It is difficult to overstate how unsettled the world has become.
After the turbulence of Trump’s first term, life appeared—if not perfect—at least recognizable again under Biden. The presidency recovered its dignity; institutions, both domestic and international, resumed something like normal function; alliances held. History’s shocks—Bush and Cheney’s overreach, Trump’s first improbable ascent—felt absorbed, if not resolved.
That confidence is now gone.
America, the indispensable power that helped win two world wars, underwrote global security, exported democratic norms, and served as the backbone of the modern technological economy, chose to return to disruption—this time knowingly, and after January 6. The result has been swift and unmistakable. By 2025, international institutions, global trade, and the habits of cooperation that raised living standards worldwide have all been weakened. The old consensus—that shared problems could be addressed collectively—has fractured.
America’s posture now is plain.
Between trade wars, indulgence toward Putin, casual threats against Greenland and Canada, and direct action in Venezuela, the message is not subtle: the United States will act in what it calls its interest, which increasingly means the interests of one man and those around him.
Everyone else is poorer for it.
At home, the economy tells a familiar story. The top one percent have done extraordinarily well, while there is little sustained effort to ease the burdens faced by most Americans. Inflation relief is absent. Healthcare costs continue to climb. Bankruptcy protections erode. Legal safeguards weaken. Student debt relief recedes.
What remains reliable are tax cuts for the wealthy, hardened immigration policies that restrict labor mobility, and protectionism whose promised benefits are swallowed by higher prices.
Globally, the costs multiply.
As the world’s central economic node, America’s trade conflicts raise prices everywhere, suppress growth, and reduce the scope for cooperation. The only clear dividends are emotional ones—performative patriotism, the satisfaction of grievance, or cruelty directed at immigrants, minorities, and the vulnerable.
Europe and Canada have been moving cautiously for some time, adjusting to a United States that is less predictable and less restrained. After the recent events in Venezuela, even polite fictions are becoming difficult to sustain.
Bill Parcells once said, “You are what your record says you are.” Nations are no different. We are, in the end, defined not by what we claim to stand for, but by what we choose—repeatedly—to do.
That recognition need not lead to despair. But it does require honesty, restraint, and a renewed seriousness about power—how it is used, and for whom. The world has fewer illusions now.
What remains is the harder work of deciding whether we intend to be worthy of whatever influence we still possess.