The Dangerous Logic of Trumpism

Trump no longer sees the world as something to shape; but something to monetise, even at the expense of global security

Let’s be honest. Trump is Marmite.

His style, personality, and grand plans for America were always going to divide opinion. Yet just one year into office, this single individual has altered the direction of the world more profoundly than any other. Even some die-hard supporters, who argued for fresh, robust leadership in response to a deteriorating global order, are now beginning to ask questions.

Through the fog of global turmoil, Trumpism is increasingly clear. It is a style of power, transactional, theatrical, and profoundly impatient with complexity, shaped by the instincts of the President but larger than the man himself. At its core lies the belief that strength comes from dominance rather than cooperation. Relationships, whether with allies, institutions, or democratic norms, matter only so long as they deliver immediate personal or political gain.

Under Trumpism, the world is no longer something to shape; it is something to monetise, even at the expense of global security. We see this in tariffs fired at allies with abandon, disengagement from Europe, and the courting of its clearest adversary, Putin. It is through this ideological prism that Trump’s baffling proposal to build new battleships comes into focus.

You do not need to be an armchair admiral to understand how vulnerable large surface ships are today. Russia’s withdrawal from the Black Sea demonstrates this. Our own aircraft carriers dare not venture out without a ring of steel in the form of destroyers, frigates and submarines around them. Alone thanks swarm drones, hypersonic missiles and precision strike systems they are sitting ducks. So, what exactly is a battleship — and why revive it now?

Think Under Siege, the Hollywood blockbuster in which Steven Seagal plays the ‘cook’ aboard USS Missouri. Forty-five thousand tons of steel, armed with 16-inch guns capable of hurling shells twenty miles inland: the embodiment of brute-force naval supremacy. But Missouri was built in 1944 and decommissioned in 1992.

Battleships existed to fight other battleships and dominate the seas. In a world without satellites, long-range aircraft, or precision-guided weapons, the biggest gun often won. That world has gone. By 1945 their fate was sealed. Aircraft carriers, submarines, and missile technology rendered them obsolete.

Modern naval warfare is not about steel on steel. It is about sensors, networks, missiles, and information dominance. Today, a far smaller destroyer can unleash devastating firepower or cue strikes from aircraft, submarines, and space-based systems - all woven into a multi-domain kill web that dominates sea, air, and the electromagnetic spectrum. Against this backdrop, the idea of a new battleship is not bold. It is nostalgic. It mistakes size for strength and theatre for strategy.

Yet Trump proposes building around twenty such ships, each costing roughly $10 billion. In any serious conflict against a capable adversary, these vessels would be tracked from the moment they left port and likely neutralised in the opening hours. Hypersonic missiles do not care how thick your armour is.

So what is Trump really up to? Once again, the answer lies in Trumpism itself. China now fields the world’s largest navy, approaching 400 ships, while the United States struggles to maintain a fleet of under 300. More damning still is industrial capacity. China accounts for over half of global shipbuilding output; the U.S. just one hundredth.

At a time when grey-zone warfare is intensifying, maritime presence matters more than ever. Protecting sea lanes, trade routes, supply chains, and undersea cables requires a large, nimble, and persistent force, increasingly integrating autonomous and unmanned systems, not a handful of gargantuan, costly, obsolete prestige ships.

Unless, of course, you have quietly written off challenging China’s threat to the rules-based order. In that case, battleships make sense — not for deterrence, but for coercion. For intimidating weaker states where overwhelming force substitutes for diplomacy. This is not deterrence; it is intimidation.

Seen this way, there is method in Trump’s battleship madness: it is the equivalent of a loaded gun left on the table, visible, ready, and tempting to use.

An America that withdraws from alliances, hollows out soft power, and chases isolationist symbolism creates dangerous space for others to step in. While Washington indulges in nostalgia, Beijing and Moscow are studying the present. They are playing the long game.

We must learn from 2025. And 2026 must be the year we speak out rather than cow-tow to a foreign policy that weakens the very order it once upheld. America remains our closest security ally — but allies must be honest. If we stay silent, America’s isolation will harden, and our adversaries will enjoy the space gifted to them.

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First published in The Telegraph on 29th December 2025.