Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : In his first term, Donald Trump unsettled the international system but did not fully dismantle it. Bureaucratic inertia, judicial limits, and allied resistance acted as brakes. In his second term, those restraints have largely disappeared. What is unfolding now is not simply an assertive foreign policy, but a systematic effort to dismantle the post–World War II international order—an order built around the United Nations, collective security, multilateral problem-solving, and the idea that power must be tempered by rules.
That intent became unmistakable on January 7, 2026, when President Trump signed a Presidential Memorandum directing the United States to withdraw from 66 international organizations deemed no longer aligned with American interests. The order instructed all executive departments and agencies to cease participation in and funding for 35 non-UN bodies and 31 UN entities. This sweeping decision followed a government-wide review of every international organization, treaty, and convention in which the United States holds membership or provides financial support. The stated rationale was blunt: these institutions were judged to operate against U.S. national interests, sovereignty, economic prosperity, or security, or to function so inefficiently that American taxpayer dollars were “better allocated elsewhere.”
The administration framed the move as an act of reclamation—“restoring American sovereignty.” Officials argued that many of the targeted organizations promote what they describe as globalist governance, radical climate policies, and ideological agendas incompatible with U.S. priorities. Billions of dollars, they contended, had been spent on bodies that routinely criticize U.S. policy, dilute American influence through one-nation-one-vote structures, or fail to deliver measurable results. Withdrawal, in this view, was not isolationism but efficiency: cutting costs, ending constraints, and redirecting resources toward “America First” objectives.
This memorandum did not emerge in isolation. Immediately upon returning to office, President Trump renewed the U.S. withdrawal from the World Health Organization and the Paris Climate Agreement. On his first day, he also notified the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development that its Global Tax Deal would have “no force or effect” in the United States, while ordering an investigation into whether foreign tax regimes unfairly target American companies. Weeks later, he signed an executive order withdrawing from the UN Human Rights Council and permanently prohibiting U.S. funding for the UN Relief and Works Agency for the Near East. The January 7 memorandum consolidated these actions into a single doctrine: disengage, defund, and dismantle multilateral constraints.
That institutional retreat has been paired with a dramatic expansion of hard power. The U.S. defense budget for 2026 stands at approximately US$901 billion, already the largest in the world by a wide margin. President Trump has now proposed raising military spending to US$1.5 trillion in 2027, citing “troubled and dangerous times.” This figure would exceed the combined defense spending of the next several major powers. By comparison, the entire European continent—including all NATO members except the United States—collectively spends roughly US$300–350 billion annually, lacks unified command, and depends heavily on U.S. strategic enablers. The gap underscores a shift from deterrence to dominance.
That dominance was displayed on January 3, 2026, when U.S. forces carried out a sudden military operation in Venezuela, capturing President Nicolás Maduro and transferring him to the United States to face federal drug-trafficking charges. U.S. naval and air assets surged in the Caribbean, while Venezuelan oil exports were effectively sealed off under intensified enforcement. Regardless of legal justifications, the geopolitical meaning was stark: a sitting head of state was removed by force. The precedent shattered long-standing norms of sovereignty and reinforced the administration’s belief that power, not process, is the ultimate arbiter.
From the Caribbean, the strategic focus turns northward—to the Arctic and Greenland. Greenland has moved to the center of U.S. attention because climate change is rapidly transforming the region. As Arctic ice melts, new sea routes are emerging that could shorten Asia–Europe shipping distances by up to 40 percent. Analysts estimate that a fully viable trans-Arctic corridor could eventually carry trade worth hundreds of billions of dollars annually, reducing reliance on chokepoints like the Suez Canal and reshaping global commerce.
Greenland also holds significant mineral potential. The island contains deposits of rare earth elements, zinc, iron ore, uranium, neodymium, dysprosium, cerium, gallium and other critical minerals essential for advanced electronics, defense systems, and energy technologies. The strategic value lies in future access combined with geography. Greenland sits astride the North Atlantic and Arctic approaches, offering proximity to Russia’s northern flank and growing Chinese polar interests.
Demographically and politically, Greenland is small but democratic. Its population of roughly 56,000, overwhelmingly Inuit, governs itself through an elected parliament under a system of extensive autonomy within the Kingdom of Denmark. What Greenland lacks is military capability. That asymmetry fuels the dangerous assumption that control could be asserted without resistance—a notion that sends shockwaves through Europe.
For European allies, particularly Denmark, this is a profound betrayal. Denmark was among NATO’s most committed contributors in Afghanistan, suffering one of the highest per-capita casualty rates. For decades, Europe accepted reduced military autonomy in exchange for American protection. Now, the prospect that territorial threat could originate from the alliance’s dominant power has forced a strategic reckoning. Only France and the United Kingdom retain full-spectrum capabilities, including nuclear deterrence. The rest are scrambling to rebuild defenses hollowed out by dependence.
This strikes at the heart of NATO. An alliance cannot survive when its strongest member behaves as a territorial revisionist. If the United States were to assert control over Greenland, NATO would not collapse under external attack; it would die of internal contradiction. In such a scenario, the strategic logic underpinning the war between Ukraine and Russia would also change. A hollowed-out NATO would no longer represent a coherent expansion threat to Russia, eroding the rationale that has sustained confrontation with Ukraine.
What emerges is a world in accelerated realignment. Europe is reconsidering dependence, Latin America braces for renewed interventionism, and Asia prepares for maritime and economic confrontation. With the United Nations weakened and multilateral forums abandoned, disputes that once might have been mediated now drift toward unilateral force.
These are perilous times. The January 7 withdrawal from 66 international organizations marks not a tactical adjustment, but a strategic severing from the architecture that once stabilized global politics. Power is being centralized, institutions dismantled, and restraint discarded. History suggests that such moments rarely end quietly. The choice before the world is stark: rebuild collective order—or prepare for an era in which power alone decides, and the world order is not merely weakened, but buried.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : Donald Trump has ignited a geopolitical storm by openly declaring that Denmark has no rightful historical, legal, political, or moral authority over Greenland, the massive Arctic territory with barely 30,000 inhabitants but immense strategic and mineral value. According to Trump, Greenland is practically uninhabited land, poorly governed and inadequately protected, where Chinese and Russian vessels now freely operate in Arctic waters because Denmark lacks the military strength, strategic will, or appetite to defend it. He went further, suggesting that Greenland is essential for the security and survival of the United States in the modern era, as it needs the territory to establish forward-operating bases, secure northern sea routes, and push Chinese and Russian presence away from American borders. When asked whether the United States intended to invade Denmark or seize Greenland by force, Trump scoffed at the idea, saying that Denmark was powerless to resist and possessed neither a capable military nor nuclear deterrent. He laughed that when Denmark heard of his Greenland intentions, the only enhanced security measure introduced was dog-sled patrols. The implication was unmistakable — a superpower could, if it chose, simply take what it wanted.
The intellectual and ideological defense of this approach was later reinforced by senior White House adviser Stephen Miller, who appeared on CNN and argued aggressively with anchor Jake Tapper. Miller said that under what he described as the “Trump doctrine,” the United States would unapologetically deploy military force anywhere it deemed necessary to protect American interests, declaring that U.S. power and the “future of the free world” were one and the same. He stated bluntly that the United States is a superpower, and under President Trump it intended to act like one. When challenged over the arrest and removal of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro, Miller was unapologetic, interjecting sharply that “Damn straight we did!” before insisting the U.S. would not allow hostile or communist governments to threaten American borders, export drugs or weapons into U.S. cities, or fall into the hands of rival powers.
On Greenland, he struck the same defiant chord. He questioned what right Denmark had to govern a territory so strategic to American security, arguing that no nation on earth would dare challenge the United States militarily over the Arctic. In other words, Greenland was too important to be left in the hands of a country lacking the power to defend it. His earlier social media commentary had already hinted that the Western world had been naive to relinquish its empires after World War II. Now, that thinking appeared to be migrating from fringe rhetoric into governing doctrine.
The Greenland narrative, however, is not simply about Arctic ice sheets or buried rare-earth minerals. It reflects a deeper transformation in how the United States now sees itself in the global hierarchy. Once, American leadership rested on economic dominance, trade reach, investment appeal, technological leadership, alliance cohesion, and moral influence. But increasingly, those pillars are weakening. The U.S. is being challenged by China in trade, manufacturing, and global infrastructure development. Its soft image has been battered by wars, sanctions, unilateral interventions, and political polarization. Many European allies are now openly questioning American reliability, while regions that once depended heavily on U.S. investment are now turning to China, Russia, or regional blocs.
In such a climate, hard power becomes the primary remaining tool. It is the one arena where the U.S. remains unquestionably formidable. Greenland therefore becomes symbolic — not only as a military and resource prize but as proof that the United States can still impose its will when it chooses. Stephen Miller’s comments strip away diplomatic language and reveal the raw calculation beneath. If Denmark cannot protect Greenland, and if China and Russia are already moving into the Arctic, then the U.S. will move more aggressively still. And if force is required, force will be used.
Yet this approach also represents a departure from the moral language traditionally associated with American power. In Venezuela, the justification narrative focused on dictatorship, corruption, and human rights violations. But Denmark cannot be painted as a tyrannical state. It is one of the world’s strongest democracies, consistently ranked among the happiest, freest, most just, and most socially equitable nations. Greenland, too, is a democratic autonomous territory whose people repeatedly affirm their partnership within the Danish realm. So the doctrine must shift from moral rescue to strategic entitlement. That shift is profound — and profoundly dangerous.
Because once a superpower declares that territory can be seized on the basis of strategic need, the entire post-war global security architecture fractures. NATO unity collapses. European trust evaporates. International law is discarded. The message received globally is that sovereignty is conditional and survival depends only on military strength. In that world, every nation becomes more paranoid, more armed, more volatile. The rule-based order dissolves into the law of the jungle.
And yet, Russia and China may not rush to intervene. They may instead sit back and allow the United States to bleed its credibility, erode its alliances, and expose its desperation. Because beneath the chest-beating lies a quieter truth — the United States is losing its global economic primacy, losing trade leverage, losing investment dominance, losing moral authority, and losing its aura as a stabilizer rather than a disruptor. As these softer forms of power weaken, military force becomes the last remaining marker of superpower identity. So the temptation grows to use it — loudly, defiantly, repeatedly — to prove that America still commands the world stage.
But superpower status is not measured only by the ability to occupy territory. True power is earned by respect, stability, restraint, partnership, and legitimacy. If the United States chooses instead to move toward annexation rhetoric and gunboat doctrine, then Greenland is unlikely to be the end. It will simply be the opening act in a broader unraveling — one in which the U.S. asserts dominance even as its foundations quietly erode beneath it. And history has shown again and again that superpowers fall fastest not when they are challenged from outside — but when they begin to devour the very principles that once made them strong.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : The world has been shaken by an extraordinary development that cuts to the heart of sovereignty, law, and global power. Demonstrations have erupted across continents after the United States captured the sitting president of Venezuela — a leader who, under international law, enjoys immunity not because he is above the law, but because he represents the sovereignty and dignity of his nation. When a president is seized, the state itself is symbolically seized. Today, it is not merely one man before a New York court, but thirty million Venezuelans whose sovereignty stands on trial.
This single act has ignited global outrage. From New York to Chicago, protesters marched with banners reading “Hands off Venezuela” and “No Blood for Oil,” rejecting America’s unilateral policing of the world. In Amsterdam, London, Madrid, Berlin and Buenos Aires, demonstrators condemned what they called kidnapping and aggression. In Caracas, supporters filled the streets calling it an act of war. At the UN Security Council, China demanded the president’s release, Russia denounced lawlessness, and Brazil’s President Lula called it a grave violation of sovereignty. Even U.S. allies expressed discomfort, warning that force without legal mandate shatters the system meant to prevent war.
Yet Washington appears determined to prove power through force at a moment when it is losing ground elsewhere. Economically, the United States no longer dominates global production and trade. Financially, the world is slowly reducing dependence on the dollar. Culturally and politically, influence is drifting toward Asia and the developing world. And most critically, the era of oil — once America’s greatest lever — is fading fast.
Oil today is worth far less in strategic power than at any time since its discovery. Global demand growth peaked. Electric vehicles already account for over one-fifth of new car sales worldwide, and by 2030 over half of all cars sold in Europe and China are expected to be electric. Renewable electricity costs have collapsed — wind and solar are now the cheapest power in history in many regions. Meanwhile, breakthroughs in nuclear fission efficiency, experimental fusion, high-density batteries, hydrogen systems, and grid-scale storage are transforming energy security permanently.
That means oil is no longer the irreplaceable lifeblood of economies. Its share of global energy has already dropped from over 50% in the 1970s to under 30% today — and it is projected to fall toward 20% by 2030. When electricity — not oil — powers transport, logistics, and industry, the geopolitical value of oil falls with it. Long-term market forecasts now warn that beyond 2030, oil demand may permanently decline. Once falling demand collides with oversupply, oil becomes not a golden asset but a stranded one. Extracting, transporting, and securing it by military force will become economically irrational and politically toxic.
So the world is entering a new energy-power order. Power will no longer belong to those who sit on oil wells, but to those who control renewables, nuclear science, advanced storage, micro-grids, AI-driven energy efficiency, and fusion research. Nations investing in these technologies — China, the EU, Japan, South Korea, and others — will command the future. Those clinging to oil supremacy will discover that history has moved on without them.
Seen through this lens, the U.S. operation in Venezuela looks like the desperate act of a declining empire trying to freeze time. It is the attempt to preserve oil-era dominance in a post-oil world. But military coercion cannot reverse scientific progress. It cannot stop the spread of clean, decentralized energy systems that free nations from dependence on oil routes controlled by others.
Even U.S. allies now sense the danger. Canada, historically deferential to Washington, watched nervously as threats and resource claims crept closer to its own sovereignty. European states, once obedient followers in U.S. interventions, now speak of legality and restraint, knowing that today Venezuela is on trial — but tomorrow any nation could be.
The American justification — that Venezuela fuels narcotics and instability — collapses before basic facts. Synthetic drug supply chains run largely through Mexico and other channels, not Venezuelan oil platforms. The narrative is politically convenient, but structurally hollow. What truly matters is geostrategic access, leverage, and psychological dominance.
But that dominance is slipping — and Washington knows it. As more states trade in their own currencies, as energy sources diversify, as technology redistributes power, the ability of one state to command others declines. And when influence fades, the temptation to use force grows.
Yet force comes at a cost. The protests sweeping the world do not only defend Venezuela. They defend the principle that sovereignty cannot be dragged off an airplane at gunpoint. They defend the idea that power must answer to law, and that even the strongest nation cannot declare itself judge, jury, and executioner over global governance.
Even inside the United States, many now fear the moral and strategic price of endless intervention. They understand that the military might cannot substitute for respect, legitimacy, and trust. They also understand that every unlawful action accelerates the erosion of American authority rather than restoring it.
The irony is that by trying to prove relevance through force, the United States risks proving the opposite. Oil empires are ending. Technology empires are rising. And the nation that fails to adapt becomes the nation left behind.
What the world is witnessing is not merely the abduction of a president, but the panic of a superpower watching history escape its grasp. The capture of a head of state will not return America to uncontested supremacy. Instead, it will be remembered as a moment when the world realized that legitimacy, law, and innovation — not missiles — define real power.
And the final judgment may not be delivered in a New York courtroom, but in the court of history — where nations are measured not by how loudly they threaten, but by whether they respect the sovereignty, dignity, and future of others.