Donald Trump
No. 1 — United States
Trying to describe Europe’s relationship with Donald Trump has become a full-time diplomatic exercise. Is he a partner? Occasionally. A threat? At times. A force reshaping the relationship on his own terms? Always. What’s clear is that Europe is dealing with an unpredictable, domineering partner whose impulses can upend the continent overnight.
As we assembled POLITICO’s annual ranking of the 28 most powerful people in European politics and policy, one reality became inescapable: No one has exerted more influence in or on Europe this year than the U.S. president.
That conclusion forced us to break one of our own rules. The POLITICO 28 traditionally includes only Europeans — people living or working on the continent. But if there was ever a moment to make an exception, it’s now. Trump’s shadow looms so large over European capitals that his decisions — or outbursts — have reshaped everything from defense budgets to trade policy to domestic politics.
Trump laid out his theory on why he exerts so much power over the continent in an interview with POLITICO’s Dasha Burns for a special episode of The Conversation: “Europe doesn’t know what to do,” he said. He pointed to immigration as the root cause of the “decaying” of most European nations.
“They want to be politically correct, and it makes them weak,” he added.
Volatility
Europe’s leaders understand they’re dealing with a volatile partner. They see the unpredictability and the mounting asymmetry. Yet they remain bound to Washington, on the assumption that the continent’s security architecture — and much of its prosperity — still rests on the American pillar.
The early months of Trump’s second term set the tone for what became a grueling year for European diplomats. His public flirtations with Russian President Vladimir Putin stunned even seasoned observers. His humiliation of Ukrainian leader Volodymyr Zelenskyy heightened fears that Washington had turned from ally to antagonist.
Trump’s vice president, JD Vance, tore through diplomatic convention in Munich, openly criticizing European governments for their treatment of right-wing parties. The breach of etiquette underscored how far the U.S. administration was willing to go to shape Europe’s politics in its own image — an objective that was later confirmed in Trump’s bombshell National Security Strategy, which declared that Europe faced “civilizational erasure” due to migration and vowed to cultivate “resistance to Europe’s current trajectory within European nations.”
A pattern quickly established itself: a destabilizing display of dominance by Trump, desperate cajoling from Europe, and then another shock. Each act of abasement by European leaders seemed to invite fresh punishment.
In private and in public, officials bemoaned the damage being wrought. But the collective conclusion seemed to be that for now, at least, Europe needed to suck it up. One after another, European leaders flew to Washington, buttering up the U.S. president in the hope of keeping him appeased.
The rationale was clear. Most of Europe had relied on American protection since the end of World War II. There was no way that countries like Germany could rebuild a credible army, much less a nuclear deterrent, overnight. With war raging on the continent, Europe had little choice but to cling to whatever remained of the American shield, however fragile it suddenly seemed.
In June, after multiple leaders had beaten the path to the White House and NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte had flattered the U.S. president with obsequious text messages, Trump questioned Article 5 — the military alliance’s sacred pledge of mutual defense. Two months later, the imbalance was laid bare in a lopsided trade deal that saw Brussels swallow punitive tariffs and make unrealistic promises of investment to buy temporary calm.
The relief was real; so was the humiliation.
Appeasement
Not everyone in Europe accepted the logic of the approach. “Some would like to think that one can respond with measure and reason … to somehow appease the Moloch,” former French Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin told POLITICO in April. The real danger, he argued, was the continent’s leaders underestimating Washington’s “will to vassalize Europe.”
Indeed, on the diplomatic front, the new administration has blurred the line between foreign policy and political campaigning. Breaking with the tradition in which national leaders stay out of foreign politics, Trump and his allies have jumped with both feet — from Vance’s intervention in Munich to Elon Musk’s backing of the far right in Germany and the United Kingdom.
Now European leaders are watching nervously, noting that Trump sent France’s Marine Le Pen words of support after her conviction for embezzling EU funds and has deepened his friendship with Hungary’s Viktor Orbán. With both France and Hungary heading into pivotal elections, the prospect of an American finger on the scale has become a standing concern for many in Brussels.
At times, Europe has tried to turn Trump’s impulses to its advantage. When the White House threatened to block remaining Russian oil exports to Europe, officials saw a rare opening for leverage against Orbán, who has been resisting decoupling from Moscow. But the victory evaporated as quickly as it appeared; Trump backtracked days later.
The U.S. president’s dominance has reshaped Europe’s economy as much as its diplomacy. His America First energy policy and his brash promotion of U.S. oil and gas have emboldened the backlash against the Green Deal, strengthening the argument that Europe has prioritized climate action over competitiveness and jobs.
Meanwhile, Washington’s deregulation drive has undercut Europe’s identity as the world’s regulatory superpower. From digital privacy to artificial intelligence, the old Brussels model of careful, moralizing rulemaking suddenly looks out of step with the new global mood.
Alternative
Still, some in Europe are trying to free the continent from Trump’s grip. Like a partner quietly setting aside money in preparation for a breakup, the bloc is investing in its defense and strategic autonomy. Berlin and Copenhagen are turning to European suppliers for their growing arsenals — and quietly embracing Paris’ long-held view that the transatlantic alliance is to be respected, but not overly relied upon.
In a landmark foreign policy speech in September, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, once a staunch Atlanticist, doubled down on the need for Europe to build a healthy distance. “We must face the fact that our relationship with the U.S. is changing,” he said. “We are ready for close coordination and cooperation. But it is becoming apparent that this partnership will be less self-evident.”
American strategists, too, are starting to see the danger. Kori Schake, a former adviser to then U.S. President George W. Bush, warned that by bullying its allies, Washington risks eroding the very foundation of its power: “One of the most important deficiencies of the Trump administration, strategically, is their inability to understand that American power floats on voluntary cooperation from other countries,” Schake, now a senior fellow at the conservative think tank American Enterprise Institute, said. “Trump seems to think you can treat your friends worse than you treat your enemies.”
Her warning resonated in October, when top U.S. intelligence officials rushed to Brussels to reassure their European counterparts after the Dutch curtailed intelligence sharing with Washington over high-profile security breaches. “What they underestimate is that if we continue to behave this way, countries have other options,” Schake said. “We’re not worried enough about the creation of an international order that marginalizes American influence and seeks to insulate itself against American power.”
In other words, Washington’s dominance might be unmatched in recent memory, and yet it may also be at its peak. Europe isn’t ready to let go of the U.S. alliance — but the quiet work of building an alternative has already begun.
No. 1 — United States
Trying to describe Europe’s relationship with Donald Trump has become a full-time diplomatic exercise. Is he a partner? Occasionally. A threat? At times. A force reshaping the relationship on his own terms? Always. What’s clear is that Europe is dealing with an unpredictable, domineering partner whose impulses can upend the continent overnight.
As we assembled POLITICO’s annual ranking of the 28 most powerful people in European politics and policy, one reality became inescapable: No one has exerted more influence in or on Europe this year than the U.S. president.
That conclusion forced us to break one of our own rules. The POLITICO 28 traditionally includes only Europeans — people living or working on the continent. But if there was ever a moment to make an exception, it’s now. Trump’s shadow looms so large over European capitals that his decisions — or outbursts — have reshaped everything from defense budgets to trade policy to domestic politics.
Trump laid out his theory on why he exerts so much power over the continent in an interview with POLITICO’s Dasha Burns for a special episode of The Conversation: “Europe doesn’t know what to do,” he said. He pointed to immigration as the root cause of the “decaying” of most European nations.
“They want to be politically correct, and it makes them weak,” he added.
Volatility
Europe’s leaders understand they’re dealing with a volatile partner. They see the unpredictability and the mounting asymmetry. Yet they remain bound to Washington, on the assumption that the continent’s security architecture — and much of its prosperity — still rests on the American pillar.
The early months of Trump’s second term set the tone for what became a grueling year for European diplomats. His public flirtations with Russian President Vladimir Putin stunned even seasoned observers. His humiliation of Ukrainian leader Volodymyr Zelenskyy heightened fears that Washington had turned from ally to antagonist.
Trump’s vice president, JD Vance, tore through diplomatic convention in Munich, openly criticizing European governments for their treatment of right-wing parties. The breach of etiquette underscored how far the U.S. administration was willing to go to shape Europe’s politics in its own image — an objective that was later confirmed in Trump’s bombshell National Security Strategy, which declared that Europe faced “civilizational erasure” due to migration and vowed to cultivate “resistance to Europe’s current trajectory within European nations.”
A pattern quickly established itself: a destabilizing display of dominance by Trump, desperate cajoling from Europe, and then another shock. Each act of abasement by European leaders seemed to invite fresh punishment.
In private and in public, officials bemoaned the damage being wrought. But the collective conclusion seemed to be that for now, at least, Europe needed to suck it up. One after another, European leaders flew to Washington, buttering up the U.S. president in the hope of keeping him appeased.
The rationale was clear. Most of Europe had relied on American protection since the end of World War II. There was no way that countries like Germany could rebuild a credible army, much less a nuclear deterrent, overnight. With war raging on the continent, Europe had little choice but to cling to whatever remained of the American shield, however fragile it suddenly seemed.
In June, after multiple leaders had beaten the path to the White House and NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte had flattered the U.S. president with obsequious text messages, Trump questioned Article 5 — the military alliance’s sacred pledge of mutual defense. Two months later, the imbalance was laid bare in a lopsided trade deal that saw Brussels swallow punitive tariffs and make unrealistic promises of investment to buy temporary calm.
The relief was real; so was the humiliation.
Appeasement
Not everyone in Europe accepted the logic of the approach. “Some would like to think that one can respond with measure and reason … to somehow appease the Moloch,” former French Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin told POLITICO in April. The real danger, he argued, was the continent’s leaders underestimating Washington’s “will to vassalize Europe.”
Indeed, on the diplomatic front, the new administration has blurred the line between foreign policy and political campaigning. Breaking with the tradition in which national leaders stay out of foreign politics, Trump and his allies have jumped with both feet — from Vance’s intervention in Munich to Elon Musk’s backing of the far right in Germany and the United Kingdom.
Now European leaders are watching nervously, noting that Trump sent France’s Marine Le Pen words of support after her conviction for embezzling EU funds and has deepened his friendship with Hungary’s Viktor Orbán. With both France and Hungary heading into pivotal elections, the prospect of an American finger on the scale has become a standing concern for many in Brussels.
At times, Europe has tried to turn Trump’s impulses to its advantage. When the White House threatened to block remaining Russian oil exports to Europe, officials saw a rare opening for leverage against Orbán, who has been resisting decoupling from Moscow. But the victory evaporated as quickly as it appeared; Trump backtracked days later.
The U.S. president’s dominance has reshaped Europe’s economy as much as its diplomacy. His America First energy policy and his brash promotion of U.S. oil and gas have emboldened the backlash against the Green Deal, strengthening the argument that Europe has prioritized climate action over competitiveness and jobs.
Meanwhile, Washington’s deregulation drive has undercut Europe’s identity as the world’s regulatory superpower. From digital privacy to artificial intelligence, the old Brussels model of careful, moralizing rulemaking suddenly looks out of step with the new global mood.
Alternative
Still, some in Europe are trying to free the continent from Trump’s grip. Like a partner quietly setting aside money in preparation for a breakup, the bloc is investing in its defense and strategic autonomy. Berlin and Copenhagen are turning to European suppliers for their growing arsenals — and quietly embracing Paris’ long-held view that the transatlantic alliance is to be respected, but not overly relied upon.
In a landmark foreign policy speech in September, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, once a staunch Atlanticist, doubled down on the need for Europe to build a healthy distance. “We must face the fact that our relationship with the U.S. is changing,” he said. “We are ready for close coordination and cooperation. But it is becoming apparent that this partnership will be less self-evident.”
American strategists, too, are starting to see the danger. Kori Schake, a former adviser to then U.S. President George W. Bush, warned that by bullying its allies, Washington risks eroding the very foundation of its power: “One of the most important deficiencies of the Trump administration, strategically, is their inability to understand that American power floats on voluntary cooperation from other countries,” Schake, now a senior fellow at the conservative think tank American Enterprise Institute, said. “Trump seems to think you can treat your friends worse than you treat your enemies.”
Her warning resonated in October, when top U.S. intelligence officials rushed to Brussels to reassure their European counterparts after the Dutch curtailed intelligence sharing with Washington over high-profile security breaches. “What they underestimate is that if we continue to behave this way, countries have other options,” Schake said. “We’re not worried enough about the creation of an international order that marginalizes American influence and seeks to insulate itself against American power.”
In other words, Washington’s dominance might be unmatched in recent memory, and yet it may also be at its peak. Europe isn’t ready to let go of the U.S. alliance — but the quiet work of building an alternative has already begun.
