The Post-American World - Fareed Zakaria [80]
Ultimately, the base of American power—a vibrant American society—was its greatest strength and its weakness. It produced America’s gigantic economy and dynamic culture. But it also made its rise halting, its course erratic, and its involvement on the world stage always fragile. Perhaps India will have a similar experience: it will have a society able to respond superbly to the opportunities of a globalized world, one that will grow and prosper in the global economy and society. But India’s political system is weak and porous and thus not well equipped to play its rightful role in this new world. A series of crises might change all this, but absent a shock to the system, India’s society will stay ahead of the Indian state in the new global game.
This tension between society and the state persists in America to this day. In fact, it’s worth keeping in mind as we turn to the single most important player in the twenty-first century and ask how America itself will react to a post-American world.
6
American Power
On June 22, 1897, about four hundred million people around the world, one-fourth of humanity, got the day off. It was the sixtieth anniversary of Queen Victoria’s ascension to the British throne. The Diamond Jubilee stretched over five days on land and sea, but its high point was the parade and thanksgiving service on June 22. The eleven premiers of Britain’s self-governing colonies were in attendance, along with princes, dukes, ambassadors, and envoys from the rest of the world. A military procession of fifty thousand soldiers included hussars from Canada, cavalrymen from New South Wales, carabineers from Naples, camel troops from Bikaner, Gurkhas from Nepal, and many, many others. It was, as one historian wrote, “a Roman moment.”
The jubilee was marked with great fanfare in every corner of the empire. “In Hyderabad every tenth convict was set free,” wrote James Morris. “There was a grand ball at Rangoon, a dinner at the Sultan’s palace in Zanzibar, a salute of gunboats in Table Bay, a ‘monster Sunday-school treat’ at Freetown, a performance of the Hallelujah Chorus in Happy Valley at Hong Kong.” Bangalore erected a statue of the queen, and Vishakapattnam got a new town hall. In Singapore, a statue of Sir Stamford Raffles was placed in the middle of Padang, and a fountain was built in the middle of the public gardens in Shanghai (not even a colony). Ten thousand schoolchildren marched through the streets of Ottawa waving British flags. And on and on.1
Back in London, young Arnold Toynbee, an eight-year-old boy, was perched on his uncle’s shoulders, eagerly watching the parade. Toynbee, who grew up to become the most famous historian of his age, recalled that watching the grandeur of the day it felt as if the sun were “standing still in the midst of Heaven, as it had once stood still there at the bidding of Joshua.” “I remember the atmosphere,” he wrote. “It was: ‘Well, here we are on top of the world, and we have arrived at this peak to stay there forever. There is, of course, a thing called history, but history is something unpleasant that happens to other people. We are comfortably outside all of that I am sure.’”2
But, of course, history did happen to Britain. The question for the superpower of our own age is, Will history happen to America as well? Is it already happening?