The rule of rogues

• Commend a fool for his wit, or a rogue for his honesty and he will receive you into his favor. – Henry Fielding (1707-1754), English writer and judge

I knew about so-called “rogue states” before university, but gained a clearer insight on them when I started studying the history of international relations in earnest.

The first time I heard the word “rogue,” it was probably used in a D.C. comics or Marvel context to define antagonists like the Penguin, the Riddler, or the Joker. They are maybe overdrawn, having no redeemable characteristics.

The French word for rogue state is Etat-voyou, which literally means “rascal state” or “scoundrel state.”

One of my teachers put the question to us as we hunkered down in an antiquated Sorbonne class room. “How, in the context of post-Cold War international relations, would you define a rogue state?”

The topic of discussion was the decade following the fall of the Soviet Union that was termed the “New World Order” — a time when the United States, unrivaled by its now dissolved Communist archenemy, had decisive control over select peacekeeping operations throughout the world, wielding its influence through NATO, the United Nations, and the newly created World Trade Organization.

A few hands were raised.

“A state that shows no interest in observing international law?” one classmate ventured.

Another chimed in, “Generally a country with an authoritarian regime and a poor human rights record.”

After a little while, we all reached the agreement that the term was meant to target any state deemed threatening to international security on account of aggressiveness or destabilizing capacities.

“Well, we’ve done the hardest part,” our teacher answered. “Now I need some examples.”

More hands shot up, and within moments, the classroom hummed with the names of past and present day despots. Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Iran after the Islamic Revolution. Libya under Gaddafi. Afghanistan since the Taliban’s return. Cuba under Fidel Castro.

When we mentioned Vladimir Putin’s Russia and Benjamin Netanyahu’s Israel, our teacher paused. “Well, in recent years, those two states have played on the borderline between respect and violation of international law,” she said.

Still, we could agree that the events of 2022 and 2023 and their consequences had swung both those states into the “rogue” category.

At this point, I added, “Some rogue states can try and make up their own alliances, to counter the international institutions that have already been established.”

All these remarks spiraled in my mind, down to today’s paradox. That was why, a few moments later, I hazarded the question, “Would it be too controversial to call the United States under the second Trump administration a rogue state?”

Our teacher cocked her head. “It’s a bit soon to say. But in 20 or 30 years, you’d probably be right.”

I could see her point, that the definition of a “rogue state” from the New World Order onwards relied largely on the United States’ interpretation of what country or group posed (or seemingly posed) a threat to its safety or its vision of it.

What happens, then, when the incumbent leader of the nation once heralded as the “leader of the free world” or the “world’s policeman” prides himself on being totally unfettered by any law? What happens when the rogue is in power? And if nations like France, which until recently thought they could trust in its transatlantic alliance and nuclear protection umbrella, cannot call out the American Leviathan for acting like a rogue, why is that? And where does it leave them?

No two, three, or even nine-hour exam, seminar, or lecture would ever suffice to answer that question with the right amount of precision.

What I can say is that cartoons and comics are more important now than ever before to keep an eye on. I will pay special attention to the rogues’ galleries that never used to faze me, because just as George Orwell observed at the end of Animal Farm, caricature and real life can become all but impossible to differentiate.