Amid resurgent nationalism and rising global friction, globalisation has moved from consensus to contention, now a central fault line in geopolitics. Once seen as the engine of progress, economic integration now draws fierce resistance from populists like Donald Trump, who cast globalism as a threat to sovereignty and national identity. Globalisation has undeniably powered growth and innovation, but it has also deepened inequality and cultural dislocation. The post-World War II boom, particularly in the US, showcased its promise, yet the benefits were uneven, sowing discontent and backlash. Nowhere are globalisation’s contradictions starker than in the US, the world’s richest nation, yet mired in ballooning $35 trillion debt and a chronic trade deficit. These imbalances expose the fragility beneath the facade of dominance. While the US still wields unmatched clout in finance, tech, and defence, its internal fractures complicate the myth of unshaken leadership.
The future of globalisation hinges less on market logic than on political will, institutional agility, and the ability to build fairer systems. The imperative is not to abandon globalisation, but to reinvent it, reducing inequality, honouring local agency, and recalibrating cooperation without ceding autonomy. Trump’s return in 2025 has sharpened this reckoning. His agenda—universal tariffs, strategic decoupling, and transactional diplomacy—tightens the noose on interdependence, especially with China and the EU. The debate is no longer whether globalisation is fading, but whether it can be salvaged, reshaped, or superseded. The real question is: can we forge a globalisation that works for more than the few?
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star’s Google News channel. Globalisation is anything but new. Its roots trace back to the Age of Exploration, when European nations established trade routes and colonies. The Industrial Revolution accelerated this process. Post-WWII, institutions like the IMF and World Bank were created to promote global trade. The Cold War spread Western capitalism. The collapse of the Soviet Union and China’s economic reforms in the late 20th century intensified global interconnectedness. The World Trade Organization’s (WTO’s) formation in 1995 was another milestone, embedding free trade in global economic policy.
But globalisation can be disrupted. Between the two World Wars, protectionist policies and geopolitical turbulence led to its decline. The Great Depression prompted tariffs and trade restrictions, like the US Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of 1930, worsening the downturn. Fascist regimes under Mussolini, Hitler, and Franco focused on autarky, stalling trade. Decolonisation and national liberation movements across Asia and Africa also challenged Western dominance, reshaping global trade relationships. These events demonstrate that globalisation is by no means invincible. It can fracture when economic, political, and social crises align. Immanuel Wallerstein’s World-Systems Theory illustrates this: global systems integrate, but also break apart. The interwar period remains a vivid reminder. Understanding the cyclical nature of global integration helps us grasp how quickly cooperative gains cave in under pressure.
Deglobalisation is gaining ground—not as a romantic return to autarky, but as a clear-eyed recalibration of systemic risk. The pandemic shattered illusions of supply chain resilience: a ship lodged in the Suez halted Detroit’s output; a COVID flare-up in Guangdong emptied shelves in Berlin. “Reshoring” and “friend-shoring” are no longer buzzwords; Japan bankrolls exits from China, while the EU scrambles for autonomy in rare earths and chips. Efficiency yields to resilience.
In the Global South, deglobalisation signals defiance. Dependency theory, once derided, finds renewed urgency. Structural inequality, extractivism, and capital flight aren’t bugs—they’re built into the system. For many, globalisation is less a ladder than a trap.
Yet, globalisation is not so easily unravelled. Supply chains are algorithmically mapped, digitally enmeshed, and globally optimised. While goods may shift towards local production, data, capital, and knowledge still flow across borders with frictionless speed. But deglobalisation has its costs. Tariffs raise prices and provoke retaliation; Trump’s trade war led to net losses in US agriculture.
Fragmentation fuels inflation, saps innovation, and raises the spectre of geopolitical conflict.
Supporters contend that globalisation lifted millions from poverty, catalysed innovation, and broadened human mobility. A retreat risks reawakening the zero-sum nationalism that globalisation once kept at bay.
Trump’s return revives economic nationalism, with a universal 10 percent tariff now on the table. But this goes beyond policy—it’s ideology. For Trump, globalism equals betrayal; decoupling is redemption. Yet, his first term exposed the limits: manufacturing didn’t flood back; firms rerouted to third countries. Trade deficits held steady. What surged instead was uncertainty and the erosion of the rules-based order.
With a Republican Congress, Trump 2.0 could entrench these shifts—sidelining the WTO, undermining NATO, and reversing climate commitments. But even as nationalism escalates, structural entanglements remain. US firms still rely on global markets; American consumers still demand imports. Trump may posture against globalisation, but he confronts not the 1980s, but a densely interwoven world—one that no leader can cleanly unwind.
Bangladesh has long ridden the wave of globalisation, with its export-led RMG sector as the backbone of economic growth. But that reliance now cuts both ways. Rising protectionism in key markets in the EU and the US threatens to destabilise an industry that employs millions and anchors the nation’s trade. Deeply embedded in global supply chains, the RMG sector is vulnerable to external shocks that could ripple across the entire economy.
Yet, deglobalisation also presents a chance for domestic fortification. Investing in technology, skills, and entrepreneurship can reduce dependency while enhancing resilience. A self-reliant economy could prioritise local needs and foster sustainable growth. Strengthening regional trade blocs, boosting agricultural productivity, and improving energy infrastructure offer promising avenues. Bangladesh’s strategic location positions it as a potential hub for South-South cooperation. The challenge is a complex cost-benefit analysis. Pragmatic diversification, a focus on value-added industries, and institutional reforms are essential. Strategic foresight, regional collaboration, and economic justice must drive its recalibration.
Dependency theory, as articulated by scholars like Andre Frank and Samir Amin, critiques global capitalism for benefiting core nations at the expense of peripheral ones. Deglobalisation offers peripheral nations an opportunity to reclaim autonomy and renegotiate the terms of engagement. This aligns with decolonial perspectives that critique the epistemic violence of global capitalism.
Kwame Appiah’s cosmopolitanism advocates inclusive cooperation and global solidarity, transcending nationalism. Postmodern theories reject singular narratives, emphasising globalisation’s complexity and fragmentation, challenging neoliberal orthodoxy, and reframing globalisation as contingent, contested, and multidirectional. It is not monolithic, but layered, uneven, and constantly evolving.
We stand at a critical juncture—what Joseph Stiglitz calls “global governance without a global government.” Globalisation, once seen as self-correcting, is now volatile, fragmented, and driven by escalating instability. Deglobalisation may offer short-term political gains, but it risks a dangerous overcorrection, fuelling fragmentation without offering viable alternatives. The choice is not between globalisation and its absence, but between a broken model and a reimagined one. What’s needed is not retreat, but reinvention: equity over efficiency, sustainability over speed, and cooperation over coercion. Globalisation will not vanish, but it must be reshaped. As Stiglitz rightly insists, “The challenge of globalisation is not to protect ourselves from it, but to make it work for everyone.”
Dr Faridul Alam, a retired academic, writes from New York.
Views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
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