- Maq Masi

What drives a superpower to threaten its allies, unravel long-standing treaties, and float surreal proposals like annexing Canada or buying Greenland? Why would a president, in the middle of global upheaval, feud publicly with the world’s richest man, suspend aid to Ukraine, and talk about retaking the Panama Canal by force? At first glance, Donald Trump’s second term may appear to be a theatre of chaos. But I argue it’s not chaos at all — it’s choreography. What looks like brute strength is, in fact, brittle fear.
Let us ask the harder question: What is the United States so afraid of that it must behave like a cornered empire rather than a confident one? The answer begins with numbers — because power without economic foundation is illusion. The U.S. trade deficit hit $971 billion in 2022. That’s not just an accounting concern; it’s a signal of systemic decay. Over $400 billion of that deficit was with China alone, and $350 billion with the EU. This isn’t about bad deals — it’s about vanishing competitiveness. Manufacturing, once the spine of American identity, has shed four million jobs since 1990. Add to that a national debt now exceeding $34 trillion, with interest payments forecast to top $1 trillion annually by 2028. These are not signs of a healthy empire.
So Trump does what empires always do in decline: he distracts. Universal tariffs, 50% levies on Chinese goods, 25% on Canadian and Mexican imports — all wrapped in the language of sovereignty and revival. But inflation hits the common American, not the elite. The OECD forecasts a 1.5% GDP contraction by 2026 as retaliation from trading partners sets in. Why then proceed? Because these policies aren’t designed to solve; they are designed to stall.
The world is no longer unipolar. China’s GDP has reached $18 trillion. It controls 90% of the rare earth supply the U.S. needs, and dominates 50% of the global electric vehicle market. BRICS nations are no longer aspirational — they now account for 41% of the global economy and are openly exploring alternatives to the dollar. Trump’s fear is not abstract. It’s fiscal, it’s strategic, and it’s immediate.
Domestically, the fractures are just as deep. Pew Research shows nearly half of Americans now see the opposing party as a threat to democracy. Inequality is entrenched — the top 1% hold nearly a third of all national wealth. This is not fertile ground for unity. What Trump offers is not unity, but spectacle — tariffs as justice, enemies as scapegoats, and diplomacy as a chessboard he flips at will.
Let us examine his more bizarre proposals — Canada as the 51st state, Greenland as a strategic purchase, Panama Canal as a possession to reclaim. These are not real estate fantasies. They are imperial projections meant to signal that the U.S. can still expand. But when Ottawa, Copenhagen, and Panama dismiss these overtures, what remains is not strength, but performance.
The recent Musk-Trump feud — public, hostile, and revealing — is not a sideshow. It’s an x-ray. When the political machinery lashes out at its own capitalist elite, it signals internal disarray. Musk called Trump’s bill a “disgusting abomination.” Trump threatened to strip SpaceX of its contracts. This is no longer policy; it’s open conflict within the empire’s highest echelons.
But the fear isn’t just in today’s data — it’s visible in yesterday’s history. Britain, once the world’s hegemon, began its fall not with defeat, but with overreach. In 1900, 10% of its GDP went to military spending. It held colonies it could no longer finance or defend. America now funds 700 military bases at a cost of $886 billion a year — over 3.5% of its GDP — while its green tech sector lags far behind China. Trump’s decision to favour fossil fuels, pull out of the Paris Agreement, and undermine renewables is reminiscent of Britain’s failure to keep up with industrial shifts in steel and chemicals before World War I. Both empires preferred comfort to adaptation. We know how that ended.
Marx, Lenin, Trotsky — these names are not ideological symbols here. They are analysts of imperial mechanics. Marx exposed the crisis of overproduction and the illusion of prosperity amidst decline. Lenin warned that imperialism is capitalism’s highest — and last — stage. Trotsky explained how uneven development pushes an empire to dominate technologically in one area (like AI) while falling behind in others (like climate tech). Trump’s economic policies fit neatly within these frameworks. He seeks to protect capital (28,000 steel jobs saved), yet sacrifices the consumer (70% of Americans earn under $50,000). This is not economic justice. It is redistribution upwards, justified by nationalism.
Even Wallerstein’s World-Systems Theory sees this moment clearly. America, once the uncontested core, is losing its grip. Its withdrawal from the ICC, UN, WHO, and even its own treaties, does not project independence. It reveals strategic retreat. Gallup shows global trust in U.S. leadership at just 34%. That is not a diplomatic win. That is a reputational collapse.
What of Europe and China — this so-called “unholy alliance”? The term is rhetorical, but the alignment is real. China’s Belt and Road Initiative, Europe’s rearmament, and the EU’s new $100 billion defence fund are not random policies. They are insurance — against American unreliability. Canada is quietly shifting its trade, Qatar now fuels Europe’s energy basket, and the BRICS bloc expands with intent. Defensive force — cannot reverse this. No one surrenders to a collapsing partner.
So where does that leave us? With a policy of delay. Trump is not aiming to win the future — he is trying to slow its arrival. Tariffs, defiance of global bodies, alienation of allies — these are not blunders. They are stalling tactics. And behind them lies a truth: the American empire knows it cannot hold the centre much longer. It no longer controls the rules. It merely performs them.
And the public? They cheer the drama, but miss the decay. Tariffs don’t fix decline; they just shift the burden onto those least able to carry it — the public pays more, while the empire buys time. Trump gives them spectacle, but not sustainability. That is the real danger.
In the end, the empire that roared is not terrifying because of its volume. It is terrifying because it roars not in strength — but in fear of the silence that follows.
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