How arguments about Trump’s America play out in South Korea, Russia and Australia: tariffs, alliance...

In recent weeks, in three very different countries, discussion about the United States has narrowed not to some abstract “American policy,” but to the same feeling: America is acting again as a source of external pressure, and every partner has to decide what is more dangerous for them—arguing with Washington or accommodating it. In South Korea, the dispute revolves around tariffs, defense, and how far the “upgrading” of the alliance can go; in Russia, around Ukraine, negotiations, and whether Washington has any interest in settlement at all; in Australia, around tariff blows to exports, declining trust in the United States, and anxiety that an alliance with America now means less protection than being pulled into someone else’s decisions. (hani.co.kr)

The most visible common theme is trade coercion. In South Korea, American tariffs are discussed almost like a systemic risk for the country’s export model: local outlets write that after U.S. Supreme Court decisions, Trump’s tariff regimes have not disappeared—they have only changed form, and now Korean businesses have to keep track of compensation, exemptions, and new rounds of duties. Chosun Ilbo notes that even after part of the “mutual tariffs” was removed, the Korean side still faces tension: in its coverage, the emphasis is that for Seoul it matters not only what the formal rates are, but also the very unpredictability of American policy, which could once again put “key export goods” in the line of fire. (chosun.com)

Australia’s reaction to the same issue is far more emotional and political. ABC News reports that in July, the United States confirmed a 12.5% tariff on Australian exports, arguing that enforcement is not strict enough regarding goods produced using forced labor; the Australian government filed a formal objection and said it does not see “credible evidentiary grounds” for such a move. Australian business reporters directly link this to the “America First” direction and warn that the U.S. is becoming more isolationist—meaning the damage will be two-way, but will hit Australian exporters harder. (abc.net.au)

In Australia, tariffs have also become a symbol of a broader psychological shift. According to a Lowy Institute survey, only 31% of Australians now believe that the United States will “act responsibly in the world,” while trust in Donald Trump in world affairs has fallen to 21%—the lowest level for any U.S. president in the history of this study. At the same time, 73% still believe that the American alliance is important for the country’s security—so this is not a break but a painful disappointment: Australia remains dependent on the United States, but no longer trusts it the way it used to. Lowy researcher Charles Lyons-Johnson put it almost like a diagnosis: in his view, Australians have “strong aversion to Trumpism and its policies,” and in these conditions America becomes a “beneficiary” only in the sense that it is still seen as an unavoidable partner. (abc.net.au)

In South Korea, the same anxiety is expressed differently—through the question of whether the American security umbrella is even dependable when the United States both demands greater contributions and shows readiness to use the alliance as a tool of pressure. In recent months, Hankook, Dong-A and Maeil Kyungjae have written about a rebalancing of roles in defense, pushing for negotiations on transferring operational control, and about what Washington expects from Seoul in terms of greater responsibility— including rising defense spending and participation in allied operations. The editorial line is especially telling: when Maeil Kyungjae asks whether one can trust a Korean nuclear umbrella after Trump allows himself a dismissive tone toward Taiwan, the newspaper effectively moves Korean fear beyond any single incident—the question is no longer just about Taiwan, but whether East Asian security might become a bargaining chip in American deals with China. (mk.co.kr)

Even more sharply, this sense has surfaced in the story of the “Freedom Project” and the Strait of Hormuz. Korean media wrote that Trump effectively pushed Seoul to take part in an operation tied to the security of sea routes, and the South Korean government responded cautiously, citing international law, regional security, and domestic procedures. In Korean editorial commentary, something close to resentment comes through: “America makes the mistake, but the bill is paid again by the allies.” The phrasing is not only about the Middle East, but also about a new self-perception among Korea’s elite: the United States no longer looks like a guarantor of order, but rather like a partner capable of pulling an ally into risk without bearing the full cost. (chosun.com)

The Russian discussion about the United States, by contrast, is almost entirely tied to Ukraine and negotiations. Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov said that Washington has “partly lost interest and enthusiasm” in settling the Ukrainian situation, and that it increasingly seems to be telling Europe to handle it itself while the United States switches its focus to China. Yuri Ushakov said that Russia discussed military assistance to Kyiv with Americans and will continue doing so, and also that Moscow has not yet received a response to its warnings about strikes on Kyiv. In the Russian interpretation, this looks not just like a diplomatic pause, but like a sign that either the United States is tired of the Ukraine file, or it is trying to manage it remotely and without full responsibility. (interfax.ru)

The plot around the “Ankara/Anchoridge understandings” is especially important here—Russian sources increasingly reduce the American position to the question of who derailed a possible compromise and why now Washington is being asked for clarity. RBC quotes Maria Zakharova saying that Russia expects the United States to clarify the situation regarding these understandings before discussing new ideas on Ukraine; Lavrov, for his part, links Kyiv’s skepticism toward American proposals to the fact that Ukraine is being “supplied with weapons,” and a significant part of that support is American. Russia’s logic here is consistent: the United States remains a central player, but precisely because of that it is they that are held responsible for why the peace process is stuck. (amp.rbc.ru)

There is also a third layer that connects all three countries: America as a source of strategic unpredictability. In Australia, it is read through AUKUS and tariffs; ABC directly writes that “AUKUS ties Australia to America’s actions, whether we like it or not,” and this is no longer just about purchasing submarines—it is about geopolitical dependence. In South Korea, a similar fear is expressed through defense partnerships and the prospect of expanding Seoul’s military role. In Russia, unpredictability is discussed with diplomatic irritation: informal and confidential contacts can be made with Washington, but there is still no clear result. In all three cases, the United States is perceived not as a stable architect of order, but as a power that changes the rules while the game is in progress. (abc.net.au)

The most interesting local feature is that each country draws its own conclusion from this. South Korea does not break with America; instead, it tries to bargain for a more predictable alliance and protection from tariffs, turning the debate about the United States into a dispute over industrial policy, defense, and technological sovereignty. Australia still clings to the alliance, but it is now speaking in the language of lost trust and something close to everyday annoyance: the alliance matters, yet Trump’s America seems less and less reliable and increasingly selfish. Russia, meanwhile, uses American inconsistency as an argument in its own diplomatic line, showing that Washington is both needed and not worthy of trust. That is why the common international backdrop now looks so similar, even as reactions differ: for some, the United States is a risk to exports; for others, a risk to security; and for a third group, a risk to negotiations. (abc.net.au)

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America Through the Eyes of Seoul, Canberra and Kyiv: Tariffs, Alliance Politics and Worry Over the...

In South Korea, Australia and Ukraine, talk about the United States is not now revolving around an abstract idea of “American power,” but around a very specific question: what exactly Washington is doing with allies, trade and security—and how much longer the world will have to adjust to a new American line. In the South Korean press, the main topic has become tariffs and their consequences for exports and negotiations with Washington; in Australia, it’s the tariff war and a broader fear that an alliance with the United States under Donald Trump is becoming less predictable; in Ukraine, it’s the NATO summit, military support, and Trump’s attitude toward Russia and European security. (seoul.co.kr)

In South Korea, the tone of the discussion is noticeably practical and almost accountant-like: local media read American policy through the line of future losses and gains. After the Trump administration announced a “forced labor tariff” of 12.5% for South Korea, while Seoul publicly insisted that the previously agreed 15% ceiling should be maintained, Korean newspapers and business outlets began to treat the United States less as a partner to be approved of and more as something to be hedged against. In this same vein, Seoul Shinmun and Maeil Business Newspaper link U.S. pressure to the wider framework of trade, noting that Washington is again using trade tools as a geopolitical lever rather than simply as an economic measure. (seoul.co.kr)

What is especially telling is that, in Korean commentary, the United States is seen not only as a source of risk, but also as a market of opportunities. The same discussions about tariffs coexist with analysis of the U.S. request related to Korean shipbuilding. In Seoul, people write that the United States is not simply looking for ships from Koreans, but for a “system”—design, production discipline and supply-chain management, meaning what America would want to import along with the end product. In this reading, the United States looks like a country that both pressures with tariffs and borrows others’ industrial competence; hence the dual Korean reaction—irritation at American protectionism combined with cold calculations about how to monetize the American deficit in capacity. (mk.co.kr)

The Australian lens is different in tone but similar in substance. There, the United States is discussed mainly as an ally still needed, yet increasingly behaving as if alliance is a one-sided obligation. In July, ABC News reported in detail that Trump’s tariffs have already created additional uncertainty for Australia, and that the decision to impose a 12.5% duty on Australian exports to the United States is being framed as part of a broader “wall” of protectionism. In Australian analysis, this is not just a dispute about trade: it is a question of whether America remains the guarantor of an open system or is turning into a country that uses the market like a whip. (abc.net.au)

But even more important for Australia than the tariffs themselves is Trump’s political psychology. Local analysts and commentators increasingly write that “special relations” with the United States no longer mean special protection. ABC News directly linked the rise in Australian skepticism to the fact that much of society believes Trump’s second term will be bad for Australia; and in another analysis it was emphasized that Canberra is trying to stay close to Washington without looking “in love” with Trump. Even the American alliance here is described not as a sacred constant, but as a fragile balance between strategic necessity and electoral toxicity. This is a rare kind of honesty for an ally: Australia is not arguing over whether it needs the United States, but asks more and more loudly whether it needs that kind of United States. (abc.net.au)

Ukraine’s reaction is perhaps the most emotionally loaded and the most strategically nervous. Here, the United States is read through the prism of war, NATO, and how far Trump is willing to go in pressuring allies and in concessions to Russia. In July, Ukrainska Pravda described the NATO summit in Ankara as a moment when Trump again demonstrated his dissatisfaction with the Alliance and allowed for a reduction of America’s presence in Europe—and as a forum where Europeans tried to incorporate Ukraine into a new defense architecture without illusions about Washington’s reliability. At the same time, a harsher Ukrainian “nerve” was also voiced: in columns and podcasts, local commentators say that Trump is useful to Ukraine at least because he “cures it of illusions”—in other words, he forces Kyiv and Europeans to build security as if American assistance were no longer endless. (pravda.com.ua)

And yet the Ukrainian discussion does not boil down to disappointment. It is far more nuanced: in the same publications, it is emphasized that NATO at the Ankara summit promised to significantly increase military support for Ukraine, and Volodymyr Zelensky spoke about Trump’s backing for strengthening pressure on Russia. That means the local interpretation of the United States oscillates between two images: America as an inconsistent, sometimes dangerous political actor, and America as an indispensable center of pressure on Moscow. Precisely because of this duality, Ukrainian texts pick up nuances particularly carefully—not only what Trump said, but the mood in which he said it, and how much that changes the balance between Kyiv, Europe and the Kremlin. (interfax.com.ua)

If these three countries are reduced to a common denominator, the main object of reaction is not “America, in general,” but America as a source of unpredictability. South Korea worries that U.S. trade policy can instantly change the rules of the game for exports and industrial cooperation. Australia worries that the United States no longer looks like an unconditional keeper of the liberal trade order, and may punish even a close ally. Ukraine worries that the fate of its security depends on American political will—while under Trump that will looks less hostile than capricious and transactional. In this sense, in Seoul, Canberra and Kyiv today, the United States is seen as a superpower you cannot turn away from—but one you can no longer trust by inertia alone. (seoul.co.kr)

There is also a subtler shared theme: in all three countries, the United States is increasingly seen not just as policy, but as an example of systemic self-reinvention—sometimes frightening. Koreans discuss America’s demand for their shipbuilding alongside new tariffs; Australians discuss tariffs and “red lines” in the alliance; Ukrainians discuss NATO, the war and the limits of American support. And everywhere behind it stands the same question: if Washington changes the rules faster than allies can adapt, then who today is actually setting the rules for global stability? That is why current foreign reactions to the United States are no longer simply news about Trump—they are a collective diagnosis of an era in which America has again become a source of uncertainty and a worrying force behind a reshuffling of the order. (mk.co.kr)

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Waiting for Sharp Moves: Trade, Markets and Fear of a New Standoff

Against the backdrop of talk about possible changes in American politics in the era of Trump, nervousness has intensified in both political and business circles. At the center of attention is the logic of “signals” coming from the United States: how exactly they are reflected in international relations, whether they provoke escalation, and whether they could become a cause of turbulence in trade and finance. Chinese commentators increasingly emphasize that any slide into a Cold War logic is not only a political risk, but also a factor that can shake the economy through investor expectations and the dynamics of deals. At the same time, reactions to market fluctuations and unpredictable turns in American data or in the wording of U.S. decisions are being discussed: markets, it seems, are still trying to guess the next step, and this raises the cost of mistakes. In the overall mood, there is a call for de-escalation and more sober calculation of consequences—because the fallout from yet another round of “sharp” maneuvers can quickly go beyond bilateral relations and affect global stability. This piece is based on publications by www.guancha.cn (China).

In China, they believe the United States is tired of the new Cold War

Chinese commentary saw in the latest signals from Washington not just a possible pause in the confrontation, but evidence of a deeper shift: according to this logic, the United States has begun to tire of the path toward a “new Cold War” and is being forced to soften its line toward Beijing. The basis for this conclusion was a report in Western media noting that Donald Trump’s team is seeking to reduce tensions with China, and that American youth increasingly supports a hardline confrontation less.

As Guancha writes, after Trump’s return to the White House, the emphasis on high tariffs and pressure on China did not “shake” the PRC; instead, it hit the U.S. economy and ultimately pushed Washington to back off. In the Chinese reading, this matters not only as an assessment of a specific Trump policy, but also as a broader ideological conclusion: the United States is no longer seen as an all-powerful rival, but as a power that runs up against the limits of its own strength and must take into account the reality of China’s rise.

The article emphasizes that, despite the hard anti-China rhetoric of some American politicians, Trump is allegedly seeking ways to ease relations with Beijing. The Chinese interpretation is built around the thesis that the United States cannot achieve a “decisive victory” over China, and therefore sooner or later it will be forced to seek compromise. For the Chinese audience, this looks like confirmation that the policy of long-term containment of the PRC is encountering objective constraints.

Particular attention is paid to American polling showing a weakening of hostility toward China, especially among young people. According to Pew Research Center, the share of Americans calling China an “enemy” fell from 42% to 28%. According to the Searchlight Institute, 62% of Americans aged 18 to 34 want cooperation and improved relations with the PRC. In Zoomer poll materials, most respondents also believe that economic ties between the United States and China are beneficial. In the Chinese reading, these figures become not just sociology, but a political argument: if pragmatism is growing even within the United States, the idea of a long-term anti-China mobilization loses its staying power.

The article also cites the position of Crisis Group analyst Ali Vain, who in Financial Times wrote that Trump wants to improve relations with China and that American youth does not want a “new Cold War.” The Chinese outlet uses this external quote as additional confirmation of its line: even Western experts acknowledge that public demand in the United States is changing and that willingness for harsh confrontation is declining.

For China, such a signal carries several meanings at once. First, it confirms that the trade war and tariff pressure did not break the Chinese economy; instead, they created costs for the United States itself. Second, it shows that attempts by Washington to form an anti-China consensus are running up against public fatigue and generational skepticism. Third, it weakens previous expectations about the inevitability of a new Cold War, although of course the risk of confrontation does not disappear entirely. And finally, it reinforces China’s image as a force even American presidents—including Trump—feel compelled to take into account.

At a deeper level, texts like this fit well into China’s historical memory of external pressure, sanctions, and attempts at “containment.” They easily align with the official narrative about China’s inevitable growth and the need to preserve strategic patience. Culturally, such an article resonates with the idea of international politics as a long contest, where endurance, pragmatism, and the ability to withstand pressure from a stronger opponent matter.

That is why, in Chinese media space, any cracks in the American anti-China consensus are perceived not just as news about a possible thaw. It is presented as evidence that the United States is being forced to adapt to a new reality created by China’s economic and technological weight.

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America as a common irritant: renewed debate over tariffs, power and reliability in Turkey, Russia and...

In recent weeks, in three very different countries — Turkey, Russia and Australia — discussion about the United States has surprisingly often shifted away from abstract “American politics” to a very practical question: can Washington still be considered a predictable partner? In the Australian press this is visible in two lines at once: a fresh Lowy Institute study showing trust in the United States has fallen to a record-low level, and a series of ABC analytical pieces on tariffs and Donald Trump’s foreign-policy line. In the Turkish debate, NATO, F-35s, sanctions and trade caution dominate amid talks in Ankara. In Russia — sanctions pressure, tariff threats, and discussion of how Trump tries to squeeze both allies, BRICS and Moscow at the same time. (abc.net.au)

The common nerve running through these discussions is a trade war and protectionism. In Turkey, business and analytical circles describe Trump’s tariff policy as a risk, but also as a window of opportunity: Anadolu Ajansı cites assessments that Turkish businesses must quickly calculate the consequences of new U.S. duties and, at the same time, use the comparatively softer tariff regime toward Turkey as a chance to strengthen their export positions. In one of the comments, Chairman of the ShEQİB Awdaği — ShəkiB Awdagich? — actually said that “dünyа ekonomik düzeni… tekrar korumacılığa” — that is, the world economy is once again moving toward protectionism, meaning businesses have to restructure their strategy. In Russia, the tone is similar but with a different emphasis: TASS and Российская газета write not about opportunities, but about a global fault line, linking Trump’s tariffs to the dismantling of the previous model of globalization and to a new phase of pressure on global supply chains. One of RG’s experts notes that, in his view, the Russian economy has already adapted to restrictions, so the United States is effectively launching a new economic experiment with an unclear outcome. In Australia, the tariff theme lands especially painfully because it is discussed not as some distant abstraction, but as a direct blow to exporters: ABC reports that Washington introduced a 12.5% tariff on Australian exports, and that businesses fear reduced investment and rising costs. (aa.com.tr)

The second major storyline is the reliability of the United States as an ally. In Australia, this is perhaps the most noticeable public nerve: according to Lowy Institute, only 31% of Australians believe the United States will “act responsibly in the world,” and trust in President Trump has hit a historic low. At the same time, the same poll highlights an important detail: despite declining trust in Washington, 73% of Australians still believe the alliance with the United States is important for the country’s security. This helps explain the ambivalence of Australian coverage: on the one hand, ABC and Prime Minister Anthony Albanese himself say that with Trump in office, America is “playing a different role” and moving away from the usual pro-market and pro-alliance model; on the other, Canberra does not want to break the alliance and instead prefers a “disciplined” and cautious adaptation. Albanese, speaking on ABC, puts it without diplomatic lacework: because of “America first,” Australia and other middle powers are banding together more closely. (abc.net.au)

Turkey’s reaction to the same issue is more institutional and less emotional. After the NATO summit in Ankara, Turkish analytical outlets like AA wrote that relations between Turkey and the United States could open “a new page,” if the most painful issues shift — CAATSA sanctions, the C-400 issue, and the fate of the F-35. An important detail here is that Turkish texts do not present the U.S. as an “unreliable ally in general,” but rather as a party with which a deal is possible if the balance of power in NATO changes. In AA’s article about the summit, it notes that Trump’s statements about lifting sanctions on Turkey and the possible review of F-35 already created expectations that the defense impasse could be unblocked. A European expert close to this storyline, Director of the European Neighbourhood Council Festerbey, told AA that the summit became a “big win” for Turkey–U.S. relations. In other words, the Turkish view is not about a break, but about pragmatically restoring a channel through security and the defense industry. (aa.com.tr)

The third topic that clearly ties all three countries together is American foreign policy as a source of unpredictability, especially in the context of war, Iran and Ukraine. In Russia, this storyline is almost inevitably read through sanctions and ultimatums. TASS cites and comments on Trump’s July statement about “50 days” for a deal on Ukraine and the threat of secondary tariffs against Russia; it also emphasizes that an even tougher package is under consideration in Congress — up to 500% duties. For Russia’s expert community, this is not just another piece of news, but a sign that Washington is trying to combine economic pressure with political coercion. In another TASS column, it is stated outright that Trump prefers tariffs to sanctions as a tool for pushing Moscow toward an outcome it finds unacceptable. It is also telling that even when Russian rhetoric is sharp, it is often infused with a calculating tone: the point is not panic, but waiting to see where the American threat is just a facade and where it is a real instrument. (tass.ru)

In Australia, the same phenomenon is interpreted through Iran and through the reproach that the United States makes decisions without allies. ABC reported that Trump criticized Canberra for not providing enough help in the conflict around the Strait of Hormuz, and then in Australian debate Albanese himself called his rhetoric “inappropriate for a United States president.” What is especially interesting is that local criticism is not anti-American in the direct sense: it is not aimed at the alliance as such, but at the American way of acting without consultation — that is, against the style of power. Australian commentators talk about Trump’s “cryptonite” in local politics: publicly aligning with him is electorally toxic, but it is impossible to fully distance from the United States. That is why Canberra chooses a strange but very telling strategy — less worship, more cold pragmatism. (abc.net.au)

If all of this is brought together into a single picture, it is not simply dissatisfaction with a specific U.S. president, but a broader international disappointment with American predictability. Turkey sees Washington primarily as a negotiator with whom you can bargain if the balance shifts in NATO and in the defense industry. Russia sees the source of sanctions pressure and trade-politics blackmail that, according to local commentators, itself accelerates the dismantling of the previous world order. Australia sees an ally it has to stay close to even when trust in it falls to record lows. And it is precisely this similarity that makes the current wave of discussion so significant: in three countries, very differently but increasingly often, people are talking about the same thing — the United States is no longer perceived as automatically the stable center of the system. It remains strong, but its strength is now read as a risk factor rather than only a guarantee. (abc.net.au)

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The US under the spotlight: how China, Australia and Germany read Washington through tariffs, cracks...

In recent days, in China, Australia and Germany, talk about the United States has been revolving around one big knot: a new wave of American tariffs and trade pressure, to which local commentators attach a much wider question—how predictable the US is as a partner, and how long allies and rivals are willing to live amid constant American political turbulence. In the Chinese press, this is presented as another example of Washington’s unilateral and protectionist course; in Australia, as a blow to the long-standing “special” nature of the alliance; in Germany, as a symptom of the US’s strategic unreliability—even as Berlin continues to stress historical gratitude and the need for transatlantic connectivity. (global.chinadaily.com.cn)

The most general theme linking all three countries is Trump’s tariffs and what they are already being perceived as—less separate trade measures and more a constant style of governance. In Beijing, the official line is delivered harshly, without diplomatic embellishment: Lin Jian, a spokesperson for China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, said that China “opposes all forms of unilateral tariff measures,” and that, in his words, trade wars “serve the interests of neither side.” This is not simply a response to yet another package of duties; Chinese publications use it to show that Washington is building “more durable tariff architecture”—a system, as China Daily writes, that preserves the levers of pressure even after temporary measures disappear. This view matters: in the Chinese interpretation, the US is not protecting the economy—it is trying to institutionalize uncertainty. (global.chinadaily.com.cn)

It is at this point that the Chinese reaction becomes not only defensive, but also instructive. China Daily writes that tariffs may raise costs, but “cannot easily change the mutually beneficial nature of Sino-US economic relations.” This is a typical move in official Chinese analysis: not to deny the conflict, but to claim that long-term interdependence is still stronger than political noise. The People’s Daily goes even further, calling the new tariff wave the “三宗罪”—a triple fault—and describing it as an instrument of economic pressure concealed under the banner of law. For China’s domestic audience, this is not only criticism of the US, but also confirmation of a broader idea: Washington does not act according to rules, but according to political expediency. (global.chinadaily.com.cn)

The Australian discussion of the same tariffs is far less ideological, but in some ways even more worrying. In Canberra, the reaction is built around a practical question: if the United States imposes tariffs even on its closest partners, what does an alliance even mean? ABC News reported that the Trump administration confirmed a new 12.5% tariff on Australia, and that the country’s government, in a formal filing, “reiterated its opposition” to these measures. According to ABC, Australia’s ambassador to the US, Greg Moriarty, said there would be “robust negotiations”—tough talks needed to fend off the new tariffs. But behind the dry diplomacy there is a deeper doubt: if even an ally is forced to constantly “push back” against Washington’s moves, then an alliance stops being background and becomes a problem in itself. (abc.net.au)

In Australia, another motive also matters: disappointment not only with politics, but with American leadership itself. ABC wrote that Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s frustration with Trump-era America is growing, describing it as acting “playing a different role in world,” and linking this to tariffs, the war in Iran, and the broader logic of “America First.” As ABC quotes Albanese, he emphasized that Australia and other middle powers have become “band together more closely”—that is, seeking more coordination beyond the US. This is very much an Australian twist: not a break with America, but quiet preparation for a world in which the White House can no longer be fully relied upon. (abc.net.au)

In Germany, the same tariff storyline is colored differently: here the dispute is not so much about trade damage as about the political reliability of the US as the pillar of Europe’s security and economy. Tagesschau reported that the new American tariffs affect 60 trading partners and again put at risk predictability for German companies and the EU. In an ARD commentary on Friedrich Merz’s visit to Trump, the phrase was used that there is no alternative to the US “als Sicherheitsgarant” for Germany “bis auf Weiteres keine”—none, for the time being. But this forced acknowledgment is accompanied by growing irritation: German materials increasingly express the idea that under Trump, the US remains indispensable yet becomes less and less trustworthy. (tagesschau.de)

It is especially telling that in Germany tariffs are discussed not only as an economic risk, but also as an attack on the country’s very industrial model. Tagesschau quoted experts saying that Trump’s measures hit German car manufacturers particularly hard and that the US president may use tariffs for domestic popularity in America, “auf Kosten Europas”—at Europe’s expense. Economist Marcel Fratzscher, as Tagesschau presents him, directly linked the tariff line to American domestic politics, which is an extremely important turn for a German reader: Europe is no longer seen as a partner, but rather as a resource for an American election campaign. (tagesschau.de)

But Germany has a second, more symbolic storyline too—the 250th anniversary of the United States. Unexpectedly, it became a повод not only for congratulations, but for self-reflection. Debates were held in the Bundestag in which gratitude to the US for liberating Germany after Nazism was voiced alongside concern about the current polarization of American society. In a survey by NDR in the country’s northwest, 91% of respondents in the region said relations between Germany and the US are bad, while 90% said they have a negative view of the US itself. This is no longer just dissatisfaction with Trump; it is a sign that, in German society, the American image is increasingly breaking into two opposing parts: the historical America of freedom and today’s America of chaos. (bundestag.de)

Interestingly, it is in Germany that this anniversary-related American storyline has risen to something close to a philosophical debate. Deutschlandfunk recalled that anti-Americanism in the country has its own history, and that Trump, according to historian Volker Depkat, is merely fanning old prejudices. In SZ and tagesschau, the anniversary of the US was described as a possible “verpasste Chance”—a missed opportunity for a divided country to rethink itself. In Germany’s local reading, America today looks not only like an ally and not only like a problem, but like a mirror in which Germany sees its own fears: about the possible breakdown of the political center and about whether democratic institutions can withstand pressure from populism. (deutschlandfunk.de)

If you reduce the three countries to a common denominator, you get a curious picture. China sees the US first and foremost as a source of unilateral pressure and trade coercion; Australia sees it as an ally that has suddenly become unpredictable, forcing doubt about the very architecture of the alliance; Germany sees it as historically necessary yet increasingly politically troubling power that it has to live with for reasons of security and the economy, even as trust in it clearly declines. In all three countries, the US is being discussed not as a usual great power, but as a state whose internal decisions immediately turn into international nervousness. And this, perhaps, is the main international storyline of the moment: the world is talking less and less about the US in terms of individual issues, and more and more trying to understand what kind of America it is dealing with at all. (global.chinadaily.com.cn)

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The US as a mirror of anxiety: how Ukraine, Russia and Germany read American politics

In recent weeks, talk about the United States in Ukraine, Russia and Germany has been revolving around the same nerves: Donald Trump, Russia’s war against Ukraine, American tariffs, and a broader question as well—whether Washington can still be considered a reliable pillar of European security. But the emphasis in the three countries differs. In Ukraine, the US is discussed primarily as an ally that can pressure Kyiv into concessions to Moscow; in Russia—as a force, according to local commentators, trying to find a way out of foreign-policy deadlocks and to bargain on Ukraine and other crises; in Germany—as an unpredictable partner whose trade and military line pushes Berlin toward strategic autonomy. This very combination of anxiety, skepticism and forced pragmatism is currently shaping the international picture of how America is perceived. (eurointegration.com.ua)

The strongest common theme is Ukraine and the figure of Trump. In Kyiv, American policy is increasingly seen not as a guaranteed shield, but as a source of pressure. According to the KМИС, more than half of Ukrainians believe that the US is pushing Ukraine toward concessions to Russia, and in a January poll 74% said Trump’s presidency is bad for Ukraine. Ukrainian outlets and analysts link this to the fact that in the final text of the Paris Declaration, promises of US support for multinational forces in Ukraine disappeared, and Washington’s tone began to look more conditional and transactional. Against this backdrop, it is especially noticeable how the Ukrainian press tries not only to read the statements, but also the political mechanics behind US decisions—for example, in a piece by Ukrayinska Pravda about Zelensky’s visit to Washington, it is emphasized that talk of Patriot licenses and new ideas matters precisely because Kyiv can no longer rely on the automatic nature of American support. (eurointegration.com.ua)

In Russia, the same storyline is presented almost in a mirror image, but with a different conclusion. There, American policy on Ukraine is often interpreted as recognition of the limits of US power. In a column on RT, political scientist Dmitry Evstafyev writes directly that, in his view, Trump understands that Ukraine “has lost the war,” and therefore the conversation is no longer about principles, but about how to extract benefits from a “discarded asset”—a distinctly Russian perspective in which war and diplomacy are described in the language of a deal and geopolitical bargaining. Similar motives also appear in reports about Putin and Trump’s phone talks: Russian media stress that Moscow and Washington are allegedly seeking “common approaches,” and that the obstacle to peace is portrayed primarily as Kyiv and its unwillingness to accept the Kremlin’s demands. Even when Russian publications cite Western polls about Trump’s falling approval ratings, they use this as an argument about the weakness of Washington’s course and the White House’s vulnerability on the domestic front. (russian.rt.com)

In Germany, the American theme sounds different—not as a question of Ukraine’s survival, but as a question of the reliability of the transatlantic link. German media and commentators increasingly write that with Trump, the US stopped being a predictable anchor. In a tagesschau commentary on Friedrich Merz’s visit to Trump, it is stated outright that Germany has “no alternative for the time being” to the US as a security guarantor; yet the tone of the text itself shows that it is no longer confidence, but a forced recognition of dependency. In another German analytical piece after the Munich conference, it is emphasized that pressure on Germany and Europe has not decreased—it has only grown. This is also visible in public opinion: NDR and tagesschau note that for many residents of northern Germany, attitudes toward the US have become critical, and trust in America under Trump has noticeably declined. German editorial texts do not merely criticize Trump; they draw a practical lesson from his behavior: Europe needs more independence in defense and fewer illusions about American stability. (tagesschau.de)

The second major theme is trade wars and tariffs. Here Germany reacts especially sharply because for its export economy, the US market is critically important. Tagesschau wrote that about 10% of German exports go to the United States, and therefore Trump’s tariff threats are perceived as a direct blow to industry. At the same time, German economic materials note that the US’s tough tariff policy is already hitting not only American markets but also the US economy itself; however, in Germany this does not lead to calm—rather, it strengthens the sense that Washington is ready to play with increasing the stakes even at the cost of allied relations. This storyline also appears in the Ukrainian press, but as a side issue compared to the war: Kyiv reads US tariff policy through a broader crisis of Western coordination, not as an independent topic. In Russia, meanwhile, the US’s trade line is often used to demonstrate that America is losing the ability to run the global system without costs to itself. (tagesschau.de)

The third theme is Trump himself as a symptom of American internal instability. In Germany and Russia, polls about the low approval rating of the US president are quoted with interest, but interpreted differently. In German analysis, low support for Trump becomes proof that the US is polarized and therefore less reliable as a partner; in Russian interpretation, it is an argument that Trump is driving the country into a dead end and is compensating for internal problems with foreign-policy gestures. Ukrainian publications read the American internal struggle even more pragmatically: if the White House is unstable, then any guarantee becomes conditional—meaning Kyiv urgently needs to expand its support base in Europe and its own defense capabilities. A particularly telling Ukrainian text describes how Trump’s policy changed Ukrainians’ attitude toward NATO: expectations that the US would automatically remain the alliance’s leader weakened, while hope for European strategic autonomy, by contrast, increased. (kommersant.ru)

If you put these reactions together into one picture, an interesting paradox emerges. Ukraine, Russia and Germany look at the US not as an abstract superpower, but as a source of very concrete consequences: for Kyiv, military assistance and the risk of coercion; for Moscow, room for bargaining and an attempt to prove the limits of American might; for Berlin, a balance between security, trade and the need to emancipate from Washington. And despite all the differences in tone, all three countries share a common denominator: Trump’s America looks less predictable than America of previous years. That is why behind the dry news about meetings, polls or tariffs, a deeper anxiety can be read today—not only about what the US will do next, but about whether American policy itself remains the core on which one can still rely. (eurointegration.com.ua)

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How Saudi Arabia, Russia and China Are Arguing About America Today: tariffs, Iran and the new...

The most noticeable discussions about the United States in Saudi Arabia, Russia and China today are not focused on an abstract “American policy,” but on three very specific focal points: American pressure through tariffs and sanctions; the role of Washington in Middle East security after the Iran war; and whether the United States remains a reliable partner in a world that is increasingly perceived as fragmented and conflict-prone. This is evident both in official statements and in analytical columns and editorial assessments by local media: in China, the tone is set by themes of “unilateral measures” and the trade war; in Russia, it is sanctions pressure and the strategic Moscow–Beijing pairing against U.S. containment policy; and in Saudi Arabia, it is both pragmatic partnership with the United States and a cautious calculation regarding the U.S.-Iran settlement and nuclear cooperation with Washington. (globaltimes.cn)

If we look at the Chinese debate, the main irritant is not so much Donald Trump himself as the logic of American economic and technological policy itself. Official Beijing and Chinese state media describe U.S. tariffs again and again as “unilateral” and contrary to international rules, while new levies are framed as a source of chaos and unpredictability for global trade. At the end of February, China’s trade reaction directly linked American decisions to rule-breaking and harm to all sides, and in April and July, China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Chinese experts again emphasized that sanctions against buyers of Iranian oil—along with secondary sanctions targeting Chinese companies—constitute unlawful extraterritorial pressure that Beijing does not recognize. (globaltimes.cn)

It is especially telling that in the Chinese press the United States is often discussed not as the “center of the world system,” but as a source of instability, forcing the PRC to strengthen its own autonomy and deepen external ties outside the American orbit. In Global Times, Chinese experts wrote that the U.S. tariff policy is failing even by Washington’s own standards, because the U.S. trade deficit is expanding rather than shrinking; another article stressed that Washington’s moves are pushing China toward tougher protection against secondary sanctions and toward activating retaliatory measures. At the same time, within China’s editorial logic, Russian-Chinese rapprochement is presented as a “signal of stability” in a turbulent world—meaning that America indirectly serves as a backdrop for demonstrating a more reliable alternative. (globaltimes.cn)

In Russian discussions, the tone is similar but the emphasis is different: the American “problem” is read there primarily as a problem of pressure and coercion. In the past weeks, Kommersant and TASS have shown that Moscow and Russian analysts view the United States as a country that does not so much “negotiate” as combine sanctions, tariff threats and political pressure—including against those states that continue to buy Russian oil and gas. Russian texts about new bills in Washington describe them as a mechanism aimed not only at Russia, but also at China and India; alongside this, Russian business and foreign-policy outlets are noting that American business does not see any real easing of sanctions pressure, despite rhetoric about normalization of relations. (kommersant.ru)

At the same time, Russia’s response to the United States is not limited to defense. Increasingly, it is built around the idea that it is precisely American harshness that accelerates the formation of tighter Russian-Chinese coordination. Kommersant writes directly that the U.S. and China remain locked in a conflictual bundle over tariffs, sanctions, Taiwan, Iran and Ukraine, while Russia in this new triangle turns out to be a “third party.” In TASS there is also a harsher formulation: Russian and Chinese analysts describe the Moscow–Beijing axis as an element of a new global balance capable of creating a multipolar order alternative to American hegemony. In other words, in the Russian context, the United States is discussed not only as a rival, but also as an unwitting architect of closer ties between Russia and China. (kommersant.ru)

Saudi Arabia looks at America quite differently. Here, the United States is still viewed as a key partner in security and diplomacy, but the attitude is not romantic—it is strictly transactional. After contacts between Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and Donald Trump, Saudi media highlighted that Riyadh and Washington are discussing not only bilateral ties, but also regional stability, navigation, and U.S. contacts with Iran. In June and July, Saudi official and semi-official sources emphasized that the kingdom welcomes diplomatic settlement between the U.S. and Iran because, for it, the freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz and reducing the risk of a new war are critical. (arabnews.com)

But it is precisely in Saudi discourse that a paradox is especially visible: America is needed both as a guarantor and as an object of caution. The most important topic in recent weeks is an agreement on the peaceful use of nuclear energy between Saudi Arabia and the United States. Arab News and Al Riyadh describe it as a major strategic breakthrough, emphasizing that it strengthens economic resilience, local production and the goals of Vision 2030, and also builds trust between the two countries. Even in positive materials, however, “difficult questions” are raised—ranging from political conditions to possible risks and the role of U.S. domestic politics. In other words, in Saudi reactions to the United States, it is not just an ally, but a provider of strategic technology with which Riyadh is trying to strike a deal on terms that are as beneficial and safe for itself as possible. (alriyadh.com)

The common denominator across these three countries is still there: American policy is now, almost everywhere, read through the lens of predictability. In China, the United States looks like a source of tariff and technological coercion; in Russia, it looks like the center of a sanctions system and military pressure; in Saudi Arabia, it looks like a necessary but demanding partner that must be kept within an agreement—not trusted unconditionally. Interestingly, even where the tone is more positive—such as in Saudi texts about the nuclear agreement—positivity is not built on ideological sympathy for America, but on calculation: does Washington bring stability, investment, access to technology, and a lower risk of war? This is a very modern, almost cold way of looking at the United States—not as a symbol, but as a factor of risk or benefit. (arabnews.com)

The most interesting hidden line—easy to miss if you read only American press—is that the United States today is unwittingly bringing together very different foreign-policy cultures through their reaction to itself. Chinese editors talk about protection from unilateralism; Russians talk about resisting sanctions coercion and strengthening an alternative center of power; Saudi commentators talk about insuring their own security and modernizing through selective cooperation. As a result, America remains the main topic on the international agenda not because everyone is admiring it, but because almost all major players are forced to rebuild their strategies around American unpredictability. (globaltimes.cn)

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How countries around the world are reacting to the United States: Trump’s tariffs, distrust of...

In recent weeks in Brazil, India and Australia, discussion of the United States has surprisingly converged on the same theme: with Donald Trump in office, Washington is again making tariffs the main tool of foreign policy, and local commentators are arguing less about the tariff figures themselves than about what they say about the United States. In the Brazilian press, American measures against exports from Brazil are described as protectionism, masked by rhetoric about Pix, ethanol and the environment; in India, the reaction centers on “tariff architecture” and negotiations for a trade deal; in Australia, it is framed around harsh criticism of the “slavery tariff” and an increasingly colder attitude toward the United States in public opinion. The common nerve of these texts is this: America is more and more often seen not as a predictable guarantor of order, but as a major power ready to use access to its market as leverage. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

The most striking common theme is a new kind of trade war in which the United States justifies tariffs by citing forced labor and “unfair” practices. In Brazil, this has triggered especially sharp pushback: Folha writes that Washington’s explanations—from Pix to the environment—look more like a “repertoire for legitimizing barriers” than like a trade analysis, and that the overall average effective U.S. tariff on Brazilian imports, according to the article’s authors, has risen to roughly 9.5%. In a column, Lula—recounted by UOL—called the new tariffs a mistake and warned that they would break supply chains and push Brazilian companies to replace American suppliers with other partners. For Brazil, what matters here is not only that the duty hits exports, but also that the United States justifies it with political and regulatory claims, including the dispute over social media and the Pix payment system. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

In India, a similar logic is read through a more technocratic, but no less cautious, language. The Indian Express and Mint write that the United States is reshaping its tariff regime by dividing countries into two categories—10% and 12.5%—amid investigations into forced labor and excessive production capacity. The Indian Ministry of Commerce, Mint reports, is asking Washington to review the 12.5% tariff and emphasizes that Delhi prefers bilateral negotiations over unilateral measures; the same article cites positions from industry associations FICCI and CII, which warn that additional tariffs will hurt not only Indian exporters, but also American importers, retailers and consumers. This is an important Indian feature: the local reaction is not limited to outrage, but tries to show the United States that tariffs will damage Americans themselves. (livemint.com)

But behind the shared tariff narrative lie different national fears. For Brazil, American measures are also read as interference in the country’s political context: in the domestic agenda, a line keeps resurfacing that Trump introduced tariffs against the backdrop of conflicts involving former President Jair Bolsonaro and disputes over freedom of speech, and Brazilian authorities respond with tough rhetoric about the “unfairness” of U.S. actions. In a UOL piece, the government had previously described the possible tariff as “injustas” (unjust), and a presidential column notes that Brazil’s exports to the United States have fallen to their lowest level since 1997. This is no longer just a trade dispute: in Brazil, U.S. policy is seen as a mixture of geoeconomics and domestic political maneuvering. (noticias.uol.com.br)

India, meanwhile, views the same U.S. line through the prism of negotiation strategy and long-term sustainability. There, a more pragmatic argument is heard: even if the tariff is currently lower than competitors’ rates, it still changes the relative positions of exporters—especially in textiles and, in the longer term, in pharmaceuticals. Mint notes that India’s textile industry did not receive TRQ (tariff-rate quota) preferences and may lose to competitors such as Bangladesh and Cambodia, while possible future levies on generics create uncertainty for companies. In other words, India is debating not only punishment, but also how the United States, via tariffs, is reshuffling global supply chains. It is a more “economic” perspective than in Brazil, but the conclusion is similar: America is becoming a source of structural pressure rather than simply a trade partner. (livemint.com)

Australia’s reaction is arguably the most institutionally framed. ABC reports that Canberra filed an official objection to Trump’s plan to impose a 12.5% tariff, calling it unsupported by a “credible evidentiary basis” and contradicting the existing free-trade agreement. At the same time, the Washington formula itself—that the tariff is needed because insufficient action is being taken against forced labor in supply chains—sounds in Australia almost absurd, because this is an ally and a very close partner of the United States. Here, the reaction is less emotional than in Brazil, but harsher in form: not just criticism, but a legal challenge to Washington’s position. (abc.net.au)

The most intriguing split in Australia is between distrust of Trump and reluctance to give up the American alliance. According to the Lowy Institute, only 31% of Australians believe the United States will “act responsibly in the world,” and trust in Trump himself is even lower—21%. Researcher Charles Lyons-Jones told ABC that the country feels “strong distaste for Trumpism and his policy agenda,” and that Australians themselves do not approve of using tariffs as a way to compel other states. And yet 73% still say the alliance with the United States is important for Australia’s security. This may be the subtlest international takeaway from the current wave of U.S. policy: allies are not rushing to break with Washington, but America’s moral credit is clearly shrinking. (abc.net.au)

Against this backdrop, local voices in each country sound different, but they almost always boil down to the same warning: Trump’s trade measures have become a form of political language. In India, Joint Secretary Brij Mohan Mishra, at a public hearing, Mint reports, objected to the conclusions of the USTR and insisted that the country is already taking constructive steps against forced labor; in Australia, the ambassador and trade officials effectively dispute the evidentiary basis of the American decision itself; in Brazil, Lula, in his column, sets the American tariff pressure against the idea of diversifying partners and defending the country’s sovereign right to shape its own trade policy. The three countries speak in different words, but all three read the same thing: under Trump, the United States is not just setting trade rules—it is re-testing how ready the world is to accept American will as the norm. (livemint.com)

Looking broader still, this is where the most interesting international perspective emerges—one that is easy to miss in the American press. For Brazil, the United States looks like a power capable of mixing a trade dispute with political pressure; for India, it is a partner that needs to be constantly persuaded not to undermine the very architecture of mutual benefit; for Australia, it is an ally whose trust level among the public has fallen to a record low, but without which strategic security still seems incomplete. In other words, today’s reaction to America depends less and less on ideology and more and more on experience: countries are not judged by statements about the free market, but by how exactly the United States uses the power of its market. (abc.net.au)

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Europe and Ukraine increasingly view the US through Trump, Iran and NATO

In July–August 2026, in French, German and Ukrainian media, the United States is being discussed not as an abstract ally, but as a source of strategic uncertainty: the spotlight is on both the war and the negotiations over Iran, threats of new tariffs, doubts about NATO’s reliability, and the broader question of whether Washington can still be considered a predictable guarantor of European security. In France, this is described as historically low trust in the United States—and even as fear of a military threat from America; in Germany, as the painful realization that Berlin has no quick replacement for the American “umbrella”; in Ukraine, as direct anxiety about its own security and the future of NATO membership. (lemonde.fr)

The most visible shared theme is Iran and the style of American power. French analysts write that Paris fears a drawn-out crisis while being forced to take into account the fact that Washington is again playing at the edge of pressure and bargaining; in Le Monde, a French diplomatic source openly admits that “more than a bilateral conversation between Iran and the United States will be needed” to restore the system of control over the nuclear program. In Germany, the reaction is even sharper in tone: tagesschau quotes SWP political scientist Sascha Lomon, who sees Trump’s Iran policy as an expression of “strategic ambiguity,” while another commentary flatly claims that Trump “failed” to achieve his goals in Iran. The German debate is not only about the Middle East, however: it also emphasizes that American actions create legal and moral questions for Berlin—especially if US operations affect the Ramstein base. (lemonde.fr)

The second cross-cutting line is NATO and trust in American guarantees. Here the Ukrainian reaction is the most tense and the most practical. Ukrainian outlets regularly remind readers of Trump’s skepticism toward the alliance: Ukrainska Pravda and Ukrinform report his remarks that allies are “disloyal,” that the United States supposedly does not receive help from NATO, and that the question of Ukraine’s membership in the alliance remains blocked by a number of countries. In an interview with Ukrainska Pravda, former US Chargé d’Affaires George Kent says that the West and NATO must accelerate “deep discussions” not about Ukraine’s survival, but about how to help it win—an emphasis that reflects the Ukrainian demand for specifics rather than rhetoric. German media reads this through its own security concerns: in tagesschau, commentators note that Germany “has no alternative” to the United States as a guarantor, even if relations with Washington under Trump remain strained and even accompanied by talk of withdrawing American troops. French authors, by contrast, increasingly frame it as a Europe sovereignty problem: one of the texts in Le Monde notes that French public opinion already considers the United States a possible “military threat” in the future, and an ECFR poll shows that Europeans’ trust in the US has fallen to a historic low. (pravda.com.ua)

The third theme is broader disenchantment with the political and institutional face of the United States. In France, this comes across especially strongly: Le Monde writes that Trump “saturates the political and media landscape,” and in France, by making internal issues suddenly seem secondary; they also point out that French politics—including debates ahead of the 2027 elections—has to respond to the American agenda. In Germany, the debate about the US increasingly concerns not only foreign policy, but also the internal condition of American democracy—from redrawing electoral districts to pressure on voters’ rights—which tagesschau describes as an attack on Martin Luther King’s legacy. In Ukraine, this motif is picked up particularly sharply: after polls and comments in local media, the idea takes hold that most Ukrainians view Trump’s presidency negatively, and that Washington behaves as if help for Ukraine were an instrument of bargaining rather than an obligation of an ally. Even when Americans promise production licenses for missiles or discuss new support packages, the tone of Ukrainian commentary remains wary: what matters is not the gesture, but how durable it proves to be. (lemonde.fr)

There are also differences that clearly show the local optics. France more often talks about the US as a challenge to European autonomy and as the possibility of a strategic “divorce,” even if no one is suggesting a complete break; Germany sees it as an inevitable but uncomfortable partner, without which it is impossible to ensure defense; Ukraine sees it as a country whose unpredictability directly affects survival. That is why today’s common European thinking does not sound like anti-Americanism, but like a tense recalibration of expectations: the US remains the center of global power, but in Paris, Berlin and Kyiv people increasingly discuss what the United States does when it acts as an ally—and what the rest should do if that ally starts behaving like a factor of risk. (lemonde.fr)

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The United States as a source of anxiety and calculation: how Israel, Brazil and South Korea read...

In recent days, discussion of the United States in Israel, Brazil and South Korea has been revolving not around some abstract “American policy,” but around the same feeling: Washington has become tougher, less predictable, and far more transactional. In Brazil, this is above all trade pressure and tariffs—read there as political punishment; in South Korea, it’s signals that the alliance with the United States is increasingly turning into a deal about sharing the burden; in Israel, it’s fear that the U.S. strategy in the Middle East may push Tel Aviv to the sidelines precisely on issues Israel considers existential. And although the reasons differ, the underlying nervousness is strikingly similar: local commentators see the United States not so much as an unconditional guarantor, but as a powerful partner whose interests increasingly diverge from those of its allies. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

The most noticeable common theme is trade and economic pressure from the United States. In Brazil, it has become the dominant storyline: local outlets analyze U.S. tariffs on Brazilian goods in detail, and columnists openly call them “unfair” and “illogical,” emphasizing that Brazil, meanwhile, does not run a trade surplus with the United States. In Folha de S.Paulo, this is presented not as a normal dispute over foreign trade, but as a symptom of a broader era of protectionism, in which Washington uses tariffs as a political tool. Even when the discussion concerns specific mechanisms—such as Section 301 investigations or new tariffs amid accusations of “labor exploitation”—the tone of Brazilian coverage remains the same: the United States is seen as a power ready to change the rules unilaterally and punish inconvenient partners. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

In South Korea, this logic takes a different form: not through a tariff shock, but through fear of an “American-style deal,” in which an ally is offered more responsibility without clear guarantees. South Korean editorials and analysis write that the United States is demanding Seoul play a bigger role in deterring North Korea, while at the same time focusing its own resources on China and on domestic priorities. A particularly telling editorial piece by Kyunghyang Shinmun about a new U.S. envoy in Seoul says outright that he should not “push through” the American line, but “listen” to the Korean side and be a bridge. This is an important formulation because it reflects not anti-Americanism, but anxiety about asymmetry in the relationship. Even more sharply worded are articles arguing that the U.S. defense strategy is shifting responsibility for deterring the DPRK onto South Korea itself: this is read as an attempt by the U.S. to preserve global power, but to do so at the expense of allies. (khan.co.kr)

The Israeli storyline is the most tense and emotional because it is not rooted in economics, but in security and strategic trust. In local coverage, the United States is discussed primarily through Iran and Saudi Arabia: Israel is alarmed that Washington may strike regional deals without taking into account Israel’s “red lines.” A particularly telling analysis in Israel Hayom says that the United States apparently wants to conduct the campaign itself and leave Israel out of the picture, and also that the American decision regarding Saudi Arabia’s nuclear program could become an “existential danger” for Israel. At the same time, there are reports that in the United States the narrative is strengthening to the effect that Israel has “dragged” America into the war—and that this is destroying the previous bipartisan consensus in favor of Israel. For Israeli commentators, this is a worrying warning sign: it is no longer just a matter of the policy of a specific president, but of a long shift in the American public climate. (israelhayom.co.il)

In Brazil, unlike Israel, the tone is less defensive and more institutional: there, discussion focuses actively on how to respond to the United States diplomatically and economically. Foreign Minister Mauro Vieira, in local publications, emphasizes that Brazil sees no basis for new tariffs, and Lula’s government views negotiations and concessions as a way to gain time and reduce damage. But precisely this pragmatism is accompanied by growing public irritation: polls cited by Brazilian media show a worsening attitude toward the United States, and columnists connect this not only to tariffs, but also to a broader sense that Washington is interfering in someone else’s politics under the banner of “protecting fair trade.” In other words, in Brazil the United States is increasingly perceived as a partner that demands respect for rules—even as it changes them itself. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

In South Korea, by contrast, the dominant emotion is not outrage but caution. Korean editorials acknowledge that military and technological cooperation with the United States remains necessary, but in almost every text there is a call not to confuse alliance with subordination. In a piece by Maeil Business about the United States’ request to Korean shipbuilders to build warships, Korean pragmatism is clearly visible: it is a chance for the local industry and, at the same time, a reminder that the United States is looking for ways to close its own military shortfalls through allied production supply chains. That is, Seoul sees the United States not only as a political partner, but also as a vast market—and, at the same time, as a source of strategic dependence. This is a very Korean perspective: not romantic and not antagonistic, but accountant-like and sober. (mk.co.kr)

The most interesting shared thought that emerges from these three countries is the gradual disappearance of the old idea of the United States as a predictable arbiter. In Israel, this is expressed through fear of being left out of major Middle East deals. In Brazil, through the sense that Washington can use tariffs as punishment for political disloyalty. In South Korea, through concern that the defense alliance is becoming ever more conditional and demands additional commitments from Seoul without comparable confidence in American protection. At the same time, none of these countries is “refusing” the United States; instead, all three are trying—each in its own way—to hold the relationship together. That is why their current reactions matter so much: they show not a rupture, but the erosion of trust proceeding not along ideological lines, but along lines of practical calculation. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

There is also one more subtle but important local angle. In Brazil, U.S. harshness feeds a national discussion about sovereignty and economic autonomy; in Israel, the question is whether it’s time to rely less on an external superpower—even when it is formally an ally; in South Korea, it is about how far a country can be simultaneously dependent on the American military umbrella and, at the same time, an increasingly independent industrial power. So if everything is boiled down to one phrase, then in these three countries today the debate is not so much about whether the United States is “good” or “bad,” but about how much one can build a long-term policy around American reliability. And it is precisely this question that is uniting Jerusalem, Brasília and Seoul more strongly than any differences between them. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

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The US through the eyes of Kyiv, Ankara and Pretoria: Trump, tariffs and a new price of...

In the past few weeks, discussion of the United States in Ukraine, Turkey and South Africa has been less about some abstract “American might” and more about a very specific question: what exactly Washington wants from partners, and how much it will cost. In Kyiv, the main nerve is the war and the risk that the US will pressure Ukraine into a compromise with Moscow; in Ankara, it is how under Trump to restart frozen defense ties and remove sanctions barriers; in Pretoria, it is how to withstand US tariffs and political pressure while also not losing access to the market and the diplomatic dialogue. That is why, in all three countries, the US is seen not as a distant ideological reference point, but as a source of immediate consequences for security, trade and domestic politics. (pravda.com.ua)

The most general theme that unites all three countries is the sense of a deal rather than a stable alliance. In Ukraine, that feeling is especially painful: according to the KМИС, 56% of Ukrainians believe that the US is pressuring Kyiv to force it into concessions to Russia. This debate is being fueled by news about Donald Trump’s calls with Volodymyr Zelensky and Vladimir Putin, as well as reports about possible “plans” by the US to end the war. Ukrainian media conveys these signals not as neutral diplomacy, but as a question of the state’s survival. In one post, Ukrainian Pravda directly says that many Ukrainians feel pressure from Washington has intensified, while in another piece the outlet wrote that Trump and Zelensky discussed not only the war, but also licensed production of Patriot—meaning not just political support, but practical defense cooperation. (pravda.com.ua)

In Turkey, the same “deal” logic looks more pragmatic and less dramatic, but with the same undertone: the US is a partner you can negotiate with if Ankara has strategic value. The NATO summit in Ankara in July became, for Turkish commentators, a symbol that President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan could again act as a mediator between the West and a more hard-edged, unpredictable Washington. In an Anadolu Ajansı piece about the summit, it was emphasized that Trump spoke about lifting sanctions against Turkey and about a possible rethinking of the F-35 issue, while Turkey’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs linked the personal relationship between Erdoğan and Trump to the hope of reducing tension within NATO. (AA and AA described this logic as a chance to open a “new page” in relations with Washington and Brussels, but behind that optimism there is also older Turkish irritation: Turkey is a NATO ally that still lives with the consequences of CAATSA and being excluded from F-35. (aa.com.tr)

That is why, in Turkey, talk about the US today almost always boils down to the question of defense autonomy. In AA’s analysis of CAATSA, it is stated that Turkey turned out to be the only NATO member against which those sanctions were applied, and that the dispute over F-35 and the purchase of F-16 remains the key point of friction. This matters not only as a bilateral conflict, but also as part of a broader Turkish idea: the US is still needed, but trust can be extended only to the extent that it is willing to take Turkish independence into account. This view is especially noticeable in AA’s analysis of NATO in Ankara, which emphasizes that Turkey managed to position itself as a strong member of the alliance and that European security without it does not look complete. In other words, the American topic in Turkey is not just about “liking/don’t like Trump,” but about the price of the role of an indispensable player. (aa.com.tr)

In South Africa, discussion of the US is far more colored by economics and symbolism. Here, the focus is not so much on war and NATO, but on US tariffs, AGOA and the overall cooling of relations with the Trump administration. News24 reported that Parks Tau, Minister of Trade and Industry, promised to continue negotiations with Washington to “either eliminate or reduce” the 12.5% tariff on South African exports imposed despite consultations with the USTR and US hearings. And in a Wandile Sihlobo column for News24, a more sober assessment is offered: extending AGOA does not solve the problem, because baseline US tariffs still make South African exports uncompetitive. For South African business and agribusiness elites, the US is a market that cannot be lost, but one that is working less and less according to the rules of “preferential access.” (news24.com)

This economic line in South Africa is quickly turning political. TimesLIVE wrote about former President Thabo Mbeki’s speech at a reception marking the 250th anniversary of US independence: he urged the restoration of friendship with America and recalled “mutually beneficial cooperation” based on democracy and development. But the same piece admits that relations remain tense due to criticism of Trump, tariffs, South Africa’s exclusion from the G20 in Florida, and uncertainty around AGOA. In a column by Kuseni Dlamini in Sunday Times, a more strategic thought was voiced: if Pretoria misreads the scale of geopolitical change, it risks ending up on the sidelines of a new geopolitics. This is not anti-Americanism; it is concern that the US no longer guarantees a predictable order, but only asks partners to adapt. (timeslive.co.za)

But South Africa also has an even sharper layer—a symbolic war over the image of the country in the US. Here, people discuss not only tariffs, but also campaigns that, according to local commentators, distort South Africa within the American political arena. In Mail & Guardian and another M&G piece, criticism is directed at trips by South African right-wing activists to the US and at what the authors call “the white genocide lie.” This is an unusual local storyline, but it is very telling: the US becomes the stage where South Africa’s internal conflicts are exported—and then returned as international pressure. For readers in the US, this may look like a marginal story, but for South African commentators it is a question of national sovereignty and who has the right to speak for the country across the ocean. (mg.co.za)

If we reduce all three countries to a common denominator, the result is a rather harsh but accurate formula: the US is now seen as a power that has not disappeared, but has become more transactional and less predictable. Ukraine fears it will pay for that transactionalism with territory or a forced compromise; Turkey is trying to turn it into a space for bargaining over sanctions, F-35 and its role within NATO; South Africa is forced to respond through tariffs, trade regimes and protecting its own image. And that is why in these countries, the US is discussed not as “the leader of the free world,” but as a powerful actor whose decisions immediately become someone else’s domestic politics. (pravda.com.ua)

This is also the main unexpected conclusion drawn from local reactions: today the debate about the US outside America is less and less often conducted in the language of ideology, and more and more in the language of harm, benefit, and the ability to bargain for room to maneuver. In Kyiv, it is the language of war; in Ankara, the language of security; in Pretoria, the language of trade and dignity. And in all three cases, Donald Trump has become not just the President of the United States, but a symbol of a new era in which allies are forced to prove their usefulness every day. (pravda.com.ua)

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How debates about America are playing out right now in Saudi Arabia, South Africa and Israel: from the...

Right now in these three countries, talk about the United States is not focused on abstract “American politics,” but on very specific issues: in Saudi Arabia, around the nuclear deal with Washington and its impact on Gulf security; in South Africa, around American tariffs and reduced aid; and in Israel, around how America itself is changing—the very America Israel has grown accustomed to relying on, especially amid the war with Iran, pressure on Netanyahu, and growing skepticism toward Israeli policy within the United States. (arabnews.com)

The most visible common theme is not simply “America as a great power,” but America as a partner that either provides security—or suddenly changes the rules. This is especially clear in Saudi commentary: in Arab News and Al Riyadh, the peaceful atom agreement with the US is described as both historic and strategically beneficial, with local authors stressing that the deal did not emerge out of thin air and is grounded in decades of contact, as well as in the calculation that Riyadh will not want to depend on alternative players such as China, Russia, or Europe. Abdulrahman al-Rashed writes directly that if the United States refused to cooperate, it would push Saudi Arabia to seek another partner—weakening American influence; in the same logic, he notes that the current war with Iran has shown that China’s economic power does not equal willingness to assume military and political responsibility. (arabnews.com)

But there is also a subtler layer to the Saudi response: local commentators see in the agreement not only technology and energy, but also a test of how seriously the United States takes the region. Arab News writes that both Saudi Crown Prince and Donald Trump discussed regional security, maritime navigation, and US contacts with Iran—and Saudi positioning boils down to the familiar formula: restraint, dialogue, and protection of international sea lanes, especially the Strait of Hormuz. In other words, for Saudi Arabia, America is not discussed as an ideological symbol, but as a guarantor that must either genuinely secure the region—or at least not derail a fragile diplomatic architecture. (arabnews.com)

In South Africa, discussion of America is altogether different in tone: it is worrying and practical. Here, the United States is discussed primarily as a source of pressure. In a News24 column by Russell Rensburg on cuts to US aid, he says the country has yet to present a clear plan for what happens in case of a funding shortfall in HIV and related services, with the shortfall itself estimated at roughly 7 billion rand per year; the author emphasizes that thousands of healthcare workers’ salaries and access for the most vulnerable groups to treatment have been hit. This is no longer pure geopolitics—it is a conversation about how Washington’s decisions directly affect public health in South Africa. (news24.com)

At the same time, there is also a trade storyline. News24 reports that South Africa’s Minister of Trade and Industry Parks Tau promised to continue talks with the United States in order to eliminate or reduce the 12.5% tariff on South African exports; he also stresses that the tariff was introduced despite written representations from the government, business and trade unions, as well as consultations with the office of the US Trade Representative and hearings in Washington. This detail matters: in South Africa’s perception, America does not look like a distant hub of the liberal international order right now, but like a hard-nosed negotiator who can, with a single decision, create direct costs for exporters, farmers and industry. (news24.com)

But there is also a broader political layer in South Africa—irritation that Washington publicly assesses the country’s internal problems. In older analytical and editorial texts, News24 links the deterioration of relations with the US not only to Trump, but also to accumulated ideological differences, as well as to the fact that the American side uses “megaphone” diplomacy; in newer pieces, the same outlet discusses how Saudi and South African economies experience American policy differently—yet for South Africa, the overall motive remains the same: the United States is seen as a powerful but unpredictable center that simultaneously criticizes, punishes, and demands adaptation. (news24.com)

In Israel, discussion of the US is even more emotional, because many local authors believe the strategic foundation that Israel once saw as solid no longer looks as strong as before. At The Times of Israel, several columns talk about a “skeptical America,” about generational and party shifts in the United States, and about the fact that the old Israeli argument no longer works for the audience that exists today. Seth Eisenberg writes that Israel needs to explain itself to America, which no longer treats the alliance as a moral given; Yohanán Schimmelpfennig goes even further, arguing that under Netanyahu, Israel replaced steady diplomacy with personal access to power in Washington—and now pays for it with dependence on an American re-negotiation of the terms of the game. (blogs.timesofisrael.com)

The most telling internal Israeli debate about Donald Trump. At The Times of Israel there is both criticism and attempts to defend the previous Trump–Netanyahu axis—but even critical authors are arguing not about individual gestures anymore, but about what Trump did to America itself and what that means for Israel. Mitchell Bard, for example, writes that a portion of right-wing circles in the US has strengthened the belief that Israel has become part of the problem rather than the solution, and that disappointment with “America First” has fueled isolationists who are willing to undermine the US–Israel alliance. In the Israeli press, then, America is discussed as a politically shifting organism, where the old bipartisan base of support for Israel is no longer guaranteed. (blogs.timesofisrael.com)

If these reactions are boiled down to several themes, the first is American reliability as security. Saudi Arabia, unlike Israel, currently sees the US primarily as a partner in maintaining Gulf stability and technological development—not only as a military patron. At the same time, Saudi texts insist on the idea that America must prove its readiness not with words, but with the ability to keep the region from escalating. Israel, by contrast, feels that American support remains big but no longer unconditional, and that Washington is ready to limit Israel’s freedom of maneuver in pursuit of broader regional goals. (arabnews.com)

The second theme is American economic nationalism and its side effects. For South Africa, it takes the form of tariffs and reduced aid—meaning a direct hit to the budget, to healthcare, and to exports. For Saudi Arabia, the same trend is read more softly: local commentators see the US as a country that can still be a strategic investor and partner, but not as the only possible destination for long-term modernization. That is why the texts pay so much attention to diversification, scientific independence, and energy autonomy. Israel sees another aspect of the same phenomenon: America’s domestic political shift makes even familiar allied relationships conditional and more transactional. (news24.com)

The third theme is Iran and the regional war. For Saudi Arabia, this is almost an existential question about shipping, straits and the cost of the conflict on its own territory. For Israel, it is both a question of the military campaign and of how far the United States is prepared to go alongside Jerusalem—and where they will start to slow down for their own agenda. For South Africa it is a less direct storyline, but it still appears as part of the global atmosphere: South African analysts increasingly write that American foreign policy in the era of Trump has become tougher, less predictable, and more tied to the internal logic of power rather than to international rules. (arabnews.com)

The most interesting local intuition—one that is not obvious from US media—sounds differently in each country, but converges on one point: America is no longer perceived as simply “the center of the world.” In Saudi Arabia, it is a center with which one can and should conduct a major strategic trade—while it is still able to provide security and technology. In South Africa, it is a center whose decisions must be lived through, mitigated, and worked around—especially when they hit healthcare, trade and reputation. In Israel, it is a center that no longer has to adapt to old Israeli expectations—meaning Israel must learn again how to speak with American society, not only with the White House. That is precisely the main international storyline of recent days: not what America thinks about the world, but how the world is learning to live with the fact that America has become tougher, more fragmented, and less predictable. (arabnews.com)

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The US from a local angle: how Brazil, Saudi Arabia and South Africa are arguing about the United States...

Today, international attention on the United States in these three countries is clustering around three key fault lines: American protectionism and trade pressure; American policy toward Iran and security in the Middle East; and how Washington is intervening — or, in the view of local commentators, intervening too actively — in the internal affairs of other states. In Brazil, the main nerve is the Trump administration’s tariff blow to Brazilian exports and the related controversy over sovereignty and elections; in Saudi Arabia, the focus has shifted to the US-Iran standoff, its impact on the Strait of Hormuz and oil markets; in South Africa, the American agenda has almost merged with local disputes over migration, tariffs, AGOA, and how Trump is redefining relations with Pretoria. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

In Brazil, the reaction to the United States today is primarily economic, but it has clearly already grown beyond pure economics. After Washington announced new duties on Brazilian goods, local media and business associations began talking about a “tarifaço” as a political, not merely a trade instrument. Folha wrote that Brazil’s effective rate after exemptions is lower than the nominal 25%, but still painful enough to hit the export basket and business sentiment. In an editorial, Folha calls the measure “unfair and illogical,” and argues that Brazil’s optimal response is not mirrored escalation, but opening its own economy; at the same time, industrialists and Fiesp directly linked Trump’s blow to domestic politics and attacks on the Lula government. Against this backdrop, the conflict with the US quickly became an election talking point: polls relayed by Brazilian outlets show that many voters hold Flávio Bolsonaro responsible for the tariffs, while Lula himself uses the issue as a banner for “defending sovereignty.” (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

But in Brazil, the US is being discussed not only as a trade heavyweight. One especially prominent storyline has been an American delegation coming, according to the US State Department, to discuss “the integrity of elections” and freedom of speech; Brazilian media and officials have interpreted it through the lens of interference. UOL and Folha reported that in Brazil the visit created tension precisely because it coincided with an already toxic argument over tariffs, the election campaign, and the legitimacy of institutions—and, amid unprecedented pressure from Washington, President Lula even published an article in the Washington Post calling the new tariffs a mistake. Therefore, Brazil’s reaction to the United States today is twofold: on the one hand, resentment at economic pressure; on the other, suspicion that trade pressure and the rhetoric about “free and fair elections” are working toward the same political goal. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

In Saudi Arabia, the American topic is almost entirely swallowed up by the war and de-escalation efforts around Iran. Saudi and Arab media are closely tracking how Riyadh, Doha and Kuwait coordinate their response to escalation between Washington and Tehran, because this is not about abstract geopolitics, but about the safety of shipping, the price of oil, and the stability of the Persian Gulf itself. Newspapers such as Al Riyadh and Okaz write about a US-Iranian “memorandum of understanding,” noting that Trump declared it finished, but that the negotiation channel has not disappeared—and highlighting the risk that a new round of strikes could take the conflict to a level where nobody wins. Arab News and Asharq Al-Awsat stress that the only beneficiaries of closing the Strait of Hormuz would be supporters of chaos, while regional economies would be the ones to lose first; therefore, local voices are calling for not an “American victory,” but a lowering of the temperature. This is where an important Saudi lens comes into view: the United States is seen not as a moral arbiter, but as a force whose decisions immediately affect the kingdom’s and its neighbors’ energy security. (aawsat.com)

At the same time, Saudi commentators see in American policy—and in the broader shift it reflects—a change of meaning: it no longer looks predictable. In Riyadh and Okaz, the message is that Washington is both negotiating and displaying strength, while the oil market reacts to every remark from the White House. That creates the impression that the US keeps the region in a constant zone of risk, where diplomacy and coercion go hand in hand. Hence the local conclusion: for Saudi Arabia, relations with the US are no longer just a security partnership, but ongoing management of uncertainty. Against this backdrop, recent American approvals of arms deals for Saudi Arabia and Kuwait are being interpreted not as gestures of trust, but as part of a longer game to maintain balance in the region. (aljazeera.net)

In South Africa, the American agenda sounds different, but it is no less sharp here: the US is being discussed through tariffs, AGOA, diplomatic coolness and Trump’s migration policy. TimesLIVE and News24 write that Washington has already slapped South African exports with high duties, left AGOA’s future uncertain, and even excluded South Africa from G20 activities in 2026. At the same time, local media hosted debates over whether this is simply hard trade policy or political punishment. Figures such as former President Thabo Mbeki are calling for not breaking the channel with the US, but instead seeking “friendship” and mutually beneficial cooperation. Meanwhile, tougher columnists argue that Trump is effectively rewriting the terms of the relationship in the spirit of America First. In day-to-day policy terms, it is already felt as a question of jobs, exports and the country’s diplomatic weight. (timeslive.co.za)

But South Africa’s most unusual—and arguably most South African—response to the US is a dispute over migration and over who exactly is considered a “victim” deserving of American asylum. News24 and Mail & Guardian describe how the Trump administration sharply reduced the overall refugee admissions quota while building a special reception infrastructure for Afrikaners, which local authors describe as a near-racial filter under the guise of a humanitarian program. At the same time, TimesLIVE and local analysts discuss South Africa’s migration crisis, street protests against foreigners, and how Trump’s rhetoric and figures associated with him feed the idea of a “white genocide” and legitimize highly controversial narratives. That is why South Africa’s reaction to the US here is especially layered: it includes outrage at the double standards of US immigration policy; irritation that Washington turns internal South African conflicts into an international storyline; and fear that loud declarations from the White House are pushing local radical movements toward even greater confidence. (news24.com)

If we put all three countries together into one picture, the common nerve is obvious: the United States is perceived today not just as a “distant superpower,” but as a source of direct pressure on local politics, the economy and identity. Brazilians argue about how to keep Trump’s tariffs from becoming a weapon in their elections; Saudis debate how the American strategy toward Iran could either collapse or stabilize the entire region; South Africans are trying to understand why Washington simultaneously punishes them in trade, cools relations diplomatically, and selectively hands out humanitarian labels. In each case, the United States ends up serving as a mirror of local anxieties: sovereignty, security, fairness, and the right to define the political agenda themselves. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)

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Troubling signals from Washington: how Israel, Japan and South Africa read the US’s new line

In recent weeks, in three very different countries—Israel, Japan and South Africa—attention to the United States has shifted away from abstract “American policy” and toward very specific issues: a deal—or a pause—in Washington’s relations with Iran; tariffs and the overall unpredictability of the Trump administration; and how America pressures allies and partners when it comes to trade, security and ideology. In Israeli outlets, the United States is discussed primarily through the lens of Iran and anxiety that Washington may place its domestic political calculations above Israel’s interests. In Japanese media, the dominant themes are tariffs, technological and military uncertainty, and the question of whether America under Trump is eroding the very foundation of the alliance system. In South African coverage, the United States no longer looks like a distant global arbiter; it is portrayed as a source of direct diplomatic and economic pressure—from disputes over land reform and AGOA to what many commentators consider a humiliating confrontation over the G20 and “white refugees.” (jpost.com)

The overarching common theme is the sense that America has become less predictable and less reliable than its allies have grown accustomed to believing. In Japan, this is expressed especially sharply: Yūiti Hosoya, writing in The Japan Times, says that in less than two years of his second term, Donald Trump has created a “notable number of geopolitical shocks,” including “mutual tariffs,” an operation in Venezuela, and joint U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran; in his view, this volatility makes the international environment increasingly unpredictable. At the same time, Japanese commentators directly link American tariffs to a blow to the auto industry and, more broadly, to the erosion of alliance reliability: one Japan Times piece describes how Trump’s tariffs “continue to hit Japanese automakers,” while another says the United States is still planning to honor previous trade arrangements even as new tariff threats already hang in the air. From this, Tokyo draws not only an economic but also a strategic conclusion: if Washington changes the rules so easily, Japan must think about its own autonomy faster—and more decisively. (japantimes.co.jp)

In Israel, the same unpredictability is read through the Iran storyline. Here, almost every major commentary is built around the fear that the American president may view Iran primarily as a foreign-policy case to secure an internal political victory, with Israel treated as an ally whose priorities do not necessarily match America’s. In Jerusalem Post, David Weinberg—while acknowledging Trump’s “solid” track record against Iran—writes that Trump’s tough rhetoric, and especially that of his vice president, J. D. Vance, toward Israel, makes it hard to trust the current line from Washington. He cites analyst Michael Doran: a deal with Tehran may be needed for Trump to open the Strait of Hormuz and bring down oil prices—meaning it is first and foremost a political calculation for the election campaign. In Times of Israel, Seth Eisenberg puts the Israeli fear even more bluntly: for the United States, it could be a deal that “relieves pressure” on energy markets and delivers a win on the home front, while for Israel it is a dangerous pause after which Iran will restore its resources, proxy networks and nuclear program. (jpost.com)

An important nuance in Israel’s response is that Trump is not seen here merely as an anti-Israel or pro-Israel leader; he is assessed as a figure who must be both thanked and feared. This is visible in the tone of “Jewish groups push back against Trump’s Iran deal — but for now more quietly than in 2015”: it says directly that many analysts consider Trump’s framework “worse” than Obama’s deal because it leaves Iran a path to economic recovery and does not resolve the issue of the missile program and support for proxies. And while Israeli leaders—though not Netanyahu—publicly object to the American line, this is also because it may force Israel to stop fighting Hezbollah in southern Lebanon. The text also cites a particularly telling figure: 71% of Israelis, according to a Channel 12 poll, do not trust Trump to protect Israel’s interests in negotiations with Iran. This is no longer a debate about tactics; it is a debate about whether the United States can even be considered an automatic guarantor of Israel’s security. (timesofisrael.com)

A key local motive in Israel is historical memory, which turns modern diplomacy into a moral drama. In Times of Israel, Seth Eisenberg writes that in Israel there is already talk of Munich—not as a literal parallel, but as a warning: when aggressive regimes interpret concessions as weakness, a temporary appeasement can become the prelude to a new threat. That helps explain why Israel’s reaction to the American course toward Iran is rarely neutral: even those who recognize Trump’s right to bargain pragmatically add immediately that, in the region, time is not measured by America’s electoral cycles, but by the risk to lives and to statehood. (blogs.timesofisrael.com)

In Japan, however, the emotional center of the debate is different: there is less drama, but more systemic anxiety. Japan views the United States as the foundation of world trade, technology and security—so any wobble in America’s line is perceived as a threat to the long-term horizon. The Japan Times links the current American policy directly to the worsening situation for Japan’s auto industry, and in another column asks what will happen to Japan-U.S. relations in a supposed “golden era”—answering that it’s “not quite” what politicians usually promise. Especially indicative is the comment that under Trump, America is shifting “closer to the concerns of religious conservatives than to democracy and human rights.” For a Japanese reader, this matters not only as a moral rebuke; it is also a signal that the United States is becoming less universalist and more ideologically narrow—meaning the alliance with it has to be rebuilt on tougher, more pragmatic grounds. (japantimes.co.jp)

A separate layer of Japanese discussion is economic discipline and fear of tariff nationalism. The Japan Times’ coverage of tariffs shows that Japanese elites see American levies not as a short-term noise campaign, but as a structural blow to the export model—especially automobiles and related supply chains. In that sense, in Japanese press, the United States no longer looks like merely an ally, but a partner that can simultaneously demand investment in America, promise to honor agreements, and then change the rules through new tariff schemes. Hence the broader conclusion: Tokyo must not only protect specific industries, but also think about how to live in a world where American predictability is no longer guaranteed. (japantimes.co.jp)

South Africa’s reaction to the United States is the most conflict-ridden and, arguably, the most post-colonial in tone. Here, America is discussed not as the “center of the Western world,” but as a force that interferes in domestic affairs, imposes conditions and is still trying to morally redefine the local political order. In IOL, one column states outright that U.S.–South African relations have “sharply worsened” at the start of 2026 and reached the lowest level since 1994: Washington criticized land reform, accused Pretoria of discriminating against white farmers, clashed over BRICS and a case against Israel in the International Court of Justice, and also paused aid and reviewed AGOA trade privileges. This is no longer just a diplomatic quarrel; for South African commentators, it is a debate about sovereignty and the right of the country to conduct an independent foreign policy. (iol.co.za)

The most emotionally charged topic in South Africa is the myth of “white genocide” and how Trump has built it into his own policy. Hassan Lorgat, in IOL, writes that on April 18, 2026, Trump again repeated false claims about alleged targeted destruction of white Afrikaner farmers, and then used this rhetoric to speed up a mechanism for relocating “persecuted” South Africans to the United States. The author emphasizes that in reality it is almost exclusively about white Afrikaners, and cites Refugee Processing Center data: of 4,499 refugees who arrived in the United States from October 1, 2025, 4,496 were from South Africa. Especially telling is the response he quotes from Afrikaner groups “Not in our name,” which reject the scheme as a dangerous distortion of reality that serves American right-wing theories about the “great replacement.” For a South African reader, this is not just a dispute over facts, but a question of who has the right to speak on behalf of Afrikaners—and who is turning local social complexity into an ideological tool for America’s internal struggle. (iol.co.za)

Another strong South African motive is irritation that Washington links trade with political demands. IOL reports that the United States does not soften its list of demands: it is concerned not only with the expropriation law and B-BBEE policy, but also with South Africa’s relations with Iran. This matters because, through local lenses, American economic conditions are read as an attempt to impose an internal social model through external pressure. And in discussions of the G20 and South Africa’s status in global politics, there is almost a symbolic rebuke: America wants not so much to argue on the merits as to humiliate a country that is not willing to follow its line on Israel, BRICS and other sensitive issues. (iol.co.za)

If you put it all together, the overall picture looks like this: in Israel, the United States is discussed as a potentially unreliable—but still indispensable—partner in war and peace in the Middle East; in Japan, as the backbone of a system that it is itself shaking through tariffs, ideological framing and unpredictability; in South Africa, as a power that no longer merely influences but instead presses, moralizes and reframes local policy to suit its own internal conflicts. But these stories also have a common core: in all three countries, U.S. policy is no longer perceived as an external backdrop. It has become part of their own political debates—about security, sovereignty, the economy and whether the United States can still be seen as a stabilizing force in the world. (jpost.com)

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A Backlash and Worry Abroad Over Trump’s Hard Line

Across the ocean, discontent and anxiety are growing: U.S. moves on tariffs, Iranian policy, and security issues are increasingly described not as isolated decisions, but as a potential new source of instability. In news coverage and analytical assessments, the focus is shifting to the effects of “shock” on global trade, the risk of escalation around Iran, and concerns that Washington’s coercive or military-political actions could fan tensions in regions far beyond the decisions themselves. As a result, the tone from overseas observers remains broadly cautious and critical: attention is on the possible global consequences of American rigidity and on how unpredictable it is perceived to be. This piece was prepared based on data from sources www.rbc.ua (Russia) and www.instagram.com (France).

Trump and Frozen Iranian Assets: A Russian View of U.S. Power

In the Russian interpretation, the latest hard-line turn by Donald Trump toward Iran is seen not merely as another episode in a Middle East conflict, but as an example of how the United States uses the financial system as a tool of pressure. The basis for such a conclusion is Washington’s continuing strikes on Iranian targets and the statement that damage to ships and cargoes will be compensated using frozen Iranian assets in the United States.

As RBC writes, Trump said that damage from the attacks “will be paid for with Iranian funds that are at the disposal and under the control of the United States,” calling it a “fair and equitable solution.” For a Russian audience, this wording sounds especially familiar, because it is easy to draw parallels with the practice of freezing assets, imposing sanctions, and coercively using Western financial leverage against states that Washington deems inconvenient.

In the Russian reading, this episode is primarily perceived as a demonstration of the principle that “might makes right.” Moscow typically interprets such steps by the United States not as adherence to international law, but as a continuation of a policy of unilateral pressure. Against this backdrop, the topic of frozen assets is particularly painful for Russia: any reports of confiscation or redirection of someone else’s money inevitably trigger associations with Russia’s own experience of reserves and assets blocked in the West.

In this discourse, Iran and Russia are united by a shared experience of sanctions pressure. That is why, in Russian analysis, such cases often serve as an argument that the United States uses the economy as a weapon rather than as a neutral system of rules. From this follow broader conclusions that are typically drawn in Russia.

First, such statements highlight how unreliable the dollar and Western financial infrastructure can look: if assets can be frozen and used for compensation, then external funds are vulnerable to political decisions. Second, this feeds discussions about the need for alternative settlement mechanisms—de-dollarization, switching to payments in national currencies, and building more protected financial channels. Third, the continued U.S. strikes against Iran, in the Russian assessment, increase the risks of escalation in the Middle East, which could in turn affect oil markets, logistics, and global prices.

This is precisely where the Russian analytical framework differs from a dry news report. In a conventional fact-based presentation, the story would be that Trump made a statement, the United States carried out new strikes, and compensation will be covered from Iranian assets. But in the Russian interpretation, the key point is different: what this says about the nature of American policy. In this view, the news becomes an example of how Washington turns international financial resources into an instrument of coercion—directly linked to Russian concerns about sanctions, the freezing of assets, and the substitution of law with force.

A French View of the U.S., Israel, and the Lobby

A French reactionary commentary, published in the format of an Instagram reel, portrays U.S. foreign policy and Israel’s role in the world system not as a set of separate events, but as a single hidden mechanism of influence. In its tone and vocabulary, the text fits well with that segment of French political debate where anti-Americanism, suspicion toward lobbying, and criticism of Western diplomacy are often mixed with hard-edged and controversial ideas about Israel’s role.

In the piece, the United States is described directly not as an independent force, but as a kind of “vache à traire” for lobbying groups, including “lobby d’Israël.” Israel, in turn, is shown as the main beneficiary of the American system of influence. The author argues that Iran, Turkey, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia become targets of strategic weakening for the sake of the project “grand Israël.” All of this is presented not as a hypothesis with evidence, but as a coherent ideological scheme in which world politics is reduced to a single hidden cause.

In the French context, such formulations are especially sensitive. The topic of American pressure, lobbying, and Israeli influence in France triggers strong polarization—particularly against the backdrop of the war in Gaza and general fatigue with “Western” foreign policy. Such a text easily fits into the tradition of criticizing Atlanticism and mistrusting behind-the-scenes influence from major interests over state decisions. At the same time, it touches a line that in French public space is often perceived as dangerously close to antisemitic narratives, even if the author presents it as political analysis.

For a French audience, the piece resonates with an old question: who actually controls Western policy—elected governments, or financial and political networks. France, which aims to preserve a more autonomous foreign policy, reacts sharply to the sense that Europe and the United States do not act in the interests of society. Therefore, such reasoning strengthens mistrust of American diplomacy and of Israel’s role in the Middle East, even though it can simultaneously fuel public tension inside France itself.

At the same time, French political culture traditionally tends to intellectualize international crises: here, people like to explain wars through structures, elites, and hidden interests. But France’s historical sensitivity to antisemitism makes such arguments especially risky. For that reason, the text is perceived not simply as an opinion about the United States or Israel, but as part of a broader and painful debate about the limits of permissible criticism—about lobbying, and about where geopolitical analysis ends and dangerous conspiracy thinking begins.

Unlike an ordinary fact-based report, here there is no balance of opinions, no verification of claims, and no comparison of official positions of the United States, Israel, Iran, or European countries. Everything is explained by a single hidden logic, and the facts are presented through a pre-set ideological lens. That is why this material looks less like news and more like an interpretive political reaction, reflecting both French mistrust of American power and risky ways of talking about Jewish and Israeli influence.

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The world’s reaction to Trump: pressure in trade and a tough geopolitical line

While the world discusses initiatives from the Trump administration, attention is first focused on how the American approach to applying pressure on partners is changing. In trade disputes, new arguments are being made about tariffs and their impact on economies beyond the United States. In foreign policy, concerns are growing about a shift toward more forceful involvement and expanding areas of control. International commentary—ranging from political assessments to expert interpretations—paints Washington as a player that uses sanctions tools more actively and seeks to secure its interests, not limiting itself to the boundaries of conventional diplomacy.

Against this backdrop, debate is growing over whether this style of action will lead to increased instability in regions, intensify competition between states, and where the line lies between an “effective show of force” and expansionist practices. This material was prepared based on publications from ici.radio-canada.ca (France) and contralinea.com.mx (Venezuela).

Trump, Iran, and money: a Quebec perspective

A short Radio-Canada piece on ici.radio-canada.ca offers not so much a geopolitical breakdown as a practical answer to a question that is especially important for the French-speaking audience of Quebec: what the war in Iran and Donald Trump’s political moves might mean for people’s personal finances.

The focus here is not diplomacy itself, but the possible effects of international tension on ordinary people—from prices and markets to overall economic uncertainty. This is an approach familiar to Quebec media: global crises are usually translated into the language of everyday economics, household budgets, and practical decisions.

It is telling that the item mentions Pierre-Yves McSween—one of the most recognizable financial commentators in Quebec. This sets the tone for the entire presentation: it is not a dry summary of news, but an explanation of how foreign policy events can show up in the provincial residents’ wallets. For the French-speaking audience, the question is framed as plainly as possible: what does this mean for my money, my spending, and my financial expectations?

This format is particularly characteristic of a public broadcaster that aims not only to report on events, but to help the audience understand their real-world meaning. In the Quebec context, international crises are often viewed through currency exchange rates, inflation, markets, and energy costs—so the topic of the Iran war and Trump’s actions becomes not an abstract political history, but a reason for economic concern and analysis.

This is what distinguishes the piece from a typical report: it is built as interpretation and guidance, not as a chronicle of events. Instead of offering a neutral message about what is happening, the reader is invited to see how global instability can affect financial behavior, expectations, and the everyday decisions of people in Quebec.

U.S. extraterritorial laws as a tool for pressuring Latin America

In Latin America, American extraterritorial laws are perceived not as a dry legal issue, but as part of a broader policy of pressure and intervention. Contralínea writes that Washington uses sanctions, financial clout, and legal mechanisms to influence the governments, companies, and institutions of other countries. This is felt especially sharply in a region where questions of sovereignty and self-determination have traditionally been given very high priority.

The Venezuelan perspective in this story reads particularly clearly. For the local audience, the topic of extraterritoriality is closely tied to their own experience with sanctions, restrictions in the financial sphere, and attempts to isolate the country internationally. In other words, this is not only about Cuba or Mexico, but also about a broader fear across Latin America that American law is being turned into a weapon of geopolitics.

The article’s key emphasis is on expert opinions. UNAM law doctor Ruperto Patiño Manffer states outright that “extraterritorial laws should not exist,” because the rules of a state can operate only within its own territory. In his view, beyond a country’s borders, there should be an international order that is binding, based on treaties between sovereign states. Political scientist Silvina Romano adds that the problem is not confined to the legal dimension: the effectiveness of such laws is ensured by the economic, financial, and military power of the United States. In the Venezuelan context, this is especially important because it shows that sanctions do not work by themselves, but as part of a system of asymmetric power.

Practically speaking for Venezuela, this means that American pressure is felt not only as a diplomatic confrontation, but as a blow to the economy, trade, banking operations, and international ties. In this understanding, extraterritoriality is a mechanism that makes companies and financial institutions in third countries submit not so much to formal U.S. law, but to fear of losing access to the dollar, markets, and U.S. jurisdiction. This directly echoes Venezuela’s experience with restrictions on oil, finances, and international settlements.

The authors place the current situation within a longer historical line—from the Bretton Woods system and the Cold War to OEA, TIAR, CIA, and OFAC. For a Venezuelan reader, this retrospective matters not only politically, but culturally: it reinforces the view of the United States not as a neutral partner, but as a power that for decades has been building the architecture of influence across the continent. In this sense, the article sounds like part of a regional anti-interventionist tradition, where sovereignty is understood not abstractly, but as the right of Latin American countries to set their course independently.

That is why the reaction to U.S. extraterritorial laws in the region differs from a typical legal analysis. Here, the focus shifts from describing mechanisms to how they are perceived as a form of political pressure and neo-colonial practice. This is not just a list of laws such as Helms-Burton, or a mention of OFAC activity, but a broader interpretation in which the United States is presented as the center of power and Latin America as a space of resistance. From a Venezuelan standpoint, this is particularly characteristic: U.S. foreign policy is often read through the lens of sovereignty, historic intervention, and the protection of national self-determination.

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Trump and Iran: between the threat of escalation and a chance for a deal

The world is watching how the Trump administration is drawing its line on Iran, and the dispute over this policy is rapidly gaining momentum. Some reports issue a warning: any steps could quickly get the situation out of control and push it toward military escalation. Others are more cautious and pragmatic in tone: even amid harsh rhetoric, attention is focused on whether the diplomatic channel will ultimately lead to a deal—not another cycle of confrontation. Observers read the “signals between the lines” and try to predict whether Washington will be betting on coercive pressure or will instead prefer to bargain, settling key issues through negotiation formats. This intrigue is especially visible against the backdrop of a clash of interests and general fatigue with the risk of protracted crises. This piece has been prepared based on publications by www.guancha.cn (China).

Trump after the deaths of U.S. servicemen increased the risk of escalation with Iran

After the deaths of two U.S. service members as a result of an attack on a U.S. base in Jordan, Donald Trump delivered tough rhetoric that, as noted by the Chinese Guancha, could become a new phase of escalation around Iran. In the Chinese account, this episode does not look like a standalone tragedy, but rather part of a broader—and more dangerous—pattern of U.S. policy in the Middle East, combining emotional statements, a show of force, and political calculation.

Trump called the deaths of the troops “very sad” and said, “We don’t want this to happen. They died serving their country.” At the same time, Chinese authors point not only to his words, but also to the context: the president did not make an immediate public statement, and during the crisis he was at a private residence. In this framing, it looks either like distancing from what was happening—or a cold political calculation, when the theme of sacrifice is used to prepare a harsher response.

A special place in the piece is given to the prospect of further strikes and the expansion of the conflict in the Middle East. The text cites a statement by U.S. Central Command about the need to “reduce Iran’s ability to threaten commercial shipping in the Strait of Hormuz” and to “quickly punish” Iran. For the Chinese audience, this sounds deeply alarming, because the Strait of Hormuz is a key oil supply route, and any intensification of tensions immediately affects global energy markets, the price of raw materials, and the safety of maritime trade.

The author of the Chinese article emphasizes that these were the first U.S. servicemen to die as a result of Iranian attacks since March. For him—and for the reader—this is an important signal: the conflict has stopped being purely rhetorical and has moved closer to a phase in which any new strike could lead to a broader clash. In Chinese political commentary, such episodes are often interpreted as an example of how a “small incident” can grow into a major crisis if the sides choose force over negotiations.

Thus, Guancha offers not just a news retelling, but an interpretation of the U.S.-Iran confrontation through the lens of global risks. In this logic, the United States is again acting through force, Iran responds asymmetrically, the region finds itself on the brink of a spiral of retaliation, and China is directly affected through energy and maritime trade. That is why the Chinese reaction to Trump’s remarks about the dead U.S. servicemen does not sound like a sympathetic chronicle, but rather as a warning that U.S. policy in the Middle East could push the situation toward an even more dangerous escalation.

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Questions for the United States: Power, Security and Influence in the World

This week, the international agenda is once again placing the United States at the center of attention — but not as an “internal” matter, rather as a key factor shaping how states assess the risks of projecting power, build their own security, and interpret Washington’s political role in major conflicts. The focus includes the consequences of military decisions, the logic of strategic communications, and how internal mechanisms — from debates in Congress to institutional procedures — are reflected in the United States’ external line. Some analysts view what is happening through the lens of geopolitical calculation and alliance resilience, while others look at it through the lens of security and stability in sensitive regions, where any increase or limitation of the U.S. presence changes the balance of power. The material was prepared based on materials from www.rusi.org (Australia).

Australia and the risk of Russia’s rapid restoration of its army

Amid the war in Ukraine, Australia is paying close attention not only to the course of the fighting, but also to a broader strategic question: how quickly Russia will be able to restore its land forces after the war. In an analytical piece published at this address, the issue is examined as part of a larger debate about security, alliances, and the future of the international order.

The main point of the text is that there is no consensus about the timeframe for the restoration of Russian forces. However, as the piece notes, a widely held view is that Moscow could again make its land forces “quite threatening” already “within a few years.” For the Australian audience, this assessment is particularly important because it is directly tied to how alliance partners should plan their defense not only for the nearest crisis, but for the years ahead.

In Australia, such conclusions are read through the prism of the Indo-Pacific region. There, they are seen as a reminder that maintaining conventional deterrence in Europe should not come at the expense of attention to one’s own regional security. In other words, the question of restoring Russian forces affects not only the European agenda, but also how Australia and its partners evaluate the allocation of resources across different directions.

The material is also important as a lesson for defense planning. If a major military power can restore combat capability faster than expected, it strengthens the case for earlier investment in armed forces, ammunition, the defense industry, and reserve readiness. For Australia, where there is already debate about shifting from declarations to real capabilities for a long conflict, this perspective looks especially relevant.

That is why this text is seen not as an ordinary news item about Russia, but as an analytical warning. It emphasizes uncertainty, scenarios, and the implications for allies. In the Australian context, this means that military threats may change faster than political cycles and budget plans — and therefore strategic thinking must stay ahead of the current agenda.

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World Reaction to the U.S. Course: From Iran to Tariffs

As the United States increases pressure in different directions, international reactions are becoming increasingly mixed: some are calling for restraint amid escalation around Iran, others are discussing risks to stability, and yet others are looking for workarounds due to trade restrictions and a tariff-focused agenda. Against this backdrop, institutions and countries are simultaneously expressing concern, criticizing possible consequences, and trying to build their own strategies—from diplomatic maneuvering to economic adaptation. This piece shows how the American “power-driven” approach is reflected in world politics: in some capitals it sparks anxiety, in others it fuels readiness to resist, and elsewhere it becomes an attempt to reconfigure partnerships and supply chains. This article is based on materials from ici.radio-canada.ca (France) and g1.globo.com (Brazil).

A French View of U.S. Escalation, Iran, and Oil

The French-language outlet ici Radio-Canada published a short note about a worsening between the United States and Iran, with a headline referring to the “most massive strikes” after an April ceasefire and to rising oil prices. The text in the presented excerpt contains almost no in-depth analysis; nevertheless, that itself is telling: in Francophone media, such crises are often framed not only as military events, but also as a factor that can affect energy, security, and the global economy.

For a French audience, this storyline almost immediately goes beyond the Middle East conflict. Rising oil prices mean a potential hit to purchasing power, transport, and industry—and therefore to everyday life. In France and in the broader European context, such news is especially sensitive in light of recent energy crises, debates over the cost of living, dependence on imports, and Europe’s vulnerability to external shocks.

The published excerpt contains no direct quotes, so it is impossible to point to specific assessments by French experts or politicians. Still, the format of the report reflects a characteristic approach of the French media environment: not to limit itself to describing combat actions, but to immediately link them to consequences for markets, diplomacy, and the strategic balance. For France, this also aligns with its traditional support for multilateral diplomacy, as well as its sensitivity to energy sovereignty and foreign-policy autonomy.

That is why, in this presentation, what matters most is not only what happened, but also what it could mean. The scale of the strikes, rising tensions, and the jump in oil prices are stitched into a single chain in which a local conflict quickly turns into a risk for the global economy—and thus for France as well.

Culturally, French audiences typically view such news with noticeable skepticism toward military escalation, while paying constant attention to its impact on ordinary life. Therefore, even a brief headline about U.S.–Iran confrontation in a Francophone publication sounds like a reminder: a faraway war very quickly becomes a nearby economic problem.

Lula Waits for Details on the U.S. Tariff and Prepares Brazil’s Response

The Brazilian government is cautiously awaiting the United States’ decision on new duties and intends to assess not only the fact that tariffs are being introduced, but also their scale and a list of possible exceptions before formulating a response. g1 Globo writes this, emphasizing that Brazil is first and foremost looking to understand the “dimension” of the decision in order to then “calibrate its reaction.”

For the Brazilian authorities, this is not just an episode in foreign trade, but an important test of their ability to protect national interests without a sharp escalation. The higher tariffs imposed by Washington are seen as a potential blow to exports and, at the same time, as a political test for President Lula, who needs to preserve room for diplomacy and prevent external pressure from dictating the domestic agenda.

In Brazil, as the material notes, officials believe the United States will most likely confirm the new tariffs, but may expand the list of exceptions. That is why the government’s response is built around assessing the real damage, rather than around immediate confrontation. This approach reflects a cautious negotiating posture: not panic, but an effort to understand how serious the impact will be and what levers Brazil will still have to respond.

It is also highlighted separately that, for Brazilian negotiators, moving or delaying the decision appears unlikely unless political motives are behind it. That makes the situation especially sensitive in a country where trade relations with the United States inevitably intersect with questions of sovereignty, protecting industry, and Brazil’s role in the global economy.

Although the report contains no direct quotes from officials or experts, the way the material is presented nevertheless shows the Lula government’s position: wait for clarity, assess the consequences, and only then build a counter-response. In the Brazilian context, such episodes are often viewed through the lens of previous pressure from major powers, when the country had to balance pragmatism with demonstrating independence.

In the end, the story around American tariffs is read in Brazil not only as a dispute over trade, but also as a test of the political resilience of the government. For Lula, it is now important not simply to react to Washington’s decision, but to do so in a way that keeps control of the situation, protects exports, and prevents the U.S. from imposing its own scenario on Brazil.

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Escalation risks in the US and Iran: tensions are mounting

Judging by today’s stream of news, a significant share of attention is focused on the hard standoff between the United States and Iran: ultimatums and threats, new sanctions leverage, stalled negotiations, and talk of a possible military scenario. The center of the discussion is not so much the fine-tuning of political moves as the very logic of pressure—and the concern that yet another round of confrontation could quickly get out of hand. Against this backdrop, international observers and analysts increasingly talk about the risk of conflict widening and about how quickly the rhetoric of “tough decisions” can turn into real security threats.

This piece was prepared based on data from vz.ru (Russia) and www.interfax.ru (Russia).

US and Iran: Russia sees the risk of a major war

The latest escalation between the United States and Iran in the Russian information space is being presented as a troubling signal of a possible large-scale escalation. As VZGLYAD writes, Donald Trump’s statement in Moscow is being interpreted not as ordinary tough rhetoric, but as a potential prelude to a military scenario. In the publication, Trump is quoted in extremely blunt terms: he allegedly said that “1,000 rockets are loaded and aimed at Iran,” and then added that “thousands more will follow immediately” if Tehran attempts to attack him.

That tone makes the news especially significant for a Russian audience. In Russia’s media agenda, such threats are typically viewed through the lens of American unpredictability, Washington’s habit of solving international problems with pressure and force, and a tendency toward public ultimatums. In Moscow, this line of reasoning is seen as dangerous: personal statements, emotions, and sharp wording by the US president could speed up the transition from a diplomatic confrontation to a military one.

A similar angle can be seen in an Interfax piece, where the emphasis is on the fact that the United States is laying down harsh conditions for Iran and keeping a wide range of pressure tools at its disposal. The report says there will be no deal without the transfer of all Iranian enriched uranium, and that, as underscored, “military, diplomatic, and economic levers of pressure” remain in Washington’s hands. For a Russian audience, this language sounds familiar and is interpreted not as a signal for compromise, but as yet another round of pressure and ultimatums.

Separate in the publication is a quote from an anonymous US official, who claims that nuclear talks are impossible until disputes around the Strait of Hormuz are resolved. In Russia’s perception, this looks like an attempt to bundle several crises at once into a single package of demands and expand the scope of pressure on Tehran. Hence the conclusion heard both in Russian expert circles and in the media: if Washington is not prepared for a step-by-step deal, the risk of talks collapsing and a new spike in tensions remains extremely high.

For Russia, this issue has not only political but also practical significance. Iran remains an important partner for Moscow in the Middle East, and a strengthening confrontation between the US and Iran inevitably affects regional security—where Russia tries to maintain a role as a mediator and a balancing force. In addition, tension around the Strait of Hormuz and possible disruptions in oil supplies are reflected in global energy prices, which means they also touch Russian economic interests. Finally, in Russian political culture, the very approach—trying to resolve nuclear issues through pressure and threats of force—is felt particularly sharply.

That is why Russia’s framing of such news turns out to be noticeably more alarming than a dry international digest. The focus is on not only what Trump said or what conditions the US is putting forward, but also what such logic could lead to: higher tensions, a derailment of talks, and, in the worst case, a large war. This is the main thrust of the Russian reaction: the United States again appears to be the side pushing the crisis toward a dangerous outcome, while Iran remains not just an adversary of Washington, but also an important element of a broader geopolitical system that involves Russia’s interests.

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War, NATO and Iran: how the US is reshuffling the balance of power

The world increasingly looks at US foreign policy through the lens of risks and consequences: in some places it is seen as a driver of conflict, in others as a source of friction among allies, and overall as a factor that heightens the sense of instability and pushes countries to reconsider their position. Focus is placed both on reactions to escalation around Iran, on how tensions within NATO could affect the coherence of actions, and on how individual decisions by Washington turn into broader international concerns. Against this backdrop, the discussion shifts from specific diplomatic moves to the question of who—and how—US priorities pull into crises: allies, partners, or entire regions.

This piece is based on data from BBC (Turkey) and Instagram (Ukraine).

F-35, Erdogan and the dispute over Turkey’s new role

The debate surrounding a possible US sale of F-35 fighter jets to Turkey is presented in the Turkish press not as an ordinary military deal, but as a question of the regional balance of power, Israeli pressure, and Ankara’s place within NATO. In a BBC Türkçe report (link), this issue is explored through the Turkish perspective: the return to the F-35 is viewed as a symbol of Turkey restoring its status, not simply as the purchase of weapons.

For a Turkish audience, this storyline is directly tied to CAATSA sanctions, Turkey’s exclusion from the F-35 program after buying Russia’s S-400s, and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s personal diplomacy with Donald Trump. In Ankara, this is seen not as an abstract international conflict, but as a continuation of a long-running dispute with the United States. Turkey believes it was punished politically, even though it remains a NATO member and a Washington ally. That is why Trump’s remarks about potentially lifting sanctions and discussing F-35s in Turkey are interpreted as a possible turning point—one that could restore the country’s lost role.

The report gives special attention to Benjamin Netanyahu’s sharp reaction. He argues that selling F-35 jets to Turkey would “destroy the balance of power” in the Middle East and calls Ankara a state with “aggressive ambitions.” For a Turkish reader, this seems like confirmation that Israel is increasingly viewing Turkey as a competitor. Just as sensitive is his jab about a “regime tainted by the ‘Muslim Brotherhood’,” since in Turkey such accusations are often understood as part of a broader campaign against Ankara’s foreign policy in the Middle East.

One of the central lines in the text is Erdogan’s response. He says that the F-35 is “not a new topic,” reminding people of “five aircraft” and of Trump’s personal promise. In Turkish political culture, such phrasing is especially important: it underscores the idea that issues like these can be resolved not only through institutions, but through direct leader-to-leader diplomacy. This helps build a picture of Erdogan as a politician who negotiates directly with Washington and is capable of bringing Turkey access to advanced technologies.

The material also reflects domestic Turkish sentiments related to sovereignty and defense independence. In Ankara, exclusion from the F-35 program and delays in aircraft that had already been paid for were perceived as an injustice and as a reminder of dependence on Western partners. That is why discussion of F-35s in Turkey is linked not only to military power, but also to prestige, technological status, and the question of whether Turkey can be an equal ally rather than a junior partner.

In this sense, BBC Türkçe’s article differs from a dry straight news report: the Turkish perspective on the conflict is expressed more strongly through quotes from Erdogan, references to CAATSA, the S-400s, and the earlier exclusion from the program. It is not just about what Netanyahu said, but also about how Turkey perceives external pressure—as part of a larger bargaining process over the country’s place in a new Middle Eastern architecture.

Trump and the NATO summit: in Ukraine, fears of cracks in the Alliance

News that Donald Trump is going to a NATO summit with “serious complaints about allies” is received in Ukraine not as a routine in-faction spat, but as a direct signal of possible risks to its own security. That is the context set by the Ukrainian reaction to CNN’s report, relayed on glavcom.ua: as the article notes, European leaders “fear the unpredictable behavior of the US president” and are trying to prevent a new conflict within the Alliance.

For a Ukrainian audience, the news sounds especially alarming. After Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, NATO is seen not just as an international organization, but as the key political and military framework on which deterrence of Moscow and the durability of assistance to Ukraine depend. That is why any signs of tension between Washington and European capitals are automatically read through the prism of war.

The main concern in Ukraine’s perception is not Trump himself, but the risk of a split within NATO. Ukrainians remember well that disagreements between the US and European allies usually show up in the pace of decisions on weapons, financing, and security guarantees for Kyiv. If Washington starts pressing partners more forcefully—demanding higher spending or changing the tone in relations with Europe—this could also affect discussions of aid to Ukraine, which is often hostage to disputes within the Alliance.

In Kyiv, the very phrase about Trump’s unpredictability is also received particularly sensitively. It matches a broader Ukrainian sense of things: Western support is important, but politically vulnerable and dependent on electoral cycles in the US. Against this backdrop, Europe looks less confident than concerned, and the summit itself is not a routine diplomatic meeting, but a test of strength for the entire system of Western support.

For Ukraine, the NATO summit is the place where it will be decided whether the West will act as a unified front. Any conflict between Trump and allies could slow down new aid packages, weaken a unified signal to Russia, increase doubts about the long-term reliability of American guarantees, and give Moscow an argument that the West is tired and fragmenting. That is why such news in the Ukrainian agenda is read almost like part of the military chronicle.

This is where the Ukrainian reaction differs from a typical factual update. It adds not only a description of the conflict between Trump and allies, but also a broader strategic meaning: this is not just a dispute about spending and obligations, but a potential risk for Ukraine and an indicator of how willing the West is to preserve unity in the face of Russia. In the Ukrainian lens, the NATO summit question is not US foreign policy by itself, but a test of the reliability of the entire Western coalition that Ukraine is relying on—in the war and in the future security arrangement.

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How People Abroad View the United States: Independence, Trump, and the Theatricality of...

While at home the United States is marking yet more anniversaries of Independence Day, abroad attention often shifts not to the details of programs and decisions, but to symbols, gestures, and recognizable “images” from a political performance. In this news flow, one particularly striking thread is how the image of America is constructed from independence as a holiday and independence as a pretext for jokes, debates, and satire—where Donald Trump’s figure becomes not so much an object of analysis as a convenient artistic code for responding to the American media spectacle. Some coverage carries the scent of explanation and festive romance; others bring irony and critical subtext. The common denominator is that for foreign readers it matters more to understand what the United States means in the global information space than simply what was done—and why.

This piece was prepared based on reports from prospect.com.ru (Russia) and www.suedtirolnews.it (Germany).

Leschuk compares Ovechkin and Trump: what that means for Russia

In Russia’s sports arena, talk has flared up again—not only about hockey, but also about how Russian stars are perceived around the world. The trigger was a statement by the goaltender of Moscow’s Dinamo, Igor Leschuk, who, while commenting on Alexander Ovechkin’s fame, compared it to the recognizability of Donald Trump. The article is reported by prospect.com.ru.

According to Leschuk, “in Europe and Asia they don’t really know Ovechkin,” because “they don’t know hockey in general, they watch very little,” while “everyone knows Trump.” This remark immediately pushed the discussion beyond ordinary sports commentary. It was not merely about how famous Alexander Ovechkin is, but about how Russian sport’s global recognizability measures up against American politics and the symbols of worldwide popularity.

For the Russian audience, these words carry a double meaning. On the one hand, Ovechkin has long been more than just an NHL player—he is a figure of national pride and a symbol of success abroad. On the other hand, Leschuk’s statement reflects a more sober view: even such a great hockey player is not necessarily a universally recognized name worldwide, especially in places where hockey isn’t considered a mass sport.

The material emphasizes that in Russia an athlete’s fame is often measured not only by titles and records, but also by whether people know him in Europe and Asia. That is why the comparison between Ovechkin and Trump proved so telling for the local agenda. In Russia’s public sphere, Donald Trump is perceived as a far “louder” and more universally known name than even a hockey legend. At the same time, the way the question is framed does not diminish Ovechkin’s importance; rather, it shows how highly he is still regarded in Russia.

In this sense, the note reflects a typical Russian sports discourse in which hockey is closely tied to national identity. Ovechkin remains one of those figures through which Russians see confirmation of their place in world sport. And even when the conversation turns to recognition abroad, what comes through is not only sobriety, but also underlying pride: the Russian hockey player still ends up in the same lineup as the biggest global figures.

That is why the story behind Leschuk’s words became more than just another remark in sports news—it became a reason to discuss how Russia views its own stars against the backdrop of American political symbolism. At the center of this story are not only Ovechkin and Trump, but also the Russian habit of assessing success through recognition “over there,” especially in Europe and the United States.

The U.S. celebrates 250 years of independence under the sign of Trump’s show

The United States is marking the 250th anniversary of independence not only as a historical date, but as a large-scale public presentation in which the national holiday intertwines with politics and a demonstration of power. As suedtirolnews.it writes, celebrations in Washington, New York, Boston, and Los Angeles took on nearly a state-run scale: on the National Mall there was a parade, the “Great American State Fair” exhibition was presented, fighter jets, helicopters, and even Air Force One were expected to fly overhead, and the day was to end with a “world record” fireworks display.

It was precisely this visual and symbolic scale that became the main emphasis in the German perspective on the American anniversary. For the German reader, the holiday looks not just like a day of national unity, but like a carefully staged show in which patriotism is expressed through aviation, loud gestures, and media effect. This form of U.S. self-presentation noticeably differs from the more restrained German notions of state ceremonies and public commemoration.

The material also draws particular attention to Donald Trump. His promise to perform “richtig lange” in hot weather is seen as a typical element of his political style—personal, demonstrative, and oriented toward impact. In the German interpretation, this is not merely a remark, but part of a broader image of American politics, where symbols and stage presence often end up mattering more than substance. As noted in the publication, on the eve, the roar of jets was already “drowning out the city center,” further reinforcing the sense that the anniversary had been turned into a spectacular national event.

Such a view is especially important in the German context, where conspicuous military flyovers and large-scale patriotic ceremonies are often treated cautiously due to the historical experience of the 20th century and heightened sensitivity to militarized symbolism. Therefore, for a German observer, the U.S. anniversary becomes not only a reason to report on a holiday, but also a mirror of their own debates about patriotism, historical responsibility, and what forms of state symbolism are acceptable.

In the end, the report from Germany presents July 4 not as an ordinary festive date, but as a political spectacle designed for both the domestic audience and international attention. The main point of this framing is not a list of events, but how they look from the outside: as an example of American democracy, where national identity is expressed through scale, show, and public force.

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Ally anxiety and the reshuffling of strategies amid the changing role of the United States

A series of reports about reworking ties with Washington paints an overall picture of cautious concern and pragmatic course corrections. Allies are trying to preserve cooperation while also reviewing the degree of dependence: the unpredictability of American moves forces them to think about new scenarios and more reliable mechanisms for aligning interests. In the European direction, it is clear that views diverge—some are banking on continuing the old line, while others are increasingly looking for ways to insure themselves. India, by contrast, emphasizes a course of friendship and partnership, without turning it into obligations that are hard to back away from. Germany, within this logic, serves as an example of a country reacting to pressure from Donald Trump and at home, and also in NATO discussions, as it tries to strike a balance between Washington’s demands and its own political priorities. Overall, the piece points to a broader international trend: to keep cooperating, but at the same time build “backup” strategies in case of sharp turns in the American course. This article is based on materials from turkglobalmedia.com (Turkey) and navbharattimes.indiatimes.com (India).

Europe between the US and China: a Turkish view of the crisis of trust

Donald Trump’s return to the White House has again put Europe before an uncomfortable choice: who to rely on in the coming years—the United States or China. That is how the Turkish Turk Global Media describes a worrying picture for the EU, in which the old transatlantic order looks less and less solid, and international alliances seem increasingly conditional and transactional.

In the Turkish reading, the article’s main takeaway is not “Europe chooses China,” but rather “Europe is no longer confident in the US.” The author stresses that in Western Europe Washington is increasingly no longer seen as a reliable guarantor, while China is viewed not as an ideal partner, but as an almost inevitable economic reality. This is well captured by a quote from the head of Public First Seb Ride, who says that for Europeans “America is a partner of choice, and China is a necessity,” and that attempts to sharply reduce dependence on Beijing are widely considered unrealistic.

Differences within Europe itself are especially noticeable. Southern countries—primarily Spain and Italy—appear more open to China, while Poland, Lithuania, and Estonia retain a consistently pro-American stance. For a Turkish audience, such a split sounds familiar: Turkey has long lived by the logic of balancing the West, Russia, China, and its own regional interests, where Ankara is expected to make choices but is not offered stability. Against this backdrop, mentions of Greenland, tariffs, and the withdrawal of American troops are perceived as symbols that, under Trump, allied relations are increasingly turning into a set of pressures and concessions.

The article also places particular emphasis on economics. According to Turk Global Media, the EU is already feeling the impact of Chinese imports, which are hitting the chemical industry and the auto sector, while Brussels is trying to build a more “balanced” trade regime with Beijing. For Turkey, this is especially understandable: in the country, such processes are usually read through the lens of protecting domestic production, industrial policy, exports, currency vulnerability, and the need for technological independence. The idea that big economies are forced to rein in China while also being unable to fully do without it looks, in Ankara, less like theory and more like part of everyday geoeconomics.

Notably, this piece contains almost no Turkish voices: it is not news about Turkey, but specifically a Turkish interpretation of European concerns. That is why the text works not as a dry report, but as a broader political statement about the crisis of trust in the West. Polls and quotes here are used as confirmation of a broader thesis: the world is entering an era of multipolarity, where the old centers of power are no longer seen as unconditional pillars, and familiar alliances are losing the reliability they once had.

India and the US: friendship without dependence

In India, an old but still defining idea for foreign policy is being heard more and more loudly: India can and should be friends with the United States, but it must not turn that friendship into dependence. This line was emphasized once again by former Foreign Minister Kanwal Sibal, whose assessments in New Delhi are seen as reflecting an established diplomatic school rather than just his personal view. In the article via this link, the Indian perspective on relations with Washington is presented through the prism of national interest and strategic autonomy.

Sibal essentially reiterates a basic thesis of India’s foreign-policy tradition: to cooperate with the US, but not become someone else’s junior partner. For India, this is not an abstract diplomatic formula, but a practical principle that touches defense procurement, technology, trade, market access, and the balance of power in Asia. At the same time, New Delhi understands very well that closer ties with Washington should not narrow its room for maneuver in relations with Russia, China, and even Pakistan.

The Russia factor is especially sensitive. For India, ties with Moscow remain significant due to defense cooperation, energy, and the historical continuity of foreign-policy stances. Therefore, any discussion of deeper partnership with the US in India’s discourse inevitably comes down to a question: will it weaken the traditional directions that India considers vital?

The China factor matters no less. Against the backdrop of tensions with Beijing, the US is perceived in India as a useful partner that can help contain growing Chinese power. But even here, it is not about choosing a camp—it is about balancing between multiple centers of power. The same applies to Pakistan, which still remains a constant element of India’s security strategy.

That is why, for the Indian audience, the topic of strategic autonomy has not only foreign-policy meaning, but also domestic significance. In the country, it is deeply ingrained that India should act as an independent center of power, not as part of someone else’s bloc. This logic has roots in the era of non-alignment during the Cold War, but today it is reinterpreted as multi-vector policy and strategic autonomy. Hence the particular reaction to any attempts to present relations with Washington as an unconditional choice of side: in India, such an approach raises the question of the price of rapprochement and what exactly would have to be given up in return.

In this sense, the material about Sibal’s position is important not only as a comment by a former diplomat, but also as an accurate reflection of how Indian elites read the current geopolitics around the US. Amid rising anxiety among Washington’s allies and a tougher line in American foreign policy, the Indian viewpoint remains crystal clear: New Delhi is ready to deepen relations with the United States, but only as long as this does not limit its freedom of action.

That is exactly how India formulates its own foreign-policy philosophy: to cooperate with everyone, but to depend on no one.

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Reactions to the U.S. line on Iran and the Middle East

The world continues to assess how exactly the United States is shaping its policy toward Iran and the overall level of tension in the Middle East: in some statements, Washington’s approach is criticized, while in others there are attempts to understand whether it increases escalation or, on the contrary, restrains the risk of the conflict spreading. Against this backdrop, attention is focused not only on specific decisions, but also on how confidently the United States is holding its diplomatic course—and why negotiation tracks remain tangled and agreements remain fragile. A separate topic is discussions about how U.S. strength—or, conversely, the perceived lack of firmness of the American position—is being received, and what this could mean for the next steps in a region where any mistake can easily turn into a new round of instability. This article is based on materials from www.makorrishon.co.il (Israel) and www.instagram.com (Ukraine).

Israel sees a dangerous U.S. weakness in the Iran deal

The Israeli outlet Makor Rishon does not view U.S.-Iran understandings as an expression of “realism,” but as a dangerous signal of U.S. weakness. The piece is written through a distinctly Israeli lens: the deal is presented not as a neutral diplomatic step, but as a decision that, in the author’s view, again places “keeping order” and controllability ahead of tough deterrence of the Iranian threat.

The main fear running through the text is not just a temporary breathing space for Tehran, but the actual political and economic legitimization of the ayatollahs’ regime. The author emphasizes that, for Israel, what is happening looks like a “lifeline” for Iran: an opportunity to preserve a functioning nuclear program, strengthen its positions in the region, and continue pressure via lines such as Lebanon and the Strait of Hormuz. In the Israeli view, this is not abstract geopolitics, but a direct threat to the country’s security linked to Hezbollah and to growing Iranian nuclear capabilities.

One of the key voices in the material is Eli Klotzshtein, a researcher at the Misgav Institute for National Security. His stance is extremely hardline: he rejects the justification of the American line as the behavior of a “responsible superpower” and argues that Washington’s actions demonstrate weakness. In his view, the deal “sends the world a signal of weakness and failure,” and Iran, as he believes, is already turning this into a propaganda victory.

At the same time, in the article Israeli criticism of the U.S. goes well beyond the Iran issue. The authors and the quoted experts connect what is happening to a broader fear: if the United States gives way to Tehran, it could embolden China, Russia, and North Korea to take even more risky steps. In other words, in the Israeli reading, an agreement with Iran becomes not only a regional problem, but a global one that undermines trust in American deterrence as such.

An important layer of the article is an internal Israeli conclusion. Israel is, in essence, set against the United States: Washington thinks about global stability, oil prices, and crisis management, while Israel thinks about its own survival in a region where enemies openly talk about wanting to destroy it. This is where the classic perspective of a small state living under constant threat shows through—and, as the piece stresses, it has no “strategic patience” of the kind that a superpower might afford.

To reinforce his point, the author uses historical parallels. He compares the logic of concessions now with a situation in which allies could have stopped in 1944 and not finished off Nazism to the end. For the Israeli audience, this analogy is especially powerful: it appeals to memories of the Holocaust and to the belief that evil cannot be “built into” order—it must be destroyed before it becomes even more dangerous.

The cultural dimension of this reaction is also evident. In Israeli public rhetoric, security almost always takes precedence over diplomatic abstraction, and the article is structured accordingly: it does not merely report on the agreement, but evaluates it through the prism of national anxiety, distrust of international promises, and historical experience—when compromises with a threat only delayed the next crisis. Even while acknowledging that the United States may have its own rational reasons to act cautiously, the author still reaches a hard conclusion: in a region where the threat to Israel remains real and close, such caution looks like a concession to the enemy.

In the end, Makor Rishon is not a neutral report on the deal, but a political and security commentary in which the U.S. line is interpreted as a choice in favor of “order” over decisive deterrence of Iran. In the author’s view, it is precisely this that makes the deal dangerous not only for the region, but above all for Israel.

The U.S., Iran, and a worrying signal for Ukraine

Another flare-up around Iran and Donald Trump’s tough rhetoric in Ukraine are being read not only as a Middle East crisis, but also as an important indicator of how willing Washington is to maintain firmness across multiple fronts at once. As noted in an Instagram post, in the Ukrainian perception such signals spark concern: if the United States is ready to “see it through” with Iran, it could also mean an even greater shift in U.S. foreign-policy focus toward pressure tactics and strategic conflicts.

For the Ukrainian audience, it is not Iran itself that matters so much as the consequences for the overall international agenda. In Kyiv, similar news is usually interpreted through the lens of how it could affect energy prices, risks for maritime trade, the stability of global markets, and—most importantly—how much attention the United States is paying to the war in Europe. A worsening situation in the area of the Strait of Hormuz, as emphasized in the Ukrainian commentary, is seen as a factor that could hit the global economy—and therefore Ukrainian exports, fuel imports, and overall financial stability.

In Ukraine’s media space, Trump’s statements of this kind are often compared to the experience of their own war. Ultimatum language, threats of strikes, and demonstrations of strength resemble rhetoric familiar from Russian aggression—so such signals cause not only interest, but also unease. At the same time, the Ukrainian interpretation remains ambivalent: on the one hand, it is a demonstration of U.S. strength as a global arbiter; on the other, it is a reminder that the world is becoming even more tense, and that competition for attention and resources could intensify.

That is why in Kyiv such news is read more broadly than just as an ordinary message about Trump’s words. The question is how resilient U.S. foreign policy remains—and whether Ukraine could find itself in a situation where Washington is forced to spread its efforts across several crises at the same time.

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US Escalation and the Threat of Conflict Expanding With Iran

The focus is on new strikes and the growing standoff between the United States and Iran. Most coverage frames what is happening as a worrying escalation: the number of questions is rising about whether Washington and Tehran still have room to reach an agreement, and what risks there are that the current round of clashes could spill over into a larger phase. Particular emphasis is placed on what strategic consequences this could have for the United States, and how predictable the next steps of the administration will be—especially in the context of the following decisions by Washington. This material is prepared based on publications from www.slovoidilo.ua (Ukraine).

The United States and Iran: A Ukrainian View of the Escalation Threat

In Ukraine’s information space, the new flare-up between the United States and Iran is read not as a distant Middle East episode, but as an event directly tied to global security, energy prices, and the overall nervousness of the international agenda. This is how “Slovo i Dilo” writes, emphasizing that for Ukraine any strike on the Strait of Hormuz is automatically seen as a risk to the global oil market—and therefore to fuel, logistics, and economic stability.

The publication notes that the United States responded with strikes after an attack on a tanker, and that Donald Trump has shifted to exceptionally hardline rhetoric. According to the material, he said that if there are new violations, Iran may “cease to exist.” For the Ukrainian audience, this wording sounds especially harsh in light of the familiarity—after the full-scale war—with a language of ultimatums and threats that has become part of everyday perceptions of international politics. That is why Ukrainian media interpret the US–Iran conflict through the lens of power, demonstrations of resolve, and the risk of an uncontrolled escalation.

The article pays special attention to the security of sea routes. The Strait of Hormuz and attacks on a tanker matter not only as an episode in the confrontation, but also as a symbol of the vulnerability of global trade. For Ukraine, this is a familiar logic: when military actions hit transport corridors, the consequences go far beyond the conflict zone. The material separately mentions the transport of more than two million barrels of oil—this fact is precisely what makes the situation sensitive for fuel prices. In the Ukrainian context, this feels especially acute because the country has long grown accustomed to the way external crises quickly feed into the domestic market.

The factor of American hardness is no less important. Trump’s statements, relayed through Reuters, and the CENTCOM position are presented as a signal that Washington is ready to respond with force. For Ukraine, this serves as an important marker: US policy toward threats is often perceived as a test of allies’ reliability and the resilience of Western leadership. Against this backdrop, even the declared truce does not look like a guarantee of calm—the article emphasizes that blockades and shelling have not disappeared, creating a sense of a “frozen conflict,” which is well known to the Ukrainian audience from its own experience of war and from years of instability in the east before 2022.

Although the material contains no direct comments from Ukrainian politicians or experts, the way it is presented through “Slovo i Dilo” shows the local editorial framing: here, not only diplomatic statements matter, but also the consequences of escalation. Ukrainian readers are reminded of how fragile international arrangements can be—and how quickly they collapse if one side believes it has gained a tactical advantage. This approach resonates with Ukrainian public experience, where the topic of a truce without real security has long been met with skepticism.

For Ukraine, a story like this is important on several levels at once: a possible rise in oil and fuel prices, the diversion of attention by the United States and allies to other hot spots, the strengthening of the image of a world in which power politics becomes normal again, and confirmation that maritime security and control over transport routes are a strategic issue rather than only a regional one. That is why, in the Ukrainian reading, the US–Iran conflict is not just another international news item, but also a signal of just how vulnerable the global order remains.

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How South Africa, Russia and India are discussing Trump’s America: from aid and tariffs to war...

In recent days and weeks, attention in South Africa, Russia and India on the United States has focused not on some abstract “American agenda,” but on very concrete consequences of Donald Trump’s policies: cuts to U.S. funding for South African HIV programs, a dispute over “white Africaner refugees,” tariffs and a fragile trade deal with India, and in the Russian context—Americano-Iranian war talks, Trump’s conversations with Putin, and how the new U.S. line is shifting the balance of power in the world. It is precisely in these topics that, in all three countries, emotions show up not just as news but as local reactions: anxiety, irritation, calculation, and attempts to understand whether it’s even possible to reach an agreement with Washington if the White House’s course changes almost every week. (apnews.com)

The most painful—and perhaps the most human—topic is South Africa and America’s health-care cuts. For South Africa, this is not theoretical diplomacy, but a question of survival for the HIV aid system. AP reported that South African NGOs are already seeing “dire impact” from the step-by-step winding down of more than $400 million in annual support, and News24 states bluntly that “Trump administration’s funding cuts continue to hamper prevention and treatment.” In a News24 comment, Francois Venter, executive director of Ezintsha, explains that programs for the most vulnerable groups—sex workers, LGBTQ people, and people who use injected drugs—were “literally overnight” shut down and still have not been replaced. This is not simply a complaint about the U.S.; it is a local acknowledgment that American money has been built into the very fabric of the national health-care system. (apnews.com)

Against this backdrop, another American storyline is also felt particularly sharply in South Africa—“refugees” for white South Africans. In Mail & Guardian, Armand Bam writes in the piece “Why the media should stop calling white South Africans ‘refugees’” that the Trump administration plans to expand assistance to Africaners and raise the intake cap, but calls the logic itself a “refugee” term that distorts reality. This is no longer just a dispute over words: in South African media and among political commentators, U.S. policy is viewed as interference in racial relations and historical memory. Another M&G author, Donovan Williams, put it even more sharply by listing together “fake genocide and persecution,” a boycott of the G20 summit, and Trump’s sanction- and war-related rhetoric—meaning that in South African discourse, the American president has long become not an external leader, but a symbol of a destructive and unpredictable West. (mg.co.za)

At the same time, South African reaction is not limited to outrage. There is also cold pragmatism: The Mail & Guardian cites a line to the effect that “South Africa’s sovereignty is not negotiable,” while analytical texts argue that, given weak growth and internal problems, the country cannot afford either “loud anti-US foreign policy” or illusions about unconditional support from Washington. In other words, South Africa is simultaneously indignant and forced to adapt: American policy is still too important to simply ignore. (mg.co.za)

India views the U.S. differently, but with much the same feeling underneath: Washington is a key partner, yet under Trump, agreements have to be constantly rechecked. Trade is currently the dominant theme in Indian media. In an editorial column, The Indian Express writes that India “has set down the red lines for the US,” and now it needs to “seal the trade deal,” while acknowledging that over the past year tensions arose because of trade, Russian oil, and America’s statements about brokering. Financial Express describes negotiations as an effort to reach a “fair deal,” and Times of India breaks down the new U.S. 12.5% tariff initiatives under Section 301, explaining that they could hit Indian exports and complicate the finalization of the agreement. In these texts, the U.S. does not appear as an ideological enemy, but as a partner that is both needed and constantly creates risk. (indianexpress.com)

A distinctive feature of India’s reaction is the mix of cautious optimism and something close to bureaucratic realism. Even when Trump publicly praises Modi, Indian commentators are not inclined to treat it as a guarantee of stability. In “India-US trade deal: Is 99 per cent complete also 99 per cent durable?” The Indian Express directly asks about the deal’s durability, while FE writes about a “testy relationship” driven by tariffs, immigration limits, and shifts in U.S. priorities. This is an important cultural difference from the Russian and South African discussions: in India, the focus is not so much on a moral assessment of Trump as on fear that U.S. policy can, at any moment, roll back—and therefore any understandings have to be protected institutionally. (indianexpress.com)

Meanwhile, in Russia the main theme is war—war, and once again war: American strikes on Iran, talks between Trump and Putin, discussions about sanctions, Ukraine, and the global balance of power. In June 2026, Russian outlets present these developments as a single knot. Kommersant and Vedomosti follow in detail how Trump first talks about a “hard strike” on Iran, then expresses willingness for a deal, and then again cites “unthinkable consequences” for Tehran. Russian media commentary and summaries emphasize not so much the fact of war itself as the unpredictability of the American course: today Washington is fighting, tomorrow it’s bargaining, and the day after it announces agreements. (vedomosti.ru)

Even more important for the Russian audience is how American policy in the Middle East carries over to Europe and Ukraine. Vedomosti writes that Europeans are trying to persuade Trump to take a tougher line against Russia, and the piece says outright that it’s about pressure on Trump to abandon understandings with Putin reached earlier in Anchorage. Here, the Russian lens is very characteristic: the U.S. is seen not as a single actor, but as a stage for a struggle between Trump, Europe, supporters of Ukraine, and those who want a deal with Moscow. Within the Russian media environment, this reinforces a sense that America is not a monolith, but a political marketplace where the outcome is determined by the fight among influential groups. (vedomosti.ru)

Against this backdrop, Meduza’s tone—and part of the analytical Russian commentary—is especially telling, where Trump is described as a person who “destroys the old world” and pushes the international system back to the 19th century. In one text, Robert Kagan is quoted, arguing that by early 2026 Trump has destroyed the “liberal world order dominated by the U.S.” This is no longer just criticism of the president, but a diagnosis of the era itself: Russia, India and South Africa, to varying degrees, read Trump as a symptom of the end of old American reliability. (meduza.io)

If you boil it all down to shared themes, the picture turns out unexpectedly coherent. In all three countries, discussion of the U.S. revolves around one big problem: America has become less predictable, yet none of these countries can afford to ignore it. South Africa feels it through HIV funding, racial disputes, and the humiliation of U.S. “refugee” decisions; India—through tariffs, trade bargaining, and the need to keep the deal alive; Russia—through war, sanctions, and the possibility that any phone call between Trump and Putin could reshape the entire diplomatic landscape. And everywhere there is the same underlying question: is this just temporary turbulence, or a new norm in which the U.S. no longer guarantees stability—even for those who still depend on it economically, diplomatically or strategically? (apnews.com)

What’s most interesting is that in local voices there is almost nowhere any naivety. South African commentators talk about closed clinics and fake humanitarian language; Indian voices talk about red lines and the unreliability of deal durability; Russian commentators talk about chaos that makes “world order” look like a field of power-competition. This is the real international response to Trump’s America in summer 2026: not admiration and not simple condemnation, but an attempt to learn how to live with the U.S., which behaves as if it is operating in a mode of permanent rule-rewriting. (news24.com)

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The US as a common nerve: why China, South Africa and Turkey are arguing about Washington

At the end of June 2026, an international debate about the United States in three very different countries unexpectedly converged around the same themes: American policy toward Iran, trade pressure and tariffs, and the question of whether Washington remains a reliable security guarantor or is turning into a source of instability. In the Chinese press, the US is most often discussed as a power whose actions in the Persian Gulf are shifting global energy and diplomatic balances; in South Africa, the American agenda is translated almost immediately into the language of fuel prices, trade, and Global South status; in Turkey, talk about the US revolves around NATO, F-35s, sanctions, and whether it’s even possible to build relations with Washington without constant crises. The background that ties it all together is, above all, Iran: the current US-Iran truce, negotiations, and disputes surrounding the Strait of Hormuz have become that rare storyline that simultaneously captures the attention of editors, analysts, and officials in Beijing, Pretoria, and Ankara. (world.people.com.cn)

From a Chinese perspective, the main motive here is suspicion of American power—even when it looks like diplomacy. In People’s Daily and Global Times, the US-Iran agreement is described not as a final de-escalation, but as a temporary window: according to Chinese authors, the parties have been given only “60 days” to try to move toward a more sustainable solution, and the Iranian side still does not trust Washington’s promises after earlier strikes and broken agreements. Global Times directly quotes Chinese experts who call the Strait of Hormuz a knot in global trade and emphasize that the US is trying to pull other countries into the problem to give it the appearance of multilateralism and to split responsibility. In this reading, America is not an arbitrator but a player that first creates a crisis and then asks the world to help it manage the fallout. (globaltimes.cn)

China’s response to the US is not limited to Iran; it almost automatically shifts to the topic of tariffs and economic coercion. Global Times writes that new US duties and investigations under Section 301 “seriously disrupt the international economic and trade order,” while the Chinese Foreign Ministry, the outlet reports, again stresses: in a trade war “there are no winners,” and protectionism “leads nowhere.” In this logic, the US is a country that preaches rules while rewriting them itself—so Chinese commentary on American tariffs sounds not only like defense of exporters, but also like a broader critique of unilateralism and “hegemony.” It is also telling that Chinese texts link the trade line with the Iran storyline: in both cases, Washington is essentially accused of forcing the world to bear the costs of its own policy. (globaltimes.cn)

In South Africa, the American agenda is read in a far more down-to-earth way—through money, exports, and the risk to everyday economic life—but the tone of criticism is no less harsh. South African outlets argue that the new US tariff environment is literally undermining the promise of AGOA, the program that grants African goods preferential access to the US market, and that repeated threats of tariffs on South African exports are already being discussed as a real blow to producers. Against this backdrop, IOL and TimesLIVE also convey a more political mood: in commentary and analysis, the US is portrayed as a power that increasingly acts “transactional,” meaning on the basis of deal-making rather than principles. One IOL author puts it bluntly, saying that under Trump the United States “gave up even the appearance of multilateral constraints” and replaced them with a coercion policy in which sovereignty is conditional. For South African audiences, this matters because talk about the US here is almost never about abstract geopolitics—it is tied to why fuel is getting more expensive, why the rand is jittery, and who ultimately pays for global crises. (iol.co.za)

At the same time, South Africa differs noticeably from China in that its public reactions to the US are often framed not only as criticism, but also as an attempt to preserve room for dialogue. This is especially visible in the official line: the Minister of International Relations and Cooperation, Ronald Lamola, welcomed the US-Iran memorandum and said the agreement “is hoped to put an end to the unlawful use of force and violations of the UN Charter.” Such a statement matters not because Pretoria has suddenly become unequivocally pro-American, but because South African diplomacy is trying to combine a principled anti-war stance with the pragmatics of trade and regional stability. In local media, however, there is also the other note alongside it: the Iranian ambassador to South Africa, Mansour Shakib Mehr, publicly called the US “lawless” and accused Washington of acting with impunity, while commentators in South African media increasingly link American power to instability in markets and rising fuel prices. In other words, South Africa’s reaction is not just dissatisfaction with the US, but a mix of legal, economic, and moral language. (iol.co.za)

Turkey’s discussion of the US these days looks especially layered because Ankara is simultaneously disputing with Washington, negotiating with it, and needing it as a partner in NATO. Over the past weeks, Anadolu Ajansı has actively pushed the F-35 theme: the US ambassador to Ankara, Tom Barrack, said that Turkey’s return to the F-35 program would strengthen NATO, and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan again called Turkey’s participation in the program “important and necessary,” emphasizing that it would help both bilateral relations and the alliance’s security. But in the Turkish version, this storyline does not appear as simple reconciliation: it is presented as a correction of an “injustice” after Turkey was removed from the program due to the purchase of Russia’s S-400s. In other words, the US here is discussed as an ally that is both needed and undependable. (aa.com.tr)

In Turkish press and expert materials, it is particularly noticeable that American policy toward Iran is automatically perceived through the lens of regional security and energy. AA reported that uncertainty around US-Iran talks directly affects global markets, while separate analytical pieces emphasized that even when Washington speaks about de-escalation, Ankara closely watches whether it might turn into a new wave of pressure, sanctions, or maritime instability in the Strait of Hormuz. In practice, this means that for Turkey, the US is not only a diplomatic center but also a source of volatility—especially when it comes to oil prices, Black Sea–Mediterranean logistics, and Turkey’s role as a transit power. Therefore, in Turkish discourse, America most often figures as a force that must simultaneously be engaged, contained, and used to one’s advantage by exploiting its contradictions. (aa.com.tr)

The most interesting common conclusion across these three countries is that the US is being perceived less and less often as a neutral architect of order and more and more often as a state whose internal political impulses instantly become international costs. China frames this in the language of sovereignty and resistance to hegemony; South Africa—in the language of justice, trade, and post-colonial distrust; Turkey—in the language of alliances, mutual dependence, and resentment over “unfair” decisions. But in all three cases, the same American figure—Trump, his pressure on Iran, tariffs, statements about allies—does not evoke admiration for strength; rather, it raises the question of how predictable Washington remains in the first place. And based on local press coverage and official commentary today, that question is far more important than the American press releases themselves. (globaltimes.cn)

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The US steps up competition and limits its own flexibility

In today’s US coverage, American policy appears not merely as a set of decisions inside the country, but as a tool for reshaping the balance of power beyond its borders. The focus is on strategic rivalry with China in the field of AI, where technological advantage is directly linked to future strength, as well as on domestic political constraints: how decisions and procedures in Congress curb the executive branch and make it harder to carry out the chosen course. Against this backdrop, a separate priority is expanding production capacity—from rockets to defense-industry infrastructure—and parallel diplomacy amid high risks, where every step is assessed through the lens of global competition. The result is a more skeptical view of how coherently and effectively the US can act when both geopolitical goals and its own political architecture are on the line at the same time. This piece is based on publications by Haaretz (Israel) and YNA (South Korea).

Vance, Netanyahu, and Israeli fears of Washington

In Israel, the rise of US Vice President JD Vance is seen not just as another stage in American politics, but as a potentially important factor that could shift the balance in relations between Washington and Jerusalem. As the Israeli Haaretz notes, the local lens centers on the idea that Vance’s political trajectory could directly affect Benjamin Netanyahu and Israel’s wider strategic standing in the United States.

The author of the piece argues that, in Israel, American policy is commonly viewed through the prism of security, diplomacy, and the willingness of future leaders to pressure allies as part of their own domestic struggle. That is why Vance’s personal biography—his change of name and political rebranding—is presented not as a secondary detail, but as a sign of a pragmatic, calculating player who knows how to reshape himself for the needs of a career. For an Israeli reader, this is an important signal: in Jerusalem, American politicians are often assessed not only by their ideology, but by whether they are ready to bargain hard with allies.

From this comes the anxiety running throughout the text. The Israeli audience well remembers that relations with Washington change with administrations, and disagreements between American and Israeli leaders can quickly escalate into a crisis—one with consequences for military aid, diplomatic protection, and Israel’s freedom of action in the Middle East. In this context, Vance is viewed not as a neutral possible future president, but as a figure capable of moving toward confrontation with Netanyahu in order to strengthen his own power and demonstrate independence from previous allies.

Although the published excerpt contains no direct comments from Israeli politicians or experts, the overall message of the article is clear: in Israel, the discussion is not only about Vance himself, but also about what his potential course would mean for Netanyahu, the ruling coalition, the approach aimed at deterring Iran, support for the war in Gaza, and maintaining US patronage. For Israeli policy, this is especially sensitive, because any cooling of relations with Washington there is perceived not as an ordinary diplomatic misstep, but as a threat to national stability.

In this sense, Haaretz’s material is not a dry briefing about the American vice president, but an Israeli interpretation of a broader political storyline: who will set the course of US policy toward Israel, how loyal the White House will remain, and whether Netanyahu might turn out to be a bargaining chip in the American struggle for power.

Trump’s missile production surge pressure and the meaning for the ROK–US alliance

In South Korea, the issue of a US missile shortage is being read not simply as a defense-industry news item, but as a strategic development that brings together the ROK–US alliance’s military supply chain, the credibility of extended deterrence, and even opportunities for South Korea’s defense sector. According to a report by Yonhap News, US President Donald Trump is pressing defense companies to increase output to replenish munitions expended in operations involving Iran, and is asking Congress for an additional budget of 70 billion dollars—about 108 trillion won.

As the article says, the US has sharply depleted its stockpiles by using in the war against Iran roughly 1,100 long-range stealth cruise missiles, more than 1,000 Tomahawk missiles, more than 1,200 Patriot missiles, as well as more than 1,000 rounds of PrSM and ATACMS. From the Korean perspective, this point is especially sensitive. In the event of a similar crisis on the Korean Peninsula, the US’s precision-strike capability is viewed as a key deterrence tool, and the fact that actual reserves have been shaken down to levels comparable to those against China in a large-scale conflict is directly linked to confidence in US extended deterrence. In other words, it exposes the reality that if the war drags on, the ability to sustain combat power could be constrained.

This report also highlights structural problems within the US defense industry. The share repurchase and dividend restriction measures of the US Senate defense committee mentioned in the article have led to criticism that, until now, the industry has focused more on returning value to shareholders than on expanding production lines. For South Korean readers, this can be seen as a case where civilian efficiency in the security industry and wartime mobilization systems come into conflict. At the same time, if the US pushes hard for expanded production, it could also create new opportunities for cooperation with allies—through joint production, diversifying ammunition supply chains, and increasing the participation of Korean companies in components and assembly.

Linking the news to South Korea’s security environment, it also intersects with North Korea’s long-range missile threat. South Korea has long considered US Patriot, Tomahawk, and precision-guided weapons systems as core assets of deterrence within the alliance. But there is growing concern that, as the US replenishes stockpiles consumed in external conflicts, its own defensive and alliance-support capabilities could be temporarily constrained. Conversely, for South Korean defense firms, the US’s large-scale stockpile replenishment and output expansion could be viewed as an opportunity for increased exports or for cooperative production. This aligns with a broader trend in which South Korea’s defense industry has been strengthening its presence in munitions, guided weapons, and air and missile defense systems in recent years.

The report also reveals budget disputes inside the United States and debates about war costs. Democratic Rep. Patty Murray criticized the situation, saying, “They say there’s no money for medical care, housing, or childcare, but they put taxes into war,” highlighting division in American politics. For South Korean readers, such scenes serve as a reminder that internal US political dynamics are directly connected to alliance security. Ultimately, this news is received not just as “why is the US trying to turn its weapons factories back on right now,” but as a signal that can be read as to how the US–ROK alliance’s munitions capabilities and the security order in East Asia might be reshaped.

In South Korea, this news is likely to be interpreted less as a simple impression of “the US is strong,” and more as a practical lesson that even if the US is powerful, if a war lasts too long, its stockpiles can run out. At the same time, the US’s pressure to ramp up production could become a chance to reorganize the alliance’s munitions supply chain—leaving significant implications for both South Korea’s security and its defense industry.

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U.S. Influence Under the Spotlight: Allies, Iran, and Disputes Over Diplomacy

Tensions around the United States are rising: how Washington applies force and conducts policy at home and abroad, how its approach to partners aligns with what allies expect, and what exactly is changing in the architecture of relationships following the initiatives and rhetoric of the previous administration. Against this backdrop, debates over the “Trump era” in diplomacy, frictions with traditional partners, and the negotiating track on Iran-related matters—capable of affecting the regional balance—are at the center of attention. Authors and commentators increasingly view American moves not as a neutral backdrop to world politics, but as a factor that either disrupts understandings or, conversely, sets a new course and can reconfigure alliances—from Europe to Israel.

The article was prepared based on publications by www.asahi.com (Japan) and arabic.cnn.com (Saudi Arabia).

Trump Turned a Qatar Boeing Into a Symbol of His Power

U.S. President Donald Trump unveiled a new presidential aircraft, converted from a Boeing 747 that had been gifted by Qatar, and in Japanese media this episode is read not merely as a message about transportation, but as yet another demonstration of how Trump uses symbols, style, and personal taste to project power. In an Asahi note, the plane is described as a “luxurious flying White House,” and Trump himself emphasized that the design “matches his taste.”

For Japanese readers, several layers matter at once. First, the very fact that the aircraft was gifted by Qatar and then substantially modernized inevitably brings Middle East diplomacy, the influence of wealthy states, and the importance of informal connections in international politics to the forefront. Second, attention is drawn to the aging of the previous presidential jet: the new Boeing 747, according to the publication, will be used temporarily until delivery in 2028. In the Japanese context, this may be perceived as a sign of an American problem with infrastructure and government procurement—yet presented through a very expensive, symbolically loaded shell.

Special attention is also attracted by the departure from the familiar light-blue color scheme that dates back to the Kennedy era. For Japanese commentators, this visual break from tradition is not just a change of paint: it signals a deeper shift—less institutionalism, more of a personal brand; less restrained statehood, more political spectacle. That is why, in Japan, this story is often read as an example of Trump managing not only policy, but also the image of power through external gestures.

Although the note does not quote opinions from Japanese experts or politicians, Asahi’s framing follows the familiar analytical lens of Japanese media: the focus is not on technical details of the aircraft, but on what the plane says about Trump’s style and about the state of American power. For Japan, this is especially important because the United States remains the key ally, and signals about the nature of American leadership are directly tied to questions of security, trade, and the predictability of foreign policy.

Against this backdrop, the displayed “flying White House” looks to the Japanese audience both striking and unsettling. On one hand, it is a powerful gesture—and an unmistakably American one. On the other, it raises questions about whether this is appropriate, about the boundaries between state symbolism and personal preferences, and about the extent to which Trump’s America relies on traditional institutions versus deals, luxury, and visual statements.

The U.S. Pressures Israel and Worries Riyadh

In Saudi Arabic-language analysis, the new crisis surrounding Donald Trump and J.D. Vance’s rhetoric is viewed not as an ordinary rift between Washington and Tel Aviv, but as a possible signal of a deeper reconsideration of the entire system of Middle East alliances. The full text of the piece was published here.

For Riyadh, this storyline is particularly sensitive because it touches the region’s central strategic question: are the United States prepared to keep guaranteeing the security of its partners while simultaneously restraining Israel and Iran? The article emphasizes that Vance’s remarks—that Israel should “understand the reality of its situation”—came almost like a threat. Against the backdrop of the long-standing perception of the United States as Israel’s unconditional patron, this hard tone is taken in Saudi Arabia as a sign that American policy is becoming more transactional and less predictable.

The author connects this with several key conclusions important for the kingdom. First, any weakening of the United States’ unconditional support for Israel may give Riyadh more diplomatic room—especially on the Palestinian issue and in discussions of regional security. Second, it reinforces the long-held Saudi understanding that relying on Washington cannot be the only foundation for foreign policy: the U.S. course can change sharply depending on the interests of the White House. Third, the U.S.–Israel conflict over war, Lebanon, and Iran is directly linked to Saudi concerns about the expansion of regional escalation—something the kingdom traditionally tries to hold back.

The article also gives special attention to a manner of communication from Trump and Vance toward Israel that is unusual for American politics. It cites their sharp wording that Israel “cannot solve all problems by force” and that it risks being left “on its own.” For the Saudi audience, this is read in two ways: on one hand, as a reminder that even the closest U.S. allies have to take the limits of American support into account; on the other, as evidence that the current administration is acting not so much out of principle as out of calculation.

That is why the piece matters not as a simple report of statements, but as an attempt to understand their political meaning for the entire Middle East. In the Saudi reading, this could be a turning point in U.S.–Israeli relations—and at the same time a signal to Riyadh that the balance of power in the region is starting to shift, and that the rules of the game are changing.

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How Beijing, Ankara and Kyiv See the U.S. Today

In June 2026 the United States simultaneously represents a source of threat, a security guarantor and a key economic partner for many countries. Looking at America through the eyes of China, Turkey and Ukraine, each of these capitals sees completely different risks and opportunities in the same set of Washington’s decisions. The common backdrop everywhere is the same: Donald Trump’s second presidency, the U.S. and Israeli war with Iran, the protracted Russia–Ukraine war, and a drift in American foreign policy toward a harsher, more transactional approach.

In China, discussion of the U.S. today is built around three lines: the balance between competition and a “shared destiny” in Beijing–Washington relations, the sensitive knot around Taiwan, and an impressive but dangerous shift by the U.S. toward military intervention in the Middle East and Latin America. Chinese experts emphasize that within the U.S. itself there is a growing understanding of the mutual dependence of the two economies, even if political rhetoric remains confrontational. In one programmatic column on China.com.cn an international affairs author writes directly that in mainstream American debate there is a noticeable “命运熔合论” — the idea of a “fusion of destinies” of the U.S. and China, which partially echoes the Chinese concept of a “community of shared future for humanity;” he stresses that this turn in the U.S. is driven not by idealism but by the hard pressure of economic reality and global challenges that cannot be solved alone, whether climate change, the war in Iran, or crises in world trade. The same text makes a pointed conclusion: if this new understanding of “fused destinies” spreads from part of the American elite to broader layers of society — through student exchanges, increased cooperation between states and provinces — it will create a firmer social foundation for the stability of relations between the two powers. This view is characteristic of official Beijing: America is simultaneously the main competitor and a necessary partner, and China’s task is to steer the inevitable rivalry into a manageable channel, minimizing the risk of military confrontation, above all around Taiwan. (china.com.cn)

Taiwan remains the central point of friction. At the May meeting between Xi Jinping and Donald Trump, Chinese state media emphasized that the Chinese leader named a “correct solution to the Taiwan issue” as a key condition for the stability of relations with the U.S. Beijing preemptively sent Washington “four red lines,” including the inadmissibility of any steps that could be interpreted as support for Taiwan independence. Chinese commentators interpret Trump’s caution on Taiwan through the lens of his involvement in the war with Iran and the fear of opening a second large theater of hostilities: analyses on Chinese and international platforms stress that Washington today is objectively constrained in its ability to escalate in the Asia–Pacific region. (rt.rbc.ru) This linkage — America stuck in a Middle Eastern conflict and Taiwan — is repeatedly heard in Chinese assessments: according to Beijing’s logic, the U.S. again demonstrates a “monkey with a grenade” strategy, confusing forceful adventurism with systemic diplomacy.

The U.S. and Israeli conflict with Iran, which began with strikes on Iranian territory on February 28, 2026, became the main marker of America as an unpredictable global power for almost all three countries. In Turkish discourse, especially within ruling circles, the line is simple: Ankara sharply condemned the strikes and placed much of the responsibility on Israeli leadership, while simultaneously distancing itself from Iranian attacks on Persian Gulf countries. Official Turkey seeks to present itself as a principled but pragmatic opponent of the war, protecting the regional order from “irresponsible escalation” by both Tel Aviv and Washington as well as Tehran. International roundups note that Turkey became one of the harshest critics of the U.S.–Israeli campaign, embedding this criticism in Erdogan’s familiar anti‑Western narrative: commentators in Turkey say that Washington is again acting in the logic of unilateral forceful dictate, ignoring the interests of regional powers. (ru.wikipedia.org)

At the same time, Turkish analysis increasingly contains the motif of “opportunity in chaos.” One striking example is an analysis in The Insider (Russian, but detailing the Turkish context), where a separate section is devoted to how the U.S. operation against Iran and the effective blockade of the Strait of Hormuz opened a chance for Ankara to strengthen its position: Turkey’s developed drone industry, intelligence infrastructure and unique location between the Black and Mediterranean seas allow it to claim the role of an indispensable mediator and logistics hub. The piece also examines in detail how Ankara, maintaining channels with Tehran while remaining a formal U.S. NATO ally, extracts levers of influence in several directions at once — from the South Caucasus to the Eastern Mediterranean. (theins.ru) This is a typical Turkish optic: America is both a source of instability and a tool that can be used to raise one’s own weight, carefully balancing between Washington, Moscow and Tehran.

If in China Washington is seen primarily as an equal global rival, and in Turkey as an irritating but necessary “senior NATO partner,” then in Ukraine the image of the U.S. today is much more existential. Ukraine remains among the few states that officially supported the U.S. and Israeli military campaign against Iran, which, against the background of criticism from Beijing and Ankara, places Kyiv in the pro‑NATO camp. In Ukraine’s expert field this support is logically tied to the central task — keeping U.S. attention and resources on the Ukrainian front, even as the temptation grows in Washington to concentrate on the Middle East and rivalry with China. (ru.wikipedia.org)

Hence the nervous perception of every signal from Washington regarding future military aid. Ukrainian analytical reviews write directly about a double dependence: on decisions from the White House and on Congress’s mood, where approval of a new package of nearly $14 billion was provisionally agreed in January 2026 but then frozen by the White House itself, reportedly to avoid complicating the summit in Beijing. Ukrainian commentators see this as a painful symbol of a new reality: Ukraine’s survival question is becoming a bargaining chip in a broader U.S. game with China and Iran. Analyses by RBC‑Ukraine and other outlets emphasize that Kyiv hopes to compensate for this risk by working closely with Trump’s team, expecting visits by high‑level emissaries and trying to fit the Ukrainian agenda into Washington’s new “bargains” with Moscow, Beijing and Tehran. (rt.rbc.ru)

The economic dimension of the American factor for Ukraine is less dramatic but no less sensitive. Against the background of a weakening hryvnia, whose exchange rate in mid‑June approaches 45 hryvnias to the dollar, Ukrainian financial analysts use the U.S. currency as a key barometer of expectations regarding future aid tranches and investor behavior. In currency market reviews, the U.S. almost automatically becomes synonymous with “external resources”: any signals of delays in Washington’s decisions are immediately translated into expectations of further hryvnia weakening, while news of possible U.S. tightening of sanctions on Russia or Iran is perceived as a factor that could indirectly stabilize the Ukrainian economy by putting pressure on its adversaries. (fixygen.ua)

Interestingly, the theme of America’s internal problems is almost absent in Ukrainian discourse; America is seen primarily as an external force with the resources and will to influence the outcome of the war. In this sense the Ukrainian view differs sharply from both the Chinese and the Turkish. In China domestic U.S. polarization is the subject of close and often ironic analysis, since Beijing uses it to assess the durability of America’s capacity for long‑term strategic planning. Academic journals and party press regularly stress that the American political system is increasingly unable to produce a stable consensus on key foreign policy directions — from China to the Middle East. In one recent theoretical piece published in the Chinese press, Washington’s “new Monroeism” is described as an attempt to restore unchallenged influence in the Western Hemisphere through military actions and sanctions, including against Latin American countries, and it is argued that this is driven not by strength but by fear of losing global leadership and by internal “management illnesses” of the American system. (paper.people.com.cn)

In Turkey, by contrast, U.S. internal conflicts are used more as a rhetorical device. Turkish pro‑government commentators like to contrast the “chaos of American democracy,” where Congress cannot for years pass immigration reform or agree on a military budget, with the “decisiveness” and “national will” of Ankara. At the same time, in professional Turkish foreign policy circles there remains a sober view: the U.S., however polarized internally, remains the only force capable of single‑handedly changing the balance in the Eastern Mediterranean or the Black Sea. That is why Turkey is extremely nervous about any American moves to redeploy troops in Europe and about Pentagon pressure on NATO allies to increase defense spending: Ankara fears that an increased American presence on the Alliance’s northeastern flank could be accompanied by new limitations on Turkey’s Kurdish policy and an enhanced role for Greece as a “model ally.” (whdh.com)

The common denominator for China, Turkey and Ukraine is a growing perception of the U.S. as a state that acts more impulsively and situationally than according to a long‑term strategy. Chinese columns on the American topic emphasize that the White House under Trump has returned to the “tariff lever” in trade policy, raising average tariffs from 10 to 15 percent, while simultaneously showing readiness for large‑scale use of force — from Tehran to Caracas. In the Turkish view this looks like a return to a “rough Monroe” era, when Washington treats entire regions as zones of unilateral influence and does not stint on means. In the Ukrainian view it is a painful reminder that even a war on their territory might cease to be the main priority for a superpower that is simultaneously trying to balance with China and pressure Iran. (ru.wikipedia.org)

However, there is an important difference: the degree of belief in the U.S.’s ability to change. In China, despite harsh state rhetoric, there remains a niche for cautious optimism: some Chinese authors see the American elite’s talk about a “fusion of destinies” as a sign that beyond the horizon of current confrontation a more mature understanding of mutual dependence might emerge. In Turkey there is less trust: Ankara assumes America is a power to be negotiated with and outplayed in every specific case, from F‑16 deliveries to choosing energy corridor routes. For Ukraine the question is simpler and harsher: the U.S. has no time to “change” — how quickly and consistently Washington makes decisions on military and financial support in the coming months will continue to determine the very physical survival of the Ukrainian state.

As a result, America in the mirror of three capitals looks like this: for China — a necessary but dangerous partner, stuck between awareness of mutual dependence and the temptation of forceful hegemony; for Turkey — an inconvenient but indispensable NATO “senior,” whose mistakes can be converted into domestic dividends; for Ukraine — still the chief guarantor that the war with Russia will not end on the Kremlin’s terms, but also a source of growing fear that in a world of multiple simultaneous crises the Ukrainian agenda may one day become “second in line.” It is precisely in this divergence of images — partner‑competitor, bargaining object, vital protector — that today’s complex, contradictory international view of the United States is being formed.

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Venezuela and Turkey react to a possible US–Iran deal

Recent reports of a potential agreement between the United States and Iran have prompted a wave of commentary and political interpretation in Venezuela and Turkey. Venezuelan pieces emphasize statements by Iran’s Supreme Leader about Trump’s role in the negotiations, view the deal as only a first step, and regard simultaneous US strikes on alleged drug ships in the region with distrust, reinforcing suspicions about the inconsistency of American policy. Turkish sources note that a final agreement is still far off, read a possible compromise as a factor that could end the Israel/US–Iran conflict, and portray Trump’s actions as effectively giving Iran a “green light” regarding ballistic capabilities. Taken together, these reactions call Washington’s motives into question, highlight regional security risks, and describe the deal as fragile but geopolitically significant. Sources: BBC (Venezuela), Instagram (Turkey)

Venezuelan view of the US–Iran deal: “a desperate move” and a window of opportunity for sanctioned countries

The BBC Mundo article on statements by Iran’s Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei is formally about the Middle East agenda, but for the Venezuelan reader it almost automatically becomes a mirror of their own reality. It concerns a country under US sanctions, a close political ally of Iran, with very similar confrontational rhetoric toward Washington, which amplifies the sense of recognition when reading the piece BBC Mundo.

The article describes how Khamenei claims that Donald Trump signed a memorandum with Iran “out of desperation,” and that Washington, as part of the arrangements, lifts the naval blockade in the Strait of Hormuz, opening a 60‑day window for negotiations. From Caracas this looks not just like another diplomatic episode in the Middle East, but as a precedent: how far are the US willing to go in concessions when the economic and geopolitical cost of confrontation becomes too high?

From a Venezuelan perspective the agreement touches on several sore points. First, sanctions and “siege”: Caracas, like Tehran, describes its situation in terms of a “blockade” and an “economic war” by the United States. The phrase that Trump supposedly conceded “out of desperation” fits organically into the long-standing Venezuelan government narrative that the “empire” eventually has to sit down at the negotiating table when it fails to break resistance.

Second, energy and “oil diplomacy.” Lifting the blockade in the Strait of Hormuz, one of the world’s key oil trade arteries, immediately evokes associations with the Venezuelan case, where partial easing of oil sanctions has been one of the main storylines in recent years. If the memorandum with Iran effectively opens the way for increased Iranian oil exports, in Caracas this is presented as confirmation of the thesis that energy remains a powerful lever of pressure and bargaining with Washington. Venezuelan analysts see a double effect: on the one hand, more Iranian oil means additional competition in Asian markets; on the other, it shows that the US is willing to adjust its sanctions policy when the stability of supplies and prices is at stake.

Third, the axis of sanctioned countries. In Venezuela’s official rhetoric, Iran, Russia, Cuba, Venezuela itself and a number of other states form a kind of “front of resistance” against US pressure. The fact that Washington, according to Khamenei, had to sign the agreement and lift the blockade in Hormuz is interpreted as confirmation of a frequently repeated idea in pro-government Venezuelan media: prolonged resistance ultimately forces the US to move from diktat to dialogue.

Particular attention in Caracas is paid to Khamenei’s style and lexicon. According to BBC Mundo, he emphasizes that he initially opposed the memorandum but agreed after receiving assurances that the documents would “protect the rights of the Iranian nation and the Resistance Front.” To Venezuelan ears this sounds very familiar. Caracas’ authorities traditionally emphasize “defending sovereignty” and loyalty to allies — from Cuba and Palestine to Russia, Syria and Iran itself. When Nicolás Maduro or other key figures such as Diosdado Cabello explain participation in internal political dialogues or contacts with Washington, they use a similar formula: “negotiations without humiliation,” “dialogue without betraying friends and principles.”

Equally significant for Venezuelan perception is Khamenei’s remark about Trump: in his words, the US president “used all kinds of influence out of desperation to achieve this.” Transposed to Latin American terrain, pro-government analysts in Venezuela easily draw parallels with negotiations over licenses for Chevron, episodes of partial sanction relief, or periods when Washington sought channels with Caracas amid energy crises or electoral cycles in the US.

A separate line of perception concerns the American side’s stance. The article notes that Senator J.D. Vance emphasizes: Iran will not receive money or significant sanction relief until it fulfills the obligations set out in the memorandum. In Venezuela this sounds familiar: in much the same way Washington conditions steps to ease sanctions on Caracas — from demands for political reforms and guarantees for elections to the release of political prisoners. For the official discourse in Caracas this is “blackmail” and an attempt to impose an “imperialist agenda,” whereas opposition circles tend to view such conditions as a legitimate tool of pressure to change internal policy.

From an economic perspective Venezuelan observers assess the consequences of opening Hormuz and the possible increase in Iranian oil exports with their own interests in mind. Iran’s access to markets could intensify competition for Venezuelan oil, especially in the Asian direction, where Caracas reoriented after US sanctions tightened and traditional markets were lost. But at the same time this serves as an argument that in times of global energy turbulence, wars and crises, Washington has to be more flexible toward pariah states if they control significant volumes of raw materials. In Caracas this is presented as a signal: during periods of high geopolitical and economic tension one can bargain for better terms by maintaining a line of resistance and not rushing into concessions.

The symbolic aspect is no less important. Khamenei, as BBC Mundo emphasizes, explains separately that negotiations with the US “will not mean accepting the enemy’s position.” This formula practically coincides word for word with the ideological framework of the Bolivarian project: tactical dialogue with “imperialism” is permitted, but strategically it remains the enemy, whose development model, political system and foreign policy are rejected. This approach makes it simpler for Venezuelan authorities to explain any partial deals with the US — on oil, migration, prisoner swaps — not as defeat or capitulation, but as forced yet “dignified” steps within a long confrontation.

Security themes and alliances that Khamenei frames by mentioning the “Resistance Front” (which includes, in particular, Iran‑allied forces in the Middle East) also resonate in Caracas. Venezuela has actively strengthened political and economic ties with Iran in recent years, consistently supports the Palestinian cause and sharply criticizes Israel and the US. The Iranian leader’s assurances that allies will not be sacrificed for economic relief are perceived in Caracas as an important signal: within this informal bloc of sanctioned countries loyalty and refusal of “backroom deals” with comrades are expected. This matters for internal debates in Venezuela about the limits of possible concessions to Washington without harming relations with Havana, Moscow, Tehran and other partners.

Historical parallels with Venezuela’s negotiation experience look quite straightforward. One recalls dialogues in Oslo and Mexico, agreements reached with Norway’s mediation or in a Barbados format. Each time the official rhetoric in Caracas was built around the same principle now voiced by Khamenei: the authorities allegedly “did not want” concessions but entered talks for the people’s sake, without compromising the foundations of the revolution and sovereignty. Like Tehran, Caracas tries to present any negotiation processes not as responses to economic pressure and political isolation but as tactical victories—the result of steadfastness and principle.

Finally, the article’s reception inside Venezuela passes through a filter of deep political polarization. For government supporters, the story that Trump signed the memorandum “out of desperation” and that the US lifts the Hormuz blockade is part of a broader picture of “the decline of American hegemony” and the triumph of a “multipolar world.” For opponents of the current Venezuelan authorities, Iran and Venezuela, the more important aspect is different: behind loud rhetoric about the “enemy” and “dignity” there is pragmatic readiness to negotiate with the very same Washington that is publicly demonized. They see in this an example of how an ideologically uncompromising system ultimately makes deals to survive economically and politically.

The BBC Mundo article in this sense provides the factual canvas — quotes from Khamenei, a general description of the memorandum’s mechanism, mention of sanction regimes and the strait blockade. But when read from Caracas the factual layer is quickly overlaid with interpretations. The phrase about Trump’s “desperation” becomes the key to understanding all American policy; details of nuclear verification or financial arrangements recede before images of “resistance,” “dignity” and “victory of the sanctioned front.” The Iranian case becomes a kind of laboratory closely watched by countries like Venezuela as they build their own strategy: how much more pressure can be endured, what exactly is one willing to give the US in exchange for détente, and how to preserve the image of an unbending enemy of the “empire” before one’s own audience.

As a result, the piece about Mojtaba Khamenei and the agreement with the Trump administration becomes not just another international news item. In the Venezuelan context it turns into a political resource — an example of how pressure can force Washington to negotiate; an argument in favor of the tactic of long resistance to sanctions; and at the same time a reminder of the inevitability of pragmatic deals even for the loudest opponents of the US.

Turkish view of the fragile US–Iran “peace” and the risk of a new Israel–Iran war

An analytical text by Hediye Levent, published on behalf of the Turkish left‑wing newspaper Evrensel and presented as an authorial review of the regional situation, offers Ankara’s characteristic angle on current maneuvers by the US and Iran and the possible escalation between Israel and Iran. The piece was posted as an Instagram analysis by Levent: first post and then reiterated in a second post.

The starting point of the analysis is skepticism about talk of a “deal” between Washington and Tehran. Levent emphasizes that the sides remain “very far” from a real, lasting settlement. This wording reflects a view entrenched in Turkey that no process in the Middle East develops linearly: any diplomatic advances are perceived more as a temporary pause or tactical corridor than as a final outcome.

In this context Levent speaks of a kind of “negotiation calendar” and that at this stage there is only a text in which the parties’ demands are “recorded.” For a Turkish audience, especially one familiar with the diplomatic language of the left‑liberal reader, this means: at present we are dealing with a framework document and a preliminary schedule of contacts, not a solid politico‑legal agreement. Any possible “understanding” between the US and Iran at this stage looks reversible and vulnerable: it can be rolled back both legally and politically.

Levent pays particular attention to US domestic politics and Donald Trump’s role. In her reading, what is happening on the Washington–Tehran axis largely serves the purpose of “giving Trump a breather at a time of growing domestic and pre‑election pressure.” In Turkish expert discourse this sounds familiar: it is long held there that Middle Eastern dossiers are often a derivative of struggles within American politics. Levent thus frames the current diplomatic activity within a framework familiar to Turkish audiences: the US is less focused on resolving the regional conflict than on maneuvering within the logic of the electoral cycle.

From the Iranian side Levent identifies a different but related objective — “buying time.” In her assessment Tehran uses talks and partial agreements as a tool to ease sanctions, gain economic breathing room and strengthen its regional position. This interpretation is also widespread in Turkish media: Iran is presented as an actor that skillfully turns even fragile diplomatic windows into a resource for “buying time,” relieving its economy and recalibrating the balance of power in Syria, Iraq, the Caucasus and the Persian Gulf.

The key strategic emphasis for Turkey is military risk. Levent moves away from the Western media’s binary “will there be a US–Iran war” question and shifts the focus. In her view the likelihood of renewed direct war between Iran and the United States is low. However, the chance of a new war on the Israel–Iran axis looks much more realistic. This reflects a typically Turkish threat perception: a direct US–Iran conflict, however destructive, is seen from Ankara as an indirect risk that can still be managed through alliances, bases, mediation and diplomatic channels.

By contrast, an Israel–Iran escalation is perceived as an immediate, “hot” danger for Turkey’s near neighborhood. Such a conflict would inevitably shake the Syrian and Iraqi theatres, where Turkey already has a military presence and deals with the problem of millions of Syrian refugees, and would also affect the Eastern Mediterranean. By pointing to this possibility, Levent effectively signals that for Ankara any renewed confrontation between Iran and Israel would mean another wave of instability in regions where Turkey lives “inside” the conflict rather than merely watching it from afar.

For the Syrian dossier this implies the risk of new unrest around Iranian proxy structures, Shiite formations and Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps infrastructure, which Israel already regularly strikes. Escalation on the Tehran–Tel Aviv line could increase the number of Israeli operations in Syria and even in Iraq, directly affecting Turkish interests in northwest Syria and northern Iraq. For Ankara this threatens not only additional military burdens but also an economic one: new population movements, higher military spending, and increased pressure on the lira and the budget.

Another layer of Levent’s analysis is the long‑term effect of the “time factor” that Iran, in her view, seeks to buy with current talks. Any period of relative sanction relief or even slight economic easing creates opportunities for Tehran to restore its economy, increase maneuverability in regional policy and strengthen its influence infrastructure in Syria, Iraq, Lebanon and the Caucasus. For Turkey this means not an abstract geopolitical shift but a concrete recalculation of the balance of competition and cooperation with Iran.

Ankara, the piece emphasizes, occupies a complex dual position: on the one hand it seeks economic opportunities as Iran struggles with sanctions, counting on transit, trade and energy interaction; on the other hand Turkey engages in fierce competition with Tehran for influence in Syria, Iraq and the South Caucasus, where infrastructural and transport projects have become more contested after the Karabakh war. Therefore, each “breather” that Iran obtains through such agreements simultaneously appears in the Turkish optic as both a chance for trade and a strengthening of a potential rival.

A notable feature of Levent’s text is its genre. This is neither a news item nor an analytic report listing points of a possible agreement and the parties’ positions. The author deliberately does not delve into negotiation techniques, legal formulas, or official statements. Instead she works with framing concepts like “electoral pressure,” “buying time,” and “probability of regional war,” and through them constructs a picture of events for the Turkish reader. Her focus is on the logic of the actors and the consequences for the regional balance, not the formal details of a possible deal.

This style is characteristic of Turkish left and critical media. They tend to emphasize electorally centered calculations in American policy, show the continuity and cyclicality of wars in the Middle East and the southeastern Mediterranean, while maintaining distance from Ankara’s official line. Levent does not rely directly on statements by Turkish authorities nor does she tailor her view to the “state interest,” but reasons as an observer familiar with how these conflicts resonate in Turkey — through refugees, economics, security and domestic politics.

That is why her conclusion sounds two‑layered. On the one hand, she does not see the current dynamics between the US and Iran as the start of an “era of peace” nor as an immediate signal of a large war; it is rather a politico‑tactical maneuver: for Trump — a way to win space in US domestic politics; for Iran — a chance to stretch time and resources under sanction pressure. On the other hand, the real, tangible risk for Turkey she identifies is not a hypothetical direct war between Washington and Tehran, but a possible new wave of confrontation on the Israel–Iran line, which could materialize as strikes, retaliatory attacks and escalations in Syria, Iraq and beyond.

Thus a general picture emerges: the Turkish viewpoint registers the fragility of any “reconciliation” tendencies between the US and Iran, reads them as reciprocal exchanges of temporary gains and political pauses, and shifts readers’ attention to the frontline where consequences for Ankara would be most immediate and painful — the Israel–Iran conflict and its potential resurgence, which is essentially the warning in Hediye Levent’s analysis published as an Instagram post.

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How the World Argues About the US: Europe, the Gulf and China

In mid‑June 2026, foreign debates about the United States are concentrated on several overlapping threads. First, there is Washington’s foreign policy under Donald Trump’s second term — from war with Iran and a strike on Venezuela to an attempt at a “reset” with China. Second, there is the structural question of the reliability and predictability of American leadership: that is how it is framed in leading European and Middle Eastern capitals. And finally, the theme of a “structural decline” of American hegemony is being voiced more insistently, especially in Chinese analytical discourse, which closely notes both domestic polarization and Washington’s foreign‑policy zigzags.

If one reads only the English‑language US press, it may appear that the world still sees America as an indispensable center. But French columnists, Saudi commentators and Chinese strategists paint a more ambiguous picture: from nervous dependence to pragmatic calculation and an open “diagnosis” of a long‑term weakening of American influence.

One recurring motif is how allies and rivals react to a series of crises initiated by or involving the United States: the 2026 war with Iran, the attack on Venezuela, tensions around the Strait of Hormuz and Bab al‑Mandeb, and the zigzags in relations with China, from a trade “breather” to the Trump–Xi summit in Beijing.(fdd.org)

The first major thread uniting European and Middle Eastern commentary is the 2026 Iran war and the related maritime straits. In the Persian Gulf region, especially in Saudi Arabia and neighboring monarchies, analytic pieces show a duality: on one hand, an acknowledgment that without US military power it would be harder to deter Tehran; on the other, a growing conviction that Washington is incapable of delivering either a strategic victory or a lasting order.

A characteristic formulation appeared in a Reuters piece widely quoted in Arab and francophone Gulf press: Iran “remains a formidable and unbroken force,” capable of threatening the Gulf Arab states and global energy flows, and the US has “again demonstrated the limits of military power against a resilient adversary.”(marketscreener.com) In Saudi Arabia this assessment is interpreted not as anti‑Americanism but as sober calculation: if Washington cannot definitively “solve” the Iranian issue, Riyadh must develop its own capabilities — from air defense to diversifying export routes.

At the same time, Saudi and broader Middle Eastern commentary increasingly highlights strategic straits. Attention to Hormuz is natural, but in recent days the focus has shifted to Bab al‑Mandeb as well. In an Al Jazeera analysis of the situation after the recent US‑Iran de‑escalation agreement around Bab al‑Mandeb, it is emphasized that the accord reached in Islamabad with Qatari mediation and announced on June 15 is seen as “a pause, not the end of confrontation.”(aljazeera.net)

Middle Eastern analysts draw a direct link between pro‑Iranian forces’ actions in the Red Sea, the blockade of Gaza and economic pressure on Yemen. American policy there is seen not as a coherent strategy but as a chain of crisis reactions in which maritime corridors are only one lever of pressure. Saudi commentators, especially in expert columns, ask: does this not give Tehran and its partners the impression that the US fears prolonged confrontation and ultimately is always ready for a political deal, even at the cost of preserving Iranian influence?

In France these threads are read through the prism of European security and dependence on the American military umbrella. French press regularly cites assessments that even after the Ukrainian and Iranian crises allies “remain dependent on the US, even as distrust grows.”(semafor.com) French analysts speak not only of the EU’s “strategic autonomy” but also of a “fear of American inconsistency,” where the Iran war and the straits are just recent examples.

At the same time, French and European media are debating how to interpret the new turn in US‑China relations. After the Beijing Trump–Xi summit of May 14–15, which in several European reviews was already dubbed a “Beijing stabilisation,” EU analysts are trying to understand whether this means a long‑term recognition of the PRC as an equal power or merely a tactical pause in confrontation.(ces-intelligence.com)

French and German experts stress the ambiguity of Washington’s position: on the one hand, structural trade and technology competition remains, as reminders about a temporary trade “truce” and a forthcoming tariff review after November 10, 2026 indicate; on the other — the White House de facto recognizes the need for “joint management” of some global problems with Beijing.(easternherald.com)

For Europe this is not an abstract question. One author at the European analytic center CES Intelligence, in an article about “Beijing stabilisation” and European sovereignty, points out that “each new US pivot toward China forces Europeans to ask anew whether they will be a chess piece rather than a player.”(ces-intelligence.com) For a French audience accustomed to debates about a “third pole” between the US and China, this prospect is painful: Paris wants to act as an independent center of power but is economically deeply tied to both the Chinese market and American security.

Beijing views the same summits and “truces” very differently. In recent months the Chinese official discourse has emphasized the idea of a “new positioning” in relations with the US. Xi Jinping at the last meeting with the American delegation spoke of bilateral ties reaching a “new level of positioning,” describing this as a shift from a purely confrontational agenda to a blend of competition and dialogue.(investing.com)

But behind the official formulations a much tougher debate is unfolding in China’s expert community. In several strategic reports on the “structural decline of American hegemony,” 2026 is described as a moment when the combination of domestic polarization in the US and foreign‑policy crises — from the war with Iran to the strike on Venezuela — makes Washington less predictable and less able to impose its agenda.(blog.leowang.net)

Chinese authors are not so much gloating as noting that, in their assessment, “the instruments of American power no longer automatically translate into political results.” They mention, for example, low levels of domestic support for military operations against Iran and massive protests against the strike on Venezuela; this leads Chinese analysts to conclude that in the coming years any major overseas campaign by Washington will cost the administration dearly in terms of domestic legitimacy.(zh.wikipedia.org)

At the same time Chinese economists and political scientists closely monitor the American electoral cycle. In a recent macroeconomic review, widely cited on Chinese financial platforms, prospects for the US Congressional elections in November 2026 are analyzed, with emphasis that the nationwide rating of the Democrats substantially outpaces the Republicans and that structural polarization “has reached an unprecedented level.”(htfc.com)

For a Chinese audience accustomed to a narrative about the predictability of its own political system, the American scene appears chaotic yet still possessing enormous power capable of “exporting instability.” This combination — an unpredictable democracy and still colossal military and financial resources — becomes a key object of analysis: how Beijing can minimize risks and profit from Washington’s fluctuations.

Another important focus of the Chinese discussion is the trade‑technology dimension of US‑China relations. Publications on the temporary tariff “lull” until November 2026 are seen as a “window of opportunity” to restructure supply chains and strengthen domestic markets.(easternherald.com) At the same time, no one entertains illusions that the US will not return to tariff pressure after the “truce” expires.

Interestingly, on Chinese forums and in some analytical texts the thesis popular in Western criticism of Trump is actively discussed: that the current administration allegedly “produces crises in order to solve them at a convenient moment — for midterm elections,” thereby manipulating both the domestic electorate and foreign partners. On one major Chinese discussion platform a participant dissects how the combination of US debt burdens, defense and social spending supposedly pushes the administration to use geopolitical shocks to justify monetary and fiscal maneuvering.(reddit.com)

European, Middle Eastern and Chinese assessments converge on one point: trust in US predictability is declining, even if military and financial dependence persists. However, in each region this takes on its own coloring.

In France and more broadly in the EU the main question is framed as the dilemma of “autonomy within dependence”: is it possible to build a more independent defense and industrial policy while remaining in NATO and relying on American nuclear deterrence and technology? French analysts use commentary on the Iranian campaign and waves of tension in the straits as an argument for accelerating European defense programs — from air defense to naval forces capable of protecting sea lines of communication without constantly looking to the Pentagon.(fdd.org)

In the Gulf states the reaction is more pragmatic. Saudi and Emirati commentators simultaneously note that the region is not yet ready to live without the US; but they increasingly discuss multivector policies — from dialogue with Iran to deepening ties with China and India — to reduce vulnerability to Washington’s pivots. Agreements on Bab al‑Mandeb and efforts to secure the Strait of Hormuz are interpreted as spaces where Arab states can act not as passive allies but as more independent mediators and players.(marketscreener.com)

And in China the US is increasingly seen less as an unattainable model and more as an object of cool analysis: how deep are their internal contradictions, how long can they sustain simultaneous confrontations with China and Russia, Iran and several Latin American countries. Regardless of attitudes toward the American system, for Chinese authors the main question is how to adapt to an era of “prolonged American decline” without underestimating Washington’s remaining capabilities.(blog.leowang.net)

There is much bias and many agendas in all of this. The French press sometimes overstates Europe’s autonomous potential; Middle Eastern commentators tend to ascribe excessive cynicism to the US; and Chinese reports sometimes fit facts to a preordained “decline of the hegemon” chart. But it is precisely in these local perspectives that the main point is clearest: the United States remains a central actor in world politics, yet fewer countries are willing to accept American leadership as natural and without alternative.

France, Saudi Arabia and China today are not so much arguing whether they are “for” or “against” the US as trying to find ways to live in a world where America remains strong but no longer sets the rules alone.

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How the World Debates America: Russia, China and Turkey on US Foreign Policy

In mid‑June 2026, discussion of the United States in international media again reminds us that Washington remains the main "distribution center" of the global agenda, but no longer an uncontested hegemon. In Moscow, Beijing and Istanbul op‑eds today talk less about abstract "America" and more about its concrete actions: the US–Israel war with Iran and the broad Middle East crisis, a new configuration of the strategic US–China–Russia triangle, Washington's role in the protracted war in Ukraine, and economic pressure and tariff policies from aluminum to high technologies. Against this background, the image of America in editorials oscillates between a tired superpower clinging to fading hegemony and an still indispensable center of power without which no major international storyline comes together.

The first and perhaps most hotly debated topic is the US–Israel war with Iran, which began on 28 February 2026 and quickly turned into a multi‑level crisis mixing strikes on Iranian infrastructure, AI‑driven disinformation campaigns, and shocks on global energy markets. Russian and Turkish outlets emphasize Washington’s role as initiator or key escalation factor. Russian analytical pieces describe the conflict as the logical outcome of a long US policy of forceful "containment" of regional powers and draw parallels with the wars in Iraq and Libya: the logic whereby any resistance to the American security architecture sooner or later meets military force is seen as an unchanging structural feature of US policy rather than the consequence of a particular administration. An important detail for Russian authors is how the US justifies strikes with rhetoric about "defending the international order" and "freedom of navigation" — presented as language that masks a struggle for control over logistics corridors in the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz, which directly affect energy prices and, consequently, Russia’s opportunities on the world market. That is why Russian commentaries interpret Moscow’s and Beijing’s support for Iran not only as a political gesture but also as an attempt to wrest from the US the monopoly on interpreting notions of "legality" and "security."

The Chinese press, especially official and semi‑official outlets, adopts a different tone — reproaches toward the US are accompanied by persistent calls for de‑escalation and negotiations. While condemning US‑Israeli strikes on Iran and delicately avoiding direct mention of its own regional interests, Chinese commentators stress two things. First, that political destabilization of the Middle East undermines the global economy and above all supply chains for oil and gas, on which Chinese growth depends. Second, that the war is used by Washington to cement anti‑Iran and, more broadly, anti‑China coalitions, where energy is tightly linked to technological export controls and control over payment infrastructure. A recent analysis in the Chinese English‑language press noted that "each new missile strike leads to another package of financial sanctions and secondary restrictions," and China views this as a continuation of US "economic coercion" aimed not only at Tehran but at any state trying to build alternative financial and logistical routes. Nevertheless, Beijing seeks in public rhetoric to play the role of a "responsible great power," urging Washington to negotiate while distancing itself from accusations of direct support for Iran.

Turkish media and politicians view the Iranian crisis through their own lens as a regional power squeezed between NATO, Middle Eastern wars, and the need for energy and trade autonomy. Turkey officially condemns US strikes on Iran, emphasizing the principle of territorial integrity and the danger of state collapse in another neighboring country. In Turkish commentators’ accounts, the US appears as a force that "sets its neighbor's house on fire and then sells him firefighting services" — simultaneously creating a threat and offering itself as the sole security guarantor. Particular irritation is caused by Washington’s continued use of the language of democracy and human rights — alongside its support for authoritarian regimes in the region when they fit American interests. For Turkish authors a practical aspect matters as well: a new war on the eastern flank means additional refugee flows, increased terrorist activity, and hits to trade routes through Turkey. In these conditions US policy is seen not as stabilizing but as creating new circles of chaos that neighbors will have to clear up.

The second major motif in Russia’s, China’s and Turkey’s reactions is the reformatting of the US–China–Russia strategic triangle against the backdrop of Donald Trump’s May 2026 visit to Beijing and the summit with Xi Jinping held there. American analytic centers wrote about a "window of stability amid continuing fragility" in US‑China relations, noting that the parties managed to outline the parameters of competition in technology and military security but did not reach breakthrough agreements on Taiwan, Iran, and navigation in critical straits. For Russian and Chinese authors this summit prompted a reassessment of how ready Washington is to recognize China as an "equal player" and to what extent such recognition threatens or, conversely, helps Moscow.

In Russia, part of the foreign policy expert community reacted with frank suspicion to White House attempts to speak with Beijing in the language of "parity leadership." A recent report by the Russian International Affairs Council stresses that since 2025, with Trump’s return, Washington has aimed to fragment a potential Eurasian bloc: a warming with China is seen as a tactical maneuver designed to "tear Beijing away from Moscow" and deprive Russia of its strongest partner in confronting the West. At the same time, it is noted that China itself is not interested in reducing the relationship to the American agenda alone: Moscow reads Chinese signals about multipolarity and "respect for different civilizations" as a counter to American universalism. Russian analysis leads to the view that the new US line is not a retreat from confrontation but a desire to manage it better by dividing opponents.

Chinese commentators, for their part, view the Trump–Xi summit through the prism of a long‑term "strategic competition" with the US. The Chinese press emphasizes that Washington recognizes Beijing as "equal in scale, but not in right" — i.e., it is compelled to take Chinese power into account but still tries to limit it through alliance systems in the Indo‑Pacific, technological sanctions and export controls, including on rare earths and chips. Chinese experts cautiously welcome the fact of dialogue but warn that "strategic distrust" remains and the US’s attempt to win through managed confrontation remains a basic orientation. In this context Russia figures as a key partner with whom Beijing builds a "deepened strategic dialogue" amid unpredictable American policy — which further heightens concern in Washington.

Turkey sees this great geopolitical game as an opportunity for its own maneuvering. Turkish columnists note that Washington’s "softening" of rhetoric toward China while pressuring Russia and Iran creates a kind of "window for Ankara": Turkey, a NATO member and at the same time a contentious actor with the alliance, can bargain with multiple centers of power at once. At the same time the US is regarded as a partner who will remain important but never reliable: that is why Turkish foreign policy, according to local analysts, is increasingly built on the idea of "strategic autonomy," implying a balance between Washington, Moscow and Beijing. American attempts to force Ankara into a stark choice between NATO and "authoritarian allies" are seen as a misunderstanding of Turkey’s regional perspective, where flexibility is valued above ideological loyalty.

The third recurring theme is the US role in the war in Ukraine and the wider Eastern European context. In the Russian public sphere America, as in previous years, figures primarily as Ukraine’s main sponsor and strategist, without whom the Kyiv leadership could not have continued to resist. Donald Trump’s announced three‑day ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine in May 2026 sparked lively debate: some Russian commentators see it as Washington’s attempt to demonstrate to the world its ability to control escalation, others read it as a publicity stunt ahead of elections and a way to regroup Ukrainian forces. In any case, the US is presented not as a neutral arbiter but as a full party to the conflict, shaping the course of operations through arms supplies, intelligence and diplomatic pressure.

China’s reaction to the Ukrainian conflict, viewed through the lens of its assessment of the US, remains more restrained but no less principled. Chinese authors consistently emphasize that NATO's "bloc thinking" and the alliance’s expansion to Russia’s borders underpin the current crisis, and in that logic Washington is responsible for the overall architecture of confrontation. At the same time, Beijing avoids direct military support for Moscow, cautiously positioning itself as a proponent of negotiations and a "balancing power" that is uninterested in either Russia’s total defeat or a strategic victory for the US. For Chinese experts the Ukrainian conflict is both an example of how Washington uses sanctions and the dollar system to project power and a warning about the possible cost of an open clash with the US in the future over Taiwan.

In Turkey the war in Ukraine is discussed, like the Iranian crisis, primarily in terms of risks to regional security and economic consequences. Turkish commentators recall that Ankara previously played a mediating role on the grain deal and control of the Black Sea straits and now watches Washington and Moscow compete for influence in the Black Sea region. The US is criticized for "using the conflict to strengthen NATO’s presence on Russia’s borders" while not taking sufficient responsibility for humanitarian and economic consequences in neighboring countries. However, unlike Russia, Turkey does not question Ukraine’s right to receive support; its criticism of the US centers on how and with what priorities Washington provides that support.

The fourth theme, particularly prominent in Turkish and partly in Chinese publications, is US economic protectionism and sanction activism. Turkish sources on domestic and international economics analyze how Washington’s high tariffs on aluminum imports, introduced under the pretext of protecting domestic industry, still did not save some American smelting capacities. One Turkish reviewer emphasizes that the US "still covers about 60% of its aluminum needs through imports," despite domestic price increases to historic levels — concluding that Washington’s protectionist policy harms both partners and its own consumers without solving structural competitiveness problems. For Ankara, whose economy is heavily tied to exports of metals and industrial goods to Europe and the US, such American measures are not an abstract case study but a direct hit to Turkish manufacturers’ margins and value chains.

In China the economic dimension of American policy is viewed within a broader framework of "decoupling." Chinese experts note that even amid partial rhetorical easing and talks about stabilization, the US continues to build barriers in the sectors most sensitive to the Chinese economy — from semiconductors to AI and rare earths — supplementing tariffs with export controls and sanctions against individual companies. One analytical report stresses that the American strategy is twofold: on the one hand Washington declares the goal of "managed competition," on the other it uses the full force of financial and technological levers to slow China’s technological leap and force Beijing to accept rules favorable to the US. China responds not with mirror tariffs but by actively building alternative markets and payment systems within BRICS and regional initiatives, which Russian commentaries interpret as accelerating the formation of a "post‑American" economic architecture.

Russian economic analysis, by contrast, increasingly depicts the US not as an unattainable model but as a large yet increasingly problematic market where political risks and sanction unpredictability outweigh the traditional advantages of depth and liquidity. Private investor briefs stress that the US stock market still shows high corporate profitability and remains the "locomotive of global capital," but "geopolitical tension around Venezuela, Iran, Greenland, as well as domestic problems in the US" create a higher likelihood of a serious correction. These texts convey an ambivalent attitude: on one hand America is a source of opportunities and innovation; on the other it is a source of systemic risk from which one should hedge by diversifying toward India, China and other emerging markets.

Finally, in all three countries responses to the US reveal a deeper, almost philosophical debate about the nature of American hegemony. Russian political‑economy journals describe the period from the 1980s until the recognition of China as a leading industrial power as "an era of unconditional US hegemony," but now speak of an inevitable increase in fragmentation of the world system, where American "universalism" collides with the rise of alternative centers of power and value models. In these texts the US is no longer demonized but is not idealized either: it becomes one of several major powers trying to retain maximum influence but no longer able to set the rules without accounting for others. Chinese authors, drawing on their own discourse of multipolarity and respect for "different civilizations," criticize America’s claim to universal legitimacy: for them the US still thinks of the world in blocs and hierarchies, whereas China offers a model of horizontal interdependence without a clear "center" and "periphery." Turkish commentators add their own motive: the US appears to them as a power that too often confuses its interests with the abstract "international community," devaluing the experience and sensitivities of regional powers — such as Turkey itself.

The result is an intriguing paradox. In Russia, China and Turkey the US is often criticized for directly opposite things: for excessive aggression and for weakness, for imposing values and for cynical realism, for protectionism and for neoliberal globalization. But the common thread is obvious: none of these countries any longer perceives America as the only possible center of the world. Washington is still needed by all — as a forceful arbiter, a financial anchor, a technological magnet — but no longer as the sole source of the rules. Russian experts speak of a closing era of unipolarity, the Chinese of a complex "managed competition," and the Turkish of the necessity of strategic autonomy. For a reader accustomed to the English‑language media picture in which the US often portrays itself as a tired but indispensable "world sheriff," this is a shift in perspective: outside Washington voices grow louder that do not dispute American power but increasingly deny it the right to determine the future alone.

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America in the Crosshairs: Germany, Ukraine and Japan Debate the US Role

Today, outside the United States, discussions are not about one or two headline episodes but about a knot of issues in which Washington has become both indispensable and problematic. In Germany, there is debate over whether and how to “unlearn” reliance on America without undermining national security. In Ukraine, the United States continues to be viewed as key to survival and victory, even as confidence in American decisions has been noticeably shaken. In Japan, the dominant concern is how to preserve the American “nuclear umbrella” while preparing for a world in which Washington increasingly behaves unpredictably. Behind all these storylines lies one common theme: the world is trying to learn to live with Trump’s America — and without the former certainty in American leadership.

The central nerve of these discussions remains Russia’s war against Ukraine and the role of the United States in its continuation and possible resolution. In Ukrainian discourse there is clear irritation over the fact that Washington is at once vital and prone to “fatigue” over the conflict. Ukrainian analysts and journalists examine in detail how painful the cuts and delays in American aid have been, stressing that even with sizable support packages, uncertainty about 2026 remains high: some programs have been cut, and humanitarian and reconstruction projects depend on decisions from Congress and the White House that are delayed or being reconsidered for domestic political reasons. One analytical review prepared for Ukrainian humanitarian organizations notes that cuts in U.S. funding have already forced many projects to shift to European and multilateral sources at the risk of timing and scale failures, and emphasizes that “настрої втоми в США посилюють вразливість України та знижують передбачуваність планування відбудови” (a detailed analysis is presented, for example, in the ACAPS report on the consequences of U.S. aid cuts for Ukraine’s humanitarian sector, published in early 2026; the Ukrainian summary is available via the ACAPS website: https://www.acaps.org/fileadmin/DataProduct/Additionalresources/20253112UkraineOneyearontheimplicationsofUSforeignaidcutsonhumanitariandevelopmentUKRtranslation.pdf).

However, the paradox is that on the battlefield Kyiv’s situation now looks better than at any time since 2022. Ukrainian media, relaying a Politico piece on Ukraine’s “paradoxical position ahead of the G7 summit,” highlight that Ukrainian forces are, for the first time in a long time, gaining more territory than they lose, and that a large-scale “drone war” is systematically hitting Russian supply lines. At the same time, the country faces an acute shortage of interceptor missiles and suffers from heavily damaged energy infrastructure, while the peace negotiations have reached an impasse — in part because Washington is distracted by the conflict with Iran and other crises. Ukrainian retellings of the article explicitly call for “convincing Trump,” stressing that without a political decision in Washington this combination of tactical successes and strategic vulnerability cannot be resolved (see the Ukrainian analysis of the Politico piece on the iPress.ua portal, available as “Україна перемагає у дроновій війні. Тепер їй треба переконати Трампа,” which describes the paradox of battlefield gains and interceptor shortages: https://ipress.ua/news/ukrainaperemagaieudronoviyviyniteperiytrebaperekonatytrampapolitico386790.html).

Ukrainian public opinion, judging by expert press reviews and social media debates, swings between grateful dependence and growing mistrust. The information-bibliographic bulletin “Україна у відгуках зарубіжної преси” for April 2026 extensively quotes Western authors who argue that supporting Ukraine is an “investment in the security of the United States itself,” because Kyiv’s defeat would undermine the whole system of American alliances, and who remind readers that the U.S.’s adversaries are carefully studying the lessons of the war. Ukrainian commentators use these arguments as an internal counternarrative: yes, Ukraine needs Washington, but America equally needs the Ukrainian front not to fall, so the conversation should be framed not as one about “handouts” but as mutual insurance of security. The same bulletin cites an article by Ukraine’s ambassador to NATO saying it is time to “rethink NATO” and restructure the alliance to reflect a reality in which unilateral U.S. decisions can clash with both European and Ukrainian interests; the review is available as a PDF on the Ukrainian National Library site in the April 1–30, 2026 issue: https://nbuviap.gov.ua/images/informaciynividanya/ukruvidgukah/2026/2026Ukraina_04.pdf.

On a popular level the debate often sounds even sharper. In prominent Ukrainian online communities people openly discuss “how much Ukraine needs U.S. assistance” and what price the country has already paid for pauses or restrictions. In one such Reddit thread a participant criticizes the myth that Washington supposedly imposes the maximum level of sanctions on Russia, reminding readers that under Trump restrictions on the oil sector were partial and sometimes eased, and that the current proposed trade-political “deal” with Moscow sounds like a businessman’s deal rather than a guarantor of international law. At the same time the same participant concedes that without American intelligence and high-tech aid Ukraine cannot cover critical needs, and points to the recent “Ukraine Support Act for $9 billion” as an example that even amid isolationist moods part of the American establishment still understands the strategic cost of Kyiv’s defeat; a discussion with these formulations and a link to the bill can be found in the thread “Наскільки сильно Україні потрібна допомога США?” on the r/uamind subreddit, preserved in part at https://www.reddit.com/r/uamind/comments/1tzaswu/%D0%BD%D0%B0%D1%81%D0%BA%D1%96%D0%BB%D1%8C%D0%BA%D0%B8_%D1%81%D0%B8%D0%BB%D1%8C%D0%BD%D0%BE_%D1%83%D0%BA%D1%80%D0%B0%D1%97%D0%BD%D1%96_%D0%BF%D0%BE%D1%82%D1%80%D1%96%D0%B1%D0%BD%D0%B0_%D0%B4%D0%BE%D0%BF%D0%BE%D0%BC%D0%BE%D0%B3%D0%B0_%D1%81%D1%88%D0%B0/).

In Germany the focus shifts from the Ukrainian front to a broader question: what should Europe do about American hegemony if the White House has become a source of risk almost equal to its role as guarantor of security. German commentators frequently write about the sharp deterioration of the U.S. image following the attacks on Venezuela and Iran in 2026, and about the diplomatic rupture between Washington and the Vatican over the positions of the new Pope Leo XIV. The German-language Wikipedia, which largely reflects expert consensus, specifically emphasizes the link: U.S. military actions in Venezuela and Iran, criticism of the Pope, and a general decline in freedom indicators within America under Trump’s second administration. An article on the president’s second term states that, according to Freedom House data, the U.S. freedom index in 2025–2026 fell to its lowest point in half a century. A German author cites the organization’s findings on “dysfunction of the legislative branch,” “dominance of the executive,” increased pressure on freedom of speech, and efforts by the administration to undermine anti-corruption mechanisms, hinting that Europeans are dealing not merely with a difficult partner but with a system whose democratic foundations are seriously weakened; this set of grievances is collected and structured in the article “Zweite Präsidentschaft von Donald Trump” on the German Wikipedia, widely cited by German political blogs: https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/ZweitePr%C3%A4sidentschaftvonDonaldTrump.

Particularly interesting are German economists’ discussions of the idea to “sell America” — that is, to sharply divest dollar assets and reduce dependence on the U.S. — against this backdrop of political turbulence. In a comment from the German Institute for Economic Research (DIW Berlin) titled “Europa kann Amerika nicht ‚verkaufen‘, aber sich unabhängiger machen,” the author warns against the lure of a sudden “Sell America” trade. He argues that the illusion Europe can simply “dump” American assets to strengthen its position is dangerous for both the European economy and global financial stability. Such a maneuver, the piece stresses, is not only unrealistic in the short term but also fails to reduce Europe’s vulnerability to the U.S.; instead, the author calls for gradual building of strategic autonomy — from defense industry to energy and technological infrastructure. The comment was published in DIW Wochenbericht 14/15 / 2026 and is available on the institute’s website: https://www.diw-berlin.de/de/diw01.c.1004084.de/publikationen/wochenberichte/2026143/europakannamerikanichtverkaufenabersichunabhaengigermachen__kommentar.html.

The political dimension of this push for autonomy is visible in reactions to Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s government statements. In his June government declaration to the Bundestag, devoted to war abroad and domestic social reforms, the leitmotif was the formation of a “new world order” in which Europe “finds its strong place” and must become “capable of defense” not only by relying on the American nuclear umbrella. Critical left‑wing commentators, such as a World Socialist Web Site columnist, point out that behind Merz’s talk of strengthening defense lies not only a desire to hedge against potential American unreliability but also an elite push for social “counterrevolution” — reallocating resources in favor of the military-industrial complex and security forces. Nevertheless, the very fact that the German chancellor in a programmatic speech speaks about the need for such a level of autonomy is seen by experts as an admission: the era of almost unconditional reliance on the U.S. is over. An extensive retelling of Merz’s speech and a critical analysis of its content were published in “Merz’s government statement: War abroad, social counterrevolution at home” on WSWS, accompanied by a photo of the chancellor at a Berlin aerospace exhibition: https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2026/06/12/merz-j12.html.

At the level of public debate Germany is experiencing its own “American moment.” In a popular Reddit thread headlined “Deutschland verkommt immer mehr zu den USA,” the author laments that the country “is increasingly becoming like the U.S.,” referring to rising social inequality, commercialization of the healthcare system, and growing media polarization. Comments repeatedly return to the comparison: “we want U.S. security but not their society,” and ask whether one can have one without the other. Such discussions, where the American model simultaneously fascinates and frightens, appear in the German-language subreddit r/heissemeinung, referenced by the post “Deutschland verkommt immer mehr zu den USA,” accessible for example via the Reddit archive: https://www.reddit.com/r/heissemeinung/comments/1s6oeuk/deutschlandverkommtimmermehrzudenusa/.

In Japan the focus on the United States looks different: the key question is not how to “break free” from Washington but how to live under the American umbrella while knowing its owner can change the rules at any moment. One of the most important policy pieces in recent months was published in The Japan Times on the need for “hardened engagement” with America. The author, a Japanese international relations expert, argues that Japan cannot sever the alliance with the U.S. nor treat it with the old naive trust. Instead, Japan must simultaneously build up its own military strength, pursue active regional diplomacy, and be able in some areas to diverge from Washington without breaking the alliance. The piece, titled “The case for ‘hardened engagement’ with America,” directly points to the risk that U.S. electoral cycles and domestic conflicts will regularly undermine the predictability of American commitments in Asia; it was published on April 16, 2026 in The Japan Times commentary section: https://www.japantimes.co.jp/commentary/2026/04/16/world/case-american-engagement.

This line of thinking is reinforced at the official level as well. In an analytical Stimson Center piece on the outcomes of the February Extended Deterrence Dialogue in Washington, the report details how American and Japanese officials reaffirmed that the U.S. is prepared to defend Japan “using the full spectrum of capabilities, including nuclear.” For Tokyo, such statements are both a guarantee and a source of anxiety: domestic debate increasingly asks what will happen to this “nuclear umbrella” if isolationist lines or new foreign-policy adventures take hold in the White House and erode trust in American strategic calculations. The report emphasizes that Japan is, judging by its language, insisting on institutionalizing these guarantees — creating mechanisms that will outlast changes in specific U.S. administrations; the analysis is available in “When Denuclearization Fades, Japan Holds the Line” on the Stimson Center website, which records the dialogue on extended deterrence and the position on the “full range of capabilities, including nuclear” for Japan: https://www.stimson.org/2026/when-denuclearization-fades-japan-holds-the-line.

At the same time Japanese domestic politics feel direct pressure from Washington. During the 2026 campaign for the lower house, U.S. President Trump publicly expressed support for several right‑conservative Japanese candidates, provoking a sharp reaction in local media. In an editorial the Nihon Keizai Shimbun — the country’s largest business newspaper — called this intervention “inappropriate” and a violation of the principle of non‑interference in domestic affairs. Observers noted Japan’s historical sensitivity to foreign interference given the postwar occupation experience and ongoing territorial disputes — so even formally “friendly” support from Washington is seen as a dangerous precedent. The content of this editorial and the subsequent debates were discussed in an English-language Reddit thread, which points out that Nikkei invoked the Nicaragua precedent at the International Court of Justice as an argument against normalizing such interference; a summary reproducing the main theses of the Japanese editorial and its legal context was posted by user GeoKaw2020 under “日経［社説］トランプ氏の干渉は不適切だ” on Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/uGeoKaw2020/comments/1qyy3ov/%E8%A1%86%E8%AD%B0%E9%99%A2%E9%81%B8%E6%8C%992026%E6%97%A5%E7%B5%8C%E7%A4%BE%E8%AA%AC%E3%83%88%E3%83%A9%E3%83%B3%E3%83%97%E6%B0%8F%E3%81%AE%E5%B9%B2%E6%B8%89%E3%81%AF%E4%B8%8D%E9%81%A9%E5%88%87%E3%81%A02026%E5%B9%B42%E6%9C%886%E6%97%A51930/).

Beyond immediate scandals, Japanese experts are watching a long-term trend: the formation of a de facto “G2” — a U.S.–China duopoly in which Japan risks being disadvantaged. In an analytical essay “アメリカの風 米中並び立つ世界 ― 2026年を占う,” prepared by former Washington correspondent Sugita Hiroki for the Japan Organization for Investment (JOI) magazine, the author argues that 2026 may be a turning point for the emergence of a stable U.S.–China two‑pillar system in which others must navigate between the two powers. He notes that across key domains — from Taiwan to human rights — Japan begins from an unfavorable position: it is heavily dependent on American security while simultaneously vulnerable to Chinese economic pressure. The essay stresses that Trump’s America, prone to abrupt tariffs and unilateral decisions, is the least trusted by Japanese society, and calls for preparedness for an era in which the alliance with the U.S. will rest not on “faith” but on continuous pragmatic reassessment; the full essay was published in the January issue of the magazine and is available as a PDF on the JOI site: https://www.joi.or.jp/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/Mag20260110_seriesUSsugita.pdf.

Looking at these three national perspectives together, it becomes clear that the conversation about America is no longer reducible to a simple dichotomy of “leader–hegemon” or “friend–enemy.” Ukraine speaks of the U.S. as a force without which it cannot endure and win, but also as a partner whose inconsistency and bargaining over security principles leave scars and force the search for alternatives. Germany balances fear of losing the American umbrella with the recognition that continued dependence on Washington makes Europe hostage not only to Russian missiles but also to the American electorate. Japan, living in the shadow of China’s rise and North Korean missiles, paints the most sober portrait: preserve the alliance with America, but treat it as a source of risk and build additional layers of protection and autonomy.

These three countries share another important trait: they are not abandoning the United States, but they are ceasing to see it as the only center of the world. Ukrainian reconstruction plans are increasingly being built around consortia of the EU, Britain, Canada, and regional partners; German economists and politicians call for development of European defense and financial sovereignty — albeit without illusions about a sudden “divorce” from the dollar; Japanese strategists talk about deepening ties concurrently with India, Australia, and Southeast Asian countries. America in these conversations remains a giant — but no longer “infallible” or the sole one. That is why today’s international debate about the United States is so tense and contradictory: the world is learning to live in a reality where American power still determines the outcome of wars and crises, but trust in American predictability can no longer be taken for granted.

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How the world reads Washington: Israel, Australia and Ukraine on a new phase of American power

In mid‑June 2026 the United States again finds itself at the epicenter of global debate — but this time not only as a "hegemon," rather as the nervous hub of three simultaneous crises. In Israel there is debate over whether America is saving the country or betraying it for a deal with Tehran. In Australia officials are recalculating future tariffs and trying to understand whether the American "umbrella" of protection is as reliable as before. In Ukraine people are anxiously parsing the nuances of your agreements with Moscow and Tehran, applying every turn in Washington to themselves: does it mean a weakening of support or, conversely, a deepening of the military alliance? What in American media looks like tactical maneuvers by Donald Trump around the war with Iran and the conflict in Ukraine is perceived in these three countries as a question of survival.

The first and hottest storyline is the US attempt to end the war with Iran and reopen the Strait of Hormuz. The Israeli discussion about America is particularly heated and emotional. Against the backdrop of a joint US campaign against Iranian infrastructure and continuing shelling from Hezbollah from Lebanon, Israeli commentators increasingly say Washington is imposing a "foreign logic of war" on Tel Aviv. As early as April Arab and Western media noted that the announced ceasefires with Iran and in Lebanon are perceived in the region as decisions "more imposed by the US than achieved by Israel at a negotiating table," and this has strengthened the sense that Israeli interests are subordinated to the American agenda rather than the other way around, as the right wing of Israeli politics has been accustomed to believing.(aljazeera.com)

The situation escalated in recent days when Trump said the US and Iran are "very close to a deal," while simultaneously urging Israel "not to derail" it after IDF strikes on Shiite neighborhoods in Beirut.(washingtonpost.com) In Washington this is presented as a step toward de‑escalation, but in Israel the reaction sounds very different. Hebrew pieces in major outlets describe the deal as a "Washington capitulation to Tehran" and a "geopolitical blow to Tel Aviv." A Ukrainian outlet recounting analysis from Israeli Ynet quotes Israeli officials saying the forthcoming US–Iran memorandum "grossly neglects Israel’s national security interests and effectively negates the results of the ongoing military operation."(ria-m.tv)

At the same time there are cooler voices inside Israel. In an interview with the Russian‑language outlet The Insider an Israeli political scientist noted that "the agreement between Iran and the US has provoked discontent across the political spectrum" and that the refusal to further escalate in Lebanon is often interpreted as a "loss of sovereignty," but the alternative is a protracted two‑front war, in Lebanon and against Iran, with unpredictable consequences for Israel’s economy and internal stability.(theins.ru) In this Israeli conversation America functions both as a guarantor of security, pushing for an unpopular peace, and as an external force constraining freedom of military maneuver. Gratitude for military support and accusations that Washington is chasing a "pretty deal" for Trump's ratings rather than a sustainable architecture of regional security are addressed to the US in equal measure.

Australian debates about the US look much less dramatic, but that does not make them less consequential. For Canberra the main questions are not about survival today but about the structure of world trade and the reliability of American commitments over decades. Newly appointed Australian ambassador to Washington Greg Moriarty arrived in the US capital with a mandate to conduct "tough tariff negotiations" after the Trump administration announced a review of duties on a range of goods, including products from the mining and agricultural sectors where Australia traditionally has strength.(abc.net.au)

Australian commentators in the ABC and other major media link this story to the broader picture of "Trumpian" economic foreign policy, in which the "America First" priority is taken literally. One influential political columnist at the ABC, reflecting on Trump's deal with Iran, effectively uses it as an example: the US president demonstrates a willingness to take risky steps — from threats of seizing the strategic island of Kharg to a broad blockade of Iranian oil exports — only to then put pen to paper on a compromise agreement, declaring "victory," while real levers in the Strait of Hormuz remain largely in Tehran’s hands.(bizportal.co.il)

For Australia, whose economy is heavily tied to maritime routes and the stability of global energy markets, this unpredictability in the American line becomes a subject of serious analysis. Leading newspapers ask: if the US is willing, for a tactical win in its Iran campaign, to destabilize trade routes and use tariffs as a political weapon even against allies, what does that say about the long‑term cost of an alliance with Washington? The official line remains pragmatic: the government stresses that the alliance with the US is still the "cornerstone" of Australia’s security in the Indo‑Pacific, but the need for "robust," i.e., tough and professional, tariff negotiations is openly acknowledged as a signal that Canberra no longer places unconditional faith in American altruism.(abc.net.au)

Ukrainian discussions about the US occur on a different emotional register. Here America is first and foremost the main military and political sponsor of resistance to Russian aggression. But in recent months anxiety has grown in Ukrainian expert circles: will Ukraine’s interests be sacrificed in the course of big US–Russian and US–Iranian combinations? The cause has been reports that Washington has reportedly accepted a "territorial" framework for a possible deal with Moscow — that is, a willingness to discuss security guarantees for Ukraine only after the effective confirmation of its loss of some territories,(transformukraine.org) and renewed direct contacts between Trump and Vladimir Putin amid ongoing hostilities. American and Ukrainian media reported the US president held phone conversations with both Putin and Volodymyr Zelensky, discussing a "quick end to the war," and the Russian side immediately quoted Trump as allegedly speaking of prospects for a "qualitatively new" relationship between Washington and Moscow after a settlement.(cbsnews.com)

Against this backdrop Ukrainian analytic centers write about the US with noticeably greater caution than a year or two ago. In pieces on possible war scenarios American policy is considered not only as an unequivocal resource but as a key source of uncertainty: according to experts, whether scenarios of protracted war or a forced peace on painful terms for Kyiv materialize depends on the strength of US military aid and how firmly Washington rejects a "territorial compromise" with Russia.(newsukraine.rbc.ua) More recent Ukrainian publications discuss another aspect — deepening military‑technical cooperation with the US, in particular developing a joint counter‑drone defense system. In Kyiv such a project is interpreted as a sign that, despite Trump's diplomatic maneuvers, the US defense establishment is laying the groundwork for a long‑term partnership with Ukraine that is not reducible to momentary deals.(cbsnews.com)

Interestingly, Ukrainian media sometimes become channels retransmitting Israeli emotions about the US. The aforementioned piece recounting Ynet’s analysis of a "Washington capitulation under pressure from Tehran" appeared in Ukrainian, and the authors emphasize parallels between the situations in Israel and Ukraine: both countries are fighting adversaries whom Washington perceives as part of larger regional equations, and both can become bargaining chips in a game where the US places greater value on overall "market stability" and reducing the risk of direct confrontation than on maximizing allies’ military objectives.(ria-m.tv)

Common themes run through all three national lenses. The first is fatigue and distrust toward American rhetoric about "democracy" and "values" while simultaneously accepting the fact that it is the US that possesses unique military, financial and diplomatic resources. In Israel this appears in the bitter formula: "America saves us from Iran, but does not let us press Iran as we see fit." In Australia it shows up in the sober realization that US moral leadership does not prevent it from using tariffs and sanctions against partners when convenient. In Ukraine the painful dilemma is how to maximize American support without becoming an object of bargaining between Washington and Moscow.

The second common theme is the growing role of Donald Trump’s personality as a factor of unpredictability. Israeli and Ukrainian analysts closely track his statements about being "very close" to a deal with Iran or the need to "quickly end" the war in Ukraine, trying to determine where bargaining ends and strategic intent begins.(washingtonpost.com) Australian commentators, for their part, see in his approach to the Strait of Hormuz and to tariffs the manifestation of a single pattern: the president manufactures a crisis in order to later sell its partial resolution as a political victory, with the bill for that "victory" being paid by allies and weaker players.

And finally, the third theme is the awareness of dependence on internal American debates. Israeli polls show a substantial portion of the population is ready to continue the fight against Hezbollah in Lebanon even at the cost of conflict with the US administration, but elites understand that without the American political umbrella such a course risks international isolation.(idi.org.il) In Australia the business press writes about the need to diversify trade links, primarily by deepening ties with Asia and Europe, precisely because American policy has become too dependent on cycles in Washington. In Ukraine the central nerve is fear of possible "war fatigue" in the US and of how another domestic political turn could affect the volumes of military aid and the toughness of the sanctions regime against Russia.

These debates rarely make it into the American information flow in full. In the US Israeli dissatisfaction over the Iran deal is often reduced to the familiar image of a "always demanding more" Netanyahu. Australian concern over tariffs is perceived as an ordinary trade dispute. Ukrainian fears about "territorial" compromises dissolve into the general noise over who is "tougher" with Putin. Meanwhile it is precisely in these local disputes, columns and expert interviews that the real content of American power in 2026 is revealed: it is not only aircraft carriers and sanctions, but a network of complex, sometimes painful expectations, fears and calculations of allies.

Seen from Tel Aviv, Canberra or Kyiv, the US today is not an abstract "world leader" but an actor whose decisions on Iran and Russia directly determine citizens’ lives, the course of wars and the future of economies. And the more unpredictable American policy becomes, the more these countries learn simultaneously to rely on Washington and to insure themselves against it. That is the main shift visible to the naked eye when reading their own media: the world is ceasing to perceive the US as a given and is increasingly debating how to live in an era when even the chief ally can play a different game tomorrow.

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How the World Sees America Now: Germany, Japan and Israel Debate Trump

The American agenda is once again dominating the planet’s information airwaves, but the set of questions being asked in Berlin, Tokyo and Tel Aviv differs noticeably. For some, the US remains the main guarantor of security; for others, it is a source of economic instability and political radicalism; for still others, it is simultaneously an indispensable ally and an unpredictable leader capable of shifting the boundaries of war with a single social‑media post. Against the backdrop of Donald Trump’s second term, a US war with Iran and a military operation against Venezuela, trade conflicts with Europe and energy shocks, the whole world is forced to reassess what American leadership means and how much longer it can be relied upon.

The central axis of current debates is not abstract “anti‑Americanism” but a very pragmatic question: how to live alongside a power that simultaneously provides security, controls key trade and energy arteries, and increasingly demonstrates it is willing to act alone — against Iran, Venezuela and even against the instincts of its own allies.

The first major storyline that excites European, Israeli and Japanese audiences alike is Washington’s military hyperactivity. In Europe they are especially focused on the simultaneous escalation with Iran and the forceful action against Venezuela. German media and analysts refer to the now‑public description of the “US strike on Venezuela in 2026,” emphasizing that Washington justified the invasion and capture of Nicolás Maduro not only as a fight for democracy but also as a move to control energy resources and send a message to other oil regimes. German pieces constantly quote international law scholars such as Professor Holger Hestermayer from King’s College London, who reminds readers that sitting heads of state enjoy immunity, and that a US attempt to justify Maduro’s abduction by “not recognizing his legitimacy” undermines fundamental norms of international law. This argument is used more broadly in the German press: if a precedent is created for Caracas today, tomorrow it can be applied to any inconvenient capital. In an analytical review by Deutschlandfunk on the operation against Venezuela and Berlin’s muted response, the author writes bluntly that “the federal government missed the chance to call things by their names and clearly signal a violation of international law by the US” — which is already criticism not only of Washington but of the domestic political elite. (de.wikipedia.org)

The military campaign against Iran and the ensuing “Iran War of 2026” became an even more painful subject in Germany and Israel, though the tone differs. German analyses speak of a “massive US buildup in the Persian Gulf,” of a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and of strikes on Iranian infrastructure that provoked not only Iranian retaliation but also serious disagreements within NATO. One subplot examines the episode when the German chancellor publicly stated there was a “lack of coherent US military strategy,” after which US officials talked about reducing American troop presence in Germany. This fits a broader European narrative: if previously the threat was the sudden withdrawal of US forces from the region, now more commentators warn of a different danger — Europe being dragged into wars driven purely by internal American political logic. (de.wikipedia.org)

In Israel the focus is different: commentators there discuss not abstract legality of US actions but the direct impact of Trump’s trajectory on the country’s physical security. Against the background of American airstrikes on Iran, a naval blockade and threats to “completely destroy” Iran’s nuclear capability, Israeli analysts closely study every interview by the US president. An Israel Hayom piece quotes his words that the US “built the strongest army in the world, already proving its strength in Iran and in the Strait of Hormuz,” and his assurances that the war is “in the decisive phase,” while US media “paint a false narrative of defeat.” That tone in Israel provokes both relief and anxiety: on one hand, intense pressure on Iran is seen as a strategic plus for Israel; on the other, there is growing fear that Washington is using the Middle Eastern conflict as a stage to demonstrate force in a global confrontation, not always taking Israeli long‑term interests into account. (israelhayom.co.il)

An unexpected shift is noticeable in how Israeli media write about the personal dynamics between Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu. Several outlets analyze fragments of the president’s recent New York Times interview, in which he describes the Israeli prime minister as “a very complicated person” who “should be much more grateful” that America “saved Israel from complete destruction.” The religious‑conservative JDN highlights Trump’s particularly blunt formulation: “without us Israel wouldn’t last two hours,” and his hint that the US could become “the overseer of the Middle East” in exchange for 20% of the region’s oil and gas revenues. Israeli commentators see this simultaneously as an attempt to barter over the future regional architecture and as a signal to the US domestic electorate that Trump monetizes victories abroad. As one observer notes, “for the first time we hear an American president openly valuing a partner’s security as a percentage of its regional GDP” — and that shifts the usual rhetoric of “strategic partnership” toward the language of a deal. (jdn.co.il)

The expansionist image of the US is sharply criticized in German and Japanese expert circles, though through different prisms. In a Japanese analytical piece prepared for the JOGMEC resource, American strategy is described through the lens of energy: the authors remind readers that historically the US restricted oil exports, making exceptions for free‑trade partner countries, and now, amid wars with oil states and blockades of strategic straits, Washington is effectively turning control over energy flows into an instrument of foreign policy. For Japan, which depends on imports of Iranian and Middle Eastern oil, the American military presence in the Strait of Hormuz is simultaneously protection and a risk, because any abrupt decision by Trump immediately hits the Japanese economy and domestic politics. (journal.jogmec.go.jp)

If in Berlin the main concern is Washington’s military and legal unpredictability, in Tokyo it overlays decades of experience in which Japan’s security was effectively built on the American nuclear and military umbrella. At a recent conference of the Japanese Association for American Studies, an entire section was devoted to how the “American empire” is changing in the Trump era: speakers returned to experiences from Vietnam and the Cold War but concluded that the current cycle is qualitatively different, because internal democratic erosion in the US combines with a more aggressive foreign‑policy use of military force and sanctions. At the same time Japanese specialists avoid anti‑American rhetoric: instead the formula “a necessary but risky alliance” is often heard. (jaas.gr.jp)

The second major thematic block running like a red thread through discussions in Germany and Japan is the economic and trade conflict with the US. For Europe this storyline has a very concrete dimension: new American tariffs and EU retaliatory measures. The German federal government website published clarifications in May about tariff agreements with the US, stressing that EU–US trade accounts for almost 30% of global turnover and that Germany managed to “defend its key interests.” At the same time fresh statistics show a sharp drop in German exports to the US alongside a small rise in imports, increasing nervousness among industrial lobbyists. Economic commentators point out that for an “export nation” like Germany the current configuration of “Trump plus tariffs” means not only the risk of losing markets but also undermining long‑term trust in the US as a predictable partner. (bundesregierung.de)

In Japanese economic and energy reviews the US is viewed in a similar light but adjusted for the Pacific balance: Washington simultaneously pressures Tokyo on trade imbalances, demands increased defense spending, and pushes for closer involvement in strategies to deter China. Official Japanese government rhetoric remains cautiously positive, but among experts awareness is growing that the model in which the United States guarantees security in exchange for political and economic loyalty is becoming too costly and unpredictable.

The third important storyline is the state of American democracy and the person of Donald Trump as a symbol of domestic transformations in the US. The European conversation is particularly telling here. A pan‑European poll cited by The Local records a new historic low of trust in the United States as an ally: respondents in key EU countries increasingly perceive the US not as a “defender of democracy” but as a country where democratic institutions themselves are eroding and where the president flirts with authoritarian rhetoric. German political scientists use phrases that ten years ago would have seemed unthinkable: “America has turned from a democratic hegemon into a revisionist autocratic superpower.” One analytical report, published in Hebrew and devoted to the “transformation of the US into a revisionist autocratic hegemon,” goes further, describing how Washington consciously weakens international institutions and re‑maps the world, expanding the Monroe Doctrine to global control over maritime chokepoints — from Hormuz to Arctic straits. These formulations, even if originating in academic or politically engaged circles, show how the tone of the conversation about the US has changed even in traditionally sympathetic environments. (thelocal.com)

The dispute over the character of American democracy is particularly lively among German and Israeli commentators. German outlets point to Freedom House data showing that the US political and civil liberties index under Trump has fallen to its lowest level in half a century; this statistic is used as an argument that Berlin should “distance itself from the American course and more actively shape its own European security strategy.” Meanwhile in Israel, where many political and media elites have historically been closely linked to the Republican camp in the US, the conflict over Trump is more ambivalent. On one hand, right‑wing and religious media continue to emphasize his contribution to “saving Israel” and his hard line against Iran; on the other hand, concern is growing that American polarization and the legal cases against Trump are making Washington’s foreign policy a hostage to domestic party struggles. One Israeli commentator noted on air that “today the best outcome for Iran and Russia is not a US defeat but endless internal chaos in America.”

Interestingly, in Germany criticism of Trump extends far beyond expert columns and even permeates the world of football. In a report on the 2026 World Cup, German official Oke Göttlich, representing fans’ interests within European structures, called the US government “partly fascist” and drew parallels between current American reality and historical periods in Germany. His comment that “we know how such trends end, and we cannot be silent as the German delegation” spread through German feeds as widely as the sporting results themselves. This episode is telling: criticism of the US for violating human rights and democratic norms has ceased to be the preserve of leftist activists and has entered the mainstream public debate. (web.de)

The fourth common theme is a rethinking of the alliance with the US and searches for strategic autonomy. In Germany this is especially loud against the backdrop of the Munich Security Conference, where Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul stated the need for a “more self‑confident line in relations with the US” and stressed that Berlin is not prepared to automatically follow Washington into every military adventure. At the same time he acknowledged that without American guarantees NATO remains weakened. German commentators describe this as “walking a tightrope”: the desire to preserve the US military umbrella without becoming an appendage of American global strategy. (zeit.de)

In Japan a similar conversation is quieter but no less nervous. Political scientists note that Trump’s sharp statements about allies, his long‑standing doubts whether “allies will come to America’s aid in a crisis,” and pressure to increase defense budgets are pushing Tokyo toward accelerated expansion of its own military capabilities. Historical memory of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the pacifist constitution make any steps toward an independent military role extremely sensitive domestically. Japanese analytic reviews on the US often accompany the subject with two motives: fear of being dragged into conflicts over Taiwan and the Strait of Hormuz, and doubt that Washington at a critical moment would put Tokyo’s interests above its own domestic political calculations.

In Israel the issue is less about strategic “autonomy” and more about what price the country is willing to pay for a close alliance with Washington. When Trump in one interview effectively rebuked Netanyahu for ingratitude and questioned the necessity of certain Israeli military operations in Lebanon and Syria, part of the Israeli right‑wing commentary unexpectedly sided with their own prime minister against the American president. Authors stressed that Israel cannot fully subordinate its strategy to Washington, especially when facing direct threats from the north. On the other hand, almost everyone acknowledges that without the American diplomatic and military umbrella Israel would be in a far more vulnerable position than Germany or Japan.

Finally, a crosscutting, though less loud, motif for all three countries is the realization of the fragility of the current global order, in which the US long played the role of the “last arbiter.” German jurists, Japanese energy analysts and Israeli military commentators — each in their own language and with their own examples — arrive at a similar conclusion: America today is simultaneously an indispensable pillar of the system and a source of its erosion. On the one hand, it is the American fleet that opens and protects key maritime communications on which energy supplies to Europe and Asia depend. On the other, it is the White House that increasingly uses those communications as leverage, whether by blockading the Strait of Hormuz or effectively controlling supplies of Venezuelan oil.

It is in this duality that the current palette of global reactions is born. In Germany the tone ranges toward the coolly rational: “we must reduce dependence on the US while preserving the alliance out of necessity.” In Japan it is more anxiously pragmatic: “we cannot abandon the American umbrella, but we must minimize the risk of being turned into a bargaining chip in someone else’s game.” In Israel, where American intervention today is seen both as a shield and as a cause of new regional explosions, the guiding formula becomes: “we need the United States, but we cannot let it unilaterally determine our fate.”

The overall conclusion emerging from Berlin editorial columns, Tokyo conferences on American studies and Israeli political talk shows is simple and worrying: the world has entered an era when trust in the US as a predictable liberal hegemon is a thing of the past, but a new supporting structure has yet to emerge. That is why in Germany, Japan and Israel the conversation about America today is not only about Trump, wars and tariffs, but also a deeper debate about what world order will replace the one the United States helped build — and which it now appears ready to radically reshape according to increasingly narrowly construed interests.

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How the World Argues with America: Brazil, Saudi Arabia and Australia

In June 2026, discussion of the United States in the foreign press and among experts noticeably shifted: the foreground is no longer the abstract “role of America in the world,” but a very specific set of actions — a new wave of tariff protectionism under moral slogans, a forceful escalation against Iran and a broader buildup of military presence in the Middle East, as well as continued unilateral steps regarding Venezuela. In Brazil these themes intertwine with anxiety about dependence on the US and threats to export industries; in the Arab press read in Saudi Arabia, with the question of whether Washington can exit the Iranian conflict at all without losing face; in Australia, with the traditional balancing between alliance loyalty and fears of trade wars and destabilization of global markets. Layered over this is a softer layer — debates about visas, football and the US image, which alternately intensifies or smooths irritation about hardline policies.

One of the hottest topics in Brazil is the new US tariffs, formally justified as a fight against forced labor. Journalist and labor researcher Leonardo Sakamoto, in an article for Repórter Brasil reprinted by the Institute of Humanistic Studies Unisinos, characterizes this White House line as “protectionism that does not fight crime.” In his assessment, Washington uses existing laws banning import of goods produced with forced labor selectively to pressure competitors, instead of beginning “by putting its own farms and corporations in order,” where, he reminds readers, cases of extreme worker exploitation are also recorded. His piece contains a key motive for the Brazilian discussion: if the fight against slave labor were sincere, the US would start with itself rather than with participants in global supply chains in developing countries. This criticism, published as “Tarifa dos EUA motivada por trabalho forçado é protecionismo que não combate o crime” on the Instituto Humanitas Unisinos platform, became a convenient argument for leftist and union circles against unilateral American measures.

Brazilian business and military press view economy and security together. In the specialized Revista Sociedade Militar a paradox is analyzed: Brazil and the US maintain close military and commercial partnership, while “relations remain marked by technological dependence and political disputes.” The authors note that about 81% of Brazilian exports to the US are industrial goods, from steel and aircraft to refined oil and pulp, and that any new tariff packages, especially those reported by the regional newspaper OpiniãoCE, directly hit these sectors. Also in Brazilian reviews it is emphasized that Washington remains a key investor in strategic industries — from defense projects to energy — and this reinforces the asymmetry in which Brazil must simultaneously seek “strategic autonomy” and avoid falling out with the main buyer of its industrial exports.

Partly in response to this environment, an internal debate about foreign policy and defense has intensified in Brazil. At the 2nd National Conference on Brazil’s Foreign Policy and International Insertion, held at the Federal University of ABC, the presidential defense advisor directly linked the growing importance of the military component in the country’s diplomacy to “US actions in Venezuela and the rise of conflicts” and warned that this would become the main challenge for Brazilian strategy by 2030. OpiniãoCE quoted him saying that “asymmetric conflicts,” similar to the US‑Iran confrontation, are considered a model by which to build one’s own scenarios and defense planning. The Iranian crisis appears here as a kind of “case study”: how a great power uses military projection of force, combines sanctions, strikes and negotiations — and what that means for countries trying to maneuver between Washington and other centers of power.

In Arab commentary, including publications read in Saudi Arabia, the US is discussed today almost exclusively through the prism of this war with Iran and the fact that it has already gone beyond a regional episode. A detailed overview in the “Politics” section of Al‑Jazeera describes the current conflict between the US, Israel and Iran as a factor “that has ceased to be merely a regional clash and has become an element affecting the world economy and internal political balances in Washington, Tel Aviv and Tehran.” The authors point to a paradox: the US is forced to demonstrate resolve while seeking a “corridor of de‑escalation” through negotiations, and as a result the preliminary deal discussed in the press between Washington and Tehran looks, in the wording of the New York Times, like an agreement that may be limited to unblocking the Strait of Hormuz and postponing key issues — the nuclear program and frozen assets. This, as emphasized in the Arab version of the overview, threatens to prolong a state of “neither war nor peace” indefinitely.

Egyptian Al‑Ahram, whose materials are actively cited in Saudi political Telegram channels, develops this thought, reflecting on the “struggle for a deal” between the administration of Donald Trump and Tehran. In the article “بين ترامب وطهران.. صراع الاتفاق” the author writes that this is not simply about a possible agreement, but about “the future of the regional order in the Middle East and how the conflict between the US and Iran will be managed, and what place Israel will occupy in future security architectures.” In his assessment, Washington may consider preventing a large war and containing the nuclear program as immediate priorities, while Israel sees Iran as a “comprehensive threat” far beyond nuclear issues. Here the US appears as a power forced to navigate among its own priorities, Tel Aviv’s allied demands and the economic costs of a prolonged confrontation: for the Gulf countries this is not abstract diplomacy but a question of the resilience of energy markets, investments and their own internal security.

The Saudi Al‑Jazira (not the Qatari TV channel) and a number of Saudi analysts also track how regional mediators are joining this conflict. In a Pakistani chronicle distributed by the Saudi Information Agency and reprinted in Saudi outlets, Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif is quoted saying that “the chances of a peaceful agreement between the US and Iran are closer than ever,” and the role of Pakistan as a mediator is emphasized. For the Saudi audience this has a double meaning: on the one hand, it demonstrates that the crisis is still controllable and amenable to diplomacy; on the other, it shows that the United States can no longer fully monopolize the regional security architecture and must reckon with new intermediaries, from Muscat to Islamabad.

A separate Arab line of discussion concerns whether Washington can offer a sustainable “post‑war” model at all, or whether a possible deal with Iran will be just another temporary patch. In the aforementioned Al‑Ahram article the author warns that even if an agreement is reached, “the real question is not whether a deal is near, but whether the different parties can turn it into a sustainable and viable settlement, or whether deferred contradictions will resurface at the first serious test.” For a reader in Saudi Arabia, who has experienced recent years as a succession of experimental US strategies — from “maximum pressure” to pinpoint strikes and sanctions — this sounds like skepticism about Washington’s capacity for long‑term planning rather than merely situational response.

Brazilian media, in turn, view the Iranian conflict through the lens of financial risks. The economic pages of Jornal de Brasília link spikes in US Treasury yields and rising global risk aversion specifically to geopolitical tensions involving the US, Venezuela and Iran, and even threats regarding Greenland. In a report on Brazil’s public debt for January 2026 the authors note that increased volatility in the US debt market pushed some investors to reallocate portfolios toward emerging markets, temporarily working in Brazil’s favor by lowering its cost of external financing. But this “gain” is seen as the flip side of American instability: if Washington continues to escalate, the cycle could reverse.

Similarly, analysts in Australia see US policy as both support and source of risk. In the English‑language expert environment, represented for example by publications on Trump’s 2026 State of the Union at the Stimson Center, it is emphasized that the new administration in Washington combines aggressive rhetoric with a pragmatic desire to limit involvement in conflicts through “limited use of force” and sanctions. For Canberra this becomes a dilemma: on the one hand, Australia traditionally relies on the US as a security guarantor in the Indo‑Pacific and within AUKUS; on the other, it must consider that every new American campaign against Iran or Venezuela hits commodity prices, maritime shipping and demand for Australian exports in Asia. Australian commentary on US foreign policy increasingly invokes the motif of “strategic predictability”: an ally can be tough, but must be comprehensible — and many questions have accumulated about Washington.

The topic of Venezuela has become another knot where Brazilian, Saudi‑Arab and Australian assessments of American policy converge. Brazilian military analysts, including doctrinal articles published by Brazil’s Escola Superior de Guerra, describe the “US–Venezuela crisis of 2025” as an example of “hybrid warfare” and a “covert revision” of security principles in the Western Hemisphere. The authors emphasize that Washington, acting through sanctions, cyber operations and limited military pressure, demonstrated the ability to undermine the Maduro regime without moving to a full‑scale invasion. For Brazil this is simultaneously a warning and an incentive: there is continued fear of the entire northern flank of South America sliding into a zone of unilateral American control, and an understanding that the country can no longer rely on “traditional intermediaries” like itself or Colombia — the US more often bypasses regional diplomacy and acts directly.

In the Arab, and especially Iranian, context Venezuela is mentioned as one of the theaters where the US tests its new concepts of “limited intervention” and economic blockade. Some Middle Eastern commentators believe that if Washington deems the pressure model against Caracas successful, it will be inclined to replicate it against other “problematic regimes” — from Tehran to North Korea’s Pyongyang. For Gulf markets and thus for Saudi investors, this means greater uncertainty: it is unclear where exactly America will draw the red line and how far it will go in using energy and financial levers.

Australian commentators view the US–Venezuela events primarily as a test for international law and the resilience of global sanctions regimes. In expert debate about how reliable the dollar‑centric financial system is, a cautious conclusion emerges: continuation of unilateral US actions pushes other centers of power to create alternative payment infrastructures, which in the long term could hurt both the US itself and its closest allies. For Australia, whose economy is deeply embedded in the dollar system and dependent on American financial institutions, this adds another layer of risk to existing military obligations under ANZUS and AUKUS.

Against this backdrop it is particularly telling how attempts by the US to soften its image through “soft power” are discussed in the three countries. In Brazil, a certain resonance was caused by remarks of member of the US Presidential Advisory Board on Intelligence Félix Lasarte at the VEJA Brazil Insights forum in New York. VEJA’s article emphasizes that Lasarte called for abolishing visas between Brazil and the US, stating that America’s “strategic future” “passes through closer relations with South America.” Ending his speech with a joke that if the US does not win the home World Cup, “let Brazil do it,” he received applause. Local commentators saw this both as a gesture of goodwill and an acknowledgment that Washington seeks to strengthen ties with Brazil at a moment when its elites increasingly speak of the need for multivectorism and rapprochement with Europe and Asia.

Football and the upcoming 2026 World Cup in the US, Mexico and Canada have become a kind of pressure valve for political steam. In Brazil sports columns, such as a piece on UOL about the US team’s bright victory over Paraguay in the current tournament, unexpectedly turn into a platform for discussing the “new America” — more confident, less “naïve,” capable of imposing its style not only in international politics but also in the game. On Reddit‑like platforms Brazilian users argue about how dangerous or typical American foreign policy is for great powers: one popular post titled “Estudar história e continuar acreditando nos EUA é escolher acreditar em uma fantasia” claims that treating the US as uniquely evil or uniquely good is “the same propaganda, only with a minus sign,” and that Washington’s interventions differ little from practices of other empires. This more cynical but also more historicized view partly softens anti‑American affects: instead of moral condemnation, a cold calculation about with whom and on what terms it is profitable to engage.

In the Saudi online space football mixes with the experience of personal contacts with America. In a popular subreddit for Saudi students in the US there is active discussion about how the diaspora can become the “unofficial host” of the tournament — helping visiting fans from the Kingdom, organizing “identity groups” and logistics. The author of one of the top posts describes his project platform “Fora Pass” (in English — “Forward Pass”), whose goal is to pre‑organize Saudis in the US and guests from home. Such discussions show that at the everyday level the US remains for many Saudis a country of opportunities, infrastructure and exciting events despite geopolitical disputes over Iran, Israel and energy. Notably, these same people simultaneously discuss rising prices, housing problems and security issues — the very side effects generated by both Washington’s global policy and its domestic economy.

Australian public opinion, though less emotionally involved in the football agenda, also sees the United States as an ambivalent partner. Australian press commentary on American domestic polarization and Trump’s course repeatedly returns to the question: how predictable will Washington be in the coming years, and can Australia continue to “delegate” a significant part of its security and technological development to American programs — from submarines to joint AI research. Against the backdrop of discussions about US protectionist tariffs against dozens of countries, including Brazil, there is anxiety in the Australian business press: if Washington unhesitatingly imposes tough measures against partners in Latin America and Asia under slogans of human rights or national security, nothing guarantees that Australian exports will not be targeted tomorrow.

The overall picture that emerges is not a black‑and‑white split into “pro‑American” and “anti‑American” voices, but a multi‑layered, often contradictory portrait of perceptions of the US. In Brazil Washington is simultaneously criticized for economic selfishness and forceful policy in neighboring Venezuela — and viewed as a key market, investor and potential partner on visa liberalization. In Saudi Arabia and more broadly in the Arab media the US appears as a powerful but tired and contradictory guarantor of regional order, trying to negotiate a deal with Iran without losing face before Israel and its own electorate. Australia, as a first‑tier ally, increasingly asks whether the long‑term bet on a country that combines protectionism, moral rhetoric and fragmented use of force is reliable.

The three perspectives share one thing: everywhere, from São Paulo to Riyadh and Canberra, the US is no longer perceived as a stable “background” of the world order. On the contrary, it is American policy — trade, military, energy — that becomes the main source of uncertainty to which governments adapt by building bypass channels, strengthening their own defenses or increasing diplomatic autonomy. At the same time no country is ready for a rupture: economic and institutional ties are too dense, and the American market, technologies and security offer too much benefit. Therefore current debates about the US are not about whether to be “for” or “against” America, but a painful and pragmatic search for an answer to the question: how to live in a world where the main center of power has itself become a risk factor — and how to extract the maximum opportunities from this with minimal losses.

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How the World Sees America Today: Germany, Brazil and Australia

In mid‑June 2026, debates about the United States in Germany, Brazil and Australia are rarely abstract; they almost always come through the prism of very concrete conflicts and bills owed to Washington. In the German press the US appears as an aggressive and increasingly unpredictable hegemon — from the war with Iran to scandals surrounding the 2026 World Cup. In Brazil, discussion of America inevitably focuses on tariffs, pressure on industry and President Lula’s maneuvers between Washington and Donald Trump. In Australia the US is simultaneously a military shield, an economic risk and a political problem: AUKUS, the war with Iran, new American tariffs and the question of whether the alliance is becoming a relationship of dependence.

If one tries to weave these different conversations into a single tapestry, several crosscutting threads emerge: distrust of Washington’s military adventures, anxiety about American protectionism, skepticism toward “anti‑slave” and “anti‑corruption” arguments as covers for tariff policy, and doubts about whether the current White House can simultaneously manage a war in the Persian Gulf, a confrontation with China, and trade wars with allies.

The first major knot is the US war with Iran and the broader question of American power. In Australia this issue is not theoretical: the country is participating in the campaign, and public debate over whether Washington has dragged Canberra into yet another “other people’s” war runs everywhere — from parliamentary debates to Reddit. In one summarizing note on Australian politics, an anonymous analyst recounts the argument of former foreign minister Gareth Evans: a future US administration will not come to Australia’s aid in case of an “existential attack,” and will intervene only when its own assets on Australian territory are threatened. That, he says, is what the real architecture of the alliance looks like, where American bases and interests matter more than formulas about “collective defense” (reddit.com).

Official Canberra is trying to hold a double line. On the one hand, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese must explain to voters why Australia is paying a political and economic price for participating in an unpopular war. ABC commentator David Spears, analyzing the domestic scene, describes how war spending falls on top of a cost‑of‑living crisis and pushes the government toward new temporary fuel tax relief measures to at least soften the blow to household budgets (abc.net.au). On the other hand, the defense minister and Albanese himself continue to stress that AUKUS is moving “full steam ahead,” and that the war only demonstrates the importance of even tighter integration with the US Navy. A significant portion of the public, especially Greens and the left intelligentsia, do not see this as a “shield of democracy” but as a risk that Australia will become a forward staging ground in future US conflicts with China or Iran. Publications such as an analysis in Asia Times explicitly say that the change in the submarine deal — buying used Virginia‑class boats from the US — is essentially payment for granting American forces even broader use of Australian bases (antinuclear.net).

Against this background, in the German discourse the US appears more as a source of instability than as a protector. Here the war with Iran interweaves with a broader picture — the “Greenland crisis,” Washington’s claims on the island, conflicts around the World Cup and the Shield of the Americas initiative. German Wikipedia’s article on the Greenland crisis reminds readers that in January 2026 it was aggressive, legally unfounded claims by the Trump administration on Greenland that escalated tensions between the US, Denmark, the EU and Greenland itself (de.wikipedia.org). For German commentators this fits into a line of American “neo‑imperialism” — from the Middle East to the Arctic.

It is telling that even the football agenda becomes a channel for criticizing Washington. The Frankfurter Rundschau relays the remarks of Christian Streich, one of the Bundesliga’s most respected coaches, who, appearing as a ZDF expert ahead of the World Cup matches in the US, Mexico and Canada, lashed out at the “highly racist” atmosphere around some decisions and controversies in American football and politics. The piece emphasizes that Streich used the broadcast to once again take aim at Donald Trump and “the values” that, in his view, present‑day America exports to the world (fr.de).

At the far side of the planet, in Brazil, the war in the Persian Gulf is not the central storyline, but it is perceived through the lens of how the US exerts coercive pressure outside the region. Local commentators recall past “American wars” and draw parallels between sanctions, blockades and current tariffs on Brazilian products: Washington is said to be used to getting its way either with bombs or with duties. Here two other agenda knots play a key role — tariff wars and Lula’s role as a mediator between the Global South and Washington.

It is precisely tariffs that turn the US in Brazil from an abstract “global hegemon” into a very concrete economic adversary. Veja magazine notes that trade between Brazil and the US has fallen for the tenth consecutive month, down a combined 14.3% in 2026, and this is already perceived as an alarming signal for bilateral relations. Abraw Neto, president of the American Chamber of Commerce in Brazil (Amcham Brasil), tells the magazine that to prevent further decline and retaliatory steps, the roadmap of negotiations must be urgently advanced; otherwise another tariff hike will become reality (veja.abril.com.br).

The Brazilian press is vividly discussing the “tarifaço” already proposed by Washington — raising duties up to 25% on a range of Brazilian goods. Commentators describe how Lula’s government is negotiating with China and preparing possible countermeasures, trying on the one hand not to collapse exports and on the other not to appear weak before the White House. In an analytical piece on Brazil’s strategy, an industry‑representing agency stresses that this is no longer only about the economy: the extreme asymmetry in trade relations with the US calls Lula’s entire “Global South strategy” into question — a strategy based on multipolarity and reducing dependence on Washington (abpi.org.br).

It is expected that Lula will raise some of these grievances at the G7 summit. The portal Acessa.com, citing sources from the Brazilian delegation, reports that in his G7 speech the president intends to send “direct messages” to the United States, but — importantly — did not request a separate bilateral meeting with Donald Trump. This is read as a demonstrative distancing: Lula is ready to speak to the US from a partner’s position, not as a supplicant. The same publication reminds readers that USTR has an internal deadline — July 15 — to publish the final report on the question of 25% tariffs against Brazil, and everyone understands that the US president has the final word on this decision (acessa.com).

Interestingly, this game of nerves over tariffs is unfolding not only with Brazil but also with Australia, making the theme of American protectionism genuinely global. In Canberra and Sydney, the new package of US duties — at least 12.5% — is seen as a blow not only to exports but also to the image of the alliance. Financial Standard notes that the US Trade Representative (USTR) justifies these measures by claiming that Australia does not fully prevent the import of goods produced with forced labor. The Trump administration, journalists report, argues that weakness in Australia’s enforcement practices on “modern slavery” gives companies an unfair advantage, using human‑rights rhetoric as the basis for tariffs (financialstandard.com.au).

This argument generates skepticism among many Australian commentators. In academic circles and on platforms like The Conversation, international law scholars such as Justin Nolan analyze Australia’s Modern Slavery Act and conclude that its architecture is largely declaratory and cannot, by itself, be a real instrument of “fair competition” — too many loopholes, too few sanctions. As a result, critics argue, the American side is using precisely those gaps that no one paid attention to for years as a convenient formal pretext for protectionist measures, showing how politically constructed moral rhetoric has become in global trade (reddit.com).

The mood in Brazil is similar: there is historical experience of the United States using the language of “fighting corruption” and “democratic standards” to justify pressure on companies and state firms, so current arguments about “fair trade” are met with suspicion. A business review recalls that the country once experienced periods when US duties on certain Brazilian products reached 50%, and that the current prospect of a 25% “tarifaço” is seen not as an exception but as a repetition of an old logic where Washington uses its weight in the WTO and international institutions to push rules favorable to itself (abpi.org.br).

Germany, as the EU’s largest economy, watches this tariff drama somewhat from the sidelines but not without interest. German business associations are closely monitoring how the US is building a network of bilateral military‑economic deals with allies against the backdrop of a global confrontation with China. A bulletin from the Bavarian employers’ association examines in detail new US tariffs against China and other countries, as well as recent Washington agreements with South Korea, Japan and the UK on cooperation in shipbuilding and the defense industry, where economic preferences are tied to political and military commitments (vbw-bayern.de). In this context Germany is not only watching the collision between the US and Brazil and Australia but also asking whether it could itself fall into a similar trap if Washington again tries to force Europe to “choose sides” in a trade war with China.

Another key thread, present across all three countries, is the military architecture around the US: AUKUS, the expansion of American presence in Asia and initiatives like Shield of the Americas. For Australia, AUKUS is an internal political cleavage. The Albanese government continues to insist that acquiring American nuclear submarines strengthens sovereign defense, but critics from the Australian Greens and several think tanks warn that the multi‑billion‑dollar deal effectively ties the future of Australia’s navy to the American industrial base, whose reliability and political predictability are in question. Several analytical pieces explicitly state that Australia is investing about a third of what the UK invests in comparable programs, yet Washington’s degree of control over supply chains and technologies makes Canberra vulnerable to shifts in the White House (antinuclear.net).

In the German public sphere the AUKUS topic also appears — predominantly as an example of how ready the US is to “unwrap” defense technologies to strengthen an anti‑China coalition, and how this fits into a broader pattern of American strategy to reconfigure military alliances. German commentators point out that behind AUKUS Washington is actively promoting other formats — from the Shield of the Americas to deepen cooperation in shipbuilding with South Korea and Japan — and the logic is the same everywhere: economic and technological bonuses are offered in exchange for ever‑closer political and military alignment with the US (de.wikipedia.org).

In Brazil these alliances are viewed with suspicion: they are seen primarily as instruments for projecting American power in Latin America. Shield of the Americas, which is mentioned less often in the Brazilian press but still appears in analytical notes, is perceived as another attempt to lock the regional crime‑ and drug‑fighting agenda under American command, thus increasing Washington’s ability to intervene in neighbors’ internal affairs under the pretext of security (de.wikipedia.org). For Lula, who advocates for Latin American autonomy, the question is not only about tariffs but also about how to prevent a new US military architecture in the Western Hemisphere from supplanting regional initiatives where Brazil seeks a leading role.

Against this background, moments when politicians in the three countries try either to distance themselves from Washington or to use relations with the US as a resource become especially notable. In Brazil fresh Quaest polls show Lula’s personal ratings gradually rising while support for his likely rival Flávio Bolsonaro declines. Commentators explain this in part by saying Lula has managed to maintain a balance between criticizing the US and practicing pragmatism: he criticizes protectionism and Trump’s line while avoiding direct confrontation, preferring to send signals at forums like the G7 rather than engage in loud one‑on‑one scandals (jc.uol.com.br).

In Australia the situation is more complex: the alliance with the US is deeply embedded in political culture, and any move toward distancing is seen as risky. Still, notable voices are calling to rethink automatic alignment with Washington. In a popular Reddit discussion participants debate whether Australia is too closely tied to American military and intelligence facilities and whether that makes the country complicit in all American military adventures, including the current war with Iran. One commenter put it bluntly: as long as there are American installations and companies on our soil supplying weapons to “genocidal regimes,” we cannot speak of an independent foreign policy (reddit.com).

In Germany, where massive anti‑regime protests inside the United States — the “No Kings” movement against what its participants see as an increasingly authoritarian style of Donald Trump’s rule — are viewed as an important symptom, a particular type of “American narrative” emerges. German observers increasingly write not of the US as a monolithic actor but as a field of intense internal struggle between different Americas. An article on the “No Kings” protests notes that March 2026 demonstrations gathered up to eight million people nationwide and became some of the largest in recent US history; German editorial columns present this as a sign that beneath the outward facade of American democratic power there are fierce domestic conflicts affecting not just Trump but the very architecture of American authority (de.wikipedia.org).

Finally, at the intersection of sport, politics and morality a symbolically important thread appears — the 2026 FIFA World Cup in the US, Mexico and Canada. In Germany Christian Streich’s criticism, calling the atmosphere around certain decisions “highly racist,” resonates especially strongly because he is long known as a coach who combines footballing success with an outspoken civic stance. His attack on Trump and the America that, he says, turns sport into an arena for demonstrating exceptionalism and power opens another round of questions in the German debate: can football be separated from politics when the tournament host is a country involved in war, territorial conflicts and large domestic protests? (fr.de)

In Brazil, however, the same tournament is seen more as an opportunity. Local commentators debate how to use the attention around the Cup to promote Brazilian brands and players in the American market despite tariffs and political disagreements. They note that unlike in Europe and Australia — where America is first and foremost associated with security and a military umbrella — for Brazil the US remains a huge, if complicated, market. Economic publications discuss how to balance participation of Brazilian companies in the tournament with lobbying in Washington to ease trade barriers, using the soft power of football as an informal channel of negotiation.

Weaving all these threads together yields a complex but fairly coherent picture. Germany, Brazil and Australia look at the US from different angles but increasingly see the same thing: a state attempting at once to wage wars, build new military blocs and protect its economy through protectionism and “moral” arguments about human rights and the fight against slavery. For Australia the primary question is whether an ally is turning into an elder partner whose decisions determine its wars, its submarines and its tariffs. For Brazil it is a test of its ambition to be the voice of the Global South in dealings with Washington without losing access to a critically important market. For Germany it is a reason to ponder how much it can rely on the US as guarantor of international order when mass protests within America challenge the president’s “monarchical” tendencies and abroad the country more often behaves like a hard, sometimes indiscriminate, hegemon.

The common denominator of these different conversations may be that the world is increasingly unwilling to accept the US as the “natural center” of the global system. In Berlin, Brasília and Canberra people more often speak of the US not as an inevitable leader but as a complex, contradictory partner (and sometimes an adversary) with whom one must be able to bargain, argue and, when necessary, say “no” — while remembering that without this partner the current architecture of security and the world economy still does not function.

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How the World Argues with America: Iran War, the Crisis of Unipolarity and "Fatigue with the US" Seen by...

In early summer 2026 the United States again found itself at the center of global debates — but the tone of those conversations has noticeably changed compared with how Washington was discussed just a few years ago. In Moscow, Delhi and Beijing, America is no longer seen as an omnipotent hegemon but as a power whose actions are simultaneously dangerous and internally contradictory, and whose influence — though vast — is increasingly unstable. Triggers have included the US war with Iran, the strike on Venezuela, a sharp expansion of tariffs and withdrawals from international agreements, and a growing internal crisis in American society itself. A recurring theme in commentaries across all three countries is structural fatigue with unipolarity and an attempt to fit American moves into a narrative of the “long decline” of American hegemony.

The central storyline around which Russian, Indian and Chinese interpretations converge is the US campaign against Iran and the protracted war in the Strait of Hormuz. In Russia, leading outlets describe it as another episode of “aggressive US actions in different parts of the world,” against the backdrop of which Moscow, in the words of Vedomosti, sees “signs of a forming multipolar world” and the growing role of alternative centers of power — China, Russia and the SCO. (vedomosti.ru) Russian experts, such as MGIMO’s dean of the Faculty of International Relations Andrey Sushentsov, explain the Iran war by the American inability to accept new formulas of strategic stability, including China’s concept of “constructive strategic stability,” which Beijing offered to Washington. (vedomosti.ru) In this logic, the US is not merely conducting a local campaign but is convulsively trying to preserve the old balance of power by force of arms and sanctions.

The Indian discussion of the Iran war is structured differently: here the center is not abstract criticism of hegemony but a very concrete question — how US tactics in the Strait of Hormuz undermine India’s strategic interests. An editorial in the business newspaper Business Standard notes that the protracted war around the strait is already changing the global security architecture and undermining the stability of energy routes on which the Indian economy critically depends. The authors stress that US President Donald Trump is now more occupied with finding a “face‑saving exit” from a “poorly planned strike on Iran” than with a coherent regional strategy. (business-standard.com) On the analytical portal Moneycontrol, an article titled “The Limits of Strategic Convergence: Hormuz and the New Fault Lines in US‑India Relations” states outright that the Iran campaign “exposed the limits of Delhi‑Washington convergence”: when it comes to oil and maritime communications, India must maneuver rather than follow in the US wake. (moneycontrol.com)

In China the Iran war has long been integrated into a broader discourse on the “crisis of American strategy.” In commentary in party and regional press, US military actions against Iran are framed as an example of how Washington is undermining its own alliance system and eroding trust by acting without consulting partners and “substituting multilateral mechanisms with unilateral force.” It is in this vein that a Shandong newspaper describes allied reactions to the US and street protests within the United States against White House policy: protests against the war and immigration policy are read as a symptom of a growing rift between society and power in America. (shm.com.cn) For Chinese commentators this conveniently demonstrates that the American model of foreign policy has become a “strategic trap” — a series of crises that Washington can no longer control or resolve to its advantage.

Another recurring theme is the general sense that the US is shaking the very foundations of the postwar international order. The Chinese perspective on this is particularly pronounced. Chinese analytical resources and even semi‑documentary reviews such as “A Comprehensive Assessment of the Structural Decline of American Hegemony” describe recent years as a sequence of Washington actions accelerating the disintegration of global governance: from US withdrawals from a number of international organizations and agreements to trade wars and sanction campaigns. (zh.wikipedia.org) Commentators emphasize that the mass “withdrawals” of the US from international institutions are seen at the UN and WHO as “a blow to multilateralism and international law” and in effect as an abandonment of the role of responsible leader. (zh.wikipedia.org) Against this backdrop Chinese official and semi‑official texts promote the idea of a “Chinese plan” as a more predictable and inclusive alternative, implicitly contrasting Beijing with an “impulsive” Washington.

In Russia this line is voiced in the political key of multipolarity. The article “In What Ways Russia Sees Signs of a Multipolar World” in Vedomosti links American “aggressive actions” — from Iran to pressure on other regions — with an acceleration of the consolidation of alternative blocs, primarily the SCO and BRICS. (vedomosti.ru) Russian experts emphasize that even traditional US allies in Europe and Asia now respond to American initiatives increasingly cautiously, and sometimes critically, especially when it comes to military operations without UN Security Council sanction. This is presented as the main proof: the era of unquestioned unipolarity is over, and even if the US retains colossal resources, its ability to set the rules without regard for others has been irreversibly weakened.

For India the main nerve in relations with the US today is the intersection of strategic partnership and a growing sense of competition. Some Indian commentaries note that Washington increasingly behaves in the region as an autonomous actor, ignoring Delhi’s sensitivities. In a Japan Times column by an Indian author widely cited in Indian debates, it is argued that the US and India have become “regional rivals”: as China expands influence in the Indian Ocean, Washington pursues policies that directly contradict Indian interests in its “strategic backyard” — from Pakistan to the Persian Gulf. (japantimes.co.jp)

On the other hand, Indian analytical centers stress that a split with the US is impossible and disadvantageous for Delhi. Stimson Center materials discussing the US‑India nuclear deal and the current state of the partnership emphasize that despite frictions both sides remain bound by mutual interest in containing China and developing technological exchange. (stimson.org) Indian economists note that “integrating India into trusted supply chains and American technology ecosystems” offers enormous opportunities but at the same time increases vulnerability to Washington’s political and tariff zigzags. (ieefa.org) Thus a specific Indian view of the US emerges: a strategic partner India cannot afford to lose, and at the same time a source of risks with which distance must be maintained.

A separate strand of Indian discussion concerns the future of the Quad format (US, India, Japan, Australia). According to the analytical portal InsightsIAS, which treats the subject for civil service candidates, the Quad is experiencing a “structural inflection”: amid a “waning US enthusiasm,” Tokyo, Delhi and Canberra are forced to take on a larger share of diplomatic efforts in the Indo‑Pacific. (insightsonindia.com) In the Indian interpretation this is not only a weakening of American leadership but also an opportunity for India to transform from a “junior partner” into a co‑architect of regional architecture where the US remains important but is no longer the sole center of gravity.

Chinese debate focuses primarily on the question: do a series of US foreign policy crises and internal shocks mark the start of a “structural decline” of American power, or are they merely a complex but reversible cycle? In several analytic pieces aimed at an expert audience the conclusion is drawn that a long‑term structural decline is indeed underway — from erosion of political consensus and a crisis in elite recruitment to undermining of the dollar’s authority and the Federal Reserve. (blog.leowang.net) At the same time authors stress that even a weakened America remains the main variable in the world system, meaning China’s task is not to seek the “fall of the US” but to “manage its decline” so as to avoid chaotic destabilization of the global economy and security.

A key element of the Chinese narrative is the contrast between US military power and the internal weakness of American society. This is especially visible in discussions of the internet meme phenomenon “美国懦夫” — “American cowards,” which went viral in the Chinese internet at the start of 2026. The term arose as a sarcastic comment on a series of police and immigration shootings in Minnesota: according to a Chinese piece, poet Lane Nicole Good and nurse Alexa Pretty were shot by ICE agents under disputed circumstances, after which authorities justified the agents’ actions by citing “violent resistance,” while major newspapers like The New York Times showed videos that diverged from the official account. (zh.wikipedia.org) Chinese authors present mass but peaceful protest in the US as an example of “ritualized discontent”: despite record levels of civilian armament, Americans, in their view, are not prepared for real resistance to systemic injustice. Thus US internal conflicts become material for a cautionary narrative about a “pseudo‑democracy” where freedom exists at the level of slogans but not practice.

In the Russian public space the US social crisis is also actively discussed but through a different lens. Russian commentators write extensively about the rise of political radicalism, the exacerbation of racial issues, and polarization of elites and society — while emphasizing that the American establishment, despite internal storms, continues to pursue a unified external line, primarily toward Russia and the post‑Soviet space. From this arises a twofold view: the US is potentially fragile yet retains enormous external leverage. Expert reviews for Russian audiences regularly underscore that even if Washington weakens, the vacuum will not automatically be filled by Moscow — hence the bet should be on coalitions with China and Global South countries, not on illusions of a “quick victory” over America.

Particular attention is deserved by how Russia, India and China read the US military strikes on Venezuela and their international consequences. Chinese summaries aggregating global reactions emphasize that even US allies in the EU and Latin America preferred to distance themselves or limit themselves to cautious criticism of the legal basis of the operation, while many Global South governments openly spoke of a “grave violation of international law.” (zh.wikipedia.org) For Chinese writers this illustrates the “erosion of the US’s moral capital”: even when the fall of an unfriendly regime, such as Caracas, brings relief to part of the population, the very method of overthrow by external intervention provokes far wider rejection.

In Indian debate the Venezuelan episode appears less often and more as part of the broader outline: Washington continues to use military force on the other side of the world, disregarding international institutions, yet expects unconditional support from Asian partners on issues affecting their vital interests — from China to Hormuz. This reinforces in Delhi the conviction that dealings with the US must be pragmatic and selective, avoiding “automatic assent” even within a strategic partnership.

Put together, these three perspectives produce a curious picture. Russia, India and China converge on the main diagnosis: the current America is a superpower with a growing gap between its military and economic power on the one hand and its political, moral and institutional authority on the other. But their conclusions differ. For Moscow it is an opportunity to accelerate formation of a multipolar system under the aegis of alternative groupings where the US will be one of several centers but no longer “the world’s policeman.” (vedomosti.ru) For Delhi it is a reason to rebalance risk: deepen cooperation with Washington where it strengthens Indian autonomy and curb American initiatives where they turn India into an instrument of someone else’s agenda. (moneycontrol.com) For Beijing it is an opportunity to promote its own initiatives as a more predictable alternative while preparing for the turbulence that any “managed decline” of a hegemon entails. (zh.wikipedia.org)

It may seem that all these debates are just variations on the familiar theme of “anti‑Americanism.” But on closer reading it becomes clear: this is not simple hatred of the US but a complex recalibration of attitudes toward America as a system‑forming factor in world politics. In Russian, Indian and Chinese press the words about the “fall” of the US are heard less often and increasingly replaced by arguments for the need to adapt to a world in which the United States will remain strong but will cease to be the sole source of rules and guarantees. In that sense the Iran war, the strike on Venezuela, tariff wars and even domestic crises in the US are perceived not as isolated episodes but as chapters of one large story — the story of a slow, contradictory but already irreversible end of the unipolar moment.

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The World Watches Washington: Turkey, Russia and Germany Rethink the US in the Trump Era

What was once described as "predictable American leadership" is today discussed in three very different countries — Turkey, Russia and Germany — in different terms: "risk," "weakness," "blackmail," "a turn away from the West." The picture that emerges from columns, expert comments and political speeches in recent weeks shows not just irritation or the usual anti‑American rhetoric. It is a deeper reassessment of the role of the United States: as a military guarantor, an economic anchor and a symbol of a certain world order. At the same time, reactions in Ankara, Moscow and Berlin are shaped not by an abstract image of "America" but by a very concrete figure — the current president, Donald Trump — his war with Iran, pressure on allies, interference in monetary policy and an apparent loss of control over several simultaneous crises.

The first major theme connecting the three countries is the US and its allies' war with Iran and its consequences for regional and global security architecture. In the Turkish press this war is treated almost as the culmination of a 70‑year "bloody saga" in relations between Washington and Tehran. In one extended column for the newspaper Yeni Asır the author draws a direct line from the storming of the US embassy in Tehran in 1979, through the Iran‑Contra affair and the 1988 downing of an Iranian passenger plane by an American cruiser, to the current Iranian and American air raids over the Middle East, stressing that "friendship turned into an axis of evil and irreversible enmity" and that today's escalation is only the logical continuation of decades of mistrust and bloody episodes (column in Yeni Asır). Turkish authors use this historical canvas to show that the US is not an external power accidentally drawn into the conflict, but one of the actors who for generations structured the very logic of enmity in the region.

Against this background, Turkey's role is presented as almost the only rational mediating force. In another sharp column in the same media group it is emphasized that the ABD/İsrail ile İran war has been going on for the third week, while President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan "is exercising vital leadership," conducting late‑night "deep back‑door contacts" between Washington and Tehran to secure an immediate ceasefire (column by Bülent Erendaç in Yeni Asır). The author not only criticizes the US for failing to offer a sustainable solution but underscores that it is Turkish diplomacy that is preventing a total collapse of the regional order. Notably, in this narrative America is not a "leading NATO ally" but an impulsive player that created the problem and now cannot manage it.

German commentary looks at the same conflict from a different angle — through the prism of the lost reputation of the US as security guarantor. In a recent piece for the Bavarian paper Merkur the author describes another Iranian strike on Israel and Washington's response. He argues that after Iran's direct attack Trump "reached for the phone," but his self‑initiated "frozen" confrontation and the promised peace deal "never had a realistic chance" because the president "signaled obvious weakness" and ultimately was forced to beg the Israeli prime minister not to carry out a retaliatory strike (commentary by Friedemann Diederichs in Merkur). This is no longer the classic European critique of American "cowboy" interventionism; rather, the tone is that Washington is no longer capable of performing even its traditional role as a tough but predictable arbiter.

In Turkey, however, US weakness on the Iran front is not read as an absolute problem. On the contrary, some pro‑government writers see it as a window of opportunity for expanding Ankara's regional weight. When a Turkish commentator emphasizes that the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps is already reporting the defeat of an American F‑35 in central Iran, the backdrop becomes almost triumphant: the American war machine no longer seems untouchable, and Turkey emerges as a mediator that all parties must take into account (same source, Yeni Asır). In this sense Ankara and Berlin view the same crisis from different vantage points: the Turkish press highlights US weakening as a chance for multipolarity, the German press as an alarming symptom of the erosion of the previous order.

The second major cluster of reactions revolves around the image of Trump himself and the resilience of the American political system. In Germany recent days have seen active discussion of his waning power ahead of the upcoming midterm elections. An analysis for Tagesschau emphasizes a paradox: the president still heavily shapes the Republican Party, yet this very "Trumpization" could seriously harm the Republicans in the autumn. The author notes that current primaries in several states show a mixed picture — Trump‑backed candidates do not always win — and party elites are already seriously asking whether his figure has become toxic (analysis on Tagesschau.de). In a harsher commentary for Frankfurter Rundschau it is said that "Trump's power is waning long before the elections," and a joint Washington Post/ABC News/Ipsos poll shows that 55% of Americans do not believe he is in sufficiently good physical shape to effectively perform presidential duties. The piece even reports a new nickname Democrats use in response to his famous "Sleepy Joe": they now call Trump "Dozy Don" (commentary in Frankfurter Rundschau).

To German readers, this image of a physically and politically weakening American leader is presented as a risk factor for the entire transatlantic sphere. If the president who controls the world's largest arsenal and key mechanisms of the global financial system appears uncertain and prone to impulsive decisions, the idea of the US as an "anchor of stability" is called into question. A Berlin political commentator in Tagesspiegel asks whether the president is "overplaying" his hand by simultaneously waging war with Iran, pressuring Germany on defense spending and clashing with the independence of the Federal Reserve, stressing that "loss after loss scratches at the image of the president as a winner" (commentary in Tagesspiegel).

From this German‑media‑generated image of a "losing control" president follows another important theme — doubt about the US's capacity for strategic, as opposed to tactical, leadership. The popular portal Web.de in its politics section asks bluntly: "Is control slipping out of Donald Trump's hands?" and points out that even as a mediator in the Ukrainian conflict the US is increasingly failing, while domestic decisions — such as mass pardons of supporters of the Capitol storm — erode America's moral capital abroad (overview on Web.de). For the German reader this forms a coherent narrative: Washington is at once too powerful in the use of brute force and too weak to offer a convincing political course.

In Germany this criticism of Trump has long moved from journalism into actual politics. Chancellor Friedrich Merz, a conservative and former CDU leader, used his speech at the Munich Security Conference to essentially present himself as "anti‑Trump." In his address, detailed in the business daily Handelsblatt, he declared the liberal world order "dead" and called on Europe to pursue "sovereignty" — not as a gentle adjustment but as a redefinition of the partnership with the US on new, more symmetrical terms (review of Merz's speech in Handelsblatt). The mere fact that the German chancellor positions himself in contrast to the American president already signals a shift: Berlin no longer seeks to dissolve its foreign policy into a transatlantic consensus, but rather builds legitimacy by distancing itself from Washington.

Even more telling was an episode that Die Zeit interpreted as "Trump's revenge." After Merz publicly criticized US policy while speaking to schoolchildren in Marsberg, the White House announced a reduction of American troop numbers in Germany and threatened new tariffs — a move commentators saw not as a technical reassessment of military presence but as a personal response from the president using tariffs and troops as tools to punish an ally (analysis in Die Zeit). For the German audience this only reinforces the conclusion: the US ceases to look like a supranational arbiter and increasingly resembles a great power willing to apply the same pressure tactics it once used against authoritarian regimes.

If Berlin bets on "emancipation" from the US, Turkish and especially Russian rhetoric go further, raising questions about the very future of the American state. In the Russian media space long‑running debates about a possible "collapse of the US" gain renewed relevance amid America's social and political contradictions. Encyclopedic and journalistic texts now widely cited in Telegram channels and analytical columns recall that political scientist Igor Panarin predicted in 2009 the breakup of the US into several parts — and that American economist Stephen Cohen described decades‑long preconditions for such a scenario (overview of the concept of US breakup). In the current context the figure of Trump and political polarization are used as proof that the systemic crisis has gone so far that discussion of America's territorial integrity no longer seems pure fantasy.

Russian commentators weave this rhetoric into a broader historical narrative, comparing, for example, the present crisis with episodes from the Anglo‑American War of 1812 — even down to the British fleet once burning Washington and newspapers' editorial offices being targeted for critical publications (historical context on the burning of Washington). Such references serve less for historical precision than to create the impression that today's America is not a monolith but a state with a long history of internal and external vulnerabilities, and that the current crisis may be another, possibly decisive, phase.

Another important layer of reaction is economic and financial. In Germany the nomination by Trump of former senior official Kevin Warsh to a key Federal Reserve position and the accompanying pressure on Fed independence caused broad resonance. The business daily Handelsblatt headlined that the US is playing "va banque" with the dollar: "Alles auf Warsh — Trumps tollkühne Dollar‑Wette." The piece emphasizes that the president is not merely intervening in monetary policy but effectively calling into question institutional guarantees of central bank independence on which the dollar's status as the world's reserve currency depends (analysis in Handelsblatt). German economists quoted in the paper view this not as an internal Washington dispute but as a risk to the entire global financial architecture, where European, Turkish and Russian markets are tied to dollar liquidity.

At the global level this theme is also picked up by English‑language analytical platforms cited by both the German and Turkish press. For example, a recent Washington Post Intelligence review argues that the world is "de‑risking" from the United States: trade wars, tariffs and Washington's behavior in the Ukrainian and Middle Eastern conflicts have led European and Asian allies to reassess their dependence on American guarantees and infrastructures — from military logistics to financial clearing (analysis in WP Intelligence). In this context Merz's talk of the "death of the liberal world order" sounds less like a philosophical metaphor and more like a political diagnosis: the order depended on a reliable, predictable Washington, and if that anchor drifts, the order itself exhausts its legitimacy.

In Turkey the economic aspect is discussed somewhat differently: for some time Ankara has been seeking ways to reduce dollar dependence, and Washington's recent moves only bolster arguments for more active use of national currencies in regional trade and deeper ties with China and Russia. Although the Turkish press writes far less about the technicalities of American monetary policy than the German press does, the underlying motif is similar: the US no longer seems the unquestionably reliable guardian of global money; therefore risks from dollar dependence are increasingly seen as politically and militarily conditioned rather than purely economic.

In Russia economic vulnerability of the US is a core element of the propagandistic narrative, supported by references to Western sources criticizing America's budget deficit and low savings rate. Notably, even specific excerpts such as an older Wall Street Journal editorial calling for "open borders" are now used in Russian debates as examples that the American elite itself overheated the system — financially and socially (overview of WSJ editorial policy). For the Russian audience this fits the familiar image of a "hegemon on clay feet" that retains military power but loses internal stability.

Finally, particularly interesting are voices that try to see in these events not only a crisis of American power but also a crisis of the US model of journalism and political discourse. Several Russian analytical texts discuss the American opinion column as a genre in which the author can express a highly subjective stance, contrasting it with the European tradition that long emphasized "facts" and "objectivity" (analysis of the column genre in Russian journalism literature). This seemingly academic debate suddenly acquires practical significance: if even leading national newspapers in the US rely on the genre of subjective columns and the political center of gravity shifts toward "opinions" and "narratives," it is unsurprising that international perceptions of the country grow more fragmented and polarized.

Taken together, Turkish, Russian and German reactions paint not a one‑dimensional anti‑Americanism but a far more complex picture. Turkey sees US weakening and unpredictability as a chance to assert itself as an independent regional pole and mediator in conflicts where Washington can no longer be the sole architect. Germany, by contrast, experiences the same process as a loss of a pillar: its criticism of Trump does not mean a rejection of transatlantic ties but requires their reassessment on the basis of European "sovereignty" and the ability to keep distance from Washingtonian improvisations. Russia uses America's current turbulence to confirm a long‑held thesis about the inevitability of the decline of a unipolar world and the possible disintegration of the United States itself.

The common denominator is the refusal to see the US as the "natural leader" without alternatives. In three different capitals — Ankara, Berlin and Moscow — Washington still commands intense attention; each new declaration and every Trump move immediately become topics for columns, talk shows and expert forums. But the tone of that attention has changed: from respectfully critical to guardedly pragmatic. America is less and less perceived as the axis around which the world should rotate and more and more as one of the major, but no longer the sole, powers whose internal weaknesses and external mistakes create space for new configurations. It is this reassessment — not merely another wave of irritation with Trump’s policies — that unites the otherwise disparate discussions about the US in Turkey, Russia and Germany today.

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The World Eyes Washington: How Australia, Germany and China Debate the US Today

In early June 2026, America again became the central nerve of global politics — but not in the familiar role of a “unipolar leader,” rather as a source of simultaneous dependence, irritation and anxious interest. In Australia there is a debate about whether the alliance with Washington is turning the country into a hostage of the American agenda. In Germany heated discussions are under way about how to live with Trump’s USA without collapsing under NATO’s umbrella. In China the US is increasingly described as a weakening, yet still dangerous power whose economic and military turbulence requires cool calculation. Against the backdrop of the Iran war, US strikes on Venezuela, trade wars and internal American conflicts, three countries present different, sometimes unexpected lenses on Washington — from a worried ally to a competing civilizational model.

The first major strand of debate is the new “hard” US foreign policy that combines tariff pressure, military coercion and a demonstrative reduction of commitments to allies. In Australia, Washington’s plans to impose a 12.5 percent “anti-slavery” tariff on a range of Australian goods under the pretext of combating forced labor caused a stir. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese characterized this as an “ideological divergence” with the Trump administration, noting that America, contrary to its usual image, runs a trade surplus with Australia — that is, it sells more to Australia than it buys. An ABC News piece emphasizes that for an almost unconditional ally such criticism marks a noticeable shift, reflecting growing irritation at how Washington uses the language of human rights and security to justify protectionism and unilateral pressure on partners. The ABC News article underscores that in Canberra people increasingly speak of “double standards” and argue that the new wave of tariffs contradicts the rhetoric of “free and open trade” the US appealed to just a few years ago. (abc.net.au)

In Germany the issue of American tariff policy and the broader “America First” course is embedded in a darker context of three simultaneous crises: the Iran war, Russian aggression on NATO’s eastern flank, and mounting economic pressure from Washington. A Handelsblatt analytical piece on Berlin’s foreign policy challenges states plainly that an additional blow to German business has been “Donald Trump’s punitive tariffs,” along with a general rise in geopolitical uncertainty. It also recalls that Trump alternately threatens to pull the US out of NATO and calls American security guarantees into question, turning the transatlantic alliance from an “anchor of stability” into something like a nervous partnership where no one is sure about tomorrow. The Handelsblatt article notes that the German economy feels the effects not only of direct tariffs but also of a chain reaction: market reallocations, sanctions, and retaliatory measures by other countries. (handelsblatt.com)

Chinese commentators, by contrast, are much less emotional and interpret US tariff and sanctions policy more as a predictable element of a long game. In a recent macroeconomic review of the US economy by SPDB International written for a Chinese audience, the US is described as an economy recovering largely thanks to “stimulus policy and aggressive protectionism”; the review also parses the waves of tariffs against China and India and their temporary “breathers” after negotiations. The report notes that after talks in London Washington keeps 55 percent tariffs on Chinese goods, while Beijing eases export controls on rare earths and later temporarily freezes some tariffs after the Stockholm talks in 2025. This dynamic is depicted not in moral terms but in strictly pragmatic categories: as a “game of endurance” in which the US needs imported inflation and a political regime of a “besieged fortress,” while China must balance protecting its tech supply chains and maintaining growth. Details are discussed in the study “2026 年美国宏观经济展望：政策刺激引领经济复苏之路” on the SPDB International site. (spdbi.com)

The second recurring storyline is military policy and the reconfiguration of alliances around the US. In Australia this is primarily a fierce debate about AUKUS, American submarines and the real cost of a “deepened partnership.” After the US changed the terms of the offer — instead of two used and one new submarine now promising to transfer three operational Virginia-class submarines — the domestic debate reignited. Green Senator David Shoebridge told ABC that the argument for AUKUS — defending sea trade routes — does not hold up because Australia is physically incapable of controlling such distances and in any case depends on American infrastructure and intelligence. He argues that AUKUS is more likely to turn the country into a potential staging ground and target in a possible US-China conflict than into a genuine maritime security actor. ABC also cites data showing growing Australian distancing from the US amid traumatic experiences of Middle Eastern wars and rising far-right violence in America. (abc.net.au)

In an analytical piece for The Diplomat, popular among Australian and Asian experts, Canberra’s new defense budget of 2 percent of GDP is described as “insufficient” from Washington’s perspective, which insists on 3.5 percent. The author concludes that Australia’s strategic “ambiguity” — an attempt to hold on to the US while not provoking China — “is reaching the limits of what’s possible,” and the country is forced to choose more decisively. The delivery of American submarines and expanded cooperation in undersea technologies, the article argues, deepen asymmetry: the military architecture is increasingly controlled by Washington, while the burden of political and economic risk falls on Canberra. Read the analysis “Australia’s Strategic Ambiguity Is Running Out of Road” in The Diplomat. (thediplomat.com)

Germany, in military terms, is trying to emancipate itself but is forced to do so under pressure from Washington. Vice-Chancellor and SPD leader Lars Klingbeil told Euronews in January that the “old transatlantic relationship” is effectively falling apart and that Europe must more firmly defend its interests. His remarks were interpreted as an attempt to prepare the public for a world in which the US is no longer perceived as an unconditional “big brother” in security, but rather as an occasionally unreliable, though indispensable, partner. Meanwhile Chancellor Friedrich Merz in Munich, according to Handelsblatt, cast himself as “anti‑Trump”: calling for a “strong Europe” and a “reset of the partnership with the US,” saying America can no longer “go it alone” and needs partners — but German analysts note this tone also sounds like a call for greater European autonomy in defense. See details in Handelsblatt and The Guardian. (handelsblatt.com, theguardian.com)

This cautious tone contrasts with much sharper Pentagon rhetoric. The new US Secretary of War, Pete Hegseth, reportedly demanded on German channel n-tv that European NATO states provide “more budget and fewer moral sermons,” while warning that the US intends to restrict or even stop providing certain key military capabilities for Europe’s defense. According to n-tv, allies are set to be officially notified in June which specific elements of military infrastructure and contingents will no longer be guaranteed. The piece emphasizes that for Berlin this sounds like an ultimatum: either sharply increase your own spending and assume the political risks of a hard line toward Iran and Russia, or accept the collapse of American guarantees. See the analysis on n-tv. (n-tv.de)

In China, US military activity is discussed in a noticeably more restrained manner, but two episodes evoke sustained commentary: the US war against Iran and the American strike on Venezuela. On the latter, official Chinese media repeated a formula often used in its diplomacy: “against the use of force bypassing the UN Security Council,” a call for de‑escalation and respect for sovereignty. A special article on Chinese Wikipedia devoted to the “international reaction to the US attack on Venezuela in 2026” cites the Chinese Foreign Ministry’s statement condemning the strike and calling for political dialogue, while avoiding direct threats or sanctions. This restraint is explained by Chinese analysts as less about sympathy for Caracas than about not wanting to create a precedent of tacit approval for unilateral US use of force in Latin America, a region historically sensitive to Washington. The official position is summarized in the article “2026 年美国袭击委内瑞拉的国际反应” on Chinese Wikipedia. (zh.wikipedia.org)

The third common motif is a crisis of confidence in American democracy and the image of the US as a “normative” power. In Australia a major ABC feature describes Donald Trump as a “political kryptonite” figure for local politics: any Australian leader closely associated with him risks severely losing support. Journalists cite Talbot Mills Research data showing the US president’s approval rating in Australia has plummeted, and many respondents express “deep unease” about political violence and radicalization in America. The article argues that for a country that for decades regarded the US as a model of stable democracy, the current picture is a “source of concern and cautious distancing,” even as pragmatic security cooperation continues. Read the ABC column “Trump is political kryptonite in Australia but diplomacy still guides the way.” (abc.net.au)

In Germany disappointment is more institutional: it’s not only about Trump’s personality, but about a structural rupture of values. Vice-Chancellor Klingbeil warned in the aforementioned remarks that “relations are dissolving” — meaning that finding common language on the rule of law, human rights and international law is becoming increasingly difficult. This is reflected in the consumer sphere as well: a Washington Post report from Germany describes how even American companies try not to flaunt the Made in USA label to avoid alienating customers for whom the US increasingly connotes aggressive policy and an unpredictable leader. Former German politicians told the paper that Berlin’s key task for the next “five to ten years” is to “keep the US on its side, however inconvenient,” until Germany and the EU grow into greater military autonomy. See the WP report “After 80-year bond, Germans find breaking up with U.S. is hard to do.” (washingtonpost.com)

Chinese public space views the crisis of American democracy through the prism of broader systemic competition. In compilations of commentary and on popular forums like r/Chinairl in the English-language Reddit segment — widely read in China — the US is often depicted as a country “losing moral superiority” and forced to compensate with technological and military advantages. A characteristic example is debates around an American story on a Chinese solar power plant in Gansu desert: users mock that American critics are ready to see “forced labor” even in… the sun, just to preserve the familiar narrative of China as an exploiter. This commenter humor reflects a more serious point: many Chinese authors believe the US is stuck in a role that cannot properly acknowledge a rival’s technological progress and therefore resorts to moralizing constructs. Discussions under the post “美国ABC新闻对甘肃沙漠太阳能利用的报道” on r/Chinairl illustrate this. (reddit.com)

At the same time Chinese academic and business circles view the US far less ideologically. The aforementioned SPDB International macroeconomic report stresses that despite political turbulence the American economy remains “a key platform for innovation and consumer demand,” to which Chinese companies continue to orient themselves. Similarly, studies by Chinese researchers on American large language models and their cultural representations conclude that “American values and frames of thought” still strongly influence global digital infrastructure even as states try to build national alternatives. This creates an interesting dualism: the US as political rival and simultaneously as a technological and cultural gravitational center. (arxiv.org)

A separate line of debate concerns US interference in allies’ domestic politics and reactions to it. In Australia’s left media People’s World, columnist Paul Gregoire writes about “increasing US interference in Australia’s domestic politics” — from pressure around AUKUS to information campaigns against antiwar and antinuclear movements. He cites leaked diplomatic cables in which the State Department allegedly describes antiwar activists as “tools in the hands of China and Russia” and urges embassies in Australia and other countries to coordinate efforts to blunt their influence. The critique rests on the idea that Washington uses rhetoric about “countering foreign influence” to actually interfere in legitimate domestic debate in allied societies about war and peace. Read “U.S. steps up interference in Australia’s domestic politics” on People’s World. (peoplesworld.org)

A similar, though more covert, irritation appears in the German debate. n-tv’s article on Hegseth’s demand that Europe “preach less” and spend more on defense resonated on German social media largely because of its patronizing tone: commentators point out that it was the US that actively promoted norms of international law and human rights, and now when Europeans try to invoke those norms in the context of the Iran war or the strike on Venezuela, Washington urges “less moralizing.” Many see in this not only a political double standard but an information campaign aimed at discrediting critics of the American line as “naive moralists” who obstruct “realpolitik.” (n-tv.de)

Against this background, China’s response to US sanctions and accusations of Beijing as a “manipulator of public opinion” looks almost mirror‑image. In a January issue of a Wuhan city paper analyzing US sanctions on Venezuela and recent CNN reports about Chinese influence, the author emphasized that the US itself has for years used not only media but a network of NGOs and foundations to promote its narratives, and thus current accusations against Beijing of “information operations” are seen in China as “projection and an attempt to preserve a monopoly on global influence.” The piece also notes that Washington steps up pressure on Chinese tech companies in AI and social networks out of fear of losing control over the global information landscape. Details are discussed in the PDF issue “外交部发言人就美国对委内瑞拉实施…” on Changjiang Daily’s site. (cjrb.cjn.cn)

Finally, an important but less headline-grabbing strand is reflections on how to live in a world after a possible US “withdrawal” from international institutions. Chinese sources refer to the already symbolic “2026 campaign of large-scale US withdrawals” from a range of organizations — from the World Health Organization to climate partnerships. Chinese commentators call this “the dismantling of American globalism” and simultaneously a “window of opportunity” for Beijing and other capitals to propose alternative formats. The Chinese Wikipedia article “美国 2026 年大规模 ‘退群’ 行动” quotes sharp assessments not only from foreign politicians — like California Governor Gavin Newsom, who called leaving WHO “a reckless decision” — but also analysts who link these steps to an internal crisis of the American political system. (zh.wikipedia.org)

For Australia and Germany the prospect of an “American retreat” from institutions and alliances is paradoxical. On one hand it is frightening: Canberra and Berlin have for decades built their security and external economic strategy on the premise of a sustained US presence. On the other hand it opens space for conversations about sovereignization: Germany seriously discusses the idea of a “European nuclear shield” and strengthening military programs, while Australia reconsiders AUKUS and possible diversification of defense partnerships toward more multilateral Asian formats. In both cases Washington is still needed, but no longer as the only pole.

The overall picture emerging from Australian, German and Chinese debates is far from a simplified scheme of “anti‑Americanism” or “ally loyalty.” Rather, it is a painful adaptation to an America that itself no longer wants — or cannot — be the guarantor of order it was in recent decades. In Canberra the US is still seen as an indispensable ally, but no longer as a moral exemplar. In Berlin Washington is viewed as a partner one cannot yet abandon, but to whom it is increasingly difficult to appeal in the language of shared values. In Beijing the US is the main strategic rival whose internal instability and external aggression create both risks and windows of opportunity. In this new world, nuanced analysis of local reactions is not a luxury but a necessary tool: only by understanding how Washington is seen in Sydney, Berlin or Beijing can one truly assess what the next turn of global politics will look like.

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Tariffs, War and Distrust: How Brazil, India and France View the U.S. Today

From the outside it may seem that the U.S. still sets the world's agenda and the rest of the world merely reacts. But if you look at how people in Brazil, India and the French-speaking world are writing and debating the U.S. in June 2026, a very different picture emerges. America here is not an abstract "hegemon" but a very concrete set of decisions: tariffs against Brazil, war with Iran, attempts to reshape relations with India, increased control over Latin America under the banners of fighting drug trafficking and "terror." And in each country these moves are read through their own anxieties — about the economy, sovereignty, security and the future of international law.

The first major knot of discussion is the trade-political conflict between the U.S. and Brazil. The new "tarifaço" of the Donald Trump administration — a recommendation from the Office of the U.S. Trade Representative to impose a 25-percent duty on a wide range of Brazilian imports — sparked in Brazil a surge of both economic fear and political outrage. The conservative Gazeta do Povo, in an editorial comment, describes Washington's decision as a "novo tarifaço de Trump," and President Lula da Silva's reaction as "intempestiva," impulsive and largely electoral: in the paper's view, Lula is using the conflict to accuse his rival Flávio Bolsonaro of having incited Trump during his visit to Washington. The "Gazeta" reproaches the president for bargaining in public instead of seeking a pragmatic solution, and reminds readers that a similar tariff package was already partially halted by a U.S. Supreme Court decision — meaning American institutions can constrain Trump even if rhetoric from the White House is as aggressive as possible.

On the other side of the Brazilian spectrum, economic commentator José Paulo Kupfer in his column on UOL argues that Trump's trade escalation against Brazil in 2026 is "clearly political" in nature and serves as a cover for direct interference in Brazil's presidential elections. He cites numbers: after the first wave of tariffs in 2025, Brazilian exports to the U.S. fell by less than 7%, and Brazil's share of U.S. imports dropped from 12% to 10%. Against this backdrop, the new wave of duties looks, in his view, disproportionate and aimed specifically at weakening Lula's position in an election year and increasing pressure on Brazilian elites by exploiting internal political divisions. Kupfer writes plainly that Trump "usa comércio para camuflar objetivo de interferir nas eleições" — uses trade as a smoke screen to interfere in another country's electoral process.

In the academic and expert field the theme sounds a bit different, but the key motive is the same: the U.S. is seen as a force that uses trade and sanctions as instruments of structural pressure. Analysts at the Brazilian Center for International Relations (CEBRI) write about a "reconfiguration of Washington's policy in the Western Hemisphere" and note that two lines are of special significance for Brazil: security and "minerais críticos" — strategic resources without which green and digital transformation are impossible. In one recent CEBRI piece it is observed that the shift in the U.S. agenda in 2025–2026 — a combination of tariff pressure, supply-chain security and demands regarding "democratic standards" — pushes Brazil toward a policy of "autonomy in cooperation": cooperate where it is profitable, but minimize vulnerability to American economic leverage.

This produces an ambivalent attitude: in the Brazilian press the U.S. is simultaneously perceived as an indispensable market and financial center and as a source of instability capable of suddenly dropping a tariff hammer, launching an investigation against elites or supporting opposition forces. Hence the emotional surges — when Lula recently said that "we cannot accept such treatment of Brazil by the U.S. this week," it was read not only as a response to tariffs but also as a statement of subjectivity: Brazil refuses to recognize an American right to "punish" partners.

The second line, closely connected to the first across Latin America and far beyond Brazil, is the theme of American intervention and "old imperialism." The Spanish-language El País, widely read in Brazil as well, published an article about how "the specter of American intervention once again stalks Mexico, Brazil and Colombia." It links together several of Washington's current initiatives: the new 2026 National Drug Control Strategy, which gives carte blanche for aggressive actions along the entire production and transportation chain of drugs, up to campaigns of alleged "extrajudicial executions" of crews of so-called "narco-boats"; pressure under the banner of "drug-terrorism"; and attempts to interfere in Brazilian internal affairs, including an alleged 2025 attempt to sabotage the judicial process against Jair Bolsonaro. The article's author describes all this as a return to "imperial reflexes," when the U.S. again sees the region not as equal partners but as a board for geopolitical games where leftist governments can be toppled like "dominoes."

This perception is supported by both Brazilian and Mexican commentators: former Mexican president Andrés Manuel López Obrador, who has become a sort of symbol of "anti-interventionism," accuses Trump's circle in an open letter of "vil e sinistras aventuras" — vile and sinister adventures under the pretext of fighting drug trafficking and migration. For a Brazilian audience this sounds particularly acute against the backdrop of an all-sided U.S.–Brazil conflict, when Senator Flávio Bolsonaro appeals to Marco Rubio to designate Brazilian criminal groups PCC and Comando Vermelho as terrorist organizations, and Rubio effectively takes up this narrative. In this way Washington gains an additional legal and propaganda resource for a possible hard line in Brazil under the slogan of fighting "drug-terrorism."

It is not surprising that an editorial in El País titled "América Latina no necesita tutelas ni guardianes" concludes that the behavior of the Trump administration in the region "revives a past that took great effort to overcome" and threatens to destroy the international order that was built as an alternative to the "law of the strong." In Brazilian debates this is complemented by deeply historical distrust: a popular post on Portuguese-language Reddit, which gathered hundreds of votes, asserts that studying the real history of U.S. interventions — from Latin America to the Middle East — makes belief in the U.S. as "heroes who saved the world from communism" either naive or even cynical.

The third and perhaps darkest focus of international attention is the U.S. and Israel's war against Iran, which began in late February 2026. In francophone media this theme dominates not only the news but also analytical and opinion genres. The Lebanese L’Orient-Le Jour publishes a strategic analysis titled "the war that was thought to be short": the author explains that the logic of confrontation between the U.S. and Iran long ago went beyond the classic "strike–response" and turned into a war of attrition, where the key point is not so much destroying military targets as the endurance of economies and societies under sanctions and bombing. He emphasizes that Washington seriously underestimated Tehran's ability to adapt and use regional networks of influence, and thus every attempt at a "quick military victory" becomes a prolonged crisis that affects not only Iran but the entire area from the Persian Gulf to the Mediterranean.

The French-language version of the World Socialist Web Site in March published a harsh piece on India's "full complicity" in the "criminal war of aggression by the U.S. and Israel against Iran," cataloguing bombings of schools, hospitals, desalination plants, about two thousand civilian deaths and even the sinking of Iran's flagship immediately after participating in Indian naval exercises. The authors accuse not only Washington but also the Indian establishment, which they say lends moral and political legitimacy to the war by turning a blind eye to its illegality. It is interesting that the same text cites the position of India's left party CPI(M), whose politburo warns that excessive closeness of Modi to American imperialism could run counter to the "national interests" of India itself, depriving it of strategic autonomy.

French and Franco-Canadian columnists, in turn, concentrate more on the strategic irrationality of the war for the United States itself. In the piece "États-Unis c. Iran: une guerre sans bon sens" in the Journal de Montréal the author notes that Iran did not pose an immediate threat to American security and that Trump, even if he formally appealed to Congress, would hardly have received authorization to intervene. Now, with airstrikes wiping out Iranian schools and Trump "in the guise of a wartime leader" trying to mobilize domestic and external support, it becomes clear that Washington does not control either the escalation or the consequences for energy markets. Other pieces, including on Euronews, sound alarms about the risk of the conflict expanding to a genuine blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and triggering a global energy shock.

In Brazil the war with Iran is so far discussed more through the prism of its economic consequences: a recent editorial opinion in the Brazilian press titled "Um freio na guerra" (A Brake on the War) reminds that any escalation in the Persian Gulf instantly drives up oil prices and disrupts logistics chains, which hits countries with already weakened budgets, like Brazil. The authors also recall the U.S. constitutional norm: the right to declare war formally belongs to Congress, not the president. This argument is important not only for American lawyers but also for those in Brazil who hope that institutional checks in Washington can slow further escalation.

In France itself, judging by discussions on social media and comments on the news, skepticism is growing: users on francophone Reddit openly ask why the U.S. is "going back to square one," bombing Iran after an incident with an American helicopter off the coast of Oman, when "a month and a half ago" there were multilateral negotiations about a ceasefire. In popular perception the war is seen not as a "necessary evil" but as the result of Trump's contradictory and inconsistent line, who alternately promises a quick end to hostilities and threatens tougher strikes if Iran attempts to "cut off the world's energy arteries."

Against this background France is paying particular attention to how the U.S. is building relations with India and China. The recent visit of Secretary of State Marco Rubio to India and his invitation to Prime Minister Narendra Modi to the White House, reported by AFP and Courrier International among others, was read as part of a broader game: just a week after the Trump–Xi Jinping summit in Beijing, Washington is trying to relaunch the Quad format (U.S., India, Japan, Australia) and show that Indo-Pacific Asia remains a priority despite entanglement in the Iran war. Francophone analytical pieces note that Rubio is trying to convince skeptical partners that the U.S. remains capable of long-term commitments, although recent practice — from unpredictable tariffs to spontaneous actions in the Middle East — suggests otherwise.

In the Indian press and expert community distrust of Washington is even more explicit. On English-language platforms aimed at an Indian audience analysts examine how the sharp trade and diplomatic crisis phase of 2025–2026 — when Trump imposed combined 50-percent tariffs on Indian exports, linking them to purchases of Russian oil — undermined a key vector of American strategy: separating India from Russia and China through promises of a special partnership. The Washington-based platform WP Intelligence noted that, although relations have "formally returned to normal," trust has been seriously eroded, and in New Delhi there is a growing tendency to diversify export markets and technology sources.

Indian leftists, represented by the same CPI(M), explicitly warn that "over-aligning with American imperialism" prevents India from pursuing its own multi-vector policy, especially regarding the war with Iran and relations with Russia and China. For some Indian experts the U.S. looks like a partner unable to maintain a single line: today it offers a framework trade agreement and special status for Indian pharmaceuticals, tomorrow it opens an investigation and threatens new tariffs under the pretext of supply-chain security.

Finally, the francophone world, particularly intellectual and left circles, is watching the figure of Marco Rubio as a "new face of American imperial dominance" — as one Quebec publication puts it. That author dissects Rubio's February Munich speech, in which he effectively admits that the U.S. wants not just "partners" but allies willing to share strategic and military burdens in confronting China and Iran. For many French and Canadian analysts this call for "Europe's responsibility for its own defense" sounds ambiguous: on one hand it seems to encourage European strategic autonomy, on the other it subordinatess that autonomy to the logic of American containment.

All of this creates a common picture: Brazil, India and France (and more broadly — Latin America and the francophone world) see today's U.S. not only as a superpower that errs or abuses force, but as a system that has lost predictability. Tariffs that can be imposed and partially overturned by a court; wars declared "short" but fought for months; partnerships built over years and undermined in six months by sanctions; rhetoric about "democracy and the rule of law" alongside interventionist practices — all of this produces the same reaction in very different countries: a need for strategic distance.

In Brazil this is expressed in the search for "autonomous cooperation" and increasingly frequent reminders about Latin American sovereignty. In India — in a move to diversify economic and military ties and louder voices demanding not to turn the country into a "junior partner" in American wars. In the francophone space — in criticism of the "mad war" with Iran and calls for Europe to think about its own security and energy policy outside of American logic.

The U.S. remains a central actor for all three countries, but today attitudes toward it increasingly differ from the old formula "like it or not, you can't do without them." A different refrain is heard more and more often: "we can't be with them for now, but we'll have to learn to live in a way that makes us less dependent on them." And it is this hidden but growing tendency — toward deliberate distancing — that perhaps most unites the very different reactions to America in Brazil, India and France.

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America in the crosshairs of three continents: how Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China debate the US...

Over the past days three very different countries — Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China — have been discussing the United States with surprisingly similar words: “unipolarity,” “double standards,” “limits to American power,” “room for maneuver for middle powers.” But behind these common terms lie very different emotions and interests. In Riyadh — pragmatic calculation and an attempt to turn US–China competition into a resource for its own autonomy. In Pretoria — almost a sense of offense and the feeling of being scorned by Washington. In Beijing — a cool analysis of how to exploit US “fatigue” with global leadership and its strategic mistakes from the Middle East to Latin America.

Seen from Washington, this might look like the familiar backdrop of “criticism of America.” But reading local columns in Arabic, English and Chinese shows that this is no longer classical anti‑Americanism, but a rethinking of how to live in a world where the United States is still strong but no longer omnipotent.

One common nerve running through all three discourses is a mix of dependence and irritation: the US is still needed as a military guarantor, financial hub or technological pole, but there is a growing conviction almost everywhere that Washington is no longer able — and has no moral right — to dictate the rules as it did in the 1990s. Against this background Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China each test the limits in their own way: how far they can go in confronting or distancing themselves from the US without paying too high a price.

The first major theme where the voices of the three countries unexpectedly converge is the new American “selective principle” toward the Global South. South African media is aflame with discussion of the Donald Trump administration’s decision not to invite South Africa to the G20 summit in Miami in 2026 and the broader degradation of relations: from the boycott of the Johannesburg summit to expulsions of ambassadors and public denunciations of Pretoria for its position on Ukraine and especially on Gaza. One analytical piece aimed at an African audience emphasizes that for many on the continent the United States looks like a country “ready to tear up relations with one of the region’s key players, relying on a narrative perceived as ideologically loaded and factually disputed” — precisely at a time when Washington proclaims a “competition for influence in Africa.” The authors recall that the White House redefined Nigeria’s status as a “country of particular concern” on religious freedom grounds and increasingly frames Nigeria’s complex conflict through the simplified prism of “persecution of Christians,” a move seen in the region as an internal American culture war transplanted onto African soil.

Against this backdrop the rhetoric of South African official and party commentators close to the African National Congress is growing harsher. Their remarks regularly invoke a historical argument: in the final phase of the struggle against apartheid, they stress, key political and diplomatic support came not from the US but from the USSR and the “socialist camp.” In one extended analytical note prepared in Pretoria it is stressed that Washington systematically underestimates the depth of this historical memory: when the US presents itself as the “natural conscience of the world,” a significant portion of the South African elite recalls the years when American backing for the apartheid regime was covered by anti‑communism. As a result, current US pressure over Ukraine and especially harsh US criticism of South Africa’s stance on Israel and Gaza are perceived not as “defense of international law” but as a repetition of an old pattern: forcing a choice of camp and ignoring the Global South’s own experiences and priorities.

The Saudi discussion of America in recent days sounds noticeably less emotional but no less critical. In major Arabic newspapers and analytic portals geared to a Saudi audience the dominant theme is rebuilding relations with the US on a “purely pragmatic basis.” Saudi commentators, closely watching fluctuations in Congress over the kingdom’s security, the normalization deal with Israel and missile defense guarantees, increasingly write that Washington is no longer seen as the guarantor without alternatives. One columnist in a popular Saudi daily, reflecting on American attention to human rights, Yemen and the Jamal Khashoggi case, notes that “the US too often uses moral rhetoric as a tool of pressure rather than as a universal principle; this pushes regional powers to create new strategic supports, from Beijing to Moscow.” In texts aimed at the Gulf elite the idea becomes clearer: the more the US relies on sanctions, restrictions on access to technologies and financial channels, the greater the incentive for countries like Saudi Arabia to build alternative infrastructure — from payments in national currencies to diversification of defense purchases.

The Chinese conversation about America today is perhaps the most conceptual. In a number of fresh Chinese analytic pieces authors discuss the “reversible role of the US as a global leader” and the “growing risks of a rollback of America’s global role,” drawing not only on domestic sources but also on English‑language commentary. One column republishing analysis from Singapore’s Lianhe Zaobao notes that despite persistent military and technological superiority, Washington “increasingly shows signs that it wants to but cannot” perform its former global function because of internal polarization and economic imbalance. This thread runs through many pieces: American power is interpreted not as vanishing but as “structurally overloaded,” with the domestic system no longer able to sustain the volume of international commitments it has taken on.

The second major theme common to all three is criticism of American “selective legality” of the use of force, especially in the Middle East and Latin America. Chinese and Arab commentators reacted in tandem to the recent US “lightning operation” in Venezuela, which one North American Chinese‑language editorial described as a strategic signal: under the cover of fighting drug trafficking and transnational crime, Washington effectively confirms an updated “Monroe Doctrine 2.0” — an intent not merely to preserve but to “exclusively” strengthen its dominance in the Western Hemisphere. The authors of that piece link the operation directly to the recently published US National Security Strategy and to China’s policy document on Latin America and the Caribbean, arguing that this is not an isolated episode but the formation of a kind of “demarcation line” between Beijing and Washington in the region.

Saudi commentators, though more cautious in phrasing, clearly resonate with this analysis. In Arabic discussions about Gaza and relations with Iran the thesis often appears that the United States tends to view the region through the prism of its domestic politics — whether it is pressure from pro‑Israel groups in Congress or anti‑Iran rhetoric. One commentator on a pan‑Arab TV channel popular with Saudi audiences observed that “America’s capacity for pinpoint strikes is not accompanied by the ability to build a sustainable world order; we saw this in Iraq, in Afghanistan, and now we are following the same path in Gaza.”

Chinese texts on the subject go even further, treating the US–Iran confrontation and the war in Gaza as illustrations of America’s “strategic constraints.” In one column in a Chinese outlet specializing in international politics the author flatly asserts that Washington, becoming the de facto primary military and diplomatic patron of Israel in its confrontation with Iran, “has confused roles and risks acting as a proxy actor,” whose freedom of maneuver is limited not only by the ally’s interests but also by its own need to demonstrate toughness to a domestic audience. This reversal — presenting the US not as the puppeteer but as a hostage of alliances it created — markedly distinguishes Chinese and Arab discourse from America’s usual self‑presentation.

The third crosscutting theme is economic and technological competition, seen in Beijing, Riyadh and Johannesburg simultaneously as a threat and an opening. Chinese official and semi‑official media in recent years have consistently deconstructed the American narrative of a “Chinese economic and technological threat.” A recent commentary by Xinhua, widely circulated regionally, argued that Washington systematically levels accusations of “economic coercion” and “export expansion” at China while actively seizing market niches that its allies lose because of confrontations with Beijing. As an example it cites the situation in which, after Australia imposed anti‑China restrictions, American exports to China grew to fill the share vacated by Australian suppliers: “The US step by step filled the vacuum left by its ally,” notes one review, serving as an illustration for a Chinese audience of the motto “America First” hidden beneath moral rhetoric about “fair trade.”

At the same time Chinese press harshly criticizes recent trips by US officials around the world with the thesis of “exaggerated fear of China’s manufacturing power” — especially in electric vehicles and renewable energy. One article based on expert remarks states that American attempts to portray China’s export boom as a “national security threat” are a “logical continuation of America’s external threat theory,” in which every competitor by definition becomes a source of danger. According to Chinese analysts, this rhetoric not only undermines the World Trade Organization but also pushes developing countries to create parallel financing and trade structures where the United States cannot dictate the rules.

The South African and broader African discussion of American economic influence is more pragmatic but no less suspicious in this context. Several African columns analyzing sanctions, debt restructuring and creditor competition stress that the US, on the one hand, criticizes China’s “debt traps,” and on the other actively uses financial tools and the threat of secondary sanctions to constrain African states’ room for maneuver. For the South African audience the recent debate over possible sanctions for military cooperation with Russia has been particularly painful: as several commentators note, it revealed Washington’s habit of viewing the continent exclusively through the lens of “other people’s wars” — whether Ukraine or the rivalry with China.

Saudi economic analysts approach this theme through the lens of energy and diversification. Against the backdrop of American debates about reducing dependence on Middle Eastern oil and a shift to green energy, the argument that betting solely on the American consumer and American capital markets is too risky is gaining traction in Saudi Arabia. One recent column on a Saudi‑oriented economic portal notes that “the US can afford to politicize energy ties; therefore the kingdom cannot afford dependence on a single buyer or a single technology supplier.” Here the Saudi discourse interestingly intersects with the Chinese: in both cases the discussion centers on seeking strategic autonomy amid growing instrumentalization of the dollar, markets and export regimes.

The fourth important line is the perception of American domestic politics as a source of instability for the rest of the world. Chinese and Arab commentators, especially in official and semi‑official outlets, eagerly cite American texts about the crisis of free speech, polarization and “mutual witch hunts” between left and right. One compilation by the Chinese MFA, widely circulated in pro‑government media, lists examples of how inconvenient voices in academia and media are being restricted in the US and how anonymous networks on social media have pushed pro‑Western narratives in regions from the Middle East to Central Asia. Beijing uses these arguments to show that American rhetoric about free speech and the fight against “foreign propaganda” is a tool rather than a principle.

For South African and broader African analysts American domestic polarization is dangerous for another reason. Several articles emphasize that fluctuations in US policy toward Africa — from periodic “US–Africa summits” to sharp bursts of attention only when China or Russia advances — are largely tied to the fact that Africa has become “an arena for projections” of American domestic debates about race, religion and identity. Thus the reassessment of Nigeria’s status in the context of religious freedom is explained not only by the situation in Nigeria itself but also by the influence of evangelical lobbies in the US. For part of the African elite this makes American policy unpredictable: decisions affecting millions in other countries are made within a domestic cultural conflict to which those countries have no relation.

Finally, there is a topic where divergences between the three countries are especially pronounced: the question of whether and whether it is desirable for the US to remain the leading power in the world. Saudi texts, even the most critical, rarely call for “replacing” the US. On the contrary, they often stress the need for a balanced architecture in which America remains an important but not the sole pillar of security and the economy. In Riyadh there is typically little belief in a rapid and safe “decoupling” from the US: institutional, financial and military ties are too deep. But Saudi authors increasingly say that Washington must “get used” to a new reality in which regional powers have their own agendas and are not ready to automatically back every American initiative.

The South African discourse is built differently. There the voices claiming the “American era” is already over are much stronger, and current attempts by Washington to “punish” Pretoria or impose a line on Ukraine and Israel only accelerate the search for alternatives. In texts close to BRICS circles and pan‑Africanists there are growing calls to regard the US as “one among many” centers of power rather than as a mandatory partner. At the same time full confrontation with America is seen by most authors as unrealistic and dangerous: the country is too integrated into the dollar system, and access to American markets and technologies remains critically important. But the idea of “measured distancing” — participation in BRICS, expanding ties with China, Russia and Gulf countries — is becoming mainstream.

In Beijing the tone in recent publications is different still. The debate is less about whether the world needs a “leader” in the form of the US and more about how to manage the “dangerous competition” between two superpowers. In a widely discussed Chinese internet review of a Singaporean column on the logic of US–China rivalry, the point is made that for decades China accepted US absolute superiority and “kept a low profile,” while Washington hoped China would integrate into its order. Now both sides, the reviewer argues, are convinced that “advantage is on their side,” which makes the rivalry particularly risky. From this logic, official and semi‑official Chinese texts draw a dual attitude toward American leadership: on the one hand, the US is seen as the main strategic rival striving to “contain” and “undermine” China’s development; on the other, as a necessary partner in managing escalation risks, climate change and the global economy.

What unites the three perspectives — Saudi, South African and Chinese — is the refusal to see the US in the categories America uses to describe itself. In Riyadh, Pretoria and Beijing Washington is viewed not as an “indispensable nation” but as a highly influential yet constrained actor, subject to internal conflicts and often driven by short electoral cycles. This does not mean the automatic “fall” of American influence: all three capitals recognize that key military, financial and technological questions cannot be solved without the US. But the frame is changing: whereas many Global South states once oriented toward Washington by inertia as the ultimate arbiter, today, judging by the tone of local debates, they increasingly treat America as one factor — important but not the only one — in a more complex equation.

That is why today’s debates about the US in Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China matter far more than they may seem from Washington. They show that the world around America is no longer rigidly pro‑ or anti‑American. It is becoming calculating, flexible and in some sense cynical: ready to cooperate with the US where it is profitable, to resist where American demands conflict with their own interests, and at the same time to build parallel channels with other centers of power. For American foreign policy this may be the most serious challenge: not the rise of someone’s military power, but the gradual erosion of the aura of exceptionality, when even long‑standing partners begin to see “American leadership” as one option among others rather than as a given.

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"Tariffs, Intervention and Refugees: How Brazil, Turkey and South Africa Are Arguing About the...

While attention inside the United States is fixed on the upcoming elections and new hardline measures by the Trump administration, discussions about America in Brazil, Turkey and South Africa are taking place from very different angles. For Brazil, the U.S. today is primarily a risk of new tariffs and of interference in the election campaign. For Turkey, it is a partner and simultaneously the main source of strategic uncertainty in NATO and the Middle East. For South Africa, it is a power willing to radically reshape bilateral relations for ideological reasons: from accepting "white refugees" to imposing strict conditions on domestic policy. Against this background a new common line is emerging: the U.S. is increasingly perceived less as a universal guarantor of order and more as a powerful but unpredictable actor whose intervention must be both feared and exploited.

The sharpest conflict of recent days is Washington’s intention to impose additional 25 percent duties on a wide range of countries, including Brazil, under the pretext of investigations under U.S. trade law. The Brazilian press almost unanimously read this as a political move aimed at increasing leverage over the country in a year of its national elections. José Paulo Kupfer, a columnist for the economic portal UOL, writes bluntly that trade is being used by the White House "as camouflage for the goal of interfering in Brazilian elections," reminding readers that the previous wave of tariffs in 2025 produced only limited economic effect for the U.S. but seriously shook Brazil’s internal political climate. The author emphasizes that the new tariff package covers many sectors sensitive for Brazil, yet the selection of particular items appears selective and politically motivated rather than purely economic, linking this to Trump’s line of supporting right‑wing candidates across Latin America. (economia.uol.com.br)

Notably, for Brazil’s agribusiness and business press the key question is not only the tariff level itself but which specific goods are targeted and which are not. A Forbes Brasil piece highlights that USTR’s proposal for 25 percent tariffs on Brazilian ethanol and textiles deliberately leaves beef untouched, although beef is one of Brazil’s most competitive and sensitive exports. The article’s author explains this as a combination of lobbying influence from the American meat industry and the White House’s desire not to provoke a rise in meat prices in a U.S. election year. The subtext is the idea that Washington is waging a subtle "targeted tariff war," trying to hit sectors less protected by domestic allies while preserving leverage over Brazil’s elite. (forbes.com.br)

Brazil’s official reaction balances between tough rhetoric and pragmatism. President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, in a closed cabinet meeting quoted by the Spanish edition of El País, said: "We cannot accept the way the United States is dealing with Brazil this week," indicating he views the tariff threat as a political humiliation, not merely an economic measure. (elpais.com) At the same time, the government is actively seeking a negotiated solution: Agência Brasil reports that Brazil is trying to convince Washington that a tariff agreement would be better for both sides than a unilateral 25 percent surcharge, hoping to use the G7 summit in France in mid‑June as a venue for behind‑the‑scenes dialogue. (agenciabrasil.ebc.com.br) This duality—harsh public statements paired with readiness to strike a deal behind closed doors—reflects a broader Brazilian view: the U.S. is simultaneously a key market and the main threat to the country’s foreign‑policy sovereignty.

Against this backdrop, Latin American intellectuals are discussing American policy not as hypothetical "global hegemony" but as a return to old patterns of direct intervention. In a long Spanish‑language El País article about the "phantom of American intervention" roaming Mexico, Brazil and Colombia, the inclusion of Brazilian criminal groups PCC and Comando Vermelho on the U.S. terrorist list is seen not only as part of the "war on drugs" but as an attempt by the White House to interfere in one of the key domestic debates for Brazilian voters—about public security and methods of fighting crime. The author recalls that as early as 2025 the White House tried to influence the legal proceedings against Jair Bolsonaro, and that current steps—the hardening of trade policy and the "terrorist" label for Brazilian gangs—fit a pattern that also includes support for ultra‑right candidates across the region. (elpais.com) This view casts the U.S. less as a "fighter of drug trafficking" and more as a party in Brazil’s internal political struggle.

In Turkey the tone of discussion about the U.S. is different in character, but the common thread is the same unpredictability and ambiguity of Washington. The catalyst for a fresh wave of commentary was Donald Trump’s planned trip to Ankara on the eve of the NATO summit. Turkish portal Habertürk describes it as an "important leap" in bilateral relations and emphasizes that the summit in Ankara could turn from a routine alliance meeting into a strategic Erdoğan–Trump encounter that effectively redraws the framework of Turkish‑American relations. (haberturk.com) Turkish analyses suggest that for Washington Turkey is simultaneously an indispensable ally on NATO’s southern flank and an inconvenient partner increasingly pursuing autonomous policies in Syria, the South Caucasus and in relations with Russia. For Ankara, the U.S. is both a source of military technology and an actor whose sanctions and restrictions—over the F‑35 program and others—have demonstrated the limits of alliance trust.

Interestingly, public debate on Turkish social media about the U.S. increasingly centers not on specific aid programs or sanctions but on the image of America as a force "to be weaned from." In a popular Reddit thread discussing Middle Eastern countries’ dependence on American aid, one user sharply objects to the thesis "without the U.S. you would have achieved nothing," reminding readers of instances where regional actors successfully resisted rather than submitted to American will. Although not an official position, such discussions illustrate fatigue with the narrative of the U.S. as an unquestionable patron. (reddit.com) At the same time, Turkish expert texts—published, for example, by the analytical center AVİM—stress that the U.S. strategy of containing China continues to give Turkey objective geopolitical weight, and therefore bargaining space, but also the risk of becoming an arena for U.S.–China rivalry. (avim.org.tr)

If for Brazil and Turkey the U.S. is primarily a partner with whom complex bargaining is necessary, for South Africa in recent months American policy is increasingly perceived as a direct challenge to sovereignty. Several lines of conflict have overlapped. First, the White House has moved relations to a sharply ideological level by prioritizing the admission to the U.S. of "white South Africans" as refugees from political and racial persecution. According to an investigation by Britain’s The Independent, almost all refugees admitted by the U.S. in this fiscal year are from South Africa; this decision is supported by rhetoric about alleged systematic discrimination against the white minority. South African foreign ministry spokesperson Crispin Phiri told The New York Times that such a program is "politically motivated" and intended to undermine trust in South Africa’s constitutional democracy. (independent.co.uk) In South Africa this is not seen as a humanitarian gesture but as a symbolic vote of no confidence in their legal system.

Second, relations have also soured on a purely diplomatic level. As an analytic piece by the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) reminds readers, in 2025 Washington took the unprecedented step of expelling South Africa’s ambassador and simultaneously invited Afrikaners to resettle in the U.S., thereby effectively redefining the priorities of its Africa policy. CSIS authors warn that this line, on the one hand, fits a long history of Washington using South African resources—from strategic minerals to energy—to reduce dependence on rivals, and on the other hand risks pushing South Africa further toward deepening ties with China and Russia as a counterbalance to U.S. "unreliability." (csis.org)

Third, the United States has increased pressure on South Africa’s economy through trade policy and human‑rights tools. A recent U.S. investigation into whether South Africa and dozens of other countries have stringent enough laws against imports made with forced labor has become a new point of tension. South African business media such as BusinessTech emphasize the ambiguity of the situation: on the one hand, the U.S. is an important market for South Africa’s agricultural sector, which accounted for about 4% of exports in 2025 worth over $15 billion; on the other, the conditions Washington is demanding on domestic policy and human rights are increasingly seen as interference in internal affairs. (businesstech.co.za) In a BusinessTech piece on "five demands" the U.S. has for South Africa—from a review of affirmative‑action policy (BEE) to attitudes toward the controversial slogan "Kill the Boer"—an American negotiator bluntly states he will not "tiptoe" around issues Washington sees as critical for future relations. For part of South Africa’s elite this looks like an attempt to impose not only economic but also a values agenda in exchange for continued market access.

Finally, broader analyses about Africa increasingly draw the conclusion that Washington’s series of steps—from boycotting the Johannesburg summit to not inviting South Africa to the G20 summit in Miami—are seen on the continent as a signal that the U.S. is prepared to sharply escalate relations with major regional players for ideological positioning. A researcher at the Foreign Policy Research Institute puts it this way: whether Africans view these actions as moral gestures or internal political maneuvers, the effect is the same—the U.S. looks like a partner ready to sever ties with a major African power based on a narrative that many in Africa consider politically loaded and in fact contestable. (fpri.org)

Looking at all three countries together, several recurring themes emerge. The first is the instrumentalization of economic levers. In Brazil this is the obvious use of tariffs as a lever of influence on elections and internal security debates. In South Africa it is a mix of trade investigations and political "demands" on domestic policy, including racial issues, in exchange for preserving preferential access to the U.S. market. In Turkey it is a softer but still tangible dependence on American decisions in defense programs and energy that repeatedly surfaces in discussions about Trump’s visit to Ankara and Turkey’s role in Washington’s strategy to contain rivals. Everywhere trade and investment are ceasing to be simply areas of mutual benefit and are increasingly becoming primary tools of pressure.

The second theme is the return of the motive of "American intervention" in domestic politics, but in a renewed form. In Brazil this is written about directly as a "campaign to interfere in elections" using tariffs and "terrorist" labels for criminal groups. In South Africa the emphasis shifts to the program to accept "white refugees" and public attacks on slogans and laws, which are seen as undermining trust in the architecture of the post‑apartheid democracy itself. In Turkey distrust is expressed more subtly—through the fear that at a critical moment the U.S. might use military and economic dependence as leverage to impose its line on Syria, Israel or Russia. Notably, none of the three countries is willing to simply "break" relations with the U.S.: instead they are trying to build complex strategies of containment and tactical use of American power to their advantage.

The third is competing narratives about human rights and democracy. Washington still builds a significant part of its external legitimacy on human‑rights language—whether fighting forced labor in South Africa or "protecting" the white minority. But in Brazil and South Africa this is increasingly perceived as selective and instrumental, ignoring the U.S.’s own internal problems and local societies’ real priorities. In response, local leaders—from Lula to South African officials—are increasingly appealing to the concepts of "sovereignty" and "constitutional democracy" as shields against external pressure. In the Turkish context, where human rights have long been one of the most contentious topics in dialogue with the West, similar rhetoric is also strengthening but combined with a pragmatic mindset: to extract maximum benefit from Turkey’s geopolitical weight between the U.S., Europe, Russia and China.

There is one more subtle line, rarely visible in American media but clearly audible in foreign commentary: the fear that domestic radicalization in the U.S. is directly being transmitted into foreign policy. When Brazilian authors write of a "tariff campaign for Trump’s electoral aims," and South African commentators talk of an "ideologically charged" narrative about white refugees, they are effectively describing foreign policy as a continuation of America’s cultural wars by other means. Turkish discussions of Trump’s visit to Ankara are similarly infused with this idea: they debate not just "traditional" American strategy but how the personal and electoral interests of the current U.S. president will affect key issues for Turkey from Syria to arms deliveries.

None of this means the U.S. has ceased to be a desirable partner or market. Brazil, Turkey and South Africa still see America as a source of investment, technology and political clout. But the tone of debate is changing: instead of the familiar question "how to strengthen the strategic partnership?" a different question is increasingly being asked—"how to minimize harm from another’s unpredictability while retaining access to its resources?" It is precisely in this context that current disputes over tariffs, refugees and leader visits become not merely isolated episodes but symptoms of a deeper transformation in views of America’s role in the world beyond the Western circle.

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How the World Sees America Today: Elections, War and the Struggle for Influence

What is said about America in Washington itself is only a small part of the global conversation about the United States. In South Africa, Ukraine and China, the United States is discussed in very different terms: through the prism of each country’s own security, economy, domestic politics and even its future. If one tries to weave these fragments into a single picture, the result is not a “common image of America” but a set of contradictory expectations and fears, in which the US is simultaneously guarantor, adversary, partner and source of chaos.

The main backdrop shaping these views is the already completed 2024 US presidential election, with Donald Trump’s return and the subsequent radicalization of the American domestic scene. The outside world has long stopped seeing American elections as a “celebration of democracy”; now they are more a test of the predictability and governability of a superpower whose internal swings are painfully felt on other continents.(ru.wikipedia.org)

The first major cluster of narratives concerns the influence of the new American administration on the war in Ukraine and the architecture of European and Eurasian security. Ukrainian media and experts speak of the US primarily as a military and financial anchor: the pace of weapons deliveries, budgetary stability and even dynamics at the front depend on Washington’s decisions. Ukrainian analytical columns often advance a harsh thesis: Washington is not a benefactor but a rational actor that will support Kyiv only to the extent that it fits its own strategy of containing Russia. Hence a dual tone: on the one hand, marked gratitude for multibillion-dollar aid and high-tech weapons; on the other, growing irritation over delays in Congress, intra-party horse-trading and the use of Ukraine as an object of domestic American struggle.

Trump’s return to the White House is described in the Ukrainian discourse almost as a geopolitical earthquake. Even during the campaign local commentators parsed his statements about a “quick peace” and that Europe should “deal with Russia itself” as a potential signal of reduced support. After the election the tone grew more pragmatic: less panic than discussion about how to make the Ukrainian case maximally attractive to the new administration, package it under the agenda of “containing China” and strengthening American leadership rather than “helping a foreign country.” In this sense Ukrainian authors read not only White House statements but also debates within the Republican Party, trying to understand where the real “red lines” lie — cessation of supplies, forcing negotiations, restrictions on strikes into Russian territory, etc.

The second cluster is the US–China rivalry and how it is refracted in Chinese public space. Interest in the US is particularly great here, and American domestic politics is viewed both as an object of criticism and as an important indicator of the rival’s weaknesses. In Chinese official and affiliated media the 2024 American electoral cycle was portrayed as a showcase of the “crisis of American democracy”: polarization, violence, distrust of institutions, and dependence of politics on big money and lobbyists were emphasized. In one analytical article on the People’s Daily portal the author dissects key pre-election debates — inflation, crime, migration, social inequality — and concludes that the American system is incapable of systematically solving any of these problems, only turning them into electoral slogans.(world.people.com.cn)

At the same time, a more nuanced conversation is ongoing within the Chinese expert community: not whether America is “bad,” but how sustainable its capacity for global leadership is. In analyses on specialized platforms like Fudan American Studies or China-US Focus, the American elections are examined through the lens of foreign policy: how will the course on Taiwan change, what will the configuration of sanctions and export controls be, will the line of “managed competition” persist or will Washington return to tougher confrontational rhetoric. One China-US Focus author highlights five key areas through which the US election outcome affects foreign policy: alliance relations, approach to international organizations, strategy for containing China, energy policy and the sanctions regime — and concludes that structural competition will remain in any case, but style and tactics may change noticeably.(cn.chinausfocus.com)

A significant part of Chinese commentary is devoted less to specific US actions than to the psychological portrait of Washington. In materials from Xinhua and CCTV there is a line about America’s “pride and anxiety”: about how Washington simultaneously displays confidence in its superiority and fear of losing status. Such texts explain American information campaigns and sanctions policy as an attempt to “construct reality,” in which China and other competitors are shown as sources of threat and the US as the only legitimate center of power.(news.cctv.com) A political scientist quoted by one Chinese TV channel puts it this way: “America still possesses colossal resources, but increasingly doubts that it can manage the world as it used to. Hence the nervousness, abrupt moves, cognitive warfare against everyone who doesn’t fit its picture.”

For a Chinese audience American policy is both a mirror of its own fears and hopes. In rare but telling texts by independent Chinese-speaking authors writing on foreign platforms, the 2024 American elections were called “almost Chinese elections” — such was the high level of interest inside China in the race’s outcome and in Trump as a figure. One such author noted that “Trumpism” paradoxically became a kind of meeting point for the interests of very different Chinese circles — from liberals to the patriotic camp: some see in him a chance for the American system’s “self-destruction,” some see an opportunity for détente and deals, others see confirmation of populism’s universality as a global phenomenon.(reddit.com)

The third narrative block is Africa, especially South Africa, where America is viewed through the lens of the struggle for influence and wars in other parts of the world. South African press and think tanks have in recent years regularly discussed the direction of American policy on the continent: is Washington’s interest in partnership with Africa growing, or are the US steadily ceding ground to China and Russia? A recent Foreign Policy Research Institute review on American influence in Africa emphasizes that US strategy “navigates” between attempts to check China’s and Russia’s growing presence and the need to build real economic and political partnerships rather than merely making declarations.(fpri.org)

In South African media space there is also a strong moral-political assessment of American foreign policy — primarily regarding the Middle East. The South African government’s decision to file a case against Israel in the International Court of Justice accusing it of genocide in Gaza became an important marker of distancing from the American line: after all, the US consistently shielded the Israeli operation diplomatically and blocked harsh resolutions.(ru.wikipedia.org) South African commentators often draw a contrast here: on the one hand Washington’s rhetoric about human rights and international law; on the other, its willingness to turn a blind eye to an ally’s actions. One column in a major South African newspaper flatly states: “Where it suits Washington, principles easily give way to realpolitik; South Africa, with its history of apartheid, cannot afford such cynicism.”

In this context South Africa’s reaction to symbolic gestures from Washington is notable. When one leading American politician sent a congratulatory message on South Africa’s Freedom Day, local commentators saw it as a potential signal of warming relations, but analysts urged caution: gestures should not substitute for discussion of real disagreements over Palestine, sanctions policy and the global financial architecture. A South African political scientist in an interview with local radio reminded listeners that “America knows how to say the right words, but it’s the votes in the UN and the sanctions regime that show whose side it’s on.”(ewn.co.za)

Interestingly, the theme of US–China rivalry reappears in South African analysis from a different angle: Africa is seen as a field where these two powers compete for infrastructure projects, access to resources, markets and political influence. For some South African experts the US remains an important partner in investment and security; for others it is a symbol of a neocolonial approach, while China is perceived as more respectful or at least more advantageous. Therefore any changes in American policy — from sanctions to development programs — are immediately evaluated through the question: who will be the real beneficiary, Africa or Washington?

The fourth cross-cutting theme linking the three countries is perceptions of American democracy itself. Ukrainian and South African commentators, drawing on their own painful political histories, view the US with a double optic. On the one hand, American institutions are a model of resilience: even after the Capitol assault, extreme polarization and the legal battles around Trump, the system nonetheless delivered an electoral process and a transfer of power. On the other hand, an increasingly frequent thought is that the “Washington standard” has clearly dimmed. In the Ukrainian discourse this manifests as skepticism toward the idea that the American model can be simply copied to the post-Soviet space: the financialization of politics, influence of lobbyists, crisis of trust and the use of foreign policy as a continuation of intra-party struggle are all too evident.

In China the “crisis of American democracy” has become an important element of the official narrative. An article on the central television site characterizes the US as a country that “politicized, instrumentalized and militarized its democracy model,” turning it into a tool to divide the world into “democracies” and “autocracies” and to justify sanctions, information wars and military blocs.(news.cctv.com) At the same time, more academic Chinese texts present a cooler analysis: yes, American democracy faces deep structural problems, but that does not automatically mean the collapse of American power; on the contrary, the system’s ability to adapt to crises remains an important factor in its resilience.

Finally, the fifth major motif is uncertainty and anxiety about how predictable the United States is as a global actor. What American journalism often describes as “swinging” between administrations is perceived abroad as a strategic risk. In China this is discussed in the sense that any agreements with Washington can be revised by the next administration, so the emphasis is on “hedging”: strengthening one’s own institutions, regional formats and alternative payment systems.(csis.org) In Ukraine the conversation is more nervous: how to survive a possible “rollback” of support and to what extent European partners are ready to compensate for American wavering. In South Africa the question is raised whether Africa should continue orienting itself toward American development and security programs if their planning horizons are limited by electoral cycles in Washington.

Across all three countries there is one important common feature: the US is almost never discussed in isolation from local context. For Ukraine America is above all arms, money and a diplomatic umbrella. For China it is the main systemic competitor through which the Chinese elite and society make sense of their own modernization and vulnerabilities. For South Africa it is one of the centers of power in a multipolar world, with which one must conduct a complex moral-political game, without abandoning one’s own historical memory and trying not to become simply a “battleground” for other people’s rivalries.

If you look only at American media, this polyphony is barely visible. But it is precisely in this multiplicity that the real standing of the US in the world is revealed: not as the “leader of the free world” nor as a “fading empire,” but as a central, yet no longer sole, actor in the global system, whose actions and domestic choices are instantly reworked into dozens of national contexts — sometimes into diametrically opposed assessments. And that is why the conversation about the future of world politics inevitably becomes a conversation not only about “what America does” but also about “how the world has learned to live constantly looking to Washington while relying on it less and less.”

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The World Through Washington's Prism: How Australia, Ukraine and Russia Debate the U.S

If you look at the news of recent weeks from Sydney, Kyiv and Moscow, one and the same silhouette keeps flashing like in a kaleidoscope — the United States. For Australia it is above all an ally and a source of pressure in the security sphere; for Ukraine — a vitally necessary patron and at the same time an inconvenient, capricious partner; for Russia — the main adversary, but also an important element of the familiar worldview, without which it is difficult to explain its own policy. At the intersection of these three perspectives lies a whole set of themes: Russia’s war against Ukraine and Washington’s role in seeking peace, the new configuration of American power under Trump, the Iran War of 2026 and the crisis of the international order, as well as U.S. pressure on allies in the Asia‑Pacific region and the fate of the global security architecture.

The first major knot is, of course, Russia’s war against Ukraine and Washington’s attempts to be simultaneously Kyiv’s arsenal and a controller of escalation. For Kyiv’s media and experts the U.S. is literally oxygen — without it the war would have been lost. The Ukrainian outlet European Pravda extensively quotes Donald Trump saying that Ukraine “wouldn’t last two days” without American weapons; in Kyiv such formulations are received simultaneously as an insult and as a sober acknowledgement of a reality in which the U.S. has become a critically important factor for the survival of the state and the army. The piece stresses that the U.S. president is effectively reminding Ukrainian society and elites of their dependence on American aid, which in Kyiv causes irritation and fear about any shifts in Washington’s mood, while also stimulating the search for more stable arrangements, including long‑term military and financial support packages. In Ukraine’s expert community this sounds like a constant refrain: the U.S. can dictate terms, but it has no right to strategic fatigue if it wants to preserve the remnants of the postwar world order.

Notably, Ukrainian public reaction to internal American decisions is becoming increasingly politicized. On the popular Ukrainian Reddit forum r/KafkaFPS, a discussion of the recent U.S. House vote approving a new aid package for Ukraine and expanding the president’s sanctioning powers vis‑à‑vis Russia is woven into an argument about whether Washington is “doing everything possible” to end the war or deliberately prolonging the conflict for its own interests. One commenter sarcastically notes that strengthening presidential sanction powers allows Trump to “blame” pressure on Russia on “arrogant Democrats and renegade Republicans” and distance himself from any hard line on the Kremlin while keeping the image of a “friend of Putin” for part of his audience. Other discussants accuse the American administration of first promising “unprecedented aid” that would “change the course of the war,” and then, upon seeing that Moscow would not come to the table, preferring to speak of stalled negotiations and a de facto freezing of the conflict. In these debates the U.S. appears not only as an arms donor but also as a political actor balancing between its electoral cycles and the fate of European security.

From Kyiv the view easily shifts to Moscow, where official and pro‑government rhetoric continues to portray the U.S. as the main architect of the protracted war. Russian analytic centers and quasi‑state journals sketch scenarios for Russia’s future under long‑term confrontation with Washington. In a recent issue of the journal Volnaya Ekonomika they discuss a variant in which Russia consolidates as a “military superpower” in a state of nuclear parity with the U.S., relying on a stratified but self‑sufficient economy and alternative global trade chains. Such analysis proceeds directly from the premise that confrontation with Washington is not an episode but a new normal for decades to come, and any talk of détente in the spirit of disarmament treaties has become a thing of the past.

Symbolic against this backdrop is the discussion of the imminent end of yet another U.S.‑Russian arms control agreement: materials from the expert resource Council on Foreign Relations stress that prospects for extension or replacement of the pact are effectively absent because trust has been destroyed both in Washington and in Moscow. Russian commentators use this as an argument in favor of ramping up missile and nuclear programs while accusing the U.S. of wanting to “free its hands” for global military pressure. American analysts, in turn, note that the window of opportunity for the classical architecture of disarmament is closing, to be replaced by a more fragmented and regionalized system of loosely connected agreements and informal “red lines.”

For Ukraine, the destruction of the U.S.‑Russian arms control system is yet another reason to demand security guarantees from the U.S. that go beyond the current war. Ukrainian discussions increasingly voice the idea that if bilateral U.S.‑Russia trust formulas no longer work, the only real shield for Kyiv is maximally institutionalized agreements with Washington — from defense pacts to joint programs in missile defense and drone technologies. Volodymyr Zelensky’s interviews with American media, where he emphasizes hope for a separate deal with the U.S. on drones, fit this logic: since the large strategic dialogue between the U.S. and Russia is broken, Ukraine is trying to slot into new “chains of deterrence” through direct partnership with Washington.

A different but closely related thread to the Ukrainian agenda has unfolded around the Iran War of 2026, triggered by U.S. and Israeli strikes on targets inside Iran. For Moscow this is a long‑awaited confirmation of its propaganda construct about America’s “chaotizing role”: Russian state media and loyal experts speak of a new “successful operation of imperialism,” citing critical Western publications such as analysis in The Guardian, and emphasizing that even within the U.S. polls show a rather negative attitude toward the military action. In the Russian‑language segment of the internet the argument often appears that Washington is opening yet another front of chaos to retain control over energy flows and at the same time weaken Iranian and Russian competitors.

In Australia the same war is perceived primarily through the lens of alliance obligations and the risk of being “dragged in” to another American campaign. In an ABC News piece on the sharp rise in threats to the international system and the increasing aggressiveness of the White House, Australia is described as a country that shares an interest in preserving international rule of law but is forced to wonder whether Washington is driving that order toward self‑destruction. The author emphasizes that against the backdrop of the Iran War and increasing U.S. confrontation with China, U.S. military facilities in northern Australia are being strengthened and the presence of American bombers is increasing; internal discourse increasingly asks where the line lies between reasonable alliance and loss of independent foreign policy.

Criticism of Australia’s participation in the Iranian conflict is growing both from the opposition and civil society. Greens leader Larissa Waters in her statements effectively calls support for the American operation another example of “Australia’s participation in endless U.S.‑led wars,” comparing the situation to Afghanistan and Iraq and warning that the consequences of the current campaign could be even more long‑term. An English‑language Wikipedia entry has already appeared on Australia’s role in the Iran War, documenting these domestic debates; for Russian and Ukrainian readers this may seem a peripheral detail, but for Australians the question of trust in Washington is simultaneously a question of sovereignty and of whether the U.S. can act within predictable rules.

It is around the theme of the international order and its “disassembly” under U.S. influence that the three countries converge, albeit along different trajectories. In Australia writers and strategists increasingly say that “strategic ambiguity” in relations with Beijing and Washington is coming to an end. An analysis in The Diplomat notes that Australia’s defense budget is rising but still far from the 3.5% of GDP the U.S. persistently seeks; at the same time cooperation under AUKUS deepens, including plans to purchase American nuclear submarines and develop joint undersea warfare technologies. The author points to the risk that Australia’s China policy will be shaped not so much by Canberra’s own interests as by Washington’s pressure — from demands to raise defense spending to expectations of a tougher line on Taiwan and the South China Sea.

Ukraine also sees the U.S. as both guarantor and architect of a new order. In Ukrainian debates Washington appears as the only force capable of preventing the Iran War from escalating into a global conflict and of averting the final breakdown of the structure of international law after Russia’s 2022 invasion. Yet the same hand that holds the balance can also break it: Ukrainian experts anxiously analyze signals that the White House may view the war in Ukraine, the conflict with Iran and confrontation with China as elements of one big “global deal,” where the fate of individual states can become a bargaining chip. Hence the nervous attention to any of Trump’s words about Russia, his meetings with Xi Jinping and statements about the need to “rethink alliance commitments,” which in Kyiv translate as potential readiness to sacrifice Ukrainian interests in exchange for illusory “stability” with Moscow or Beijing.

In Russia the theme of an American “threat to the international order” is used as internal cement. Reviews in the “Russia in Focus” project Russia Matters detail how the Kremlin leverages the Iran War and escalation in East Asia to justify the thesis of “world chaos generated by the U.S.” Russian officials insist that Moscow, on the contrary, stands for a “return to UN principles,” although the war against Ukraine directly violates those same principles — this dissonance is blurred by a constant emphasis on American operations in the Middle East. Such a narrative finds resonance in parts of the Global South, where memories of prior U.S. military campaigns are still fresh.

A separate thread concerns the “new American power” in the era of Trump’s return to the White House. Australian analysts in the same ABC News piece speak of a “disturbing transformation” of U.S. foreign policy, in which ostentatious disregard for international law is combined with concrete actions — from sanctions and tariffs to threats of military intervention in Latin America and the Arctic. Here the U.S. appears not as the bastion of the liberal order but as a major power ready to use its strength instrumentally, even at the cost of undermining the institutions it itself built after 1945.

In Russia a dual chorus is heard on this score. On the one hand, pro‑Kremlin commentators and part of the elite openly welcome the upheavals in transatlantic relations, the erosion of Europeans’ trust in Washington and talk of possible reductions in American guarantees to NATO. An analytical piece from the Council on Foreign Relations notes that Moscow “cautiously greets” the destabilization emanating from Trump, hoping for a weakening of Western unity on sanctions and support for Ukraine. On the other hand, even Russian experts admit that Trump’s unpredictability could bring new risks for the Kremlin — from uncontrolled spikes in escalation to a deal between Washington and Beijing that would reduce Russia to the role of a “junior partner” without a voice.

Ukrainian commentators, in both expert press and social media, see in Trump a source of constant strategic uncertainty. Discussing, for example, his statements that he will “make Putin end the war,” Ukrainian writers in Western and local media stress that behind these words may lie either a hard pressure line on Moscow or an attempt to “push” Kyiv into territorial concessions under the guise of a “peace plan.” Here the U.S. is perceived as a power able to impose its agenda on both warring sides, but not necessarily committed to an outcome fair to Ukraine.

Interestingly, at the level of public sentiment in Australia the image of the U.S. has also changed markedly. Sociological data in recent years record a significant rise in negative attitudes toward the United States, and local analysts link this not only to Trump but also to a sense that Australia is turning into a “floating U.S. aircraft carrier” on the southern flank of the Asian confrontation. Debates around the 2026 defense strategy, plans to raise the military budget to 3% of GDP and the accelerated development of long‑range strike systems are accompanied by questions: whose interests does this buildup primarily serve — Australia’s own or the ally across the ocean? Thus the U.S. becomes not only a security guarantor but also a factor of internal polarization.

Against this backdrop the Ukrainian perspective looks most paradoxical. Where Australians argue about excessive dependence on Washington, and Russians use the American “threat” to consolidate the regime, Ukrainian society is largely ready for a conscious dependence for the sake of survival and a chance to rebuild the country. In Ukrainian discussions, ranging from expert columns to Reddit threads, the U.S. is simultaneously criticized for slowness, mixed signals and attempts to reduce the war to a “managed conflict,” but it is immediately acknowledged that without American arms, sanctions and diplomatic pressure on Moscow there would have been neither containment of Russian offensives nor hope for postwar reconstruction. This mix of irritation and gratitude, fear and hope makes the Ukrainian discourse about the U.S. especially emotional and complex.

In the end, several common lines emerge through all these stories. First, in 2026 the U.S. is almost nowhere perceived in its former image as the “global policeman” or the unquestioned “leader of the free world.” In Australia and Ukraine it is seen primarily as a powerful but contradictory ally with its own limits of responsibility and fatigue. In Russia — as a necessary enemy that justifies domestic mobilization and external aggression, while at the same time remaining an indispensable “center of gravity” without which the whole familiar system of coordinates crumbles.

Second, the key international crises — Russia’s war against Ukraine, the conflict with Iran, the confrontation with China — are all viewed by the three countries through the question: how ready is the U.S. not only to act with force but to bear long‑term responsibility for the consequences. For Ukrainians this is a question of whether Washington will see its support for Kyiv through to the end; for Australians — whether America can sustain the burden of global leadership without irreparably destroying the system of alliances and institutions; for Russians — whether the U.S. can maintain sanctionary and military‑political pressure without causing a split within the West.

And third, there is a growing demand to redefine relations with Washington. Australia seeks a balance between alliance obligations and strategic autonomy; Ukraine aims to turn asymmetric dependence into a more formalized, predictable contractual framework; Russia is preparing for a long confrontation while simultaneously dreaming of some new format of “equal competition” in which the U.S. would remain a convenient, comprehensible opponent but not the only center of power.

In these divergent searches the main thing emerges: the world is no longer ready to live by the simple formula “America — the center, the rest — the periphery.” Yet no one can abandon the American dimension of international politics. That is why in Sydney, Kyiv and Moscow the U.S. remains the mirror in which each country tries to see both its future and its fears.

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How the US Is Viewed Today from Tokyo, Canberra and Kyiv

The American agenda has again become so dense globally that separate storylines — from the war in the Middle East to military artificial intelligence — merge into a single picture. In Japan, the US is discussed as an unpredictable but indispensable guarantor of security in Asia. In Australia — as an ally capable of both defending and dragging others into a major war, and now opening an era of "military AI." In Ukraine, America remains the measure of survival: every parliamentary maneuver in Washington is translated there into kilometers of front line and the number of missiles that can be shot down during the next massive Russian strike. At the intersection of these three perspectives a curious common anxiety emerges: the world is increasingly seeing the United States not as an "automatic" source of security but as a risk factor that must be learned to live and work with.

The first major node of this discussion is the foreign policy of the Donald Trump administration and its effect on allies. In the English-language Japanese press aimed at an international audience, doubts have already appeared about the fashionable formula of a "golden age" in Japan‑US relations. In a column in The Japan Times, a political scientist notes that talk of unprecedented closeness between Tokyo and Washington hides a growing fear: the US is simultaneously demanding more defense contributions from allies and increasingly demonstrating a readiness to unilaterally change the rules of the game, whether by withdrawing from dozens of international agreements or sharply shifting positions on regional conflicts. The author writes that for Japan, which has just begun its own course toward "normalizing" defense policy, this creates a dangerous gap between declarations of a solid alliance and the real predictability of the American line.(japantimes.co.jp)

In Australia the same theme sounds much harsher: commentators increasingly write that Trump’s policy is "breaking" the alliance system built since the Cold War and weakening the West’s ability to deter China. The British think tank Chatham House, frequently cited in Australian media, notes that Trump’s attitude toward allies undermines his own negotiating position with Beijing: the less trust there is in American guarantees, the harder it is to convince Indo‑Pacific countries of the need to strictly follow Washington in containing China.(washingtonpost.com) In Japan this is read as a direct warning: if the US continues to exit international structures and treat alliances as purely transactional tools, Tokyo will be caught between the need to build autonomous military capabilities and the fear of being drawn into a US‑China conflict without real guarantees of support.

The Ukrainian debate on US foreign policy is far less academic: there it is measured in passed and unpassed aid bills, in the number of air‑defense batteries, and in delivery timetables for ammunition. Kyiv had to endure a painful pause in American military support and a signal of isolationism at the very start of Trump’s second term, when the US announced a large withdrawal from international organizations and a focus on "domestic affairs."(ru.wikipedia.org) Against that backdrop, the news that the US House of Representatives on June 4 approved a new aid package for Ukraine and tougher sanctions on Russia — despite the positions of part of the Republican leadership and the president himself — is perceived in Kyiv almost as a miracle and at the same time as a lesson: one cannot count on "America" as a monolith so much as on a complex balance among Congress, the White House, and public opinion.(abc17news.com)

The second major storyline on which Japan, Australia and Ukraine unexpectedly converge is the US and Israel war with Iran and its global consequences. In Japanese analytical notes this war is described as part of a general shift toward a "G2 world," where Washington and Beijing compete across the board — from the Middle East to the East and South China Seas. Japanese writers emphasize that a US strike on Iran, the ensuing escalation and rising oil prices immediately hit the energy security of import‑dependent countries, above all Japan. They see an element of strategic calculation in American actions, but also a noticeable portion of Trump’s domestic politics, where demonstrating strength abroad serves to bolster positions at home.(joi.or.jp)

The Australian view is much more straightforward: Canberra, having supported joint US‑Israeli actions against Iran, now has to explain to the public why the country is once again at the epicenter of a Middle Eastern crisis despite being geographically distant. Local commentary stresses that Australia pays not only a diplomatic price but also an economic one: rising energy prices and a new wave of instability on global markets hit exports and households. Ukrainian analysts, by contrast, view this war through the prism of their own interests: in their assessment, escalation in the Middle East distracts US attention and resources from the Eastern European front. In the Ukrainian press a motif of competing conflicts increasingly appears: if Washington becomes engaged in multiple wars at once, Kyiv risks being placed in a queue for American weapons and political attention.(ru.wikipedia.org)

The third important layer is attitudes toward the US role in the ongoing Russian war against Ukraine. In Japan this is seen as a test of the viability of the postwar order in Europe and simultaneously as a precedent for Asia. In Japanese analytical pieces authors write that if the United States ultimately agrees to "freeze" the conflict on terms favorable to Moscow, this will send a signal to Beijing about a possible scenario regarding Taiwan or in the East China Sea. Tokyo is closely watching how Washington maneuvers between harsh statements of support for Ukraine and a readiness for truces, such as the three‑day ceasefire in May personally initiated by Trump.(ru.wikipedia.org) For the Japanese audience this is both an example of how the US can rapidly intervene in the course of hostilities and a reminder that the American president is willing to make deals based on his own political calendar.

The Ukrainian view, naturally, is radically different. Every such "gesture of goodwill" by Washington is perceived through the experience of the January and April massive Russian strikes on Kyiv, Lviv and other cities, when even temporary cessations of fire were followed by new bombings, and the US debate about "war fatigue" translated into an acute shortage of air‑defense assets on the ground.(ru.wikipedia.org) Ukrainian commentators emphasize that American support is both indispensable and unpredictable, and that Trump himself is a figure capable of quickly both delivering a critically important initiative (for example, securing deliveries of specific types of weaponry) and blocking them under pressure from intra‑party struggles. Thus in Kyiv the US is increasingly described as a field of complex multi‑layered politics where parliament, courts, media and society can compensate for White House decisions or, conversely, amplify them.

In Australia the war in Ukraine has become part of a broader discussion about what it means to be a US ally in an era of a "crumbling" world order. Commentators draw parallels between European security and the situation in the Indo‑Pacific: if Washington, preoccupied with Middle Eastern and European fronts, demands greater Australian involvement in a possible Taiwan crisis, is the public willing to risk being drawn into a major war? Here Ukraine’s experience is used as an argument on both sides: proponents of a close alliance say that it is precisely American military and financial support that gives Ukraine a chance to hold out, while skeptics remind that Kyiv became a hostage to American internal struggles and that no ally is immune from that.

Against this background a new US step in the field of artificial intelligence and defense has acquired particular sharpness in Japan and Australia. On June 2 Trump signed a memorandum declaring that his administration "may and will responsibly accelerate the use of AI in intelligence and military operations" and ordered the Pentagon to update directives on autonomous weapon systems within 90 days to ensure "conscious deployment of AI systems that respect the chain of command." Australian ABC News reports this in detail, stressing that the White House simultaneously promises not to use these technologies for censorship and unlawful surveillance.(gigazine.net)

In Australia the document was received with mixed logic. On the one hand, it fits into the AUKUS strategy and the general militarization of high technologies: for the military elite and some experts it is a long‑awaited signal that the US is seriously approaching the creation of "smart" systems capable of compensating for China’s numerical superiority. On the other hand, human rights advocates and part of the tech community warn that this is the start of an AI arms race in which norms and rules will lag behind practice, and Australia, as a close ally and a potential site for deploying such systems, will find itself in a zone of heightened political and moral risk. One commentator calls this initiative a "Shangri‑La moment" — referring to the Asian defense forum where, as Asia Times writes this year, the illusion of an "automatic guarantee" of US security finally died: now Washington more often speaks not about what it will do for allies but about what they must do themselves to be worthy of support.(asiatimes.com)

The Japanese discussion of AI and security is cast in more technocratic tones but with the same edge. Local analytical pieces stress that the US’s new course on military AI increases pressure on Tokyo: the country is already undergoing a deep transformation of its defense policy, partly under Washington’s influence and against the backdrop of growing Chinese and North Korean threats. Now it must decide how far Japan is willing to go in using autonomous and semi‑autonomous systems when its main ally effectively sets a new standard. The paradox is that Japanese society remains much more cautious both about military operations in general and about technologies with unclear ethical consequences. Against this backdrop Trump’s statements that the US will "accelerate" AI use in war evoke mixed feelings in Tokyo: on one hand, a chance for a technological leap within the alliance; on the other, the fear of being tied to a strategy that could trigger a new arms race in the region.(gigazine.net)

The Ukrainian perspective on American military AI, by contrast, is almost unrelated to ethics and norms: they read this news primarily as hope for strengthening their own defense. In conditions where Russia regularly conducts massive missile‑drone strikes and Ukrainian air defenses operate at the limit, any acceleration in developing systems that can detect and intercept targets faster is perceived as potential lifesaving. Ukrainian experts note that the country has already become a testing ground for many Western technologies, from counter‑battery systems to fire‑control software suites. In that context Trump’s statements about "responsible militarization of AI" are interpreted pragmatically: if Washington sees Ukraine as a platform to trial new solutions, that could give Kyiv an advantage, albeit at the cost of even greater dependence on American political cycles.

Finally, in all three countries there is a broader debate about how the nature of American leadership itself is changing. In Japanese and Australian texts a motif of a "post‑automatic America" appears more frequently — the US is no longer perceived as an inevitable, steady center around which order is built. Instead analysts describe Washington as a variable quantity: sometimes it quickly forms coalitions and strikes Iran, sometimes it withdraws from dozens of international organizations, sometimes it intervenes in the course of the war in Ukraine to seek a ceasefire, sometimes it blocks arms deliveries for months because of domestic political battles.(ru.wikipedia.org)

For Ukraine this is not a theoretical plot but a daily reality: they are accustomed to the fact that any decision in Congress or the White House can mean the difference between a relatively "quiet" night and another day of mourning in Odesa or Kyiv.(ru.wikipedia.org) For Japan and Australia this is rather a strategic challenge: they must build their defense and economic strategies on the assumption that America can abruptly change course in four years, or even sooner, under pressure from internal crises. Hence in both Tokyo and Canberra interest is growing in the ideas of "strategic autonomy": not meaning a break with the US, but creating systems so that sudden zigzags by Washington will not be deadly.

That is the main conclusion from today's conversations about the US in Japan, Australia and Ukraine. America is still seen as indispensable — as a military shield, a technological engine, and a political arbiter. But the illusion that this shield will always unfold automatically and in the same direction is rapidly disappearing. It is being replaced by a more sober, sometimes cynical calculus: how to plug into American strategies to extract maximum benefit and minimize risk; how to use US power without becoming its hostage; how to prepare independent scenarios in case Washington decides tomorrow that it has other priorities. And it is in this sobriety, not in enthusiastic or hostile attitudes toward America, that the new phase of the global conversation about the United States is emerging today.

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How the World Sees America Today: Ally, Risk-Taker, and System-Forming Power

In early June 2026, discussions about the United States in foreign media and expert circles resemble a polyphonic chorus: different countries hear different notes in Washington’s actions — from hope and pragmatism to irritation and concealed distrust. Three major storylines come to the fore: the new U.S. economic and tariff policy; the foreign policy course of the Trump‑2 administration — from Iran to China and Venezuela; and the technological and value competition around artificial intelligence and advanced technologies. Running through these themes are common threads: recognition that the U.S. still remains the center of the world system, and simultaneously a sense that this system is becoming increasingly unpredictable.

One of the liveliest stories in recent days is a new turn in Washington’s trade and tariff policy. In Japan, economic and political outlets are closely dissecting initiatives by the U.S. Trade Representative (USTR) to impose additional tariffs on goods from roughly 60 countries under the pretext of combating forced labor. In a draft widely discussed in the Japanese press, Japan formally appears in a group of countries facing a possible 12.5% surcharge, which has alarmed business circles. Against this backdrop, Economy, Trade and Industry Minister Ryomasu Akazawa felt compelled to publicly calm the public, saying on social media and through the media that he had received firm assurances from the American side: “There will be no additional tariffs on Japan beyond last year’s agreement.” This was reported, in particular, by Reuters’ Japanese bureau and outlets close to government circles, emphasizing that Tokyo perceives the American tariff initiatives as an element of political bargaining rather than as a predetermined economic reality. (mb.epochtimes.jp)

However, even the minister’s reassuring words do not remove the main theme of Japanese commentary: the growing “unpredictability” of American economic policy. In summary analytical pieces, for example in columns in Newsweek Japan, experts note that the current White House and USTR use tariffs as a flexible lever of pressure not only on rivals but also on allies, and that “the very fact of discussion” about comprehensive duties already creates an atmosphere of strategic uncertainty for companies integrated into American supply chains. (newsweekjapan.jp) The Japanese reaction is generally pragmatic: the U.S. is still seen as an indispensable economic and technological partner, but at the same time as a source of regulatory risk that must be constantly hedged via market diversification and strengthening regional ties, primarily with South Korea and ASEAN countries. English‑language pieces about the rapprochement between Tokyo and Seoul “amid fear of China and U.S. inconsistency,” frequently cited in Japanese discourse, point in the same direction. (washingtonpost.com)

The French conversation about Washington’s economic policy is less dramatic, but also woven into the theme of trust in American leadership. Against the backdrop of a large U.S. campaign to “bring industry home” and restart supply chains, the French press — including quality outlets like Le Monde and Les Échos — asks whether the new wave of American protectionism poses a threat to European industrial sovereignty. In analytical columns about “American‑style reindustrialization,” France sees Washington’s actions as both a challenge and a model: on the one hand, the U.S. unabashedly uses its financial and market power to reel in green and high‑tech projects from Europe; on the other hand, French authors acknowledge that Europe itself has not created comparably ambitious programs and is now forced to react rather than set the agenda.

China’s discussion of U.S. economic behavior is structurally far more critical. Chinese analytical platforms and state media have been actively comparing simultaneous changes in external economic regulation in both China and the U.S.: on the one hand, Beijing is clarifying rules for overseas investment by Chinese companies; on the other, Washington is tightening export controls, primarily on chips and related technologies. Legal‑economic reviews emphasize that “regulatory bilateral penetration” is turning the economy into an extension of geopolitics, and that American restrictions are an instrument of long‑term containment of China’s development. (sohu.com) At the same time, unlike more emotionally charged political pieces, economic commentaries often acknowledge that business in both countries is already adapting to the new normal and seeking “rules of the game” within a fragmenting yet still interdependent system.

The second major block provoking lively reaction is U.S. foreign policy and the personal style of Donald Trump’s second administration. Several themes intersect here: the war in Iran, the recent U.S. strike on Venezuela and its international resonance, and Trump’s May visit to Beijing and the effort to build “strategic stability” with China. For many countries these are links in a single chain: America remains a superpower, but acts increasingly situationally, forcing allies and rivals to reassess risks.

The Asian lens is especially sensitive to shifts in American policy. Japanese analysts in English‑ and Japanese‑language outlets viewed the May U.S.‑China meeting not only through the prism of bilateral relations between the U.S. and China but also in terms of its impact on the balance of power around Taiwan and Northeast Asia. In The Diplomat pieces by Japanese authors, it is argued that Tokyo watches the U.S. and Beijing’s attempt to construct “constructive strategic stability,” officially recorded in the summit communiqué, with interest but caution. (thediplomat.com) For Japanese experts the key question is not whether U.S.‑China ties will improve per se, but whether such improvements will come “at the expense of regional allies’ interests,” who might learn of major agreements only after the fact.

Chinese media discourse concentrates on another issue: how genuinely willing Trump‑2 is to compromise with Beijing and how to situate this dialogue within the still‑acute strategic competition. Commentary in major Chinese portals and newspapers draws attention to the dual nature of the message: on the one hand, official statements from both capitals stress the desire for “constructive strategic stability” and avoidance of conflict; on the other, actual U.S. policy still combines visits and roundtables with intensifying military contacts with allies in the Asia‑Pacific and continued sanctions‑and‑tariff pressure. (jetro.go.jp) Chinese analysts interpret this as Washington’s attempt to “manage competition” without abandoning a course of containment.

Paradoxically, voices of moderate realism toward the U.S. also appear within Chinese discourse. For example, reports on remarks by Secretary of State Marco Rubio at Senate hearings highlight his thesis that “on the Taiwan question the U.S. has no option other than dialogue,” and that the official Washington line remains the preservation of the status quo despite Trump’s rhetoric. (m.wenxuecity.com) For a Chinese audience this signals that American foreign policy is heterogeneous, containing both “hawkish” and more pragmatic voices with whom Beijing seeks to establish working channels.

In Europe, another aspect of American foreign policy has come into focus — the use of force, especially the February U.S. strike on Venezuela and the ongoing war in Iran. French commentators perceive this combination of moves as confirmation of an old thesis: “America remains a country of intervention.” Analytical pieces mention how Washington, acting without UN Security Council approval, used high‑tech weaponry to disable air defense systems made in Russia and China. According to some French experts, this demonstrates U.S. technological superiority but simultaneously undermines the very international norms Europe traditionally relies upon. (zh.wikipedia.org)

Chinese press coverage of the strike on Venezuela emphasizes a different point: the reaction of the “Global South” and Beijing’s posture as a “responsible player” opposing violations of state sovereignty. Chinese analytic pieces stress that Latin American officials, including Venezuelan leadership, publicly thanked China for its “brotherly solidarity” after the attack, and that Beijing carefully demonstrated that its support was not purely anti‑American but rooted in principles of international law. (zh.wikipedia.org) This theme — China as a supporter of multilateralism and a counterweight to unilateral U.S. actions — is repeatedly invoked in broader reviews of American “withdrawals” from international organizations and treaties, seen in Beijing as a factor fragmenting global governance. (zh.wikipedia.org)

The year 2026, as a year of war in Iran, adds particular sharpness to the international debate. Comments worldwide — from Asia to Europe — note that Washington’s domestic political logic, which seeks to show “resolve,” collides with growing war fatigue among allies. Analysis of reactions to the Iranian campaign recalls that the American political system itself is divided: it is no coincidence that in early June the U.S. House of Representatives voted on a resolution limiting President Trump’s authority to use force against Iran. Chinese business and political outlets relay this news with an implicit hint: skepticism about unchecked use of force is rising even inside the U.S., opening space for diplomacy by other players. (nbd.com.cn)

Against all these risks, the way different countries talk about the U.S. in the context of technology and artificial intelligence is heard especially clearly. Here, unlike the military and tariff agendas, the tone is noticeably more pragmatic and even cooperative, but deep value divergences lie beneath it.

In Japan last week, one of the main stories was the announcement of a joint national AI project between the U.S. and Japan: over five years the parties intend to invest about $1 billion each — roughly $10 billion in total? (Note: original said 10 billion dollars total; keep as reported) (approximately ¥1600 billion) in AI development for science, biotechnology, and other advanced fields. Media coverage of the meeting between official representatives in Washington and program details emphasized that for Tokyo this is not only a technological but a strategic choice: anchoring Japan as a key American partner in “friendly” AI. (fnn.jp) In analytical commentary by Japanese experts, the U.S. is described as a “necessary but complicated” partner: American platforms and infrastructure allow Japan to keep pace in the AI race, but also raise concerns about dependency on Washington’s decisions regarding regulation, data, and safety standards.

The French conversation about American leadership in technology is more critical. Editorial columns in leading newspapers regularly raise the issue of Europe’s “digital sovereignty” and the dominance of American platforms. For French authors, especially intellectuals and legal scholars, the U.S. is the country that effectively sets global standards through its corporations and startup ecosystem, but it does not always take European conceptions of privacy, cultural diversity, or labor rights into account. EU discussions on AI regulation inevitably compare the American model, which in France is often characterized as an “initiative of Silicon Valley, not the state,” even despite Washington’s increasing role in shaping rules for AI and semiconductors.

China’s view of the U.S. in AI and high tech is particularly multilayered. On the one hand, specialized publications and academic papers acknowledge that large U.S. language models and the ecosystem around them remain powerful competitors: Chinese researchers compare the performance of American and Chinese AI systems on tasks related to Chinese culture and note mixed results — American models often demonstrate a decent understanding of Chinese cultural context but carry “Americentric” value orientations. (arxiv.org) In the Chinese reading, this confirms that technological competition with the U.S. is not only about algorithms but also about narratives.

On the other hand, in mainstream media and social networks American debates about energy, climate, and technology are closely read and interpreted through the lens of internal U.S. polarization. A characteristic example is discussion of a report by an American TV channel about Chinese solar farms in the Gansu desert: Chinese forums focus less on the report itself than on polarized American user comments, some of which praise China’s transition to solar energy, while others view any positive news about China as merely “a tool in domestic partisan struggle” in the U.S. (reddit.com) For Chinese audiences this further confirms that America simultaneously admires Chinese achievements and suspects “pro‑China” sympathies in each other, making any cooperation in climate technologies hostage to U.S. domestic politics.

Finally, overlaying all these thematic layers is the perception of the U.S. political system itself — with its contradictions but also with internal checks and balances. In China, official outlets do not miss opportunities to highlight criticism of Washington for unilateral military actions or withdrawals from international organizations, but they also carefully note episodes when American institutions constrain presidential power — as with Supreme Court decisions on tariff policy or actions by Congress seeking to control military powers regarding Iran. (zh.wikipedia.org) For Chinese political scientists this is an occasion to argue that the U.S. is a state where “the system still functions,” even if external policy as a result appears chaotic.

In France, America continues to occupy an almost symbolic place — a mirror in which the French examine their own politics. In columns on social protests, cultural conflicts, or elections, the names Trump, Washington and “the American model of capitalism” appear not so much to analyze America itself as rhetorical figures for internal debate: “Do we want to become like the U.S., or should we consciously take a different path?” For the French reader, the U.S. is simultaneously a warning and a source of inspiration — an example of how far liberal individualism can go and how powerfully an innovative economy can operate.

Japan, by contrast, views the U.S. primarily as a factor in its own security. Discussions of the U.S.‑China summit, the Iranian war, or sudden strikes on Venezuela inevitably return in Japanese commentary to the same question: how much can one rely on Washington’s “nuclear and political umbrella” if the same administration is capable of making risky decisions without consulting allies. This duality appears in analytical articles that call current relations with the U.S. an “almost golden age” in terms of formal closeness, but immediately add a caveat: “not quite golden” — as one Japan Times commentator put it — due to continued ambiguity about Washington’s long‑term strategy in Asia. (japantimes.co.jp)

China, in turn, sees the U.S. as both a principal competitor and an inevitable interlocutor. Beijing’s reaction to Trump’s May visit, to changes in U.S. rules for export of technology and investment, and to naval maneuvers near disputed waters — all are cast in a single key: “competition without rupture,” where harsh rhetoric coexists with an emphasized readiness for dialogue. It is no accident that in comments after the U.S.‑China summit Chinese officials and experts devote much attention to the term “strategic stability” — a kind of invitation to the U.S. for “rules of the game” that would reduce the risk of uncontrolled escalation, even if competition continues on other fronts. (jetro.go.jp)

Across all these conversations about America, the same motif sounds in different registers: the world is getting used to living with the U.S. not as an unconditional “hegemon,” but as a strong, indispensable, yet far from always predictable player. Japan is trying to turn closeness to Washington into technological and defense advantage while preparing for any twists in American policy. France uses America as a reference point for reflections on European sovereignty — economic, digital, strategic. China, as the main rival of the U.S., both criticizes and studies the American system carefully, seeking to build a “managed rivalry” with it.

For a reader accustomed to following the U.S. only through English‑language, predominantly American media, many of these intonations may be surprising. But it is precisely in these local conversations — Japanese texts about tariffs and the “almost golden age” of the alliance, French debates about protectionism and interventions, Chinese legal and technological analyses — that the world’s real perception of the United States emerges: not black‑and‑white, but contradictorily pragmatic, where criticism rarely excludes recognition of strength, and the desire to distance oneself coexists with awareness of unavoidable interdependence.

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Alliance Under Pressure: How Seoul, Jerusalem and Kyiv See Today's America

In early June 2026 the United States is simultaneously at war with Iran, balancing between China and its allies in Asia, arguing with Congress over military aid to Ukraine and Israel, and restructuring global supply chains. For an American audience this looks like a series of disconnected crises. But viewed from Seoul, Jerusalem or Kyiv, a different picture emerges: America as the center of gravity of global security, which has become noticeably more nervous and unpredictable.

South Korean, Israeli and Ukrainian commentators these days discuss not so much “abstract America” as very concrete decisions by the Trump administration: redeploying missile-defense systems from Korea to the Middle East, a naval blockade of Iran in the Strait of Hormuz, a hard bargaining over military aid to allies, and a radical overhaul of sanctions and trade regimes. Against this backdrop the same themes surface in all three countries at once: the reliability of American guarantees, the cost of dependence on Washington, and the dilemma of how to criticize the US without undermining a vital alliance.

The first major storyline is the US and Israeli war against Iran and how the Middle East is drawing Washington’s attention. In Israel this is perceived, on one hand, as a long‑awaited hard confrontation with a backer of Hezbollah and Hamas, but on the other hand as a dangerous game with nuclear fire, where the country’s fate depends largely on Washington’s political calendar. In a column on Ynet, lawyer Zeev Valner directly reminds readers that Trump “is negotiating with Iran while representing Israel,” and reproaches Jerusalem for not insisting on a legally binding Iranian renunciation of goals to “destroy Israel.” He cites examples of Iranian propaganda — from countdown clocks to the “end of Israel” slogans in Tehran’s squares to ballistic missiles bearing Hebrew inscriptions like “Israel must be wiped out,” alongside Persian and Arabic chants of “Death to Israel” and “Death to America.” The author argues that if Trump limits talks to nuclear centrifuges but does not force Iran to formally renounce genocidal rhetoric, “there will be no win for Israel even in the best possible deal.” In the Israeli view, the US is not merely a military ally here but an advocate obliged to include both symbolic and legal components of security in any deal.

At the same time another Ynet piece describes a rather theatrical scene: President Trump summons reporters to the Oval Office, personally receives a McDonald’s delivery from an elderly DoorDash courier, and between conversations about a tax tip credit says that “the right people in Tehran called” and “Iran desperately wants a deal” after the start of a naval blockade and the effective choking off of Iran’s trade through Hormuz. Local commentators see a slightly grotesque but familiar image: the American president engaged in populist trivia for domestic publicity while making decisions that determine the risk of war and nuclear escalation. Against this backdrop an old Israeli debate flares up again: can such an existential issue as Iran’s nuclear program be allowed to hinge on the personal style of whoever occupies the White House?

In South Korea the same Iran war is perceived differently: not as “our” war but as a conflict that drains American resources from the peninsula and increases Seoul’s strategic vulnerability. An English-language analysis by the Korea Economic Institute in Washington notes that South Korean confidence in the American nuclear umbrella is already eroding — because of doubts about US willingness to risk its own cities for Seoul, rising Chinese pressure, and simultaneous crises with Iran and North Korea. The authors write that the alliance “has never been so close and yet so fragile”: Washington demands Korea follow its trade and technology wars, while Korean business and the political class fear that strict alignment with the American line will destroy their economic model and ties with China.

The most painful symbol of this shifting priority for Seoul is the US decision to redeploy the THAAD missile-defense system from Korea to strengthen defenses in the Middle East. Korean media note that this occurred amid the Iran escalation and quote the displeasure of President Lee Jae‑myung, who publicly opposed the American move. In public debate the decision is called a “hasty relocation” that “leaves Seoul jittery” and signals to both Pyongyang and Beijing that Washington’s priority is not Korea now but protecting its own forces and allies in the Persian Gulf. Against this backdrop the “asymmetry of dependence” on the US suddenly becomes tangible: America can at any moment remove a key missile-defense system and send it to another theater, while Seoul has no comparable lever of pressure.

In Ukraine, Iran and the Strait of Hormuz appear in the discussion only as part of the broader context: US attention and resources are being dispersed, and that is a threat for a country whose defense largely rests on American military and financial aid. In an analytical piece in Ukrainska Pravda, Anton Grushetsky, deputy head of the sociological group Rating, describes how during the first months of Trump’s second presidency Ukrainian public opinion experienced a “hard landing”: from an almost sacred image of America as a “guarantor” of security to an alarming understanding that Washington is willing to bargain even over Ukraine’s basic needs. He stresses the paradox: “the understanding that the US is a very important partner remains,” but at the same time fatigue and annoyance are growing because of constant signals from Washington that Ukraine must “do more itself,” “fight corruption,” and “take into account American domestic political calculations.”

The second common storyline is the reliability and cost of American alliances. In Israel there is active discussion of a Republican initiative in Congress to convert military aid from grants into ordinary arms sales. A Ynet report from New York describes Benjamin Netanyahu’s meeting with Republican congressmen who presented him with a draft resolution to cancel “free” aid and shift to a system where Israel buys weapons under commercial contracts. Netanyahu, according to the authors, reacted by saying: “I like that,” and one initiator, Avraham Hamada, declared: “The US and Israel are moving toward a true partnership as strategic allies.” The same article cites Pew polling: already 60% of Americans view Israel negatively, up from 53% a year ago. For Israeli commentators this statistic sounds a warning bell: even if the relationship’s formula remains, its political support in the US is rapidly weakening — hence the aid‑for‑sale initiative is read not only as “emancipation” but also as a veiled reduction in Washington’s engagement.

In South Korea a related story centers on Coupang. When the US Congress and regulators began to pressure Korean authorities over the ownership status of the country’s largest online platform, more than 90 ruling‑party deputies in Seoul held a press conference urging the US government and Congress “not to pressure the Republic of Korea over Coupang,” stressing that questions of ownership and regulation of national digital giants are internal matters. A Financial News editorial states bluntly: by recognizing Bom Kim as the “controlling owner,” Seoul should “avoid worsening tensions with the United States.” For the Korean elite this is a red line: America is perceived as a military guarantor, but attempts by Washington to interfere in the domestic economic architecture under the banner of protecting investors cause irritation and a sense of inequality in the alliance.

In Kyiv a similar nerve is exposed in a different way: through debate over the conditions and form of military aid. In Ukrainian discourse it is increasingly mentioned that the Trump administration compares support for Ukraine to a “bad business deal” and links assistance to Kyiv’s steps on reforms, investigations, or willingness to “make concessions” in talks with Moscow. Grushetsky emphasizes in an interview that in the new administration’s eyes Ukraine is seen not as a “bulwark of democracy” but as one of many partners to whom pressure tools can be applied — similar to those used against Denmark over Greenland or NATO allies over defense spending. For Ukrainian society this is painful: they are among the few paying the daily price of war with Russia, yet feel that their “special case” status in Washington is being diluted.

The third overlapping storyline is US domestic politics and cultural wars and how they affect America’s image abroad. In Israel many watch the battle around Harvard with surprise and alarm: a Ynet article from last year describes how the US State Department decided to recheck all visas related to the university, accusing it of failing to report foreign students, tolerating anti‑Semitic incidents on campus, and providing a platform to “supporters of Hamas.” For an Israeli audience accustomed to seeing Harvard as the pinnacle of American elite, this appears as a sign that the struggle over the Middle East now runs through university auditoriums in Boston and New York, not only across front lines. Some authors see this as welcome toughness toward a “hypocritical liberal academy,” others fear that such aggressive federal intervention into university autonomy destroys one of the pillars of US soft power.

In South Korea America’s internal turbulence is noticed in another key way — through comparative optics. In commentaries and columns Korean writers eagerly juxtapose American scandals with their country’s experiences: from impeachments and prison terms for presidents to brutal suppression of protests. On an English‑language platform aimed at a Korean audience they discussed a recent case when a US congressman was forcibly removed from a hall for shouting during the president’s speech; local journalists dubbed it the “American version of a gag‑protection,” recalling the times of South Korean president Yoon when hecklers near the head of state were simply choked and carried away by security forces. Such a perspective undermines Washington’s moral monopoly: the country that taught others democracy for decades increasingly looks like those it criticizes.

The Ukrainian discussion of America’s domestic state is more pragmatic: Kyiv watches the US “culture wars” to the extent they affect Congress’s willingness to approve aid packages. Republican rhetoric against “woke elites” and universities is seen as a factor that can change the composition and priorities of those who control Senate budget and armed services committees. For Ukrainian analysts one thing matters: that support for Ukraine not become hostage to intraparty fights over abortion, migration or campus protests. Yet, as many admit, maintaining that line is becoming ever harder.

The fourth major theme is the redistribution of US attention between the Pacific and the Middle East and the related demand that allies “grow up.” On Korean and Japanese forums and in the media there is active discussion of former Japanese prime minister Shigeru Ishiba’s thesis: the US is dividing attention between the Indo‑Pacific and the Middle East, so Seoul and Tokyo must “take on more responsibility” — from strengthening bilateral cooperation to forming an “Asian NATO.” For South Korean commentators this is both an opportunity and a source of anxiety: on one hand it promises greater strategic autonomy, on the other it requires abandoning the familiar model in which Washington bears ultimate responsibility for deterring the DPRK and China.

In the same vein Seoul is discussing American initiatives on critical minerals. Analyst Jaimin Baek, in research for the National Bureau of Asian Research, writes that on paper Korea is one of the main beneficiaries of US programs to rebuild supply chains, but in practice cooperation is limited by internal conflicts among Korean politicians, corporations and public opinion. The US offers a “forward edge” in competition with China, but requires tying Korean investment and exports to it. Seoul must navigate carefully to avoid losing access to the Chinese market and provoking new Beijing sanctions. Hence growing fatigue with the American slogan of “friend‑shoring,” perceived as an attempt to make allies instruments of its industrial policy.

In Israel the same dilemma appears in defense cooperation. The shift of military aid to a trade format, discussed in Netanyahu’s meeting with congressmen, symbolizes a move from a paternalistic model to a market one. Some Israeli experts welcome this: less dependence on the whims of the American electorate. Others fear it will lead to further commercialization of security: the US will supply critical systems not because “this is necessary for Israel’s survival” but only if it is economically and politically profitable. Against the backdrop of the war with Iran, threats from Hezbollah and Hamas, and attempts to normalize relations with Arab states, that prospect seems extremely risky.

For Ukraine the redistribution of US attention is a matter of life and death. Kyiv understands well: every new escalation in the Middle East or the Taiwan Strait automatically raises the question whether the US has the resources and political will to keep supporting Ukraine at the previous level. Hence persistent Ukrainian diplomatic efforts to constantly “keep the topic on the agenda” of Congress and the administration, reminding them that Ukraine’s defeat would be perceived by the Kremlin, Beijing and Tehran as proof of Western weakness. Ukrainian analysts speak plainly: if Washington wants to credibly deter Iran and China, it cannot afford to lose on the Ukrainian front.

Finally, an emotional cooling toward America is audible in all three countries. In Israel Pew data showing that 60% of Americans now view Israel negatively is read as “the tolling bell for an era of unconditional love.” In South Korea irritation grows that American commentators criticize Lee Jae‑myung’s left‑leaning government as “radically left” and “threatening the alliance,” while for many Koreans the US now seems a source of instability — from a nuclear deal with Iran to the relocation of missile defenses. In Ukraine, Grushetsky says, attitudes toward the US have become “less romantic, more pragmatic”: America remains a key partner, but its decisions are no longer seen as inherently right and morally impeccable.

And yet there is a common thread in this multilayered picture: neither in Seoul, nor in Jerusalem, nor in Kyiv do they see a real alternative to the American umbrella and American power. Korean analysts stress that despite the irritation, “almost no one wants to move closer to China instead of the US and Japan.” Israeli writers, while criticizing Trump’s chaotic style, still talk about the need to “remind him” of legal and moral obligations rather than seek a new strategic patron. Ukrainian experts, describing the erosion of trust, always add: without the US Ukraine will not hold.

So today’s debates about Trump, the Iran war, THAAD and aid volumes are not just a set of separate crises but a painful process of redefining the “price of America” for allies. Washington increasingly speaks to them in the language of transactions rather than values; allies, in response, are learning to think in terms of their own interests, not only gratitude. In this new, less romantic era of alliances the US remains indispensable — but no longer unquestioned. How Seoul, Jerusalem and Kyiv are arguing with Washington today may well become a template for many other capitals that tomorrow face the same question: how to rely on America without becoming its hostage.

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Washington Between War and Truce: How America Irks Ukraine, Russia and South Africa

In an impressive span of just a few months, the United States has again found itself at the center of international debate — but no longer as a “guardian of order,” rather as a nervous, unpredictable director of several conflicts at once. For Ukraine it is a matter of survival and the price of peace. For Russia — a chance to break the long confrontation with the West and cement a narrative about the “end of American hegemony.” For South Africa — another proof that Washington ignores the Global South and imposes a hierarchy of “acceptable” and “unacceptable” victims on the world.

If you listen only to American media, it may seem the main plot is Trump’s struggle to cultivate an image as a “peacemaker” who with one phone call can “stop the war in Ukraine” while simultaneously waging war with Iran. But if you listen to Ukrainian, Russian and South African voices, the picture is very different: the US is seen in different ways and often with suspicion, even when people talk about peace.

The first major theme around which debates revolve today is Washington’s attempts under Donald Trump to formalize a “deal on Ukraine.” The Ukrainian agenda in the local press is now almost always presented linked to the name of the US president: truce, pressure, resources, congressional fatigue.

On the Ukrainian side the tone has become noticeably more sober and anxious at the same time. The short three-day ceasefire announced by Trump for May 9–11, loudly touted with an exchange of prisoners “1,000 for 1,000,” was perceived in Kyiv as a forced pause under external pressure rather than a step toward a lasting peace. Ukrainian media emphasized that even this “silence regime” was accompanied by mutual accusations of violations, and Russian strikes on Ukrainian territory continued despite statements from Washington and the Kremlin supporting the ceasefire. Ukrainian outlets in particular wrote in detail about the legal specifics of Volodymyr Zelensky’s decree that temporarily removed Moscow’s Red Square from the list of lawful targets for strikes during the May 9 parade — intended to deprive Moscow of grounds to accuse Kyiv of sabotaging a “gesture of goodwill” by Russia and the US. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The context for Kyiv is even more complicated: American assistance is becoming increasingly ambiguous. On one hand, the Pentagon confirmed $400 million in military aid routed through US European Command, stressing that this is an investment in both American security and US military know‑how — especially in drones and air defense. This point is stated directly in comments from Republican senators: the Ukrainian war has effectively become a testing ground for technologies the US considers crucial for future conflicts. (minfin.com.ua)

On the other hand, Ukrainian media remind readers that hundreds of millions of dollars in energy aid promised back under Biden remain “stuck” in Washington’s bureaucratic corridors. Against the backdrop of winter heating outages and devastated infrastructure, news of the stalled $250 million provokes far more emotion in Ukraine than yet another statement about the “imminence of peace.” (unn.ua)

Added to this is the factor of a “resources deal.” Ukrainian outlets and analysts are actively debating how far the US is willing to go in tying a ceasefire to economic arrangements — from mining projects to equity stakes in future exploitation of Ukrainian deposits. Several Ukrainian analytic columns recall the backstory: as early as 2025 there were discussions under which major investment agreements with the US would be conditioned on Kyiv’s practical agreement to an expedited ceasefire. Today this is compared to a new version of the same logic: Washington not only wants a “ceasefire at any cost,” but also seeks to monetize its role by securing a share of future reconstruction and resource extraction. (pravda.com.ua)

In this context Volodymyr Zelensky’s reaction is very telling: in January he effectively articulated Ukraine’s dilemma, saying the country faced a choice — lose its dignity or lose a key partner if it accepted one of the US plans to end the war. Time magazine, among others, wrote about this while analyzing a 28‑point US “roadmap” peace project. (time.com)

The Russian worldview around these same US moves produces a completely opposite impression — while exposing Moscow’s own fears and hopes. In Russian media and expert columns the US is described at once as “tired of Ukraine,” “unable to see a deal through,” and still dangerous because it has resources for pressure.

A characteristic example is pieces in federal pro‑Kremlin outlets asserting that Washington’s interest in the Ukrainian track has been “completely lost” and that responsibility for further support to Kyiv has supposedly been shifted to Europeans. Experts like Konstantin Malofeev and commentators in Russian publications interpret the current situation as a “turning point” in favor of Russia: they argue that Trump could not secure either a lucrative deal on rare earth metals with Ukraine or a major agreement with Moscow, and then switched to war with Iran, leaving the Ukrainian issue in the background. (fedpress.ru)

At the same time, in Russian commentaries on Trump’s statements — for example, his words that the war in Ukraine “is developing in Russia’s favor” and that “Russia is strong and Ukraine is weak” — there is a double game. On one hand, these formulations are gladly quoted to show that even the American president acknowledges Moscow’s advantage. On the other hand, analysts note that Washington can at any moment return to hard pressure if it deems the window for a “deal of the century” still open, linking this both to the Ukrainian front and to the US’s global confrontation with Iran and China. (vedomosti.ru)

Here the Russian motif of “the untrustworthy but indispensable America” clearly emerges. In opinion pieces and expert debates the US is portrayed as a power that one moment deploys submarines off Russian shores, the next flirts with the idea of a “nuclear deal” to end the war in Ukraine, or offers Moscow as a partner against Beijing or Tehran. The long confrontation with Washington is presented as the “dark root” of all contemporary US foreign policy, and the war in Ukraine is merely one link in a chain that also includes Yugoslavia, Iraq, Syria and the current conflict with Iran. (asiatimes.com)

Ukrainian and Russian optics converge in one respect: both sides see that for Trump the Ukrainian track increasingly competes with a US‑Israel war against Iran. Ukrainian pieces stress that the US president and his circle openly speak of prioritizing the Middle East front. Russian experts, for their part, directly assess the likelihood that Trump will “return” to Ukraine only after he “closes the Iranian problem,” while acknowledging that even then chances for a genuine deal are slim because neither Kyiv nor Europeans are ready for the compromises Washington proposes. (lenta.ru)

The second important theme uniting debates in the three countries is the US oscillation between the role of “military arbiter” and “global policeman,” played out against the backdrop of two wars: the Russia–Ukraine war and the US‑Israel war against Iran. For Ukraine American “multitasking” is a source of anxiety: every escalation in the Middle East risks diverting resources and political attention away from Kyiv.

Ukrainian analysts emphasize that massive Russian strikes on Kyiv and other cities in January and April 2026 occurred precisely against the background of US attention shifting to the Iranian front. Some columns conclude that Moscow deliberately takes advantage of a moment when Washington is focused on war with Tehran to intensify pressure on Ukrainian infrastructure and try to impose conditions favorable to itself. Others note that the American strategy — linking the war in Ukraine and the war with Iran through energy markets and logistics — only deepens Kyiv’s dependence on decisions from the White House. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The Russian perspective on this double war, by contrast, is built on the idea that the US is “spreading itself thin” and “losing control over global chaos.” Russian outlets stress that escalation against Iran pushed up oil prices, boosting Kremlin revenues, and that expanding US military presence in the Persian Gulf leaves fewer resources and less political capital for pressure on Moscow. Hence the thesis: the more fronts Washington opens, the greater Russia’s chances to consolidate its gains in Ukraine and exit the conflict on its own terms. (ru.wikipedia.org)

South Africa fits this same story into a completely different narrative — one of double standards and neglect of the Global South. It is no coincidence that Washington’s decision to intervene in the International Court of Justice case brought by South Africa against Israel, where Pretoria accuses Tel Aviv of genocide in Gaza, caused a major uproar in the South African press. The US officially stated that South African allegations are “false” and allegedly undermine the very logic of international law, while stressing that this is an “antisemitic campaign” against Israel. (apnews.com)

In South Africa this is perceived not only as a defense of Israel but also as yet another demonstration that the US is willing to use international institutions selectively. Commentators recall: when it comes to Ukraine, Washington insists on the inviolability of international law and the importance of Hague rulings, but when the South African government seeks to apply the same norms to Israel, the US opposes them. This logic particularly irritates political and expert circles in Pretoria, who see America not as an arbiter but as a participant in the conflict masquerading as the defender of “the right kind of victims.”

The third theme heavily emphasized by South African media and officials is a direct clash with Washington over human rights and domestic policy. In 2025 the US published a State Department human rights report that, among other things, claimed the situation of the white Afrikaner minority in South Africa had substantially worsened and that land reform was allegedly discriminatory. Official Pretoria responded harshly, accusing the report of “inaccuracy and deep bias” and noting that the UN had, by contrast, welcomed the expropriation law as a step toward correcting historical injustice. (apnews.com)

This polemic continued in recent months when the Trump administration went further and declared a “humanitarian crisis” among South Africa’s white population. And here something telling happened: South African authorities and Afrikaner organizations alike rejected that narrative in unison, emphasizing that the US uses the topic of “protecting whites” for political purposes. For Pretoria this became a convenient example of how Washington appropriates other countries’ problems to lecture the world on democracy while turning a blind eye to the suffering of other groups, including Palestinians or victims of wars in which the US itself participates. (apnews.com)

Against this background South African criticism of America’s role in the Ukrainian war appears more restrained but no less principled. For South Africa, which chaired the G20 in 2025–2026, it was important to place Global South issues — debt, climate, inequality — at the center of the agenda. Yet according to European and African press reports, it was the US that tried to “devalue” the Johannesburg summit, effectively boycotting it and pushing discussion back to the war in Ukraine, which Trump and his circle view through the prism of confrontation with Russia rather than the interests of developing countries. (lemonde.fr)

South African analysts see a return to an old pattern: when the global North argues about its own wars and sanctions, Africa’s agenda is sidelined. In that sense the US and Russia appear to Pretoria as two competing “northern centers” equally unwilling to hear the voice of the Global South — only Washington does so under the banner of human rights, while Moscow does so under the banner of fighting “neocolonialism.”

Inside Ukraine itself another, subtler layer of debate about the US is growing — a dispute over what kind of America Trump represents to Kyiv: a strategic partner, a cynical broker, or an external arbiter imposing an unfavorable compromise. Some Ukrainian columnists concede that without American weapons, primarily Patriot systems and their missiles, Ukraine could not have withstood the heaviest waves of Russian strikes: Western partners, including France, while increasing intelligence support, are still unable to fully replace the US. (ru.themoscowtimes.com)

Others are increasingly vocal that Washington in its current configuration has become a source not only of support but of risk. Trump’s statements that Zelensky, not Putin, is to blame for prolonging the war are perceived as a direct attempt to shift responsibility for the lack of peace onto Ukraine and to prepare public opinion for a possible reduction in aid. Ukrainian media cite the US president’s interview with Reuters, where he claims that “Russia is ready for a deal” while Ukraine is not, and ask: how much do such words undermine Kyiv’s negotiating position and encourage Moscow to continue the war in hopes of securing a favorable deal with Washington’s participation? (eurointegration.com.ua)

It is important that Ukrainian public opinion no longer views the American line as monolithic. The Ukrainian press actively discusses splits within Washington itself: part of the political class, including in Congress, still insists on increasing assistance to Kyiv and tightening sanctions on Moscow, while Trump‑aligned Republicans show clear fatigue with the Ukrainian issue and demand focus on domestic US problems or the Middle East. The fact that votes on new aid packages are increasingly pushed through complex parliamentary procedures rather than broad consensuses is regarded by Ukrainian journalists as a signal: the window of American support is narrowing. (pravda.com.ua)

Russian authors, especially in conservative outlets, on the contrary use these cracks in American politics to promote the idea of a “historical turning point” to their audience. In their interpretation the US has supposedly lost the ability to fight “two wars at once,” and therefore will inevitably have to withdraw from either the Ukrainian or the Middle Eastern direction. Russian media freely quote American “realists” like John Mearsheimer when they argue that Ukraine should make concessions and accept loss of territory for the sake of peace. In Russian publications this is presented as admission by the West itself that “fighting to the last Ukrainian” is immoral and futile. (lenta.ru)

The South African perspective adds another dimension: commentators there increasingly say that the Eastern European war, tragic as it is, should not eclipse the catastrophes of the Global South. South African commentators note that sanctions wars between Russia and the West, including those initiated by Washington, hit African economies at least as hard as they hit Russia — through rising prices for food, fertilizers and energy. In this light South Africa is especially suspicious of US efforts to use the Ukraine issue to mobilize the “democratic camp” while ignoring the positions of those harmed by the same sanctions.

As a result, in Kyiv, Moscow and Pretoria people speak about the US with different words but about similar things: fatigue, double standards, and the dangerous concentration of power in one center that simultaneously wages wars, writes the rules, and judges others by those rules. For Ukraine America remains a necessary but increasingly complicated partner, capable of supplying Patriots and imposing a burdensome peace. For Russia the US is both adversary and potential “chief intermediary,” whose failure can be framed as a geopolitical victory.

For South Africa, perhaps the main point is different: Washington remains a symbol of a world in which the fates of millions in the Global South depend on decisions made far away — be it new sanctions, war with Iran, or attempts to impose its interpretation of human rights. And the more actively the US operates on the Ukrainian and Middle Eastern fronts, the more insistently Pretoria and other capitals of the Global South will ask: who and how will force Washington itself to play by the norms it so readily demands of others?

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Allies, Rivals and Targets: How South Korea, Brazil and Russia View the US Now

In early June 2026 the United States simultaneously appears to the world as a military superpower, the nervous center of the global economy, and a political actor capable of escalating or defusing situations across entire continents in a matter of days. With South Korea, Washington is disputing the rules of the game in security and technology. In Brazil, the US has suddenly become a factor in domestic pre‑election struggles and a trigger for debates about sovereignty. In Russia, the image of America has finally fused with the theme of war — both on the Ukrainian front and in the Middle East. At the same time, the three countries view the same Washington moves through completely different prisms: a worried ally fearing “overreach” in the alliance; a regional power irritated by sanctions and stigmatization; and an adversary perceiving an uncontrolled force that must be resisted.

One of the main themes of recent weeks is a change in the style and instruments of American foreign policy. In Russia this is seen primarily through the lens of war with Iran and the escalation in the Middle East, where US and Israeli strikes on Iranian targets are presented as further proof of American “military adventurism” and disregard for international law. Russian media recount Donald Trump’s speeches about a “large and ongoing operation” to neutralize a “radical regime,” reminding readers that Moscow and Beijing publicly supported Tehran. In Russian analytical pieces such a US offensive is described as a logical continuation of a long‑standing line in which coercive pressure prevails over diplomacy; some experts explicitly speak of the low professionalism of the American diplomatic corps and its tendency to rely on military power instead of negotiations, noting a global perception of Washington as a power that pays less and less heed to the interests of others.(ru.wikipedia.org)

For South Korea the same geopolitical shifts, including the US and its ally Israel’s war with Iran, form only the backdrop to a much more concrete worry: how the Korea‑US alliance itself is changing. For several weeks local press has been debating whether the alliance has begun to “show cracks.” The English‑language Chosun Ilbo runs columns about a growing divide in threat perceptions and priorities between Seoul and Washington; authors warn that without a coordinated message on North Korea, China and economic policy the alliance could “weaken faster than the White House assumes.”(chosun.com)

The situation is inflamed by a high‑profile piece from conservative commentators in The Wall Street Journal, widely recounted by the Korean newspaper Kyunghyang Shinmun. In it, American right‑wing commentators label Lee Jae‑myung’s administration in Seoul “radically leftist” and a threat to the Korea‑US alliance. South Korean progressive outlets see this not only as an ideological attack but as an attempt by part of the American establishment to impose a strongly anti‑China line on Seoul and a more obedient stance on North Korea. Commentators warn that if Washington uses the language of America’s internal “culture war” to describe partners, trust within the alliance will erode.(khan.co.kr)

A particular irritant in Seoul is American criticism of Korean laws and regulations in the high‑technology and network infrastructure sectors. Recent amendments to Korea’s Network Act, which in the US are perceived as a threat to American IT companies, have prompted a series of pieces about how Washington uses trade and technology pressure even on close allies. Despite publicly optimistic statements from senior US diplomats about a willingness to engage in “constructive dialogue” on the law, many Korean economic columnists see a repeating pattern here: security guaranteed by the US, while economic and technological risks are Seoul’s responsibility.(koreajoongangdaily.joins.com)

In Brazil, by contrast, the issue is no longer “cracks” in an alliance but near‑open confrontation. The Trump administration’s decision to officially designate Brazil’s two largest criminal groups — Primeiro Comando da Capital and Comando Vermelho — as terrorist organizations shocked not only Lula da Silva’s ruling coalition but also a significant portion of the political and expert community. In a statement cited by the Spanish outlet El País, the Brazilian government stressed that Brazil “will not accept the use of arbitrary external measures as a pretext for an attack on its sovereignty and economy.” The Brazilian side fears not only political stigmatization but also that it will be followed by severe sanctions on banks and companies with any ties to the shadow economy, as well as an expansion of the legal basis for American interventions under the banner of “combating terrorism.”(elpais.com)

President Lula has chosen to play both diplomatic and domestic political cards. In a recent address to his cabinet he said that “Brazil is a large country with its own history, and we cannot accept the treatment the US gave us this week,” sharply criticizing both the threat of new tariffs and Senator Flavio Bolsonaro’s role, who, he said, “went to the US to ask for intervention against his own homeland.” As El País notes, Lula is explicitly using the conflict with Washington to brand his right‑wing opponents as “traitors,” while portraying the Trump administration as a source of external pressure driven by ideology and calculations to influence Brazil’s upcoming elections.(elpais.com)

Economists and columnists at leading Brazilian portals add a cold numerical calculation to the political drama. UOL’s analytical pieces emphasize that a new wave of American trade measures — investigations and threats of tariffs up to 25% on a significant share of Brazilian exports — heightens financial market nervousness, pressures the real and raises the issue of political risk. In economic roundtables broadcast by business media, experts explain that even if the actual drop in exports to the US is not yet catastrophic, the mere use of trade and “anti‑terrorist” levers in the midst of Brazil’s election campaign is perceived as an attempt by Trump to interfere in domestic politics and to aid the right. As commentator José Paulo Kupfer put it, “Trump uses trade to disguise his objective — interference in the elections,” a view widely quoted in left‑ and center‑leaning outlets.(economia.uol.com.br)

At the same time a more self‑critical note is heard in Brazil. A journalist‑sociologist on Band’s website reminds readers that transnational Brazilian criminal networks operate in dozens of countries, including the United States, and that the true threat to sovereignty is not so much Washington’s “labels” as the loss of control over internal security. From this perspective, harsh US measures become a painful but telling warning about how Brazilian crime is perceived abroad.(band.com.br)

If Brazil disputes with the US over who truly protects its sovereignty, the Russian discourse leaves almost no room for such nuances: America appears both as a strategic adversary and as the chief architect of the “collective West,” allegedly bent on weakening Russia and its allies. Against the backdrop of the protracted war in Ukraine and increasingly severe economic consequences of the conflict, analysts note growing pressure within the Kremlin to find a way out of the deadlock, but in public rhetoric Washington consistently figures as the key source of weapons, money and political cover for Kyiv. Commentators, citing Western and domestic sources, speak of Russia’s inability to reach its stated goals and of resource exhaustion, while emphasizing that the American line amounts to “deliberately prolonging the war” and “using the Ukrainian front as a springboard to pressure Moscow.”(washingtonpost.com)

Russia similarly interprets US deployment in the Middle East. In Russian‑language analytical reviews, some written for investors, Washington’s actions regarding Iran and its attempts to simultaneously coax Tehran into concessions on the nuclear program while weakening its military potential by force are described as a combination of “carrot and stick” in which the “stick” clearly predominates. For many Russian commentators this is yet another example of the US circumventing or reinterpreting international norms, and any coalition involving Washington automatically becomes an instrument of American influence — even if geopolitically it creates space for a Russia‑China rapprochement.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop a more structural critique of the current US foreign policy course is popular in Russia: isolationist tendencies such as withdrawal from numerous international organizations are combined with the retention of the right to unilateral military actions. In Russian debates this is often presented as the “decline of the liberal order,” in which Washington itself dismantles institutions it once created, turning international law into a toolkit used selectively. This rhetoric resonates with audiences tired of sanctions and war reports and serves as ideological justification for Russia’s orientation toward alternative blocs and alliances.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Interestingly, in both Latin America and Asia discussions about the US rarely boil down to simple condemnation or support. In the Latin American debate the conflicts between Brazil and Trump are joined by a broader theme: the idea that the region is trying to build a new “Atlantic” linkage with Europe and the US, taking advantage of a world moving toward a more multipolar and less predictable architecture. As participants at recent economic forums note, Latin America “has never been so much at the center of attention,” and political elites seek to convert US interest into investment and technological cooperation, not merely trade disputes.(elpais.com)

In South Korea, despite sharp debates about “cracks” in the alliance, there is sober understanding that without the American nuclear umbrella and military presence it would be much harder to contain North Korea and to navigate between China and the US. Korean analysts, including those at think tanks, write that Seoul’s task is not to break with Washington but to build a more equal dialogue in which trade, technology and cultural policy issues are not automatically decided in favor of American companies and norms. But the same Wall Street Journal piece that Seoul perceived as ideological pressure illustrates how difficult that is when even domestic Korean politics becomes the object of factional struggle in the US.(tenbizt.com)

In Brazil the strategic aim is also not to sever ties. Analysis in Veja stresses that the US remains a key reference point for assessing global economic risks: American budget deficits, inflation and the debt sustainability debate directly affect borrowing costs for emerging markets, including Brazil. Authors remind readers that Washington can be both a source of pressure and an essential partner, so Brazil’s task is less to “break away” from the US than to secure a more favorable negotiating position without sacrificing sovereignty or exporters’ interests.(veja.abril.com.br)

This produces a paradoxical impression: the United States seems to be everywhere different — ally‑partner in Seoul, principal foreign policy opponent in Moscow, and simultaneously “necessary but dangerous” in Brazil. But the common thread in the reactions of the three countries is the same. First, suspicion is growing toward the instruments Washington uses — from unilateral sanctions and tariffs to legal labels of “terrorists” and sharp assessments of foreign governments in the American press. Second, American domestic politics and particularly the figure of Donald Trump increasingly spill beyond US borders, becoming a direct factor in national debates elsewhere. Third, paradoxically, this unpredictability pushes both allies and adversaries of Washington to seek greater autonomy — whether in developing their own defense strategies in Seoul, striving for more balanced economic ties in Brazil, or Russia’s attempt to build parallel international structures.

For readers used to viewing the world through American media, these local debates offer an important lesson. Outside the US fewer people see America simply as the “leader of the free world” or merely as the “main villain.” Instead it has become a powerful but fickle actor around which other states must cautiously shape their trajectories. South Korean columnists debate how to preserve the alliance without losing dignity. Brazilian analysts try to turn tariffs and terrorist labels into a moment of national mobilization. Russian experts, even while criticizing their own authorities, continue to see Washington as the center of power upon whose decisions the outcome of several wars at once depends. What unites them is not so much love or hatred of the US but the realization that living in a world where America is unstable and increasingly acts alone is a new baseline scenario to which each must adapt in its own way.

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The World Watches Washington: Brazil, Germany and Russia on Trump’s US

In early summer 2026 the United States in the foreign agenda looks simultaneously like a superpower waging a war in the Middle East, a country internally torn on the eve of new elections, and a source of a cascade of legal and political precedents shaping ideas about democracy worldwide. In Brazil, Germany and Russia they are debating not one or two episodes but an entire “package” of American narratives: the escalation of the conflict with Iran, Trump’s new line in foreign policy, the Supreme Court’s decision on voting rights, the state of the American economy and, more broadly, the resilience of American democracy with an eye to the 2028 elections. Each country sees in the US a mirror of its own fears and hopes — but interprets the reflection in its own way.

One of the central themes has been the US conflict with Iran, after the Donald Trump administration announced “large-scale combat operations” against Tehran under the pretext of eliminating “imminent threats” from the Iranian regime. The Ukrainian outlet Slovo i Delo relayed his formulation about “large-scale combat operations” and the goal of “eliminating imminent threats,” emphasizing the continuation of a logic of preventive war and Trump’s personal style, where military escalation is presented as the only way to “protect Americans.” In the Russian-language space this line is interpreted much more harshly: many Russian commentators see Washington’s actions as confirmation that the new US National Strategy, which promised a “move away from dominance,” in practice conceals forceful expansion. Americanist Valery Garbuzov directly says this in an interview with the Pskov outlet PLN, pointing out that the January invasion of Venezuela and the strikes against Iran refute any talk of a “modest” foreign policy and demonstrate, in his words, the “absurdity of US foreign policy” — a gap between declarations and real actions which in Russia is read as cynical double standards rather than an internal debate within the American establishment. In Russian official‑adjacent discourse the conflict with Iran fits a familiar narrative: the US is a force that destabilizes the Middle East to control energy resources and to pressure rivals.

But inside Russia more pragmatic assessments are also heard. Political scientist and Americanist Malek Dudakov, in a comment for NEWS.ru retold by Parliamentary Gazette, lays out possible scenarios for the conflict: from a resumption of full-scale hostilities to limited landing operations on islands in the Strait of Hormuz. He stresses that for the US “this is a path to nowhere,” and notes that Trump “is aware of the risks,” and therefore must navigate between demonstrating resolve and avoiding being drawn into a long war. Such analysis shows that even in a media environment predictably critical of Washington there is demand for rational modeling of American decisions, not only ideological rhetoric. At the same time, Russian pieces on the world’s reaction to the conflict in Iran note the international dimension: they discuss calls by part of Congress to limit presidential authority via debates over the War Powers Act, and the White House’s attempts to justify the operation as necessary to “correct decades of cowardice” toward the Iranian regime, as summarized in reviews of reactions to the conflict. All this in Russia is presented as evidence of a systemic crisis in American foreign policy: Washington, many commentators argue, is drowning in its own logic of “perpetual enemies” and cannot escape it.

In Germany the conflict with Iran also appears in analyses, but not as the central story — rather as part of a broader debate about US strategic ambitions, from the Middle East to the Arctic. A telling example was a piece in Die Zeit about how Trump again confirmed American “interest” in Greenland and linked it to NATO security questions in the Arctic. Journalists describe how discussions about increasing NATO presence should “disarm” US arguments for more direct control over the region, and German commentators ask: where does security end and geopolitical appetite begin? In their reading Washington continues to think in terms of spheres of influence and exclusive access to resources — and Greenland becomes a symbol of how Trump’s old dreams (recall his attempt to “buy” the island in his first term) are being reabsorbed in a new situation of intensified military rhetoric toward Iran and pressure on NATO allies. For German society, historically sensitive to any expansionist schemes, such a US approach provokes skepticism and anxiety, especially against the backdrop of debates on the autonomy of European defense policy.

If in foreign policy Germany and Russia view the US primarily as a source of risk, Brazil today is decisively focused on how the American domestic agenda boomerangs back to Latin America. On the Brazilian portal UOL, which often repackages material from France’s RFI, a fresh analysis is devoted to how the state of the US economy will affect Trump’s political prospects in the midterm elections. The interviewee — a researcher from Temple University — points out that the tariff wars of 2025–2026, “tarifaços impostos ao mundo inteiro,” hit the global conjuncture. If the US economy does not show clear signs of improvement, Trump could well lose his majorities in both the Senate and the House, the expert notes, stressing that Americans’ economic dissatisfaction quickly transforms into electoral protest. For the Brazilian audience this is not an abstract story: export‑oriented Brazil feels fluctuations in US demand acutely, and the history of trade conflicts with Washington is a reminder of how dangerous dependence on the American market can be.

Brazilian commentators use the upcoming 250th anniversary celebrations of the US Declaration of Independence as an occasion to reflect on the “vanguarda americana na criação e instituição dos pilares da democracia,” as one author writes in UOL, and at the same time on how closely modern America aligns with those ideals. A researcher preparing a book for the anniversary speaks of a peculiar “pacifism” in today’s US political culture regarding the celebration of the state’s founding: many prefer to abstract the anniversary from sharp issues like racial inequality, political polarization and economic pressure, seeing it as a ritual rather than a moment for critical self‑examination. For part of the Brazilian elite this sounds like a warning: a country that once served as a model of constitutional democracy today hesitates to honestly discuss the mismatch between its declarations and reality. Against this background Brazilian authors cautiously draw parallels with their own political system, which experienced the shock of the Brasília storming in 2023 inspired by America’s January 6, and ask how resilient a democracy is when political myths replace institutional guarantees.

A separate large block in foreign discussions of the US has been the recent high‑profile electoral law reform through a Supreme Court decision. The Spanish‑language but widely read European outlet El País writes about how, in late April 2026, the Supreme Court by a 6–3 majority limited the application of the Voting Rights Act, effectively changing rules that had been in place for around sixty years and declaring Louisiana’s district map with an expanded Black district unconstitutional. The piece emphasizes that the court’s conservative majority sided with plaintiffs demanding the elimination of the second Black‑majority district, and that this decision could affect the November 2026 elections, calling into question the effectiveness of the second half of Trump’s presidential term and even increasing the risk of a third impeachment attempt. The authors recall the role of the Voting Rights Act advanced by legendary Senator and civil rights leader John Lewis, calling it one of the key steps toward “reconciling the country with its painful slaveholding past.” Thus, the European liberal press sees the court decision not as a mere legal technicality but as a blow to the symbolic foundation of a multiracial democracy.

Brazil’s Folha de S. Paulo, commenting on the same ruling, writes that the Supreme Court “limitа o uso de lei histórica que protege eleitores negros” and explains to readers the concept of gerrymandering — manipulating district boundaries to create artificial political advantages. The journalist cites human‑rights assessments that argue the result “reverte décadas de progresso rumo a uma democracia multirracial em nome da política partidária,” that is, it reverses decades of progress toward a multiracial democracy in the name of partisan politics. For Brazilian readers, familiar with their own issues of representation and territorial distortions, the American case becomes a mirror: if in the “oldest democracy” the court can so sharply curtail protection for minorities, what does that mean for countries with more fragile institutions? In the German press the same story fits into a broader skepticism toward the American model: observers note that a politicized Supreme Court, entrenching the power of one camp by changing the rules of the game, brings the US closer to the practices Washington traditionally criticizes in other countries.

Against the backdrop of legal battles over voting rights, foreign observers are also watching the political dynamics ahead of the next presidential elections. In an interview with El País, former Barack Obama adviser Ben Rhodes predicts that “Estados Unidos de 2028 serán aún más extremos y más polarizados,” pointing to the Democrats’ failure in 2024 as the inability to build their own narrative. He notes that without a clear story about the future the party allowed Trump to turn himself into the “party of the system,” while Trump himself, despite lack of restraints, managed to offer an effective message that mobilizes his base. For a European audience this reads as a warning: if influential figures within the Democratic Party speak of rising extremism and polarization, allies should prepare for an even more unpredictable America in 2028 — regardless of who ends up in the White House. This strengthens discussions in Berlin about the EU’s strategic autonomy: Washington ceases to look like a “stability anchor” and increasingly resembles an internally conflicted power projecting its culture wars onto its foreign policy.

In Brazil more attention is paid less to ideological splits than to how Trump’s economic and social decisions resonate globally and whether they can weaken his domestic support. The UOL piece cites an AP‑NORC poll showing on which issues Trump is losing support even among Republicans and where, conversely, he retains a loyal core. Particular concern for Americans is rising gasoline prices amid the war with Iran and general dissatisfaction with the administrations’ foreign policy, as the Los Angeles Times (Spanish version) emphasizes: a majority of respondents disapprove of Trump’s approach to Iran and to international affairs overall. Brazilian commentators draw a simple conclusion: if foreign adventurism and tariff wars undermine the economic wellbeing of the average American, this opens a window for a change of course, but at the same time increases the risk that Washington will more aggressively shift costs onto external partners, including the Global South.

Russian voices, by contrast, are inclined to interpret any American weakness as a source of additional aggression abroad. In an analytical note on EADaily commenting on Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s remarks about a possible extension of waivers from sanctions on Russia’s oil sector, the author of the popular Telegram channel “ZeRada” claims that “the US needs Europe to slowly get worse.” By his logic, Washington intentionally doles out sanction pressure so as not to allow a complete collapse of the European economy, but also not to let it recover, keeping allies in a state of managed dependence. This interpretation is telling: where the German discourse speaks of growing distrust of American motives and the EU’s desire to rely more on itself, Russian pro‑government commentary turns European‑American contradictions into proof of US “malice” toward both Europe and Russia. In that worldview the US is not merely a selfish partner but almost a puppet master interested in weakening any competitors, including allies.

Finally, everywhere — from São Paulo to Berlin and Moscow — the question of the future of democracy as such is being discussed through the prism of the United States. In Brazil the paradox attracts attention: a country that first created a stable system of constitutional democracy now displays a much tougher Supreme Court that rolls back the gains of the civil‑rights era; a political culture that separates the independence anniversary from real conflicts over racism and inequality; and an electoral system where district manipulations are legitimized by the highest judicial instance. German analysts see this as a warning that even mature democracies are vulnerable to a slow “creeping” shift in institutions: by formally observing procedures, one can radically change the distribution of power. Russian commentators, on the other hand, use US crises as an argument that the liberal model has exhausted itself and as justification for their own authoritarian practices: if even America effectively strips minorities of a voice and interferes in other countries’ affairs, then criticisms of Moscow supposedly lose legitimacy.

Comparing these three perspectives shows how differently the same phenomenon — the United States in 2026 — can be read. For Brazil it is above all a lesson learned from others’ mistakes and an understanding of how Washington’s economic and institutional choices reverberate in the Global South. For Germany it is a prompt to accelerate discussion of European autonomy and to look critically at an ally whose internal polarization and external ambitions create increasing risks. For Russia it is convenient material to strengthen an anti‑Western narrative and to confirm the thesis of the “absurdity” and hypocrisy of American policy. But in all three cases a common thread runs through: the fate of American democracy and foreign policy is no longer seen as exclusively an internal US affair. The world watches Washington not only because it remains a superpower, but because each new turn in American history restarts the debate about what democracy and the international order should look like in the 21st century — and whether one can rely on a country that itself is uncertain about its own principles.

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How the World Disputes Washington: Ukraine, Turkey and Brazil on US Foreign Policy

In early June 2026 the United States is simultaneously present in almost all of the world's key crises — from the war in Ukraine to the conflict with Iran and trade wars with Brazil. But viewed not from Washington, but from Kyiv, Ankara or Brasília, the picture looks very different. Local commentators, politicians and experts are not discussing the abstract "role of America in the world," but a very concrete question: how current US policy hits their security, economy and domestic politics. Over the past week several major themes have emerged in Ukrainian, Turkish and Brazilian media: Washington’s pressure on Kyiv to finish the war by June, the US prioritizing a campaign against Iran rather than Russia, and a sharp tariff escalation toward Brazil perceived as a "coordinated hostile action." Against this backdrop the classic debate about "American isolationism" and Washington's unilateralism has returned to the fore.

One of the central nerves of the debates is Washington's effort under Donald Trump to push through peace agreements on Ukraine by June 2026. Last winter Volodymyr Zelensky publicly stated that the US had proposed "to finish all necessary negotiations and sign the documents to end the war" precisely by June, tying this to American domestic politics and the election calendar. In Ukrainian social media and media this deadline is repeatedly recalled with anxiety: it seems Washington cares more about its own electoral cycles than about the terms on which Kyiv will sit at the negotiating table. Ukrainian commentators in English-language and local formats discuss that the near-complete cessation of US military aid in 2025 and its minimal level in 2026 effectively pushed Kyiv into dependence on Europe, and thus into greater vulnerability to American pressure. Many Ukrainian analytical pieces emphasize that Trump is using the negotiation deadline as a lever against both Kyiv and Moscow at once, offering a "deal" that neither side is currently ready to accept.

Against this backdrop another topic in Ukraine is how the US is reallocating attention between the war with Russia and the conflict with Iran. In the Brazilian press, analyzing the Middle Eastern front, it is explicitly said that Trump "needs to finish the war, but Iran does not give up," highlighting the continued American military presence off Iranian shores and the risk of a total blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, which would threaten catastrophe for the global economy, including Brazil's. In Ukrainian discourse this is read differently: a line is forming that Washington is effectively "diluting" resources and attention between Tehran and Moscow, which weakens support for Kyiv and could benefit Russia. Ukrainian experts irritably remind that their country accumulated four years of unique experience fighting drones and missiles — experience the West used — and now the US is repeating many old mistakes in the Persian Gulf, spending millions of dollars to intercept single-use drones and rockets while simultaneously cutting critical weaponry for Kyiv itself.

There is both irritation and pragmatism in the Ukrainian information space. On the one hand there is an understanding that without American military and political weight the "anti-ballistic coalition" Zelensky presented as a priority to stabilize the front in 2026 would move even more slowly. Kyiv and diaspora experts acknowledge that Washington's pressure on European allies to increase funding and supplies is bearing fruit, partially compensating for the reduction in direct US assistance. On the other hand, analytical pieces emphasize that the current Trump administration does not show strategic consistency on Ukraine: decisions appear as "jerks," dependent on the White House's current agenda and domestic political considerations. One recent forecast study on Ukraine states plainly that "the near-complete cessation of US support increased uncertainty" and forced Kyiv's authorities to build scenarios in case of America's final withdrawal from the conflict as an active actor. All this feeds a dual line in Ukrainian society: gratitude for what has been done and growing distrust of Washington’s current political course.

In Brazil the issue is not about war but pocketbooks, yet the emotional temperature is no lower. A major Brazilian online column stressed that within three days the US took three "hostile steps" toward Brazil: accused the country of harboring international terrorist organizations, published a report recommending that 21% of all Brazilian export goods be subject to an additional 25% tariff, and declared the current government "not friendly," comparing it to the regimes of Cuba, Nicaragua and Venezuela. As commentator João Paulo Charleaux notes in his column for UOL, such a concentration of negative signals from Washington across economy, security and politics "is atypical for a country considered a friend." The commentator interprets this as a conscious strategy of pressure by the Trump administration and a return to Cold War language in which Brazil is assigned the role of suspect rather than partner.

Brazilian economists and business representatives are trying to adopt a more pragmatic stance. The head of the largest export association, Ciro Reis, in an interview with CNN Brasil called what is happening "the new normal of tariff wars" and noted that the geoeconomic landscape is being "redrawn," so Brazil's task is to adapt to an era of "punitive" tariffs introduced suddenly and sharply. His assessment is notable because he does not reduce the problem solely to Trump or the US: he speaks of a global tendency toward trade fragmentation and regionalization of value chains. But the tone of the interview shows that Washington's recent step is perceived as particularly sharp and disrespectful toward Latin America's largest economy.

Within Brazil the tariff conflict has already become a battlefield between supporters of President Lula and the Bolsonaro camp. Political commentator Igor Maciel wrote in his column for Jornal do Commercio that "Trump handed Lula back the banner of sovereignty," because now the sitting president can portray himself as the defender of national interests in the face of American tariff threats. The opposition, closely associated with Trump and American right-wingers, finds itself in an awkward position: it is difficult for them to criticize Washington without abandoning their own rhetoric of "strategic partnership" with the Trump administration. In this sense the US decision to strike at Brazilian exports unexpectedly reorients the domestic political landscape: anti-American rhetoric, so familiar to the Latin American left, once again becomes a mobilization resource — but now in a context of much more complex economic interdependence.

The Turkish debate about the US is less scandalous in tone than Brazil’s but no less stern in substance. In Turkish commentary on US foreign policy the key motif remains distrust of American strategy across the "huge arc of instability" from the Black Sea to the Persian Gulf. Projecting the war in Ukraine and the conflict with Iran onto their own interests, Turkish analysts emphasize that Washington still prefers forceful instruments and unilateral solutions over multilateral diplomacy. Ankara has its own particular angle: Turkey is simultaneously a NATO member, Russia’s neighbor and economic partner, a player in the Black Sea region and a critically important energy transit country. So when Washington discusses new sanction schemes against Russia or tactical steps in the Strait of Hormuz, Turkish observers primarily ask: how will this affect Turkey's energy security, its exports and the position of the Turkish lira?

Turkish columns on US foreign policy in recent months constantly return to the theme of Washington’s "selective commitment" to international norms. Observers recall how the Trump administration exited dozens of international organizations and agreements already in January 2026, which several analysts described as an intensification of isolationist tendencies. Turkish commentators draw parallels between that step and the current ignoring of Ankara’s positions on a host of issues — from arms supplies to Kurdish formations in Syria to tensions in the Eastern Mediterranean. Unlike in Brazil, where criticism of the US is sharply politicized, in Turkish discourse the US often appears as an inevitable but unreliable partner: publicly criticized, yet simultaneously recognized as necessary for close cooperation on defense and the economy. This "double consciousness" is visible in Turkish analytical articles, where harsh rhetoric sits alongside pragmatic recommendations not to sever relations but to learn to use contradictions in American policy.

Interestingly, in all three countries — Ukraine, Turkey and Brazil — the long shadow of Donald Trump is applied to current US actions. In the Brazilian press he is often described as a leader who himself inspired the attempted coup in his own parliament on January 6, 2021, and who is now returning international politics to a logic of "friend-or-foe" without subtleties. In Brazilian columns this is directly linked to the course of Bolsonaro and his circle, for whom Trump served as a model of an "anti-system" conservative leader. Now, according to some commentators, this image has become a burden for the Brazilian right: they must justify an American policy that strikes at the wallets of Brazilian producers and workers.

In Ukraine Trump is perceived far more tragically. Ukrainian discussions on social networks and in analytical articles advance the thesis that the cessation of a significant portion of US military aid and the imposed negotiation deadline of June 2026 effectively "provide a breather" for Russia, allowing Moscow to continue missile and drone strikes on Ukrainian infrastructure without the risk of sharp escalation by the US. At the same time Kyiv cannot afford an open conflict with Washington — the price is too high. Therefore official rhetoric remains restrained: Zelensky in public speeches thanks the American people and Congress, emphasizes that "real security and the end of the war require increased international pressure on Russia and expanded support for Ukraine by partners," but within the expert community the scenario is increasingly discussed whereby the US is effectively pushing Ukraine toward a peace on terms far from Ukrainian red lines.

In Turkey Trump is more a symbol of the unpredictability of American policy. Turkish analysts point out that Washington's jumpy decisions on sanctions, withdrawal from international organizations and tactics in Ukraine and the Middle East undermine confidence in the very idea of "American leadership." Yet Ankara does not draw from this the conclusion that it must fully distance itself: on the contrary, many Turkish commentators see in Washington's chaos a window of opportunity for regional players who can maneuver between the US, Russia, Iran and the EU. In this sense Turkey, unlike Ukraine and Brazil, perceives American wavering not only as a threat but also as a chance to strengthen its own autonomy.

The common denominator across all three debates is fatigue with American monologism. Ukrainian experts believe the US too readily ties the fate of the war to the logic of its own elections and internal alignments; Brazilian commentators see Washington's tariff policy not as concern for "fair trade" but as unilateral rule-setting that ignores Brazil's status as a major regional power; Turkish analysts criticize the American penchant for forceful solutions and simultaneous retreat from multilateral institutions. At the same time none of these countries harbors illusions that a "world without the US" would automatically be safer or fairer. On the contrary, a paradox is clearly audible in Ukrainian, Turkish and Brazilian discourse: America remains indispensable — as a military guarantor, economic market, source of technology and investment — but the more indispensable the US is, the more painfully its inconsistency and unilateral steps are perceived.

This ambivalence is key to understanding current international reactions to the US. In Kyiv, Ankara and Brasília they simultaneously want American involvement and fear its form; they hope for protection and express resentment; they criticize Washington and at the same time measure their foreign policies by whether they managed to influence US decisions. From the outside this may look like simple anti-Americanism, but close reading of local columns and analyses reveals a much more complex picture: the world is not so much rejecting America as demanding maturity, predictability and respect for the agency of partners. For now Ukraine is arguing with Washington over the price of peace with Russia, Brazil over the price of access to the American market, and Turkey over the price of security in a region where the United States still sets the tone.

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How the World Argues with America: Trump’s Beijing Visit, the War with Iran, and New Fault...

May–early June 2026 made the United States the focal point of intense debates in Asia and Latin America — but not in Washington’s usual role as the sole “center of power.” China, South Korea and Brazil are discussing America as a problematic yet still indispensable partner whose domestic politics and foreign moves directly affect their security and economies. The main catalyst was Donald Trump’s May trip to Beijing against the backdrop of the ongoing US war with Iran and a new round of trade‑technology confrontation, as well as a chain of bilateral conflicts between Washington and key partners — from Seoul to Brasília.

The first major knot of debates is Trump’s visit to China and the sense that the balance in relations is shifting from “American leadership” toward a firmer parity. Chinese and Chinese‑language outlets analyze not only the protocol side of the May 14–15 visit, but also how it fits into a long cycle of expectations and disappointments regarding the US. Commentators recall that in the late 2000s China still “looked up” to the US, but now the visit of an American president is to a country that no longer sees Washington as a development model but as a competitor and threat to be bargained with harshly. Analyses emphasize that the trip itself became possible against the backdrop of weakened American positions: part of the US military and diplomatic resources are diverted to the war against Iran and to securing shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, which paradoxically strengthens Beijing’s negotiating position. (zaochenbao.com)

This theme almost automatically moves into discussion of a new US economic and sanctions war. In the Chinese discourse there is a tone of conspicuous satisfaction: it is noted that Beijing is, for the first time, fully deploying instruments it had only talked about for years — from blocking American deals in strategic sectors to ordering Chinese companies to ignore unilateral US sanctions. One widely read piece cites Western press noting that China has directly ordered its enterprises not to comply with US sanctions on Chinese refiners — “an unprecedented act of resistance.” (guancha.cn)

Against this background, speeches by American officials are also perceived. For example, the US Treasury secretary’s late‑May remarks in California that Trump’s policies will “wake up” America and help correct “decades of mistakes” that made the US overly dependent on competitors like China are met in China with obvious skepticism: commentators point out that loud words are not followed by concrete new measures, and the risks to the global economy from the war with Iran and instability in oil supplies remain practically unmanageable. Thus, within Chinese discourse an image emerges of the US as a country loudly proclaiming “economic security as national security,” while in practice driving itself into vulnerability and pushing others to form alternative mechanisms. (guancha.cn)

The second major strand of discussions concerns how Trump’s Beijing visit and the American focus on the Middle East are felt across Asia. Official and semi‑official Chinese analysis stresses that the leaders’ meeting in May “made the entire Asia‑Pacific hold its breath”: neighboring countries simultaneously feel “relief” at the fact of dialogue and “anxiety” about how the two superpowers might bargain away their interests. One Chinese foreign‑policy commentary puts it succinctly: the path from an “America‑centered” order to a “China‑US bipolarity” forces US allies to nervously calculate the price Washington will pay for concessions to Beijing. (cn.chinadiplomacy.org.cn)

A separate line is the reaction in Asian countries outside China. Taiwanese and overseas Chinese‑language writers note that Trump’s return to Beijing has led regions from Taipei to New Delhi to wonder whether they will become “dishes on the menu” of a grand bargain, where the cost of reduced US–China tensions will be paid in their interests. In one column, Taiwan is described as a player fearful that, amid the war with Iran and constrained resources, Washington will want to “take as many crises off the table as possible,” which objectively strengthens Beijing’s negotiating position. (ipkmedia.com)

The South Korean perspective on this theme is noticeably different: for Seoul the primary question is less the “global balance” and more the reliability of American security guarantees and the cost of those guarantees for the Korean economy. In this context, the stalled talks on a bilateral security agreement and the visit to the US by South Korea’s first vice foreign minister to unblock dialogue on implementing the “joint fact‑sheet” from the previous Korea‑US summit are widely discussed. Korean commentators note that even amid the US war with Iran, when the American side cites overloaded military channels, Seoul insists that peninsula security cannot be treated as a secondary issue dependent on Washington’s Middle East campaigns. (m.go.seoul.co.kr)

The third big theme is the impact of American economic policy and global turbulence — including that caused by US actions — on export‑oriented economies. In South Korea front pages juxtapose export records and anxiety: May data showed Korean exports grew by more than 50% year‑on‑year, mainly thanks to semiconductors, and forecasts that the country could enter the top five trading nations and reach $1 trillion in exports for the first time. Yet editorial commentary highlights the “shadow” behind the record: reliance on a narrow set of industries and vulnerability to US tariffs and the fallout from the Middle East war, which pressures the auto sector and overseas construction. Thus, in Korean debate the US figures simultaneously as a key market and a source of regulatory and geopolitical shocks. (supple.kr)

In the Chinese expert field the economic theme unfolds around “mutual vulnerabilities.” Analysts recall that despite years of tariffs and high‑tech export controls, Washington still heavily depends on Chinese manufacturing chains and critical raw materials; IMF estimates are cited that a severe disruption in rare earth supplies could cost the US up to 1.5% of GDP. Against this background, Beijing’s countermeasures — from blocking tech deals to creating its own regulatory “shields” against US sanctions — are presented as a shift from defense to active use of economic weight, including in response to a new wave of Trump’s tariff policies. (epochtimes.com)

The fourth line of debate is how these countries internally evaluate the image of America and its political leader. In Chinese‑language columns aimed at a broad audience there is a tone of weary irony: authors emphasize that over two decades China has moved from admiration for American democracy and culture to a pragmatic attitude toward the US as one of the powers whose domestic polarization and external aggressiveness no longer inspire emulation. In one article, Trump’s 2026 trip to China is contrasted with the US of the late 2000s: whereas then America set the tone, today, the author argues, Trump must accept that visiting Beijing can happen only on terms that recognize the changed balance of power. (yzaobao.com)

In Korea the image of the US is split. On one hand it remains the principal military ally on which nuclear deterrence and the future of a possible Korean nuclear‑powered submarine program — currently discussed in Seoul in consultations with Washington — depend. On the other, it is a source of pressure via trade, climate and energy policies that, Korean outlets say, harm traditional export industries like autos and Middle East construction contracts. From this arises the motive that security and the economy can no longer be viewed on separate “tracks”: any US decision, whether new sanctions or military redeployments, manifests quickly and directly in Korea’s macro indicators. (supple.kr)

In Brazil the debate about America is more fragmented, but its focus is shifting as well. President Lula’s upcoming visit to Washington — described by domestic and regional media as a chance for a “reset” after a series of diplomatic scandals — comes with a complicated agenda. The arrest in the US of a former Brazilian congressman and the ensuing exchange of unfriendly gestures — mutual annulment of security staff accreditations — demonstrated that Washington’s law‑enforcement actions can instantly spill over into political conflict. (udn.com)

Brazilian commentators note Lula’s ambivalent line: on one hand he seeks to preserve strategic maneuvering among the US, China and the Global South; on the other he must reckon with Washington’s hard stance on democracy, digital regulation and the war with Iran. Public debate reveals irritation that the US easily moves from rhetoric of “partnership” to extraterritorial investigations and sanctions affecting Brazilian politicians and business. Thus the American agenda in Brazil is colored both by hope for economic rapprochement and fear of a new wave of asymmetric demands from Washington. (udn.com)

Combining these three national perspectives shows a common thread: in Beijing, Seoul and Brasília the US is no longer seen as a predictable “center of the world” whose internal logic is clear and stabilizes the global system. On the contrary, American decisions — from abrupt visits and deals to sanctions and military campaigns — are considered the main source of uncertainty, which each country tries to convert into its own gain or at least minimize the damage. China builds around this uncertainty an image of a rising power unafraid to mirror and repel American pressure. South Korea seeks to embed additional security guarantees into this turbulence while diversifying trade so as not to become hostage to tariff wars. Brazil maneuvers to use US–China competition to bolster its own agency, but fears Washington’s habit of “punishing” partners will persist.

In this sense the current cycle of international conversation about America is not just a set of reactions to another Trump visit or a new treasury secretary speech. It reflects a deeper transformation: the US remains a central player, but no longer without alternatives. And how Washington handles its still‑substantial but increasingly contested power — military, economic and normative — will determine whether the next wave of foreign debates about the US will be about restoring trust or, conversely, about finding ways to live in a world that respects America far less than America itself is used to.

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How the World Sees America: Germany, South Korea and South Africa Facing the New USA

Several debates are converging around the United States in early summer 2026, and in each country they sound different. In Berlin they argue about how to live with Donald Trump’s America, which simultaneously remains Europe’s military anchor and threatens to roll back the continent’s protection. In Pretoria and Cape Town they discuss what “America First” means for South African workers, car exports and the status of white Afrikaners. In Seoul they still view Washington through the prism of North Korea and the broader US–China rivalry, trying to understand how reliable the American “nuclear umbrella” is. These conversations rarely become part of the English‑language agenda in the United States, but they shape the real expectations and fears of allies and partners.

The first major theme that appears in both Germany and South Africa is the sharp reshaping of American foreign policy under a second Trump presidency: reduced security commitments, hard protectionism and the unpicking of old economic agreements. In Germany this is discussed through the lens of NATO and the presence of US troops. On the German channel n‑tv a commentator describes Washington’s stance almost caricaturally: US Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, “with a raised index finger,” demands that Europeans not raise their own index fingers too often, while insisting on higher defense budgets and a reduced American contribution to Europe’s defense. The piece refers to a draft document listing which kinds of US military capabilities “will no longer or will only be limitedly” be available to defend Europe, with Germany singled out critically for excessive dependence on Russia and China. The author summarizes: for Washington Europe ceases to be a priority, and Germany is no longer a reliable pillar. Something similar appears in the business press, for example in Handelsblatt commentary that “Germany saved NATO” by significantly increasing defense spending and thereby partly “relieving” the US; but the subtext is: the alliance has become less about values and more transactional.

This same logic of “alliance of calculation” is vividly present in the trade and tariff debate. German economic institutes calculate that bilateral trade with the US in 2024 already reached about €252 billion, and accumulated investments by German companies in the US exceeded half a trillion euros, but now all of this has come under crossfire from new tariffs based on the White House’s emergency powers. Industry analysts point out that even if the Supreme Court restricts the use of the most aggressive instruments like IEPPA tariffs, the administration will find alternative legal bases to continue tariff pressure. Against this backdrop, a sense is growing in Germany that Washington no longer distinguishes allies from competitors: Europeans, including Germans, are increasingly labeled in US national security documents as a “problem area” — not enemies, but no longer strategic priorities.

South Africa enters the same conversation from a different angle — not as a military ally, but as a vulnerable trading partner. Here the central theme has been the collapse of the AGOA preferential regime and a wave of American tariffs under a second Trump term. Studies by South African economists, published in local journals, show how the expiration of AGOA in 2025 and the shift to “reciprocal” tariffs sharply changed conditions for goods from the Southern African Customs Union (SACU) entering the US market. The authors stress that steep duties effectively “nullify” the benefits African countries once had from duty‑free exports of cars, agricultural products and industrial raw materials. In this context columns have appeared in the South African press with telling headlines: “Minister Meyer must convince Pretoria, not Washington, about the benefits of the deal,” stressing that the problem is not only the US’s hard line but also the internal indecision of the South African government, which is reluctant to make politically painful concessions to preserve market access. One columnist writes that after months of tension between Pretoria and Washington, new negotiations are beginning without a clear mandate from the South African side and without a precise plan for what the country is willing to do to mitigate the tariff impact.

At the same time, both in Germany and South Africa a similar theme of US strategic reorientation is heard: Washington no longer sees Europe or Africa as priority theaters, and attention has shifted to the Indo‑Pacific and competition with China. German commentators note that in the new US national security strategy the Indo‑Pacific occupies an “outstanding place,” while Europe is only one of the theaters expected to bear increasing costs. South African analysts directly contrast American protectionism with what Beijing offers: China manages to combine promises of duty‑free access for African goods with large infrastructure investments, while the US imposes political conditions and simultaneously raises tariffs.

The second major connecting theme is a crisis of trust in the United States as a moral and political reference. In Germany this crisis in recent weeks has received a rare, almost domestic expression. Federal Chancellor Friedrich Merz, speaking in a conversation, said a phrase that spread widely through the German media: “Today I would not recommend my children go to the US” — he meant both studying and working there. In an interview with Tagesspiegel he elaborated, explaining it as a combination of political polarization, the spread of firearms and the overall toxicity of the public environment in America. In the same conversation he sharply criticized US Middle East policy, saying American leadership had been “humiliated” by the Iranian regime, which provoked an irritated reaction from Trump and subsequent threats of partial troop withdrawals from Germany and higher tariffs on German cars. German commentators note that Berlin and Washington have never been this bad, even though Germany’s military dependence on the US remains critical: as Die Zeit points out, deterrence of potential adversaries still relies almost entirely on American strike capabilities, and “relations with Washington are now worse than ever.”

In South Africa the crisis of trust toward the US takes a different form. The key irritant at the end of May was the Trump administration’s decision to sharply increase intake of white South Africans — Afrikaners — as refugees, on the pretext of an “unexpected emergency humanitarian situation.” The South African government and organizations representing Afrikaner interests synchronously rejected the framing: both official Pretoria and Afrikaner groups said that talk of a “humanitarian crisis of white people” in the country does not reflect reality and is being used by Washington for domestic political maneuvering. Commentators recall the wider context: in 2025 the Trump administration expelled the South African ambassador and sharply cut aid, and American right‑wing think tanks publish reports calling to “hold Pretoria accountable for discrimination against the Afrikaner minority.” For a significant part of South African society this looks not like protection of human rights but like selective humanitarian policy, where the rights of certain racial groups are used to undermine the legitimacy of the post‑apartheid state.

At this point German and South African perspectives unexpectedly converge: in both places it is increasingly said that America claims the role of arbiter without being willing to subject its own political and social order to the same scrutiny. German journalists point to mass “No Kings” protests inside the US against Trump’s attempts to expand presidential powers, drawing parallels between street mobilization in America and anti‑monarchist, anti‑populist movements in Europe. South African commentators appeal to history: during apartheid the US long viewed the white minority as a strategic ally against communism and was slow to impose tough sanctions — so today’s selective “concern” for white South Africans evokes bitter associations.

South Korea in this part of the discussion appears more cautious. Open criticism of Washington is less frequent, and the tone of coverage is generally more pragmatic. However, the recurring theme — the reliability of the US as a security guarantor — grows louder. Korean news regularly covers conferences on peace on the Korean Peninsula organized by Korean‑American civic groups in Washington, inviting US congressmembers, Korean parliamentarians and former South Korean presidents. Announcements emphasize that these forums aim to remind American lawmakers that policy toward North Korea cannot be reduced to episodic show summits and sporadic threats. South Korean analysts warn in opinion pieces that if US attention fully shifts to competition with China in the South China Sea and Taiwan, Korea risks becoming not a standalone priority but merely one bargaining chip in a larger strategic game.

The third common theme uniting Germany, South Africa and South Korea is the search for a place in a world that is becoming less unipolar. In a speech at the first International Security Forum, South African Minister Khumbudzo Ntshavheni speaks of “a transition from a largely unipolar system to a more complex multipolar order,” where the US is only one center of power alongside China, Russia, India and the EU. For South Africa, she emphasizes, it is important to defend a policy of non‑alignment, sovereign equality of states and primacy of international law. This is a veiled but sufficiently clear message to Washington: Pretoria is not ready to automatically support American positions in conflicts with Iran, Russia or Israel, even if that means paying in trade preferences and market access.

Similar words are now coming from Germany’s traditionally pro‑Western political class. The same commentators who a few years ago treated the US as the unconditional leader of the “free world” now write about an “era of strategic uncertainties,” in which Europe must think about its own military and technological sovereignty. One US expert in a column for a major news portal notes that the 2026 American security strategy focuses on “maximizing short‑term gain” and minimizing long‑term military presence around the world. For Germany this means the end of an era when one could assume automatic American guarantees.

South Korea occupies a special place in this triangle: it perhaps understands more loudly than any other country that it cannot do without the US in a multipolar world, but fully relying on Washington is becoming ever more dangerous. Korean analysis increasingly discusses the idea of “dual hedging” — building its own deterrent capabilities, including debate on nuclear armament prospects, while deepening cooperation both with the US and with other regional players such as Japan and Australia. In this sense Korea looks to Germany as an example of a country trying to catch up with a reality that has suddenly found it a “frontline state” without the familiar American safety cushion.

A distinct layer is the cultural and value perception of America. In Germany, where American culture has been part of modern identity for decades, a light anti‑Americanism has become fashionable, especially among youth and left‑leaning circles. Newspaper columns about Trump’s visits to China use harsh language: one political scientist on ntv writes that Trump’s improvisations “diminish the US as a superpower,” contrasting his unpreparedness with Xi Jinping’s carefully measured steps. In these texts America ceases to be a model of democracy and turns into an unpredictable giant that does not understand what it wants. At the same time German media follow domestic protest movements in the US, such as the multi‑million “No Kings” marches, viewing them as an echo of their own debates about limits of power and the dangers of charismatic populism.

In South Africa the cultural image of the US is more complex: on the one hand American pop culture remains attractive, and the civil rights movement’s legacy is an important part of political imagination. On the other — every new Trump gesture “protecting” white South Africans is seen as an attempt to rewrite the apartheid narrative and call into question the legitimacy of black majority rule. Afrikaner media publish pieces grateful to America for the chance to emigrate and seek asylum; in English‑ and Zulu‑language press there is strong criticism of what is called “selective humanitarianism” and a continuation of colonial paternalism.

South Korea may be the only one of the three where the image of America as a “land of opportunity” remains relatively resilient. Korean students still flock to American universities en masse, and K‑pop’s penetration into the US only strengthens interest in mutual cultural exchange. Yet even here articles about school shootings, political polarization and attacks on Asian Americans create a background of mistrust. Korean commentators often draw parallels: the US, which once criticized Korea for insufficient democracy in the 1980s, now finds its democratic institutions undergoing stress tests no less severe than Korea’s were under military regimes.

Across this diversity of voices there are several common motifs. The first is fatigue with American unpredictability. In Berlin, Pretoria and Seoul they acknowledge that they must learn to live with a US that no longer guarantees free trade, automatic security guarantees or consistent ideological leadership. The second is a desire to preserve relations, but on new, more reciprocal terms. German writers speak of an “alliance of interests” instead of an “alliance of values”; South Africans seek a partnership that “respects the country’s independent foreign policy”; Koreans call for a “renewed” alliance in which Washington accounts not only for its calculations against China but also for existential risks on the Korean Peninsula.

And finally, the third motif is a quiet but growing conversation that the world after Trump‑2 will never return to the old, familiar unipolarity. Germany, South Africa and South Korea look at the US differently, but they agree on one thing: America is still too big and influential to be ignored, and at the same time too volatile to be fully relied upon. It is in this duality — between dependence and disillusionment, between the fear of losing America and the desire to distance from it — that new international views of the United States are being born today.

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Washington in the crosshairs: how Turkey, Russia and Ukraine debate America's new role

The United States is once again at the center of the international conversation — but today the tone of that conversation is noticeably different from a few years ago. At the intersection of the war in Ukraine, the crisis around Iran, and a redefinition of American leadership, countries from Ankara to Moscow and Kyiv are discussing not so much Washington's "might" as its inconsistency, internal fragmentation, and willingness to barter allies' security for tactical gains. Turkish columnists argue whether America is becoming an unpredictable partner in the Middle East and Asia. Russian commentators, with grim satisfaction, talk about the "shrinking" of support for Ukraine and the "tactical games" of the US. Ukrainian journalists and experts, by contrast, try to rationalize a painful fact: Washington remains indispensable on air defense and deterrence against Russia, but is no longer prepared to automatically supply financial and military backing.

One of the key nerves of the debate is American policy in Russia's war against Ukraine. In Moscow it is interpreted as a sign of strategic exhaustion and cynical bargaining with the Kremlin; in Kyiv — as a risky but still reversible "drift" away from unconditional support toward managed pressure on both sides; and in Ankara — as part of a broader crisis of confidence in the US among regional powers.

If you look by themes, several common narratives emerge across the three countries: the future of American aid to Ukraine and sanctions on Russia; Washington's stance on Iran and the associated "resource fatigue"; the overall US ability to provide security for allies from the Black Sea to Taiwan; and finally, the style of Donald Trump's presidency, which everywhere is seen as a distinct factor of global instability rather than merely another administration.

The most emotional topic is the fate of American support for Ukraine. In the Ukrainian expert and media space, the past weeks have been dominated by anxious but pragmatic discussions that Congress is "unlikely to approve" a new large financial aid package for Kyiv, although it may strengthen sanctions on Russia and continue separate defense programs. As Ukrainska Pravda reminded readers, one influential lawmaker in Washington bluntly stated he did not believe in a new "security supplemental" for either $6 billion or $60 billion, effectively setting the ceiling for American generosity under current political conditions. The same piece emphasized that the US is simultaneously maintaining channels of military support, including a recent $400 million package the Pentagon noted, thus signaling: "there will be no money-on-a-plane carpet anymore, but a baseline level of military assistance will remain, especially if Europe agrees to take on a 'greater responsibility' for the war in its own 'backyard'." As one American interlocutor put it to the publication, Europe must stop assuming Washington will always foot the bill for its security.

Ukrainian commentators read these signals far less detachedly. In a Russian-language analysis in Ukrainska Pravda the emphasis shifts to the political subtext: behind rhetoric about "greater responsibility for Europe" there is a reluctance by Trump to bind himself to new large commitments. Against this backdrop, Volodymyr Zelensky's letter to the US president and to congressmen acquired special sharpness, in which he explicitly writes that Ukraine "almost exclusively" relies on the US for protection against Russian ballistic missiles. Ukrainian media singled out the phrasing that a shortage of Patriot air defense systems and their interceptors is a vulnerability that no one but Washington can close in the short term. After this, the US defense secretary was forced to publicly assure reporters of "ongoing support to Ukraine in defending against Russian attacks," and Democratic Senator Richard Blumenthal promised that Zelensky's letter would be "responded to" in Washington. For Kyiv's commentators this scene became a symbol of a new asymmetry: Ukraine remains dependent on the US in a critical segment of defense, while Washington increasingly treats assistance to Kyiv as one of many foreign-policy files.

The Russian conversation about the same issue is arranged quite differently. In the Moscow media space, statements by American lawmakers that there will be no new large aid packages, as well as US extensions of licenses to buy Russian oil, are presented as "the end of support for Kyiv." One business portal retold a New York Times article in precisely that key: the approval to purchase oil from Russia, though linked to the Middle Eastern crisis and the logic of sanction exceptions, became for Ukrainian officials proof that Washington's priorities have shifted and that the war in Europe no longer defines the White House's agenda. Russian analysts fit this into a broader narrative of the "West's fatigue" and Moscow's successful adaptation to sanctions.

At the same time, Russian outlets actively quote Western, including American, critics of Ukraine's strategy. Thus, Moskovsky Komsomolets headlined the words of former US military intelligence officer Scott Ritter that Western support for Ukrainian strikes on Russian territory would allegedly provoke a harsh response from Moscow and the collapse of the "Kyiv regime." The internal meaning of such publications is to show audiences that even the American expert community views Washington's line as provocative and untenable, and therefore sooner or later the US will step aside, giving Russia the opportunity to "settle" the conflict on its terms.

An important Russian motive is to portray current American policy not as strategy but as "tactical games." In a characteristic column on Vzglyad's website, political scientist Timofey Bordachev argues that the US still claims to manage whole regions, but is objectively no longer able to monopolize Latin America, the Middle East, or, especially, the post-Soviet space. His thesis is that any negative consequences of American policy immediately become resources for Washington's competitors — Russia, China, and possibly India tomorrow. In this logic, the Ukraine issue is just one case demonstrating the gap between US ambitions and capabilities and offering Moscow a chance to integrate itself into a new, more multipolar order.

The Ukrainian perspective on this divergence is very different and much more painful. In a Russian-language piece by The Moscow Times' Ukrainian service, written with Ukrainian sources, it is stated bluntly that "real negotiations are over" and Kyiv "is preparing to continue the war without US aid" at the level it has been used to since 2022. The authors document a series of Zelensky's complaints about Washington: from American negotiators having "no time for Ukraine" to sharp criticism of the US decision to suspend sanctions on Russian oil exports, which, according to the Ukrainian president, gives the Kremlin "a sense of impunity." The piece also emphasizes that the Trump administration, by pushing Kyiv toward territorial concessions for peace, still exerts "more pressure on the Ukrainian side than on Russia." For the Ukrainian audience, this reads as an admission: today's US is an ally willing to help only as long as the cost of assistance does not conflict with domestic politics and global energy and Middle Eastern calculations.

In this context Ukrainian experts draw active parallels with the Middle Eastern front of American policy. In Turkey, as in Kyiv, observers are closely watching how Washington balances between the war between Israel and the US against Iran, oil markets, and containing Russia. Turkish press in recent days has discussed not only Donald Trump's direct threats to "renew strikes" on Iran but also the general meaning of US signals to Tehran and Havana. One commentator in Yeni Birlik, analyzing Washington's "Iranian and Cuban messages," notes that America has effectively resigned itself to Iran as a "nuclear country on the threshold," while worrying that such an example could become a model for other Middle Eastern actors. The author stresses that during the "12-day war" and the subsequent February 2026 crisis, the US failed to put Iran's enriched uranium under tight control — and is now betting on demonstrative strike plans against Iranian infrastructure, while Israel is already carrying out such strikes in practice. For Turkish readers the important point is not so much the Iranian dossier itself as the resulting thought: Washington is increasingly operating "from crisis to crisis," focusing on tactical successes and forgetting long-term security guarantees for allies.

This line of "tact without strategy" also appears in Turkish analyses of American policy in Asia. In an analytical column for Anadolu Agency, Professor Tarik Ouzlu examines Trump's recent visit to China as a shift from "trade wars to pragmatic bargaining." The author notes that the Trump–Xi meeting in Beijing — the first in more than eight years — touches not only on trade and Taiwan but also on "the future of the US's global leadership capability." Particular concern among the Turkish author and audience is that Washington is slowing the implementation of an arms package for Taiwan and postponing the second phase of deliveries until after the Beijing visit. The article emphasizes that this has already led to a "serious erosion of trust" in America not only in Taipei but also among its traditional allies in the region. From Ankara's perspective, with its own experience of frozen F‑35 deliveries and difficult F‑16 negotiations, this is a familiar script: an ally that promises much but in a critical moment begins to tie a partner's security to broad transactional logic with Beijing or Moscow.

Finally, another Turkish storyline concerns American policy toward Iran and Cuba, which the same Yeni Birlik interprets as a test of the limits of US influence in the Western Hemisphere and the Middle East. The article stresses that Washington is simultaneously demonstrating its readiness for military pressure on Tehran and diplomatic maneuvers, but is doing so with an evident eye toward domestic constraints: rising defense spending, exhaustion of "strategic munitions," higher energy prices, and general economic uncertainty in the US. For the Turkish audience this explains why America increasingly demands that middle powers — whether Turkey, Saudi Arabia, or European allies — "provide for their own security," while reserving the final say on sanctions or strikes.

Interestingly, the Ukrainian discourse about the same "resource fatigue" is hardly inclined to blame other allies, as sometimes happens in Turkey. Ukrainian analytical centers and commentators instead insist: even with reduced financial aid, the US remains a critically important partner in high-tech segments of the war — from air defense to cyber defense and joint efforts to counter Iranian drones. Overlaying this is a new storyline: the US itself asking for Ukrainian experience in counter‑drone warfare. Discussing a piece in a major American newspaper about how the Pentagon is turning to Ukrainian developments to protect its bases from Iranian Shahed drones, Ukrainian experts emphasize: for the first time in a long while dependence is becoming mutual, and this gives Kyiv an additional lever in dialogue with Washington, even if it does not compensate for cuts in other areas.

In the Russian information space such stories of "mutual dependence" are almost absent; instead the dominant thesis is that the US is increasingly unable to hold fronts in multiple regions simultaneously and therefore must make concessions to strong regional players — including Russia. This is especially visible in commentary on American mediating efforts around a ceasefire in Ukraine, where Russian outlets happily quote Trump's statements that it was Zelensky who allegedly "scuttled" a peace deal, while Moscow "demonstrates readiness" to agree. In this view, Ukraine is an ungrateful client and the US a cynical arbiter that can at any moment shift blame onto a weaker ally.

The result is a mosaic but tellingly contradictory picture. In Turkey the US is seen primarily as still powerful but increasingly transactional, with its capacity to provide extended security guarantees consistently questioned — from Iran to Taiwan. In Russia the same set of facts is read as confirmation of the "decline of American hegemony" and the rising weight of regional powers, including Moscow, which is seen as capable of imposing its terms on the West in Ukraine and the energy markets. In Ukraine, by contrast, this is felt as a painful departure from the era of a "great patron" and a shift to a mode where every dollar and every Patriot must be won politically, competing for attention with Iran, China and domestic American conflicts.

The paradox is that all three discourses converge on one point: America can no longer be what it was in the 1990s and even the 2010s, yet no one is capable of replacing it. Around that contradiction is built today's sometimes very tense but therefore even more illustrative foreign debate on the role of the US — from the pages of Turkish newspapers to Russian and Ukrainian analytical columns.

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The World Through Washington's Prism: How Japan, India and France View the US

In early summer 2026 the United States for the rest of the world is no longer simply a "superpower" or "leader of the free world," but a blend of the return to power of Donald Trump, an accelerating rivalry with China, protracted wars (above all in Ukraine and Gaza), tariff conflicts, and sharp reversals in foreign and climate policy. In Japan, India and France "America" is not spoken of as a distant abstraction: it is a concrete set of risks and opportunities that hit these countries' economies, security and domestic politics directly.

If one attempts to reduce the whole spectrum of reactions to a few major themes, five stand out particularly today. First, Trump's return and his "America First" as a symbol of either managed or, conversely, uncontrolled chaos in Washington. Second, the American confrontation with China and how it forces allies and partners into awkward positions. Third, a new U.S. line toward India: from strategic partnership to a tariff cudgel and sanctions blackmail. Fourth, the war in Ukraine and the security architecture Washington is building around Eurasia and critical raw materials. And finally, the U.S. withdrawal from the Paris climate agreement — painful for Europe, but no less important as a backdrop for Asian economies.

On each of these fronts Japanese, Indian and French voices sound different, yet together form a common chorus: the United States remains indispensable, but increasingly unpredictable and less like a "normal" democracy.

The most obvious and debated layer is American domestic politics and Trump's return. In France this is viewed primarily through the prism of the threat to democracy and European autonomy. An analytical note from the Observatory for Economic Studies (OFCE) on "Trump's return to the White House on 20 January 2025" emphasizes that his economic and budgetary policies could cause "hard times" not only for Americans themselves, but also for Europe, which finds itself at the epicenter of turbulence in dollar rates, tariffs and currency wars. Economists note: the effect of Trump's second coming on the U.S. and the world is qualitatively different from 2017 because it is superimposed on an already highly polarized American society and allies' fatigue with American "swings." A publication from Sciences Po speaks of the formation of a "new American order" in which Trump not only tears up agreements but institutionalizes a technocratic, anti-federalist "militarism" that shifts the balance of powers in Washington. (ifri.org)

The French debate is not limited to academic circles. In the popular media space questions repeatedly surface: have the United States become an "exporter of instability"? Discussing Trump's second administration, French commentators cite research by political scientist Robert Pape, who estimates that the share of Americans ready to justify political violence doubled in 2025 compared with 2024. This is used as an argument: if Europe could previously appeal to American institutions as "checks and balances" within NATO, now the very resilience of those institutions is in question. (fr.wikipedia.org)

In France the "soft" side of the new American political reality — digital censorship and manipulation of access to government data — is also discussed lively. The scandal around the mass deletion and rewriting of federal government websites and databases since January 2025 under executive orders from the Trump administration became a topic not only for human rights activists but also for the mainstream press. According to French estimates, this concerns more than eight thousand web pages and three thousand databases — from climate statistics to human rights reports. From Paris's point of view this is not only a blow to global scientific cooperation but also a symbol of "American post‑fact" as a new norm, when a key ally deliberately reduces transparency in its own policies. (fr.wikipedia.org)

Japanese authors look at Trump more pragmatically and coolly: not as a historical anomaly but as another — albeit extremely radical — iteration of American nationalism. In an analytical note from Japan's Ministry of Finance summarizing the 2024 elections and Trump's victory, researchers point out that Trump's economic and immigration agenda resonates with the sentiments of the "average voter" disappointed with Biden's results. Japanese experts conclude that such a deep demand for protectionism and withdrawal from the world is not a temporary spike but a trend to which countries dependent on the U.S. will have to adapt. (mof.go.jp)

In India the focus is less on American democracy and more on the changed nature of the strategic partnership with Washington. Indian commentators, analyzing "Biden's legacy" and the arrival of "Trump 2.0," emphasize a paradox: it was under Biden that more military exercises were conducted with India than with any other country, and bilateral partnership in defense and technology reached unprecedented depth. Against this background, Trump's return is perceived as a sharp turn from an "institutionalized" strategic partnership to a transactional logic: today India is needed as a counterweight to China, tomorrow it could become a target for tariffs and sanctions. (orfonline.org)

It is perhaps in Indian media that the theme of U.S.–China confrontation as a source of complex dilemmas is most vividly visible. Unlike Japan, where dependence on the American security umbrella is seen as a given, India is trying to navigate between Washington, Beijing and Moscow. Analysts at the Observer Research Foundation (ORF) note that the new U.S. National Security Strategy (NSS 2025) under Trump is formulated as a "defensive" doctrine of "U.S. survival," but in practice flows into an aggressive tariff policy against partners, foremost India. One striking example Indians cite is the 50 percent duties on Indian exports — half of which are explicitly labeled as a "penalty" for buying Russian oil, whereas Europe or China face no comparable penalty for continuing purchases of Russian gas and oil. (orfonline.org)

From this Indians draw a broad conclusion: U.S. anti‑China policy is less "value‑driven" than "opportunistic." Americans are willing to tolerate Russian oil in Europe and China if it fits their balance of power, but choose to make India a "demonstration victim" showing others the price of disobedience. In an editorial column, Business Standard argues that Delhi must "make a rational choice" amid tariff confrontation with the U.S.: short‑term savings on Russian oil brought India only about $15 billion for 2022–2025, whereas a tariff blow from Washington could turn into much greater long‑term losses. The leitmotif of the Indian debate: how much strategic autonomy is the country willing to cede in order not to be punished by America for too independent a foreign policy. (economictimes.indiatimes.com)

The Japanese conversation about the U.S. and China is much more structured and, at first glance, less emotional, but no less worrying. In a recent report from the Deloitte Tohmatsu Strategy Institute on the results of the U.S.–China summit, a Japanese author writes that the essence of what is happening is not a "diplomatic defeat for the U.S." but a deep pivot in American policy toward minimizing global geopolitical costs and focusing on bilateral deals. In this context Japanese experts even concede that Xi Jinping's proposed concept of "constructive strategic stability" — managing differences while avoiding military conflict — is in essence closer to the spirit of Trumpism than many are willing to admit: for a deal‑oriented Washington, managed rivalry is preferable to direct confrontation. (faportal.deloitte.jp)

But this analysis in Tokyo is accompanied by a stern conclusion: the more the U.S. drifts toward short‑term bilateral deals, the higher the cost for allies. In a Newsweek Japan article a political scientist warns that tariff negotiations between Japan and the U.S. are already covertly revolving around restricting Tokyo's deals with China. If Japan "gives in too easily" to Washington, its bargaining positions will be weakened in the long term and pressure to "buy American" will only increase. That is why Japanese analysts insist: unlike Europe, Japan cannot afford "emotional" anti‑isolationism — it must coolly construct its own strategy amid a sharpening U.S.–China confrontation, otherwise the country risks becoming a "raw resource" in someone else's game. (newsweekjapan.jp)

The French perspective on the U.S.–China theme and Washington's global role is interesting in that Paris increasingly sees American policy not simply as "containing Beijing" but as an attempt to permanently "tie" Europe to U.S. security and raw‑material architecture through peripheral wars. In this sense the war in Ukraine and American policy around it are seen as key to understanding contemporary America. In one widely discussed French debate about the war, a military analyst claims that the U.S. has already achieved the majority of its geopolitical goals in the Ukrainian conflict: it has increased the EU's dependence on America in economics and security and has seriously weakened the Russian military machine without engaging in direct confrontation.

Even if this view is exaggerated, it underscores a common French feeling: for the U.S., Ukraine is not primarily a matter of values but of reconfiguring the European architecture around American leadership. And when Washington in 2025 signs an agreement with Kyiv on joint investments in critical resources — from rare earths to oil and gas — French commentators read this as a signal: Washington is securing control over future sources of European energy and technological sovereignty. (fr.wikipedia.org)

Notably, France views the new American climate policy just as instrumentally. The second U.S. withdrawal from the Paris Agreement in 2025, formalized by Trump's decree "Putting America First in International Environmental Agreements," is seen in Paris no longer as a shock but as final confirmation: climate has become another field of transactional policy for Washington. Officially Trump calls the agreement "unfair and a one‑sided scam" that "puts the U.S. at a disadvantage to China." For French politicians and experts this is an argument for accelerating Europe's "strategic autonomy" in climate policy: one cannot build long‑term green investments relying on a country whose climate stance fully depends on domestic political swings. (fr.wikipedia.org)

India's reaction to the American climate pivot and sanctions on Russian oil is much more pragmatic, but essentially echoes the French position. Indian opinion pieces emphasize that Washington is trying to shift some of the economic costs of its foreign and climate policy onto others. The White House argument that India's purchase of Russian oil "finances the war in Ukraine" is seen in Delhi as selective: if that principle holds, why are there no comparable measures against European or Chinese purchases of Russian energy? From this grows skepticism about the possibility of building a "long‑term green partnership" with the U.S.: Indian writers believe America will encourage India's green transition only so long as it does not conflict with the interests of American industry and electorate. (orfonline.org)

Against this background it is telling how Japan and India assess the "American factor" in their own domestic politics and strategic debates. In Japan some experts openly warn: if the U.S.–China confrontation goes too far, Tokyo will simply have no room for an independent course — it will almost automatically follow Washington, even if that contradicts long‑term interests in relations with Beijing. A paper from a Japanese international forum states bluntly: the decisive point would be a situation in which "a Japanese subject‑based approach to China would no longer be possible due to a deterioration in U.S.–China relations." Past experience — from the reaction to Tiananmen to current sanctions — shows that Japan has often chosen a softer line toward the PRC than the U.S., but that margin is narrowing. (jfir.or.jp)

For the Indian elite the American factor is both a support and a warning. On the one hand, as Indian analysts emphasize, the U.S. is still viewed as a "cornerstone of global progress," and Vice President J. D. Vance in his 2025 speech explicitly stated that the 21st century could become "a very dark time for all humanity" if India and the U.S. "fail to work together successfully." On the other hand, Indian authors from research centers and the press speak of "eroded trust": after unprecedented growth in military cooperation under Biden, the return of tariffs, threats of secondary sanctions and Trump's harsh rhetoric make one wonder whether India is, in Washington's eyes, merely an instrument in the game against China and Russia. A phrase from one Indian interlocutor in an American think tank — "they can dump us at any moment" — is regularly quoted in Indian debates as the quintessence of anxiety. (orfonline.org)

The French elite against this backdrop increasingly talks about the need for an "emotional deconfederation" from the U.S. — a divorce in the mind, not in institutions. Editorials in leading foreign‑policy journals stress: even under Trump Europe remains tied to America by many bonds — from NATO to the dollar system — but this does not mean one should stop thinking of oneself as an independent pole. Notably, discussions of Trump in French intellectual circles are less and less reduced to moralizing ("toxic leader," "threat to democracy") and increasingly to pragmatic analysis: which of his decisions, however unpleasant, actually followed inevitably from longer‑term American trends.

In conclusion, Japan, India and France see different facets of the same phenomenon in contemporary America. Japan is the voice of an ally that recognizes its security is critically dependent on the U.S. but feels obliged to coldly analyze and calculate the cost of that dependence amid growing U.S.–China rivalry. India is the voice of a rising power balancing between the desire to use the U.S. as an accelerator of its own growth and the fear of becoming the object of American pressure if its foreign policy proves "too independent." France is the voice of an old ally increasingly doubtful that transatlantic relations can return to the "old normal" and more convinced that Europe must learn to live in a world where America remains a superpower but can no longer — and will not — be the universal guarantor of order.

What they have in common is one thing: the U.S. remains at the center of their strategic imagination, but no longer as the immovable axis of the world system, rather as a powerful but unstable factor around which all three must build their own strategies for survival and development.

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After Hormuz: Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan Reevaluate America

At the end of May 2026, the United States again found itself at the center of global news feeds — not so much as an unquestioned leader as a source of uncertainty. The American‑Iranian war, the blockade and the possible reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, debates about the reliability of American security guarantees, the reduction of military presence in Europe and tense discussions about the Japan‑U.S. alliance — all of this has woven into a single picture. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan they watch Washington with anxious attention: in some cases hoping for a rapid de‑escalation, in others preparing for a world in which the U.S. can no longer be relied upon as before.

The central theme linking the three countries has been the U.S. and Israel’s war against Iran and the question of unblocking the Strait of Hormuz. It is around Hormuz that a major story has emerged about what American security means today — and what it is actually worth. According to Arab and Western sources, on February 28, 2026 the U.S. and Israel launched large‑scale strikes against Iran, accompanied by an effective naval blockade, which led to a sharp rise in oil prices and pushed energy issues to the top of the agenda in all three countries, from Riyadh to Tokyo. This was reported, among others, by the independent Japanese outlet Voice for Peace in its May issue, which detailed the start of the campaign and its connection to the collapse of the New START arms control treaty, and by specialist international media such as Asia Times, analyzing the blockade’s impact on the Gulf economies and the global oil market. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan the Hormuz issue has become a litmus test: how much do the U.S. still control the situation and how beneficial is it for allies to follow Washington into risky moves.

In Saudi Arabia Hormuz is perceived not as a distant geopolitical subplot but as an almost domestic crisis. Saudi commentators in Arabic and English‑language outlets recalled that Riyadh, according to several media reports, in early May refused U.S. use of Prince Sultan base and Saudi airspace for the so‑called “Project Freedom” operation to secure navigation in Hormuz. This was reported — citing sources in the U.S. administration — by outlets including bne IntelliNews and American liberal media, emphasizing the unprecedented fact that the kingdom effectively blocked a key U.S. military initiative and forced the White House to wind down the operation in less than two days. As one Saudi analyst noted in a column for Asia Times, describing a shift in perception of the U.S. in the Persian Gulf, “the mirage of guaranteed American security in the Gulf is evaporating before our eyes” — capital elites are increasingly skeptical of the automatic arrival of “Uncle Sam” to the rescue and are beginning to build their own security supports, from regional coalitions to economic diversification.

At the same time Riyadh’s official rhetoric remains cautiously diplomatic. Saudi Foreign Minister Prince Faisal bin Farhan, in a recent statement on platform X quoted by the Saudi Gazette, welcomed Washington’s latest steps toward a diplomatic settlement, stressing that the kingdom “greatly values” efforts to find a political solution that would restore security and freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz to their prewar state. In the Arabic version of that message, broadcast by regional television channels, the emphasis is on the fact that “Saudi Arabia supports any settlement that respects the sovereignty of regional states and clearly limits the duration of foreign forces’ presence.” In this double‑toned language the main point is audible: Riyadh still sees the U.S. as an indispensable partner, but no longer regards American military presence as an unconditional good.

Among Saudi commentators several columns in Arabic outlets Al‑Jazeera and Asharq al‑Awsat in recent weeks drew parallels between the current war and the period before 2003, when Washington promised a “quick and surgical” operation in Iraq. One Al‑Jazeera author, writing about Donald Trump’s statement on withdrawing troops immediately after Hormuz was opened and the “resolution of the nuclear dossier,” recalled that such promises often turned into years of military presence and instability. Yet a new note sounded immediately: Arab countries have now shown they can constrain U.S. freedom of action by closing bases and air corridors, something that did not happen twenty years ago. Hence the main motive of the Middle Eastern reaction: a reassessment of asymmetric relations in which Washington is no longer the sole initiator but must reckon with the positions of regional players.

Germany views this crisis through the lens of two nervous questions: its own security amid a U.S. war with Iran and the possible U.S. pullback from NATO. The German press has long been accustomed to Donald Trump’s blunt statements that allies “use American protection” and “underpay” for defense, but the current war and the associated rise in fuel prices have sharpened these debates. In April and May, major outlets from Berliner Zeitung to Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung published pieces discussing the “NATO without the U.S.” scenario. In a Berliner Zeitung article titled “Nato ohne die USA? Europa muss plötzlich allein denken” the author notes that the idea of an alliance without America has ceased to be an intellectual taboo and is being discussed in European foreign ministries as a “real option.” The journalist quotes an official from one of the EU defense ministries: “Sometimes one Trump post on X or Truth Social is enough to send offices in Europe into a panic” — and adds that this is abnormal for an alliance claiming strategic autonomy.

The announcement by U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth of the withdrawal of five thousand servicemembers from Germany — reported by both German and English‑language sources — became a symbol of this new nervousness. The conservative paper Welt, in a piece on the partial troop withdrawal, quotes a CDU representative who says: “This is a significant signal that cannot be ignored — it calls into question the reliability of American guarantees in the long term.” A left‑wing representative, by contrast, called the announcement “many words and little substance,” pointing out that troops are being withdrawn gradually and that this may be more of a political gesture in response to Berlin’s criticism of the war with Iran than a real transformation of military architecture. But both right and left agree on one point: Germany can no longer assume that the U.S. will remain the “anchor” of European security forever.

Against this backdrop the domestic debate about a new American strategy, described in German media as “a direct challenge to Europe,” has intensified. Several pieces cite leaks and statements from Washington indicating that the White House openly aims to change the political balance in the EU by encouraging the rise of right‑wing and Euroskeptic forces. In a popular German news subreddit, discussing a report that the U.S. “criticizes Europe and announces interference,” one user quotes German Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul (CDU), who said that “Germany does not need external advice on freedom of speech and the organization of our free societies.” This is a rather rare hardness toward Washington for Berlin, and commentators pick it up: if five or six years ago such a statement would have caused a scandal, now it is treated as a normal defense of sovereignty.

Japan watches American moves in the Middle East through a different but no less worrying prism — energy security and the constraints of its own defense policy. One of the most detailed Japanese analytical pieces in recent months is an article on FPトレンディ titled “日米首脳会談で与野党の評価が割れた理由——ホルムズ海峡と日本のエネルギー安全保障” (Why evaluations of the Takaiti‑Trump summit in Tokyo split the ruling and opposition parties — the Strait of Hormuz and Japan’s energy security), in which the author explains why assessments of the March summit divided the ruling and opposition parties. The key point is Japan’s dependence on oil from Gulf countries and thus on stability in the Strait of Hormuz. The author stresses that the blockade of Hormuz and strikes on Iranian oil infrastructure have jeopardized Japanese supplies, and Japan’s Constitution, with its restrictions on the use of force abroad, does not allow Tokyo to play an active military role in securing sea lanes.

In this context the alliance with the U.S. is seen simultaneously as vital and as a source of risk. In a report by the Japanese NGO Peace Depot’s Voice for Peace, devoted to the expiration of New START and the growing nuclear threat, it is stated bluntly: “On February 28, 2026 the U.S. and Israel began a large‑scale attack on Iran. Japan found itself in a position where its energy security depends on a war it cannot control or stop.” This idea also appears in more mainstream media. Several major Japanese newspapers in April and May ran editorials sharply criticizing Donald Trump’s attempts to publicly interfere in Japan’s domestic politics — from supporting specific candidates in lower house elections to pressing on defense budget issues. One such editorial, discussed in the Japanese Reddit segment as “社説: トランプ氏の干渉は不適切だ” (Editorial: Mr. Trump’s interference is inappropriate), relies on international studies of great‑power interference in elections and reminds readers that “the principle of non‑intervention in internal affairs cannot be selective, even when it concerns allies.”

A similar, though characteristically restrained Japanese, tone is heard in the expert community. In the annual report of the Japan Institute of International Affairs published at the end of March, the authors note that in the medium term (5–10 years) Japan’s security could “deteriorate qualitatively” as a result of a combination of Chinese pressure, North Korea’s missile‑nuclear program and an “unstable, conflictual American foreign policy that drags Tokyo into regional crises for which Japanese society is psychologically unprepared.” At the same time, the report admits that without reliance on the American nuclear umbrella Japan would be “alone against” three nuclear powers in the region. The domestic political dispute revolves around how to reconcile preserving the alliance with building an autonomous “deterrent capability” — from expanding missile potential to investing in missile defense.

If these three perspectives — Saudi, German and Japanese — are combined, several major themes emerge.

The first is disappointment with the “default” security guarantee. For Riyadh this is expressed in the conclusion that the U.S. can no longer be the sole guarantor of Gulf security, and that horizontal ties must be built, including with China and regional powers. For Berlin it is the painful but increasingly voiced thought that Europe must “learn to think in security terms without the American umbrella,” as the Berliner Zeitung author puts it. For Tokyo it is an attempt to reduce the risk that the sea lanes vital to the country are controlled by a war whose decisions are made in Washington and Tel Aviv.

The second is the rise of emancipatory rhetoric toward the U.S., but without a desire to sever ties. Saudi refusal to provide a base for the Hormuz operation was not accompanied by anti‑Israeli or anti‑American hysteria; on the contrary, the foreign minister emphasized the “high appreciation” of Trump’s diplomatic efforts to end the war and open the strait. Germany, while criticizing American strategy and declaring it does “not need external advice” on questions of democracy, is simultaneously increasing defense spending and stressing the importance of the transatlantic link. Japan, publishing editorials on the inadmissibility of Trump’s interference in elections and analyzing the risks of an American war with Iran for its energy supplies, nevertheless continues to build defense policy around the U.S. alliance. This is not classic anti‑Americanism but a push for more equal relations.

The third is a reassessment of economic interdependence. In Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states the war in Hormuz demonstrated how painful it is for their economies to be tied to oil exports through a single “narrow choke point.” In an Asia Times piece on the “fading mirage of guaranteed U.S. security in the Gulf,” the author notes that this vulnerability is precisely what is driving Gulf states to diversify relations — from energy deals with China to investments in alternative supply routes. Germany is experiencing rising fuel prices and economic shocks, even bankruptcies of American carriers like Spirit Airlines, and sees here an example of how a Middle Eastern war, through oil prices, hits global transport and logistics chains. Japan, as an even larger importer of energy carriers, is discussing acceleration of the transition to renewables and LNG, but recognizes that in the foreseeable future it cannot entirely move away from Gulf oil.

Finally, the fourth theme is the erosion of the U.S.’s moral authority. German, Japanese and, to some extent, Saudi texts increasingly raise the theme of double standards: Washington claims the role of defender of international law, yet initiates military campaigns that are questionable under the UN Charter, such as against Venezuela or the current war with Iran. German commentators point out that even major American newspapers in editorials call these operations “legally dubious and strategically problematic,” and Japanese peace NGOs note that the lapse of the last major strategic arms control treaty coincided with the start of a new war, “symbolically demonstrating a shift from the logic of collective security to the logic of forceful diktat.” In Saudi Arabia this is expressed more softly, but the fact that the kingdom was able to effectively stop an American operation by refusing base access is viewed by many as “fatigue” with the role of a silent client.

Yet in all three countries there remains a sober recognition: despite irritation and criticism, there is no replacement for the United States as the leading military and technological power — at least for now. Hence the paradox of the current moment: the more unpredictable and conflictual American policy becomes, the more Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan seek ways both to distance themselves and to reinforce the alliance. Riyadh is building a relationship with Washington based on “selective cooperation,” restraining overly risky initiatives while supporting American diplomatic moves that open the way to peace in Hormuz. Berlin, while criticizing Trump and preparing for a “NATO‑minus‑U.S.” scenario, still tries to “tie” America to Europe through new cooperation formats and defense projects. Tokyo, toughening its rhetoric against interference in its elections, simultaneously works closely with the U.S. to modernize the alliance amid growing Chinese power.

This is the new international conversation about America that has been little translated into English: not about being “for” or “against” the U.S., but about how to live in a world where Washington remains a center of power but has ceased to be a predictable and “by default benevolent” leader. For Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan the answer is currently being formulated in different political and cultural codes, but the essence everywhere is the same: the era of unilateral dependence on the U.S. is ending; an era of complex, sometimes contradictory, but more equal relations is beginning.

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Between Support and Suspicion: How Brazil, Japan and Ukraine View the U.S. Today

News from Washington reaches different parts of the world through different prisms, but in Brazil, Japan and Ukraine the U.S. is currently discussed around several overlapping themes: the unpredictability of American policy after a change of administration, the fate of American security guarantees, the economic risks of dependence on the U.S., and how willing Washington is to sacrifice partners’ interests for its internal maneuvers. The tone ranges from pragmatic “how to use America to our advantage” to the anxious question “will they betray us next time?”

One of the main cross-cutting themes is the expectation of changes in American foreign policy and their consequences. In Ukraine almost any discussion about the U.S. now focuses on how stable military and political support will remain, and whether the country might become a “hostage of American policy,” as one Kyiv commentator put it in Focus while analyzing the White House’s strategy in the war against Russia and possible U.S. pressure on Kyiv toward negotiations. The article emphasizes that the Biden administration no longer hides that the volumes of military funding seen in 2022–2023 will not be repeated, and that the U.S. goal is to make Ukraine as self-sufficient as possible in procuring and producing arms, including by shifting emphasis to European allies and developing Ukraine’s own defense industry. State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller has spoken plainly about a reduction in the scale of assistance, and in Ukrainian discussions this reads as a signal: the era of “blank-check” funding is ending, and Washington may then seek an “honorable exit” from the conflict. As the Focus author notes, a narrative is already forming in democratic media that Ukraine has “somehow already won,” because Russia did not achieve its initial goals — and this could provide an ideological foundation for stronger pressure toward a compromise peace acceptable to Washington but not necessarily to Ukrainian society. (focus.ua)

Against this backdrop the so-called “U.S. peace plan” is increasingly discussed in Ukrainian public space — a package of proposals that first leaked through the American site Axios and was then detailed by Ukrainian sources. The key element that sparked a storm of controversy in Kyiv is the idea that after the cessation of active hostilities Ukraine would have to reduce the size of its armed forces. Ultimately, according to President Volodymyr Zelensky, the figure agreed with partners is to be around 800,000 servicemembers instead of the 600,000 initially mentioned by Americans. Ukrainian businessman and territorial defense officer Vsevolod Kozhemiako in an interview with NV explicitly links this number to the American plan, stressing that Washington is trying to fix a certain “security balance” between deterring Russia and limiting Ukraine’s military capacity so as not to be drawn into an endless race to sustain a huge army. (nv.ua) For part of Ukraine’s expert community this looks like an attempt by the U.S. to institutionalize a frozen conflict in which Kyiv, while retaining independence, is effectively forced to shape its defense architecture within frameworks convenient to the U.S. and Europe.

This is where the talk of Ukraine’s “hostage” status in American policy comes from: if Washington decides that a quick diplomatic success is needed for domestic balance or for a deal with Moscow and Beijing, then Kyiv’s future security parameters, Ukrainians believe, could easily become bargaining chips. This feeling is reinforced by the existence within the American political spectrum of influential groups, including around Donald Trump, that view the war in Ukraine primarily through the prism of confrontation with China rather than as an existential question of European security. Ukrainian analysts follow these debates, citing skeptical assessments from the U.S., where some commentators claim the outcome of the conflict was decided as early as 2023 and that further Western efforts are only leading to “senseless spending.” (ura.news)

However, the same Ukrainian voices that criticize Washington’s wavering admit: without the U.S. the country cannot hold out now. A reminder of this are older but still regularly cited White House assessments: as early as 2024 the Biden administration warned Congress that without a new funding package Ukraine could face an acute shortage of air defense and artillery ammunition within weeks, and Ukraine’s defeat would damage the U.S. reputation in the eyes of allies such as Japan and South Korea. (forbes.ru) This “Ukraine — Asia” linkage as a test of American reliability is increasingly echoed in Asian discussions themselves.

In Japan the conversation about the U.S. is less dramatic but also centers on dependence and the risk of “American wavering.” At the level of official policy Tokyo conspicuously strengthens the alliance with Washington and stresses its indispensability. In a recent analytical piece prepared jointly by TBS and Bloomberg, a Japanese author describes the situation this way: “There is now a discussion in Japan about how much we can reduce the risk of excessive orientation toward the U.S. But for Japan the U.S. remains the only military ally and the largest economic partner.” The key takeaway of the piece: Tokyo’s task is to turn “dependence” into a conscious strategy — not simply to follow the American course, but to learn to use proximity to Washington to strengthen its own position in the region and in the global economy. The author warns that if Japanese political will and the corporate sector do not reorient toward a more active game, then instead of an “American risk” a “Japanese risk” may appear — a situation in which the country fails to adapt in time rather than becoming a victim of others’ decisions. (newsdig.tbs.co.jp)

At the same time Japanese economists and lawyers compare the institutional models of the two countries. In a fresh report by Japanese consultancy JRM, devoted to logistics policy and regulation, the contrast is drawn between the U.S.’s “seamless” design of rules since the 1980s and the tendency of the Japanese system to “gaps” and unintended consequences. The authors analyze why the U.S. succeeded in building a coordinated regulatory mechanism for transport and logistics through a strong federal center, transparent procedures and strict standards, whereas in Japan, in their view, fragmentation of powers and a compromise culture lead to inefficiency. This is interesting because the Japanese article uses the U.S. not merely as an ally but as a normative benchmark: America appears as a model of “working institutions,” against which domestic weaknesses become visible. (jrmkt.com)

There is also an element of caution in Japanese public discourse: if the U.S. today is the main security guarantor amid China’s rise and the North Korean threat, then the question arises how stable that guarantor is internally. Here Ukraine is viewed as a test: can the U.S. withstand pressure and continue costly support for partners even amid political polarization and growing isolationist sentiments? Japanese media regularly cite assessments of how the Ukrainian war affects perceptions of American guarantees in Asia: if Washington falters in Europe, it will be a strong argument for those in Tokyo convinced Japan needs a more autonomous defense posture, even if still allied with the U.S.

Brazil’s perspective on the U.S. is notably different: the key theme there is not military security but economic and geopolitical autonomy. Major presses, from Folha de São Paulo to Estado, debate how Brazil can maneuver between the United States and China while remaining within its own Global South agenda. Commentators emphasize that the U.S. remains an important investment and trade partner, and that new American climate and industrial policies open opportunities for Brazil — from green technologies to supply chains for critical raw materials. But they also warn: too tight a tie to Washington makes the country vulnerable to shifts in the White House, as already happened with abrupt policy turnarounds between the Trump and Biden administrations.

In Brazilian analytical columns a motif of “instrumentalizing” the U.S. is clearly visible. Observers discuss how effectively Lula da Silva’s Brazil uses dialogue with Washington to advance its initiatives — from reforming international financial institutions to peace proposals on Ukraine and Gaza — and whether this risks alienating China, which today is Brazil’s largest trading partner. Hence the skepticism toward American calls to “democratize supply chains” and reduce dependence on Beijing: in Brazilian discourse this is often seen as an attempt to drag the country into a new Cold War where Global South interests will be subordinated to the Washington–Beijing logic.

Interestingly, the Ukrainian issue becomes the point where concerns about U.S. reliability from different regions converge. Ukrainian experts, analyzing the U.S. “peace plan,” worry about possible backroom agreements between Washington, Moscow and, prospectively, Beijing, in which Ukraine’s fate would be just one element of a broader deal. (nv.ua) Ukrainian media extensively cite European leaders warning of the risk that the U.S. might “betray” Ukraine should an administration oriented toward quick deals and reduced commitments return to power. (24tv.ua) This anxiety resonates in Latin America too, where people recall past decades when Washington readily shifted allies and backed regime changes according to shifting interests.

Japanese analysts, looking at Ukraine’s dependence on American aid, see a mirror of their own possible future: if at a critical moment the U.S. is drawn into domestic political crisis or a course change, how prepared is Tokyo for a scenario in which American “umbrella” protection weakens or becomes a bargaining chip in Washington’s relations with Beijing and Pyongyang? Thus the notion of “American risk,” which Japanese authors urge should be treated strategically, has not only economic but also military-political dimensions. (newsdig.tbs.co.jp)

Against this background it is curious that in Ukraine, despite all the skepticism, a paradoxical belief in the uniqueness of the American role persists. Even critical pieces in the Kyiv press emphasize that no European coalition is yet capable of replacing the U.S. as a supplier of modern weapons and as the core of sanctions pressure on Russia. Conversations that Washington is supposedly pushing Kyiv toward negotiations always sit alongside the recognition that it is American pressure that restrains the most radical forms of “Ukraine fatigue” in Europe. (focus.ua)

In Brazil the U.S. is seen more as one center of power among others — with which to speak as an equal, using the growing weight of the Global South. Brazilian columnists watch with interest how Washington tries to reformat world alliances after the wars in Ukraine and the Middle East, and assess how much room that leaves for independent Brazilian diplomacy. If the Ukrainian and Japanese discourse about the U.S. is tinged with the worry “what if they abandon us?”, the Brazilian discourse is a pragmatic question: “what can we extract from America while it needs our votes and resources?”

Across all three countries a common line is noticeable in discussions of the U.S.: America is perceived not as a monolithic “hegemon” but as a field of internal struggle whose outcome is hard to predict. Ukrainian analysts closely follow each fracture in congressional votes on aid packages, seeing in them a barometer of whether the future line will be toward peace or continued war. (focus.ua) Japanese writers analyze the cyclical nature of American policy, comparing how changes of president affect tariffs, military commitments and regional initiatives. (nri.com) Brazilian commentators argue that “American unpredictability” is not an anomaly but a structural feature of a superpower with a polarized society, and therefore Latin America must build backup lines of connection with Europe, China and its domestic market.

The result is a complex but revealing picture. In Ukraine the U.S. remains a vital patron to be feared and prayed to at once — because the fate of war and peace largely depends on the swings of American policy. In Japan America is an indispensable shield and a model builder of institutions, but also a source of strategic risk that Tokyo seeks to “ride,” turning dependence into a controlled instrument. In Brazil the United States is an important but not exclusive partner, approached pragmatically and sometimes with distrust, seen as a power prone to putting its interests above any alliances.

What unites all three perspectives is this: illusions about the unconditional and eternal nature of American guarantees have almost vanished. Where people once spoke of “leadership of the free world,” they now discuss architectures of insurance against a possible U.S. withdrawal, ways to reduce vulnerability to changes of administration in Washington, and — as in Kyiv, Tokyo and Brasília — try to answer what a world should look like in which America remains very powerful but is no longer perceived as the only center of attraction and hope.

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How America Became a Trigger: Russia, South Africa and Brazil Rethink the US

In recent weeks the United States has again found itself at the center of other countries’ domestic agendas — not so much because of Washington itself as because of how its decisions are used and interpreted abroad. In Russia there is debate about “frozen” relations with the US amid the war and attempts by Donald Trump to present himself as a peacemaker. In South Africa there is controversy over whether the new American migration policy is racially motivated. In Brazil the Americans have suddenly become a factor in the 2026 presidential campaign — at once partner and meddling arbiter. These stories show that the image of the US as a global center of power remains, but attitudes toward it are becoming increasingly pragmatic and suspicious.

One of the loudest disputes around America has erupted in South Africa, where the administration of Donald Trump announced a decision to admit an additional 10,000 white South Africans as refugees, effectively raising the quota exclusively for Afrikaners while the program remains nearly closed to other countries. Associated Press reported that the White House justified the move as an “unforeseen refugee emergency” and pointed to a “growth of racially motivated violence” against white farmers in South Africa. The administration says Afrikaners are being persecuted, but the government in Pretoria firmly denies this.(apnews.com)

Here the gap between American discourse and local perception is visible. The South African cabinet and Afrikaner organizations themselves issued a joint rejection, effectively dismissing the American narrative of a “humanitarian emergency for whites.” The AP report from Johannesburg emphasizes that both authorities and advocacy groups representing the white minority said they saw no basis for the special threat Washington describes and did not want to be used as a tool for an ideological agenda in the US.(apnews.com)

To South African audiences this looks like a transfer of American “culture wars” onto African soil: the White House appeals to the theme of “aggrieved whites,” while the local discourse is accustomed to discussing the complex but far more multidimensional issues of crime, land reform and historical inequality. Pretoria’s official reaction, judging by the coverage, is built around not allowing the US to dictate the interpretation of South African reality. In South Africa this is perceived not as a gesture of solidarity but as a unilateral political decision that ignores local statistics and gives racial questions an explosive cross‑border hue.

Seen in a different key but with a similar motif of “Washington as an interfering player” are perceptions of the US in Brazil. There the focus is on the American decision to designate the largest Brazilian criminal groups PCC and Comando Vermelho as terrorist organizations. On the UOL News analytical program, former Brazilian ambassador to Washington Rubens Barbosa described this as “the first manifestation of interference” by the American government in the 2026 presidential campaign. In the conversation recounted by UOL, he stressed that the designation itself was expected, but its timing and symbolism are being viewed through the lens of the elections.(noticias.uol.com.br)

This is a typically Brazilian reading: the US is described not only as a security partner but as a player capable of sending a signal to particular electoral groups within the country. For some of the conservative and “law-and-order” electorate, such a hardline American gesture may bolster trust in candidates promising close cooperation with Washington in combating crime. For leftist and sovereigntist circles it is grounds to speak of unacceptable external “certification” of internal problems and of a threat to the sovereignty of justice.

At the same time, Brazilian media continue to analyze President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s visit to the White House and his meeting with Donald Trump. In the influential weekly Veja, in a piece titled “Encontro entre Lula e Trump: o impacto no bolsonarismo…,” it is noted that a meeting conceived as ceremonial turned into a political victory for Lula: the American president publicly praised him, and the White House moved to ease tariffs. The authors emphasize that this changed the rhetoric of the right, which now finds it harder to accuse Lula of “subservience” to the US, since their own “ideological referent” in Washington is conspicuously friendly with him.(veja.abril.com.br)

Thus, in Brazil the US is a field of symbolic struggle: Lula uses Washington to strengthen his international and economic positions, while opponents use it to criticize or rethink their anti‑ or pro‑American theses. In another Veja piece about the CNI business forum in New York it is emphasized that, despite tensions over tariffs, Brazilian industry continues to view the US as a strategic economic partner and is actively seeking new forms of cooperation.(veja.abril.com.br) Beneath that pragmatism lies an important nuance: unlike the South African discussion about refugees, where Washington is seen as upsetting the balance, in Brazil the issue is a complex game in which the American factor both irritates and attracts.

The Russian conversation about the US today is colder and more cynical. At the official level Moscow signals that it does not believe in the possibility of real détente even under Donald Trump. Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, in comments carried by Reuters and quoted, among others, by the German portal onvista, said that “nothing is happening” in relations with the US, stressing that ties remain at a minimal level and that a change of administration in Washington by itself changes little.(thestar.com.my)

Overlaying this is a specific view among Russian and foreign experts of Washington’s role in the war in Ukraine. In Russian‑ and English‑language analytical reviews — from “Russia Matters” to pieces about Moscow’s Victory Day Parade — the US appears both as the main sponsor of Ukraine and as the background against which Moscow builds “alternative” ties with Beijing and the Global South. In one recent Russia Matters review it is emphasized that Russia is increasingly drawn into dependence on China, trading raw materials for machinery and technology, while the US remains a much more important economic rival and market for Beijing.(russiamatters.org) In Russian domestic optics this is presented as a turn toward “multipolarity” and liberation from American hegemony, but Western analysts read these trends more as strategic vulnerability.

At the same time, the “peacemaker” role of Washington is actively discussed in the Russian‑language space. Chronological summaries of the war note the three‑day ceasefire announced by Trump between Russia and Ukraine in early May, which is presented in the Russian public discourse as proof that only the US can exert a real lever on the tempo of hostilities. However, in expert columns the emphasis is different: analysts remind readers that even such pauses do not change the structural character of the conflict and do not negate the long‑term US course of supporting Kyiv.(russiamatters.org)

Comparing these three perspectives reveals several common threads. First, the US is everywhere perceived not as an abstract superpower but as a concrete, highly pragmatic actor whose decisions interfere with the balance of forces inside other countries. Declaring Afrikaners refugees, manipulating the status of Brazilian criminal organizations, targeted initiatives for ceasefires in Ukraine — abroad these actions are read not as a universal “fight for values” but as carefully calculated moves in Washington’s own interest and, often, in the interest of the sitting administration.

Second, in each country there is a growing demand to interpret their own reality sovereignly. South Africa does not want someone from outside to declare what in its racial politics constitutes an “emergency,” and stresses that even organizations of the white minority do not share the dramatic tone of American formulations. Brazil seeks to preserve the right to decide for itself where security cooperation ends and political interference begins. Russia, even while in deep confrontation with the US, constructs rhetoric around the notion that Washington is no longer the sole decision‑making center in the world — pointing to China and other players.

Finally, each country has its own unexpected inflections. In Brazil the right’s reaction to the “friendship” between Trump and Lula shows how flexible anti‑American rhetoric can be: yesterday the US was a symbol of “globalism” against national sovereignty, today it is valuable capital for one’s own president if he can convert personal ties with the White House occupant into tariff relief. In South Africa, by contrast, some conservative circles traditionally skeptical of the post‑apartheid state find themselves on the same side as the government when it comes to defending the national interpretation of events against an American “rescue” narrative. In Russia the paradox is that the more official rhetoric distances itself from the US, the more the military‑political and economic reality remains tied to American decisions — from sanctions to the scale of military aid to Ukraine.

The picture of international reactions to the US today is far from black and white. America remains the main screen onto which the hopes, fears and strategies of other countries are projected, but fewer and fewer are willing to accept a script written in Washington unquestioningly. Russia, South Africa and Brazil, in different ways but with equal insistence, are trying to rewrite the roles: not to be merely objects of American policy, but to make the US one factor among many in their own, much more complex game.

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How the world sees America today: elections, wars and "leadership fatigue"

At the turn of summer 2026, attention to the United States outside the country is once again focused not on the economy or technological breakthroughs, but on politics and wars. In South Africa, France and Japan, the United States is written about primarily as a power whose internal rifts and external "fatigue" are reshaping the contours of global security. The tone of these conversations varies noticeably: in some places pragmatic calculation prevails, in others — anxiety for democracy, and elsewhere — a cool Asian wariness toward an unpredictable Washington.

The first major theme linking the three countries is the return of Donald Trump and the question of what his line "let Europe fend for itself" means for the war in Ukraine. In France this issue is discussed through the prism of the fate of European autonomy and the ability of Paris and Brussels to live in a world where America stops being the guarantor of security. In Japanese and South African debates there is more palpable fear: for Tokyo — that a weakening of US commitments in Europe could presage erosion of guarantees in Asia, for Pretoria — that Washington will decisively reorient toward confrontation with China and stop taking the interests of the Global South into account.

French publications, from centrist to right‑wing, describe the new American foreign policy in terms of "reassessing leadership" and a "return to a transactional approach," linking it not only to the personality of Trump but also to a broader American society's fatigue with the role of the "world's policeman." In essence, the French discussion revolves around the question: can Europe continue to rely on Washington if today the White House sells security as a service, and tomorrow might outsource it to Berlin or Warsaw? Against this backdrop, criticism of the US sounds twofold: on one hand, Washington is blamed for readiness to "sell" Ukraine in exchange for a deal with Moscow; on the other — European capitals are reminded that their decade‑long dependence on the American "nuclear umbrella" made such a scenario possible.

The South African lens is different. Commentaries in major newspapers and think tanks have long used the wars in Ukraine and the Middle East as examples of the "selectivity" of American morals. When Washington tightens sanctions on Russia while for decades maintaining close ties with Middle Eastern allies accused of human rights abuses, this is perceived in Pretoria as confirmation of an old suspicion: values are values, but geopolitics always underpins them. From this stems a narrative of the "unflattering symmetry" between the US and Russia — both portrayed as powers willing to sacrifice external partners for their own interests — and precisely for this reason South Africa seeks to build maneuvering space within BRICS rather than engage in direct confrontation with Washington.

Japanese analysis, especially in the business and expert press, views the same US moves through the lens of balance in the Indo‑Pacific region. For Tokyo the key question is this: if the United States is ready to sharply reassess its role in the European security architecture, how resilient are its commitments to Japan and South Korea? Japanese columns on the US often use the term "内向きの米国" — "America turned inward," emphasizing a trend toward reducing external commitments and focusing on internal conflicts. Analysts link this to the rise of populism, polarization and societal fatigue with endless wars on foreign continents, and ask whether Asia might repeat Europe's scenario in the coming years, where allies suddenly find themselves facing revisionist powers without Washington's guaranteed backing.

The second major block of discussion is the perception of American domestic politics as a factor of global instability. In France the situation is still compared with the early 1970s: inflationary risks combine with a crisis of trust in institutions and societal fatigue with elites, and transatlantic ties depend on the outcome of another American electoral cycle. French columnists note that any change of administration in Washington now threatens not just course corrections but a complete reversal: from climate policy to the maintenance of alliances. This creates a feeling that Europe is no longer dealing with a predictable ally, but with a state whose foreign policy is "a hostage to the oscillations of an internal civil‑strife."

South African voices link American polarization to their own experience of transitional democracy. On the pages of newspapers and in expert speeches, the US is often described as a country undergoing a "delayed reckoning with the history of racism and economic inequality." Parallels with cases of police violence and mass protests in the US allow South African commentators to draw direct analogies with apartheid, while many emphasize that American institutions remain much stronger. An interesting detail: in such texts the US is simultaneously criticized for "double standards" and treated as a laboratory where one can study what to avoid in one's own reconciliation policies.

In Japan, America's internal strife is considered primarily through the prism of its consequences for the stability of policy toward China and North Korea. Japanese observers note that the consensus in Washington on containing Beijing persists for now, but warn: if the domestic political crisis escalates into constitutional or legal confrontation, priorities can quickly shift, and allies in Asia will have to assume more risks and costs themselves. This fuels discussion in Tokyo of the idea of "limited strategic autonomy" — without severing the alliance with the US, to build up their own capabilities so as not to find themselves in the same situation as Europeans forced to adapt to internal American perturbations in a crisis.

The third theme common to the three countries is the changed role of the United States in the wars in Ukraine and Gaza and the broader question of whether Washington still has the moral right to claim the status of "leader of the free world." In France the tone of criticism is often cloaked in diplomatic phrasing, but the essence is clear: Washington is reproached both for a slow and half‑measured reaction to the Russian invasion and for its inability to stop the destruction in Gaza, despite having the levers of influence. French commentators point out that Europe finds itself between a rock and a hard place: on one hand it must support the American line, on the other — public opinion at home is increasingly not in agreement, especially on the Middle East.

The South African perspective is even harsher. There, the war in Gaza has become a symbol of the "double standards of the West," and the US plays a central role in this narrative. Pretoria's appeals to international courts and public statements by South African lawyers and politicians are directed not only against the concrete actions of Middle Eastern actors but also against what they call the "American right to issue moral certificates to the world." Criticism is also leveled at how Washington selectively uses the language of human rights: violations committed by US opponents are condemned as crimes against humanity, while allies' actions are excused as "complex situations." For many in South Africa this confirms that the system built after World War II under US auspices no longer reflects the interests of most countries.

In Japanese debates the same theme takes on a cooler, technocratic tone. Commentators note that the "normalization of war" in Europe and the Middle East amid American societal fatigue with external conflicts weakens the deterrent effect of American power. When Russia, Iran or North Korea see that Washington struggles to form coalitions, faces sabotage in its own Congress and is forced to make compromises, Japanese analysts argue, this creates a window of opportunity for revisionist moves in Asia. In this logic the US is no longer an unconditional guarantor of order but a variable in a complex equation, where allies must factor in the possibility of American indecision or reversal.

Against this background it is interesting to see how the three countries interpret American "leadership fatigue" differently. In France — it is primarily a challenge to the European idea of strategic autonomy: elites acknowledge that decades of relative comfort under the American umbrella have left Europe without the tools or political will to quickly occupy the vacated space. In South Africa the same fatigue is seen as an opportunity for the Global South to build a more multipolar world where the US remains an important but no longer dominant player. In Japan it is sounded as a warning: if allies do not help Washington share the burden, it may at some point simply shed it.

At the same time, in all three countries the US remains an object not only of criticism but also of intense attention. French experts continue to view America as a laboratory of political and economic experiments, from regulation of tech giants to green transformation. South African authors closely follow American debates on race, inequality and migration, drawing lessons for their own society. Japanese analysts study the evolution of American doctrine in cybersecurity and space, understanding that decisions in Washington determine the security architecture in their region.

The result is a paradoxical picture. On one hand, belief in American "exceptionalism" and unquestioned leadership is rapidly fading: the US is no longer perceived as a moral arbiter and a default guarantor of stability. On the other — the world remains so dependent on political cycles and strategic decisions in Washington that every new turn in America's internal struggle immediately reverberates in leading headlines in Paris, Pretoria and Tokyo. This duality — fatigue with America and the impossibility of distancing from it — is, perhaps, the main nerve of current international discussions about the United States.

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Washington Between Tehran, Beijing and Brasília: How the World Sees Trump’s New America

At the end of May 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of global disputes — not only as a military and economic superpower, but as a political factor directly affecting internal balances in a range of countries. In Turkey, Brazil and Australia, Washington is discussed not abstractly but as a source of very concrete risks and opportunities: from tariffs and rare earth minerals to war with Iran and pressure within NATO. Across all three continents the central figure has become Donald Trump, returned to the White House, whose decisions are perceived as ideologically predictable yet radically unpredictable in form.

Three interrelated themes come to the fore. First, a renewed US confrontation with Iran and an increase in Washington’s military presence in the Middle East, which Turkish authors explicitly describe as “a US-like Israel–Iran war” and a source of pressure on Ankara in the US–EU–NATO triangle.(yetkinreport.com) Second, a global tug-of-war between the US and China that forces both Turkey and Brazil to constantly adjust their “intermediary” course.(yetkinreport.com) And finally, an unusually personalized role for Washington in Brazilian politics: President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s visit to Trump in Washington became in Brasília less a foreign policy event than an episode in the 2026 electoral struggle and the contest for influence between Lulismo and Bolsonarism.(veja.abril.com.br)

Through these three prisms — Iran and the Middle East, US–China rivalry, and the “Trump factor” in Latin America — the image of America is read today in Ankara, Canberra and Brasília.

Turkish view: “active neutrality” under fire from Washington

Two clusters dominate the Turkish discussion of America right now: US–Iran and US–EU–NATO. Yetkin Report commentator Murat describes recent weeks as a “deployment of a US-style Israel–Iran conflict,” against which attempts are intensifying to “break Turkey’s delicate balance of active neutrality in the US–EU–NATO triangle.”(yetkinreport.com) In Ankara, “active neutrality” means a policy in which the country formally remains committed to NATO obligations while at the same time staunchly defending its own regional interests from the Eastern Mediterranean to the Caucasus and refusing to automatically follow Washington’s line.

Turkish analysts note that amid war with Iran and new US sanctions, pressure on Ankara runs through several channels at once: NATO standards, energy policy and Turkey’s participation in Western sanctions regimes. An article on Yetkin Report emphasizes that any escalation of US–Iran confrontation increases risks for the Turkish economy — from energy costs to reduced transit flows and tourism — yet in Washington Turkey is still more likely to be seen as an object to be “managed” than a partner to be negotiated with on equal terms.(yetkinreport.com)

A separate theme is anticipation of Trump’s visit to Beijing and a possible US–China “deal.” Turkish commentator Ahmet Erdi Öztürk on Yetkin Report writes that “US–China negotiations are not simply a meeting of two leaders, but a moment when global trade, energy security, technological rivalry and the maneuvering space of middle powers will be renegotiated.”(yetkinreport.com) For Turkey — which in recent years has been playing a complicated game between Washington, Brussels, Moscow and Beijing — this means even more pressure: the tougher the US line against China and Iran, the harder it will be for Ankara to maintain the image of a “bridge,” and the greater the temptation in Washington to “punish” Turkey for attempts at autonomous geopolitics.

Notably, in Turkish media the American president Trump appears not only as a source of external pressure but as a figure around whom domestic political debates are organized. In Turkish-language online discussions, even on financial forums, his statement that “the US is now the ‘hottest’ country in the world” is widely quoted — in contrast to the Biden period when “the US was dead and a laughingstock.”(reddit.com) For part of the Turkish public this rhetoric resonates with their own anti‑Biden and anti‑democratic sentiments, formed amid disputes over Syria and the Kurdish issue. As a result, American policy in Ankara is perceived not only through institutions and interests but also through Trump’s personal style, which simultaneously irritates and attracts.

Brazil: Washington as the battleground of Lula and Bolsonaro

If in Turkey the US is seen primarily as an external factor, in Brazil Washington has become a direct arena of domestic political struggle. Lula’s May visit to the White House and his talks with Trump are treated in the Brazilian press not as a routine summit but as a central episode of the 2026 campaign.

In a UOL column Daniela Lima analyzes in detail how Lula “chose four priority topics for discussion with Trump — and neither Bolsonaro nor the war in Iran made the list.”(noticias.uol.com.br) These were lifting US trade sanctions on Brazilian products, developing deals on rare earth and critical minerals while preserving added value in Brazil, regulation of digital platforms and joint efforts to combat illegal arms trafficking and financial schemes to evade taxes through the US. In other words, for Lula the key question is how to convert relations with the US into economic and political capital at home.

At the same time, economic outlets like Forbes Brasil describe the White House negotiations as tough tariff bargaining, where Trump, having strengthened protectionist measures, faces Brazilian demands to at least “zero out the sanctions list” and not impose new excess tariffs on steel and agricultural products. Minister Márcio Elias stresses that “there is no place for US super‑tariffs on Brazil,” while Lula calls the United States “a main trading partner,” simultaneously complaining about the absence of American companies in major Brazilian infrastructure tenders that Chinese firms are winning en masse.(noticias.uol.com.br)

But the main aspect is the purely political dimension of the visit. Veja writes that the Lula–Trump meeting “produced more than a diplomatic gesture” — it redefined expectations about the supposedly irreconcilable confrontation between the leftist Brazilian leader and the right‑wing American president. Political scientists interviewed by the outlet note that Trump’s public compliments to Lula came precisely when Bolsonaro supporters intensified attacks trying to portray the sitting president as an antagonist of Washington.(veja.abril.com.br)

Left‑leaning Brasil 247 uses the visit to build an image of Lula as a “global statesman and defender of Brazilian sovereignty who came to the White House not to bow but to defend his terms.” The outlet emphasizes that in Washington Lula “challenged tariffs, discussed cooperation with the ‘inevitable partner’ and refused the role of junior ally.”(brasil247.com)

On the other side, Folha de S.Paulo analyzes how Planalto uses the summit with Trump to “isolate Flávio Bolsonaro in the US.” According to the paper, the former president’s son and his allies had long built their own channels of influence in Washington, including entrepreneur Paulo Figueiredo and close contacts with parts of American conservative circles. But when Lula received an official reception at the White House, these parallel lines lost weight. Folha notes that these channels once helped push through a tariff shock against Brazil by portraying prosecutions of right‑wing figures like Jair Bolsonaro as “political persecution.”(www1.folha.uol.com.br)

An interesting perspective comes from Brasil de Fato, which interviewed American analysts about how Flávio Bolsonaro is perceived within the US. Brown University professor James Green and People’s Dispatch editor Zoe Alexandra believe that Trump “is not interested in breaking with Lula and understands he does not need to win over Flávio Bolsonaro’s support.”(brasildefato.com.br) For Brazilian audiences this is an important signal: the “Trump–Bolsonaro” axis that underpinned previous foreign policy no longer seems as decisive, and Washington shows readiness to work directly with Lula.

Beneath these personalized storylines remains a more structural conflict. The memory of the 2025 trade war, when Lula called American tariffs “unacceptable blackmail” and proposed lifting them through negotiations, is still fresh.(pt.wikipedia.org) And recent experience shows that even a White House visit does not guarantee progress on the strategically important dossier of critical minerals for the US and China: Reuters reports that an agreement on this issue remains “far from complete” despite Lula’s visit to Washington.(noticias.uol.com.br)

In this sense the Brazilian view of the US is ambivalent. On one hand, American presence is a desirable counterbalance to China and a source of investment, acknowledged by both Lula and former president Michel Temer, who in an interview with Times Brasil urges the country “not to be drawn into the geopolitical dispute between the US and China” but to use both axes for development.(timesbrasil.com.br) On the other hand, Washington remains a source of risk: from tariffs to threats of sanctions over ties with Venezuela and excessive closeness to Beijing.

Australian silence and hidden unease

At first glance, the Australian media space lacks the loud, personalized Washington storylines seen in Turkey and Brazil. At least in recent English‑language open sources it's hard to find striking columns comparable to Brazilian debates about “Lula–Trump” or Turkish exposés of a “US‑style war with Iran.” This is partly explained by the predictability of Australian foreign policy: Canberra traditionally views the US as a key security ally, and therefore the sharpest domestic disputes focus not on “do we need the US?” but on the details of the alliance — including AUKUS, the value of American guarantees and the risk of being pulled into a potential US–China conflict.

Although detailed fresh columns on this narrow topic are scarce, the general context is clear. Australian analysts have argued for several years about whether reliance on Washington turns the country into a “frontier” in a potential US–China confrontation, especially amid increased US military presence in the region and Trump’s rhetoric toward Beijing. In this context, Turkish and Brazilian motives — the desire not to be a hostage of the US–China dispute while maximizing economic benefits — sound very familiar to parts of the Australian expert community, though expressed in a more cautious, technocratic language.

Common themes: fear of “someone else’s war” and the struggle for maneuverability

If the Turkish, Brazilian and Australian discussions of the US are woven into a single cloth, several common motifs emerge.

First — the fear of being dragged into “someone else’s war.” For Turkey this is the risk of becoming a pawn in a US–Iran or US–Russia confrontation; for Brazil — the prospect of suffering from US sanctions and pressure over positions on Venezuela, Iran or China; for Australia — the danger of ending up on the front line of a potential US–China military clash. Turkish authors explicitly write that amid the Iranian crisis “pressure on Turkey as a NATO member is growing,” and former Brazilian president Michel Temer bluntly warns that the country “should not enter the geopolitical dispute between the US and China.”(yetkinreport.com)

Second motif — the struggle for economic sovereignty and added value. The Brazilian debate over critical minerals with the US and China is not only geopolitics but a dispute over whether Brazil will be a raw material supplier or a high‑tech player. Lula explicitly says he wants “to sell not raw materials but finished products,” and articles in Reuters and Forbes note resistance both inside Brazil and in the US, where business often finds it more convenient to treat the country as a source of cheap resources.(noticias.uol.com.br) The Turkish polemic about the country’s role in supply chains and energy routes around the US and China is essentially the same: the question is not simply who to align with, but on what terms to participate in the global economy.

Third — the personalization of America through Trump. In Brazil he is seen both as a source of threat (author of protectionist tariffs) and as a potential partner with whom Lula may “reset” relations. For the Turkish public, Trump is a symbol of an aggressive but predictably transactional America; in informal discussions his style is often compared to that of local populists, evoking both sympathy and concern.(veja.abril.com.br) In all three countries this blurs the traditional image of the United States as a set of institutions and rules: instead of “Washington,” people increasingly say “Trump,” and they judge US policy through his statements and tweets.

Fourth — attempts to turn relations with the US into a resource for domestic politics. In Brazil this is almost explicit: both Lula and his opponents use footage from the White House in their own campaigns.(veja.abril.com.br) In Turkey, successful resistance to US pressure in NATO and the Middle East is presented as proof of the government’s independence and strength. In Australia, the ability to “keep the alliance without losing autonomy” also becomes an important political argument, albeit expressed more cautiously.

Finally, an important detail is attitudes toward American military power. Brazilian opinion polls about, for example, a US operation in Venezuela show that a noticeable portion of the population viewed it positively, seeing the US as a stabilizing factor in the region.(ipsos.com) In Turkey, any new American campaign in the Middle East provokes irritation and concern that its consequences will again hit Ankara through refugees, terrorism and trade routes.(yetkinreport.com) In Australia the baseline perception remains of the US as a security guarantor, but concern is growing that the scale and nature of American operations (for example, a sharp increase in presence in the Persian Gulf) will be determined not by allies’ consensus but by moods in the White House.

Unobvious lessons for an American audience

Viewed only from Washington or New York, it’s easy to miss that in Ankara, Brasília and Canberra the US is increasingly seen not as “the center of the civilized world” but as one of several major powers to be bargained with. A Brazilian column for Folha stresses that Lula went to the White House “not to beg, but to lift sanctions and demand greater US economic presence in a country where China already dominates infrastructure tenders.”(noticias.uol.com.br) Yetkin Report’s Turkish author writes about the need to turn Turkey’s geopolitical position “not just into a bridge but into a reliable and predictable strategic value” — otherwise the country will remain an object of pressure between the US, EU and Russia.(yetkinreport.com)

From Brazil comes a particularly striking thought: Washington can no longer be the monopolist in Latin America. As leftist Brasil 247 notes, while Lula argues in the White House about sovereignty and tariffs, his right‑wing opponents continue “to cling to ideological vassalage and international marginalization” characteristic of the Bolsonaro era.(brasil247.com) For part of the Brazilian elite the choice is no longer between America and China, but between an active, bargaining stance and passive following of someone else’s course.

The Turkish and Brazilian experiences rhyme surprisingly well. In both countries political actors try to use the US as a resource for legitimacy: in Turkey by demonstrating the ability to defend national interests against American pressure, in Brazil through the skill of direct dialogue with Trump. In both cases Washington is not the apex of the pyramid but one element of a complex game.

All this creates a difficult backdrop for America itself. Trump’s return to the White House, conflict with Iran, increased military presence in the Middle East, tough tariffs and the simultaneous attempt to hold allies in Washington’s orbit — all make the US extremely influential but far from always a welcome partner. Turkey, Brazil and Australia variously but insistently seek formulas that would allow them to retain maneuverability, minimize the risks of “someone else’s wars” and at the same time extract maximum benefits from American presence.

For an American audience the main, if uncomfortable, conclusion is this: outside the US fewer and fewer believe in America’s “natural leadership” and more expect concrete, mutually beneficial deals from Washington. Middle‑weight countries — from Turkey to Brazil — are no longer willing to be bit players in the American geopolitical script. How Trump and his team can — or cannot — incorporate these expectations into US policy will largely determine the next cycle of global reactions to America.

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Washington Under Fire: How Russia, Israel and Saudi Arabia Debate the US Role

Since late February 2026 the United States has once again found itself at the center of global disputes — not so much because of domestic elections as because of the war with Iran, the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and Washington’s attempts to simultaneously hold on to its alliance with Israel and not lose Arab partners in the Persian Gulf. In Russian, Israeli and Saudi media the US is discussed today primarily as a warring power, an architect of regional alliances and the de facto regulator of global oil prices, and only then as a democracy with internal crises.

In the Russian discourse the dominant theme is the “third Gulf war” and its connection to the Ukrainian front: the war of the US and Israel against Iran is portrayed as another example of “aggressive and miscalculated” American interventionism, which supposedly brings the world closer to a Third World War. In Israel, by contrast, the debate is over whether Washington is firm enough and whether Donald Trump’s policy toward Iran has not caused strategic damage to Israel’s own security. In Saudi Arabia the focus has shifted to oil, military risks and the conditions for future normalization with Israel: local commentators weigh carefully the cost of a close alliance with the US in a situation where Saudi cities have already endured Iranian missile strikes. All of this forms a variegated but interconnected picture: the same Washington decisions prompt conversations in Moscow about the balance of power, in Tel Aviv about the “price of alliance,” and in Riyadh about the “price per barrel.”

The first major knot of disputes is the war of the US and Israel against Iran itself, which began after the failure of talks and the strikes of 28 February 2026. Russian analytical platforms and Telegram channels interpret this campaign as a vivid confirmation of the thesis that Washington “doesn’t know how to extricate itself from conflicts” and has once again “underestimated the resilience of the adversary.” This line is reinforced by English‑language analysis often cited in Russia: for example, one RealClearDefense review explicitly says that in the US‑Israel conflict with Iran “it is becoming harder to consider it a local Middle Eastern episode,” and that the key strategic mistake is failing to account for Iran’s ability to adapt and respond asymmetrically.(realcleardefense.com) Russian authors pick up this idea, drawing parallels with 2022 and “the parade in Kyiv that never happened,” and conclude: America is again dragged into a war without a clear exit, which supposedly opens additional opportunities for Moscow on the Ukrainian front.

At the same time, fresh reports of US “self‑defense” strikes on targets in southern Iran, including launchers and facilities used to mine waters, are also circulating through the Russian media space with an expected interpretation: a talking head on state TV explains that “under the slogans of self‑defense Washington is expanding the geography of strikes,” and another example of “creeping escalation” is noted as an argument against trusting any American ceasefire guarantees. The pretext are Central Command reports of such strikes amid a fragile truce.(apnews.com)

In Israel the general nerve is the same — a sense of a protracted, poorly managed conflict — but the perspective is opposite. Israeli and Western commentators, widely cited in the Hebrew‑language press, increasingly speak of a “strategic fiasco” by the US in Iran. Thus, in a piece from Australia’s ABC, republished in Israeli public pages, it is noted that “the war with Iran could turn into the most devastating blow to Israel’s security in its history,” citing assessments by American researcher Robert Kagan.(abc.net.au) The criticism is directed primarily at Trump personally: his attempt to “strike a deal” with Tehran while simultaneously satisfying regional allies’ demands is already being described as an “American failure” that has left Iran with serious levers of influence.

In this context Israel is also widely debating Benjamin Netanyahu’s own long‑term strategy. One prominent example is a column in The Washington Post, actively cited by local analytical centers, which argues that Netanyahu’s course toward dominance by force, partially built under the umbrella of American support, has effectively undermined Israel’s security, dragging it into parallel conflicts from Gaza to Yemen.(washingtonpost.com) Against the Israeli backdrop the US appears ambivalent: on the one hand, an indispensable military partner and arms supplier; on the other, an actor whose political line (especially under Trump) makes Israel’s strategic picture less predictable.

The second storyline common to all three countries is energy and Hormuz. The closure of the strait after US‑Israeli strikes on Iran, a nearly 50% jump in prices and the subsequent political pressure on OPEC countries became the central theme of Saudi economic columns.(eenews.net) In Riyadh the US’s status oscillates between “an indispensable buyer and protector” and “a source of price turbulence.” When Trump publicly boasts that the US supposedly produces “more oil than Russia and Saudi Arabia combined,” which specialist outlets point out simply does not match International Energy Agency data, local commentators read this as a signal for hard bargaining rather than as statistics.(eenews.net)

One Saudi market review, published for example by Al Rajhi Capital, carefully but clearly links local market volatility to American moves in the Persian Gulf and Fed policy. The report emphasizes that American indices end trading days “at mixed levels” amid profit‑taking and geopolitical uncertainty, which in turn affects investor sentiment in the Kingdom.(alrajhi-capital.sa) The key subtext: however much Washington talks about its own “energy independence,” its decisions on the war with Iran and maritime security set the parameters for Vision 2030 and Saudi economic diversification.

In Russia the oil and gas aspect is viewed through the prism of rivalry: analytical pieces note that, according to the IEA, the US is overstating its achievements — in Q1 2026 Saudi Arabia and Russia each produced 9–9.4 million barrels per day, and their combined output significantly exceeds American production, despite Trump’s public statements.(eenews.net) This is used as an argument against the “American myth of global energy dominance” and as a reminder that without dialogue with Moscow and Riyadh the United States will not be able to stabilize the market.

The third broad motive uniting all three countries is Washington’s attempts to reboot or expand the architecture of Middle Eastern alliances. The most resonant episode was Trump’s recent demarche toward the Saudis and Qataris: after a multilateral phone conference with leaders of Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkey, Egypt, Jordan and Bahrain he publicly declared that the “deal” with Iran should begin “with the immediate signing” of agreements with Israel by Riyadh and Doha, and that those who refuse “should not be part of the deal.”(lemonde.fr)

In Le Monde, a column widely carried in Arab media, this move is read as an example of “American pressure without accounting for changed realities”: after the wars in Gaza, Lebanon and Iran, expecting Saudi leadership to publicly and quickly embrace Israel “is to see a mirage.”(lemonde.fr) Saudi commentators in the Arab press add that the Kingdom has already made clear: without a clear prospect of Palestinian statehood there will be no formal normalization with Israel, a position that American outlets have also recorded.(washingtonpost.com)

In Israel this episode spawns a different debate: some right‑wing authors welcome US pressure on Riyadh as a chance to extract a historic agreement, while more pragmatic voices warn that turning the Saudis into hostages of American domestic calculations is dangerous. At the same time experts discuss a “post‑aid” model of alliance with the US: a Middle East Forum report, widely cited in Israel, proposes moving from the logic of annual American funding to a more equal partnership, emphasizing that the big joint operations of recent years have shown that the alliance rests not on Washington’s checkbook but on the technological and operational linkage between the armies.(meforum.org)

Benjamin Netanyahu himself, in a recent interview on the American program “60 Minutes,” said that Israel seeks to “reduce to zero” the amount of American financial aid in the long term, which the Israeli press interprets as a signal that Jerusalem wants to maintain strategic closeness to the US while reducing vulnerability to political swings in Washington.(cbsnews.com) In the eyes of Israeli analysts the current war with Iran only reinforces this argument: the more conflicts depend on the decisions of a single US president, the greater the risk for Israel if the political pendulum in Washington swings toward isolationism.

In Saudi Arabia American attempts to expand the Abraham Accords are viewed through the question: “what will this give the Kingdom and what is the risk?” Commentators remind readers that Iran has already launched missile strikes on Saudi territory during the current war, and any abrupt rapprochement with Israel could make Saudi cities even more desirable targets for Tehran and its proxies.(en.wikipedia.org) Against this background Washington is seen not only as a partner but as a factor capable of raising the price that will have to be paid.

Finally, the fourth line on which the views of the three countries intersect is the American domestic political context and the question of US “predictability.” Russian political scientists, relying on their own analytical reports about the 2024 elections and on discussions of the US Supreme Court’s decision on broad presidential immunity, conclude that there is a “blurring of traditional checks and balances” and assert that this makes American foreign policy more personalized and less reliable.(ru.wikipedia.org) As an illustration they cite Trump’s current line on Iran and the Middle East: one person is capable of sharply changing course not only domestically but abroad as well.

In Israel these same processes are viewed with concern but without schadenfreude. For part of the local establishment the US remains the “anchor” of the international order, and its internal polarization is seen as a long‑term risk. Hence growing talk about the need to “insure” the alliance with Washington — by deepening ties with Europe, India and regional partners. One analytical piece notes that involving the Pentagon in multilateral talks, for example on the Israel‑Lebanon track, shows that the military component of the American presence in the region remains key, but the political durability of American will raises questions.(washingtoninstitute.org)

In Saudi Arabia internal American debates are of interest primarily through the prism of predictability of sanctions and military policy. After the mutual defense agreement with the US signed in 2025, which gave the Kingdom formal security guarantees, Saudi experts wonder how resilient those papers are to a change of administration.(washingtonpost.com) Hence the cautious attitude toward American calls for more active involvement in confronting Iran: local columns express the thought that it is easy to enter a confrontation, but the US may be able to exit it much sooner than Riyadh would like.

The particular sharpness of assessments of the US is also heightened by the fact that the war with Iran overlaps with the unresolved conflict in Ukraine. For the Russian audience Washington’s proposals for short‑term truces on the Ukrainian front combined with the escalation around Hormuz form a general narrative of America’s “divided attention,” which, according to Russian commentators, makes it increasingly difficult for Washington to manage two large geopolitical theaters simultaneously. Timelines of combat operations in Ukraine for May 2026, which record the three‑day truce declared by Trump, are cited as an example of how Washington tries to “unload” one front in order to concentrate on another.(ru.wikipedia.org) In this context Russia presents itself as the more resilient, if besieged, player, and the US as a power overloaded by its own global ambitions.

As a result, three very different countries converge on one point: attitudes toward the United States are less and less defined by the abstract image of “America” and more and more by questions of concrete benefit and risk. In Moscow the US is an adversary and at the same time an important parameter in calculations about oil and Ukraine; in Israel it is an indispensable but not always reliable strategic partner whose decisions on Iran and military aid can both save and undermine security; in Saudi Arabia it is a guarantor without whom it is difficult to build long‑term Gulf security and Vision 2030, but also a source of pressure and potential escalation.

American domestic polarization, the “personalization” of foreign policy around the figure of the president and the desire to both wage war and build new alliances at once make the contemporary perception of the US abroad much less reverent and much more pragmatic. In each of the three societies — Russian, Israeli and Saudi — discussion of America has ceased to be a discussion of “the West as such” and has turned into a sober, sometimes cynical analysis of what price must be paid for closeness to Washington — and what benefit can be extracted from it.

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“America Again at the Center of Others’ Debates”: How Brazil, India and Japan Discuss the US...

In Brazil, India and Japan, the United States simultaneously appears as an ally, a source of risk, and the main reference point that countries try to keep a little distance from—but for now cannot do without. This has been especially noticeable in recent days: in Indian and Brazilian commentary the US appears as an economic and technological partner; Washington’s decisions affect commodity markets and the fate of local oligarchs; and the Japanese press, through the lenses of nuclear disarmament, East Asian security and future trade wars, discusses how reliable the American umbrella is and how much it will cost. Against this background a common theme emerges across all three countries: the world increasingly lives in the logic of blocs, and the “American question” is in fact a question about one’s own sovereignty and maneuvering space within this new bipolarity.

The first prominent storyline is a new wave of economic and technological rapprochement between India and the US. Indian outlets emphasize that the focus is not on an abstract “strategic partnership” but on very concrete supply chains. Regional media in Indian languages describe in detail the fresh “historic strategic agreement” on critical and rare minerals signed by India and the US on the sidelines of the Quad foreign ministers’ meeting in New Delhi; the agreement concerns the supply and processing of raw materials crucial for electronics and green energy and is viewed as a step toward reducing dependence on China. As one Kannada newspaper notes, this is “a significant event in global diplomacy,” cementing India’s role as a key partner for Washington in the struggle to control resources of the future economy. In Indian commentary the US is presented not as a “senior partner” but as a compelled suitor: India gains the ability to extract concessions and at the same time an argument against Chinese pressure. Some experts, however, remind readers that too close an alignment with the American strategy against Beijing could complicate Delhi’s position in other areas—from Iran to Russia—but the overall tone remains optimistic: the US needs India no less than India needs the US.

At the same time, in the Indian information space the US appears in a far less comfortable role—as regulator and judge on whom the fates of key business figures depend. A symbolic example is reports that the US agreed to drop a criminal fraud case against Indian billionaire Gautam Adani after a settlement was reached. A regional Kannada outlet emphasizes that Adani, who started with the coal business in the 1990s and turned his group into a conglomerate of ports, energy, defense, agriculture and renewables, long ago became part of political debate in India because of his closeness to Narendra Modi’s government. Thus the American decision is perceived not only as a legal resolution but also as a marker of how ready Washington is to take into account the political sensitivity of such cases for key partners. Commentators draw parallels with other instances when American regulators and courts effectively intervened in the internal economic balances of allies and ask whether Delhi will be able to impose more equal rules of the game on the US in the future.

The second major thematic block—Brazilian reactions—portrays the US primarily as a financial-economic power whose decisions on interest rates, sanctions and investments hit Latin America directly. Commentators in leading outlets like Folha de S.Paulo and Globo, discussing fluctuations in the real and new green investment initiatives, regularly return to how Fed policy and Washington’s sanctions strategy reshape global capital flows, forcing Brazil to navigate between access to the American market and a desire to deepen ties with China. One column in Folha emphasizes that “in the new geopolitics of the dollar” any major developing player must think not only about how to enter the American market but also how to escape the risk of future sanctions and secondary restrictions if Washington’s political course suddenly changes again. There is cautious admiration here—the US remains the center of global finance—but also irritation: Brazil, like other countries of the Global South, is effectively a hostage to American domestic political struggles.

At the level of political commentary in Brazil, a growing narrative pits the US and Europe against a new “Global South.” Some left‑ and center‑left commentators welcome Lula’s rhetoric about multipolarity and the need to “talk to Washington on equal terms.” Such pieces recall that dependence on the American market and technologies in the 1990s and 2000s deprived Brazil of freedom of maneuver and propose using the current competition between the US and China to bargain for better terms. On the right, however, voices remain strong that argue no economic breakthrough is possible without a firm alignment with the US, and that a bet on “autonomy” risks losing investor confidence. This internal debate gives the US image in Brazilian optics a split character: at once an example of dynamic capitalism and a source of systemic inequality in the international order.

The Japanese media space, by contrast, focuses on the military and nuclear dimensions of American policy. Reports and analysis about the failure of the recent review conference on the Treaty on the Non‑Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons in New York highlight a sharp confrontation between the US and Iran over wording related to Iran’s nuclear program. Japanese outlets like FNN note that the document ultimately was not adopted, and that during negotiations language concerning Ukraine and especially North Korea was scrubbed or softened, which looks worrying for Japan. Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the “never again” culture and vulnerability to North Korean missiles make the topic of American nuclear strategy nearly existential for a Japanese audience. One FNN guest expert, commenting on the US role in these talks, stresses that Washington remains the guarantor of Japanese security while also being a player whose compromises on Iran or Russia could weaken the non‑proliferation regime overall, thereby harming Japan’s long‑term interests.

Against this backdrop the long‑running Japanese debate about the “fairness” of the US‑Japan alliance continues. Analytical pieces addressing Donald Trump’s statements that the “Japan‑US alliance is unfair” recall old disputes about who pays how much for the stationing of American troops and whether Japan is being turned into a “wallet” to sustain the US military presence in the region. In an FNN piece, political veteran Shigeru Ishiba argues that if the alliance is based on American military protection, Japan must more clearly demonstrate its readiness to participate in joint operations in a crisis over China; otherwise dissatisfaction in Washington will only grow. He specifically caveats, however, that excessive increases in Tokyo’s financial burden—even to the point of directly paying American servicemembers’ salaries—would effectively make them mercenaries, which would be politically unacceptable. This is a nuanced Japanese reply to American demands to “pay more”: the alliance matters, but not at any price and not in the logic of “whoever buys whose army.”

A separate strand of Japanese discussion concerns trade wars and the constitutionality of American tariffs. Business outlets such as Toyo Keizai analyze the consequences of a recent US Supreme Court decision that found certain “Trump‑era” tariffs unconstitutional and ask: if the foundation of the previous protectionist policy is being eroded, what will happen to colossal Japanese investments in American industry estimated in the tens of trillions of yen? In one article the author bluntly asks: “Was it right to enter into investment agreements worth about ¥85 trillion if the legal and political environment in the US is so unstable?” This framing reflects an important shift: Tokyo is beginning to view the American economy not only as a safe haven but also as a source of regulatory risk comparable to China.

There are topics on which the tone across all three countries almost entirely coincides. One is the perception of the US as a power inclined to use military force and sanctions and then leave allies alone to deal with the consequences. In Japanese discussions of a hypothetical military crisis in East Asia, in Brazilian columns on the consequences of American operations in Latin America, and in Indian debates about the reliability of American support amid China’s rising role, the same motif recurs: the US can abruptly change course if its domestic political balance shifts, and then yesterday’s promises lose weight. Japanese forums and commentary periodically cite American analysts warning that Trump or his ideological heirs lean toward a “Don doctrine”—the idea that American involvement in Europe and East Asia can be reduced, shifting responsibility onto local allies. One Japanese comment on a piece about a hypothetical US strike on Venezuela and its implications for Japan reaches a grim conclusion: if Tokyo acts based on guaranteed American support and Washington “removes the ladder” at the last moment, Japan may find itself isolated in the international community. This, essentially, articulates the deep fear shared by all three countries: America is a necessary but potentially unreliable anchor.

Also interesting are nuances that would be less obvious from the American press itself. Japanese assessments of recent US‑Israeli strikes on Iran, for example, emphasize not only legal aspects but simple energy calculations: Japan still depends heavily on oil imports from the Middle East, and openly “taking the US side” risks souring relations with key suppliers. One Japanese commentator recalls that even the Foreign Ministry’s stern statement on Iran’s nuclear program was phrased to avoid a direct appraisal of US and Israeli actions—precisely because, unlike Washington, Japan physically feels the risks to its own oil tankers. In India, discussion of the American line on Iran and Russia is similarly pragmatic: elites are far more concerned about whether new secondary sanctions will be imposed tomorrow than about abstract debates over “leadership of the free world.”

In Brazil the cultural‑symbolic level of attitudes toward the US is particularly pronounced. The press and public figures continue to debate whether Brazil should view America as a model of democracy or as a hypocritical power that lectures others on human rights while ignoring its own problems. On the left, parallels between American policing practices and Brazil’s police, and between racial issues in the US and at home, are common; these comparisons are often used to argue that the “American path” is not universal and is not necessarily suitable for solving Brazil’s social problems. On the right, the mythology of the US as a land of entrepreneurial freedom—where one can learn deregulation, innovation and anti‑corruption—remains strong. In this sense the Brazilian picture of the US is more emotional than the Indian and Japanese ones, where the conversation increasingly shifts to raw geopolitics and economics.

Most important, however, is that in all three countries there is a gradual shift from perceiving the US as the sole center of power to seeing it as one, albeit the strongest, player in a more complex field. Indian discourse increasingly speaks of a “plus‑one” strategy: building partnerships so that any major project can be coupled with an alternative—China, Europe, or regional actors. Japanese analysts write frankly that the era when Japan could “delegate” its foreign policy to the US is over: now it must draw a line between supporting American initiatives and protecting its own interests vis‑à‑vis China, Russia and Iran. Brazilian commentators, for their part, note that Kyiv, Tel Aviv and Taipei have shown that even the closest US partners are not immune to Washington limiting military or political support if domestic considerations demand it.

Thus today’s debates about the US in Brazil, India and Japan are above all conversations about themselves: about how to preserve room for maneuver in a world where “being with America” no longer guarantees automatic protection and prosperity, but “being without America” is still impossible. They contain less idealization and more cold calculation. And it is precisely this shift—from romantic Atlanticism and anti‑imperialism to a dry accounting of benefits and risks—that best shows how global perceptions of the US are changing beyond the English‑speaking world.

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How the world views America today: war with Iran, Ukraine and "fatigue with the US" in Europe and the...

By the end of May 2026, discussion of the United States around the world almost automatically boils down to three major storylines. The first is the American–Iranian war and negotiations for a ceasefire, on which depend oil prices, currency stability and the safety of shipping from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. The second is Washington’s role in Russia’s war against Ukraine, including the short ceasefire announced by Donald Trump and the equally loud US withdrawal from the mediator role. The third is the changing nature of American leadership: in Europe there is growing talk that the continent must "learn to defend itself with less America," while in the Persian Gulf allies welcome US initiatives but simultaneously distance themselves from its most risky plans. Russia, France and Saudi Arabia view these processes through the lens of their own interests, and their perspectives noticeably diverge from the familiar American self-perception.

The most sensitive nerve in international commentary is the US war with Iran and the crisis around the Strait of Hormuz. In France a whole wave of publications and TV debates revolves around a simple question: can Washington exit the war without collapsing the global economy and the remnant of international law? Francophone media follow the negotiations almost live. When Donald Trump said on May 24 that the blockade of Iran would remain until a "final agreement" was reached, noting that the dialogue was "orderly and constructive" but that the nuclear issue remained a red line, it was presented as a signal that Washington was not ready for rapid de‑escalation even if the markets demanded it — as the Anadolu agency wrote in a piece about his statements on Iran and the sanctionary "blockade" of the country’s economy. On francophone channels commentators emphasize that the negotiations "largely come down to a formula: oil through Hormuz in exchange for a pause in escalation" and that Europe pays for every new Trump tweet with higher energy prices.

The same story is reported from a different angle in the Arab press, primarily in Saudi publications. Here the focus is less on legal nuances and more on crisis manageability and how the US aligns its steps with the interests of Gulf allies. The newspaper al‑Watan stresses that Riyadh "highly appreciated" Trump’s decision to give the talks with Iran another chance and to postpone a military strike already prepared at the direct requests of Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the UAE, which primarily seek the restoration of security and freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz and a "return to the situation before February 28, 2026," i.e., before the start of the war. The same piece recalls that the American president once postponed an attack literally at the last moment when allies warned of the risk of a regional explosion they would be forced to share with the US. For Saudi diplomacy the key question is whether Washington can think not only in terms of "punish" and "contain" Tehran, but also take into account the Gulf states’ fears of a direct ground campaign next door.

In Russia, where the Iranian conflict is seen not as a local war but as another stage in the dismantling of American hegemony, the tone of commentary is different. Russian political commentators in state and pro‑state media regularly return to the assertion that current American foreign policy remains "force‑driven by inertia," relying primarily on military superiority and neglecting the interests of other players. In this logic the blockade of Hormuz, air strikes and the "dances" around a ground operation in Iran are merely a continuation of Washington’s broader line: leaving dozens of international organizations, shrinking the role of multilateral institutions, pressuring allies in NATO. Russian speakers portray the war with Iran as evidence of US "strategic fatigue": they are still capable of destruction, but no longer able to build sustainable security architectures, including in the Middle East. Against this background Russian officials emphasize Moscow’s "constructive role" in relations with Tehran, from the passage of Russian ships through Hormuz to coordination of energy exports, contrasting this with what they call the "chaotic" actions of the US.

However, it is in Europe that criticism becomes truly systemic. Influential French outlets and experts discuss not only the war with Iran but also how it has highlighted the EU’s painful dependence on American decisions. In an analytical article for Le Parisien former NATO deputy secretary‑general Camille Grand says bluntly: "Europe will have to learn to defend itself with less America." He links this not only to Trump’s recent statements but to a clear trend of "US detachment from European affairs," which is especially noticeable against the backdrop of American demands for allies’ participation in operations in the Strait of Hormuz and in Iran. Meanwhile the Agence Europe describes how NATO allies are discussing the "Europeanization" of the Alliance after the US announced the withdrawal of several thousand troops from Germany and hinted at a possible reduction of capabilities on the European theater in favor of the Middle East, while simultaneously promising additional forces to Poland. Analysts emphasize that Washington increasingly treats Europe as a "reservoir of resources" for its extra‑European wars, rather than as an independent strategic partner.

Against this background French sociological studies record an interesting evolution of mass sentiment. According to polls cited by Euronews in a piece on European perceptions of the US, roughly one in five Europeans today sees the United States more as a threat than as a security guarantor. The article stresses that this has been driven not only by strikes on Iran and forceful pressure on allies but also by Trump’s rhetoric about "an EU created to harm America," his complaints about "free‑riders" in NATO and his apocalyptic warnings about Europe’s "civilizational suicide." At the same time, a majority of respondents in France, Spain, Italy and Poland still believe that US foreign policy will soften after Trump’s departure — i.e., they personify the problem in one president rather than in the system as a whole. But within the expert community there is increasing talk of a collapse of trust whose consequences will outlast any change in the White House.

Another major storyline, interpreted differently in Moscow, Paris and Riyadh, is the US role in Russia’s war against Ukraine. The three‑day ceasefire announced by Trump between May 9 and 11, accompanied by a prisoner exchange, is presented in the Russian media‑political field as an example that "even under hostile Western policies Moscow is ready for constructive steps," while the US — in a somewhat odd depiction — both demonstrates the power of a mediator and immediately renounces that role. Russian analytical reviews note that the American president said the US would cease participating in negotiations as the "main mediator," citing the "exhaustion of the mandate" and the "inability of Europeans to assume responsibility." In the pro‑Kremlin interpretation this looks like an admission by Washington that its previous Ukraine policy has reached a dead end, and like an opportunity for Russia to reset the diplomatic field without "obtrusive American control."

In France the same episode is viewed in the exact opposite way. Discussions across forums and in both right‑ and left‑wing commentary often argue that the US has already "achieved its key geopolitical goals" in the Ukrainian war: weakening Russia, tying Europe to its energy and military‑industrial complex, and achieving unprecedented growth in allies’ defense budgets. Therefore many see Trump’s withdrawal from the negotiating scene not as a defeat but as a cynical acknowledgement that "the mission is accomplished," even if a peace agreement and a sustainable security architecture in Eastern Europe have not materialized. Commentators stress that if the US now redirects attention and resources to Iran and the Middle East, Europe will be "left alone with a long war on its borders," which again revives the debate on the need for European strategic autonomy.

Russian experts, especially those addressing audiences in the Global South, construct a broader narrative from this: the US "sows conflicts and leaves," forcing regional powers to deal with the ruins. Examples cited include not only Ukraine but Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya and now Iran. This line is widely circulated in media close to the Russian state and aims to present Moscow and Beijing as "responsible centers of power" capable, unlike Washington, of providing long‑term security guarantees and investments without political conditions. At the same time Russia’s own military actions and their consequences for Ukraine are discussed very sparingly and technocratically, while the emotional emphasis is placed on "Western hypocrisy" and "double standards" of the US.

In Saudi Arabia the US track on Ukraine is noticeably less discussed than in Europe or Russia, but it still appears in analysis of Washington’s broader "reorientation." Arab talk shows and expert programs emphasize that the simultaneous US engagement in conflicts with Russia (through support for Ukraine) and with Iran, along with attempts to pressure Arab partners on oil and normalization with Israel, create a sense of an "overheated and unbalanced" American foreign policy. Regional analysts note that under Trump Washington increasingly operates on a transactional logic — "oil and bases in exchange for security and political cover" — and is less and less seen as the pillar of a predictable order.

In this context US pressure on Riyadh over normalization with Israel is especially telling. A recent Euronews Arabic piece stresses that despite Trump and his team’s energetic efforts, Saudi Arabia is "further than ever" from signing an agreement modeled on the Abraham Accords. The article offers a telling formulation: Saudi leadership is not ready to enter a "historic agreement" with Israel while a humanitarian catastrophe continues in Gaza, the American president overtly threatens Iran, and at the same time demands active participation from Arab partners in his campaign. This is read as a signal that the "blank check" for American leadership in the region is over: Riyadh is ready to welcome an "additional chance" for talks with Tehran and to publicly thank Trump for restraint on the question of a strike on Iran, but it is not prepared to automatically endorse all of Washington’s geopolitical projects.

Finally, there is another, less visible but important layer of the discussion — the question of the future international order and the US place in it. In French and broader European expert circles the view is strengthening that Trump "is undermining the American international order" faster and more radically than any external competitor. In debates on political forums and in analytical texts cited, for example, by Reddit users in France, it is argued that by tearing down security guarantees and showing readiness to "abandon" Ukraine, pressuring NATO allies and unhesitatingly blocking key maritime arteries, Washington is simultaneously opening the way to a more chaotic, "multipolar" world in which forceful changes of borders become the norm "under a nuclear umbrella." China in these discussions appears as a quiet beneficiary: while the US expends resources and political capital on wars in Europe and the Middle East, Beijing consolidates economic positions in Eurasia and develops alternative financial and technological networks.

The Russian perspective on this matter is much more optimistic for Russia itself: official and semi‑academic texts say that the "weakening of American leadership" opens opportunities for Moscow’s "sovereign foreign policy" — from the post‑Soviet space to the Middle East and Africa. At the same time Russian analysts closely monitor US domestic political battles over the wars with Iran and Ukraine: for them these are indicators of Washington’s "limited resources" and provide opportunities to align their positions with Beijing, Tehran or Riyadh against the backdrop of what they portray as "the degradation" of American influence.

In Arab intellectual circles — including groups critical of both the US and local regimes — the new American National Security Strategy is perceived ambivalently. On the one hand, Washington’s stated desire to reduce direct dependence on Middle Eastern oil and its declared interest in multilateralism create a "window of opportunity" for regional actors who can maneuver between the US, China and Russia. On the other hand, Washington’s continued desire to control key energy routes, intervene in conflicts and impose its "red lines" on Iran, Palestine and other issues is seen as evidence that the abandonment of some forms of hegemony is compensated by the strengthening of others.

If one sums up these divergent voices, the picture looks like this. For France and a large part of Europe, the US remains an indispensable military partner but a less reliable political anchor: the war with Iran and maneuvers around Ukraine have reinforced the belief that the continent needs its own military and diplomatic muscle, not only an American umbrella. For Saudi Arabia and its neighbors the US remains a key security guarantor, but not a "dictating center": Riyadh values Washington’s ability to restrain itself at the brink of a major war with Iran, yet deliberately refrains from hasty steps on Israel and other sensitive dossiers. For Russia American activity on all fronts is simultaneously a threat and a resource: a threat because the US remains the largest military power and the primary source of sanctions pressure; a resource because every new crisis in which Washington overreaches can be presented as proof of the "decline" of American hegemony and an argument in favor of alternative centers of power.

The common denominator of these national narratives is a growing "fatigue with the US" as a state that is at once necessary and unpredictable. The war with Iran, ceasefires and failed negotiations with Russia and Ukraine, pressure on allies in Europe and the Middle East, playing on the verge of undermining international institutions — all this is pushing even Washington’s most traditional partners and adversaries to seek additional supports. In the 1990s the question was: do the US have enough strength to be the world’s policeman? Today in Paris, Moscow and Riyadh it is reformulated: can we allow the US to continue playing the role of architect of the world order if that architecture increasingly resembles temporary stage sets for a particular political cycle in Washington?

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Washington Between Tehran and Jerusalem: Allies Clash Over US War with Iran

Around the United States today a political orbit has once again formed: a US–Israel war with Iran, Donald Trump’s attempts both to finish off Tehran and to clinch a “winner’s peace,” the reformatting of American military presence in Europe and the Middle East, and prospects for expanding the Abraham Accords to include Saudi Arabia. All this has provoked a strong reaction in Israel, Germany and Japan — countries that depend on American power in different ways but are equally concerned about its cost and its long‑term reliability.

Viewed from Jerusalem, the current war with Iran is the culmination of decades of strategic alliance with the United States that, as has suddenly become clear, is not unconditional. Israeli analysts are dissecting Operation “Roar of the Lion” and the broader conflict—known in English‑language sources as Operation Epic Fury: coalition strikes on Iranian facilities, rocket barrages on American bases in Qatar, Kuwait, the UAE and Bahrain, strikes on Israel and its allies, followed by a fragile ceasefire and drawn‑out negotiations to end the fighting. (en.wikipedia.org) Inside the country there is a mix of military pride and political unease: for the first time in a long while Israel is waging a major war shoulder to shoulder with the Americans, but it also feels that Washington is setting the pace of escalation and the terms of peace.

Israeli commentators increasingly speak of the “illusion of guaranteed US support.” In a column by former Jerusalem Post editor‑in‑chief Yaakov Katz, it is emphasized that an unprecedented level of military cooperation in the war with Iran coincided with an internal pivot in American politics: the Democratic Party is seeing more candidates who find it advantageous to distance themselves from traditional pro‑Israel lobbies. (jpost.com) Katz points to a symbolic example: one of the favorites for a future presidential nomination, while formally keeping a “friendly to Israel” image, is already forced to publicly distance herself from AIPAC if she wants to remain competitive among Democrats. On the US right the picture is no less complicated: a Christian Science Monitor study notes that among Republicans under 50 a majority already view Israel and Netanyahu negatively, while older Republicans retain a traditionally pro‑Israel stance. (csmonitor.com)

Against this backdrop, worried voices inside Israel are raising concerns about the “political cost” of the war. One such voice is an article in the Jerusalem Post under the telling headline about the illusion of guaranteed support: the author calls the current cooperation with the US “historic,” but warns that Israel’s ability to “politically monetize” this success in Washington is shrinking, because for a significant part of Western societies — and especially for young people — the cost of supporting Israel now exceeds the cost of distancing from it. (jpost.com)

At the same time, Hebrew‑language debate shows another strand: pragmatic gratitude to the US as the “security anchor” of the war. Commentators on Israeli social media and in military analytic briefs regularly emphasize that it was the American war machine — satellite intelligence, long‑range aviation, the fleet and missile‑defense systems — that made possible a deep campaign, by many estimates destructive to Iran’s defense industry, one that Israel alone would have carried out over much longer periods and with greater risks. In one Israeli government report on the joint strikes there is explicit reference to “operational synergy” with the US, while noting rising antagonism from European allies who refuse to participate in escalation. (gov.il)

Here a paradox arises that both Israeli and American experts note: despite Israel’s reputation as a high‑tech military power, leaks from the Pentagon show that in the current war the lion’s share of expensive missile interceptors is being expended by the United States, while Israel is conserving its stocks. Stimson Center analyst Kelly Grigore, in a comment to the Washington Post, observes that “the United States assumed the bulk of the ballistic‑missile‑defense mission, while Israel preserved its own munitions,” and that American production cannot keep pace with current consumption. (thedailybeast.com) This asymmetry is both a blessing and a threat for Israel’s elite: while Washington is willing to spend resources, the alliance holds; but the clearer it becomes that Israel’s defense is “eating” American stockpiles, the louder calls in the US become for reprioritization.

The shift of those priorities is most visible from Europe, above all Germany. There the US–Israel war with Iran is not seen as a “historic opportunity” but as a risk from which Berlin prefers to keep maximal distance. In the first hours of the operation France, Germany and the UK publicly disavowed the US and Israeli attack, stressing that they did not take part in planning and had not given either political or military mandate for strikes on Iran. (eadaily.com) German commentators saw this as a continuation of a line that was already emerging in the 2020s: relations with the US remain formally “strong,” but on key security questions — from China to the Middle East — Berlin and Washington are drifting further apart. Pew Research Center studies already then recorded persistent disagreements in German public opinion with US policy toward Russia and military interventions; the current war with Iran has only strengthened those sentiments. (pewresearch.org)

One point of tension was the US decision to withdraw five thousand troops from Germany at the same time as escalation around the Strait of Hormuz. The Guardian, in a review of events around the narrow strait through which up to 20% of world oil shipments pass, noted that the Pentagon’s announcement of the reduction in Germany came the same day US and Iranian forces were on the verge of direct naval confrontation. (theguardian.com) In German commentary this decision is interpreted as a signal: Washington is reducing its traditional European presence to focus on the Middle Eastern theater and the confrontation with China. For Berlin this means the need to gradually assume more responsibility for its own security, but also more freedom not to automatically follow the US into every new war.

It is interesting that analytical centers in Germany’s neighborhood, such as the Centre for Eastern Studies (OSW) in Warsaw, while not German, in many respects reflect a pan‑European viewpoint. In a recent OSW analysis the war in Iran is described as a “stalemate,” in which the ceasefire reached on April 7 only freezes the conflict and the May 5 announcement of the end of Operation Epic Fury does not mean the confrontation is over. (osw.waw.pl) The authors emphasize that for the EU and Germany the key risk is not a military victory or defeat by the US but prolonged instability in the Strait of Hormuz — it threatens Europe with an energy shock and undermines efforts by the continent to pursue a more autonomous policy toward Iran and the region, distinct from Washington’s.

From Tokyo the crisis is seen primarily through the lens of energy security and the broader architecture of American alliances. Japanese commentators remind readers that the oil Japan imports comes mainly from the Persian Gulf, so every round of escalation between the US and Iran hits the Japanese economy directly. The Japanese press frequently cites calculations that about one‑fifth of global oil shipments pass through Hormuz and notes that even a short blockade of the strait or a series of attacks on tankers could devastate Japanese industry. (makorrishon.co.il)

But the Japanese debate is not reduced to fear of rising oil prices. Japan is watching carefully how the United States reallocates forces between the Middle East, Europe and the Indo‑Pacific. The White House decision last year to limit weapons shipments to Ukraine “in order to prioritize American interests” (cbsnews.com) already prompted questions in Tokyo: can Japan be confident that in the event of a crisis over Taiwan or on the Korean Peninsula the US will not be too tied down by another “global war” elsewhere? In the present context that question is sharper: the deeper Washington becomes entangled in a war with Iran, the more Japanese experts call for accelerated strengthening of Japan’s own defense capabilities and a reassessment of postwar constraints.

Against this background, Donald Trump’s attempts to present a ceasefire with Iran as a “brilliant victory” are perceived very differently across countries. In the US, many pieces characterize the White House strategy as wavering between threats of total destruction of Iran and an eagerness to exit the war at almost any cost before the next electoral cycle. The Atlantic notes that the president has effectively accepted terms close to a “letter of intent” offering a thirty‑day window for talks on Iran’s nuclear program and the status of Hormuz, after which the war would be officially declared over. (theatlantic.com) In that environment Iranian officials and pro‑government media are celebrating a “victory over the US,” as shown by Western press reports and animated discussions in Russian‑language and Middle Eastern social media. (washingtonpost.com)

In Israel such rhetoric provokes near‑physical irritation. In Hebrew‑language debates, including popular forums, a frequent thought is: if Washington is so eager to lock in a “paper victory,” that essentially means the strategic aims of the war — a long‑term rollback of Iran’s nuclear program and containment of the “axis of resistance” — have been only partly achieved. Users point to data on damage to the Fordow facility and other Iranian nuclear sites which, by open sources, appear less extensive than the White House claims, and they ask whether Iran will retain enough capability after the campaign to return to the brink of bomb‑making in a few years, treating it as “a lesson from the war.” (reddit.com)

A separate line of debate concerns the cost of the war for the US itself. Leaks about the scale of expenditure on missile‑defense systems, figures on huge additional appropriations for aid to Israel — already more than $21.7 billion on top of the annual $3.8 billion in military aid since 2023, by Modern Diplomacy’s calculations (moderndiplomacy.eu) — and growing voter fatigue have led analysts to speak of the end of the era of an “automatic consensus” in support of Israel and broad Middle Eastern operations. The Guardian notes that polls show a sharp decline in support for military aid to Israel among Americans, especially youth across both parties, and predicts that by 2028 this will be one of the main fault lines of the election campaign. (theguardian.com)

In Germany and Japan similar shifts in American domestic politics are read as symptoms of a broader transformation: the US is gradually moving from the role of an “always‑ready global firefighting crew” to more selective, transactional interventions, where every major overseas move must be justified to domestic voters not by abstract “defense of democracy” but by tangible benefits. That is why in both Berlin and Tokyo there is much discussion about tying American presence to mutually beneficial economic and technological projects, not only to military bases. For Germany this is an argument for linking transatlantic cooperation with joint industrial policy and the green transition; for Japan it is an incentive to integrate the US more actively into regional economic initiatives in the Indo‑Pacific.

In this context a special place on the agenda is Trump’s attempt to use the war with Iran as a springboard for expanding the Abraham Accords. The Washington Post reports that the White House is actively promoting normalization between Israel and Saudi Arabia, even if the final deal with Iran turns out to be less of a “total capitulation” than promised at the war’s outset. (washingtonpost.com) But here the three countries discussed take different positions. In Israel some right‑wing circles see Saudi normalization as a “historic breakthrough” that could compensate for the country’s deteriorating image in the West; left and centrist opposition, by contrast, fear that such a deal without real concessions to the Palestinians will only cement the status quo and worsen Israel’s isolation in the eyes of the Global South.

Germany and Japan are much cooler about this initiative. In Berlin the Abraham Accords are viewed more as an American geopolitical project that might ease Israel’s regional integration but hardly resolves the root of the Palestinian conflict; German experts stress that without a sustainable solution to that issue any normalization will remain fragile. In Tokyo priorities are even more pragmatic: Japanese policymakers want the post‑war regional order to guarantee stable oil supplies and predictable shipping, not diplomatic prestige for the US or Israel.

A telling common thread running through the Israeli, German and Japanese debates is a reassessment of what “American leadership” means today. In Israel there is a growing sense that dependence on the US has become not just a strategic asset but a vulnerability: if the political cost of supporting Israel in Washington continues to rise, Jerusalem will have to either radically change policy (on Palestine, judicial reform and beyond) or seek additional pillars of support — from India to the Gulf states. (israelbrief.com)

In Germany leading analysts talk about an “emotional cooling” of the transatlantic connection: German public opinion still generally views the US positively, but trust in America’s foreign‑policy instincts has been eroded by a string of wars and inconsistent strategies. (pewresearch.org) In Japan the discussion is more measured but no less insistent about the need for bilateral symmetry: if the US expects Japanese support in confronting China, it will need to take Japanese interests into account when making decisions on other theaters, from Hormuz to Europe.

All of this makes the present moment genuinely transitional. The US–Israel war with Iran — with its rocket barrages in Hormuz, tactical victories and strategic ambiguities — has become a litmus test for the world’s perception of America. For Israel it has highlighted how critical American military and political backing is — and how conditional it can be. For Germany it has shown how vulnerable European energy supplies are and how dangerous it is to put foreign policy on autopilot by “following Washington.” For Japan it has underscored how delicately it must balance dependence on the American “nuclear umbrella” with the need for its own strategic autonomy.

Across all three countries a similar conclusion emerges, if framed differently: the world is entering an era in which the United States remains the principal military and political actor but no longer the sole architect of global security. How quickly and soberly Washington recognizes this new role — and whether it can redefine alliances with Israel, Germany, Japan and other partners as genuinely reciprocal rather than hierarchical — will determine not only the outcome of the current war with Iran but the shape of the global order in the decades to come.

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