By Tasha Monroe for The Commons Dispatch

 

There is a peculiar danger in a phrase as seemingly benign as “country first.” On its surface, it offers a comforting order of operations—suggesting loyalty, unity, and a prioritization of collective identity. But beneath that patriotic gloss lies a hollow and often brutal logic: that arbitrary borders matter more than the universal dignity of human life, and that the suffering of others is tolerable so long as it happens elsewhere—or to someone else.

The recent resurgence of “country first” rhetoric in the United States, particularly championed by the president and his loyal base, reveals less about national pride and more about moral regression. It’s not a philosophy. It’s a euphemism. A sleight of hand. A shrinking of empathy until only those who look, vote, worship, and sound familiar are deemed worthy of concern.

At a time when global cooperation is no longer optional but essential—on matters ranging from climate change and migration to artificial intelligence and global health—the insistence on self-interest as a moral compass is not just outdated. It is catastrophic.

History is full of moments where nations prioritized "country first" at the expense of their moral standing, their international reputation, and ultimately, their own survival. The tragedies of the 20th century—two world wars, apartheid, genocide—were not born from too much empathy, but too little. From the fever dream of national superiority and the bureaucratic coldness that comes with turning human beings into statistics, threats, or burdens.

And yet here we are again. In 2025, a country that once styled itself as a global leader now openly turns its back on asylum-seekers, rips children from their parents, cuts off aid to the poorest nations, and weakens its own democratic institutions—all under the guise of putting “America first.” But what, precisely, does this mean? And who, exactly, is included in that vision?

Because the truth is this: the more narrowly one defines "country," the fewer people are deemed worthy of its protection. First it excludes the foreigner. Then the migrant. Then the dissenter. Then the disabled. Then the poor. Until, at last, the very people cheering for its rise find themselves outside the gates they helped build.

What’s worse, this ethos is not merely an American crisis—it is an export. Nationalist populism has found fertile ground across the globe, often borrowing its cues from the U.S. playbook. And when the world’s wealthiest and most powerful nation normalizes cruelty, other governments feel emboldened to do the same, citing “national interest” as justification for oppression.

From a humanitarian and philosophical perspective, “country first” represents a tragic misreading of the human condition. The fact of the matter is, the challenges we face—rising sea levels, mass displacement, economic collapse, digital authoritarianism—do not respect borders. And no wall, tariff, or flag can stop the spread of suffering once it begins.

The 21st century does not ask us to be patriotic in the old ways. It asks us to be visionary. To be brave enough to see ourselves not just as citizens of nation-states, but as stewards of a shared planet. As neighbors, not competitors. As allies in the preservation of life itself.

Kurt Vonnegut, a veteran and a humanist, once remarked, “We are here to help each other get through this thing, whatever it is.” It is a deceptively simple sentence that carries more moral clarity than any slogan etched on a campaign hat. Because the measure of a civilization has never been its GDP or its flag or its rhetoric—but how it treats those with the least power. Those who can offer nothing in return but the truth of their existence.

America is not weakened by compassion. It is weakened by fear, by greed, and by the false promise that strength comes from isolation. A truly great nation does not avert its eyes from human suffering; it confronts it—especially when it has the means to alleviate it.

So let this be the argument, not in abstract ideals but in real, grounded truth: “country first” is not only a dangerous policy. It is a failure of imagination. And in a century where our survival depends on cooperation, that failure could be fatal—not just for Americans, but for all of us.