Monroe Doctrine’s Revival? A Focus on Antarctica

While the world has been watching Iran closely, it seems the Trump administration’s real focus might be on reasserting the Monroe Doctrine within the Western Hemisphere. According to the 2025 National Security Strategy, the message implies a significant restoration of American powers in alignment with national security interests.

Maybe it’s time for America to demonstrate its might without any military action. A single strategic decision could see the expansion of U.S. territory by about 20%, reclaiming one of the last significant areas of uncharted land on the planet.

This area, known as Marie Bird Land, covers 620,000 square miles of Antarctica, roughly the size of Alaska. It’s unclaimed and lacks any clear sovereignty but represents a region of key strategic value. If the U.S. were to establish a claim here, it would mark the most significant territorial expansion since the acquisition of Alaska in 1867.

It’s fascinating that this land carries an American name. Richard Byrd, a notable U.S. Navy rear admiral and polar explorer, mapped this region in the late 1920s, naming it after his wife. Since then, the U.S. has asserted its presence in Antarctica through research bases and high-altitude flights. Yet, reality often tells a different story.

The 1959 Antarctic Treaty froze any existing territorial claims and mandated peaceful scientific exploration, but it didn’t prevent new claims from being made later. Importantly, the U.S. has not relinquished its right to make such claims. As we approach six decades since the treaty’s signing, the dynamics of the world have shifted dramatically.

The sheer potential for resources in Antarctica supports this sort of move. Estimates suggest there could be around 45 billion barrels of oil equivalent in marine reserves, alongside uncharted deposits of minerals. The Madrid Protocol, which added an environmental protection framework to the treaty, currently bars mining activities but is set for review in 2048. So, there’s a ticking clock here, with just 22 years remaining.

This treaty, which relies heavily on the good intentions of its signatories—including China—offers a different kind of security than absolute sovereignty does. One is based on political norms, while the other is a firm legal right.

But beyond the wealth of resources, the strategic value extends to potential satellite networks and communications infrastructures of the future. The looming infrastructure battle of the 21st century will hinge on satellite systems that can transmit sensitive military and economic data. Controlling polar regions is fundamental to achieving success in this area, enhancing latency, resilience, and security.

Take for example the northern routes, such as Greenland and Iceland, which have become militarized battlegrounds. In contrast, Antarctica seems to barely register in this critical discourse.

The importance of these choke points—like the Strait of Hormuz—is highlighted by recent disruptions due to rising tensions and military actions. An initial 20% of the world’s oil supply has become trapped in a narrow stretch of sea, revealing just how much control of strategic locations can influence global energy flows.

Given the current geopolitical landscape, Antarctica could pose similar challenges as nations vie for impact over communications networks there. The question remains: will the U.S. secure its interests effectively before facing a harsh reality?

There’s something to be said for being proactive, especially considering how quickly the moment “no one is paying attention” can shift to “it’s too late.”

In March 2025, Russia and China revealed their intent to establish a research base in Maly Birdland. This action mirrors strategies seen in the South China Sea—a calculated move to reinforce their influence, waiting for normalization before challenges to their presence arise.

Historical precedence offers lessons here. The Louisiana Purchase in 1803 was considered reckless by some, yet it ultimately doubled the nation’s size. Similarly, the acquisition of Alaska was seen as poorly executed but has proven otherwise in retrospect.

Unlike those purchases, the U.S. wouldn’t face any financial obligations in claiming Marie Bird Land.

Opponents might argue claiming this land goes against international agreements, but that isn’t entirely accurate. The treaty allowed for existing claims to be suspended but didn’t prohibit new ones. Some will worry about diplomatic fallout with partners, yet many allies would likely prefer a united front over the current uncertain status quo.

Environmentalists may reference the Madrid Protocol, but a claim to sovereignty wouldn’t instantly alter mining regulations. The inevitable arguments about other nations’ claims would still arise, with or without U.S. engagement. It comes down to whether America will dictate the terms or merely react.

The potential declaration of sovereignty coincides with a broader narrative of American expansion—a story of growing potential that has been around for 250 years.

Minds like Thomas Jefferson’s didn’t lose sleep over whether territorial claims were setting a troublesome precedent; they just moved forward based on the geography and anticipated future needs.

There’s a significant piece of land waiting to be claimed, and it carries an American name. Both Russia and China are already making their moves there.

Maybe July 4, 2026, would be fitting for such an announcement.