There was a time when American leadership meant something more than military might or economic muscle. It meant moral weight. A compass. At our best, we didn’t just throw our power around—we tried to stand for something.
That version of America—the one that championed democracy, human rights, and the rule of law—is fading fast. What’s replacing it is colder. Meaner. And much more transactional.
We used to build alliances. Now we issue ultimatums.
We used to welcome the tired, the poor, the huddled masses. Now we fast-track visas for white South Africans and detain brown migrants in outsourced Central American prisons.
We once told autocrats they couldn’t jail dissidents without consequences. Now we tell them we admire their strength—and ask for cheaper oil.
And when the world asks what happened, the answer is simple: America stopped leading with its values. We started leading with threats. With muscle. With grievance.
We became the kind of country that guts its diplomatic corps in the middle of a global crisis. That fires 1,300 career foreign service professionals in a single week, like they’re office temps, not the architects of American influence abroad.
And the man carrying out that purge? Marco Rubio.
Yes, that Marco Rubio. The same one who once gave eloquent speeches about human dignity and moral clarity. The son of Cuban immigrants who defended foreign aid, democracy promotion, and immigration reform. The rising star who called Donald Trump a “con artist” for demonizing the very people Rubio claimed to represent.
Today, that man is dismantling the very institutions he once praised. He’s torched USAID, shuttered human rights programs, defunded diplomatic broadcasting, pulled the U.S. out of UNESCO, and labeled peaceful protesters “lunatics.” He’s implemented social media surveillance for visa applicants, fast-tracked refugee status for the far-right’s pet narratives, and signed deals with authoritarian regimes to incarcerate migrants off-site.
In short, he’s become a blunt instrument for Trump’s foreign policy—one that replaces values with vengeance, and diplomacy with dominance.
It’s not that America’s interests have changed. It’s that we’ve stopped pretending they’re tied to our ideals. Human rights only matter when they serve us. Democracy is optional. And if you’re a dictator with oil or leverage, congratulations—you’re invited to the table.
Rubio didn’t start this trend. But he’s riding it hard. Because somewhere along the line, ambition replaced principle. The man who once wept talking about immigrant families now uses the word “invasion.” The man who warned against tyrants now enables them. The boyish idealist who once seemed like the future of a better GOP now exists to prove it never really existed.
And look—he’s not alone. Plenty of politicians lose themselves chasing power. But Rubio’s transformation is more than personal. It’s symbolic.
Because if even he couldn’t hold the line—if even someone who spoke so fluently about America’s promise could be seduced into bulldozing it—then we’re not just dealing with a few bad actors.
We’re dealing with a culture shift.
We’ve stopped asking, “What’s right?” and started asking, “What can we get away with?”
We’ve stopped inspiring the world—and started threatening it.
And unless we course-correct soon, the country that once lit the way for others may find itself not just feared—but forgotten.
Mike McCready 