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The U.S. is the sole superpower, the only state that is a global heavyweight in every category of power that matters for international relations—hard (coercive) and soft (cooptive) power, diplomatic and cultural, economic and military. This was more true before the spectacular financial collapse of 2008-09. But it is still true today, though there is serious debate about how much lasting damage the bursting of the financial bubble will do to the American economy and, thus, to American international standing.
Twenty-five years ago, the long-term prognosis might have been grimmer. Although President Ronald Reagan had been reelected on the promise that it was morning in America, in fact the Doomsday Clock indicated it was just three minutes to midnight. The U.S. and the Soviet Union were locked in a seemingly permanent nuclear arms race. Even if we were lucky enough to avoid nuclear Armageddon, many scholars believed that the U.S. was the victim of what historian Paul Kennedy has called "imperial overstretch," that the combination of Reagan's economic, military, and foreign policies would surely usher in an American decline like that of other great powers before it. Few thought the Soviet Union would collapse; many thought China might rise (albeit not as quickly as it has); and almost everyone believed that the big winner would be Japan. It didn't work out that way.
Thus, it is wise to take predictions of American doom (or American boom) with a grain of salt. That does not mean forecasting is a fool's errand. In theory, forecasts about the future should guide the "grand strategy" of a state—the plan leaders develop that takes into account where they are in the world, the challenges and opportunities they confront, and where they would like to be. Though it happens less often in real life than in academic seminars, long-range forecasts do shift grand strategies.
Nixon and Kissinger, for instance, quite deliberately pursued a grand strategy aimed at turning the bipolar U.S.-Soviet rivalry into a tri-polar game in which China tilted toward us. This was based on their conviction that there was an opportunity for such a gambit—the Sino-Soviet bloc was an unhappy marriage of rivals—and their fear that the U.S. would lose out in the long run if it didn't seize the opportunity.
President George W. Bush's grand strategy in Asia was similarly shaped by long-term forecasting. The Bush administration sought to deal with China's likely rise over the next several decades by giving it an equity stake in the existing global order—seeking to make it a "responsible stakeholder" that benefited from, rather than chafed at, existing rules of the game. (For example, the U.S. backed China's entry into the powerful World Trade Organization, despite concerns about China's trade policies, hoping the reward would also be a lever to nudge China away from mercantilist policies.)
Likewise, Bush sought to deal with the likely rise of India (and to hedge against China's rise) by pursuing a strategic partnership with India, even to the point of appeasing India by dropping long-standing sanctions against its nuclear program.
These are far-seeing strategies that, if successful, will shape the course of international relations for decades. Beyond that, however, it is hard to think of reasonable foreign-policy moves that hinge on twenty-five-year forecasts and also make sense in the short-term.
To be sure, there are many important things that need to be done, but they are the foreign-policy equivalent of "diet and exercise," because they make sense regardless of which twenty-five-year forecast you believe. They include improving U.S. energy efficiency and developing alternative energy sources, improving our fiscal posture, reinvesting in economic fundamentals, and dealing with looming entitlement gaps so the material foundation of American power is preserved. I am assuming we will take those sensible (if painful) steps because we have to. If we do not, all bets are off.
If we do, then we are likely to remain the world's most influential state. Europe is an economic superpower, but its capacity to project military power or to act decisively is limited. Russia is a force to be reckoned with when oil is at $140 a barrel, but it faces severe demographic and economic challenges. China is potentially a superpower, but to reach that level, it must overcome enormous internal tensions and contradictions.
Japan will matter, but less and less over the long run unless it overcomes its own demographic challenge—a shrinking population means that, over time, the country's share of global production will also shrink. India and Brazil have potential, but they have had potential for decades and always seem to find a way to under-realize that potential. No one has America's cultural appeal and capacity for self-renewal.
No commentary about betting on the future can close without citing Niels Bohr's observation that "Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future." Political scientists are much better at retrodiction—predicting and explaining the past.
Nevertheless, it is a fairly safe prediction that in twenty-five years, the U.S. will occupy a more compromised position in world affairs than it does now—stiffer peer competition, less leverage, and more constraints on what we can do internationally. But it is also a fairly safe prediction that the U.S. will be on the very short list of states that matter globally—with global reach and global influence—and probably will be at the top of that list.
