President-elect Donald Trump has always used his public press conferences and social media posts to seize attention and dictate the terms of national discourse. But his recent trolling about taking over Canada, acquiring Greenland, and reclaiming the Panama Canal reveals something more complex than rhetoric.
These statements, far from harmless social media clickbait, show Trump’s vision for America: a return to the outdated ambitions of domination from the Bush era. For a man who once styled himself as the “pro-peace” candidate, these nation expansion fantasies mark a disturbing pivot toward policies that could destabilize the global order.
Now that Trump is president-elect, he has quickly shifted away from the isolationist “America First” narrative he promoted during his 2016, 2020, and 2024 campaigns. He painted himself as the voice of the forgotten America who would prioritize domestic concerns over costly foreign entanglements. Trump promised to bring jobs back to the abandoned steel mills of Pennsylvania and Ohio, which had been left to rot by elites from both political parties.
This betrayal is particularly glaring when viewed through the lens of his base’s priorities. Many of Trump’s supporters backed him because they believed he would end endless wars and lower costs. Instead, he’s flirting with empire-building, spending billions of tax dollars outside of the United States, and reigniting the neo-conservative ambitions that characterized the George W. Bush era.
For years, Trump criticized the Iraq War and described the foreign policy strategy of the Bush administration as disastrous mistakes. However, he now seems to be adopting a vision of America that resembles that of Bush and Dick Cheney: a view of the United States as a dominant force in the hemisphere, free from the constraints of international diplomacy.
Trump’s rhetoric echoes some of the darkest chapters in American history. The notion of seizing Canada and Greenland conjures memories of 19th-century Manifest Destiny, a doctrine that justified territorial conquest under the guise of spreading democracy and civilization.
Similarly, reclaiming the Panama Canal harkens back to the early 20th century, when the United States asserted its dominance in Central America through military interventions and economic coercion. These historical episodes were not just morally fraught; they left a legacy of resentment and instability that continues to shape perceptions of American power across the globe today.
By invoking these imperial ambitions, Trump is tapping into a dangerous nostalgia for a bygone era of unchallenged American dominance. But in a world increasingly defined by multipolarity, such fantasies are delusional and counterproductive.
Attempting to reclaim a past rooted in conquest and exploitation would not only alienate key allies but also embolden rival powers like China and Russia, who are eager to portray the United States as a destabilizing force. They would weaponize this rhetoric to undermine America’s credibility, using it as proof that the U.S. is stuck in an outdated mindset of domination and imperialism. This would make it easier for them to sway other nations into their orbit, framing themselves as the better partners for trade and security. By pursuing these fantasies, America would risk weakening alliances and giving its rivals a chance to expand their influence at our expense, all while creating more instability in regions we can’t afford to ignore.
Some defenders of Trump’s willingness to take Greenland argue that its acquisition would bolster national security and provide economic benefits, given the territory’s strategic Arctic location and untapped natural resources. They point to Greenland’s position along emerging Arctic shipping routes, which are becoming more navigable due to climate change, and its potential for mineral wealth, including rare earth elements critical for modern technology. Proponents also argue that controlling Greenland would enhance America’s ability to counter Russian and Chinese activity in the Arctic, framing it as a preemptive move to maintain dominance in the region.
But this argument ignores the realities of geopolitics and history. America’s ability to project power in the Arctic does not hinge on owning Greenland, and efforts to militarize the region could provoke precisely the kind of tensions with Russia and China that proponents claim to be countering. Simply put, these fantasies of acquiring Greenland would likely cost far more — in resources, reputation, and stability — than they could ever deliver.
Moreover, Denmark, which oversees Greenland, has explicitly stated that the territory is not for sale. When such a deal is rejected — as it surely would be — what comes next? Trump is known for not backing down from a deal and likes to win at all costs. History offers a grim answer: the path from failed negotiations to military intervention is well-trodden. Empire-building rarely unfolds without conflict.
Perhaps most concerning is the way Trump’s Bush-era rhetoric undermines America’s reputation as a champion of diplomacy and international cooperation. If the United States is seen as a rogue state bent on territorial expansion, it risks losing the trust of its allies and the moral high ground it claims to hold.
Canada, one of America’s closest partners, would undoubtedly view such rhetoric as a betrayal of the mutual respect that underpins their relationship. Similarly, European allies, already wary of Trump’s disdain for NATO, would see this as further evidence of his unfitness to lead on the world stage.
The implications of Trump’s rhetoric extend far beyond damaged relationships with allies. By reigniting the specter of American imperialism, he risks fueling tensions in already volatile regions. Greenland, a territory of Denmark, has strategic importance in the Arctic, a region where competition between the U.S., Russia, and China is intensifying.
Any attempt to assert control over Greenland would almost certainly provoke a backlash from these rival powers, increasing the likelihood of conflict. Similarly, talk of reclaiming the Panama Canal could destabilize relations with Latin America, a region where U.S. interventionism has already sown deep distrust. The canal is not just a strategic asset; it’s a symbol of Panamanian sovereignty. Any move to retake it would not only violate international norms but also galvanize anti-American sentiment across the hemisphere.
As Trump’s imperial ambitions come into sharper focus, it’s imperative that Americans reject this dystopian vision of the future. The United States does not need to expand its borders or reclaim past glories to remain a global leader. What it needs is a renewed commitment to investing here at home, cooperation, and the principles of self-determination that have long underpinned its foreign policy.
Rejecting Trump’s rhetoric is not just a matter of opposing one man’s dangerous ideas; it’s about preserving the values that define America’s role in the world. Territorial expansion and imperial dominance are relics of a bygone George Bush era. The voters already rejected this in 2008.
