In 2005, the late historian Howard Zinn delivered a speech at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) in which he pointed out how the “Myth of American Exceptionalism” created problems both within the US and its relationship with the rest of the world. In his speech, he quotes the former American Secretary of War, Elia Root, at the time of the US’s invasion of the Philippines:

The American soldier is different from all other soldiers of all other countries since the world began. He is the advanced guard of liberty and justice, of law and order, and of peace and happiness.

Giving this speech in the wake of revelations about Abu Gharaib, the infamous torture facility used by US occupation forces in Iraq, Zinn’s deconstruction of American exceptionalism involved shredding the idealized image of the “virtuous American soldier.” Instead, Zinn frames them as active enforcers of America’s geopolitical hegemony, who operate outside the boundaries of international law while the state apparatus manufactures consent to pacify a population whose entire worldview is based on American moral primacy. However, one can only be blind to the truth for so long and in the aftermath of the US invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq, Zinn noted with optimism that the image of the “virtuous American soldier” was being eroded, and a more progressive American population are now becoming aware of the belligerence of the US military machine.

What Zinn failed to account for, however, was that while the American population grew more disillusioned with the idea of “fighting foreign wars,” that doesn’t mean it’s a sign of breakage from an American supremacist orthodoxy. Twenty years later, much of the American population still struggles to rid itself of uncritical support and even praise for those who serve in the country’s military. In a way, the paradigm has remained completely unchanged, as veterans still retain this image of prestige in their duty of occupation and imperialism. The only thing that has changed since the “War on Terror” was that a large section of the American population realized that the imperial pursuits of the US State Department mostly did not benefit working-class Americans but rather a select economic elite who are directly tied to the pillaging of foreign nations and subjugation of its people. In this sense, what we see is not a problem with imperialism in principle but rather a problem with the way in which the bounties of imperialism are redistributed. This gives wiggle room to the idea that there may be wars that Americans (or Westerners in general) can support if it does benefit broader domestic society rather than titans of industry.

The Western left, which in principle should be the loudest voices against any normalization of imperialism, has shown that they themselves are not immune to this way of thinking. None of this is as apparent as seeing how American leftists consistently try to justify their endorsement of Graham Platner, a candidate running in the Democratic primary for US Senate in Maine.

Platner postures himself as a leftist, paying lip service to progressive ideals in America, such as free and universal healthcare, yet he remains unrepentant for his history serving the US empire. Platner served three tours in Iraq (where he was a guard at the aforementioned Abu Gharaib), then attended George Washington University in 2009. Feeling like he had not had enough of what he found as “enjoyable” he re-enlisted in the US Army and was deployed to Afghanistan for a fourth tour. Returning in 2011, he took up a job bartending, but then returned to Afghanistan as a private military contractor (PMC) in 2018 for Blackwater, a company whose war crimes in Iraq were so notorious they had to change their name to Constellis.

Before announcing his candidacy for the primary, Platner’s political record is less known for working class advocacy, but instead as a participant in illegal wars, which killed hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and Afghans. And yet, his candidacy has not only been backed by the democratic establishment but reaffirmed by supposedly principled leftists.

The normalization of an individual such as Platner, naturally, has his proponents scrambling to excuse, rationalize and reframe his service history, making the argument that he was simply poor and because the US government does not support veterans post-service, it is seemingly justifiable for him to have done mercenary work. Firstly, the premise of this argument is false, as it has since been discovered that Platner is from an affluent family. Additionally, Platner has stated numerous times on his now-deleted “P-Hustle” Reddit account that the reason he enlisted was not out of dire financial needs but because he wanted to kill people.

However, even if he was working-class, the rationale that because he was poor, it is justifiable for him to do mercenary work as part of an occupation force only makes sense if you consider the victims of said mercenary work as “worth it” for the pay. In other words, the lives of Iraqis and Afghans can be seen as disposable if an American were to materially benefit from their subjugation and death. Herein lies the underlying chauvinism that many Americans seem oblivious to, as they don’t seem to stop to consider that the victims of Platner and others like him are also working-class and, in many ways, far poorer than the average American. You can only ignore this if—whether consciously or subconsciously—you deem American lives more valuable than the lives of non-Americans. Indeed, this supremacist orthodoxy only grows bolder as leftists attempt to justify their support of him, stating that to discard someone like Platner would otherwise alienate the formation of a working-class movement.

The narrative here is that Platner is a representative (or at least marketable to) the “average American.” However, the advance of this working class movement seems to be framed around an American (mostly white) electorate and seems to omit the poorest elements of the working class—those in the global South who have been made victims by people like Platner. Even in the US itself, the most marginalized elements of the working class are brown and black immigrants who often flee the destabilization brought upon their country by US foreign policy. Abandoning an internationalist conception of class struggle, Western leftists forego socialism in place of chauvinism, centering their goals not in protecting marginalized people but rather a Western (predominantly white) working class base as a means to secure an electoral victory.

Ironically, Graham Platner’s prominence in leftist discourse has less to do with his policy positions or the potential political power he may wield, but rather because it acts as a case study to show how little priority anti-imperialism has in the American left. Part of this is simply that a lot of Western, particularly American leftists still cannot disentangle their relationship within the imperial core.

Thus, you have someone like Platner rising to prominence, whose campaign platform reveals a deeply militaristic worldview hiding behind the veneer of progressive aesthetics. His platform is very clearly built around preserving American imperialism and shows he is not as reformed as many would like you to believe. Platner proudly highlights his military service not as regret but as credentials and advocates for closing the shipbuilding gap, a blatantly imperialist endeavor meant to counter China’s trade infrastructure. He states that he would ensure that Americans aren’t sent overseas for “pointless wars.” Reading between the lines of liberalism, the implication is that there are useful wars, so long as it comes with the right justification. The framing here is that the real problem with US military interventions (such as the Iraq war) is not its role in the plundering of developing countries, but rather that those involved in the plundering do not benefit from its bounties. Instead of confronting the harms that the US military inflicts upon millions of people, Platner focuses on securing better pay and benefits for US soldiers. This would naturally incentivize military enlistment and ensure a continuation of the American imperial apparatus.

Platner talks about bolstering the working class, but seeks to uphold the colonial system that exploits the global working class. Backing him shows that the American left is willing to compromise its values to install a palatable candidate within the electoral system. Whether Platner is genuine in his working-class advocacy is neither here nor there; what matters most is that his advocacy only pertains to those within America’s borders.

One may call this focus on domestic politics a form of economic protectionism, no different from similar calls progressive movements around the world have been making in an era of global capitalism. However, one look at Platner’s own words reveals that he certainly thinks there is an asymmetry between the livelihoods of people in the US versus people in black or brown countries. Indeed, seeing Platner refer to a possible US invasion of Syria as justifiable—even if millions die—simply because he views their way of life as inferior to Americans. The message behind this transcends the individual itself, but rather highlights an unfortunate contradiction amongst Americans. The very same contradiction that existed within its European colonial predecessors. Under the notion of “enlightenment,” Europeans often proclaimed the importance of human rights and liberty, yet denied them to millions under colonial domination.

This same malaise inflicts the neocolonial American Empire. Americans are concerned with only improving their material conditions, which is why having a war criminal such as Platner may not seem like an ideological contradiction for them at all. He claims to advocate for what they advocate for: a steadfast, combative approach against the billionaire oligarchs while making gains for the poor. However, without addressing the imperial structure within the American capitalist economy, the system will not be abolished, but instead change into a paradigm of capital ownership along bourgeois nationalism, in which class antagonism still exists, but between US workers and workers of the global South.

Friedrich Engels and later Vladimir Lenin described a group of workers in imperialist countries who, thanks to the benefits they received from capitalism, no longer shared the same interests as the broader working class. This group, known as the “labor aristocracy,” was seen as too comfortable to support revolutionary change. Lenin developed this idea in the early 20th century, but global conditions have since shifted. Today, many of the jobs that once separated the labor aristocracy from the rest have been outsourced to the global South. As a result, much of the Western working class now benefits—often unknowingly—from the exploitation of workers and resources in poorer countries.

For example, the dominance of the US dollar since the fall of the post-war Bretton Woods monetary system has allowed it to run trade deficits for decades. Unequal exchange allows the US to import cheap goods from the global South (often sourced through cheap labor) and thus its population are able to live well beyond its means through a consumer-provider relationship between itself and its global periphery. In a globalized economic order pioneered by American supremacy, much of the Western working class is reconfined to a position of labor aristocracy, pitted against the neocolonial worker of the Third World. It is this class contradiction that exists in many Western leftists which keeps them alienated from a genuinely internationalist posture.

Indeed, this is most apparent when you hear Americans—regardless of perceived political background—talk about foreign policy. Both supposed leftists as well as “America First” conservatives frame their opposition to US foreign intervention in terms of it being “pointless,” which does little to challenge American militarism and instead reinforces the status quo.

Whether this exceptionalist paradigm is coated in the gloss of isolationism or justified under redistributive capitalism, the result is still the same: the ambition to continue the exploitation of workers and resources in the global South. Thus, it will prove to be vital for those outside of the West not to rely on them to build a socialist movement. The liberation of the American working-class will not guarantee a liberation for the global working-class, and in certain cases may prove harder to confront.

What would happen if a country like South Africa or the Congo decided to nationalize their mines and ensure that its mineral wealth benefited its citizens? Or if Haiti decides to pursue trade partners outside America’s sphere of influence? This would undoubtedly harm the interests of the US, not only the corporate oligarch but also the consumer interests as well.

Unless the American has been educated in its role in imperialism and seeks to dismantle it, you will inevitably see them use every asset in their disposal—from their eight hundred military bases around the world  to sanctions—to ensure that their  standard of living doesn’t slip to the benefit of the global working class.

Fortunately, as US hegemony wanes economically and politically, there is a gap for socialist movements in the global South to gain a foothold. The “Gen Z” protests in southeast Asia and in several African countries show that there is mass disillusionment with neoliberal parties that serve as Western stooges. And, while there are certainly American comrades genuine in their anti-imperialist beliefs, it is abundantly clear that we in the global South must focus on forging solidarity with those who share our interests, to end not just the unequal relations under domestic structures but also the unequal relations between us and the Western working class.