Hauser/Remarque Global Fellow, New York University
[Unitedstatesean] foreign policy is horrendous ’cause not only will [the US] come to your country and kill all your people, but what’s worse, I think, is that they’ll come back 20 years later and make a movie about how killing your people made their soldiers feel sad.
Frankie Boyle, Hurt Like You Have Never Been Loved (2016).
Introduction: Speak Softly
Within the Rockefeller Center, which is already “a city within a city,” one can find a store within a store. I am referring to the Build-A-Bear Workshop ® that is nestled inside the FAO Schwarz ® department store and its somewhat overwhelming offer of customizable plushies. By coincidence, I happened to visit this store with some relatives who were in town just as I was finishing Ruti Teitel’s new monograph, Presidential Visions of Transitional Justice (Oxford University Press, 2025). This was fitting as there are many parallels, in my view, between the seemingly task of choosing and customizing a plush toy and the very difficult historiographical task of writing “Great Men” history. When one builds a plushie, one has to make many —and increasingly diverging— choices. For instance: a bear or something else? If so, what size and color? More dramatically, Build-A-Bear offers the possibility of adding a beating heart, scents, and all sorts of extra perks to make one’s plushie truly unique. Ultimately, each bear-builder can end up doing their own interpretation of what a “bear” should look like, even if they are working with already existing molds and a common imaginary of bear-itude.
The same is true for biographers and scholars of “world historical individuals” —to use a formula made famous by Hegel (compare with pp. 2-3). When one writes about kings and generals —or, for that matter, about presidents— one must make difficult choices in relation to figures that are often controversial. This is especially true for heads of state or governments who directed wars, for one spectator’s hero might easily be another reader’s aggressor. “Men on horseback,” as Bell has noted, are equally famous for their charisma and for being divisive historical figures. That has been my experience writing, for instance, about someone like the former Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie I, who has long been remembered by many within and beyond his polity as a visionary leader, but who has at the same time been –—rightly— reassessed as an oppressor of ethnic minorities within his vast empire.
As I read Teitel’s new book, I suspected she must have similar dilemmas in relation to her litany of Unitedstatesean Commanders-in-Chief. Like when building a customizable bear, scholars undertaking this sort of exercise must make decisions in relation to the size (in relation, for instance, to “greater” or “smaller” men) of their protagonists. More dramatically, once again, biographers must decide whether to include in their reconstruction of such an individual a beating—or bleeding—heart, a scent, or a distinctive color. While there is a record of primary sources, no scholar can dare to produce the “true” account of any historical figure. Such accounts are always contested —and indeed, the literature related to any of these “world historical individuals” is full of debates and historiographical reinterpretations: from Jesus to Mao; from Napoleon, to Oppenheimer, or Melania Trump.
Because of that, I completely understand why scholars might reach different conclusions about these worldly leaders in their work. Still, I have to say, I found it pretty challenging to recognize the portrayal Teitel creates of Theodore Roosevelt Jr.—who served as US President from 1901-1909— in chapter four of Presidential Visions of Transitional Justice. Teitel’s Teddy Bear, if you allow me this pun, was characterized —above all— by his soft-spoken voice and remorseful heart (see, for instance, at pp. 102, 106, or 116). It ran against my own vision, as of Teddy Roosevelt: that of a raging bear armed with a big stick. To be sure, my own account is partial —I happen to have been born in a country that found itself victimized by his peacemaking endeavors in an event that has been studied time and time again as “a classic case of [Unitedstatesean] imperialism” (compare with pp. 102-104). But beyond that fact, the construction of our Teddy Bear also seemed to me rather one-dimensional and superficial when contrasted with other recent accounts of his role in the making and breaking of international law in the Americas.
From here on, I will further explain two concerns grounded in the idiom of jurisdiction. First, I argue that Teitel was too optimistic about Teddy Roosevelt’s weak basis to act as a guarantor of peace abroad beyond his “imperial republic” (p. 130). Then, I critique his questionable authority to act as a global “steward” (p. 120) within the legal boundaries of his own office. While recognizing these issues, Teitel seems to overstate the presidents’ achievements, particularly Roosevelt’s, while downplaying the perils of U.S. efforts to impose “righteous peace” (p. 170). This may also stem from the methodological choices regarding primary sources, which I address in my conclusion.
But Carry a Big Stick: Teddy Roosevelt in American and Global Legal History
From the very first sentence of chapter four, we are alerted that Teddy Roosevelt “has long been controversial” (p. 93). “Some see him as an imperialist,” Teitel is quickly to admit in this same page —without, alas, telling us who these “some” or referring to the vast literature on the matter (the criticism raised by Coates to a similar monograph here or his chapter in our forthcoming Oxford Handbook of International Law and the Americas are a good entry points into the state of the art). Teitel suggests Teddy is not a bully, noted as being “[d]espite being commonly portrayed” in that light, although the text does not clarify who holds this view or the criteria for such portrayals (p. 94). This presents an opportunity for Teitel to contextualize her defense of Roosevelt within a broader narrative regarding his international actions in the Americas, as examined by scholars with varying viewpoints from both sides of the Río Bravo.
Take, for instance, Teitel’s insistence on Roosevelt’s pioneering role in the development of international arbitration as an alternative to gunboat diplomacy and imperial violence (pp. 95-101). Perhaps. But this claim has to be read against the cumulative interventions that have argue that the Unitedstatesean project of furthering international arbitration should instead be read as an extension to gunboat diplomacy and imperial violence —see, for instance, the work of Long (2015); Coates; Scarfi (both 2016); Immerwahr; Rossi; Lasso (all 2019); (Greenman (2021); Powers (2024); Grandin (2025); or Long & Cartsten-Schulz long awaited book and published articles. By not fully addressing potential counterarguments that readers may consider, Presidential Visions may come across as somewhat overly optimistic. There may be an inclination to focus more on the President’s lofty goals than on his actual actions. Too much emphasis on his soft voice, perhaps.
The same is true, of course, of Roosevelt’s actions against the territorial integrity of Colombia in relation to the “taking” of the Panama Canal. While Teitel is quick to admit that such acts of intervention were “out of step with the spirit of international law at the time” (p. 99) and that the former president was “painfully aware that [Unitedstatesean] conduct did not align with prevailing international law” (p. 105), one is left with the feeling that Teitel is ultimately satisfied with Teddy’s own justification: that law-breaking imperial conduct might be justified when “in the service of US interest and the broader good” (p. 105). As a Colombian international lawyer, all I was left with was Roosevelt’s “deep regret” for using force to violate Colombia’s sovereignty (p. 105; see also p. 102). One might consider a related perspective regarding Teitel’s interpretation of United States imperialism in the Philippines, particularly when contrasting it with the accounts provided by Moyn and Jung on atrocities committed in the region after its “liberation.” Therefore, I find it difficult to endorse Teitel’s assertion that Roosevelt’s legacy should be celebrated as an endeavor aimed at preventing future conflict—an outcome purportedly beneficial to all humanity (p. 120; see also p. 6).
And Let Congress Debate: Teddy Roosevelt and the Donroe Corollary
What is more, Teitel is quick to concede that Roosevelt’s violence paved the way “for the so-called ‘imperial presidency’” (p. 98). Not only did our Teddy Bear engage in imperial violence abroad, but he also tested “the limits of constitutional executive authority” (p. 98). Teitel explains his role as “greatly [expanding] executive powers to include the ability to act unilaterally in using force abroad” while clarifying that he “did not brook any hard constraints” (p. 98). But by not engaging with the predictable counterargument that perhaps he did. As she cites herself, our Roosevelt famously claimed that he “took the Canal zone and let Congress debate; and while the debate goes on, the canal does also” (p. 102). (This is also why most Colombians, following a famous theatre play, think of Roosevelt first and foremost as the one who issued the lapidary statement “I took Panama”). In Teitel’s eyes, this could either reflect “as his own form of executive accountability” or as blatant disregard of the role of Congress in foreign relations law (p. 102; see also p. 6). She opts for the first interpretation. I, once again following the literature cited above, find the second one more compelling.
In fact, instead of the trailblazing visioner Teddy Bear Teitel seeks to rehabilitate, I see (like many; see here or here) the clear precedent that the current incumbent of the US imperial presidency, Donald J. Trump (compare with p. 107). While Teitel’s book is incredibly timely insofar as it poses important questions related to a crucial issue of our own times (the aspiration of Unitedstatesean presidents to act unilaterally as global “peacemakers”), her answers in relation to Teddy, in particular, are of little help —analytically or even normatively— for those of us who want to confront the man who happens to be wielding the big stick of Unitedstatesean might today.
Conclusion: The Man in the Arena
As I noted above, one last aspect of the book is Teitel’s reliance on the ipsissima verba of the presidents. The archive of Presidential Visions is mostly composed of a very extensive and careful recollection of the statements and speeches delivered by these “world historical figures.” I suspect that might be part of the problem, too. All these world leaders —Teddy included— were charismatic writers and speakers. But they were also political actors, and as such, they are to be taken with a grain of salt. Take Teddy Roosevelt’s famous “citizenship in a republic speech of 1910, most famously known as the “man in the arena” text. It is dazzling and emotive —and if I were to read it in isolation, I would probably be a fan of the Teddy Bear himself! But when read in its context, and against the body of literature that has contextualized it and his author, one can better see that it is full of racialized and gendered tropes and it cannot be separated from Roosevelt’s own imperial pretensions as part of what he saw as the manifest destiny of a mighty race that conquered the “Indian-haunted land” of the Americas, creating the “giant republic of the West.”
Read in its best light, Teitel’s new book offers a careful examination of the processes that led to the presidents of this imperial republic to increasingly claim jurisdiction over the world, often against the protests of other polities –and even sometimes without regard to the limitations domestic law imposed on their office. It also helps us understand contemporary delusions surrounding the theft of Nobel Peace Prizes and other absurd pantomimes. But in her attempt to provide nuance, Teitel might not realize that she is seeking to rehabilitate a legacy of presidential overreach that is neither transitional nor particularly just, as can be seen in the aftermath of January 6 (2021) in relation to the US and in the wake of January 3 (2026) in Venezuela. Indeed, Teddy’s successor still carries a big stick, even if he no longer speaks softly. And in this terrible context, much more is expected of us as scholars of international law and justice than to offer an apology for the apologies of yesterday’s (not so great) men.
Suggested citation: Daniel Quiroga Villamarin, Symposium on Ruti Teitel’s Presidential Visions of Transitional Justice, Part III: A Remorseful Teddy Bear: On the Jurisdictional Ambiguities of Theodore Roosevelt’s “Righteous Peace” in the Americas, Int’l J. Const. L. Blog, Mar. 27, 2026, at: https://www.iconnectblog.com/symposium-on-ruti-teitels-presidential-visions-of-transitional-justice-part-3-a-remorseful-teddy-bear-on-the-jurisdictional-ambiguities-of-theodore-roosevelts-righteous/