Hi everyone, welcome back to My Weird Prompts. I am Corn, and we are coming to you as always from our home here in Jerusalem. We have a substantive, and frankly, quite heavy one for you today. Usually, our housemate Daniel sends us a prompt based on listener questions or an obscure historical footnote, but for this episode, the whole team wanted us to dive into something that has been dominating the headlines and our own dinner table conversations lately. We are looking at the deep history and the current, very complicated reality of American interventionism versus what some call passivism, restraint, or non-interventionism.
Herman Poppleberry here. Corn, you have hit on the big one. This is the question that defines how the United States interacts with the rest of the world and, by extension, how the rest of the world views the United States. Are we the world's policeman? Should we be? And if we say we are not, why does the data often show something entirely different? We have seen some massive, paradigm-shifting moves just in the first few months of twenty twenty-six. From the joint military strikes in Iran last month to the situation in Venezuela and the detention of Nicolas Maduro in January, it feels like the rhetoric of non-intervention is hitting the reality of global power head-on.
It really does. To understand where we are right now, on March fourth, twenty twenty-six, we have to look at how we got here. Most people think this idea of America intervening in other countries started with the Cold War or maybe World War Two, but the roots go much deeper. I was looking back at the eighteen hundreds, and it is striking how the language shifted. We started with the Monroe Doctrine in eighteen twenty-three, which was a defensive "keep out" sign to Europe. But then, about eighty years later, Theodore Roosevelt flipped the script entirely.
That really was the turning point. The original Monroe Doctrine from eighteen twenty-three was James Monroe telling the European powers that the Western Hemisphere is closed for colonization. It was a shield. It was about protecting the sovereignty of the newly independent nations in the Americas from old-world empires. But then you get to nineteen oh four, and Theodore Roosevelt introduces what we now call the Roosevelt Corollary. He stood up during his State of the Union address and said that if a nation in the Western Hemisphere shows chronic wrongdoing or an impotence which results in a general loosening of the ties of civilized society, the United States might have to exercise an international police power.
International police power. That phrase gives the "world's policeman" concept its first formal, doctrinal footing. It shifted the Monroe Doctrine from a defensive policy to an offensive one. Instead of saying "Europe, stay out," we started saying "we will go in if we do not like how you are running things." It is the difference between a "No Trespassing" sign and a "Neighborhood Watch" where the watchman has a heavy-duty baton and the right to enter your living room.
Roosevelt was very explicit about it. He saw it as a duty of "civilized" nations. But it is important to remember the context of that era. Just a few years earlier, in eighteen ninety-eight, we had the Spanish-American War. That was the moment the United States became an overseas empire. We took control of the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and Guam. We established a protectorate in Cuba and annexed Hawaii. Suddenly, we were not just a continental power; we were a global one with interests all over the map. This sparked a massive debate at home. You had the Anti-Imperialist League, with people like Mark Twain and Andrew Carnegie, arguing that by taking the Philippines, the United States was betraying its own revolutionary roots. They argued you cannot be a republic at home and an empire abroad.
It is remarkable how these things cycle back. We are sitting here in twenty twenty-six, and we are seeing a revival of that Monroe Doctrine framing, but with a modern, more aggressive twist. Some people are even calling it the "Donroe Doctrine" after President Trump. It is this idea of asserting total dominance in the Americas—the "Western Hemisphere is ours" mentality—while simultaneously trying to pull back from European security commitments like N-A-T-O. It is a very specific kind of interventionism. It is not the liberal internationalism we saw in the nineties or the early two thousands where we talked about "nation-building." It is more transactional, more unilateral.
That is a key term, Corn. Some European think tanks, like the European Policy Centre, are calling it "interventionist isolationism." It sounds like a total contradiction. How can you be an interventionist and an isolationist at the same time? But it actually describes the current administration's approach quite well. It is the idea of projecting power unilaterally—striking when and where we want, like we saw with the major strike on Iran last month—without the burden of long-term alliances, treaties, or nation-building responsibilities. We are not trying to build a global community; we are looking out for American interests and striking anyone who crosses a red line, then leaving.
That leads to some staggering numbers that our listeners need to hear. If you look at the last twelve months, the United States has conducted four hundred and ninety-three military strikes. Compare that to the two hundred and eighty-seven strikes during the entire four years of the Biden presidency. It is a massive escalation. And yet, the rhetoric coming out of the White House and from people like Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth is all about ending "endless wars" and being a non-interventionist power. There is a huge gap between the "restraint" language and the "kinetic" reality. Hegseth often talks about a "Predisposition to Non-Interventionism," which is actually written into the twenty twenty-five National Security Strategy. But the data says otherwise.
It is a paradox that starts to make sense through the lens of what we call "transactional realism." The administration's twenty twenty-five National Security Strategy talks about "flexible realism." Basically, it says we do not want to be in a permanent war, but if we see an opportunity to remove a threat or gain massive leverage, we are going to take the shot. The detention of Maduro in January is the perfect example. It was a dramatic, high-stakes intervention. U-S forces actually took a sitting president into custody. It was framed as a law-and-order move for the hemisphere, a way to stop the migrant crisis and remove Russian and Chinese influence from our "backyard," not as a long-term occupation. It was "big stick" diplomacy for the twenty-first century.
This brings to mind the "restraint" school of thought that has been gaining ground lately, even if the current policy does not always reflect it. Organizations like the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft have been arguing for years that the United States needs to pull back its military footprint. They are named after John Quincy Adams, and for good reason. In eighteen twenty-one, he gave a famous speech where he said America "goes not abroad, in search of monsters to destroy." He warned that if America became the "dictatress of the world," she would no longer be the ruler of her own spirit. He saw the danger of imperial overstretch long before we were even a world power.
That is a foundational text for the non-interventionist tradition. John Quincy Adams was saying that we can be a beacon of liberty without being a crusader for it. But the counter-argument, the one that has dominated since nineteen forty-five, is "primacy" or "liberal internationalism." This is the belief that if the United States does not police the world, someone else will—and that someone else, whether it is Russia, China, or a regional power, might be much worse for global stability and American interests.
Let's look at some of that language, because it is easy for listeners to get confused by the jargon. We hear "isolationism," "non-interventionism," and "restraint" used almost interchangeably, but they mean very different things in a policy sense.
Let's run through a quick glossary. "Isolationism" is the strictest form. It is the idea of withdrawing from international engagement almost entirely—no trade deals, no alliances, just focusing inward. Almost nobody in power actually advocates for true isolationism today. Even the most "America First" policies are still very engaged in global trade. Then you have "non-interventionism," which is specifically about the military. It is the idea that we should have good relations and trade with everyone, but we do not interfere in their internal politics and we do not go to war unless we are directly attacked. This was the dominant view in the early days of the Republic.
Then we have "restraint," which is the more modern academic term. The restraint school, like the folks at the Quincy Institute or the Cato Institute, argues that the United States has a "security dilemma." By being everywhere and having hundreds of military bases, we actually make ourselves less safe because we provoke other countries to build up their militaries in response. They want to see a dramatic reduction in our global footprint, but they still believe in diplomacy. And finally, we have the "prioritizers." This is a big camp in twenty twenty-six. They say we should stop worrying about Europe or the Middle East and focus every single ounce of our military energy on the Pacific and China.
The "prioritizer" angle seems to be where the current administration is leaning, at least in theory. They are being incredibly aggressive in the Americas—the "Donroe Doctrine"—and they are being aggressive with Iran to protect interests and allies like Israel. But at the same time, they are telling Europe that they need to handle their own security. It is a selective interventionism. We are the policeman of our own neighborhood and our vital interests, but we are not the world's general security guard anymore.
I want to look at some historical parallels, because this "policeman" role is not unique to America. Think about the British Empire during the nineteenth century. They had a period called Pax Britannica. They used their naval dominance to keep the trade lanes open, suppress piracy, and even move against the slave trade. They framed themselves as the benevolent policeman of the world. Scholars call this "free trade imperialism." They believed that by maintaining order, they were helping everyone, even if they were doing it through the barrel of a naval cannon.
Going even further back, you look at the Roman Republic. This is a parallel I find fascinating and a bit terrifying. Rome did not start out wanting to be a global empire. They would intervene in foreign states under the pretext of protecting an ally. They had a concept called "deditio," which was a form of submission where a smaller state would put itself under Rome's protection. Rome would go in to "defend" them against a neighbor, and before you know it, that state is a province. The Republic became an empire almost through a series of "defensive" interventions. They kept finding monsters to destroy to protect their interests, and eventually, the weight of that empire collapsed their own democratic institutions at home.
That is the core concern. You cannot be a republic at home and an empire abroad forever. Eventually, the methods you use to project power globally—the secrecy, the executive power, the massive military spending—start to bleed back into how you govern at home. We saw that debate during the Spanish-American War, and we are seeing it again now. When we see the detention of a foreign leader like Maduro, it raises the question: if the executive branch can do that abroad without a formal declaration of war, what are the limits at home?
It is a tension that persists. There is also the parallel of Athens and Sparta. The Athenian Empire grew out of the Delian League, which was originally a defensive alliance against the Persians. But over time, Athens started using the league's resources to intervene in the internal affairs of its members, forcing them to adopt democratic systems and paying tribute to Athens. They became an interventionist empire that justified its power by saying they were spreading a better way of life. That "liberal interventionism" eventually led to the Peloponnesian War and the ruin of Athens. It is a cautionary tale about imperial overstretch and the "security dilemma."
That "liberal peace" theory—the idea that democracies do not fight each other, so we should turn everyone into a democracy—was the justification for so much intervention over the last thirty years. But in twenty twenty-six, that seems to have completely fallen out of favor.
It is largely dead in the water now. I do not think you will hear anyone in the current State Department or the Pentagon talking about "spreading democracy" as a primary goal. The focus has shifted entirely to "stability" and "national interest." We are perfectly happy to work with autocrats if they align with our interests. This is a return to the "realpolitik" of the Cold War era, where the internal nature of a government mattered less than which side they were on. It is more honest, perhaps, but it also loses that moral high ground that American foreign policy used to claim.
It positions us as just another great power looking out for our own interests. If we move to a purely transactional, unilateral model, we are basically saying that the rules only apply when they suit us. Now, a lot of people would argue that has always been the case and we are just being honest about it now. But it does change how the rest of the world looks at us. I think about the Roman concept of "fides" again—the idea of being trustworthy and keeping your word. As Rome got more powerful, "fides" became a tool rather than a principle. They would use legalistic excuses to justify interventions that were clearly about power.
It is a legitimate concern. But on the other side, you have the "restraint" school saying that our dominance is actually what causes the instability. A twenty twenty-five Cato Institute survey found that a majority of Americans actually prefer a foreign policy of restraint over interventionism. They are tired of the cost, both in lives and in trillions of dollars. They want the "neighborhood watch" to stay on its own porch. But the problem is, in a globalized world, where is the "homeland" boundary? If a hostile regime in Venezuela is causing a massive migrant crisis or inviting in Chinese and Russian military assets, is that a threat to the homeland?
That is how the administration justifies the "Donroe Doctrine." They argue that the "homeland" is not just the fifty states; it is the stability of the entire Western Hemisphere. It is the idea that our security is inextricably linked to our neighbors. So, if we intervene in Venezuela, we are not being "world's policeman," we are being "neighborhood watch." It is a subtle shift in language, but it has huge implications. It allows for high-intensity military action while still claiming the mantle of "non-interventionism."
We are seeing a shift from "liberal interventionism"—where we try to change a country's culture over twenty years—to "unilateral interventionism," where we just kick the door down, handle a specific threat, and leave. It is the "big stick" diplomacy of Theodore Roosevelt but with twenty-first-century technology. We are not interested in the "hearts and minds" stuff that failed in Iraq and Afghanistan. We are interested in results. But as we saw in the Iran strike in February, "results" can be messy. Striking for the goal of regime change is a massive escalation that creates ripples we cannot control.
That is the "imperial trap." It is very easy to go in; it is very hard to leave without creating a vacuum. If you remove a leader like Maduro or destabilize a regime in Tehran, who fills that void? The "restraint" school would say we are just sowing the seeds of the next big conflict. The "realists" would say we are preventing a bigger conflict by showing strength now. It is the classic debate, and we are seeing it play out in real-time with more strikes than we have seen in decades.
Technology has also made intervention "cheaper" in terms of American lives. We do not have to send in an army of a hundred thousand; we can send in a drone, a cruise missile, or a small team of special operators. It lowers the barrier to entry for military action. We can be a "policeman" from a distance. But as we saw in Venezuela, sometimes you still have to put boots on the ground to get the job done. That Venezuelan operation was a shock to the system. Taking a sitting president into custody—that is something we haven't seen on that scale since Panama in the late eighties.
It sent a clear message. It was the United States saying, "this is our backyard, and we are the ones who set the rules." So, where does this leave us for the next few years? We have this administration that talks like non-interventionists but acts like high-intensity interventionists. We have the "prioritizer" camp wanting to pivot to China. We have the "restraint" camp gaining intellectual ground but losing the policy battle. It feels like we are in a period of great transition.
The key takeaway here is that the "world's policeman" role is not going away; it is just changing its uniform and its tactics. We are moving away from the "community policing" model of the liberal internationalists—where we try to build institutions and fix societies—to a "tactical response" model. We are the S-W-A-T team of the world now. We stay in our own house until there is a high-value target or a major threat to our interests, and then we hit it with everything we have and go back home.
It is a more volatile model. It is less predictable. Under the old system, you knew what the "rules" were, even if they were often broken. Now, the rules are whatever the current administration says they are on a given day. It is transactional, it is unilateral, and it is very effective at projecting power in the short term. But the long-term consequences—the second-order effects on global stability—those are still unknown.
When you take out a leader or strike deep into a country like Iran, you create a "security dilemma" for everyone else. Do they arm up? Do they form new alliances against us? The "restraint" school warns that this assertive unilateralism will eventually lead to a global coalition aimed at balancing against American power.
I keep coming back to that John Quincy Adams quote. "She goes not abroad, in search of monsters to destroy." The tragedy of that quote is that sometimes the monsters are real, and sometimes they do come to you. But the warning is about what happens to us when we go looking for them. Are we the republic that stays true to its principles, or are we the empire that does whatever it takes to maintain dominance?
That is the defining question for twenty twenty-six. And it is one that every generation of Americans has to answer. Right now, it seems like we have chosen a path of "assertive unilateralism." We are protecting our interests, we are flexing our muscles, and we are not apologizing for it. Whether that leads to a more stable world or just a more dangerous one is something we will be talking about for a long time.
We certainly will. This has been a heavy discussion, but it is so important to understand these historical threads. From Monroe in eighteen twenty-three to Roosevelt in nineteen oh four to the present day "Donroe Doctrine," the "world's policeman" has always been a work in progress. It is not just about military strikes; it is about how we see ourselves and our place in the world.
Well said. For those of you listening, this is the kind of deep dive we love to do. If you found this interesting, I recommend checking out some of our past episodes. Episode eight hundred and thirty on how military bases work is a great companion to this, and episode seven hundred and ninety on the combatant commands breaks down the logistics of how we project this power across the globe.
If you have thoughts on this—if you think we are being too interventionist or if you think the "restraint" school is onto something—we want to hear from you. You can find the contact form on our website at myweirdprompts dot com. We are also on Spotify, so make sure to follow us there so you never miss an episode.
And if you have been enjoying the show, a quick review on your podcast app really helps us out. It helps other people find these discussions and keeps us going. We really appreciate the support from all of you.
It really means a lot to us. We will be back next week with another prompt, hopefully one that is a little less heavy on the geopolitical consequences, but you never know with this show.
That is the beauty of it. You never know what Daniel is going to send our way.
Alright, that is it for today. Thanks for joining us for episode nine hundred and fifteen of My Weird Prompts. I am Corn Poppleberry.
And I am Herman Poppleberry. We will talk to you next time.
Take care, everyone. Stay curious.
And stay informed. Goodbye!
