The United States and the Reality of Alliances: A Reading in the Discourse of Hegemony and Dependency

The United States is no longer an alliance-based state foreign policy, but one that operates by virtue of a network of transient instruments employed in a bid to achieve its objectives, and jettisoned once obsolete. Washington, as expressed in the political and media discourse from certain corners, does not see its allies as “allies,” but as “means” to construct its power—pillars to be utilized under a logic of power and not one of partnership. With regard to this, American specialist and longtime United Nations arms inspector Scott Ritter stated that “the United States is not an ally to anyone; it merely uses others as tools to serve its interests.” This remark encapsulates the political and moral dilemma at the center of US foreign policy today. Ritter, being a part of the American security apparatus as an insider, does not use the language of enemies but that of internal self-criticism.

The deeper meaning of his statement—”The United States is not an ally to anyone”—is an unstated admission that Washington has lost the confidence that had separated it in the post-World War II decades, when it was presenting itself as the leader of the free world. Now, though, it is painted by its own people as a center of domination, rather than partnership, and as a power that fears to be trusted by others because it can no longer be trusted.

This dialogue is not merely a temporary political stance; it is a deeply rooted intellectual paradigm in the American strategic tradition, one that rests upon a form of “crude realism” that sees the world as an arena of interests, rather than a system of values. In the contemporary American psyche, an alliance is not a mutual commitment but a temporary utilitarian involvement predicated upon calculation of loss and gain. This is in essence the opposite of the traditional alliance theory of international politics, which rests upon relative trust and strategic complementarity over time.

Here, the logic of hegemony appears in its most overt guise: states are dependents, not allies, and interdependence is merely subordination dressed up as diplomacy. In this view, the United States exercises a form of “structural dominance,” as conceived by Keohane and Nye—that is, domination through the economic system, military institutions, and energy and communications networks. Weak in looks but coercive in substance, this dominance renders it virtually impossible to extricate from the U.S. without incurring astronomical costs.

The rhetoric also testifies to the advent of an isolationist tendency in American society, perceiving the network alliance as a political and financial burden. This newer version flourished in Trump and carried on afterwards, a turn in the American psyche away from “global patron” and towards a “selective actor.” Thus, this story is not an anomaly but part of a larger American discussion about the end of one epoch of hegemony and the onset of another marked by domestic calculations. 

In the Arab world, this argument It must be viewed with a strategic vision, not an impulsive or emotional one. By saying that the great power has no friends, we are indicating that the Arab world can redefine its relationship with it. Take the case of Qatar, which illustrates the complexity: while Doha is proximate to the American financial and security umbrella, it has simultaneously managed to function within privileged arenas (the Taliban, Gaza, Gulf mediation), documenting a relative capacity to expand its decision space under the very auspices of hegemony. This is dependency under sovereignty—a model of how small states can be effective if only they are able to play the balance of power astutely.

Regionally, the American rhetoric also brings into focus the weakening of faith in the doctrine of “security alliances” that has dominated since the 1950s. The American shield is no longer guaranteed; the Afghanistan pullout, hesitation to act to block Gulf allies after Iranian aggression, and the ambivalence of the Gaza war all attest that Washington is increasingly less willing to intervene in other people’s wars. This pullback makes way for diversification of international partnerships with China, Russia, or rising regional hegemons such as Turkey and Iran. But these alternatives would first require a de-linking from structural dependence on the United States, a process of many years which can be brought about not by slogans but through deep economic and technological transformation ensuring independence of decision-making.

Here the paradox is unveiled: the Arab system continues to oscillate between rhetorical assertions of complete reliance on Washington and emotional repudiation of it, without forging a third path of fair partnership and mutual benefit.

Finally, this rhetoric gives a lesson in political realism: power alone does not breed trust, and coalitions endure only while they serve the interests of all parties involved. The United States, which employs its allies as means to an end, will sooner or later be surrounded with suspicion, and the Arab world, which employs the great power as a tragic fate, will find itself deprived of actual independence. In the space between dependency and hegemony lies a space called understanding, and it is the responsibility of the Arab elite today to fill this space with a new strategic thinking-one which realizes sovereignty is not given but constructed, and that the lack of real choices will always be a tool in other people’s hands no matter how solid the relationship.