The United States’ recent foreign policy posture — most starkly visible in Venezuela and Greenland — has raised unsettling questions about Washington’s direction on the world stage. From the alleged abduction of Venezuela’s president to explicit threats involving the annexation of Greenland, territory belonging to a long-standing NATO ally, the actions appear extraordinary even by the standards of a turbulent international era.
At first glance, it is tempting to explain these developments as the product of President Donald Trump’s personal style: confrontational, transactional and dismissive of diplomatic norms. Trump has long cast himself as a strongman willing to do what others would not, and his “Make America Great Again” worldview prizes dominance and spectacle over consensus.
Yet focusing solely on Trump risks missing the deeper forces at work. What is unfolding may be less about one leader’s bravado and more about the behaviour of a great power grappling with relative decline in a rapidly changing global order.
History suggests that powerful states do not lose their dominance suddenly. Decline is gradual and uneven. Early warning signs rarely appear first in military defeat or economic collapse. Instead, they emerge as strains in legitimacy, confidence and strategy — moments when a state still possesses immense power but struggles to translate it into desired outcomes.
By most traditional measures, the United States remains formidable. It retains unmatched global military reach, dominance in advanced defence technologies and a central role in global finance. However, in other areas — industrial capacity, trade competitiveness, infrastructure, human development and soft power — its relative advantage has narrowed. Managing this transition from overwhelming supremacy to contested leadership is notoriously difficult, especially for a country accustomed to setting the rules.
This psychological challenge has been highlighted by analysts such as China scholar Kaiser Kuo. In an essay titled “The Great Reckoning,” Kuo argued that the sheer scale of China’s transformation has created an “intellectual challenge of acknowledgement” for Americans. The rise of a rival that builds infrastructure, educates its population and innovates at scale throws domestic dysfunction in the United States into sharper relief. Budget standoffs, infrastructure failures and political paralysis appear more glaring when contrasted with rapid development elsewhere.
Despite this, such views remain marginal in mainstream U.S. political discourse. Much of Washington continues to operate as though American dominance is unquestioned and permanent. Trump’s actions reflect this triumphalist assumption — but the outcomes increasingly suggest otherwise.
The early stages of decline often produce paradoxical behaviour. States that believe themselves still dominant may act more aggressively, especially toward weaker actors, precisely because they fear the erosion of influence. True power rarely needs to advertise itself. Overassertion can signal insecurity rather than strength.
Venezuela illustrates this dynamic. The dramatic seizure of President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, rather than showcasing strategic mastery, exposed limits to U.S. influence in its own hemisphere. In earlier decades, Washington might have orchestrated regional pressure, engineered elite defections or shaped outcomes indirectly through allies. Instead, it resorted to overt force against one of the poorest countries in the world, where most of the population lives in poverty.
Rather than impressing, the operation alarmed many governments and reinforced long-standing concerns about U.S. disregard for international law. Acting decisively against a weak state did little to enhance American legitimacy or deterrence, and instead raised fears about precedent.
Greenland presents a parallel case in Europe, traditionally America’s strongest sphere of influence. Since Trump returned to office, Washington has exerted significant pressure on European allies — pushing NATO members to raise defence spending, threatening tariffs and shaping policy on Ukraine. This leverage rests largely on U.S. security guarantees.
Yet even with this influence, the United States failed to secure its objectives on Greenland through diplomacy. Despite broad alignment with European concerns about growing Russian and Chinese activity in the Arctic, Washington’s approach devolved into explicit threats, including the suggestion of military action. While Trump has since played down the prospect of force, uncertainty remains about future moves.
In both Latin America and Europe — regions where U.S. sway should be greatest — Washington has struggled to achieve outcomes without coercion. This stands in sharp contrast to earlier eras of American power. The adoption of the U.S. dollar as the world’s reserve currency, the creation of enduring alliances, and the establishment of overseas bases in Europe, Japan and South Korea were achieved without invasion or annexation. These arrangements strengthened U.S. influence for decades precisely because they were mutually accepted, not imposed.
A final hallmark of declining powers is strategic distraction: pursuing actions that generate short-term headlines but do little to reinforce long-term strength. In today’s world, durable power flows from investment in education, innovation, industrial renewal, political stability and social cohesion. These efforts are slow, complex and rarely dramatic — but neglecting them makes decline inevitable.
Here, the United States faces its most serious challenge. Even if Washington were to dominate Venezuela or extract concessions over Greenland, such gains would be marginal if the U.S. economy weakens, its political system remains polarised and its industrial base erodes. History offers sobering lessons. Britain’s retention of overseas bases, such as in Cyprus, did nothing to halt its post-imperial decline.
Venezuela and Greenland would be similarly irrelevant if the United States fails to renew itself at home. Aggressive foreign policy may project confidence, but it risks becoming a costly distraction from the deeper work required to sustain leadership.
What the world may be witnessing, then, is not simply Trump testing limits, but a great power confronting the uncomfortable reality that power is no longer uncontested — and responding in ways that reveal anxiety as much as authority.
