Maq Masi Blog

At first glance, Trumpism—characterised by trade wars, NATO scepticism, and unexpected alignments with figures such as Kim Jong-un and Vladimir Putin—appears to represent an unpredictable rupture in the continuity of American foreign policy. To longstanding allies in Europe, Japan, and South Korea, it seems a betrayal: the abrupt unravelling of partnerships that have underpinned U.S. global leadership since the mid-20th century. Yet beneath the apparent chaos lies a more deliberate strategy—a high-stakes recalibration of American power in response to a shifting global order.

Trumpism did not arise in isolation. It is the political outgrowth of decades of American overreach, unbalanced globalisation, and strategic complacency. While the U.S. stretched itself thin across military interventions and liberalised trade deals, rivals such as China and India quietly observed, adapted, and advanced. These emerging powers absorbed the mechanisms of the U.S.-led international system—leveraging its openness to build independent spheres of influence, thereby challenging the very hegemony that once appeared unassailable. Trumpism, then, is not the origin of disruption, but its most overt manifestation.

What sets Trumpism apart is its implicit recognition that American hegemony is no longer guaranteed. The old post-war model—relying on multilateralism, institutional legitimacy, and long-term alliances—is increasingly ill-suited to a world of assertive regional powers and technological interdependence. Trumpism embraces this new reality. It frames its confrontational tactics as not only necessary, but inevitable—a pragmatic, if unorthodox, strategy to prolong U.S. global dominance. It treats disruption not as an obstacle, but as a tool. In this sense, Trumpism is a recalibration rather than a retreat: a power tactic suited to an era of contested influence.

This strategic logic is visible in policy actions often dismissed as erratic: the imposition of tariffs on allies, withdrawal from multilateral forums, halting of aid to Ukraine, and circumvention of the EU in diplomacy with Russia. These are not isolated provocations but part of a deliberate toolkit to fracture assumptions, test loyalties, and reassert leverage. Trumpism seeks not to dismantle American leadership, but to restructure it—shifting from consensus-based hegemony to a transactional and unpredictable model of dominance.

This tactic of strategic dissonance—disruptive unpredictability—keeps both allies and adversaries uncertain and reactive. The method is not new. It echoes the balance-of-power strategies of British imperial diplomacy in the 19th century and Nixon’s 1970s outreach to China. In each case, disruption was deployed to reset the international game board and reinforce national primacy. Trumpism, similarly, uses misdirection to obscure long-term intentions while consolidating short-term influence.

Yet such tactics carry significant risks. Alienated allies may deepen their economic and strategic ties with alternative powers. The European Union has responded to U.S. tariffs with retaliatory measures. Japan, feeling the chill of American disengagement, has strengthened its participation in regional trade partnerships. Immigration restrictions and protectionist rhetoric risk eroding the very foundations of American technological and economic vitality—its openness to talent, innovation, and diversity.

To succeed, Trumpism demands more than disruption—it requires a robust economic engine, unmatched innovation capacity, and strategic finesse. While the U.S. retains key advantages—a GDP exceeding $27 trillion, leading technology firms, and unmatched defence capabilities—it risks undermining these very pillars through shortsighted or poorly executed decisions. The gamble is that short-term disarray will produce long-term strategic advantage. Whether that proves true is uncertain.

There is also a moral and philosophical dimension worth considering. Can a global order driven by transactionalism and unpredictability offer the kind of stability, legal clarity, and ethical coherence the 21st century demands? If leadership is exercised through disruption rather than example, will others follow—or simply seek to replace it?

From a legal perspective, Trumpism unsettles the normative architecture of international law and institutions. Withdrawal from the Paris Climate Accord, undermining the World Trade Organization, and sidelining the United Nations in key diplomatic matters erode the legitimacy of multilateral governance. If international norms become subject to whim, their enforceability and moral force diminish—weakening the very rules that once allowed American leadership to appear principled rather than imposed.

Finally, Trumpism cannot be separated from its domestic origins. Its rise is fuelled by political polarisation, economic inequality, and the disillusionment of middle-class America with globalisation’s uneven dividends. By appealing to this discontent, Trumpism repositions foreign policy as an extension of domestic populism. It speaks not of global stewardship, but of national revival—framing foreign entanglements as liabilities rather than responsibilities.

Trumpism is not simply a break from past American policy—it is a reinvention of it, born of necessity and shaped by decline. It is a tactical response to a multipolar world where America must fight to remain indispensable. Whether it succeeds in renewing U.S. dominance or accelerates its erosion will depend not on its bravado, but on its execution.

The world is watching. If Trumpism can reforge alliances on new terms, reindustrialise the U.S. economy, and recalibrate its global leadership through innovation rather than force, it may indeed redefine American hegemony for a new age. But if its disruption turns to disarray, it may be remembered not as strategy, but as the tipping point of imperial decline.