Former US President Joe Biden approached the Russia-Ukraine war as a defence of Ukraine against Russian aggression and, beyond Ukraine itself, as a defence of the international order that Moscow had challenged.
Donald Trump, by contrast, has treated it as a bloody and costly war that should be ended through negotiations, with Europe carrying a larger share of the burden and US involvement assessed more directly according to American interests.
Yet neither approach fully explains the current direction of US foreign policy.
The war with Iran has tested Washington’s desire to avoid prolonged military entanglement. The United States has also shifted its position more than once regarding military support for Ukraine. Behind both approaches stands the strategic challenge that was supposed to command Washington’s attention above all others: China.
Iraq and Afghanistan exposed the limits of American power, the 2008 global financial crisis shook confidence in the economic assumptions of the post-Cold War era, China’s rise restored great-power competition, and Russia demonstrated that economic integration had not eliminated geopolitics.
What Changed?
The answer goes beyond Biden and Trump, and beyond Ukraine.
American foreign policy is once again wrestling with an old question: what kind of power does the United States want to be?
From Kyiv and Tehran to Jerusalem and Riyadh, governments are watching closely for the answer.
The two presidents offered different responses, but both represent well-established traditions in American foreign policy. Despite their differences, both are expressions of what has long been described as “American exceptionalism”.
The internationalist tradition predates the Biden administration by decades. It influenced Republican and Democratic administrations from the end of the Second World War through the decades that followed the Cold War.
Alliances and international institutions were not viewed merely as constraints on American power, but as instruments for multiplying it.
US security was tied to an international system governed by rules and institutions, in which sovereignty was preserved, aggression resisted and democratic states encouraged to cooperate.
The United States stood at the centre of that system, operating through alliances, the United Nations and other international institutions, while retaining the ability to act when those institutions proved insufficient.
There was also a moral claim attached to this worldview. America’s exceptional position, its advocates argued, carried special responsibilities.
Internationalists in Washington believed American security and influence were best served by an international order that defended democracy, individual liberty and fundamental human rights while protecting sovereign states from aggression.
Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States entered what became known as the “unipolar moment”, and internationalism appeared to have decisively won the argument.
NATO survived and expanded, globalisation accelerated, democracy spread, and American dominance appeared overwhelming.
More than that, democratic transition was widely assumed to be the natural direction of political development. The question often appeared to be less about whether states would move towards democracy and market economies, and more about how quickly they would arrive there.
Competing American instincts, scepticism towards foreign entanglements, insistence on sovereignty, demands that allies share more of the burden and preference for a narrower definition of the national interest, appeared to have been pushed to the margins.
Washington mistook the victory of one tradition in American foreign policy for the disappearance of the other.
It had not disappeared.
The Crisis of the Post-Cold War Order
Iraq and Afghanistan exposed the limits of American power.
The 2008 global financial crisis shook confidence in the economic assumptions of the post-Cold War era.
China’s rise restored great-power competition, while Russia demonstrated that economic integration had not abolished geopolitics.
Something had also changed inside the United States and other Western democracies. They had become less confident in the values and institutions they had once urged others to adopt with certainty.
The crisis of the post-Cold War order was therefore not merely a crisis of American power. It was also a crisis of confidence.
Donald Trump did not create this reaction. He gave it political force and a distinctive form.
Trump’s foreign policy is better understood as a collection of impulses than as a rigid doctrine.
Nationalism, transactional bargaining, commercial diplomacy, scepticism towards open-ended commitments, strategic prioritisation and a willingness to use coercive power often reinforce one another, but not always.
When these elements come into conflict, abrupt shifts in policy and messaging can follow.
Transactionalism Is Not Isolationism
A transactional approach should not be confused with isolationism.
A Trump administration can seek restraint in one theatre while employing military force or economic pressure in another.
Tariffs can be used as punishment. Access to American markets can create leverage. Investment and business agreements can serve as rewards for cooperation.
Military pressure can strengthen a negotiating position, while unpredictability itself can become a bargaining tool.
This is coercive diplomacy as much as commercial diplomacy.
The objective is not withdrawal from international affairs, but the use of American power to secure more tangible returns.
At the beginning of the current administration’s term, Washington treated Kyiv as a subordinate partner with limited negotiating leverage. This was the logic behind Trump’s assertion that Ukraine held only “a few cards”.
Ukraine’s performance during the war, however, altered that calculation.
It now possesses one of Europe’s most battle-experienced militaries, an expanding defence industry and substantial expertise in drone warfare.
At the beginning of the current administration’s term, Washington treated Kyiv as a subordinate partner with limited negotiating leverage, the logic behind Trump’s claim that Ukraine possessed only “a few cards”. Ukraine’s wartime performance, however, changed the calculation.
A country once viewed primarily as a consumer of Western security assistance is increasingly appearing as a producer of military capability, technology and strategic value.
That gives Ukraine more leverage than the original formulation suggested, and Washington has adjusted its position accordingly.
The debate over supplying Ukraine with advanced Patriot air defence systems exposes another tension.
Washington has sent mixed signals regarding future military support, even as it continues exploring arrangements that could give Ukraine a role in producing Patriot interceptor missiles.
At the same time, the war with Iran has placed heavy demands on limited US missile stockpiles.
An approach intended to establish clearer strategic priorities has encountered a reality in which events continue creating new and competing commitments.
Washington’s Unsettled Russia Policy
US policy towards Russia remains unstable.
Moscow is simultaneously an adversary to be pressured, a negotiating partner with which Washington seeks an agreement, a security problem the administration wants Europe to carry more responsibility for, a potential commercial partner and a challenge consuming resources Washington may prefer to concentrate on China.
These objectives are not necessarily incompatible, but the administration has yet to reconcile them within a coherent policy framework.
Messaging also matters.
Unpredictability can provide negotiating leverage by leaving an opponent uncertain about Washington’s next move.
But allies receive the same signals.
The ambiguity that complicates an adversary’s calculations can also complicate an ally’s planning.
Economic Power as a Foreign Policy Weapon
The economic dimension of this approach has deep roots.
During the Cold War, Washington and its allies restricted the transfer of strategic technologies to the Soviet bloc and used trade, finance and access to advanced technology as instruments of containment.
After the Cold War, globalisation strengthened confidence in the idea that commercial integration could reinforce the liberal international order.
That confidence has declined.
The Biden administration had already begun using export controls, industrial policy, investment restrictions and supply-chain initiatives strategically, particularly against China.
Following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Washington and its allies imposed sweeping sanctions intended to restrict Moscow’s access to finance and technology and increase the cost of the war.
Those sanctions imposed real costs and forced Russia to adapt, but they also exposed weaknesses in a global economic system that Washington can no longer fully control.
Russia redirected its trade, found ways around some restrictions and deepened its economic relationships with China and other non-Western economies.
Economic coercion proved consequential, but not decisive.
What distinguishes the current approach is not the invention of economic statecraft, but the growing importance of commercial diplomacy within it.
Tariffs have become bargaining instruments, market access a source of leverage, and investment agreements diplomatic achievements. Trade itself can become a measure of diplomatic success. Commerce is no longer merely an objective of foreign policy, but one of its tools.
Tariffs have become bargaining tools. Market access has become leverage. Investment agreements have become diplomatic achievements.
Trade agreements themselves can become measures of diplomatic success.
Commerce is no longer simply an objective of foreign policy. It has become an instrument of it.
What the Middle East Sees in Washington
For governments in the Middle East, these distinctions are not merely academic.
They assess American foreign policy less as a debate over principles and more through Washington’s conduct.
When does the United States use force?
When does it negotiate?
When does it impose tariffs or sanctions?
When does it offer investment or security cooperation?
And when do positions that initially appear firm suddenly change?
Iran demonstrates why simple categories fail.
An administration sceptical of prolonged military commitments nevertheless became deeply involved in a costly confrontation there.
Military force, economic pressure and negotiation are not alternatives within this approach. They can be employed together as instruments of pressure.
The harder question is how and when such pressure produces a political result.
China Remains the Strategic Priority
Behind all these crises stands China.
For years, Washington has argued that China’s rise requires the United States to concentrate more of its military, economic and diplomatic resources in the Indo-Pacific.
That priority has endured through changes of administration.
Yet Ukraine and Iran demonstrate how difficult strategic prioritisation becomes in practice.
Weapons stockpiles are finite. So are diplomatic attention and political capital.
Events do not respect Washington’s preferred hierarchy of interests.
For Taiwan and America’s allies in Asia, the implications run in two directions.
A more selective US foreign policy could allow Washington to redirect greater resources towards confronting China.
But allies will also watch how the United States manages its commitments elsewhere, including how far it demands burden-sharing, how durable its promises remain when costs rise, and how closely security becomes tied to commercial negotiations.
A more selective US foreign policy may allow Washington to direct greater resources towards confronting China, but allies will also watch how the United States handles its commitments elsewhere.
Europe Is Being Forced to Change
Europe is already confronting these questions.
A recent article in The Economist described the continent as a “lifestyle superpower”, prosperous, attractive and influential, but finding the transition towards geopolitical power far more difficult.
That description may already be becoming outdated.
Russia’s invasion, uncertainty over Washington and demands for greater burden-sharing are pushing European governments to build military capabilities that had been neglected for decades.
Poland is becoming increasingly important. Defence production is expanding. Ukraine may emerge from the war as a producer of European security rather than merely a consumer of it.
Europe will not suddenly become a unified strategic power, and its revival is likely to be uneven.
But Washington faces a paradox.
After decades of demanding that Europe do more, the United States may discover that a Europe capable of doing more will also demand a greater voice in deciding what should be done.
Why 2028 Matters
Some features of the current approach may prove temporary or closely tied to the personality of the present administration.
Others are likely to survive after its presidential term ends.
Economic security and national security have become intertwined once again.
Technology and industrial capacity have returned to the centre of geopolitical competition.
Allies are carrying greater responsibility and may consequently acquire greater autonomy.
American scepticism towards open-ended commitments has not disappeared.
This makes 2028 more significant than an ordinary presidential transition.
The question will not simply be whether the pendulum of American foreign policy swings again.
It will also be whether an internationalist consensus can be rebuilt under conditions fundamentally different from those that once sustained it.
A future administration may restore a greater degree of predictability and renew emphasis on alliances and institutions while retaining tougher demands on burden-sharing, technological controls, economic nationalism and commercial leverage.
It may reject the language of transactional bargaining while retaining some of its tools.
The next American foreign policy consensus may therefore belong entirely to neither tradition.
It would not represent restoration.
It would represent another adaptation.
For decades after the Cold War, Washington behaved as though the old American argument over the country’s role in the world had finally been settled.
It had not.
The pendulum never stopped.
Washington merely believed that it had.
