There is a simple truth about power: it can make nations forget. Not just forget others; but forget themselves. The story of the United States of America (USA) is, in many ways, the story of a country that rose to greatness on the strength of ideas – freedom, democracy, opportunity – but has often struggled to live by those same ideals when dealing with the rest of the world.
To understand this tension, let’s go back to the end of World War II. Much of Europe was in ruins. Millions were dead. On the premise of that devastation, the USA stepped forward; not just as a victor, but as a builder. It helped rebuild broken economies, supported new international institutions, and positioned itself as a defender of liberty.
At that moment, America looked less like an empire but more like a hope. But history rarely moves in straight lines.
Following the emergence of the Cold War, fear began to shape decisions. The rise of communism was seen not just as a political threat, but as an existential one. In a desperate effort to stop it, the United States continually abandoned the very democratic principles it claimed to defend. Governments were influenced, elections were undermined, and in some cases, leaders were removed; not because they were tyrants, but because they were seen as ideologically inconvenient for American democracy to tolerate.
To the ordinary people in parts of Latin America, Africa, and Asia, “freedom” as it were, began to feel selective.
Then came Vietnam—a war that still echoes in global memory. For many Americans, it was a painful chapter filled with loss and national introspection. For the Vietnamese, it was something deeper: a devastating conflict that tore through families, villages, and generations.
The tragedy was not just in the scale of destruction, but in the stubborn belief that power alone could dictate outcomes in a land with its own history, identity, and will.
One might think such a lesson would be unforgettable.
Decades later, history seemed to whisper the same warning. Once again, it went largely unheeded.
The 2003 invasion of Iraq was presented as a necessary act to eliminate a looming threat. But when the promised weapons of mass destruction were not found, what remained was a fractured nation, deepened instability, and a region struggling to recover. For many outside the United States, the war reinforced a familiar perception: that American power often acts first and reflects later.
Yet, it would be unfair and inaccurate to paint the United States as simply oppressive. The country is far more complex than that. It is a place where citizens protest wars, where journalists question authority, and where students debate justice and history with passion. During Vietnam and Iraq, millions of Americans themselves raised their voices in dissent. That matters. It shows that within the system, there is a conscience.
Meanwhile, when conscience is ignored by power, it becomes frustration.
History offers several warnings about what happens when powerful nations stop listening. The Roman Empire once stretched across continents, confident in its strength, yet ultimately weakened by internal decay and overexpansion. The British Empire ruled vast territories, only to watch them slip away as people demanded dignity and self-rule.
These were not sudden collapses. They were slow realizations that power without fairness cannot last. Sooner or later, it evaporates.
That not withstanding, there is something unique about how America sees itself. The idea of “exceptionalism.” Different as they perceive it, America see it as being perhaps even immune from the fate of past empires. It runs deep into the country’s political culture.
Trump Exceptionalism is an idea that inspires confidence, but also, at times, blinds.
This is because, history does not grant exemptions.
Today, the world is changing. Countries like China and Russia are asserting themselves more forcefully, challenging the idea that one nation alone can shape global affairs. Power is therefore becoming more distributed, more contested, and more complex.
It is against this backdrop that domination is no longer as effective as cooperation in the fast unfolding World politics.
For many people outside the United States including here in Nigeria, global politics is not an abstract debate. Far from that!
It affects real lives: fuel prices, security concerns, economic opportunities, even social tensions. When powerful countries act without listening, smaller nations often bear the consequences.
That is why the question of whether America learns from history is not just an American issue—it is a global one.
The encouraging reality, however, is that the United States of America still has the ability to change course. Its greatest strength has never been just its military or economy, but its capacity for self-reflection. It has, at different moments in its history, corrected itself—sometimes slowly, sometimes painfully, but meaningfully.
The civil rights movement, the end of unpopular wars, the expansion of democratic rights—these are reminders that learning is possible.
But learning requires humility. It requires asking difficult questions:
Are we listening enough?
Are we acting justly?
Are we repeating what we once criticized in others?
Power, when guided by wisdom, can build. But power without memory and the discipline to learn from past mistakes could easily result to destruction.
The paradox of the United States of America is that it remains both a teacher and a student of democracy. It teaches through its ideals, but it is still learning how to apply them consistently.
That, perhaps, is the real story: not of a villain, but of a nation still struggling to align its strength with its values.
The paradox remains: a nation that Teaches the World about democracy, yet struggles to apply it’s principles consistently beyond it’s borders.
History is watching. The world is watching as the US-Israeli’s imposed war on Iran rages.
– Abdulkarim Abdulmalik, Abuja based veteran journalist can be reached on: nowmalik@gmail.com
