The Profound Cost of “America First”
Walking through the hallowed grounds of World War II cemeteries across Europe offers a sobering perspective on what “America First” truly means when taken to its logical conclusion. Row upon row of white crosses and Stars of David stretch across immaculately maintained lawns, each marker representing a young American who never returned home. These sacred places—from Normandy’s windswept bluffs to the rolling hills of Luxembourg—tell the story of a generation that understood America’s greatness was inextricably linked to its willingness to sacrifice for something larger than itself. The soldiers buried there died far from home not merely to defeat fascism abroad, but because America’s leaders understood a fundamental truth: that American security and prosperity cannot be separated from the fate of other democratic nations. Their sacrifice stands as a powerful rebuke to isolationist thinking that suggests America can somehow wall itself off from the world’s problems and still maintain its position of influence and strength.
Throughout history, whenever America has retreated from global leadership, the resulting vacuum has been filled by powers hostile to democratic values and human freedom. The period between World Wars I and II provides the starkest example. America’s rejection of the League of Nations and retreat into isolationism during the 1920s and 1930s didn’t keep the country safe—it ultimately required an even greater sacrifice when fascism metastasized unchecked. The lesson from those war cemeteries is clear: engagement with the world isn’t some optional luxury or act of charity; it represents a profound form of enlightened self-interest. Every time America has stepped back from international commitments based on the mistaken belief that problems elsewhere won’t eventually reach our shores, we’ve paid a steeper price later. The young Americans buried in those distant graves remind us that global stability requires constant tending, and that the cost of disengagement is ultimately measured in human lives.
America’s prosperity has always depended on a stable international order with predictable rules and open markets. The post-WWII system that American leadership built—with institutions like NATO, the United Nations, and international trade agreements—created the conditions for unprecedented global prosperity while advancing American interests and values. This system wasn’t perfect, but it prevented major power conflicts, expanded democracy, and created markets for American goods while lifting billions out of poverty worldwide. Every American family that has enjoyed middle-class prosperity in the decades since WWII has benefited from this international architecture that “America First” policies threaten to dismantle. The economic interconnectedness of our world means that retreating behind walls—whether physical or economic—doesn’t strengthen America but rather cedes influence to competitors who don’t share our values and will reshape the world to their advantage.
The allure of “America First” lies in its appealing simplicity—the notion that we can focus exclusively on domestic concerns while ignoring complexity abroad. But this perspective fundamentally misunderstands both history and how power functions in the modern world. America’s most successful moments haven’t come from withdrawal but from confident engagement, from the Marshall Plan to the expansion of NATO after the Cold War. Our greatest presidents—from Washington to Lincoln to Roosevelt to Reagan—understood that American strength flows from its democratic ideals and willingness to stand with allies. They recognized that maintaining international influence requires sustained attention and investment. True patriotism isn’t about shouting “America First” but about ensuring America leads—through its values, its example, and its willingness to work alongside others facing common challenges, from climate change to pandemic diseases to authoritarian aggression.
Perhaps the most profound cost of “America First” thinking is how it diminishes America’s unique moral authority and soft power. The United States has never been perfect, but its greatest international achievements came when it stood for universal principles rather than narrow nationalism. The young Americans buried in those European cemeteries didn’t die merely to protect American territory—they died fighting for the liberation of others, standing against tyranny wherever it threatened human dignity. This moral dimension of American leadership—the willingness to stand for something greater than national self-interest—has been America’s most powerful asset in the world. When we reduce American foreign policy to transactional relationships and short-term advantages, we squander the very thing that has made America exceptional: its commitment to ideals that transcend borders. Nations may fear American military might, but they follow American leadership because of what America represents.
The graves of American soldiers in Europe remind us that genuine patriotism sometimes requires looking beyond our borders. Those young men and women—many barely out of high school—understood something profound about America’s place in the world that “America First” proponents often miss: that our nation’s security, prosperity, and very identity are bound up with the fate of freedom elsewhere. Their sacrifice calls us to a more mature patriotism that recognizes America is strongest when it leads with confidence rather than retreats in fear; when it builds bridges rather than walls; when it stands with allies rather than stands alone. The true cost of “America First” isn’t measured merely in lost influence or economic opportunity, but in the betrayal of those who gave everything for a more ambitious vision of what America means to the world. As we walk among those graves, the question we must ask isn’t whether America can afford to lead, but whether—given all that has been sacrificed in its name—it can afford not to.
