The Conversation

The history and politics of often-maligned isolationism

Andrew Latham, Macalester College

Few terms in American foreign policy discourse are as misunderstood or politically charged as “isolationism.”

Often used as a political weapon, the term conjures images of a retreating America, indifferent to global challenges.

However, the reality is more complex. For example, some commentators argue that President Donald Trump’s return to the White House signals a new era of isolationism. But others contend his foreign policy is more akin to “sovereigntism,” which prioritizes national autonomy and decision-making free from external constraints, and advocates for international engagement only when it directly serves a nation’s interests.

The idea of avoiding foreign entanglements has been a part of American strategic thinking since the country’s founding. President George Washington’s famous warning against “entangling alliances” reflected a desire to insulate the young republic from European conflicts.

Throughout the 19th century, this sentiment shaped U.S. policy, though not exclusively. The country expanded its influence in the Western Hemisphere, maintained strong economic ties abroad and occasionally intervened in regional affairs.

This cautious approach allowed the U.S. to develop its economy and military strength without becoming deeply embroiled in European rivalries.

After World War I, isolationism became more pronounced. The staggering human and financial costs of the war led many Americans to question deep international involvement.

Though getting increasingly involved in the European conflict in the years before the attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, that day officially led the U.S. into World War II, marking the definitive end of traditional isolationism. With the war’s conclusion, American strategic thinking shifted, recognizing that even partial disengagement was no longer an option in a globalized world.

In the postwar era, isolationism devolved from a coherent strategic perspective into a term of political derision. During the Cold War, those who opposed military alliances like NATO or U.S. interventions in Koreaand Vietnam were often dismissed as isolationists, regardless of their actual policy preferences.

This framing marginalized critics of U.S. global engagement, even when their concerns were grounded in strategic prudence rather than a reflexive desire to withdraw from the world.

The same pattern persisted going into the 21st century.

Many of those calling for an end to America’s “forever wars” did not argue for global retreat but for a prioritization of national interests over the broad defense of the so-called rules-based international order.

A persistent myth is that isolationism represents a total disengagement from the world.

In recent years, “restraint” has gained traction as a more precise and useful framework for U.S. foreign policy. Unlike isolationism, restraint does not imply withdrawal from global affairs but rather advocates a more selective and strategic approach.

Proponents argue that the U.S. should avoid unnecessary wars, focus on core national interests and work with its allies to maintain stability rather than relying on unilateral military action. Advocates of restraint suggest that recalibrating U.S. foreign policy would allow the country to address pressing domestic concerns while maintaining a strong international presence where it matters most.

As the U.S. reassesses decades of intervention, restraint offers a middle path between disengagement and unrestrained global activism. It encourages a more thoughtful and sustainable approach to foreign policy that prioritizes long-term stability and national interests over automatic involvement in conflicts.

Moving beyond the outdated and politically charged debate over isolationism would, I believe, allow for a more productive conversation about how the U.S. can engage globally in a way that is both effective and aligned with its strategic interests. [Abridged]

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