Mujtaba Rahman is the head of Eurasia Group’s Europe practice. He posts at @Mij_Europe. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer has only four months to save his premiership. After the U.K. parliament’s return from Christmas recess, Starmer marked his first 18 months in Downing Street with a speech touting his Labour party’s efforts to ease the cost-of-living crisis. But behind the scenes, anxiety is growing that voters won’t feel any meaningful relief before the decisive regional and local elections on May 7, which could seal the prime minister’s political fate. And the outlook is bleak: After placing third in the Welsh Parliament elections behind Plaid Cymru and far-right leader Nigel Farage’s Reform UK, failing to unseat the Scottish National Party in Scotland, and bleeding support to both the Greens and Reform UK in English council contests, Labour risks humiliation across the U.K. And national polling only underscores the danger, with Reform UK now averaging close to 30 percent, and Labour languishing in the teens alongside the Greens and the Conservatives. Still, Starmer’s advisers privately argue that “less bad than expected” results might be enough to save him. But many Labour MPs expect a leadership challenge regardless, as it would require only 81 out of 404 MPs to initiate one — and Starmer is hardly popular with the wider party. Then there’s the unfolding scandal over Labour stalwart and former U.K. ambassador to the U.S. Peter Mandelson. Mandelson was appointed by Starmer before being removed from his position in September once the extent of his friendship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein became clear. Under mounting pressure, Starmer has been strong in his criticism and push for transparency — but that may not be enough, as Mandelson’s now under investigation for misconduct while in public office. A challenge may not come immediately, or even right after polling day in May. But the sense that Starmer’s authority is waning is unmistakable. For one, the prime minister is already preparing his defense. A King’s speech designed to reset the agenda ,outlining proposals on special education needs and digital ID, is now penciled in for mid-May. A cabinet reshuffle may follow, and some in Labour believe Starmer might even sacrifice his chancellor if he thinks it would placate restive backbenchers. He’s also expected to recall former Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner to the cabinet, hoping her return could blunt any leadership ambitions. Labour’s traditions may offer Starmer only limited protection.While the party prides itself on avoiding the “regicide” that’s plagued the rival Conservatives, this instinct will weaken if electoral defeat looms. Labour MPs may dread a destabilizing leadership contest, but many have already concluded Starmer won’t lead them into the next general election. And privately, some ministers believe it’s no longer a question of if the prime minister falls, but when. Their concerns are understandable: Energized by new leadership, the Greens are siphoning some progressive voters, while Reform UK is eroding Labour’s traditional working-class base. Meanwhile, the Conservatives have stabilized enough under Kemi Badenoch’s leadership to reduce the likelihood of another revolt — a development that leaves Starmer more exposed. So, if a contest is triggered, he’s unlikely to survive it. Party members — roughly 250,000-strong — tend to favor the soft left. And that dynamic would advantage Rayner, should she stand. Last week’s events in Greater Manchester only further crystallized this perception of Starmer’s weakness. His decision to block Mayor Andy Burnham from contesting a parliamentary by-election was a lose-lose proposition: Either deny Burnham a Westminster platform and risk a party backlash, or enable a future leadership challenger. And Starmer chose the former, provoking fury while reinforcing the perception that he’s defensive and frail. Then came news of Mandelson. Starmer was elected on the promise of ending the chaos of government sleaze, and this saga will only foment questions about his judgement when appointing Mandelson ambassador. And the prime minister may well end up having to sacrifice his beloved advisor Morgan McSweeney, who lobbied for Mandelson to be picked for the plum Washington post. Labour MPs may dread a destabilizing leadership contest, but many have already concluded Starmer won’t lead them into the next general election. | Lukas Coch/EPA Meanwhile, foreign policy — the one area where Starmer’s performance has proven more assured — is offering Number 10 no relief either. U.S. President Donald Trump’s return to the White House has distracted him from and sometimes undermined his domestic agenda, particularly in the case of tariffs. And the latest crisis over Greenland was no exception. Managing relations with the U.S. under Trump has forced Starmer into awkward contortions, attempting to respond to provocations while trying to preserve his strategy of staying close to both Washington and Brussels, where his government is trying to reset relations. As it stands, the debate inside Labour over whether to pivot toward the EU is intensifying, and there’s now growing support within the party for a customs union with the bloc. But Starmer’s preference for incremental sector-by-sector alignment risks satisfying no one, viewed in Brussels as cherry-picking and at home as timid. Even loyalists concede a damaging story has taken hold: A prime minister unable to impose a vision or discipline, haunted by his early decisions, buffeted by U-turns and trapped by his own party. Starmer wanted to avoid a Tory-style drama. Instead, he’s now heading one of Labour’s own — slower, quieter but no less brutal. And four months isn’t long to change the narrative, especially when so many in his own party have already turned the page.

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. Another round of U.S.-brokered Ukraine talks commence today in Abu Dhabi. The overall outlook remains no less bleak for Ukraine, as it inches toward the fourth anniversary of Russia’s war. Yet there are signs that what comes out of this week’s face-to-face negotiations may finally answer a key question: Is Russian President Vladimir Putin serious? On the eve of the planned two-day talks, Russia resumed its large-scale air assault on Ukraine’s battered infrastructure after a brief weekend hiatus. Striking cities including Kyiv, Dnipro, Kharkiv, Sumy and Odesa overnight with 450 drones and 71 missiles, including ballistic, Russia hit the country’s energy grid and residential houses as temperatures dropped below -20 degrees Celsius. “Putin must be deprived of illusions that he can achieve anything by his bombing, terror, and aggression,” pleaded Ukraine’s frustrated Minister of Foreign Affairs Andrii Sybiha. “Neither anticipated diplomatic efforts in Abu Dhabi this week nor his promises to the United States kept him from continuing terror against ordinary people in the harshest winter.” According to U.S. President Donald Trump, those promises included refraining from targeting Kyiv and other major cities for a whole week during a period of “extraordinary cold.” But no sooner had Trump spoken than Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov warned the break would only last a weekend. That’s hardly an auspicious launchpad to negotiations, and has many Ukrainian politicians arguing that Russia is merely going through the motions to ensure it doesn’t end up on the wrong side of an unpredictable U.S. leader — albeit one who seems inordinately patient with Putin, and much less so with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Not that Ukrainians had put much store in a week-long “energy ceasefire” to begin with. A vicious war has taught them to expect the worst. “Unfortunately, everything is entirely predictable,” posted Zelenskyy adviser Mykhailo Podolyak on Tuesday. “This is what a Russian ‘ceasefire’ looks like: during a brief thaw, stockpile enough missiles and then strike at night when temperatures drop to minus 24 Celsius or lower, targeting civilians. Russia sees no reason whatsoever to stop the war, halt genocidal practices, or engage in diplomacy. Only large-scale freezing tactics.” It’s difficult to quibble with his pessimism. Putin’s Kremlin has a long track record of using peace talks to delay, obfuscate, exhaust opponents and continue with war. It’s part of a playbook the Russian leader and his lugubrious Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov have used time and again in Ukraine, and for years in Syria. Nonetheless, according to some Ukrainian and U.S. sources familiar with the conduct of the talks, there are indications that the current negotiations may be more promising than widely credited. They say both sides are actually being more “constructive” — which, admittedly, is an adjective that has often been misused. “Before, these negotiations were like pulling teeth without anesthetic,” said a Republican foreign policy expert who has counseled Kyiv. Granted anonymity in order to speak freely, he said: “Before, I felt like screaming whenever I had to see another readout that said the discussions were ‘constructive.’ But now, I think they are constructive in some ways. I’m noticing the Russians are taking these talks more seriously.” It’s part of a playbook the Russian leader and his lugubrious Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov have used time and again in Ukraine, and for years in Syria. | Maxim Shipenkov/EPA Some of this, he said, owes to the skill of those now leading the Ukrainian team after the departure of Zelenskyy’s powerful former chief of staff, Andriy Yermak. Among the smartest and most able are: Yermak’s replacement as head of the Office of the President and former chief of the Main Intelligence Directorate Kyrylo Budanov; Secretary of the National Security and Defense Council Rustem Umerov; and Davyd Arakhamia, who heads the parliamentary faction of Zelenskyy’s ruling Servant of the People party. “I am noticing since Davyd got involved … there’s been a noticeable improvement with the Russian negotiators. I think that’s because they respect them — especially Davyd — and because they see them as people who are living in reality and are prepared to compromise,” the expert explained. “I’m cautiously optimistic that we have a reasonable chance to end this conflict in the spring.” A former senior Ukrainian official who was also granted anonymity to speak to POLITICO was less optimistic, but even he concurred there’s been a shift in the mood music and a change in tone from Russia at the negotiating table. Describing the head of the Russian delegation, chief of the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces Igor Kostyukov, and Military Intelligence officer Alexander Zorin as practical men, he said neither were prone to giving long lectures on the conflict’s “root causes” — unlike Lavrov and Putin. “The Russian intelligence officers have been workmanlike, digging into practical details,” noted the former official, whom Zelenskyy’s office still consults. He hazards that the change may have to do with the Kremlin’s reading that Europe is getting more serious about continent-wide defense, ramping up weapons production and trying to become less dependent on the U.S. for its overall security. “Putin must be deprived of illusions that he can achieve anything by his bombing, terror, and aggression,” pleaded Ukraine’s frustrated Minister of Foreign Affairs Andrii Sybiha. | Olivier Matthys/EPA “A peace deal, an end of the war, could take a lot of the momentum out of this — European leaders would have a much tougher time selling to their voters the sacrifices that will be needed to shift to higher defense spending,” he said. Of course, Russia’s shift in tone may be another attempt to string Trump along. “Putin has almost nothing to show for the massive costs of the war. Accepting a negotiated settlement now, where he cannot claim a clear ‘win’ for Russia and for the Russian people, would be a big problem domestically,” argued retired Australian general Mick Ryan. Whatever the reasons, what emerges from Abu Dhabi in the coming days will likely tell us if Putin finally means business.

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. Today’s angry and discombobulating geopolitical landscape is giving rise to noticeably more acrimonious diplomatic exchanges than seen in preceding decades — even sharper than during U.S. President Donald Trump’s first term. This is likely just a reflection of the times we live in: Roiled by shocks and uncertainty, even world leaders and their envoys are on edge. And social media doesn’t help keep exchanges calm and respectful either. Measured speech doesn’t go viral. If you want attention, be disparaging and abrasive. Let’s take Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney’s carefully crafted speech at Davos last week. Carney earned a standing ovation from global and corporate leaders as he bewailed the unfolding great-power rivalry, urging “middle powers” to act together “because if we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu.” Yet, it was Trump’s free-wheeling, sharp-edged speech with its personal criticism of fellow Western leaders — including a jab at French President Emmanuel Macron — that roared on social media. This shift away from traditional diplomatic etiquette toward more confrontational, seemingly no-nonsense and aggressive public-facing communication is very much in keeping with populist styles of leadership. And it’s now shaping an era where antagonistic communication isn’t just tolerated but celebrated and applauded by many. Trump is very much a man of his times. And it’s time Europe finally caught on. Aside from Trump, Russian President Vladimir Putin is also often known to use colloquial and crude language to attack Western and Ukrainian leaders — though noticeably, he never uses such language with Trump. In an address last month, Putin referred to European leaders as podsvinki — little pigs. And before invading Ukraine in February 2022, he used a vulgar Russian rhyme to insinuate Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy needed to be raped. China, too, has been noticeably more menacing in its diplomatic speech in recent years — though it tends to eschew personal invective. The shift began around 2019, when Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi instructed envoys to display a stronger “fighting spirit” to defend Beijing from supposed Western bullying. The abrasive style led to the more aggressive envoys being dubbed “wolf warriors,” after a blockbuster movie in which Chinese commandos vanquish American mercenaries. But driving the trend are Trump and his aides, who can go toe-to-toe with anyone when it comes to put-downs, slurs or retaliation. And if met with pushback, they simply escalate. Hence the avuncular counsel of U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent to Europeans on the Greenland-related tariff threats last week: “Sit back, take a deep breath, do not retaliate.” But here’s the curious thing: While the Russians and Chinese use such language to target their foes, Trump and his senior aides reserve much of their invective for supposed allies, namely Europe with Canada thrown in for good measure. And they’re utterly relentless in doing so — far more than during his first term, when there were still some more traditionally minded folks in the White House to temper or walk back the rhetoric. This all seemed to reach its pinnacle in Davos last week, where it seemed belittling European allies was part of virtually everything the U.S. delegation said in the Swiss ski resort. Bessent couldn’t even restrain himself from insulting Swiss-German fare. And U.S. Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnik appeared almost gleeful in infuriating Europe’s leaders with his combative remarks at a VIP dinner which, according to the Financial Times, not only sparked uproar but prompted European Central Bank President Christine Lagarde to leave the event early. “Only one person booed, and it was Al Gore,” said the U.S. Commerce Department in a statement to media. But others at the event — around 200 people — said there was, indeed, some heckling, though not so much because of the content of Lutnik’s criticism, some of which Europeans have also made about net zero, energy policy, globalization and regulation. According to two attendees, who asked to be granted anonymity to speak freely, it was in reaction to the contemptuous tone instead. Likewise, Trump’s delegation — the largest ever brought from Washington to Davos — didn’t miss a beat in pressing America First themes, making it clear the U.S. would prioritize its own economic interests regardless of how it affects allies. “When America shines, the world shines,” Lutnik said. China, too, has been noticeably more menacing in its diplomatic speech in recent years — though it tends to eschew personal invective. | Pool photo by Vincent Thian/EPA As the forum unfolded, however, U.S. Vice President JD Vance insisted that what was fueling such criticism wasn’t hatred for the old continent, but that it was more a matter of tough love. “They think that we hate Europe. We don’t. We love Europe,” he said. “We love European civilization. We want it to preserve itself.” That in itself seems pretty condescending. Tough love or not, Europe-bashing plays well with the MAGA crowd back home who feel Europeans are the haughty ones, lacking gratitude, freeloading and in dire need of subordination — and squeals of complaint merely incite more of the same. To that end, Zelenskyy made a telling a point: European leaders shouldn’t waste their time trying to change Trump but rather focus on themselves. Time to stop complaining about America First and get on with putting Europe First.

Elisabeth Braw is a senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, the author of the award-winning book “Goodbye Globalization” and a regular columnist for POLITICO. You may have heard that some unsavory ships have been navigating our waters, smuggling drugs and other goods, damaging underwater infrastructure and sometimes just lurking, perhaps conducting surveillance. Many of these ships turn up in Irish waters, which are home to multiple undersea cables. But while Ireland has a tiny navy to deal with these unwanted visitors, it does have another formidable resource that helps keep its waters safe: its fishermen. And for the sake of national security, let’s hope this shrinking tribe manages to renew its ranks. In January 2022, Ireland was facing a terrible dilemma: The Russian Navy had just announced it was going to hold an exercise in Irish waters. Conducting wargames in the exclusive economic zones of other countries is legal, but guests ordinarily ask for permission — and Russia definitely wasn’t a welcome visitor. Like the rest of Europe, Ireland was gripped with fear that Russia was about to invade Ukraine and perhaps other countries. Dublin politely asked the Russian Navy to refrain from holding its exercises, but to no avail. The wargames were going to take place. But then the Irish government received assistance from an unexpected source. The country’s fishermen declared they wouldn’t allow the exercise to happen: “This is the livelihoods of fishermen and fishing families all around the coastline here,” announced Patrick Murphy, chief executive of the Irish South and West Fish Producers Organisation, on RTE radio. “It’s our waters. Can you imagine if the Russians were applying to go onto the mainland of Ireland to go launching rockets, how far would they get with that?” The fishermen, Murphy explained, would take turns fishing around the clock. The maneuver made it impossible for the Russians to perform their exercises, and Moscow ended up cancelling the wargames. The creativity of these gutsy fishermen made global news, but away from the headlines, they and their colleagues in other countries have long been aiding national security. In the early hours of Oct. 28, 1981, two Swedish fishermen on their daily round off the coast of Karlskrona noticed something unusual. They decided to alert the authorities, and the navy dispatched a vessel. What the fishermen had spotted turned out to be the U137 — a Soviet nuclear submarine that had run aground. The incident demonstrated several things: First, fishermen know their countries’ waters like almost no one else and notice when something is out of the ordinary. Second, the navy — or the coast guard — can’t be everywhere all the time. And third, fishermen can perform a vital service to national security by alerting authorities when something doesn’t look right. The grounded U137 wasn’t a one-off. In fact, fishermen keep a vigilant eye on their surroundings on behalf of their compatriots all the time. Stefano Guidi/Getty Image Ireland’s large number of undersea cables is the result of the country’s strategic location at the westernmost end of the north Atlantic and its need for top-notch connectivity to service its high-tech economy. Indeed, the republic has marketed its connectivity — and low corporate taxes — so successfully that a host of U.S. tech firms and other corporate giants have set up European hubs there. But its waters cover a vast 880,00 square kilometers. That’s a challenge for the Irish Naval Service, which has a small fleet of eight patrol vessels, and such a shortage of sailors that it can’t even crew those few vessels. Despite placing a few orders for maritime equipment recently, it’s in no position to detect all the suspicious activity taking place in Ireland’s waters. That’s where the fishermen come in. Because they spend so much time at sea — some 200 days in the average year — they are adept at spotting drug boats or, say, potential saboteurs. When the authorities detect something unusual, perhaps via radar, they often ask fishermen what they’ve seen. “People ring us up and say: ‘Did you notice ABC?’,” Murphy told me. “Then we send them pictures. A lot of fellas send in pictures and tracking. WhatsApp is very good for this.” This monitoring, Murphy said, isn’t just a phenomenal alert system. “It’s a deterrent.” We’ll never know how many unwelcome visitors that vigilance has deterred. But in keeping their eyes open, fishermen perform an indispensable service to Irish security — and it costs the government nothing. As unwanted visitors keep turning up in our waters, such contributions to national security are becoming increasingly essential all around Europe. There’s just one problem: The fishing profession is losing manpower. In Ireland, the fishing fleet has shrunk from some 400 vessels to just over 100 in the past two decades due to economics, foreign competition, fishing quotas and maritime regulations. From a security perspective, this continued decline of Irish — and European — fishermen is dangerous. They’re the best soldiers we never knew we had.

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. Russia’s reaction to America’s gunboat diplomacy in Venezuela has been rather tame by the Kremlin’s standards, with a pro forma feel to it. The foreign ministry has come out with standard language, issuing statements about “blatant neocolonial threats and external armed aggression.” To be sure, it demanded the U.S. release the captured Nicolás Maduro, and the Deputy Chairman of Russia’s Security Council Dmitry Medvedev dubbed the whole business “unlawful” — but his remarks also contained a hint of admiration. Medvedev talked of U.S. President Donald Trump’s consistency and how he is forthrightly defending America’s national interests. Significantly, too, Russian President Vladimir Putin has yet to comment directly on the snatching of his erstwhile ally. Nor did the Kremlin miss a beat in endorsing former Vice President Delcy Rodriguez as Venezuela’s interim leader, doing so just two days after Maduro was whisked off to a jail cell in New York. Overall, one would have expected a much bigger reaction. After all, Putin’s alliance with Venezuela stretches back to 2005, when he embraced Maduro’s boss Hugo Chávez. The two countries signed a series of cooperation agreements in 2018; Russia sold Venezuela military equipment worth billions of dollars; and the relationship warmed up with provocative joint military exercises. “The unipolar world is collapsing and finishing in all aspects, and the alliance with Russia is part of that effort to build a multipolar world,” Maduro announced at the time. From 2006 to 2019, Moscow extended $17 billion in loans and credit to Venezuela. So why the current rhetorical restraint? Seems it may all be about bargaining — at least for the Kremlin. Moscow likely has no wish to rock the boat with Washington over Venezuela while it’s actively competing with Kyiv for Trump’s good graces. Better he lose patience with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and toss him out of the boat rather than Putin. Plus, Russia probably has zero interest in advertising a hitherto successful armed intervention in Ukraine that would only highlight its own impotence in Latin America and its inability to protect its erstwhile ally. Indeed, there are grounds to suspect the Kremlin must have found Maduro’s surgically executed removal and its stunning display of U.S. hard power quite galling. As POLITICO reported last week, Russia’s ultranationalists and hard-line militarists certainly did: “All of Russia is asking itself why we don’t deal with our enemies in a similar way,” posted neo-imperialist philosopher Aleksandr Dugin, counseling Russia to do it “like Trump, do it better than Trump. And faster.” Even Kremlin mouthpiece Margarita Simonyan conceded there was reason to “be jealous.” Indeed, there are grounds to suspect the Kremlin must have found Maduro’s surgically executed removal and its stunning display of U.S. hard power quite galling. | Boris Vergara/EPA From Russia’s perspective, this is an understandable sentiment — especially considering that Putin’s “special military operation” in Ukraine was likely conceived as a quick decapitation mission aimed at removing Zelenskyy and installing a pro-Kremlin satrap in his place. Four years on, however, there’s no end in sight. It’s essentially a demonstration of America’s military might that highlights the limits of Russia’s military effectiveness. So, why draw attention to it? However, according to Bobo Lo — former deputy head of the Australia mission in Moscow and author of “Russia and the New World Disorder” — there are other explanations for the rhetorical restraint. “Maduro’s removal is quite embarrassing but, let’s be honest, Latin America is the least important area for Russian foreign policy,” he said. Besides, the U.S. operation has “a number of unintended but generally positive consequences for the Kremlin. It takes the attention away from the conflict in Ukraine and reduces the pressure on Putin to make any concessions whatsoever. It legitimizes the use of force in the pursuit of vital national interests or spheres of influence. And it delegitimizes the liberal notion of a rules-based international order,” he explained. Fiona Hill, a Russia expert at the Brookings Institute who oversaw European and Russian affairs at the White House for part of Trump’s first term, echoed these thoughts: “Russia will simply exploit Trump’s use of force in Venezuela — and his determination to rule the country from afar — to argue that if America can be aggressive in its backyard, likewise for Russia in its ‘near abroad.’” Indeed, as far back as 2019, Hill told a congressional panel the Kremlin had signaled that when it comes to Venezuela and Ukraine, it would be ready to do a swap. This all sounds like two mob bosses indirectly haggling over the division of territory through their henchmen and actions. For the Kremlin, the key result of Venezuela is “not the loss of an ally but the consolidation of a new logic in U.S. foreign policy under the Trump administration — one that prioritizes force and national interests over international law,” noted longtime Putin opponent Mikhail Khodorkovsky’s New Eurasian Strategies Center. “For all the reputational damage and some minor immediate economic losses, the Kremlin has reason, on balance, to be satisfied with recent developments: Through his actions, Trump has, in effect, endorsed a model of world order in which force takes precedence over international law.” And since Maduro’s ouster, Trump’s aides have only made that clearer. While explaining why the U.S. needs to own Greenland, regardless of what Greenlanders, Denmark or anyone else thinks, influential White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller told CNN: “We live in a world … that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power.” Now that’s language Putin understands. Let the bargaining begin — starting with Iran.

Mujtaba Rahman is the head of Eurasia Group’s Europe practice. He posts at @Mij_Europe. 2026 is here, and Europe is under siege. External pressure from Russia is mounting in Ukraine, China is undermining the EU’s industrial base, and the U.S. — now effectively threatening to annex the territory of a NATO ally — is undermining the EU’s multilateral rule book, which appears increasingly outdated in a far more transactional and less cooperative world. And none of this shows signs of slowing down. In fact, in the year ahead, the steady erosion of the norms Europe has come to rely on will only be compounded by the bloc’s weak leadership — especially in the so-called “E3” nations of Germany, France and the U.K. Looking forward, the greatest existential risks for Europe will flow from the transatlantic relationship. For the bloc’s leaders, keeping the U.S. invested in the war in Ukraine was the key goal for 2025. And the best possible outcome for 2026 will be a continuation of the ad-hoc diplomacy and transactionalism that has defined the last 12 months. However, if new threats emerge in this relationship — especially regarding Greenland — this balancing act may be impossible. The year also starts with no sign of any concessions from Russia when it comes to its ceasefire demands, or any willingness to accept the terms of the 20-point U.S.-EU-Ukraine plan. This is because Russian President Vladimir Putin is calculating that Ukraine’s military situation will further deteriorate, forcing Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy to capitulate to territorial demands. I believe Putin is wrong — that backed by Europe, Zelenskyy will continue to resist U.S. pressure on territorial concessions, and instead, increasingly target Russian energy production and exports in addition to resisting along the frontline. Of course, this means Russian aerial attacks against Ukrainian cities and energy infrastructure will also increase in kind. Nonetheless, Europe’s growing military spending, purchase of U.S. weapons, financing for Kyiv and sanctions against Russia — which also target sources of energy revenue — could help maintain last year’s status quo. But this is perhaps the best case scenario. Activists protest outside Downing street against the recent policies of Donald Trump. | Guy Smallman/Getty Images Meanwhile, European leaders will be forced to publicly ignore Washington’s support for far-right parties, which was clearly spelled out in the new U.S. national security strategy, while privately doing all they can to counter any antiestablishment backlash at the polls. Specifically, the upcoming election in Hungary will be a bellwether for whether the MAGA movement can tip the balance for its ideological affiliates in Europe, as populist, euroskeptic Prime Minister Viktor Orbán is currently poised to lose for the first time in 15 years. Orbán, for his part, has been frantically campaigning to boost voter support, signaling that he and his inner circle actually view defeat as a possibility. His charismatic rival Péter Magyar, who shares his conservative-nationalist political origins but lacks any taint of corruption poses a real challenge, as does the country’s stagnating economy and rising prices. While traditional electoral strategies — financial giveaways, smear campaigns and war fearmongering — have so far proven ineffective for Orbán, a military spillover from Ukraine that directly affects Hungary could reignite voter fears and shift the dynamic. To top it all off, these challenges will be compounded by the E3’s weakness. The hollowing out of Europe’s political center has already been a decade in the making. But France, Germany and the U.K. each entered 2026 with weak, unpopular governments besieged by the populist right and left, as well as a U.S. administration rooting for their collapse. While none face scheduled general elections, all three risk paralysis at best and destabilization at worst. And at least one leader — namely, Britain’s Keir Starmer — could fall because of an internal party revolt. The year’s pivotal event in the U.K. will be the midterm elections in May. As it stands, the Labour Party faces the humiliation of coming third in the Welsh parliament, failing to oust the Scottish National Party in the Scottish parliament and losing seats to both the Greens and ReformUK in English local elections. Labour MPs already expect a formal challenge to Starmer as party leader, and his chances of surviving seem slight. France, meanwhile, entered 2026 without a budget for the second consecutive year. The good news for President Emmanuel Macron is that his Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu’s minority government will probably achieve a budget deal targeting a modest deficit reduction by late February or March. And with the presidential election only 16 months away and local elections due to be held in March, the opposition’s appetite for a snap parliamentary election has abated. However, this is the best he can hope for, as a splintered National Assembly will sustain a mood of slow-motion crisis until the 2027 race. Finally, while Germany’s economy looks like it will slightly recover this year, it still won’t overcome its structural malaise. Largely consumed by ideological divisions, Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s government will struggle to implement far-reaching reforms. And with the five upcoming state elections expected to see increased vote shares for the far-right Alternative for Germany party, pressure on the government in Berlin will only mount A historic truth — one often forgotten in the quiet times — will reassert itself in 2026: that liberty, stability, prosperity and peace in Europe are always brittle. The holiday from history, provided by Pax Americana and exceptional post-World War II cooperation and integration, has officially come to an end. Moving forward, Europe’s relevance in the new global order will be defined by its response to Russia’s increased hybrid aggression, its influence on diplomacy regarding the Ukraine war and its ability to improve competitiveness, all while managing an increasingly ascendant far right and addressing the existential threats to its economy and security posed by Russia, China and the U.S. This is what will decide whether Europe can survive.

While U.S. President Donald Trump brashly cited the Monroe Doctrine to explain the capture of Venezuelan strongman Nicolás Maduro, he didn’t leave it there. He also underscored a crude tenet guiding his foreign adventures: “It’s important to make me happy,” he told reporters. Maduro had failed in that task after shunning a surrender order by Trump — hence, he was plucked in the dead of night by Delta Force commandos from his Caracas compound, and unceremoniously deposited at New York’s Metropolitan Detention Center. Yet despite the U.S. president’s admonishment about needing to be kept happy — an exhortation accompanied by teasing hints of possible future raids on the likes of Cuba, Colombia and Mexico — one continent has stood out in its readiness to defy him. Maduro’s capture has been widely denounced by African governments and the continent’s regional organizations alike. South Africa has been among the most outspoken, with its envoy to the U.N. warning that such actions left unpunished risk “a regression into a world preceding the United Nations, a world that gave us two brutal world wars, and an international system prone to severe structural instability and lawlessness.” Both the African Union, a continent-wide body comprising 54 recognized nations, and the 15-member Economic Community of West African States have categorically condemned Trump’s gunboat diplomacy as well. Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni even had the temerity to issue a blunt dare to Washington: If American forces attempt the same trick in his country, he bragged, “we can defeat them” — a reversal of his 2018 bromance with the U.S. president, when he said he “loves Trump” because of his frankness. Africa’s forthrightness and unity over Maduro greatly contrasts with the more fractured response from Latin America, as well as the largely hedged responses coming from Europe, which is more focused on Trump’s coveting of Greenland.   Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni had the temerity to issue a blunt dare to Washington: If American forces attempt the same trick in his country, he bragged, “we can defeat them” | Badru Katumba/AFP via Getty Images Fearful of risking an open rift with Washington, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer waited 16 hours after Maduro and his wife were seized before gingerly stepping on a diplomatic tightrope, careful to avoid falling one way or the other. While highlighting his preference for observing international law, he said: “We shed no tears about the end of his regime.” Others similarly avoided incurring Trump’s anger, with Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis flatly saying now isn’t the right time to discuss Trump’s muscular methods — a position shared by German Chancellor Friedrich Merz. So, why haven’t African leaders danced to the same circumspect European tune? Partly because they have less to lose. Europe still harbors hope it can influence Trump, soften him and avoid an irreparable breach in the transatlantic alliance, especially when it comes to Greenland, suggested Tighisti Amare of Britain’s Chatham House. “With dramatic cuts in U.S. development funds to Africa already implemented by Trump, Washington’s leverage is not as strong as it once was. And the U.S. doesn’t really give much importance to Africa, unless it’s the [Democratic Republic of the Congo], where there are clear U.S. interests on critical minerals,” Amare told POLITICO. “In terms of trade volume, the EU remains the most important region for Africa, followed by China, and with the Gulf States increasingly becoming more important,” she added. Certainly, Trump hasn’t gone out of his way to make friends in Africa. Quite the reverse — he’s used the continent as a punching bag, delivering controversial remarks stretching back to his first term, when he described African nations as “shithole countries.” And there have since been rifts galore over travel bans, steep tariffs and the dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development, which is credited with saving millions of African lives over decades. U.S. President Donald Trump holds up a printed article from “American Thinker” while accusing South Africa President Cyril Ramaphosa of state-sanctioned violence against white farmers in South Africa. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images In May, Trump also lectured South African President Cyril Ramaphosa in the Oval Office over what he claimed amounted to genocide against white South Africans, at one point ordering the lights be dimmed to show clips of leaders from a South African minority party encouraging attacks on the country’s white population. Washington then boycotted the G20 summit hosted by South Africa in November, and disinvited the country from this year’s gathering, which will be hosted by the U.S. According to Amare, Africa’s denunciation of Maduro’s abduction doesn’t just display concern about Venezuela; in some part, it’s also fed by the memory of colonialism. “It’s not just about solidarity, but it’s also about safeguarding the rules that limit how powerful states can use force against more vulnerable states,” she said. African countries see Trump’s move against Maduro “as a genuine threat to international law and norms that protect the survival of the sovereignty of small states.” Indeed, African leaders might also be feeling their own collars tighten, and worrying about being in the firing line. “There’s an element of self-preservation kicking in here because some African leaders share similarities with the Maduro government,” said Oge Onubogu, director of the Africa Program at the Center for Strategic and International Studies. “In some countries, people on the street and in even civil society have a different take, and actually see the removal of Maduro as a good thing.” The question is, will African leaders be wary of aligning with either Russian President Vladimir Putin or China’s Xi Jinping, now that Trump has exposed the impotence of friendship with either by deposing the Venezuelan strongman? According to Onubogu, even before Maduro’s ouster, African leaders understood the world order had changed dramatically, and that we’re back in the era of great power competition. “Individual leaders will make their own specific calculations based on what’s in their favor and their interests. I wouldn’t want to generalize and say some African countries might step back from engaging with China or Russia. They will play the game as they try to figure out how they can come out on top.”

Ivo Daalder, a former U.S. ambassador to NATO, is a senior fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center and host of the weekly podcast “World Review with Ivo Daalder.” He writes POLITICO’s From Across the Pond column In justifying his military operation against Venezuela, U.S. President Donald Trump reached back in time over two centuries and grabbed hold of the Monroe Doctrine. But it’s another 19th-century interest that propelled his extraordinary gambit in the first place — oil. According to the New York Times, what started as an effort to press the Venezuelan regime to cede power and end the flow of drugs and immigrants into the U.S., began shifting into a determination to seize the country’s oil last fall. And the president was the driving force behind this shift. That’s hardly surprising though — Trump has been obsessed with oil for decades, even as most of the world is actively trying to leave it behind. As far back as the 1980s, Trump was complaining about the U.S. protecting Japan, Saudi Arabia and others to secure the free flow of oil. “The world is laughing at America’s politicians as we protect ships we don’t own, carrying oil we don’t need, destined for allies who won’t help,” he wrote in a 1987 newspaper ad. Having supported the Iraq War from the outset, he later complained that the U.S. hadn’t sufficiently benefited from it. “I would take the oil,” he told the Wall Street Journal in 2011. “I would not leave Iraq and let Iran take the oil.” That same year, he also dismissed humanitarian concerns in Libya, saying: “I am only interested in Libya if we take the oil.” In justifying his military operation against Venezuela, U.S. President Donald Trump reached back in time over two centuries and grabbed hold of the Monroe Doctrine. | Henry Chirinos/EPA Unsurprisingly, “take the oil” later became the mantra for Trump’s first presidential campaign — and for his first term in office. Complaining that the U.S. got “nothing” for all the money it spent invading Iraq: “It used to be, ‘To the victor belong the spoils’ … I always said, ‘Take the oil,’” he griped during a Commander in Chief Forum in 2016. As president, he also insisted on keeping U.S. forces in Syria for that very reason in 2019. “I like oil,” he said, “we’re keeping the oil.” But while Iraq, Libya and even Syria were all conflicts initiated by Trump’s predecessors, Venezuela is quite another matter. Weeks before seizing Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, Trump made clear what needed to happen: On Dec. 16, 2025, he announced an oil blockade of the country “until such time as they return to the United States of America all of the Oil, Land, and other Assets that they previously stole from us.” Then, after capturing Maduro, Trump declared the U.S. would “run the country” in order to get its oil. “We’re in the oil business,” he stated. “We’re going to have our very large United States oil companies … go in, spend billions of dollars, fix the badly broken infrastructure, and start making money.” “We’re going to be taking out a tremendous amount of wealth out of the ground,” Trump insisted. “It goes also to the United States of America in the form of reimbursement for the damages caused us by that country.” On Wednesday, Energy Secretary Chris Wright announced that Venezuela would ship its oil to the U.S. “and then infinitely, going forward, we will sell the production that comes out of Venezuela into the marketplace,” effectively declaring the expropriation of Venezuela’s most important national resources. All of this reeks of 19th-century imperialism. But the problem with Trump’s oil obsession goes deeper than his urge to steal it from others — by force if necessary. He is fixated on a depleting resource of steadily declining importance. And yet, this doesn’t seem to matter. Throughout his reelection campaign, Trump still emphasized the need to produce more oil. “Drill, baby, drill” became as central to his energy policy as “take the oil” was to his views on military intervention. He called on oil executives to raise $1 billion for his campaign, promising his administration would be “a great deal” for their industry. And he talked incessantly of the large reservoirs of “liquid gold” in the U.S., claiming: “We’re going to make a fortune.” But these weren’t just campaign promises. Upon his return to office, Trump unleashed the full force of the U.S. government to boost oil production at home and exports abroad. He established a National Energy Dominance Council, opened protected lands in Alaska and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for oil and gas exploration, signed a mandate for immediate offshore oil and gas leases into law, and accelerated permitting reforms to speed up pipeline construction, refinery expansion and liquid natural gas exports. At the same time, he’s been castigating efforts to cut greenhouse gas emissions as part of a climate change “hoax,” he withdrew the U.S. from the Paris Climate Agreement once again, and he took a series of steps to end the long-term transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy. He signed a law ending credits and subsidies to encourage residential solar and electric vehicle purchases, invoked national security to halt offshore wind production and terminated grants encouraging renewable energy production. Then, after capturing Nicolás Maduro, Trump declared the U.S. would “run the country” in order to get its oil. | Henry Chirinos/EPA The problem with all these efforts is that the U.S. is now banking on fossil fuels, precisely as their global future is waning. Today, oil production is already outpacing consumption, and global demand is expected to peak later this decade. Over the last 12 months, the cost of oil has decreased by over 23 percent, pricing further exploration and production increasingly out of the market. Meanwhile, renewable energy is becoming vastly more cost-effective. The future, increasingly, lies in renewables to drive our cars; heat, cool and light up our homes; power our data centers, advanced manufacturing factories and everything else that sustains our lives on Earth. By harnessing the power of the sun, the force of wind and the heat of the Earth, China is building its future on inexhaustible resources. And while Beijing is leading the way, many others are following in its footsteps. All this, just as the U.S. goes back to relying on an exhaustive fossil fuel supply. What Trump is betting on is becoming the world’s largest — and last — petrostate. China is betting on becoming its largest and lasting electrostate. Which side would you rather be on?

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. Ukraine’s poker-faced Kyrylo Budanov, who was the country’s military spy chief until Friday, had an excellent start to the new year. On Dec. 27, Budanov faked the frontline death of Denis Kapustin — the commander of a pro-Ukraine Russian militia — and with that, tricked Russian spooks into handing over half a million dollars in bounty money for the feigned assassination. Then, on Thursday, he openly celebrated the theatrical ruse by posting a video of himself smiling broadly alongside the rebel commander. “I congratulate you, as they say, on your return to life,” chimed the 39-year-old spy chief. And then the next day, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy appointed him chief of staff, as the much-awaited replacement for his longtime aide and friend Andriy Yermak. Yermak, who was virtually operating as a co-president by the end of his tenure, was forced to resign in November, following an anti-corruption raid on his apartment as part of a ballooning graft investigation into Ukraine’s energy sector and presidential insiders. A characteristically stubborn Zelenskyy had initially shunned the calls for Yermak to go, but he heeded them in the end, when even lawmakers from his own party started to rebel. Indeed, Yermak’s departure is a tectonic political shift for Ukraine. But perhaps Budanov allowed himself a private smirk after his new appointment — after all, he’d not only outsmarted the Russians again, but he’d also bested Yermak, who saw him as a rival and had tried to get him fired several times, only to emerge as the second most powerful figure in Ukraine. However, the task at hand is not easy. And in his new role, the popular wartime master spy will need every ounce of the political shrewdness he demonstrated while outfoxing Yermak. Taking over as the head of the presidential office is daunting enough at the best of times. But these are the worst of times — Ukraine is at a critical juncture in a long-running existential war, and Russian President Vladimir Putin shows no sign of wanting this to end. In fact, quite the reverse. Every time a U.S.-brokered deal appears on the table, Putin throws up yet another nyet. Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Ukraine is coming under increasing pressure, as Russia has the tactical upper hand. The battles in the east are highlighting the country’s severe manpower shortage. Ukraine’s port city Odesa is coming under ferocious drone and missile attacks as part of Russia’s bid to throttle the country’s economy by disrupting exports. And on the home front, Russian attacks on the country’s energy infrastructure are of much greater magnitude this year, and Ukraine doesn’t have the air defenses to cope — nor is it likely to get them soon. On top of all of that, Kyiv is also facing an impatient U.S. president, eager for Kyiv to cave to unacceptable Russian demands, which would leave the country vulnerable and likely in political turmoil. So, not only will Budanov have to help his boss avoid falling afoul of a mercurial Donald Trump, who seems sympathetic to Moscow and echoes Kremlin talking points all too often, he’ll also have to assist Zelenskyy in handling Ukraine’s increasingly turbulent partisan politics and bridge a widening gap between the country’s leader and its parliament. Moreover, if Zelenskyy has no choice but to accept an unfavorable peace deal, Budanov will have to help him sell it to Ukrainians. Partisan politics — long a muscular, no-holds-barred sport in Ukraine — came roaring back to life this year, sparked by an ill-judged and ultimately aborted maneuver by Zelenskyy and Yermak to try to strip two key anti-corruption agencies of their independence this summer, just as both were starting to probe presidential insiders. The snow-balling corruption scandal involving the country’s shattered energy sector has only added to public disillusionment and parliamentary frustration. And while Ukrainians will back Zelenskyy to the hilt in his diplomatic jousting with Washington, criticism of his governance has only swelled. “The biggest expectation from this power shift — beyond the ousting of Yermak’s loyalists — is a genuine transformation in governance, particularly in how the authorities engage with their own citizens. For too long, the war has served as a convenient veil for democratic backsliding. Ukrainian society has endured a profound breakdown in trust: a yawning chasm between the government and the people, fueled by human rights violations, widespread disillusionment with the war’s objectives, and rampant corruption,” said former Zelenskyy aide-turned-critic Iuliia Mendel. Andriy Yermak’s departure is a tectonic political shift for Ukraine. | Sergey Dolzhenko/EPA And lucky for Zelenskyy, aside from obvious political savvy, Budanov will take over the presidential office on Kyiv’s Bankova Street armed with the huge advantage of public popularity as well. Budanov’s esteem comes from how he’s been running Zelenskyy’s equivalent of Winston Churchill’s so-called Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, overseeing successful, morale-boosting Ukrainian commando raids in Russian-occupied Ukraine and in Russia itself. He’s orchestrated dramatic sabotage missions, assassinations and long-range drone attacks on military and energy targets, including one that took out radar systems and a Russian An-26 military transport plane in Crimea last month. And he’s not just a desk jockey either. Budanov is very much a man of action who secretly participates in raids himself, reprising a personal frontline history that saw him fighting in the Donbas immediately after Maidan, as part of an elite commando unit of the Ukrainian military intelligence service. In 2014, he was wounded in the east. Two years later, he led a dramatic amphibious sabotage mission on Russian-occupied Crimea, which involved a nail-biting and violent retreat into Ukrainian-controlled territory. No wonder the Russians are keen to neutralize him — and they have tried. According to his aides, Russian special forces have made several botched attempts on Budanov’s life, including one in 2019, when a bomb affixed to his car exploded prematurely. But how will this buccaneering past translate into a political future? And other than popularity, what does Budanov bring to the table for Zelenskyy? A senior Ukrainian official, who was granted anonymity to speak candidly, anticipates Budanov’s presence will give the beleaguered presidency a lift: “He’s got credibility. He’s got personal stature. He’s unlikely to operate like Yermak, who was a spider casting his web far and wide. Budanov is likely to focus on national security, leaving the ministers unmolested and able to get on with their jobs and not be micromanaged by the center. So, less monopolization of power by the presidency — and that will be no bad thing,” he said. Similarly, Daniel Vajdich, a Republican foreign policy expert and president of the Yorktown Solutions consulting firm that advises Ukrainian state entities, dubbed Budanov’s appointment “a brilliant move on Zelenskyy’s part.” “I think it’s very good that someone who’s widely respected is taking charge of the president’s office in the wake of Yermak. It will be a very positive dynamic for decision-making in Kyiv,” he told POLITICO. It’s true, Yermak was a gift for MAGA’s Ukraine-bashing wing. Whereas Budanov, as a war hero, is less of an easy target, with no links to graft or any obvious self-serving politics. And if he does harbor personal political ambitions, it seems he has put those aside by taking on this new role — at least in the near term. It would be hard for him to run against Zelenskyy in any near-future elections. Plus, if things go wrong in the coming weeks and months, he risks tarnishing his own image and diminishing his electoral appeal.  In fact, there’s some surprise in Ukraine’s parliament that Budanov agreed to take the job. “It’s very confusing,” a Ukrainian lawmaker confided to POLITICO, having been granted anonymity to speak frankly. “He does have his own political ambitions. I am scratching my head to understand why he took the job — politically, it would have been safer for him to stay doing what he was doing.” Overall, the talk in parliament is that Budanov must have received political promises for the future — either over the prime ministership after elections, or Zelenskyy could have indicated he might not seek reelection and that the former spy chief could slot in as the government candidate. But other, possibly less jaundiced, lawmakers told POLITICO that Budanov’s decision to take the job could well speak less to his political calculations and more to his patriotism — country first. Maybe so, but Ukraine analyst Adrian Karatnycky suspects something more complicated is going on: Budanov’s appointment “comes at a time when the parliament is becoming more independent-minded, with lawmakers seeing that Zelenskyy’s political power is diminishing,” he said. The president’s loyalists see that too, and the appointment could be seen as “an attempt by Zelenskyy and his circle as an exercise in finding a possible substitute should they need one — and if polling indicates that Zelenskyy is unelectable.” So, part job, part audition. Either way, the big remaining question is whether Budanov will bridge the growing gap between the presidency and the parliament and civil society — something Yermak didn’t care to do. In other words, will he meet public expectations for a genuine transformation in Ukrainian governance? If he can, that would strengthen Zelenskyy — and ultimately himself.

Ivo Daalder, a former U.S. ambassador to NATO, is a senior fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center and host of the weekly podcast “World Review with Ivo Daalder.” He writes POLITICO’s From Across the Pond column. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  Since U.S. President Donald Trump’s return to the White House, Europe has slowly but steadily moved through the five stages of grief, taking an entire year to finally reach acceptance over the loss of the transatlantic relationship. Now, the question for 2026 is whether the bloc has the will and strength to turn this acceptance into real action. Trump’s reelection and inauguration represented the end of Pax America — a period of over 75 years where the U.S. was the undisputed Leader of the Free World, and successive presidents and administrations in Washington placed relations with Europe at the core of America’s global engagement. It was clear Trump would end this era and instead adopt a narrow, regionally focused policy of “America First.” And yet, few in Europe believed this would truly be the case. At a lunch attended by some dozen NATO ambassadors in mid-December 2024, one envoy after another declared that with a little more European spending on defense, everything would be okay. When I suggested they were in denial about how fundamental the change would be, one of them turned to me and said: “You can’t seriously believe that the United States will no longer see its security as tied to Europe’s, do you?” But not long after, Europe’s refusal to accept the fundamental transformation that Trump’s reelection entailed was put to the test by a series of events in February. At his first NATO meeting, new Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth told his colleagues that Europe needed to “take ownership of conventional security on the continent.” Next, Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin agreed that the U.S. and Russia would negotiate an end to the war in Ukraine — without Ukraine’s or Europe’s involvement. And then came Vice President JD Vance’s speech at the Munich Security Conference, where he said that the biggest threat to Europe wasn’t Russia or China but “the threat from within, the retreat of Europe from some of its most fundamental values.” Finally, at the end of the month, Trump and Vance confronted Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in the Oval Office, on live television. “You don’t have the cards,” Trump exclaimed, berating Ukraine for failing to end a war it had not started, and ignoring how Ukrainians had valiantly held off their subjugation and occupation by a much larger foe for more than three years. So, by February’s end, Europe’s denial turned to anger. When I met with a foreign minister of a major ally just days after Munich, the longtime supporter of the U.S. appeared despondent. “You stabbed us in the back. You’re leaving us to deal with Russia alone,” he shouted. But the anger lasted only so long, and in the next few months, the bloc shifted to bargaining. Key European leaders convinced Zelenskyy to forget about the Oval Office showdown and tell Trump he was fully committed to peace. Europe would then join Ukraine in supporting an unconditional ceasefire — as Trump had demanded. In August, stage three — bargaining — quickly gave way to stage four — depression. | Tom Brenner for The Washington Post via Getty Images Similarly, in April, when Trump announced his “Liberation Day” tariffs, hitting allied countries just as hard as non-allies, the U.K. and the EU moved swiftly to negotiate deals that would lower rates from the initial levels of 25 percent or more. By June, NATO leaders had even agreed to raise defense spending to the 5-percent of GDP mark Trump had insisted on. Europe’s negotiating on Ukraine, trade and defense gave Trump the victories he long craved. But it soon became clear that however great the victories or however fawning the flattery, the U.S. president would just pocket them and move on, with little regard for the transatlantic relationship. Trump was already back to negotiating Ukraine’s fate directly with Putin by August — in a red-carpeted summit in Alaska, no less. And though he had flown to the meeting promising “severe consequences” if the Russian leader didn’t agree to a ceasefire, he left having adopted Putin’s position that the war could only end if there was a fully agreed-upon peace agreement. Days later, no less than eight European leaders flew to Washington to try and persuade Trump to change course and push Russia to accept the ceasefire he had long proposed. And while it sort of worked, most of the leaders still left Washington deeply depressed. No matter what, when it came to Ukraine, an issue they deem existential for their security, Trump just wasn’t on the same page. Eventually, it was the publication of the new U.S. National Security Strategy in early December that proved too much — even for Europe’s most stalwart Atlanticists. The strategy not only berates the continent for supposedly causing its own rendezvous with “civilizational erasure,” it also clearly underscores that both Trump and his administration view Russia very differently than Europe. Gone is any mention of Moscow as a military threat. Instead, the U.S. is seeking a return to “strategic stability” with Russia, even offering itself up as a mediator between Russia and Europe on security. An ally just doesn’t say these things or behave in this way. So, after a long year, Europe has now come to accept the reality that the transatlantic relationship they have long known and depended on is no more. “The decades of Pax Americana are largely over for us in Europe, and for us in Germany as well,” said German Chancellor Friedrich Merz earlier this month. “The Americans are now very, very aggressively pursuing their own interests. And that can only mean one thing: that we, too, must now pursue our own interests.” What remains to be seen is whether Europe will do so. On that, the jury is still very much out.