Every republic, large and small, lives with a tension between the need for public-spirited, civic-minded leaders and the inevitable pull of private interests and affections. The larger and wealthier the republic, the greater the challenge, because the republic's officials must live and move and work in an atmosphere of commercial wealth and foreign lucre — which creates not only direct temptation but also, more subtly, a fear that you are failing your family, your children, if you remain unbought.
The Roman republic in its waning years managed this tension by creating a zone of self-enrichment that was outside the res publica. The public-spirited Roman served the republic in the city of Rome and then got rich somewhere else, far away and out of sight. You climbed the cursus honorum, you reached the office of praetor or consul, you governed honorably and ably (at least in theory), and then your reward was to become a provincial governor and have the chance to squeeze the inhabitants of Hispania Ulterior or Gallia Narbonensis for every last denarius — subject only to occasional prosecution for "abuses" if you made the wrong enemies back home.
The American republic, more idealistic and less brutal than its Roman antecedent, doesn't send former Cabinet officials and senators off to practice extractive taxation everywhere that we have military bases. Instead, we've developed a more complicated interplay between public service and private enrichment, a labyrinthine system of consultancies and adviserships and directorates and boards in which the dedicated public servant can make enough money to keep up with the cost of tuition at Sidwell or Exeter without ever taking anything so embarrassing as a bribe.
The ideological grease in this system is the belief that the American businessman, the American soldier and the American diplomat are all fundamentally doing the same work, expanding the Pax Americana one newly opened market, one toppled strongman and one baby democracy at a time. So why shouldn't our public servants move back and forth between these realms — selling arms to our allies one day, serving on a do-gooding foundation funded by allies and defense contractors the next, helping those allies lobby our government the day after that? After all, these projects all serve the same goal: A world of capitalist democracies at peace with one another, free to get rich under the umbrella of the American military.
This kind of thinking has animated and justified elite self-enrichment throughout my lifetime. Think of Dick Cheney's smooth move from supervising the Defense Department to running a defense contractor to supervising the Defense Department once again, or the extraordinary post-presidential buckraking of the Clinton family and their foundation's global funding stream.
But the pattern isn't just personal, it's also structural, with specific opportunities for moneymaking embedded in big-picture, bipartisan projects: the Clinton-era attempt to transform post-Soviet Russia into a functioning capitalist democracy; the Bush-era attempt to remake the Middle East; the multi-administration push to unite American and Chinese markets, creating a free and prosperous "Chimerica" on which the sun would never set.
We are where we are in American politics, in part, because all these big-picture projects succeeded in enriching private interests … but failed to achieve their stated public goals. The "shock therapy" delivered to Russia midwifed Putinism instead of a prosperous U.S. ally. The war in Iraq ushered in a regional conflict that's still burning to this day. Chimerica worked out better for the Chinese than for many working-class Americans, and far better for the Chinese Politburo than for the cause of liberty. And the self-justifying doctrine of the present elite — that you can serve the common good while in office and do well for yourself afterward — became far more implausible when the elite's projects kept failing even as the officeholders kept on cashing in.
Yet the quest for such projects persisted — including in the strange Ukrainian twilight where Donald Trump may have finally found his way to an impeachable offense. Five years ago the Americans making money in Ukraine were, like Paul Manafort, mostly doing so cynically and quietly. But then we backed Ukraine's 2014 revolution and Russia responded with aggression — and suddenly there was a perceived synergy between U.S. foreign policy objectives, U.S. ideals and the desire of U.S. officials for gainful employment.