The Power We Gave Away

Why undermining American soft power is a mistake with no moral—or economic—justification

There was a time when America didn’t need to twist arms to influence the world.

We didn’t have to show up with tanks or sanctions. We showed up with hope. With doctors. With teachers. With Fulbright scholars and Peace Corps volunteers. With a culture that told a compelling story about who we were.

And before all that, there was the Marshall Plan. After World War II, when Europe lay in ruins and famine threatened millions, the United States didn’t retreat into isolation. We poured billions into rebuilding shattered economies, feeding families, and helping nations stand on their feet again. It wasn’t charity. It was foresight—a visionary investment that kept the peace, fueled decades of economic growth, and forged alliances that still underpin the West today. It was soft power before the term even existed, and it worked.

Soft power, as Joseph Nye later defined it, is the ability to attract and inspire rather than bully or bribe. When you build schools after an earthquake, vaccinate children in a refugee camp, or help stabilize an entire region’s economy, you’re not just doing a good deed. You’re shaping the story of who you are. You’re earning trust, building allies, and making it much harder for your rivals to step in.

For generations, Republicans and Democrats alike understood this. Eisenhower sent students abroad. Reagan invested in broadcasting and democracy movements. George W. Bush launched PEPFAR, saving millions from HIV/AIDS. Obama expanded science and education partnerships. None of it was sentiment. It was strategy—smart, patient, long-game statecraft.

But today, that architecture is being quietly dismantled.

USAID, the backbone of American development programs, has seen more than eighty percent of its initiatives cut in just a year. Clinics in Afghanistan have shuttered. Vaccine trials in South Africa were halted midstream. Malnutrition programs that saved millions of children are now running on fumes.

And now, in a particularly cynical flourish, Congress is moving to zero out U.S. funding for UNICEF. Let’s pause on that. UNICEF is the United Nations Children’s Fund. It operates in 191 countries. It vaccinates kids, feeds them, keeps them alive in the aftermath of war and famine. It is one of the most efficient humanitarian organizations on the planet—eighty-six cents of every dollar goes directly to programs.

The cost to the U.S. taxpayer? About $142 million a year. In a $6.9 trillion federal budget, that’s less than a rounding error. About the price of a single F-35 fighter jet. Yet cutting it would slash UNICEF’s operating budget by twenty percent. That means fewer children immunized against measles. Fewer nutrition packets in famine zones. Less safe water in refugee camps.

It’s tempting for some politicians to call this “fiscal responsibility,” but there’s nothing responsible about it. It doesn’t save meaningful money. It does, however, erode the very thing that once made America admired. You can’t claim to lead the free world while turning your back on starving children. And when you leave a vacuum, someone else will fill it.

Look at China. While we cut aid, Beijing builds roads, ports, and power plants. They offer scholarships, media partnerships, and loans. They are telling a story of commitment—even if it’s self-serving. The result? In more than forty countries, China is now the top donor, the go-to partner. Our absence becomes their opportunity.

Soft power isn’t soft. It’s durable.

It builds relationships that outlast elections and administrations. It pays dividends in trade, diplomacy, and security. And when you dismantle it, piece by piece, you don’t just save a few dollars—you lose leverage, allies, and the moral authority that once made this country more than just a superpower. It made us an example.

So the real question is: what kind of country do we want to be remembered as? The one that brought books, vaccines, and hope? Or the one that shrugged, turned its back on children holding out empty bowls, and walked away because the math was easier than the morality?

It turns out the price of a fighter jet can buy a lot of goodwill.

We’re just choosing not to.

As the old saying goes, you can pay me now or pay me later. Either way, the bill always comes due.