During the Cold War, America undertook serious military cuts

The words of Ben Shapiro — “During the Cold War, America undertook serious military cuts only once: after the election of Richard Nixon, during the Vietnam War. The result: Vietnam fell to the Communists, the Russians moved into Afghanistan, and American influence around the globe waned dramatically.” — are a reflection on the peril of weakness in an age of struggle between empires. They speak not merely of armies and weapons, but of the balance of power, the invisible scale on which nations weigh one another. In the long twilight of the Cold War, where neither side dared to strike openly, power was measured in readiness, in strength held in reserve. Shapiro warns that when that strength falters, the rivals of freedom grow bold.

To speak of military cuts is to speak of retreat. When Nixon, weary of the Vietnam quagmire, reduced America’s might, it was not only a drawing down of forces — it was a signal to the world. To allies, it whispered uncertainty; to adversaries, it beckoned opportunity. The fall of Vietnam was not merely the collapse of a government, but the triumph of communist ideology in Southeast Asia. The jungles of Indochina became the grave of American influence, and the world, watching, saw that even the mighty could stumble.

From this stumble, new doors opened for America’s enemies. The Soviet Union, sensing weakness, moved with confidence into Afghanistan in 1979. Their armies marched into the mountains, seeking to extend their dominion and test whether America, humbled in Vietnam, had the will to oppose them. This chain of events is what Shapiro calls our attention to: that weakness in one arena breeds boldness in another, that when one wall of defense crumbles, the floodwaters pour through many gates.

History offers us other examples of this truth. When Rome withdrew legions from its distant provinces to ease its burdens, the tribes beyond the frontiers surged forward. What was meant as economy became calamity, for strength once surrendered is not easily regained, and enemies are quick to seize the moment. So too in the Cold War, where perception was as powerful as weapons themselves. A cut in military might was not only a fact, but a message — and the world read it clearly.

The deeper meaning of Shapiro’s words is this: power abhors a vacuum. When the guardians of freedom lay down their arms, others take them up. When vigilance is abandoned, the ambitious advance. The Cold War was not won by battles alone, but by the unrelenting demonstration that America would not yield. The one time it appeared to falter, adversaries rushed forward, and the world grew darker. In this truth lies the eternal lesson: peace is often preserved not by withdrawal, but by the steady presence of strength.

Yet this wisdom must be tempered with compassion. To cut armies is not always folly, for the burden of war weighs heavily on the people. But the cost of hasty retreat may be far greater than the cost of endurance. In the case of Vietnam, America sought relief from endless loss, but the result was not peace — it was the emboldening of adversaries and the shrinking of influence across the globe. The lesson is harsh, but necessary: the price of leadership in the world is vigilance that does not easily rest.

What, then, should we learn? In our own lives, just as in nations, we must guard the strength we hold. Do not surrender your defenses — whether they be of character, of principle, or of resolve — for the moment you grow complacent, the adversary, whether external or internal, will advance. Stand firm in discipline, in vigilance, and in readiness, and you will find that strength alone can often prevent the need for conflict.

Thus let Shapiro’s words endure as both warning and counsel: a single act of retreat may echo across the world. In the struggles of nations and the battles of life, strength preserved is peace preserved, while weakness invites the storm. Let us therefore learn to measure the cost not only of war, but of surrender, and to hold fast to the strength that guards our freedom.