In an era where global alliances are fracturing and great-power rivalries are heating up, Donald Trump’s second term is ushering in what critics call a brazen “new imperialism.” From threats to annex Greenland for its mineral riches to seizing Venezuela’s oil fields under the guise of law enforcement, the U.S. under Trump is flexing its muscles in ways that echo 19th-century colonial conquests—but with 21st-century stakes involving nuclear risks and economic upheaval. This isn’t just about land; it’s a calculated strategy to export America’s divisive culture wars abroad, undermining European democracies and prioritizing raw power over postwar norms. As middle powers like Canada rally for collective defense, the world watches: Is this the end of the rules-based order, or a bluff that could backfire spectacularly?
The Resource Rush: Trump’s Eye on Greenland, Venezuela, and Beyond
At the heart of Trump’s imperial vision is a real-estate mogul’s appetite for prime assets. Greenland, the Arctic giant rich in rare earth minerals crucial for tech and green energy, tops the list. Trump has openly refused to rule out military force against NATO ally Denmark to claim ownership, dismissing leasing deals as insufficient. “We want the whole thing,” his administration signals, backed by investors like Marc Andreessen, Sam Altman, and Jeff Bezos eyeing mining opportunities. Existing U.S. rights under a 1951 pact already allow military bases and resource extraction, but Trump’s push for full sovereignty has enraged Europe, with leaders accusing him of projecting weakness onto allies while bolstering America’s strategic edge in a melting Arctic.
Venezuela’s saga is even more audacious. In a lightning operation over the past year, U.S. forces captured President Nicolás Maduro in international waters, involving extrajudicial actions amid claims of drug interdiction. Trump crowed about “our oil” in Venezuela’s vast reserves, vowing to “run” the country without a nod to democratic transitions or figures like 2025 Nobel laureate María Corina Machado. White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller framed it as ending Western “self-punishment” through aid to former colonies—a thinly veiled jab at immigration policies. This isn’t humanitarian intervention; it’s resource plunder, raising alarms that Russia or China might follow suit with their own territorial claims.
The ambition doesn’t stop there. Trump has slammed the Panama Canal’s handover as a “disgrace,” hinted at absorbing Canada as the 51st state, and blasted Britain’s transfer of the Chagos Islands (home to U.S. base Diego Garcia) to Mauritius as “great stupidity.” Secretary of State Marco Rubio once praised the deal, but Trump’s reversal underscores a pattern: Reclaim “lost” territories to shut out rivals in “OUR hemisphere,” as he puts it. This revives the Monroe Doctrine—now dubbed the “Donroe Doctrine”—echoing Theodore Roosevelt’s interventionist corollary from 1904.
Exporting Division: Culture Wars as a Foreign Policy Weapon
Trump’s imperialism isn’t just territorial; it’s ideological. The administration’s National Security Strategy (NSS) labels “civilizational erasure” as Europe’s top threat—not Russian aggression—and pledges to “cultivate resistance” against progressive policies. This means propping up far-right “patriotic” parties in Europe with anti-immigrant, illiberal agendas, effectively exporting U.S. culture wars. Miller’s posts decry “reverse colonisation” via immigration, mirroring the “great replacement” theory popular among extremists.
Experts see this as a deliberate subversion. Brookings Institution’s Tara Varma calls the NSS a “clear plan for subversion in Europe,” tying U.S. support to ideological alignment between “transatlantic liberals and illiberals,” per colleague Daniel Hamilton. Historian Jay Sexton notes Trump critiques European politics “almost exactly like the way in which they critique the American left.” The result? A fractured transatlantic bond, where alliances hinge on shared disdain for multiculturalism rather than mutual defense.
Echoes of Empire: Historical Parallels and Expert Warnings
Trump’s approach harks back to the Gilded Age, admiring President William McKinley’s imperialism—annexing Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines—paired with high tariffs and unchecked wealth inequality. As Sexton explains, this repackages the 1823 Monroe Doctrine to exclude foreign powers from the Americas, but in reverse: The U.S., once a rising empire, now acts like a contracting one, retreating from global commitments to focus on hemispheric dominance.
Northwestern University’s Daniel Immerwahr warns this rejects the post-1945 order, where the U.S. at least paid lip service to international rules. Trump, he says, shares with Russia and China a grudge against the liberal system, craving “past privileges” without pretense. University of Portsmouth’s Dafydd Townley dubs Trump a “spreadsheet president,” blind to NATO’s non-monetary benefits like soft power.
The dangers are stark: Historical colonial rivalries sparked world wars, and in a nuclear age, such grabs could escalate catastrophically. Immerwahr fears a return to “bloody wars” over land, while Sexton notes Trump’s short, voter-pleasing actions—like Maduro’s capture—might inspire aggressors elsewhere.
Global Fallout: A “Rupture” in the World Order?
The implications ripple worldwide. French President Emmanuel Macron brands it “new imperialism,” while Canadian PM Mark Carney, in a fiery Davos speech, declares a “rupture in the world order”—the end of “pleasant fiction” and dawn of “brutal reality” where middle powers must unite or be “on the menu.” Europe, exasperated, hits back: UK PM Keir Starmer refutes Trump’s NATO spending claims, and leaders like Macron vow vigilance.
For U.S. foreign policy, it’s a narrower, menace-driven vision: Sanctions on allies like Colombia, election meddling in Argentina and Honduras, threats against Mexico. Public support wanes for full colonialism—voters cheer quick wins but balk at endless wars. Republicans in Congress push back, wary of overreach.
Internationally, this erodes trust, emboldening Russia in Ukraine or China over Taiwan. Markets could close, alliances shatter, and a multipolar world emerge unconstrained by norms. As Carney urges, collective action among non-superpowers might be the counter—banding together against the giants.
Bluff or Blueprint for Chaos?
Trump’s “new imperialism” blends nostalgia for empire with modern grievances, but it risks isolating America. Will voters tire of the costs? Can Europe and middle powers forge a united front? As 2026 unfolds, one thing’s clear: The postwar peace is fraying, and the stakes—territorial, ideological, and existential—have never been higher.
