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A newly released edition of Niebuhr's classic work The Irony of American History suggests the breadth of the problem. The new edition is framed by a polemical introduction by Andrew Bacevich, who has emerged as one of the leading figures among the principled critics of U.S. foreign policy. Bacevich writes with the authority of a career soldier (now retired, he's a professor at Boston University) whose own son was killed in action in Iraq, and his critique is informed by his Catholic faith. In his introduction, Bacevich underscores Niebuhr's condemnation of utopian politics, only to swiftly—and, alas, crudely—apply it to the Bush White House. "The illusions of Osama bin Laden find their parallel in the illusions of George W. Bush," Bacevich writes. "Each of these two protagonists is intent on radically changing the Middle East. Neither will succeed, but in their efforts they engage in a de facto collaboration that causes enormous mischief and suffering."
A genuine grasp of Niebuhrian realism might have prevented some of the wretched mistakes of the Bush Administration regarding Iraq. But would Niebuhr accuse the White House of a "de facto collaboration" with Osama bin Laden because of the decision to topple the Stalin of the Arab world? Hardly. For all of Niebuhr's criticism of America's self-congratulatory democratic creed, he reserved his most caustic rebuke for the moral equivocators.
Indeed, Niebuhr broke with his socialist and pacifist colleagues precisely because of their "pretense" (his word) to moral purity in the face of rising totalitarianisms. In a collection of essays published in 1940, Christianity and Power Politics, he excoriated liberal ministers and activists who saw little difference between fascist aggression and the "imperialism" of the democratic cultures of the United States and Great Britain. "Whatever may be the moral ambiguities of the so-called democratic nations," he wrote, "it is sheer moral perversity to equate the inconsistencies of a democratic civilization with the brutalities which modern tyrannical States practice." This posture of "Christian perfectionism"—what Niebuhr called a secular heresy—always plays into the hands of despots.
For those with ears to hear, the same complaint can be detected in The Irony of American History. It is true, Niebuhr wrote, that the United States has nurtured "illusions of innocency" with regards to its history and foreign policy. Even America's noblest moments have been tinged with self-deception and self-interest, and always will be. "We take, and must continue to take, morally hazardous actions to preserve our civilization."
Nevertheless, the preservation of American democracy was the first order of business. Niebuhr's book appeared at the start of the Cold War, when many on the Left were still enamored with communism. Yet Niebuhr looked behind the Iron Curtain and saw a "demonic religio-political creed" which "generates more extravagant forms of political injustice and cruelty out of the pretensions of innocency than we have ever known in human history." Niebuhr's unswerving recognition of the universality of human guilt barred any nation from claiming absolute goodness, but that did not keep him from naming the forces of darkness. This clear-sighted appraisal of the "monstrous evils of communism" with its "noxious virulence of unparalleled proportions" sets the context for Niebuhr's argument in The Irony of American History.
To obscure this reality, Niebuhr implied, was to retreat into a dystopia of moral confusion, complacency, and appeasement. Like it or not, America bore responsibilities in the world. Though it could never wield its power without implicating itself in sin, "the disavowal of the responsibilities of power can involve an individual or nation in even more grievous guilt."
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