Since the end of World War II, America’s dominance has not been measured solely by our economy or even our military might. It has been defined by a quieter, often invisible truth: we made global trade possible.
Before 1945, international commerce was risky business. Piracy, rogue states, and great-power rivalries made oceans treacherous. Trade routes were routinely disrupted. Economies had to be largely self-sufficient because importing goods from halfway around the world was not just expensive — it was dangerous. Globalization, as we know it, simply was not feasible. That changed when America, wielding the most powerful Navy the world had ever seen — accounting for roughly 70 percent of global naval tonnage by 1945 — made a conscious strategic choice: we would guarantee the safety of the global commons. We would secure the world’s oceans, not as a gesture of charity, but because it served our vital interests.
Free trade turbocharged the global economy — and America sat firmly at its center. It opened new markets for American goods, fueled post-war economic growth, and solidified our place as the indispensable nation.
Our leadership allowed Europe to outsource much of its own defense, freeing its budgets to invest in building modern social democracies. Universal healthcare systems, expansive social safety nets, cutting-edge investments in science and education — these hallmarks of European governance were made possible not only by political will but by a fundamental geopolitical reality: they no longer needed to pour resources into massive militaries. While the United States spent around 3.5% of GDP on defense during much of the Cold War, many European NATO members like Germany and France hovered closer to 1.5%. America’s security guarantee, through NATO and a network of alliances, effectively turned Western Europe into an extension of American influence. Germany, the largest economy in Europe, became a showcase for how American power could foster prosperity, stability, and democracy abroad.
This strategic architecture was not a gift. It was a masterstroke of enlightened self-interest. It kept potential rivals divided, kept markets open, kept American companies thriving, and kept hostile powers at bay.
Today, that architecture is crumbling — not because of external threat alone, but because of our own actions.
The Trump administration’s approach to alliances — antagonizing NATO, undermining democratic partners, and cozying up to authoritarian strongmen — was not just reckless theater. It was a strategic catastrophe unfolding in slow motion. Trump publicly called NATO "obsolete" and privately threatened to withdraw the United States from the alliance altogether. In 2020, he ordered the withdrawal of nearly 12,000 U.S. troops from Germany without consulting European partners — a move widely seen as a breach of trust and a gift to Russia. By signaling that Europe is "on its own," we are carelessly dismantling one of the greatest sources of American power in modern history. For what? To save a few billion dollars a year? To score points in a domestic political cycle? It is shortsighted at best and dangerously self-defeating at worst.
Weakening NATO does not just weaken Europe. It weakens us.
If Europe can no longer trust in American security guarantees, it will have no choice but to rearm — creating independent power centers that will inevitably chart their own courses, potentially outside of American influence. Alternatively, fractured and vulnerable states could fall under the sway of rival powers eager to exploit the vacuum. Either way, America's global influence will shrink — and the security, prosperity, and leadership we have long enjoyed will be casualties.
Meanwhile, our adversaries are playing the long game. China is steadily building its own network of global trade and influence through the Belt and Road Initiative, which now involves over 140 countries and accounts for more than $1 trillion in infrastructure investments. Russia, for its part, continues to exploit division and destabilize democracies through disinformation campaigns, cyberattacks, and opportunistic military aggression.
In this increasingly multipolar world, abandoning our friends does not make us stronger. It isolates us.
The post-war order America built was not an accident. It was a deliberate act of strategic genius. It made us wealthy — during the "Golden Age of Capitalism" from 1945 to 1973, U.S. GDP grew at an average annual rate of around 4 percent. It made us secure. It allowed us to project power without constantly fighting wars of conquest. It allowed us to export our values — freedom, democracy, human rights — while exporting our goods and services too. That is what we risk losing if we continue down this path of isolation and neglect.
If we care about American strength — real, enduring strength — we must remember what made it possible in the first place. We cannot afford to treat our allies like burdens, nor can we afford to mistake global leadership for global charity. Our leadership has been a cornerstone of our prosperity and our safety for nearly eighty years.
America’s future has never been in isolation. It has always been in leadership — principled, strategic, and, yes, sometimes costly leadership. The alternative is not "savings" or "sovereignty." The alternative is weakness, irrelevance, and vulnerability.
We built the world order. We led the free world. We still can — if we choose to.