The World’s Most Admired Nation (According to One Man)

President Trump assures the faithful, with unwavering confidence, that the United States is now “the hottest country in the world.” The crowds cheer enthusiastically. One suspects that, before long, someone will suggest engraving it on a mountain.

And, with characteristic certainty, he declares that only a short time ago America was “the laughing stock of the world.”

This presents a fascinating dilemma. The rest of the world appears to have misplaced the memo.

For while the applause rings loudly at home, the view from abroad is rather more complicated.

America’s closest allies have found themselves questioning whether Washington remains as predictable as it once was. Canada has looked to diversify its trading relationships. European nations have been discussing how to become less dependent on the United States for their security. Universities that once seemed irresistible to the world’s brightest students are discovering that some now look elsewhere. Even international tourism has softened as some visitors quietly decide there are easier destinations to enjoy.

None of this suggests universal admiration. It suggests that the world’s relationship with America has become rather… complicated.

If this is what being the world’s most respected nation looks like, one wonders what a diplomatic embarrassment would entail.

Perhaps there is a simple explanation. Respect, like beauty, is apparently in the eye of the beholder. If one repeats often enough that everyone envies you, eventually the applause begins to sound remarkably convincing.

There is, of course, one place where America’s reputation has never been higher: the podium at a Trump rally.

The difficulty, however, is that applause is not evidence.

Evidence looks rather different. It appears when allies are eager to stand beside you rather than quietly making contingency plans. It appears when overseas students compete for places at your universities because they see your country as a beacon of opportunity. It appears when tourists cannot wait to visit your shores, and when governments seek your friendship because they trust your judgement.

Those things cannot be measured by the volume of applause.

It is rather like the owner of a restaurant announcing every evening that his or her establishment is unquestionably the finest in town, while diners are quietly trying the café across the road. The remaining customers may applaud the speech, but they are unlikely to order dessert.

Nations earn respect in much the same way people do – not by proclaiming it, but by demonstrating it. Confidence can be announced. Respect has to be conferred by others.

The irony is almost irresistible. The more frequently one insists that America has never been more respected, the more the world seems inclined to ask whether it should consult a dictionary.

There was a time when the United States scarcely needed to tell anyone how influential it was. Its leadership was evident in the alliances it built, the institutions it helped shape, the scientists it produced, the universities it nurtured and the ideals it projected. Its actions spoke loudly enough.

History offers a simple lesson. The nations that command genuine respect seldom need to remind the world how respected they are. Their influence is reflected in the choices others make, the partnerships they build and the trust they inspire.

When a nation begins issuing regular reminders of its greatness, one cannot help wondering whether the intended audience is the rest of the world… or itself.