Trump’s America and the Rise of Resource Power in a Multipolar World

Trump’s America and the Rise of Resource Power in a Multipolar World

Predictions about the imminent decline of American power have become a familiar refrain. The expansion of the BRICS bloc, renewed discussion of de-dollarisation and the visible assertiveness of China and Russia are often cited as evidence that US hegemony is fading. Yet such conclusions may be premature. A closer look at Donald Trump’s strategic instincts suggests not retreat, but adaptation.

Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!

Rather than clinging to the ideological frameworks that shaped American foreign policy after the Cold War, Trump’s worldview reflects a colder, more transactional realism. The emphasis is no longer on promoting democracy or shaping global norms. It is on controlling the material foundations of power: energy, minerals, trade routes and strategic geography.

This is not isolationism. It is a recalibration of empire.

At its core lies a simple premise: in a multipolar world, influence flows less from persuasion than from control over the resources upon which modern economies depend. Trump’s America appears less interested in changing how rivals govern themselves than in limiting what they can access.

Four theatres illustrate this emerging doctrine.

Energy and leverage in the Middle East

In the Middle East, the language of democratic transformation has largely disappeared. The region is viewed primarily as a reservoir of energy and a set of chokepoints rather than as a political project.

Washington’s overriding aim is not stability for its own sake, but the prevention of any rival power establishing regional dominance. Managed instability, selective pressure on key states and sustained military presence around energy corridors allow the US to retain leverage over global supply lines.

For the major economies of Asia, this matters profoundly. Continued dependence on energy flows that pass through American-influenced zones limits their freedom to detach from the US-centred system, regardless of rhetoric about alternative financial architectures.

The quiet return of the Monroe Doctrine

Closer to home, the Western Hemisphere is once again framed as a strategic backyard. The revival of a Monroe-style doctrine is no longer cloaked in humanitarian language. It is openly justified as a matter of national security.

Latin America’s hydrocarbons, lithium reserves and critical minerals have taken on new significance in an era of supply-chain vulnerability. By exerting influence over these assets, the United States shores up North American industrial resilience while restricting the strategic reach of China and other competitors.

Multilateralism, where it conflicts with these priorities, is treated as optional.

Why Trump Shows Neoliberalism and the Far Right Are Not Opposites — They Are Conjoined

The Arctic frontier and rare earths

Trump’s interest in Greenland, widely mocked when first expressed, fits squarely within this logic. As melting ice opens new shipping lanes and access to untapped resources, the Arctic is becoming a central arena of great-power competition.

Control over rare earth elements—essential for everything from renewable energy technologies to advanced weapons systems—has emerged as a strategic obsession. Reducing dependence on supply chains dominated by China is now considered a matter of national survival.

In this context, Greenland is less an eccentric acquisition than a geopolitical insurance policy.

Economic coercion as strategy

Alongside military presence sits an increasingly assertive use of economic power. Tariffs, sanctions and financial pressure serve as substitutes for large-scale military intervention.

The threat of punitive tariffs raises the cost of distancing oneself from the American system to levels few economies can easily absorb. Control over maritime routes and strategic infrastructure amplifies this leverage. Economic growth can be constrained at its source, without the political risks associated with war.

What emerges is a form of power that is quieter, but no less coercive.

The new “red zones”

This approach does not exclude force. It concentrates it.

In Mexico, the rhetoric of partnership has been replaced by talk of unilateral action against drug cartels designated as terrorist organisations. Such language implicitly challenges Mexican sovereignty, justified by reference to US domestic security.

Further south, pressure on Venezuela and Cuba has intensified. In Caracas, political transition appears only the first step toward sustained external oversight. In Havana, discussion of a naval quarantine evokes uncomfortable Cold War parallels.

Panama’s canal, meanwhile, highlights the fusion of economic and military logic. Invoking its security sends a clear message to Beijing about the limits of Chinese influence in the Americas.

Even transatlantic relations are not immune. Renewed hints of unilateral action over Greenland test assumptions about alliance politics, while threats against Iran, framed as deterrence, suggest readiness for targeted strikes should red lines be crossed.

Power without persuasion

Taken together, these strands point to a shift in how American power is exercised. The age of soft power and universalist ambition is giving way to something more elemental: dominance through access denial.

Rather than persuading the world to follow, Trump’s America seeks to control what the world needs to function. In a fragmented international system, this may prove a more durable form of influence than ideological leadership.

The question for America’s allies—and its rivals—is not whether US power is ending, but whether they are prepared for the harder, more transactional version that is taking its place.