At its most exemplary, conservative nationalism is a democratically oriented and civic form of patriotism, a love of a particular place, maintaining that the world is best governed by independent nation-states and that only within the context of such states can a free citizenry experiment with constitutional forms of self-rule. In foreign policy, conservative nationalists focus on preserving and promoting their own country’s interests, rights, values, security, traditions, and way of life, in the belief that it is entirely legitimate to do so. Within the United States, a kind of conservative American nationalism was the mainstream bipartisan political and foreign policy tradition for most of the country’s history. But America’s Founders also hoped that the nation’s example of popular self-government would eventually spread worldwide, and they saw no contradiction between holding out that hope, or even pressing it forward, and preserving U.S. national sovereignty.
Partisan political debate over the precise foreign policy implications of American nationalism was evident from the start. Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton agreed on American exceptionalism, U.S. sovereignty, and the long-term expansion of republican governments. They did not agree on the foreign policy implications. Whereas Jefferson envisioned the United States as a vast, decentralized, agrarian republic, Hamilton looked to encourage a centralized treasury and nascent American manufacturing, along with the other apparatus of state power in the international arena, including a professionalized armed forces. During the 1790s, Jefferson tended to sympathize with revolutionary France; Hamilton, with Great Britain. It was precisely these differences between Jefferson and Federalists such as Hamilton that Washington hoped to quell in issuing his Farewell Address. To his mind, one advantage of non-entanglement overseas was the avoidance of domestic factional hostility inside the United States.
Each round of 19th century American territorial expansion was typically characterized by some significant internal debate over whether such expansion was constitutional, cost-effective, or appropriate. These genuine philosophical differences were often bound up with sectional interests and party politics—along with support of, or opposition to, individual presidents. And presidents sometimes acted aggressively to direct American territorial expansion. Jefferson, for example, decried the centralization of executive authority, but when the opportunity presented itself in 1803 to purchase the vast Louisiana territory from France, he freely did so, admitting that he had stretched the Constitution until it cracked. Later waves of attempted territorial expansion and U.S. warfare against Britain, Mexico, and Native American tribes brought intense controversy and debate, pitting those Americans who favored expansion against those who did not. Both sides often argued that the other was betraying U.S. founding principles. And yet America’s nationalist foreign policy consensus held firm. It was a heated dispute between partisans who shared the same underlying premises.
Republicans, for their part, had grave concerns about Wilson’s liberal internationalist vision from the beginning, along with its domestic implications. But they disagreed over how far exactly to correct or resist it. In particular, they were divided between hawkish forms of conservative American nationalism and more non-interventionist versions. As of 1918-19, the most common foreign policy view among Republican senators favored a limited postwar alliance with France and Great Britain. But the final outcome of the League debate was essentially a victory for non-interventionists like Senator Robert LaFollette. That outcome underpinned GOP foreign policy approaches throughout the 1920s and into the opening years of World War II. Then Republicans again divided, with one side arguing for U.S. aid to Great Britain against Nazi Germany and the other side opposing it. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor settled that debate in favor of the GOP’s foreign policy hawks.
The rise of the Soviet Union after World War II reinforced the new predominance of national security hawks within the GOP. Strict non-interventionists were marginalized. But in reality, many conservative nationalists had to be dragged into a set of postwar U.S. commitments overseas, and the only thing that ensured their support was a fierce anti-Communism. No subsequent Republican president could entirely ignore the continued force of conservative American nationalism at the grassroots level, and most achieved political and policy success by incorporating aspects of it into their overall approach. The manner in which they did so varied considerably from one president to the next. Those who failed to strike effective balances on this score—such as Senator Barry Goldwater, the Republican presidential nominee in 1964—tended to lose elections, whatever their other virtues.
In the immediate aftermath of the Cold War, the most common Republican feeling with regard to the party’s foreign policy record was one of satisfaction. But already in the 1990s, non-interventionists had resurfaced, led by social conservative Pat Buchanan, on the one hand, and libertarian Ron Paul, on the other. Though they seemed marginal at the time, over the long run, these voices—and Buchanan’s, in particular—proved prophetic. President George W. Bush managed to rally most hardline GOP nationalists to his policy of a War on Terror, combined with the 2003 invasion of Iraq and a “freedom agenda” for the Middle East. But frustrations in Iraq raised some obvious criticisms, and once Bush left office the GOP again splintered into its most basic divisions. In 2016, insurgent candidate Donald Trump took advantage of these divisions to do what had previously seemed impossible—upend the dominance of foreign policy hawks in favor of other approaches. The actual foreign policy of the Trump administration, however, was a hybrid or mixture of these tendencies.
To be specific: history never ended. Historically normal patterns of strategic competition, international conflict, and great-power politics never entirely disappeared. Authoritarian powers both large and small discovered new ways to adapt and survive. And contrary to post-Cold War expectations, the major powers of the world did not all converge upon a single liberal democratic model or ideal. If anything, the 21st century has seen a resurgence of great power competition. The conclusion of the Cold War did not bring an end to geopolitical realities. It only reconfigured them.
For conservative nationalists, as for all Americans, the realization that progress is not inevitable, and that history has not ended, ought to lead to a shift in foreign policy emphases. Expanding international cooperation and human rights are both worthy goals, but neither in itself can be the starting point for U.S. grand strategy. Greater weight must be placed on supporting America’s allies and pushing back against its rivals and adversaries within an internationally competitive environment. The answer is not to disengage. Nor is to think that rivals can be lectured into accommodation—much less blasted away in a burst of regime change. Rather, the answer is for the United States to prepare for steady, long-term, robust competition with a range of serious competitors—above all, China—so as to better protect existing democracies against a variety of threats. What is required is a carefully calibrated and tough-minded politics of prudence.
U.S. diplomatic efforts should start with traditional alliances, rather than obvious competitors. There is little point in being half-hearted while protecting American primacy. But there is also no need to prioritize strategies of preventive war or regime change as uppermost doctrinally, since unsuccessful interventions overseas only serve to undermine broader U.S. interests. The default preference should be regionally differentiated strategies of attrition, assertive containment, and peace through strength. Transformational global projects or promises from all directions must now be met with considerable skepticism. Today’s great challenge is not to promote or transform any progressive world order but simply to defend existing democracies. The United States remains much stronger than some believe. If it pursues tough-minded foreign policy approaches, tapping into its profound capabilities, it can outlast its challengers and succeed. That will involve a bringing together of confidence and self-restraint, in the best traditions of American foreign policy.