AT THE WORLD Economic Forum's annual meeting in New York, one senses the start of a new mood of reflection in America. The anger and outrage at the attacks on the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon are still very evident. But as the initial rage dies down, more thoughtful voices are also beginning to ask why America, with its towering achievements, attracts not merely admiration but also the kind of blind hatred that drove Osama bin Laden's killers. There is a new desire to try to understand the great divide between the way America sees itself and the way many others across the globe see it. Why is it that this dynamic, tolerant society, which has effortlessly assimilated immigrants from every faith and culture known to man, is not universally admired? The reason lies partly in the ideological divide between religious extremists and America's secular values. This is the easy and obvious cause, something that ordinary Americans have been quick to grasp. But a more fundamental reason, which Americans are still only slowly coming to grips with, is the great difference between America at home and America abroad. The qualities that one admires about the United States - its openness, its tolerance, its respect for individual liberties and the rule of law - are not what disaffected people in the Middle East and elsewhere see. What they are more familiar with is America's other face: a military and economic superpower which roams the world unchecked, guided by its own national interest rather than the values it practises at home. The disjunction between a US foreign policy that is driven by its own economic and political interests and its more benign domestic policy is not new. But it is being questioned. Sumner Rosen, of Columbia University, was prompted to ask in a letter to the New York Times: 'What United States policies, practices and institutions sustain the climate in which even criminals like Osama bin Laden find support and new recruits to replace those whom we are able to neutralise? As long as we pretend that our role in the global economy is benign and constructive, no serious reconsideration of the roots of anti-Americanism will become part of the political debate.' The US support for friendly but undemocratic regimes is also coming into question. As another New York Times letter pointed out: 'The September 11 hijackers and the FBI's most wanted terrorists all come from countries whose governments are aligned with the United States, but who suppress their own people.' Along with the questioning of US policies abroad, there is also a renewed interest in the nature of capitalism in America, and what social responsibilities businesses should have. A few years ago, it would have been difficult for anyone who argued that businesses had any role other than to create the maximum value for their shareholders to be taken seriously. Now, academics who talk not about creating value for shareholders but meeting the needs of stakeholders - all those who have a stake in the company including workers and the community at large - are being taken increasingly seriously. Jed Emerson, a lecturer at Stanford Business School who has been working on models to reflect stakeholder value in share valuations, is one of a small band of academics who are convinced that the events of September 11 have sparked a fundamental debate on the values that drive American businesses. This is a debate that the rest of the world should be aware of, because it could have profound consequences for the way America sees its role in the world, and for the way its corporations do business. Thomas Abraham is the Editor of the Post
