The ugly American
When Bush arrives in Rome for the start of a series of meetings with
European leaders, it won't exactly be la dolce vita.

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By Charles A. Kupchan SALON



June 2, 2004 | President Bush heads to Europe this week, the beginning of
a monthlong diplomatic whirlwind. He starts with a visit to Rome to see the
pope and Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, heads to France for the
60th anniversary of D-Day, returns to Sea Island, Ga., for the G-8 summit of
major industrialized nations and then goes back to Europe for summits with
the European Union in Ireland and with NATO in Turkey.

Ordinarily, a first-term incumbent in the homestretch of his bid for
reelection would relish a month of high-profile summitry. Americans like
their president to be presidential, and globe-trotting on Air Force One
usually fits the bill.

But these events will be anything but an opportunity for Bush to revel in
diplomatic achievements. The gathering in Normandy is meant to celebrate
America's strategic bond with Europe, but holding a eulogy for the Atlantic
alliance would be more fitting. The leaders of the G-8 nations will no doubt
maintain a facade of unity and declare their shared commitment to bringing
about political reform in the Middle East, but only by skirting around the
immediate crises in Iraq and in the Palestinian-Israeli peace process. At
both the E.U. and NATO summits, Bush will be greeted by leaders and publics
alike that are deeply skeptical and resentful of Washington's bravado and
bluster.

Europe today is home to a rising tide of angry anti-American sentiment.
Recent polling by the Pew Research Center indicates that almost two-thirds
of the public in France and Germany hold an "unfavorable" opinion of the
United States. America's standing in the world has plummeted under Bush's
watch, and the Atlantic alliance has been stretched to the breaking point.

Although the Iraq war is the most prominent cause, the story starts well
before the fall of Baghdad and the chaotic occupation that followed it. The
Atlantic alliance was born amid the bloodshed of World War II, when the
world's democracies joined arms to defeat Nazism and fascism. It held fast
during the long years of the Cold War, successfully containing the Soviet
Union until the communist bloc collapsed of its own accord. On this side of
the Atlantic, the task of caring for the West fell to a bipartisan coalition
of centrist Republicans and Democrats, cobbled together by FDR during the
war. The progressive internationalism that resulted brought a commitment to
multilateralism and compromise that legitimized U.S. power through the
second half of the 20th century.

The Atlantic alliance first began to weaken after the Cold War, a victim of
its own success in ending Europe's geopolitical division. Absent a common
threat, Europe became less willing to follow America's lead. And with
Europe's major powers at peace, U.S. priorities shifted to Asia and the
Middle East. The cracks in the alliance became clear amid its lethargic and
tortured efforts to bring peace to the Balkans during the 1990s.

But now, the United States and Europe are not just lapsed partners; they
have become open rivals. Some of America's harshest critics are its
traditional democratic allies in Europe. In turn, Washington has lost its
enthusiasm for European unity, now resisting what has been a fundamental
goal of U.S. foreign policy since the end of World War II. How did it come
to this? How could decades of partnership so readily give way to
estrangement?

The main source of the friction is the Bush administration's lasting embrace
of a unilateralist approach, which has cost America its legitimacy in the
eyes of the world. Unchecked by the moderating influence of institutions and
allies, a reassuring restraint in American leadership has given way to an
alienating excess.

The bipartisan coalition that for decades underwrote liberal
internationalism started to come undone well before Bush took office.
Although President Clinton was a committed multilateralist, Republican
control of Congress and domestic politics thwarted a series of international
pacts that Clinton supported.

The unilateralism intensified dramatically as soon as Bush occupied the
White House. The Republican Party's internationalist wing -- the likes of
Henry Kissinger, the elder Bush and his former national security advisor,
Brent Scowcroft -- still wields influence, but no longer power. Soon after
taking office, Bush reveled in his rejection of the Kyoto Protocol, the
International Criminal Court and the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty.

Although America and Europe were on a collision course before al-Qaida's
attacks on New York and Washington, the angry vulnerability bred by 9/11
made matters much worse. Bush might have capitalized on the outpouring of
sympathy in Europe. For the first time in its history, NATO invoked its
collective defense clause, with America's European allies ready to
participate in the war in Afghanistan. "Thanks, but no thanks" was the
response from Washington.

The resulting pique in Europe only mounted as the Bush administration,
satisfied -- erroneously -- that it had dealt a debilitating blow to the
Taliban and al-Qaida, set its sights on Saddam Hussein. Led by France and
Germany, the antiwar coalition in Europe contended that an invasion of Iraq
would set back, not advance, the fight against terrorism and that it would
flame rather than tame Islamic fervor across the Middle East. Although a few
European governments -- the British, Spanish, Italian and Polish most
prominent among them -- backed Bush's decision to invade Iraq, public
opinion, even in the countries that supported the U.S., was decidedly
opposed to the war.

Since the fall of Hussein, Europe's pro-war coalition has markedly weakened
for a number of reasons. First, Washington's main justifications for the war
quickly evaporated, and, instead, the region is in turmoil and al-Qaida
recruitment has jumped. Second, the current violence and chaos in Iraq look
much more like occupation than liberation. Finally, the prisoner abuse
scandal has provoked outrage across Europe, drying up what little sympathy
remained.

Thus far, Spain, deeply shaken by the Madrid bombings, is the only major
member of the military coalition in Iraq to head for the exits. But British
Prime Minister Tony Blair is fighting for his political life as a result of
his relationship with Bush and his support for the war. And Italy's
center-left opposition is now calling for the withdrawal of Italian troops
from Iraq, making Berlusconi's government increasingly unstable.

Poland's prime minister, a supporter of the war, has already stepped down,
and President Alexander Kwasniewski is at pains to demonstrate the war's
benefits to his electorate. Polish troops are dying in Iraq, Polish firms
have yet to receive major reconstruction contracts and Bush has repeatedly
rebuffed Kwasniewski's requests that Washington grant Polish tourists
visa-free access to the United States.

Bush will arrive in Rome on Friday hoping to resuscitate the Atlantic
alliance and get more European help in Iraq -- worthy objectives whose
accomplishment would certainly shore up his bid for reelection in November.
But he will have no such luck. Instead, he will find a Europe that has no
intention whatsoever of bailing him out of the quagmire in Iraq.

At least as troubling, the president will find a Europe that has grown not
just anti-Bush, but decidedly anti-American. During a recent visit to
Europe, I met an anxious American father who has been living in Germany for
over a decade. His children attend local public schools. They are now being
taunted and isolated at school because they are Americans. Two weeks ago, a
friend entered a dance club in Berlin wearing a pin showing the German and
U.S. flags side by side. She was turned away by the bouncer, who announced
that he was no fan of German-American friendship.

These are sad commentaries on the damage the Bush administration has done
and could potentially still do to America's image abroad. If younger
Europeans come of age with anti-American attitudes, the task of rescuing the
Atlantic alliance -- to whomever it falls -- may well be out of reach.

Is this a "mission accomplished"?