When a reviewer for a niche gaming outlet encountered the bleak portrayal of American power in Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War the experience ignited a scholarly investigation that would become the book Imperialist Realism: Politics and Culture at the End of the American Century. Co-author Daniel Bessner explains that the game’s cynical tone forced him to ask why the United States, after decades of global dominance, now seems both unstoppable and increasingly questioned.
In the resulting collection of essays, Bessner argues that many people can more readily imagine the planet’s end than the collapse of the U.S. empire. This paradox, he says, stems from a deep-seated mindset he labels imperialist realism—the belief that, despite growing skepticism, the United States will continue to act as the world’s unrivaled hegemon.
From a video-game critique to a scholarly framework
The spark for the book arrived during a routine assignment for The Drift a magazine that covers culture and politics through the lens of entertainment. While dissecting the game’s narrative, Bessner noticed a striking dissonance: the virtual world depicted a United States burdened by endless conflict, yet still projecting an aura of inevitable supremacy. He writes that this contradiction prompted him to explore how the failures of the Global War on Terror have reshaped American self-understanding, ultimately giving birth to the concept of imperialist realism.
Generational, institutional, and ideological layers
Bessner stresses that imperialist realism is not a single-dimensional phenomenon. It is simultaneously generational, institutional, and ideological. Younger Americans, he observes, display a heightened skepticism toward the empire’s moral authority, questioning long-standing narratives about inevitable U.S. leadership. Yet this doubt does not automatically translate into a desire for a radically different global order. Instead, many still default to the belief that no viable alternative exists, reinforcing the very realism that keeps the empire’s posture intact.
The institutional side manifests in the inertia of bureaucratic structures, defense contracts, and diplomatic conventions that perpetuate the status quo. Ideologically, the narrative of American exceptionalism continues to glow in political discourse, even as public opinion shifts. Bessner notes that this confluence explains why disillusionment and imperialist realism can coexist: the loss of faith fuels the search for new justifications, which often end up reinforcing the old imperial framework.
Implications for U.S. foreign policy and education
Looking ahead, Bessner hopes the book will spark a broader conversation about agency in foreign policy. He argues that recognizing the coexistence of doubt and realism empowers citizens to imagine concrete alternatives, rather than resigning to an inevitable decline. By foregrounding the idea that individuals can act as agents of change, the work challenges the fatalistic view that structural forces are immutable.
Although his classroom does not directly teach “imperialist realism” as a syllabus item, Bessner strives to provide students with a solid grounding in the history of American external actions. He believes that an informed understanding of past interventions equips learners to form their own judgments about the future trajectory of U.S. grand strategy. This pedagogical approach, he says, nurtures the very agency he wishes to see proliferate beyond academic circles.
Finally, Bessner encourages readers to engage with the text not merely as a scholarly treatise but as a call to participation. He stresses that the book’s ultimate goal is to demonstrate that the structures that appear to limit agency are, in fact, products of collective belief—beliefs that can be reshaped through dialogue, activism, and informed voting. In this sense, imperialist realism becomes both a diagnostic tool and a catalyst for change.
