US President Donald Trump steps out of Marine One for a visit to Fort Bragg to mark the US Army anniversary, in North Carolina, last year in this file photo. (Reuters) In a recent article marking America’s 250th anniversary, The Economist magazine made an interesting observation. Measured by several criteria, the US of 2026 is “richer, stronger and cleverer than ever”. Yet at the same time, as the piece points out, America’s “dominance appears to be eroding”. Certainly, US military spending is unmatched and it has access to many more overseas bases than any combination of its rivals. On the economic front, though losing ground to China every year, its companies still dominate tech, it is the biggest player in oil and gas, and the dollar remains the world’s reserve currency. Yet it is hard to disagree with The Economist’s conclusion. Time and again, from Afghanistan to Iraq, and during the current conflict with Iran, the US willingness to spend vast amounts on superior warfighting capabilities has not translated into strategic victory. There is also a growing perception, even among long-time partners, that the US is an unreliable ally. It is no longer taken for granted that “American leadership is the one constant in an uncertain world”, as President Obama put it only a decade ago. Instead, in recent decades the US has struggled to demonstrate leadership by providing followers across the world with the security, stability and order they expect from their leader. This point is important. It is far easier to get regional partners to follow you voluntarily when you take their interests into account and are committed to defending those interests. This is as much a matter of political will as material power. The absence of political will quickly translates into a loss of strategic influence that damages a leader’s standing with its followers. To take one example, despite its enormous material advantages over the Assad regime and its Russian patron, the Obama administration’s lack of resolve and strategic clarity in the Syrian civil war diminished America’s leadership. As one of many similar media headlines put it in 2016, “Russia’s grip on Syria tightens as brittle ceasefire deal leaves US out in the cold”. Followers will continue to follow even when the leader ignores their interests or lacks the will to act in support of those interests. They do so because they have no better options or because they fear the leader will unleash punitive measures against them, such as tariffs and sanctions. But this form of leadership is coercive, expensive and consumes a lot of political capital to keep weaker and smaller states, including allies, in line. The result is a downward spiral that undermines the leader’s legitimacy and makes it harder for it to shape the international system in line with its own interests – a key test of geopolitical dominance. All this was evident in mid-April when US allies responded negatively to President Donald Trump’s call for a US-led Hormuz coalition after Iran closed the Strait. Unlike earlier post–Cold War coalitions, where participation was both broad and geographically diverse, the Hormuz initiative struggled from the outset to attract even a core group of committed partners among Washington’s traditional allies. For example, none of the three countries who participated in the initial military invasion of Iraq in 2003 — Australia, the UK and Poland — agreed to get involved. Prime Minister Donald Tusk of Poland publicly ruled out sending troops. His Australian counterpart, Anthony Albanese, explained bluntly “This is not our war”. The UK’s Keir Starmer promised his country would “not buckle” under US pressure. This refusal to follow Washington is notable because freedom of navigation through the Strait of Hormuz is a shared interest of the entire international community. Nor can we put this non-involvement down to legitimate concerns about escalation with Iran or domestic political opposition. Similar risks and constraints were present in Iraq and Afghanistan yet did not prevent large numbers of states from contributing in various ways. A more persuasive explanation is that in the past America’s allies willingly followed the US more than today. They did so because they believed the relationship, despite real differences on some issues, was based on reciprocity, shared interests and even common values. Spanish prime minister, José María Aznar, explained that he joined the US coalition in Iraq in 2003, despite huge popular opposition at home, because, “The strengthenging of relations with the United States was a priority.” He added, “you cannot ask a friend for help and then later, when that same friends asks you for something, say no”. Contrast this with the position of Pedro Sánchez, Spain’s current prime minister. He called the attack on Iran an “absurd and illegal war”, denied the US access to his country’s military bases and stood up to President Trump when he threatened to cut off trade and kick Spain out of Nato. This is not to say that the era of American power is over. Despite its much-reduced position, the US continues to be the “powerful outsider” at the centre of most regions. The procession of government leaders visiting the White House to pay homage attests to this. Even Sánchez has downplayed his disagreements with Trump. But the recent Hormuz episode, and the wider war with Iran, provide an important indication of how changes in perceptions of US power and leadership are reshaping the geopolitical order. It is also a reminder of something else: that America’s “unipolar moment”, which began with its victory in the Cold War in the early 1990s, was always going to be just that — a moment. It is rare for one state to sustain indefinitely its position as the preeminent militarily, economic and diplomatic actor across all regions at the same time. This state of affairs is always temporary. Eventually, another state or, more usually, a combination of states will, as Napoleon found out, put their differences aside, come together and overturn the unipolar order. Having lived for almost forty years in a world defined by an overwhelming concentration of power in a single state, the US, it is easy to forget that unipolarity is the exception not the norm throughout history. The writer is Professor of International Politics and Director of the Small States and Energy Studies Programs at Georgetown University in Qatar.@RoryDavidMiller
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