America isn’t retreating on the world stage by accident. It’s echoing a deeper crisis: an internal implosion of cultural confidence that has left the country squabbling over who it is and what it stands for. Even after the traumas of World War I, the U.S. regained an outward focus by World War II. Today, that pivot outward is hampered by partisan fatigue, social-media tribalism, and eroding unity.
Ronald Reagan once described America as a “shining city on a hill,” built not by ethnicity or lineage but by shared ideals. “Anyone, from any corner of the world, can come to live in America and become an American,” he said in his farewell address. That sentiment fueled decades of global admiration. Yet recently, as the U.S. has grown more diverse, the healthy impulse toward inclusion in some corners has spun into rigid ideological gatekeeping. A land famed for tolerance is now burdened by litmus tests that demand strict adherence to evolving cultural orthodoxies.
The Wokeism Debate: Good Intentions, Tribal Outcomes
Wokeism began as a push to acknowledge real injustices and amplify marginalized voices. But it turned into dogmatic policing, stifling genuine debate in favor of performative indignation. Think of how some U.S. campuses turned safe spaces into zones of ideological purity, breeding animosity rather than empathy. Professors were shouted down or even forced out when they strayed from the prevailing orthodoxy—Evergreen State in Washington famously imploded over disagreements about a campus “Day of Absence,” sparking national debates on free speech and identity. Instead of forging common ground, that moment devolved into us-versus-them theatrics, with accusations of elitism and cultural betrayal.
In the end, what was intended to be a deeper appreciation for diversity and historical wrongs degenerated into tribal infighting. Instead of bridging gaps, it sometimes created new ones. Instead of drawing from each group’s rich heritage, it encouraged a sort of shallowfication of culture: complex, nuanced topics got flattened into hashtags, quick outrage, and fleeting viral moments.
Worse still, many outside observers—whether conservative Americans or critics overseas—conclude that America hates itself, seeing it as a society locked in self-criticism so intense it’s pretty much self-loathing. Meanwhile, the country’s energy gets siphoned away from building a unifying narrative. What was meant to be inclusive becomes an echo chamber of perpetual outrage, where everyone is guilty of something, and the only path to redemption is an endless display of self-flagellation.
The World Moves On—Alternative Models, Real Risks
Contrast this with countries like China, Russia, or even India, where collective identities have surged in the last two decades. Walk the streets of Delhi, and you’ll find a vibrant sense of historical continuity merging with modern ambition—an India proud of its cultural tapestry and eager to assume greater global roles. In Beijing, national pride interlocks with centuries of dynastic legacy, and under Xi Jinping, there’s been a renewed emphasis on presenting China as the rightful steward of its region and a rising global leader. Moscow exhibits a similar sense of historical confidence—Putin has tapped into collective memories of victory in WWII and a resurgent Russian nationalism.
That pride, of course, can have problematic elements—be it stifling dissent or aggrandizing the state—but it serves as a potent unifier. in the US, many Americans can’t articulate what binds them together. A land that was famously the “melting pot” sometimes feels more like a fraying quilt. This crisis of identity, ironically, makes it harder for America to project confidence or leadership abroad. While the U.S. grappled with pronouns and statue-removals (some discussions warranted, some arguably overblown), rivals and emerging powers were (and are) busy strengthening their core narratives and forging new alliances.
Of course, these models may be cohesive, but they carry their own dangers. America needn’t mimic top-down uniformity or feed extremist nationalism. It does, however, need a functional alternative—one that neither dissolves into shallow culture wars nor becomes a rigid monolith. But right now? America isn’t offering an alternative. It’s offering a tired, bickering spectacle - amusing to some, devastating to others.
Beyond Left vs. Right: A Binary Born in Revolutionary France
America is stuck in an ideological trench war, reducing every issue into a left-right battle that blinds us to real solutions. This rigid tribalism isn’t inevitable—it’s inherited. The whole notion of a ’left’ and ‘right’ in politics is a relic of the French Revolution, where opposing factions literally sat on different sides of the assembly (with revolutionaries on the left and supporters of the monarchy on the right). But 18th-century seating arrangements were never meant to dictate how a 21st-century superpower thinks about global strategy, technology, or cultural identity. This is because the world is more nuanced—blurring lines between public-private ventures, hybrid governance models, cultural and religious crossovers, and global challenges (like pandemics or climate disruptions) that defy neat ideological categories. Reducing everything to “liberal vs. conservative,” “progressive vs. traditional,” or “globalist vs. nationalist” doesn’t just oversimplify; it distracts from the truly urgent questions of our time: how to preserve peace, uphold human dignity, expand opportunity, leverage advancements in tech for good, and maintain and evolve cultural dynamisms.
Right now, instead of adapting to a new era, America is stuck in a historical re-enactment. Each side frames the other as an existential threat, convinced that the nation will collapse if they get their way. Meanwhile, China builds roads everywhere, Russia pushes its sphere of influence, and India expands its economic power. America? America is (or at best until recently has been) busy debating whether someone’s decade-old tweet is problematic enough to cancel their career.
Cultural Identity Is Worth Preserving—and Fighting For
At its core, the American experiment is about forging unity from diversity. It was always imperfect, yes, but that imperfection didn’t stop the nation from innovating, growing, and drawing millions of immigrants who believed they could carve out a better future under the Stars and Stripes. That promise— that “anyone can be American” if they buy into a set of ideals—may still be the most powerful concept the U.S. has ever offered the world. That experiment has been messy—riddled with failures, hypocrisy, and moral blind spots. Yet it’s also yielded some of humanity’s greatest achievements in innovation, civil rights, and global leadership.
Culture isn’t just an adornment; it’s the living tapestry of ideas, rituals, histories, and shared experiences that give people a sense of belonging. Germany’s Leitkultur attempts to articulate a set of guiding cultural norms that respect diversity yet maintain a coherent identity. France and Quebec fiercely protect their language to ensure it remains a vibrant pillar of cultural life, not a museum artifact. These efforts aren’t always smooth or free from criticism, but they illustrate that modern societies can try to reconcile openness with continuity—an ambition that the U.S. could learn from instead of simply lurching between isolationist “America First” rhetoric and unbounded global engagement. America was once the epitome of this balance, making outsiders feel like they could belong without discarding their roots. Abandoning that legacy in favor of short-term tribal victories only weakens the larger story.
Why It Matters for America’s Role
All the military might and international deals in the world can’t compensate for an eroded cultural core. If Americans themselves seem uncertain about what binds them together— if the national narrative fractures into a thousand warring micro-tribes—why should anyone else rally behind the U.S. model? Influence isn’t just about deals and transactions; it’s about projecting a sense of shared destiny, moral purpose, and, yes, pride.
Diplomacy isn’t just transactions or treaties—it’s also a contest of narratives. A country that abandons a coherent, positive sense of self doesn’t just recede physically from the world stage; it loses the spiritual capital that once drew people to its cause. If Americans themselves appear confused about who they are, why should anyone else sign on to the American project?
- Inspiration Over Intimidation: The best alliances form when others choose to join because they believe in shared ideals, not because they’re coerced.
- Cultural Depth Over Shallow Slogans: Real inclusion stems from open dialogue, allowing for compromise and learning—exactly what rigid “woke” or anti-woke factions often forget.
- Adaptation Without Self-Destruction: The U.S. can reform old institutions or build new ones that respond to 21st-century realities. But such innovation requires the cultural stability that comes from believing in your own story.
It comes down to this: Define yourself or be defined by others
Ultimately, a country that cannot define itself will be defined by others. And history doesn’t wait for nations that lose their way. America can still choose to reassert leadership rooted in freedom and innovation—strengthened, not undermined, by its cultural mosaic. But it must first decide, unambiguously, what it believes in and how it wants to share that vision with the world.
The good news is that America has been here before - torn by internal strife, doubted from within and without — and still managed to course-correct:
- Post-Civil War Healing: Despite a scarred landscape, the U.S. eventually emerged with an even stronger federal government and a renewed, if hard-won, commitment to unity.
- The Great Depression & WWII: The 1930s saw a near-breakdown of faith in institutions. The 1940s brought a pivot that led to unprecedented global leadership.
- Civil Rights Era: A time of tremendous upheaval, yet it expanded democracy and moral legitimacy—not always perfectly, but in a way that shaped global perceptions of American ideals.
Each renewal stemmed from a reexamination of national identity. If Americans can rediscover the sense of inclusive confidence that once defined the “city on a hill”—tempered by lessons learned from the civil rights movement, from the mistakes of the Vietnam era, from the end of the Cold War—they might yet transform current fractures into fresh unity.
Embrace the messy brilliance of a pluralistic identity—or continue fracturing until the stage is cleared for someone else’s singular version of the future.
That choice is America’s. The rest of the world is watching—and moving on.