Au revoir, America: What European opposition to Trump actually means

Доступно на русском

Few journalists covering the recent World Economic Forum in Davos described the festivities as dull, predictable or routine — labels often used for previous summits. This year, commentary was dominated by the seemingly contradictory phrases “new world order” and “lawless world.”

Whether Davos revealed the outlines of a new global system or merely the erosion of the old one is still up for debate. Undisputably, however, by the end of January 2026, even the most committed transatlanticists had to recognize that the old norms governing relations between Europe and the United States no longer exist.

European capitals initially tried to accommodate Trump, searching for the right approach to get through to the unconventional U.S. leader. After that strategy failed, Europe shifted its tone and began looking for new partners. Why did the project of “friendship with Trump” collapse? How is the EU balancing between demonstrations of strength and the preservation of at least some semblance of transatlantic ties? In which spheres of activity can Europe move forward independently? And where will it struggle without the partnership of the United States?

No longer an ally

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel is known for her caution and emotional restraint, even in the most difficult situations. When she described Trump’s actions after a 2018 G7 meeting as “sobering and somewhat depressing,” it signaled the existence of serious disagreements with the then and current occupant of the White House. After leaving office, Merkel’s memoirs described in much greater detail Trump’s attempts to humiliate his counterparts and his seemingly inexplicable affection for authoritarian leaders. Other senior European politicians have spoken in similar terms, and even those who tended to soften their public criticism — like Merkel did before leaving office — left no doubt about their dissatisfaction with the transatlantic state of affairs.

Of course, Trump has never been shy about openly characterizing the European Union as weak and overbureaucratic and as benefiting from U.S. taxpayers. He often prefers to make decisions alone, sometimes emotionally and with limited transparency — in sharp contrast with the EU’s consensus-based system and its emphasis on institutions. Still, the disagreements that were evident during Trump’s first presidency became exponentially worse in the year since his return to the White House.

Trump is deliberately counting on force, while Europe has traditionally relied on diplomacy. Observers say the current U.S. president appears guided less by a consistent set of values than by perceived national advantage and a willingness to make deals with any counterpart. Western values, in this view, do not serve as a constraint.

In practice, Trump has blurred the distinction between allies and adversaries. Any international actor is a negotiating partner with whom cooperation is either beneficial or not. If reaching an agreement with Vladimir Putin serves U.S. interests, he is prepared to do so regardless of Moscow’s actions. If he considers free weapons deliveries to Ukraine to be financially unjustified, he halts them even if critics argue that doing so undermines U.S. security interests. At the same time, he has supported the idea that European countries should pay for the American-made arms being supplied to Kyiv.

Europe has rejected what it sees as diplomacy conducted through social media, but Trump has used such platforms routinely. The world learned about a possible compromise over Greenland through a post on Truth Social.

Trump has also raised doubts about NATO’s future and its military effectiveness, reflecting his belief in U.S. military self-sufficiency and his view that the alliance is more important to Europe than it is to the United States.

After Trump was sworn in for the second time, the EU spent months trying to maintain cooperation, even if doing so required exercising restraint and agreeing to make concessions. For Brussels, the priority was preserving Western unity and economic stability while maintaining Washington’s status as a largely irreplaceable partner for Ukraine.

French President Emmanuel Macron visited the United States in February 2025, Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni in April, and German Chancellor Friedrich Merz in June. Their approaches differed, but their public messages were similar: readiness for cooperation, shared goals, transatlantic unity, and a constructive approach. That “constructive approach” became Europe’s main line in the months that followed.

As a result, the “coalition of the willing” agreed to finance U.S. weapons supplies to Ukraine from European funds. Europe signaled flexibility in negotiations over tariffs, reduced duties on certain U.S. exports, and made concessions in talks on liquefied natural gas and nuclear energy projects.

At Merz’s initiative, Trump and his team were included in European video conferences ahead of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s visit to Washington. Later, a delegation of transatlantic leaders met Trump in Washington to urge him to take Kyiv’s position into account when setting out America’s foreign policy priorities. European caution was also reflected in official statements, including restrained reactions to U.S. actions in Venezuela that saw the country’s head of state removed from a “safe” house and delivered to a jail in New York.

Europe also accepted Trump’s demand for sharply higher defense spending. In 2022, only five NATO countries allocated 2% of GDP to defense; by 2025, at least 13 did so. By then, Trump’s target had risen to 5%, a long-term goal that was formally endorsed by NATO in 2025. Russian threats played a role in that decision, but so did Washington’s long-standing argument that the United States had been carrying too much of the burden for Europe’s defense.

Efforts to accommodate the U.S. president were not entirely without results. The United States remains NATO’s top contributor by a wide margin. Kyiv continues to receive U.S. weapons and intelligence, helping it repel Russian attacks and stabilize parts of the front. The EU avoided the worst-case scenario in its tariff dispute with Washington. In some cases, Trump even took European proposals into account, including when it came to amendments to a proposed plan for ending the war in Ukraine.

But there has been no fundamental shift in Washington’s policy. In its new National Security Strategy, the White House openly admitted that Trump does not regard “this” Europe as an ally. Long-term strategic partnerships no longer appear central to the administration’s approach, and alliances are seen primarily as tools for short- or medium-term advantage.

The dispute over Greenland marked a genuine point of no return for European leaders. The American president was putting out the sorts of provocative, contradictory statements typical of authoritarian pressure tactics, and with each successive missive, the collective security guarantee binding NATO together appeared increasingly fragile.

“We will not allow ourselves to be blackmailed”

The failure of Europe’s strategy of accommodation had a simple cause: the continent could not “interest” Donald Trump or offer him what he considered a good deal. Brussels and Washington continued to speak different political languages, and even leaders from Italy and Poland, who were respected by Trump and ideologically closer to him, were unable to persuade the White House to return to a traditional framework of alliance commitments and transatlantic cooperation.

Trump did not see why such a framework was necessary. Economic concessions were viewed less as a mutually beneficial compromise than as weakness and an invitation for further pressure. The lengthy process of coordinating positions among the EU’s 27 member states reinforced his perception of the bloc as ineffective. European proposals on political platforms did not match Trump’s vision of America’s role in the world — or that of his voters — giving \him little incentive to agree.

The result has been a European Union that is taking ever larger steps toward greater political and military independence from the United States, both at the EU level and nationally. Germany, for example, pursuing Chancellor Merz’s goal of building Europe’s strongest army, has placed defense orders totalling tens of billions of euros with German and American contractors. The Bundeswehr, which remains a volunteer-based military, has reached its highest troop levels in 12 years.

In 2025, France adopted a five-year military plan that includes sharp increases in defense spending and the mobilization of both the public and private sectors. A key element is what officials call “moral rearmament,” meaning public awareness campaigns and efforts to increase civic responsibility in the face of current threats.

A decisive shift in European rhetoric toward Trump and his administration came during the Greenland crisis. The U.S. president openly signaled a willingness to put the foundations of NATO at risk, raising the prospect of the alliance’s most serious crisis in decades — this at a time when Europe was already facing its bloodiest war since 1945 and direct threats along its eastern borders.

European leaders concluded that they no longer needed to restrain their public criticism of Trump. Speaking in Davos, French President Emmanuel Macron said the United States was seeking to weaken and subordinate Europe, but that it would fail because Europeans preferred “respect to bullies.” Swedish Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson, celebrating what he called a European victory in the Greenland dispute, said a united Europe had forced the United States to step back, adding that the EU “cannot allow itself to be blackmailed by any country,” including the United States, and that trust between Europe and America had been “damaged.”

In a formal government statement to the Bundestag in late January, Merz called for greater continental confidence, strength, and a Europe that “speaks the language of power politics.” He said the EU would present “an alternative to imperialism and authoritarianism” and spoke of a renewed sense of self-respect after Europe resisted Trump’s push to annex Greenland.

Sharp criticism of Trump also came from parts of Europe’s far right, which had largely avoided attacking the United States in hopes of winning favor with the White House. One Danish member of the European Parliament addressed Trump directly from the chamber’s podium with an expletive.

Alongside the rhetorical response, the EU took practical steps. Media reports cited preparations for contingency plans to defend Greenland in the event of U.S. aggression. A group of European military officers also traveled to the island to assess security risks in the Arctic.

The move put Trump in a difficult position. His central argument had been that Europe could not defend Greenland, a fact that made it hard for him to oppose a European assessment mission. At the same time, he could not ignore what he viewed as defiance. The U.S. president responded by threatening new trade tariffs, and EU officials replied that they could impose countermeasures worth nearly $100 billion.

Soon after the Greenland compromise, the EU and India announced that they had reached full agreement on a long-delayed free trade deal that had first been launched in 2007. The agreement provides for the elimination or significant reduction of tariffs on more than 95% of European exports to the sub-continent. A trade partnership between the world’s second- and fourth-largest economies, accounting for more than 20% of global GDP, carried clear political significance. European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen did not hold back on her praise, saying that “Europe and India were writing history.” U.S. officials, expressing their disappointment, claimed that the EU was “financing a war against itself” (a reference to the Russian-Indian oil trade).

Independence at the cost of half a trillion

Europe, however, should not get carried away by its “success” in dealing with the Greenland crisis. Trump’s retreat may have been driven largely by domestic political factors. His approval rating has fallen to 37%, the lowest of his presidency. The U.S. has remained divided over immigration, and many of his supporters were dissatisfied with rising consumer prices. With midterm elections approaching in November, a risky foreign policy confrontation could have been politically costly for the Republicans. Democratic approval ratings are already higher than those of Trump’s party.

One important factor also stands out: the understanding with Trump was reached not through formal EU-White House negotiations, but largely through direct contacts between the U.S. president and NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte. Trump is known to have a personal rapport with the Dutch politician, who did not formally hold a mandate to negotiate such arrangements.

Of course, Europe’s emancipation cannot be achieved by bold statements alone. European industry does not produce several categories of advanced weapons, and many key components are licensed and cannot be manufactured outside the United States without American approval. U.S. capabilities remain critical in intelligence gathering, from aerial reconnaissance and satellite monitoring to artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, transportation, and operational planning. Most NATO missions have been planned and coordinated largely — and sometimes entirely — by the United States.

Washington spends roughly three times as much on defense as European countries as a whole do. Estimates vary on how much time and money it might take Europe to match U.S. military capabilities (even excluding nuclear forces and satellite systems), but pessimists argue it could be as much as $1 trillion a year for 25 years. Europe has neither that kind of money nor that much time, and it lacks the unity needed to make a consensus decision on that scale. Most likely, Europeans will look for cheaper means of self-defense that would only reduce their critical dependence on the American military machine, not eliminate it.

At the same time, Europe’s economic, political, and psychological dependence on an unpredictable superpower may be easier to overcome. In 1980, then-European Commission President Jacques Delors described what was then merely a nine-member Common Market as a “trading giant and a first-class economic power.”

Decades later, his successor Jean-Claude Juncker repeated the description for the modern 27-member EU, adding that Europe often fails to recognize its own strength. The bloc remains one of the world’s largest economic actors, and its single market of nearly 450 million relatively affluent consumers is among the most attractive globally. Six European countries rank among the world’s top 20 economies by nominal GDP, which already gives the EU a certain degree of autonomy.

An independent foreign policy does not necessarily require time or major investments. One of Trump’s frequent criticisms contains some truth: when conflicts emerge, the EU often limits itself to expressions of concern, leaving the United States to take the lead in addressing threats.

Under the current circumstances, however, Europe increasingly sees little alternative to acting as a global geopolitical player. It is likely to expand not only its economic but also its political presence in regions from Asia and Africa to Central and South America. The EU has an opportunity to present itself as an alternative — both to authoritarian influence and to U.S. dominance in multiple parts of the world.

New allies

As these processes unfold, the EU needs allies. One has already come into view: the UK, which has been the United States’ most faithful partner for the past 80 years and which left the European Union after the Brexit referendum of 2016. But since 2024 London has increasingly been playing “on the European team.”

UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer harshly criticized U.S. pressure on Greenland and openly backed Denmark and the EU, landing his country on the list of “victims” of higher tariffs announced — but never imposed — by Trump. The world’s sixth-largest country by nominal GDP — with a nuclear arsenal, a strong army, high-tech industry, and global influence — the UK noticeably strengthens the pan-European push for sovereignty.

A second potential natural ally could be Canada. Brussels and Ottawa have plenty of common ground: support for Ukraine, an aversion to authoritarianism, respect for human rights, a humane approach to foreign policy, action against climate change, similar approaches on refugees and migration, and a course aimed at strengthening NATO.

Canada has repeatedly become a target of Trump’s, and reports that representatives from Washington had repeated contacts with Canadian separatists have become a serious threat to relations. A speech by Prime Minister Mark Carney in Davos, in which he delivered a blistering critique of Trump’s style and urged “middle powers” to unite, quickly became legendary. In the verbal back-and-forth with Washington that followed, Ottawa reaffirmed its position.

Still, it is not worth overestimating the impact of the current U.S.-European escalation. As the “Greenland conflict” moved into a less acute phase, European leaders shifted back to a conciliatory tone, with Merz speaking of “good results” from talks with Trump. The idea of an emancipated Europe is not new, either. Juncker offered a ready-made concept, “The Hour of European Sovereignty,” back in 2018. Yet since then, almost nothing has been done.

Unquestionably, Brussels still has senior politicians who hope to “wait out” the current U.S. administration by striking narrow, case-by-case compromises with Trump and counting on the Democrats to return to the White House after the 2028 election. But the world is fundamentally different from what it was eight years ago. For Europe, geopolitical passivity is no longer the least risky path forward.