The Forgotten Good
The Forgotten Good: How America’s Unseen Acts of Generosity Abroad Fueled Nationalism at Home
“We gave them aid, we gave them trade, and what did we get? Nothing.” – A familiar refrain in modern American politics
For decades, American foreign policy has been defined in the public imagination by wars, interventions, and economic rivalries. Less visible—but arguably just as impactful—has been the quiet legacy of American generosity: helping prevent famine in India, fighting AIDS in Africa, and educating future global leaders from the world’s poorest countries. These efforts were transformational—but rarely recognized. And that failure to acknowledge them at home may have contributed to the rise of one of the most powerful nationalist movements in recent American history.
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The Invisible Record of Impact
In the mid-20th century, the Rockefeller and Ford Foundations, working alongside the U.S. government and international partners, helped launch the Green Revolution—a scientific and agricultural movement that introduced high-yield crops and irrigation systems to developing nations. The effort helped avert famine in India and Mexico, lifting millions out of hunger. In the early 2000s, President George W. Bush launched PEPFAR (the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief), which has saved more than 25 million lives, primarily across sub-Saharan Africa. It remains one of the most effective global health initiatives ever funded by a single country. Meanwhile, American universities educated thousands of students from Africa, Asia, and Latin America—many of whom returned home to become educators, public officials, and social reformers. Open access data from NASA and NOAA has supported flood preparedness and food security in places like Bangladesh and the Sahel.
Yet these acts were never fully integrated into the national conversation in the United States. They were seldom celebrated, rarely politicized, and largely unknown to the general public.
When a Nation Forgets Its Contributions
Most Americans are unaware of the scale of their country’s humanitarian legacy. These projects lacked the headlines, the drama, and the political urgency to cut through domestic news cycles. Instead, Americans were told—by both left and right—that the U.S. gives too much and receives too little. Into that silence stepped Donald Trump. He didn’t invent resentment. He organized it. He didn’t cause disillusionment. He exploited it. Trump’s central message—that “America is being taken advantage of”—resonated not because it was factual, but because it filled an information vacuum. If Americans had no framework to understand what their country had accomplished abroad, how could they push back against the narrative of failure? Nationalism didn’t rise because Americans were tired of helping. It rose because they didn’t know what that help had accomplished.
A Vanishing Form of Patriotism
There was a time when American patriotism encompassed the Peace Corps, Fulbright scholarships, and multilateral institution-building. Americans once took pride in leadership that meant funding schools in rural Africa, sending doctors to fight Ebola, or launching satellites that improved disaster response in Southeast Asia. But in recent years, the popular conception of American greatness has narrowed. It’s become more about self-preservation than service. More about walls than bridges. The result is that acts of American generosity have been drowned out by slogans of self-interest. And when the world watched America turn inward, many forgot the other America—the one that builds hospitals and funds vaccinations.
Why This Story Still Matters
For those outside the U.S., this shift has been sobering. Many grew up seeing the American flag on food aid, on textbooks, on medicine boxes—and associating it with help, not harm. If Americans are to reconnect with a broader sense of national identity—one that reflects both strength and stewardship—they must first be reminded of what their country has already done right. They don’t need to invent a new legacy. They need to remember an old one. Trumpism thrived not because Americans rejected global leadership, but because they never saw the full picture of what that leadership achieved. And the world paid attention—not just to what America said, but to what Americans forgot to say about themselves. If this essay resonated with you, consider subscribing and sharing it with someone who might see American foreign policy in a different light.
