The passing of US Senator Lindsey Graham (1955–2026) offers a moment to reflect not merely on the man but on the enduring pathologies of the American foreign policy establishment he so faithfully represented. Graham, the South Carolina Republican who served in the Senate from 2003 until his death, embodied the fusion of militaristic interventionism, elite adaptability and moral hypocrisy that has defined much of post-Cold War US grand strategy. Far from a principled statesman, Graham was a quintessential operator: a war hawk who draped endless military engagements in the rhetoric of freedom, democracy, and national security, while demonstrating remarkable flexibility in domestic alliances to preserve personal power. His life and career illuminate the deeper structures of American imperialism – elite networks, think-tank consensus, and a bipartisan commitment to global dominance – that transcend individual presidencies. Modest roots to pinnacle of empire networksBorn in 1955 in Central, South Carolina, Graham’s early life was steeped in modest Southern circumstances. He earned degrees from the University of South Carolina and served in the Air Force as a lawyer, experiences that instilled a martial worldview. Entering politics in the early 1990s, he rose through the House before succeeding the notorious segregationist Strom Thurmond in the Senate. Yet Graham’s personal backstory of service masks a deeper ideological commitment forged in the post-Vietnam, Reaganite resurgence: the belief in American exceptionalism as a license for perpetual global engagement. This was no organic patriotism but a product of the very establishment networks – military-industrial ties, neoconservative intellectuals, and transatlantic think tanks – that have long shaped US policy.Aggression disguised as promoting peace and freedomGraham’s foreign policy record is one of consistent advocacy for aggression. He was a vocal supporter of the 2003 Iraq invasion, aligning with the “three amigos” – himself, John McCain, and Joe Lieberman – in pushing the post-9/11 wars. These adventures, sold as liberation, delivered chaos, hundreds of thousands of deaths, regional destabilisation, and the rise of ISIS. Graham never wavered. He championed the 2007 Iraq surge, intervention in Libya (which turned that country into a failed state and arms bazaar for extremists), and regime-change rhetoric toward Syria and Iran. Even as the costs mounted – trillions of dollars, eroded US credibility generated mass domestic discontent – Graham doubled down, framing restraint as weakness and diplomacy as appeasement. His 2016 presidential bid, though short-lived, centred on escalating ground wars against ISIS, revealing a man for whom military force was the default instrument of statecraft.This hawkishness was not mere temperament; it reflected a structural worldview. Graham operated within the neoconservative-liberal interventionist consensus that dominated Washington after the Cold War. He worked seamlessly with establishment figures across aisles, embedding himself in networks like the Council on Foreign Relations and defence contractor circles. Critics rightly labelled him a neocon: someone who viewed the world as a chessboard for American primacy, where sovereignty of weaker nations was secondary to US “leadership.” His relentless push for aid to Ukraine, Israel and Taiwan, coupled with opposition to withdrawals from Afghanistan and Iraq, exemplified the endless-war doctrine. The human and financial toll – dead civilians, traumatised veterans, ballooning deficits – mattered little. Empire demands sacrifice, primarily from others.Trump Forever…even after 6 JanuaryGraham’s relationship with Donald Trump exposed the opportunism at the heart of his politics. Initially a fierce critic during the 2016 campaign – denouncing Trump’s character and “America First” instincts as dangerous isolationism – Graham pivoted dramatically after Trump’s election. He became one of the president’s most reliable Senate allies, particularly on foreign policy continuity. This U-turn was classic Graham: survivalist adaptation to power realities rather than ideological conviction. While Trump occasionally challenged the forever-war consensus, Graham helped steer policy back toward confrontation – with Iran, China and Russia. He rejected Trump after January 6 and fell in love with him again when Trump bounced back. Graham’s post-2024 accommodations, even amid shifting Republican currents, underscored a man tethered to the Blob (the foreign policy establishment) above party or principle.Domestically, Graham’s record reveals similar contradictions. He positioned himself as a “problem-solver” and occasional moderate – working on immigration reform at times – yet reliably delivered conservative outcomes on judges, taxes, and social issues. His early support for barring gays from the National Guard and later shifts on LGBTQ issues tracked broader elite opinion rather than deep principle. On judicial confirmations, he played a key role in reshaping the federal bench, advancing a conservative legal infrastructure while maintaining establishment respectability. This flexibility allowed him to thrive in South Carolina’s evolving electorate while serving national power centres.Graham’s legacy is one of enabling relative decline masked as strength. The post-9/11 wars he championed accelerated the very multipolar challenges – Russian assertiveness, Chinese rise, Middle Eastern instability – they purported to forestall. Billions funnelled abroad contrasted with domestic infrastructure decay, opioid crises, and inequality at home, fuelling the populist revolts Graham struggled to navigate. His death, shortly after recent political realignments, closes a chapter of unrepentant Atlanticism. Yet the structures he served – military Keynesianism, elite consensus-building think tanks, and a media ecosystem that normalises intervention – persist.In the final analysis, Graham was no outlier but a faithful servant of American empire in its late hegemonic phase. His life exemplified how personal ambition, martial socialisation and ideological blinders sustain policies that prioritise global projection over national renewal. A truly critical reckoning demands not eulogies for such figures but scrutiny of the system that produced and rewarded them. As the US confronts relative decline, Graham’s brand of hawkish adaptability offers a cautionary tale: one of hubris, costly overreach, and a refusal to learn from failure. It is to be hoped that the American century Graham defended so vigorously may well end not with a bang but with the exhaustion of its enablers.Inderjeet Parmar is a professor of international politics and the associate dean of research, School of Policy and Global Affairs, City St George’s, University of London. He is a Fellow of the Academy of Social Sciences and writes the American Imperium column at The Wire. He is also an International Fellow at the ROADS Initiative think tank, Islamabad, on the board of the Miami Institute for the Social Sciences, USA, and on the advisory board of INCT-INEU, Brazil. He is the author of several books including Foundations of the American Century, and is currently writing a book on the history, politics and crises of the US foreign policy establishment.Bamo Nouri is an Honorary Visiting Research Fellow at City St George’s, University of London and an independent investigative journalist and writer with interests in American foreign policy and the international and domestic politics of West Asia. He is the author of Elite Theory and the 2003 Iraq Occupation by the United States.