For decades, the foreign policy elite in both parties insisted that America’s greatness has more to do with Damascus than Detroit, or Baghdad than Bozeman. It was a bipartisan delusion—driven by ideology, divorced from consequence, and devastating to the American people.

Against the wisdom of the ancients and our own founders, we went abroad “in search of monsters to destroy.” But our foreign exploits proved fruitless, producing little but fallen soldiers and toppled regimes, soon replaced by even more dangerous ones. Worse still, the sands of faraway deserts blinded us to the sand that our own house stood on.

Now is the time to rebuild—to restore our republic and usher in a new American golden age. But first, we must face the truth.

Neoconservative foreign policy, once mistaken as a legitimate branch of the conservative movement, has proven to be one of the most destructive ideological projects of the last half-century. With its soaring rhetoric and shallow roots, it promised that endless war could birth endless peace, that liberal democracy could be exported like grain, and that remaking the world was more urgent than restoring our own nation.

That misjudgment has cost this nation dearly. In blood. In treasure. In trust. 

Pat Buchanan foresaw this disaster decades ago. He warned:

The day is coming when America’s global hegemony is going to be challenged, and our leaders will discover they lack the resources to make good on all the war guarantees they have handed out so frivolously; and the American people, awakened to what it is their statesmen have committed them to, will declare themselves unwilling to pay the price of empire.

That day is here.

We must completely reject the neoconservative fantasy of global social engineering and return to a foreign policy of realism—rooted in prudence, restraint, national interest, and the enduring principles that made this nation strong: faith, family, sovereignty, and ordered liberty.

This is not isolationism. It is a common-sense foreign policy. Realism holds, with Washington, that the indulgence of habitual hatred and habitual fondness makes a nation a “slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest.” It asserts, with Madison, that “no nation” can “preserve its freedoms in the midst of continual warfare.”

And like every American family who has lost a loved one for the sake of our freedom, realism remembers the sacrifice of the American soldier: our ancestors who changed the course of history at Bunker Hill, New Orleans, and Buena Vista. It remembers our great-grandfathers who died in the killing fields of Antietam and Gettysburg, our grandfathers who bled in Belleau Wood and beat back the Bulge, our fathers who fought Communism on the beaches of Inchon and the jungles of Ia Drang Valley, and our brothers and sisters who lost life and limb battling in the streets of Khafji and Fallujah.

The Status Quo: Nation Breaking

Since realism remembers every generation of Americans sent to war, it insists that their sacrifice deserves more than sentiment or empty words. It demands that we confront the failure of our foreign policy status quo.

What is that status quo?

The wars of the early republic had a purpose: to forge a nation, preserve a union, and protect our people. Those wars secured ordered liberty here at home—for ourselves and our posterity.

By the early 20th century, however, some of our elites had different ambitions. They sought to export American ideals abroad, whether the nations receiving them wanted them or not. Woodrow Wilson spoke of making the world “safe for democracy.” His vision was dim-witted and deeply unrealistic.

Wilson’s idealist vision metastasized into a sprawling network of institutions: the United Nations, the World Bank, the IMF, and NATO, to name a few. Some served our interests. Many did not. All came with trade-offs.

This international order granted us greater influence over global affairs than any nation ever before, but it also bred complacency. It elevated America to the status of a global superpower, yet it simultaneously eroded our sovereignty. Our hegemony came hand-in-hand with hubris.

And nowhere was that hubris more apparent than in the ideology of neoconservatism. It did not reject Wilsonian idealism—it was simply the other side of the same interventionist coin. Whereas Wilson cloaked moral arrogance in the language of peace, using diplomacy to meddle abroad, neoconservatives reach straight for American firepower to reshape the world. They believe that every person on Earth is a latent American, just one regime change away.

President George W. Bush summed it up this way in his second inaugural: “The survival of liberty in our land increasingly depends on the success of liberty in other lands” (emphasis added). And it was during his administration that America would reap the devastating consequences of this delusional ideology.

After 9/11, the American people rightly demanded justice. When the Taliban refused to hand over the terrorists responsible, the U.S. launched a justified campaign to dismantle Al-Qaeda and remove its enablers. At the time, I supported it.

But mission clarity gave way to mission creep. What began as a targeted operation became a two-decade nation-building experiment. By April 2002, the White House was invested in “helping the Afghan people rebuild their nation.” The goalposts moved. The war dragged on.

The war in Iraq followed. We were told Saddam Hussein had ties to terrorists, weapons of mass destruction, and plans to target America. The invasion came. Another regime fell. But the war did not end.

Washington assured Americans we were winning—until the truth became undeniable. The casus belli was fabricated. The occupation spiraled into sectarian violence.

The American people paid the price. Over 6,000 U.S. service members returned in flag-draped coffins. Over 50,000 came home wounded. Since 2001, more than 30,000 veterans have taken their own lives. The VA has diagnosed over 200,000 with PTSD.

And what was gained?

Afghanistan collapsed as the Taliban took over again within days of our exit. Iraq descended into chaos. Iran grew stronger. Libya fell apart. Syria remains a humanitarian and geopolitical disaster. All the while, our number one adversary, China—which refuses to be distracted by such ideological crusades—has grown in strength, has spread its tentacles around the globe, and now threatens to surpass American influence on every continent but our own.

Today, neoconservatives have shifted strategies and adopted new slogans—but they have never once questioned their misguided assumptions. They cling to the myth that the world can be remade in America’s image, if only we try harder. But nation-building does not build nations. It breaks them. And if we do not change course, it will soon break our own.

A Better Way

How can we avoid such a fate? How can we craft a new foreign policy that prioritizes our domestic security, the prosperity of American families, and the preservation of our national sovereignty? What foreign policy is fit for America’s golden age? Seeking direction in this moment of uncertainty, we look to George Washington, our first and greatest statesman.

Washington’s Farewell Address warned the U.S. to steer clear of permanent alliances. He was eager to make and keep peace. He insisted that we modernize our military to deter enemies. All these are excellent principles that can steer us toward prudent and effective foreign policy. But what truly sets Washington apart—and what we must remember above all—is our first president’s unwavering loyalty to the American people.

Unlike the neoconservative status quo that too many leaders still subscribe to today, Washington understood that “the statesman’s primary concern must be the good of his own nation,” to borrow the words of Angelo Codevilla. And he recognized that “in revolutionary times especially, thoughts, words, and deeds about international affairs must be subordinated to internal needs.”

We must do the same. America faces an abundance of threats. But our foreign policy must prioritize those that most directly endanger the American people. This is not only because we do not have enough resources to be the world’s policeman—though that fact should not be lost on anyone—but also because taking care of one’s own people is the telos of foreign policy and a matter of justice.

We begin by facing the enemy within. The millions of illegal aliens who have streamed across our border over the last two decades are not just violating our laws—they are eroding our sovereignty, overwhelming our communities, and tearing at the fabric of our national unity. The American people did not invite these individuals. Many have no intention of becoming Americans. And their continued presence, aided by the radical Left and weaponized NGOs, poses a clear and present threat to our national security. The first duty of a serious foreign policy is to defend the homeland. That means mass deportation—firmly, swiftly, and without apology.

This crisis becomes even more urgent when we consider the 99 individuals on the terrorist watchlist that the Biden Administration knowingly released into the American interior. That administration also allowed more than two million illegal aliens—known as “gotaways”—to cross our border without being apprehended. We do not know who they are, where they came from, or what they are planning. An untold number of foreign nationals who wish American families harm and crossed undetected are now embedded in our suburbs, forming sleeper cells that could strike at any moment. Washington must cast aside dreams of toppling regimes in the Middle East and instead focus on these internal threats. That means identifying and deporting every last one of these terrorists—and ensuring the border is never again left open to our enemies.

After we address the threats inside our own borders, the next object of our attention should be our hemisphere. Today, the Western Hemisphere has become a den of drug dealing, human trafficking, and organized crime. Latin America holds just 8% of the world’s population but accounts for over 30% of global homicides, much of it tied to cartels and gangs. If there was ever a time for revisiting the Monroe Doctrine, we are living in it.

This violence frequently spills over our borders. Between 2021 and 2023 alone, more Americans died from opioids than in World War I and the Korean and Vietnam wars combined. And these deaths are no accidents. While we are distracting ourselves with Old World rivalries and conflicts, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is actively funding, supporting, and pushing fentanyl into our country, all while spreading their influence across our backyard. Today, the People’s Liberation Army owns and operates a deep-space radar station in Patagonia, funds major ports in Cuba just 50 miles from Florida, and owns hundreds of thousands of acres of U.S. soil—much of it near sensitive military sites.

We cannot accept this. America is blessed with what Abraham Lincoln called “the fairest portion of the earth.” We are surrounded on the east and west by great oceans that distance us from Europe and Asia. And there are no great powers to our north or south.

Recognizing these natural advantages—as James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, and Andrew Jackson all did—there is no excuse for us allowing our number one adversary to make camp in our backyard and kill our citizens with highly potent drugs. Today, we must reassert the Monroe Doctrine, work tirelessly to expunge China (and every other foreign power) from our shores, and become the masters of a hemisphere that is peaceful, prosperous, and free from the tired rivalries and conflicts of the Old World.

Since at least November 2011, our leaders in Washington have promised a shift in focus from the Middle East and Europe toward the far East. And yet, this has never materialized. Instead, distraction after distraction—ISIS, Syria, Afghanistan, Ukraine—has kept us mired in conflict, and has hindered our ability to win the new cold war with China.

We cannot be distracted any longer.

Already, China has assembled the largest naval fleet on Earth—and its shipbuilding capacity now dwarfs ours by a factor of 232. Beijing is pouring concrete and laying steel while our own navy is recovering from four years of debating pronouns. At the same time, we remain dangerously dependent on Chinese supply chains for critical rare earths, essential pharmaceuticals, and other goods that should never have been made in a Communist dictatorship. Just last year, the Chinese Communist Party added 100 new warheads to its nuclear arsenal—a 20% surge in just 12 months.

But the threat is not just across the Pacific. It is already here—burrowed into our economy, our institutions, and our culture. The CCP funds propaganda mills on our college campuses, runs secret police outposts in our cities, and gives “free” drones to our fire and police departments. And in Washington, it buys influence the old-fashioned way: with cash. Since 2016, China has spent nearly half a billion dollars on foreign lobbying—more than any other nation.

And that is just what we can see. Many foreign agents do not register under the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA). While some do not have to, others simply do not want us to know what they are up to. 

But whether it is laundered through Swiss accounts or funneled through law firms, the effect is the same: America’s Golden Age is at risk of being auctioned off—one contract, one consultant, one cowardly senator at a time. It must stop. George Washington warned that “foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes of republican government.” He was right. It is time to abolish foreign lobbying in Washington, root and branch, and end this economic treason once and for all.

And banning foreign lobbying is just the beginning. To win the 21st century, we need a new military policy—one that puts strategic manufacturing, not financial speculation, at the center of national power. The Chinese Communist Party understands this. So did Alexander Hamilton. In Federalist #11, he taught us that commerce is as much a weapon of defense as a warship. It is time we remember that forgotten lesson.

That means rebuilding our defense industrial base from the ground up—producing ammo, aircraft, and weapons systems not only faster and cheaper, but also here in America. It means restoring our steel mills, reviving precision tooling, retraining engineers, and re-shoring (and friend-shoring) the component parts of everything from tanks to telecom. It means cutting red tape, suing the EPA if necessary, and telling Wall Street they no longer get to decide what America makes. And it means investing in cutting-edge technologies: developing drone fleets to keep our sons out of harm’s way, a Golden Dome to neutralize enemy threats, and tools like Outernet to penetrate anti-access zones in the Indo-Pacific.

And do not be mistaken—this is not just about beating China. It is about making America sovereign again. No nation that outsources its factories can defend its flag. No republic that depends on enemies for medicine or munitions can call itself free. Industrial strength is national strength. And we will rebuild both.

The Permanent Things

All of this, however, will be insufficient if we fail to also invest in what Russell Kirk called the permanent things: America’s homes, churches, schools, and traditions. The virtue of her young men and women, and their hope for the future.

These things are permanent not because they are nostalgic, but because they are true—rooted in the unchanging nature of man and the eternal moral order. They are permanent because they are elemental to the “human condition that gives us our nature.”

Though not typically considered an object of foreign policy, without these permanent things, America will not merely lose influence abroad: she will lose her soul. But with them, our country can thrive, endure, and inspire—not by conquest or coercion, but by example.

Permanent things cannot be procured by a government contract, but they can be squandered by reckless foreign policy. Indeed, that’s precisely what neoconservatism has wrought for the past 30 years.

This is why, in 1988—before the Balkans, before Desert Storm, before Afghanistan, before Iraq, before Libya, before Syria, before Ukraine—Kirk himself issued a warning during a speech at The Heritage Foundation:

To expect that all the world should, and must, adopt the peculiar political institutions of the United States—which often do not work very well even at home—is to indulge the most unrealistic of visions. Such foreign policies are such stuff as dreams are made of; yet they lead to the heaps of corpses of men who died in vain.

Our leaders ignored his warning. Will we?

The task before us is clear: if we have the courage to reject neoconservatism, our foreign policy can once again be rooted in prudence, guided by justice, oriented to peace, and anchored in the reality of the lives of the American people. And from that foundation, we can build an era of strength and stability worthy of the civilization we are called to defend.