| Publication |
2014.
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| Summary/Abstract |
I had never been a big fan of American exceptionalism. It was too self-referential, self-identifying, self-focused for my personal comfort. Then one bitterly cold day in February 1994, I was wandering through the open-air market in Sarajevo. The market had been hit by a single mortar round the previous weekend and sixty-eight people had been killed. Holes made by fragments from the 120-mm shell were still visible in the asphalt.
As I stared at the gouged surface in my battle dress and parka, Sarajevans began to come up to me, point to the small American flag on my upper sleeve, give a hesitant thumbs-up gesture, and whisper, almost prayerfully, "USA, USA."
Edward Snowden's leaks have fixated the media and the public on privacy and espionage, but the larger and more complex debate on protecting American security in the 21st century has been wanting.
At that point it became clear to me that it mattered less whether I thought America was exceptional. What mattered was that many people around the world thought that we were, and expected us to act accordingly. In many ways this is less something we have earned or even want, and more the product of historical circumstance. But a burden has clearly been ours, and when it is no longer ours the best judgment we can hope for is something along the lines of "As global hegemons go, these guys weren't bad." Now, under President Obama, the United States is involved in a redefinition or at least a recalibration of that exceptional role.
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