In the opening months of a second Trump presidency, American foreign policy has looked less like steady statecraft and more like a series of improvisations driven by a single executive. A late-night social-media suggestion to retake the Panama Canal and a reportedly authorized operation to remove Venezuela’s Nicolás Maduro illustrate a larger pattern: the president treating U.S. power as a tool to be swung where and when he sees fit.
Those dramatic gestures have been accompanied by an array of unilateral actions. The administration has ordered strikes on militants in Yemen and on Iranian nuclear infrastructure, engineered a fragile Gaza ceasefire, pressed European leaders to boost defence spending, demanded Greenland from Denmark, and threatened sweeping tariffs on major trading partners. It has also used financial incentives and covert largesse—supporting selected foreign politicians, freeing convicted leaders from prison, and accepting extravagant gifts from courting states—to convert diplomatic influence into transactional gains.
What distinguishes this approach is not only its scale but its personalization: authority is concentrated in the president rather than dispersed through institutions, alliances or multilateral processes. Decisions that used to be built through coalition-building and long diplomatic efforts now move at presidential velocity, with military options, trade penalties and aid suspensions wielded as bargaining chips.
That shift is already reshaping alliances. Many foreign leaders have indulged the new formula—lavishing praise, offering gifts and lining up visits—while NATO and European capitals find themselves effectively on ‘‘trial,’’ asked to demonstrate greater defence outlays and procurement alignment before American guarantees are counted as solid. The result is a brittle reassurance: allies may pledge more money, but the deeper question of trust—would the United States fight for them in a crisis—has grown murkier.
The immediate payoffs are mixed. The administration can point to tactical successes: temporary ceasefires, pressure on regimes Tehran and Caracas, and a renewed impetus for European defence spending. Yet these wins carry strategic costs—legal and ethical controversies over lethal strikes, questions about the durability of deals struck under pressure, and the risk that transactional diplomacy will hollow out the institutions that sustain long-term American influence.
For developing countries and vulnerable regions the consequences are acute. Cuts to aid, the use of coercive economic measures and the public encouragement of right-wing movements threaten social and political stability in places dependent on steady foreign assistance. Meanwhile, adversaries with longer institutional patience may exploit the confusion, gaining influence where the United States steps back or appears inconsistent.
The defining test of this era will be whether concentrated, ad-hoc exertions of American power produce enduring strategic advantages or merely episodic headlines. If allies conclude that U.S. guarantees are conditional and reversible, the result could be a more fragmented, competitive and volatile international system; if they instead beef up their defences and align procurement to U.S. preferences, Washington may succeed in shifting burdens without wholly sacrificing influence. The year ahead will show which outcome prevails.