Ever since President George W. Bush’s second term ended, the United States has been sounding alarms to Europe, with the message that ‘as China rises, we must shift our focus to the Pacific and Indian Oceans, so European countries need to ramp up their defense and military efforts and take a bigger—maybe leading—role in protecting themselves.’ These warnings, sometimes couched in diplomatic terms and sometimes stated harshly, went largely unheeded as European states kept defense spending low until Russia annexed Crimea in 2014 and President Donald Trump took office in early 2017.
Trump often voiced intentions to pull back from obligations under NATO’s Article 5 but didn’t follow through with impactful measures back then. He focused instead on pushing Europe hard to increase military budgets. It’s now evident he couldn’t translate his wishes into reality, either because he depended on Republican staff who disagreed with him or because he was eyeing a second term and didn’t yet have the ironclad control over the Republican Party he has today.
European leaders largely saw Trump’s first term as an exceptional anomaly unlikely to recur. Under President Biden, the United States showed striking adaptability on key matters (like Nord Stream), seeming more attuned and possibly open to European stances. Europeans felt the relationship had settled back into its usual rhythm: security and military collaboration, economic and trade rivalry, warmth, and mutual esteem, though not without disputes or occasional strain. They poured considerable resources into combating the Covid-19 crisis and addressing social challenges, such as immigration and the fallout from climate change. Then, the Russian invasion of Ukraine caught all but the United States off guard. Just days into the invasion, by the end of February 2022, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz proclaimed that Europe had crossed into a new historical phase. Panic swept through Berlin, especially after the chief of staff laid bare the shocking unpreparedness of Germany’s forces, which could only be described as laughably inadequate. Scholz responded by establishing a €100 billion defense fund. While the initial terror faded, unease persisted, but Ukraine’s unexpected success in stopping Russia’s advance spurred Western countries to back it vigorously, motivated by a mix of ethical, legal, and strategic imperatives, alongside the goal of wearing down Russia’s military.
By late 2022, a series of missteps had brought the Russian military to the edge of collapse, sparking widespread fear that Moscow might turn to tactical nuclear weapons. This led Western countries to curb Ukraine’s momentum, which gave the Russian forces a chance to regroup, address their errors, and restructure. The decisive shift occurred with the failure of Ukraine’s summer 2023 counteroffensive, which allowed Moscow to seize control of the battlefield. Western reluctance, especially from the United States and Germany, fueled by concerns over an escalation spiraling out of control if Russian red lines were breached by providing Kyiv with advanced weaponry, played a key role. The West tightly restricted Ukraine’s use of supplied arms. At the same time, the Republican-led US Congress blocked military support for Ukraine for over half a year. In Ukraine, internal rifts within the leadership undermined military effectiveness, and the political leadership resisted lowering the draft age. The year 2024 ended with the Russian army achieving notable gains, though not a definitive triumph, at the cost of devastating losses in personnel and equipment and severe economic strain on both countries.
Then, Trump reclaimed the presidency for a second time, his authority bolstered by a substantial (but not crushing, contrary to his assertions) electoral win. He managed to form an administration that sidelined traditional Republican figures, empowering diverse factions—some isolationist, others imperialist—representing segments of big capitalism and a populist current that resents major cities and their elites, who believe in a global role for the United States.
A multitude of analyses grapple with decoding the rationale behind Trump’s foreign policy, and though I haven’t scoured every published work, the range of views is striking. Some contend his policies are rudderless, propelled by erratic emotions and superficial assumptions that overlook the complexity of systems—particularly in commerce, industry, global networks, and the real world—while chasing vendettas, whether genuine or concocted. Others propose he believes global order depends on a pact, or at least complicity, among great powers—the United States, Russia, and China—to divvy up the world into zones of control, each enjoying a degree of freedom in its sphere. Some argue he’s countering China’s ascent by lightening the load of Europe’s defense, reassigning global roles, and pivoting to the Pacific and Indian Oceans, all while aiming to disrupt the Sino-Russian partnership.
At the same time, some say he’s intent on unraveling the EU and fostering far-right populist regimes in European countries. Others claim he wants to demolish the global economy, free trade, and support for international development, while weakening global systems for academia, scientific inquiry, and human rights activism, which he sees as detrimental to the United States—or at least to his electorate. Some believe he’s strategically devaluing the dollar to spark a US manufacturing renaissance, increase exports, and cut the trade deficit, all to brace for an unavoidable clash with China. Others view him as merely appeasing his political base, striking fear into allies to extract significant concessions for the United States, or employing a calculated “crazy” act to make others back down with compromises.
Regardless of the most plausible interpretation, the majority of analysts consider his policies extremely perilous—at best a risky bet that could work but is far more likely to flop, and at worst a surefire formula for failure that will leave everyone, Americans first, poorer. I’m inclined to argue that the president is pushing dangerously misguided solutions to genuine issues his predecessors either sidestepped or couldn’t handle. He behaves as if unaware that taking on a powerhouse like China demands robust allies standing with Washington, or that hiking tariffs alone won’t magically relocate industries to the United States—even if that were a worthy or advisable aim, which I doubt. Such an undertaking, if attempted, would stretch over many years. There’s insufficient room to outline the shortcomings of these strategies, either because they pursue flawed or unattainable ends, or because they’re ill-suited to achieving constructive outcomes that advance US interests and reflect the president’s intentions.
And whatever the truth may be, there’s a European consensus that Trump’s policies deliberately aim to harm EU countries. He talks about annexing Greenland and he and his team openly despise European liberalism and its principles. The Signal scandal leaks laid bare their scorn for Europe and how they disparage it behind closed doors. US officials resent the EU, its trade framework, and its rules—covering environmental safeguards, limits on emerging tech, and beyond. They see most European countries as shameless freeloaders, full of rhetoric but unwilling to foot the bill, reaping profits from trade with China while dodging defense costs. Europeans note that American officials never offer praise, treating Europe like the main foe. They claim Europe, along with Ukraine, sparked a war with Russia, dragging the United States into it, and that Europe has long exploited Washington’s goodwill and the naivety of past administrations. They argue defending Europe isn’t their administration’s duty.
Many, including Trump himself and his envoy Witkoff, endorse Russian narratives, despite their clear contradiction of facts. The US Defense Secretary stated that defending Europe is no longer a priority for the administration. Vice President Vance, in his Munich conference speech, declared that Europe no longer upholds freedom, suppresses populist voices—whether right or left—and cancels elections when elites dislike the outcome (alluding to Romania). He argued this domestic crisis poses a greater threat to Europe than any external danger. While the current US administration lacks the moral standing to lecture on ethics, democracy, or tolerance for dissent, that doesn’t mean Vance’s remarks are entirely off the mark, at least partially.
From the European perspective, the administration’s actions are hardly more reassuring. It has unleashed a fierce trade war against Europe, openly opposing policies aimed at transitioning to a green economy, which it views as a European ploy to undermine the United States. Trump publicly humiliated the Ukrainian president on live television, then punished him by temporarily halting all aid to Ukraine—including intelligence sharing—facilitating Russia’s efforts to eliminate the Kursk bulge. Regarding NATO, the US Defense Secretary delivered a coherent and logical vision in an official speech, stating that the United States remains committed to the alliance and will continue providing a “nuclear umbrella” for Europe. However, defense through conventional (non-nuclear) means and weapons is now primarily the responsibility of European countries. This statement marks a significant and troubling shift, implying that the United States will reduce its troop presence in Europe, though without specifying the extent of the withdrawal. On the other hand, the statement didn’t come directly from President Trump, which diminishes its weight and fails to dispel doubts about his willingness to use nuclear weapons to defend any European country, especially a smaller one like a Baltic state. It’s well-known that deterrence—nuclear or otherwise—has a psychological component, and any alliance, including NATO, rests on pillars like trust, which has now collapsed. The picture will likely become clearer at next summer’s NATO summit, where all eyes will be on Trump’s words, rhetoric, and even his demeanor.
Fear and doubt currently dominate Europe’s outlook, making it impossible to rule out even the most outlandish scenarios. The worst could involve a simultaneous Russian attack on a neighboring state and a US assault on Greenland. More plausible scenarios include Russia launching relatively limited operations to test NATO’s resilience and Europe’s ability to respond effectively. Genuine concerns persist about the credibility of America’s nuclear protection and the possibility that the United States could disable the use of American-made or US-component-dependent weapons purchased and owned by European countries. Questions also swirl around intelligence-sharing, as figures in the US administration and presidency maintain close ties to Russia, and the US Defense Secretary has shown blatant disregard for basic information security protocols. Furthermore, rhetoric about leaving non-nuclear conflicts to Europe overlooks the fact that European armies cannot deploy many sophisticated weapons systems—like precision-guided missiles—without American assistance, a shortfall that won’t be resolved before the latter half of the next decade, even in the best case. Lastly, the US administration is making Europe’s challenges harder. Still recovering from the loss of affordable energy and the economic toll of the Covid-19 pandemic, European countries now contend with a US-driven trade war, Russia’s hybrid attacks, China’s market invasions, and the demands of rebuilding Ukraine and potentially the Middle East. They also face the fallout of a possible Ukrainian defeat, escalating Russian threats—perhaps strengthened by a temporary Russian economic rebound if US-Russia ties warm—and the wider ramifications of these pressures.
Europe grapples with a series of challenges and quandaries, not least that rearmament and regaining readiness is a long-term endeavor, requiring at least a decade. This process demands building forces, acquiring skills, and radically overhauling defense industries. There’s no guarantee that populations will regain a military culture or the psychological resilience needed to confront dangers, nor any basis to expect that internal strife in most countries will subside or that demographic trends will shift favorably. On top of all this lies the core dilemma: while rebuilding military strength and capabilities is vital, advancing too quickly could spur adversaries to strike preemptively, before defenses are fully prepared. It’s well-known that Russian elites tend to dismiss most European countries with contempt, but they harbor a distinct fear of Germany, rooted in both historical and contemporary reasons.
In upcoming installments, we will delve into the evolving European landscape, exploring how European countries navigate it, the challenges of reindustrialization and rebuilding armies, and how these dynamics reshape the continent’s geopolitical equilibrium.
