David Sanger writes: “After five weeks in which President Trump made clear his determination to scrap America’s traditional sources of power — its alliances among like-minded democracies…”
On what basis would you argue that America’s power stems from its aliances with “like-minded democracies”? I’m more pro alliances than Trump and MAGA, but I don’t confuse them as America’s primary source of strength, which instead lies in its economic and military might.
I ask Grok: “What are America’s traditional sources of power?”
Grok said:
America’s traditional sources of power boil down to a mix of tangible assets and less concrete advantages that have fueled its rise and staying power globally. Historically, it’s leaned on geography, economic muscle, military might, cultural sway, and a knack for innovation—each feeding into the others over time.
Geography’s a big one. The U.S. sits between two oceans, with weak neighbors north and south—Canada and Mexico haven’t posed real threats since the 19th century. That isolation let it dodge the constant wars that battered Europe or Asia, while fertile land, rivers, and later resources like coal and oil gave it a self-sufficient base. By 1900, it was producing more steel than Britain and Germany combined, thanks to places like Pennsylvania and the Midwest.
Economically, it’s been a juggernaut since the late 19th century. The Industrial Revolution hit hard—by 1913, the U.S. had 36% of the world’s GDP, dwarfing Britain’s 8%. Free markets, entrepreneurship, and a massive internal market drove this. Post-WWII, the dollar became the world’s reserve currency via Bretton Woods, giving America leverage to shape global trade and finance. Today, it’s still 24% of global GDP—down from its peak, but no one else comes close in raw output.
Military power kicked in later but sealed the deal. WWII showed what U.S. industry could do— churning out 300,000 planes and 100 aircraft carriers while fighting on two fronts. Since then, it’s kept the world’s priciest military, about $800 billion a year now, more than the next 10 countries combined. Naval dominance—11 carrier strike groups—lets it project force anywhere, while bases in 70+ countries keep rivals guessing. Nuclear weapons and tech like GPS or drones just widen the gap.
Culturally, it’s the Hollywood and blue jeans effect. From jazz to tech giants like Apple, American ideas spread fast, shaping tastes and values. English as a global language helps, too—half the internet’s in it. This “soft power” makes people want to buy in, not just obey. X posts still hype the U.S. as a cultural exporter, though some argue it’s slipping as places like China push back.
Innovation’s the wildcard. The U.S. gave us electricity grids, cars, planes, the internet—stuff that rewrote the rules. It’s got top universities (MIT, Stanford) and pulls talent globally; 40% of Silicon Valley startups have immigrant founders. Patents filed here outpace most rivals, though China’s catching up fast.
These pillars—land, wealth, guns, culture, brains—built a feedback loop. Winning wars like 1812 or WWII cemented credibility; wealth funded the military; culture sold the “American Dream.” But it’s not static. Debt’s ballooning ($35 trillion), bases cost a fortune, and rivals like China are nibbling at the edges—$1 trillion in U.S. bonds held by Beijing keeps things tense. Still, no one’s matched the combo yet.
Sanger writes: “If that means rewriting the history of Moscow’s illegal invasion three years ago…”
Why does it matter that Russia’s invasion of Ukraine was illegal? How many of American led wars, such as the ones against Afghanistan, Iraq, Serbia, Libya, and Panama were illegal?
According to Grok:
Legality is usually tied to international law, like the UN Charter, which says war is generally prohibited except in self-defense or with Security Council approval. A “legal” war has a recognized justification—say, stopping an imminent threat—while an “illegal” one, like an unprovoked invasion, lacks that basis.
In practice, though, the label’s impact is messy. It can legitimize or discredit a conflict in the eyes of the world, swaying alliances, sanctions, or even public support. For instance, the 2003 Iraq War was called illegal by many because it didn’t get UN backing, which fueled global backlash and complicated the aftermath. But power often trumps law—big players can shrug off the “illegal” tag if no one’s strong enough to enforce it. Think Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014: widely condemned as illegal, yet it stuck because geopolitics isn’t a courtroom.
I ask Grok: “How many times has the USA launched an illegal war?”
Grok says:
The 2003 Iraq War is a poster child for controversy: no UN Security Council nod (despite Resolution 1441), no imminent threat (WMD claims fell apart), and folks like Kofi Annan flat-out called it illegal. Afghanistan (2001) had broader support—tied to 9/11 self-defense—but its decades-long sprawl raises questions about legality over time.
Then there’s smaller stuff: Libya (2011) had NATO cover but no UN attack authorization; Syria (2014-present) targets ISIS but lacks Syrian consent or clear UN blessing; Grenada (1983) and Panama (1989) were pure U.S. moves with no international okay. The Congressional Research Service lists 469 U.S. military interventions from 1798 to 2022, with 251 since 1991. Not all were “wars,” but many—like Somalia, Yemen, or drone strikes in Pakistan—didn’t check the legal boxes of self-defense or UN approval.
So, how many illegal wars? If you’re strict—counting only major conflicts without UN authorization or clear self-defense—Vietnam, Iraq 2003, Libya 2011, and arguably Syria stand out. That’s at least four since WWII. Broader tallies, including smaller interventions, could push it to dozens, depending on where you draw the line. The Military Intervention Project at Tufts University claims over 500 interventions since 1776, with most post-1950 lacking solid legal grounding. Posts on X echo this, listing Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria as illegal, but they’re sentiment, not proof.
The catch? “Illegal” doesn’t mean prosecuted. The U.S. vetoes UN action against itself, and the International Criminal Court can’t touch it since the U.S. never ratified the treaty. So, while the number’s fuzzy—say, 4 to 20+ since WWII—it’s more about who’s counting and why than a hard fact.
