American Exceptionalism Part III: Case for Exceptional Power – Defending the Indefensible

Parts I and II of this series presented the indictment. American exceptionalism becomes difficult to defend when universal principles are applied selectively or when an ally’s strategic priorities become difficult to distinguish from independent American judgement. But an indictment is not a verdict. There is another side, the defence, and it deserves to be presented at its strongest.
The defence begins with an uncomfortable reality: nations may be equal in sovereignty, but they are not equal in power, responsibility or capacity. The international system has no world government capable of stopping aggression, protecting global commerce, deterring nuclear powers or guaranteeing threatened states. International law matters, but law without sufficient power to enforce it can become aspiration rather than protection.
Since the Second World War, the United States has supplied a disproportionate share of that power. American military capabilities have underwritten alliances across Europe and Asia, secured sea lanes and extended a nuclear umbrella that reduced allies’ incentives to develop arsenals of their own. The dollar and American financial institutions have supported much of international commerce.
America has benefited enormously from this arrangement. But self-interest and global benefit are not mutually exclusive. A country can build a system advantageous to itself while providing benefits others cannot easily finance or defend. Hence, the strongest argument for American exceptionalism is that exceptional responsibilities may require exceptional discretion.
Consider the International Criminal Court (ICC). Critics see American resistance to ICC jurisdiction as selective accountability. Yet Washington has a serious counterargument: the United States never ratified the Rome Statute. If sovereignty and democratic consent matter, why should an international institution possess authority the American political system declined to grant it? International institutions can also exceed mandates or become subject to political pressures. From this perspective, resistance can be presented as protection of sovereignty rather than exemption from law.
Likewise, moral consistency does not necessarily require identical treatment of every country. Equality of principle need not mean equality of strategic response. A treaty ally, a geopolitical competitor, an authoritarian adversary and a terrorist organisation are not interchangeable actors. Their intentions, obligations and relationships with Washington differ.
Israel provides the most controversial example. Parts I and II questioned whether America’s protection of Israel compromises universal standards and independent judgement. But the counterargument is straightforward: perhaps Washington supports Israel so strongly because their strategic interests genuinely converge.
Iran has challenged American influence throughout the Middle East, supported armed organisations hostile to American partners, confronted US forces and threatened Israel. An administration may therefore conclude independently that weakening Iran’s military capabilities advances American interests. If Washington reaches that judgement on its own, cooperation with Israel is not evidence of Israeli control. It is an alliance functioning because two countries perceive a common adversary.
Alliance credibility also has strategic value. A security commitment honoured only when inexpensive provides little deterrence. Allies must believe Washington will stand with them when doing so becomes difficult. If the United States abandons a partner whenever criticism intensifies, allies and adversaries may question American guarantees. The costs of entanglement are real, but so are the costs of perceived abandonment.
This exposes a fundamental difference between global thinking and national statecraft. One may desire a world in which every country is constrained identically by universal rules. But an American government is elected primarily to protect American citizens, security and national interests.
Other powers behave similarly. China, Russia, India, Turkey and Saudi Arabia construct foreign policies around their own security, economics and influence. Expecting the United States alone to subordinate national interest to an abstract global interest would itself constitute a peculiar form of exceptionalism.
There is an even more consequential defence of American primacy. The realistic alternative may not be a democratic international community governed impartially by law. It may simply be a world divided among competing great powers. Multipolarity distributes power; it does not necessarily democratise it.
A retreat of American power would not automatically strengthen international institutions or weaker states. It might instead expand spheres of influence in which China, Russia or others exercise their own strategic exceptionalism. The relevant comparison is therefore not always between American hegemony and an ideal international order, but between an American-centred order and realistic alternatives that could be no more restrained and potentially less predictable.
America’s historical record is complicated: it has fought destructive wars, supported authoritarian governments and applied principles selectively. But the other side of the ledger cannot be erased. American power helped defeat fascism, rebuild former enemies, sustain alliances among states that had repeatedly fought one another and provided a security framework within which international commerce and development expanded dramatically. Millions sought entry into America because they believed its institutions offered opportunities unavailable elsewhere. None of this proves that American power is inherently virtuous. It establishes something more modest: American power has produced benefits extending beyond America.
The strongest defence of exceptionalism therefore does not claim that America is always right or that international rules should constrain everyone except Washington. It argues that extraordinary responsibilities, commitments and capabilities inevitably produce a degree of strategic discretion unavailable to countries carrying fewer global burdens.
That argument contains its own danger. Once a nation convinces itself that international stability depends upon its power, almost any exercise of that power can be rationalised as necessary. Exceptional responsibility can become exceptional entitlement; leadership can become hegemony; discretion can become impunity. But acknowledging that danger does not eliminate the defence.
The international system faces an enduring paradox. It needs universal principles because power without rules becomes domination. Yet rules without sufficient power to defend them become declarations without enforcement. The world therefore wants both equality among nations and somebody capable of acting when equality alone cannot preserve order.
American exceptionalism becomes indefensible when exceptional power is treated as evidence of exceptional virtue. But it becomes harder to dismiss when exceptional power carries exceptional responsibilities, costs and risks. The ultimate question is not whether America deserves privilege. No country does. It is whether the international system as it actually exists can function without some concentration of exceptional power and whether realistic alternatives to American primacy would produce a world that is more stable, lawful and just. That is the case for American exceptionalism. It deserves to be heard before the verdict is rendered.

The writer is a former physicist and nuclear engineer at the BAEC and Professor Emeritus of Economics at Eastern Michigan University, USA ([email protected])