Kevin Lamarque/Reuters

Every so often, Senator Marco Rubio gives what is invariably billed as a "major" speech on U.S. foreign policy, where he invokes Ronald Reagan, calls for an increase in military spending, inveighs against isolationism, and flattens history to suit his purposes. If there are lessons to be learned from the Vietnam War, the arming of the mujahideen in Afghanistan, or the 2003 invasion of Iraq, don't look to the Florida Republican. He has no use for events that suggest the limits of military power, the danger of unintended consequences, or the staggering cost of wars gone wrong. He draws only from events that he regards as bolstering the case for a bigger war machine that is deployed more aggressively all over the world.

History offers some moments when hawks were vindicated. But to be a credible candidate for the White House, a politician should have to show that he or she understands it isn't always 1939; that declaring an adversary an "Evil Empire" doesn't always presage its collapse; that U.S. power can't always be as unrivaled as in the immediate aftermath of the Cold War. Republicans especially ought to be judged in part on whether they understand the Bush administration's foreign-policy mistakes. Rubio fails all of these tests. This is illustrated by stances he takes, like his 2010 declaration that America is better off for having invaded Iraq in 2003. But it's also evidenced by his general approach to U.S. history. He seldom if ever invokes the past as something that should complicate our understanding of the present. For Rubio, the past only confirms his ideological instincts.

Consider his most recent "major" foreign-policy speech, delivered last week in Washington, D.C. "There have always been those who argue that America shouldn’t concern herself with the affairs of the world—that what happens an ocean away bears little relevance to our people," he says early in the speech. "Thankfully, there have also always been those who ... argue that foreign policy is domestic policy, that our people’s interests and safety require defense capabilities so robust that they deter aggression and violence before they take hold ..."

That is one part of Rubio's ideology: America should spend so much on its military that no one ever messes with us. Isolationism will lead to more wars in the end. Most Americans believe that to a degree. I believe, for example, that we ought to spend more on our military than any other country. But for Rubio, spending more on military expenditures than all of our rivals combined still isn't enough.

Here's an example of how Rubio invokes history in dubious service of his ideology:

George Washington was one such leader. When he delivered the first ever State of the Union address, he asserted the need for American strength. “To be prepared for war,” he said, “is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.” But many in Congress disagreed. They assumed our hard-won independence meant the threats of the Old World had finally become irrelevant—that domestic issues could at last occupy our full focus. So against Washington’s wishes, they cut our Navy’s funding, leading it to be decommissioned.

The consequence of this move was devastating, and the lesson it taught our nation still applies today. At that time, America’s economy relied heavily on trade with Europe. But without a navy, our merchant vessels fell easy prey to a force of thievery and terror known as the Barbary pirates. Off the coasts of Africa and Europe, they attacked, killed, and enslaved our sailors. They plundered our ships and demanded exorbitant bribes, dealing a blow to our economy at home. But there was nothing we could do. America was defenseless.

If Rubio were taking World History 101, his professor might call him into office hours to make sure he understands that the Barbary pirates (who were state-sponsored actors, by the way) did not note cuts in U.S. naval funding and take up piracy. They'd been seizing ships and taking slaves for at least two centuries at that point. Their fleets were the scourge of most seafaring European nations at one time or another. Countries with naval fleets far more powerful and proximate than anything the United States could've mustered in 1789 were paying tribute to multiple North African countries to protect their merchant ships.

The Revolutionary War guaranteed that U.S. merchant ships would no longer enjoy the protection of the British Navy. The treaty concluding the Revolutionary War kicked off a period in which the U.S. had less protection from its ally France. Those events, much more than cuts to naval funding, led to increased troubles with piracy on faraway seas. Even before postwar cuts, the Navy of those years was in no shape to defeat pirates in North Africa.