How Great Powers Fall Apart

Authored by Charles Hugh Smith via OfTwoMinds blog,

We’re humoring our self-delusion.

How do great powers come undone? We can start with a destructive force without equal: self-delusion.

Emperor Norton comes to mind in this context. In 1859, in the Gold Rush-enriched city of San Francisco, Joshua Norton, a bankrupt businessman, declared himself “Emperor of these United States” in a proclamation that he signed “Norton I, Emperor of the United States.”

This grandiosity played well in the rough and tumble “get rich quick, then lose it all” zeitgeist of San Francisco, and rather than be abused or disabused, Norton was “treated deferentially in San Francisco and elsewhere in California, and currency issued in his name was honored in some of the establishments he frequented.”

In other words, his self-delusion was humored. On a grand scale, the same can be said of Great Powers: they humor their own self-delusion.

The progression of a Great Power from self-delusion to collapse was insightfully traced out by Soviet dissident Andrei Amalrik in the late 1960s, when Amalrik predicted the collapse of the Soviet Union, the lone voice to make such a bold prediction at the apex of Soviet power.

Amalrik’s analysis was nuanced, drawing upon the human weaknesses that blind us to our own self-deception and rosy assumptions. Chief among these is the comforting belief that “it will all work out because it’s always worked out before,” an assumption that blinds us to the extraordinary nature of the crisis and the decay that we avoid recognizing beneath the surface of normal life.

Amalrik noted that the primary motivation of the various classes and interest groups was self-preservation, seeking to maintain whatever each faction currently held in terms of wealth and power. The misguided assumption made by all was that the system was so stable and powerful that they didn’t need to concern themselves with anything beyond securing their position in the system.

As the system destabilizes, nobody notices because they’re focused solely on the infighting borne of self-preservation.

He was also alert to the government’s role in mediating the forces seeking to suppress reforms as dangers to the status quo and those seeking to force reforms on a sclerotic systems, and how seemingly small policy decisions can grease the skids to rapidly unfolding crises few imagined were even possible.

One of Amalrik’s analytic techniques is both novel and insightful. This excerpt from How a Great Power Falls Apart: Decline Is Invisible From the Inside explains the concept of working backward from whatever outcome seems unlikely or even impossible:

Amalrik also provided a kind of blueprint for analytic alienation. It is actually possible, he suggested, to think your way through the end of days. The method is to practice living with the most unlikely outcome you can fathom and then to work backward, systematically and carefully, from the what-if to the ‘here’s-why.’ The point isn’t to pick one’s evidence to fit a particular conclusion. It is rather to jolt oneself out of the assumption of linear change–to consider, for a moment, how some future historian might recast implausible concerns as inevitable ones.”

Catastrophic outcomes are considered impossible because the status quo views itself as already having the means to handle any crisis. There’s nothing to be learned from others and no reason to even ponder unlikely outcomes, and this creates a toxic blend of hubris and blindness.

“Society was becoming more complicated, more riven with difference, more demanding of the state but less convinced that the state could deliver. What was left was a political system far weaker than anyone–even those committed to its renewal–was able to recognize.”

Those in power reckon they have the means to deal with any problem. Suppress dissent, buy off a troublesome constituency, print more money, etc. This confidence reflects the dominant political mythologies of the Great Power and its people. Reformers believe the status quo is capable of systemic reform, those resisting reform believe the system will endure without any reforms, and both are disconnected from reality: the status quo is no longer capable of real reforms, and left on autopilot, it is heading off a cliff.

“Amalrik offered a technique for suspending one’s deepest political mythologies and posing questions that might seem, here and now, to lie at the frontier of crankery.

The powerful aren’t accustomed to thinking this way. But in the lesser places, among the dissidents and the displaced, people have had to be skilled in the art of self-inquiry. How much longer should we stay? What do we put in the suitcase? Here or there, how can I be of use? In life, as in politics, the antidote to hopelessness isn’t hope. It’s planning.”

I often refer to author Ray Huang’s summary of how the mighty Ming Dynasty fell apart:

“The year 1587 may seem to be insignificant; nevertheless, it is evident by that time the limit for the Ming dynasty had already been reached. It no longer mattered whether the ruler was conscientious or irresponsible, whether his chief counselor was enterprising or conformist, whether the generals were resourceful or incompetent, whether the civil officials were honest or corrupt, or whether the leading thinkers were radicals or conservatives–in the end they all failed to reach fulfillment.”

Nothing is as it seems. As correspondent Ray W. so presciently observed some years ago, “It is axiomatic that failing systems work the best just before they fail catastrophically.”

Put another way, we’re humoring our self-delusion.

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