For decades, the US won hearts and minds not with tanks or fighter jets, but with scholarships, foreign aid, immigration opportunities, and cultural exchange. But Donald Trump has upended the soul of America
Soft power is the ability to get what you want through attraction rather than coercion or payment — Joseph Nye.
In diplomacy, not every war is fought with guns, and not every ally is won with treaties. Some of the most lasting alliances, perceptions, and influences are built in classrooms, libraries, hospitals, and open-minded immigration desks. For decades, America cultivated a compelling global image not just through its military might but through an unparalleled soft power apparatus — university scholarships, fellowships like Fulbright, technological partnerships, and student exchange programmes. But under Trump’s leadership, this carefully crafted image took a sharp U-turn. His decisions to defund Ivy League institutions, restrict prestigious fellowships, cut down on foreign aid, and slam doors on immigrants have not just changed policies — they’ve dented America’s soul in the eyes of the world.
From the end of World War II to the close of the 20th century, the US balanced hard power with soft persuasion.
After Pearl Harbour and the end of the Monroe Doctrine’s inward-looking policy, America stepped decisively into the global theatre. Initially, it flexed its military muscle — from Hiroshima to the Cold War nuclear stand-offs — but soon realised that tanks and warships couldn’t alone win hearts. The next American invasion came with books, food aid, hospital care, and university scholarships. PL-480 food assistance, USAID, cultural exchanges, NASA tie-ups, and the brain-drain corridor became tools of soft power that made America an aspirational ideal, especially for the Global South.
But Trump’s reign of ultra-nationalism, ultra-capitalism, and ultra-conservatism diluted this global goodwill. His administration’s decision to roll back funding to elite educational institutions — many of which had been incubators of international leadership and liberal thought — sent shockwaves through academic diplomacy. Places like Harvard, MIT, and Stanford weren’t just American educational brands; they were world laboratories of innovation, cross-cultural dialogue, and diplomacy by proxy. For many young minds across Africa, Asia, and Latin America, getting into an Ivy League school was akin to getting a golden ticket — not just to education, but to enlightenment.
When Trump questioned the utility of such universities and threatened to cut their funds, he wasn’t just aiming at liberal professors or elite academia; he was hacking away at the roots of America’s global intellectual tree. The Fulbright Programme, which since 1946 had created a global network of US-educated thinkers, diplomats, artists, and professionals, saw restrictions and stagnation under Trump’s regime. This wasn’t just about budget lines; it was about breaking bridges that had taken decades to build.
The shift wasn’t limited to academia. Trump’s “America First” translated into America alone. US foreign aid took a hit, including humanitarian and development assistance that had long been a lever of influence in fragile regions. Aid wasn’t just charity — it was strategy. Whether it was reconstructing post-war Europe via the Marshall Plan, aiding countries during natural disasters, or investing in public health abroad, American dollars often bought American goodwill. Cutting this lifeline left a vacuum often filled by rival powers, notably China.
Perhaps the most damaging was the policy on immigration and visas. By clamping down on H1-B visas, Trump stifled the inflow of skilled professionals — especially from India. This move hurt not only the American tech industry but also tarnished its reputation as a land that rewards merit. India, a nation that sent scores of doctors, engineers, and nurses to serve in the US found itself at the receiving end of arbitrary bans and changing visa goalposts. Indian nurses in particular, known globally for their compassion and professionalism, were once the unsung heroes of the American healthcare system. They became unintended victims of a policy that seemed more guided by xenophobic rhetoric than economic sense.
It’s ironic. America gained its comparative cost advantage and global dominance in various sectors precisely because it welcomed the world’s best minds. The openness to foreign students and workers was not just humanitarian — it was deeply pragmatic. When America opened its doors, it got the world’s top scientists, engineers, teachers, and healthcare professionals. This influx didn’t just boost the economy; it exported American values when these individuals returned home as brand ambassadors of the American dream. Trump’s decision to erect barriers where bridges once stood was not just bad economics — it was terrible diplomacy.
Soft power, unlike hard power, does not rely on fear, force, or finance alone. It thrives on attraction. A country that welcomes, educates, and employs foreigners becomes a hub of admiration. The world’s image of America, diverse, democratic, and dynamic — was always more powerful than any military base. That image is cracking under the weight of Trump’s authoritarian tendencies wrapped in an elected regime. The global message is clear: this is not the America we used to know.
The consequences are already visible. International student applications to American universities have dropped. Countries that once looked to America for inspiration are now turning elsewhere. China’s Confucius Institutes, European Union scholarships, and India’s neighbourhood outreach are stepping into the vacuum left by the US. And this matters. In a world of multipolar influence, losing moral and cultural leadership is as fatal as losing a war. The tragedy of Trump’s approach is that it reverts America to a pre-globalisation, fortress-like nation. This stands in sharp contrast to the post-Pearl Harbour awakening that pushed America into internationalism. Back then, it learned that isolationism was not just impractical but dangerous. Trump’s policies drag the country back into an atmosphere of division — racially, religiously, and ideologically. His emphasis on Christian identity, his anti-immigration posture, and his trade protectionism all add up to an authoritarian flavour, coated in electoral legitimacy.
When nations drift towards ultra-nationalism and away from global collaboration, they don’t just lose allies — they lose identity. The America that helped rebuild Japan and Germany, which welcomed Einstein and later Sundar Pichai, is being replaced by an America that shuts doors, silences debate, and shuns difference. In the end, Trump’s war is not just on liberals or foreigners or aid budgets. It’s a war on America’s most valuable diplomatic currency — its image. And once that image is broken, no amount of tanks or tariffs can fix it.
(The author is Professor, Centre for South Asian Studies, School of International Studies and Social Sciences, Pondicherry Central University, India. Views are personal)
