The Era of Revisionist Leaders: How is the International System Unraveling?

We are witnessing a major turning point, where global power balances are being redefined, not through broad alliances or grand narratives, but through the recycling of an authoritarian national past that is liberated from the obligation to any coherent narrative. This past, however, is capable of influencing and even symbolically dominating the present. This is embodied in the rise of new forms of charismatic leadership that reproduce symbols of national sovereignty and vocabulary of civilizational identity within an international context that has lost its institutional structure.

We are, quite simply, living in an era of revisionist leaders, where foreign policy is exercised not from the perspective of building a system but from one of rejecting or surpassing it—not based on a principle of multipolarity, but rather on a logic of power, position, and self-defined identity, which is not based on negotiation.

The dominance of globalization peaked in the two decades following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Supranational institutions overpowered traditional sovereignty, and the individual role in international politics diminished in favor of complex networks of markets, institutions, and multilateral forums. However, this phase, which seemed momentarily like the end of history, has slowly started to erode, paving the way for a new wave of leaders: Putin in Russia, Xi in China, Modi in India, and Trump in the United States.

A fundamental commonality among these leaders is their revisionist tendency that rejects the balances established by the liberal order after the Cold War, seeking to redefine concepts like sovereignty, legitimacy, order, and power. We should not be under any illusions that they are striving to establish an alternative system. The lack of a coherent institutional thesis is the second element that unites them, and what they offer as an alternative is a discourse laden with symbols and metaphors that invokes the past to justify the present and endows leadership with a civilizational dimension, almost missionary in some contexts.

For example, Putin does not propose a comprehensive international project; rather, he rehabilitates Russia as a “civilizational state” with a historical mandate linking the tsardom, the Soviets, and contemporary Russia. He views borders as fluid and approaches the idea of sovereignty from a historical rather than a legal standpoint. Xi invests in the narrative of “civilizational continuity,” while China presents itself as the oldest continuous state, measuring its political legitimacy by its civilizational heritage. Modi reinterprets Indian democracy through a Hindu national lens, restoring the collective identity at the expense of the historical plurality of modern India.

In this framework, Donald Trump emerges as the American model of this type of leadership, albeit in a different form. He condemns the global liberal order from an intuitive position, not from a clear ideological standpoint. He is driven by instincts that this system does not serve “true” American interests, as he and his supporters perceive them. Trump does not oppose the idea of American power; he opposes its use in building systems that do not directly benefit the United States. In his view, the U.S. shifts from being a leader of the system to a state independent of its conditions, determining its commitments based on interests rather than principles.

What makes this style of leadership extremely dangerous is its transformation from a representative role into a state of absolute sovereignty, where the authority of the leader is not subject to institutional checks nor constrained by the logic of rules or norms. The leader is presented here as the embodiment of the nation’s spirit and fate, rather than merely an elected representative; thus, they decide the parameters of the state, define ally and adversary, and determine when the system is legitimate and when it becomes a threat that must be undermined.

However, this style of leadership is not limited to discourse; it translates into geopolitical ambitions that exceed established norms. For instance, Trump’s repeated declarations of a desire to purchase Greenland from Denmark were not just election jokes or diplomatic provocations; they revealed an entirely different logic in understanding sovereignty, geography, and the legitimacy of expansion. Trump does not see islands, borders, and independent territories as entities with a definitive legal status but views them as strategic assets that can be negotiated like corporate acquisitions or real estate transactions between owners.

This proposition fundamentally reflects a slippage towards a “revisionist” view of the world that does not commit itself to agreed-upon international principles regarding state sovereignty and borders.

Trump’s desire for Greenland was not an expression of traditional colonial ambition but rather a mentality that sees regional influence as an investment, land as a bargaining tool, and sovereignty as a fluid concept. This is precisely the spirit of the revisionist moment: no fixed rules, no governing institutions, but leaders who define their state’s boundaries and sphere of influence according to their personal vision, not in accordance with international agreements or stable legal norms.

In this context, trust in Western alliances erodes, not because NATO has collapsed, but because the very idea of collective commitment is now subject to skepticism. When a U.S. president openly expresses a desire to annex part of the territory of an allied state, it does not merely provoke diplomatic astonishment but strikes at the core of the principle of sovereignty among allies. National borders, even within NATO, become subject to renegotiation without preconditions. Thus, European allies find themselves facing difficult choices in an environment of deep strategic anxiety, where traditional guarantees are insufficient to reassure small and medium-sized states that their borders will not be redrawn by individual desires.

With a pessimistically pragmatic spirit, Michael Kimmage proposes an alternative vision based not on avoiding revisionism but on managing it. What he presents is not a project to confront revisionist leaders but a realistic approach to a world living in a prolonged disorder. The effective response—in this context—lies in transforming revisionism into a behavior that can be contained through the engineering of new balances and defining flexible rules of engagement, even if temporary or partial. The goal is not to build final agreements but to delay the explosion. The proposal is not to replace the existing system but to slow its chaotic disintegration.

From this perspective, Trump does not seem out of time but rather a manifestation of it; his rejection of Wilsonian doctrine, his aversion to multilateral institutions, and his indifference to traditional allies do not merely express personal chaos but reflect a structural transformation in American strategic culture. For the first time, Washington appears unconcerned with exporting the system or imposing binding leadership; rather, it emphasizes a negotiating superiority based on self-interest.

Yet, the fundamental weakness in Kimmage’s conception lies in his assumption that Trump and his team possess the ability to manage this complexity wisely; this approach requires a high diplomatic sensibility and a readiness to avoid emotional outbursts—qualities that do not characterize Trump’s political performance.

Conversely, what is clear is that Trump’s revisionist management strategy is undisciplined and may turn against itself, accelerating chaos rather than containing it.

Undisciplined revisionism threatens to expand areas of explosion rather than control them. While the war in Ukraine serves as a glaring example, the risk of expansion to the Baltic states or Poland remains, not only due to Moscow’s ambitions but also because of the erosion of European faith in American guarantees. Thus, we may find ourselves facing a moment of explosion for which we do not possess the keys to contain.

The paradox lies in that the systems led by revisionist leaders do not aim to gain recognition of their legitimacy; rather, they seek to impose their vision as an enforced reality. This makes what we are experiencing today not a transition to a new world but a severing from an old world without a ready alternative. A system that no longer operates, yet no one is capable of burying. In this vacuum, revisionist leaders emerge, not as pioneers of a better future but as masters of the moment, filling it with discourses of power and redefining the possible, yet without a compass. The revisionist leader has not been a deviation from the norm; rather, he has become the norm.