By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers

Some observers have approvingly claimed that the second Trump administration heralds a realist revival in American foreign policy. Robert O'Brien, who served as national security adviser in the first Trump administration, eagerly promised “the return of realism with a Jacksonian flavor.”

This view is gravely mistaken. Realists often disagree, sometimes sharply, about the best course of action, so it is not easy to say what a “realist foreign policy” is. But it is easy to say what is not—and Donald Trump’s brand of “America first” is not.

President Donald Trump signing executive orders, Washington, D.C., January 2025

 

Get Real

Although there never will be a single “realist foreign policy,” there remain identifiable realist dispositions. Realists are generally skeptical of the stopping power of international law, reluctant in most (but not all) cases to pass confident judgment on competing claims to the moral high ground proffered by opposing sides in international conflicts, and generally wary of ambitious schemes to settle distant conflicts through the use of force.

From those dispositions flow a number of core tenets. Those principles can suggest a range of policy choices. It is notable, however, the extent to which Trump rejects these credos.

Realism can be coolly calculating and hardhearted, but it is not reflexively violent, or indifferent to the moral implications of policy choices. Actors in world politics who ruthlessly apply the use of force are sometimes dubbed (and occasionally admired) as realists. But as Clausewitz taught, the use of force can be deemed successful only if it achieves the political goals for which it was introduced at an acceptable cost. “No one starts a war—or rather, no one in his senses ought to do so—without first being clear in his mind what he intends to achieve by that war,” he lectured. “The political objective is the goal.” 

Foreign policy is about getting what you want on the world stage. A thin reading of Machiavelli might yield the cherry-picked homily that it is better for a prince to be feared than to be loved; nevertheless, in world politics, only a fool wants to be hated. The ability to marshal one’s political influence and wield it wisely is a key determinant of success or failure by that fundamental metric of achieving one’s objectives in the international arena. But Trump’s brand of “America first” is not very good at international politics. Consider U.S. competition with China. During the Cold War, the last major great-power contest Washington faced, the diplomat George F. Kennan described the challenge the United States faced and the objectives it sought as political rather than military. The principal threat was not that the Soviet Union would imminently add Western Europe to its empire through conquest but that, over time, the entire continent would slowly slide into the Soviet sphere of influence. And regardless of whether U.S.-Chinese relations today constitute a new cold war, Kennan’s assessment applies. The principal danger is not that China will recklessly and foolishly engage in a self-defeating bid for regional hegemony by serially invading its neighbors; the danger is that China might come to achieve political domination over East Asia.

That is why, from a realist perspective, although U.S. military preparedness matters, the cornerstone of a wise response to the China challenge would be close political partnerships (and committed alliances) with key players in the region. Yet Trump evinces a curious attitude about alliances, viewing them not so much as mechanisms to bolster shared sensibilities but as generally disdained money-losing propositions populated by ungrateful free-riders on American largess. Now those countries must assess whether or not Washington will be a reliable political partner. If the United States seems mercurial or untrustworthy, China may come to dominate the region—not by military conquest, but as a result of calculations by those who conclude there is no practical alternative to acceding to its wishes.

Trump’s aversion to alliances is also likely to shape his choices when it comes to the war in Ukraine. From a realist perspective, it is in the American national interest to live in a world where aggressive wars of conquest by ambitious authoritarian powers fail rather than succeed. Better yet if one can hasten that failure at a relatively low cost, and if doing so draws one’s allies even closer. That is precisely what has happened since Russia’s initial invasion in 2022—which is why it is so galling that Trump’s allies have cast his seeming inclination to bring about an end to the war on Russia’s terms as an act of realist restraint rather than pure folly.

From a realist perspective, it is past time to reassess American security guarantees in the Persian Gulf, which might have made sense a half century ago but are now plainly anachronistic. It is also hard to see how providing Israel a blank check for its expansionist policies in the West Bank advances the American national interest. Yet in assessing Washington’s long-standing friends and allies, Trump seems content to carry on Washington’s embrace of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Trump also seems untroubled by U.S. military commitments in the Gulf and has talked tough about confronting Washington’s main nemesis in the region, Iran. But the United States is now the world’s largest energy exporter and faces growing threats in other regions. A true realist would thus suggest that Washington gracefully disentangle itself from promises to defend the Gulf and would warn that an American (or U.S.-backed) attempt to take out Iran’s nuclear program by force would be a catastrophic blunder.

 

Big Mouth

Realism is often associated in the popular imagination with toughness. And although it is often essential to communicate firmness to adversaries, especially in private, realists don’t bother with trash talking, and they very rarely strut.

In sharp contrast, Trump has been especially loud in recent weeks. In addition to repeatedly threatening to seize the Panama Canal, Trump used a Christmas message to belittle the prime minister of Canada and suggested that Canadians would be better off if their country became the 51st U.S. state. But realists would be loath to undermine one of the greatest advantages the U.S. has long enjoyed as a world power—uncommonly warm relations with its closest neighbors. Trump has also talked plainly about using coercive tactics against an ally to bring about the absorption of Greenland, which he claimed “is needed by the United States for National Security purposes.” And although realists don’t place much stock in rhetoric, such talk can matter—in a bad way—by shaping international expectations about American intentions to the detriment of U.S. interests. Imagine if similar sentiments were uttered by the incoming leader of another great power. Talk is cheap—but can often backfire.

Nowhere is this more evident than in Trump’s saber rattling about the international role of the U.S. dollar. “Many countries are leaving the dollar,” he claimed, falsely, during the 2024 campaign. “They not going to leave the dollar with me,” he boasted. “I’ll say, ‘You leave the dollar, you’re not doing business with the United States, because we’re going to put a 100 percent tariff on your goods.’” Ultimately, however, the future of the greenback as an international currency will largely be determined by the collective choices of uncoordinated private actors, most of whom will be impossible to identify. International money runs on confidence: people use it because they want to use it (often fleeing alternatives, including their local legal tender). Trying to force others to use the dollar would make them want to use it less—and undermine its credibility.

Given the priority that countries place on retaining their policy autonomy and advancing their own interests, realists presume that states prefer not to be pushed around and will balance against bullying when they can. Arrogance and the gratuitous throwing of sharp elbows is not realism. The philosopher Raymond Aron detailed the self-defeating nature of such behavior, which invariably excites “the fear and jealousy of other states,” weakening rather than strengthening the national hand and nudging “a shift of allies to neutrality or of neutrals to the enemy camp.” Thucydides observed a similar phenomenon at the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, reporting the widespread “indignation felt against Athens.” Due to years of Athenian presumptuousness, he wrote, “Men’s feelings inclined much more to the Spartans.” Athens lost.

One of Trump’s signature “America first” ideals fails to account for that dynamic: the imposition of protectionism, either for its own sake or as a negotiating tactic designed to bend others to the American will. U.S. protectionism would elicit retaliation that would severely damage an economy that exports around $3 trillion in goods and services annually and relies on imported intermediate products even for domestic production, and it would send the domestic price of tradeable goods soaring. Trump’s embrace of tariffs and other trade barriers would also present openings for others. In December, the European Union reached a trade pact with four South American countries, forming one of the world’s largest trading zones. China is similarly making important economic inroads in the Western Hemisphere. Trump’s aggressive trade policies, even if they manage to eke out grudging concessions from others, will undermine broader U.S. foreign policy goals (such as inhibiting the breadth of China’s political reach), contribute to global economic distress, and leave other countries wary of (and looking to defend themselves from) Washington’s next attempt to throw its weight around.

 

A Failed Approach

In thinking about foreign policy, most realists align with the diplomat and scholar Arnold Wolfers, who coined the term “milieu goals.” As Wolfers wrote, although states must prioritize their own survival, they are “faced with the problem of survival only on rare occasions.” As always, realists will disagree on the specific tactics that will best achieve milieu goals, but they well understand that comity with friends is as essential for national security as judicious firmness with adversaries.

Here again, “America first” rejects the realist emphasis on the long run: it is a shortsighted, transactionalist, and narrowly selfish approach. Trump sees every interaction with other countries, friends and foes alike, as a zero-sum confrontation in which the objective is to extract the largest possible share of the perceived visible gains. Washington tried this approach before, in the interwar years. Its myopic demands for repayment of its war debts contributed to the financial fragility that led to the shattering global financial crisis of 1931. Its protectionism (in the wake of which its exports fell by even more than its imports) spurred the collapse of world trade more generally. Both policies contributed to and deepened the global depression, which was an important factor in bringing fascists to power in Germany and Japan. That original incarnation of “America First” was penny-wise but more than pound-foolish, and it was certainly not predicated on realism. Neither is Trump’s version—and the results could once again be disastrous.

 

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