In November 2025, Washington did something extraordinary, silently codifying the end of the world order that had shaped global politics since the end of the Cold War. The Trump administration’s National Security Strategy (NSS) is not just another policy document; it is a demolition notice—and Bangladesh is standing in the rubble wondering where the exit sign went. It also marks the beginning of a phase of geoeconomic warfare that will hit export-dependent democracies the hardest.
For 30 years, we navigated international politics under the convenient assumption that America’s self-interest broadly aligned with promoting democracy, open trade, and rules-based institutions. We could hedge between powers, court Chinese investment while exporting to Western markets, and assume Washington would maintain the basic architecture of globalisation. As Henry Kissinger famously observed, “Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac,” and we have been happily hedging between suitors. That world is over, and so is our pendulum swing between suitors.
The Biden administration’s 2022 Indo-Pacific Strategy (IPS) promised a region that was “free and open, connected, prosperous, secure, and resilient.” It explicitly tied US engagement to democracy, human rights, and international norms. This is basically the language we had learned to speak—and manipulate—for three decades. But the NSS opens by calling that entire project a catastrophic mistake. It accuses post-Cold War elites of betting on globalism and “so-called free trade” that apparently gutted America’s factories and allowed US interests to be manipulated by international institutions. This is not campaign rhetoric; it is now official doctrine.
The document also defines American strategy in starkly simple terms: protecting core national interests, period. Foreign policy will be judged by what it delivers to American workers and factories, not by how many democracies Washington “supports” or how many international norms it upholds. Democracy promotion, deradicalisation, humanitarian intervention, and the progressive power of international law are all quietly sidelined, at least for now.
The IPS relied on multilateral frameworks as force multipliers. The NSS, by contrast, describes many of these bodies as infected by “transnationalism” and “anti-Americanism”. Every relationship is assessed through a cost-benefit lens: who pays for defence? Who maintains trade surpluses with America? The slogans of “fairness”, “no free-riding”, and “pro-American worker” appear throughout like a tax accountant’s fever dream.
Even on China—where Biden and Trump agree on the threat—the approaches diverge significantly. The Trump administration’s strategy is openly mercantilist, featuring tariffs, industrial policy, and geo-economic tools for technology, energy, rare earths, and supply chains.
I wrote in an AMCHAM Bangladesh journal in 2021 that the line between geopolitics and geo-economics was rapidly blurring, with economics becoming a primary tool of strategic defence. That future has now arrived, and frankly, it has come on schedule. The NSS affirms America’s economy, industrial base, and technological edge as the core of its national power, asserting that economic security is inseparable from national security. The US has the right to defend that principle, and Alexander Hamilton’s warning about dependency, as cited in the NSS, captures a truth every state should heed.
The NSS calls for “balanced trade”, rejects what it terms “faith in unfettered globalisation”, and signals that tariffs and investment screening will be the primary strategic tools. Interdependence is something to be weaponised or unwound, not a pacifying force. For export-dependent economies like ours, this means interdependence is no longer a guarantee of mutual benefit. So, we’d better get our acts right!
The strategy even embraces what it calls “flexible realism”, affirming that there is nothing hypocritical about maintaining close ties with non-democracies if they serve American interests. That candour is refreshing. But it also means that Washington will work with anyone who advances its industrial goals, regardless of their democratic credentials.
For Bangladesh, 2026 will be a complicated concoction of post-LDC graduation, the global rise of protectionism, and intensifying US-China economic rivalry. It is like graduating from school only to discover your degree is worthless—and the economy has collapsed. For the private sector, the tariff threat remains real. We export billions of dollars’ worth of garments to America, built on wafer-thin margins and competitive access. Our export model is acutely vulnerable.
For the government, the China dilemma intensifies. Our infrastructure bears deep Chinese footprints in ports, power plants, and telecom networks, while our export engine runs on Western markets. Washington is likely to press for reduced reliance on Chinese technologies. This we cannot afford to comply, but we cannot afford not to comply either. It is the geopolitical equivalent of choosing between your lungs and heart.
As for non-governmental priorities, climate, refugees, and democracy risk becoming blind spots. For one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable states, the NSS’s rejection of “Net Zero” ideologies is deeply troubling. If US climate finance dries up, we face greater adaptation pressure with fewer resources. And reduced scrutiny over democracy could mean unchecked political realities, whether it be in the form of extremist populism or more refugees waiting at the borders of states.
Clearly, the comfortable era of “friend to all, enemy to none” is ending. We are entering what I described at a recent event in Phnom Penh as “Engage All, Alliance with Balance”. A world of geo-economic blocs will be unforgiving. Bangladesh must therefore move from reactive hedging to deliberate strategic statecraft. Yes, that means making difficult decisions. The way I see it, it requires three fundamental shifts.
First, treat economic policy as security policy. Trade agreements, supply chains, digital standards, and port operations are now security concerns. We need a coherent vision for Bangladesh’s place in emerging supply chains.
Second, engage major powers without becoming their subordinate. Build coalitions with other middle powers to keep rational options open. Professionalise strategic communication with Beijing, Islamabad, Delhi, and Washington to establish clear red lines on sovereignty and strategic autonomy, and think creatively about new regionalism beyond mere geographical proximity. The NSS, after all, allows Washington to court both Delhi and Islamabad simultaneously: Delhi to share the security “burden” in the Indo-Pacific, and Islamabad for its access to Middle and Central Asia.
Third, upgrade strategic thinking at home. Our 20th-century debates about non-alignment, aid dependency, and reliance on a narrow export basket are no longer sufficient. We need a genuine political and social consensus that places economic transformation and technological upgrading at the centre of foreign and economic policy.
The 2025 NSS delivers a Machiavellian truth: states will increasingly abandon the idea that values, norms, and interests can comfortably coexist. Liberal internationalism is giving way to transactional multipolarity, and weaker states will have to navigate without the shelter of protective norms. For Bangladesh, 2026 will determine whether it adapts or suffers the consequences of pretending otherwise. The old rulebook offered shelter in international law and multilateral institutions. The new one offers specific, conditional, and revocable deals. Bangladesh must learn to negotiate them.
Professor Shahab Enam Khan is executive director of Bangladesh Center for Indo-Pacific Affairs at Jahangirnagar University, and teaches at the Bangladesh University of Professionals.
Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
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