I like America. I received my master’s degree in the US and worked three years as a Washington correspondent for YTN, a cable TV news channel in Korea. During that time, I can say that I saw the country up close — its people, institutions and ideas. But more than just familiarity, I was impressed by what America stood for: liberal democracy, diversity, freedom and economic opportunity.
For decades, the United States was not just a superpower but a world leader. Its soft power was rooted in principles that elevated it above the politics of might. It inspired nations and gave hope to those living under oppression. But over the past decade, that image has changed.
When Donald Trump declared his presidential candidacy in 2015, many dismissed him as a sideshow. But as his influence grew, so did the damage to America's reputation. Since Trump entered the political arena, the US has transformed — not of renewal, but of regression. The shift has been painful to watch for those who saw in America a leader, not a bully.
Trump's slogan, "Make America Great Again," was intended to rally support by invoking a lost golden age. However, the idea that America is no longer great is implicit in that message.
That claim doesn’t hold up to facts. Before Trump took office, America was still the world's leading economy. Its military power was unmatched. The dollar remained the global reserve currency. Its technological innovation is still the envy of the world. Culturally, American films, music and universities maintain unparalleled international influence. What part of this reflects a fallen America?
What Trump meant by "greatness" was not leadership through values but dominance through force. He confused respect with fear and cooperation with weakness. His rhetoric targeted allies as adversaries and framed global engagement as a zero-sum game. Instead of elevating America, he diminished its moral authority. One of his most damaging claims is that other nations no longer respect the United States. This view may appeal to domestic pride, but it misunderstands diplomacy. In the international system, states interact as sovereign equals. Respect is not demanded; it is earned — through consistency, trust and principled leadership.
Trump's behavior undermined the respect he claimed to restore. He suggested buying Greenland from Denmark, treating it as a real estate transaction. He dismissed Panama's sovereignty in remarks about the canal. He spoke of directly managing the Gaza Strip, showing disregard for Palestinian autonomy. These are not making America great but graceless again.
Worse still was his approach to America's allies. Trump accused partners such as Germany, Japan and South Korea of exploiting the US security commitments. He questioned the value of long-standing alliances like NATO. However, this view ignores the reality that these alliances are strategic assets.
The US military presence abroad supports stability in key regions, enables rapid crisis response, and serves as a deterrent against potential adversaries. It also deepens US influence and helps secure trade routes and supply chains. To frame this as exploitation is to misunderstand both history and strategy.
Equally misguided was Trump's economic nationalism. He launched trade wars under the banner of fairness, but his policies often hurt the people they claimed to protect. Tariffs on steel, aluminum and Chinese goods disrupted global supply chains and raised costs for American consumers. Farmers, manufacturers and small businesses were all caught in the crossfire.
Trump treated trade deficits as evidence of defeat. But it is common sense that deficits reflect complex factors like investment flows, currency valuation and consumption patterns — not simply unfair trade. The US helped build the rules-based global trading system, which benefited more than anyone for decades. With its advanced industries and global capital reach, America thrives when markets are open. Protectionism may sound patriotic, but it isolates the US and weakens its competitive edge.
It is true that America has made mistakes on the world stage. The 2003 invasion of Iraq, for example, severely damaged US credibility. Unlike the war in Afghanistan, which responded to a direct attack, the Iraq war was based on flawed intelligence and launched without broad international support. It destabilized the region, cost hundreds of thousands of lives and generated deep skepticism about American leadership.
The 2008 financial crisis further exposed vulnerabilities. It triggered a global recession triggered by reckless financial practices within the US. Millions lost homes and jobs. Trust in American economic stewardship was shaken — not by foreign adversaries but systemic failures at home.
Yet, rather than learn from these lessons, Trump doubled down on grievance and fear. Why? The answer lies in domestic politics. Since the Cold War ended, the US has lacked a common external enemy. Without it, political polarization intensified. Identity politics deepened.
Trump capitalized on this divide, crafting a message that blamed outsiders — foreigners, immigrants, global institutions — for America’s internal problems. In doing so, he sacrificed the very values that once made America admired: openness, generosity, fairness and accountability. He mocked allies, praised autocrats and treated diplomacy as a personal contest. His policies offered no real solutions — only spectacle and division.
Perhaps most alarming is the durability of his influence. Trump may resist acknowledging his failures, but the costs of his approach are increasingly evident. America's alliances have been strained. Its global standing has declined. Its ability to mobilize international cooperation — on climate, security or pandemics — has been weakened. If the US is to reclaim its role as a global leader, it must reverse course.
That requires more than just policy shifts. It requires reaffirming core American principles: democracy, diversity, rule of law and constructive engagement with the world. There is still hope. America’s institutions remain strong. Civil society is vibrant. Its partners are still willing to cooperate. Though America was imperfect, it was principled, built alliances and promoted peace. That is the America we loved. And that is the America the world still hopes to see again.
Wang Son-taek
Wang Son-taek is an adjunct professor at Sogang University. He is a former diplomatic correspondent at YTN and a former research associate at Yeosijae. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. — Ed.
