rather sick man and President William McKinley had no great
interest in naval matters. On Feb. 15, 1898, when news arrived of the
sinking in Havana harbor of the U.S.S. Maine--the event that
effectively set off the Spanish-American War--Roosevelt had his
opportunity.
Roosevelt had previously confided in Mahan his belief that the U.S.
should push Spain out of not only Cuba but also the Philippines,
though at the time acquiring the Philippines was by no means a goal of
the McKinley Administration. Ten days after the Maine went down, on a
late Friday afternoon when Long was temporarily out of the office, his
dynamic assistant cabled instructions to Admiral William T. Sampson in
the Caribbean and Commodore George Dewey in Hong Kong to prepare for
decisive action. Long, though by his own account somewhat bemused, did
nothing later to counter those orders. So when Congress declared war
on Spain on April 25, the U.S. squadrons in both theaters had been
heavily reinforced. The results--the destruction of the Spanish fleets
in Manila Bay and, two months later, off Santiago, Cuba--were
decisive. Spain had been reduced to the rank of a minor power, and the
deeply troubled lands of Cuba and the Philippines came under U.S.
sway.
The naval war of 1898 provided the nation with a complete
justification of Mahan's theories. The firepower of the American
battleships had clearly been overwhelming--a great relief to
Roosevelt, who had feared voices in Congress calling instead for lots
of small, coastal-defense vessels. Most impressive of all was the
performance of the new battleship U.S.S. Oregon, which had steamed
from San Francisco to Cuba to partake in the final battle. In fact, so
enthusiastic was Congress about the importance of the Navy that it
authorized the construction of many more battleships and heavy
cruisers.
But the lesson that most impressed itself on Roosevelt was that it had
taken the Oregon, steaming at high speed, a full 67 days to complete
the 14,700-mile journey around Cape Horn. American navalists and
expansionists--and Roosevelt was both--began clamoring for the
construction of a canal across Central America, one that, given the
turbulent nature of international politics, must be completely under
U.S. control. Facing large potential threats in the Atlantic and the
Pacific, the U.S. had no choice but to shorten the route between the
East and West coasts.
The matter was urgent because Roosevelt and his circle were not the
only people who had discovered the influence of sea power on world
affairs. Mahan's lessons from history had had an almost universal
resonance. Under Kaiser Wilhelm II and Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz,
Germany was building a battle fleet as large as the U.S. one and
equally fast. France and Russia, now in alliance, were also pouring
resources into new construction, as were Italy and Austria-Hungary in
the Mediterranean. The most amazing growth, from virtually nowhere,
was that of the Japanese navy in the Far East. And all these growing
fleets caused the British to spend unprecedented amounts on the Royal
Navy in an effort to maintain its centuries-old naval supremacy. The
U.S. could not afford to slacken its pace.
The U.S. navalists need not have worried. Within a short while, in
March 1901, Roosevelt was elected Vice President under McKinley; six
months later, following McKinley's assassination, he was catapulted
into the highest office. As early as 1902 he demonstrated the growing
clout of the U.S. Navy during the so-called Venezuelan crisis.
Venezuela's feckless financial policies and its refusal to pay
international debts had led to a blockade of its coastline by various
European navies, notably Germany's. Urged on by the nationalist wing
of the U.S. press, Roosevelt had instructed Dewey, now an admiral, to
patrol with a large force in waters nearby, ostensibly on seasonal
fleet maneuvers but with an intent that was clear to all.
It was a tactic that seemed to fit perfectly with the President's
motto, "Speak softly, but carry a big stick." Whether it was fully
true, as Roosevelt later claimed, that it was U.S. sea power that
compelled the Germans to back down, is open to some doubt. But with a
compromise debt settlement reached at the Hague, it was becoming clear
that the era of European interventions in the western hemisphere had
come to an end. Long an empty declaration, the Monroe Doctrine, which
had warned Europeans not to interfere in the Americas, was now a
reality as a result of American sea power.
But so, too, as the Latin American states discovered to their dismay,
was the Roosevelt Corollary to that doctrine, which the President
proclaimed in 1904. If we do not want third powers to take action
against wrongdoing regimes in our hemisphere, the President stated,
"then sooner or later we must keep order ourselves." What that meant
was that the U.S. was claiming for itself the right to intervene in
the affairs of hemispheric nations when those nations aroused the
displeasure of Washington.
It was not just the misbehavior of Central and South American
governments that concerned Roosevelt in this volatile region. He was
also eager to prevent any foreigners from gaining a concession to
build the canal that he wanted the U.S. to build. When the Colombian
government turned down a proposed deal for a 100-year lease of
territory in its province of Panama, the President threw his weight--
and the weight of a naval landing party--in favor of one of the
perennial Panamanian uprisings aimed at gaining independence from
Colombia. Twelve days after Washington recognized the new nation of
Panama, in November 1903, it signed with deep satisfaction a canal
treaty with Panama that was identical to the one rejected by Colombia.
While the U.S. was secure now in its Atlantic realms, it was being
forced to increase its attention to China and the Pacific. The U.S.
had long possessed trading and missionary interests in East Asia and
now of course occupied the Philippines, so it naturally had cruisers
and gunboats in those waters. But it was not the biggest player in the
region. Russia, France and Britain had significant battleship
squadrons in the Far East. The fastest-growing naval force of all
belonged to Japan, which was increasingly suspicious of Russia's
creeping territorial controls in Manchuria. In February 1904, Japan
launched a surprise attack on the Russian fleet anchored at Port
Arthur on the coast of China. The 20th century struggle for dominance
of East Asia had begun in earnest.
The Russo-Japanese War was another gift from the gods to Roosevelt. He
had long worried about czarist ambitions in Asia, as he worried about
German ambitions in the Atlantic. He was full of admiration for the
Japanese armed services as they steadily vanquished the larger Russian
armies on land and smashed the Russian fleet in the epic battle of
Tsushima in May 1905. But the President did not want complete Japanese
domination of the Far East either, and so he actively lobbied both
sides to turn to the peace table. Since Britain was diplomatically
allied to Japan, and France to Russia, neither was an acceptable
arbitrator. And the Kaiser's Germany was trusted by no one. By default
the U.S. became the natural mediator. Roosevelt persuaded the two
nations to send representatives to the U.S. for negotiations to be
conducted in Portsmouth, N.H., where he took the deepest interest in
cajoling, often bullying, the two belligerents into ending the war.
For his role, T.R. was awarded the 1906 Nobel Peace Prize.
All the same, the world remained a dangerous place. There were the
German threat to France, the Anglo-German rivalry in the North Sea,
the Balkan tinderbox and the unanswered question of Japan's ultimate
ambitions. Roosevelt decided a bold move was required to send a
message that the U.S. was a global player. In December 1907 he
dispatched from Hampton Roads, Va., the "Great White Fleet,"
consisting of all 16 of the U.S. Navy's modern battleships. They were
embarked on what would be a 46,000-mile, 14-month cruise around the
world. Here was showing the flag, indeed. Almost a century later, that
voyage is still regarded as the apotheosis of Roosevelt's belief in
naval power as an instrument of national policy. The stately
procession across the Pacific and then through the Indian Ocean, Suez
Canal and Mediterranean before returning to the Atlantic seaboard was
an impressive logistical feat, even if it confirmed to the U.S. Navy
the limited endurance of the older battleships and produced a
remarkable number of desertions in Australian ports. But the world
public was not to know of that. A million people had assembled in San
Francisco harbor to watch the fleet depart; half a million Australians
greeted it in Sydney. Even the anxiously prepared visit to Tokyo Bay
had gone well.
A short while after the Great White Fleet's return, Roosevelt
relinquished the presidency. To his successor, William Howard Taft, he
had one message: Do not divide the fleet. The Mahanian principle of
concentrating the main battle fleet in one theater remained in place.
It would still be there in 1914 when the Panama Canal, instigated by
T.R., finally opened. Only during the Second World War, when the U.S.
Navy became the largest in the world, would the U.S. possess a two-
ocean fleet.
But the foundations of its maritime supremacy had been laid, and
firmly, by this most energetic of U.S. Presidents. It is true that
after 1909, the U.S. took a bit of a breather in world affairs,
retreating to the side of the stage as the European crisis unfolded.
But it never stopped building warships. And the country would be
summoned back to the center of international politics in 1917. Despite
the isolationist pressures of the interwar years, the U.S. would never
be able, or willing, to abandon its pivotal role. The country's later
trajectory would have made T.R. feel justified, and proud. He had
always been convinced that it was impossible for the U.S. to avoid
becoming the greatest world power of the 20th century; the only choice
was whether it would do so well or poorly. And the trick was to turn
the theory of Mahan's principles about sea power into effective
practice, for the furtherance of American interests and values. No
U.S. President did that better.
Kennedy is director of International Security Studies at Yale. His
latest book is The Parliament of Man: The Past, Present and Future of
the United Nations (Random House)
...and I am Sid Harth
Birth Of A Superpower
By Paul Kennedy Sunday, Jun. 25, 2006
The facts were blindingly obvious, claimed the precocious Harvard
graduate in his book The Naval War of 1812, or the History of the
United States Navy During the Last War with Great Britain. First, in
the eternal Darwinian struggle that took place between calculating,
egoistic nation-states, it was essential for one country--in this
case, the U.S. at the close of the 19th century--to avoid "a miserly
economy in preparation for war." And for a state as dependent on sea
power as America, it was unthinkable that the nation "rely for defence
[sic] upon a navy composed partly of antiquated hulks, and partly of
new vessels rather more worthless than the old." The U.S. was rising
to world-power status, but it could do so only on the back of a
powerful and efficient Navy.
Phew! Who was saying this? The writer in question was none other than
Theodore Roosevelt, then a mere 24 years old. He was just a short time
out of college when his book was first published, in 1882, but already
making waves. Here is one of the few examples in recent history--
Churchill is another--of a young, highly ambitious man who could
foresee his own impact on the future international order. From early
on, Churchill seemed to have possessed a premonition that he would
lead his nation and empire in an age of great peril. In much the same
way, T.R. appeared destined--and felt destined--to preside over, and
manage, the U.S.'s emergence as one of the global great powers. He
believed also that his leadership would be decisive because he had
understood, before many of his contemporary political rivals and
friends, the importance of naval power in buttressing the
international position of the U.S.
Roosevelt was, for an American, unusually familiar with naval history.
Two of his uncles, brothers of his Southern-born mother, had been
involved in the Confederate navy in the Civil War. (One of them, James
D. Bulloch, was a Confederate naval agent who commissioned the C.S.S.
Alabama, the famous commerce raider on which his younger brother
Irvine served.) The young Theodore had grown up with stories about
earlier naval battles and eagerly read works on the history of war.
Yet it would be fair to say that his notions about sea power--build
bigger warships, concentrate the fleet--were primitive until the late
1880s, when he was introduced to one of the greatest luminaries of
naval thought, Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan. At the time of their first
meeting, Mahan, then in his late 40s, was giving lectures at the Naval
War College in Newport, R.I., lectures that would culminate in the
1890 publication of his international best seller, The Influence of
Sea Power upon History 1660-1783.
Mahan's book, which Roosevelt devoured in one reading, is at first
sight a detailed account of the many battles fought by the British
Royal Navy as it rose to become sovereign of the seas. But it is much
more than that, for Mahan claimed to have detected the principles that
underlay the workings of sea power, and had determined the rise and
fall of nations. With great skill, the author showed the intimate
relationships among productive industry, flourishing seaborne
commerce, strong national finances and enlightened national purpose.
Great navies did not arise out of thin air; they had to be built up
over time with the most modern warships, well-trained crews and
decisive admirals. Ultimately, though, it was the man or the men at
the top--those steering the nation through war and peace--who had to
understand the great influence that navies could exert on
international politics. Sea power, if properly applied by such
leaders, was the vital tool for any country aspiring to play on the
world stage.
Here was a road map for the rest of T.R.'s life, or at least the part
of it that would be focused on foreign affairs. In Roosevelt's future
naval policies we see the embodiment of Mahan's larger principles.
Moreover, this conjuncture of Mahan the theoretician and Roosevelt the
man of action arrived at just the right time in the history of the
U.S. Its industries were booming, its commerce thriving and its
merchants fighting to gain markets overseas in the face of tough
foreign competition. All of that pointed to the need for a strong
Navy. And, to be sure, the nation was getting one. The fleet was no
longer the dilapidated collection of small warships it had been when
Roosevelt wrote his book about the War of 1812. By the late 1890s, it
could be reckoned among the top four or five in the world.
But it was Roosevelt, more than anyone else, who turned U.S. sea power
into the manifestation of the nation's outward thrust. His first
demonstration of that counts among his most famous decisions. By 1897
he was Assistant Secretary of the Navy, a position in which he could
act out his ambitions, especially since the Secretary, John D. Long,
was a rather sick man and President William McKinley had no great
interest in naval matters. On Feb. 15, 1898, when news arrived of the
sinking in Havana harbor of the U.S.S. Maine--the event that
effectively set off the Spanish-American War--Roosevelt had his
opportunity.
Roosevelt had previously confided in Mahan his belief that the U.S.
should push Spain out of not only Cuba but also the Philippines,
though at the time acquiring the Philippines was by no means a goal of
the McKinley Administration. Ten days after the Maine went down, on a
late Friday afternoon when Long was temporarily out of the office, his
dynamic assistant cabled instructions to Admiral William T. Sampson in
the Caribbean and Commodore George Dewey in Hong Kong to prepare for
decisive action. Long, though by his own account somewhat bemused, did
nothing later to counter those orders. So when Congress declared war
on Spain on April 25, the U.S. squadrons in both theaters had been
heavily reinforced. The results--the destruction of the Spanish fleets
in Manila Bay and, two months later, off Santiago, Cuba--were
decisive. Spain had been reduced to the rank of a minor power, and the
deeply troubled lands of Cuba and the Philippines came under U.S.
sway.
The naval war of 1898 provided the nation with a complete
justification of Mahan's theories. The firepower of the American
battleships had clearly been overwhelming--a great relief to
Roosevelt, who had feared voices in Congress calling instead for lots
of small, coastal-defense vessels. Most impressive of all was the
performance of the new battleship U.S.S. Oregon, which had steamed
from San Francisco to Cuba to partake in the final battle. In fact, so
enthusiastic was Congress about the importance of the Navy that it
authorized the construction of many more battleships and heavy
cruisers.
But the lesson that most impressed itself on Roosevelt was that it had
taken the Oregon, steaming at high speed, a full 67 days to complete
the 14,700-mile journey around Cape Horn. American navalists and
expansionists--and Roosevelt was both--began clamoring for the
construction of a canal across Central America, one that, given the
turbulent nature of international politics, must be completely under
U.S. control. Facing large potential threats in the Atlantic and the
Pacific, the U.S. had no choice but to shorten the route between the
East and West coasts.
The matter was urgent because Roosevelt and his circle were not the
only people who had discovered the influence of sea power on world
affairs. Mahan's lessons from history had had an almost universal
resonance. Under Kaiser Wilhelm II and Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz,
Germany was building a battle fleet as large as the U.S. one and
equally fast. France and Russia, now in alliance, were also pouring
resources into new construction, as were Italy and Austria-Hungary in
the Mediterranean. The most amazing growth, from virtually nowhere,
was that of the Japanese navy in the Far East. And all these growing
fleets caused the British to spend unprecedented amounts on the Royal
Navy in an effort to maintain its centuries-old naval supremacy. The
U.S. could not afford to slacken its pace.
The U.S. navalists need not have worried. Within a short while, in
March 1901, Roosevelt was elected Vice President under McKinley; six
months later, following McKinley's assassination, he was catapulted
into the highest office. As early as 1902 he demonstrated the growing
clout of the U.S. Navy during the so-called Venezuelan crisis.
Venezuela's feckless financial policies and its refusal to pay
international debts had led to a blockade of its coastline by various
European navies, notably Germany's. Urged on by the nationalist wing
of the U.S. press, Roosevelt had instructed Dewey, now an admiral, to
patrol with a large force in waters nearby, ostensibly on seasonal
fleet maneuvers but with an intent that was clear to all.
It was a tactic that seemed to fit perfectly with the President's
motto, "Speak softly, but carry a big stick." Whether it was fully
true, as Roosevelt later claimed, that it was U.S. sea power that
compelled the Germans to back down, is open to some doubt. But with a
compromise debt settlement reached at the Hague, it was becoming clear
that the era of European interventions in the western hemisphere had
come to an end. Long an empty declaration, the Monroe Doctrine, which
had warned Europeans not to interfere in the Americas, was now a
reality as a result of American sea power.
But so, too, as the Latin American states discovered to their dismay,
was the Roosevelt Corollary to that doctrine, which the President
proclaimed in 1904. If we do not want third powers to take action
against wrongdoing regimes in our hemisphere, the President stated,
"then sooner or later we must keep order ourselves." What that meant
was that the U.S. was claiming for itself the right to intervene in
the affairs of hemispheric nations when those nations aroused the
displeasure of Washington.
It was not just the misbehavior of Central and South American
governments that concerned Roosevelt in this volatile region. He was
also eager to prevent any foreigners from gaining a concession to
build the canal that he wanted the U.S. to build. When the Colombian
government turned down a proposed deal for a 100-year lease of
territory in its province of Panama, the President threw his weight--
and the weight of a naval landing party--in favor of one of the
perennial Panamanian uprisings aimed at gaining independence from
Colombia. Twelve days after Washington recognized the new nation of
Panama, in November 1903, it signed with deep satisfaction a canal
treaty with Panama that was identical to the one rejected by Colombia.
While the U.S. was secure now in its Atlantic realms, it was being
forced to increase its attention to China and the Pacific. The U.S.
had long possessed trading and missionary interests in East Asia and
now of course occupied the Philippines, so it naturally had cruisers
and gunboats in those waters. But it was not the biggest player in the
region. Russia, France and Britain had significant battleship
squadrons in the Far East. The fastest-growing naval force of all
belonged to Japan, which was increasingly suspicious of Russia's
creeping territorial controls in Manchuria. In February 1904, Japan
launched a surprise attack on the Russian fleet anchored at Port
Arthur on the coast of China. The 20th century struggle for dominance
of East Asia had begun in earnest.
The Russo-Japanese War was another gift from the gods to Roosevelt. He
had long worried about czarist ambitions in Asia, as he worried about
German ambitions in the Atlantic. He was full of admiration for the
Japanese armed services as they steadily vanquished the larger Russian
armies on land and smashed the Russian fleet in the epic battle of
Tsushima in May 1905. But the President did not want complete Japanese
domination of the Far East either, and so he actively lobbied both
sides to turn to the peace table. Since Britain was diplomatically
allied to Japan, and France to Russia, neither was an acceptable
arbitrator. And the Kaiser's Germany was trusted by no one. By default
the U.S. became the natural mediator. Roosevelt persuaded the two
nations to send representatives to the U.S. for negotiations to be
conducted in Portsmouth, N.H., where he took the deepest interest in
cajoling, often bullying, the two belligerents into ending the war.
For his role, T.R. was awarded the 1906 Nobel Peace Prize.
All the same, the world remained a dangerous place. There were the
German threat to France, the Anglo-German rivalry in the North Sea,
the Balkan tinderbox and the unanswered question of Japan's ultimate
ambitions. Roosevelt decided a bold move was required to send a
message that the U.S. was a global player. In December 1907 he
dispatched from Hampton Roads, Va., the "Great White Fleet,"
consisting of all 16 of the U.S. Navy's modern battleships. They were
embarked on what would be a 46,000-mile, 14-month cruise around the
world. Here was showing the flag, indeed. Almost a century later, that
voyage is still regarded as the apotheosis of Roosevelt's belief in
naval power as an instrument of national policy. The stately
procession across the Pacific and then through the Indian Ocean, Suez
Canal and Mediterranean before returning to the Atlantic seaboard was
an impressive logistical feat, even if it confirmed to the U.S. Navy
the limited endurance of the older battleships and produced a
remarkable number of desertions in Australian ports. But the world
public was not to know of that. A million people had assembled in San
Francisco harbor to watch the fleet depart; half a million Australians
greeted it in Sydney. Even the anxiously prepared visit to Tokyo Bay
had gone well.
A short while after the Great White Fleet's return, Roosevelt
relinquished the presidency. To his successor, William Howard Taft, he
had one message: Do not divide the fleet. The Mahanian principle of
concentrating the main battle fleet in one theater remained in place.
It would still be there in 1914 when the Panama Canal, instigated by
T.R., finally opened. Only during the Second World War, when the U.S.
Navy became the largest in the world, would the U.S. possess a two-
ocean fleet.
But the foundations of its maritime supremacy had been laid, and
firmly, by this most energetic of U.S. Presidents. It is true that
after 1909, the U.S. took a bit of a breather in world affairs,
retreating to the side of the stage as the European crisis unfolded.
But it never stopped building warships. And the country would be
summoned back to the center of international politics in 1917. Despite
the isolationist pressures of the interwar years, the U.S. would never
be able, or willing, to abandon its pivotal role. The country's later
trajectory would have made T.R. feel justified, and proud. He had
always been convinced that it was impossible for the U.S. to avoid
becoming the greatest world power of the 20th century; the only choice
was whether it would do so well or poorly. And the trick was to turn
the theory of Mahan's principles about sea power into effective
practice, for the furtherance of American interests and values. No
U.S. President did that better.
Kennedy is director of International Security Studies at Yale. His
latest book is The Parliament of Man: The Past, Present and Future of
the United Nations (Random House)
...and I am Sid Harth