In February 1941, Henry Luce, the influential publisher of Time and Life magazines, penned an article heralding the “American Century,” a post-war era in which the United States would apply its newfound standing as the “dominant power in the world” to spread “free economic enterprise” and “the abundant life” around the globe. Luce envisioned the United States as “the principal guarantor of the freedom of the seas” and “the dynamic leader of world trade,” and saw in this future “possibilities of such enormous human progress as to stagger the imagination.”
The next several decades would prove Luce right, as the United States emerged from World War II as one of two global superpowers and, arguably, the world’s preeminent cultural and economic force. Luce, who was a Republican, intended his broadside to serve as a template for conservative internationalism — in effect, a powerful response to the party’s isolationist, America First wing. But this concept — of America as a friendly goliath, the “Good Samaritan of the entire world,” promoting democracy, capitalism, trade and international order — guided the thinking of most policymakers and politicians across the political spectrum for the better part of a century.
Until now.
Donald Trump’s second presidential victory represents a sharp break, and perhaps a permanent one, with the American Century framework. It’s a framework that rested on four key pillars: A rules-based economic order that afforded the U.S. free access to vast international markets.
A guarantee of safety and security for its allies, backed up by American military might.
An increasingly liberal immigration system that strengthened America’s economy and complemented military and trade partnerships with the rest of the non-Communist world.
And finally, in Luce’s words, a “picture of an America” that valued — and exported to the rest of the world — “its technical and artistic skills. Engineers, scientists, doctors … developers of airlines, builders of roads, teachers, educators.”
Though this was the second time Trump won the presidency, the meaning of the 2024 election is different. For one, he won the popular vote — becoming the first Republican to do so in the last 20 years. What’s more, in his most recent electoral bid, Trump and his advisers (including his running mate) made tariffs, rapprochement with foreign dictators, a drawback from NATO and gutting federal agencies core themes of their campaign. . . . . and nearly 50 percent of voters endorsed that program. This time, the president-elect is quite serious about ending the American Century. In fact, he’s already making moves to tear it down.
Just look at his recent cabinet nominations. Tulsi Gabbard, Trump’s pick as director of national intelligence, has defended both Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad, whom she has met multiple times, and Vladimir Putin’s reasoning for invading Ukraine — hardly an encouraging choice for American allies looking for a guarantee of safety and security. Howard Lutnick, his pick for commerce secretary, is a diehard supporter of Trump’s aggressive tariff agenda, which would drastically curtail U.S. participation in an international free market. The elevation of former acting ICE director — and Project 2025 contributor — Tom Homan to the position of “border czar” carries implications for American immigration policy so obvious they hardly require explanation. And as for trusting in expertise, Trump has appointed anti-vaccine conspiracy theorist Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead the Department of Health and Human Services.
Voters might very well want to make a reasoned break with the past. But the American Century framework also underwrote the country’s economic might, political power and security for many decades. What happens if we dismantle it?
In the years immediately following World War II, the U.S. pursued two interconnected goals: It underwrote Western Europe’s and Asia’s post-war recovery and imposed a rules-based economic order to promote greater stability; and it promised its allies military security against Soviet aggression. Both policies required a robust internationalist outlook.
It wasn’t just a question of altruism. Stable and prosperous allies in Europe and Asia would resist the pull of communist parties and align themselves strategically with Washington, D.C. — not Moscow. They would also generate vast markets in which the U.S. could sell agricultural products, fuel and finished goods, and from which the U.S. could import raw materials. The Marshall Plan thus indirectly strengthened American economic hegemony, but it also did so directly: It required that when recipient nations deployed the funds to rebuild, they buy American when possible. In effect, it functioned as a multi-billion stimulus package for American business, agriculture and manufacturing.
American policymakers also spearheaded the creation of a rules-based international order to promote a more enduring free trade environment between its allies.
What was good for America’s allies was often very good for America. Loans from the IMF and World Bank regularly came with stipulations that recipient nations use U.S. contractors, goods and services, creating export opportunities for American businesses. More broadly, by converting Europe and Japan into prosperous and reliable trading partners, the post-war system created thriving markets for American exports.
Prosperity required more than redevelopment and economic stability; it demanded peace. Hence, the other side of the coin was America’s role in safeguarding its allies against Soviet, and later Communist Chinese, aggression. The establishment of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in 1949 and the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) in 1954, which bound each member state to rise to the defense of the others in the event of an attack, helped create a Cold War stalemate between the U.S. and Soviet Union (and later, China). They also bolted member states more tightly into America’s orbit and ensured that the U.S. would enjoy a preeminent position in trade and financial policymaking. . . . . Pax Americana comes with the promise of protection but requires that our allies accept living under the thumb of the U.S. military.
While not originally part of the post-war framework, a liberalized immigration regime was the natural extension of America’s enlightened — and sometimes unenlightened — internationalism. It wasn’t just the free flow of goods and capital that helped make the United States an economic and political powerhouse. It was the free flow of people.
While the 19th and early 20th centuries saw a massive influx of new immigrants from Europe and Asia, the door largely swung shut in 1924, when Congress limited the annual number of immigrants, particularly those emigrating from outside northern European countries.
In 1966 Congress passed, and President Lyndon Johnson signed, legislation that opened the door again. The new law favored newcomers with specialized skills and education or existing family relationships with American citizens or residents, and substituted the old national origins standard — which simply allotted certain countries a set number of immigrants, heavily favoring immigrants from Northern Europe — with annual hemispheric limits: 170,000 immigrants from the Eastern hemisphere and 120,000 from the Western hemisphere, a breakdown that reflected lingering bias toward Europe.
Unlike earlier waves, 90 percent of new Americans after 1965 hailed from outside Europe — from countries like Mexico, Brazil, the Philippines, Korea, Cuba, Taiwan, India and the Dominican Republic.
Presidents from both parties knew it. When Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush debated each other during the 1980 Republican primary, both agreed in clear terms that immigration was a distinguishing feature of American strength.
Setting aside the millions of legal immigrants who have made their homes in the U.S., according to Cornell University’s ILR Worker Institute, today, undocumented persons make up 25 percent of the agricultural workforce, 17 percent of all construction workers and 19 percent of maintenance workers. Alongside documented immigrants, they helped the country withstand birthrate and demographic decline, a phenomenon that threatens economic growth, the future of entitlement programs and, more generally, national security.
Trump’s proposed deportation program would shrink GDP by up to 7 percent by 2028, drive up unemployment rates and increase inflation. Whether voters like it or not, robust immigration was a key pillar of the American Century.
A final pillar of the American Century framework might be broadly characterized as expertise — or, more precisely, a veneration of expertise.
Looking back on the early post-war years, the columnist Robert J. Samuelson recalled that “you were constantly treated to the marvels of the time. At school, you were vaccinated against polio. … At home, you watched television. . . . You took prosperity for granted, and so, increasingly, did other Americans.”
Presidents from Truman through Barack Obama — Democrats and Republicans alike — staffed the government with professionally trained scientists, economists and other academics, and the revolving door between elite universities and government swung quickly and constantly.
It’s not at all clear that Donald Trump can, or even intends to, make good on campaign promises to deport millions of immigrants, slap punitive tariffs on America’s allies or gut the professional ranks of the civil service — including doctors and researchers at NIH and the FDA, economists at the Treasury Department, demographers at the Census Bureau and policy professionals at the Departments of Education and Energy.
More clear is that his vice president wants to cut off aid to Ukraine and kneecap NATO. In his first term, the president-elect gestured at sharply reducing American miliary presence abroad, suggesting a possible redeployment that leaves allies more vulnerable to Russian and Chinese aggression. Furthermore, the appointment of cabinet officials with absolutely zero subject matter expertise, such as RFK Jr., and the promise to clean house of the bureaucratic state, augur at a future when experts are booted from the seat of government.
[T]he American Century framework has defined the nation’s trajectory for well over 80 years. For good or bad, it undeniably made the United States a very prosperous and powerful country. It’s what bound allies into strategic, security and economic relationships with the U.S., ensured our continued access to trading partners and lent the country favored status across a broad spectrum of international organizations. We’ve become accustomed to the benefits it delivers, without understanding how quickly those benefits could disappear.
A very reasonable question for voters who now reject that framework is: What’s next?
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