For the last decade, Americans have been told a steady story of decline.
We are told our military went soft, that leadership was distracted, that our Navy is too small, that generals lost their edge, that we hollowed ourselves out while rivals hardened themselves. We watched as ideological priorities displaced warfighting ones, as the institution built to kill enemies and protect Americans was asked to become a laboratory for social transformation. Cultural Marxism was on full display, and we were told that celebrating people who destroyed their bodies with dangerous hormones was bravery, while the men and women who actually bled for this country were an afterthought. We saw a shameful and shambolic retreat from Afghanistan that saw service members killed and billions of dollars in equipment and important bases handed to an enemy who lacked the power to take them.
We were also told that we now live in a multipolar world in which the United States is simply one of several great powers, delicately balanced and dependent on allies just to project force.
That story is wrong.
The United States today stands head and shoulders above every peer in the one capability that matters most: global force projection. This is not boastful rhetoric. It is reality grounded in logistics, integration, and innovation.
A regional power defends its neighborhood. A great power influences its region. A superpower operates anywhere on earth with or without permission from hesitant allies.
And sometimes allies hesitate.
When Iran was struck, Britain initially refused our request to use their airfields. Prime Minister Keir Starmer, leading a country where Mohammed has been the most popular boy’s name for years running, looked at his domestic political situation and said no. He cited international law. He cited legal concerns. What he did not cite, but what every honest observer understood, was that he was managing a constituency at home that made supporting American strikes on a Muslim majority nation a complicated political calculation. We were told no before the first bomb fell.
It did not matter.
The United States struck Iran without Diego Garcia. Without RAF Fairford. Without the European heavy bomber hub that American planners have relied on for generations. We launched, conducted operations, and achieved our objectives using assets and range that required no permission from Downing Street.
Then Iran started shooting back. Iranian missiles hit airports and hotels where British citizens were staying. Iranian drones came within meters of striking British military personnel in Bahrain. Two hundred thousand British nationals were suddenly in a region on fire, and the country that had just told America no found itself urgently calling yes. On March 1, Starmer reversed course and granted the United States permission to use British bases for strikes on Iranian missile depots and launchers. Not because America persuaded him. Because Iran educated him.
Think carefully about what Starmer’s initial refusal revealed to the world. Not about Britain’s values or its legal scruples. About America’s capability. The most consequential military relationship the English speaking world has maintained since British and American soldiers bled together in the trenches of the First World War, a partnership that held through two world wars, Korea, the Gulf, Afghanistan, and a hundred quieter operations the public never heard about, and when that partner said no, we shrugged and launched anyway. Britain’s refusal did not delay the operation. It did not degrade the outcome. It demonstrated, in the starkest possible terms, that American global force projection no longer requires the blessing of even our most storied ally. Starmer thought he was protecting his domestic position. What he actually did was show the entire world exactly how little we need him.
That is not an insult to Britain. It is a statement about America.
The United States did not require British airfields to act. We possess global tanker fleets capable of refueling strike aircraft across oceans. We can launch from the continental United States, cross continents, conduct operations, and return without relying on the political calculations of anxious partners. That is logistics. Range is power.
Consider what that means in concrete terms. A B-2 Spirit stealth bomber can take off from Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri, fly to the other side of the world, strike a target that no radar detected it approaching, and land back in Missouri before most Americans have finished their morning coffee. No other nation on earth can do that. Not Russia. Not China. Not a coalition of European allies pooling their assets. The most advanced long range strike capability on earth is based in the American Midwest and requires no foreign soil, no allied permission, and no warning. That is not a weapon. That is a statement about the nature of American power.
No other nation maintains comparable global aerial refueling capacity (link in comments). No other nation can sustain long range air operations independent of basing rights in the same way. That distinction alone separates the United States from Russia and China.
The technological edge goes deeper.
The United States has the finest drones in the world. We had the finest expensive drones, now we have the finest cheap ones as well. Much commentary has focused on loitering drones modeled after Iranian designs. Some act surprised that the United States could field cheaper, more capable variants in months. They should not be.
The American advantage is not copying airframes, which is what Iran did to build its program. It is integrating systems.
The original Shahed was a preprogrammed flying munition. It flew to coordinates and detonated. The American variant is not merely a bomb with wings. It is a networked node tied into satellite communications, mesh networks, real time oversight, and AI assisted targeting. That is the difference between industrial mimicry and technological synergy.
This is what happens when commercial innovation is woven into military capability. Space based networks, software ecosystems, and rapid iteration cycles fused with defense procurement produce outcomes that traditional methods cannot match.
Speed matters. Seven years is traditional procurement. Seven months is technological leverage. The United States military under Pete Hegseth and Donald Trump has become vastly more lethal and we are improving without exploding costs.
Meanwhile, Russia’s inability to achieve decisive victory in Ukraine, despite proximity and manpower, has forced military planners worldwide to reassess assumptions about great power combat. Mass alone does not win wars. Industrial integration and adaptability do. Russia’s weakness has been tied not only to the bravery and courage of Ukrainians desperate to defend their homeland, but to the sling we gave David that allowed him to kill Goliath. Ukraine used some Soviet systems, but mostly it was our surface to air and shoulder fired missiles that destroyed helicopters carrying special forces designed to take the airport and allow Russian troops to overwhelm Kyiv. The war was designed to last weeks. Four years later, Russian weaponry has been exposed as poorly cared for and ineffective, and the fighting force that talking heads on cable news said would roll over Ukraine has seen those predictions fail again and again.
China is watching closely. Any campaign in the Pacific would not face only carrier groups. It would face distributed autonomous systems, space integrated targeting, long range strike, and the most experienced air force on earth operating at global range. We have also shared with Taiwan weaponry that is cutting edge and would make an invasion deeply challenging, even before we cut off oil from Iran that China needs to function.
One of the starkest illustrations of our clear military superiority was seen in Operation Absolute Resolve. On January 3, 2026, the United States launched a military strike in Venezuela and captured incumbent Venezuelan president Nicolas Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores. The operation began around 2 a.m. local time. The US Armed Forces bombed infrastructure across northern Venezuela to suppress air defenses as an apprehension force attacked Maduro’s compound in Caracas. Maduro and Flores were transported to New York City by US forces to face trial.
We did not lose a single soldier. The weaponry that Venezuela bought from Russia and China did not help them at all. The soldiers protecting Maduro, elite trained bodyguards from Cuba, were neutralized or killed without a single casualty on our side. Various reports, including statements from a U.S. official about the operation using technologies not previously employed in combat, suggest that U.S. forces disabled Venezuelan radar and defense systems, enabling special operations forces to achieve objectives swiftly. Some accounts attributed the effectiveness to advanced electronic or directed energy capabilities employed in conjunction with classic combined arms, highlighting again the gulf between American integration and adversary defenses. Official reporting has been limited and in some cases conflicting, but the outcome is noteworthy in its decisiveness.
We are not one of three equal military powers. We are the only military with true global reach, space integration at scale, and the logistics to operate independently.
That does not mean we are invincible. War is never predictable. Adversaries adapt. Technology diffuses. Complacency kills. But the idea that American military parity with its primary rivals is a settled reality is not supported by evidence.
That reality is underscored by recent developments in the Middle East. In ongoing operations involving Iran, American and Israeli fighters cannot earn the ace designation so prized among combat pilots because Iran cannot fight them. The only thing that has brought down US planes so far is our own air defense technology, being fired by Kuwaitis who have the money to buy our gear but lack the training to use it well.
Three U.S. F-15E fighter jets were downed over Kuwait by friendly fire from that country’s air defenses while actively engaged in combat operations. This was the first known loss of U.S. fighters in this campaign, and all six aircrew safely ejected and were recovered.
One of the striking features of the current theater is that Iranian air forces have not been seen engaging in sustained air superiority dogfights with U.S. aircraft, and operational Iranian fighter action remains limited in both range and effectiveness. This is not to suggest Iran has no air force, but rather to highlight the operational reality: when faced with an adversary with true global air power, Iranian aircraft have largely stayed grounded or been neutralized.
This reframes alliances.
Allies are force multipliers. They matter. But American capability does not hinge on unanimous enthusiasm from every European parliament.
To understand sovereignty, recall the Treaty of Westphalia of 1648, which established the principle that states are sovereign within their borders and free from external interference. Sovereignty meant political authority and control over territory. But sovereignty has always rested on the ability to defend that authority.
In the modern world, many nations exercise sovereignty under security guarantees provided by the United States. That reality does not erase their nationhood. It reflects strategic interdependence.
This is why Matt Walsh’s argument about Israel collapses under scrutiny. He suggested that if Israel relies on the United States, it is not a real nation. By that logic, Japan is not a real nation. South Korea is not a real nation. The Philippines is not a real nation. Canada is not a real nation. Nearly every country operating under American security guarantees would fail his test.
Nationhood is not defined by total strategic isolation. It is defined by political sovereignty, recognized borders, and functioning governance. Security alliances do not erase sovereignty. They reinforce it.
The deeper point is this. At this moment in history, most regimes on earth exist, in part, at the sufferance of American restraint. That is uncomfortable to say. It is nonetheless true.
Any regime that deliberately targets American citizens through biowarfare, fentanyl trafficking, terrorism, or other means is engaging in suicidal strategy. The United States possesses unparalleled capacity to respond. The balance is not delicate. It is decisive.
This imbalance should not lead to arrogance. It must lead to restraint.
If we truly stand without peer in force projection, then restraint is not weakness. It is responsibility. We are the greatest military power in the world and it is not close.
Triumphalism is easy. Discipline is hard.
We should be honest about what we are. Not declining. Not barely holding on. Unmatched in global force projection.
That truth should not make us reckless. It should make us careful.
My next post will explore what I see as the Kryptonite for the United States. A B-2 can take off from Missouri and strike anywhere on earth. The question I want to ask next is whether the civilization that built it still believes it is worth defending.
Clayton Wood is a Knoxville attorney and pastor. He is a contributing writer for tristardaily.com
