According to Specter, there is a clear transactional approach in the modern world, which creates problems for everyone. In his speech, Carney pointed out that Western states have long embraced liberal ideals but often themselves renounced adherence to them. They selectively supported free trade, spoke of international law and human rights, but applied these principles selectively. "We participated in rituals but avoided condemning the gap between words and deeds," Carney admitted. This system worked because it provided stability, and the power of the U.S., despite double standards, provided public goods to other Western countries. However, in Carney's view, "this deal no longer holds."
The gap Carney spoke of resulted from the destruction of this very deal. Powerful states, particularly the U.S. under President Donald Trump, began to abandon the rules that supported the international order, as well as the appearance that their actions could be based on principles. Carney is right to emphasize that something fundamentally new has occurred. However, in urging smaller and developing countries to abandon the outdated system, he underestimates that along with the disappearance of this appearance, much else is lost.
Carney argued that countries like Canada can still defend certain liberal values, even if the universal "rules-based order" is destroyed. But it remains unclear how exactly these countries can cope with such a "rescue operation," and whether it is possible to create any international, value-based regime from the ruins left by the U.S. This raises concerns: a world in which powerful states no longer see the need for moral justification of their actions becomes not only less fair but also more dangerous. When great powers feel no obligation to explain their behavior, weaker countries lose their leverage. Without the need to maintain at least a facade of principled behavior, a powerful country can act as it pleases, knowing that it can only be stopped by the strength of others. The instability this creates will spare even the strong.
Hypocrisy as a Tool
Hypocrisy has long played a dual role in international politics. On the one hand, it bred distrust and grievances among powers; on the other, it limited their power, forcing them to answer for the moral standards they proclaimed. During the Cold War, the United States justified its dominance with the language of democracy and human rights, even when its actions did not align with these ideals. This hypocrisy did not go unanswered: both allies and neutral countries used American rhetoric to criticize U.S. actions and demanded greater alignment between proclaimed principles and practice. This pressure bore fruit. For example, an investigation into the activities of American intelligence agencies in 1975, conducted by the Church Committee in Congress, changed the oversight system for intelligence and increased attention to human rights in international politics.
This pressure continued into the post-Cold War period. The U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003 was justified by references to international law and the threat of weapons of mass destruction; however, these arguments collapsed when no weapons were found. The international reaction to the invasion was so sharp precisely because Washington claimed to act within a rules-based order. A similar situation arose around the U.S. use of drones in various countries. With the expansion of the drone program, international lawyers and civil society organizations cited U.S. obligations in the area of legal procedure, demanding accountability for killings. In response, Washington attempted to justify its actions by narrowing target criteria and increasing political control over drone use.
Although the limitations imposed by hypocrisy have always been imperfect, they nonetheless created some degree of accountability. The need to justify actions forced states to consider higher moral standards, even if this did not happen all the time. This gave weaker countries the ability to resist and made the behavior of great powers more accountable, albeit imperfectly.
A New U.S. Approach
However, in recent years, this dynamic has noticeably weakened. The main feature of the current moment is not that the United States is violating principles it once defended, but that it is increasingly refusing to justify its actions in those terms. If previously American policy was cloaked in the language of law and universal values, now Washington openly operates within transactional frameworks.
This shift became evident during Trump's first term. In 2018, when he withdrew the U.S. from the Iran nuclear deal, Trump did not claim that Tehran violated international norms but simply called the deal bad for the U.S. Similarly, in response to the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi, Trump justified continuing relations with Saudi Arabia not on strategic necessity but on arms sales and job creation. Washington did not deny the facts but denied the necessity of moral justification.
In his second term, Trump completely abandoned attempts at justification. When he threatened Denmark and other European allies with tariffs due to their refusal to support his attempt to purchase Greenland, he framed the demand in openly transactional terms. Similarly, in February 2025, he imposed sanctions on the International Criminal Court not for legal reasons but because the court was investigating the actions of his ally, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. In early January, in response to a question about possible Chinese actions against Taiwan, Trump stated that while it would make him "very unhappy," the decision rests with Xi. This is no longer a violation of principles but an open assertion of interests without attempts to cloak them in ideals.
Washington's abandonment of principles in international politics radically changes the playing field for smaller countries. Critics may condemn Trump's policy as crude and selfish, but they find it difficult to accuse him of hypocrisy. There is no gap between proclaimed virtue and practice if the very claim to virtue is discarded. Power no longer refers to universal principles—it asserts private rights. This not only changes the style of diplomacy but also the foundations on which American power is built, as well as the ways it can be countered.
Abandoning the "High Road"
At first glance, the abandonment of moral justification may seem like a solution to a long-standing problem. If hypocrisy undermines trust, then abandoning moral statements may be a more effective way to wield power. Without claims to universal principles, the reputational costs decrease when material interests take center stage. Some experts view this shift positively. For example, Brazilian diplomat Celso Amorim argued that under Trump "there is no hypocrisy"—there is only "brutal truth," allowing countries to negotiate without illusions about U.S. intentions.
However, such effectiveness comes at a price. When powerful states feel no need to justify their actions, disputes that were once seen as discussions of legitimacy become mere tests of strength. Sanctions serve as a vivid example. In the old system, a sanctioning country had to explain why its actions corresponded to specific violations and general rules. When the Obama administration negotiated the nuclear deal with Iran in 2015, it documented violations by Tehran of its commitments, presenting the agreement as legitimate and verifiable. Today, however, a great power can impose sanctions simply for its interests. For example, in August 2025, Trump imposed 50% tariffs on India not due to violations of trade terms but out of personal outrage at New Delhi's refusal to accept his mediation. In such a system, trade replaces persuasion, and submission depends not on consent but on coercion. International politics loses the language for negotiation, allowing the strongest to impose their terms.
This shift may seem manageable for strong states, which can easily impose costs and weather backlash. But for the global system as a whole, it is more destabilizing. Without the constraints imposed by hypocrisy, power operates with fewer buffers and mediating institutions. An open hierarchy emerges, making cooperation harder to maintain and conflicts easier to escalate.
Middle Powers and Global Changes
The costs of this transition are unevenly distributed and affect not only U.S. adversaries but also American interests themselves. One of the most noticeable consequences manifests in U.S. relations with the Global South, where the disappearance of common standards and moral justifications complicates conflict management through institutions rather than direct pressure. For a significant part of the post-Cold War period, appeals to common rules allowed countries of the Global South to resist U.S. pressure without turning disputes into mere tests of strength.
The example of Brazil is very illustrative here. Brazil, being a latecomer to trade liberalization, long resisted free trade rules. However, having adopted this system, it learned to use it to its advantage. In the early 2000s, Brazil, as a major cotton producer, challenged U.S. subsidies, arguing that they violated commitments under the World Trade Organization. The dispute was conducted through WTO mechanisms, and Washington ultimately lost the case, being forced to make concessions. The dispute unfolded within a common legal framework, allowing for the preservation of relations and the expansion of bilateral trade.
Compare this with the current U.S. trade policy towards Brazil. In 2025, Trump imposed significant tariffs on Brazilian exports not on the basis of trade violations but in response to domestic political events in Brasília concerning legal actions against former President Jair Bolsonaro. Brazil did not resort to multilateral trade norms; instead, it began to reduce its dependence on the U.S., deepened trade ties with China, and signaled that its rare earth element supplies could become a bargaining chip. De-escalation occurred only after American companies with interests in Brazil pressured the White House.
Similar trends are observed in U.S. relations with its closest allies. For decades, countries like Germany accepted an asymmetric partnership with Washington, as common principles and institutions gave them a voice in the international system. Multilateralism did not eliminate American dominance but softened it.
Post-war relations between West Germany, and since 1990, reunified Germany, with the U.S. were based on this logic. Deeply embedded in NATO and the global trading system, German leaders relied on law, institutions, and procedures to manage asymmetry with Washington. Disputes were framed as disagreements within a common order rather than confrontations over power. When in the 1970s the U.S. pressured the FRG government to limit the export of nuclear technologies to developing countries, Bonn accepted the restrictions through the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons and the Nuclear Suppliers Group, subordinating commercial interests to non-proliferation norms that were initiated by the U.S. but shared by both sides. This approach allowed Germany to selectively resist American pressure while remaining a key U.S. ally.
However, with Washington's refusal to justify its actions by referencing liberal values and norms, this balance has been disrupted. Trump began to frame pressure on Germany in openly transactional terms: tariffs were justified as leverage, threats of secondary sanctions were linked to energy policy, and security commitments were redefined as paid protection services. In response, Germany began to reduce its dependence on the U.S., strengthening European industrial policy, investing in energy and defense autonomy, and diversifying its partnerships. Berlin is trying to shield itself from a world where American power operates through pressure, and dependence on Washington becomes a vulnerability.
Canada also faces a similar dilemma. Trump threatened the country with punitive tariffs and demanded it abandon its independent energy policy in favor of American interests. Moreover, he repeatedly suggested making Canada the 51st state of the U.S. Like Germany, Canada began to reduce its dependence on Washington, accelerating the diversification of trade ties and strengthening relations with other states. Both countries are striving for strategic autonomy—trying to maintain decision-making independence in conditions where the U.S. no longer restrains itself by referencing common norms. This dynamic is what Carney identified in his speech in Davos as a key sign of the new international rupture: the collapse of the rules-based order has led even the closest U.S. allies to perceive America not as a partner bound by common principles but as a force to be defended against.
Farewell to Morality
For the United States, the consequences of abandoning moral justifications are severe. This abandonment not only undermines American advantages but also triggers strategic diversification among Washington's partners, capable of dismantling the system that the U.S. once controlled. A unique achievement of American power was not just dominance but the ability to turn that dominance into genuine consent from other countries. Alliances based solely on transactions may exist, but they become more fragile and less likely to mobilize in moments when leadership is truly needed. Losing the language of principles, the United States loses the ability to make the application of its power acceptable to others.
The disappearance of hypocrisy can be viewed as progress. It may seem like a move towards honesty and a rejection of double standards, pretense, and self-deception. However, hypocrisy played a structural role in the international order that is now disintegrating. By proclaiming their actions in the name of common principles, powerful states made themselves vulnerable to criticism. This vulnerability provided weaker states with opportunities for influence, allowed allies to manage asymmetry without conflict, and helped turn dominance into something acceptable, even if it did not evoke sympathy.
This is not a call to restore the former order that no longer exists. The rules-based order was never what it portrayed itself to be, and hypocrisy often concealed injustice no less than it limited power. Nevertheless, by pretending to act in the name of universal values, powerful states acknowledged the significance of those values. When they no longer feel the need to legitimize their power, the international system, once sustained by consent, degenerates into one where power operates without checks, and conflicts become more frequent and harder to manage. The paradox of hypocrisy was that it limited power while simultaneously allowing it to exist. The United States may find that open dominance is harder to maintain than the imperfect order that others once believed in.
