There was a time, not so long ago, when the United States was widely seen as a beacon of hope, a defender of liberty, and a protector of democratic values. This image wasn’t just symbolic. It was earned. Albeit imperfectly, through generations of leadership, innovation, and moral aspiration. At the heart of this identity was the U.S. Constitution – crafted with direct philosophical influence from Enlightenment thinkers like Montesquieu (notably his theory on separation of powers)—and crowned by symbols like the Statue of Liberty, a gift from France, offered as a gesture of shared democratic ideals and a literal light for those seeking refuge. But that image has been eroded.

Under the Trump administration, this foundational identity has shifted. The Constitution, once treated as sacred, is now bent and twisted to serve political ambition. Separation of powers has been undermined by executive overreach. Truth itself has become optional. The result? A country that once represented freedom to the world now exports confusion, division, and authoritarian flirtation. And the world is watching.

The Foreign Policy Fallout

From the abandonment of global climate agreements to the erratic diplomacy with adversaries and allies alike, Trump’s foreign policy has done measurable damage. Recent examples include:

• NATO destabilization: Ongoing threats to withdraw or undermine NATO commitments have weakened trust among allies, especially as Trump has hinted at allowing Russia to do “whatever the hell they want” with delinquent members.
• Ukraine aid politicization: The freezing and manipulation of military aid to Ukraine (even before his 2024 return) helped embolden aggressors and confused international observers.
• Israeli-Palestinian conflict: The United States’ uncritical support of Israeli military actions, despite global calls for restraint, has led to condemnations from traditionally neutral nations – including Switzerland. While the Swiss have long remained detached from global entanglements, their rare rebukes now highlight the severity of the moral void left by American silence.

These are not isolated missteps. They’re part of a larger trend: a retreat from the values we once exported.

The Rhetoric That Divides, The Image That Shatters

Domestically, the Republican party has increasingly embraced rhetoric that isn’t just partisan – it’s existential. Opponents aren’t political rivals anymore, they’re “enemies of the state.” Civil discourse has been replaced by conspiracy. Books are being banned. Education is under siege. Courts are stacked not with centrists but ideologues. And the message sent abroad is unmistakable: this is no longer the America of Roosevelt, or even Reagan. This is a nation unsure of its own soul. That soul is being tested everyday.

Even travelers feel the shift. Americans once received a mixture of admiration and skepticism when traveling abroad. But increasingly, they’re met with caution, or even disdain. We used to be seen as flawed but hopeful. Now we’re seen as unpredictable, entitled, or worse, complicit.

If this trajectory continues, established destinations – countries like France, Germany, the UK, and even neutral Switzerland – may begin treating American passports less like symbols of partnership and more like red flags. Public sentiment influences policy. Tourism can decline. International cooperation can wane. Trust, once lost, is hard to recover.

And while not every citizen agrees with the Trump administration’s actions, the failure to act, speak, or even care is being heard around the world as something even more dangerous than disagreement: apathy.

In France, they march. In Iran, they risk death to protest injustice. In Ukraine, they fight with everything they have to defend sovereignty. But in America? We scroll. We debate. We turn off the news when it gets uncomfortable. And to the global eye, that nonchalance (yes, that’s the spelling) is a stain darker than disagreement. It reeks of privilege and moral laziness.

What are we silent about?

• Children in cages: The policy of separating migrant children from their families at the southern border was globally condemned as a human rights violation. Yet many Americans moved on as if it were just a political headline, some even defended it as “law and order.”
• Capitulation to white nationalism: From Charlottesville to the Capitol insurrection, the Trump era has empowered extremist rhetoric. Abroad, Americans are now seen less as defenders of equality and more as a country flirting with fascism while pretending it’s just “patriotism.”
• Undermining of democratic norms: Efforts to overturn a legitimate election, culminating in the January 6th insurrection, shocked the world. The fact that so many Americans continue to support the man behind it, or shrug it off as overblown, is a direct affront to every nation that has fought for democracy.
• Funding and arming unjust wars: As U.S. weapons fall into conflicts that many neutral or allied countries now condemn (including in Gaza), Americans appear willfully detached. The Swiss, historically neutral, have even voiced concern over disproportionate violence – while our leaders offer political cover or remain disturbingly silent.
• Environmental neglect: Withdrawing from the Paris Agreement signaled to the world that corporate profit once again outweighs planetary survival. Rejoining doesn’t erase the message that America can’t be counted on.

The worst part: we aren’t just seen as careless – we’re seen as comfortable. The optics of Americans debating whether they “have the bandwidth” to care while sipping overpriced coffee, vacationing abroad, or scrolling through influencer content create a cultural image that is deeply resented.

To much of the world, it feels like the U.S. is insulated from the suffering it funds.

We talk about freedom, but fund occupations.
We talk about justice, but shield war criminals.
We talk about peace, but sell the bullets.

And then we wonder why the world is turning away.

What Should We Actually Feel Bad About?

We should feel uncomfortable that America is now synonymous with:

• Hypocrisy, when we preach democracy but support autocrats.
• Exceptionalism, when we demand global respect but reject global accountability.
• Ignorance, when we don’t even know the names of the places our policies impact.
• Arrogance, when we act like it’s someone else’s job to care.

We should feel deeply troubled that while other nations face starvation, bombardment, and surveillance. Our biggest political debates center around who gets to wear a pin, who stood for a flag, or what a billionaire tweeted.

But there is still time. Time to reclaim empathy. Time to relight the torch. Not as a symbol of dominance, but of conscience. Because if we don’t speak up, if we don’t challenge what is being done in our name, then history will not care how uncomfortable we felt. It will only remember that we looked away.

The Beacon and the Mirror

The irony, perhaps, is that the Statue of Liberty still stands. Her torch is still raised. But she no longer reflects who we are – only who we once claimed to be. And maybe that’s the hardest truth: the world didn’t tarnish the beacon. We did.

We allowed it to dim with every lie unchallenged, every abuse of power excused, every neighbor turned into a threat.

But if the Constitution was born of Enlightenment, then maybe what’s needed now is a reawakening—a new generation of Americans willing to hold up the mirror, and if needed, relight the flame.