By early September 2026, the United States had simultaneously become a source of three different but interconnected anxieties for Brazil, Germany and Australia: the protracted war with Iran, Washington’s ostentatious return to a policy of force in Latin America, and its increasingly unpredictable attitude toward allies and trading partners. In local debates, the US no longer appears to be the familiar guarantor of order. It is seen as a power whose domestic political calculations—gas prices, midterm elections and Donald Trump’s personal style—can alter the strategic conditions for everyone else.
The most common theme is Iran. In Germany, the conflict is discussed primarily as a test of international law and European autonomy. German broadcaster ARD notes that the US strategy is simultaneously seeking to halt Tehran through military pressure and economically strangle it, but risks achieving the opposite: according to expert Brian Jacobian, regular strikes could convince Iran that its only reliable guarantee of survival is its own nuclear weapons. In a Deutsche Welle analysis, this logic is expressed particularly bluntly: Washington and Israel may accelerate precisely the process they sought to prevent. (amp.dw.com)
Germany’s reaction, however, is not reducible to anti-Americanism. Chancellor Friedrich Merz continues to emphasize the threat posed by Iran’s nuclear program, but divisions within Germany’s political environment are becoming increasingly apparent between the need to preserve ties with the US and the unwillingness to accept as normal a war without a clear legal and political resolution. President Frank-Walter Steinmeier called the war “a politically disastrous mistake” and a violation of international law, adding that the West remains an ideal in terms of values but has effectively ceased to exist as a unified political reality. This formulation, quoted by Tagesschau, captures the German mood well: Berlin fears not only Iran, but also the fact that American power is no longer backed by predictable rules. (tagesschau.de)
Australians view the same war through a completely different, almost painfully practical question: how far can its alliance with the US draw Canberra into a conflict it did not start and does not control? In an ABC analysis published on September 7, US correspondent John Lyons describes Iran as a “quagmire” from which Trump does not know how to escape. He notes that the initial goals—depriving Tehran of its nuclear capabilities and achieving regime change—have not been met. The objective then became restoring shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, even though the war itself made this artery almost impassable. (abc.net.au) For Australia, this is not a distant Middle Eastern drama: around one-fifth of global oil and gas trade passes through Hormuz, meaning the war translates into fuel prices, inflation and the risk of supply disruptions.
But Australia’s main concern is not oil—it is sovereignty. ABC global affairs editor Laura Tingle observes that almost every country is reassessing its relationship with Washington, while Australia continues to deepen AUKUS. She is particularly concerned about the agreement’s transformation: instead of giving Australia its own submarine capability, it increasingly looks like an infrastructure project for the US Navy. Defense Minister Richard Marles explained the agreement’s value to the US directly, saying that servicing American submarines in Western Australia would give the US Navy more days of operational presence in a key region. In an ABC column, this sounds paradoxical: Canberra calls AUKUS a strengthening of sovereignty, while critics see it turning the country into a larger American military outpost. (abc.net.au)
Former Prime Minister Paul Keating articulates Australia’s anxiety even more sharply. He compared Trump’s view of international politics to the logic of mafioso “spheres of influence” and urged Australia not to support the US attempt to contain China through military force from 10,000 miles away from the American coast. His point is important precisely because it is local rather than American: Australia is not debating whether it needs a strong America in the Indo-Pacific; it is beginning to ask whether participating in the US rivalry with China could threaten its own security. (abc.net.au)
In Brazil, the image of the US is different today: not an unreliable distant ally, but an active force seeking to reshape the rules in its own hemisphere. The White House decision to gain control over part of Venezuela’s oil reserves has become the central symbol of Washington’s new policy. Officially, the Trump administration presents the agreement as the largest oil deal in history and a way to strengthen US energy security; the White House claims that the American side is gaining majority control over more than 65 billion barrels of Venezuela’s proven reserves. (whitehouse.gov) In the Brazilian press, however, this is seen not as a purely commercial project, but as a combination of energy, coercive pressure and political influence.
In a Folha de S.Paulo analysis, Trump’s new Latin America policy is reduced to three interconnected areas: oil, the fight against drug trafficking and political influence. The newspaper notes that the US government is acquiring a 35 percent stake in NABEP, a company linked to Venezuelan businessman Alejandro Betancourt, while the project entails control over 65 billion barrels out of Venezuela’s approximately 300 billion barrels in reserves. At the same time, even the US energy secretary acknowledges that significantly lowering oil prices will not be possible quickly; the process is expected to take several years. (www1.folha.uol.com.br) The Brazilian interpretation is therefore simple and uncomfortable for Washington: the slogan of energy stabilization is masking the restoration of American political dominance in the region.
For Brazil, this is not an abstract dispute over Venezuela. Difficult trade negotiations are taking place at the same time following the US introduction of 25 percent tariffs on some Brazilian imports; the American side has linked its demands, among other things, to the Pix instant-payment system and access to Brazil’s ethanol market. This was reported by the state-run Agência Brasil. (agenciabrasil.ebc.com.br) Consequently, in Brazil’s view, the “good relations” Trump talks about mean little without the removal of tariffs and an end to pressure on the country’s domestic politics. Folha writes directly that Washington’s praise for Brazil offers no promise of relief in the negotiations: the country remains simultaneously the target of trade pressure and diplomatic friction, as well as of US interest in critical minerals. (www1.folha.uol.com.br)
The most unexpected aspect of comparing the three countries is that they offer no single response to American unpredictability. Germany is seeking a way to preserve the transatlantic relationship without abandoning international law. Australia is effectively doubling down on the alliance, even as its public intellectual debate increasingly warns of dependence. Brazil is choosing a more confrontational sovereignty-based rhetoric because the pressure is being felt directly—in trade, regional politics and the struggle for resources. Yet the overall conclusion is the same: the problem is no longer whether Berlin, Canberra and Brasília agree with individual decisions by Trump. They are increasingly questioning whether a long-term strategy can be built around a country that simultaneously demands loyalty from its allies, imposes tariffs on its partners, and treats oil, security and political influence as elements of a single deal.
