The recent address by U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio at the Munich Security Conference was far more than a routine diplomatic intervention. It was a strategic declaration. Rubio argued that the survival of Western civilization depends on revitalizing the transatlantic alliance and explicitly defending its foundational values against threats that are no longer abstract, but structural and persistent.
He called for a reinterpretation of the United States’ global role, particularly in its relationship with Europe. The West, he recalled, prevailed over Soviet communism through an alliance grounded in shared values, civilizational identity, and military strength. Yet after the Cold War, that alliance drifted into complacency. Many assumed the liberal order was irreversible; that free trade would displace strategic rivalry; and that economic interdependence would neutralize geopolitical conflict. According to Rubio, the erosion of sovereignty and the rise of strategic dependence were not inevitable outcomes of globalization, but political choices that ultimately weakened the West.
At the core of his vision lies the recovery of national sovereignty as the organizing principle of foreign policy. For Rubio, national security extends beyond defense budgets and alliance frameworks. It requires moral and cultural reconstruction rooted in identity, cohesion, and historical confidence. States, in this view, cannot subordinate vital interests to multilateral abstractions while competitors act with strategic clarity and ideological discipline. It is a return to realism: power, strategic autonomy, and border control reclaim a central place in the geopolitical equation.
The economic dimension is equally decisive. Rubio contends that Western deindustrialization was not an unavoidable byproduct of progress, but the consequence of deliberate decisions that relocated critical industries and supply chains abroad. The new phase demands reindustrialization, autonomy in strategic minerals, technological leadership in artificial intelligence, and the strengthening of key industrial sectors. The economy, therefore, ceases to be a neutral arena of exchange and reemerges as an instrument of national power—particularly in the face of systemic competitors such as China.
On the transatlantic front, the message is clear: the U.S.–Europe alliance must rest on reciprocity and shared capability, not structural dependence. Europe must assume greater responsibility for its own defense and the protection of its strategic interests. From a hemispheric perspective, this signals that Washington will prioritize consolidating its immediate civilizational environment before projecting global power—focusing on internal cohesion, migration control, and regional stability.
This repositioning does not occur in isolation. Over the past decade, the world has experienced significant democratic backsliding. By 2025, roughly 72% of the global population was living under autocratic regimes, compared to 46% in 2012. More than three decades of democratic progress have eroded in a remarkably short period. The contest is no longer merely economic; it is systemic: liberal democracies versus authoritarian models that combine centralized political control, technological expansion, and hybrid influence strategies.
The post–Cold War belief that trade would eclipse national identity, that a rules-based order would override national interests, and that borders would fade into irrelevance overlooked enduring historical realities. Power competition does not disappear—it adapts. That overconfidence weakened the Western industrial base and enabled autocratic actors to consolidate global influence. Simultaneously, it created opportunities for transnational criminal networks—from drug cartels to sophisticated illicit economies—to exploit globalization, penetrate state structures, and erode democratic governance.
In Latin America, this context intersected with the rise of so-called Socialism of the 21st Century. Under this banner, countries such as Venezuela and Nicaragua implemented constitutional reforms that concentrated power and weakened institutional checks and balances, consolidating authoritarian systems under progressive rhetoric. Elsewhere—such as in Ecuador, Bolivia, and Argentina—these currents deepened political fragmentation and crises of legitimacy, affecting democratic stability, though in some cases corrective processes have begun after prolonged polarization.
The United States’ more assertive posture is not driven by altruism, but by strategic calculation. Nations act according to their interests. From Washington’s perspective, drug trafficking and irregular migration are not merely social challenges; they are direct national security threats. Consequently, U.S. hemispheric policy is being redefined around a principle of co-responsibility.
In this framework, Mexico, Colombia, Ecuador, and Venezuela assume pivotal roles. In Colombia, hybrid criminal economies—combining drug trafficking, territorial control, and institutional capture—demand that security be elevated above ideological polarization and treated as a strategic imperative. In Mexico, cartel violence and its impact on migration and logistics transform the border into a continental security issue. In Ecuador, the prison crisis and the penetration of organized crime demonstrate that without institutional authority, democratic stability is unsustainable. In Venezuela, the consolidation of criminal structures intertwined with state power has turned the country into a source of regional destabilization.
The emerging U.S. strategy integrates reindustrialization, energy self-sufficiency, immigration control, and technological competition with China and Russia. The economy is no longer neutral—it is embedded within a broader architecture of power. For Latin America, this means cooperation must be measured in tangible outcomes: effective territorial control, dismantling criminal networks, strengthening institutions, and protecting strategic infrastructure.
The Americas now stand at a historic crossroads. The region is no longer peripheral; it is becoming a central theater of national security. This shift will likely bring increased pressure on authoritarian regimes, intensified efforts against transnational criminal organizations, and heightened scrutiny of extra-hemispheric influence in strategic sectors.
In this environment, Latin American nations must strike a careful balance between defending sovereignty and cooperating against shared threats. The rivalry between democratic and autocratic systems is no longer implicit—it is overt and structural.
Rubio’s Munich address also presents an opportunity. A strategic partnership with the United States will depend on Latin America’s ability to align interests in critical domains: combating drug trafficking effectively, managing irregular migration responsibly, strengthening democratic institutions, and preparing younger generations to integrate into high-value sectors such as artificial intelligence, industrial automation, and advanced manufacturing. Participation in Western supply chains—particularly in critical minerals—and coordinated competition in Global South markets will also be essential.
Excessive reliance on economies that are strategic competitors of the United States—such as China or Russia—carries increasing risks for regional stability and long-term development. Hemispheric integration need not imply subordination; rather, it should reflect a convergence of interests within a competitive global landscape.
The question, ultimately, is no longer whether competition between models will intensify. It already has. The real question is which nations will confront it with strategic clarity, institutional coherence, and a sustained long-term vision.