There have been only a handful of true turning points in history, moments when the direction of nations, and sometimes civilizations, abruptly shifted. Napoleon’s 18th Brumaire, which ended the French Revolution, was one. The Munich summit of September 1938, which emboldened Nazi expansion and set the stage for World War II, was another.
President Donald Trump’s recent foreign policy actions may represent a similar inflection point, though whether history judges it as bold leadership or strategic overreach remains to be seen.
The Trump administration has justified the seizure of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro on allegations of narco-trafficking and criminal enterprise, arguing that the move was necessary to confront a brutal regime, curb drug flows and restore stability in the Western Hemisphere. Supporters see this as decisive action long delayed by diplomatic timidity, aimed at confronting authoritarian corruption close to America’s shores.
Yet taken together, assertions of U.S. control over Venezuelan oil, naval interdictions, expanded military actions in multiple regions, threats against Iran, pressure on NATO allies and rhetoric suggesting coercive expansion raise legitimate questions about the limits, scope and long-term consequences of American power.
Trump has not clearly articulated a limiting principle that defines where American intervention ends and restraint begins. Senior administration officials have argued that the United States must act unilaterally when international institutions fail or obstruct American interests. That position resonates with many Americans frustrated by global freeloading and endless diplomacy without results. But it also risks reducing international relations to force alone, sidelining law, alliances and moral legitimacy.
History warns us that great powers often stumble when confidence hardens into certainty.
This is not an argument against the use of force itself. Military power has frequently been essential to defeating tyranny. The American Revolution was not won through peaceful protest but through arms at Lexington and Concord. World War II was not ended by dialogue but by Allied resolve. Even the spread of Christianity through the Roman world owed as much to imperial protection as to the Sermon on the Mount.
The challenge has always been balance, knowing when force serves justice and when it plants the seeds of future catastrophe.
America’s own record of regime change should give us pause. The overthrow of Iran’s Mohammad Mosaddegh led not to democracy but to theocratic extremism. Guatemala, Vietnam, Chile, Iraq, Libya and Afghanistan each stand as reminders that removing a tyrant does not guarantee a better successor. In many cases, the aftermath proved worse than the disease.
This does not absolve regimes like Maduro’s of their crimes. It does not excuse repression, corruption or cruelty. But it does demand humility about America’s ability to engineer outcomes abroad, especially when no clear successor, institutional framework or regional consensus exists.
Optimal foreign policy is often less about moral purity than tragic tradeoffs. It requires tolerating some evils to prevent greater ones. North Korea is a moral abomination, yet war there could ignite nuclear catastrophe. China’s likely response cannot be ignored. There are no George Washingtons waiting in the wings.
Time has a way of humbling empires. Napoleon stood triumphant after Austerlitz, only to meet ruin at Waterloo. America’s early victories in Afghanistan and Iraq were swift and stunning — followed by decades of costly entanglement.
President Trump has rightly challenged complacent assumptions in foreign policy. He has exposed the costs of endless wars and demanded accountability from allies. Those contributions should not be dismissed. But disruption without restraint carries its own dangers.
If the Trump doctrine continues to expand without clear boundaries, the coming decade may bring sustained global turbulence, contested borders and escalating confrontations. We are indeed living in interesting times, and history will judge whether this moment marked renewed American leadership or a warning unheeded.
Armstrong Williams (https://ift.tt/D8tEzhe; @arightside) is a political analyst, syndicated columnist and owner of the broadcasting company, Howard Stirk Holdings. He is also part owner of The Baltimore Sun.
