For many European observers, recent developments in American foreign policy are puzzling. On the one hand, both the president and his secretary of state are mounting an outright campaign of civility: George W. Bush's second term, so they tell us, will be guided by dialogue and a renewed cooperation with the United States' allies, including those allies whom the hawks in Washington considered, not so long ago, to be tired, old, and worn out. Whether they are addressing Iran's nuclear program, the Israeli-Palestinian peace process, or even the embargo on arms sales to China, the managers of American diplomacy are displaying, if not a convergence of viewpoints with their European partners, at least some flexibility and moderation in the expression of their disagreements, and thus are pointing to a definite renewal of cordiality in transatlantic relations. One of the first signs of this new climate was the conspicuous American abstention when the UN Security Council voted on a resolution referring the crimes committed in Darfur to the International Criminal Court—that is, to an institution the United States does not recognize as legitimate. And yet, on the other hand, these hints of a rehabilitated multilateralism seem to be repudiated by other actions, such as the nomination of two men who are well known for their hostility to any prospect of sharing imperial power—namely John Bolton and Paul Wolfowitz—to such sensitive positions as United States ambassador to the United Nations and director of the World Bank. Moreover, Washington is working more closely than ever with its partners in what could be called the Axis of Abstinence—a cenacle that includes Iran and the Vatican as its other leading members—and is investing redoubled energy in its efforts to subject international programs of public health to the stipulations of a religious fundamentalism unacceptable to most European countries.

What are we to believe? That the new assignments given to these proven unilateralists, together with the promises made to the evangelical movement, merely betray the hypocrisy of the Bush administration, whose current show of rapprochement with European governments serves only to further its hegemonic designs? Or should we assume rather that the present coexistence of signs of conciliation and manifestations of intransigence from the White House reveals an increased tension among the various perspectives informing American foreign policy? In order to shed some light on these matters, we should recall that the coalition heading the United States since 2001 brings together three distinct rightist groups and positions. The first, which claims to be working toward a "society of ownership," proposes not so much to reduce public spending as to modify its allocation: they argue that any finances used for the last vestiges of the welfare state should be replaced by increased investment in the financial, diplomatic, and military promotion of American capital and those who hold it. The second, which takes it as its mission to hasten the return of the Savior, is focused on preparing its troops for the final battle with the Antichrist: to this end, it draws much of its ardor from George W. Bush's exaltation of what he calls a "culture of life," that is, from the five-pronged phobia against homosexuality, abortion, euthanasia, stem-cell research, and the theory of evolution. Finally, the third, which merely consists of a battalion of intellectuals, is directing its efforts at reshaping the world in the image of its own coalition; in other words, its aspiration is to cover the planet with political regimes whose attachment to democracy and civil liberties is just as solid as that of the Bush administration.

After relying on the neoconservative vision for reshaping the planet (in order to implement his war against terrorism and the states that support it) and after capitalizing on the mobilizing capacities of the evangelical groups (in the interests of ensuring his own reelection), the American president now hopes to focus his efforts on satisfying the desires of corporate shareholders. Not that this latter group suffered much during George W. Bush's first term in office: the large tax cuts granted to the wealthiest Americans, as well as the contracts generated by the global campaign against terror, have generously contributed to the prosperity of those whom the occupant of the White House likes to call his "base." It is true nonetheless that establishing the society of owners dreamed of by the president's economic advisers requires that a number of further steps be taken: for example, the privatization of health insurance and Social Security, the drastic limitation of the social responsibility of corporations, the strengthening of intellectual property rights, and the lifting of environmental limitations on the extraction of natural resources. But in order to advance these plans, the American leaders need to maintain the feelings of paralyzed stupor and self-interested leniency that their November 2004 election victory inspired: paralyzed stupor in the national opposition and self-interested leniency in the international community. Thus they see that too many concessions to the religious Right and a too direct and blatant pursuit of the neoconservative strategy might now be harmful to their primary interests, in the sense that the former would no doubt stoke the fires of their domestic opposition, whereas the latter might compromise the docility of the United States' partners and clients. However, this two-sided effort to maintain the torpor of the American citizenry and the flexibility of foreign governments involves a strategy that is not without certain dangers, for while it fits with the economic and social objectives of the Bush administration, it also exposes this administration to the recriminations of the soldiers of Christ and to the anger of the apostles who preach the globalization of Texan democracy. Indeed, both the evangelicals and the neoconservatives are liable to perceive any softening in the tone of government policy as a manifestation of ingratitude, which could inspire some bitterness on their part.