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The Guardian
22-03-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
Donald Trump's imperial presidency is a throwback to a greedier, pernicious age
Donald Trump's imperial presidency is a tawdry, threadbare affair. The emperor has no clothes to cloak his counterfeit rule. Lacking crown and robes, he resorts to vulgar ties and baseball caps. His throne is but a bully pulpit, his palace a pokey, whitewashed house, his courtiers mere common hacks. His royal edicts – executive orders – are judicially contested. And while he rages like Lear, his critics are publicly crucified or thrown to the lions at Fox News. Yet for all his crudely plebeian ordinariness, a parvenu imperialism is Trump's global offer, his trademark deal and most heinous crime. He peddles it against the tide of history and all human experience, as if invasion, genocide, racial inequality, economic exploitation and cultural conquest had never been tried before. If it wasn't clear already, it is now. He wants to rule the world. Trump's menacing claims to Canada, Panama and Greenland revive the elitist fantasies of Elon Musk's grandfather and Technocracy Inc, a 1930s rightwing populist movement that sought to unite North and Central America under US suzerainty – the 'Technate'. The mindset feeding such pretensions is rooted deep in the national psyche. It's a mix of Monroe doctrine, 'manifest destiny' and the white man's burden. It's evil, it's pernicious, and it's back. In 1823, president James Monroe, fending off predatory European powers, defined what Russia's Vladimir Putin, among others, would today term an American 'sphere of influence'. His doctrine was later used to justify US intervention in Latin America. Manifest destiny was the belief, popularised after 1845, that the young republic was divinely charged with spreading its dominion and 'civilising influence' across the continent and into the Pacific region. Native Americans, exterminated and dispossessed, were principal victims. Manifest destiny helped spread slavery as new states joined the Union. Subsequent colonisations of the Philippines, Cuba and Hawaii were a natural extension. In 1899, Rudyard Kipling's infamously racist poem, The White Man's Burden, urged Americans to emulate the British empire and assume global responsibility for governing 'new-caught sullen peoples'. That latter phrase aptly describes Trump's view today of 2 million Palestinians ensnared in Gaza, whom he wants to deport to Somaliland or some other promised land. Migrants corralled at the Mexico border face the white man's burdensome prejudices, too. Would Trump attempt ethnic cleansing of the lighter-skinned, mostly Christian, citizens of war-torn Ukraine? Everyone knows the answer to that one. While lacking the older varieties' surface pomp and majesty, Trump's born-again imperialism bears the ugly hallmarks of earlier iterations. As before, it comes down to power and money, military might and economic pressure (such as tariffs), control of land, racial and cultural supremacy and an utterly hypocritical morality. It's causing uproar at home. It infects every aspect of foreign policy. Trump may not be actively conniving in the killing and expulsion of Ukraine's Indigenous population, but he's doing his best to rob them of their birthright. In a travesty of negotiation, he cedes territory to Putin, bullies Kyiv's leaders into seething submission, then makes a grab for Ukraine's mineral wealth. Now he wants its nuclear power plants, too. This is not about making peace. It's about making money. In Gaza, Trump picks over the bones before the victim has even died. Basic legalities, let alone humanity, are jettisoned. No matter that Israel's genocidaires have killed about 50,000 Palestinians. He wants the seafront property free of charge, its surviving owners evicted, so he can build a luxury resort. 'Welcome to the Rafah Riviera, the Trump Organisation's Nakba-on-the-Med. Enjoy your stay!' Trump and his advisers envisage three neo-imperial superpower blocs, the US, Russia and China, united in disregard for the UN charter, international law and human rights and acting as they please in self-allotted spheres of influence. In this upended age, Russia is a lucrative business partner while European and Asian allies must fend for themselves. As ever, developing countries are exploited for their resources. To mangle George Canning, the Old World falls prey to the New. In the wider Middle East, Trump is infinitely more interested in forging a US-Saudi-Israel security, energy and investment alliance than in ending the Palestinian tragedy. A significant obstacle is Iran, another historical victim of colonialists. In his latest Putin schmooze, Trump asked for Russia's help in containing its ally. Mullahs beware: there's a whiff of betrayal in the air. Like big-power bullies throughout history, Trump picks on easy targets. Danish-owned Greenland and Panama exemplify the type of weak, defenceless country that 19th-century European empires scrambled for in Africa. In contrast, note how abnormally quiet is loudmouthed Trump about China, America's most powerful 21st-century rival. Sign up to Observed Analysis and opinion on the week's news and culture brought to you by the best Observer writers after newsletter promotion Tariff wars aside, his caution points towards a future strategic accommodation with Beijing. Like Putin, president Xi Jinping is playing it cool with Trump so far. These tuppenny tsars share much in common: authoritarianism, national aggrandisement, ruthless greed. So why fight? All three can be winners, and to winners go the spoils. Look out, Taiwan, meat in an unsavoury US-China sandwich. Imperialism has evolved since the time of gunboats, missionaries and unequal treaties. Absent now is a sense of higher calling and noble purpose. Pioneering frontiersmen pursuing America's manifest destiny genuinely believed theirs was a righteous cause. British colonial administrators thought they did God's (and Queen Victoria's) work. Today's conquerors betray few such illusions. Even so, Trump casts himself as compassionate, noble-minded peacemaker. So will he pursue peace in desperate Sudan, Myanmar or Congo? Will he stop those 'horrible wars' too? No, he will not. Such places do not feature on his redrawn maps. There's no money or kudos in it for him. And this particular white man's burden sharing does not extend to losers. In a new, disorderly imperial age, megalomania waives the rules. Simon Tisdall is the Observer's Foreign Affairs Commentator
Russia Today
11-02-2025
- Business
- Russia Today
Here's why Trump really wants to get his hands on Greenland and Canada
In a world caught between ecological limits and technological ambition, the revival of the long-dormant vision of the Technate suggests that America's future may be shaped not by traditional geopolitics but by the pursuit of industrial autarky, resource control, and the promise of a self-sustaining technocratic order. It was an unexpected move, bewildering analysts across the globe. After securing victory in the election, Donald Trump did not immediately focus on perceived strategic rivals like China, Russia, or Iran, as the geopolitical forecasters had so confidently predicted. Instead, his gaze settled on Canada, Greenland, and the Panama Canal – territories that, at first glance, seemed disconnected from the expected choreography of American foreign policy ambitions. This pivot raised a chorus of speculation and debate. Many theories were put forward. Yet, among the multitude of explanations, only one has managed to weave together the strands of Trump's apparent unpredictability into a coherent narrative. This theory traces the logic of these moves back to a long-forgotten vision of a technocratic society that emerged in the early 20th century within the United States. The roots of this idea, known as the 'Technate,' lie in a vision of a society governed not by politicians or financiers but by scientists and engineers, guided by the principles of efficiency, technological mastery, and resource optimization. In the worldview of early technocrats, economic systems based on arbitrary currencies and speculative markets were seen as chaotic relics of the past. Instead, they proposed that energy itself – measurable and quantifiable – should serve as the basis for all economic transactions. The Technate would thus become a self-contained and self-sustaining entity, where wealth is defined by the availability of natural resources, the expertise of its inhabitants, and the seamless integration of technology with governance. However, the Technate was never envisioned as something that could be established in just any location. It required a very particular environment – one with abundant natural resources, advanced industrial infrastructure, and a population trained to navigate the demands of a highly mechanized society. The ideal setting, according to early technocratic theorists, was North America, with its vast mineral wealth, fertile lands, and unmatched potential for hydroelectric and industrial power. Canada, with its rich deposits of metals and minerals, and Greenland, with its untapped reserves of rare earth elements, were integral to this vision. The Panama Canal, as the lifeline connecting the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, would further ensure the region's strategic autonomy from global supply chains. Read more How Trump suddenly became a feminist champion The German philosopher Georg Friedrich Jünger (1898-1977), in his profound critique of technology, warned against the unchecked dominance of mechanization over human life. His reflections, particularly in 'The Failure of Technology' (1949), highlighted the existential dangers of a world where technological systems become self-perpetuating, stripping individuals of their autonomy and reducing human life to mere cogs in a vast machine. Jünger's critique is a somber reminder of the costs that accompany technological grandeur: the erosion of traditional values, the alienation of the individual, and the potential for technological regimes to evolve into forms of soft tyranny. However, what distinguishes the Technate from the dystopias Jünger warned against is its promise of harmony between human expertise and technological control. Rather than technology dominating life, it would be wielded as an instrument of collective flourishing, overseen by a technocratic elite attuned to the nuances of energy flows, ecological balance, and long-term sustainability. Elon Musk's indirect connection to this vision adds an intriguing twist to the story. Musk, known for his futurist ambitions and technological ventures, is the grandson of a former director of the Canadian branch of Technocracy Incorporated, an organization that once propagated these very ideas before its activities were curtailed by the Canadian government. Whether Musk consciously channels this legacy or not, his influence within Trump's circle has evidently revived interest in the concept of a self-sustaining North American Technate. From this perspective, Trump's desire to acquire Greenland and secure control over the Panama Canal becomes less of an eccentric detour and more of a calculated step towards fulfilling a technocratic vision that has long been dormant but never entirely forgotten. Most political analysts initially interpreted Trump's focus on these regions as part of his broader strategy of retrenchment, aimed at reducing US involvement in overseas conflicts and reorienting national priorities inward. They saw his rhetoric about Canada and Greenland as either bluster or opportunistic real estate maneuvering. Yet, when viewed through the lens of technocratic theory, a different logic emerges. Trump's America, despite its rhetoric of self-sufficiency, cannot achieve industrial autarky with its current resource base. The energy-intensive industries that would power a new era of American greatness require access to mineral reserves, hydroelectric power, and strategic shipping routes. Canada's vast natural wealth, Greenland's potential as a future resource hub, and the Panama Canal's role as a vital artery of trade are not peripheral concerns – they are central to the construction of a modern Technate. Read more Africa first? Trump might just force it For all his bluster and unpredictability, Trump's overarching aim of 'making America great again' fits seamlessly into this framework. By 2025, it seems, key figures in his administration have recognized that achieving this vision would require more than tax cuts and deregulation. It would demand the strategic acquisition of resources and infrastructure beyond America's current borders – assets that could anchor a new era of technological and industrial expansion. The Technate, in this context, is not merely a speculative ideal but a pragmatic blueprint for securing national prosperity in an increasingly multipolar world. Jünger would no doubt caution against the risks of such an endeavor, reminding us of the dangers of subordinating human life to technological imperatives. Yet, if the vision of the Technate can be tempered by a recognition of these dangers – if it can integrate technological efficiency without sacrificing human dignity – it may offer a path forward that reconciles technological modernity with the enduring need for meaning and community. While the early technocrats of the 20th century were often dismissed as utopian dreamers, their ideas have resurfaced at a moment when the world is once again grappling with questions of resource scarcity, ecological sustainability, and the limits of global interdependence. Whether this order will achieve the balance envisioned by its architects or succumb to the warnings of critics like Jünger remains to be seen. What is clear, however, is that the dream of the Technate, long relegated to the margins of political thought, is once again shaping the contours of geopolitical reality. It is an ambitious project that, if successful, could redefine the parameters of global power in the decades to come.
