By Qamar Bashir
The warning comes not from an enemy, but from within the ranks of intellectual scrutiny. Peace Studies researcher Jan Oberg has sounded the alarm that the United States is dangerously close to walking the same doomed path as the Soviet Union. His theory is not based on ideological rhetoric but on a structural analysis of declining empires—those that prioritized militarism over diplomacy, war over peace, and brute force over political legitimacy. According to Oberg, and substantiated by today’s geopolitical developments, the United States is eroding its foundational strength by investing in weapons while its economy weakens, its diplomacy falters, and its international credibility dwindles. His chilling comparison to the Soviet collapse, which came after overextension in an unwinnable arms race, holds a mirror to current American foreign policy—and the reflection is deeply troubling.
A powerful nation is not defined by its military might alone. Oberg argues that a truly enduring power must have equilibrium—military capability, yes, but equally robust economic resilience, diplomatic dexterity, adherence to international law, and a moral compass that commands global respect. America’s current trajectory betrays this balance. It has increasingly become a nation that exports weapons instead of solutions, one that supplies bombs instead of brokering peace. In doing so, it is forfeiting not just friends but also its own values. While other economies—China, India, Brazil—grow rapidly, building infrastructure, trading in goods, and cultivating partnerships, the U.S. has become synonymous with conflict zones.
Nowhere is this truer than in Ukraine. Had the U.S. and NATO been willing to acknowledge Russia’s core concern—its opposition to Ukraine joining NATO—this war may have been averted altogether. But instead of diplomacy, Washington chose to flood Ukraine with arms, sending billions in military aid, even as the nation’s own cities crumble under the weight of failing infrastructure and economic stress. By turning Ukraine into a geopolitical battleground against Russia, the U.S. prolonged a war rather than seeking its resolution. It invested in firepower, not peace talks.
Then there is the U.S. alliance with Israel, which, more than any other, has morally bankrupted America’s standing in the world. For decades, Israel has carried out operations in Gaza, Lebanon, and Syria, and now first the Biden and now Trump administration have stood complicit in enabling Israel’s bombardment of Gaza—an act many are calling ethnic cleansing. A nation that once claimed to champion democracy and human rights now vetoes UN resolutions aimed at feeding starving children. Stories abound of Gazan citizens collapsing from hunger at aid distribution points, mothers whose skeletal forms mirror images from the worst genocides in history, and children dying before they can reach food lines. The world watches in horror. And at the center of this horror, the United States is no longer seen as a neutral power, but as an accomplice to mass suffering.
It is not only distant nations that recoil from American policy. Even its closest allies, like Canada, are increasingly disillusioned. Long considered America’s trusted neighbor and friend, Canada is now resisting U.S. economic pressure, building its own resilience to unjust restrictions and defining its foreign policy apart from Washington’s dictates. Likewise, Europe, once united under the NATO umbrella, is slowly seeking independence from American dominance, investing in its own defense frameworks and strategic autonomy.
More alarming still is America’s behavior toward Iran. The recent bombing of Iran’s nuclear facilities—conducted without credible proof, international backing, or even meaningful justification—has shaken global confidence in the U.S. respect for sovereignty and due process. Iran, which has never been proven to develop nuclear weapons and which operates under the fatwa of its Supreme Leader forbidding such development, became a target not of deterrence, but of sheer political arrogance. Bomb first, ask later. This behavior no longer inspires awe; it invites isolation.
True strength, Oberg contends, does not lie in flexing military muscles. It lies in diplomacy that solves conflicts, not escalates them. It lies in upholding human dignity, protecting freedom of speech, and respecting sovereignty. It lies in providing infrastructure, education, healthcare, and technological innovation—not merely funding the next generation of fighter jets. And America is increasingly failing to meet those criteria.
The economic dimension of this decline is undeniable. The United States has lost a significant part of its economic sovereignty, now burdened with record debt, trade imbalances, and an eroding manufacturing base. Instead of investing in domestic welfare, it chooses to finance wars abroad. While its people struggle with rising inflation, healthcare crises, and decaying infrastructure, Washington prioritizes regime changes, proxy wars, and military aid to allies that violate international norms. The result is clear: America’s legitimacy is in free fall.
In contrast, China offers a different model of global power. It has not bombed a country in living memory. It has not participated in regime change operations. Its power grows not through war, but through trade, investment, and connectivity. The Belt and Road Initiative is a prime example—building railways, ports, and power plants from Asia to Africa without firing a single missile. China does not send tanks; it sends fiber-optic cables. It does not fund insurgencies; it builds high-speed rail. That is not to say China is perfect—but it has learned the art of gaining influence without generating destruction.
It is this contrast that should alarm American policymakers. If the U.S. continues to reject the values it once championed—rule of law, human rights, diplomacy—it will lose more than allies. It will lose the very moral compass that once made it a beacon of freedom. Even the Freedom of Press Index and Human Rights Index now show America sliding backward. A country that once condemned censorship now suppresses dissent. A nation that once prized civil liberties now spies on its citizens and arrests journalists. And all this while claiming to export democracy.
The lesson, as Jan Oberg suggests, is clear. Military power must be retained—but as a deterrent, not a default. It must protect the homeland, not destroy foreign ones. And it must be balanced with economic strength, political wisdom, moral authority, and diplomatic sophistication. No country has the right to decide another’s destiny. The notion that America must bring “freedom” through war is a relic of failed imperial thinking. Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Palestine—each a graveyard of American hubris.
To reverse course is still possible. The West is not without hope. Democratic societies can learn from their mistakes. They have the tools to self-correct—debate, dissent, elections, and institutions. But that self-correction requires courage: the courage to admit that wars are not solutions, that diplomacy is not weakness, and that power, unmoored from ethics, is merely force.
The 21st century demands a new model of strength. Not one built on coercion, but on cooperation. Not one built on regime change, but on mutual respect. The future will belong not to those who dominate with drones, but to those who uplift with ideas, dignity, and infrastructure. If the U.S. wants to lead this future, it must rediscover its soul before it loses its seat at the global table—forever.
By Qamar Bashir
Press Secretary to the President (Rtd)
Former Press Minister, Embassy of Pakistan to France
Former MD, SRBC | Macomb, Michigan, USA
