His pinball-machine style hinges on his advisers’ personal fealty. This will mean more trouble ahead.

Donald Trump’s chaotic national-security governance is in full flood. Whether it’s risking American military operations, making volatile, highly dubious tariff decisions, hiring uninformed senior advisers, or seeing senior government officials dissenting from presidential decisions, the disarray is palpable and likely to spread. It did Thursday, with the ouster of national security adviser Mike Waltz. It doesn’t have to be this way. Not in my experience have emojis been deployed as they were during the inexplicable group chat on Signal. For Mr. Trump, however, chaos is embedded in his DNA and endemic in his team. Consider the recent evidence.

Open debate before a presidential decision is normal and productive. Questioning decisions afterward, even doubting the boss’s judgment, is something else, but apparently not to JD Vance on whether to strike the Houthis: “I am not sure the president is aware how inconsistent this is with his message on Europe right now.” Weeks later, Mr. Vance hied himself off to Greenland to denounce Denmark’s administration of that Trump-coveted island. Denmark’s foreign minister metaphorically slapped the administration’s wrist, emphasizing correctly that this is no way to treat close allies. Even congressional Republicans now see the Vance style as a problem. If he gives similar speeches about China, Russia, North Korea and Iran, perhaps we could rest easier.

Mr. Trump’s chaotic management is exemplified by his friend Steve Witkoff, whose portfolio began with Gaza hostages and then absorbed the entire Middle East, including Iran’s nuclear-weapons program and the highest-level U.S. negotiations with senior Iranian officials in years. It expanded to the Russia-Ukraine war, on which Mr. Witkoff meets alone with Vladimir Putin, and now includes crushing the Houthis. Shadow secretary of state? Not bad for someone without diplomatic experience.

Mr. Witkoff has no evident expertise in Russia, Eastern Europe (especially Ukraine), the Middle East, Iran, state-to-state negotiations, nuclear-weapons technology, weapons-of-mass-destruction proliferation, verification of international agreements, or armed conflict. His Ukraine cease-fire work verges on collapse. He acts at Mr. Trump’s direct behest, and his connection to Secretary of State Marco Rubio is unclear. Mr. Witkoff’s access could be ideal to introduce Mr. Trump to reality, but both men succumb all too readily to Russian propaganda, as these pages have shown.

This article was first published in the Wall Street Journal on May 2, 2025. Click here to read the rest of the article.

T.S Eliot would not have minded Robert Kaplan expropriating the title of his most
famous poem for his latest book, Waste Land. Kaplan’s focus on the decline of the West and the
birth of modernism were among the poem’s themes(175), and his latest tour de force on the
unhappy state of the world is decidedly pessimistic on many fronts, even while dwelling only
occasionally on Donald Trump.

In this extended essay, Kaplan makes three broad points. First, he analogizes the current
world, all of it, to Germany’s inter-war Weimar Republic. He argues that, as Weimar was in
permanent crisis, so, analogously, the entire planet is now “an interconnected system of states in
which no one really rules(14).” Of course, that has long been true, but extraordinarily dense and
rapid communications capabilities now make “closeness(34)” inevitable in a way that prior
history did not experience. And since “complexity leads to fragility(42),” instability and conflict
are riskier and more pervasive than in bygone days when the earth’s enormous size prevented
diverse conflicts from becoming global.

Second, Kaplan argues that America, China and Russia, the three great powers, are all in
decline, although at varying rates and for widely different reasons. The United States, he writes,
suffers from “decay in the culture of public life, especially the media…[A]s the media has
become less serious, so have our leaders(93).” The most graphic contrast between recent
Presidents, for example, is Dwight Eisenhower, general and war hero, compared to Trump, who
represents “the epitome of self-centered, emotional impulses(49).”

Analogizing to the late Ottoman Empire, Kaplan calls contemporary Russia Europe’s sick
man(81). He stresses that Russia’s decline “is of a different scale entirely(96),” and “on a far
more advanced state of rot(101)” than the US, although both had their own “disastrous wars of
choice(90)” in Ukraine and Iraq respectively. The good news for us is that Iraq was not nearly
so important to America as Ukraine was to Russia. US decline is “subtle and qualitative,” while
Russia’s civilizational slide is “fundamental(107).” Tracking America’s worsening political
leadership, Kaplan contrasts China’s Deng Xiaoping, whose record remains underrated, with his
successor Xi Jinping: “nothing if not a Leninist ideologue(113)” who has “returned China to the
die-hard authoritarianism, bordering on totalitarianism,” of Mao Tse-tung(115).

This competition among great powers, even receding ones, may sound like most of pre-
20 th century history, but it sets the stage for Kaplan’s third point: his lengthy diagnosis of the
West’s decline, starting with the originator of that phrase, Oswald Spengler. Kaplan sees global
urbanization as “the primary change in geopolitics(129),” with cities as “the conservative’s worst
nightmare(134).” Although we shouldn’t need a reminder, Kaplan provides it: technology and
civilization are not the same thing(170).

Through both physical and communications proximity, crowd psychologies and
“excitable public opinion(136),” create a kind of “mob(139),” that accelerates especially
America’s decline: “It is the masses speaking through one voice that are the danger(138).” In
the US, Kaplan distinguishes between the conflicting views of those living in cities versus those
dwelling in what F. Scott Fitzgerald called “that vast obscurity…where the dark fields of the
republic rolled on under the night(149).” All of this is compounded, as George Orwell
depressingly writes in Nineteen Eighty-Four, because “History has stopped. Nothing exists
except an endless present(169).”

Enormous consequences flow from Kaplan’s take, perhaps none more important for the
United States than its place in the wider world. For someone who earlier wrote a book called
The Revenge of Geography, it is telling that Kaplan’s thinking today concludes that “the finite
earth is gradually losing the race against technology and population growth(89).” This ever-
increasing “closeness” increases the importance of what once seemed distant: “Every place,
every river and mountain range, will be strategic(34).” The cyber age means “the enemy is now
only one click away rather than thousands of miles away(117).”

With so many in the United States now seeking escape from both history and geography,
these should be chilling words, but probably are not. The isolationist impulse currently at full
flood in political debate is increasingly less and less intelligible. Policies sensible in a world
where enormous distances meant conflicts could be contained are today not merely outdated but
dangerous. This shift has been underway for some time, of course. Neville Chamberlain was
wrong for many reasons to describe Germany’s 1938 lust for Czechoslovakia as a “quarrel in a
far-away country,” when it was already in Great Britain’s backyard. Vice President Vance’s
recent condescending lecture( https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/14/world/europe/vance-europe-
immigration-ukraine.html ) to Europeans in Munich referred to election controversies in what he
labelled “remote Romania,” reprising Chamberlain’s glib, arrogant and ultimately debilitating
lack of situational and strategic awareness.

Faced with major, nuclear-armed adversary powers, and numerous lesser threats along a
broad spectrum, America’s grievances against its own allies must be taken in perspective against
the broader menaces we face together. Complaints that allies are not carrying their fair share of
the common-defense burden are accurate and have domestic political appeal, but mere
complaining is not strategic thinking. The answer, in Kaplan’s “close” world is not that allies do
more and we do less, which is Trump’s hazy view, but that everyone on “our side” does more,
because the global threat level is high and rising.

Contemporary policy prescriptions are not Kaplan’s immediate objective, but his broader
analysis inevitably provokes them. His seemingly inexhaustible capacity to analogize and
extrapolate is compelling and helpful, even if some, like the Weimar analogy, don’t bear the load
Kaplan imposes on them. A closer fit to today’s “closeness” might well be Europe’s post-
Reformation religious conflicts, or Archduke Ferdinand’s 1914 assassination by a rabid Serbian
nationalist that ignited a continent-wide conflagration, thereby literally laying the groundwork
for Eliot’s poem.

Indeed, despite Waste Land’s pessimism, Kaplan’s conclusion is the only correct one:
“we have no choice but to fight on, as the outcome is not given to any of us in advance(186).”
And this is where Eliot’s enduring conservative line, “[t]hese fragments I have shored against my
ruins(159),” remains inspiring.

This article was first published in the Wall Street Journal on March 4, 2025. Click here to read the original article.