Are today’s ‘like-minded countries’ more strategically than ideologically aligned?

In international politics, language does more than describe the world—it shapes it. For years, the phrase “like-minded countries” served as diplomatic shorthand for the United States and its democratic allies: countries that shared a belief in liberal values, multilateralism, and a rules-based order. But over the last few years, especially during the Biden administration, this terminology has expanded. Today, being “like-minded” is less about shared political ideals and more about temporary alignment on interests, particularly when it comes to trade, security, or competition with China.

This evolution of meaning is more than rhetorical. It signals how Western powers are adapting to a world where hard-line ideological divisions have softened into complex geopolitical calculations. And it raises an uncomfortable question: Is the language of values being quietly replaced by the logic of strategy?

The term “like-minded countries” was once a clear marker. It referred to states that upheld liberal democracy, human rights, and free-market capitalism. These were the nations that made up the postwar West—groupings like the G7, NATO, or the OECD. The idea was that shared values would translate into shared action, whether on climate policy, internet governance, or military alliances.

However, this tight circle no longer reflects the realities of global power. In the past decade, many democracies have drifted in different directions on trade, defense, and technology. Meanwhile, some authoritarian-leaning governments have emerged as vital players on global challenges. The Biden administration, which initially emphasized “values-based” foreign policy, has shifted toward a more flexible framework that emphasizes “coalitions of the willing.”

Countries like India, Vietnam, the Philippines, and even Saudi Arabia are now frequently referred to as “like-minded” in strategic documents, joint statements, and multilateral forums. While these nations vary in their commitment to democratic norms, they offer the US and its allies tactical advantages: geographic proximity to China, access to critical minerals, or leverage in energy markets.

In this expanded definition, like-mindedness is situational rather than ideological.

The Indo-Pacific is the clearest theater where this semantic shift is playing out. As the US attempts to counter China’s assertiveness, it has forged closer ties with countries that are not traditionally seen as champions of liberal democracy. India is a prime example: despite growing concerns over its treatment of minorities and press freedom, Washington has elevated it as a critical defense and technology partner. The Quad—a strategic dialogue involving the US, Australia, Japan, and India—is often described as a coalition of “like-minded democracies,” even though the democratic credentials of the members vary widely.

Similarly, the Philippines under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. has seen renewed defense cooperation with the US, despite a history of political instability and rights abuses. In Southeast Asia more broadly, countries like Vietnam and Malaysia are being courted as partners in semiconductor supply chains and maritime security, despite mixed records on freedom and governance.

Even in Europe, strategic necessity is reshaping vocabulary. After Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Western governments collaborated with Gulf monarchies on oil flows and defense support—partners that clearly do not share Western democratic norms but serve a crucial function in a realigned global order.

The message is clear: when values and interests collide, interests often win.

This shift in rhetorical framing isn’t just academic—it has real-world consequences for global governance. First, it muddles the definition of Western-led coalitions. When the term “like-minded” is applied too broadly, it becomes harder to distinguish between core allies and contingent partners. This creates ambiguity in diplomacy and weakens the coherence of issue-based alliances.

Second, it introduces reputational risk. If democracies claim to champion universal values but embrace autocratic partners when convenient, the credibility of that values-based agenda is undermined. Critics can—and do—point to hypocrisy, particularly in the Global South, where Western double standards have long been a point of contention.

Third, this linguistic expansion may erode the consensus around multilateral norms. If coalition-building is guided primarily by transactional interests, then long-term cooperation on complex challenges—like climate change, cybersecurity, or global health—may suffer. These problems require trust and ideological buy-in, not just short-term strategic alignment.

In the long run, the broadening of “like-mindedness” could dilute the moral force behind democracy promotion and norm-setting efforts in the UN, WTO, and other global institutions.

What’s driving this shift—beyond strategic necessity—is also a set of economic undercurrents. Global supply chains are being restructured under the banners of “friendshoring” and “de-risking,” concepts that prioritize reliability over ideology. The US Inflation Reduction Act and the CHIPS and Science Act both include provisions that offer trade and investment incentives to “trusted partners,” many of whom are chosen for geopolitical rather than democratic reasons.

Likewise, the green energy transition has placed countries with mineral wealth—such as Indonesia, Chile, or the DRC—at the center of new trade and industrial policy maps. These nations are now critical to Western net-zero strategies, regardless of their governance models. As one EU official put it bluntly, “We can’t afford to be picky about our friends.”

In tech and defense industries, too, alignment is increasingly dictated by capability rather than constitutional values. Countries with strong digital infrastructure, advanced manufacturing, or robust military bases are seen as assets—even if their domestic policies raise eyebrows. This commercial logic is reinforcing the diplomatic one: alignments today are built less on ideology and more on function.

The phrase “like-minded countries” has always been a bit of a euphemism. But in today’s world, it’s become a diplomatic catch-all—shorthand for partnerships that are sometimes convenient, sometimes coherent, but rarely consistent. This rhetorical sleight of hand reflects a deeper truth: the West is no longer dealing with a binary world of friends and foes, but a landscape of shifting interests, asymmetrical alignments, and unpredictable partners.

The US and its allies are right to be pragmatic—strategic competition with China and Russia requires a wider tent. But that pragmatism should come with transparency. If the goal is tactical, say so. If the alliance is temporary, clarify it. Stretching the language of values too far risks making it meaningless.

For diplomacy to be credible, its words must carry weight. In the end, calling every useful partner “like-minded” may win short-term cooperation, but it won’t build the long-term trust that true alliances require.