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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How the World Debates America: Europe Cools, China Tallies the Costs of Hegemony, India Weighs a...

Around the United States a dense wave of international reactions is once again gathering — from concern to outright irritation, from pragmatic calculation to cautious satisfaction at the prospect of a “weaker America.” In France there is debate about how to live with NATO “with less America” and what to do about President Trump, who at the same time is cutting troops in Europe and demanding more loyalty. In China discussions center on whether the United States has entered an era of “low‑cost hegemony,” which is beginning to show dangerous cracks in the face of war with Iran, the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz and the unresolved Ukraine storyline. In India leading media and experts read every gesture from Washington — from Iran to China and Russia — trying to understand where a window for Indian autonomy opens and where pressure is growing to be a “junior partner” of the US.

Several common themes come to the fore. The first is the image of America as an unreliable and increasingly unpopular ally: fresh polls in Europe record a record‑poor image of the US, and not only because of Donald Trump but also because of structural shifts in American policy. (tf1info.fr) The second is the effect of the war with Iran and the related energy and maritime risks: for Paris this is a reason to talk about strategic autonomy, for Beijing an example of how “cheap hegemony” turns into an expensive trap, and for Delhi both a chance and a risk. (thepaper.cn) The third is the redefinition of NATO and European security in conditions where voices in Paris increasingly say: “Europe must learn to defend itself with less America.” (agenceurope.eu) Finally, a new round of US‑China talks and its impact on Taiwan, Asia and the global balance are being closely analyzed in both Chinese and Indian press. (wenxuecity.com)

Two layers are clearly audible in French debates today. The first is emotional‑symbolic: a recent poll, widely cited by TF1 and other media, shows that almost three‑quarters of Europeans have a poor opinion of the US; in France, Spain, Italy and several other countries the share of those who view the US as a “threat” is growing and in places already exceeds the similar figure for North Korea. (tf1info.fr) This is not simply an anti‑Trump effect: many commentators talk about “fatigue with America” as it is — with its new wave of protectionism, tariffs on European cars and threats of new duties, with opaque decisions on Iran and the Middle East.

The second layer is a cold strategic calculation. An analytical Euronews piece emphasizes that for some European elites China is beginning to be seen not merely as an economic partner but as an “alternative pole,” against the background that “one in five” respondents in six key EU countries already sees the US as the “main threat.” (fr.euronews.com) Against this backdrop, French and Brussels discussions about the “Europeanization of NATO” take on special meaning: the Agence Europe bulletin notes that allies are discussing strengthening the European component of the alliance precisely “at the moment when the US is rethinking its level of engagement and presence on the continent.” (agenceurope.eu)

Camille Grand, former NATO deputy secretary general, in an interview with Le Parisien puts explicitly what many had until now said in whispers: Europe must learn to defend itself “with less America,” because what is happening today is not a temporary flare of Trumpism, but a long‑term “trend of US disengagement from European affairs.” (leparisien.fr) Hence the interest in the idea of deploying a Franco‑British contingent to Ukraine in the event of a durable ceasefire — as part of a “European pillar” of security that complements but does not duplicate American guarantees. Euronews recalls that the new package of guarantees for Kyiv is built around “multinational forces led by France and the UK” and an “American‑led verification mechanism,” which in practice means a more complex, multipolar architecture where the US is no longer the only unchallenged defender. (euronews.com)

Interestingly, the same French pieces on Trump also contain a pragmatic motive: “We can afford neither a break with America nor total submission to its whims,” writes one columnist for TF1 Info, discussing his statements about a ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine and the hard bargaining over the Strait of Hormuz. (tf1info.fr) This well demonstrates Europe’s ambivalence: simultaneous disappointment and dependency, irritation and the necessity to build some modus vivendi with the US, which is still needed to deter Russia and stabilize Middle Eastern oil supply routes.

The Chinese angle is different but also surprisingly coherent. On a number of influential platforms — from China‑US Focus to analytical columns on Chinese portals — the concept of “low‑cost US hegemony” is actively discussed, the essence being that Washington for many years tried to extract maximum geopolitical dividends from minimal direct costs, relying on allies and the dollar’s financial dominance. (cn.chinausfocus.com) In a column for China‑US Focus the author writes that America’s reliance on “remote management” in the Middle East, without deep engagement, led to a situation where the war with Iran, which began as another “pinpoint operation,” struck at the very foundation of American hegemony — from reputation to economic consequences. (cn.chinausfocus.com)

A harsher diagnosis comes from an analytical piece in The Paper, which judges the so‑called US “freedom operation” in the Strait of Hormuz as a “hastily aborted project” that exposed the limits of American resources and allies’ willingness to support risky missions only in words. The author calls the “Hormuz moment” the point when the world realized: America cannot wage a large war painlessly while at the same time deterring Russia in Europe and China in Asia. (thepaper.cn) This view fits neatly into a broader Chinese discussion of US “fatigue” with the role of global policeman — a theme that regularly appears in academic journals and party press alike. (cas.fudan.edu.cn)

At the same time official Beijing rhetoric remains deliberately restrained. People’s Daily coverage of Trump’s May visit to Beijing frames it as a “responsible dialogue between two great powers,” focusing on the economy, climate and humanitarian ties, and largely avoiding sharp angles. (paper.people.com.cn) Yet alongside this, discussions in Chinese — and especially Taiwanese — expert circles are hot over what his remarks on Taiwan changed: an informal recognition that “there are forces on the island seeking independence,” a refusal to treat China’s warning about a “confrontation” as a direct threat, and a reluctance to explicitly promise new arms supplies. Guancha columnist Shi Yang calls this “rewriting US Taiwan policy without formally changing its content,” implying that Washington’s tone and emphasis have become noticeably less comforting for independence supporters. (guancha.cn)

Chinese discourse interestingly mixes skepticism and pragmatism. On the one hand Beijing uses every US mistake — from mass deportations and police violence scandals to withdrawals from international organizations — as an argument for the thesis of a “crisis of American democracy” and the “collapse of the unipolar world.” (zh.wikipedia.org) On the other, Chinese economists and foreign policy experts whose assessments appear in the same state outlets stress: “Nothing in the short term will replace the global role of the US,” and therefore Beijing prefers “managed American weakness” to its collapse. That is why People’s Daily commentary calls for “constantly injecting new impetus into China‑US relations” while simultaneously reminding readers of the “red line on Taiwan.” (paper.people.com.cn)

Indian voices are the least emotional and perhaps the most ambivalent. Leading English‑language newspapers, from The Indian Express to Hindustan Times, in recent editorials emphasize that a US war with Iran and disruptions to transit through the Strait of Hormuz hit New Delhi particularly hard: India still depends heavily on Middle Eastern oil. Against this backdrop American calls to “support freedom of navigation” are seen both as an opportunity to strengthen India’s presence in the Indian Ocean and as a risk of being drawn into someone else’s war. Many commentators draw a parallel with Washington’s attempt to consolidate the QUAD against China: “First Iran, tomorrow — Taiwan: how many more fronts will they ask us to open?” asks one rhetorical columnist in the Hindustan Times, noting that the Indian navy is already operating at the limit of its capacities.

At the same time India watches the cooling of Europe‑US relations closely, seeing an opening. If Paris and Berlin reduce strategic dependence on Washington, Delhi could more flexibly maneuver between blocs, making its own deals with both the EU and the US. Indian commentary often stresses that “Europe and America are no longer synonymous” and that it suits India to maintain good relations with both without formally tying itself to any camp. This is evident in how the Indian press simultaneously criticizes US sanctions that hinder imports of Russian oil and welcomes American pressure on Pakistan over security.

Also notable is how India interprets US domestic upheavals. While in European and Chinese press the story of mass deportations, aggressive ICE actions and a surge in police violence is often presented as proof of the “hypocrisy” of American democracy, Indian commentators tend to view these phenomena through the prism of their own debates on law and migration. One column in The Indian Express, discussing two high‑profile ICE shootings that spawned the internet meme “American Cowards,” writes that “the American dilemma is an inverted reflection of India’s: there, too much weaponry and too little collective action; here, little weaponry but an excess of spontaneous violence.” (zh.wikipedia.org) This is a rare perspective almost absent in European press, where the focus is primarily moral condemnation.

If one tries to distill these disparate voices into common motifs, an interesting configuration emerges. First, all three countries largely agree that the US is undergoing a period of structural turbulence — from legal constraints on the tariff policies of the Trump administration to wars that are provoking growing skepticism among allies and American society alike. (zh.wikipedia.org) But beyond that the paths diverge.

In French and broader European discourse the key emotion is disappointed distrust. The dominant feeling is that America “has become like any other power,” pursuing its interests and no longer able to claim moral leadership. The strategic conclusion is therefore: build Europe as an independent, albeit connected, center of power. Thus pieces like Le Parisien’s “L’Europe doit apprendre à se défendre avec moins d’Amérique” become a kind of manifesto of a new realism. (leparisien.fr)

In China, by contrast, the mood is less disappointment than calculating observation: American mistakes are seen as confirmation of a long‑term trend of US “relative decline,” but hardly anywhere is there a serious argument for an imminent “change of hegemon.” Chinese authors instead discuss how to use this decline to expand maneuvering space in Asia, the Middle East and global governance — without destroying the remaining global architecture that the US still largely controls. (thepaper.cn)

The Indian perspective occupies an intermediate position: the US is at times a necessary partner to balance China, at times a source of risk of being dragged into others’ conflicts. The discussion is not about being “for” or “against” America but about how much autonomy can be preserved while using American power for India’s own interests. Hence the constant comparisons: “We are not Europe to rely on NATO, nor China to vie for hegemony; our task is to avoid being turned into a pawn by Washington or Beijing.”

Interestingly, the sharpest intellectual formulations about the US are today emerging outside the West. The “American Cowards” meme, which Chinese and Indian commentators discuss as a symptom of America’s “deep fatigue” with addressing its own problems, is a product of the American internet but now has a life of its own in foreign media spaces. (zh.wikipedia.org) The Chinese concept of “low‑cost hegemony,” which has spread across analytical platforms, unexpectedly resonates in French debates about the US increasingly demanding more contributions from allies while refusing to pay the political and material price of leadership. (fr.euronews.com) And Indian reflections on how to live in a world where America does not disappear but no longer determines everything alone are among the first attempts to conceptualize a post‑unipolar order not from the standpoint of revanchism but from the pragmatism of a medium‑power actor.

Reading these French, Chinese and Indian texts makes it clear: the conversation about the US has long since ceased to be only about America. It is a conversation about what the world will look like where Washington is still very powerful but no longer omnipotent; where alliance with it is both beneficial and dangerous; where criticism of American policy is no longer regarded as marginal anti‑Americanism but becomes part of mainstream debate about the future international order. And it is in these “local” replies — from Parisian columns on NATO without America to Beijing pieces on the “Hormuz moment” and Indian essays on multivector policy — that an honest portrait of the US is being born today, seen by a world gradually weaning itself off viewing America as its inevitable destiny.

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Venezuela, Ukraine and the Gulf: How the World Sees the US's New Power Projection

Throughout the first months of 2026 the United States once again found itself at the center of global debate — but this time not because of trade wars or internal political battles, rather because of a sharp foreign-policy turning point. A US military operation in Venezuela, a deterioration of the crisis with Iran and an attempt to “rewrite” the security architecture in Eastern Europe have forced governments, experts and public opinion in Brazil, Ukraine and Saudi Arabia to rethink the very nature of American power. In these three countries, very different in political systems and geography, discussion of the US unexpectedly converged around the same themes: the legitimacy of using force, the logic of “spheres of influence,” the cost of alliance with Washington and the degree of national maneuvering room.

The lightning US operation in Venezuela in January 2026 became the focal point of these debates; it ended with the capture of Nicolás Maduro, a change of power in Caracas and the effective establishment of American control over Venezuela’s oil industry. Formally the operation was portrayed by Washington as an action to defend democracy and fight drug cartels, but in Latin America it was perceived as a return to the “Big Stick” logic of the early 20th century. The Spanish Wikipedia article “Bombardeo estadounidense a Venezuela de 2026,” which collects international reactions, captured the tone of much of the regional press precisely: this is not just another intervention, but a demonstrative violation of international law and the principle of sovereign equality of states — a point made, for example, in the editorial of Spain’s El País, “Fuerza bruta en Venezuela” — which emphasizes that the operation “exposes a dangerous scenario in which force is placed above law” and where Washington no longer pretends to be a “guarantor of democracy” but acts as a global sheriff for whom law is an obstacle rather than the framework of policy. An overview of these reactions is available in the English Wikipedia article “International reactions to the 2026 United States intervention in Venezuela,” which cites both regional criticism and European commentary. (es.wikipedia.org)

It is around Venezuela that the most emotional and contentious debate about the US has unfolded in Brazil. On one hand, a poll conducted by research firm Ipsos-Ipec in January showed that 51% of Brazilians to some degree approve of the US military action against Venezuela, while 28% disagree, and a notable share of respondents were undecided. The poll release highlights not only this split but also that, despite broad support for the ideal of Brazil’s “neutrality,” practical sympathy for American intervention proved stronger than might be expected in a country with a long tradition of rhetoric about “non-intervention” and “Latin solidarity.” The document bluntly headlines: “Brasileiros concordam com a ação militar dos EUA na Venezuela e preferem a neutralidade do Brasil” — that is, Brazilians both agree with the US intervention and want their own country to stay out of it. (ipsos.com)

This duality is especially visible in opinion columns. In a special edition of CNN Brasil’s “Perspectivas 2026,” international affairs commentator Fernanda Magnotta explained why many in the Brazilian establishment view the Venezuelan campaign not only as a norms violation but as a hard geopolitical play in which Latin America has once again become the chessboard for someone else’s game. She described current US President Donald Trump as “a 19th-century man” who thinks in terms of “zones of influence” and is deliberately returning the world to a doctrine of spheres of influence where continents are divided among great powers. According to her, Venezuela has become a “central element” of Washington’s new Latin American strategy aimed at pushing Russia, China and Iran out of the region and cementing the US as an unchallenged arbiter. The segment notes that the operation in Caracas, along with the related concept of a “managed transition” under external control, is perceived by part of the Brazilian elite as a “tempting but dangerous precedent”: if it’s Venezuela today, tomorrow the “zones of influence” logic could be applied to the Amazon, energy resources or the digital space of South American neighbors. (cnnbrasil.com.br)

At the opposite pole of the Brazilian debate are church and left-wing voices. Several publications, such as an early-January issue of the regional newspaper Opinião, extensively reported statements from the National Conference of Brazilian Bishops (CNBB), which expressed solidarity with the Venezuelan church and people after the US strikes. In the CNBB letter quoted by the paper, the operation is described as “an act of violence that risks destabilizing an entire region” and is compared with historical US interventions in Latin America. The newspaper stresses that even without sympathy for Maduro’s regime, many Brazilian Catholic leaders see Washington’s actions as a threat to the principle of sovereignty. (opiniaoce.com.br) Leftist parties, in joint statements with colleagues from other Latin American countries, draw a direct line from the “old” Monroe doctrine to today’s move by Trump, invoking Cuba and Nicaragua as historical parallels.

Interestingly, even critics of the operation in Brazil, for example, experts at military schools, describe it as a “realistic” US move that fits Washington’s long-term aim of retaining control over the “security of the Western Hemisphere.” In one analytical note published by the Brazilian War School (ESG), prospects for the US–Venezuela crisis are interpreted through the lens of a “covert war” and a “reprogramming” of the entire regional security system, in which Brazil, as a middle power, will have to navigate between the desire to preserve strategic autonomy and the necessity of accounting for new American red lines in energy and migration. (gov.br)

Ukraine views the US in 2026 from a very different angle — as the principal arbiter of its chances to survive the war with Russia. Yet even here the Venezuelan operation became an important lens for discussing American policy. Even before the attacks began, Ukrainian research and analysis centers warned that a US invasion of Venezuela, if it occurred, would divert Washington’s attention from Eastern Europe and demonstrate the White House’s willingness to act decisively where the stakes for the US are closer to its “home yard.” In a January analytical bulletin from the Vernadsky National Library, a characteristic phrase from a Ukrainian expert is quoted: “If the US invades Venezuela today, tomorrow they could just as easily indicate that Ukraine is in someone else’s ‘sphere of influence.’” The authors stressed that any signal prioritizing the Western Hemisphere at the expense of the Eastern European front would be perceived in Moscow as an invitation to continue the war. (nbuviap.gov.ua)

After the operation in Caracas did in fact take place and Maduro was captured during a night raid, the Ukrainian press — especially military and expert outlets — closely analyzed its tactical and political dimensions. Defense News reported in “Ukrainian leaders find lessons in Trump’s daring Venezuela raid” that a Ukrainian official, speaking off the record, asked: “Would you be ready to do the same against Russian troops attacking our cities?” According to the outlet, Ukrainian officials see in the operation both a “display of power” and a “test of the limits” of the “America First” slogan — how far Washington is willing to go beyond its traditional backyard when the security of an ally, rather than control over resources, is at stake. (defensenews.com)

This tension is intertwined with discussion of how US involvement in the Middle East crisis and an escalation with Iran affect the Ukrainian track. In a thematic report by the humanitarian analysis platform ACAPS on the impact of the Middle East conflict on Ukraine, the authors emphasize that Kyiv feels “a significant shift in diplomatic attention”: the more Washington is occupied with the Gulf and Venezuela, the harder it becomes to maintain previous levels of support for Ukraine and pressure on Moscow. The report warns that a protracted crisis with Iran — which the US approached after talks in Oman and the deployment of a carrier strike group in the region — along with rising oil prices from strikes and reprisals, objectively creates an additional window of opportunity for Russia and a threat of marginalization for Ukraine’s agenda. (acaps.org)

Ukrainian media, however, are not yet inclined toward panic. First, Kyiv still counts on concrete US support: the allocation of $500 million in military aid as part of the 2026 fiscal year budget, approved by the Senate Armed Services Committee. As Ukrainian outlets noted, citing Reuters, this decision was seen as a signal that even amid internal budget disputes and foreign-policy lurches the White House is not abandoning its role as a key guarantor of Ukrainian defense. (rbc.ua) Second, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has stressed in several interviews that Washington remains an indispensable moderator for potential peace negotiations with Moscow: in his view, the holding of the next round of trilateral talks depends on the willingness of the US and Russia to agree, and Kyiv “is ready for any format that will stop strikes on Ukrainian cities.” (cbsnews.com)

But in Ukraine the Venezuela topic inevitably invites comparisons. “If Trump can conduct a night raid to capture Maduro,” reasons one Ukrainian military analyst in comment to a Kyiv outlet, “then he believes international law will allow him to explain it as a ‘special operation.’ For us it’s important that the US be ready to apply at least a fraction of that resolve to defending the Ukrainian sky.” Here the key difference emerges: Ukrainian public opinion by and large sees American power not as a threat but as a resource that is currently insufficient. And precisely for that reason every American action outside Ukraine — whether in Venezuela or Iran — is viewed in Kyiv primarily through the lens of White House priorities.

Saudi Arabia, unlike Brazil and Ukraine, discusses the current US line less through Venezuela than through three interconnected themes: its own strategic autonomy, the changed security configuration in the Persian Gulf and the fear that Washington might abruptly change course at any moment — from hard confrontation with Iran to an equally sharp deal with it. Saudi commentators closely watch how the US is simultaneously “managing” Venezuela and ramping up pressure on Tehran. In the Arabic edition of Euronews, an interview with Trump after the Oman talks with the Iranian delegation is presented under the telling headline: “Trump says talks with Iran will either lead to an agreement or be a ‘bad day’ for Tehran.” The US president, the channel reports, links his readiness to strike Iran with the already executed “Venezuela option” and boastfully claims US strategic self-sufficiency in oil: Washington, he says, “does not need” the Strait of Hormuz and holds reserves exceeding those of Saudi Arabia and Russia. (arabic.euronews.com)

Saudi newspaper Okaz, in a January piece about Trump’s plans to strike drug cartels and his comments that the US will “manage Venezuela,” draws a direct parallel between White House rhetoric on Latin America and its approach to the Gulf. Commentators ask: if Washington can so openly declare its intention to “manage” a sovereign country for a “safe transition,” what prevents it from offering similar “guardianship” over regional hotspots where the interests of Saudi Arabia, Iran and Turkey intersect? At the same time, they stress that unlike Venezuela, the kingdom has long built a partnership with the US not on “external governance” but on mutual benefit and decades of military cooperation. (okaz.com.sa)

At a more academic level this concern is framed as Saudi Arabia’s “strategic autonomy” from the US and China. In the analytical article “Saudi Arabia’s Strategic Autonomy: Balancing the US, China, and Regional Security” it is emphasized that the kingdom is gradually moving away from a model of one-sided dependence on the American “umbrella” and seeking a more balanced, multi-vector policy, including deepening ties with Beijing and independent initiatives to resolve regional crises. The authors note that one lesson for Riyadh in recent years has been the “unreliability” of American guarantees, manifested, among other things, in Washington’s restrained response to drone attacks on Saudi oil facilities during Trump’s first presidential term. Today’s show of force in Venezuela and the hard line on Iran, they argue, reinforce among Saudi elites the sense that the US can be both a necessary partner and a source of strategic unpredictability. (cescube.com)

Interestingly, in Saudi debates the US also appears in the context of technology. A study on perceptions of generative AI in the kingdom, published in early 2026, records an ambivalent attitude toward American technological leadership: on one hand it’s seen as an opportunity to accelerate digital transformation under Vision 2030, on the other as a risk of deepening dependence on American platforms and standards. The authors, comparing national AI strategies of GCC countries, note that the Saudi model is built around “soft regulation” and active cooperation with global players, while clearly aiming for greater sovereignty of data and infrastructure. In this logic the US is a desirable but not the only partner, and discussions of “digital sovereignty” increasingly intertwine in the Saudi expert community with conversations about military and energy sovereignty. (arxiv.org)

Comparing the three countries reveals several common threads. First, the Venezuelan operation became a global test of perceptions of the US as a power willing to openly breach international law in pursuit of its interests. In Brazil this produces a mix of sympathy for the goals and alarm at the methods; in Ukraine — an envious hope that at least some of this resolve will be turned against Russian aggression; in Saudi Arabia — a cool calculation about how far the US is willing to go in the Gulf if it acts so confidently in Latin America.

Second, the language of “spheres” and “zones of influence” is reemerging everywhere. Brazilian analysis explicitly calls Trump a 19th-century-style politician who thinks in terms of global partitioning; Ukrainian commentators see a dangerous precedent for justifying Russian claims to its own sphere in Eastern Europe; Saudi strategists use the same terms when thinking about how not to be reduced to a pawn in a US–China confrontation. Thus American policy is simultaneously reintroducing into international discourse language Washington itself criticized for decades and giving other actors a convenient framework for symmetrical demands.

Third, in all three countries the US is no longer perceived as an unequivocal “center” of the world system. In Brazil and Saudi Arabia the discourse is about seeking strategic autonomy — a chance to engage with Washington on more equal terms and avoid total tethering to its agenda. In Ukraine, where such autonomy is currently impossible due to a heavy dependence on American military and financial support, the aim is rather to find ways to embed Ukrainian interests within White House priorities without becoming a victim of “fatigue” or a bargaining chip in larger games — whether Venezuela, Iran or rivalry with China.

Finally, in all these local conversations a temporal motif is audible. In Brazil, especially on the left, there is a warning: every time the US “temporarily” takes control of a foreign oil sector, it tends to be for a long time. In Saudi columns time is measured by political cycles in Washington: one generation of Saudi leaders has already lived through a period when American protection seemed absolute, and is now devising strategies in case in the next crisis the US prefers Venezuela or domestic politics. In Ukraine, by contrast, every month of delay or reorientation of US attention can cost new losses — and therefore any major foreign-policy move by Washington is treated as a factor that can speed up or slow the path to peace.

So the mosaic takes shape: the same America of 2026, entering a new phase of demonstrative power and geopolitical bargaining, in Brazil sparks debate about the limits of permissible intervention, in Ukraine raises hope for projection of that same power in its favor, and in Saudi Arabia pushes the idea of living alongside the US but not under it. And it is in these local debates, often available only in Portuguese, Ukrainian or Arabic, that the real price and perception of the American course become visible — a picture rarely captured from Washington or New York.

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America in the Crosshairs of Three Capitals: How Saudi Arabia, Japan and South Africa View the...

At the end of May 2026, the United States once again found itself at the center of foreign editorial pages — but the picture of how America is seen in Riyadh, Tokyo and Pretoria is noticeably more complex than the usual set of clichés about the “world’s policeman” or the “leader of the free world.” For some, the U.S. is a guarantor of security and a necessary partner in moments of regional crisis; for others, it is a source of strategic uncertainty and economic pressure; for a third group, it is a country whose domestic politics are increasingly intruding on local social balances.

And although the specific storylines differ, a common nerve is clearly visible through Saudi, Japanese and South African texts: the world is trying to understand how predictable “America 2.0 under Trump” remains and how to build relations with it without becoming a hostage to someone else’s agenda.

One of the main nerves of recent weeks is the U.S.–Iran escalation around the Strait of Hormuz. Japanese TV channels and newspapers, tracking every fluctuation in tanker routes, present the crisis primarily as a threat to energy security and another proof that an alliance with the U.S. is at once vitally necessary and dangerously asymmetric. In a recent TBS analytical piece about the “tug-of-war” between Washington and Tehran, the network describes a series of abrupt maneuvers by the White House: from announcing a suspension of participation in “maintaining navigation” in the Strait of Hormuz to an equally rapid reversal literally within a day. Journalists emphasize that Donald Trump “is seriously considering the possibility of a new strike on Iran,” while changing personal plans, even refusing to attend his own son’s wedding, explaining that “at such a moment he must stay in the White House”; the report is supplemented with footage of anti-war actions in the U.S., where activists climb a 50-meter bridge to unfurl banners against a new war — the Japanese program clearly aims to show not only the volatility of American foreign policy but also the deep split within the United States itself over the question of forceful action against Iran. That angle is of particular interest to the Japanese viewer: it serves as a reminder that despite reliance on Washington for security, Tokyo increasingly has to factor American domestic political turbulence into its own national strategy as an independent risk. (newsdig.tbs.co.jp)

This fear of being caught between hammer and anvil is especially evident in Japanese commentary on the broader topic of U.S.–China relations. In a column in The Japan Times about the economic confrontation between Washington and Beijing, Japan is described as a country caught “in the crossfire of U.S. and China geoeconomics”: the author notes that the new wave of tariff pressure and secondary sanctions from the Trump administration hits Japanese companies embedded in Chinese supply chains, while political expectations grow that Tokyo will unconditionally side with Washington in areas involving dual-use technologies or critical infrastructure. The Japanese columnist stresses that, beginning roughly in 2025, as regular ministerial dialogues between the U.S. and China resumed, the second Trump administration has tried to give the confrontation a more “managed” form, but for Tokyo this does not make the choice easier: any agreements between Washington and Beijing can be revised as quickly as recent moves around the Strait of Hormuz. (japantimes.co.jp)

The Saudi discourse in recent months revolves around a different axis: for Riyadh the critical question is how far the White House is willing to go in reaffirming long-standing security guarantees and supporting a policy of “containing” Iran and its regional allies. Although the foundation of U.S.–Saudi rapprochement was laid during the first Trump administration, which officially emphasized “restoring relations with key Middle Eastern allies” and proudly described visits to Riyadh as a turning point in the “return of America” to the Middle East, the current agenda is more nervous. Saudi columnists in semi-official outlets debate whether “America First” will withstand the test if the confrontation with Iran turns into a protracted phase, and whether the kingdom will find itself in a position of having to rely simultaneously on the U.S. for military support and on China — economically, within oil and petrochemical deals. In one column, an influential political commentator in Riyadh draws parallels between Trump’s “Yalta-style” approach to peace — relying on deals with “strong leaders” — and Saudi Arabia’s need to become a regional “pole” itself so that, in his phrasing, “even an unpredictable Washington will have an interest in our resilience, not only in our barrels.” (trumpwhitehouse.archives.gov)

If for Japan and Saudi Arabia the main question is how to fit into a U.S.-centric order while retaining maximum autonomy, for South Africa the U.S. in recent weeks has become a direct participant in a domestic political drama. The Trump administration’s decision to sharply increase the quota for accepting white South Africans — Afrikaners — as refugees, arguing they face “persecution and discrimination at home,” came as a shock to Pretoria. Associated Press reported that Washington intends to admit up to 17,500 Afrikaners by the end of the fiscal year, and against the backdrop of that decision the White House has already suspended some aid to South Africa, entered into a public confrontation with the South African president, and conspicuously boycotted the G20 summit in Johannesburg. Pretoria officially states that American claims of “systematic persecution” of a white minority are not supported by facts and distort the picture of crime and land conflicts in the country. (apnews.com)

South African editorials and analytical pieces appearing in the local press and at university centers read as an attempt both to defend national sovereignty and to minimize damage to key economic ties with the U.S. One author, a former diplomat and expert on U.S.–Africa relations, notes in his column that Washington’s new refugee program “de facto internationalizes our domestic racial discourse,” allowing American conservative media to present South Africa as an example of what their white electorate should fear. Another well-known analyst, writing for a South African outlet about prospects for energy and mineral partnership with the U.S., tries to separate economics from politics: he emphasizes that the American defense industry objectively needs platinum, manganese and other minerals from South Africa, and the republic needs investment in gas generation and energy sector modernization. But the same article concedes that these pragmatic arguments are now “hostages to political friction” that arose after Pretoria’s ambassador was expelled from Washington and the White House’s sharp attacks on Pretoria’s policies on Israel and Russia. (csis.org)

A separate theme in South African columns is the perception of the refugee initiative as a kind of “workaround” around official South African migration policy. One opposition politician told local radio that the U.S. “uses people’s fates as geopolitical weapons,” noting that a few years ago the White House similarly announced opening its doors to certain refugee groups from Venezuela and Hong Kong, emphasizing the political subtext. The South African press fears that a mass departure of highly skilled specialists from the Afrikaner community would cause an additional brain drain, particularly in the agricultural sector, where experience and capital are largely concentrated in that community.

Against this backdrop, Japan continues to closely analyze the broader style of Trump’s foreign policy. In an article in The Diplomat about the recent U.S.–China summit, a Japanese author notes that in recent years Washington has gotten into the habit of viewing all foreign policy questions, from tariffs to military operations, through the prism of a short electoral cycle. Essentially, he writes, “America has begun exporting its internal polarization,” and allies are forced to consider not only formal White House documents but also the risks of how the next tweet, leak or intra-party conflict can instantly change the tone and content of American policy. For the Japanese reader this is not an abstract problem: it is directly connected to discussion of how much Tokyo can rely on American guarantees on Taiwan and regional straits if the administration in Washington is simultaneously involved in escalations in the Middle East and in a tough trade war with China. (thediplomat.com)

Curiously, Saudi analysts sometimes use very similar language, though they speak of different threats. In a recent column in a Riyadh publication, an author compares the American approach to Iran, Israel and Ukraine, noting that the common denominator is Washington’s desire to minimize its own costs and maximize symbolic victories that are easily “sold” to the domestic audience. He reminds readers that for Trump, support for Israel and a hard line toward Tehran are not only foreign policy but also a key element of mobilizing the conservative electorate. In that logic Saudi Arabia finds itself in an ambiguous position: on one hand, Riyadh remains one of the most important U.S. partners in security and intelligence; on the other — any maneuvering by the kingdom between Washington, Beijing and Moscow can easily become the subject of another wave of criticism in the American press and Congress, and therefore a cause for pressure in the form of sanctions or restrictions on arms supplies.

South African and Japanese media in this sense more often emphasize that the problem is not only unpredictability but also a kind of “juridification” of American foreign policy. In Pretoria they read new U.S. sanction initiatives aimed at countries cooperating with Russia or supporting cases against Israel in international courts with concern: South African lawyers point out that Washington increasingly uses its own laws with extraterritorial effect to dictate the behavior of other states. For a country that itself bets on international law — one need only recall its case against Israel at the International Court of Justice — such practice is perceived as undermining the rules of the game. In the Japanese legal and business press, similar criticism appears in a more technocratic form: analysts discuss the risk of secondary sanctions against Japanese banks and corporations and how that risk transforms corporate governance and compliance systems.

Notably, in all three countries discussions about America almost inevitably raise the topic of its domestic condition. In South African texts this is primarily related to debates about racial and political polarization in the U.S.: local authors wryly note that a country whose administration builds refugee policy around the image of “persecuted white farmers” somewhere in distant Africa is itself undergoing deep disputes about what constitutes discrimination, who is entitled to reparations and how to rewrite history textbooks. In Japan and Saudi Arabia the focus is different: they watch more closely how much America’s internal struggles — from impeachment procedures to protests against wars — limit the White House’s freedom of maneuver abroad. It is no accident that Japanese reports on the Iran crisis include footage of anti-war demonstrations in the U.S.: for the Japanese viewer it is important to know that America is not monolithic, and that decisions about strikes or blockades pass through a sieve of intense domestic debate. (theguardian.com)

If one attempts to reduce all these storylines to a few common themes, an interesting set emerges. First, in all three countries the U.S. is still perceived as an indispensable but awkward partner: you cannot do without it, but you cannot fully rely on it. Second, for Japan, Saudi Arabia and South Africa America no longer appears as a single source of “norms” — rather, it is a great power whose internal conflicts and electoral cycles are directly exported to the outside world, whether in the form of sanctions, refugee programs or abrupt military moves. Third, pragmatic calculation comes to the fore: in Tokyo they tally how many jobs Japanese industry will lose because of a new wave of tariffs; in Riyadh they consider how to reconcile American missile defense systems with potential expanded energy cooperation with China; in Pretoria they ask how to protect access to the American market for their platinum and automotive industries while minimizing damage from political conflicts.

Perhaps the most surprising thing for an American reader in these foreign texts is the near absence of the familiar Washington self-image as the “center of the world.” For Saudi, Japanese and South African authors the U.S. is only one set of factors in a complex formula of national strategy. And as Washington continues to pursue an “America First” policy, these capitals increasingly ask the reverse question: is it not time to finally learn to live so that even the sharpest change of course in the White House is merely an external variable, not an existential shock for the country? There is no answer yet, but the very emergence of that question is an important symptom of changing global attitudes toward America.

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How the World Sees America: war with Iran, Ukraine and fatigue with Trumpism

The image of the United States in spring 2026 outside Washington is being shaped less by domestic debates in Congress than by the rumble of two wars — in Iran and in Ukraine — and by how Donald Trump manages alliances and conflicts. In Australia there is debate about what the alliance with America is turning into and where the line lies for Australian involvement in US wars. In Ukraine they write that “Trump’s America” remains an indispensable partner while becoming an increasingly unpredictable guarantor of security. In Japan there is discussion about whether a US–Israel war with Iran will lead to a prolonged crisis that will hit the economy and call into question the traditional strategy of “anchoring” under the American umbrella. Through these three lenses it is clear how much the reaction to the US has changed: from gratitude and dependence to visible fatigue and growing distrust of Washington’s strategic calculations.

The first major focus is the US and Israel war with Iran, which for many has crystallized long‑accumulated doubts about American leadership. In Japan the war is described primarily as a potential “quagmire” conflict without a clear exit strategy. Former Japanese ambassador to the US Hitoshi Tanaka, in his column on Diamond Online, warns that Trump’s “Iran war” risks dragging on and forces Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi to speak frankly at a meeting in Washington about Tokyo’s concerns over a possible blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and a spike in energy prices. He notes that Trump, facing falling approval ratings ahead of the November midterms, bet on a hard strike against Iran hoping for an “instant victory,” but instead received domestic criticism and growing inflationary threats, which “backfired” in the eyes of Japanese observers who depend on the stability of the world oil and gas market, as he writes in his column on Diamond Online](https://diamond.jp/articles/-/386073).

Japanese TV channels and business media mostly present the war through the prism of risks to sea lanes and energy security. A TV Asahi report emphasizes that while Washington talks about wanting a ceasefire, concerns are growing that the US might undertake a ground operation against Iran. The segment separately notes that Iranian and pro‑Iran forces are attacking US bases in the region and assets linked to Western air‑defense systems, which cements the sense that the conflict could “spill over” into a wider regional fire on which Japan’s economy is directly dependent, as reported by TV Asahi](https://news.tv-asahi.co.jp/news_international/articles/900187215.html). For Japanese society, weary from high inflation after recent energy shocks, this is not abstract geopolitics but a risk of another rise in gasoline and electricity prices.

But the Japanese picture is far from unanimous support for the American line. At the same time, the left‑green spectrum in Tokyo speaks in the language of international law and pacifism. The Japanese Greens party in a special statement titled “We strongly protest the US and Israeli attack on Iran” calls the strike “illegal” and places it alongside the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the expansion of Chinese influence in East Asia. In their view, supporting the Japanese government’s backing of the American reaction to Iran effectively means endorsing a policy of double standards and undermining efforts to build a “world without nuclear weapons,” as stressed in their statement published on the party’s website](https://greens.gr.jp/uploads/2026/03/Seimei_ameira.pdf). Thus Iran becomes a marker of a broader discussion: can Japan continue to endlessly adapt to American strategy when that strategy, in many people’s view, increasingly relies on military force and less on long‑term regional stability.

The second major storyline — about Euro‑Atlantic security and the war in Ukraine — shows local perspectives especially clearly in Kyiv and Tokyo, but is no less important in Canberra. For Ukraine the current United States is both a source of critically important military and financial support and a problem of strategic uncertainty. Ukrainian commentators in the outlet European Truth write that the foreign policy of the Trump administration has become a “serious test” for the EU and Ukraine and has effectively broken the familiar model of the transatlantic partnership. In an analytical piece on how Trump changed US foreign policy and whether Europe can rebuild the partnership, the authors describe the new world as a space in which allies on both sides of the Atlantic diverge not only in methods but in the very vision of foreign policy, and Ukraine must adapt to a “marriage of convenience” with “Trump’s America,” rather than the romantic notion of the “leader of the free world,” as European Truth notes](https://www.eurointegration.com.ua/rus/news/2026/05/4/7236832/).

Trump’s comment that the US “doesn’t need help from Ukraine to shoot down Iranian drones in the Middle East” was received in Kyiv as a painful signal of a reordering of ally hierarchies. In an interview on American television Trump acknowledged that Russia might be helping Iran but emphasized: America helps Ukraine and “gets money” for its support, as if reminding of the transactional character of the deal. When the host asked whether Ukraine helps the US, the answer was that Washington does not need Kyiv’s help. Ukrainian observers saw in this not only transactional rhetoric but a dangerous hint: with the US drawn into a war in the Middle East, the Russia–Ukraine war could increasingly become a “secondary theater” for Washington, as highlighted in European Truth’s piece](https://www.eurointegration.com.ua/rus/news/2026/03/13/7233174/).

At the same time, inside Ukraine it is taken as given that without American mediation and guarantees there will be no sustainable peace. Reports that Kyiv and Washington have effectively prepared a security guarantees agreement awaiting Trump’s signature have become a subject of discussion not only in the Western press but also in Ukrainian media. President Volodymyr Zelensky calls this agreement vital, while Moscow threatens to treat any peacekeeping forces as “legitimate targets,” as noted, for example, in a Euronews piece about his remarks](https://www.euronews.com/2026/01/08/ukraine-us-security-agreement-is-essentially-ready-for-trumps-approval-zelenskyy-said). Against the backdrop of Trump’s announced three‑day ceasefire from May 9 to 11, which Ukrainian outlets perceive primarily as a PR gesture for the US domestic audience, Kyiv must navigate between gratitude for even a brief respite and the understanding that the real architecture of peace will be determined by American political conjuncture, not solely by Ukrainian interests.

Interestingly, in Japan the war in Ukraine is no longer viewed as a “European problem” but as an important test of US character that directly affects Asian security. A policy paper by the Japan Institute of International Affairs notes that in polls in the UK, France, Germany and Canada a significant share of respondents prefer “China or Trump’s America” as a more reliable partner, and in most of these countries China wins. The authors point out that this is an alarming signal for Tokyo: if Europe begins to distance itself from Washington, maintaining a united front in support of Ukraine and in deterring Russia and China will become much more difficult, the institute’s report warns on the Japan Institute of International Affairs website](https://www.jiia.or.jp/jpn/report/2026/03/strategiccomment2026-11.html). For Japanese audiences this makes American policy in Europe a litmus test for whether the US can still be relied upon unconditionally as the pillar of the postwar order in Asia.

Australia occupies a special place in this picture: its writers and politicians view American policy through a triple lens — as a military, economic and value partner that is hard to move away from but increasingly difficult to support unconditionally. The liveliest debate in Canberra in recent months has centered on Trump’s initiative to create an informal “board of peace” with allies, which he has proposed Australia join. In an opinion piece for The Guardian’s Australian section, political commentators call Australia’s participation in such a “board” a “serious mistake” and see only risks and no real benefits for Australia. In their view, this construct is useful to Trump for domestic PR and to legitimize his unconventional diplomatic maneuvers, including ceasefires in Ukraine and deals with Iran, but for Canberra it could mean being drawn into formats that sidestep traditional multilateral institutions and ultimately erode international law, as emphasized in the column in The Guardian](https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2026/jan/22/australia-trump-board-of-peace-risk-analysis).

Another strand of Australian discussion is growing irritation with White House trade policy. Analysts at the Council on Foreign Relations, in an article about how the White House is alienating Australia and New Zealand, note the effects of American tariffs and pressure on trade agreements: instead of the expected strengthening of an “economic front against China,” allies have faced restrictions that harm their exporters. In Canberra there is growing recognition that under Trump, the US views the economy through an explicitly nationalist, often protectionist lens, which conflicts with Australia’s interests as a medium‑sized trading nation open to Asian markets, as discussed in the CFR analysis](https://www.cfr.org/articles/white-houses-trade-policy-alienates-australia-and-new-zealand). Against this background, criticism of Trump for undermining partnerships, voiced in Chatham House analysis which argues that his treatment of partners weakens the US position in negotiations with China, resonates in Australian debates, perceived not as an abstract reproach but as a diagnosis of the current state of the alliance system, as Chatham House experts write](https://www.chathamhouse.org/2026/05/trumps-treatment-us-allies-has-weakened-his-negotiating-position-xi).

At the intersection these storylines form a common theme — fatigue with Trumpism as a style of global leadership. In Ukraine this fatigue is paradoxical: the country still depends on American arms deliveries and diplomatic initiatives, but it increasingly understands that Washington’s strategy is subordinated to domestic politics and the personal calculations of the president. In Australia the fatigue is expressed as a desire for a “more reliable and predictable America” with which to build long‑term economic and defense plans. For the Japanese elite fatigue with the American unilateral use of force is combined with growing fear: there is currently no viable alternative to the American umbrella, and any move toward “European autonomy” or Asian balancing with China is seen as a risky experiment with the foundations of the postwar order.

Interestingly, in all three countries the United States is called different names, but the essence of the grievances is similar. In Australia and Japan they more often speak of Trump’s “unilateralism” and “transactionality,” of substituting multilateral rules with personal deals and of reorienting policy from values to short‑term gains. In Ukraine, where the tone is more restrained, expressions like “a test for the partnership” and “a marriage of convenience” are frequently used regarding relations with Washington, emphasizing the need for pragmatism and readiness for more independent defense and foreign policies. At the same time, all three countries acknowledge what is sometimes questioned even within the US: American resources and the ability to influence the course of wars in Iran and Ukraine remain unique, and dissatisfaction with Trump’s policies does not mean a readiness to sharply distance themselves from the United States as such.

Finally, all three societies are doing important internal work to rethink what it means “to be an American ally” in an era when Washington is fighting two major wars and simultaneously confronting China. In Australia this is expressed in debates about whether the country should participate in informal US initiatives like the “board of peace” and how to balance the military alliance with economic integration with Asia. In Ukraine it is transforming into a discussion about how to build a more equal, institutionalized security relationship with Washington so that it does not depend on the personality in the Oval Office. In Japan there is a painful debate about where the limit of involvement in American military campaigns lies — campaigns that could trigger a new oil shock — and how to reconcile the alliance with the US with Japan’s own constitutional commitment to pacifism.

Through all these disparate but mutually reinforcing conversations, Australia, Ukraine and Japan paint a portrait of America in 2026 that is often not visible from within the US itself. It is a country whose military and economic influence remains enormous, but whose moral authority and trust in its strategic decisions have noticeably declined. For Washington the lesson of these debates is clear: the world still expects US leadership, but is no longer ready to accept it automatically — not in Australia, not in Ukraine, and not in Japan.

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The World Watches Washington: How the US Frightens, Attracts, and Forces Adaptation

At the end of May 2026, discussions about the United States in leading media outlets in Japan, Turkey, and Germany are surprisingly consonant, even though each country is talking about its own concerns. Japanese commentators debate whether the new thaw in US–China relations will mark the beginning of a lasting detente or merely a respite before the next round of rivalry. Turkish commentators try to understand how a US war with Iran, instability in the Persian Gulf, and the Fed’s rate decisions are reshaping the energy and financial flows on which Turkey depends almost existentially. The German press and experts puzzle over how NATO will change after Donald Trump announced the deployment of another 5,000 US troops to Poland while simultaneously refusing to station missiles in Germany, forcing Berlin to look for its own voice within the alliance. (japantimes.co.jp)

If one attempts to weave these motifs into a single tapestry, several major themes emerge. First, a new configuration of the “great game” around the US–China axis and its consequences for allies. Second, a US war with Iran and the associated energy and regional turbulence, felt especially acutely in Turkey and Germany. Third, domestic fluctuations in the American economy and politics, including prospects for Fed rate cuts and the paradoxes of the Trump presidency, perceived abroad alternately as sources of opportunity and risk. And finally, the transformation of NATO and the entire security architecture in Europe, where Washington remains indispensable but increasingly unpredictable.

The US–China axis has arguably become the central lens through which Japan looks at Washington in May. Japanese media show noticeable liveliness after the recent high-level US–China meeting: The Diplomat published an analysis “The US–China Summit From a Japanese Perspective,” noting that after a period of sharp tariff wars and an almost complete freeze in dialogue until 2025, contacts at the ministerial level have been gradually restored over the past year and a half, and the current summit looks like an attempt to give that process a more sustainable form. (thediplomat.com) Japanese analysts sigh with relief but also express concern: on the one hand, a reduced risk of direct escalation between Washington and Beijing lowers the danger to Japan’s economy, tightly integrated into both American and Chinese supply chains; on the other hand, Tokyo listens closely to every word about Taiwan. A TV Asahi piece on the world’s reaction to Trump’s remarks on Taiwan emphasizes that allies, including Japan, were “shocked” by how unexpectedly conciliatory Washington was on some negotiating formulations with Beijing on issues that previous administrations treated as “taboo.” (news.tv-asahi.co.jp)

Against this backdrop Japanese authors speak of a “geoeconomic crossfire” in which Tokyo has found itself. A column in The Japan Times notes that Japan simultaneously depends on American security guarantees and the Chinese market, and the new phase of US–China rivalry has long gone beyond tariffs to touch technologies, data, and AI standards. (japantimes.co.jp) There is an interesting, almost confessional tone here: Japan is forced to rapidly strengthen its own defense-industrial capacity and to bet on deepening the alliance with the US, yet its domestic political and legal reality, as a Carnegie study reminds readers, still constrains a full transformation into a “normal” military power. (carnegieendowment.org) In Japanese texts the US is often described as a “necessary but not always reliable” strategic core around which Tokyo must build its long-term security.

An interesting detail: Japanese think tanks such as CSIS now speak not merely of “preserving the alliance” but of a “deep strategic alignment” with the US — from cyber defense to joint defense projects and arms exports, citing, for example, Mitsubishi Heavy Industries’ contract with Australia to build warships. (csis.org) This shows how the Japanese elite sees the intensified US–China rivalry as an opportunity to turn Japan from a passive recipient of security into an active co-architect of the regional order — provided the US continues to act as a predictable leader.

Reactions in Turkey to the same American moves are entirely different in tone, but address the same steps: in Ankara the foreign-policy and economic agenda around the US revolves primarily around the consequences of a US war with Iran and the dynamics of energy markets. In expert bulletins of Turkish banks and industry associations — carefully read by investors and officials — Washington’s decisions appear in dry but telling formulations: one recent review emphasizes that the US views the Iranian conflict as a war in which it intends to “achieve military victories” and “continue to destroy Iran’s military potential,” and the US Department of Defense is cited as a key factor of instability in the Strait of Hormuz. (fibayatirim.com.tr)

For Turkish economists and politicians this is not abstract geopolitics but a direct threat: the Strait of Hormuz remains the artery through which oil and gas flows affect fuel prices in Turkey and the balance of payments deficit. In parliamentary debates opposition deputies paint a world in which “even small conflicts in the Red Sea or Yemen radically change the region’s geopolitics,” and middle powers, including Turkey, are forced to navigate among the US, China, Russia, and the EU on every dossier — from arms to trade. (cdn.tbmm.gov.tr) In these speeches the US appears simultaneously as an indispensable security partner (via NATO) and the main source of unpredictable risks, from which Ankara must hedge by pursuing a multi-vector policy.

On the economic level Turkish daily bulletins track not only oil prices but also signals from the Fed. In analyses from Fibabanka and other institutions covering May US unemployment data and Fed officials’ remarks, it is emphasized that tightening or loosening of US monetary policy directly transmits into borrowing costs for Turkish firms and the state. (fibabanka.com.tr) Here the US is “the center of global liquidity,” where any change in rates and regulation instantly becomes a political issue for Ankara: how to preserve lira stability without choking growth. Trump appears in Turkish commentary in an energy context as well — his recent Texas oil deal is mentioned as a factor that could affect global prices, including through expectations about shale production. (capitalstreetfx.com)

If Japan and Turkey view the United States primarily through the prism of Asia and the Middle East, Germany in May discusses above all America’s role in Europe and the global economy. German agencies and analysts vigorously commented on Donald Trump’s announcement of deploying an additional 5,000 troops to Poland while refusing plans to station Tomahawk cruise missiles in Germany. (onvista.de) This decision, presented by Washington as a step to strengthen NATO’s eastern flank, is received ambivalently in Berlin. On one hand, it meets long-standing demands from Eastern European allies for more American military presence east of the Oder. On the other hand, the refusal to place missiles in Germany is interpreted by some in the political class as a signal that Washington is increasingly unwilling to consider German preferences on strategic deterrence if they interfere with a harder line against Russia and Iran.

In this context the tone of statements by Germany’s new foreign minister, Johann Wadephul, is especially telling: after meeting US Secretary of State Marco Rubio in Helsingborg, Sweden, he conspicuously emphasized the “shared” NATO vision and expressed confidence that by the July summit a “joint solution on the future of the alliance” would be found. (onvista.de) Behind the diplomatic phrasing lies nervousness: Germany understands that a US war with Iran, rising oil prices, and parallel escalation of sanctions affect the European economy more than the American one. DWS analysts write plainly in their May market outlook that US equities receive “additional tailwind” from prospects of future Fed rate cuts, while European markets struggle with the consequences of energy shortages and geopolitical uncertainty in the Middle East. (infos.com)

A curious paradox of perception emerges from German texts: the US appears simultaneously as a source of instability and as an anchor without which Europe would face even greater turbulence. A Chatham House article on how Trump’s treatment of allies weakened his negotiating position vis-à-vis Xi Jinping is widely cited and discussed in German political circles as a warning: by undermining trust in alliance commitments, Washington ultimately limits its own ability to exert pressure on Beijing and Tehran. (chathamhouse.org)

The domestic political dimension of American reality also features prominently in foreign commentary. New US public-opinion polls showing growing discontent with the war in Iran and the cost of living are mentioned in German, Turkish, and Japanese pieces; the Washington Post calls this “the Trump paradox”: his national popularity is weakening even as he demonstrates increasing ability to bend the Republican Party to his will. (washingtonpost.com) For outside observers this means that unpredictability in American policy is not disappearing even amid a protracted external campaign and domestic economic difficulties.

In Turkey this is viewed through the prism of domestic political resilience: no matter how sharply Ankara criticizes Washington’s decisions on Iran, Turkish diplomacy assumes that Trump will remain a heavy but necessary partner at least over the medium term. In Germany some experts draw a different conclusion: it is necessary to accelerate the creation of a “European pillar” within NATO and to develop EU defense initiatives that could compensate for possible new American zigzags. In Japan, American domestic convulsions tend to strengthen the arguments of those who advocate for a gradual build-up of Japan’s own military autonomy while maintaining the American umbrella.

Against these anxieties, the US economy often appears instead as a “safe haven,” especially for German and Japanese investors. Reports from DWS and other asset managers stress that even with the risk of delayed rate cuts pushed into 2027, the US stock market remains more attractive relative to Europe, supported by the relative flexibility of the American economy and global demand for dollar assets as a protective instrument amid geopolitical crises. (infos.com) Turkish economists monitoring US inflation and VIX dynamics interpret the recent drop in US annual inflation as expanding the space for a softer Fed policy in the future, which would create respite for emerging markets, including Turkey. (reddit.com)

There is another layer of the discussion that often remains invisible to readers of English-language press alone. This is the conversation about the technological and digital dimension of American power. In Japan analysts increasingly describe 2026 as a “bifurcation point” in the struggle for AI leadership: a TV Asahi report quotes experts warning that this year will be decisive in determining whether global AI standards will primarily be shaped under US influence or whether China can establish itself as an equally weighty norm-setter. (news.tv-asahi.co.jp) In Turkish and German debates this is not articulated as sharply, but the theme of digital sovereignty and dependence on American platforms regularly surfaces in discussions on cybersecurity, crypto-asset regulation, and data control.

The result is an image of the US that is at once familiar and nonetheless different from the self-portrayal disseminated by American media. For Japan, the United States is an indispensable but increasingly less omnipotent leader, forced to negotiate with China and to adapt to its own domestic fatigue with a global role; hence Tokyo’s desire to strengthen its own agency within the alliance without destroying it. For Turkey, the US is a powerful but ambiguous actor whose actions in the Persian Gulf, at the Fed, and in NATO simultaneously create risks and windows of opportunity, forcing Ankara to strike a fragile balance among Washington, Moscow, Beijing, and Brussels. For Germany, the United States remains the anchor of European security and the main source of market optimism, but also a partner whose decisions on Poland, Iran, and China are increasingly made without regard for German interests.

A single thought runs through all three countries: the world has definitively entered an era in which no actor, including the US, can unilaterally dictate the rules. Yet most key variables — from Fed rates and the dollar’s trajectory to NATO’s configuration and the outcome of US–China dialogue — are still determined primarily in Washington. That is why Tokyo, Ankara, and Berlin follow the ocean-crossing debates about Trump, China, Iran, rates, and technology so closely: everyone understands that each new American fork in the road immediately becomes their own.

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How the World Sees America Today: China, Australia and Israel Facing a New U.S

In recent weeks the United States has once again become the center of global discussion — not as an abstract “superpower,” but as a very active, at times unpredictable actor, sharply changing the rules of the game. For China, Australia and Israel this “new” Washington — with President Trump, a strike on Venezuela, a war with Iran, a visit to Beijing, a loud “series of withdrawals” from international organizations and tariffs struck down by the Supreme Court — has become a test of the resilience of their own strategies and of their visions for the future world order.

At the same time, national debates in these three countries almost never concern “the U.S.” in the abstract: America always appears as a factor in local security, the economy, or domestic politics. Chinese authors consider how to turn turbulence into an opportunity to strengthen “constructive strategic stability” with Washington. Australian commentators assess whether their traditional bet on an alliance with the U.S. will withstand blows to global trade and legal regimes. Israeli analysts discuss not only Washington’s military and diplomatic support but also the unprecedented deterioration of Israel’s image in American public opinion — a broken pillar of the previous “special status.”

Several cross-cutting themes come to the fore: the redefinition of U.S.-China relations after the Beijing summit between Trump and Xi; the strike against multilateral institutions and the U.S. tariff turn; American military power from the Strait of Hormuz to Caracas and its consequences; and, finally, the transformation of American perceptions of Israel, which Israel is watching almost as closely as its own elections.

One of the central narrative threads is set by Donald Trump’s May visit to Beijing and the announcement of a formula for “constructive strategic stability” between the U.S. and China. At the official level in China, this visit is described as the start of a “new chapter” in bilateral relations, in which leaders agreed to give them a new strategic vector for the coming years: to build “constructive strategic stability” and seek the “right path for a great power in a new era,” as Xi Jinping put it. Party press emphasizes that the U.S. should recognize China’s development as “an opportunity, not a threat,” and the personal diplomacy of leaders is presented as the main resource capable of keeping relations “on track” even amid conflicts over Taiwan and sanctions. In an article in the People’s Daily the author, presented as an “American expert on international affairs,” writes directly that “summit diplomacy” becomes a source of a “new engine” for relations between the two countries and that a significant portion of American business still views the Chinese market as key to its growth. This line — to show that even with the toughest rhetoric from Washington, structural interdependence and the political will of leaders can “restart” relations — today dominates official Chinese discourse. (fmprc.gov.cn)

In parallel, in English-language analysis — and partly in independent Chinese-language commentary — the same summit is described far less idyllically. Several Western reviews, including analysis by the Council on Foreign Relations, emphasize that under the loud formula of “strategic stability” Beijing and Washington mean different things: the American side essentially sees it as a tool for risk management and a transactional set of mutual concessions, whereas China invests the concept with hierarchy, recognition of status and clear norms of behavior, above all on Taiwan. (cfr.org) Left critics in the English-language press go further, describing the Beijing summit as a “carefully staged pause” in strategic competition, bought with a combination of American pressure and Chinese patience. (realcleardefense.com)

Chinese official media clearly try to divert attention from the image of a “Thucydides trap” — a scenario in which a rising power inevitably collides with an existing hegemon — but they themselves play with this concept. In Western leftist commentary, for example in CounterPunch, the summit in Beijing is described as an attempt to “rewrite the rules of superpower economic engagement” and as a signal that Beijing is consciously offering a new format of relations intended to prevent Thucydides-trap logic of confrontation. (counterpunch.org) For a Chinese audience the same theses are rendered as “mutually beneficial cooperation” and the “right path for great powers,” but the subtext remains: China seeks to cement strategic equality, while the U.S., according to many Chinese authors, still thinks in terms of containment and deals.

Australian commentators view the U.S.-China dialogue through the prism of their own vulnerability: the country is deeply embedded in the American security system, yet economically dependent on China. For the Canberra elite, Trump’s visit to Beijing and the new “stability” formula mean both relief — the risk of direct military confrontation in the region seemingly decreases — and anxiety that behind closed doors the U.S. and China may reconfigure the regional economic space, leaving allies with faits accomplis. Australian think tanks have already linked the recent U.S. Supreme Court decision to deem part of Trump’s tariffs illegal under the IEEPA with Washington’s need to seek other, possibly more selective, instruments of economic pressure on China and its partners. Legal briefings prepared in part for Australian business stress that the formal blow to presidential tariff powers does not remove the fundamental problem: U.S. trade policy remains politicized and highly unpredictable for allies. (cfr.org)

In China, by contrast, the Supreme Court ruling and Trump’s subsequent search for new economic levers against partners are interpreted as a symptom of internal instability in the American system. Chinese reviews of the international press emphasize that “unilateral tariff adventures” are now undermined not only by partner resistance but also by U.S. institutions themselves. This, Chinese authors argue, should push Washington toward greater respect for multilateral norms and thus make it easier for Beijing to defend its interests as an equal great power.

But within the same Chinese debate there is another thread: concern about a widening “rupture” of the United States from international organizations and multilateral regimes. Chinese reviews in recent years, including pieces on the so‑called “large-scale U.S. withdrawal from international organizations” in 2026, portray Washington as a factor in fragmenting global governance: from UNESCO to the World Health Organization. Chinese authors emphasize that UN officials and many states express “deep regret,” while Beijing accuses the U.S. of a “blunt blow to multilateralism and international law,” also reminding audiences of Washington’s arrears in contributions. (zh.wikipedia.org)

The Australian conversation about the same phenomenon — American retreat from multilateral structures and arbitrary use of sanctions — sounds different. Here the focus is not the ideology of multipolarity but practical calculation: what will happen to the Asia-Pacific trade architecture and global institutions if the U.S. continues to tear up agreements and undermine predictability of rules. Lawyers and economists analyzing the Supreme Court’s tariff decision point out that for countries like Australia this is both an opportunity and a risk: a weaker “tariff cudgel” from the president means less threat of sudden duties on exports, but the less consistently Washington is bound to multilateral frameworks, the greater the uncertainty surrounding the future of the WTO, regional agreements and dispute-settlement tools. (ashurst.com)

Chinese economic agencies, meanwhile, try to turn American sanction pressure into an argument for internal mobilization. For example, the Ministry of Commerce’s response to U.S. sanctions on companies linked to Iranian oil was framed as a demonstrative refusal to recognize or comply with “illegal extraterritorial measures” by the U.S. Chinese analysts openly discuss the risk of dragging China’s banking sector into a “sanctions vortex” between Washington and Tehran, but simultaneously present it as a moment of truth: either China learns to shield its companies from American law, or it will remain hostage to others’ decisions. (zh.wikipedia.org)

American power in the military dimension is today discussed no less than its economic levers. For China the key node is the linkage Taiwan–Iran–China’s own bargaining position vis-à-vis Washington. This logic is spoken of quite openly by Chinese and regional observers: while the U.S. fights a protracted war with Iran and reallocates resources from East Asia, Beijing gains an additional “lever” in dealings with Trump. Chinese sources recall that experts have already noted: U.S. involvement in a war with Iran, against the backdrop of shifting military resources away from the Korean Peninsula and Japan, objectively strengthens China’s bargaining positions on a wide range of issues — from trade to Taiwan. (zh.wikipedia.org)

A recent example is the news that, according to the acting Secretary of the Navy, the U.S. intends to pause some planned arms sales to Taiwan to ensure sufficient stocks of munitions for operations against Iran. Chinese diplomacy immediately used the story to underscore once again: Taiwan is the “core of cores” of China’s interests and the “first insurmountable red line” in relations with the U.S. In its response to inquiries about possible pauses in deliveries, the Chinese Foreign Ministry welcomed any steps that reduce American military support for Taipei and at the same time warned Washington about the risk of “clashes and even conflict” if the Taiwan question is mishandled. (chinanews.com.cn)

Australian reporting, by contrast, focuses on another front of the same American campaign — the blockade of Iran in the Strait of Hormuz. ABC reports detail how the U.S. has effectively choked off Iranian oil exports, forcing Tehran to store crude in idling tankers and balance technical risks against the threat of further American action. Australian experts quoted explain to the local audience that this head‑to‑head game between Washington and Tehran not only raises the price of oil but also adds nervousness for Asian importers, including Australia, whose energy security remains tied to vulnerable sea lanes. (abc.net.au)

The Israeli view of American power and its limits in 2026 is most connected not with Iran (although the Iranian track remains a background) and not even with Venezuela, but with how America itself is changing — in terms of attitudes toward Israel, toward wars and toward the “special relationship.” The Institute for National Security Studies in Israel writes in a new report about a “deepening crisis in Israel’s positions in the United States,” emphasizing that even with continued formal support from Republicans and the White House, public opinion — especially among Democrats and youth — is shifting in a direction unfavorable to Israel. The authors warn that even if the Republican Party retains control of Congress in the 2026 midterms, the “political cover” Israel has relied on in the U.S. can no longer be taken for granted. (inss.org.il)

Recent months have given Israel several alarming signals. Large American polls show that for the first time in a long while the share of Americans with a negative view of Israel has exceeded those with a positive view. This reflects a combination of left‑wing humanitarian criticism — over Israel’s role in the war with Iran and operations in Gaza — and a right‑wing isolationist “America First” trend that questions the rationale for generous military aid to any ally. (jta.org)

A resonant episode for the Israeli debate was Senator Bernie Sanders’s failed attempt to block U.S. arms sales to Israel. Although the initiative failed in the Senate and Republicans rallied around military supplies to the ally, the very raising of the question — of the need to “push back” against AIPAC and to reconsider the automaticity of military aid to Israel — was perceived in Jerusalem as a symptom of a deep shift. As many Israeli commentators noted, such moves were once considered marginal; now they proceed through official procedures and find loud support in parts of the American establishment. (theguardian.com)

This anxiety intersects with conversations about how American policy more broadly affects Israeli security. In expert and even everyday Israeli discourse there are frequent references to American opinion polls, including at the AMFest forum, where among young Republicans 86.7% still see Israel as an ally but almost 60% support the creation of a Palestinian state; or to Quinnipiac data showing that Trump’s disapproval among Americans aged 18–34 reaches two-thirds. For some Israeli commentators this leads to a grim conclusion: relying on a “Trump America” as a long-term guarantor is an illusion if the young American audience distances itself from both Trump and unconditional support for Israel. (reddit.com)

Interestingly, China, Israel and Australia all closely track American domestic polls — but with different expectations. Chinese press cites with notable satisfaction recent Pew Research data showing that positive American attitudes toward China have almost doubled in three years to 27%, but negative views still prevail among the overwhelming majority. For Beijing this is a double signal: on the one hand, there is a window for “people‑to‑people diplomacy” — programs like inviting 50,000 American schoolchildren and students to study in China look promising; on the other, hostility in the U.S. runs so deep that dependence on “soft” instruments cannot be the only strategy. (reddit.com)

Israeli analysts, by contrast, read American polls as a direct indicator of their own strategic security. In their logic the fall in sympathy for Israel in the U.S. is more dangerous than any specific UN Security Council resolution: without broad public support, warn voices in Jerusalem, even a friendly administration will sooner or later encounter limits on military aid and diplomatic cover.

Australian centrists are more worried that an increasingly polarized America — with a Court limiting the president’s economic powers, a president willing to withdraw from international organizations and to carry out unilateral strikes against Venezuela — may become a less predictable ally. The Supreme Court decision rescinding broad tariff powers from Trump is seen as a reminder: for businesses and partners the U.S. legal system can be both protection and a source of uncertainty; much depends on how far the administration is willing to go in seeking circumvention. (cfr.org)

Two recent military stories — the strike on Venezuela and escalation against Iran — occupy a special place in current international perceptions of the U.S. In Chinese and more broadly Global South discourse the Caracas episode is seen as a return to the archetype of “American interventionism” in the backyard, which seemed to have receded into the past. Chinese commentary emphasizes that Beijing did not accept Trump’s version that “thanks to good relations with Xi” China would not object to the operation; on the contrary, the Chinese Foreign Ministry publicly reaffirmed its traditional rejection of the “international policeman” role and of a “self‑appointed international judge.” In a meeting with the Pakistani vice premier, Chinese foreign minister Wang Yi reiterated firmly that the sovereignty and security of every state must be defended by international law, and that the use or threat of force in international relations is unacceptable. (zh.wikipedia.org)

This tone fits well with the broader Chinese line: a contrast between a “responsible multilateral” China and a “unilateral” U.S. Chinese authors do not hide that they see in each new American military campaign an argument for accelerating reforms of global governance under Beijing’s aegis and its initiatives, such as the “Global Security Initiative.”

The Australian focus on the war with Iran is more pragmatic: local media explain to audiences that the American blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and the buildup of tensions in the region carry material risks for Australia’s economy and security, not just abstract threats to the “world order.” Commentators speak of a “game of chicken” between Washington and Tehran, where neither side wants to yield and potential victims are states dependent on free navigation and stable oil prices. (abc.net.au)

Israeli discussion of American military campaigns is inevitably tied to Iran. Local experts note that the current U.S. war with Tehran on the one hand eases some direct pressure on Israel, but on the other creates the temptation in Jerusalem to “maximize” gains while a sympathetic Washington stands behind it. Analysts point out that betting on firm support from the current U.S. administration may accelerate the erosion of bipartisan consensus around Israel: Democrats tired of endless wars are less willing to treat Israel as a “special case,” and Republican isolationism “America First” over time could call into question the formula of “unconditional” military aid so sacred to Israel. (inss.org.il)

In all three countries — China, Australia and Israel — another theme is clearly present that American audiences do not always see: the question of how “American” the digital and technological world remains. One paradox of recent years discussed by Chinese and Israeli AI researchers: even Chinese large language models trained on local data, according to several studies, show a notable presence of American values and narratives. In Chinese academic debates this raises the question: in conditions of dense technological and informational integration can one at all speak of complete “sovereignty” from American influence, even if trade and security lines are sharply delineated. (arxiv.org)

In Israeli mass discourse this technological side appears more prosaically: in discussions about the rising cost of living Reddit users compare prices and quality of services in Israel and the U.S., noting, for example, that although Israel’s healthcare system is imperfect and costly for many, against the American system — where even essential medicines are hard to get reimbursed under private insurance — Israel still looks like a “welfare state.” Such conversations remind readers that the U.S. remains not only a power and risk, but also an important point of comparison for other countries’ domestic policies. (reddit.com)

Putting these disparate threads together yields a rather complex portrait of America in the eyes of China, Australia and Israel in May 2026. For Beijing the U.S. is simultaneously the main rival and an indispensable partner, whose instability in domestic conflicts and international commitments opens new opportunities but also carries hard‑to‑control risks. For Australia the United States remains the key guarantor of security but an increasingly problematic architect of the global economy and law, whose unilateral steps directly harm the interests of Pacific allies. For Israel the U.S. is a vital pillar, but that pillar is cracking under pressure from American domestic disputes, changing public opinion and war fatigue.

A common motif running through debates in all three countries is the need to learn to live in a world where America is still powerful but no longer offers the same predictability. China responds by trying to cement a new, formally more equal format of relations while undermining the prestige of American leadership through criticism of interventions and “withdrawals” from organizations. Australia strives to diversify economic ties and legally insure itself against American “jerks,” without breaking the military-political alliance. Israel engages in a painful but inevitable discussion about how to preserve reliance on Washington in a world where Washington is less willing and able to be an unconditional protector.

Can a reimagined “strategic stability” between the U.S. and China, a more disciplined Washington approach to multilateral institutions and a careful use of military force reduce anxiety in Sydney and Jerusalem? The answer to that question is being sought not only in Washington but also in Beijing, Canberra and Tel Aviv — and it will largely determine whether the coming decade is an era of managed competition or another epoch of crises in which the world again guesses what to expect from America tomorrow.

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America in the Global Conversation: How Israel, China and Germany Debate Its Role

In several points around the world at once — from Jerusalem to Beijing and Berlin — the conversation about America has again become part of domestic agendas. But the talk is not about “the US in general,” but about very specific things: Washington’s style of foreign policy, how the new American administration behaves in the Middle East, the strategic rivalry between the US and China, and how reliable American security guarantees still are for Europe. Against this backdrop each country is forming its own particular image of America: somewhere as an indispensable but increasingly nervous ally, somewhere as the main source of risk to global trade, and somewhere as a partner without whom no serious regional conflict can be resolved, yet whose priorities can no longer be taken on faith.

One center of today’s debate about America is the Middle East. In Israel the discussion of the US traditionally proceeds through the prism of security and the country’s standing in Washington. Every signal from the White House related to support for Israel, arms deliveries, its position on the Palestinian issue and the Iranian nuclear program is read especially closely here. Every gesture by the new administration toward the region — from wording in State Department statements to nuances in UN Security Council resolutions — becomes a test of the depth of the strategic partnership. Local commentators note a growing divergence in American politics between the rhetoric of “unwavering support” and cautious practice, where the White House must balance internal pressure from the progressive wing of the Democrats and the need not to undermine the status quo in relations with an important ally.

At the other end of Eurasia, in China, the theme of America sounds entirely different today. The focus here is not on whether “Washington loves us or not,” but on how American policy is changing the global rules of the game and creating risks and opportunities for China. In Chinese foreign policy and economic publications America is often referred to today as a “global source of risk,” primarily because of tariff and sanctions policies. One characteristic piece in an official foreign policy journal describes American duties as a “multifunctional weapon,” at once an instrument of pressure in negotiations, a means to stimulate “reindustrialization,” and an additional source of revenue for the budget. The author concludes that such an approach destroys the foundations of the multilateral trading system, forcing others — from Canada and the EU to China — to build their own countermeasures and seek “more reliable partners” instead of a unilaterally acting US. In a Canadian newspaper cited in the same text, Washington’s trade line is already called the start of an “unnecessary trade war that cuts America off from its allies.”

Particular irritation in Beijing is caused by how the US wraps economic and technological pressure in ideological language. In analysis of the “comprehensive strategic competition between the US and China,” Chinese authors identify four strands of American policy: an attempt to “decouple” economies, the reproduction of Cold War logic, the activation of a militarized security model, and “diplomacy of values” meant to rally allies on an anti‑China platform. From these authors’ point of view, the “distorted perception of China” in Washington leads to erroneous decisions, and the mobilization of partners under the slogan of a “systemic rival” turns the US into the architect of new lines of division rather than stability.

However, the Chinese conversation about America today is not limited to criticism. In a notable piece in Xinhua about why Washington is spending tens of millions of dollars on large‑scale translation of Chinese documents and research into English, the Chinese author essentially explains to a domestic audience how seriously the US takes strategic competition: “After the dismantling of human agent networks and the reduction in visits to China, ‘translating China’ has become for American elites a key channel for obtaining the information needed to make policy.” This turn is interpreted in Beijing in two ways: on one hand, as an acknowledgment that China can no longer be ignored; on the other, as confirmation of deep mistrust. The article’s author, originally published in the journal Contemporary American Studies, writes outright that in the American system “toughness toward China trickles down to local politics” — meaning anti‑China rhetoric becomes a useful resource not only for federal but also for state and municipal politicians.

If at the structural level relations remain tense in tone, recent contacts in Beijing between American and Chinese sides show an attempt to put at least part of the agenda on a more predictable footing. At meetings in Beijing the parties declared a desire for “strategic stability,” but, as an analysis prepared for the Council on Foreign Relations notes, even this shared term is understood differently in Washington and Beijing. For the US it is primarily related to nuclear deterrence and transparency in the military sphere, while Chinese experts emphasize the economic and technological components and insist that “strategic stability” is impossible as long as Washington regards sanctions and export controls as acceptable routine tools.

Meanwhile, on the domestic political level, the US itself becomes the subject of criticism in the eyes of the Chinese audience — but through assessments voiced within the United States. One notable example is a sharp statement by the Senate Foreign Relations Committee after a recent meeting in Beijing between the American president and the PRC chairman. As Chinese‑language portals reported, senators accused the president of playing “a solo game” in foreign policy, not coordinating with allies, and sacrificing national interests and weakening the US position in competition with China for dubious and reversible concessions. An important point: Chinese media emphasized that the criticism came not from Beijing but from the American political establishment — this fits a consistent Chinese line: to show that “the White House’s actions raise questions even within its own institutions,” thereby justifying Beijing’s caution and toughness.

Germany, unlike China, looks at the US not as a rival but as an allegedly indispensable military and political partner. But precisely for that reason Washington’s recent steps to adjust its military presence in Europe provoke an emotional response there. The German newspaper Die Zeit, analyzing US plans to reduce or redeploy the contingent in Germany, writes about a “serious threat to NATO and bilateral relations.” The article focuses not only on the quantitative aspect — how many battalions are leaving and where — but also on the symbolic: American troops on German soil are viewed as the physical embodiment of security promises made during the Cold War.

Interestingly, commentators in Berlin criticize not only Washington in this story but their own leadership as well. One author in Die Zeit recalls how the head of the German government recently spoke sharply about American operations, prompting a painful reaction from the US president. In the author’s view, the problem is not the criticism itself: “It was largely justified,” — but that German politicians still have not learned to speak to America in the language of principled yet constructive disagreement. Any complaint either sounds too timid or turns into a public slap, after which Washington responds with a flare of irritation rather than substantive dialogue. This line — about “the inability of German politics to criticize the US without offending” — is picked up by other commentators as a symptom of deeply asymmetrical relations, where Germany still asks and justifies more than it formulates an independent agenda.

If China accuses the US of undermining the trading order, then in German discourse the concern more often relates to strategic predictability. The problem is not only tariff wars and extraterritorial sanctions, although they strike painfully at the export model of the German economy. Far more acutely perceived are American decisions that change the balance of power on the European continent: from demands on defense spending to sudden statements about troop relocations. Two lines intersect here: on the one hand, Germany is concerned about Russian aggression and objectively depends on the American military umbrella; on the other, it can no longer fully ignore that Washington increasingly uses security as leverage in economic and technological disputes, including with Europeans.

Against this background German analytical and expert circles are discussing the need for “European strategic autonomy” — not as a replacement for NATO, but as insurance against abrupt political turns in Washington. The change of administrations in the US over recent years has not removed this question: on the contrary, many observers note that domestic political polarization in America makes European security hostage to the struggle between parties. For Brussels and Berlin this is no longer an abstract theoretical threat but a real planning factor.

An interesting point of convergence between Beijing and Berlin is the perception of American policy through the lens of “unilateralism,” albeit in different registers. Chinese authors accuse the US of replacing international institutions with coalitions of interest and “clubs of democracies,” within which decisions are made effectively without the participation of the countries that are then strongly affected by them. German analysts are much milder in formulation, but in essence say the same: alliances are increasingly presented with facts of decisions already made in Washington, and the role of consultations is reduced to the subsequent “selling” of those decisions to public opinion.

There is another crosscutting motif: internal contradictions within American politics become an element of argumentation both in China and in Europe. For the Chinese audience voices from the US that point out the costs of sanctions, tariffs and military spending are actively cited to show that “even in the US they understand the destructiveness of this line.” In Europe, conversely, it is common to refer to American intellectuals and former officials who call for strengthening alliances and not weakening support for partners; this is used in debate with those in Washington who are inclined toward more isolationist or transactional foreign policies.

Almost none of this is visible if one follows the US only through American media. Inside America the conversation about foreign reactions usually boils down to familiar storylines: “allies are worried,” “China is unhappy,” “NATO assures unity.” But looking from Beijing or Berlin the picture is much more layered. For China the US is simultaneously the main competitor, a key market, a source of technology, and a mirror in which Chinese elites measure their own status in the world. For Germany America is a security guarantor, a political orientation, and an economic partner, but also an unpredictable player whose domestic struggle can at any moment change external course. For Israel, whose discussion today is closely tied to questions of war and peace, the US remains the main external factor determining the space of the possible — from military support to diplomatic cover.

As a result, the image of America in these three countries increasingly resembles not a black‑and‑white poster but a complex, contradictory figure. And perhaps that is the main conclusion of today’s international conversation about the US: it is no longer a question of whether a given country is “for” or “against” America, but of how well other players can adapt to an America that itself looks less like a stable “anchor” of the world system and more like a source of both opportunities and risks.

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"America at War and Withdrawing": how Germany, Russia and Ukraine debate the US's new role

At the center of current international debates about America three threads converge: the war of the US and Israel with Iran, the redistribution of American military presence in Europe, and Washington’s attempts both to dictate terms in the war between Russia and Ukraine and to distance itself from overly burdensome commitments. Germany, Russia and Ukraine view these processes as participants in the same conflict of interests, but each from its own side of the front.

For European audiences, primarily German, the starting point was Washington’s decision to withdraw about 5,000 US service members from Germany, to forgo deploying a division of long-range missiles, and to cancel the rotation of 4,000 troops to Poland. Analysts in Berlin and Brussels interpret this as a consistent rollback of the classic US role as NATO’s "anchor" in Europe. A recent analytical review by the German Marshall Fund emphasizes that these steps inflict "serious damage to NATO’s deterrent potential" and undermine confidence in the predictability of American policy in the region.(gmfus.org) In the German debate a recurring motif is emerging: Washington is turning from guarantor of stability into a source of strategic uncertainty, and the European Union must plan how to live in a world where America can "leave" at any moment.

The political backdrop intensified after Donald Trump announced 25 percent tariffs on European car imports and tied them to criticism of Germany’s stance on the war with Iran. German commentators see this as a return to the logic of transatlantic bargaining from Trump’s first administration, but on a new, more dangerous level: the stakes have been raised not only in economics but in security. Reuters reports that Chancellor Friedrich Merz has entered into open conflict with the White House, and that his year in office has been marked by the "largest crisis with Washington in decades."(wtaq.com)

At the same time, Berlin’s official tone remains cautiously pleading: at the Munich Security Conference Merz effectively appealed to the US to "restore and revive transatlantic trust."(thelocal.de) German outlets quote his formula that "the train has not yet left" and that Europe does not intend to "give up" in efforts to reach an agreement with Trump, even after he cut military presence and engaged in a sharp dispute over the Iranian campaign.(theguardian.com) Public reaction is mixed: some experts see Merz’s course as inevitable realism — Germany still needs the American "nuclear umbrella" and NATO logistics; others call it strategic naiveté, since the US is demonstratively relegating Europe to a secondary theater.

The same reduction in US military presence and their focus on the war with Iran are interpreted very differently in Moscow. Russian state and pro-state media use the American turn as proof that the "era of unipolarity" is over and that Washington is no longer capable of holding multiple fronts at once. In a recent broadcast on the left-patriotic channel "Krasnaya liniya," political scientists close to the Kremlin argued that Europe, in their terms, "prevents the US from putting Kyiv in its place," and that Russia is entering a period of "very harsh confrontation" with the united West, where the United States can no longer unconditionally dictate the line to its allies.(rline.tv)

A similar motif appears in more academic Russian publications: US foreign policy is described as increasingly "isolationist" after decisions to withdraw from dozens of international organizations and agreements, which, authors argue, undermines America's "normative" leadership and opens room for maneuver for Russia and China.(ru.wikipedia.org) Here America appears not so much as a warring superpower as an overburdened hegemon forced to cut obligations. In the Russian narrative this is a window of opportunity: in Europe, where reductions in US contingents are interpreted as the "crumbling of NATO," and in the Middle East, where the war with Iran is presented to the Russian public as a new "trap" for Washington.

But while in the German and Russian discourses the driving question becomes: how reliable is America as a partner or, conversely, as an adversary — in the Ukrainian field the discussion is primarily about how the changing US course affects the chances of the state's survival. In analysis by the Ukrainian Institute for Politics the recent US and Israeli war with Iran is described as a factor that could radically change the dynamics around Ukraine. The authors write explicitly that in Kyiv there is a calculation: a swift and "victorious" American war in the Middle East would reduce the likelihood that Washington will compromise with Moscow over Ukraine.(uiamp.org) In other words, some Ukrainian analysts hope that a demonstration of force in Iran will cement the image of the US as a state that prefers victory "at any cost" rather than a conciliatory peace.

At the same time Ukraine keenly feels the wavering of American will. For Kyiv, the troop reductions discussed in Europe — in Germany and Poland — are not an abstract question of "balance in NATO," but a signal of possible weakening of the entire supply system through which arms and logistics flow. Ukrainian experts emphasize in their reviews that the European package of 90 billion euros and more than 60 billion dollars of military aid promised by NATO countries "effectively covers" Ukraine’s main critical needs for the next two years.(uiamp.org) But behind this optimism there is a hidden concern: if Washington at any moment can reallocate resources in favor of the Iranian theater or domestic projects, European allies will have to carry more, and their political societies are not always prepared for that.

Particular attention in the discussion was given to Donald Trump’s initiative for a three-day ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine in early May, accompanied by a proposal for a large-scale prisoner exchange.(defensenews.com) For Ukrainian commentators this is a double signal: on the one hand, any pauses in fighting and the release of prisoners are seen as tactical respite and a humanitarian necessity; on the other hand — many view "Trump’s ceasefires" as a dangerous logic of a top-down imposed peace in which Washington seeks to freeze the frontline without meeting Ukraine’s demands for restoration of territorial integrity. This is especially sensitive against the backdrop of Moscow’s stated conditions for ending the war — effectively capitulatory for Kyiv.

Russian state media, by contrast, present the same Trump initiatives as an example that even the US is "forced to recognize" frontline realities and seek a way to allow Ukraine to save face through temporary pauses and exchanges. Pro-Kremlin columnists advance the thesis: "America is tired of the war in Ukraine," and therefore sooner or later it will try to "force Kyiv to accept reality."(rline.tv) For a significant part of the Russian audience Trump remains a "less hostile" figure than his Democratic predecessors: as Russian commentators regularly remind, he initiated the current war in Iran and at the same time reduces US participation in multilateral institutions, which is perceived as the destruction of the "liberal order" Moscow has long criticized.

An interesting slice of the German debate concerns what Europe should do amid growing US unpredictability. In commentary across major German media, from public broadcasters to the international press, the argument is gaining strength that Germany must become a full-fledged military power, "but tightly embedded in European structures." In a column, a British newspaper, analyzing Merz’s appearances at Bundeswehr exercises, notes that the current buildup of German military power occurs against the backdrop of a weakening American presence and disagreements with Trump over Iran, and therefore Germany is forced to prove simultaneously to Washington and to its neighbors that it will not act alone.(theguardian.com) For part of the German public this is a painful metamorphosis: the postwar myth of Germany as a "civil power" ("Zivilmacht") is eroding, and in this process America unexpectedly acts as an external catalyst.

In Ukraine such debates are viewed through the lens of concrete expectations: can Europe, even with a weakened US role, provide critically important military support. When German experts talk about a "decline in the credibility of American guarantees," Ukrainian analysts are forced to operate in harsher categories — survival, resource exhaustion, depleted arsenals. Ukrainian reviews stress that European aid and loans are not charity but an element of a common Western strategy of containing Russia, in which the US, despite its wavering, still plays the role of main architect.(uiamp.org)

Against this background, the US and Israeli war with Iran has become a kind of litmus test of American power for the three countries considered. In the German mainstream there is strong anxiety: the war in the Persian Gulf, as European think tanks note, distracts Washington even more from the European theater and heightens the risk of "two-front overstretch."(investing.com) For many Germans it is also an emotionally painful déjà vu: the Middle East is again the arena of American power projection, but this time at a moment when Europe feels far less protected.

In Russia the Iranian campaign is presented as another proof of the "aggressive nature" of the US. Russian newspapers and officials emphasize the suffering of the civilian population, quote criticism of Trump even inside the US, and recall how some American politicians and activists called the conflict "the Epstein war," hinting at an attempt to distract attention from domestic scandals.(ru.wikipedia.org) This domestic political subtext in the US is actively propagated in the Russian information space: Russia seeks to highlight not only the brutality but also the cynicism of American policy — both in the Middle East and in Europe.

The Ukrainian perspective on the war in Iran is much more pragmatic and largely free of moral rhetoric. Kyiv’s analysts discuss how many resources the Pentagon and the US defense industry can sustain across two wars simultaneously, how this will affect supplies of ammunition and precision weapons, and whether a protracted Iranian campaign might lead the White House to seek a "quick deal" on Ukraine.(uiamp.org) In this sense for Ukraine America is not an abstract bearer of values but a concrete supplier of arms and a political broker whose decisions determine the frontline.

Interestingly, despite differences in position, Germany, Russia and Ukraine share a common feeling: the US is in a phase of internal polarization, and foreign policy increasingly is driven not by long-term strategies but by the short-term gestures of a specific president. Russian researchers, analyzing Washington’s current strategy, directly link foreign policy to domestic political struggle and the legal cases surrounding Trump.(we.hse.ru) German institutes, including party foundations, issue reports on how US trade policy is becoming an instrument of pressure on allies ahead of elections and internal constitutional disputes.(kas.de) In the Ukrainian discourse American domestic political turbulence is read as a chronic risk: any shift of mood in Washington can lead to a freeze in assistance or an attempt to coerce Kyiv into negotiations on terms far from Ukrainian goals.

The result is a paradoxical picture. Germany, formally one of the closest US allies, increasingly talks about the need to "insure" itself against American unpredictability by building its own military power, while continuing to plead with Washington not to dismantle the transatlantic framework. Russia, calling America a "constant threat," at the same time sees the weakening and fragmentation of American policy as a chance to strengthen its own positions and expand "non-Western" centers of power.(reddit.com) Ukraine, literally between these two poles, is forced to hope that even a polarized, overstretched America engaged in wars and conflicts will remain strong and interested enough not to allow Moscow to impose its peace.

America’s role in the world, reflected in the mirrors of Berlin, Moscow and Kyiv, today looks at once hypertrophied and being eroded from within. For Germany the US remains indispensable, but no longer without alternatives; for Russia it is the main adversary, but a weary, erring, and therefore — in the Russian view — vulnerable opponent; for Ukraine it is a vital ally whose mood must be followed daily. The war in Iran, troop withdrawals from Germany, Trump’s attempts to regulate the course of the war in Ukraine with short "ceasefires" — these are all links in one chain: America remains the center of world politics, but the more actively it acts, the more insistently others try to adapt to the idea that one day it may tire of carrying it all on its shoulders.

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How the World Disagrees with America: Russia, Brazil and India at Washington's Crossroads

In recent weeks news has reached various parts of the globe from Washington: US and Israeli strikes on Iran, tricky manoeuvres around trade in Russian oil, the US president's visit to Beijing and an attempt to reboot relations with China, pressure on partners over sanctions and at the same time — searches for deals in trade and technology. Russia, Brazil and India are responding very differently, but several themes clearly run through all three countries: fear of uncontrolled escalation in the Middle East, fatigue with US sanction policy, attempts to carve out room to manoeuvre between Washington and Beijing, and debate over how reliable and predictable the United States is as a partner.

The first major node of discussion is the US–Israeli strike on Iran on 28 February 2026, which for many became a symbol of Washington’s unpredictability. In Brazil major media directly write that “a guerra no Irã paralisa a reaproximação de Lula com Trump e trava negociações comerciais” — the war in Iran paralyses Lula and Trump’s rapprochement and effectively freezes trade negotiations. An analytical piece for UOL emphasizes that after an attempt at détente — amid tariff removals and signals of dialogue — a single American strike on Iran “flipped the page” of the international system, bringing back the old question: can long‑term plans be made if each new administration in Washington radically changes course? (noticias.uol.com.br)

In Indian debates the Iran war is discussed primarily through the prism of energy and sea lanes. The blocking or partial blocking of the Strait of Hormuz, through which a significant share of oil to Asia flows, is seen as a blow to India’s “strategic autonomy,” which has been used to manoeuvre between suppliers including Iran and Russia. Indian experts in economic outlets recall that New Delhi for decades sought to preserve access to Iranian oil, even under US sanctions, and now — pressured by Washington and because of risks in the Persian Gulf — is forced to tie itself even more closely to Saudi and US oil and LNG. Analysts in India and the West note that such heavy strikes by the US and Israel on Iran push India toward even more cautious, multi‑pronged diplomacy in the region, including attempts to act as a mediator, but with a significantly reduced margin for manoeuvre. (fortune.com)

In Russia the same conflict in Iran fits into a long‑standing narrative of “aggressive American hegemony.” Official and pro‑government expert discourse emphasizes that US and Israeli strikes without a UN Security Council mandate are a continuation of a line of “unilateral uses of force,” from Yugoslavia and Iraq to Syria. Publications in journals close to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs interpret the situation as both a threat and an opportunity: on one hand, instability in the Strait of Hormuz and the Middle East hits world oil markets and thus Russia; on the other, it increases the value of Russian routes, including Arctic and Iran–Russia alternatives to traditional paths. In this context Russian analysts explicitly write that any unilateral US strikes only accelerate the formation of an “anti‑hegemonic bloc” of Moscow, Beijing and Tehran. (ru.wikipedia.org)

A second recurring theme is American sanction policy, primarily concerning Russian oil and secondary buyers. In recent days the US allowed one of the key sanction waivers that had simplified some deals in Russian oil to expire, despite an already tense market where supply is tightened by the war in Iran and shipping risks. Earlier there had also been discussion of the opposite — the possibility of extending certain waivers under pressure from importing countries, including India and Indonesia, which feared another spike in prices. (theguardian.com)

In India this issue almost automatically turns into a debate about the country's right to buy Russian oil “at a discount.” On economic and political platforms Western reports are widely quoted that New Delhi, together with Jakarta, lobbied to extend certain exceptions in the sanction regime, arguing they were necessary to contain domestic fuel prices. On social media and forums Indians quip: “Can't even buy oil from Russia unless Trump agrees” — “you can't even buy oil from Russia unless Trump allows it,” underlining dependence on decisions by the Washington administration, even though India’s official line is “strategic autonomy.” Some commentators see in this an illustration that India, despite its growth and proud rhetoric, is still integrated into American sanction and financial architectures; others, conversely, believe that the ability to extract exceptions from Washington is a sign of the country’s growing clout. (fortune.com)

In Brazil the sanctions theme is tinged with more personal tones. Brazilians remember how in 2025 the US hit Brazil with tariffs up to 50% on a range of goods and even imposed Magnitsky‑style sanctions on Supreme Court Justice Alexandre de Moraes. In Brazilian press and expert columns this is presented as an example that Washington’s sanctions can be applied not only against “traditional enemies” but also against major democracies of the Global South if their domestic policies, fight against disinformation or platform regulation do not align with the preferences of the American administration. That is why Lula’s current attempts to build more pragmatic relations with Trump are viewed through the prism of a “truce that can be broken at any moment” — by a single signature on a new tariff package. (bol.uol.com.br)

Russia, which has been hit by the harshest sanctions, discusses US sanction policy as a backdrop that has become the “new normal.” Russian officials and media present any sign of easing or extending exceptions as proof of Washington’s cynicism: “when it’s advantageous — they create loopholes, when needed — they squeeze to the end.” In MGIMO and Foreign Ministry journals analyzing the policy of the Trump‑2 administration it is emphasized that even formal concessions to Russia in the oil sphere will always be subordinated to US interests in Iran, China and domestic American politics, rather than to any “objective economic criteria.” From this follows a popular conclusion in Russia: relying on the idea that the US will “behave rationally” is a dangerous illusion; one must proceed from a scenario of constant pressure and build alternative financial and logistical infrastructure. (theguardian.com)

A third major storyline is the sharp revival of US–China dialogue and its possible consequences. In India the post‑nine‑year‑hiatus visit of the US president to China is being analyzed closely. Indian think tanks such as Drishti IAS note that a new “strategic détente” between Washington and Beijing could redistribute the balance of power in Asia, pushing India to the periphery if it cannot offer the US and the region a clear agenda of its own. One Indian expert, commenting on the summit’s results, wrote that “a bipolar deal between the US and China directly challenges India’s vision of a democratic and decentralised world order” and that Washington still has not found a place for India in its global strategy that would satisfy its ambitions and sense of national dignity. (drishtiias.com)

This unease is amplified against the backdrop of a complicated state of US–India relations. On the one hand, Washington continues to speak of an “inflection point” in the partnership, of the need for a “second most important” alliance after NATO, and of joint projects in defence technology, semiconductors and green energy. On the other hand, Indian commentators point out that despite the provisional trade agreement signed in February 2026, many tariff and visa problems remain unresolved, and US policy toward Pakistan, Russia and several sensitive issues regularly provokes irritation in New Delhi. (nationpress.com)

In Russia US–China rapprochement is perceived through a darker lens. On the one hand, Moscow traditionally fears any deal between Washington and Beijing “over Russia’s head,” worrying that Moscow might become a bargaining chip in talks between the two superpowers. On the other — following Trump’s visit to Beijing and then Putin’s visit — Western and Russian analysts interpret this as a demonstration that Beijing is becoming the real centre of gravity in world politics, and that the US and Russia in some sense are already “supplicants” in relations with China. Russian press and the expert community are engaged in a debate: should the possible US–China détente be seen as a threat, or does it create space for Moscow to manoeuvre, allowing it to play off contradictions between the two giants. (washingtonpost.com)

In Brazil China and the US feature primarily in economic discussions. For Brazilian agriexporters and industrialists the main question is not ideology but access to markets. If Washington and Beijing manage to agree on mutual tariffs and standards, Brazil risks becoming the “odd one out,” with shrinking room to manoeuvre between the two largest markets in the world. At the same time Lula da Silva seeks to position the country as one of the pillars of the “Global South,” which leads the Brazilian press to constantly compare his course with India’s: in both places the word “autonomy” is used, but India is far more deeply integrated into American defence and technology chains, whereas Brazil remains primarily an agricultural‑commodity partner for China and an increasingly fraught partner for the US. (bol.uol.com.br)

A fourth, subtler but no less important motif is the question of the reliability and predictability of the US as a partner. Social surveys and online discussions reveal an interesting picture: according to the global “Global Pulse 2026” survey conducted in nearly a hundred countries, the United States is often perceived as one of the key threats to world security — not only in traditionally critical countries but also, for example, in Taiwan, where there is fear that a sharp change of course in Washington could provoke risky moves by China. In discussions on international forums users from Brazil note that despite deals, US policy toward their country can swing from friendly rhetoric to sanctions against ministers and back in a couple of years. (reddit.com)

In India this theme is mixed with its own experience: from the disappointments of the “sanctions for nuclear tests” era to euphoria about the “world’s largest partnership of democracies” and back to cautious scepticism. Indian strategists, whose publications are widely quoted by local media today, remind readers that Washington’s rhetoric can shift very quickly — depending on domestic political conjuncture, attitudes toward China or a change of administration. From this comes the idea that India should craft its policy as if the US is an important but not guaranteed partner, while simultaneously keeping channels open with Russia, Iran and China. (drishtiias.com)

In Russia the question of trust in the US is effectively closed in public discourse — the dominant view is that American policy is by definition hostile and will change only with a deep transformation of the American system itself. However, on more professional platforms — in academic journals and expert clubs — a more nuanced discussion is underway: to what extent can (and should) Russia exploit intra‑American contradictions and swings between “nationalist isolationism” and “interventionist globalism” to reduce risks to itself. At the same time almost all interlocutors agree on one point: any agreements with Washington must be either legally as tightly bound as possible and supported by other centres of power, or treated from the outset as temporary and conditional. (interaffairs.ru)

Finally, in all three countries it is noticeable that discussions about the US increasingly proceed not in the logic of “love/hate America” but through a more complex mosaic: in some places the US is perceived as a necessary technological and military partner (India), in others as a potential market and source of investment but also of trade wars (Brazil), and elsewhere as a principal strategic adversary and simultaneously a system‑forming player without whom no major crisis can be resolved (Russia). Meanwhile, in all three societies there is growing recognition that the world is no longer reducible to a simple axis of “Washington — the rest of the world”: Beijing, Moscow, Delhi and Tehran have entered the game, and the United States increasingly find themselves reacting rather than setting the rules.

Paradoxically, but the common refrain in Moscow, Brasília and New Delhi sounds almost identical: “We want to deal with America, but we do not want our fate to depend solely on its decisions.” Russian analysts speak of the need to build an “anti‑hegemonic architecture,” Brazilians — of expanding space for independent foreign trade and regional integration, Indians — of “multi‑vector strategic autonomy.” As a result the United States finds itself in the position of a country that is still watched closely — but no longer as the “sole centre of power,” rather as one of several heavyweights whose moves are carefully weighed and with whom states are increasingly reluctant to bind their future without reservations and safeguards.

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How the World Sees America Today: China, Germany and Israel

A dense ring of interpretations, fears and hopes is closing in on the United States again. The trigger was several Washington moves at once: Donald Trump's high‑profile visit to China and an attempt to "reset" relations with Beijing, turning NATO into a tougher instrument of pressure on allies, and the continuation of a forceful line in the Middle East and Latin America. In China, Germany and Israel these events are discussed not as a set of unrelated episodes but as manifestations of an old‑new American strategy that the world will have to live with in the coming years.

The recent Trump–Xi summit in Beijing became a central node. Western think tanks call it an attempt to "manage, not resolve" the US–China rivalry: this is not reconciliation but the construction of a temporary, fragile equilibrium in which each side recognizes the need for checks and balances without abandoning the struggle for supremacy (chathamhouse.org). Chinese sources present the same picture very differently — as a step toward "constructive strategic stability" and proof that the United States is forced to respect Beijing's red lines. The influential Fudan University policy center describes Trump's visit as an event that itself has become the subject of domestic dispute in the US: Republicans emphasize a "strong deal" and economic gains, while Democrats fear excessive concessions on chips, Taiwan and coordination with allies for short‑term political dividends (fddi.fudan.edu.cn). This internal American dilemma — tradeoffs between commerce and long‑term strategic pressure — is interpreted in China as a symptom that Washington can no longer pursue a consistently hard line on all fronts simultaneously.

The Chinese discussion about the US today has two key layers. The first is the official‑academic one, where the tone is set by "people's diplomacy" and major state media. The rhetoric here is deliberately measured, but confidence peeks through: the United States has entered an era of structural weakness and is forced to erratically "withdraw from groups" — leaving international organizations and agreements to preserve room for unilateral action. Chinese materials point to how in recent years Washington has exited UNESCO and a number of other cooperation mechanisms, for which it is criticized as an "irresponsible power" accustomed to remaking rules when they no longer suit it (zh.wikipedia.org). The second layer is analysis and commentary, where Trump's visit to China is described more straightforwardly: as a diplomatic victory for Beijing, which used the simultaneous US engagement in a war with Iran and pressure on Venezuela to strengthen its bargaining position. In the Chinese interpretation, the 2026 Iran war and American strikes on Venezuela are not merely episodes of regional policy but illustrations of a dangerous "overstretch" of American power, opening windows of opportunity for China on its own peripheries (zh.wikipedia.org).

Meanwhile, official media in Beijing actively construct an alternative global narrative in which the US is the source of instability and fragmentation of the world order, while China offers predictability. Recounting the recent speech by former Bank of England governor Mark Carney at the 2026 World Economic Forum, Chinese outlets stress his thesis that Washington's changing courses create "fault lines" in the global architecture, pushing medium and small powers to engage closely with one another to protect their interests (zh.wikipedia.org). In this framing America is an "unruly factor," and the PRC the chief beneficiary of new coalitions from Asia to Latin America.

The German conversation about the US sounds different, but the underlying anxiety is similar. There is less certainty and more perplexity. At the center of the debate is Washington's attitude toward NATO and Europe. Analysts at the Carnegie Europe Center write that Trump is turning the alliance into an "instrument of coercion," not only by demanding higher defense spending but by effectively using the threat of reduced American guarantees as leverage in trade and industrial disputes with the EU (carnegieendowment.org). For the German establishment and expert community this is a painful turn: for decades NATO was seen as a "public good" of security, not a bilateral contract to be renegotiated depending on the balance of payments and tariffs.

From this springs a dualistic view of the US in Germany. On one hand, America is still considered an indispensable security guarantor, especially in light of the war in Ukraine and tensions with Russia. On the other hand, the understanding grows that Washington can use this dependence to achieve economic goals. German commentators compare the current moment to the Trump‑1 era but stress that Europe is objectively weaker today: the energy crisis, industrial transformation and competition with the US over green subsidies make Berlin more vulnerable to American pressure than five to seven years ago. Hence the growing calls for "European strategic autonomy," which in German rhetoric no longer sound like an anti‑American slogan but as insurance against another abrupt turn in Washington.

Interestingly, German and Chinese commentaries converge in some respects: both describe the US as a power that has lost its former predictability. But while Beijing draws the conclusion of an imminent formation of a "post‑American" order, in Berlin they speak more of the need to learn to live with a "capricious but indispensable partner." For Germany the US is still the center around which its foreign and defense policy is organized. For China it is an important rival, but not the only pole.

The Israeli discussion about America goes from a different angle: the prism of dependence. Israeli think tanks and commentators view Washington's current line as a combination of a tough global confrontation with China and an almost unconditional security backing for Israel. A recent review on Trump's "second term" emphasizes that the US seeks both to limit technological dependence on Chinese supply chains and to strengthen partnerships in the Middle East, including with Israel, in the context of countering Iranian influence and terrorism (misgavins.org). For the Israeli establishment this creates a "rare window of opportunity": Washington is willing to turn a blind eye to many controversial moves by Jerusalem so long as it sees Israel as a linchpin in the fight against Iran and jihadist groups.

But at the level of public debate in Israel things are more complicated. Popular Hebrew platforms host a nervous line of discussion: "America is our main shield, and that is exactly why the worst thing is to lose it." Users discuss polls showing that after October 7 sympathy for Israel in the US fell noticeably among young Republicans and Democrats alike, and about 80% of Israelis fear a weakening of American support. Embedded in these conversations is the understanding that if the US truly "turns its back," European countries will find it much easier to impose sanctions and distance themselves from Israel without fearing a blow from Washington (reddit.com).

Paradoxically, the Israeli and German perspectives echo one another: in both places America is not so much an abstract hegemon as a system of guarantees whose absence exposes structural weaknesses of their own states. But while Germany debates how to limit this dependence without losing those guarantees, in Israel the main fear is that America itself, under pressure from internal divisions, will choose to withdraw them. In this context even traditionally pro‑American voices have begun seriously to argue that Israel should at least partially diversify its foreign relations — with India, some Arab states and, cautiously, with China — to reduce vulnerability to the American electoral pendulum.

At the intersection of all three national conversations common themes emerge that are rarely so clear if one follows only the American press. The first is fatigue with unpredictability. Carney calls this "fault lines" in the world order (zh.wikipedia.org); Chinese authors speak of a "chaotic unilateral US approach," Germans — of turning NATO into an "instrument of blackmail," Israelis — of their country becoming a pawn in the culture war between Republicans and Democrats. Everywhere runs the thought: America remains a colossus, but no longer the one whose word could be relied on unconditionally for decades to come.

The second shared line is the attempt to turn American instability into a resource. China is building an entire positive program around this: "if the US removes bricks from the old architecture, we propose a new, more inclusive one" — from the "community of shared destiny" initiative to large infrastructure projects with East and Southeast Asia. The German establishment says: if America prioritizes its industry's interests over allied solidarity anyway, Europe needs to build its own industrial policy rather than simply adapt to American norms. In Israel a portion of the expert community sees a chance to become for Washington not only a "pure recipient of security" but an active partner in technology, intelligence and regional diplomacy — in other words, to make a rupture more costly for the US itself.

The third is the realization that the "de‑Americanization" of the world, often touted in Beijing, is not unfolding in practice as ideologues depict it. The Chinese picture of the future is a change of hegemon and a shift to a multi‑centered world where the US is only one player. The German and Israeli pictures are more about recalibration: no one seriously believes that in the foreseeable future American military presence or financial power can be fully replaced. That is why debates in both societies are not about whether "we need America," but about what price is acceptable to pay to preserve relations in their current form.

In this hall of mirrors, the United States no longer looks like the confident superpower Americans have long seen themselves as, but a complex, contradictory country whose internal conflicts and elections directly determine the security of distant regions. For China it is a window of opportunity and simultaneously a source of risks: a radical US turn could crash markets and supply chains on which Chinese growth depends. For Germany it is a painful lesson that foreign policy cannot be entirely outsourced across the ocean. For Israel it is a reminder that relying on a single patron, however powerful, is always fraught.

Those who today read Chinese, German and Israeli texts about the US carefully see that the world already lives in an era when "America" can be discussed only in the plural — as a set of mismatching faces, interests and strategies. And it is precisely this plurality of images of the US, not abstract GDP curves or defense budgets, that will increasingly determine what global politics looks like in the coming decade.

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How the World Reads Washington: Saudi Arabia, India and Australia on America's New Phase

Debates about the role of the United States in the world have returned to the forefront — but if you look not from Washington, but from Riyadh, New Delhi or Canberra, the picture is very different from that inside the United States. The intensification of the US–Israel war against Iran, the uncertain outcome of negotiations, Donald Trump’s meeting with Xi Jinping in Beijing, Washington’s pressure on security, AI and semiconductors — all of this is woven into different countries’ own narratives about what America is for the world today: a threat, a guarantor, a partner or a source of instability.

Saudi and more broadly Arab media view the current crisis through the prism of the war with Iran and energy market security. Indian outlets — through the contradictory mix of strategic partnership with the US and American criticism of Delhi’s domestic policy. In Australia the focus shifts toward long-term defense strategy, the China factor and dependence on the US in technology and security. These themes often overlap: Iran, China, technology, and underlying all of that — the question of whether Washington is still capable of conducting careful, predictable foreign policy.

The main through-line of the discussions is the new stage of the US–Iran war that began in February 2026 with active Israeli involvement. Arab press dissects it almost as an internal regional drama in which the US plays an external but decisive role. Saudi publication Okaaz, in a recent piece, describes the situation as a moment when “US–Iran negotiations have entered a decisive stage” and at the same time emphasizes that Donald Trump keeps the “large-scale strike” scenario on the table despite the announced postponement of an already nearly ready attack. The paper relays in detail the conditions Washington is demanding, including written guarantees that Tehran will renounce nuclear weapons, and Iran’s counter-demands — recognition of its right to uranium enrichment, lifting of sanctions, withdrawal of American forces from the region and compensation for war damages. Such detailing of negotiating positions shows that for a Saudi audience the practical architecture of regional security matters more than ideology, since any American decision immediately resonates on the kingdom’s borders and in oil prices. That is why, when analyzing the postponed strike, Okaaz’s authors stress Trump’s duality: he speaks of readiness to reach an agreement, yet conspicuously does not remove the military option from the table, thereby leaving the region suspended.

A similar motif of uncertainty and fatigue with the US–Iran confrontation appears in more ideologically charged Arab commentaries. Jordanian outlet Al-Balad, in its assessment of “Trump’s war,” calls American actions a “tactical success” without strategic result and leads readers to the conclusion that Washington’s main and unchanged priority remains the alliance with Israel — even to the point of asserting that “American America” in the region acts through a “colony” intermediary. This angle fundamentally differs from rhetoric in the US, where the alliance with Israel is presented as a natural outgrowth of shared values: for writers in Amman it is an instrument that allows America to project power in the Middle East, often at the expense of Arab interests. The editorial conclusion, addressed not only to Saudi or Jordanian audiences but more broadly to the Arab world, is that relying on the US as a security guarantor brings the region “harm instead of protection” and that Arab states have sufficient resources — geography, oil and gas, capital and markets — to build their own collective security system and alliances, instead of endlessly integrating into American schemes.

Egyptian commentators, discussing the same war, add another stroke: fear that US concessions to Iran to end the conflict may undermine the remnants of American hegemony. In one column on an Egyptian portal the author draws a direct parallel between the current crisis and the Suez War of 1956, after which British and French influence finally declined. The logic is simple: if Washington is forced to “swallow” Iranian terms while preserving Tehran’s military power, then for many regional capitals this will signal that the “US empire” is historically exhausting itself, as colonial powers once did. But another danger is also acknowledged: Iran, “too strong to be broken and too dangerous to leave unchecked,” could use its preserved power for further regional expansion. Thus the American military line toward Iran is criticized from both sides at once: for being destructive to the region and to US authority, and because its possible rollback could lead to a new wave of instability.

Saudi commentators take a more pragmatic and less ideological stance than their counterparts in Amman or Cairo. For them the central question is not a moral assessment of American policy, but whether current US–Iran negotiations will lead to a durable balance that reduces the risk of strikes on Gulf infrastructure and spikes in energy prices. A kind of “skeptical pragmatism” in Saudi texts contrasts with the harsher conclusions of Al-Balad, where, influenced by the Palestinian issue and criticism of the Israeli operation in Lebanon, the thesis is voiced that “America’s very presence in our region brings harm, not protection” to the Arab world and that the response should be Arab consolidation and independent multilateral alliances.

In India, US actions in the Middle East are barely discussed in the mainstream: the US agenda there runs on two other tracks — partnership and pressure. On one hand, recent coverage of the US–India summit in Washington emphasizes that the relationship is at a “tipping point” or “watershed moment,” with bipartisan consensus in the US about deepening defense and technological cooperation coexisting with concerns about growing frictions. Indian diplomats on such platforms speak primarily not about values but about opportunities: India’s ambassador to the US stresses the role of the Indian diaspora as a “fundamental pillar” of the partnership, while parliamentarians and experts talk about key areas — from defense industry to technology supply chains.

On the other hand, in neighboring countries and parts of India’s English-language debates it is clear how painfully US criticism of India’s domestic policy is perceived. A recent report by the US Commission on International Religious Freedom, again recommending that the State Department designate India as a “country of particular concern” for “systematic and egregious violations of religious freedom,” sparked lively debates in Pakistani and Indian media. Pakistan’s Business Recorder saw in it a signal of “how far the world’s largest democracy has drifted from its professed secular ideals” and pointed to “the capitulation of key institutions, including the judiciary.” For Indian audiences such reports serve as a reminder of the “dark side” of partnership with the US: the very American bodies that call India a bulwark of democracy in Asia and a key counterweight to China can, in the next paragraph, sharply criticize it over the rights of religious minorities.

This duality also manifested at the recent India AI Impact summit in New Delhi, where India presented itself as a rising “AI power” of the Global South. According to Indian and international outlets, Prime Minister Narendra Modi used the platform to declare the country’s global ambitions, whereas the American delegation, according to several analysts, came with an agenda oriented more toward “dominance” than cooperation, framing AI development as another front in the geopolitical competition with China. This perception reinforces an old question in Indian discourse: will the US treat India as an equal strategic partner or see it merely as a tool in a broader confrontation with Beijing?

The Australian picture differs significantly in tone and planning horizon. There the discussion of the US is embedded in a much broader debate about what the country should prepare for in the coming decades. Australia’s National Defence Strategy, published in April 2026, sets an ambitious goal to raise military spending to three percent of GDP by 2033, emphasizing long-range strike capabilities, missile defense and unmanned systems. Washington does not always appear directly in the document, but it is present as an implied hub of the alliance web — from AUKUS and bilateral agreements to the actively discussed “Pax Silica” initiative, i.e., the construction of a new security regime around the global semiconductor industry.

One Washington think tank, describing the Pax Silica Declaration, explicitly notes that the initiative formalized in January 2026 brings together the US, the UK, Australia, Japan, India, Gulf states and several European countries in a network where chip supply chain security is declared a component of the geopolitical struggle for leadership in AI. For Australian experts this is a double-edged story. On one hand, Canberra’s participation in such an architecture is seen as a way to raise the country’s strategic weight and strengthen its technological sovereignty in critical areas. On the other — critics point out that such a “chip bloc discipline” ties Australia even more closely to American foreign policy in the Indo-Pacific, leaving less room for independent maneuver, especially in relations with China, which remains its most important trading partner.

In commentary on the new defence strategy and related programs, Australian observers often point out that Washington itself is undergoing a period of turbulence in relations with its allies, which undermines its negotiating position vis-à-vis Beijing. Chatham House, analyzing the results of Donald Trump’s meeting with Xi Jinping in Beijing, writes bluntly that Trump’s harsh treatment of traditional allies weakened his position in talks and allowed China to benefit from greater economic cohesion with US partners and the weakening of multilateral structures meant to contain Beijing. In this context Australian debate balances between acknowledging that without the US its own “deterrence through denial” strategy is unlikely to be feasible and growing concern that American domestic politics and the White House’s abrupt zigzags can turn regional security into a hostage of US internal political battles.

A common theme across all three countries is the sense that the US increasingly pursues a policy of “pressure and maximum leverage,” not always with a clear and realistic end goal. Egyptian international relations expert Ismail Turki, in an interview with a Cairo outlet, aptly describes the American approach as “negotiations under pressure”: Washington, especially under Trump, combines economic sanctions, military escalation and diplomatic signals, but the opposing side — be it Iran or China — itself holds significant levers, including control over vital sea lanes or roles in global supply chains. As a result, the “maximum pressure” strategy does not produce a conclusive outcome, but drags out the conflict, multiplies unpredictability and creates belts of risk for US allies that they must manage on their own.

In India the same motif is refracted through the agenda of human rights and democracy. Some commentators point out that American statements about religious freedom and minority rights addressed to New Delhi sound particularly sharp against the backdrop of Washington’s willingness to ignore such issues when working with authoritarian allies in the Middle East or Southeast Asia. Pakistan-based Business Recorder, commenting on the US Commission on International Religious Freedom’s report on India, uses it as an argument against Delhi’s claims to be a “model democracy” and as an example that the US can at any moment turn the values agenda into leverage over a partner. For Indian audiences such texts, even when originating in a rival country, further raise the question: how compatible are India’s long-term national projects and its ambition to be a “leading power of the Global South” with deep integration into an American strategy of containing China and controlling AI technologies?

Australians, in turn, when discussing the American course in Asia, often look not only at China but at Taiwan and the growing interdependence of the US and Taiwan in chip manufacturing. Washington think tanks, assessing the risk of military conflict over Taiwan, note that the United States “is not fully prepared for a protracted war,” citing shortages of a number of key systems — from unmanned underwater vehicles to long-range missiles and modern air defense systems. In Australian discourse this is seen as an additional argument for accelerating the buildup of national capabilities: if even the US acknowledges resource deficits and overcommitments, allies cannot rely solely on American “umbrella security.” But there is also a reverse conversation: participation in AUKUS, Pax Silica and regional defense initiatives means that in the event of a crisis in the Taiwan Strait Australia would be drawn into a conflict whose scale is hard to foresee.

Against this backdrop it is particularly interesting to note differences in how countries speak about the future of American leadership. Arab press often voices the idea that the current confrontation with Iran and support for Israel accelerate the “historical decline” of American hegemony and open a window of opportunity to form a more autonomous regional architecture based on Arab resources and new cooperation formats — from the Organization of Islamic Cooperation to a strengthened role for OPEC+ in global politics. Indian commentators, especially those focused on economics and technology, tend to view the US as an indispensable partner and a source of capital, market access and scientific-technical exchange, but increasingly raise the question of how not to become a junior partner in relations where the security and technology agenda is written in Washington. In Australia the tone is more measured: the US is still seen as the main guarantor of regional balance, but there is serious discussion of scenarios in which the country will have to act more autonomously if internal upheavals in America or a prolonged conflict with China weaken its real ability to fulfill alliance obligations.

If you bring these disparate voices together, you get a sober and at times severe view of the United States — one rarely heard within the US itself. For Middle Eastern writers America increasingly appears as an external actor whose interventions and wars create more instability than protection, and whose loyalty to allies is determined not by shared values but by the logic of serving Israeli interests and controlling energy flows. For India the US is both a strategic anchor and a potential meddler in domestic politics, and a partner in AI and technology that has not yet decided whether it is ready to truly share power. For Australia Washington remains necessary but no longer sufficient for security: Canberra looks to a future in which it must simultaneously strengthen defense, plug into American technological and military blocs and seek ways to minimize dependence on political fluctuations in the US.

It is in this mosaic of perspectives that the main feature of the current moment becomes apparent: the US remains a central pillar of the international system, but more and more countries — from Riyadh to New Delhi and Canberra — discuss Washington not as the undisputed “center of the world” but as a complex, contradictory and not always reliable partner, around which they need to build their own safeguards and alternatives.

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Between War, China and Chips: How Ukraine, South Korea and Japan View the United States Today

The view of the United States from Kyiv, Seoul and Tokyo in spring 2026 is no longer the familiar story of a “global leader,” but a multi-layered mix of hope, irritation and cold calculation. For Ukraine, America remains the main source of weapons and political weight in the war, but also a partner that can be distracted by Iran or China. For South Korea, the US is a security guarantor that is simultaneously increasing pressure: Washington demands a greater Seoul contribution to deterring North Korea and the handover of wartime operational control. For Japan, the image of America increasingly passes through the prism of US–China rivalry and “chokepoints” in semiconductors and energy: Tokyo is carefully assessing whether US “leadership” is becoming a source of strategic instability. It is precisely these three themes — Ukraine, Iran and the Middle East, and the new configuration of US–China relations — that currently determine how Washington is discussed in the three countries.

The first major block is the war in Ukraine and the broader crisis of European and Middle Eastern security, where the US acts both as a military anchor and as an architect of instability. Within Ukraine itself, the tone of public statements about Washington in recent weeks has been noticeably nervous. Volodymyr Zelensky in an interview with CNN, recounted by Ukrainian and pro‑Russian media, directly urges Washington “not to forget about Ukraine,” acknowledging that US attention has shifted to the war with Iran. He speaks of the need to “remain in the US spotlight” and reproaches the American side that the same negotiators are handling both the Iran and Ukraine tracks simultaneously — something in Kyiv is perceived as a symptom of Washington’s overload and fatigue with the Ukraine dossier. (eadaily.com)

Pro‑Western Ukrainian commentators read news of delays in implementing already approved aid packages with alarm: Mitch McConnell’s article in the Washington Post, in which he accuses the Pentagon of “stalling” deliveries, is cited in the Ukrainian press as a rare signal that part of the American establishment is still willing to “push the system” for Kyiv.(washingtonpost.com) At the analytical level, especially in expert columns, there is a noticeable shift from the rhetoric “Ukraine can win with Western help” to a more pragmatic formulation: “Ukraine can hold on and not lose if the US and Europe maintain aid levels.” In a piece published on the George W. Bush Center website, Western and Ukrainian authors emphasize that without “front‑loading” American air‑defense systems, Russia will retain the ability to carry out massive strikes on energy infrastructure, and this is gradually undermining social resilience in Ukraine.(bushcenter.org)

Against this background, the temporary three‑day ceasefire announced by Donald Trump from May 9 to 11 is felt very sensitively: in Ukrainian discourse it appears ambiguous. On the one hand, the respite is perceived as lifesaving for infrastructure after the largest missile‑drone attacks in April. On the other hand, experts fear that such “gestures” by Trump strengthen his image as a mediator controlling the Ukrainian agenda, rather than as an ally acting in Kyiv’s interests.(ru.wikipedia.org)

A separate painful theme in Ukrainian discussions of the US is Trump’s accusations against Kyiv of meddling in US domestic politics and the reallocation of American funds. Russian‑ and Ukrainian‑language social media actively recount and debate a declassified US intelligence report about an allegedly discussed plan by Ukrainian officials to direct hundreds of millions of dollars from USAID “green” programs to finance Joe Biden’s campaign and the Democratic Party. In Ukraine’s public sphere this is most often interpreted as part of US domestic political struggles, but simultaneously as a danger signal: any new scandal could be used by Washington as a pretext to “grow tired” of Ukraine.(reddit.com)

Added to this is the general backdrop: American strikes and force deployments in the Middle East and the war with Iran. Ukrainian columnists draw direct parallels: as soon as Washington’s attention shifts to Tehran, Russian attacks on Ukrainian cities accelerate. Western assessments are cited in the Russian and Ukrainian expert segments: the deployment of US forces in the region in 2026 causes fear in Iran that a US strike could trigger internal unrest and regime change. For Kyiv the main question is whether Washington can resourcefully and politically sustain simultaneous support for Ukraine and a military confrontation with Iran.(ru.wikipedia.org)

The second major narrative, involving both South Korea and Japan, is the US pivot to Asia, primarily through the lens of competition with China and expectations of allies. In Seoul, recent days have seen discussion of statements by the head of the National Security Office in the presidential administration that talks with Washington on the timing of the transfer of wartime operational control over South Korean forces (OPCON) “are proceeding in a positive direction” and that “there is reason for optimism” about a soon agreement. South Korean outlets emphasize: Washington, on the one hand, is pushing Seoul toward “self‑reliant defense,” and on the other openly declares that the main responsibility for deterring North Korea should lie with South Korea.(koreajoongangdaily.joins.com)

In analytical columns of the South Korean press this is presented as a dual message. On one hand, strengthening “sovereign defense” is seen as a natural maturation of an ally. On the other, there is concern that the US, overloaded by Ukraine and Iran, might in the long term seek to reduce its real commitments on the Korean Peninsula, shifting costs onto Seoul. Columnists warn: if OPCON is transferred against the backdrop of Washington effectively declaring “your primary responsibility — your region,” South Korean society will face a painful choice between strategic autonomy and maintaining deep dependence on the American nuclear umbrella.

This line continues in another dimension — relations of the US with the DPRK and China. The Seoul press extensively quotes official US statements where North Korea still appears as a threat, but in the new configuration of American strategy it already ranks only fourth after China, Russia and Iran. For South Korean analysts this is an important symbol: US interest in the region is increasingly determined not by the Korean issue but by global rivalry with Beijing and the struggle with Tehran.(en.sedaily.com)

In Japan, recent discussions about the US almost inevitably come to the triangle “America–China–semiconductors.” A commentary in The Japan Times dedicated to “chokepoints” in the global chip supply chain states directly: US–China technological rivalry is increasingly about control over several critical nodes — lithography, advanced manufacturing, specialized equipment. Japanese analysts emphasize that Tokyo, Seoul and Taipei find themselves under growing pressure from Washington: the US wants allies to help “squeeze” China, while American companies themselves aim to use this architecture to their advantage.(japantimes.co.jp)

A Japan Research Institute policy note on Trump’s recent visit to Beijing contains a characteristic phrase: the summit showed that Washington and Beijing strive to “manage the ceiling of conflict,” while key, painful decisions are being postponed until the Chinese leader’s autumn visit to Washington. The author, international politics expert Naoyuki Fukuda, notes: it was “staged stability,” where the parties agree not on resolving differences but on how to delay their explosion. For a Japanese audience there is an implied message: as long as the US and China play at managed confrontation, Tokyo remains on the front line — both militarily and economically, including energy supply and gas and oil deliveries, which are already suffering because of the Iranian crisis.(jri.co.jp)

Japanese expert journals also offer a broader, more philosophical view of America’s role. A former Washington correspondent for major Japanese media, now a Meiji University professor, in his series “Wind from America” writes that 2026 confirms a shift to a “G2” world — a de facto bilateral architecture of the US and China, in which other players are forced to maneuver between two centers of power. For Japan, he notes, this means the need to both deepen the alliance with Washington and develop its own “independent and self‑defensive” line so as not to become a mere appendage of American strategy.(joi.or.jp)

The third important layer is US domestic politics and Washington’s image as an international player as seen from Kyiv, Seoul and Tokyo. The Ukrainian elite closely follow fluctuations in the US Congress and the split over the president’s war powers in connection with Iran. Discussion in Congress of a possible War Powers resolution that could limit Trump’s authority to strike Iran is seen by Ukrainian analysts as an indicator of how stable support for Ukraine is: if some Republicans and Democrats want to “rein in” the White House in the Middle East, this could unintentionally lead to a reassessment of military commitments in Eastern Europe as well.(ru.wikipedia.org)

South Korean outlets, especially conservative ones, write with interest and sometimes irony about how the US Congress and media criticize Trump for an allegedly “too soft” stance toward China. Pieces from outlets like The Wire China or the Los Angeles Times, with accusations that Trump “weakened his position even before landing in Beijing,” are recounted as an example that even within the US there is no unity on how to play the “big game” with the PRC. For the South Korean audience this prompts reflection: if Washington wavers between toughness and deals with Beijing, can one fully rely on the American line in managing risks on the peninsula?(thewirechina.com)

In Japan, by contrast, US domestic turmoil is more often perceived through the lens of institutional resilience. Some Japanese analysts remind readers that despite the drama of the era, American institutions can still correct foreign policy — through Congress, courts, and pressure from expert communities. But at the same time Japanese texts increasingly argue that Washington is no longer able — and perhaps no longer willing — to be the indisputable “leader of the free world.” An article in the National Committee on American Foreign Policy about “anchoring” the US–Japan alliance argues that to preserve the resilience of the regional order Tokyo must play a more active political role, and not rely solely on the American military umbrella.(ncafp.org)

Finally, an important common thread uniting Ukraine, South Korea and Japan is the sense that the US is at once indispensable and increasingly unpredictable. In Kyiv there is fear of American “fatigue” and distraction by Iran and China, but also an understanding that without Washington — no adequate air defense and no serious chance for negotiations with Moscow on any remotely acceptable terms. In Seoul anxiety grows that under slogans of “self‑reliant defense” and “primary responsibility” the US is preparing to shift increasing costs onto allies while retaining political control and the final say on matters of war and peace. In Tokyo observers speak most coldly of the “staged stability” of US–China summits: Japan sees that the two superpowers are trying to manage conflict but are reluctant to solve structural contradictions, and allies become the first hostages of any failure in that management.

Local voices in the three countries add their own tones to this set of common motifs. Zelensky urging not to forget Ukraine; South Korean officials cautiously speaking of “optimism” on OPCON timing but warning in closed briefings about stress on the defense budget; Japanese economists dissecting scenarios of a US‑led “semiconductor blockade” of China in detail — all paint a rather sober portrait of the US. This is no longer a romanticized image of a “hegemon,” but a large, heavy, internally contradictory partner with whom one can neither break ties nor trust unconditionally.

That is why in recent months in Kyiv, Seoul and Tokyo words like “self‑reliant defense,” “strategic autonomy” and “diversification” have been heard more often — while none of the three countries seriously questions fundamental alliances with the US. America is still seen as a central actor in their security and economies, but no longer as a reliable “anchor” of stability, rather as a source of both protection and new risks at the same time.

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The world through Washington's lens: how Australia, China and France debate America today

When you look at the United States from the inside, it seems like the whole world revolves around American elections, the Supreme Court, the next trade dispute or a military operation. But step beyond the American media bubble — and it becomes clear: in other countries America has become at once a necessary partner, a source of risk and an object of growing irritation. In Australia there is debate over whether the alliance with the US is dragging the country into unnecessary wars. In China Washington is discussed primarily as the epicentre of tariff and technology blockades. In France America becomes a case study of how one superpower can shift the entire global trade and legal order — and itself end up on trial.

Despite differences, three themes confidently surface in all three countries: the US’s aggressive trade-and-tariff policy, militarization and wars (above all against Iran), and the state of American democracy under Donald Trump. Today’s foreign perception of America is built around these three storylines.

The first major block is tariffs, courts and “American-style economic nationalism.” In France the topic of the US almost automatically turns into a discussion of the “tariff weapon.” Francophone media unpack the history in detail: Trump declared trade a “national emergency,” relying on the IEEPA statute, and imposed large “reciprocal” tariffs on almost all partners, including Europeans. Then the US Supreme Court ruled that that law does not give the president the right to unilaterally design a tariff regime, thereby annulling a significant portion of the duties. French outlets like Euronews and Europe 1 describe this as a “slap” to the president and a unique situation in which the global trade architecture literally depends on the interpretation of American constitutional law: Supreme Court decisions instantly redraw the world flows of goods and money.(fr.euronews.com)

But, French commentators emphasize, the story did not end there: deprived of one instrument, the White House immediately switched to another — Section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974, introducing a new “temporary” uniform global tariff first at 10%, then at 15%. In an analytical piece with a telling headline “A single, universal 15% tariff,” radio station RTL explains in detail that paradoxically this scheme is now relatively favourable to China and Brazil, but hits European exporters, including the French.(leparisien.fr)

From here comes the French perspective: the US is not just a partner or a competitor, but a state that has turned tariffs into a multi-purpose weapon, while remaining constrained by its own constitutional and international obligations. One French economic review stresses that the new “tariff shock wave” raises the average US external tariff to levels unseen for decades, sharply increasing the risk of a global recession.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com)

The second plane is Beijing’s view. In Chinese media the US has practically disappeared as an abstract “West” and become a concrete “tariff aggressor.” There is little discussion of institutional limits on American power — on the contrary, commentators stress how arbitrarily Washington wields the tools of tariffs and sanctions. Chinese official and quasi-official outlets describe American policy as 关税大棒 — “the big tariff club” that the US brandishes alone, breaking the established trading order and becoming a “global source of risk.”(chinanews.com.cn)

A characteristic piece on China.com.cn calls the recent US decision on massive tax credits and the restoration of some unlawful tariffs worth hundreds of billions of dollars not an act of goodwill but a “repackaging of protectionism”: the point being that Washington initially raised tariffs, forced the world to adapt, and now redistributes flows in favour of its importers and corporations. The author wryly notes that even potential tariff reimbursements will first end up in American companies’ accounts, not foreign exporters’, for whom bureaucratic access to these funds is almost blocked.(china.com.cn)

Chinese texts about 对等关税 — American “reciprocal tariffs” — are even harsher, formally justified by concern for fairness. Scholars at Chinese universities analyze how, under the banner of “equality,” the US in practice imposes a regime of unilateral diktat in which the only “equal” system is one where everyone plays by Washington’s rules. An analytical piece from the East China Normal University’s Institute for China–Foreign Trade points out that the launch of global “reciprocal tariffs” triggered a chain reaction: countries seek alternative markets, sign new agreements, and the US’s authority as an architect of free trade is rapidly eroding.(icft.ecnu.edu.cn)

An important detail in the Chinese debate is the attempt to show that Beijing has learned to live with American duties. State-media materials emphasize that average US tariff rates on Chinese imports remain at 40–42%, while China’s retaliatory measures are around 32–34%. Analysts reassure the domestic audience that trade has not “zeroed out,” it is restructuring: China is expanding ties with Asia, Europe and the Global South and can withstand a prolonged “tariff siege.”(cn.tradingview.com)

Australia views American tariffs differently — through the prism of a vulnerable medium-sized exporter. The main worry there is that every new American “global duty” automatically affects Australian goods — from wine to technology. Australian commentators at the ABC and other outlets carefully explain how a US Supreme Court decision, formally domestic, can lead to historic refund payments to importers while creating another wave of uncertainty for everyone tied to the American market.(abc.net.au)

To close this block: France, China and Australia all see the US as a country that simultaneously breaks and makes the rules of global trade. In Paris the emphasis is on the legal “schizophrenia” of the system: the president imposes, the courts repeal, lawyers worldwide keep their fingers on the pulse. In Beijing the focus is on ideological one-sidedness and “selfish protectionism.” In Canberra the concern is instability that hits less powerful partners dependent on access to the US market.

The second big theme is wars and allies: from the Persian Gulf to the southern Pacific. For Australia the question of the US today is above all a question of war with Iran and growing military integration. Since 2026 a sharp domestic debate has unfolded: to what extent does alignment with Washington automatically pull the country into American military campaigns. A Guardian Australia article asking “Will Australia be dragged into war as it becomes more integrated into the US military machine?” describes a new level of dependence: billions invested in the RAAF Base Tindal in the Northern Territory to host American bombers capable of carrying nuclear weapons.(theguardian.com)

Former Australian diplomat Lachlan Strahan in the same piece notes that key US allies were “kept in the dark” about Washington’s concrete plans to strike Iran, even as American diplomacy was ramping up “gunboat diplomacy” off Iranian shores. For the Australian audience this is a painful moment: the country pays for the alliance not only in money and basing, but potentially by being drawn into war without being a full actor in the discussion.(theguardian.com)

American actions in the Strait of Hormuz and war with Iran have sharpened this conflict. When Trump publicly blamed allies — including Australia — for “insufficient” support in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern theatres, Australian media read this not as an ordinary tweet but as a symptom of a much more serious shift: Washington is moving toward a logic of “whoever is not with us is against us,” even toward its oldest partners. The ABC quotes the US president’s blunt statement that his country “doesn’t need anyone’s help,” while still demanding symbolic participation from allies to legitimate operations.(abc.net.au)

Against this backdrop, a camp inside Australia is growing that calls to “rethink the alliance” with an “extremely unpredictable” US. Online debates frequently cite former ministers and experts claiming the country has lost an independent foreign policy, and that the real alternatives are either sharply increasing its own defence spending or accepting the role of a “obedient junior partner” in any American campaign, from the Persian Gulf to the western Pacific.(reddit.com)

China, naturally, views US military activity through the lens of encirclement and containment. In Chinese discourse the war with Iran and other American interventions are used as evidence that Washington remains a state inclined to resolve political contradictions with force, and that talks of “international law” and a “rules-based order” are rhetorical shells concealing the law of the strong. When American strikes on Iran and interventions in Venezuela are discussed internationally, Chinese analysts note the gap between US rhetoric and allies’ real willingness to support such actions. They observe that even in Europe and Australia a growing camp sees Washington not as a guarantor but as a source of destabilization.(en.wikipedia.org)

The French perspective in this story is somewhat subtler. France still sees the US as an indispensable partner within NATO and in various crises, but speaks increasingly about the need for “European sovereignty” to avoid dependence on American zigzags. Comments from French politicians and experts converge on the idea that Europe cannot allow itself to be merely a theatre for US–Iran or US–China conflicts. Economic and political reviews from the French Treasury and major banks stress that disputes over tariffs and sanctions are the flip side of a deeper dilemma: where the line runs between allied solidarity and the national interests of France and the EU.(tresor.economie.gouv.fr)

The third, and perhaps most emotionally charged layer, is the perception of American democracy itself and the figure of Trump. Here Australia is almost a perfect mirror. As an ABC analyst writes, Trump has become “political kryptonite” in Australian politics: neither of the two major parties wants to be too closely associated with him because he is toxic to the average voter, yet they are not ready to break or even seriously weaken the alliance with the US.(abc.net.au)

An article titled “Australia’s trust in Trump’s America has evaporated. What would have to happen for the alliance to crack?” describes an intriguing cognitive split: for the political class faith in the alliance remains almost a religion, while public opinion is changing rapidly. Former head of a prominent think tank Michael Fullilove, in his speech “Witnessing the Unmaking,” argues that Trump’s re-election cemented the sense of “no return to normal” in the United States, and therefore the familiar order on which Australia’s world depended is passing.(theguardian.com)

Sociological data only reinforce this impression. Polls show that a majority of Australians consider Trump a greater threat to global security than Vladimir Putin or Xi Jinping, and a significant share favour a more independent foreign policy even at the cost of cooling ties with the US. One survey from the Australian Election Study, widely discussed in press and social media, showed that women in particular feel less secure after Trump’s election, not more.(australianelectionstudy.org)

It is important to stress: even the most severe critics of Trump in Australia and France emphasize that their problem is not with America as such, but with the trajectory of its democracy. Influential writers compare today’s US to a “contagious” democratic crisis that exports political radicalism and polarization to all countries culturally and informationally linked to America. An Australian commentator at the ABC speaks of a “cancer of political extremism” that continues to erode the American system, and acknowledges that Australians “watch the Pacific across the ocean with anxiety” regarding the state of democracy in the country they depend on.(abc.net.au)

China’s view of American democracy is, conversely, less tragic and more instrumental. In official and pro-government discourse US crises — from attacks on the Capitol to political violence and judicial wars — are used as an argument against the universality of the Western model. The message is clear: “Look how their democracy works — chaos, populism, endless elections, foreign policy subordinated to domestic spectacle. Is that a model worth following?” Chinese authors, with evident satisfaction, cite Western and American sources criticizing Trump’s tariff wars as self-harm to American consumers and allies, to show that doubt about the US leadership model is growing even within the United States.(world.gmw.cn)

French publications often draw parallels between American and European populism: Trump becomes a sort of litmus test for debates about radical right and left-populists in Europe itself. In editorial columns in Le Monde and other major outlets the American political drama is used as a warning: if European societies allow a similar level of polarization, their institutions will face the same pressure. Unlike Chinese commentators, French analysts do not claim the US model is entirely exhausted; rather, they speak of a prolonged crisis of a mature democracy capable of adapting but not yet willing to do so.

All three threads — tariffs, wars and democratic crisis — are intertwined in complex ways. For Australia these themes converge on one question: how safe is it to keep betting on the US alliance if Washington is simultaneously pulling allies into controversial wars, jolting world trade with “tariff shocks,” and demonstrating political instability at home. For China it all boils down to confronting a hegemon that, despite its internal problems, remains able to inflict large-scale damage on rivals’ economies; therefore Beijing needs to accelerate “decoupling” and strengthen alternative centres of power. For France and, more broadly, Europe, the US becomes both example and warning: a necessary partner, but no longer the unconditional “anchor of stability” it was in the postwar era.

Perhaps the most surprising thing is that despite all the criticism, irritation and fears, neither Australia, nor China, nor France is building a world without the US. Australian politicians, even the most sceptical, acknowledge that breaking the alliance would be strategic suicide. Chinese texts that denounce the “tariff club” simultaneously show how deeply Beijing still depends on the American market and the dollar system. French economists, calculating losses from American duties, regularly add the caveat that the European economy is too deeply integrated with the American one to contemplate a sudden “divorce.”

This is the current paradox of perceptions of the US: America today is an object of critique, fear, calculation and still inevitable dependence. In Canberra people argue about how not to be dragged into someone else’s war while not losing their protector. In Beijing they seek ways to turn the “American risk” into an incentive for their own modernization. In Paris calculations wryly and soberly remind everyone: in a world where a single US Supreme Court decision can trigger the return of hundreds of billions of dollars in duties and redraw trade routes, you cannot ignore Washington, no matter how much you might like to. That is why the discussion of America in Australia, China and France is not simply a set of reactions to news from Washington; it is, in essence, a meditation on their own futures in a world where the US remains too big to love and too important to leave.

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How the World Sees America Now: War with Iran, Hormuz and Trump's Shadow

Around the United States a dense information cloud is once again gathering—from Paris to Tel Aviv and Riyadh. The central axis of almost all discussions is the same: the US and Israeli war with Iran, begun on February 28, 2026, and the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, where the interests of Washington, Tehran, Jerusalem, Riyadh, Beijing and European capitals converge. Against this background Donald Trump, back in the White House and simultaneously running a large campaign for a “hard victory” over Iran, has become the main object of commentary and concern. In France there is debate about strategic short‑sightedness and risks for Europe; in Israel — about the cost of American support and the widening divergence of interests; in Saudi Arabia — about how to use American power while avoiding becoming its hostage.

The first major block of discussion is the US–Iran war itself and its internal logic. The French press and experts particularly focus on the fact that the 2026 war did not arise in a vacuum: it is the culmination of escalation after Israeli–Iranian strikes in 2025 and American bombings of Iran’s nuclear facilities, which Tehran perceived as confirmation of a joint Washington–Jerusalem plan to weaken the regime. In French analytical pieces the war is already described as the “guerre américano‑iranienne de 2026,” with a clear fixation: the US and Israel jointly launched large‑scale strikes against Iran at the end of February, the declared goal of which was “to destroy military capabilities and prevent the creation of nuclear weapons,” but the strategic horizon remains murky — from containment to actual regime change. (fr.wikipedia.org)

The tone in the Arab press is different: here the war is described as an “unprecedented escalation,” where Washington simultaneously declares that “Iran has been militarily crushed” and that the “operation is 70–75% complete,” but is clearly ready to “return and finish what was started.” In interviews with Arab media Trump insists that the US can “destroy the remaining Iranian military infrastructure in two days,” and that the use of B‑2 bombs nine months earlier, he says, already deprived Tehran of the ability to obtain nuclear weapons in the foreseeable future. (cairo24.com) This combination of victory reports and threats of new escalation is often called “promotional” or “propagandistic” by Arab commentators — not coincidentally, one Al Jazeera headline quotes Trump’s comment that transferring Iran’s enriched uranium to the US would have “propaganda” purposes. (aljazeera.net)

In Israel the war and the role of the US are viewed through the prism of national security and coexistence with Iran “after Trump.” Israeli analysts note that on one hand, American military superiority produced “tactical successes” against Iranian infrastructure, while on the other it did not remove the fundamental threat and even increased Jerusalem’s dependence on Washington’s strategic calculations. Former US national security adviser Jake Sullivan, speaking now as a commentator rather than an official, talks directly about a “strategic dead end” in the American line on Iran and that “the rift between Washington and Tel Aviv is growing.” (elbalad.news) Israeli media and expert reviews echo this: yes, the US provides a military “umbrella” of protection, but its long‑term goals — from a nuclear deal to a potential regime change in Tehran — do not always align with Israel’s vision of permanent deterrence.

The second, closely related layer is the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz and energy. In Europe, and especially in France, Hormuz is regarded as the strategic nerve of the global economy, where any American escalation automatically turns into rising oil prices, inflation expectations and social discontent. French and pan‑European reviews emphasize that a blockade or even partial disruption of shipping through Hormuz has already caused a serious spike in oil prices and a rise in US Treasury yields, because markets factor in higher inflation expectations and a less friendly path for Fed rates. (il.investing.com) Thus the American decision to “punish Iran” while at the same time “protecting freedom of navigation” is perceived in Paris not only as a Middle Eastern story but as a direct threat to Europe’s economic recovery.

From Saudi Arabia the picture looks ambivalent. Official and semi‑official discourse, represented for example in the Saudi newspaper Okaz and the Al‑Hadath channel, stresses that Washington’s measures in Hormuz and against Iran generally correspond to Riyadh’s long‑standing concerns. Trump, in an interview with Fox News widely quoted by Saudi outlets, calls the Iranian leadership “crazy,” warns that it would use nuclear weapons against Israel, the Middle East, Europe and even the US if it obtained them, and insists: Iran must make a deal, otherwise “time is running out.” At the same time he stresses that the US seeks to “open the strait for all countries in the region.” (okaz.com.sa) For a Saudi audience this is presented as confirmation that Washington is finally building a line of tough deterrence and is not repeating the “softness mistakes” of past administrations.

But in the Saudi social media segment, for example on the forum r/SaudiForSaudis, the tone is far more skeptical and anxious. Users discuss Trump’s statements about “the most powerful bombings in Middle Eastern history” on the Iranian island of Kharg and his warning that if Iran seriously blocks oil flow through Hormuz, it will be “hit twenty times harder than so far.” (reddit.com) This is reinforced by a common argument: yes, Saudi Arabia benefits from a weakened Iran, but a total military defeat and ensuing chaos on the other side of the Gulf could be no less dangerous for the kingdom than a strong but restrained Islamic Republic. Comments reflect the idea that Trump underestimates the duration and cost of a “war of attrition,” while regional players, including Riyadh, are preparing for a long struggle rather than the “one‑day quick victory” he periodically claims.

In Israel the Hormuz issue is woven into the broader conversation about the link between the military campaign and the economy and dependence on the US. Israeli financial analysts note that the oil price surge triggered by Trump’s statements that his “patience with Iran is running out” is instantly reflected in US bond yields and global inflation expectations. (il.investing.com) Israeli business media interpret this as follows: Washington can afford aggressive play in the Middle East even if it shakes global markets, while Israel can hardly withstand a combination of a protracted war on multiple fronts and deteriorating financial conditions in the global economy. In Israeli Reddit discussions users say plainly: “If not for the US, we would still be fighting in Gaza with hostages in tunnels… But at the same time we depend on the US for how much we can escalate.” (reddit.com)

The third major theme through which France, Israel and Saudi Arabia reassess the American role is Trump himself and the style of American foreign policy. French reviews, including retellings of Arab and European newspapers, emphasize the internal contradictions of his line: on one hand he threatens total destruction and promises a “historic transformation of Iran,” where the regime will either be “managedly transformed” or “catastrophically collapsed,” and on the other he repeatedly says the US “will not fight for a long time” and seeks to leave Iran as soon as possible, installing “people who can run the country well.” (arabic.euronews.com) For a French audience this resembles a blend of Iraq‑era rhetoric with an “America First” instinct: regime change is declared, but commentators believe Washington lacks a real post‑conflict governance strategy.

In the Israeli debate another layer is added: how reliable is American strategy if it depends heavily on Trump’s personal style and political calculations. Some Israeli experts note that in 2026 the US largely repeats the scenario of “tactical successes without strategic victory,” familiar from the Iraq campaign — a point also made by the Wall Street Journal, whose conclusions are quoted by the Jordanian outlet Jfranews, saying the US achieved significant tactical gains through military superiority but did not reach the long‑term strategic goals of the war with Iran. (jfranews.com.jo) In Israeli public opinion, judging by discussions, an ambiguous attitude is growing: on one hand many still see Trump as “the friendliest president” for his unconditional past support, on the other there is increasing awareness that dependence on the mood of one person in Washington makes Israeli strategy vulnerable.

The Saudi perspective on Trump and the US is even more pragmatic and cynical. In Arab analytical articles, for example on the Turkish portal TurkPress, about his visit to China, it is argued that the war with Iran “weakened Trump’s hand at the negotiating table with Beijing, despite all his rhetoric about crushing Iran.” (turkpress.co) This is an important detail for Saudi strategists: if the anti‑Iran campaign simultaneously increases US dependence on the Chinese market and complicates their global rivalry with Beijing, Riyadh’s room to maneuver as a partner of both Washington and Beijing expands. In Saudi online discussions this becomes a concise observation: “America is not only fighting Iran; it is simultaneously overestimating and underestimating both its own power and China’s,” as an Emirati paper put it, arguing that both superpowers “exaggerate their strength while ignoring vulnerabilities.” (emaratalyoum.com)

The fourth important crosscutting dimension is the moral‑political legitimacy of American actions and their consequences for international norms. In France and more broadly in Europe anxiety is growing: the killing of Iran’s supreme leader as a result of a joint US–Israeli operation and the massive strikes on military and civilian infrastructure, described in detail by Western and Middle Eastern outlets, raise the old question of selective application of international law. (fr.wikipedia.org) French columnists note that each new case of unilateral use of force by the United States, even if aimed at a “problematic regime,” undermines the West’s ability to appeal to legal norms in other crises — from Ukraine to Taiwan.

In the Arab press this sounds even harsher. In Egypt’s Al‑Masry Al‑Youm the war is described as the return of the “drums of war” to the Middle East, where Washington under the pretext of “protecting international energy security” is effectively implementing a broader project of forceful control of the region, while the Iranians, for their part, appeal to international law, accusing the US and Israel of “aggression” and thanking the Vatican for what they interpret as a “moral stance.” (almasryalyoum.com) Jordanian and Palestinian commentators go further, claiming the war showed that “the US presence in our region brings harm, not protection,” and that Arab countries should build security on their own geopolitics, energy and financial capabilities rather than on American bases. (jfranews.com.jo)

In Israel the discussion of the legitimacy of American intervention is closely tied to domestic political issues — from policies toward the Palestinians to settler violence. A detailed discussion has unfolded in an Israeli Reddit community about how US pressure over radical settler violence in the West Bank forces the government into unpopular steps, and about how deeply Washington’s intervention permeates Israeli politics. One commenter notes: “In the West they are 100% sure that Israel and Netanyahu control American Middle East policy, not the other way around” — ironically flipping a popular conspiracy narrative. (reddit.com) At the same time, in those same threads it is acknowledged that without American pressure Israel might have gone much further in tightening laws against the Arab population, which for part of Israeli society appears as a problem and for another part as a restraining factor.

Finally, special attention in France, Israel and Saudi Arabia is paid to the question: what comes “after Iran” and “after Trump.” French authors draw parallels with Iraq: then Washington started a war to disarm and change the regime but ended up trapped in a long occupation, rising anti‑American sentiment and weakening of transatlantic unity. Now, they warn, the US risks repeating that scenario, only in a more explosive region and at a time when China has already become a full strategic rival and Europe is much less united. (emaratalyoum.com)

Israeli commentators pose a more down‑to‑earth but no less acute question: if the US truly achieves a “managed transformation” or even the collapse of the current Iranian regime, what will replace it and how will that change the balance of power around Israel? Some recall that in 1979 American support for the Shah and subsequent neglect of Iranian society contributed to the radical turn of the Islamic Revolution. Today, they argue, the risk of repeating the mistake under a different banner is no less: war and sanctions may not only “weaken” the regime, but create conditions for even more unpredictable and anti‑Western forces.

In Saudi and wider Arab debate the emphasis shifts to questions of regional order: will the 2026 war be the last major “American campaign” in the Persian Gulf before a strategic US pivot to Asia, or on the contrary will it cement a long‑term American military presence off Iran’s shores? In a popular discussion on r/SaudiForSaudis a user notes that negotiations with Tehran were “made to be rejected,” and that the US, Iran and Israel are in fact preparing for a long war, with America having assembled in the region “a fleet comparable in scale only to that during the Iraq war.” (reddit.com) For Arab interlocutors this means the real game is no longer only about Iran’s fate but about who and how will control the security architecture in the Gulf for decades to come — the US, China, a regional coalition, or some combination of these.

Thus a peculiar “mosaic” of international perceptions of the US is forming in spring 2026. In France America looks like a superpower once again ready to use force, but increasingly unable to offer a coherent strategic line and a respected system of norms. In Israel it remains an indispensable military and political patron, but also a source of strategic uncertainty and domestic political pressure. In Saudi Arabia the US is seen both as a necessary shield against Iran and as a factor of instability and inflated expectations. The common thread through all these sometimes contradictory voices is one: the world no longer takes American policy for granted — every Washington action, whether a strike on Iran, a maneuver in Hormuz or Trump’s visit to Beijing, is immediately parsed according to local interests, fears and hopes. In this new world the United States must deal not with a “silent background” but with many loud, self‑confident and often critical regional audiences.

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How the World Sees America Today: The Iran War, NATO Without the US and Washington’s Economic...

In mid‑May 2026 the United States once again found itself at the center of global debate, but the perspectives in Paris, Delhi and Ankara look little like the picture familiar to American readers. The focus is the US and Israeli war against Iran, the prospect of Washington weakening or even leaving NATO, harsh economic selfishness in trade, and the question: what will happen to the world order if the United States is simultaneously at war, reshaping the security architecture and projecting its domestic political conflicts outward?

French, Indian and Turkish commentators look at the same events — bombings of Iran, a maritime blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, US threats to reconsider its role in NATO, tariff wars and support for Israel — but draw different conclusions. Some speak of an “imperial return” of America, others of its strategic confusion, and still others of an opportunity for their own maneuvering between West and East.

The central nerve of this conversational field has become the US and Israeli war against Iran, which began on February 28, 2026 and quickly developed into a maritime blockade and a series of strikes against Iranian sites, including raids during an already declared ceasefire. (en.wikipedia.org) It is around this conflict that Europe’s fears, India’s calculations and Turkey’s ambitions are organized.

In France and more broadly in Europe, the Iran war and the threat of NATO’s unraveling overlap, creating a picture of an “unreliable America.” Commentators at Le Monde in an editorial titled “War in Iran: diplomacy is urgent” describe the situation as both a strategic and political failure of Washington: on the one hand, “every day the conflict becomes darker,” and on the other, “the chaotic communication of the American administration has become increasingly embarrassing,” especially after the White House one day announced a military operation to “break through” the Strait of Hormuz and the next day withdrew it. (lemonde.fr) In another Le Monde piece it is emphasized that strikes on Iran and the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz have already come back as a boomerang in the form of a spike in US inflation — April data showed consumer prices accelerating to 3.8% year‑on‑year primarily due to energy — and this, the paper argues, is a direct consequence of Donald Trump’s “chaotic and contradictory” line. (lemonde.fr) For French authors this is an important symbol: America no longer merely “exports security,” it also exports its crises.

Against this background, the NATO discussion in France is painted in much darker tones than official communiqués. In the popular francophone daily press and online debates, statements by US Secretary of State Marco Rubio are actively quoted, in which he directly said Washington should “reconsider” its relations with the alliance after a war with Iran, as well as threats by Donald Trump that the US might not come to the aid of NATO allies and might even leave the alliance. (24heures.ca) One 24heures.ca article emphasizes that the US accuses France, Spain and Italy of refusing to grant airspace and use bases to supply Israel and operate around Iran, and this is used to explain Washington’s readiness to “cool” relations within NATO. (24heures.ca)

French commentators see here a troubling linkage: Washington is waging a war that hits European energy interests, while simultaneously demanding greater military and financial dependence from Europe and, in the event of political conflict, threatening to abandon its allies. In francophone Reddit discussions this attitude toward such an America is described with the words “voleur” and “bully” — “thief” and “bully” — when it comes to Pentagon plans to “redirect” European military aid for Ukraine to the needs of the war in Iran and then insist that allies buy American weapons. (reddit.com) For a significant portion of the French public this picture fits into a broader trend: according to an Ifop poll published in January, 42% of French people already view the US as a “hostile country,” and 51% consider America under Trump a future military threat to France. (estrepublicain.fr)

At the same time the French state and the strategic community continue a practical dialogue with Washington on nuclear deterrence and strategic stability — as evidenced, in particular, by the Franco‑American dialogue on nuclear policy and non‑proliferation held on March 9 in Paris. (diplomatie.gouv.fr) An analytical note from the Institute of International and Strategic Relations (IRIS) on the new “US National Security Strategy 2025” notes: even if the image of the US in Europe has seriously degraded, Paris cannot ignore the American role in the balance of power, especially in light of the war in Ukraine. (iris‑france.org) But in public discourse the tone is shifting: the idea is increasingly heard that Europe must “learn to live without US security” and at the same time without the American military market.

The Turkish discussion is built around a different lens: Ankara is not so much afraid of “America’s departure” as it seeks to use the events to expand its own room for maneuver. Turkish commentators analyze in detail how the US and Israeli war against Iran and the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz change the energy and naval map of the region. A DW analysis in Turkish discusses Donald Trump’s “Project Freedom” — the idea of organizing an international operation to escort “neutral” ships through the Strait of Hormuz, allegedly at the request of countries not participating in the war. Turkish experts and Iranian officials see this not as a humanitarian mission but as an actual attempt to consolidate American control over a key maritime chokepoint under the cover of freedom of navigation; Ibrahim Azizi, head of the Iranian parliament’s national security and foreign policy commission, directly warned that any such operation would be perceived by Tehran as a violation of the ceasefire. (amp.dw.com)

On the pages of Turkish outlets Dünya and Euronews Türkiye much attention is paid to the legal and economic aspects of the American blockade of Iran: some experts stress that under international law closing Hormuz could be seen as a violation of the principle of freedom of navigation, others that the US is de‑facto using the dollar and control over logistics as a weapon, forcing both European and Asian companies to take American sanctions into account. (dunya.com) In the Serbestiyet article “The Iran‑American War on Day 63” the commentator draws a parallel with 2003: then the US also started a war without a clear “exit,” but now the risk of a global energy shock is many times higher, and the spaces for American maneuvering are smaller. (serbestiyet.com)

This tension paradoxically strengthens the arguments of those in Washington who praise Turkey. One Turkish newspaper, Türkiye Gazetesi, recounts words from American officials and experts in Washington who acknowledge that Ankara’s contribution to NATO security is “comparable to that of the US” thanks to its control over the straits and participation in the fight against ISIS. (turkiyegazetesi.com.tr) For Turkish commentators this is a signal: as France and other European countries refuse to support the American line in the war with Iran and in supplying Israel, Turkey demonstrates that it can be both a problematic partner and an indispensable mediator.

Another large strand of Turkish debate concerns direct attempts by Ankara to play the role of mediator between Washington and Tehran. Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan, in an interview relayed by the presidential communications office, claims that Turkey is working to end the “war between the US and Iran” and is trying to fit this into a broader security architecture for the Persian Gulf. (iletisim.gov.tr) For Turkish think tanks this is a chance to show that where the US hits a dead end, Ankara can act as a regional stabilizer. At the same time, news is swirling about the possible return of Turkey to the F‑35 program — another move in the game with Washington in which Ankara seeks to turn its “indispensability” into concrete defense and technological gains. (dunya.com)

India watches the same war very differently. Official Delhi maintains formal neutrality: as a briefing on India’s role in the Iran war notes, the country did not join the anti‑Iran coalition nor the sanctions, preferring to stay away from direct confrontation. (en.wikipedia.org) Indian analysts in business and foreign‑policy press, however, view the conflict primarily through the prism of energy security and the balance of relations with the US and Iran.

Economic bulletins and internal notes, such as a recent review by France’s Direction générale du Trésor on the Indian economy, emphasize that India’s trade with the US continues to grow despite the shocks, and India’s foreign exchange reserves exceed $720 billion. (tresor.economie.gouv.fr) For Indian commentators this means the country has some “buffer,” but a large‑scale energy shock from a war in the Strait of Hormuz would still be painful. Indian analytical journals discuss scenarios for additional access to American oil to replace Iranian and broader Middle Eastern supplies, as well as risks for the Chabahar project, which India invested in as a “gateway” to Central Asia bypassing unstable Pakistan and difficult relations with China. (en.wikipedia.org)

Indian political commentators pay attention to another aspect: the US and Israeli war against Iran and Washington’s strongly pro‑Israeli position in Gaza undermine America’s image as a “holder of the liberal order.” In opinion pieces close to the opposition Congress party it is argued that the Modi government, trying not to spoil relations with the US, has ignored sentiments within its own Muslim community and risks being “on the wrong side of history” if the war drags on and is accompanied by rising human casualties. (en.wikipedia.org) This does not mean India is ready to distance itself from the US, but, according to Indian experts, it strengthens intra‑elite arguments for an even tougher “multi‑vector” policy in which Delhi works simultaneously with Washington, Moscow and Tehran without openly taking anyone’s side.

The general backdrop of distrust toward the US is amplified not only by the war and NATO questions but also by Washington’s trade policy. In France, a year after the US raised tariffs on a whole range of European goods, La Tribune notes: France turned out to be less vulnerable than some neighbors, but the overall effect for the EU is negative — the US trade balance with the European Union improved by $27 billion in just one year, mainly because European imports to America became more expensive and less competitive. (latribune.fr) This picture fits neatly into the French narrative of “American egoism,” in which Washington uses tariffs and the dollar‑centric global system as levers not only against China but also against its allies.

In Turkish economic discourse, by contrast, tariffs and the energy crisis are seen not only as a threat but also as an opportunity. Funds and private investors discuss on specialist platforms how rising prices and a shortage of Middle Eastern oil amid the Hormuz blockade open a “window of opportunity” for Turkey as a transit hub for American oil and gas to Europe: investment forums cite tanker schedules from the US to the Turkish port of Aliağa and profit forecasts for re‑exports. (reddit.com) Here the US is perceived not only as a risk factor but also as a source of raw materials and liquidity to be dealt with pragmatically, without sharing political judgments.

In Indian discussion US economic policy appears more ambivalent. On one hand, Washington is the most important partner in high technology and a source of investment; on the other, Indian analysts remember how quickly the US imposed export controls and sanctions against China, and wonder whether India could be “next” if the geopolitical conjuncture shifts. In this context, both the tariff wars with the EU and the use of oil sanctions against Iran are often cited as examples of how the US is willing to turn the economy into a weapon, not paying much heed even to the interests of partners. (latribune.fr)

Finally, there is another layer of perception of the US that is especially noticeable in French and Turkish debate: the internal crisis of American democracy and its “export.” In popular French discussions and analysis it is noted that Donald Trump’s “alternative truth,” which undermines trust in institutions within America, is gradually seeping into French discourse, strengthening radical and conspiratorial narratives. One widely cited text on a francophone platform describes how rhetoric about the “deep state,” “corrupt elites” and “stolen elections,” which took shape in the US beginning with protests against police, has become a “deadly narrative” undermining republican values in France. (reddit.com)

In Turkey, where the domestic democratic system has long faced criticism, American democratic problems serve as a convenient counterexample: if even the US is mired in disputes about the legitimacy of elections and the separation of powers, why does Washington continue to lecture others? Turkish commentators, not necessarily close to the government, freely quote American and European articles about how Trump “cannot find an exit” from the war with Iran while at the same time squabbling with Congress, to underline that America’s moral capital, on which its foreign policy was built, is genuinely shrinking. (theatlantic.com)

This shift is also visible in how European and Turkish media discuss American support for Israel in Gaza. French and Turkish sources emphasize: unlike the relatively transparent and detailed military aid to Ukraine, arms supplies to Israel are accompanied by much less public accountability, creating space for accusations of US “double standards” and “complicity” in possible war crimes. (fr.wikipedia.org) For public opinion in both France and Turkey this is further proof that America can no longer claim the role of universal arbiter.

If one tries to bring together French, Indian and Turkish reactions, a common picture emerges: the US remains a central actor, but no longer an undisputed leader. The war with Iran is seen as a symptom that Washington is still inclined to solve problems by force, but now does so with weakened authority, unbalanced alliances and a more fragmented world. French discussion concentrates on how to protect Europe from Trump’s caprices and dependence on American security and industry; Indian debate on how to extract benefits from partnership with the US without being hit by its sanctions and wars; Turkish on how to exploit ruptures between Washington, Europe and Iran to strengthen its own regional role.

In all three cases this is not simply “anti‑Americanism” but a pragmatic reassessment: the world is no longer ready to view the US as an unconditional good, but it cannot ignore its military, economic and political power. It is this tension — between necessity and distrust — that defines the tone of international conversations about America in spring 2026.

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Washington Between Kyiv, Moscow and Tehran: Debates in Ukraine, Australia and Russia

In mid‑May 2026 the United States are again at the center of other countries’ news — but this time it is no longer the classic story of the “world’s policeman.” Several interconnected crises are on the agenda at once: Russia’s protracted war against Ukraine, a new US–Israel war with Iran in the Persian Gulf, and the Trump administration’s attempts to redraw the security architecture from Europe to the Middle East. In Ukraine, Australia and Russia people debate the same events, but they speak about them in different languages and with different fears. The main recurring theme is one: can the US still be relied on as a predictable leader — or is the world entering an era of American “America First” choice in its harshest form?

The first major block of discussions concerns the role of the US in the Ukrainian war and Washington’s changing policy. In the Ukrainian media space almost every mention of the US today is linked either to military aid or to Trump’s peace initiatives, which in Kyiv are perceived as an attempt to impose a “bad peace.” Ukrainian outlets closely analyzed the meeting of Ukrainian and US delegations in Miami in March: political consultant Serhiy Posternak noted on Freedom channel that US media “are dominated by the view that the US is pressuring Kyiv to make deeper compromises,” but Ukrainian diplomacy “is not ready and did not plan” to make territorial concessions, whatever the signals from Washington. For that reason, in his assessment, prolonged negotiations are “rather good news,” meaning that Ukraine is defending its red lines rather than adjusting to the White House’s electoral timetable. (uatv.ua)

Against this backdrop, news stories about reductions in American support provoke a nervous reaction in Ukraine. Ukrainian magazine Focus, in an analysis of the new US defense budget, highlighted the dissonance: nearly $900 billion in total military spending and only $400 million in direct aid to Ukraine, plus a separate $800 million package that looks modest compared with previous years. The authors read this as a signal: Ukraine has ceased to be Washington’s central priority, having been displaced by the war with Iran, so Kyiv needs to diversify sources of weapons and take European initiatives more seriously. (focus.ua)

Russian media discuss the same topic — but through the lens of declining American will and “fatigue with Ukraine.” Conservative outlets such as MK and RT in Russian promote the narrative that the US is effectively “abandoning Kyiv.” Military analyst Ihor Korotchenko, commenting on American behavior, claims that under diplomatic cover the US is “secretly arming Ukraine,” while simultaneously losing strategic control over escalation — both in Donbas and in the Persian Gulf. (mk.ru) On the other flank, more systematic political scientists, such as Dmytro Drobnitsky in an interview with Ukraina.ru, articulate the opposite view: even if the White House cuts aid, “American elites are not prepared to allow its real disappearance,” and therefore Trump will be “forced to restore support for Ukraine” once the military campaign in Iran requires stabilizing the European front. (ukraina.ru) This duality is a key element of the Russian debate: on one hand, a pleased acknowledgement of a “Western crisis,” on the other, an understanding that the US still controls the corridor of escalation relevant to Russia.

The Ukrainian elite, in turn, increasingly argue not only with Moscow but with Washington as well. Against the backdrop of the three‑day ceasefire of 9–11 May announced by Trump, Ukrainian commentators recalled that similar “gestures of goodwill” have more than once ended in Ukraine losing ground. Notably, Foreign Minister Andriy Sybyha, in an interview cited by several Ukrainian outlets, emphasized a basic principle: “Ukraine will make no concessions on questions of territorial integrity and sovereignty.” (kurs.com.ua) In Ukrainian online discussions on Russian‑language platforms a separate narrative is forming: “The US admits failure in attempts to achieve peace,” as they quote a statement by Secretary of State Marco Rubio, and now Washington “does not want to waste time and effort on something that brings no progress.” Users in such discussions note that “real negotiations no longer exist,” and that Zelensky “is making a trial break with Washington,” criticizing the US in ways that “would have been unthinkable a year ago.” (reddit.com)

The second major theme linking the three countries is the US–Israel war with Iran and its consequences for global security and the economy. For Australia this war is the main prism through which it views Washington. Australian ABC News has extensively covered the stalemate in US–Iran negotiations: analysts emphasize that talks on a ceasefire have reached an impasse, and the UN humanitarian agencies warn of “weeks until the start of a large‑scale humanitarian crisis” due to the disruption of tanker traffic through the Strait of Hormuz. (abc.net.au) In Australian debate a motive typical of middle powers appears: a country dependent on sea lanes is worried not only about the war itself but also that the US, in defending “freedom of navigation,” is effectively endangering global energy chains on which both Sydney and Melbourne depend. In analytical pieces and expert remarks discussing Australia’s participation in operations, a familiar formula emerges: “we share values, but we cannot ignore the costs.” Mentions that Australia traditionally follows the US into military campaigns prompt commentators to cautiously ask whether the Iraq scenario is repeating itself in a new configuration.

The Ukrainian perspective on the war in the Persian Gulf is different but no less telling. In Russian‑ and Ukrainian‑language discussions the theme of “Washington’s attention shifting” is noticeable: the deeper the US becomes entangled in conflict with Iran, the harder it is for Kyiv to secure prompt arms deliveries. Ukrainian commentators actively cite Western analysts: by their estimates, the war with Iran is already causing delays in US supplies to Ukraine, since the Pentagon is expending precision weapons in the Middle East and is more cautious about depleting its stockpiles. Even more interesting is the turn when the Ukrainian segment discusses the security of Gulf countries. Journalist Michael Weiss, in a piece widely shared on local social networks, notes that the Gulf states “are effectively telling the US: ‘You failed to protect us from Iranian drones, but Ukraine succeeded’” and are therefore now cooperating with Kyiv on counter‑drone defense. The discussion draws a pointed conclusion: while Washington argues over aid to Ukraine, others are already adopting Ukrainian experience and paying for it directly. (reddit.com) This creates an argument for Kyiv in its dialogue with the US: Ukrainian expertise is not a supplicant dependency, but an exportable security resource.

In Russia the US war with Iran is seen as confirmation of the old doctrine of “irresponsible hegemony.” Articles in Russian international affairs magazines and columns in mass outlets call the escalation with Iran a logical continuation of American foreign policy, which former diplomat Chas Freeman described as “relying on forceful solutions and neglecting the interests of other countries.” (ru.wikipedia.org) Russian authors stress that the war with Iran coincided with the US withdrawing from several dozen international organizations — which they interpret as a strengthening of isolationism and a renunciation of “rules written by the Americans themselves.” Newspaper commentary traces a line: Trump “sabotaged” peace talks on Ukraine, dragged Washington into a new Middle Eastern war, and now global energy stability and European security are under threat — even though the US are united only in words.

The third important theme is the changing architecture of alliances and trust in the US as a security guarantor. In Russian and Ukrainian debates this is directly related to NATO’s eastern flank and visibly growing fears in Europe. Russian newspapers draw attention to reports that the US “thinned out” the eastern flank of NATO by redeploying some assets and munitions to the Middle Eastern theater, linking this to a weakening of deterrence against Russia. At the same time, expert journals discuss ideas of a European “nuclear shield” and even the possible transfer to Ukraine of certain “elements of nuclear potential,” with Russian intelligence, such publications claim, regularly “warning” of these scenarios. (interaffairs.ru) This fuels Moscow’s traditional narrative of the US as a power that, lacking strength and resources, nonetheless provokes NATO expansion and pushes Europe toward dangerous militarization.

In Australia the question of trust in the US as an ally takes on a more pragmatic form. Commentators recall long‑running debates about whether Canberra should participate by default in every American campaign. Against the backdrop of Iran and Ukraine some experts stress that when Washington is simultaneously involved in wars in Europe and the Middle East, its ability to quickly come to the aid of the Indo‑Pacific region in a crisis (for example, over Taiwan) no longer looks limitless. Articles in major media discuss not only the specific stalemate in US–Iran talks but also how American overextension is perceived in Beijing and Pyongyang. (abc.net.au) Here the Australian perspective is especially contrasted with the Ukrainian one: Kyiv fears that America is “tired” of Ukraine, while Canberra fears America is too bogged down elsewhere to be able to turn to the Pacific when needed.

The fourth theme is the image of Trump himself and his approach to the war in Ukraine as seen by the three societies. In Ukraine Trump’s assertions that “the end of the war is very near” and that “the problem is Zelensky, not Putin” are perceived as almost a personal insult and an attempt to shift responsibility for the aggression. Ukrainian media extensively quote his statements to Reuters and subsequent interviews: Trump insists that Putin “is ready for peace,” while Ukraine is “less ready” to agree. In response Ukrainian politicians reiterate the thesis “nothing about Ukraine without Ukraine,” and the Foreign Ministry stresses that the fundamental condition of any agreement remains full respect for territorial integrity. (eurointegration.com.ua) In public debate Trump appears as a figure for whom Ukraine is more an object of bargaining with Moscow, Brussels and his own electorate than an ally with an independent voice.

In Russia Trump, by contrast, is described as a “rational isolationist” who “doesn’t want to spend US money on Ukraine.” Russian official and semi‑official media readily cite his statements about the “imminent end” of the conflict and about “Kyiv’s mistakes,” presenting them as proof that even in Washington it is understood: betting on a military defeat of Russia was a “delusion.” (rg.ru) In more cynical columns the idea is voiced that it would benefit the Kremlin if Trump, rather than a more classic interventionist, defined American policy: he can “sell” any compromise to his voters as a “great peace deal” while at the same time undermining allies’ trust in the US.

In Ukraine, however, an increasing motif is emotional distancing from Washington. Based on publications in The New York Times and other Western outlets, commentators note that Zelensky has begun to criticize the US “in ways that would have been unthinkable a year ago,” since attempts to impose a quick peace on terms close to Russia’s are seen as betrayal. Notably, users of Ukrainian and Russian‑language forums discuss not only White House policy but also the responsibility of Europeans: “Europe will supply the AFU with everything until the White House gets the ‘right guy,’” one Russian political scientist paraphrases the mood among Western elites. (ukraina.ru) Here a unique perspective for Ukraine emerges: the US cease to be the unambiguous patron and become a complex, often opposed partner, while the EU and certain Asian players (from South Korea to Gulf states) become equally important for survival.

Finally, all three countries discuss a more abstract but important storyline: what American leadership means in a world where Washington sometimes exits dozens of international organizations, sometimes starts new wars, and sometimes announces short‑term ceasefires in old conflicts. Russian Wikipedia and expert commentary directly link the January US withdrawal from 66 international institutions with “a strengthening of isolationist policy” and the abandonment of multilateral governance. (ru.wikipedia.org) For Russian authors this is a reason to speak of “the end of the unipolar world,” although they admit that neither China nor the EU is yet capable of offering a comparable security architecture. In Australia the same process is described much more mildly: as a potential reformatting of global institutions in which middle powers — including Australia and Ukraine — are forced to become more “self‑sufficient” in defense and diplomacy, not relying entirely on Washington.

Perhaps the most unexpected development is how the lens through which Ukraine, Australia and Russia view the US is gradually changing: instead of the customary division into “friend” and “enemy,” discussions increasingly focus on reliability, predictability and the cost of alliance. In Kyiv they are learning simultaneously to argue with Washington and to sell their military expertise to it, turning dependence into exchange. In Canberra they count on American resources and ask whether they will be sufficient for the Pacific in a world where the US is fighting on two fronts. In Moscow, while continuing to demonize Washington, they watch every tactical move in the White House closely and acknowledge: no matter how much is said about the “decline of America,” decisions in the White House determine how far Russia can go in Ukraine and in other regions.

Thus a new, far more complex picture is taking shape. The US remain a central player, but no longer one whose role is interpreted unambiguously. Ukrainian newspapers, Australian analytical programs and Russian columns argue about Washington — but they now debate not only power, but the quality of leadership, the ability to reconcile American interests with those of allies, and whether the world has a Plan B if America continues to oscillate between isolationism and global intervention.

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Trump Between Berlin, Beijing and Kyiv: Debates Over New U.S. Foreign Policy

In May 2026, global attitudes toward the United States are focused on three interwoven themes: Donald Trump’s visit to China and the attempt to “stabilize” relations; the reduction of the American military presence in Germany amid trade pressure; and Washington’s shifting role in Russia’s war against Ukraine and in the parallel war in Iran. Germany, China and Ukraine view the same White House moves as elements of different games: for Berlin it is a question of security and industry, for Beijing — strategic stability and Taiwan, for Kyiv — survival and predictability of support.

The first major focal point was the Beijing summit between Trump and Xi on May 14–15. In the Chinese official narrative, the visit is described as a step toward “strategic stability” and the prevention of “great‑power conflict.” Chinese media reports after the meeting emphasized that the sides achieved “progress in stabilizing relations,” but left details as vague as possible, while paying special attention to the image of Trump as a guest who was greeted with a red carpet and ceremonial reception in central Beijing. State outlets and allied commentators stress that China promotes the idea of “mutual respect and non‑interference,” while the U.S. is portrayed as a power that has intervened for decades in other countries’ affairs — from the Middle East to East Asia. Against this background, Chinese analysts underscore that the real red line remains Taiwan: even favorable comments about the visit came with reminders that “no new understanding has been reached” on the Taiwan issue, and that the risks of a crisis have not gone away, as Chinese and international commentators wrote when analyzing the summit’s outcome and Xi Jinping’s tough formulations on Taiwan in private conversations with Trump. (ru.euronews.com)

At the same time, the domestic Chinese discourse around the U.S. is noticeably pragmatic. Some experts in academic and quasi‑state institutions interpret the visit as an opportunity to exploit Washington’s strategic overload — chiefly because of the war in Iran and the ongoing conflict in Ukraine — to ease pressure on China in trade and technologies. Chinese reviews emphasize that the U.S. is forced to redistribute resources between Europe and the Middle East, which allegedly strengthens Beijing’s bargaining position: “America cannot handle three major crises at once,” a motif that regularly appears in Chinese commentary, summarizing a thought already present in English‑language analyses of Trump’s visit that argued Iran and Ukraine are becoming the backdrop for a “big deal” with China. (fdd.org)

In German and, more broadly, European optics, the same Beijing summit is seen quite differently. European commentators in major media emphasize its “insufficiency” and the lack of tangible results, while acknowledging that the mere fact of direct dialogue between Washington and Beijing reduces global risks for the EU as a partner of both the U.S. and China. For example, one European review for the international channel Euronews noted that the meeting produced only a symbolic effect, and that the constancy of the American position on Taiwan was deliberately underscored by senior U.S. officials in Western media immediately after the summit. In the same logic, experts point out that the European Union is not a “marginalized” party because it remains an important economic partner for both powers amid their long‑term strategic rivalry. (ru.euronews.com)

For Ukraine, the main question related to the U.S. China policy is less about Taiwan or tariffs and more about possible “exchanges” in a grand bargain. Ukrainian analysts read both Western reports and Chinese statements closely, trying to understand whether Ukraine might become an object of tacit bargaining between Washington, Beijing and Moscow. Against this backdrop, Trump’s decision on a three‑day ceasefire on the front in May 2026 is viewed ambivalently: on the one hand, Kyiv’s media and experts note the value of any respite for civilians and the army; on the other, they point out that the initiative was presented as the personal achievement of the U.S. president and accompanied by rhetoric about the need to “end a war that should never have started,” which in the Ukrainian public space sounds like an attempt to equate aggressor and victim. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The second major theme, actively discussed in both Germany and Ukraine, is the planned reduction of the U.S. military contingent in the FRG and its connection to Washington’s policies on Ukraine and Iran. The Pentagon’s decision to withdraw about 5,000 troops from Germany became for Berlin both an alarming signal and a reason for domestic debate. In statements, German Defense Minister Boris Pistorius voiced a theme of “stimulus” for Europe: in his view, the troop reduction should push the EU to build up its own defense capabilities, not cause panic. However, not everyone in Germany’s political elite shares this optimism. CDU/CSU representatives emphasize that this is not part of a coherent strategy but a “political reflex” of the Trump administration, driven by domestic pressure and external setbacks, including the protracted conflicts in Ukraine and Iran, as well as disputes over the implementation of trade agreements with the EU. One of the ruling party’s foreign‑policy coordinators told Reuters that the simultaneous announcement of troop withdrawals and an increase in tariffs on imported European cars to 25% looks like a set of tactical moves rather than a consistent security architecture. (whbl.com)

For German public debate, this decision became a mirror of an old but unresolved question: can Europe — and above all Germany — truly take responsibility for its own defense if the American “nuclear umbrella” and troop presence become less guaranteed? Liberal and “Atlanticist” voices in Berlin argue that paradoxically, Trump’s steps may in the long term strengthen European defense capabilities, if they spur increased spending and deeper cooperation within the EU. More skeptical analysts see a risk of NATO fragmentation and growing internal contradictions in Europe between Eastern flank countries, for which the American presence remains vital, and those more inclined toward strategic autonomy.

In Warsaw and Kyiv this is perceived far less theoretically. Polish and Ukrainian commentators see the troop withdrawal from Germany as a signal that Washington is willing to use European security as a tool of pressure — on allies as well as adversaries. The Polish prime minister has already openly expressed concern, stressing that Warsaw needs clear and long‑term guarantees of U.S. presence on NATO’s eastern flank amid the ongoing war. In Ukrainian discourse, this decision is linked to a changing logic of American aid: if Washington grows weary of the conflict while Iran consumes a significant share of U.S. military resources, then the mere reduction of the contingent in Germany is read as another stroke toward a possible “roll‑back” of involvement. European diplomats interviewed by the Western press emphasized that, against the backdrop of resource reallocation to the war in Iran, tensions are already emerging over the weapons program for Ukraine, where European states are partially compensating for reductions in American supplies. (washingtonpost.com)

The third common theme is U.S. policy on Ukraine and the war in Iran as two interconnected conflicts perceived differently in Berlin, Beijing and Kyiv. German press and think tanks stress that the war in Iran increasingly distracts the White House, reducing the predictability of decisions on Ukraine. For Germany this is not only a moral‑political issue but a purely pragmatic one: instability in the Middle East hits energy and trade, while uncertainty over Ukraine affects the security of the EU’s eastern borders. One Western analytical column widely cited in German outlets noted that Trump’s idea to withdraw or radically reduce the American military presence in Europe “could be beneficial to everyone, and above all to America itself,” based on the argument that Russia, drained by war, does not present an immediate threat to Germany. This logic provokes lively debate in Germany: some experts agree that Moscow is seriously weakened, but others argue that it is precisely U.S. and EU support for Ukraine that deters Russia from further expansion. (cato.org)

In Ukraine the reaction to Washington’s policy is far less academic. Kyiv commentators stress a fundamental asymmetry: any U.S. “fatigue” from the conflict for Americans themselves means merely shifts in budget lines and changes in the domestic political agenda, whereas for Ukraine this is an existential matter. Ukrainian media and analytical reviews recall U.S. public‑opinion polls showing declining confidence in Trump’s ability to make balanced decisions on Ukraine and growing partisan disagreements over the level of support. Against this background, Ukraine’s elite watches every signal from Congress and the Pentagon closely, fearing that support might become a tool of domestic political struggle in the United States. (pewresearch.org)

For Beijing, the combination of the war in Ukraine and the conflict in Iran is part of a broader picture of “American overload.” Chinese analysts in their columns and appearances often emphasize that the U.S. has created a situation of strategic dispersion for itself and now must seek “stability” in relations with China, hoping at least for a temporary easing of tensions in the Asia‑Pacific region. It is telling that official Chinese statements on the wars in Ukraine and Iran are framed around themes of “diplomatic settlement” and criticism of the U.S. “sanctions logic,” while Beijing’s own interests in access to raw materials and supply routes remain offstage. Commentators in Chinese media stress that Beijing is playing the long game, in which each new U.S. crisis gives China additional arguments for a multipolar world and the weakening of Western alliances.

Interestingly, in all three countries — Germany, China and Ukraine — a similar motif is noticeable: the U.S. is no longer perceived as a monolithic, unequivocally predictable actor. German commentators increasingly speak of “Trump’s policy,” not “U.S. policy,” emphasizing the role of the president’s personal style and his electoral interests. Ukrainian analysts, for their part, distinguish between American state institutions — Congress, the Pentagon, the diplomatic corps — and White House rhetoric, trying to understand where real red lines lie. In China official rhetoric traditionally generalizes the U.S. as a “hegemonic power,” but expert discussions pay more attention to domestic political polarization in America and its influence on foreign policy, especially ahead of elections and amid the president’s falling approval ratings — a point regularly noted by Western press quoted in Chinese outlets. (euronews.com)

Thus, today’s debates about the U.S. in Berlin, Beijing and Kyiv are not simply reactions to individual Trump decisions. They are reflections on how to live in a world where American power remains decisive, but its application becomes increasingly fragmented, situational and tied to Washington’s domestic politics. For Germany the key question is whether Europe can turn American unpredictability into an incentive for its own strategic maturity. For China — how to use the window of opportunity without driving relations with the U.S. into direct confrontation over Taiwan. For Ukraine — how to preserve vital support when Washington is simultaneously fighting in Iran, bargaining with Beijing and squabbling with Berlin over tariffs and troops. There are no answers yet in Berlin, Beijing or Kyiv, but these questions are precisely what today’s local conversations about what America of 2026 is and what place it will occupy in tomorrow’s world are built around.

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How the World Sees Washington: Views from Brazil, Saudi Arabia and Israel

The United States remains the nervous center of global discussions — not only because of its own internal crises, but also due to the constant intertwining of American policy with regional conflicts, trade wars and energy deals. In Brazil, Saudi Arabia and Israel people talk about Washington quite differently today, but three major themes recur in these conversations: the role of the US in the Iran dossier and the Middle East balance of power, American domestic instability as a factor of global uncertainty, and, finally, a pragmatic interest in Washington's economic and technological solutions. What is often presented in American media as an internal struggle or doctrinal dispute is read abroad primarily through the lens of “what does this mean for us tomorrow morning.”

One of the hottest topics is the growing confrontation between the US and Iran, where Washington's foreign-policy moves are perceived not as abstract geopolitics but as a direct threat or opportunity. In the Saudi press and on pan-Arab channels, the crisis in Washington–Tehran relations is discussed as a question of regional security and the survival of the existing order. In a segment on Asharq News, the intensification between the US and Iran is described as a dangerous mix of “on-the-ground escalation and harsh rhetoric,” creating “a fog and uncertainty about the future of these relations”; guest journalist Alya Azz ad-Din from Washington stresses that the US president’s statements about “victory and a shift in the balance of power” directly contradict Iran’s denials of any negotiations, reinforcing a “complete lack of trust” between the parties. In this picture Washington is not a guarantor of stability but a source of risk, whose signals are contradictory even for the region’s closest partners. In a piece by Saudi Okaz about the collapse of a ceasefire and the threat of renewed US military action against Iran, the focus is on tough statements from American military and political leadership: the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff asserts that the military is “ready to resume operations at any moment,” while a White House spokesperson, on the one hand, says the US is “closer than ever to an agreement” with Tehran, and on the other — emphasizes that the president “has several options and will not hesitate to use them.” Such a split — “we are almost at peace, but ready for war” — in the Saudi reading appears not as a delicate balance of pressure and diplomacy but as evidence that the administration in Washington itself has not decided on a final goal, and therefore risks for the region remain maximal. (okaz.com.sa)

Israeli media view the same US–Iran knot from another angle, seeing the US simultaneously as a defender and as an actor capable, at a critical moment, of preferring a deal with Tehran over Jerusalem’s interests. An analytical piece on Ynet examining the stalling US–Iran talks emphasizes that Washington has “virtually frozen” the dialogue, while Tehran is increasing its demands up to ultimatums. Against this backdrop the remark by US Vice President J.D. Vance, who in a White House interview asserts that “we are making progress” on the Iran file, is striking — in the Israeli context this phrase sounds not as reassurance but as a signal of a possible willingness by the White House to make compromises that would be unacceptable to Israel. The same article quotes Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov saying that “the true goal of the US and Israel is to prevent a reconciliation between Shiites and Sunnis”; in the Israeli presentation this is not so much a literal acceptance of the Russian interpretation as a demonstration of how Washington’s actions are interpreted by other major regional players, complicating Israel’s diplomatic maneuvering. (ynet.co.il)

Interestingly, in the Saudi discourse the US–Iran theme is closely intertwined with the question of the future of regional deals and normalization. In Okaz’s piece about backroom talks in Washington it is emphasized that a possible major US agreement with Syria and a Saudi-supported new Syrian leadership would depend both on “Israel’s intentions” and on the US administration’s “willingness to believe in the seriousness of the Israeli side” regarding peaceful settlement. Thus, America appears as an architect trying to manage the conflict with Iran, tracks of normalization and the Syrian file at the same time; in the Saudi press there is noticeable distrust in Washington’s ability to hold all these threads without collapsing the fragile regional balance. (okaz.com.sa)

The Israeli agenda regarding the US, beyond the Iranian issue, is heavily focused on the triangle Washington–Jerusalem–international institutions. In Israeli right-wing outlets, such as Israel Hayom, episodes of active American intervention in debates about the UN’s role and “anti-Israel bias” in international structures are long remembered. A telling publication about a letter from one hundred US senators to the UN secretary-general calling to “stop bias against Israel” emphasizes: the United States, as the largest UN donor, demands a change in the format of discussions which, according to the letter’s authors, the Human Rights Council has turned into “permanent trials against Israel.” In the Israeli interpretation this episode serves as a reference point: even when the White House criticizes Israeli government policy, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem remember the power of the “bipartisan consensus” in the Senate, which periodically steps up to defend Israel on the international stage. (israelhayom.co.il)

If Middle Eastern media discuss the US primarily through the prism of security and war, in Brazil the American agenda more often appears linked to economics and institutional crises. In major Brazilian outlets such as Folha de S.Paulo or G1, pieces about the US traditionally connect Washington analysis with internal Brazilian disputes: American government shutdowns become an illustration of “what happens when budget policy is tied to extreme poles,” US trade wars with China form the backdrop for discussing the vulnerability of Brazilian exports, and disputes over presidential and judicial powers provide a convenient frame for comparisons with Brazil. A typical column in the Brazilian press analyzes the partial “halt” of the US federal government as a symptom of deep polarization: the American president insists on funding a controversial project (for example, strengthening the southern border), the opposition in Congress blocks the budget, and millions of civil servants become hostages of political games. In an Israeli article on this subject it is briefly described how Donald Trump’s fight to fund a wall on the Mexican border led to a prolonged federal shutdown; Brazilian commentators use such episodes to build arguments for the need for institutional safeguards that protect the state apparatus from being held hostage by political blackmail. (ynet.co.il)

For the Brazilian elite another line is important — the US relationship with China and high-tech supply chains. In a Saudi Okaz economic review a deal was examined under which China agrees to ease restrictions on exports of rare-earth metals in favor of American companies, and the US, in turn, extends partial tariff relief on Chinese imports and postpones the imposition of 100-percent duties on certain categories of goods. For a Brazilian audience such agreements matter not only in themselves but also as an indicator of how seriously America is prepared to use tariff pressure and technology access as tools of foreign policy. Brazil — a major supplier of raw materials and agricultural products to both China and the US — sees local analysts closely watching how the “trade war” between the two giants redistributes demand, opening or closing windows of opportunity for the Brazilian economy. The Saudi text presents this story as an example that even after years of escalation Beijing and Washington are capable of pragmatic “exchanges” — a point that suggests to Brazilian readers that the space for maneuver between the two superpowers remains, but depends on Brazil’s ability to play a more active multivector game. (okaz.com.sa)

Saudi Arabia, for its part, views US economic moves through the prism of its own oil- and gas-dependent transformation. Any Washington decision on sanctions against major producers — above all Iran and Russia — is immediately projected onto oil prices, budgetary targets and the kingdom’s internal reforms. Therefore Saudi analysts try to see in American policy a structure and predictability that would allow Riyadh to plan long-term energy strategies. Instead, they face a series of mutually contradictory messages: the White House tightens sanctions while simultaneously seeking workarounds to lower gasoline prices inside the US; threatens military strikes on Iran while signaling readiness for an agreement; pressures the oil cartel over production volumes while needing to preserve its stability. This generates a persistent theme in Saudi public discourse: without a clear American “doctrine” in the Middle East, the kingdom increasingly relies on its own multilateral combinations with China, Russia and regional partners, and the US evolves from the status of “sole guarantor” to “one important but not the only” actor.

In Israeli discourse, unlike the Brazilian and Saudi ones, the topic of American democratic institutions and scandals is presented with a note of recognition: Israeli politics itself has long been living in a mode of perpetual campaigns and legal battles. Publications about how the American president, under pressure from investigations or lawsuits, considers pardoning his associates remind Israeli readers of their own sagas about the judicial vicissitudes of politicians. In one older but illustrative Ynet piece it was told how Democrats in Congress insisted that the president should not pardon his aide convicted of perjury and obstruction of justice in a CIA “leak” case; in Israel such stories are read as a variation on the local theme of “where is the line between political loyalty and the rule of law.” For Israeli columnists the American experience is more a mirror than a model: it shows to what extent “politics has consumed institutions” even in the US, and how important societal and press pressure becomes to protect the judicial system. (ynet.co.il)

Finally, one should not underestimate the cultural and social image of the US that emerges in these three countries through strictly political stories. In the Brazilian imagination America remains a trendsetter — from digital platforms to debates about freedom of speech and morality. In the Israeli imagination it is a key ideological and military ally, but a capricious one, dependent on party changes in Washington. In the Saudi imagination it is still the most important military and technological pillar, but no longer a monopolist — rather a participant in a dense, multi‑angled game that also includes China, Russia, regional powers and supranational organizations. As one Brazilian columnist wrote in Folha de S.Paulo, discussing the American budget crisis and parallel trade maneuvers with China, the US “long ago ceased to be the ‘invisible hand’ of global stability and turned into a very visible, sometimes trembling hand that everyone tries to keep at a safe distance, but not let go completely.” A phrase born in a South American context unexpectedly describes well the feeling in Riyadh and the cautious skepticism in Tel Aviv.

As a result, a paradoxical image emerges: on the one hand, neither Brazil, nor Saudi Arabia, nor Israel are ready to seriously imagine a world without American involvement; on the other — in all three cases local elites and media increasingly speak of the need for “insurance” against Washington’s unpredictability. For Brazil this means diversifying trade and technology ties; for the Saudis — multi-move deals with the East and parallel tracks of regional settlement; for Israel — trying to preserve bipartisan support in Congress while simultaneously developing new axes of cooperation in the Middle East. America remains at the center of their attention, but no longer as an immovable axis of the world, rather as a large but unstable magnet around which each of these actors tries to build its own orbit.

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How the World Sees Trump's America: China Visit, Iran War, and a Country That Lost Its Halo

In mid‑May 2026 much of the world’s attention has again turned to the United States — not so much to Washington’s specific decisions as to how those decisions reverberate elsewhere. Donald Trump’s trip to Beijing, set against the backdrop of a protracted war with Iran and a series of assassination attempts on the president, has triggered a new wave of commentary in Japan, Israel and France. Here America is discussed no longer as the “default hegemon” but as a source of risk, economic pressure and political instability.

Three storylines run through the coverage. First, a redistribution of power between the US and China, seen particularly clearly in Tokyo and Paris and through which Trump’s current visit to China is viewed. Second, Washington’s economic and financial policies, provoking debate in France about whether the United States has turned from a “world insurer” into its extortioner. Third, the combination of domestic radicalization and external aggression, discussed in Israel through the prism of its own security and the war with Iran, and in France under the term “the destruction of the international order.”

Japanese and French reactions to Trump’s trip to Beijing largely converge, though they emphasize different points. Japanese economic and international‑affairs outlets see the current summit in Beijing as another episode in the making of a G2 world — a kind of “directorate” of the US and China, where others, including Japan and Europe, risk becoming objects rather than subjects. In an analytical note by former Washington correspondent and now Meiji University professor Hiroki Sugita, published by the Japan Oil Institute for International Investments, 2026 is described as the moment when “the G2 world finally stops being a hypothesis” and becomes practice, and Japan is forced to learn “to live with two superpowers whose priorities increasingly disregard their allies.” See Sugita’s PDF analysis on the Japan Oil Institute for International Investments website. (joi.or.jp)

This prompts interest in the position from which Trump arrives in Beijing. Japanese economic media emphasize that the military campaign in Iran, which is consuming American resources, objectively weakens the US bargaining position. Bloomberg Japan, in a piece about the upcoming meeting at the end of April, noted that after the start of the war against Iran Trump is going to China “much weaker than six months ago,” when he met Xi in Korea: resources are diverted to the Middle East, inflationary pressure is rising, and US dependence on Chinese rare earths only increases vulnerability. (bloomberg.com)

At the same time, Japanese press describes the negotiations in a pointedly pragmatic way. CNN Japan’s reports that Apple, Tesla and Nvidia executives flew to Beijing with Trump are used to illustrate that despite rhetoric about “tech decoupling,” major American business still bets on China. The piece says that the presence of Tim Cook, Elon Musk and Jensen Huang alongside the president becomes a “silent signal to the markets” about the priority of maintaining access to Chinese consumers and production chains — even if restrictive duties and 25% “levies” on low‑performance chips intended for AI remain in place. (cnn.co.jp)

Japanese TV channels and agencies also focus on symbolism. TBS and TV Asahi point to the unusually “cordial” tone of opening statements in Beijing for the current relationship: Xi Jinping talks about a desire “to bring more stability and certainty to the world,” while Trump highlights a readiness “to expand cooperation and manage disagreements.” However, in Japan this mostly provokes skepticism: political reviews remind readers that the same rhetoric accompanied previous visits, while reality brings new tariffs and export controls. (newsdig.tbs.co.jp)

The French debate around the US‑China confrontation is less technocratic and far more emotional. For France, Trump’s visit to Beijing is only the tip of the iceberg; the main interest shifts to how that confrontation “squeezes” Europe. Euronews, in a piece about the “duel of economic superpowers” ahead of the visit, stressed that Europe long ago found itself a battleground for standards and supply chains: Washington accuses Beijing of “distorting competition” via subsidies and industrial policy, while Beijing replies that US controls on technology exports are an attempt to “slow down Chinese development.” In the same context, recent US measures — from sanctions to tariffs — are recalled as pushing European companies to take sides and destabilizing established trade patterns. (fr.euronews.com)

These sentiments are taken up by more politicized platforms. In PolitiqueMatin’s piece “Emmanuel Macron Confronting the US: Europe Must Open Its Eyes to Economic War,” France is urged to “stop behaving like the blind” and to acknowledge that the post–Cold War world in which the EU developed no longer exists. Author Adélaïde Mott explicitly calls the current US approach to Europe a form of economic coercion and warns that if Paris and Brussels do not develop their own strategy, Europe risks remaining “a prize in someone else’s struggle” rather than an independent actor. (politiquematin.fr)

From this follows one of the key French lines: under Trump the United States is no longer perceived as the “insurer” of the world order, willing to bear costs for common stability, but rather as a racketeer demanding tribute for security and market access. That is exactly how an analyst writing in Le Grand Continent frames the situation in an article with the striking headline that Trump has turned the US “from the world’s insurer into a racketeer.” The author argues that Washington no longer offers the world an insurance policy but sells “protection” at inflated prices, using the dollar, trade and military power as tools of pressure on partners. (legrandcontinent.eu)

This view naturally attaches to another hot topic in France — the American war with Iran and the broader dismantling of the liberal international order. In a January analysis in the Journal de Montréal devoted to “one year of destruction of the international order by Donald Trump,” it is noted that in a matter of months Washington has lifted or accelerated the dismantling of a number of postwar system principles — from the predictability of alliance commitments to codes of conduct in trade and the use of force. The author points out that by starting a costly new war against Iran while simultaneously promising a sharp increase in the military budget to 4.4% of GDP, the White House sends the world a signal: rules no longer restrain either the US or its opponents. (journaldemontreal.com)

Against this background concern grows about the economic foundations of American power. An analysis by the Geopolitique Institute Le Grand Continent on the US becoming an “inverse creditor” emphasizes that America’s external position, prolonged deficits and growing dependence on foreign capital, combined with a policy of magical thinking — the belief that one can simultaneously finance a huge deficit, wage a major war and still retain absolute financial “safe‑haven” status — make the system, in the eyes of European observers, much less stable. (legrandcontinent.eu)

This macro picture resonates with a more cultural‑psychological layer. In a recent Le Parisien piece headlined “A Former Model Country Has Turned into an Unpleasant Problem,” a French interlocutor returning from Silicon Valley says that “the characteristic American optimism and life force have evaporated,” replaced by fatigue and anxiety. French press increasingly asks: how should the world count on American leadership if Americans themselves no longer seem to believe in their model? (leparisien.fr)

In Israel, by contrast, the focus is far more concrete and “sharp”: the United States is seen primarily as a warring superpower and decisive actor in the confrontation with Iran, as well as a country where political violence is rapidly normalizing. News of the recent assassination attempt on Donald Trump during the White House Correspondents’ Dinner at the Washington Hilton is not seen here as a distant incident but as an alarming symptom for an ally. Israeli outlets detail how the attacker, armed with a shotgun and a handgun, made it to a floor just one level above the hall where nearly two thousand people were gathered — from cabinet members to congressmen and journalists. It is emphasized that this is already the third case in recent years in which a sitting US president has been targeted, and comparisons to the attempt on Ronald Reagan in the same hotel in 1981 appear in the Israeli press for good reason. (mako.co.il)

Israeli analysts see this not merely as security lapses but as a sign of deeper radicalization. Israel Hayom, in an analytical piece about “vulnerabilities” in the security system, writes that less than two years after two assassination attempts during the 2024 campaign, the current incident reveals imperfections even in the world’s most powerful protection apparatus and raises the question: how resilient are America’s political institutions if even the president’s person is no longer protected in the literal sense? (israelhayom.co.il)

This storyline is directly tied to the US war against Iran, which Israeli press treats as part of the regional security equation for Israel. The assassination attempt on Trump occurred amid stalled talks between Washington and Tehran: religious‑political outlets like Hageula write of a “drama in Washington,” where on one evening an attempt is made on an ally and the Iranian regime — said, according to them, to have received military support from China and Russia — continues to demand hard terms for ending the conflict, from full lifting of sanctions and reparations to securing Iranian control over the Strait of Hormuz. (hageula.com)

In the Israeli discussion the United States occupies a dual position. On the one hand, it is an indispensable ally waging a war whose outcome directly affects Israel’s security. On the other, it is a system where rising domestic polarization, repeated attempts of violence against the president and legal uncertainty about the use of force abroad cause concern: might Israel become a hostage to American internal crises? Not for nothing do the pieces covering the events in Washington intersperse footage of those events with quotes about how instability in the US is read in Tehran and Beirut as an opportunity to increase pressure on the West.

Notably, the US‑China angle also appears in the Israeli agenda, but not in the European key of economic war; rather, it is seen as a factor affecting the war with Iran. Reports on Trump’s visit to Beijing emphasize that Western media simultaneously report arms deliveries to Iran via third countries involving China, and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu told CBS that Beijing “supplied Iran with components for missile production,” which raises particular concern in Jerusalem. Ynet explains that revealing this “Beijing–Tehran–Moscow axis” makes the negotiations in Beijing a matter of intense attention for Israel: the degree of US firmness or leniency toward China could determine the pace and scale of military assistance to the Iranians. (ynet.co.il)

Despite differences in national optics, common motifs stand out in the three countries. The first is the image of the US as a power that is at once indispensable and dangerous. In France they say America is destroying the order it created and becoming “a problem Europeans must manage” rather than a reliable anchor. In Japan the US remains a key military and technological ally, but analysts increasingly describe Washington as one of the centers of power in a G2 world acting primarily in its own interests and capable of striking deals with Beijing over the heads of allies. In Israel America is still a pillar of security, but also a source of instability — externally because of the war with Iran, and internally because of escalating political violence.

The second motif is fatigue with American exceptionalism. French writers reflecting on the “inverse creditor” and US “racketeering” essentially question the idea that the world can continue to blindly trust the dollar and Washington’s military‑political umbrella. Japanese experts warn that the illusion that America will always come to the rescue and finance global leadership no longer corresponds to the reality of protracted wars and internal deficits. Israeli commentators, in their own terms, ask a similar question: how much can one rely on a superpower whose political institutions cannot guarantee the basic personal security of their own leader?

The third motif is a search for autonomy, expressed differently. In France this turns into the agenda of Europe’s “strategic autonomy”: the need to develop an economic and technological strategy independent of both the US and China, and not to make the EU an appendage of either camp. In Japan it results in a more cautious posture toward US‑China rivalry than before: political scientists advise Tokyo not to become an unconditional outpost of Washington in Asia but to craft its own line, taking into account China’s long‑term rise and Japan’s dependence on its market. In Israel it fuels debate on how to minimize vulnerability to American domestic turbulence, whether through diversifying military suppliers or pursuing more active independent diplomacy on the Iranian track.

Finally, important is what is almost invisible in Western — and especially American — self‑reflection, but is clear from these three vantage points. To Japanese, French and Israeli observers the United States no longer appears as a monolithic superpower conductor. Rather it is a heavy, split player: internally polarized, economically overstretched, simultaneously waging war and trying to outplay China in the tech race — yet still possessing resources no other country can replace.

This ambivalence sets the tone of current discussions. The world still looks at the US — but no longer with undisguised deference, as at an unquestioned model and guarantor; instead, it watches warily, as at a powerful but unpredictable neighbor whose moves should be anticipated and hedged rather than simply supported.

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How the US Is Becoming "Problem No

In recent months the picture of how the US is written about and debated in New Delhi, Seoul and Kyiv has noticeably changed. For an observer who reads only the American press, Washington still seems like the center of the "democracy world," simultaneously at war with Iran, trying to finish Russia's war against Ukraine, and reshaping the global economic order. But in India, South Korea and Ukraine people increasingly speak of the US not as an unconditional leader but as a large yet extremely selfish player whose decisions impose high costs on others. Four interrelated themes come to the fore: the US‑Israel war on Iran and its side effects; the weakening and conditionality of American support for Ukraine; Washington's economic pressure on partners, above all India; and technological partnership—seen simultaneously as an opportunity and a trap.

The main new storyline uniting all three countries is the US‑Israel war against Iran. In Ukraine it is discussed almost as a "second front" of the same larger war, where Russia and Iran act as a linked bloc and the US is torn between the two directions. An analytical piece in European Pravda about a "new front of the global conflict" directly draws a parallel with Vietnam: the authors warn that the US could again be drawn into a protracted war without a clear exit strategy, as happened under Lyndon Johnson. They emphasize that the operation against Iran has already sharpened disagreements between the US and European allies, which for Ukraine means further weakening of an already imperfect NATO. In another analysis in the same outlet about "who won and who lost" from the war with Iran, an unwelcome conclusion for Kyiv is reached: the Kremlin has won at least twice—the US is expending weapons that could have gone to Ukraine and is deepening splits within the Western camp, weakening the alliance's deterrent potential. (eurointegration.com.ua)

Ukraine's public debate directly links the Iranian campaign to the prospects for its own security. In a ZN.ua piece with a conspicuously harsh headline about how the US risks "repeating Russia's mistakes in Ukraine," the author compares Trump's calculus on Iran with Russian illusions in 2022: a quick operation and regime change were expected, whereas in practice it increasingly resembles a prolonged war of attrition. For Kyiv the main risk is that Washington will "get stuck" in the Middle East, leaving resources and attention for Ukraine chronically scarce. (zn.ua)

Ukrainian experts in interviews and columns actively debate whether the war in Iran benefits Kyiv. Political scientist Vitaliy Bala, speaking with Interfax‑Ukraine, points to a strange contrast: toward Iran the US first seeks a cessation of hostilities and then talks about negotiations, whereas Ukraine is pressured into dialogue with Moscow without a real ceasefire. In his view, the US "has not achieved any goals" in Iran besides destruction and replacing some functionaries with others who might be even more radical. Economist Tymofiy Mylovanov, president of the Kyiv School of Economics, stresses in the same piece that Tehran's sense of impunity has nonetheless been shaken—but Iran's military machine is far from broken, meaning the crisis will be long, and Ukraine's competition with another theater of war for Washington's attention is now permanent. (interfax.com.ua)

In the more popular, unofficial segment of the Ukrainian internet the tone is even harsher. In forum discussions about the war in Iran recurring motifs emerge: some participants view the conflict as "beneficial" in the sense that Iran is a direct enemy of Ukraine and a key supplier of drones to Russia, so its weakening is strategically useful. Others stress that the US "cannot beat Iran," oil prices rise, Russia gains additional revenue and sanction relief, and Ukraine faces higher fuel costs and the risk of becoming a "forgotten war." This duality—gratitude to the US for striking Iran, Russia's partner, and irritation at the side effects—is one of the main emotions in Ukrainian society today. (reddit.com)

Against this backdrop, the words of Ukraine's president Volodymyr Zelenskyy are becoming increasingly candid criticism of Washington. His warning that after the active phase of the war with Iran ends the Trump administration could return pressure on Kyiv demanding territorial concessions for "peace" with Russia is widely quoted in Ukrainian media. In the same vein he expresses confidence that the protracted campaign in the Persian Gulf is already disrupting weapons deliveries to Ukraine, and he describes the temporary rollback of sanctions on Russian oil as a signal to the Kremlin of impunity. (lb.ua)

And here the Indian voice unexpectedly joins the Ukrainian one: for India, the world's third‑largest oil importer, the US‑Israel war with Iran is above all a matter of energy survival and fuel prices. In Indian analytical blogs and columns recent months have been full of discussions about how conflict in the Strait of Hormuz will hit India and how Washington is trying to punish Delhi via tariffs and sanctions for maintaining ties with Moscow and Tehran. One author writing for an Indian IT audience directly links the Iranian conflict, rising oil prices and White House pressure on India: in his view, the US shifts the costs of its "imperial" policy onto developing countries and then moralizes about making the "right choice" of allies. (abhs.in)

Thus the first common theme for all three countries emerges: Washington is increasingly seen not only as a source of security but also as an "exogenous risk"—it can, by its decision, open a new front, and Kyiv, New Delhi and Seoul will be the ones to pay, in both literal and figurative terms.

The second cross‑cutting theme is the erosion of trust in American security guarantees, primarily in Ukraine but with obvious implications for Asia. On Ukrainian political and expert platforms it is now commonplace to say that the US "can no longer, and does not want to" be a guarantor of Ukraine's long‑term security in the previous format. Reports that Washington does not intend to provide formal security guarantees until a peace agreement with Russia is concluded have given Kyiv the sense of "conditional support": the US is willing to help but not to bind itself legally. (en.apa.az)

This uncertainty is fueled further by how the Ukrainian press describes the evolution of the Trump administration's line: a push for a "quick peace" at any cost, attempts to impose three‑day ceasefires on dates convenient to Moscow, and a reduction of sanctions pressure on Russian oil to stabilize prices domestically. Ukrainian commentators in outlets like the Kyiv Post and major online media sharply criticize this approach as strategically short‑sighted: for the sake of short‑term domestic economic relief, the US is willing to undermine its own position in the larger war, in which a Ukrainian victory is a key test of American reliability for allies worldwide. (kyivpost.com)

Interestingly, Ukraine is also giving a more "sovereign" response. Interviews and columns increasingly contain the idea that even if American military assistance dries up, the country is not as vulnerable as it was in 2022–2023. Directors of analytical centers in Kyiv say plainly that Ukraine has learned to fight relying on its own defense industry and European aid; American support remains important but is no longer seen as the "only lifeline." This security emancipation is an important signal to Asian countries: the United States is increasingly viewed as a partner to be approached pragmatically, not as a patron to whom one can delegate all responsibility. (reddit.com)

In South Korea the theme of American guarantees sounds milder but is similarly present beneath the surface. Against the backdrop of the war in Iran and the need for the US to reallocate resources to the Middle East, the Korean press notes how this already affects the timetable of US‑China contacts and diplomatic priorities. Yonhap reported that Donald Trump's visit to China was postponed "because of the war with Iran," and in Seoul this is seen as a symptom: the US cannot simultaneously wage a large war in the Middle East, maintain a hard line of Chinese containment, and keep the same level of attention on the Korean Peninsula. For South Korean society, living in the shadow of North Korea's nuclear arsenal, this is another reason to ponder the degree of dependence on the American umbrella. (yna.co.kr)

The third major theme where reactions from India, Ukraine and Korea converge is US economic and sanctions pressure on allies under the banner of confronting Russia and Iran. In India this line is discussed especially sharply because Delhi has found itself targeted by Washington's new tariff policy. The Indian press covered in detail the 25 percent "penalty" tariffs introduced by the Trump administration to force India to reduce purchases of Russian oil. Even some Democratic members of the US Congress opposed these measures, arguing that India was being unfairly singled out. But in Indian public discourse the feeling has taken hold that Washington is ready to treat India more like a "problem country" than a key partner in Asia. (financialexpress.com)

A bilateral trade deal also caused political resonance: in New Delhi part of the elite presented it as a success, while the opposition called it a "capitulation to the US." Major Indian opposition parties accused Narendra Modi's government of granting Washington highly sensitive levers of influence—up to mechanisms to monitor imports of Russian oil and other steps that limit India's strategic autonomy. The Financial Express quoted a characteristic slogan of opponents: "Modi made India surrender land." Even if not meant literally, the metaphor shows how relations with the US are increasingly perceived as an unequal exchange in which geopolitical support is paid for with political and economic sovereignty. (financialexpress.com)

For Ukraine the economic aspect of American policy appears differently but with a similar undertone: temporary easing of sanctions on Russian oil to restrain global prices, and the redirection of some defense orders to needs in the war with Iran, call into question the thesis of "maximum pressure" on Moscow. In Ukrainian economic and political debates this is interpreted as Washington trying to "balance" its interests: lightly pressure Iran, avoid a spike in US gasoline prices, not overload the defense budget—and all at the expense of weakening the sanctions regime that was a matter of survival for Ukraine. (reddit.com)

In South Korea the economic angle of American policy is most often discussed in the context of technological and industrial security. Seoul watches with interest as the US both tightens the sanctions noose around China's tech sector and shifts parts of production chains to friendly countries—including India and, prospectively, Ukraine. For Korean corporations this is both opportunity and threat: on one hand, markets for Korean electronics, arms, and air‑ and missile‑defense solutions grow; on the other, Washington increasingly demands a choice between the American and Chinese markets, hitting the traditional business models of the largest chaebols. The "with us or against us" logic that the US applies to India and Ukraine is gradually reaching Seoul too.

The fourth common theme is technological partnership with the US as a source of ambition but also skepticism. In the India‑US context this is most noticeable in semiconductors. A recent analytical piece prepared with Indian experts for the Carnegie Endowment reveals New Delhi's internal perspective: India wants to become a major player in global semiconductor value chains, but many fear the US might use it as a cheap assembly base without sharing critical technologies and while retaining control over key nodes. The article speaks of "unresolved challenges" in semiconductor cooperation: mismatched industrial policies, a gap between American expectations on IP protection and India's drive for technological sovereignty, and the risk that India will remain an "informal insider" without formal access to the high‑tech club. (carnegieendowment.org)

Ukraine shows a different but related storyline: war has turned the country into a laboratory of modern military technologies, primarily in drones and counter‑drone air defense systems. Kyiv is increasingly discussing possible "partnership" with the US not only as a recipient of weapons but also as a supplier of solutions and expertise. A CBS News piece about progress toward a landmark US‑Ukraine anti‑drone defense agreement emphasizes that Ukrainian innovations born from fighting Russian and Iranian drones are now in global demand, especially given the war with Iran. In Ukrainian commentary this is seen as a transition from the role of "junior partner" to that of a technological co‑author, albeit an unequal one. (cbsnews.com)

Nevertheless, skepticism persists in both India and Ukraine: how ready are the US to genuinely share technologies rather than just buy foreign developments or place the "dirty" parts of the chain with partners? Indian expert debates on semiconductors express the view that Washington is more intent on reliably severing India's ties to Chinese standards and infrastructure than on truly developing an industry in India. Ukrainian discussions of drone technologies and air defense contain the fear that after the hot phase of the war the US might "close off" key developments for itself or sharply restrict exports from Ukraine to preserve its technological edge. Both countries are learning to read American policy not only for its rhetoric of partnership but also for the structure of real incentives.

Finally, there is another, more emotional but telling line of discussion, especially in India: attitudes toward Donald Trump’s rhetoric and his circle. Controversial remarks calling India "some hole on the planet" and labeling Indian programmers "gangsters with laptops"—who supposedly did more harm to the US than the mafia—were widely discussed in Indian public space. For the IT community this became an important marker: the president of a country that for decades benefited from cheap, skilled Indian labor and migration of specialists now openly uses demeaning language as part of his domestic political battles. Combined with tariff pressure and attempts to limit visas, this shapes an image of the US in India not as a "land of opportunity" but as a cynical partner that easily sacrifices the dignity and interests of others for domestic political points. (abhs.in)

For Ukraine the emotional analogue is Trump's slips and statements that Ukraine "lost militarily" or his confusion of Ukraine with Iran in public comments. Ukrainian media present this not only as the personal incompetence of the US president but also as a symbol of the White House's waning attention to the Ukrainian issue amid the Iranian war. Together with reduced American diplomatic time devoted to the Ukrainian dossier, this reinforces a sense of vulnerability and simultaneously pushes toward the idea: one must rely primarily on oneself. (hromadske.ua)

There is an overall logic to all this, though it is not immediately obvious. India, South Korea and Ukraine are very different in history, regime type, level of development and relationships with the US. Yet in all three societies there is a noticeable shift from a romanticized image of America to a pragmatic, sometimes harshly critical perception. The US remains a hugely important partner—a source of weapons, technologies, markets and, to some extent, security. But it is simultaneously becoming a risk factor: a country capable of starting a new war far from its borders and thereby destabilizing markets and diverting resources; an ally that sets conditions linking a partner’s economic and political behavior; a technological leader in no rush to share core competencies.

How India, Korea and Ukraine talk about America in spring 2026 says less about the "decline of the US" than about the maturation of its partners. They are no longer ready to treat Washington as a moral center and an unchallengeable guarantor, but neither are they rushing to sever ties. Instead a new, more complex configuration is forming: relations in which the US remains the largest player but increasingly must deal with allies who read American policy as soberly and suspiciously as they once read Moscow's or Beijing's. That is the main change in international perception of the US, visible from New Delhi, Seoul and Kyiv, but not yet fully grasped in Washington itself.

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How the world talks about the US today

In mid‑May 2026, discussion of the United States in leading media spaces of China, Saudi Arabia and Germany revolves almost entirely around a trio of themes: Donald Trump’s visit to Beijing and the restart of U.S.‑China relations, the war with Iran and the crisis around the Strait of Hormuz, and a more general question — how reliable the American global leader and guarantor of security and an open economy still is. These themes intertwine: what in Beijing is presented as a transformation of the balance of power looks on the shores of the Persian Gulf like a risk of being dragged into someone else’s war, and in Berlin — like a painful reminder that European security remains tied to Washington’s decisions.

A starting point for many publications is Trump’s arrival in China on May 13 and his talks with Xi Jinping on trade, the war with Iran, the conflict in Ukraine and Taiwan.(zh.wikipedia.org) Around this visit a new narrative about the United States is being constructed: not simply a superpower, but a country simultaneously stuck in a protracted trade war with China, a hot conflict in the Middle East and in a state of “hegemonic fatigue,” shrinking its military presence in Europe and stepping back from multilateral agreements.(averin.com)

In the Chinese discussion, Trump’s visit is first and foremost interpreted as a moment when the “levers” in the relationship noticeably shift. Hong Kong’s Sing Tao describes preparations for the Beijing summit in terms of the “loss of American trumps”: according to experts, over the past year a “fundamental shift” in the balance has occurred, and China has, “through various subtle mechanisms,” gained more ability to influence even U.S. national security measures, up to a de facto “veto” on some Washington decisions.(singtaousa.com) This motif — America as a country that can no longer dictate the rules — is then repeated in both academic and journalistic Chinese materials.

Official and semi‑official Beijing mouthpieces use the visit to portray the U.S. as a power whose strategy increasingly relies not on its own development but on containing China at any cost. Thus, in a detailed column on a new report by American IT think tank ITIF, Chinese professor Bi Yantao emphasizes that Washington’s new line is “to slow China’s development even at the cost of self‑harm.”(borderlesscomm.com) The conclusion drawn is that the U.S. is shifting from a model of “becoming stronger itself” to a logic of “weakening a competitor,” which in Chinese public discourse is presented as a sign of strategic insecurity and decline.

Authorities cloak this in the language of global responsibility and technological justice. In a recent interview, China’s ambassador to the U.S., Xie Feng, commenting on AI competition, said that Beijing “opposes turning artificial intelligence into the plaything of a single country or a handful of wealthy people,” and that the world does not want to see an “AI iron curtain” or “a Star Wars‑style version of AI.”(news.sina.cn) Here the U.S. appears as a prototype of a closed, elitist project, to which China opposes “openness” and “inclusiveness” — not only technologically but geopolitically as well.

Against this backdrop, the 90‑day tariff truce between the U.S. and China reached in Geneva in early May is treated in Chinese analytical texts not as a goodwill gesture by Washington but as a forced pause. Economist Ruslan Averin, in his overview in Chinese, reminds readers that even after the “thaw” 30 percent tariffs remain — a “historically extremely high” level that continues to distort trade flows.(averin.com) Party media, such as the platform “观点中国,” emphasize that economic negotiations “go far beyond trade” and serve the search for a “new path of coexistence between two great powers,” while Trump primarily “yearns to show his domestic audience” the gains squeezed out of China.(china.com.cn) In this presentation the U.S. is a country hostage to its internal political cycles, sacrificing the stability of the world economy for electoral dividends.

A very different, but related, debate is taking place in the Arab press, especially in Saudi Arabia and the Gulf. There the U.S. is discussed primarily as a military and energy power that has drawn the region into a major war with Iran while simultaneously depending on cooperation with Riyadh. The pretext was a series of sharp moves: from American operations in the Strait of Hormuz to Saudi Arabia’s decision to temporarily suspend U.S. access to bases and airspace, which, according to NBC, forced Trump to reconsider plans for escalation in the Hormuz.(china.org.cn)

In an interview with Fox News, Trump said he is considering resuming the “Freedom Project” in the Strait of Hormuz, but within a “broader military operation,” where directing American ships in the strait would be only a “small part.”(iranintl.com) In Saudi Al‑Arabiya and the government‑aligned Okaz, this rhetoric is accompanied by White House comments that Iran is “economically paralyzed” under strikes from Operation “Economic Wrath” and that Trump’s goal is “a deal that will protect U.S. national security in the long term and eliminate the Iranian nuclear threat.”(okaz.com.sa)

Notably, even in outlets friendly to Riyadh there is growing caution. In the Okaz column “Trump in Beijing and Hormuz at stake,” the author directly links the China summit to the war with Iran: in his words, world capitals are watching the meeting with “mixed feelings,” and Southeast Asia hopes for any deal that will “open Hormuz and ease the energy shock.”(okaz.com.sa) The conclusion drawn is that we are entering an era of “managed escalation” — a state of “neither open large‑scale war nor a truly sustainable peace,” where the situation is stuck in a gray zone. In this portrayal the U.S. is less a guarantor of order than the architect of a constantly smoldering crisis that keeps everyone on edge.

Another recurring motif in Middle Eastern publications is doubt about the stability of the American domestic scene. The Emirati Al‑Emarat Al‑Youm analyzes White House preparations for “worst‑case scenarios” amid the likely loss by Republicans of at least one chamber of Congress in the 2026 elections. The paper quotes sources who participated in closed briefings: “It is obvious to everyone that the likelihood of this is very high”; it cites a Washington Post / ABC / Ipsos poll showing Democrats leading Republicans by five points in the odds for the House of Representatives.(emaratalyoum.com) For Arab commentators this is further proof that Washington’s promises in the region can be quickly adjusted by an upcoming domestic political struggle. Implied in the subtext is the question: is it wise to bind one’s security too tightly to an administration that may change in a few months?

Against this background Saudi and broader Arab texts about the U.S. often take on an ambivalent tone. On the one hand, analysts stress that the American military presence and security guarantees in the Persian Gulf remain indispensable. On the other — after the temporary suspension of U.S. access to bases and airspace, many analysts argue that Riyadh seeks to turn the partnership with Washington from one of dependence into a more equal deal in which the U.S. is neither the sole nor the mandatory partner. Trump’s determination to “expand the military operation” in Hormuz is here read more as an element of bargaining than an inevitable scenario.

Discussion in Germany about the U.S. now centers on two axes — economic and military‑political. On the economic front, attention focuses on the sudden easing of the tariff conflict between the EU and Washington. The German government, via an official explanatory paper on the new tariff agreement, emphasizes that the “principled agreement” reached with the U.S. in May 2026 allows it to “preserve Germany’s key interests” and establish an overall framework for steel and aluminum goods, automobiles and some green technologies.(bundesregierung.de) German experts, however, note that this is more a temporary detangling than a final settlement: the risk is high that Washington will return to unilateral measures, relying on rhetoric about protecting “American jobs.”

The military‑political dimension is far more troubling. Trump’s recent statement that the U.S. will reduce its military presence in Germany “much more” than the initially announced withdrawal of 5,000 troops prompted a wave of commentary in German media.(euronews.com) Defense Minister Boris Pistorius reminded German outlets that the presence of American soldiers in Europe, “especially in Germany,” serves the interests of both the Federal Republic and the U.S. itself, stressing that American bases serve not only to protect Europe but also Washington’s global operations.(euronews.com)

In analytical columns this becomes a diagnosis: the U.S. no longer treats the European direction as an unconditional priority, reallocating resources toward the Middle East and the Indo‑Pacific. The German discussion thus echoes the Chinese one: both note that a significant portion of American resources previously tied to Northeast Asia and Europe is today being “consumed” by the war with Iran and related operations. Chinese experts explicitly write that the protracted conflict with Iran “could give Beijing more leverage” in negotiations with Trump, since part of U.S. potential that could have been deployed in a potential Taiwan crisis is bogged down in the Middle East.(zh.wikipedia.org) In Berlin the conclusion drawn is different: an accelerated buildup of Germany’s own defense capabilities is necessary because Washington no longer guarantees the previous level of protection.

If one brings these different national perspectives together, a fairly coherent but not very flattering picture of the U.S. emerges. In China the United States is increasingly described as a power that, having lost confidence in its economic and technological hegemony, is shifting to a policy of containment even at the cost of harming itself and the global system. In the Arab — primarily Saudi — debate America is a power center capable of simultaneously paralyzing Iran’s economy and provoking an energy shock for half the planet, but itself a hostage to internal electoral cycles and conflicts. In Germany — still an indispensable ally, but no longer the “anchor of stability” to which one could unconditionally tie both the economy and security.

Across all three cases one common thread emerges: the U.S. is no longer perceived as a self‑sufficient, predictable “center of the world” around which one needs only to align correctly. Rather, it is seen as one of several large but internally contradictory players in a system where China is trying to rewrite the rules, Arab monarchies seek room to manoeuvre between Washington, Beijing and regional rivals, and Germany together with the EU are forced to learn to live in a world where even basic things — from tariff rates to the number of U.S. troops on their soil — can change at the will of a single administration in Washington.

That, perhaps, is the main intrigue of today’s discussions about the U.S. beyond the English‑speaking world. It is not debated whether America will “fall” tomorrow — mass texts in China, Saudi Arabia and Germany assume its military and financial weight remains huge. A sharper question is this: how sensible, safe and profitable is it to shape one’s foreign and domestic strategy around a country that increasingly behaves like a “managed destroyer” of the existing order rather than its guarantor. That is why Trump’s visit to Beijing, the war in the Strait of Hormuz and disputes over tariffs and bases in Europe are perceived not as separate stories but as parts of one big test: can the U.S. adapt to a multipolar world in a way that leaves it to its partners not only a force but also a predictable, reliable anchor?

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Washington in Focus: How Ukraine, Israel and China Are Rereading America's Role Today

A dense information cloud is gathering again around the United States, and this time its outlines are especially clear from Kyiv, Jerusalem and Beijing. In each of these capitals, America is perceived not as an abstract "superpower" but as a very concrete factor: a negotiator in war, the principal military partner, or a strategic rival with whom agreements will still have to be reached. In recent weeks, media and expert circles in Ukraine, Israel and China have been discussing not an isolated Washington move but an overall vector: what the U.S. course in the war with Iran means, where the limits of support for Ukraine lie, and how Donald Trump's visit to Beijing changes the architecture of the confrontation between the two powers.

The main common theme is "military America," and it is no longer only about Ukraine, as has been familiar in recent years. The launch of a large-scale U.S. and Israeli operation against Iran at the end of February, during which heavy strikes began on targets in Iran and Hezbollah positions in Lebanon, effectively cemented Washington's role as the chief conductor of two wars at once: the Iranian one and the Russia–Ukraine one.(ru.wikipedia.org) Against this background, the three countries are debating, in different ways but with shared nervousness, the question: what are the real limits of American power and willingness to bear the burden of global leadership.

The Ukrainian discussion about the U.S. today revolves around two words — "assistance" and "pressure." On the one hand, Kyiv still vitally needs American military support, and every piece of news from Washington is filtered through: will this speed up arms deliveries? A characteristic example is the reaction of the Ukrainian outlet Rubryka to the story about a delay in the Pentagon's decision to transfer a shipment of arms worth $400 million to Ukraine. Ukrainian journalists emphasize that the Pentagon itself faced criticism in the U.S. Congress, and Democratic Senator Chris Coons called the delay "an absolutely wrong signal to Putin" at a moment when "the fight for freedom" in Ukraine has its limits.(rubryka.com) In the Ukrainian perspective this matters not only as a signal to Moscow but also as a test of the resilience of the American course: will "Washington fatigue" begin in the shadow of a war in the Middle East that is sharper for the U.S.?

On the other hand, the theme of distrust toward American mediation is growing louder. Independent Ukrainian media and experts discuss reports that the U.S., while building a negotiation track with Russia, often acts "over Kyiv's head." An English-language analysis widely cited in Ukraine said that the U.S. lead negotiator on the Russia–Ukraine file, Steve Witkoff, traveled to Moscow repeatedly but for a long time avoided a visit to Kyiv, creating a sense of an "asymmetric" approach.(brookings.edu) In the Ukrainian information field this overlays long-standing fears of a "bad deal" in which, as one Kyiv commentator put it, "Russia would get a lot, and Ukraine — nothing."(kyivindependent.com)

Against this background, the position of Volodymyr Zelensky himself is interesting: just days ago he stressed that Ukraine "practically daily" maintains diplomatic contacts with the U.S., and his Secretary of the National Security and Defense Council, Umerov, briefs him on negotiations with American representatives. Chinese media reported, in particular, on a trip by a Ukrainian delegation to Miami for a series of meetings with the American side.(news.china.com.cn) For Beijing this is additional confirmation: even when Washington's attention is consumed by Iran and the Middle East, Ukraine remains a priority — and this intensifies Chinese interest in the Ukrainian issue as a "second front" of American foreign policy.

In Israel, the U.S. is discussed with a very different emotional intensity and in another key — an "existential" one. For the Israeli establishment, the war with Iran is literally a question of life and death, and the key fear is not that America will leave but that it will seek peace too soon. Israeli media consistently convey the concerns of the military and politicians that Donald Trump might make a "bad deal" with Tehran that leaves Iran's main threat potential unchanged. A CNN piece widely republished in Israel highlights that Jerusalem fears a deal that would not secure the full removal of enriched uranium, the dismantling of enrichment capabilities, tough control over the missile program, or the dismantling of the network of proxy formations.(kesq.com)

Former and current Israeli officials in this context repeatedly return to the famous five conditions articulated by Israel before the war began: remove all enriched uranium, eliminate enrichment capabilities, limit ballistic missiles, dismantle the regional proxy system, and introduce truly strict inspections.(kesq.com) Now the question is: is Washington willing to go all the way for these goals, or will it revert to a logic of "managed containment" of Iran for the sake of de‑escalation and reallocating resources to other directions, including Russia and China. In Israeli analytical columns the U.S. is depicted both as an indispensable ally — without American military power the campaign against Iran could not have reached its current scale — and as a potential source of disappointment that might stop one step short of the final undermining of the Iranian regime.

Behind the major war with Iran, in Israel another, less visible but no less important storyline for the local audience continues: the U.S. role in trying to restrain Hezbollah and stabilize the northern border. Reports of joint U.S. and Israeli strikes on Hezbollah targets and parallel diplomatic contacts with Lebanon, carried out under an American umbrella, create the impression that Washington remains the only force capable of simultaneously fighting, mediating and keeping the region from sliding into a full-scale war.(ru.wikipedia.org) However, Israeli commentators increasingly compare this to the Ukrainian experience, warning that a "protracted conflict under U.S. management" could become a gray zone where objectives are not achieved and losses accumulate.

China's picture of America today is built not around a front but around a visit — although the warlike background does not disappear. Chinese media and analytical portals are actively discussing Donald Trump's visit to Beijing on May 13, his meeting with Xi Jinping, and an agenda that simultaneously included trade, the war with Iran, the conflict in Ukraine and the Taiwan issue.(zh.wikipedia.org) Chinese commentators emphasize that the U.S. has already reallocated some resources from East Asia to the Middle East, and the ongoing war with Iran, in the context of a potential Taiwan crisis, is seen as a factor that objectively strengthens Beijing's negotiating position: the more America gets bogged down in the Middle East, the harder it will be for it to consolidate military and political power in the western Pacific. One widely cited Chinese analytical review explicitly concludes that the Iranian front "gives China additional bargaining chips" at the negotiating table with Trump.(zh.wikipedia.org)

At the same time, official outlets such as People's Daily deliver a more measured but essentially similar message: China "welcomes" visits by American congressmen and politicians, but expects the U.S. to "observe the One China principle and be cautious on the Taiwan question." In a May issue the paper described in detail a meeting between Chinese leadership and a delegation of U.S. senators, emphasizing that dialogue is useful only if Chinese sovereignty is respected and new lines of confrontation are not created.(paper.people.com.cn) For the domestic audience this is presented as an illustration: Washington, despite tough rhetoric, is forced to reckon with China's economic and political reality and to seek comparative stability in relations while U.S. resources are dispersed between Europe and the Middle East.

It is interesting that in China U.S. foreign policy is increasingly viewed through the lens of the economy and energy markets. A recent analytical report by a Chinese brokerage firm directly states that a scenario of major escalation between the U.S. and Iran would push global oil prices up, which on the one hand creates risks for global growth and on the other pushes China to accelerate diversification of supply sources and strategic reserves.(pdf.dfcfw.com) Thus, for the Chinese audience, the U.S. is not only a military player but also a principal "generator of shocks" to the world economy that requires advance adaptation.

Viewed from above, several cross-cutting themes can be identified that are refracted differently in Kyiv, Jerusalem and Beijing.

First — doubts about the long-term American strategic focus. In Ukraine this manifests as a fear that the war with Iran will push Kyiv to the periphery of attention and lead to delays in arms deliveries, as in the case of the mentioned $400 million from the Pentagon.(rubryka.com) In Israel — fear that the White House, pursuing de‑escalation with Tehran, will stop halfway and abandon an ally with an "unfinished war."(kesq.com) In China — the calculation that the dispersion of American resources increases Beijing's opportunities in key areas, from Taiwan to trade negotiations.(zh.wikipedia.org)

Second — growing distrust of the American idea of a "managed order." Ukraine bitterly discusses scenarios in which the U.S. would push through a compromise with Russia allowing the effective loss of territory, under the rhetoric of a "realistic peace."(kyivindependent.com) Israel fears a similar "realism" toward Iran, in which Washington will deem half measures sufficient to ease tensions in the Persian Gulf.(kesq.com) China sees in the American version of world order an attempt to freeze a status quo favorable to Washington and seeks, using the moment, to cement a right to an "alternative architecture" in which the American role will no longer be dominant but one among others.(imf.org)

Third common thread — the pragmatization of perceptions of the U.S. In Ukrainian discourse there are fewer illusions and more talk about the need for multiple supports — from the EU to the Gulf states — yet America remains the main, sometimes the only, critically important partner for arms and finance.(rubryka.com) In Israel, nobody needs convincing that without the U.S. there would be neither military aircraft nor critical political backing at the UN, but precisely for that reason any divergence with Washington over the ultimate goals of the war with Iran is felt so acutely.(kesq.com) In China, despite ideological criticism of American policy, the official discourse still underscores the need for "stable and predictable" relations — Beijing has no interest in a chaotic weakening of the U.S. that would wreck the global economy, but seeks a balance more favorable to itself.(paper.people.com.cn)

It is especially telling that China and Ukraine actively quote each other: Chinese papers report on Kyiv's almost daily contacts with Washington, while Ukrainian Telegram channels retell Chinese notes about how the war in Iran "draws away" American resources.(news.china.com.cn) Israeli commentators often look at the Ukrainian experience as a "warning": one must not allow the war to become a managed but endless conflict on the periphery of the American agenda.

In the end, the common nerve of the discussion about the U.S. in the three countries can be formulated like this: the world has entered a phase in which American power remains indispensable, but its strategic attention has become a scarce resource. Each actor — Kyiv, Jerusalem, Beijing — is trying in its own way to secure as much of that attention as possible, while simultaneously protecting against possible American policy zigzags. For Ukraine it is a question of the state's survival, for Israel — the physical safety of its citizens, for China — a long-term place in the hierarchy of world powers. And that is why today, perhaps, nowhere are Washington's every word and gesture reread as closely as in these three capitals — even if they look at the same America from completely different worlds.

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America as a Source of Instability: How Germany, South Korea and China View the U.S

In early May 2026, the headlines of leading global outlets almost always feature the United States not as a predictable “anchor” of the world system, but as the main generator of turbulence. For Germany, South Korea and China, Washington remains simultaneously a necessary partner and the chief source of strategic uncertainty. In Berlin they argue about how to live with an ally that withdraws troops and threatens NATO; in Seoul they watch nervously as U.S. resources drain into the war with Iran and other fronts; in Beijing they prepare for Donald Trump’s visit and discuss how to exploit his conflicts with allies and his “disengagement” from multilateral institutions.

The common background is the same: the U.S. war with Iran, unilateral withdrawal from dozens of international organizations, pressure on allies to pay more for security, trade nationalism directed at China, and the threat of a reduced American military presence in Europe and Asia. But the concrete reactions in Berlin, Seoul and Beijing differ strongly — not only in tone, but in what each capital is trying to “extract” from America’s inward turn.

The most acute and emotional debate revolves around the U.S. war with Iran. In Germany this campaign is perceived as a strategic and moral rupture. President Frank‑Walter Steinmeier, in an unusually harsh speech, called the war a “disastrous mistake” and a violation of international law, explicitly warning that a return to the prewar format of transatlantic relations will no longer be possible. In his view, Germany must apply the lessons of its “painful liberation” from dependence on Russian energy to a new vulnerability — dependence on the United States in defense and high technologies. He effectively called for rethinking the structure of the Western world: if Berlin once believed the price of an American “nuclear umbrella” was following Washington in key crises, it now emphasizes the need for autonomy, even if that means openly criticizing the White House. (whtc.com)

At the same time, German media and think tanks are debating how to respond to simultaneous escalations with Russia and Iran amid the erosion of American guarantees. On the pages of Chatham House they note that Germany’s Zeitenwende — rearming the Bundeswehr, buying F‑35s and increasing the defense budget — must now be understood not as a complement to American leadership but as preparation for a world in which the U.S. may withdraw from Europe. (chathamhouse.org)

The South Korean reaction to the Iran campaign is more restrained, but no less worried — the concern is redirected to the question: “Will the U.S. have enough resources left for us?” Korean analysts, cited in regional Chinese‑language and English‑language reviews, emphasize that the redeployment of American forces and assets to the Middle East, and the political and financial wear from the conflict with Iran, objectively reduce Washington’s ability to respond quickly to a crisis on the Korean Peninsula or in the Taiwan Strait. In one analytical review on the upcoming Trump–Xi meeting, researchers from the Washington Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), often cited by Korean and Chinese media, write plainly: the Iran war “dilutes U.S. attention” and increases allies’ doubts about whether Americans can handle multiple major crises simultaneously. (chineseradioseattle.com)

In China the same war is seen not only as a threat to regional stability but as a flaw in American strategy that can be exploited. Official newspapers such as Renmin Ribao focus on international condemnation of U.S. military actions against Venezuela and Iran, stressing that the United States is acting around the U.N. Security Council, “eroding the foundations of international law” and forcing other countries to think about their own security outside American architectures. In a notice from the Chinese Foreign Ministry, the war is described as a “typical example of power politics and arbitrary use of force,” against which “the international community is resolutely opposed.” (paper.people.com.cn)

If the war with Iran is perceived as the peak of unilateralism, then January’s decision by Washington to withdraw en masse from 66 international organizations became for many in Berlin, Seoul and Beijing a symbol of a new era of American isolationism. In Chinese discourse this action is presented as a “large‑scale campaign to dismantle the multilateral system,” in which the U.S. no longer sees benefits and others are forced to plug the emerging gaps. One analyst at Fudan University’s Shanghai center, reviewing the 2026 American trade policy agenda, noted that the current administration views trade and participation in institutions not as a platform for mutual benefit but as a tool of pressure and deals — “economic nationalism elevated to official doctrine.” (zh.wikipedia.org)

In Germany the mass “decoupling” of the U.S. from international institutions is seen as a blow to the familiar architecture of the postwar order in which the FRG flourished for decades. German media and experts stress that Brussels and Berlin must now act as the main defenders of the WTO, WHO, UNESCO and other platforms — the very forums from which America is rapidly withdrawing. At the Munich Security Conference, Chancellor Friedrich Merz said the postwar order is “breaking apart before our eyes” and that Europe and the U.S. need to “revive and repair” transatlantic ties, while admitting that the era when Europeans automatically followed the U.S. is over. (irishtimes.com)

The South Korean view is more pragmatic. It is vital for Seoul that the U.S. remain integrated into multilateral regimes not so much for the abstract “world order” as for concrete mechanisms: sanctions committees on the DPRK, coordination platforms on missile and nuclear issues, and cooperation formats for semiconductor supply chains. Therefore, Korean press and experts pay special attention not to Washington’s loud gestures of leaving global structures but to whether the U.S. leaves effective working formats in Asia — the Quad, partnerships on critical technologies, and the alliance with Japan and South Korea. The worry is that American “fatigue” with multilateralism at the U.N. and other global forums could over time spill over into regional arrangements.

For Europe and the Korean Peninsula, where the American military presence became commonplace in the 20th century, the most painful topic is the reduction and possible withdrawal of U.S. troops. German press for the past week has been extensively quoting administration plans to remove a significant portion of the contingent from Germany. Defense Minister Boris Pistorius said in an interview that the presence of American soldiers is “in the interests of both Europe and the United States,” but added that it was predictable that the U.S. would begin to reduce its military presence in Europe. In Berlin such remarks are interpreted as preparing public opinion for a new reality — the European Union must be ready to take responsibility for its own defense, not just “top up” Washington for its umbrella. (theguardian.com)

In South Korea talks about a possible adjustment of the American military role are received even more painfully. In analytical columns ahead of Trump’s visit to China, South Korean experts highlight a worrying scenario: the White House might pursue economic deals with Beijing in exchange for “flexibility” on security issues, including arms supplies to Taiwan and the wording of U.S. policy on the Taiwan Strait. Korean commentators in Asian media remind readers that all regional allies — from Japan to Australia — publicly praise the U.S. role, but in private conversations increasingly ask whether their interests will become bargaining chips in a grand Washington–Beijing deal. (chineseradioseattle.com)

Here a key difference with Germany emerges. In Berlin troop withdrawals are interpreted as an incentive for strategic autonomy. In Seoul they are seen as an existential risk, because without the American military shield the balance with North Korea changes dramatically. So while Europe actively discusses a “European army” and strengthening NATO’s role without the U.S., in Korea the central question is: “How do we keep the U.S. from leaving, even if it falls out with everyone else?”

Against this backdrop another line of American strategy comes into focus in China — trade‑economic pressure and the new U.S. National Defense Strategy 2026. A report by the European Parliament’s research service notes that the document builds four lines of effort: homeland defense, deterring China in the Indo‑Pacific, increasing the “burden” on allies, and “supercharging” the U.S. defense industrial base. (europarl.europa.eu)

In China this is perceived as the official entrenchment of the view that the U.S. sees Beijing as its main long‑term rival and intends to use the economy and military alliances as instruments of pressure. In an analytical paper from Fudan’s financial institute on “managed trade,” it is emphasized that 2026 has been declared in Washington a “key year of enforcement in trade with China,” with a series of “pressure windows” — from revision of Section 301 tariffs to reviews of Chinese investments in critical sectors. (fddi.fudan.edu.cn)

But the tone of Chinese discourse is nuanced. On the one hand, official commentators harshly criticize U.S. “economic nationalism” and speak of the need to “strengthen reliance on one’s own capabilities.” On the other hand, Chinese economists honestly acknowledge that the American market and the dollar system remain key to Chinese exports and finance, so Beijing needs not just symmetric responses but to try to “manage competition” without pushing it to an open break.

In South Korea the economic aspect of U.S. policy toward China is viewed through the prism of domestic vulnerability. The Korean economy is deeply integrated with both the U.S. and China: from semiconductors to electronics and automobiles. Thus an intensified U.S.–China confrontation is seen as a source of “structural risk” — Seoul’s economic commentators write about this regularly. On the one hand, Seoul supports U.S. efforts to protect critical technologies and build “friendlier supply chains.” On the other, it fears that any new American tariffs or sanctions on China will automatically hit Korean companies operating under Chinese jurisdiction.

German emphases are different. There the conversation focuses less on the U.S.–China–Korea triangle and more on how European business can survive in a world where American protectionism can turn against its allies. After a U.S. Supreme Court decision declaring part of the Trump administration’s extensive tariffs illegal, German outlets ask: does this mean the end of the “trade war” with Europe or merely a course correction? Most experts lean toward the latter: the industrial policy course of “America First” will remain, meaning German and Korean exporters must live in a world where Washington simultaneously demands political loyalty and restricts access to its market. (zh.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop Donald Trump’s upcoming visit to Beijing and his meeting with Xi Jinping have become a global event watched from different vantage points in Europe and Asia. Chinese media and think tanks call this “the second Trump–Xi meeting” a moment to “manage the most important bilateral relationship in the world.” In the context of the Iran war, mass U.S. withdrawals from international organizations, and conflicts with European allies, Chinese analysts say the meeting gives Beijing more leverage: Washington is weakened, allies are alarmed, and China can present itself as a “responsible major player” ready for stability. (chineseradioseattle.com)

The Chinese media discourse is particularly telling. In an analytical piece widely circulated in the Chinese‑language space by Chinese Radio Seattle, American experts assess the visit as Trump’s attempt to “show economic results” at home, while Beijing seeks to use the moment to strengthen the image of a stable, prepared partner. The article cites CSIS’s assessment: it is a chance to “manage the most important bilateral relationship in the world” and at the same time to test how far the U.S. is willing to go in adjusting its policy on Taiwan and the Indo‑Pacific. (chineseradioseattle.com)

Seoul looks at this visit with apprehension: any “big deal” between Washington and Beijing could affect the regional balance. South Korean experts, whose assessments are reprinted in Chinese and English Asian media, warn that if Trump, seeking trade and investment concessions from China, softens the position on Taiwan or reduces the U.S. military presence in the region, it will signal to all middle powers in Asia — from Vietnam to Australia — that American security guarantees depend on immediate bargains. One such review notes: publicly these countries “emphasize the importance of American leadership,” but privately “increasingly fear that their security could become a bargaining chip.” (chineseradioseattle.com)

In Germany, by contrast, the visit to Beijing is primarily viewed through the prism of transatlantic relations. For Berlin it is yet another confirmation that Washington under Trump prefers bilateral diplomacy and a transactional approach, not coordination with allies. European observers hint at this: commentaries by analysts quoted in German outlets stress that Trump is ready to discuss trade, security and sanctions directly with Xi, without regard for the interests of the EU, which is then forced to adapt to already concluded agreements.

All these storylines — the war with Iran, the mass U.S. withdrawal from international organizations, pressure on allies over military spending, trade nationalism toward China, and a possible “grand bargain” with Beijing — form a single image of America in the eyes of Germany, South Korea and China: no longer a guarantor of stability, but a variable that must be treated simultaneously as a threat and a necessary partner.

But each country also has its own unique perspective, rarely captured in English‑language headlines. In Germany the discussion about the U.S. is tightly interwoven with domestic politics: the rise in popularity of Alternative für Deutschland, sympathetic to Moscow and critical of NATO, forces mainstream parties to prove they can ensure the country’s security without unconditional followship of Washington. As one European editorial noted, German and Japanese reorientation in defense amid the “collapse of American alliances” effectively marks the end of the postwar order: countries long under American protection are now forced to think like independent actors. (theguardian.com)

In South Korea the conversation about America is inevitably linked to North Korea. There the U.S. is not an abstract superpower but a concrete military guarantor of life and death. Thus the Korean discourse is much more emotional than the European one, yet less ideological: American “isolationism” is seen not as a philosophical problem of world order but as a threat that, in the next peninsula crisis, American ships and aircraft might simply not arrive in time.

In China the conversation about the U.S. is embedded in a long‑term national strategy. Authoritative foreign policy journals stress that the U.S. National Defense Strategy 2026 and the trade agenda aimed at “managed trade” and revising all instruments of pressure on China require Beijing to simultaneously “maintain economic growth, promote technological self‑reliance, and avoid direct confrontation.” As one Chinese author notes, the U.S. remains “the most important external factor of China’s modernization” — and therein lies its duality: it is both the main competitor and an indispensable element of the global ecosystem to which China is tied. (fddi.fudan.edu.cn)

To summarize, international perceptions of America in spring 2026 can be described as follows: Germany sees the U.S. as dangerously unpredictable but still a key ally that must be simultaneously constrained and supplemented by its own capabilities; South Korea sees it as vitally necessary but increasingly unreliable, with every move judged through the prism of survival amid the North Korean threat; China sees the U.S. as a strategic rival and partner whose internal contradictions and foreign policy mistakes (from Iran to mass withdrawals from clubs) can be exploited, yet with whom a split would be as destructive for Beijing as it would be for Washington.

In all three cases one thing is clear: the world is no longer ready to view the United States as an immutable center of gravity. German, Korean and Chinese debates, however different in vocabulary and ideology, converge on one point: the era of automatic trust in American leadership is over, and now each country must build a strategy based on the assumption that Washington can change the rules of the game at any moment.

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Trade Wars, Geopolitics and a "Choice Without Choice"

Over the past weeks the United States has once again become a central topic for three very different regions of the world — South Africa, Brazil and Australia. The catalyst was several moves by Washington at once: tariff decisions by the Donald Trump administration, a new configuration of relations with Brazil after Lula’s visit to the White House, pressure on South Africa through trade and the G20, and the build‑up of military presence in the Indo‑Pacific region and alliances like AUKUS. In each country the discussion about the US passes through its own pains: for Brazil it is the balance between Washington and Beijing, for South Africa — a painful clash with American “punitive diplomacy,” for Australia — the security dilemma and the risk of being drawn into a war it does not control. Yet in all three cases the United States simultaneously appears as both an indispensable partner and a source of serious vulnerability.

In Brazil, Lula’s visit to the White House on May 7 set off a wave of contradictory commentary. The business press and the industrial lobby saw it as a chance to soften tariff pressure and reboot the economic partnership. Thus, in an article in the business magazine Veja it is emphasized that, despite the “tension caused by Trump’s tariff threats,” Brazilian industry is betting on keeping the US as a “strategic partner,” recalling that last year Brazil’s trade deficit with the Americans reached $14 billion and the country is forced to seek more favorable conditions of access to that market. The same article mentions a large CNI business forum in New York where business directly lobbies for more predictable rules of the game in trade with the US. (veja.abril.com.br)

A similar tone is heard in comments by financial analysts: in a May letter strategists at the Brazilian firm Genial Investimentos stress that the Fed’s tight stance on rates and the high yields of US assets limit Brazil’s room for maneuver in its own monetary policy; any serious conflict with Washington over tariffs and investment, the authors warn, will automatically be reflected in a weaker real and rising risk premia. (analisa.genialinvestimentos.com.br) Against this background, Lula’s statements in Washington that the US “has always been Brazil’s main trading partner” and that the country wants to reposition itself as a strategic ally for Americans in business and investment are perceived by a significant part of the economic establishment as pragmatism rather than an ideological turn. This is discussed, for example, by columnist Mariana Felicio in her column for Forbes Brasil, where she quotes minister Márcio Elias saying that “there is no place for US super‑tariffs on Brazil” and that Brazil cannot be punished for diversifying its ties with China. (forbes.com.br)

But this “pragmatic” view is far from dominant. From left and right Lula faces sharp criticism for how he is conducting dialogue with Washington. The left‑radical World Socialist Web Site in its Brazilian edition blasted the president for a “repulsive political performance” at the White House, accusing him of “once again playing the role of a long‑time helper of American imperialism in Latin America.” The same piece quotes Lula himself saying that “the US began to lose its hegemony from 2008” and that Brazil has made the PRC its main trading partner, then stressing that he urged Trump to “take an interest in Brazil again.” The authors interpret this as an attempt to pull Brazil deeper into Washington’s orbit amid the US–China confrontation. (wsws.org)

A text mirrored in tone but similar in focus appeared on the left‑populist portal Brasil 247, which, by contrast, depicts Lula as a “global statesman and defender of Brazilian sovereignty” in Washington. In this version of events Lula “bought time” for the country, softening the tariff threat and demonstrating that he can speak to Trump “on equal terms” without abandoning rapprochement with China. (brasil247.com) Notably, both laudatory and condemnatory versions are read around the same context: the US is seen as a force that can still strongly support or strongly punish Brazil, and Lula’s task is to minimize the cost of dependence without losing access to the American market and capital.

A critical but more “technocratic” tone is set by columnists in the major conservative press. In José Casado’s column in Veja he discusses the fork in the road facing Lula and Trump: either an escalation of the trade conflict, or a “broad agreement that could multiply trade and investment flows between the two countries.” The author reminds readers that joint investigations into illegal logging and timber exports involved both Brazilian and American actors, and warns that any political deterioration with Washington will immediately become a risk factor for industry and agribusiness. (veja.abril.com.br)

In South Africa the main nerve in the discussion about the US is no longer only tariffs, but demonstrative political pressure. In recent months several storylines overlapped in South Africa: the temporary easing of the tariff regime after a US Supreme Court decision that declared Trump’s previous tariff policy illegal; a new “global” 10% duty on imports of most goods; and, finally, South Africa’s exclusion from G20 meeting formats during the year of American chairmanship.

Commercial and business press focuses on practical consequences. Business Report, in a piece on South Africa’s reaction to the Supreme Court decision, quotes Raymond Parsons, an economist at North‑West University, who called the court’s verdict on the illegality of Trump’s “reciprocal” tariffs “a welcome development for many countries, including South Africa, which had to deal with the aggressive tariff policy of the US in recent years.” He notes that much of the tariffs already paid may now be refunded, which would be a significant relief for exporters. (iol.co.za) However, it is immediately noted that the relief is temporary: almost immediately after the court decision Trump signed a new proclamation under section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974, introducing a 10% ad valorem duty on most imported goods to the US for 150 days from February 24, creating for South African exporters “a mixture of relief and new uncertainty.” Business Report covers this in detail in another article, emphasizing Pretoria’s silence in the face of the looming new import levy. (businessreport.co.za)

The liberal opposition party Democratic Alliance in its official statement published on the party website calls the repeal of the previous tariffs a “temporary relief,” but warns that the South African government must urgently lock in agreements with Washington before the tariffs rise again. In their interpretation the court verdict is a window of opportunity to use the country’s unique geographic position and access to Southern Hemisphere markets to turn South Africa into an even more significant partner for the US, but to do that, they insist, one must “stop treating trade policy as a continuation of domestic ideology” and engage in a delicate negotiating process. (da.org.za)

If the economic discourse remains measured, the political one is much harsher. The African agency “African Initiative,” in a piece on the AU’s reaction to South Africa’s exclusion from G20 meetings held under US chairmanship, quotes one of the organization’s leaders, Yusuf, saying that the new summit in Miami “makes no sense without South Africa” and that Trump’s decision “humiliates not only South Africa but the entire continent.” The same article recalls that Trump openly stated that South Africa would not receive an invitation to the G20 2026 summit in the US. (afrinz.ru)

Left‑radical and intellectual outlets interpret this not as a private episode but as an expression of Washington’s overall course. In an analysis on CounterPunch devoted to the “devaluation of labor” and the South African experience, the author points to the sequence of steps by the Trump administration: new tariffs in August 2025 “driven by political rather than economic logic,” Pretoria’s exclusion from the G20 process, and finally Trump’s sharp social‑media declaration that South Africa is “not worthy of membership anywhere” and that all payments and subsidies will be cut off. The country’s largest metalworkers’ union NUMSA in this logic sees the US as one of the centers of global pressure on the working class of the global South. (counterpunch.org)

Added to this is another painful storyline — the American domestic political agenda around “white South African refugees.” Programs to accept white South Africans launched in the US under slogans of protecting “victims of genocide” and land reform are interpreted in the South African press as ideological meddling that fuels the mythology of a “white genocide.” In analytical pieces about Elon Musk’s role and the politicization of the South Africa issue in the US, historians such as Saul Dubow explicitly call this “Trump’s fantasies of white genocide,” undermining the real struggle against inequality in the post‑apartheid country and masking Washington’s irritation with South Africa’s lawsuit against Israel at the International Court. (en.wikipedia.org) In this mirror the United States appears less as a trading partner and more as a power that uses human‑rights rhetoric and refugee policy as a tool of pressure.

Against this background, attitudes toward the US in South Africa acquire a dual character. On the one hand, business circles and part of the opposition still see America as an important economic partner with whom agreements must be reached, using the weaknesses of Trump’s tariff policy and decisions of US courts. On the other — a significant portion of the political and public spectrum perceives the US primarily as a source of humiliation and interference, where trade decisions are linked to attempts to punish Pretoria for its foreign‑policy course — from “disagreement” over Ukraine to the case against Israel.

In Australia the focus of discussion about the US has noticeably shifted from the economy to security. Tariffs are an important but not the main story here; the key question is how far the country is willing to go in the role of Washington’s “junior ally” amid growing confrontation with China and Iran.

The economic layer is still present: the new 10% global import duty introduced by the US after the February Supreme Court decision, as analytical outlet Capital Brief notes, has been for Australia “a mix of relief and disappointment”: the country escaped the higher tariffs previously threatened, but remains at risk of further increases while the White House openly uses tariffs as an instrument of political pressure. (capitalbrief.com) In an ABC News piece on the same issue Trade Minister Don Farrell is quoted confirming that the US settled on a 10% rate for Australia but acknowledging that it is a “temporary state,” and quoting Trump as allowing tariffs to rise to 15% and above. (abc.net.au) For Australian business this is a signal: even a “special status” as an ally does not guarantee stability, and Washington is ready at any moment to revise market‑access conditions.

However, military and strategic aspects are discussed far more sharply. A report by the US Studies Centre on Australia–Taiwan relations, widely cited by ABC and other media, directly links Australia’s strategic choices to Washington’s course of containing China. In an ABC report Professor Bridget Dean notes that the Australian discourse is “too entranced by the image of Taiwan as a security problem that could drag us into a war with China” and calls for broader public discussion of Taiwan’s role in global supply chains and the catastrophic consequences of a possible blockade or invasion. (abc.net.au) This framing effectively problematizes Canberra’s traditional “automatic” alignment with American policy: not everyone in the expert community agrees that Australia’s participation in a potential conflict over Taiwan is an inevitable consequence of alliance obligations to the US.

On the other hand, representatives of the military establishment, as shown in an ABC report on testimony by the US Indo‑Pacific commander to Congress, insist that Australia is already “ready to receive AUKUS submarines” and that against a “more aggressive” China Washington needs “greater naval firepower” in the region. (abc.net.au) For the Australian audience this is at once a signal of the country’s importance to the US and a troubling reminder: American plans largely set the direction and pace of changes in Australia’s own defense policy, including increased spending to 3% of GDP and naval re‑equipping, as set out in the 2026 National Defence Strategy. (en.wikipedia.org)

Finally, another potential line of involvement in American wars looms on Australia’s horizon — the conflict with Iran. An article on “Australia and the 2026 war with Iran” recalls how easily, after US and Israeli strikes on targets in Iran, the question for Canberra ceases to be abstract: these are real operations in which Australia must decide how deeply it is prepared to participate. (en.wikipedia.org) In this context the US in Australian perception is both a security guarantor and a “strategic risk” that requires constant domestic debate about red lines of participation.

Comparing these three national perspectives, several common themes emerge. The first — the US as a source of economic volatility. In Brazil and South Africa Trump’s tariff policy is perceived as an unpredictable instrument of political pressure, driven less by objective economic calculations than by domestic political impulses in Washington. The US Supreme Court decision limiting the use of emergency powers to impose global tariffs is interpreted in South Africa as a reminder: even within the American system there are forces capable of constraining the White House and creating windows of opportunity for external partners. (iol.co.za) But no one draws the conclusion that the US is reliable; rather, the view is reinforced that the only way to reduce vulnerability is to diversify ties (primarily with China), while making the most of every legal and political opening in the American system to improve trade conditions.

Second — the US as a political arbiter that uses access to its institutions and platforms as leverage. South Africa’s exclusion from G20 meetings held under US chairmanship is seen in Africa not simply as a sanction against a particular country but as a demonstration of who still sets the rules of membership in the “club of great powers.” (afrinz.ru) In Brazil, in contrast, the Lula–Trump meeting is presented by some of the press as a “re‑examination” of an almost two‑century‑old alliance that recently underwent one of its most serious crises in history, underscoring how much the political configuration in Washington can change the status of even major regional powers. (elpais.com)

Third — the US as a military center of gravity that determines allies’ strategic dilemmas. In Australia the debate over AUKUS submarines, Taiwan and war with Iran boils down to one key question: how far is the country willing to rewrite its economy and foreign policy to meet the demands of America’s containment strategy toward China and Iran. The tone here is far less antagonistic than in South Africa, but much more anxious: critics fear Canberra may face a “choice without choice,” where the cost of breaking with the US would be too high, while the cost of automatically following Washington would be even higher in the form of the risk of a protracted war. (abc.net.au)

Finally, wherever the US is discussed, China is discussed in parallel. In Brazil Lula himself articulates the idea of a “shift in hegemony” after 2008 and that China became the main trading partner. In South Africa the PRC figures as one of the alternative poles to which the country gravitates when the US cuts assistance and tightens trade. In Australia China is simultaneously the largest economic partner and the main hypothetical adversary in a possible war, in which the US expects a firm stance from Canberra. As a result, the image of the US abroad today rarely exists by itself: it is almost always drawn against the backdrop of the “Chinese other.”

Rhetorically and emotionally the three countries differ: the Brazilian debate swings between pragmatism and accusations of “playing imperialism’s game,” the South African one often slips into language of humiliation and resistance, the Australian one is kept in a more technocratic style of “strategic planning.” But in all cases American policy is perceived as something that must not only be “taken into account” but actively “outsmarted” — through diversification of partners, use of legal mechanisms, or redefinition of one’s role in alliances. This is an important shift compared with an era when the US was seen either as an unassailable leader or as an external enemy: today in Brazil, South Africa and Australia people talk about the United States as a powerful but increasingly unpredictable player around which complex multi‑move strategies of survival and development must be built.

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America in the Crosshairs: How South Korea, Saudi Arabia and Brazil Debate the US Role

In recent weeks America has again found itself at the center of animated debates in Seoul, Riyadh and Brasília. But this is no longer the old conversation about the “leader of the free world”: the tone is noticeably more pragmatic, at times irritated, and somewhere — openly instrumental. South Korean newspapers discuss how to leverage the escalation of US‑China confrontation to strengthen their own nuclear and naval capabilities. Saudi opinion pieces argue over how to extract the maximum from America’s need for a regional partner while distancing themselves from the Israel file. In Brazil commentators view Washington simultaneously as an example of a democracy in crisis and as an still indispensable financial and technological hub from which one cannot fully disconnect.

On the surface these stories look disparate: somewhere they debate the fate of a civilian nuclear deal for Saudi Arabia involving the US, elsewhere the prospects for South Korean nuclear submarines under an American “umbrella,” and somewhere else Brazilian fears of a repeat of a “Capitol riot” in their own country. But looking through the prism of local columns and commentaries, several common themes emerge: distrust of American idealism, a willingness to bargain hard with Washington and a targeted — almost cynical — use of American power for national goals.

One key nerve is the transformation of a security system in which the US was the unquestioned center.

In South Korea this theme becomes almost technical: the media perceives American power as a resource to be converted into domestic security as efficiently as possible. Indicative is the tone of publications around the contacts between the new South Korean leadership and the Trump–Vance administration: reports of Prime Minister Kim Minseon’s meeting with Vice President JD Vance are presented primarily through the lens of “accelerating implementation” of agreements on nuclear submarines and expanded civil nuclear cooperation. Kim speaks openly about the need for “even higher‑level” relations in which the US and Korea become “mutually indispensable” — and this formula in Korean outlets sounds not as a compliment to Washington but as a reminder: the alliance is bilateral, and Seoul wants real technological and military dividends, not just declarations. (mk.co.kr)

Columnists in South Korean political outlets also soberly assess internal US instability — rising isolationism, the struggle between Congress and the White House, a “fatigue” with overseas commitments. Hence the idea of “preemptively locking in” benefits: since one cannot be certain that in five to ten years Washington will maintain its current level of engagement in the peninsula’s defense, it is necessary now to maximize access to technologies, joint‑base infrastructure and formal guarantees. In Korean discourse this is hardly presented as an ideological quarrel with America — rather as cold calculation by a medium‑sized power caught between China and the US.

In Saudi Arabia the discussion concerns American security, but no longer as something that automatically projects onto the region; instead it is a resource Riyadh can switch on and off. One notable motif in the Arab press is the debate over prospects for civilian nuclear cooperation with the US without linking it to rapid normalization with Israel. According to leaks analyzed by local commentators, Washington no longer insists on normalization with Tel Aviv as a strict precondition for a nuclear deal, a shift they tie to Arab anger over the war in Gaza and how toxic the Israel issue has become for public opinion. (al-ain.com)

This shift provokes a dual reaction in Saudi columns. On one hand, authors close to the pragmatic wing of the elite stress that the US is “learning to listen to the region,” abandoning attempts to push simultaneously for normalization, oil concessions and a nuclear package. On the other hand, conservative voices see confirmation in this: for Washington the value of Saudi Arabia is primarily functional — as an oil supplier, arms purchaser and potential “nuclear showcase” against Iran. Therefore, they argue, the kingdom must build its own strategic autonomy, balancing not only with China and Russia but also within the American political scene itself, where attitudes toward Riyadh range from “a necessary evil” to direct accusations of human‑rights violations.

Curiously, it is precisely Saudi and broader Arab commentary on the US–Israel alliance that most often speaks of “cracks” in that partnership. According to a number of Arab reviews, some citing Western investigations, conflicts of interest are growing between the White House and Israel’s military and political leadership: Washington is irritated by Israel expanding the front to Lebanon and Syria because this risks dragging the US into a full‑scale war with Iran and complicates its global calculations. For some Arab analysts this is a sign that the “organic” US–Israel alliance is gradually becoming a link in which each side manipulates the other for its own domestic political survival. (albawabhnews.com)

In Brazil the debate over America’s role in security is framed through a completely different storyline — American democracy as a source and model of political radicalism. After the Capitol riot and subsequent events in Washington, Brazilian liberal commentators have often written about the “export” of the American style of the far right — from leaders’ aesthetics to the use of social networks, fake news and pressure on the electoral system. Recent Brazilian texts on internal US crises frequently draw direct parallels with attempts to delegitimize elections in Brazil itself, arguing that the country “mirrors the worst American practices,” even as official diplomacy tries to distance itself from Washington on issues like climate or Ukraine. In this sense America functions as both model and anti‑model: the collapse of the party center, polarization and “cult of personality” are seen as things Brazil should avoid, despite close economic and cultural ties.

A second major theme linking the three countries is how they bargain with Washington, using its strategic fears and ambitions.

Saudi Arabia is, in effect, running a complex auction around the US. Arab commentaries emphasize that refusing to tie the civilian nuclear package directly to immediate normalization with Israel shows that the kingdom consciously raises its “asking price.” If earlier Washington believed it could “buy” the Saudi signature on an agreement with Israel by simultaneously offering security guarantees and access to nuclear technology, now — after horrific footage from Gaza and unprecedented public outrage — the political cost of such a move for the Saudi domestic audience has risen so high that the US must consider separate tracks of cooperation. (al-ain.com)

Local analysts read this as an indicator that the Russia‑China factor has become significant for Washington: the White House fears that too hard‑line conditions on cooperation could push Riyadh toward alternative suppliers of nuclear technology and arms. At the same time Saudi texts rarely invoke trust in American “values” — instead they speak of cold geopolitics, where all sides are cynical and the kingdom’s task is not to become “another Ukraine or Iraq” but to turn itself into an “indispensable node” of energy, finance and security for any future architectures.

In South Korea similar bargaining looks less dramatic but is essentially equally pragmatic. Discussion of agreements on nuclear submarines and expanded civil nuclear cooperation with the US is woven into a broader discourse that Seoul should seek status not only as a “client” of American security but as a full partner with a technological voice. The prime minister’s meeting with JD Vance, as described in the Korean press, is presented as a test of whether the new US administration is ready to go beyond customary formulas and hand Seoul tools that will, for decades to come, lock American strategies into dependence on Korean infrastructure and capabilities. (mk.co.kr)

Brazil, lacking such a military dimension, bargains with Washington on other fields — climate, green technologies, access to markets. In centrist and center‑left Brazilian media the conversation revolves around how to use America’s need for “green leadership” and containing China to secure better terms for investments in the Amazon, infrastructure and industrial policy. Many columns also remind readers that the US historically used discourse around democracy and human rights to pressure Latin America, and urge not to repeat dependency from the “Washington Consensus” era. This creates a particular tone: you must speak to the US “in the language of interests,” using their own internal conflicts — between the climate agenda and hydrocarbon lobbies, between industrial policy and free trade.

A third common thread is deep skepticism about the US’s ability to impose its values and interpretations of conflicts, especially in the Middle East.

In the Arab information space the war in Gaza and the broader US–Israel course have become litmus tests. One prominent piece, widely discussed in the region, analyzes how the ongoing conflict undermines Israel’s influence among young American right‑wing voters and creates rifts within the Republican Party over the scale of military aid to Tel Aviv. The authors emphasize: if even in the US, where the Israel lobby traditionally held enormous sway, zones of fatigue and doubt are appearing, then beyond the West rhetoric about a “democratic bulwark” is perceived as openly cynical. (cairo24.com)

Two conclusions are drawn from this. First, that the US’s “moral capital” after Iraq, Afghanistan and Gaza is so depleted that any new initiatives under the banner of “liberal interventionism” are bound to be met with suspicion. Second, that Arab regimes aligning with American policy against Iran risk facing social and political upheaval: left‑leaning experts already write about an “inevitable future confrontation between the masses and the regimes” provoked by a feeling of betrayal on the Palestinian issue in exchange for deals with Washington. (thenation.com)

In South Korea anti‑American rhetoric does not dominate, but there too commentary increasingly voices doubts about the universality of the American narrative of a “democracy vs. authoritarianism” struggle. The experience of Ukraine, wars in the Middle East and the unpredictability of American elections pushes some experts to think that Seoul should not tie its identity solely to the role of a “democratic outpost” against China and North Korea. For the pragmatic wing of the Korean elite America is primarily an instrument of balance of power, not a moral compass, and this seeps into popular outlets more as nuanced critical remarks than as an open turn away from Washington.

Brazilian analysts are even more straightforward: their texts frequently reference the destructive impact of the American “war on terror,” financial crises exported from Wall Street, and double standards on human rights. Against this backdrop domestic American disputes over racism, police violence and inequality are used as an argument: the United States itself remains far from resolving its own “structural sins” and therefore cannot claim the role of supreme judge for other democracies. Nevertheless, for those same commentators American universities, research centers and technology companies remain exemplars with which Brazil wants and should engage. This creates a dual attitude: criticism of America as an empire — and recognition of it as a source of knowledge and innovation.

All three societies also contain unique, sometimes unexpected local notes that are barely visible from Washington.

In Saudi discussions of US–Saudi nuclear cooperation the motif of “nuclear dignity” appears: it is not only or primarily about kWh and reactors but about the symbol that the kingdom has entered the club of states possessing the most advanced peaceful technologies, and thus demands to be treated not as a “client regime” but as a full strategic actor. In this context the US is seen as a “necessary but not sole” partner — and this is perhaps one of the strongest differences from the era when American approval was perceived almost as a condition for the regime’s survival. (al-ain.com)

In South Korea the tone describing the Trump–Vance administration is notable: Korean media focus much less on cultural and ethical disputes around Trump than American outlets do, and far more on how ready the new team is to be consistent on confronting China and expanding dual‑use technologies. For some Korean analysts American policy chaos is not only a risk but an opportunity: in periods when Washington is torn between ideological and transactional approaches, Seoul has a chance to “win” preferences that would be unthinkable under a more structured and ideologically vigilant establishment.

In the Brazilian field one curious storyline concerns attitude to American media and their coverage of the global South. Columns in outlets such as Folha de S. Paulo or O Globo regularly express dissatisfaction with how the US and Europe tell their publics about Brazil: through a prism of exoticism, crime or the Amazon as “humanity’s heritage.” Brazilian authors point to asymmetry: when American democracy falters, it is framed as the “difficulties of a great nation,” whereas any political crisis in Latin America is immediately labeled a sign of its “perpetual immaturity.” They stress that this difference in optics shapes how American society perceives Brazilian partnership initiatives — from climate to industrial projects.

If one tries to assemble all these fragments into a single picture, the result is a multipolar but by no means “post‑American” world. South Korea, Saudi Arabia and Brazil depend on the US in different ways — economically, technologically, militarily. None is seriously crafting a strategy of total rupture. But they are increasingly unwilling to see Washington as the source of norms and values and more inclined to treat it as one of the great powers with which one can and must bargain, balance and occasionally say “no.”

In that sense, perhaps the most important thing heard from Seoul, Riyadh and São Paulo is not anti‑Americanism but maturation: a readiness to view the US without illusions, to see it not as a teacher but as a powerful yet vulnerable partner, and to build relations with it based not on historic gratitude or fear but on a cool calculation of their own interests. For Washington, accustomed to a more hierarchical picture, this may prove to be the most painful lesson of the coming years.

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World reactions to US and Iran peace proposals: diplomacy on the brink

The situation around the American proposals regarding Iran has turned into a test of strength and trust: in Saudi Arabia and Germany the media agenda emphasizes that each side sees its own truth — for some this is an attempt to preserve stability and oil markets, for others a risk of a protracted conflict and political maneuvering. Saudi pieces link the breakdown in negotiation dynamics to rising oil prices, threats to shipping, and doubts about whether Tehran’s reply is sincere diplomacy or a tactic to buy time; they also draw attention to Iran’s statements regarding vessels complying with American sanctions. German reports focus on sharp criticism of the American response, political confrontation, and warnings from European experts about a possible war, making the current “tug of war” between Washington and Tehran a major international event with economic and security consequences for other states. This piece is based on materials from www.aljazeera.net (Saudi/Gulf perspective) and www.tagesschau.de (Germany).

The German view on the US–Iran deadlock and its cost for Europe

The new conflictual "Schub" between the US and Iran in German commentary is increasingly rarely described as a remote crisis region and more often as a development with immediate consequences for Europe. Notably, the Tagesschau piece “Nach US-Vorschlag: Trump findet Irans Antwort 'völlig inakzeptabel'” is presented from a German perspective: it’s not only about what Donald Trump said and how Tehran replied, but about what this exchange means for European security, the economy, and diplomacy.

The starting point is Trump’s sharp reaction to Iran’s answer to the American 14‑point plan. Washington, according to Tagesschau, offers a limited “window” for a ceasefire and subsequent talks. Tehran, citing the IRGC‑linked Tasnim agency, puts forward a maximally broad package of demands: an end to the war “on all fronts,” especially in Lebanon, a full lifting of sanctions including the oil embargo, guarantees against further attacks, and even payment of military reparations. In Iranian state media the American plan is portrayed as a “demand for capitulation” — a formulation that in the German political imagination inevitably evokes associations with the Treaty of Versailles and the way radical conditions can block readiness for compromise for a long time.

This divergence of positions explains why in Berlin the situation is seen as a deadlock with a high price for Europe. Tagesschau stresses the direct link between the crisis and one of the vital routes for the German economy — the Strait of Hormuz. This artery of global maritime trade is mentioned explicitly: any escalation in the Hormuz area threatens not only local fighting but disruption of oil and commodity flows, spikes in energy prices, and supply‑chain breakdowns. For Germany’s export‑ and import‑oriented economy this means a hit to industry, logistics, and energy.

The sanctions track is no less sensitive. The article notes that a potential easing of US sanctions is one of the elements under discussion. In Berlin this is read through the prism of previous years: Germany’s involvement in the nuclear deal (JCPOA), the subsequent imposition of strict US secondary sanctions, and the painful experiences of German companies in key sectors — chemicals, mechanical engineering, and automobiles. It became clear then how strongly Washington can limit German business in Iran, even when the EU officially pursues a different course. Thus the sanctions question in the current conflict is seen not as abstract diplomacy but as a factor directly affecting business activity and investment decisions in Europe.

The Iranian nuclear dossier occupies a special place in the piece. Citing the Wall Street Journal, Tagesschau recalls Iran’s highly enriched uranium and also cites Benjamin Netanyahu’s position, according to which the war will not end as long as Iran possesses enriched uranium. This sharply contrasts with the Iranian side, which — judging by its response — does not consider the atomic issue central to its current package of demands. For a German audience this is a fundamental point: Berlin for years treated the JCPOA as a priority element of global non‑proliferation policy, not merely a regional deal. If a truce is concluded without a reliable nuclear framework, there is a strong risk it will become just a pause before renewed escalation — a logic emphasized in Germany.

The German perspective evident in the Tagesschau text is traditionally oriented toward regional de‑escalation as a whole, not a narrow bilateral conflict. It is no coincidence the article stresses that Tehran demands an end to fighting “on all fronts, especially in Lebanon.” Thus Iran clearly ties the current crisis to a broader arc of instability — from Israel and Lebanon to the role of the Hezbollah movement. In Berlin this comprehensive approach is familiar: Middle Eastern and Near Eastern security is viewed as an integrated task where one cannot “pull out” a single conflict without affecting others.

Sanctions, an oil embargo, frozen assets, and reparations are described in the text as the main knots of contention. For German foreign and economic policy this confirms long‑standing criticism of “maximum pressure”: Berlin has repeatedly warned that a hard sanctions line on Iran hardens Tehran’s domestic policy stance. Now, with Iran making maximalist counter‑demands, in the German reading this looks almost like a predictable consequence of that policy.

Who is mediating today also matters. Tagesschau highlights Pakistan’s notable role in mediating between Washington and Tehran. For German viewers this seems unusual: traditional European mediators — Germany, France, and the UK, who acted in the E3 format and were signatories to the JCPOA — remain in the background. This shift toward regional and “third” powers indirectly points to a weakening visibility of European diplomacy in the current crisis. In a country accustomed to seeing itself as an important participant in multilateral negotiations on Iran, such an image raises questions about the loss of influence of the EU and, in particular, Germany.

Concerns about a possible “regional fire” are intensified by a quote cited by Tagesschau: the new Supreme Leader of Iran, Mojtaba Khamenei, is said to have given “new and decisive instructions to continue operations.” From the German viewpoint this signals a protracted conflict with the risk of spreading: from attacks on shipping through Hormuz to direct clashes with Israel. For Berlin this is not only a matter of international law or humanitarian security but also concrete military and naval policy: Germany participates in NATO structures, supports European naval missions in the region, and protection of sea lanes is regularly invoked as a pan‑European interest.

Domestic political and historical associations evoked by the conflict are also important for German public perception. When Iranian state media call the American proposal a “demand for capitulation,” that resonates with Germany’s memory of how humiliating or excessively harsh post‑war conditions can poison the political climate for decades. The idea of military reparations that Iran directs at Washington is also not abstract in Germany: from debates over reparations after World War I to long discussions about compensation for victims of Nazism — the subject of wartime payments has always been politically and emotionally charged. Thus Iran’s demand, while politically comprehensible in Berlin, is perceived as an extremely difficult element to implement in any deal.

The economic block of consequences for Germany and the EU is clearly spelled out in Tagesschau. If the conflict drags on and the American sanctions line remains strict, the space for German business in the Middle East and Near East will shrink further and investments will become less attractive. At the same time, a scenario of a partial deal that would ease sanctions and bring Iranian oil back to the world market would directly affect European energy prices and diversification strategies. Against the backdrop of Berlin’s deliberate reduction of dependence on Russian gas and oil, authorities watch closely for any signals that could change the configuration of the global energy market.

Unlike a standard agency dispatch, the Tagesschau piece does not limit itself to listing facts. It juxtaposes Washington’s and Tehran’s demands, thus clearly demonstrating the breadth of the negotiation gap — an important premise for any discussion of diplomatic prospects in German foreign‑policy debate. The American 14‑point plan is linked to the future of the Strait of Hormuz and Iran’s nuclear program, and therefore to Europe’s key strategic interests. Quotes from Iranian state media and Netanyahu’s statements are woven into the narrative to show how domestic political narratives — the image of “capitulation” on one side and the demand for absolute security from Iranian uranium on the other — narrow the space for compromise.

In the end, the Tagesschau text appears not simply as a news report but as an analytical effort to explain why the deadlock between the US and Iran represents a serious risk for Germany and Europe, not less significant than for regional states. At the center of this view are hope for a diplomatic solution, protection of international trade routes, and a desire to prevent a local conflict from growing into a major regional war that would inevitably affect European security.

US–China meeting in Beijing under the shadow of the war with Iran: a Gulf perspective

The Al Jazeera site, formally Qatari but in content very close to today’s Saudi/Gulf optics, uses the war against Iran and the US‑China meeting in Beijing as a lens for reading the entire current geopolitical scene. Through this lens the main point is clear: the global energy market is shaking, the Strait of Hormuz and the security of oil exports are in focus, and in Beijing and Washington decisions are being taken that will determine, for years, budgets, security, and political horizons across the Persian Gulf. The full analysis is available on Al Jazeera’s site “Beijing meeting takes place against the backdrop of the war against Iran”.

A key feature of this text is that it hardly quotes Saudi or Gulf officials directly, but is built around a set of assumptions very close to Riyadh’s current strategic logic: prioritizing stability in the oil market, intense sensitivity to any risks around the Hormuz Strait, concern about “big deals” between Washington and Beijing behind the backs of regional players, and the simultaneous realization that China has become a partner that cannot be ignored.

The starting point of the analysis is the war against Iran. The author assesses that it has already disrupted global energy markets, provoked an actual or partial closure of the Strait of Hormuz, and undermined the familiar architecture of American alliances. For Saudi Arabia and its neighbors these are not abstractions but direct vulnerabilities. Hormuz is the artery through which large volumes of oil and gas flow from the Gulf to world markets. Any talk of “closing” the strait means for Riyadh not only a short‑term price spike that could theoretically be profitable but destructive uncertainty: disruptions deter long‑term investment, harm the kingdom’s image as a “reliable supplier,” and create risks for the implementation of Vision 2030.

Against this backdrop the article highlights that in American discourse China is described as the “main financier and industrial base” for regimes like Iran, Russia, and North Korea. For a Gulf reader this is a double signal. On the one hand, Beijing is the chief oil consumer and a key economic partner. On the other — its close ties with Tehran are seen as a source of strengthening a direct adversary. In Gulf security logic this creates an ambivalent feeling: economic dependence on China comes with the growing fear that Chinese support also bolsters Iran’s missile and drone capabilities, threatening infrastructure such as Aramco facilities that were attacked in 2019.

The US‑China meeting in Beijing is portrayed not merely as a protocol summit but as a bargaining platform over Iran and energy. Washington, in this reading, hopes Beijing can pressure Tehran to stop the war, stabilize oil flows, and lower prices. But China sees the crisis as an opportunity: to strengthen Xi Jinping’s image as a “global statesman,” exploit the American administration’s vulnerabilities amid domestic problems, and simultaneously demand concessions on its key dossiers — from Taiwan to technologies and artificial intelligence. The article speaks explicitly about the logic of a “big deal,” where the war in the Persian Gulf and the fate of Hormuz navigation become bargaining chips in a game whose major stakes may be questions seemingly far from the region.

In Gulf political thinking this means that the security of the Gulf and the fate of the oil market easily become negotiating currency between great powers. The insurance price for tankers in Hormuz and investor nervousness in Riyadh or Dubai begin to depend on how Beijing and Washington bargain over Taiwan’s status or control of semiconductor supply chains. The author stresses that China does not seek an “ultimate resolution” of regional tensions but prefers a managed level of crisis in which oil supplies are guaranteed while retaining leverage over the US and its allies.

This, in turn, echoes Riyadh’s experience with Washington. For decades the kingdom relied on the American security umbrella in exchange for the role of a “responsible” oil player. But recent years have exposed the limits of that model: unilateral US decisions on the Iran nuclear deal, the withdrawal from it, a partial pivot away from the Middle Eastern theater toward the Indo‑Pacific, and general American war‑fatigue. The article recalls the logic often described in Western commentary as the “limits of American power” — a theme that resonates in Gulf debates about how dependable the American security guarantee remains.

The piece separately emphasizes the war’s economic consequences: rising oil prices, disruptions to insurance and logistics, and pressure on global inflation. For Saudi Arabia this is expressed not only in volatile oil revenues but in growing risks to flagship Vision 2030 projects — from the NEOM megacity to global infrastructure and tourism initiatives. Excessive geopolitical risk around the Strait of Hormuz complicates attracting long‑term capital and undermines the region’s image as a “new global hub” for capital, technology, and tourism.

Simultaneously, the author highlights a nuance important for Gulf audiences: China is interested in Gulf stability but is unwilling to play the role of a new “policeman of the Persian Gulf.” Beijing prefers economic presence and diplomatic mediation over deployment of permanent military forces along the American model. This directly answers a frequently asked question in Saudi and Emirati expert circles: can China become a military alternative to the US? The article’s subtext is: “no, at least in the foreseeable future.” China can be a key oil buyer and an important mediator, but not a new guarantor of freedom of navigation in Hormuz in the event of full‑scale confrontation.

The conclusion important for Saudi strategic planning follows: neither superpower is ready or able to guarantee Gulf security alone at the previous level. The US shows signs of strategic fatigue, and China is not prepared to shoulder military responsibility. In this environment, Gulf states are forced to find a balance themselves: to reduce escalation with Iran (for example, the Saudi‑Iran rapprochement of 2023 mediated by Beijing), while maintaining the alliance with Washington and deepening economic ties with China.

The analysis situates these developments in a broader historical context that resurfaces almost automatically with each new crisis involving Iran. Elites and publics remember the “tanker war” of the 1980s between Iran and Iraq, when Gulf‑flagged vessels were attacked and the US deployed its fleet for convoying, and the wars around Iraq in 1991 and 2003, whose key decisions were made in Washington while Gulf states bore the consequences — from basing troops to long‑term economic effects. Today’s war against Iran, as Al Jazeera’s article shows, is perceived in Riyadh in that perspective: big decisions are taken between Washington, Beijing, Moscow, and Tehran, while the effects — strikes on tankers, oil infrastructure, and state budgets — are felt on Gulf shores.

A cultural‑political dimension is also present. The author uses terminology such as “balance of power,” “long game,” and “diplomatic influence” — language familiar from Gulf foreign‑policy rhetoric over the last decade. The kingdom increasingly describes itself not only through oil and religious status but as a regional‑global actor: through sovereign wealth funds, mediation initiatives, hosting major summits, and staging large sports and cultural events. Against this background, the reading of the US‑China meeting in Beijing as part of a “reordering of the world” fits into an internal discourse on multipolarity: the US is no longer the sole center of gravity, China and Russia are gaining weight, Turkey and Iran are playing their own games, and Gulf monarchies must build more complex formulas of partner diversification.

It is telling what the article omits directly yet constantly implies. Saudi Arabia is not named outright as a source of commentary, but the argument’s structure is clearly addressed to a Gulf audience. The focus on oil and Hormuz as keys to understanding the Beijing meeting’s significance for the world differs markedly from a typical Western storyline that would place Taiwan, sanctions, AI, and tech rivalry at the forefront, with Middle Eastern energy playing a secondary role. The emphasis on the “Washington paradox” — needing Beijing as leverage on Iran while fearing it as a strategic rival — resonates with Gulf experience of complicated, sometimes contentious interactions with the US over oil prices, the Yemen war, and human rights issues.

Through this analysis the Gulf answer to a frequently asked question becomes clearer: can the American umbrella be replaced by a Chinese one? The detailed description of Chinese strategy — seeking supply stability and expanding economic presence without willingness for direct military intervention — yields a negative answer. China can be a crucial buyer and mediator but not a new guarantor of navigational freedom through Hormuz.

Finally, the article stresses that for Saudi and broader Gulf elites today the main issue is not the details of negotiations about Taiwan or AI algorithms but a fundamental question: who and how will guarantee that the Persian Gulf does not again become an arena for great‑power disputes with Iran, where the fate of the Strait of Hormuz and the price of a barrel are decided in Beijing and Washington while Riyadh, Doha, Abu Dhabi, and Manama live with the consequences.

In this sense the Al Jazeera piece “Beijing meeting takes place against the backdrop of the war against Iran” is not merely a recapitulation of the US‑China summit agenda in Beijing but an attempt to place it within a larger story about shifting global centers of power, the limits of American might, and how China turns Middle Eastern crises into resources for its own “long game.” For Saudi Arabia the text reads like an invitation to sober calculation: in a world where Donald Trump and Xi Jinping can bargain simultaneously over Taiwan and Iranian oil, Gulf states will have to take their fate into their own hands, building new formulas of balance and security around the Strait of Hormuz and the region’s entire energy architecture.

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Europe Without the American Anchor: How France, Ukraine and Germany Debate the New US Role

In recent months the image of the United States in Europe seems to have blurred: the country that for decades was the "anchor" of the transatlantic security system is now simultaneously waging war with Iran, intervening in Venezuela, quarrelling with NATO allies, bargaining over Greenland and offering Ukraine a peace on terms that Europe calls a "painful compromise." Against this backdrop, in France, Ukraine and Germany people are discussing not just another turn of American policy, but the possibility of peace without a guaranteed American umbrella. And in each capital this provokes its own set of fears, hopes and calculations.

The central theme around which almost all European debates revolve is the threat of weakening or even dismantling American leadership in NATO. After Donald Trump publicly said several times that he is "absolutely" considering the possibility of the US leaving the alliance if allies do not support his war with Iran, Kyiv and European capitals stopped treating this as mere bluster in the spirit of his first presidency. The Ukrainian outlet Ukrainska Pravda, recounting his April address to the nation, emphasizes that for the first time since NATO's creation the debate is not about the "2% of GDP for defense" issue, but about a fundamental question: will the United States remain part of the architecture of European security at all. The same piece cites Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s position, who openly promises to "reassess the necessity" of NATO membership after the conflict with Iran ends — for Kyiv this sounds like a warning for the future rather than a tactical manoeuvre within the alliance. (pravda.com.ua)

In France the theme is framed in softer journalistic tones, but the underlying concern is essentially the same. In an analytical report by the French economic intelligence portal Portail-IE, dedicated to the first hundred days of Trump's second term, the authors carefully write about a "strengthening isolationist line" in Washington and directly link the January decision by the US to withdraw from dozens of international organizations and treaties to their stance on NATO and Ukraine. The report notes that the Trump administration has made it clear that Ukraine "realistically cannot return to its 2014 borders and join NATO," and that the president justifies rapprochement with Moscow by the desire to "stop the bloodbath" in Ukraine. For French experts, this means not only a redesign of American strategy but also a "geopolitical coming-of-age" for Europe — the continent must think about its own defense without the certainty that Washington will stand between it and Moscow. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The German debate is built around the same question but from a different angle: what will happen not just to NATO, but to the very idea of the "West" if the US turns inward? A study cited by German media that analyzes sentiments in Germany, France, Italy and other countries shows that the majority of the population still supports military aid to Ukraine despite fear of nuclear escalation. At the same time, in Germany and France a relative majority of respondents are willing to accept the deployment of Western peacekeepers in Ukraine after a possible deal with Russia — but no longer as a purely American mission, rather as a European initiative "with US support." It is in this formulation — "with US support" — that the changing picture is recorded: America shifts from unquestioned leader to an important but not sole player. (phys.org)

Against this background the Ukrainian perspective is the most harsh and concrete. Kyiv watches every Trump remark about NATO and every decision he makes regarding international organizations, because whether the West remains a united front against Russia depends on this. In an interview with Ukrainska Pravda former US ambassador to NATO George Kent says plainly that the main risk for Ukraine now is not so much Russian pressure as the "erosion of transatlantic solidarity" if Washington really begins to abandon institutional commitments. He emphasizes that military and financial guarantees more and more often come from Europe, not the US, and that Ukraine's influence in the world has grown precisely thanks to European mobilization, while the American vector has become less predictable. (pravda.com.ua)

The second major theme around which French and German commentary is constructed is the American war with Iran and, more broadly, Washington's willingness to start new conflicts outside Europe without regard for its allies. French commentators on the left — primarily representatives of the La France Insoumise movement — view US intervention in Venezuela and strikes on Iran as symptoms of an "imperial reflex" that contradicts European understandings of international law. Jean‑Luc Mélenchon, whose statements are widely cited in France and beyond, articulated a position in connection with Venezuela that has since been applied to the Iranian case: "there are no good invasions, only bad ones." For him and his supporters this is not rhetoric but an attempt to distinguish the European left agenda from the American one: be against Russia in Ukraine, but simultaneously criticize the US when it acts unilaterally in other regions. (en.wikipedia.org)

In Germany the situation is more complicated: public opinion there tends to support Ukraine and fears war with Iran. Therefore the American line of "hard deterrence" toward Tehran provokes both anxiety over the risk of a major war and a hidden relief — some German analysts note that while the US is preoccupied in the Middle East, Europe is forced to take its own defense on the eastern flank seriously. In reviews on NATO transformation published in German and English media, the idea increasingly appears — quoted, for example, in a piece by the American public radio outlet OPB — that the alliance faces a "two‑front challenge — east and west," with a Russian war against Ukraine on one border and signals of domestic disunity and fatigue from the role of "world policeman" coming from Washington. (opb.org)

The third dimension of the discussion is the Ukrainian question as litmus test for new Europe–US relations. In France the conversation about Ukraine long ago outgrew mere "solidarity." In a Euronews piece marking the fourth anniversary of Russia's full‑scale invasion of Ukraine, French and European readers are told that it has been the United States that has led three‑party efforts to end the war, but today European capitals — from Paris to Vilnius — are coming increasingly to the fore. The author notes that in the event of a hypothetical peace agreement Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky publicly requests the deployment of Western peacekeepers in the country, and polls show a relative majority in France and Germany support this idea. The key nuance is that such a mission is thought of as a multinational European one, not as an American operation under the NATO brand of the 2000s. (fr.euronews.com)

Ukraine, meanwhile, looks to the United States both as an indispensable arms supplier and as a potential architect of a "bad peace." In Kyiv American settlement plans are being scrutinized carefully, as reported in the US business press: Trump is promoting a model of "peace through dealmaking" that entails de facto recognition of Russian occupation of parts of Ukrainian territory in exchange for a ceasefire and some long‑term security guarantees. Ukrainian and European commentators see parallels with his approaches to Venezuela and Greenland: in all cases there is a logic of deals in which territorial questions, sovereignty and international institutions become bargaining chips. A Fortune columnist, analyzing Trump’s Ukrainian "peace plan" against the backdrop of his conflict in the Western Hemisphere and disputes around Greenland, writes directly that such a "dedollarization" of international law — where political bargaining replaces principles of sovereignty — undermines allies' faith in US predictability. (fortune.com)

Against this backdrop European voices — from analysts to politicians — are no longer simply commenting on American policy but are trying on the scenario of a "West without America." British commentator Paul Taylor, in a widely cited column for The Guardian, describes how Trump's antics toward NATO are pushing European leaders — from Emmanuel Macron to Friedrich Merz — to "think the unthinkable" about a security system in which the US is no longer the natural leader. He reminds readers that Europeans have already de facto taken on the main financial and political responsibility for supporting Ukraine, while Washington increasingly pushes Kyiv toward territorial concessions to Russia. This idea resonates particularly strongly in Ukraine: a country that until recently equated NATO with the US is now speaking more often about a "coalition of the willing" and a "European security framework" where Washington is only one element. (theguardian.com)

Interestingly, despite all this there is no unequivocal "anti‑American" turn in French and German public opinion. The study cited by Phys.org and European media records stable support for military assistance to Ukraine and even a willingness to tolerate the risk of nuclear escalation to prevent a Russian victory. Europeans fear American unpredictability but are not ready to give up the US as a partner — rather, they want insurance in case Washington at some point decides to "mind its own business" and retreat into isolationism. (phys.org)

That is why local analysts increasingly speak not of a "divorce" with America but of a "reappraisal of the marriage." French writers recall past crises — from Iraq to Libya — but emphasize a crucial difference today: then the doubts were mostly moral (was Washington right to start this or that war), whereas now the question concerns basic security guarantees. German commentators draw parallels to the postwar period when the FRG effectively delegated to the US the right to be the ultimate guarantor of its survival, and they ask how much sovereignty Europe is ready to reclaim if the American umbrella becomes unreliable.

The Ukrainian perspective in this discussion is the most pragmatic and perhaps the sobermost. Ukrainian commentators simultaneously criticize American "deals" made behind Kyiv's back and emphasize that it was the US that provided Ukraine the weapons and diplomatic support without which the country would not have survived the first years of the full‑scale war. One Kyiv analytical piece contains a thought shared today in many European capitals: Ukraine's task is not to choose between "America" and "Europe" but to ensure that neither of these pillars can single‑handedly determine its fate. America remains necessary but insufficient; Europe is becoming more autonomous but still lacks the strength and political will to fully replace the US.

Taken together this produces a picture considerably more complex than the usual European anti‑ or pro‑Americanism. In France, Germany and Ukraine the United States is still perceived as a key factor of security and world politics, but no longer as an immutable "big brother." Washington is criticized for impulsive wars, interventions in Latin America and the Middle East, willingness to barter away other countries’ territories and threats toward NATO — and at the same time people hope that it will, at the critical moment, not allow Russia or Iran to cross red lines.

And perhaps the most unexpected conclusion of local analysts is that the weakening of American leadership does not necessarily mean the collapse of the West. European and Ukrainian commentators increasingly argue that the current crisis is an opportunity to build a truly multipolar, rather than monopolized, West in which Paris, Berlin, Warsaw and Kyiv will be not merely "junior partners" of Washington but full‑fledged actors. But that opportunity can only be realized if the United States itself stops seeing allies as either extras or commodities on a geopolitical market. For now, European and Ukrainian texts about the US contain two coexisting emotions — fatigue with American unpredictability and a quiet hope that when the real test comes, America will still stand on the right side of history.

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World Through Washington's Prism: Saudi Arabia, China and France Debate America

In early May 2026 the United States again finds itself at the center of a global discussion — not as a confident "world sheriff," but as a source of anxiety, irritation and at the same time an indispensable hub of the world system. From the perspectives of Riyadh, Beijing or Paris, America is no longer simply a "great power," but a nervous, internally fractured giant whose decisions are instantly reflected in oil prices, in the stability of international organizations and even in the legitimacy of its own alliances.

The sharpest themes in these three countries converge to a large extent. First, there is a new wave of unilateral American forceful intervention — above all the 2026 U.S. war against Iran and the strike on Venezuela, which in many capitals are seen as a return to the logic of the early 2000s, only in an even less predictable form.(zh.wikipedia.org) Second, Washington’s unprecedented withdrawal from dozens of international organizations — the so‑called "mass withdrawal from international institutions of 2026" — is perceived as a systemic blow to the post‑World War II multilateral order.(zh.wikipedia.org) Third, many foreign observers see signs of a structural crisis of American hegemony in current U.S. domestic politics — including the state of the Supreme Court and societal polarization — not merely another political cycle.(blog.leowang.net)

At the same time each of the three centers examined — Saudi Arabia, China and France — builds its own lens: an energy and regional‑security lens in the Saudi case, a systemic‑geopolitical and ideological lens in the Chinese, and a values‑diplomatic and "European‑strategic" lens in the French.

The most painful storyline is the U.S. war against Iran in 2026. In the Gulf Arab press, including major Saudi outlets, the strike on Iran is seen simultaneously as a strategic risk and as an opportunity to redraw the regional balance. An anonymous Saudi official told a local outlet that the U.S. operation was like "playing with fire in a powder magazine that the entire water area from the Strait of Hormuz to the Red Sea has become," noting that any prolonged U.S.–Iran clash would immediately affect the security of oil transportation and the kingdom's revenues. Saudi analysts recall that Riyadh in recent years had constructed a fragile disentanglement with Tehran mediated by China, and the new American strike is seen as an attempt to return the region to a bipolar confrontation of "pro‑ and anti‑Iranian" axes.

At the same time the official Saudi position avoids direct condemnation of Washington. In comments from experts close to the government they emphasize the United States’ right to "defend its forces and interests," but there is almost always a caveat about the "unacceptability of escalation that threatens the stability of energy markets." Such formulations simultaneously signal the limits of patience of a key oil partner to the White House and try not to destroy military‑political cooperation with the U.S., which remains critical for Riyadh.

In China the same war against Iran is viewed through a very different prism. In Chinese analysis it is "yet another example of U.S. imperialist intervention in the Middle East" and proof that "Washington continues to use force to maintain hegemony, ignoring international law and the interests of regional peoples," as one commentator in a party publication put it. Chinese authors stress that Iran and Venezuela are important partners in energy and in the Belt and Road Initiative, and therefore American strikes on them are interpreted as links in one chain: an attempt to weaken China’s neighborhood and slow down alternative economic routes.(zh.wikipedia.org)

A typical tone comes from major Chinese portals which analyze U.S. public opinion regarding the strike on Iran: they emphasize that Americans themselves are deeply divided, with a significant portion of the public opposing a new war, and skepticism even among right‑wing commentators. One Chinese analysis cites an American host criticizing the intervention as unrelated to the interests of ordinary Americans. This line is used to argue that even within the U.S. the consensus around foreign‑policy adventurism is collapsing, and thus hegemony is losing not only external but also internal legitimacy.(zh.wikipedia.org)

The French discourse on Iran and Venezuela differs again. In Paris, where memories of the split over the Iraq war are still alive, the new American operations are compared precisely to 2003 — but with the added observation that Europe is much weaker and more fragmented now, unable to act as an independent counterweight. In the French press, including major dailies, columnists write of a "return of the U.S. to the logic of preventive wars" and of yet another humiliation of European allies whom Washington presents with faits accomplis. The fact that Trump, in discussing the strike on Iran, allowed himself to compare the "suddenness of the strike" to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor is perceived in French circles as a symptom of that very "desanctification of the alliance" — Europe is openly told it won’t even be consulted.(zh.wikipedia.org)

The second major node of debates about America is the colossal "campaign of withdrawals" by the U.S. from international organizations. Chinese analytical platforms carefully but with satisfaction call this "the hegemon's self‑isolation" and the largest dismantling of America's reliance on multilateral institutions in the postwar era. In Chinese Wikipedia and several expert reviews the "mass withdrawal of the U.S. from 66 international structures, including 31 U.N. system institutions" in early 2026 is treated as a historical milestone after which "the world transitions to a post‑American model of global governance."(zh.wikipedia.org) Chinese commentators stress that such a step undermines not only the Western order but also trust in the U.S. among its own allies. At the same time, official Beijing’s tone is more restrained: it emphasizes "China’s readiness to take on greater responsibility within the U.N. and other multilateral mechanisms" — that is, it deftly uses the American demarche to promote the idea of a "responsible great power" in the person of China.

In France, by contrast, the U.S. mass withdrawal from international organizations is seen as a blow directly at the European project. French commentators note that Paris and Brussels have for decades built foreign policy through institutions — from the WTO to the WHO — and now the main "architect" of these structures is pulling out the supports. One French column highlighted the reaction of the governor of California, who condemned the U.S. withdrawal from the World Health Organization as a "reckless decision" — for the French audience this is an important detail: even within America arguments of a European spirit are raised about the value of global health and collective systems.(zh.wikipedia.org)

Saudi Arabia in this storyline is more pragmatic. Saudi commentators, especially those close to the business community, view the U.S.’s mass "disconnection" from international structures through the prism of risks to the global economy and to the sanctions regime. On one hand, Riyadh understands that the less Washington is tied to multilateral frameworks, the freer it is to use secondary sanctions and unilateral pressure measures that also harm Saudi partners. On the other hand, the weakening of American influence within institutions creates maneuvering space for Saudi Arabia, which can play off the U.S., China and other centers of power without automatically falling under the umbrella of the American normative agenda.

The third most important layer of discussions about America in these three countries is related to the internal crisis of the United States. In Chinese discourse the narrative of the "structural decline of American hegemony" is especially popular. One Chinese analytical report in 2026 states that the U.S. Supreme Court is experiencing an "unprecedented crisis of legitimacy" and that domestic political conflicts increasingly paralyze foreign‑policy planning.(blog.leowang.net) On Chinese platforms the meme "美国懦夫" — "American cowards" — is spreading; it appeared as an ironic reaction to the contrast between widespread gun ownership and the relative passivity of society in response to systemic injustices, from police violence to racial discrimination.(zh.wikipedia.org) For the Chinese public this image is convenient: it simultaneously ridicules the American gun culture and undermines the myth of civic valor and democratic courage in the U.S.

In the French sphere the emphases are different. There the writing focuses more on the "moral and institutional exhaustion" of American democracy, on constant constitutional disputes around elections, and on the radicalization of Trump’s rhetoric and his entourage. French authors are particularly alarmed by the combination of foreign‑policy adventurism with an internal institutional crisis: if a state that doubts its own democracy continues to claim the role of "judge" of other regimes, then, as one French editor writes, "the world order turns into a theater where the main director no longer controls his own actors." There is both fear of American chaos and a covert schadenfreude: France, long criticized by the United States for "half measures" and "anti‑Americanism," can now speak of responsibility and predictability in its own name.

In the Saudi context the U.S. internal crisis is viewed primarily through the prism of the long‑term reliability of American security guarantees. Saudi analysts ask whether a country whose elites are so focused on the battle over the Supreme Court, abortion and culture wars can maintain the same depth of engagement in the Middle East. On one hand, Riyadh increasingly realizes that the U.S. may be a less predictable and less stable partner in the long term. On the other hand, precisely this crisis makes Saudis value more highly what remains of the American "nuclear umbrella" and military cooperation, especially given the Iranian factor and the relative uncertainty of China’s regional strategy.

It is also interesting how all three countries react to the growing U.S.–China rivalry. In Chinese discourse 2026 is presented as a moment when the "trade war" and technological competition enter a prolonged, albeit familiar, confrontation. Chinese experts in surveys and analyses note that most expect "a deterioration or, at best, maintenance of tension" in relations with Washington.(chinapower.csis.org) They emphasize that the U.S. increasingly relies on tariffs and export controls in high technologies, while China bets on autonomy of supply chains and development of its own standards, including digital ones.

French commentators, by contrast, see the U.S.–China rivalry as a trap for Europe. For them the key question is not who will win the U.S.–China duel, but whether the European Union will be able to preserve strategic autonomy without being drawn into a logical "Cold War 2.0." French texts regularly criticize Washington for demanding full loyalty from Europeans in technological and defense dimensions while offering neither sufficient economic compensation nor real participation in decision‑making.

Saudi Arabia in this game perceives the U.S. and China as two pillars to be balanced between. For Saudi strategists, judging by local analytical columns, the important thing is not so much to choose a side as to maximize benefits from the competition for influence in the Persian Gulf. Hence their comments about the "pluralization of the world order": the U.S. remains significant but is no longer the only center of power, and thus Riyadh can simultaneously buy American weapons, sell oil in yuan and coordinate prices in dialogue with both Washington and Beijing.

Finally, special attention in discussions about America is paid to its relations with global values and religious institutions. Chinese and French authors noted a sharp diplomatic conflict between Washington and the Holy See, which flared up against the background of the Vatican’s criticism of U.S. military actions, including in Venezuela and Iran. In Chinese retellings of the story even the episode of an "antagonistic meeting" between American representatives and Vatican circles is emphasized, where the precedent of the Avignon papacy was allegedly recalled, when the French monarchy effectively subordinated the papal throne.(zh.wikipedia.org) For the Chinese reader this illustrates how America, claiming moral leadership, finds itself in conflict with the head of the world’s largest Christian church. In France the same story evokes different associations: French Catholic and secular authors fear that a rift between Washington and the Vatican will deepen internal divisions in the U.S. — especially among conservative Catholics whose votes were important for the Republican Party.

Taken together, all these storylines paint a strikingly similar picture. In Riyadh, in Beijing and in Paris, America in 2026 is no longer a monolithic superpower but a nervous center of a turbulent system: it is capable of delivering pinpoint strikes against Iran and Venezuela, dismantling international institutions, setting the tone in tariff wars and technology regulation, yet its own political and institutional base seems increasingly fragile to outside observers.

However, similarity of diagnoses does not mean similarity of remedies. China bets on accelerating the transition to a "post‑American" world and uses every U.S. move — from withdrawals from U.N. structures to military adventures — as proof of the need for alternative centers of power. France oscillates between criticizing the U.S. and fearing a world without the American umbrella, trying to build European autonomy in conditions when Europe remains economically and defensively heavily dependent on Washington. Saudi Arabia, finally, sees in the crisis of American hegemony not only risk but also a window of opportunity: the more America is torn by contradictions, the more valuable its remaining alliances become and the more freely Washington treats partners willing to assume part of the regional responsibility.

It is precisely in this diversity of reactions that the main point emerges: the world no longer simply "watches America," it learns to live with America as one of the key, but by no means the only, centers of power. Debates in Saudi, Chinese and French media — from vigorous columns about the "hegemon's self‑isolation" to biting memes about "American cowards" — show that external perceptions of the United States have entered a new phase: respect for its power is combined with doubt about its wisdom, and fear of its force with readiness to plan for a future in which Washington may finally lose the capacity to be that "indispensable" state.

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The World Looks to Washington: How Australia, South Africa and Saudi Arabia Rethink the US

In early May 2026, the image of the United States abroad looks much less monolithic than Washington is used to believing. Donald Trump’s return to the White House, a protracted war with Iran, trade and tariff decisions, and competition with China — all of this is provoking not only anxiety in other countries but also a push for greater distance and autonomy. In English-speaking Australia, in the multi-layered politics of South Africa, and in cautious, pragmatic Saudi Arabia, the United States appears in the news and opinion columns in different ways. But drawing a line through these three points leads to a common theme: the world is increasingly unwilling to tolerate American unpredictability and more often treats the US as one, albeit powerful, actor in a much more multipolar game.

The loudest backdrop is the war involving the US and Israel against Iran and the broader crisis in US–Iran relations. Expert reviews emphasize that the two-month campaign produced neither military nor political dividends for Washington: in Russian and Middle Eastern analytical pieces the results are described as “dismal” for Trump — with no obvious exit strategy and chaos in the Middle East for which the Pentagon chief must justify himself to Congress. This tone demonstrates how foreign media are shaping an image of the US as “fighting without winning,” while strategic gains are attributed to China, “winning without fighting,” as one European adviser colorfully described the situation in an interview with CNN, quoted in analysis for Al Jazeera Arabic. In an Arabic article published by Al Jazeera, expert Jörg Wuttke describes the balance like this: America is bogged down in conflicts, while China is expanding its economic influence and looks like the “adult in the room” against the backdrop of emotional and episodic American policy. This idea resonates especially in Asian and Middle Eastern contexts, where partners’ reliability is judged primarily by their ability to provide long-term stability rather than by loud declarations.

Through the prism of the Iranian crisis, Saudi Arabia is conspicuously distancing itself from Washington. According to Arab media reports, Riyadh has made it clear it will not allow its bases and airspace to be used for a possible US operation to “forcibly open” the Strait of Hormuz. Egyptian commentator Mustafa Bakri, on the Sada Elbalad channel, citing Saudi sources, said the kingdom, while remaining a historical US ally, now “does not want to be dragged into any war against a regional state,” preferring a line of de-escalation and mediation. Another Al Jazeera piece emphasizes that Saudi diplomacy publicly warns against further military escalation, insisting on support for mediation efforts including those by Pakistan, and effectively signaling that the US can no longer automatically count on Arab allies in forceful scenarios. For the Gulf states, which depend on stable oil exports, an American bet on pressure and threats toward Iran looks less like a security guarantee than a factor of market unpredictability and domestic risk.

In Australia the same war with Iran and the broader question about Trump produce a different but no less notably cautious reaction. In an analytical piece by ABC News on Canberra’s response to Trump’s escalating rhetoric on Iran, the author describes a characteristic “Australian style of diplomatic understatement”: the government avoids direct judgments about the legality of US actions, referring questions of international law “to the American side,” while simultaneously stressing the importance of deterrence and honoring alliance commitments. Foreign Minister Penny Wong limits herself to saying that “the US has become much more unpredictable” under Trump — a phrase that in Australian political language reads as a fairly strong warning. At the same time Australia formally ranks among the countries that supported the US and Israel at the initial stage of the campaign, making the duality of its position particularly noticeable: at the alliance level — solidarity; in expert discourse — growing unease.

This unease is most clearly reflected in recent polls and commentary around the US–Australian alliance. As The New Daily reports, citing a recent study, 59% of Australians now believe the country’s interests are better protected by a more independent foreign policy than by a close alliance with the United States. In an article with the pointedly emotional headline “Not me, you: Australians ready to ‘break up’ with Trump’s America,” it is emphasized that Trump’s return, a series of military crises, and the US’s abandonment of international commitments — from withdrawing from various organizations to a tough, often unilateral approach to trade — are undermining trust in the US as the “anchor of the liberal order.” The piece quotes British political analyst Rory Stewart, who, comparing chaos in American and British politics with Australia’s relative stability, draws the paradoxical conclusion: “If liberal democracy has a future, it oddly looks Australian” — in other words, Canberra’s example as a more responsible, restrained actor is used as a contrast to Trump and Washington. This perspective is less anti-American than post-American: the US is ceasing to be the only model.

However, criticism in Australia is not limited to security; it concerns the economy as well. The Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade website publishes updates on the latest US steps in tariff policy: after a February 2026 Supreme Court decision, Washington repealed a whole block of reciprocal tariffs introduced in 2025 under emergency powers, but retained and redistributed higher duties for a number of countries. Australian exporters are explicitly warned that changes in US tariffs on third countries can indirectly harm companies when their products are manufactured or assembled outside Australia. The official language is extremely dry, but behind it is the typical line many partners take: Washington conducts unilateral trade maneuvers, and allies are forced to adapt in real time. Against a backdrop of already existing distrust of Trump in security matters, such economic “nervousness” increases the desire to diversify ties, primarily toward Asia.

South Africa, with its complicated history of relations with the West and a simultaneous pull toward the Global South and the West, views the United States even more pragmatically and skeptically. In the student newspaper Wits Vuvuzela, which covered a visit by US Ambassador Leo Brent Bozell III to the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, a journalist draws a straight line between rhetoric and reality. The ambassador in his speech spoke of the “titanic potential of South Africa” and the importance of “strengthening the US–South Africa partnership,” but the author summed up: “the promise of partnership is far from reality,” pointing to a dissonance between handsome formulations and how Washington actually behaves in international institutions, including on sanctions, trade, and visa policy. For a South African audience, the United States long ago ceased to be a moral arbiter; it is an important investor and political player, but one of many, and increasingly suspected of double standards, especially against the background of US policy toward Gaza, Iran, and relations with Russia.

At the level of broader African discussion, this criticism sometimes takes the form of reproach that Washington still thinks in terms of “spheres of influence,” while African elites and societies want “rational multi-vector choice.” At panel discussions cited, for example, by the Council on Foreign Relations, African participants simultaneously acknowledge the value of American attention and investment and express dislike for the habit of tying cooperation to backing US political positions — from votes at the UN to policies on China. For South Africa, a BRICS member balancing between West and East, this American approach seems anachronistic, especially given that China and regional players increasingly offer “unconditional” economic interaction.

In Saudi Arabia the perception of the US is also being actively reassessed through the lens of multipolarity. Saudi and regional commentators cited by Al Jazeera and other Arab outlets note that the US and Israel’s war with Iran, as well as Washington’s unilateral actions in Venezuela and international organizations, have reinforced the sense that America operates with short-term pressure tactics rather than building durable coalitions. In commentary about the upcoming summit between Trump and Xi Jinping in Beijing, columnists point to an interesting “role reversal”: the US, which not long ago dictated the rules of the game, is now forced to seek from China a formula for exiting the Iranian conflict and the energy shock, while Beijing, relying on growing exports of green technologies and rising influence in Eurasia, acts as a kind of coordinator of an “anti-crisis agenda.” For a Saudi audience accustomed to the US role as security guarantor in the Gulf, this shift in the center of gravity looks alarming but also opens space for its own maneuver — strengthening ties with China while at the same time maintaining, but no longer unconditionally, the alliance with Washington.

A throughline in all three countries is fatigue with US inconsistency in foreign policy and with the mismatch between value rhetoric and practice. The administration’s decision to withdraw from dozens of international organizations and agreements in January 2026, reported by both Western and Russian sources, is recorded as a turn toward isolationism and the instrumentalization of international law. Added to this is the hardline approach in Venezuela, where the US controls the coast and oil terminals but not the country as a whole, and where a military operation has reached a dead end, leaving destruction and a guerrilla war in its wake. For Australia, South Africa, and Saudi Arabia, all of this is a lesson that American forceful decisions less and less often produce lasting results, but almost always create long-term risks.

Interestingly, in the shadow of military and diplomatic storylines another, quieter thread of discussion is taking shape: technological rivalry between the US and China, primarily in artificial intelligence. In Russian-language discussions on popular science resources and forums analyzing reports that “the gap between the US and China in AI has effectively closed,” the idea is voiced that America’s former “technological hegemony” is no longer self-evident. Commentators point to a declining inflow of talent to the US, to the American regulatory stance oscillating between deregulation and fear of China, and to Washington’s resistance to the idea of international mechanisms for AI governance. In one popular discussion the words of White House technology adviser Michael Kratsios are cited — he insists that subjecting AI to international bureaucracy will not lead to progress — and this is perceived as a manifestation of the US’s unwillingness to share rules with other centers of power. For countries like Australia and Saudi Arabia, which are actively investing in the digital economy, this is another signal: relying solely on the American technological ecosystem may prove risky amid an imminent fragmentation of the global tech space.

Against this backdrop, the overall image of the United States in foreign discussions becomes much more multifaceted and contradictory. In Australia there is a prevailing sense of “love that has faded”: the historical alliance remains, the sense of shared values has not disappeared, but faith in American leadership as a reliable constant is noticeably undermined, and more voices argue for building strategic autonomy. In South Africa the US is seen through the prism of global and domestic injustice: the role of investor and partner is important but does not outweigh memories of double standards and Washington’s reluctance to recognize the Global South as a subject rather than an object. In Saudi Arabia the United States still remains the main external security guarantor, but no longer the only one: the kingdom is increasingly probing alternative supports — from China to regional formats — and is demonstratively refusing to unconditionally back American military adventures.

Taken together, these three perspectives show that the crisis of trust in the US is not a marginal phenomenon or an “anti-American campaign,” but the result of accumulated experience: from the Iraq war to Venezuela and Iran, from trade wars to withdrawal from multilateral agreements. Trumpian “America First” has, in the eyes of many partners, become “America by itself.” And the response to this in Australia, South Africa, and Saudi Arabia is not a sharp break but a quiet yet persistent reorientation toward the logic of choice: the US is no longer the center around which orbits are drawn, but one of several heavy planets in a system where each country seeks to calculate its own trajectory. It is this new sense of freedom and caution at once that today both shapes and constrains Washington’s influence in the world.

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Washington in the Crosshairs: How India, Japan and Saudi Arabia Are Rereading America Today

In early May 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of foreign newspapers’ pages — but far from only as the “leader of the free world.” For India, Japan and Saudi Arabia today, America is above all a factor of their own security, a source of energy and a provider of technological future. Across the pages of major outlets and in experts’ speeches, the US appears less as an untouchable hegemon and more as a partner whose decisions determine oil prices, the risk of a large war with Iran, and the balance between Washington and Beijing in Asia. Running themes are the crisis around Iran and the Strait of Hormuz, a new realism in relations with Trump, energy and nuclear matters, and the struggle for a role in a world where the US increasingly shares influence with other power centers.

The first major nexus of these discussions is the Iranian crisis and the de facto blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, around which perceptions of current US foreign policy are being built. In Indian and Japanese discourse this episode is viewed primarily through the prism of the vulnerability of their own economies and sea lines of communication, whereas in Saudi Arabia the emphasis shifts to the question: how reliably can Washington still guarantee the security of the Gulf monarchies while simultaneously not dragging the region into a protracted war.

Indian English‑language and Hindi media discuss the US course toward escalation with Iran almost exclusively in connection with energy security and the price of imported oil. Editorial commentaries emphasize that the 2026 crisis was the culmination of several years of instability in the Middle East, aggravated by sanctions and US and Israeli strikes on Iranian infrastructure. A Russian compendium of reactions to the conflict in Iran notes that New Delhi officially called for “maximum restraint” and “prioritizing protection of civilians,” stressing the danger of external powers being drawn into this war. (https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/РеакциянаконфликтвИранев2026году?utmsource=openai) At the level of Indian independent experts this is often interpreted as an attempt to preserve balance: not to break with Washington, but also not to let the crisis undermine its course toward “strategic autonomy.” One Indian international affairs specialist writing in a Delhi business outlet argued that “each new turn in the US‑Iran confrontation reminds India that reliance on a single power center is a risk, not insurance.”

For Tokyo, the situation around Hormuz has become litmus test for how sustainable American leadership is in ensuring freedom of navigation. In an analytical essay by former Washington correspondent for Kyodo, now Meiji University professor Hiroki Sugita, published by the Japanese Institute of International Affairs, the Iranian crisis is seen as part of a “new G2 era” — a world in which the US and China are forced to coexist, and the “self‑sufficiency” (自存自立) of regional players becomes a third, equally important current. (https://www.joi.or.jp/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/Mag20260110seriesUSsugita.pdf?utmsource=openai) The author directly asks: if crises flare simultaneously in the Taiwan Strait and Hormuz, will the US have the resources and political will to protect both directions equally? In Japanese newspaper columns the criticism of Washington on this topic is less loud than in Indian debates, but skepticism is stronger: America is less and less described as an unconditional guarantor and more often as a “necessary but limited” ally, with which Japan will have to measure its risks.

In the Saudi and broader Arab conversation about the US and Iran, a very different nerve is felt — this is a discussion not so much about oil as about regime survival. Several analysts in Saudi and regional press note that recent rounds of US‑Israeli strikes on Iran and Iran’s retaliatory actions are pushing Riyadh toward a multi‑vector “hedging” policy — simultaneously moving closer to Washington, Beijing and Moscow. An Asia Times commentator analyzing Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s foreign policy describes this as “the hard realism of Saudi hedging”: the Kingdom, recognizing US military power, nonetheless seeks to reframe its relationship with Washington in more pragmatic terms, where security is not automatically American aircraft carriers but a set of flexible deals, from normalization with Israel to energy maneuvering. (https://asiatimes.com/2026/05/the-cold-hard-realism-of-saudi-hedging/?utm_source=openai) Against this backdrop, for Saudi commentators Iran is not only an enemy but also a lever of pressure on the US: any American step toward war raises the price Washington must pay Riyadh for cooperation.

The second major theme is how these three countries are reinterpreting a “Trumpist” Washington and the concept of “America First.” In India this is more often discussed as an opportunity for its own “Bharat First,” in Japan — as a dangerous interference in domestic politics, and in Saudi Arabia — as a chance to extract unprecedented concessions from the White House.

In Indian discourse the new American strategies are increasingly described in the language of “realism.” A characteristic example is comments by former senior US security official Elbridge Colby in New Delhi, where he compared “America First and Flexible Realism” with the Indian doctrine “Bharat First” and the concept of the “India Way,” calling both lines “realistic approaches to foreign policy that place national interests first.” (https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/world/america-first-and-flexible-realism-bharat-first-and-india-way-emphasise-realistic-approach-to-foreign-policy-senior-us-official-elbridge-colby/?utm_source=openai) Indian commentators in English‑language columns interpreted this as a rare frankness: in their view Washington is finally ceasing to speak to India in the language of values and returning to geopolitics, acknowledging that New Delhi is not a junior partner but an “independent pole.” Against this backdrop even tough American moves toward Iran or China are seen in Indian commentary not as moral gestures but as elements of a larger game for a “favorable balance of power in Asia” — a formulation freely used by both American and Indian strategists.

The image of Trump and “America First” is packaged very differently in Japanese public debate. An important episode of early 2026 were comments about Donald Trump’s interference in Japan’s domestic politics — his open support for certain forces ahead of the lower house elections. The Japanese economic newspaper Nikkei, in an editorial widely discussed on social media and even recounted on Reddit, called such interference “inappropriate” and contrary to the principle of non‑interference in internal affairs (内政不干渉原則). (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/?utm_source=openai) In the Japanese political context, where memories of postwar dependence on the US are still fresh, such actions by Trump are felt painfully: even those who advocate strengthening the alliance with Washington see a threat in a renewed “Americanization” of Japan’s political field.

For Saudi Arabia, by contrast, “Trump’s America” is a window of opportunity. In Saudi and Emirati commentary about a hypothetical US‑Saudi “grand bargain” — including security guarantees, normalization with Israel and Riyadh’s access to certain types of nuclear technology — the thesis appears that it is precisely Trump’s transactional approach that offers a chance to secure unprecedented terms. Western reports about a possible agreement allowing Saudi Arabia limited uranium enrichment under such a deal — which have already alarmed non‑proliferation experts — are seized on by Saudi commentators as proof: Washington, driven by “America First,” is ready to go further than previous administrations if it sees direct benefit. (https://www.timesunion.com/news/world/article/saudi-arabia-may-have-uranium-enrichment-under-21368839.php?utm_source=openai) In the local lens this is less a risk than confirmation of a new balance: the US does not dictate rules but negotiates as an equal.

From this follows the third central layer of discussions — energy, oil and nuclear as a field where the US is simultaneously partner and competitor. For India this theme is intertwined with Russian oil, sanctions and American “permissions”; for Saudi Arabia — with its role in OPEC and the search for technological guarantees for the future; for Japan — with the need to diversify energy sources amid intensifying crises.

In the Indian press in spring 2026 there was lively debate over whether the US “allowed” India to buy Russian oil or, conversely, asked New Delhi to help stabilize the market by continuing such purchases. One of India’s largest outlets reminded readers how the ruling BJP framed Washington’s position as a request for help, while the opposition Congress cited statements by American officials suggesting that initially it was actually an “opening” for Indian purchases under a sanctions umbrella. (https://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/bjp-recasts-permission-to-buy-russian-oil-as-us-seeking-india-help-congress-hits-back-with-us-energy-secy-statement-101772877352651.html?utm_source=openai) The dispute over nuances of American phrasing became in Indian discourse something more than an energy story: it turned into an argument about who needs whom — India needs the US or the US needs India. In nationalist columns the US is depicted as a country that “had to recognize India’s indispensability” in containing Russia and China, and the oil conflict is presented as the moment New Delhi learned to hard‑nosedly monetize its position.

Saudi Arabia discusses the US primarily in connection with OPEC+, oil prices and a “post‑oil” future. Regional analytical pieces emphasize that American sanction policy and its simultaneous verbal criticism of OPEC have posed a choice for Saudi Arabia: either continue to adapt to Washington’s fluctuations or build a more aggressive strategy inside and outside the cartel, freely balancing between the US and China as buyers and partners. A recent OPEC review in English‑language Middle East analysis describes the situation as a “crossroads,” from which both a scenario of closer coordination with Washington and one of an actual energy bloc with Beijing are possible if the US continues to use the dollar and sanctions as weapons. (https://citybaseblog.net/2026/05/04/opec-at-a-crossroads/?utm_source=openai) Against this backdrop a potential US‑Saudi nuclear deal including local uranium enrichment is presented in local discourse not merely as a technological issue but as a symbol of a transition to a new type of relationship with the US — less paternalistic, more parity‑based.

The Japanese conversation about energy and the US is less loud but no less important. Against the background of discussion about the Strait of Hormuz crisis and mounting US‑China rivalry, Japanese analysts write about the need to build energy security so that no external player — neither Washington, nor Beijing, nor oil monarchies — has a critical lever of pressure on Tokyo. The idea frequently appears in columns, articulated by the same Hiroki Sugita: a world where the US and China stand side by side as two main power centers requires Japan to pursue “self‑reliance” not only in defense but also in energy. (https://www.joi.or.jp/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/Mag20260110seriesUSsugita.pdf?utmsource=openai) This includes cautious discussions about the role of US LNG and the search for alternative supply routes, including via Australia and Southeast Asia.

Finally, a crosscutting motif in all three countries is a colder, instrumental view of the very nature of American power — from the dollar and debt policy to technological leadership in AI. Indian and Japanese economic columns discuss pressure on the dollar as the dominant reserve currency, including in the context of what analysts call “the end of the Yellen debt‑playbook era” — a period when the US could almost with impunity expand debt while remaining the “only” anchor of the global financial system. (https://www.theglobaltreasurer.com/2026/05/06/the-end-of-the-yellen-era-debt-playbook/?utm_source=openai) For India this is a reason to more actively promote transactions in rupees and experiment with bilateral currency schemes; for Saudi Arabia — another argument for cautious “insurance” against excessive dollar dependence; for Japan — a new headache for an already fragile monetary policy.

The technological dimension, notably artificial intelligence, becomes yet another field of comparison. In most national discussions the US is still described as the “AI superpower,” but no longer alone; an analytical report within the European AI Alliance platform directly states that Washington created a world where it is forced to share technological primacy with China and other centers. (https://futurium.ec.europa.eu/en/apply-ai-alliance/community-content/united-states-age-ai-superpower-world-it-gave-away?utmsource=openai) For India this fits into a discourse of a “catching‑up but sovereign” player that can benefit from cooperation with the US as well as from its own digital market and programs like Digital India. In the Gulf countries, including Saudi Arabia, studies on AI strategies in GCC states show that local elites view American technologies as a key resource but carefully compare them with Chinese offerings, building their own digital transformation roadmaps without unequivocal orientation to a single center. (https://arxiv.org/abs/2505.02174?utmsource=openai)

Against this backdrop, perhaps the main thing that unites India, Japan and Saudi Arabia in their current view of the US is the rejection of illusions. Indian columnists increasingly call Washington a partner of calculation rather than values; Japanese editors remind readers that even the closest ally has no right to interfere in the electoral process; Saudi analysts coldly weigh how many security guarantees and technology accesses can be extracted from the White House in exchange for oil, deals on Iran and normalization with Israel. In their texts America remains powerful but not omnipotent; desirable but not the only option. And in this new, more sober view one can clearly see what Hiroki Sugita calls the “third stream” of the world order: a stream of states that no longer want to be objects of American policy but aim to be its co‑authors — on their own terms.

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How "Project Freedom" Turned the U.S

The clash between the U.S. and Iran over the Strait of Hormuz and Donald Trump's launch of Operation Project Freedom is the main new prism through which many countries view America today. For Moscow it is further proof of Washington's "imperialism" and instability; for Seoul it is a painful test of alliance loyalty and the vulnerability of its own economy; for New Delhi it is a reason to play another complex game between Washington, Tehran and Moscow. Against the backdrop of older storylines — from the war in Ukraine to sanctions and oil trade — a new feeling is spreading: even when the U.S. says it is "pausing" the operation, the rest of the world lives in anticipation of the next tweet from Washington.

The main starting point of today's discussions is Trump's announcement of Project Freedom to "free" ships trapped in the Strait of Hormuz, and then the equally sudden decision to "suspend" it amid talks of progress in negotiations with Iran. Western media like The Guardian describe this as another episode of "Trump's show," where dramatic war-mongering gives way to peacemaking rhetoric, but in Russia, Korea and India this is primarily viewed through the lens of their own risks and interests. (theguardian.com)

The first major storyline is Hormuz and "Project Freedom" as a test of the limits of American power and allied discipline. In the Russian media space, the U.S. decision to start and then suspend the operation is presented as evidence of Washington's inconsistency and adventurism. Business radio BFM, recounting Trump's statement about the pause in Project Freedom, emphasizes that this is a temporary halt of the transit operation "until the prospects of negotiations become clearer," practically implying that Washington is again using military pressure as a bargaining chip with Tehran. (bfm.ru) Russian commentators link this to a broader line of American foreign policy, which Russian Wikipedia—cited frequently in analyses—describes as relying "mainly on forceful solutions" and neglecting the interests of other countries — echoing criticism from Chas Freeman, a former diplomat and Pentagon official. (ru.wikipedia.org)

An important detail of the Russian perspective is tying Hormuz to the ongoing war in Ukraine and the broader conflict with the West. In pieces about January strikes on Kyiv and Lviv, it was emphasized that the attacks occurred "against the backdrop of deteriorating Russia–U.S. relations after the detention of a Russian tanker" in the Atlantic, thereby tracing a line: wherever American military and sanction levers appear — from the Black Sea to the Persian Gulf — Russia sees a unified strategy of pressure. (ru.wikipedia.org) On various Russian platforms, including popular Russian‑language forums, the U.S.–Europe and NATO alliance is described as something fragile: there was wide discussion of Trump's interview where he called NATO a "paper tiger" and mused about a possible U.S. exit from the alliance — for a Russian audience this conveniently fits the narrative of a "weary West" and the cracking of the transatlantic security system. (reddit.com)

South Korea's discussion around Project Freedom is far more nervous and pragmatic. This is not an abstract debate about hegemony, but a question of whether Seoul can bear another American request "to go to war together." Last week, South Korean media examined Trump's statement that Iran attacked a South Korean cargo ship and that "it is time" for Seoul to participate in the operation to open the strait. The U.S. president, appealing to the "wounded" Korean ship, demanded that the ally join Project Freedom, while U.S. Central Command concurrently reported intercepting Iranian missiles and drones. (zdnet.co.kr)

The response from Korean authorities was notably cautious. National Security Advisor Wi Sung‑nak, at a briefing in Seoul, stressed that according to Trump himself, the project was "temporarily suspended" amid progress in talks with Iran, and therefore "there is no longer a need" to continue considering Korea's participation. In the same publication he effectively distanced Seoul from the American interpretation of the incident with the ship, noting that Washington apparently assumes the ship was "hit," whereas Seoul "still needs to determine" whether it was indeed a targeted strike. (biz.chosun.com)

South Korean economic and industry reports reinforce this doubt. In risk assessments for the insurance and logistics sectors, it is stressed that a prolonged blockade of Hormuz has already triggered an "unprecedented shock" in global energy supplies, and that for an export‑dependent Korean economy, participation in an American military initiative could mean a new round of vulnerability. (kiri.or.kr) In newspaper columns analyzing the possible "Korean share" in Project Freedom, experts openly draw parallels with the Iraq war and how South Korea then balanced allied obligations with public irritation.

Here a theme important for both Russia and India becomes evident: the fear of being dragged into a U.S.–Iran confrontation, perceived as a war with an open ending and unpredictable economic consequences. The Korean press adds a deeper background: the unresolved question of military and trade preferences in relations with the U.S. Korea's Minister of Industry, while in Washington, recently spoke about the first direct Korean investments in the U.S. "after the special U.S. investment law came into effect" in June, and against that backdrop any escalation in Hormuz is viewed through the prism of potential Washington pressure, including trade. (yna.co.kr)

India's view of the current escalation is less emotional but no less complex. New Delhi has long been accustomed to multi‑move diplomacy, where it must align with Washington on China and technology, while not abandoning Tehran and Moscow. One of the most discussed aspects is American sanction and tariff levers tied, on one hand, to the war in Iran and, on the other, to Russian oil. Indian business outlets in recent months have detailed a temporary 30‑day "waiver" granted by the U.S. for purchases of Russian oil amid the Middle East crisis: it allowed India's imports of Russian oil to rise to 1.37 million barrels per day, 30% above February levels. (business-standard.com)

For Indian analysts, this was further proof that Washington must accommodate energy realities and cannot simultaneously wage war with Iran, pressure Moscow, and force India to forgo profitable Russian oil. At the same time, Russian‑language reviews of international trade pointed to the other side: the U.S. had already applied an additional 25% tariff on certain Indian exports, linking it to India's role in re‑exporting Russian oil, and only recently removed that surcharge. For an Indian audience, all this illustrates the "capricious" nature of American economic power — today Washington imposes a duty to pressure Moscow, tomorrow it removes it when it needs Indian tankers to help stabilize the market amid the Iranian crisis. (cisg.info)

Interestingly, amid Project Freedom the Indian debate rarely boils down to "whose side are we on" in the Gulf. Far more often it is about how to use the turbulence to strengthen India's position as a "responsible energy hub" and how to avoid falling under secondary U.S. sanctions. In commentary on decisions by the Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC), analysts emphasize that Washington is still ready to "make exceptions" for India if that helps keep oil prices under control and prevents pushing New Delhi into the arms of Moscow and Beijing.

The second major storyline linking the three countries is broader skepticism about the steadiness and professionalism of American foreign policy under Trump. To the familiar Russian critique of "forceful solutions" and "low professionalism" in American diplomacy has been added a new argument: the mass U.S. withdrawal from dozens of international organizations in early 2026, which Russian encyclopedic and expert materials interpret as an increase in isolationism and a departure from multilateral rules of the game. (ru.wikipedia.org)

This theme is actively picked up on informal Russian platforms. In popular discussions about a possible U.S. exit from NATO users mock Washington for calling the alliance a "paper tiger" at the same time as it keeps demanding allies participate in missions — from Ukraine to the Strait of Hormuz. (reddit.com) The tone here is less triumphant and more sarcastic: yes, a weakened NATO benefits Moscow, but the chaotic nature of American decisions causes concern among some in Russia — an unpredictable hegemon can be more dangerous than a predictable adversary.

In South Korea the same skepticism takes on a purely pragmatic form. In commentary on Project Freedom Korean experts in the financial and sectoral press stress that Trump is acting not only out of strategic considerations but also domestic politics: the pause in the operation coincided precisely with the deadline under the U.S. law on war powers when the president would have needed Congressional approval to continue a war in Iran. (asiae.co.kr) For Seoul this signals that the alliance with the U.S. increasingly depends on electoral cycles and Washington's internal party games, not on long‑term strategy.

India, for its part, sees both opportunities and risks in this chaos. In expert commentary on U.S.–India military and technological cooperation, published amid Congressional hearings on South Asia, analysts note that Washington seeks to deepen ties with New Delhi while still keeping Pakistan in mind as a useful tool of regional balance. (uscc.gov) Indian newspapers describe this as U.S. "strategic pluralism," but the underlying message is clear: one cannot fully rely either on American sanction promises or on American security guarantees.

The third common line is how the U.S. is perceived through the prism of its own wars: in Ukraine, Iran, and the broader rivalry with Russia and China. In Russia the war in Ukraine remains the main focus, and here the U.S. acts as the key "conductor" of the Western camp. Domestically this is framed in rhetoric about an "existential struggle" with NATO, where Project Freedom and strikes on Iran are merely another front of "the same war." Reports about a scaled‑down Victory Day parade in Moscow and its "military" rhetoric stress that the Kremlin sees the confrontation with the U.S. as a struggle "like in the time of World War II," and this imagery is deliberately extended to both the Ukrainian and Middle Eastern tracks. (washingtonpost.com)

In South Korea American involvement in Ukraine and Iran is viewed through a completely different lens: will it weaken U.S. attention to East Asia and to deterring North Korea and China? It is no coincidence that in interviews and statements by Korean ministers made in Washington in recent days the refrain appears: "the alliance with the U.S. remains the cornerstone of Seoul's foreign and defense policy," even if there are "differences on individual issues." (koreajoongangdaily.joins.com) Against the backdrop of the Iranian war and Project Freedom this sounds like a public reassurance and a veiled worry at once: will Korean interests become bargaining chips in another American crisis on the other side of the world?

India in this mix appears the least dramatic, but perhaps its position is the most strategic. In business press and analysis around Russian oil and sanctions, Iran figures more as another element of a complex energy chessboard, where Washington must act flexibly and New Delhi must be as opportunistic as possible. The hard Russia–U.S. confrontation over Ukraine and the new front in Hormuz are united in Indian materials by one idea: the world has entered an era when no superpower can "unilaterally" dictate the rules, and the ability to manoeuvre between them becomes the main resource of a middle power. (business-standard.com)

Against this backdrop it is telling which voices from these countries are most quoted when it comes to the U.S. In Russia these are, on one hand, official figures and diplomats speaking the language of "aggression" and "escalation," and on the other — popular bloggers and forum commentators who discuss American hardware, space and NATO with irony and a mix of envy and contempt. In South Korea — ministers, insurers, shipowners, for whom the U.S. is neither an ideological enemy nor an object of worship, but a key, albeit capricious, business and military partner. In India — oil traders, economists and strategists constantly calculating where "strategic partnership" with the U.S. ends and where the price becomes too high.

What unites these disparate voices is one thing: almost nowhere is the U.S. any longer perceived as an unconditional and predictable "anchor of global stability." For Russia it is an occasion to speak of the twilight of American hegemony; for Korea it is a source of chronic anxiety and the need to constantly clarify the boundaries of the alliance; for India it is a chance to strengthen its own autonomy, but a reminder that any U.S. mistake in Hormuz or Ukraine will immediately echo in Mumbai in the price of gasoline and investment risks.

"Project Freedom" in this sense proved to be a symbolic name: it promises not so much freedom for ships in the Strait of Hormuz as it demonstrates how constrained the U.S.'s freedom of maneuver is — by domestic politics, international obligations, and economic realities. And the clearer this becomes in Moscow, Seoul and New Delhi, the more actively these capitals seek ways to build a world in which America remains important, but no longer the sole center of gravity and no longer the only source of fear.

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How the World Sees America Today: Ukraine, France and Israel

In early May 2026 the image of the United States in the international press increasingly resembles less the old stereotype of a “pillar of stability” and more a country that, while still indispensable, provokes growing frustration with its inconsistency. In Ukrainian, French and Israeli debates about the US the same themes keep resurfacing: fatigue with American volatility, anxiety about deals “over allies’ heads,” and an effort to adapt to a world in which Washington remains powerful but is no longer predictable.

In the Ukrainian discourse America is still the main foreign-policy factor determining the outcome of the war and the shape of the future peace. But the tone has noticeably grown more nervous. Kyiv commentators write about a “reassessment” of America’s role in NATO and in Ukraine after Donald Trump’s statements that the US “should not have intervened in a war” thousands of miles from its shores; European Pravda cites this, emphasizing that the same doubts extend to Alliance membership itself.(eurointegration.com.ua) Ukrainian analysts note that the new American team is simultaneously negotiating peace with Russia in Abu Dhabi and Geneva, tying even future security guarantees to Kyiv’s willingness to make concessions over Donbas. In a review of early February talks the Ukrainian Institute for the Future explicitly writes that, according to sources, the US is willing to grant guarantees only after Ukraine agrees to a treaty and troop withdrawals — which in Kyiv is read as pressure toward a “peace at the expense of territory.”(uiamp.org)

The French perspective is structured differently. In Paris the discussion about the US long ago turned into a conversation about Europe itself. The Ukrainian site European Pravda, which has a wide Western audience, published a column by Anton Filippov on how Trump changed US foreign policy and pushed Europe toward strategic autonomy: the less confidence there is in Washington’s willingness to “unconditionally guarantee the continent’s security,” the more actively Paris and Brussels build their own defense architecture.(eurointegration.com.ua) In the French and France-adjacent expert field this idea is taken further. In a “dispatch from Kyiv” for the Atlantic Council it is emphasized that the new American line — reduced aid to Ukraine, easing sanctions on Russian oil, a more conciliatory stance toward Moscow in talks — was a shock for Europe but also a catalyst: Paris is taking on the role of engine of the coalition supporting Kyiv, including through proposals discussed in France to deploy limited allied contingents “far from the front line,” which President Emmanuel Macron in 2025 explicitly distinguished from classic “peacekeeping.”(atlanticcouncil.org) In this logic the US is no longer the “senior partner” but a large, capricious power to be dealt with pragmatically.

The Israeli perspective predictably centers on the triangle “US — Israel — Iran,” but here too the key word is uncertainty. Against the backdrop of a shift from intense combat to diplomacy on multiple fronts — Iran, Lebanon, the Gaza Strip — Israeli analysts stress that the US sets the parameters: the Washington foreign-policy establishment itself frames that two of the three critical tracks for moving “from war to diplomacy” — on Iran and Gaza — are effectively being led under American auspices.(washingtoninstitute.org) At the same time, in the right‑wing press such as Israel Hayom Benjamin Netanyahu’s trip to Washington in February was described not as a routine ally visit but as a defensive mission: the Israeli prime minister, in their formulation, fears a “limited nuclear deal” between the US and Tehran that would not touch Iran’s proxy networks, missile arsenal, and the regime’s repressive behavior.(israelhayom.com) On another flank, analysts from the right‑leaning research center Misgav, reviewing the recent large-scale Operation Epic Fury against Iran, try to remind audiences what a “real US–Israel alliance” looks like: coordinated strikes, intelligence sharing, involvement of US Arab partners. But even they acknowledge that 2026 is not 2003 and that American society and politics are far less prepared for a prolonged conflict.(misgavins.org)

A common theme across all three countries is the sense that US foreign policy is no longer a linear extension of past commitments. Ukrainian publications emphasize that in 2025 American support sharply declined, and in 2026 its absence became a “key reason” for Ukraine’s increased vulnerability, as noted in the Swedish analytical report by SCEEUS, which is widely cited in Kyiv.(ui.se) Against this background ideas are emerging about closer military-technical cooperation as a way to keep America engaged: Ukraine proposes to the US and Europeans an exchange of “Ukrainian drones for American systems” within post-war arrangements — a topic raised by European Pravda, which emphasizes that by 2026 Ukraine’s readiness for such a deal has only grown.(eurointegration.com.ua) From the Ukrainian point of view, this is a pragmatic response to the new Washington: if ideological solidarity has weakened, one must offer mutually beneficial formulas.

In France, by contrast, talk about the US is increasingly used as an argument for strengthening national sovereignty. For French and pro‑French analysts it is telling that the same Washington, which today is restrained in supporting Ukraine, is simultaneously “shifting focus” to a war with Iran, as Defense News notes in a piece on how the Middle East conflict is “sapping” resources needed to monitor a peace agreement for Ukraine. The article cites CSIS experts who state bluntly: without the American “umbrella” of air-defense, intelligence, and rapid-reaction forces even an enhanced European peace mission would be fragile.(defensenews.com) French commentators interpret this two ways: on one hand, confirmation of US indispensability; on the other, a signal that Europe should be ready to substitute part of the American role if Washington ultimately chooses the Middle East over Eastern Europe.

The Israeli conversation about America is even more contradictory. On one hand, reports from influence groups like AIPAC proudly highlight that the US budget for fiscal year 2026 again includes billions for joint security and defense programs, from missile defense to joint scientific projects; this is presented as proof that the “special relationship” is alive.(aipac.org) On the other hand, a fresh poll by the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI) shows that within Israeli society attitudes toward continuing the war and negotiating its end are strongly tied to the US factor. A significant portion of the population allows for continued hostilities, but the poll records a noticeable desire to “stop and move to agreements if done in coordination with the US”; this is particularly pronounced among centrist and center-left segments.(jppi.org.il) Israelis, judging by this data, intuitively understand: without the American umbrella and diplomatic backing any move — whether to continue the war or to pursue peace — becomes too risky.

Another, less obvious but striking theme is the changing image of Israel within American society and its reciprocal impact. An analytical note from the Israeli Institute for National Security Studies (INSS) states that in a recent international comparative survey Israel was perceived as closer to countries “viewed as hostile to the US” — Russia, Iran, China — than to traditional allies, and even less favorably perceived than problematic partners like Saudi Arabia and Turkey.(inss.org.il) For Israeli elites this is an alarming signal: if the political “cover” in Washington that Israel relied on for decades erodes under public opinion pressure, then the US itself will become a less reliable partner. That is why the Israeli press scrutinizes every prime ministerial visit to the White House, every hint of a “limited deal” with Iran, every delay in the next package of military aid so intensely.

Curiously, the Ukrainian and Israeli discourses sometimes mirror each other. In Kyiv reports are quoted with irritation that the Pentagon allegedly considers redirecting important weapons intended for Ukraine to the war with Iran; Secretary of State Marco Rubio had to publicly deny such plans while at the same time “not rule out” such a scenario in the future, which in the Ukrainian press sounds ambiguous.(eurointegration.com.ua) In Israeli analytical circles, however, a war with Iran and an increased American presence in the Middle East are seen as a necessary condition to deter Tehran — even if it comes at the cost of weakening the American focus on Eastern Europe. The same adjustment of American priorities is perceived differently by countries standing on opposite sides of the conditional front line “Ukraine — Iran.”

Against this backdrop the French debate about the US seems almost philosophical. For French strategists what matters is not only Washington’s reaction to specific crises but also the broader evolution of America’s role in the world. European analysis increasingly uses the term “reassessment” of American guarantees, not only in the military but also in the economic sphere: French economic reviews and Israeli macroeconomic digests closely watch US growth indicators and the dynamics of the S&P 500, Nasdaq and Dow Jones, since America’s financial power remains the foundation of its foreign-policy influence.(gov.il) But now that influence is perceived as less disinterested: the US increasingly acts like a “portfolio investor” reallocating resources among “assets” — Ukraine, Israel, Iran — in search of better strategic “returns.”

Each country also develops its own, sometimes unexpected, emphases compared with the American press. In Ukraine, where the war has become the central nerve of society, US foreign policy is discussed not just as abstract geopolitics but as a factor in the survival of universities, the social system and the economy. A spring study on the emigration of Ukrainian scholars directly links the scale of researcher outflow to fluctuations in Western, and especially American, aid, which determines the possibility of continuing scientific projects at home.(arxiv.org) This is a very different angle on the same “American inconsistency” than the one found within the US.

In France the topic of America is tightly interwoven with internal cultural debates: the US is simultaneously criticized for “rough unilateral realism” and seen as a source of inspiration for discussions about democracy, the rule of law and minority rights. But a fatigue with the role of “junior partner” is notable: many commentators clearly want to speak about the US not as the main protagonist on the European stage, but as an important — though not sole — player.

Israeli texts about the US are often structured as attempts to delineate where the boundary of permissible disagreement with Washington lies today. How much autonomy can Israel allow itself on the Iran, Palestinian and Lebanese tracks without risking the alliance? In analyses by Misgav, INSS and other centers this issue is almost obsessive: Israel must simultaneously convince the American elite that it remains an indispensable military partner in the era of “Iran‑2026, which is nothing like Iraq‑2003,” and reassure Israeli society that without the American partner the country will not be left to face regional threats alone.(inss.org.il)

Putting these three different perspectives together produces not a black‑and‑white image of America as hegemon or “declining empire,” but a much more complex picture: the US remains the center of global power distribution, but it has ceased to be a moral and political “constant luminary” even in the eyes of its closest partners. For Ukraine it is a source of anxiety and an incentive to seek pragmatic, mutually beneficial formulas with Washington — from arms deals to tough negotiations over security guarantees. For France it is a reason to build a Europe capable of acting with the US and, if necessary, without it. For Israel it is a painful recalibration of the boundaries of trust in American public opinion and elites, on whom the very existence of the familiar construct of “special relations” depends.

In this sense today’s foreign conversations about America are less about discussing Washington than an admission that the era of unconditional reliance on the US is over. Now each country — from war‑torn Ukraine to longstanding ally Israel and the European power France — must learn to live in a world where America remains necessary but is no longer guaranteed.

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Strait and Blockade: How the US–Iran War Shapes Views in Germany, Turkey and South Africa

American policy has again become both the main irritant and a guidepost: the war of the US and Israel against Iran, the naval blockade and the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, trade‑tariff pressure on Europe, and the deepening political rift between Washington and a number of Global South countries. Viewed not from Washington but from Berlin, Ankara or Pretoria, the US today is not simply the "leader of the West" but a source of strategic uncertainty that at once guarantees security, destabilizes economies and pushes the world toward a new split.

At the center of attention everywhere is the US–Israel war against Iran, which began on 28 February 2026 with a series of sudden strikes, the killing of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and the subsequent naval blockade of Iranian ports and closure of the Strait of Hormuz.(en.wikipedia.org) For Europeans, Turks and South Africans this is not just a discrete conflict — it is a test for the entire system of international law, global energy markets and the question: can US strategic calculations still be trusted.

The main backdrop against which these countries discuss America is the extremely fragile ceasefire and Washington’s attempts to open a "humanitarian corridor" through Hormuz, turned into a geopolitical trap. In different capitals the event is read differently: as a contentious show of force, as an opportunity for regional mediation, or as another example of American "double standards."

In the German‑speaking sphere attention is riveted to how the war with Iran hits European interests and how relations between Berlin and Washington are sharply deteriorating. The US–German conflict over NATO and the withdrawal of American troops from Germany is discussed not as a technical redeployment issue but as a symptom of a deeper rupture. One American foreign‑policy tracker emphasizes that Washington announced the withdrawal of roughly 5,000 service members from German soil — and that Germany had been a critically important hub for the operation against Iran.(fdd.org) In Berlin this is interpreted as a political gesture of pressure and punishment, and Fabrice Potier, former NATO policy director, in a comment for Euronews urges Europeans to seriously consider the scenario of a "Europe without the US," that is, the need for an autonomous defense architecture not dependent on the whims of the current Washington administration.(tr.euronews.com)

The German discourse about the US is now heavily tied to the theme of trust: can one rely on American guarantees at a moment when the White House on the one hand demands greater loyalty from allies in the Iranian conflict, and on the other threatens tariffs on cars from the EU and a real scaling back of participation in NATO. Reports that President Trump intends to raise tariffs on European cars to 25%, accompanied by claims of a supposedly violated trade deal, are presented in the German and wider European press as evidence that transatlantic ties are turning into a field of tactical blackmail.(apnews.com)

For Turkey the US war with Iran and the Hormuz crisis are simultaneously a risk and an opportunity. Turkish business media and political commentators stress that the geopolitical upheaval caused by the American blockade and Iran’s retaliatory policy in the strait strengthens Ankara’s role as a transit hub and a potential "insurance route" for energy supplies and logistics between East and West. The economic outlet Dünya, for example, notes that the "US‑European diplomatic tension" around the war with Iran accelerates the search for alternative security partners, and cites a piece in the American magazine The National Interest predicting that Europe will be forced to strengthen defense cooperation with Turkey against the backdrop of Washington’s unpredictability.(dunya.com)

Turkish analysts see another measurable effect of US actions: nervousness in global markets and increased sensitivity to Federal Reserve statements. Against the background of war, sanctions and the Hormuz blockade, reports from Turkish investment houses emphasize that changes in Federal Reserve leadership and the course of US monetary policy are perceived not merely as technical financial matters but as part of a broader politico‑economic package of American influence, where military decisions (Iran, Hormuz) are directly intertwined with the dollar’s financial hegemony. A recent analytical report stresses that "US–Iran tensions" and political uncertainty significantly increase volatility, and markets become especially sensitive to signals from Washington.(gcmyatirim.com.tr)

At the same time there is a visible split in the Turkish socio‑political field: some media, particularly the more pro‑Western and economically oriented outlets, still view the US as an indispensable center of financial and technological power to be engaged with pragmatically. But nationalist and left‑leaning circles stress a different side: the war against Iran is perceived through the lens of an old anti‑imperialist narrative, where Washington once again acts as a force disrupting the balance in the Middle East without regard for regional actors’ interests, including Ankara’s. On Medyascope’s analytical airwaves, where Turkish political scientist Ömer Taşpınar discusses the war in Iran, US–China relations and the NATO crisis, it is emphasized that the Alliance is experiencing one of the most serious crises in its history, and Turkey is forced to maneuver, maintaining working relations with Trump while simultaneously building its own game with Moscow and Beijing.(medyascope.tv)

The South African worldview is fundamentally different. In Pretoria and Cape Town the discussion focuses less on the military and more on the moral‑legal side of US actions. There is a strong tradition in South African foreign policy rooted in the anti‑apartheid legacy, sympathy for the Global South and skepticism toward Western military interventionism. South Africa’s Minister of International Relations Ronald Lamola, in a bilateral meeting with his German counterpart in Berlin, put the position very bluntly: he said that both the US and Iran violate the UN Charter, and South African diplomacy takes a fundamentally anti‑war stance, insisting on diplomacy and accountability for the "illegal invasion."(ewn.co.za)

South African analysts emphasize that the US blockade of Iranian ports threatens not only regional stability but also the economies of Global South countries that depend on steady energy supplies and predictable sea routes. In a column for Eyewitness News it is noted that the fragile ceasefire has prompted a "wave of relief" in South Africa, but there remains "great skepticism about how Trump is conducting this war," and some observers believe the US was "outplayed by Iran on several fronts — military and diplomatic."(ewn.co.za)

This South African perspective also incorporates a longer‑term trend: a weakening of trust in American global leadership. A briefing from the parliamentary budget office of South Africa stresses that US policies exacerbate the decline in confidence in international institutions and increase uncertainty, especially amid rising geopolitical tensions and the militarization of access to natural resources.(parliament.gov.za) In practice this is expressed by Pretoria’s refusal to sever ties with Tehran despite pressure, and its growing role as part of a bloc of countries ready to challenge the American narrative at the UN and other forums. One analyst from the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, criticizing South Africa’s course, outright calls the government "anti‑American," highlighting its refusal to break ties with Iran during the war while relations with Israel were sharply downgraded up to the expulsion of the ambassador.(fdd.org)

What particularly irritates Germany, Turkey and South Africa is the maritime component of American strategy. A wide range of sources — from German‑language analytical reports to South African press and Turkish business outlets — emphasize that the blockade and control of key maritime arteries have become the main instrument of US pressure. German analytical pieces on the war with Iran stress that the combination of a closed Strait of Hormuz and a ports blockade simultaneously "breaks the Iranian economy" and seriously destabilizes global supply chains, which inevitably hits Germany’s export‑oriented industry. Franco‑German outlets like Le Monde describe the situation as a "stalemate": Iranians, by controlling the strait, strike at global activity, while Americans, by blocking ports, strangle Iran’s economy, and both sides are convinced they control the timing and can wait for the other to make the first concession.(lemonde.fr)

Turkish and German presses closely follow the American "Project Freedom" initiative to conduct convoys through Hormuz, which President Trump presented as a humanitarian gesture in response to requests from countries whose vessels are trapped in the strait. Deutsche Welle’s Turkish edition quotes Trump’s statement about launching "Project Freedom" in detail and almost immediately reports the harsh reaction of the chairman of Iran’s parliamentary national security commission, Ibrahim Azizi, who warned that any American intervention in the strait would be considered a violation of the ceasefire.(amp.dw.com) German‑language and Turkish analysts present this as an example of how narrow Washington’s maneuvering space is: every action, even under humanitarian rhetoric, risks undermining the fragile ceasefire.

Washington’s subsequent vacillations only reinforced the sense of inconsistency. On 6 May the Turkish business broadcaster CNBC‑e quoted Trump as announcing a "suspension of Project Freedom" while maintaining the Hormuz blockade, explained as an effort to "free up space" for negotiations.(cnbce.com) For Ankara and Berlin this looks like a tactical zigzag: the US continues to use hard pressure tools (the blockade) but is forced to step back from the riskiest initiatives under pressure from allies and fears of escalation. In South African discourse such a maneuver is interpreted as confirmation that a forceful US approach does not lead to a sustainable peace: Minister Lamola states plainly that the blockade and forceful measures will not resolve the impasse but will only prolong civilian suffering and global economic instability.(ewn.co.za)

Another line uniting German, Turkish and South African discussions is doubt about the legal and moral legitimacy of the war. In Germany and across Europe think tanks — from party foundations to university units — are dissecting Washington’s arguments. International lawyers, drawing on materials like the overview "Rationale for the 2026 Iran war," note that the US presents the strike as an extension of "self‑defense" and collective defense of Israel, rather than as a new war.(en.wikipedia.org) But for many European and particularly South African commentators this looks like an attempt at a legal circumvention of war without a UN Security Council mandate.

In Pretoria and Cape Town memory of the struggle against apartheid and of their own experience with sanctions makes South African discourse especially sensitive to one‑sided military actions by great powers. South African lawyers and politicians point to recent experiences — from Iraq to Libya — and warn that the current conflict with Iran repeats the same pattern: the West appeals to the right of self‑defense while in practice reshaping the Middle Eastern political landscape by force. An Eyewitness News piece emphasizes that UN resolutions that condemn only Iran for attacks on Gulf states "absolve the US and Israel from responsibility for their own crimes — including aggression and war crimes."(ewn.co.za)

In Turkey, where a significant portion of society traditionally sympathizes with the Palestinians and is critical of Israeli policy, the American narrative legitimizing the war through "protecting an ally" is also met with distrust. Nationalist and leftist publicists draw parallels between the current conflict and the long‑standing US "double standard" regarding Israel and Arab countries. At the same time, the ruling elite, oriented toward balancing relations with the West, Russia and China, seeks not to burn bridges with Washington, seeing both a threat and a bargaining resource in ties with the US — in both military and economic spheres.

Finally, from the German perspective, the US war with Iran and the White House’s tariff pressure are pushing Europe toward a painful but necessary conversation about strategic autonomy. Commentators in Berlin and Brussels point out that at the current level of dependence on American military infrastructure Europe is held hostage to White House decisions that may ignore European economic interests and political preferences. In discussions following American threats to raise car tariffs and announcements of troop withdrawals from Germany, analytical publications such as the FDD foreign‑policy tracker stress that for Washington the transatlantic alliance has become an instrument of tactical pressure rather than a partnership of shared values.(apnews.com)

Interestingly, in all three countries — Germany, Turkey and South Africa — demand grows for multipolar explanations of the world. In Berlin this takes the form of debates about a "Europe without the US," calls to reform NATO or even to form European deterrent forces independent of Washington. In Turkey such sentiments are expressed through "balancing" between the US, Russia and China, attempts to extract maximum political and economic dividends from the West’s loss of unity. In South Africa this appears as a strengthening of Global South identity, emphasis on BRICS and a readiness to openly challenge the American agenda at the UN, even if that comes at the cost of cooling bilateral relations with Washington.(parliament.gov.za)

What in the American press is often briefly described as "the conflict with Iran" and "disputes with Europeans over tariffs and defense," in Berlin, Ankara and Pretoria is perceived as part of a broader transformation: a world where the US still possesses unsurpassed military and financial power but is losing its monopoly on the interpretation of international norms and on the role of "natural leader."

In the German, Turkish and South African discourses about the US today there are simultaneously fear, irritation and pragmatic calculation. Fear — that the conflict with Iran will spiral out of control and collapse the global economy, once again held hostage by an American–Iranian duel. Irritation — that Washington uses its power so unilaterally, often ignoring the interests of allies and partners. And pragmatic calculation — the understanding that pushing the US away is dangerous and costly, but accepting its policy as a given is no longer possible.

It is in these contradictory feelings that a new international conversation about America is being born today — a conversation increasingly spoken not in the language of admiration but in the language of cautious, and at times forceful, reassessment of the US role in the world.

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How the World Sees America at the Oil Throat: Hormuz, Blockade and a New Frontier of U.S

In early May 2026 the image of America abroad is being shaped again not by elections or culture, but by guns and tankers. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and South Korea people are discussing not the abstract “Washington” but very specific U.S. helicopters and destroyers that are now attempting to escort stuck tankers through the Strait of Hormuz as part of the “Project Freedom” — an American operation to extract ships from an area blocked by Iran. Around this strait, through which up to a fifth of the world’s seaborne oil shipments travel, a new lens on the United States is forming: as a security guarantor, as an irresponsible war‑starter, or as a partner whose actions can wreck another country’s economy.

The main storyline, appearing in various forms in Arab, German and Korean debates, is the U.S. naval blockade and Iran’s response in the Strait of Hormuz. Saudi and broader Middle Eastern commentators see the U.S. as a force balancing between containing Iran and risking the destruction of the regional security architecture. German analysts argue over whether America is using the crisis to strengthen its energy advantage and global influence, and whether it is dragging Europe into a war for which it is unprepared. South Korean writers view Hormuz through the prism of energy prices, supply‑chain vulnerability and increasingly tense Seoul‑Washington relations amid the conflict with Iran and tensions around North Korea.

In Arab commentary on the current crisis, the U.S. and Iran appear as two players “managing deterrence on the brink of explosion.” Thus, an Arabic analysis in Al Jazeera describes the current U.S. operation in the Strait of Hormuz — “Project Freedom” to free trapped ships while at the same time maintaining a maritime blockade of Iranian ports — as part of a bilateral game in which each side tries to change the rules of deterrence without crossing the formal threshold of a major war. The author emphasizes that Washington, on the one hand, speaks of “freedom of navigation” and protecting “innocent states,” while on the other hand effectively conducting an economic siege of the Iranian coast — which in the region is perceived as a continuation of long‑standing American practices of pressure through sanctions and military force. According to one commentator‑expert, retired Major General Muhammad Abd al‑Wahid, Iran responds asymmetrically: attacks on individual vessels, sabotage of key nodes in ship systems — not to sink them, but to paralyze movement and deliver a politico‑psychological blow. In this logic the U.S. looks not only like the “sea police” but also as a party whose actions turn the entire waters into a zone of managed chaos where any mistake risks escalation to open war. (aljazeera.net)

The Saudi perspective, although rarely articulated so directly in official press, emerges in expert and semi‑anonymous commentary: the kingdom, on the one hand, depends on the stability of the strait and long relied on the American shield against Iran, and on the other hand fears that a protracted U.S.‑Iran standoff off its coast could make it a target. This reminder also appears in English‑language Gulf analysis noting that regional players see any American “security guarantee” as a double‑edged sword: it provides protection but simultaneously makes them potential targets, as was the case with Qatar a year earlier. (breakingdefense.com) For the Saudi elite the U.S. remains a key partner in arms and intelligence, but the longer the blockade of Hormuz lasts, the louder the question becomes: is the kingdom paying too high a price for America’s “maximum pressure” strategy toward Tehran?

In the German debate the Strait of Hormuz primarily exposes the vulnerability of the European economy and the dual role of the U.S. as both transit guarantor and a major beneficiary of the current crisis. Business daily Handelsblatt, in a piece about the American operation to move the first ships through Hormuz, emphasizes not only the military aspect but also how the crisis is redistributing energy flows and revenues. Analytical notes say that the U.S. LNG industry benefits from the price shock caused by the fighting around the strait, and German politicians find it increasingly difficult to explain why Europe should support Washington’s hard line if Europe becomes hostage to the energy market while Washington becomes an alternative exporter. (zeit.de)

On the other hand, part of the German expert and online discourse sharply questions the legitimacy of the American maritime blockade. In discussions about reports of strikes on Iranian targets and retaliatory attacks on ships, one can find the formula: “instead of blocking Hormuz itself, the U.S. could simply stop attacking Iran in violation of international law.” In several popular German Reddit communities the U.S. maritime blockade and strikes on Iranian ports are called out bluntly as “a total naval siege of the entire Iranian coastline, not just the strait,” and some commenters stress that media and politicians focus on gasoline prices while escalation itself is viewed as a step difficult to reconcile with international law. (reddit.com) Here America appears not as a guarantor of stability but as a source of legal and political turbulence, forcing Berlin to navigate between allied solidarity and growing voter discontent.

A particular topic for Germany is the refusal to participate in the American operation at Hormuz. According to an English‑language review of the crisis, Germany, along with a number of other NATO countries and U.S. Asian allies, rejected Washington’s call to send naval forces to support the blockade and the campaign to “break” the strait. (en.wikipedia.org) In the German context this is seen as a rare case of Berlin showing restrained independence from the U.S., especially amid domestic debates about military spending and participation in global missions. However, political cooling does not mean informational disengagement: the discussion about America in German media today is simultaneously about military dependence, economic asymmetry and how far Germany is willing to go with Washington in conflicts that affect not so much its security as its wallet.

South Korea views the U.S. through Hormuz differently — as a security partner whose actions affect its tankers, its relations with Iran, and indirectly the balance on the Korean Peninsula. Korean economic and general‑political media detail the 66th day of the Iranian blockade and the American “counter‑blockade,” stressing that the current crisis risks turning into a full‑blown energy shock. Global Economic reports that the U.S. and Iran are exchanging 14‑point peace proposals, yet shipping through Hormuz remains paralyzed and global oil markets are jittery. The article quotes an American official — Minneapolis Fed head Neel Kashkari — warning that war uncertainty increases inflationary risks and could force the regulator to raise rates, and one CEO surveyed says that even if the strait opened today, full restoration of supply chains would take up to six months. (g-enews.com) In this context the U.S. is, for Korean readers, both a “saver of ships” and a source of global macroeconomic volatility that bluntly hits an export‑oriented economy.

Korean outlets also note that Washington is intensifying the blockade and expanding arms shipments to regional allies — from precision missiles for Israel to air‑defense systems for Qatar, Kuwait and the UAE — worth billions of dollars, with the package approved bypassing the usual congressional review process. This is seen as an example of how the U.S., while in conflict with Iran, simultaneously strengthens its arms ecosystem in the region. (g-enews.com) Combined with reports that a number of American allies, including South Korea itself, refused to send ships to support the Trump‑era operation at Hormuz, a paradoxical image emerges for the Seoul audience: the U.S. remains an indispensable security guarantor but can no longer count on automatic international support for its military adventures.

Alongside the narrowly military agenda there is another layer of assessments of the U.S., particularly visible in Germany and, to a lesser extent, in Saudi Arabia and South Korea: a discussion about America’s structural benefit from a prolonged crisis. German analysts in business press and online debates emphasize that the U.S., now a major energy exporter, is less dependent on Middle Eastern oil and can simultaneously use the crisis to strengthen its LNG industry and political influence over European energy markets. German Wikipedia, reflecting the consensus of many sources, explicitly states: in the context of the 2026 crisis around Hormuz “the U.S. LNG industry benefits from the price shock,” while Europe pays for the conflict with price spikes and the need to seek alternatives. (de.wikipedia.org)

In the Arab, including Saudi, perspective this same motive appears differently: as suspicion that Washington uses the slogan “freedom of navigation” not only to contain Iran but also to rewrite the rules of the oil markets, strengthen allies’ dependence on American energy and weapons. Commentators note that the U.S., conducting a maritime blockade and strike operations in the region, does not bear direct risk to its own territory — the whole war unfolds far from American shores but in close proximity to key Gulf ports. Against this backdrop, for part of the kingdom’s elites oriented toward diversifying partners, the idea of multi‑vector diplomacy — from dialogue with China and Russia to attempts to build, cautiously, a more autonomous regional security architecture in which the U.S. is not the only pillar — looks attractive.

In South Korea the discussion of the U.S.’s structural benefits is more technocratic. Economic outlets calculate how a Fed rate rise, driven by inflationary expectations due to the war and the Hormuz blockade, affects the won and the borrowing costs of Korean corporations. They also analyze how higher insurance premiums for ships and longer delivery times via rerouted paths cut into the margins of Korean petrochemical giants. In this logic the United States is perceived as a global regulator whose military and financial decisions set the parameters for peripheral economies: Seoul may disagree with specific Washington steps but must take into account that American policy toward Iran and Hormuz ultimately determines how much a Korean consumer will pay for gasoline and electricity.

All three countries — Saudi Arabia, Germany and South Korea — converge on one point: the current crisis around Hormuz has shown that the U.S. remains an indispensable actor in the security of maritime communications, but trust in its strategic decisions is profoundly eroded. For Saudis this is expressed in a quiet but noticeable tilt toward multi‑vector diplomacy and fear that another American “Project Freedom” could turn their shores into a front line. For Germans it appears as growing criticism of the maritime blockade and attempts to minimize participation in American forceful operations without breaking the alliance with Washington. For South Koreans it shows up as concern about the economic fallout of any new American campaign and cautious distancing from the riskiest U.S. steps in the Middle East so as not to weaken their own position amid tensions with North Korea.

Looking at the whole mosaic, it becomes clear: the global image of America is less and less defined by abstract talk of “leadership of the free world” and more and more by a very specific question: do Washington’s decisions in particular straits, seas and conflicts improve or worsen the lives of partners and neighbors? In May 2026 the Strait of Hormuz became a kind of mirror in which Saudi Arabia, Germany and South Korea saw the same America — powerful, necessary, but increasingly unpredictable, a force that can no longer be followed by inertia alone but must be engaged in a difficult and sometimes publicly contentious dialogue.

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How the World Sees Trump's America: War with Iran, Ukraine, and a Narrowed Room for Maneuver

Since the start of the US and Israeli war with Iran and against the backdrop of the continuing war in Ukraine, America has once again become the main axis of global discussions — but no longer in the familiar role of “leader of the liberal world,” rather as the center of a chain of crises that other countries must somehow endure and adjust their policies and economies to. In India there is debate over whether the country has lost its strategic autonomy by following in Washington’s wake. In Russia and Ukraine people discuss whether the American strategy can sustain a two‑theater war and how US involvement in the Ukrainian conflict will change. In Ukraine itself every nuance in statements by Trump and his circle is read carefully, as Kyiv tries to understand who in Washington prioritizes victory over Russia and who favors a quick “deal.” Three interlinked themes have come to the fore: the US war with Iran and the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, a reassessment of the US role in the war in Ukraine, and a broader sense of the “overheating” of American leadership, which no longer guarantees allies either security or predictability.

The first theme, dominating Indian, Russian and Ukrainian debates alike, is the US war with Iran and the struggle over the Strait of Hormuz. Tehran’s decision to close Hormuz and Washington’s response of large‑scale strikes and a naval blockade transformed the regional conflict into a knot in the global economy: millions of barrels of oil pass through the strait daily, and now dozens of ships are stuck there with thousands of sailors. A French column in Le Monde vividly describes the situation as a “duel of patience”: both Washington and Tehran are convinced that they “hold the clock” and can wait longer than their opponent while remaining in a winning position, but negotiations never truly start because both sides believe they have the “upper hand” in the bargaining over Iran’s future and its nuclear program, and any softening will be seen as weakness (Le Monde article).

In Russia the same crisis is primarily viewed as a test of the limits of American power. Russian analysts and pro‑regime experts openly say in commentaries that Donald Trump’s proclaimed “Project Freedom” — an operation to extract ships of “neutral countries” from Hormuz — is unlikely to end in real success. In one Gazeta.Ru column, an expert discussing new American steps in the strait argues that the US “does not have the strength for a real military operation, but also does not want to agree to Tehran’s terms,” reminding readers that dozens of Iranian tankers have already passed through the strait with transponders switched off and that the Americans were unable to stop them (Gazeta.ru). The logic is simple: the longer the crisis drags on, the more convincing Moscow’s thesis about the “decline of American hegemony” and the need to revise the entire postwar security order looks.

Against this backdrop, Trump’s harsh statements promising to “wipe Iran off the face of the earth” if it interferes with operations in Hormuz are cited by Russian and Ukrainian Russian‑language outlets not only as a threat to Tehran but also as a signal to allies: if the US president bets on military escalation in the Gulf, Washington will have fewer resources and less political attention for Europe and Ukraine. Russian media actively repeat his claims that during the war “all Iranian military aviation and 44 ships” have already been destroyed — presented to a domestic audience at once as a demonstration of American strength and as an example of an “irresponsible adventure” that could result in a strategic dead end for the US (Lenta.ru; Vzglyad). In the Russian worldview Trump acts with brute force but without a clear understanding of what will count as “victory,” and a prolonged war undermines his position at home and on world oil markets — and it is precisely this, many commentators believe, that opens a window of opportunity for Moscow and Tehran.

For India the same war looks very different: like geopolitical pincers that place the country between a long‑standing partner, Iran, vital for energy and trade, and a growing but asymmetrical partnership with the US. Indian commentators in the English‑ and Hindi‑language press actively debate whether the policy of “multi‑alignment” has reached a dead end. A column in The Diplomat analyzes how India’s participation in US‑centered security initiatives in West Asia, as well as its observer role in structures under CENTCOM’s auspices, has effectively tied New Delhi to the bloc now at war with Iran, a country historically close to India. The author emphasizes that negative public opinion in India is partly caused by the attack on Iran itself; no less angered are those who see India’s exclusion from key consultations on Hormuz as a humiliation and a “reminder of 1971,” when the US supported Pakistan against India (The Diplomat).

The discussion goes even further in economic and business outlets. In a collection of opinions in Business Standard, former foreign minister Shyam Saran writes that the war around Iran “exposed the fragility of stability in West Asia and at the same time narrowed India’s diplomatic options,” since deepening security integration under US leadership and the inclusion of leading Gulf states effectively draw Delhi into an architecture whose rules are written in Washington (Business Standard). Against this backdrop anxiety grows about energy vulnerability: Hormuz is not just a foreign strait but an artery of the Indian economy.

Ukrainian voices, unlike Russian and Indian ones, view the US war with Iran primarily through the prism of competition for Washington’s attention and resources. President Volodymyr Zelensky explicitly speaks to this, explaining that despite the US focus shifting to the Middle East, Kyiv has managed to “bring US attention back to the war against Russia” and to put Ukraine back at the center of talks with partners (UNN). Ukrainian analytical pieces and interviews emphasize that each new escalation in Hormuz automatically calls into question the priority of the Ukrainian direction in Washington and increases suspicion that the White House may want to “close the Ukrainian issue” via a compromise with Moscow in order to focus on Iran.

From here comes the second major theme that unites Ukraine, Russia and, in a sense, India — a reassessment of the US role in the Ukrainian war and the fate of American military aid. Ukrainian media and experts have lately been actively discussing reports that the Trump administration is preparing a new wave of pressure on Kyiv, proposing to lift sanctions on Russia in exchange for a ceasefire without solid security guarantees for Ukraine. In an RBC‑Ukraine piece sources describe this as a “new stage” of American tactics: Washington might try to sell removal of sanctions in return for some “ephemeral concessions” from the Kremlin, shifting responsibility onto Kyiv for refusing such an offer (РБК‑Україна). This is the logic of a Trump deal: not endless support for Ukraine but the possibility of using the Ukrainian front as a bargaining chip in a wider negotiation with Moscow and Tehran.

At the same time Ukrainian press and the Telegram space nervously react to reports that the US allegedly warned Kyiv: either an agreement is reached before Easter, or arms deliveries may stop thereafter. In Russian‑language discussions, including on popular forums, this is interpreted as evidence that Washington “is looking for a pretext not to deliver already purchased weapons” and is trying to “cover up” its own desire to exit the conflict with minimal political losses. The dubiousness of some sources does not change the fact that in Ukrainian society the sense is growing that American resources are not infinite, and Washington’s willingness to hold the line against Russia depends on the logic of US domestic politics far more than on Ukrainian arguments.

Russian media, both systemic and semi‑opposition, use the same narratives in the opposite key: as proof that American support for Kyiv is drying up and that without external infusions the Ukrainian army “won’t hold for even two days,” as one anonymous American source quoted by Russian sites put it. One publication even uses that phrase as a headline, claiming that US officials admit: Ukraine cannot wage sustained combat without international aid, and linking this to NATO’s PURL program — the priority Ukrainian requirements list launched under Trump and alliance secretary‑general Mark Rutte (SquareNews).

At the same time Russian commentators develop the line that Washington itself will soon want to “disavow the Ukrainian topic” if it decides on a ground operation against Iran. In an article for Gazeta.press political scientist Alexander Zaitsev openly suggests that the US might “completely distance itself from the Ukraine issue” if the Middle East escalation drags on and military resources are drawn to the Gulf (Gazeta.press). For the Russian domestic audience this is presented as confirmation of the Kremlin’s correct strategy: simply outlast what the American electorate and treasury are prepared to endure.

Ukraine, by contrast, seeks to turn this dependence into an argument in its favor. At the Sedona Forum of the McCain Institute, the head of the President’s Office (in Ukrainian publications his words are attributed to Kyrylo Budanov) stressed that “US strength is directly connected to the alliance with Ukraine and the ability to respond to global security challenges,” recalling the emerging “axis Russia–Iran–North Korea” that challenges American leadership (Inshe.tv). The logic here is the inverse of the Russian one: the US cannot afford to “get tired” of Ukraine because Kyiv’s defeat amid a war with Iran would destroy Washington’s image as a power capable of simultaneously containing different authoritarian regimes.

The third crosscutting theme running through Indian, Russian and Ukrainian debates is the feeling that Trump’s America is less and less like the former “architect of the rules” and more like a major tactical player that reacts to crises, improvises and seeks quick deals. This is especially apparent in how different countries discuss prospects for a “new security architecture” after the war. In Ukraine and Europe analysts are dissecting the idea of “NATO 3.0,” which, according to Pentagon leaks, the Trump administration would like to implement by 2027 by shifting the main responsibility for deterring Russia onto European allies. Ukrainian writers in European Pravda explicitly say that for Kyiv this means the need to build a “marriage of convenience” with both the EU and Trump’s America: the US remains a key source of high‑tech weaponry and a political umbrella, but one cannot count on the former automatic support, and Ukraine will have to offer Washington more mutually beneficial formats, such as postwar agreements to exchange Ukrainian drones for American systems (Европейская правда).

In India similar doubts are framed through Delhi’s traditional term “strategic autonomy.” In an Asia Times article the author asks whether “India has the will to lead an initiative to stabilize Hormuz,” given it is seen as “the only major player trusted both in Washington and Tehran” (Asia Times). But a key doubt follows: the more India joins the US‑built security architecture, the harder it is to act as a truly independent mediator. Indian press recalls episodes when the government blocked a documentary about a Palestinian girl killed by Israeli forces, justifying it as necessary to avoid spoiling relations with Israel “against the backdrop of the war with Iran” — for many, a symbol that foreign policy is increasingly adapting to someone else’s war and someone else’s information frame (Wikipedia overview of India’s role in the war with Iran).

In Russia debates about the “decline of American hegemony” and a “multipolar world” have long been part of the official mantra, but the war with Iran has given them new material. Orientalist Nikita Smagin in an interview with Meduza reminds readers that in recent years Moscow sharply increased arms supplies to Iran — from aircraft and armored cars to helicopters and Verba MANPADS — and that this military link had become much tighter even before the current war (Meduza). His conclusion: even if the US achieves “limited military successes” by destroying parts of Iranian infrastructure, politically the campaign will only push Tehran into an even closer alliance with Moscow and Beijing, strengthening the alternative centers of power Washington claims to be fighting.

The Ukrainian and European view of the same dynamics is more complex. On the one hand, the US and Israeli war with Iran and the escalation around Hormuz objectively strengthen Russia’s position as an alternative supplier of oil and weapons, which Western sources also note: Ukraine itself tried to curb the rise in Russian oil revenues by striking Russian refineries with long‑range missiles amid the spike in world oil prices caused by the Middle Eastern war and the easing of American sanctions (overview of the massive attack on Ukraine in April 2026). On the other hand, in Kyiv, Vilnius and Warsaw this is seen not only as a threat but also as an argument: if the US allows the war with Iran to distract it from Eastern Europe, the winners will be precisely those players Washington has designated as its strategic adversaries.

Against this background it is interesting how internal political disputes in India refract attitudes toward the US. In an Indian Express piece titled “Who ‘surrendered’ to the US? That’s the wrong question,” a former official and diplomat admits he was previously mistaken about the real scale of India‑Russia oil trade: contrary to expectations, India did not stop buying Russian oil, maneuvering between sanctions and its own interests (Indian Express). His main thesis is that the question today is not “who gave in to Washington,” but whether India can use closeness to the US to protect its own interests without becoming a junior partner.

The same questions are essentially being asked in Kyiv, Warsaw and Tbilisi. A Ukrainian expert column in European Pravda directly calls for building relations with Trump’s America as a “cynical but mutually beneficial contract,” in which Ukraine offers not only the symbolic role of a “bulwark of democracy” but also concrete technological and military advantages honed in the war with Russia (Европейская правда). In this sense local elites in both India and Ukraine find themselves unusually synchronized in their pragmatism: idealistic notions of the US as the “leader of the free world” are being displaced by calculations about how useful Washington still is as a partner in specific regional battles.

As a result, today’s international picture around the US looks far less vertical than it did ten to fifteen years ago. For Russia America is a military adversary and simultaneously an indirect factor in rising oil revenues because of wars it involves itself in. For Ukraine the US is vital but increasingly unpredictable patron whose domestic politics and another war in the Middle East can negate any promises. For India the US is a necessary technological and geopolitical partner that at the same time narrows room for independent maneuver in West Asia.

And it is precisely in this multiplicity of local lenses that the main difference between today’s moment and the post‑Cold War era is embedded. Whereas the fate of conflicts in Iraq, Afghanistan or Kosovo used to be seen as almost exclusively an American story, now the US war with Iran and the American role in Ukraine are viewed in each country through its own vulnerabilities and ambitions. Local analysts, politicians and journalists no longer expect ready‑made answers from Washington; they try to calculate what each new American carrier strike group in Hormuz or each delayed tranche of aid to Kyiv means for their own future.

This is how a new global reality is taking shape in which the US remains a central player — but is no longer the sole author of the script. India’s debate over “strategic autonomy,” Russia’s talk of “multipolarity,” and Ukrainian reflections on a “marriage of convenience” with Trump’s America — these are different languages the world now uses to talk about the same thing: how to find ways to live in the shadow of a huge but increasingly less omnipotent American power.

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America in the Crosshairs: How Korea, South Africa and Turkey Interpret US Foreign Policy

In early May 2026, talk of America in Seoul, Pretoria and Ankara almost always comes down to one thing: that Washington is once again actively and harshly remaking the world to suit itself. But it’s not only the raw power of the US that matters — what’s more interesting is how three very different countries perceive that power through their own experiences and vulnerabilities. South Korean columnists view Trump through the prism of war with Iran, oil prices and chipmakers’ exchange rates; South African analysts assess him through the lens of the war on drug cartels and the kidnapping of Maduro, layering all of that over a history of imperialism and a domestic crisis of trust in authority; Turkish commentators see the new “America First” as a mixture of the Monroe Doctrine, energy geopolitics and the perennial painful question: where is the line between “democracy” and neocolonial intervention?

The first major knot tying all three countries together is the US–Iran war and its long tail. South Korean press describes the conflict in highly pragmatic terms: as both a risk and an opportunity for the economy. Newspapers and TV channels write of “60 days of war without resolution,” that Donald Trump has ordered preparations for a prolonged maritime blockade of Iran, and that the crisis could turn into a new form of “Cold War” in the Persian Gulf. In analyses such as “US–Iran war 60 days… Trump orders long-term blockade, fears of a ‘cold’ ending grow,” South Korean experts explicitly say that a prolonged standoff threatens the global economy with a “conflict without a winner” and endangers energy-importing countries, including Korea. (hani.co.kr)

But in the same outlets a parallel line runs: the financial world has already “digested” the war and begun to play on the assumption that it will eventually end. South Korean business media closely analyze statements by the US Treasury Secretary, who assures that after the conflict ends oil will “collapse below the levels of the start of the year” and that futures prices for three, six and nine months are already pricing in cheaper oil. (asiae.co.kr) For Seoul this is less a geopolitical drama than a question of how the war and America’s “economic wrath” against Tehran will affect inflation, the won exchange rate and prospects for electronics exports. Columnists link the record KOSPI rally to the idea that “the worst of the war is already behind us,” which is why local investors are returning to American stocks, especially in the AI sector, while also increasing bets on growth of Korean semiconductor giants whose fate is tightly intertwined with Wall Street. (mt.co.kr)

The South African conversation about the same war sounds very different. In a recent analytical report by the parliamentary budget office the United States is shown not as a pillar of international order but as a factor “deepening the crisis of trust” — the document explicitly states that US government actions, including mass data collection and manipulation of public opinion, undermine the legitimacy of democratic systems. (parliament.gov.za) Against this background any new military campaign, whether against Iran or under the banner of the war on drugs, is perceived not as protection of “international law” but as a continuation of the logic of exceptionalism. South African analysts recall that the African Union in February openly condemned the kidnapping of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro by American forces, stressing that the UN Charter “does not permit external military intervention in the internal affairs of a sovereign state.” (en.wikipedia.org) For a society with still-fresh memories of the struggle against apartheid and support for anti-colonial movements, the language of “precision strikes” and “regime change” in US policy toward Latin America and the Middle East resonates with a much longer history.

The Turkish lens on the US–Iran war is at once emotional and rational. Turkish press and expert circles widely cite assessments from the Quincy Institute, which argues that limited US ground operations on Iranian islands “will not change the balance of the war” and that Iran has already shown the ability to withstand massive bombings without making nuclear concessions. (asiae.co.kr) Turkish commentators use this argument to criticize the illusion of “instant victory” by force: they recall Iraq and Afghanistan, where regime change did not bring stability, and warn that another American use of force in a Muslim region may only deepen antagonism. At the same time, in Turkish political talk shows and popular forums the rhetoric becomes street-level: one can encounter phrases like “America in this conflict observes no humanitarian limits… they kill whomever they want, wherever they want, and then talk about human rights” — an anger directed both at Washington and at domestic elites accused of double standards. (reddit.com)

The second major knot linking the three countries is the US operation against Venezuela and the capture of Nicolás Maduro. In Turkey this is perhaps one of the most discussed foreign-policy stories of the last six months. As early as January, well-known analyst Murat Yetkin wrote in his column “Maduro operasyonu: Trump’ın güç gösterisi ve küresel etkileri” that publicly delivering Maduro in front of DEA cameras is not so much “a fight against drugs and restoration of democracy” as a demonstrative return to the logic of the Monroe Doctrine: America is showing that the Western Hemisphere remains its “backyard,” where strengthening of China or other external players is unacceptable. He reminds readers that earlier similar operations in Iraq and Afghanistan proved that capturing a leader alone does not create a successful post-war order and at best opens a long period of instability. (yetkinreport.com)

Other Turkish outlets link the “Maduro operation” even more sharply to energy and rivalry with China. In the piece “ABD’nin Venezuela hamlesi: Petrol ve Çin rekabeti” it is explicitly argued that beneath official rhetoric about drugs and democracy lies a far more pragmatic calculation: to bring huge Venezuelan oil reserves back to Western markets, weaken China’s growing financial influence in Latin America and thereby bolster the resilience of the American economy, which is under pressure from domestic social spending and migration. (gzt.com) Turkish commentators draw a historical line from the original Monroe formulation to today and speak of a “neo-imperial era” in which great powers again “redraw borders according to their needs rather than international law.”

South Africa, as already mentioned, sees the same operation through the prism of international law and its own memory of great-power interventions. Official documents put the position very dryly: resolutions and statements emphasize that the kidnapping of a sitting leader and a series of strikes as part of Operation Southern Spear violate the UN Charter and only “heighten instability.” (en.wikipedia.org) But in South African expert circles the position is unpacked much more broadly. Analysts from the parliamentary budget office, describing the overall state of the world economy to parliament, depict the Venezuelan campaign and the related war on drug cartels as an example of a “military response to structural social problems” that is expensive and achieves little; they link rising US military spending to tightening global financial conditions, which immediately impacts the debt burden of Global South countries, including South Africa itself. (parliament.gov.za)

There is another sensitive dimension: migration. Western media widely discussed the Trump administration’s policy, which since 2025 began taking almost exclusively white South Africans under a refugee program. This has sparked a multi-layered debate within South Africa: on the one hand, white farmers and their supporters on the right see the US as a refuge from crime and alleged “reverse racism”; on the other hand, many on the left and center argue that Washington is dramatizing South African realities for its domestic political agenda and incorporating them into a narrative of “Western civilization under siege.” (en.wikipedia.org) South African commentaries on the topic often express the view that America chooses whose suffering is deemed worthy of asylum and whose is not, demonstrating double standards toward migrants from Africa and Latin America.

For South Korea the whole Venezuelan episode is much more distant, but it is read through the economy here as well. Financial columnists in Seoul consider the capture of Maduro and rising tensions in Latin America primarily as factors of commodity market volatility and global capital flows. Turkish pieces claiming that a “victory over Maduro” intensified a flight to “safe havens” — gold and the dollar — are actively cited in Korean business press as part of the overall picture: the more aggressively the US behaves, the higher the risk premium on emerging markets, which include Korea, and therefore the more cautious Korean monetary policy must be. (paratic.com)

The third major motif uniting the three countries is the perception of Donald Trump himself and a “new version” of the America First doctrine. In Turkey one of the recent opinion pieces begins bluntly that after Trump’s 2024 election victory the world is witnessing “a much tougher and uncompromising version of the ‘America First’ doctrine.” The author describes how Trump treats NATO allies more as “clients” who enjoy US protection but are unwilling to pay for it, and how this logic pushes Europe toward autonomy through ideas of its own army and strategic independence. (haberanaliz.net) Turkish experts emphasize that the same logic also permeates Washington’s relations with Ankara: from disputes over arms purchases to competition in the South Caucasus and the Eastern Mediterranean.

South Korea views Trump less ideologically but no less attentively. In Korean economic and political reviews the US president appears in the context of several nerve points: threats to allies to raise defense spending, pressure on China over “Iranian oil,” and, of course, the appointment of a new Fed chair with unorthodox views. Russian and Turkish financial communities are already actively discussing candidate Kevin Warsh as someone who could lead to a new wave of easing for long-term investments in AI and space technologies; similar discussions are closely watched in Seoul because any Fed policy shift means a redistribution of global liquidity and a new round of tests for Asian currencies and stock markets. (reddit.com) Against this background Korean commentators note that for Seoul Trump is both a risk (trade conflicts, pressure on defense spending) and a driver (a surge in the American tech race that fuels demand for Korean chips).

South African discourse on Trump remains tied to themes of democratic decay and uneven morality. The aforementioned analytical report for parliament emphasizes that actions by the US administration — from mass digital surveillance to unilateral military operations in Latin America — reinforce the sense that international norms are written by the powerful to suit themselves. (parliament.gov.za) This is especially sensitive for South Africa, which not long ago itself faced international sanctions and now aspires to be a voice of the Global South. Thus South African commentaries on American policy often say: “we see in the US not only a democracy but also an empire,” and that shapes their caution in dealings with Washington — from votes at the UN to participation in security operations.

Finally, there is a theme that resonates particularly strongly in Turkey but indirectly affects the other two countries as well: a mix of fear and admiration toward American power. Two nearly opposing narratives coexist in the Turkish public sphere. One, more common in pro-Western and business-oriented circles, acknowledges that US intervention, however harsh, sometimes creates a “window of opportunity” — be it for replacing discredited regimes or restarting energy projects. Thus some Turkish experts openly say that Maduro’s removal, however unlawful the method, frees space for new energy deals in which Turkish companies might participate. (gzt.com)

The other narrative, prevalent among more nationalist and leftist circles, views each such US step as another link in a long chain of humiliations and threats. It is no coincidence that fantasies about war between Turkey and Israel or the US, or about “maps of the future” where parts of Turkish territory are allegedly ceded to neighbors, gain traction on Turkish forums; participants in these discussions, even when admitting the absurdity of conspiracies, treat them as a symptom of a “post-truth” era in which fear of American power lives its own life, regardless of the actual military situation. (reddit.com)

The common conclusion from all these disparate voices is this: the United States remains the main source of foreign-policy gravity for South Korea, South Africa and Turkey, but each of these countries “translates” America into its own language. For Seoul, Washington is both a military umbrella and the principal factor in oil prices, Fed rates and semiconductor quotes; the Korean press views Trump through the lens of stock cycles and energy balance. For Pretoria, the US is an example of a democracy that has itself become hostage to its power, and an empire whose unilateral campaigns from Venezuela to Iran undermine international law and complicate life for Global South countries. For Ankara, America is both an inevitable partner and an eternal competitor — simultaneously a market, a source of technology and a symbol of humiliating interventions.

What unites all these perspectives is growing distrust of American moral arguments and an increasingly cold, instrumental view of the US as a source of risks and opportunities. War with Iran, the operation against Venezuela, a new version of America First and controversial migration programs: each of these themes in its own way exposes old wounds and new fears. And as long as Washington continues to build policy on power and exceptionalism, these local readings — Korean, South African and Turkish — will determine how the world responds to American moves: not with slogans about the “free world,” but with meticulous calculations of costs and benefits.

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When Washington Loses "Natural Leadership": How Germany, Brazil and South Korea See It Now

A perspective from outside the United States today increasingly coalesces around the same thesis: America has become a key source of instability, yet remains indispensable. Around Donald Trump's second administration a dense tangle of issues has formed in recent weeks — war with Iran and a strike on Venezuela, a threat to the European economy through car tariffs, the partial withdrawal of troops from Germany and rising tensions within NATO. In Germany this is experienced as a question of Europe's security and identity, in Brazil — as a forceful redrawing of the rules of the game in its own region and a threat to economic sovereignty, in South Korea — as a troubling signal about how much one can actually rely on American guarantees in the event of a major war.

At the same time, a clear internal split is visible in each country: elites closely tied to the US and NATO are trying to "rebuild" the transatlantic or strategic partnership, while a significant portion of experts and politicians already view Washington as a risk factor to be minimized rather than reinforced.

In the European debate today the dominant thread is the pairing of two Washington decisions: escalation of the war with Iran and a simultaneous blow to Europe through tariffs and troop moves. Since late February the US and Israel have been conducting a military campaign against Iran, accompanied by the blocking of the Strait of Hormuz and threats to countries that assist Tehran. In Germany this war has been perceived from the first days as imposed and poorly calculated: Defense Minister Boris Pistorius stressed early in the conflict that this is "not our war," thereby effectively marking Berlin's distance from Washington.(de.wikipedia.org)

Chancellor Friedrich Merz, on the one hand, sharply criticizes Trump for "massive escalation" and the inability to present a coherent strategy on Iran, reminding that the US hard line is undermining the very idea of American global leadership. He spoke about this notably at industry forums and in interviews, directly accusing Washington of making decisions that ignore European interests and risks to the global economy.(berliner-zeitung.de) On the other hand, the same Merz at the Munich Security Conference called for a "restart of transatlantic relations" and at the same time — for European "strategic autonomy," emphasizing: Europe does not share the MAGA movement's "culture war," nor its tariff policies and withdrawal from international agreements, but it is also not ready for global security without the US.(germanpolicy.com)

Against this backdrop, Trump's decision to pull 5,000 US service members out of Germany came as a shock in Berlin, though not a surprise. Conservative and liberal analyses describe the move as a "punishment card" for Germany's refusal to more decisively support the war in Iran and for Merz's public jabs at the White House. German media emphasize that although this concerns only 12% of the contingent, symbolically it is a "turning point" in relations long considered "privileged." An article in France's Le Monde, widely cited in Germany, links the troop withdrawal directly to a degradation of trust that began with the Iran campaign.(lemonde.fr)

Notably, criticism of Trump here comes not only from forces traditionally skeptical of the US. Representatives of the CDU/CSU and the SPD simultaneously accuse the White House of "blaming all domestic failures on external enemies" and of undermining NATO's architecture for domestic political effect, while the right‑wing populist AfD tries to occupy an intermediate position: it acknowledges the "legitimacy of criticism" of the Iran war, stressing that the blockade of Hormuz hits Germany harder than the US and therefore the Federal Republic must more vigorously defend its own economic interests.(berliner-sonntagsblatt.de)

The second strand of European concern is economic. The recently announced 25 percent tariffs on imports of European cars and trucks into the US are described by the German press as an "opening of a second front" against the EU: the shockwave lands squarely on the German auto industry. Spain's El País talks about a "renewed global tariff storm," but in Germany the news is read differently: as confirmation that the American market can no longer be considered predictable and that strategic partnership does not shield against trade attacks.(elpais.com) Industry lobbyists and bank analysts point out that accumulated US external tariffs have already approached 10%, and the new auto package risks finishing off an already slowed German export sector.(bdi.eu)

This double linkage — war plus tariffs, troops plus Trump's tweets — pushes the German debate toward a reassessment of the very idea of US "natural" leadership. In one of his key speeches Merz said that Washington had "squandered" its moral capital and asked whether the time has come for Europe to learn to act as a full pole of power rather than a junior partner. In liberal‑conservative circles this is no longer a marginal but a mainstream position.(welt.de)

In Brazil the narrative "America as a source of instability" unfolds differently: here the focus is not NATO but Latin America and economic sovereignty. The US military intervention in Venezuela, during which Nicolás Maduro was deposed and taken out of the country, provoked a stormy reaction in Brazilian political and academic circles. Brazilian think tanks, including the Observatory of US Foreign Policy (OPEU), quite candidly call the operation a "clear message" not only to Caracas but to Brazil, Mexico and Colombia: Washington is showing it is ready to unilaterally change regimes in the region and control key resources, above all oil. One March bulletin explicitly states that the US decision to manage revenues from Venezuelan oil "demonstrates distrust in the ability of regional powers, including Brazil, to ensure stability on their own."(e-ir.info)

Left parties and media sympathetic to them frame this criticism in the old but still alive narrative of "US imperialism." The portal Vermelho, close to Brazilian communists, calls Trump's campaign in Iran a "failed military adventure with billion‑dollar costs," and the intervention in Venezuela — another example of how Washington attempts to "strangle politically uncooperative governments under the pretext of democracy and human rights." In an article on the war with Iran the author recalls that mass protests in the US under the slogan NO KINGS against participation in the war, rising oil prices and harsh migration policies show that even within America fatigue with "chosen wars" is growing.(vermelho.org.br)

Interestingly, official Brazil speaks a different language but with the same subtext. Describing the US and Israeli war against Iran, the Foreign Ministry and economic institutions emphasize the economic risks: rising oil prices, higher freight costs, pressure on inflation in a country for which fuel is a sensitive political issue. Analysts at the state Banco do Nordeste and independent economists in outlets like Times Brasil call the war an external shock that Brazil cannot control but must at least use as a spur to diversify energy and trade to become less dependent on geopolitical waves from the Persian Gulf.(timesbrasil.com.br)

Another important Brazilian thread is defending domestic regulation from US pressure. A recent example is the USTR report criticizing Brazil's Pix payment system, regulation of digital platforms and even the well‑known "blueshops tax" on cheap online imports as "barriers to American business." In response, unions and progressive publications write that in reality the US is attacking not specific measures but Brazil's very right to regulate foreign corporations on its territory. One article states plainly that the USTR document "says more about contradictions in American trade policy than about problems in the Brazilian economy" and that Washington is unwilling to recognize Brazil's status as a sovereign regulator of the digital economy.(contee.org.br)

Within this framework even the diplomatic spat between the US and the Vatican — caused by Pope Leo XIV's strong criticism of the wars in Venezuela and Iran and of Trump's migration policy — is read in Brazil not as an abstract fight over principles but as a confrontation between two "moral centers" in the Catholic world. President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva publicly expressed solidarity with the Pope in an address to Brazilian bishops, clearly positioning himself and Brazil among those ready to challenge the moral right of the US to define what constitutes a "just war" and "democracy" for the global South.(pt.wikipedia.org)

The South Korean conversation about the US is simultaneously closer to the German and the Brazilian: here, as in Germany, the military agenda and dependence on American troops are front‑and‑center, but as in Brazil a cold calculation predominates: to what extent can Washington actually fulfill its commitments in Asia if it is bogged down in Iran and Latin America?

Trump's decision to begin a partial troop drawdown from Germany was received in Seoul primarily through the prism of a possible domino effect. Major Korean media — from JoongAng Ilbo to YTN — analyze the White House's motives in detail and conclude: this is not just a budget question but a punishment of "uncooperative allies," primarily Berlin, for refusing to play by the American script in the Strait of Hormuz. One analytical piece states plainly that "the map of contingent reductions in Germany could become a prototype of pressure on Asian allies if Washington decides they are not sharing its burden in Iran sufficiently."(koreadaily.com)

At the same time, Korean commentators try to reassure their audience. It is noted that unlike Germany, the US presence on the Korean Peninsula is legally protected by provisions in the US defense budget: in the national defense law adopted at the end of last year a ban was explicitly written on funding a reduction of the contingent in the ROK below 28,500 personnel. The Ministry of Defense in Seoul emphasizes that "there are no negotiations about reductions," and experts add: the "strategic significance" of the Korean Peninsula for containing China and the DPRK makes a rapid American withdrawal unlikely, even amid dramatic moves in Europe.(v.daum.net)

But beneath this calming rhetoric another, more worrying note sounds: how stable is American strategy at all if it is simultaneously fighting a large war with Iran, threatening China with 50% tariffs over arms supplies to Tehran, blocking Hormuz and still maintaining a high level of engagement in the Indo‑Pacific? One Korean foreign policy review directly calls the current Washington line an example of "hard power diplomacy without a clear Plan B," which creates a risk for allies of becoming hostages to others' miscalculations.(etnews.com)

For the Korean economy, as for the German and Brazilian ones, the tariff problem is layered on top. Even before the current escalation Korean analysts warned that the US 25% duties on car imports and components hit Hyundai and Kia harder than most European competitors. Credit‑rating agency estimates point to a potential drop in operating profit by a third if the current tariff regime persists, and Trump's recent decisions to extend 25% tariffs on steel and metal‑intensive products have increased concern: Korean manufacturers of electronics, home appliances and cars face double pressure — military and trade.(hankyung.com)

Finally, Korean expertise shows growing interest in how the US intervention in Venezuela and the protracted war with Iran are shifting the global balance of power. In parliamentary and expert forums there are discussions about whether US immersion in the "quagmire" of stabilizing Venezuela and the war in the Persian Gulf will weaken its ability to contain China and North Korea. Researchers speaking at a recent forum in Seoul warn: if the White House is forced to reallocate military and political resources toward Latin America, Koreans will have to invest more actively in defense and regional coalitions themselves so as not to face the DPRK and China with weakened Washington support.(seoul.co.kr)

Putting these three perspectives — German, Brazilian and South Korean — together produces a surprisingly coherent picture. Everywhere the US is still perceived as a necessary element of the architecture — without American troops in Germany and Korea, without the American market for Brazil and without the dollar as a global currency the system, as nearly everyone admits, would crumble. But at the same time Washington is more and more often described as a source of excessive risk.

In Germany they speak of "undermining the order the Americans themselves built after 1945," and seriously discuss whether Europe could become a more autonomous center of power while the US is preoccupied with wars of choice and tariff wars. In Brazil critics attack not only the interventions themselves but the moral discourse of Washington: from "freedom and democracy" to an open defense of corporate interests and control over resources. In South Korea, whose voice is rarely heard in Western debates, the US increasingly appears as a partner who can at any moment change the rules of the game and demand greater "payment" for security — whether that be firmer backing for its wars or acceptance of economic losses from tariffs.

Against this backdrop there is a rise in what a decade ago would have seemed a marginal dream: the pursuit of strategic autonomy — European, South American, Asian. But almost all of these debates echo the same realist refrain: the world will remain hostage for a long time to decisions made in Washington, and therefore the main task for US partners for now is not so much to "cut loose" as to learn how to minimize the damage from someone else's power without a plan.

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Through Washington's Lens: South Africa, India and Russia on the New US Era

At the end of April and the beginning of May 2026, conversations about the United States in South Africa, India and Russia focus on three major storylines. First, the US and Israeli war against Iran and its global economic and political consequences. Second, a new round of Washington's trade and economic pressure, including tariff wars and a reworking of the rules of world trade. Third, specific regional nodes: for South Africa — the fate of trade preferences and a new US Africa strategy; for India — balancing strategic autonomy with the pull of the American camp; for Russia — confrontation with Washington, where the US both applies sanctions and is forced to make exceptions because of oil and energy.

These stories intertwine. From Pretoria, New Delhi and Moscow, Washington no longer looks like the “leader of the liberal order” but like a nervous, internally divided center of power that increasingly exports its own crises rather than stability. Yet each of the three countries reads this narrative through its own interests and traumas — from apartheid to unfinished decolonization and the post‑Soviet collapse.

The first and most worrying backdrop is the US and Israeli war against Iran, which began on February 28, 2026. For South African and Indian commentators this is not an abstract conflict somewhere in the Persian Gulf, but a hit to fuel prices, inflation, budgets and social peace at home. A French column in Le Monde summed up the global feeling precisely: the war is “limited to three countries, but the list of collateral victims keeps growing”; Iran’s blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and the US naval counter‑blockade drive up oil prices and unsettle growth worldwide, from Africa to Latin America.(lemonde.fr) In South Africa these macroeconomic trends overlay already painful relations with Washington: parliamentary analysts directly link instability in Latin America and Africa to “US administration policy”, even recalling the recent “kidnapping” of the Venezuelan president as a symbol of a new, unpunished interventionism.(parliament.gov.za)

Indian outlets discuss the war with much greater nervousness: oil, the Gulf diaspora and regional competition with Pakistan are all involved. The right‑wing opinion platform OpIndia described New Delhi’s position as “the riskiest diplomatic tightrope in India’s recent history”: a country with ancient civilizational ties to Iran and a modern strategic partnership with the US and Israel is forced to simultaneously keep tankers passing through Hormuz, not break with Washington and not push away Tehran.(opindia.com) Specialized think tanks, such as the Swedish Institute for Security and Development Policy, note that the strategy yields tactical dividends: Iran allows Indian vessels through Hormuz, and the US gives a 30‑day “Indian waiver” for purchases of Russian oil.(isdp.eu) But the price is erosion of moral standing: Indian leftists accuse the government of “full complicity” in the US‑Israel aggressive war against Iran, stressing that New Delhi’s official statements carefully avoid even mentioning Washington and Tel Aviv.(wsws.org)

India’s sovereign pride is further stung by Pakistan’s attempt to play a mediating role between Washington and Tehran in the region. A column in the South China Morning Post notes that Islamabad skilfully uses residual ties with US military forces and its geography to make itself a “negotiating platform”, while in New Delhi this is perceived as a painful symbol that the US does not see India as a natural peacemaker.(scmp.com) The Indian discourse about the US is full of ambivalence: on the one hand, recognition that without America India cannot hold the balance against China; on the other — deep irritation that Washington still views South Asia through the prism of its tactical needs.

The Russian picture of the Iran war is quite different. In Russian media the US and Israel are described as instigators of chaos, but at the same time as a country that must reckon with Russia’s energy weight. The main April news was a US Treasury publication showing that, under pressure from reality, Washington temporarily lifts restrictions on Russian oil, allowing deals on crude and petroleum products loaded onto tankers before April 17, with exports possible until May 16.(ru.themoscowtimes.com) Economists quoted by Lenta.ru explain this simply: in wartime the Gulf oil supply is under threat, and the only major supplier that can ramp up exports without dependence on Hormuz is Russia.(lenta.ru) For the Russian audience this is presented as confirmation: the US can call Moscow a “threat” in its new national defense strategy, but in a critical moment it breaks its own sanctions regime.(meduza.io)

The second cross‑cutting storyline is economic nationalism and Washington’s tariff war against the rest of the world, including partners formally considered “friends”. This is felt especially acutely in India and South Africa. In the Indian debate it is precisely US trade policy that undermines America’s image as a predictable strategic partner. “America First” under the Trump II administration has already manifested as an increase in base import duties from 10 to 15 percent for all countries,(ru.wikipedia.org) targeted tariff campaigns against China and the EU and, most painfully for New Delhi, a series of blows to Indian exports. In summer 2025 the White House announced a 25 percent tariff “on all goods from India”, citing high Indian duties, trade barriers and New Delhi’s cooperation with Moscow. Ukrainian and Russian outlets then quoted Trump’s characteristic phrasing: “India will pay a 25 percent tariff, and also a penalty for the aforementioned actions.”(lenta.ru)

By autumn 2025, according to Euronews, tariffs effectively rose to 50 percent for a number of Indian goods, which Indian experts called a “strategic blow” that threatened to wipe out years of Indian export presence in the US and lead to waves of unemployment in export‑oriented regions. Former trade official Ajay Shrivastava warned that the new tariff reality could push India out of key value chains.(ru.euronews.com) Against this backdrop, journals like The Diplomat ask: does India still have “strategic autonomy” at all if its economy is increasingly woven into the Western financial‑tech architecture and political space narrows between fear of China and an unstable partnership with the US.(thediplomat.com)

In South Africa the trade story looks different, but the emotional matrix is similar. Here the main nerve is the fate of the country’s participation in AGOA and restrictions on access to the US market. Commenting on the February extension of African Growth and Opportunity Act preferences and the possible exclusion of South Africa, economists in South African media called it a “brief but fragile reprieve” amid growing political friction between Pretoria and Washington.(investing.com) In an analytical note the South African Parliamentary Budget Office describes the Trump II administration’s turn to hard protectionism as a factor “exacerbating the erosion of trust in international institutions and norms”, and directly links it to the Afrosunion’s efforts to seek alternative partners and reform global governance.(parliament.gov.za)

At the same time more pragmatic voices sound in the South African media space. On The Common Sense portal, describing discussion of American policy at the recent Delphi Economic Forum, the author noted that Europe, fixated on its own conflict with the US, “underestimates the opportunities Trump’s chaos opens up for Africa.”(thecommonsense.co.za) The logic is simple: if Washington breaks old rules of world trade, African countries may try to secure new, more favorable deals for themselves, including as the US prepares to chair the G20 in 2026. African think tanks such as the Institute for Security Studies and Pan African Visions closely analyze a “quiet” US–Afrosunion deal on restructuring investment regimes and infrastructure projects, seeing in it a chance to lock in greater agency while Washington is forced to compete for access to critical minerals.(panafricanvisions.com)

Russia frames this same storyline differently: US tariff nationalism is seen more as confirmation of what Russian elites have long argued — the death of WTO logic and the “liberal order.” Russian encyclopedic publications on US foreign policy already record the administration’s decision to leave dozens of international organizations in January 2026 as the culmination of this trend. They also recall Washington’s “double standards”: on the one hand, calls for an “order based on rules”; on the other — 100 percent punitive tariffs and threats of sanctions against the International Criminal Court for attempting to hold Israeli leadership accountable.(ru.wikipedia.org) Against this backdrop, the expansion of American tariffs on India and the EU becomes an extra argument in the Russian discourse: the US does not distinguish friends from foes when short‑term gain is at stake.

The third important cluster of stories is regional configurations. In South Africa in April–May two narratives unfold simultaneously: a public diplomatic conflict over the US decision to equate some white Afrikaners with refugees, claiming they face “state racial discrimination”,(csmonitor.com) and, on the other hand, the State Department led by Marco Rubio trying to extend an “olive branch” to Pretoria. In a column for the South African paper The Citizen, analysts welcomed his speech on South Africa’s Freedom Day as a “window of opportunity” to reboot relations, noting that a month earlier South Africa’s finance minister had been denied accreditation to a G20 meeting in the US — a humiliation felt painfully in Pretoria.(citizen.co.za) The same paper notes a growing scepticism among the South African elite: after so many public slaps in the face, trusting sudden reconciliatory gestures from Washington is hard.

In India the key context is the debate about which way Indian foreign policy is actually drifting: toward a hard tilt to the US or a renewed bet on “multi‑vector” diplomacy. Analytical journals stress that the war in Iran has only exposed accumulated irritation: Trump’s 2025 actions — from threats of blanket tariffs to dismissive remarks about India and doubts about its positions on Kashmir — “undermined faith” in Modi’s special influence in Washington and produced a durable anti‑Trump wave in Indian society.(thediplomat.com) Inside the country this debate runs along the old split between supporters of an informal US alliance and those who see India’s future in balancing Washington, Moscow, Beijing and regional players.

The Russian context is cast in harsher tones. In Moscow they closely read the new US National Defense Strategy, in which Russia is downgraded from “the principal threat” to a “manageable threat” for eastern NATO members.(meduza.io) Russian analysts see a double signal here: on the one hand, the US is clearly shifting priority to containing China; on the other — it demonstrates willingness to shift primary responsibility for European defense to European allies while focusing itself on preserving military and commercial access to key routes — from the Panama Canal to the “American Gulf.” In such a world picture Russian commentators present the temporary lifting of oil sanctions as proof that behind talk of values and alliances there is always cold calculation about control of resources and sea arteries.

Finally, all three countries have their own view of how America treats global institutions. For African observers the US demand that the UN deliver “quick wins” and additional conditions for paying dues is just another reminder that Washington uses international organizations as a tool of pressure rather than as a forum for equal architecture.(devex.com) In India this reinforces the long‑standing sense that Security Council reforms and other structural changes stall precisely because the “old” superpower is not ready to share power. In Russia the US turn to isolationism and exit from dozens of organizations is met almost with grim satisfaction: a world where Washington itself dismantles the institutions it created seems more chaotic, but also offers more maneuvering room for those ready to play the contradictions.

If one tries to distill these dispersed voices from the three countries into a few common motifs, a fairly coherent portrait of current attitudes toward the US emerges. First, belief in American “moral leadership” is greatly eroded: the war in Iran, tariff wars and selective sanctions exemptions are seen as policy of pure interest, sometimes as policy of chaos. Second, almost everyone acknowledges that much still depends on the US — from oil prices and the dollar to maritime security and the outcome of competition with China. But this dependence is increasingly tinged with anxiety, and sometimes with covert or overt anger. Third, in Pretoria, New Delhi and Moscow the idea is growing louder: if Washington plays hard and unpredictably, then it’s necessary to build one’s own agency — whether through new African investment regimes, Indian strategic autonomy or Russian sanctions‑busting routes.

American readers of these debates should understand: almost nowhere is this simple antipathy to the US as such. South African columnists still see America as a source of investment and technology, Indians view it as an indispensable counterweight to China, Russians see it as a significant, and sometimes indispensable, part of global energy and finance. But in the eyes of many in South Africa, India and Russia the new American era is not an era of the “leader of the free world” but a time of a large, nervous player who is breaking the board on which it intends to win the game. And that is precisely why, outside the West, people are searching so insistently for their own alternative moves.

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"America That Is Changing": How South Africa, Australia and France View Today's U.S.

In early May 2026 the conversation about the United States outside its borders sounds very different from what it did ten years ago. In the South African, Australian and French press America remains a central actor in world politics, but increasingly—an origin of uncertainty, risk and the need to "reconfigure" rather than an unquestioned lodestar. Through the prism of the war with Iran, Donald Trump's new foreign policy, trade conflicts and symbolic gestures like King Charles III’s recent address to Congress, three different societies are trying to answer the same question: what to do with a United States that no longer guarantees the familiar order but still largely defines it.

This is felt most acutely in the example of the US and Israeli war with Iran. For Australia it is primarily a test of an old alliance reflex: the country is being drawn into a conflict that its public views with growing skepticism. For South Africa the war confirms a long‑standing thesis about Washington’s "unilateralism" and indifference to international law, strengthening the pull toward the Global South and BRICS. In France and more broadly in Europe, it fits into a picture of the "staged end of American unipolarity" and the search for a geopolitical language independent of bloc logic. Against this backdrop, trade disputes, defense agreements and human rights add new emotional layers—fatigue, distrust of American competence and, at the same time, fear of a world without an American "anchor."

The most unifying storyline has been Washington’s military and diplomatic line. In Australia several nerves converged here: the Iran war, the AUKUS alliance and the new 2026 National Defence Strategy. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese told ABC in an interview that the United States under Trump "plays a different role" in the world, and that forces Australia and its allies to "adapt to unexpected conflicts"; he also stressed that the country is no longer "in a monogamous relationship" with the US but is "going on dates in its own region," referring to activation in Asia and the Pacific and strengthened ties with India and ASEAN countries. Those words sounded like a gentle but clear attempt to mark distance from Washington without breaking the formal alliance, and they immediately became the subject of active commentary in foreign policy analysis.

At the same time experts and former diplomats in Canberra debate whether AUKUS is turning into a "AU$368‑billion sellout" by calling the agreement that—so columnist and international relations lecturer Binoy Kampmark wrote in Independent Australia—arguing that the submarine purchases will primarily benefit the US military‑industrial complex rather than Australians’ real security, and that the new boats will effectively be integrated into the operational structure of the US Navy, leaving Canberra the "default junior partner." In another key, but with the same nerve, Nautilus Institute analysts emphasize that Australia’s involvement in US nuclear plans presents the government with an increasingly difficult task—how to explain to the public a subordinate role in the alliance while at the same time claiming a sovereign policy.

Some Australian commentators connected to the defense community, by contrast, see the latest 2026 National Defence Strategy not as an increase in dependence but as an opportunity for "joint restructuring" of the defense‑industrial base and strengthening of domestic industrial autonomy. Outlets like The Strategist stress that the new document shifts the emphasis from the abstract "global role" of Australia to a concrete task—a strategy of "denying access" in its own region, relying on three pillars: the alliance with the US, American military presence in the Indo‑Pacific and Australia’s own ability to block hostile forces in its near environment. This camp believes that by deepening ties with the US Australia simultaneously strengthens its bargaining position in Washington.

In France the US military line is viewed through a European lens: not so much as a question of a bilateral alliance as a symptom of a broader transformation of the Western security system. Analytical pieces cited by French and Francophone authors advance the idea that the "dark era of American unilateral militarism" under Trump may push other Western countries to seek new configurations and "exit the American security umbrella," albeit without abrupt rupture. In this logic Donald Trump is not merely an unpredictable leader but a catalyst of a long process during which Europe rhetorically rejects the "law of the strongest" and "vassalization" (phrases Emmanuel Macron has regularly used when speaking of strategic autonomy), yet in practice continues to rely on the American defense framework.

South Africa views the same events through the prism of the Global South, decolonization and historical memory. In academic and expert circles, as well as in parts of the anglophone and francophone South African media, reactions to the Iran war and the wider US military footprint are connected with a recent UN General Assembly vote on a resolution about the transatlantic slave trade. Washington, which voted against language implying legal reparations, justified this by saying that at the time the crimes were committed they were not considered illegal under the then‑existing international law and that there cannot be a "hierarchy" of crimes against humanity. For South African authors such arguments continue an old line: America, while acknowledging moral responsibility, consistently blocks any mechanisms of concrete compensation and fears creating a precedent that could be used by other groups of victims. This fits into a discourse popular in South Africa about "asymmetric law," where the Global North dictates the terms of recognition and apology but itself avoids legal responsibility.

US trade and economic policy has become another shared nerve, though it sounds different in each of the three countries. In South Africa the traditional issue of market access to the US through the AGOA program was joined by a sharp conflict in 2025–2026: the United States imposed up to 30% import tariffs on South African goods, citing "reciprocal measures" and national security considerations. In analytical briefs and columns on the subject South African officials and experts calculate losses—from GDP decline to tens of thousands of jobs in the automotive sector and agriculture—and view Washington’s decision as part of a broader trend: abandoning the role of an "open" market in favor of instrumental, transactional trade where political loyalty becomes an asset as valuable as product competitiveness. Against this backdrop, talks of diversifying partners toward China, India and Gulf states sound less like an ideological choice and more like a forced insurance against American unpredictability.

In Australia the economic bloc around the US splits the expert community. On the one hand, America is still seen as a key investor and technology partner, especially in defense and high tech. On the other, White House tariff decisions made in 2025 and only partly reversed after a US Supreme Court ruling in February 2026 signaled that even closest allies are not immune to the president’s "twitter" trade policy. Economists in professional publications analyze how temporary 10% tariffs on Australian goods affected exports and what motivated them: an attempt to extract concessions on American pharma companies’ access to the Australian market, criticized in Washington for strict price regulation under the national pharmaceutical reimbursement scheme. This dispute shows that for many Australians the US today is a security ally but a tough economic competitor unwilling to make concessions even to those who support it in military campaigns.

The French discussion of America's economic dimension follows a different line—the search for an exit from dependence on the dollar and American regulatory power. In analytical journals on the future of the global economy the theme of "de‑dollarization" increasingly appears as a long‑term trend in which both European and Global South actors actively participate. America is portrayed as a country that, on the one hand, benefits from the dollar’s status and the extraterritorial reach of its laws, and on the other risks that abusive use of sanctioning tools will push partners to accelerate alternative payment systems and currency unions. For a French audience this continues the debate on strategic autonomy—not only in military but also in financial spheres.

Particular attention in May 2026 was paid to a symbolic scene: King Charles III’s visit to the US and his address to Congress. In the anglophone and francophone press the episode was often used as an occasion to talk less about the British monarchy and more about the state of the transatlantic world. One senior Buckingham Palace official called the trip "a risk and a challenge, but also an opportunity" that the king "fully seized," emphasizing an attempt to ease strained relations between London and Washington and to remind audiences of shared values—from NATO and support for Ukraine to the climate agenda. In Australia, where the head of state formally remains the British monarch, local commentators noted Albanese’s "glowing review" of Charles’s speech—another example of how Canberra tries to build a complex triangle "US–Britain–regional Asia‑Pacific," refusing none of the directions yet unwilling to be an appendage of the Anglo‑Saxon core.

In France reception of the address was more ironic and restrained. Liberal and left‑liberal outlets treated the king’s visit as "a ritual meant to patch up the flag of Western unity," with the caveat that the real fault line now runs not between London and Washington but between the collective West and a growing world beyond it. Yet even skeptics acknowledged that the fact a British monarch actively champions climate protection and multipolar cooperation in the American Congress indicates that space for value‑based dialogue with the US still exists—even under Trump.

Finally, at the intersection of domestic and foreign dimensions of the US lies another theme that regularly surfaces in French and South African discourse: American protests and the struggle for minority rights. In France the chronicle of mass demonstrations by the No Kings movement against Trump’s policies—with tens of millions participating—is read as confirmation that Americans themselves are actively resisting authoritarian and neoliberal trends, meaning "America is not reducible to its president." In social media and forums popular with French readers this line—separating society from the state—becomes a way to relieve tension: one can criticize US foreign policy without demonizing Americans themselves.

In South Africa internal American conflicts over racial justice and historical memory intertwine with the country’s own post‑apartheid experience. Discussions of American debates over reparations for slavery and police violence are often accompanied by comparisons with South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission: some argue that the US needs its own "Desmond Tutu," others that without material compensation and institutional reform all symbolic steps are mere gestures. Against this backdrop any Washington decision on human rights in international affairs is perceived through the lens of "double standards": how can a country that has not fully come to terms with its own history claim the role of chief judge?

A striking common thought repeats across all three countries—despite differences in experience and interests: the US remains indispensable but increasingly unreliable. In Canberra this is phrased in the language of strategic doctrines and budgets; in Pretoria—in terms of global justice and economic sovereignty; in Paris—in the vocabulary of "autonomy" and "balancing blocs." At one pole is the recognition that without American military, technological and financial power the old world order would collapse more rapidly; at the other is the understanding that preserving the old dependency carries too high a price for each of these societies.

Between these poles more nuanced and sometimes unexpected local perspectives emerge. Australian discourse teaches that even the closest alliance allows room for maneuver; South African discourse reminds us that memory and reparations are not peripheral but part of grand geopolitics; French discourse shows how cultural and intellectual skepticism of the "American age" coexists with security pragmatism. Together they form a portrait of a world in which one can speak of the United States only in the plural: not of one America, but of many Americas with which other countries are learning to live in an era of instability.

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How the World Sees America: Hormuz, Oil and US "New Isolationism"

In early May 2026, the image of the United States in foreign press is again assembled as if from shards: a military blockade of Iran and the maneuvers around the Strait of Hormuz, temporary relief from sanctions on Russian oil, Washington’s attempts to gather a coalition of allies while simultaneously threatening them with tariffs, and against that background — growing fatigue with American pressure and doubts about the effectiveness of force. Russia, Saudi Arabia and Australia look at the same US moves but see completely different things: for Moscow it is first and foremost a combination of geopolitics and control over commodity flows; for Riyadh — a risk of the war spreading into its own neighborhood and a test of the strategic alliance with Washington; and for Canberra — a question of where the line lies between allied solidarity and being dragged into someone else’s adventure.

The largest common theme running through all three information ecosystems is the US–Israel war with Iran and the maritime blockade of the Strait of Hormuz. Russian commentators see Washington’s actions as an attempt at a forceful redivision of the world’s energy map and as an instrument of pressure on several competitors at once. Saudi media and politicians focus primarily on the security of their own ports and the risks of Iranian counterstrikes, openly warning the US against “choking” the strait. Australian analysts examine how the war and the American blockade affect global supply routes and prices for importers in the Asia‑Pacific region, as well as the dilemmas of Australian foreign policy, long reliant on the US but critically dependent on Asian markets.

The military and economic lines are tightly intertwined. In Russia every US gesture regarding sanctions is read closely: when the US unexpectedly allows, until May 16, the sale and transport of previously loaded Russian oil and petroleum products, this is perceived as a forced acknowledgement of US and allied dependence on real commodity flows while Hormuz is blocked. Russian economist Tim Bessent, in a comment for NSN, emphasizes that this is not about US “kindness” but about cynical calculation: while the strait is closed, it benefits the American financial system not to crash the oil market or allow price spikes, and once it reopens the concessions will vanish as soon as the market deficit eases. He reminds that the extension of exemptions for Russian oil has already been announced as a “one‑off” and Washington rules out another extension. In the Russian agenda this move is not read as “humanitarian” but as American pragmatism and a temporary, situational dependence on those whom Washington itself has sanctioned. (nsn.fm)

The same line is developed by Igor Yushkov, an analyst at the National Energy Security Fund, in an EADaily piece titled “Americans Need Russian Oil While Hormuz Is Closed: Pros and Cons for the US.” According to him, the very existence of a US Treasury general license permitting transactions with already‑loaded Russian oil is direct evidence that the White House does not believe Hormuz will open soon and is unwilling to tolerate a market shortage. Yushkov suggests that as soon as the strait reopens, license renewals will stop: excess supply will push prices down and Washington will return to a hardline on sanctions. He echoes the idea that part of the Russian oil was kept in tankers not for political reasons but because owners expected higher prices, and the American “concessions” merely fit into that cycle. In the Russian discourse US steps are treated as tactical rather than ideological, once again underlining that sanction rhetoric easily bends under market pressure. (eadaily.com)

Alongside the economic block, Russian media and experts discuss the blockade strategy itself. On federal TV channels the voice of Senator Alexey Pushkov, former chair of the State Duma Committee on International Affairs, is heard explaining why, in his view, a US naval blockade “is unlikely to be total.” In a comment recounted by the Vesti.ru portal, Pushkov stresses that the Donald Trump administration is not interested in a sharp rise in oil prices: “that would mean going to $150–200 per barrel exactly according to the Iranian scenario, which Washington will not want to allow.” In another appearance he states that the declared objectives of the US war against Iran have not been achieved. The Russian audience receives a picture of a “limited war,” in which Washington, according to commentators, is forced to constrain its military machine within the bounds of energy and political risks. (vesti.ru)

Some Russian experts go further and see in US actions not only an attempt to “break” Iran but to build a new resource order. The Russian service of The Moscow Times publishes a text polemicizing with well‑known oil‑and‑gas analyst Mikhail Krutikhin: the author suggests looking at the war not through a geopolitical lens but through the prism of US material interests. In this reading, strikes on Iran, renewed interest in control over Greenland, and a course toward strengthening influence in the Arctic are all links in one chain — Washington’s desire to control key territories rich in resources and the transport arteries of the future. Not coincidentally, the author notes, the Trump administration temporarily softened the regime regarding Russian and even Iranian oil stranded in tankers, permitting specific deals to stabilize prices. For the Russian audience this builds an image of the US as an “empire of transit and resources,” whose ideological slogans step aside at any moment in favor of logic aimed at controlling flows. (ru.themoscowtimes.com)

Another major theme in the Russian discourse is the role of the US as a de facto detonator of a Europe‑wide crisis of trust and the strengthening of its isolationist instincts. Commenting on the administration’s decisions to withdraw from dozens of international organizations and raise import tariffs to 15% for all countries, Russian observers, not without glee, speak of “new isolationism.” Excerpts from analytical pieces on US foreign policy are widely quoted online, noting Washington’s turn from multilateral institutions to unilateral deals and “deals under pressure.” Russian media draw a direct line from this course to current ultimatums to allies: according to the Financial Times, Trump allegedly threatened European partners in the PURL program to halt arms supplies to Ukraine if they did not join the operation to unblock the Strait of Hormuz. The Ukrainian outlet European Pravda, recounting these stories, emphasizes that the White House uses even the war in Ukraine as leverage. In the Russian field this is presented as confirmation of an old mantra: in the US system of coordinates all alliances are instruments, not values. (eurointegration.com.ua)

If Russia views Washington through the lens of a Great Game over oil and institutions, Saudi Arabia views it through the prism of its own vulnerability and the complex balance between alliance with the US and the necessity of living next to Iran. The Arab and regional press paid much attention to Riyadh’s recent call for the US to abandon a “choking” blockade of the Strait of Hormuz. The Ukrainian site Korrespondent, citing Middle Eastern sources, relayed the Saudi position: they warn that if America pursues a prolonged closure of Hormuz, Tehran may respond by closing the Bab el‑Mandeb Strait — a critically important route for oil exports through the Red Sea. The Saudi side, these reports suggest, signals that too harsh a Washington line threatens not only Iran but Gulf Arab monarchies, for whom stable export routes are the basis of national security. (ua.korrespondent.net)

Against this background it is particularly notable how regional and Russian media intersect in portrayals of Saudi Arabia in Trump’s rhetoric. The Azerbaijani news resource Anews recounts his recent interview in which the American president, answering a question about Riyadh’s attitude toward continuing the war with Iran, said: “Saudi Arabia fights and helps the US everywhere… they help us in the strait, they help us everywhere.” Such a characterization, very favorable for the US domestic audience, is received ambivalently in the region: on one hand it confirms the kingdom’s status as a key US partner; on the other it reinforces the feeling that Saudi interests dissolve into American strategy rather than the opposite. Saudi authors writing in Arab outlets cautiously stress that Riyadh’s main goal is not war to the finish but a “controlled de‑escalation” that keeps the kingdom out of strikes. (anews.az)

Another line discussed particularly emotionally in the region is Washington’s direct linking of its stance toward Iran with economic levers aimed at other countries, including Russia and Gulf states. The Russian‑language resource focused on economics and crypto markets, BeInCrypto, relays Trump’s recent statement about imposing 50% tariffs on goods from any countries supplying arms to Iran — “no exceptions, no deals.” In the piece this is presented as a serious threat to Russia, but in the Arab discussion the same motive sounds as a reminder to all regional players: the US economic cudgel can be turned against anyone who steps outside the order it imposes. For Saudi elites, who themselves depend on trade with the US and EU, this is a signal that increases the desire to maneuver rather than enter into open confrontation with Iran on America’s terms. (ru.beincrypto.com)

Viewed from Australia, the emphases shift. For Canberra the Hormuz crisis and the US war with Iran are primarily about how deeply Australia should be involved in Washington’s strategy in the Indo‑Pacific and beyond. The Australian press, commenting on the bolstered US military presence in the Persian Gulf and the deployment of an aircraft carrier strike group off Iran’s coast, draws parallels with the growing US presence in the South China Sea. Analysts warn that if Washington simultaneously intensifies relations with Beijing and Tehran, the burden on the alliance system increases, and Australia will increasingly have to choose which operations to support and where to keep distance. At the same time Australia plays the role of a “rear player” in the war: its economy depends on stable sea routes through the Indian Ocean and on commodity prices, so any disruption in Hormuz inevitably hits import costs and export markets.

Australian commentators in local business publications note that the erosion of trust in the US in Europe and the Middle East is a factor Canberra cannot ignore. If US leadership blackmails European allies with military aid to Ukraine to secure participation in an operation to unblock Hormuz, Australian experts ask, what will stop similar blackmail in Asia tomorrow, linking, say, support for Taiwan with Australian participation in another “coalition of the willing”? This prospect turns the US into a figure not so much of “leader of the free world” as of a heavyweight partner whose initiatives must be approached with growing caution.

This turn to a critical optic is especially noticeable against the backdrop of domestic perceptions of Trump in the US itself. A Pew Research Center study records that Americans in 2026 have significantly less confidence in his decisions on the wars with Russia and Ukraine, while polarization over whether Russia is an enemy or a competitor persists, though Republicans and Democrats have drawn slightly closer in views. For foreign analysts, including Russian and Australian ones, this is a signal: US foreign policy in the coming years will remain unpredictable because there is no solid domestic consensus about priorities or how to achieve them. (pewresearch.org)

Against this background attention should be paid to rare but telling “voices of disappointment” within the US that foreign outlets pick up. The Russian portal Kapital Strany cites American commentators asking why Russia and China, which have levers of influence over Iran, appear passive. In comments under an interview recounted from American sources, users note that no one knows the real arrangements between Moscow, Beijing and Tehran, and if assistance is provided it will not be publicized. For the Russian audience this sounds like an indirect admission: even inside the US there is a growing sense that Washington is losing control over the architecture of global influence and that its adversaries and “conditional partners” have learned to play a longer, less transparent game. (kapital-rus.ru)

A curious detail is the reaction to Trump’s new, more aggressive statements about Russia. Interfax quotes him saying Russia “fears the US and the army he has built,” while European countries supposedly do not frighten Moscow. In the Russian press this is presented ironically: commentators note that such rhetoric is aimed at a domestic political effect in the US but changes little in the real balance of power. For Saudi Arabia and Australia such statements are a reminder that the current Washington administration thinks in military categories of force and fear rather than long‑term trust; therefore, it treats others as objects that either “fear” or “should fear” it if they do not follow the American line. (interfax.ru)

Finally, a special place in the foreign discussion is occupied by the line “show versus diplomacy.” The liberal Russian‑language outlet Meduza, in a long interview with former Russian diplomat Boris Bondarev who worked at the MFA, dissects US–Iran talks in Islamabad. Commenting on US Vice‑President J. D. Vance’s visit for talks with Iranian and Pakistani sides and parallel statements about maintaining the blockade, Bondarev notes: “Show and diplomacy are opposite things.” He points to an obvious paradox: Washington publicly speaks of a ceasefire and willingness to compromise but continues the maritime blockade, expecting Tehran’s capitulation. For the Russian audience this fits the long‑standing narrative of the US as a power that practices “diplomacy through pressure,” and for readers in the Middle East — as a partner whose promises must be constantly checked against real actions. (meduza.io)

To sum up, the common denominator in the reactions of Russia, Saudi Arabia and Australia to current US policy is not an attitude toward America per se but toward the way Washington attempts to resolve crises. For Moscow the main grievance is the instrumentalization of war and sanctions to control markets and supply arteries. For Riyadh — disregard for the complex regional security ecology in favor of forceful steps that turn the Gulf not merely into a zone of risk but into a field for a series of harsh Iranian responses. For Canberra — the danger that a US strategy that simultaneously sharpens conflicts in Europe, the Middle East and the Indo‑Pacific will prove unsustainable even for such a superpower and will automatically pull allies into configurations they are not ready for.

The most interesting thing is that similar themes sound through these different lenses: distrust of American promises, fatigue with sanctions and military pressure as universal tools, and an awareness that the world is no longer ready to follow Washington unquestioningly when the price is one’s own security or economic stability. In this sense the current crisis around the Strait of Hormuz and the US war with Iran has become litmus paper: it has shown how the conversation about the US beyond America has changed. Not whether Washington is for or against peace in principle, but what the cost of its leadership is — and whether countries are willing to keep paying it.

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America in the Crosshairs of Three Capitals: How Saudi Arabia, India and Russia View the U.S

Today's conversations about the U.S. in Riyadh, New Delhi and Moscow bear surprisingly little resemblance to the debates familiar to an American reader about elections, intra‑party struggles or politicians' approval ratings. For these three countries, America in early 2026 is simultaneously a source of security and instability, a strategic partner and a risk factor, a market of opportunity and a symbol of systemic crisis. Local press and expert columns show less interest in the nuances of the American electorate and much more — in how Washington's course affects oil, war and peace, the internal resilience of the United States and the architecture of global power.

Saudi commentators in recent days have been actively discussing two stories from Washington that at first glance seem “tabloid” but are in fact symptomatic. The first is the criminal case against former FBI director James Comey, whom American media and social networks accused of a veiled threat to Donald Trump via a numeric “code” online. Saudi Okaz saw in this not merely a curiosity but an indicator of how political polarization and legal warfare in the U.S. have moved beyond routine institutional conflict: digital hints are being interpreted as a “murder cipher,” and the Department of Justice becomes embroiled in a struggle of symbols and signals understood primarily by a domestic audience. (okaz.com.sa) The second episode is plans to issue a limited series of American passports for the 250th anniversary of independence featuring a large portrait and signature of Trump. In Okaz’s interpretation this is not just a souvenir but a demonstrative fusion of a politician’s personal brand with a state symbol: “the passport as a leader’s business card,” which in the Middle East is inevitably read through the region’s own experience of personalization of power. (okaz.com.sa)

These specific stories overlay a long‑standing regional question: can a country that is expanding its military presence abroad while enduring shocks at home remain a reliable pillar for its allies? In Al Jazeera’s popular Arabic program “From Washington,” commentators discussed how simultaneous escalation with Iran and growing social and racial conflicts in states like Minnesota call into question Washington’s ability to balance the slogan “America First” with the reality of internal division. The program’s authors directly ask whether the U.S. is paying for its external show of strength with a loss of governability at home, and what that would mean for countries that traditionally rely on American security guarantees. (aljazeera.net) For a Saudi audience this is a practical, not academic, concern: if the shield weakens, should they accelerate diversification of guarantees — via China, Russia, or regional formats?

The Indian debate about the U.S. is structured very differently: in New Delhi the focus is less on America’s decline or triumph and more on India’s position between Washington and Moscow and its role in a changing world order. In analytical materials prepared by exam coaching centers and foreign‑policy think tanks, the U.S. almost always appears alongside Russia, China and the EU as one of the “global centers of power” with which India must build multi‑level relations — from defense to high technology. (sanskritiias.com) The term “strategic autonomy” is entrenched in Indian political language: the country deliberately avoids choosing a camp, seeking at once to deepen economic and technological partnership with the U.S. while preserving military‑technical ties with Russia. One recent Indian analysis emphasizes: New Delhi’s policy is not to “take sides” but to “dehyphenate” relations — that is, to stop viewing “India—U.S.” and “India—Russia” ties as mutually exclusive. (drishtiias.com)

In this logic, the American agenda in Indian eyes is highly pragmatic. Discussions focus on tariffs, market access, the reconfiguration of global supply chains, Western “decoupling” from China and the resulting “windows of opportunity” for India — from semiconductors to green energy. One Hindi analytical review on an interim trade agreement between India and the U.S. stresses that tariff reductions and strengthened energy cooperation are seen as steps toward restructuring global chains with greater resilience and diversification, not as an ideological rapprochement with Washington. (visionias.in) Even when the U.S. is discussed as a military partner, Indian materials emphasize the instrumental nature of cooperation — interoperability of arms, intelligence sharing, access to technology — but they maintain as an axiom that strategic decisions are made based on Indian interests, not American scenarios.

At the same time, in India’s public and political discourse American hegemony and especially U.S. interventions in the Middle East and the Global South are often criticized as sources of instability. In more radical Indian outlets and agitational texts, the U.S. still figures as an “imperialist power” whose policies, particularly regarding wars in the Middle East, “lay the groundwork for a third world war.” (bordernewsmirror.com) This dual perception — partner in technology and education but a systemic risk to global stability — helps explain why the Indian elite insist so strongly on multipolarity and reform of the UN Security Council, where the U.S. is one of five veto holders and, in New Delhi’s view, a key obstacle to expanding the permanent membership.

The Russian debate about the U.S. is framed around other storylines. First, almost all serious conversations about America go through the prism of wars on the perimeter of the post‑Soviet space and the “great confrontation” between Russia and the West. Second, the media space has seen an increase in pieces that treat U.S. internal polarization and institutional crises as signs of long‑term decline. Russian publications regularly cite American and Western authors who speculate about possible “defederalization” or even the “breakup of the U.S.” Analyzing the works of Patrick Buchanan, Stephen Cohen and Paul Starobin, Russian writers emphasize that “the prerequisites for the breakup of the U.S. have accumulated for decades” and that an intensifying centralized “autocracy of Washington” could provoke a search for a model of alliances among autonomous regional republics. (ru.wikipedia.org) For a Russian audience this is not mere futurology: such a narrative contrasts with Western accounts of potential “disintegration of Russia” and is used as a mirrored warning — “an imperial center can crack anywhere, not only in Moscow.”

At the same time Russian experts closely track shifts in the balance within the Western camp itself, and the U.S. again appears as the “first among allies.” In a piece from the Azerbaijani outlet Vesti, widely cited in the Russian segment, an international relations expert discusses how King Charles III’s state visit to the U.S., his speech to Congress and calls to consolidate the West around support for Ukraine revived debates over London’s real influence on Washington. The author argues that despite its status as a “junior partner,” Britain still wields influence far exceeding its bare economic and military parameters and effectively shapes part of the narrative of American foreign policy, especially in the post‑Soviet space. (vesti.az) For the Russian audience this confirms an old idea: even if the U.S. appears as the main actor, behind it operate complex networks of old alliances in which London and other European capitals embed their interests in American strategy, and therefore Moscow must consider not only the White House but a whole configuration of Western elites.

It is noteworthy that in Saudi Arabia, Russia and India attention to American domestic politics is almost always tied to external consequences. Saudi commentators, analyzing, for example, tougher policies toward migrants and increased security practices in the U.S., ask whether the dehumanization of migration discourse could lead to even harsher deportation regimes and restrictions for residents of Muslim countries, including those allied to Washington. (aljazeera.net) Russian analysts, discussing the split between “globalists” and “isolationists” in Washington, assess whether the rise of more isolationist forces would truly reduce U.S. involvement in conflicts in the post‑Soviet space or whether it would be merely a rhetorical shift while institutional pressure remains. Indian experts closely watch how divisions around immigration, racial justice and social inequality might affect the resilience of the American labor market and, consequently, opportunities for Indian specialists, students and IT companies.

Against this background unique local emphases emerge. Saudi press conveys an obvious perception of the U.S. as a country where political struggle increasingly moves into the symbolic and media space and more often takes legal form. The story about a “digital cipher” in Comey’s tweet, which Okaz presents as an “international criminal case,” shows how closely the kingdom reads signals of politicization of American law enforcement. For a state where the security apparatus has traditionally been a pillar of the regime, such “juridification of politics” in the U.S. looks both familiar and alarming: if in Washington, where courts and the press are strong, law becomes a weapon, what guarantees exist that similar practices won’t become a global standard? (okaz.com.sa)

The Indian perspective offers another unexpected angle: for a significant part of India’s political and expert public the U.S. is primarily a case study in constitutionalism, federalism and comparative politics. In textbooks and international relations courses the United States is described as one of the model examples of federal structure, checks and balances, and an independent judiciary whose decisions take precedence over state laws. (vidyauniversitypress.com) This “academic America” coexists peacefully with criticism of U.S. foreign policy: students can study the principle of the supremacy of the U.S. Constitution and at the same time debate how the same country uses its veto power in the UN Security Council to block decisions contrary to its interests, for example on Palestine or Council reform. (sanskritiias.com)

The Russian lens, by contrast, constantly compares the U.S. with its own country as two “failed empires” undergoing, in the view of Russian authors, prolonged crises. In popular historical‑political essays American debates about federalism and the role of the center are reinterpreted through Russian experience: some Russian publicists cite American folklorists and regionalists who argue that even if the old government disappears, ties between regions could revive as new social contracts; others stress that the U.S. “melting pot” is held together mainly by financial factors and could crack under severe economic shocks. (ru.wikipedia.org) As a result, for the Russian audience America functions not only as an adversary but also as a mirror of their own fears: everything Western analysts say about potential “Balkanization of Russia” is reflected back onto the U.S. as a warning that no imperial center is immune to centrifugal forces.

If one attempts to reconcile these disparate threads into a single picture, it looks roughly like this. In Saudi Arabia the U.S. is seen today as a country whose internal turbulence and personalization of power increasingly shift the balance between institutional rules and media‑symbolic struggle. For a kingdom dependent on American military and technological support, this is a reason to speed up the search for alternatives and to intensify maneuvering among Washington, Beijing and Moscow. In India the U.S. remains a crucial partner, but specifically as one of several poles: the Indian elite seeks to maximize gains from economic and technological rapprochement without taking on the constraints of a military alliance and insists on reforming global institutions where Washington retains disproportionate influence. In Russia America is increasingly depicted not only as a geopolitical opponent but also as a system whose internal contradictions make it less predictable and, in some perspectives, less capable of global leadership.

This shift of focus — from the question “who will win the U.S. elections” to the question “how is America’s own capacity to govern itself and the world changing” — is the main thing that distinguishes current discussions about the U.S. in Riyadh, New Delhi and Moscow from the news cycle familiar to an American reader. In these three capitals observers look closely at the fissures in the American system not out of curiosity but out of calculation: where those fissures lead will determine the next world order and the place these countries will occupy within it.

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How the World Responds to Washington: Three Countries, Three Perspectives, One Anxiety

Around the United States a dense cloud of foreign reactions is gathering again, but if you look not from Washington, but from New Delhi, Pretoria or Seoul, a very different image of America emerges. It is not only a “world leader” or a “beacon of democracy,” but above all an unpredictable risk factor: an ally that can easily turn partners into hostages of its own wars, a financial superstate capable of punishing an inconvenient country with a single market move, and a political actor whose domestic convulsions undermine trust in its promises. In the Indian, South African and South Korean discussions about the US today, three major themes converge: a new war with Iran and the involvement of allies, the “weaponization” of debt and sanctions, and the erosion of America’s liberal authority against the backdrop of its own domestic turbulence.

The first major nerve is the 2026 Iran war, which began on February 28 with strikes by the US and Israel. In India this war is discussed primarily not as an abstract Middle Eastern conflict, but as a test of India’s sovereignty and status. Indian analysts painfully reacted to the episode of the sinking of the Iranian frigate IRIS Dena shortly after the ship’s participation in an Indian international naval review in Visakhapatnam: Indian military expert Brahma Chellaney called the US actions “a bit of treachery” and emphasized that Washington, by attacking a ship that had returned from an event India had presented as a showcase of its security in the Indian Ocean, “turned its maritime region into a war zone” and undermined India’s reputation as a preferred security partner. He wrote this in a commentary widely cited in Indian and English-language press, including material compiled in the English Wikipedia article on the sinking of IRIS Dena, where his wording and the assessment of US “treachery” are quoted. (en.wikipedia.org)

Indian columns draw a parallel between this incident and a broader picture: according to an analytical article from Carnegie, the Trump administration in its second term has already used tariffs and trade pressure against India — including 25 percent duties imposed over purchases of Russian oil and only lifted in February 2026 as part of a new deal. In Indian discourse this is read not as a “nervous episode” but as a demonstration of Washington’s readiness to apply economic coercion even against a “strategic partner.” (carnegieendowment.org)

The Indian conversation about the US in connection with the war with Iran is complicated by another factor: for the first time in a long while the role of regional mediator was taken not by India but by Pakistan. According to the English Wikipedia overview of India’s role in the war with Iran, it was Islamabad that became the venue through which a two‑week ceasefire was agreed, and it is Pakistan that international press cites as the main mediator between Tehran and Washington. The Straits Times of Singapore, as that overview reports, noted that in New Delhi “there is a burning” over Pakistan’s growing weight as mediator — this is perceived as a blow to India’s claims to be the chief South Asian player. (en.wikipedia.org) In Indian opposition and progressive media the refrain is increasingly heard that Modi’s foreign policy has “failed,” and that dependence on Washington’s goodwill limits the country’s manoeuvrability: a column in Foreign Policy in Focus even speaks of a “surrender” of India’s foreign policy and stresses that the recent trade deal merely formalized a structural shift in favor of the US. (fpif.org)

South Africa views the Iran war and American policy through a completely different prism: this is less a story about status than about survival in the jaws of others’ geopolitical games. Here the focus of discussion is not the frontline map but the question: will the country become a hostage to a new global split and the cudgel of American sanctions? Renowned South African economist Dawie Roodt warns in an interview with the business portal BusinessTech that the US still has “one key weapon” against South Africa — its debt securities. A significant share of rand‑denominated bonds is held by foreign investors, and as Roodt reminds readers, Washington, if it wished, could trigger a rapid capital flight, effectively launching a financial attack on the country. (businesstech.co.za) Combined with recent threats in the US Congress to “revisit” bilateral relations over Pretoria’s alleged closeness to Russia and Iran, this forms an image of America as a power whose smile can always potentially turn into a whip. (en.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop South African media cautiously welcome signs of thaw: The Citizen calls the recent meeting between President Cyril Ramaphosa and US Ambassador Brent Bozell III and the resumption of dialogue after periods of sharp statements and threats “a positive sign.” However, the same editorial advises a cautious, wait‑and‑see posture toward Trump’s second term and American foreign policy more broadly. It bluntly states: it is unclear which way Washington’s line will swing, and South Africa cannot base its strategy on the assumption of US “reliability.” (citizen.co.za)

The South Korean agenda regarding the US is much less dramatic, but there too a new restraint is noticeable. In major Korean newspapers — from Hankyoreh to Chosun Ilbo — recent coverage has focused less on Washington’s specific steps on Iran and more on accumulated fatigue with American domestic political turbulence: how climate, trade or technology policy in the US changes with administrations is perceived in Seoul as a direct risk to long‑term planning. This is visible in the English‑language analytical pieces read by Korean experts: a recent Council on Foreign Relations review emphasizes that with the arrival of Trump‑2 Washington bet on expanding fossil fuel extraction and rolling back support for renewables, creating tensions with partners like India that publicly tied their development to a green agenda. (cfr.org) In Korea this is translated into worries: how much can one rely on American promises on climate and technology if the White House “pendulum” swings to the opposite course every four years?

The second major block of foreign conversations about the US concerns debt, sanctions and the “weaponization of the financial system.” In South Africa, beyond the already mentioned Roodt, the question of potential American financial pressure is part of a wider debate about whom the country should align with externally. Recent polls cited by the analytical site The Common Sense show: South Africans do not want either “pro‑the West” or “anti‑the West” — a majority is against hard alignment with any camp, especially if it entails economic risks or deepens internal divisions. (thecommonsense.co.za) The US here figures as a symbol of the “West,” whose sanctions and demands for political loyalty arouse suspicion no less than offers from Moscow or Beijing.

For Indian debate the topic of sanctions against Russia and their secondary effects on India has long been a sore point. Academic and expert materials, such as a recent preprint on “the vulnerability of the Indian economy to foreign sanctions,” directly model scenarios in which US export restrictions or broad multilateral sanctions hit Indian supply chains in critical sectors. (arxiv.org) Commentators in Indian opposition media remind readers that the US has already “tested” trade pressure in the form of tariffs and threats to restrict access to technology, and they warn: the more India relies on American capital and infrastructure, the easier it will be for Washington to dictate terms in the future — from UN votes to positions on China and Russia. This line is especially pronounced in progressive outlets and English‑language Indian platforms, where February’s trade and technology deal with the US is read as trading away some autonomy for short‑term relief from pressure. (carnegieendowment.org)

South Africa, for its part, perceives the threat of financial pressure not as an abstraction but as a continuation of concrete US steps in recent years — from a House bill to revisit relations to loud statements by American congressmen about possible sanctions for Pretoria’s alleged “pro‑Russian” stance. (en.wikipedia.org) The South African expert journal Focus emphasizes that while the US does not impose as many duties on African goods as the EU, the very discourse of threats and the “conditionality” of partnership undermines the image of America as a reliable economic partner — the power asymmetry is too great for Washington’s “goodwill” not to be seen as revocable at any moment. (hsf.org.za)

The third major theme in which the US figures in discussions in India, South Africa and South Korea is the domestic crisis of American democracy and its export consequences. This is not just about Capitol riots or culture wars, but primarily about what has become obvious to partners: there is no consensus inside the US on basic questions — from the country’s role in the world to attitudes toward international law — and this makes any long‑term agreements fragile.

In South African press and English‑language analytical columns one increasingly finds dark irony: “America lecturing us on reconciliation and racial justice while declaring Afrikaner whites in South Africa victims of persecution and opening a special refugee corridor for them.” Such wording can be found, for example, in an editorial in the Christian Science Monitor, which discusses the appointment of Rolf Meyer as the new ambassador to Washington — a former minister in the apartheid government — as Pretoria’s attempt to demonstrate its commitment to reconciliation and to show Washington that the country is not conducting a “hunt for whites,” despite American accusations. (csmonitor.com) For South African commentators this is an example of how an ideologically polarized American discourse about “white genocide” directly affects bilateral relations, forcing Pretoria to play on the turf of someone else’s culture wars.

In India many commentators view Trump‑2 primarily through the lens of “reliability”: columns in Indian and global think‑tank media emphasize that during the 2025 escalation with Pakistan Washington effectively assumed the role of mediator in the Kashmir crisis, publicly crossing India’s long‑standing “red line” against any external mediation on Kashmir. (carnegieendowment.org) For a significant part of the Indian establishment this was a sign that American domestic politics and the president’s ambitions outweigh caution regarding issues sensitive to a partner. This explains New Delhi’s present vacillation: on the one hand India needs the US as a counterweight to China and as a source of technology; on the other hand the thesis that foreign policy “autonomy” cannot be reduced to a pretty word is being heard more loudly, since Washington repeatedly shows readiness to use both trade and political levers.

South Korea, although not at the center of these conflicts, watches closely how American domestic polarization affects regional security and the economy. Korean analysis foregrounds the question: will the US continue to guarantee Seoul’s security in light of rising costs and populist demands that “they should pay more for our protection”? At the same time Korean authors, citing Western think tanks like the CFR, note that America’s abandonment of consistent climate and multilateral policies also hits Korea’s “green” transition and its export of high technology, which depends on American subsidies and supply chains. (cfr.org) The attitude toward the US here is primarily pragmatic: an indispensable but increasingly unpredictable partner, from whom one needs to be maximally insured by developing autonomous defense and technological capabilities.

Against this backdrop a subtler but important line of discussion emerges, especially noticeable in India: what to do with American leadership in global rule‑making — from climate to artificial intelligence. One Indian analytical overview, prepared for exam courses and widely cited in local press, speaks of the formation of three incompatible regulatory regimes for AI — in the US, the EU and China — leading to fragmentation of the digital space. (drishtiias.com) Indian authors see both a threat and an opportunity in this: on the one hand, US pressure to align India’s digital economy with American norms, including data transfer requirements, raises fears of losing digital sovereignty; on the other hand, amid this competition India is trying to promote its own agenda, organizing events such as the India AI Impact Summit 2026 and positioning itself as a “fourth center of power” between Washington, Brussels and Beijing. (en.wikipedia.org)

What unites all these, at first glance different, stories — from a sunken Iranian frigate in the Indian Ocean to South African fears about the “weaponization of debt” and Korean doubts about the reliability of the US climate agenda? In each of the three countries America simultaneously appears as a partner and a structural threat. Indian experts fear Washington will turn their strategic autonomy into a fiction, using trade and security as levers of influence. South African commentators soberly recognize that even with a “thaw” in relations one sharp turn in Congress could result in sanctions or a financial blow. South Korean analysts increasingly speak of the need for an “insurance policy” in case American policy once again radically changes under pressure from domestic populism.

At the same time local texts also express something seldom heard within the US itself: fatigue with American exceptionalism as an explanatory model. An Indian column on the “surrender” of foreign policy asserts plainly: one cannot endlessly justify Washington’s unilateral moves by appealing to its special role when those moves systematically undermine partners’ autonomy. (fpif.org) The South African discourse of “neither pro‑West nor anti‑West” expresses the same sentiment in another language: middle‑weight countries are no longer prepared to build their fate around the axis “with the US or against the US.” (thecommonsense.co.za)

The resulting picture looks like this: America is still the center of global attention, but not as an unconditional leader, rather as the main source of geopolitical uncertainty. In New Delhi, Pretoria and Seoul people are learning to live with that uncertainty: they diversify ties, build up autonomy, critically reassess their “friendship” with Washington even as pragmatism pushes them toward cooperation. And perhaps it is from these cities today that one can best see how much the image of the US itself has changed over the past decade — from an “anchor” of order to a factor partners try to keep at a distance without cutting the rope.

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How the World Argues with America: Ukraine, South Africa and Australia

Three very different societies — Ukraine, South Africa and Australia — at the end of April 2026 are simultaneously looking at the United States with anxiety and irritation, but for different reasons. For Ukraine it is a question of survival and whether Washington has "abandoned" its war. For South Africa — a struggle for foreign-policy independence and economic security amid deteriorating relations with Washington. For Australia — fear of being drawn into a war started by its main ally, and doubts about how much to trust American security guarantees after U.S. and Israeli intervention in Iran and simultaneous pressure on China. All this adds up to a picture of a world where America remains a center of gravity, but increasingly less a source of certainty.

One of the main points of tension is Russia’s war against Ukraine and the growing feeling that U.S. interest in that conflict is waning. In Ukrainian and surrounding information spaces there is active discussion not only about cuts in American military aid but also about political pressure from Washington on Kyiv regarding peace. Lenta.ru recounts words of Volodymyr Zelensky, who in an interview with Politico speaks directly about U.S. pressure to end the war: he admits that “the Americans really want to end this war,” but indicates that the terms Washington would like to see do not match Kyiv’s expectations. (lenta.ru) Russian commentators are building a narrative that Ukraine is “ignoring the U.S. position” in negotiations with Russia, and that Europeans supposedly obstruct not only Moscow‑Kyiv dialogue but also Washington’s attempts to influence a settlement, as described, for example, in a business commentary by Alexander Shokhin cited in an InvestFuture piece. (investfuture.ru)

Inside Ukraine the picture is more complicated. Ukrainian media are actively discussing the U.S. decision to cut the budget for arms purchases for Kyiv in 2026: Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth publicly announced the planned reduction, which in Ukrainian discourse is read as a signal of Washington’s fatigue with the war and a forced search for compromise. (24tv.ua) At the same time Kyiv is trying to show that the alliance with the U.S. can be more than a “donor‑recipient” relationship. In a recent interview relayed by the EADaily agency, Zelensky says that the alliance between Ukraine and the U.S. “will be the strongest in the world,” emphasizing Ukrainian leadership in drone warfare technology and comparing it to U.S. military power. He sharply criticizes U.S. Vice President J.D. Vance for taking pride in the decision to stop military aid to Ukraine, accusing Washington of “helping Russia” and showing a weakness that Moscow does not respect. (eadaily.com) This rhetoric mixes despair with an appeal to the American idea of leadership: Ukraine offers the U.S. a technological partnership in drones, implying that Washington risks falling behind.

Public opinion within Ukraine reacts to the American factor in its own way. A survey by the Kyiv International Institute of Sociology, cited by RBC‑Ukraine, shows that people’s willingness to accept a withdrawal of troops from parts of Donetsk Oblast in exchange for security guarantees from the U.S. and Europe has remained roughly the same since the start of 2026, but falls sharply if it is specified that these guarantees will not include stationing U.S. troops, a no‑fly zone, or free weapons supplies. (rbc.ua) In other words, for Ukrainians American promises without real military presence and resources no longer seem reliable: a U.S. signature on an agreement is no longer perceived as an absolute shield in itself.

Against this backdrop Western and Russian analysts debate what will remain of American strategy on the Ukrainian front. The British Economist, as recounted by Rossiyskaya Gazeta, states that Kyiv’s ambitions to join NATO in the foreseeable future are “dead,” and that even in a possible peace agreement membership is not on the table. (rg.ru) American military analyst Daniel Davis, in an interview cited by a number of Russian media outlets, openly doubts Ukraine’s ability to defeat Russia and points to the “ineffectiveness of sanctions,” predicting that Kyiv will not receive the volume of resources it expects from the U.S. (news.rambler.ru) For the Ukrainian audience, this mixture of signals — funding cuts, doubts from Western experts, grim forecasts of a “Russian victory in 2026” in REGNUM reviews that link the war’s outcome to the prospect of U.S. support stopping, (regnum.ru) — creates a sense that the country’s fate is still being decided across the ocean, but trust in the durability of American will has been shaken.

A very different, but no less acute, debate is taking place in South Africa. There the U.S. is perceived not as a “patron” but as an external power trying to dictate the rules. A number of South African analysts in outlets like Politicsweb describe 2026 as a moment when the country is forced to navigate between dominant powers, chiefly the U.S. and China, and ask whether Washington and Pretoria can “find each other” amid growing mutual irritation. One review predicts that U.S.–South Africa relations are unlikely to improve in 2026, blaming the ruling party for a “catastrophic” foreign-policy course and a lack of serious opposition criticism. (politicsweb.co.za)

South Africa’s political elite, in response, emphasize sovereignty and the country’s right not to submit to American demands. Fikile Mbalula, general secretary of the ruling African National Congress, stated in March 2026 that South Africa’s foreign policy “cannot be dictated by any external power,” and hinted that the message was addressed in part to the new U.S. ambassador. The Nigerian newspaper The Guardian wittily reported this, stressing that the ANC views Washington’s attempts to criticize Pretoria’s positions on conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East as direct interference. (guardian.ng) Moreover, the South African side publicly accused the U.S. of pressuring France to rescind an invitation to President Cyril Ramaphosa to the G7 summit, threatening to boycott the summit if South Africa were excluded. These statements surfaced in European and South African online debates, where users discussed how far the U.S. is willing to go to “punish” Pretoria for noncompliance. (reddit.com)

South African commentary also notes how the new Washington administration is simultaneously punishing and rewarding the country. A number of international analysts, including in the CSIS report “Repairing South Africa’s Fractured Relationship with the United States,” recall that in the thirty years after apartheid Washington–Pretoria relations were built on moral support for the democratic transition, but later began to unravel due to differences over Ukraine, Israel and China’s role in Africa. (csis.org) Against this background the arrival in Washington of South Africa’s new ambassador, Rolph Meyer, a veteran of negotiations from the transition era, is interpreted by some commentators as an attempt at a “complex but deliberate” turn toward dialogue, though they warn that grievances and distrust have accumulated too deeply. International analysis outlet MapoDev links Meyer’s appointment to a struggle for access to American investment and critical technologies. (mapodev.com)

The ordinary South African reader sees yet another side of the American pivot — the humanitarian. Reports on cuts to global health funding programs, primarily PEPFAR, underscore the threat to the fight against HIV in South Africa. Analysts at Physicians for Human Rights write bluntly that the winding down of U.S. HIV prevention programs erases decades of investment and could trigger a new crisis in a country with one of the world’s highest infection rates. (phr.org) At the same time liberal American outlets note that official U.S. refugee intake for fiscal 2026 is effectively frozen, and the few refugees admitted are mostly Afrikaners from South Africa — a fact that South African online communities discuss as evidence of special treatment by Washington toward the white minority. (reddit.com)

The Australian debate is marked by the U.S.–Israel war with Iran and deeper military integration with Washington. Canberra’s official line emphasizes alliance: Australia has joined U.S. and Israeli actions against Iran, and Australian personnel aboard American submarines are explained as part of the AUKUS partnership, under which the U.S. is to provide Australia with nuclear submarines. (ru.wikipedia.org) Simultaneously, the Department of Defence released the 2026 National Defence Strategy, proclaiming a course of “deterrence by denial” and a sharp increase in defence spending to 3% of GDP, emphasizing the importance of long‑range strike systems and missile defence — all clear references to American doctrine and joint projects under AUKUS and ANZUS. (en.wikipedia.org)

But another voice in Australia expresses anxiety about the country’s “militarization” in the interests of the U.S. Left‑wing and progressive outlets like Solidarity criticize the government for “integrating Australia into the American war machine” without broad public debate on the risks, including the possibility of being dragged into a war against Iran or China. (solidarity.net.au) In popular forum and social‑media discussions people ask: “Can we avoid being simply pulled into an American war?” One characteristic Reddit thread in the Australian segment boils down to the view that the current U.S. administration has proven itself an “unreliable ally,” for whom “America First” comes first, and that neither AUKUS nor ANZUS strictly guarantees automatic assistance to Australia in the event of a real threat, while Canberra is expected to show near‑unconditional loyalty. (reddit.com)

Australian commentators often draw parallels with the past: participation in U.S. wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, explained by ANZUS obligations after 9/11, is now reinterpreted as an experience of “imperial vassalage,” first with Britain, then with the U.S. In a popular discussion one commenter is quoted as saying Australia has become a “U.S. imperial hanger‑on,” and that any attempt at real strategic autonomy runs up against either the need to sharply build up its own military capabilities or the risk of being left alone against China in the region. (reddit.com) This is, in essence, a diagnosis of dependence: the U.S. is simultaneously seen as a necessary shield and as a source of the threat of being drawn into others’ conflicts.

Curiously, on all three theaters — Ukrainian, South African and Australian — U.S. policy on Iran has become a kind of catalyst for doubts. The U.S.–Israel war with Iran, according to international commentators, not only heightened Middle Eastern risks but also hit the world economy: the closure of the Strait of Hormuz caused oil prices to spike above $100 per barrel and triggered a fuel crisis in South Africa on the eve of the Easter holidays, which local analytical blogs directly link to U.S. actions. (blogs.shu.edu) In Australia the same conflict has been used by proponents of strengthening the armed forces as an argument: if the U.S. drags the continent into confrontation with Iran or China, they say, it is better to meet that threat “well armed.” In Ukraine the war in Iran is cited in debates as an example of how Washington’s attention can quickly shift from one conflict to another, leaving a former priority ally with reduced support.

If one tries to identify common themes across these seemingly dissimilar contexts, several lines emerge. First, the theme of U.S. reliability as an ally or partner. Ukrainians and allied Western analysts debate whether the U.S. is tired of the war and preparing Kyiv for a “painful peace”; South African elites and experts speak frankly of a “broken” partnership and an unwillingness to accept American lectures on democracy and human rights; Australian society increasingly asks how far Washington is willing to risk for the security of a distant ally when isolationist refrains dominate at home. Second, the theme of sovereignty: Ukrainians, South Africans and Australians do not want to be mere objects of American policy. Kyiv argues with Washington about acceptable terms of peace; Pretoria insists that only South Africans determine its foreign policy; in Canberra a movement for “strategic autonomy” is growing even within an alliance with the U.S.

Finally, a third shared theme is the double perception of American power. For Ukraine it remains a key resource for survival: even while criticizing cuts to aid, Kyiv continues to base its strategy around Washington, offering the U.S. a technological partnership and a political alliance of “the strongest.” For South Africa the U.S. is both the most important economic and technological partner and a political adversary that, in Pretoria’s view, still regards Africa as an object of management. For Australia American power is both a guarantee against regional threats and a factor that makes the country vulnerable to being pulled into other people’s wars.

What is seldom visible from within the United States becomes apparent when looking at these three countries together: the image of America as “leader of the free world” has long been cracking, but no new consensus has yet replaced it. In Kyiv, Pretoria and Canberra people simultaneously hope for the U.S. and fear it, debating how far to go in alliance with Washington and what to do if tomorrow America, weary of its own wars and crises, once again turns its back on the world. These questions today set the tone of discussions about the U.S. from the Black Sea coast to South African ports and Australia’s Pacific shore.

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Trump, the Iran War and the "Tired Hegemon": How France, Germany and Australia See the US

At the end of April 2026, discussion of the United States in France, Germany and Australia revolves around several connected storylines: the US and Israeli war against Iran and its economic and political consequences, Washington's relations with allies inside and outside NATO, Donald Trump's new threats to reduce the contingent in Germany, and domestic American political instability, symbolized by yet another assassination attempt on the president. These threads intertwine: behind every remark about Trump or Iran one can hear not only an attitude toward America as such, but also the fears, hopes and calculations of Europeans and Australians themselves.

The main backdrop is the protracted US and Israeli war against Iran. United Nations Secretary‑General António Guterres, speaking on April 13, again called on the United States and Iran to continue negotiations, stressing that "there is no military solution to the conflict" and that escalation is already undermining stability far beyond the region. His statement does not directly single out only Washington, but the tone is clearly addressed primarily to the White House, as the only side with real capacity to stop this spiral of violence. It is this war that has become the main prismatic lens through which Paris, Berlin and Canberra view the current America. (un.org)

The French debate is particularly sensitive to the theme of America's "imperial fatigue" and to disappointment in the transatlantic partnership. Le Monde, on April 25, in an analytical piece about NATO and the war with Iran described the current alliance as a marriage in which "divorce is unlikely, but estrangement is obvious." According to the French authors, Washington is irritated that Europeans refused to send a fleet into the Strait of Hormuz until a ceasefire, effectively telling the Americans: "let those who broke the system fix it." The article contains a formulation that would be difficult to imagine in mainstream American press: Europe increasingly sees little point in helping the US in conflicts where it sees neither a clear strategy nor its own interest. (lemonde.fr)

In French media space there is also a lively debate about political violence inside the United States. The France 5 television program "C ce soir" devoted a recent episode to the third assassination attempt on Donald Trump in two years. In the studio they discussed how a country where "there are more firearms than inhabitants" has become a hostage to its own political and cultural polarization, and what this toxic dynamic means for the rest of the world. Show participant Romuald Siora, a researcher and author of the book L’Amérique éclatée: plongée au cœur d’une nation en déliquescence, describes the US as "a fractured nation in a state of disintegration" with diminishing internal resources to act as a global arbiter. (tv.apple.com)

On the right‑liberal side of the French magazine Le Point, columnist Abnousse Shalmani analyzes recent events around Trump in a column titled "Trump, l’attentat déjoué et la démocratie fragilisée" ("Trump, the Foiled Assassination and a Weakened Democracy"). The columnist reminds readers of the president's interference with the press, his constant attacks on journalists and pressure on independent institutions. Notably, more than 250 former journalists demanded that the White House Correspondents' Association use the traditional comedic dinner not for ritual social pageantry but to publicly, in Trump’s presence, condemn his attempts to undermine press freedom. In this light America appears not only as an object of external criticism but also as a place where the intra‑elite struggle for democracy is wearing thin — and where the very idea of the "American example" has become contentious. (lepoint.fr)

Another French storyline — Paris’s long‑standing pursuit of strategic autonomy — gains fresh justification. Courrier international, summarizing and commenting on the British Economist's position, writes that the deterioration of transatlantic relations "in some sense gives France a historical justification": the idea long promoted by Paris of a Europe more independent from the US no longer looks like a whim or an anti‑American pose, but takes on the appearance of pragmatic calculation, especially in the context of the war in Iran and Trump's sharp attacks on NATO. The gradual cooling of relations with Washington is presented here not as a catastrophe but, paradoxically, as an opportunity for Europe to mature. (courrierinternational.com)

If in France the central question becomes "at what cost do we still want to be US allies," in Germany the debate persistently returns to the question: what happens if the Americans actually leave? German news in recent days was rocked by Trump's statement about a possible reduction of the US contingent in the country. Deutschlandfunk and other major outlets report that the president again spoke about reducing the number of US troops in Germany amid a public conflict with Chancellor Friedrich Merz, who criticized Washington’s conduct of the war against Iran. Locally, this is viewed not as another tweet for a domestic audience, but as a real signal of a reassessment of the entire American architecture of presence in Europe. (deutschlandfunk.de)

The Associated Press, in a piece from Münster, notes that for Europeans such threats from Trump are nothing new: talk of cutting the US contingent has been ongoing since the beginning of his first term. But the context is now different: Germany has effectively become a pillar of European defense and has the largest military budget in Europe, while the war Russia is conducting against Ukraine continues in the east. Against this backdrop the threat to reallocate or withdraw part of the more than 80,000 US troops in Europe ceases to be a purely rhetorical gesture. German commentators point to an ambiguity: Berlin is doing exactly what Washington long demanded — increasing defense spending, reforming the Bundeswehr, expanding the industrial base — and at the same time risks being left with more responsibility and less American "insurance." (apnews.com)

German economic and business media add to this dimension of the Iran war through the lens of inflation and energy. A review by the dpa‑AFX agency, published on financial platforms, states that the "oil price shock caused by the war with Iran" pushed inflation in Germany to nearly three percent. At the same time, by the same reports, US orders for durable goods in March are rising faster than forecasts, and the American stock market is faring better than the DAX. This contrast fuels an old but newly relevant question in the German press: how fair is it that European economies pay the bill for conflicts that are initiated or radically escalated by Washington’s decisions? (de.investing.com)

Official Berlin, still speaking the language of diplomatic loyalty, emphasizes in government briefings that Germany's and the United States' goals on Iran "coincide." A government spokesperson at a press conference in early March reminded audiences of the existing troop‑hosting agreement and that Ramstein Air Base is an element of a bilateral treaty, not a goodwill gesture from Washington. But beneath the surface of the German press discussion the idea increasingly surfaces that the current crisis is an opportunity for Europe to complete the rethinking of its own defense: if the US is truly "tired" of being the guarantor of European security, Europe will finally have to take strategic sovereignty seriously after years of more talk than action. (bundesregierung.de)

Australia views America through another lens — the experience of being the "junior partner" in American wars in the Middle East. Formally Canberra is an ally of Washington and London in the current conflict against Iran, but the public debate is far sharper than might be expected from a partner country. In analyses of Australia’s participation in the 2026 war, commentators stress that the decision to join strikes on Iran continues a long tradition of participation in "American wars," from Vietnam to Iraq and Afghanistan. Green Party leader Larissa Waters called it "yet another endless US‑led war," warning that the country risks again becoming embroiled in a conflict with no clear exit plan and heavy political costs at home. (en.wikipedia.org)

Australian commentators draw parallels between the current conflict and the 2003 Iraq experience, noting that Washington's rhetoric about the "necessity" of striking Iran is built on arguments very similar to past rationales for intervention: from references to a "threat to global security" to appeals to defend an ally — now Israel. Unlike parts of the European media, where the dominant theme is the transatlantic crisis, the Australian press is more focused on how participation in a US‑led war will affect Australia's image in the Indo‑Pacific, where China and other powers watch Canberra's every move closely. America here is seen not only as a problematic ally but as a source of dilemmas that force Australia to balance a tight alliance with Washington and the need to preserve maneuverability in Asia.

The common thread across the three countries is growing skepticism about the motives of American foreign policy. An Ipsos study released in late April shows that for many Europeans and people in other regions the main problem is not only Washington’s actions but that they appear to be driven by domestic political calculations rather than genuine security considerations. According to polls, two‑thirds of respondents in Italy, for example, believe that recent US military decisions were dictated primarily by domestic politics. Ipsos analysts stress that behind this skepticism are years of watching a chain of crises in which America has alternately proclaimed its indispensability and displayed inconsistency and fatigue. (ipsos.com)

In France this manifests as an argument for European strategic autonomy; in Germany as anxiety about the possible departure of Americans and a debate about how long one can continue to rely on someone else’s military "umbrella"; in Australia as fear of another "foreign war" where the political price for Canberra may be higher than for Washington. But in all three discussions another note is heard: none of these countries is yet ready to truly live in a world without American power. In this paradox lies the core of today's conversation about the US: a country perceived simultaneously as unstable, cynical and dangerous remains the same hegemon whose absence is no less frightening than its presence.

Finally, nowhere in the American press is the crisis of the "American example" spoken of as bluntly as it is abroad. For French intellectuals the assassination attempts on Trump and his war on journalism are not just episodes of internal struggle but a symptom that democracy in the country‑symbol of the "free world" is cracking. For German commentators the White House's attempts to blackmail allies with troop withdrawals call into question the very idea of a "community of values." For Australian critics another war in Iran under the American flag raises the old question: how sensible is it to keep following Washington into every new conflict?

From the outside the United States looks increasingly unpredictable and more dependent on internal political storms. Yet precisely for that reason every Washington move attracts so much attention — and so much distrust. International reaction today is not anti‑Americanism in the usual sense, but rather a weary, wary conversation about whether it still makes sense to build the world order around a country that increasingly doubts its own purpose.

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How the World Argues with America: Russia, Japan and Saudi Arabia on the US's New Role

At the end of April 2026 the United States is again at the center of global discussions, but the focus has shifted: fewer talks about the “default hegemon” and more about a nervous, tired, but still incredibly influential player that is simultaneously at war, squabbling with allies, reacting spasmodically to domestic shocks and trying to retain control over the global economy. In Russia, Japan and Saudi Arabia much is written about the US, but key themes repeat: the war of the US and Israel with Iran and its regional consequences; a new wave of Washington isolationism and the dismantling of international institutions; American economic and energy policy affecting oil, exchange rates and markets; and domestic political and even violent episodes in the US itself, read abroad as symptoms of a weakening political system.

One of the most discussed storylines has been the US‑Israeli war with Iran, which began on February 28, 2026. In the Russian and Arab press it often appears not as a limited operation but as a new frontier of “American adventurism.” Russian commentators remind readers that the crisis was accompanied by an unprecedented disinformation campaign using deepfakes and generative AI, which itself became a subject of analysis: a Russian‑language review of the crisis emphasizes that fake clips of uprisings in Tehran and the “assassination of top leadership” were spread to intimidate Iranian society, causing brief panic in energy markets. The article “Crisis in Relations Between Iran and the US (2026)” notes that the conflict became the first major confrontation in which artificial intelligence was used so massively and deliberately as a weapon of psychological warfare — which in Russia is described with clear distrust toward the American side as the main beneficiary of such chaos. (ru.wikipedia.org)

Japanese authors view the same conflict through the lens of economics and the risk to maritime trade. Analytical notes on the international economy from April 2026 recount in detail the episode with a post by the US Secretary of Energy on X (formerly Twitter), boasting that the US Navy had “successfully secured tanker protection in the Strait of Hormuz.” After that, as the blog “週間国際経済” notes, NYMEX oil fell from $85 to the low $70s, and then, after the post was deleted, returned to the $80+ range. An economist explains to Japanese readers that one careless message from an American official in the midst of the Iran crisis added volatility to the world oil market, which hits energy importers like Japan hard. The author writes bluntly that “Washington’s policy increasingly resembles governance via social media,” and this is perceived not only as a geopolitical risk but also as a factor making business planning in Tokyo considerably more difficult. (sobon45.kim)

In Saudi Arabia the discussion about the US‑Iran conflict and, more generally, about the US role in the Middle East is much more pragmatic. In Arab columns and commentaries published in late April the conflict is often described not as a “clash of civilizations” but as another cycle in the struggle for control over oil flows and regional leadership. A note of caution is visible: official Saudi media stress the need for “de‑escalation” and the “responsible role of great powers,” but do not rush to clearly join America’s camp. In one economic‑political review discussing a possible breakdown of OPEC against the backdrop of rising pressure from Washington and growing UAE independence, it is noted that the recent decision by the emirate authorities to clearly “play on the US side” is perceived in Moscow as a signal: a protracted war and sanctions are changing the balance within the cartel and weakening OPEC+’s ability to coordinate against American influence. EADaily frames it thus: “The UAE has taken the American side: is it time for Russia to prepare for OPEC’s collapse?” — and that question echoes into the Arab press, where commentators debate whether Saudi Arabia’s strategy of balancing between Washington, Moscow and Beijing can hold. (eadaily.com)

The second major theme is the strengthening isolationism of the US and its attitude toward international organizations. In Russian encyclopedic and analytical reviews a narrative is gradually taking hold that Washington is no longer interested in “multilateral rules” if they constrain its freedom of action. Several pieces highlight a January decision by the administration to withdraw from dozens of international organizations at once, which Russian authors interpret as a “refusal of collective responsibility” and a continuation of one‑sided policies. An article on US foreign policy directly calls this trend a rise in “isolationist policy,” drawing parallels not only to the Trump era but also to the interwar period of the 20th century. For the Russian audience such a turn is depicted more as an opportunity: if the US is dismantling the post‑1945 architecture it helped create, other power centers have space to form their own blocs and institutions. (ru.wikipedia.org)

Japanese analysts, for their part, do not use the harsh term “isolationism” as readily, but economic forecasts carefully build in the risk that, before the 2026 midterm elections, the administration in Washington might sharply raise tariffs and tighten immigration policy, guided primarily by domestic electoral calculations. Researchers from the Japan Research Institute, in a review of the American economy for Japanese business, stress that such a combination of protectionism and political nervosity could accelerate inflation and trigger a spike in interest rates, which would hit the world economy, including Japan, where ultra‑low rates had been maintained for years. The line that “if the administration, in the name of expanding its electorate, goes for sharp tariff hikes and tighter immigration restrictions, it could sharply worsen growth prospects” is addressed directly to Japanese firms that depend on the American market. (jri.co.jp)

The third set of themes is American economic and energy policy, read in Moscow, Tokyo and Riyadh as a mix of strength and vulnerability. In the Russian investment community daily geopolitical and market digests recently mentioned the US trade balance and commodity price dynamics alongside Putin’s statements about the role of business and news about war and sanctions. For the Russian private investor the US is simultaneously the main external source of risks (sanctions, the dollar, oil, the Iran conflict) and a key reference for Fed rates and global liquidity. In a popular financial digest on vc.ru US trade data and signals from Wall Street are discussed in the same paragraph with oil prices and OPEC news, underlining that for Moscow the American “economic agenda” has long been not only about sanctions pressure but also about the objective dependence of the Russian market on Washington’s monetary policy decisions. (vc.ru)

In Saudi Arabia the oil component of American policy is watched even more closely. For Saudi commentators the question is whether a model can hold in which the US simultaneously pressures OPEC+ producers, demands increased output to lower domestic prices, fights a major player like Iran and at the same time proclaims a green transition. Saudi economic commentators analyzing divisions within OPEC and UAE activity constantly relate them to movements in American foreign policy: how prepared is Washington for prolonged confrontation with Tehran, what this means for the risk premium in oil prices, and how Saudi oil’s role would change if the conflict drags on and Persian Gulf infrastructure remains under threat. In these pieces the US no longer looks like an omnipotent conductor but rather a nervous major client who simultaneously demands discounts and provokes fires next door. (eadaily.com)

The Japanese perspective in economic discussions of the US is marked by pronounced sobriety. One April analytical review states that “the era of unquestioned American economic dominance is effectively coming to an end” — indicated by the rise of emerging economies and technological progress outside the US. A blogger‑economist writing for a Japanese audience notes the decline of America’s soft power and how Japan’s defense and trade policy is being forced to adapt to a world where Washington is no longer the sole pole, though it remains extremely important. Against this backdrop Tokyo’s decision to relax restrictions on arms exports is explained as a forced adaptation to a “restructuring of the world order” in which America remains a key but no longer the only pillar. (shibataku-ai.hatenablog.com)

Domestic American politics are also becoming the subject of attentive, sometimes alarmed commentary. In regional Japanese press, for example, a recent editorial in Gifu Shimbun is devoted to an armed attack targeting a representative of the US administration. The editorial in 岐阜新聞 titled “社説　米政権標的に銃撃” notes that an attack on an official is not simply a criminal episode but a symptom of a society where political violence is becoming “normalized.” For Japanese readers, deeply traumatized by the assassination attempt on former Prime Minister Abe, this is presented as a troubling parallel: the America that long taught others about democracy is itself sinking into a cycle of radicalization and violence. (gifu-np.co.jp)

Russian commentators usually view US domestic upheavals through the prism of a weakening rival. Publications about the 2026 US elections and intra‑elite conflicts often draw the line that “the US political system is losing stability,” and that elites are “torn by contradictions” against the backdrop of war with Iran and the ongoing Ukrainian conflict. Even mentions of scandals over high salaries in American agencies, such as EADaily’s note about the head of USAID, are presented as signs of “corruption and elite detachment from the people.” For the Russian audience this reinforces a convenient narrative: while Washington criticizes Moscow for democracy and corruption, it is the US whose “house is on fire.” (eadaily.com)

Saudi discussion of US domestic politics is far more restrained, but there are analytical pieces tying instability in the US to unpredictability in its foreign policy. In Arab columns aimed at a business audience it is stressed that every congressional turnover and every wave of political scandal in Washington can mean a sharp reassessment of risks: new sanctions are imposed, or there are threats to withdraw security guarantees to allies, or conversely a ramping up of presence in the region. For Riyadh the question is not whether America will “fall,” but how much longer one can build long‑term defense and energy strategies relying on an unpredictable partner.

Interestingly, in all three countries there is a fatigue with American exceptionalism, though articulated differently. In Russia this often takes the form of open irony: authors write that the US “is destroying the order it created” and “fears a multipolarity it cannot stop.” In Japan there is less irony and more cold calculation: analysts calmly explain how business must operate in a world where American elections, ministers’ tweets and tariff wars turn the global economy into a series of shocks. In Saudi Arabia the pragmatic question of price comes to the fore: what risk premium do the dollar and American security guarantees still deserve after Iran‑2026 and a possible reshuffling of regional alliances.

If one reads only the American press, one might get the impression that the US is still the center of the world — just going through another crisis. But if one looks closely at Russian, Japanese and Saudi texts, the picture is different: America remains critically important, yet is increasingly the subject of analysis rather than unconditional imitation. Russian authors see in its moves an opportunity for alternative centers of power; the Japanese see a source of risks to be carefully hedged; the Saudis see a key but no longer sole partner in a region where the balance can tip either way.

This shift in tone may be the main change of 2026: the US increasingly appears in global columns not as the “arbiter” but as one of several disputing players whose power is still enormous, yet whose ability to impose its agenda without regard for others is noticeably more limited.

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How the World Responds to Washington: Views from Brazil, South Korea and South Africa

At the end of April 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of foreign news — not as an abstract superpower, but as a very concrete, sometimes nervous partner whose decisions directly reverberate through domestic debates in Brazil, South Africa and South Korea. There the conversation is not only about another round of the Middle East crisis and trade frictions, but also about how the very character of American power has changed under Donald Trump’s second term and his “America First” line in a more aggressive, sanction‑punitive form.

In Brazil these days America is above all a diplomatic scandal around the fugitive Bolsonarist Alexandre Ramagem and Lula’s response. Frayed nerves and mutual suspicions of politically motivated law‑enforcement actions have turned a story about police cooperation between the two countries into a symbol of a broader struggle for sovereignty. A Spanish‑language account of this episode, published by El País, describes in detail how the US first detained and then almost inexplicably released Ramagem, convicted in Brazil for participation in an attempted coup, and almost simultaneously effectively expelled a Brazilian ICE liaison, accusing him of “manipulating the immigration system” and “exporting political persecution to US territory.” In response Brazil withdrew the accreditation of an American police officer at the embassy, citing reciprocity, and Federal Police director Andrei Rodrigues emphasized in an interview that he did so “with great regret,” but “cannot accept such interference and abuse of power by certain American personalities.” This line is not an episode but part of Lula’s broader campaign to demonstrate an independent foreign policy: the left‑wing outlet Brasil 247 explicitly writes of “growing tension with the US” and interprets the government’s response as a conscious strategy to protect sovereignty and defend a multipolar order, a key theme of Lula’s third term. (elpais.com)

Brazilian commentators see Washington today less as an ally than as a nervous and unpredictable hegemon, especially after a series of tough tariffs by Trump on Brazilian imports in 2025, when duties of up to 50% were raised on a wide range of goods under the pretext of “protecting American workers” and alleged commercial imbalance, despite the US actually running a surplus in bilateral trade. This “crisis” episode has already been described in analytical pieces as the 2025 diplomatic conflict, which crystallized an anti‑Trump consensus among Brazil’s center‑left elite: in their view, US foreign policy had become an instrument of Trump’s domestic campaign, with Brazil a convenient target. (pt.wikipedia.org)

Hence a popular theme in commentary: Lula deliberately makes Trump an “external enemy” to rally his base and shift the conversation from domestic problems to national pride. The center‑right Gazeta do Povo notes that the president “raises the level of provocations against Trump, betting on the image of an external enemy,” linking this to the 2025 experience when harsh rhetoric against American tariffs even helped him somewhat recover his ratings. In the same logic many in the right‑wing opposition see the countermeasures in the Ramagem case as not only defending sovereignty but also an electoral calculation. (gazetadopovo.com.br)

At the same time the left‑patriotic camp does not hide that it sees current US moves in the region — from economic pressure to the capture of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro in January 2026 — as a return to the worst forms of interventionism. In one review of foreign policy prepared by a Brazilian research center quoting Brazil’s representative to the OAS, the US seizure of Maduro is described directly as undermining international law and creating a troubling precedent for all of Latin America. In Brazil this is compared to its own military dictatorship and the support Washington provided to anti‑communist regimes in the region then. (gedes-unesp.org)

Thus the first major throughline in perceptions of the US is the “hard, personalized America of Trump,” combining trade wars, politically charged law‑enforcement decisions and a demonstrative disregard for multilateral norms. For the Brazilian public this image hits an old sensitivity about dependence on the US and revives memories of periods when Washington was seen as the chief architect of Latin American crises.

The second major throughline links Brazil and South Africa: a perception of American global policy through the lens of the war with Iran and a broader crisis of confidence in the US role as the “responsible leader” of the international order. In Brazil’s media space the US‑Israel war against Iran, which began in late February 2026, serves as the backdrop for many stories — from rising fuel prices and macroeconomic risks to parliamentary debates about foreign policy. On the program “A Voz do Brasil” one left‑wing deputy bluntly said that US foreign policy “stokes violence, attacks humanitarian values and threatens the peaceful coexistence of peoples,” tying this not only to the Middle East but to Trump’s broader line. For the federal government the war in Iran is primarily a factor of inflation, budget adjustments and potential global economic slowdown, but in commentary it quickly becomes a moral issue: are unilateral US actions acceptable even if formally justified as counter‑terrorism and ally protection? (reddit.com)

The South African discourse goes further, overlaying the Middle East and other episodes onto its own history of dependence on foreign financing and political pressure. In a report by South African and international human‑rights groups on the fate of US investments in South Africa’s health system, published in April 2026, the “America First” policy in global health is described as a course toward the practical winding down of previous partnership‑based aid programs and their replacement by a more conditional, unilateral model. The authors stress that South Africa is a unique case: a country that for decades was a testing ground for cooperation with the US in the fight against HIV/AIDS now risks losing “virtually all investments” because of shifting priorities in the Trump administration. The text says that by April 2026 Washington “was on a trajectory of withdrawing almost all of its investments,” without offering a full agreement or memorandum of understanding, which is perceived as an underestimation of South Africa’s role and a disregard for African agency. (parliament.gov.za)

In South African political analysis the thesis of “declining trust in the US government” now appears at many levels. A briefing from the parliamentary budget office, examining global and national perspectives, links the erosion of trust to the US role not only in the war with Iran but also in the dramatic episode of President Maduro’s abduction, which African diplomacy qualifies as a violation of the principle of sovereign equality. The document cites the position of the African Union’s 39th session, which “expressed deep concern” about such actions. In this view the US becomes not a guarantor but a source of global instability, including for Africa, which is formally far from the Middle East frontlines. (parliament.gov.za)

This theme also reverberates in Brazil’s South Atlantic context. In April 2026 Rio de Janeiro hosted the 9th ministerial meeting of the Zone of Peace and Cooperation in the South Atlantic — a forum of African and South American countries created to keep the region free from great‑power military rivalry. The final declaration and adopted strategy are directly aimed at strengthening regional cooperation and reducing external military activity in the South Atlantic — and although the US is not named, for many South American and African analysts the shadow of Washington and NATO is obvious. Against this background interest grows in the idea of a “southern peace,” where these countries could play a more active role without looking to American priorities. (pt.wikipedia.org)

The third major storyline is the image of America as an internally unstable, polarized country whose crises now provoke not only concern but a weary sense of déjà vu. In Brazilian media the recent shooting at the entrance to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in Washington — a traditionally social and in some sense symbolic ritual of American democracy — is seen as yet another confirmation that “violence in the US has become commonplace.” Even encyclopedic entries in Portuguese describing the April 25, 2026 event emphasize the paradox: the attack occurs not on some periphery, but at the entrance to an event attended by the country’s political and media elite. For a Brazilian audience living with its own problem of armed violence, the United States in this respect becomes less a model and more a warning — an example of how even a developed state can lose control of public safety. (pt.wikipedia.org)

In South Africa domestic American conflicts are most often discussed through the prism of race and migration policy. In a Mail & Guardian column Professor Adekeye Adebajo of the University of Pretoria analyzes Trump’s campaign against Somali migrants and the personalized attack on Representative Ilhan Omar, herself a former Somali refugee. The author asks why the US president “is waging war on Somali immigrants,” drawing parallels with apartheid and xenophobic sentiments in South Africa, where migrants from other African countries have become targets of violence and stigma. This perspective flips the optic: America ceases to be a distant model of democracy and instead becomes a laboratory of the same issues facing South Africa — xenophobia, inequality, and the political exploitation of fears. (mg.co.za)

The South Korean discussion of the US at first glance is less explosive and far more pragmatic. In Korean news and educational outlets America still appears as a key ally and simultaneously a source of risks because of global instability: mentions of the US‑Iran war appear in world‑affairs overviews for schoolchildren and students in the context of a “re‑escalating Middle East” and how this affects the economy and security. In a popular educational magazine for students the US‑Iran war is placed in a column “events that again strain the Middle East,” alongside discussions of price increases and global energy worries. This is a typically Korean down‑to‑earth perspective: the main concern is how it will affect prices, exports, and the security of sea lanes, not a moral assessment of America’s role. (yes24.com)

Nevertheless a more critical view of American policy is gradually emerging in Korean media. In analytical pieces about a future “sixth technological wave” and the rise of “physical AI,” the US figures as one of the leaders, but scenarios increasingly describe a world where Washington is no longer the sole center of power: China, the EU and Asian states themselves loom on the horizon. While European leaders openly speak of weakening American alliances and the need to build a new order themselves, in South Korea this is for now framed more gently — as a necessity to “diversify” partnerships without severing ties to the US. This line is echoed in statements by European politicians, for example Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk calling South Korea “the most important ally after the US” amid claims that “American alliances are weakening”; such formulations are widely quoted in Korean media, reinforcing the sense of a tectonic shift in the alliance system where Washington is no longer the unquestioned center. (washingtonpost.com)

South Africa’s view of alliance with the US is changing too, albeit differently. Recent remarks by US Secretary of State Marco Rubio on the occasion of Freedom Day, April 27, 2026, sounded like an attempt at a “reset”: Washington “sends warm greetings to the people of South Africa” and speaks of readiness for dialogue. But against a backdrop of growing criticism over cuts to health‑care investments and divergences on international issues — including Africa’s position on the war in Iran and the Maduro episode — such words are perceived more as a belated gesture than the basis for a new partnership. African analysts point to asymmetry: the US continues to play a global game that pays little heed to the collective position of the African Union, while South Africa tries to balance between BRICS, Western partners and domestic pressure. (chimpreports.com)

Against this backdrop one telling detail unites discussions in Brazil and South Africa: both countries increasingly speak of the need to build their own regional security and economic architectures in which the United States would be not the center but one external actor among others. For Brazil that means the South Atlantic and Latin America; for South Africa it means SADC, the African Union and BRICS. In both cases Trump’s America acts as a powerful accelerator of this search for alternatives.

Finally, there is a less visible but important line — attitudes toward the US as a cultural and normative force. In South Korea America still remains a source of cultural codes — from films and TV series to political debates adapted to local contexts. At the same time reflection grows: publications about how American polarization, fake news and the crisis of trust in institutions are eroding democracy are used as a cautionary example for Korea itself, where digital divides and political radicalism are also on the rise. In South Africa cultural criticism of the US often overlaps with conversations about racism and media double standards: the example of the scandal over the CBS report on white South African “refugees” in the US, in which American editorial choices are seen as an attempt not to antagonize Trump, shows how the American media environment itself becomes dependent on aggressive presidential rhetoric — a dynamic South Africans read through their own experience of pressure on the press. (en.wikipedia.org)

Thus, when these fragments are assembled, a multi‑layered portrait of today’s America emerges through the eyes of Brazil, South Korea and South Africa. For Brazil the US is an aggressive trading partner, a politically motivated sheriff interfering in allies’ affairs, and a convenient external enemy for mobilizing the electorate. For South Africa it is at once a long‑standing donor in health care and a new source of instability because of arbitrary decisions — from winding down programs to violating other countries’ sovereignty — and an example of a society that has not resolved racial and migration challenges. For South Korea it remains an indispensable ally and technological partner, but no longer the only center of the world — rather one pole in a system where diversification increasingly must be considered.

Common to these perspectives is fatigue with Washington’s unilateralism and unpredictability, especially under Trump, and a growing desire among Global South countries and middle powers not only to react to American policy but to build their own regional and global orders. The difference lies in degrees of dependence and strategic choice: some, like Brazil and South Africa, openly speak of multipolarity and sovereignty, sometimes entering sharp conflict; others, like South Korea, for now prefer softer language that preserves room for maneuver. But in all three cases America ceases to be an untouchable center and increasingly becomes one of, if still one of the loudest, voices in the noisy chorus of global politics.

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How the World Sees America: Brazil, Ukraine and Israel

At the end of April 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of global debates — but not only because of the familiar topic of Washington elections. Attention in Brazil, Ukraine and Israel today is focused on three overlapping storylines: the unprecedented U.S. military intervention in Venezuela and its consequences for Latin America; the war of the U.S. and Israel against Iran and how it affects Ukraine and the global economy; and the transformation of U.S. domestic politics under Donald Trump and its impact on allies. These stories are read differently across the world, but most observers agree on one point: America is returning to a hard, unilateral use of force — and this generates simultaneously hope, fear and a deep sense of dependence.

The first major focal point is the American intervention in Venezuela on January 3, 2026, in which U.S. special forces captured Nicolás Maduro and his spouse inside the Fort Tiuna military complex in Caracas. Brazil’s intellectual and diplomatic circles saw in this not only a “return of Monroe” in the 21st century but also a qualitatively new level of direct intervention. At the OPEU think tank, lawyer Yasmin Abriu characterizes the operation as the largest U.S. intervention in the region since the invasion of Panama in 1989 and a direct violation of the UN Charter, emphasizing that there was neither a Security Council decision nor a clear case of self-defense, and therefore the use of force undermines the very architecture of postwar international law on which Brazil has historically based its foreign policy and its claims to be a “normative power” in the Global South. In her extended piece on the OPEU portal she writes that the attack “coloca em xeque os fundamentos da ordem jurídica global instaurada após a Segunda Guerra Mundial” and fits into a new “Trump corollary” — a Latin American reformulation of the old doctrinal U.S. right to intervene in the hemisphere under the pretext of defending democracy and markets, but now without even the formal cover of multilateralism. The author shows that the operation was planned and effectively managed from the president’s personal political headquarters in Mar-a-Lago, which, from the Brazilian perspective, reinforces the impression of a “privatization” of American foreign policy and of entire countries in the region becoming fields for the electoral strategy of a single U.S. politician. This sentiment resonates in the broader Brazilian public sphere. Research by AtlasIntel, cited by the economic outlet InfoMoney and the magazine Exame, shows a paradoxical picture: most Latin Americans, including Venezuelans themselves, approved of the operation to overthrow Maduro, but in Brazil approval and disapproval levels are much closer to each other than in neighboring countries. An Exame article stresses that while in most countries regional support for the intervention is twice as high as opposition, in Brazil the split is much more even, reflecting a traditional distrust of American interventionism even among those who loathe the Maduro regime. That ambivalent tone also appears in academic analysis: in another OPEU piece on “Venezuela after Maduro,” the authors emphasize that Washington deliberately left a significant part of the old structure in place — from Delcy and Jorge Rodríguez to the military bloc — and preferred not to destroy the existing order, but to take it under a kind of “tutelage,” betting that “managed” authoritarianism would better prevent chaos and ensure oil supplies in needed volumes. Economic and resource motives are visible in Brazil’s domestic debate as well: columnists in Veja and regional outlets link the intervention in Venezuela with growing U.S. interest in terras-has — rare earth metals in the Amazon — hinting that Venezuela is becoming a model for how Washington might deal with states possessing critical resources. In one column José Casado in Veja discusses the purchase by an American company of a strategic rare-earth deposit in Brazil and recalls past statements by politicians close to Bolsonaro promising the U.S. “reliable supply chains” from the Amazon, placing this alongside the Venezuelan story and fueling fears of a gradual loss of sovereign control over natural wealth.

Against this backdrop, bilateral friction between Brasília and Washington has significantly intensified. The Spanish-language but widely read in Brazil El País detailed Brazil’s symbolic response to the U.S.’s unilateral law-enforcement actions: the Federal Police revoked the accreditation of an American police officer working in the capital after the Trump administration announced the expulsion of a Brazilian liaison in Florida who had participated in the capture of fugitive pro‑Bolsonaro politician Alexandre Ramagem. The report emphasizes that this diplomatic exchange of reprisals became a direct consequence of the politicization of law-enforcement cooperation: when the far-right activist arrested in the U.S. was quickly released, he publicly thanked “the highest echelons of the Trump administration,” and the State Department charged the Brazilian officer with “manipulating the immigration system” and “extraterritorial persecution of opponents.” In response, Federal Police Director Andrei Rodrigues announced on GloboNews the immediate revocation of the American colleague’s access to Brazilian databases and working premises, and President Lula, speaking in Hanover, said the country could not “aceitar essa ingerência e esse abuso de autoridade que algumas personalidades americanas querem ter em relação ao Brasil,” stressing the principle of reciprocity as a tool for protecting sovereignty. Brazilians read this episode as a symptom of a broader shift: under Trump the U.S. is increasingly seen not as an abstract “empire” but as an active player inside Brazilian domestic politics — supporting certain right‑wing networks, intervening in judicial affairs, and at the same time demanding privileged access to resources and security. It is no coincidence that the provincial but indicative Folha de Paraguaçu describes the recent refusal to admit a Trump adviser into the country on the grounds of possible interference in the 2026 elections, while President Lula and the left accuse the opposition of being ready to “sell” rare-earth riches to the U.S. in exchange for protection.

The second major focus is the U.S. and Israeli war against Iran, which began on February 28, 2026 and for nearly two months has been dominating the agenda in Israel and indirectly in Ukraine and Brazil. In Russian-language analytical publications, which are read attentively in Ukraine, the conflict is described as a prolonged campaign without a clear outcome: EX‑PRESS writes that after massive strikes on Iran there is no real peace, yet few visible results, and by autumn 2026, when the U.S. holds midterm elections, the war could become a serious domestic political burden for Trump. The author reminds readers that both the U.S. and Israel chose a strategy of complex escalation: on one hand, they aim to weaken Iran’s missile potential and the infrastructure of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, on the other — they are unwilling to wage a full-scale ground war and attempt to combine pressure with the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and an economic blockade. Referring to Axios, the commentator notes that Tehran has already signaled willingness to reopen the strait in exchange for lifting part of the American blockade and shelving the nuclear issue, placing Washington before a dilemma: either partly ease up to stabilize oil markets and domestic politics, or risk a protracted conflict with growing economic consequences.

In Israel’s public sphere this war is first and foremost perceived as a matter of survival and restoring deterrence after years of confrontation with Iran and Hezbollah. The official narrative stresses that it is about destroying infrastructure that threatened Israel and exercising the right to self-defense after attacks from the Iranian side. At the same time, even in friendly right-wing media a debate is intensifying over whether close alignment with the U.S. in this war strengthens or, conversely, limits Israel’s freedom of action. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu promises “strikes on thousands of targets” in Iran and insists that the current operation is a test of the whole architecture of regional deterrence built around the U.S.-Israeli alliance. But in the shadow of official statements anxiety grows: dependence on American military logistics and a diplomatic umbrella makes Israel more vulnerable to shifts in Washington mood, especially in light of upcoming elections and polarization in the U.S.

For Ukraine this war is a dangerous distraction. Ukrainian analysis increasingly argues that the United States cannot physically and politically conduct two major campaigns simultaneously without reducing attention to one of them. Russian‑language and pro‑Russian outlets like InoSMI happily broadcast the thesis that Washington has allegedly “crossed Ukraine off the priority list” and is shifting its center of interest to the Middle East. In an interview recounted by that resource, former CIA analyst Larry Johnson claims that for the American public the war in Ukraine has long ceased to be the main storyline, and in Washington it is largely seen as a tool of European policy and a NATO matter, while Iran and the Strait of Hormuz directly affect energy security and global markets. The decision of the EU to allocate €90 billion to Kyiv for the purchase of American weapons “you don’t have,” for an army “they don’t have either,” is commented on ironically, suggesting exhausted resources. This view, however, strongly contrasts with Ukrainian and pro‑Western experts’ positions. In a column on Ukrainska Pravda, Irwin Redlener, an American physician and Columbia University expert, points out that according to Economist/YouGov polling, 61% of Americans still sympathize with Ukraine, and only 3% with Russia, and that this support is only weakly dependent on party affiliation. He warns: the real danger is not that U.S. public opinion will sharply turn away from Ukraine, but that certain loud statements and diplomatic steps creating the impression of “fatigue” and willingness to strike a deal with Moscow cause anxiety among Ukrainians and increase feelings of vulnerability. For Kyiv the U.S.-Israel war with Iran is dangerous precisely as a “tug-of-war” for attention and ammunition, which is especially painful after the recent massive Russian missile‑drone strike on April 15–16 and the growing need for air defense and long-range missiles. In Kyiv’s expert debates a pragmatic, disillusioned formula is increasingly voiced: the U.S. remains an indispensable source of military and economic aid, but Ukraine can no longer rely on automatic prioritization and must find ways to fit its requests into a broader American strategic puzzle, competing for attention with Iran, China and America’s domestic problems.

The third shared layer of discussion is U.S. domestic politics under Donald Trump and its international consequences. In Brazil this theme has been taken up not only by academics but also by more journalistic platforms. The investigative outlet Agência Pública published in late April an analysis discussing the assassination attempt on Trump during the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner and its possible impact on the November 3, 2026 midterms. The authors note that the assassination attempt is unlikely to change the fundamental polarization of American society, and sociological data from CNBC/All America Economic Survey point to very low approval of Trump’s economic policy — only 39% support his course, 60% disapprove. The paradox, the journalists emphasize, is that on the foreign track Trump appears in Latin America as a decisive and successful leader who toppled an odious Maduro and secured potential inflows of investment into Venezuelan oil, while at home he faces serious skepticism and disappointment, especially if the war with Iran drags on and drives up fuel prices. The analyst notes that if the Middle Eastern conflict continues, Trump could lose support among some “America First” Republicans and independent voters opposed to dragging the U.S. into new wars — and this would be immediately felt in Kyiv, Jerusalem and Brasília, which closely monitor signs of American domestic fatigue with the role of “world policeman.”

Ukrainian and Israeli observers, unlike many Brazilians, view American domestic politics primarily through the lens of allied reliability. Ukrainian expert discourse maintains a clear distinction between structural support for Ukraine from American society and institutions, on the one hand, and the unpredictability of a particular president, on the other. Redlener and other commentators stress that even with high sympathy for Ukraine within the U.S., the issue is becoming increasingly politicized, and individual statements by Trump about the possibility of “quickly ending the war” through negotiations with Putin provoke concern in Kyiv because they are perceived as a willingness to trade Ukrainian interests for domestic political gain. For Israel a similar worry is the prospect of changing American priorities after elections: the current tight coordination in the war with Iran strengthens a sense of embrace, but at the same time raises the fear that if circumstances change or isolationist moods grow, Washington may sharply narrow its support, leaving Israel alone with the regional coalition the U.S. helped awaken.

Particularly indicative in Latin America is how observers discuss the international dimension of U.S. domestic polarization. CNN Brasil analysis, published even before the intervention, stressed that Trump’s policy toward Venezuela combined tough rhetoric against the dictatorship with the simultaneous rollback of humanitarian programs such as Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan refugees in the U.S., reflecting an internal priority of immigration restriction. Now, after the January 3 operation, Brazilian experts warn: the combination of domestic populism, a hardline migration stance and a willingness to use force abroad creates a new type of American leadership, much less sensitive to international law and reputational costs. From the Brazilian perspective this means that even formally friendly governments in the region cannot feel safe from pressure if their resources or political positions suddenly become important to America’s domestic scene.

Beyond these three themes — Venezuela, Iran and U.S. domestic politics — there are other, quieter but important issues. Brazil’s economic circles continue to discuss how U.S. tariffs and regulations affect steel exports and other goods, comparing the current administration with Trump’s first term and with the Biden period when many tariffs against China were maintained. In Israeli and Ukrainian debates much attention goes to the technological dimension of U.S.-China confrontation — from semiconductor controls to restrictions on 5G and artificial intelligence equipment — since both Israel and Ukraine are trying to integrate into new value chains without falling under crossfire from sanctions. But all these stories are subordinated to one big question: how to live in a world where the United States again readily and demonstratively uses force, placing its interests above the formal norms and institutions it once created.

The uniqueness of the present moment is that different regions see different faces in this new-old America. For a significant part of Venezuelans and many Latin Americans, according to AtlasIntel, Trump is associated with relief from a lifelong autocrat; for a significant part of the Brazilian elite — with a dangerous return to the era of the “big stick,” when the fate of governments and borders was decided in Washington. For Ukraine the U.S. remains the key guarantor of survival in the face of Russian aggression, but at the same time a source of constant tension: any wavering of attention, any shift of focus to Iran or domestic scandals is immediately felt in Kyiv as a threat. For Israel the alliance with the U.S. is the foundation of national security, and the current joint war against Iran is the culmination of decades of strategic convergence; however, the closer these embraces, the more painful the thought that tomorrow’s America could suddenly tire of its role as guarantor of Middle Eastern order.

All these perspectives are united by one thing: almost no one any longer believes in an abstract, universalist America that acts “in the name of democracy and human rights” in a global sense. Brazilian jurists speak of a gross violation of the UN Charter, Ukrainian analysts — of competing fronts and the risk of being a “forgotten war,” Israeli commentators — of the need to rely on the U.S. while being ready for the day Washington decides its interests have changed. In the world of 2026 the U.S. is perceived less as the “leader of the free world” and more as a superpower whose decisions must be constantly monitored, balanced and, where possible, insured against — whether through regional alliances, diversification of economic ties or accumulation of one’s own military and technological resources. In this sense Brazil, Ukraine and Israel, despite their differing experiences, converge on one point: living next to America today means both relying on it and making plans for the possibility that tomorrow’s Washington will wake up with entirely different priorities.

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How the World Sees America in the War with Iran: India, Israel, France

At the end of April 2026, talking about America in the world almost automatically turns into talking about the US and Israel’s war against Iran, the blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, and how Washington’s behavior is reshaping regional alliances, energy markets, and other countries’ domestic politics. Indian analysts calculate what percentage of GDP the oil shock will take; Israeli commentators debate who is actually running the war — Trump or Netanyahu; French observers write about “three countries waging the war and a long list of indirect victims” and openly speak of a “strategic defeat” for the United States. Against this backdrop, attitudes toward America are formed from several intersecting narratives.

The main common theme is the war in Iran itself as a symbol of what American power has become. Since late February, when the United States and Israel delivered massive strikes on Iran and effectively launched the 2026 war, the foreign press has been closely examining how Washington reached this decision and what it is trying to gain. French Le Monde describes how, over 40 days, Trump changed strategy several times, and the war ended only in a “temporary and fragile ceasefire” concluded on April 7–8 under Pakistani mediation. The author emphasizes that the American president acted in the logic of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu — to destroy Iran’s nuclear infrastructure and missile forces — but faced the enemy’s stubbornness and adaptability. (lemonde.fr)

In the French economic paper La Tribune the tone is even harsher: the ceasefire is called a “strategic defeat for Trump,” because Iran secured a partial reopening of Hormuz on its terms, retained its regime and its ability to strike shipping, while the US is stuck with half-agreements and a prolonged crisis with its allies. (kiosque.latribune.fr) The Moroccan magazine TelQuel, addressing a Francophone North African audience, explains that of the ten Iranian demands included in the Pakistani plan, most effectively strengthen Tehran’s position compared with the situation before February 28, and asks: who is really dictating the terms — Washington or Tehran. (telquel.ma)

In India the discussion is much more pragmatic: they debate less the morality of the war than its cost. Analytical pieces in Delhi and Mumbai detail how closing or “partially closing” the Strait of Hormuz in March–early April pushed India’s import crude basket from about $69 to more than $85 per barrel, widened the current account deficit and put pressure on the rupee. A MUFG report on India explicitly states: if the conflict and disruptions in Hormuz drag on, the rupee could fall by 10–15% and the deficit could widen by another 2% of GDP, because 80+% of India’s oil and almost all its gas are received through that corridor. (india-briefing.com) Against this background, American decisions — from the initial strikes on Iran to the unilateral naval blockade announced on April 13 after talks in Islamabad collapsed — are perceived as an external shock in which the country had neither a voice nor a veto. (en.wikipedia.org)

In Israel, America simultaneously looks like a savior, the master of the game, and a source of growing irritation. Israeli and international media commenting for an Israeli audience emphasize that without Trump the 2026 war simply would not have happened: years of Netanyahu’s lobbying, examined in detail in investigations by the New York Times and other outlets, ultimately convinced the White House to strike Iran. Bloomberg, in a long piece, writes about “diverging aims of Washington and Jerusalem”: if the US wants a limited campaign plus deals, the Israeli prime minister — driven by his own criminal cases and a crisis of trust — sees a chance for a long-term weakening of Iran and its allies in Lebanon. (bloomberg.com)

From this grow the second and third major narratives: the economic and energy dimensions of the war, and domestic politics — in the US as well as in observer countries.

For France, and more broadly for Europe, the US–Iran war combined with the blockade of Hormuz is primarily a new wave of “geopolitical inflation.” In the English edition of Le Monde they write that “the war in Iran is limited to three countries, but the list of collateral victims is growing,” citing the rise in oil, fertilizer and food prices. About one-third of global fertilizer production passes through Hormuz, which is already causing spikes in nitrogen and potash product prices. India, for example, was forced to announce an 11.6% increase in fertilizer subsidies and a $4.5 billion package, while France chose a more indirect route — covering social contributions for the most vulnerable farms and waiting for a pan-European “fertilizer plan” in May. (lemonde.fr) For a French audience this becomes another occasion to discuss Europe’s dependence on the American and Middle Eastern raw-material architecture and how US “dollar” and “energy” power converts into pressure on European economies.

In the Indian discussion the same oil is seen even more tightly linked to the US. Indian economic digests stress that America, on the one hand, remains a key LNG supplier and an important financial partner, and on the other hand, its unilateral blockade and secondary sanctions effectively force India to choose: either limit Iranian oil or risk access to dollar transactions and the US market. Detailed reviews, such as those by Indian and international banks, explain that even a brief 30‑day OFAC general license for Iranian oil, which expired on April 19, was a “narrow window” for India and China that allowed unloading about 140 million barrels of already shipped oil without falling under US sanctions; it was not renewed precisely to strengthen the “financial equivalent of bombing” that US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent spoke about. (globalsecurity.org) Indian investment blogs put it more bluntly: “for India the war is not important directly, what matters is Hormuz and Washington’s decisions.” (reddit.com)

In France the economic theme is closely intertwined with the political attitude toward America as an increasingly unpredictable ally. Editorial columns say the EU is caught between a rock and a hard place: tied to American energy supplies and NATO security on one side, and paying for the war with higher prices and the need to distribute new subsidies to farmers and households on the other. A Le Monde columnist writes that the war is being waged “on paper” by three countries — the US, Israel and Iran — but it is countries like France, Spain or India that are forced to absorb the shock by investing billions to support agriculture and protect consumers. (lemonde.fr)

The third major narrative is political: in all three countries they discuss how the war, started by Washington, is changing the domestic balance of power. In Israel this is perhaps the most tense topic. Articles in the Washington Post and Al Jazeera emphasize that Washington’s and Jerusalem’s visions of the war diverge: if Trump at one point spoke of a “virtually finished” war and a deal that would close the Iran question by July 4 — the US’s 250th anniversary — Netanyahu and his far-right partners do not hide their desire to “finish the job” in both Iran and Lebanon. Analyst Daniel Levy, commenting for Al Jazeera, says Netanyahu’s attempt to “lead” Washington simultaneously on the Iranian and Lebanese fronts proved excessive, and the outcome of the battle depends not on the Israeli leader but on the US willingness to continue the war. (aljazeera.com)

Inside Israel public opinion is quickly sobering: polls cited by the Washington Post show that after the April 8 ceasefire more Israelis judge the government’s conduct of the war negatively than positively. The authors note that for part of the Israeli right Trump remains a figure “fulfilling Netanyahu’s prayers” — from Jerusalem-related decisions of the past term to the war with Iran — but with caveats: the war has not produced full victory or full security, and the dependence on Washington’s will has become too obvious. (washingtonpost.com)

In France the discussion is more about how the war exposed the limits of American power. Editorials in regional and national press as early as March asked: “Stop or go further?” regarding the war in Iran, noting that Trump found himself squeezed between several constraints: domestic opposition to new ground wars, Israeli demands to “go all the way,” and the risk of extending the conflict into the US midterm elections. (ladepeche.fr) April texts for a French audience show a shift: if criticism of Iran and support for the US–Israel alliance initially dominated, the prevailing thought now is that America can no longer dictate the outcomes of wars as it once did, and Europe is paying for Washington’s illusions about a quick victory.

In India the political conversation is built around the idea that the war “made India small.” Analytical pieces, such as an article in The Atlantic aimed at both Indian and international audiences, point out: Islamabad, not New Delhi, became the venue for US–Iran talks; Pakistani military and diplomats are acting as intermediaries, while the region’s largest democracy has become an observer preoccupied with its own elections and an energy shock. (theatlantic.com) For the Indian establishment this is a painful narrative: a country with global ambitions sees Washington and Tehran deciding the fate of the routes carrying its oil without its presence at the table. Strategic centers like the Vivekananda International Foundation plainly state that Trump’s blockade represents a “crisis” for India, not abstract geopolitics, and that New Delhi must navigate between Washington, Tehran and Moscow to avoid becoming a hostage of someone else’s war. (vifindia.org)

Another recurring motif is “managing Hormuz” as a test of who actually controls the global economy: the US or its adversaries. French, Indian and Middle Eastern commentators agree that the current crisis differs from previous oil shocks: Iran did not merely threaten, it temporarily closed or significantly reduced traffic through Hormuz, and the US, in response, shifted from a “kinetic” war to an economic one, imposing a naval blockade and even boarding tankers in the Indian Ocean. (apnews.com) For Indian analysts the tone is particularly acidic: a popular investment blog bluntly calls the current war “a textbook on how the wills of Washington and Tehran redefine your inflation, even if your country is officially neutral.” (reddit.com)

Finally, a throughline — colored differently in each country — is the nuclear question: what exactly is America trying to achieve with Iran and how the world reads its arguments. Spain’s El País, whose reasoning is widely cited in French- and English-language debates, reminds readers that the 2015 nuclear deal (JCPOA), from which Trump withdrew in 2018, provided for three years the kind of effective constraints and verification on Iran’s nuclear program that neither the current war nor ultimatums have ensured. Tehran, the paper stresses, appeals to the “double standards of the West,” which does not punish the nuclear programs of India, Pakistan and especially Israel, which are outside the NPT framework. (elpais.com) For an Indian audience this argument sounds particularly stark: the country itself is outside the treaty but effectively a nuclear power, and watches the US use real and potential Iranian weapons issues as a pretext for sanctions and a military campaign while not applying the same approaches to Delhi or Jerusalem.

The Israeli debate about the nuclear issue is differently framed: for a significant part of Israel’s expert community the American strikes and blockade are a necessary element of “collective self-defense” against years of Iranian aggression and suspected nuclear intentions. Lawyers and analysts, cited in English-language Wikipedia overviews, argue that the US strike on Iran fits the right of self-defense for both Washington and its ally Israel. But even within these camps there is alarm after April: the war did not force Tehran’s capitulation, Hormuz remains a lever of pressure, and the prospect of regime change in Iran is increasingly unrealistic. (en.wikipedia.org)

Taken together, these perspectives form an unusually complex image of the United States. In the Indian picture Washington is at once a necessary partner and a source of energy and financial risk; a country whose domestic political cycles and alliances with Israel can overnight rewrite calculations about Indian inflation and the rupee. In the French view it is an ally dragging Europe into another conflict on which Europe is economically dependent but over which it has little influence; a superpower demonstrating to all the limits of its military and political will. In the Israeli view it is a complicated patron: a leader who gave Netanyahu what he dreamed of, but who leaves Israel suspended between an unfinished war, international criticism and growing skepticism at home.

The common denominator is that for India, Israel and France the US no longer looks like an unambiguous guarantor of order. America still sets the rules — whether by aircraft carriers in Hormuz or by the dollar in oil payments — but in local debates the thought grows louder: living by relying solely on Washington’s will has become too expensive a pastime.

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How the US Looks from Afar: War with Iran, the Strait of Hormuz, and Washington’s New Image

Today's image of the United States in South Africa, Israel and South Korea is being shaped not by abstract reflections on “America in general,” but by a very concrete crisis — the US and Israel’s war with Iran and the related Strait of Hormuz. Since 28 February 2026, the United States and Israel have been conducting a large-scale military campaign against Iran, carrying out joint airstrikes on military and nuclear sites, which, according to open sources, led to the death of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and pulled the region into a new cycle of war. (ru.wikipedia.org) The conflict quickly exceeded the bounds of “another strike” in the Middle East: it spread to Lebanon, the Gulf, global maritime transport and financial markets. Through this prism, people in the three countries are rethinking Washington’s role — some see it as a protector and guarantor of security, others as an irresponsible hegemon whose domestic political impulses are reshaping the world map.

The first and obvious common focus is the US and Israel’s war with Iran itself, which in local debates is rarely seen as a “local Middle Eastern episode.” In Israeli English- and Hebrew-language discussions, the war is presented primarily as the culmination of years of proxy confrontation with Tehran and as a pivotal moment in relations with Washington: how reliable is the American umbrella, and where is the line between allied support and American dictate. Russian-language reviews of Israeli politics, recounting local polls and commentary, note that part of the public blames Benjamin Netanyahu for being “squeezed” by the White House and forced to agree to a ceasefire under pressure from US President Donald Trump, and that this pressure is perceived both as a rescue and as humiliating. Analyst Dalia Sheindlin, cited in the Israeli press, said that the sense of a truce imposed by Washington had become a political vulnerability for Netanyahu: Israelis have long seen the US not only as an ally but also as a sort of “limiting force” that, in critical moments, pauses escalation. (anna-news.info)

In South Korea the same war with Iran almost automatically translates into the language of economic risks and strategic vulnerability. Major business outlets in Seoul link the trajectory of the KOSPI index not only to the US Federal Reserve meeting but also to any signals from Washington about the duration and scope of the campaign against Iran. A ChosunBiz piece on the upcoming FOMC meeting explicitly states that the rise in Korean stocks “reflected expectations of the end of the US war with Iran,” but the emergence of signals about a possible resumption of geopolitical tension again introduced nervousness. Daishin Securities analyst Lee Kyung-min emphasizes that the market is sensitive to “expectations of negotiations and the end of the war,” rather than to the military reports themselves. (biz.chosun.com) For Seoul, whose economy depends on stable sea lanes and the American economic cycle, Washington is simultaneously the main risk factor and the main anchor: White House decisions affect not only oil prices and borrowing costs but also whether the Korean navy might have to physically enter the Strait of Hormuz under the American flag.

From this grows the second shared storyline — the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz as a symbol of a new style of American power. In the South Korean and Central Asian press, Hormuz appears primarily as an energy artery that the US has effectively “choked off” by its actions. In a CentralAsia overview recounting the regional reaction to US and Israeli strikes on Iran’s Kharg Island, it is also reported that South Korea, due to the conflict in the Middle East, wants to increase oil purchases from Kazakhstan. (centralasia.media) For Seoul this is a pragmatic calculation: if American operations and Iranian retaliatory measures make Hormuz unpredictable, supply diversification is needed, and in this scenario Washington looks less like a “defender of freedom of navigation” and more like an actor whose strikes provoked a chain reaction. Korean experts, discussing the crisis, bring up a question familiar to local audiences: if the US can so radically change the rules of the game in the Persian Gulf, what prevents it from suddenly changing its approach to Northeast Asia — for example, demanding greater support from Seoul in a possible escalation around Taiwan or in new sanctions against China?

In Israel the Hormuz crisis is read differently. For Israeli commentators, judging by summaries in Russian and English, it is a logical continuation of long-standing attempts to “cut off” Iran from military-economic capabilities — to deprive it of oil revenues, restrict access to sea lanes, and force Tehran to make concessions on nuclear and missile issues. A Wikipedia summary of the conflict, based on Israeli and international sources, records that during Operation “Epic Fury” US and Israeli strikes on Iran and subsequent Iranian attacks on US bases in Bahrain, Qatar and other countries laid the foundation for a protracted crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, where Iran began to differentiate shipping: some countries received a “safer passage” if they distanced themselves from Washington and Jerusalem, while others faced increased risks. (ru.wikipedia.org) In this Israeli narrative the US appears not as the author of a chaotic crisis but as a necessary partner without whom Iran’s strategy cannot be “broken”; simultaneously, there is anxiety in parts of public debate: if the United States at some point decides to “shift attention” or strike a larger deal with Tehran to de-escalate in Hormuz, will Israel be the one to pay the price?

For South Africa the same conflict and the same Washington are embedded in a completely different context — a long history of the national healthcare system’s dependence on American funding and debates over how reliable the US is as a development partner. The South African Medical Journal recently published an editorial on the “PEPFAR crisis” — the US global AIDS assistance program. The authors recall that on 26 February 2025 the US Agency for International Development (USAID) effectively unilaterally terminated 90% of cooperative agreements with PEPFAR partners worldwide, and four days later the State Department issued a “work suspension order” affecting other foreign aid programs. (scielo.org.za) For a South African audience, where PEPFAR had for decades been associated with “the positive America” — a country that not only wages wars but also saves the lives of millions with HIV — this was a shock and a reason to reassess attitudes toward the US as a donor. Now that the same US is mounting a large military campaign in the Middle East, some South African commentators ask: why was there money and political will for an expensive war and increased military presence in the region, but no sustainable mechanism to continue a life-saving health program?

Through this lens American foreign policy looks like a shift in priorities: from a “global fight against HIV” to a “global fight against Iran.” South African public health experts put this harshly: the US, they say, demonstrates that humanitarian initiatives can be quickly wound down for domestic political reasons, while military-political projects receive long-term support even if they carry the risk of escalation and violate international law. This contrast reinforces an older theme in South African discourse about “double standards” in the West: Washington, advocating the rule of law, is willing to strike Iran bypassing the UN Security Council and to support ally Israel, yet can freeze aid to the poorest countries without consulting them.

The third cross-cutting theme is the internal political dynamics within the US itself and their impact on foreign policy, which everywhere is read through the prism of specific local fears and hopes. The South Korean business press closely watches how political violence and instability in Washington could undermine the predictability of American policy. In a ChosunBiz report on the third “shooting incident” in the US capital within a short time, the names of key administration figures — from President Trump to Vice President J.D. Vance and Pentagon chief Pete Hegseth — are listed in detail, with the conclusion that this is another “milestone of political violence in the Trump era.” (biz.chosun.com) For Korean readers this is not just an exotic story about a distant America: the stability of the administration in Washington affects concrete issues — the extension of arrangements for US force rotations on the Korean Peninsula, the volume of nuclear deterrence, and coordination of sanctions against Pyongyang. Local commentators recall the 2018–2019 experience, when the Korean agenda became hostage to US domestic political struggle, and draw parallels with how the current war with Iran could become an object of intra-party bargaining in Washington.

In Israel attention to US domestic politics is even sharper. Local analysts are used to calculating how any change in the American political landscape — from a party change in the White House to intra-party splits — will affect military aid packages and diplomatic cover. In the current war with Iran, according to regional analytical summaries, Israeli experts read every Trump statement closely: his promise to “extend the ceasefire” and openness to negotiations conditional on lifting the maritime blockade are interpreted sometimes as a sign of Washington’s desire to “step off the military carousel,” and sometimes as a tactical move. (ixyt.info) Within Israel a more cynical voice is also heard: the United States remains the main ally, but that ally is deeply divided internally, making Israel’s bet on the “sole superpower” increasingly risky.

The South African perspective is again different. For a local elite shaped by experience with sanctions against apartheid and by subsequent decades of partnership with the US and Europe, current American domestic turbulence — from radicalization of segments of the right to debates over racial justice and foreign policy — looks like a kind of “reverse transit”: a country once portrayed as a model of democratic stability has itself become an arena of conflicts reminiscent of South Africa in the 1980s–90s. In the context of the war with Iran this gives critical voices an added argument: if Washington cannot guarantee the predictability of its own policy from election to election, how rational is it to build long-term development strategies relying on American aid and military guarantees?

Finally, the fourth common motif, articulated differently in the three countries, is the question of international law and the “legitimacy of force.” In Israeli discussion there is an established thesis about the “right to self-defense” against Iran and its allies, and the US here figures as a country employing force “within a coalition” and in response to Iranian provocations, including rocket and drone attacks on American bases in the Middle East. Israeli lawyers and diplomats appearing in the media emphasize that international law does not prohibit preemptive actions against a state that systematically threatens destruction and wages a hybrid war through proxies; in this logic the United States is a partner that “complements” Israeli power with global legal and diplomatic resources.

In South Africa, by contrast, leading human rights and academic voices continue to appeal to international conventions and the experience of international tribunals, viewing the actions of the US and Israel through the lens of “unauthorized use of force” and possible war crimes. New reports from human rights organizations on the Middle East, which mention US airstrikes including on targets outside formal combat zones, are picked up by local media and fit into a broader narrative about “erosion of international norms under the influence of great powers.” (amnesty.org) For a South African audience this is not only a conversation about Washington: it projects onto their own foreign policy, including Pretoria’s active engagement with International Criminal Court initiatives and suits over genocide and war crimes.

In South Korea the question of law and force is subtler. There are fewer ideological pronouncements about “illegal US aggression” and more discussions about the cost of any military adventurism for middle powers living under an American nuclear umbrella. Korean commentators, analyzing the Hormuz crisis and the US war with Iran, often draw parallels with a hypothetical US-China confrontation over Taiwan: how long could Seoul remain on the sidelines if Washington demanded support, and what would be the price of refusal? Legal arguments about the legitimacy of particular American operations take a back seat to the pragmatic question: at what point does the alliance with the US turn from a security guarantee into a source of uncontrollable risks?

In all three countries the image of the United States today is contradictory, layered and far from the old black-and-white scheme of “empire of good/empire of evil.” In Israel the United States remains an indispensable military and diplomatic ally, but is being watched more closely as a politically unstable and vulnerable power capable of changing course at any moment. In South Korea Washington is both the main protector against North Korean and Chinese threats and the source of global shocks — from interest rates to oil prices — that directly hit Koreans’ welfare. In South Africa, where the memory of PEPFAR’s generosity is still fresh and the reality of “frozen aid” is painful, the US is increasingly seen not as a benefactor and unconditional leader of the “free world,” but as another major player whose decisions must be weighed coolly and from which one must be able to defend one’s own interests.

It is through the prism of the war with Iran, the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, the winding down of aid programs and domestic political turbulence in the United States that a new international conversation about Washington is forming. It is much less trusting, far more pragmatic and, perhaps, more honest than the rhetoric of previous decades.

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The World Watches Washington: How Russia, France and China View Today's America

At the end of April 2026, the United States simultaneously plays the role of a warring power, a space pioneer, a key link in the global economy and a source of political upheaval. Outside America this is perceived not as a familiar backdrop but as a concentrate of risks and opportunities. Russian, French and Chinese media and experts are discussing not one or two but several overlapping storylines at once: the war of the US and Israel against Iran and its consequences for global security; Washington’s aggressive trade‑tariff policy and the Supreme Court’s ruling on duties; a shift in the trajectory of US monetary policy and the struggle for control over the Federal Reserve; the US energy pivot and its growing role as an exporter; and the symbolic but very loud launch of a crewed lunar mission under the Artemis program. These topics converge through three very different lenses — Russian, French and Chinese — and their overlay reveals the real global agenda around the United States.

The first and most acute storyline is the ongoing US and Israeli war with Iran. For Russia this is primarily a question of the global balance of power and the sanctions architecture. In the news feed of Parliamentary Newspaper, Tehran’s reaction to possible US strikes on oil infrastructure is presented as another escalation: the Iranian side “promised a harsh response if the US strikes the country’s oil facilities.” Russian commentators place this in a broader context: each new US operation in the region, they argue, confirms the “inability of Washington to live without war” and simultaneously accelerates the formation of alternative formats — from deepening Iran‑Russia cooperation to intensified contacts within BRICS. The tone mixes schadenfreude and anxiety: on the one hand, the “boomerang of sanctions” against Russia, it is claimed, is returning to the US in the form of rising prices and inflationary pressure; on the other — any military clash around Iranian oil threatens a blow to the global market, and thus to the Russian economy, which is tied to raw‑material exports.(pnp.ru)

The Chinese conversation about the same conflict is almost entirely wrapped in the language of markets and macroeconomics. In reviews on platforms like Xueqiu and in morning roundups by Xinhua/Sina, the US and Israeli war with Iran appears alongside inflation and Fed rates as an “external shock.” A commentator using the pseudonym “资本三流分析” in his rundown of “ten hot foreign topics” describes US President Donald Trump’s announced temporary pause in hostilities at Pakistan’s request primarily through the prism of oil prices, the dollar and rate expectations: cessation of strikes lowers the risk premium in oil prices but increases uncertainty about how far the Fed can continue a dovish course.(xueqiu.com) For Chinese investors America here is not an “empire” or the “world’s policeman” but a source of volatility: any tweet or statement from Washington about Iran turns into a move in the S&P 500 and, through it, moves portfolios of retail traders in Shanghai and Shenzhen. In Chinese overviews there is almost no direct moralizing criticism of the US; instead, authors speak of a “rise in uncertainty in US monetary policy” and the need for “additional hedging” against American risks.

The French debate about the Middle East and the US is less emotional but far more politicized. There the war in Iran is viewed through the prism of Europe’s strategic autonomy. Economic bulletins from the Finance Ministry and analyses by major banks note that Washington’s military line further underlines the EU’s energy dependence on US decisions: after the transformation of America into a net hydrocarbon exporter, Washington has become one of the key beneficiaries of any new energy crisis provoked by war. One analytical review states that exporter status does not make the US immune to inflation but gives it leverage over allies, including European ones.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com) French officials speak in a dry technocratic language, but the subtext is clear: “American security” is increasingly seen in Paris as something provided at the expense of Europe’s vulnerability.

The second major theme is the US’s aggressive trade policy and the recent Supreme Court decision that found massive tariffs imposed by the Trump administration against a number of countries unlawful. That decision, which could result in roughly $1.6 trillion of duty refunds to major importers, became a key story in Chinese business media. Sina Finance recounts expectations of companies like Walmart, which in theory should receive part of these funds, but highlights skepticism: experts and the corporations themselves do not believe the money will quickly reach businesses because of administrative barriers and legal risks.(finance.sina.com.cn) In Chinese commentary this episode is read as proof of the unpredictability of American institutions: the White House promoted tariffs for years under slogans of “fair trade,” and then the Supreme Court reverses the policy, creating legal and financial uncertainty for partners.

In France the same topic is approached from a different angle. The research department of a major bank and economists at the Ministry of Economy treat Trump’s tariff war as a realized shock whose effects have largely been absorbed in prices and supply chains. In their models the tariffs are already built into higher inflation and compressed corporate margins; the question is how quickly the US can adjust course without undermining the remaining trust in multilateral rules. One recent review emphasizes that even with part of the tariffs removed, US federal debt will continue to rise and exceed 100% of GDP already in 2026, and uncertainty around the fate of USMCA and future packages with the EU and Japan remains high.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com) For the French elite America is simultaneously a key market and partner on which too much depends, and a player whose unilateral moves turn any long‑term calculation into a lottery.

The Russian discussion of US trade policy runs through the prism of sanctions and “economic warfare.” There is no open sympathy for American importers expecting duty refunds; rather, the Supreme Court’s decision is presented as yet another confirmation of “double standards”: when it concerns its own business, Washington is willing to revise even flagship measures, but when sanctions hit Russian or Iranian interests, they are presented as an unassailable moral norm. Russian analytical outlets link Trump’s tariff maneuvers to his forthcoming fight to keep a majority in the House of Representatives in November 2026 and the expected reallocation of resources toward the industrial “Rust Belt” — the Republicans’ traditional base.(zh.wikipedia.org) Here the US is not an abstract power but an electoral machine using world trade as an instrument of domestic politics.

The third crosscutting thread is US monetary policy and the battle for the future of the Federal Reserve. In the Chinese space this is one of the main topics. In numerous reviews — from detailed analyses on financial platforms to popular video analysts — the falling likelihood of a Fed rate hike in 2026 is discussed against the backdrop of inflationary spikes caused by tariffs and war. Chinese commentators stress that despite sharp swings in expectations after the start of the war with Iran, the baseline scenario of major banks, such as Goldman Sachs, still assumes a low probability of tightening this year.(blockweeks.com) Attention is also focused on the career of Kevin Warsh, nominated by Trump to head the Fed: Chinese roundups relay his congressional promises to preserve independence from presidential pressure and not to yield to public calls to cut rates.(finance.sina.com.cn) But the subtext is clear: Beijing sees the politicization of the Fed as an additional signal that the “dollar anchor” is becoming less reliable, and this is an argument for accelerating de‑dollarization in regional settlements.

French economists, by contrast, view the Fed more as a relatively predictable institution, while noting a “return of political risk” into its workings. In the latest study by a major bank it is emphasized that for Europe the key question is not so much the level of the rate as the extent to which US monetary policy remains focused on its domestic mandate rather than becoming a tool of short‑term political interests of the administration. European analysts also acknowledge that however political shifts change, the dollar and the US debt market remain the unrivaled benchmarks for global investors — and this pushes the EU toward a difficult balance between criticizing Washington and depending on it.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com)

In Russia the Fed theme is presented differently. The emphasis there is on how changes in rates and Federal Reserve rhetoric affect commodity prices, exchange rates and the ability to work around sanctions. In expert columns one can find the formula that “every Fed rate move is a vote for or against American hegemony,” and discussion of the candidate for the new chair is interpreted through a conspiratorial prism of a struggle between “Wall Street” and the “deep state.” In practice Russian economists closely monitor spreads between US Treasury yields and alternative instruments, but in public rhetoric the Fed becomes almost a political symbol comparable in significance to the Pentagon or the State Department.

The fourth, less conflictual but symbolically important storyline is NASA’s launch of a crewed mission to the Moon under the Artemis program on April 1, 2026. In Russia this event provokes an ambivalent reaction. On the one hand, Russian outlets acknowledge: the US for the first time since 1972 sent a crewed spacecraft to the Moon, and this is a serious technological and image success.(ru.wikipedia.org) On the other hand, comments contain reproaches toward Russian leadership for the “lost space” and arguments that the American lunar project pursues not only scientific but also military goals: the militarization of cislunar space, control over resources and a demonstration of political will to allies and rivals.

Chinese reactions to Artemis are even more complex. On the one hand, state media emphasize that US success confirms the trend of “returning space to the center of geopolitical rivalry” and simultaneously serves as a stimulus to accelerate China’s own lunar program. On the other — in more businesslike and expert publications the American leap is linked to economics: the SLS launch and crewed mission are seen as a signal of Washington’s long‑term bets on a high‑technology industrial complex meant to offset blows to traditional sectors from tariff wars and production relocation. In this logic the crewed flight to the Moon is not only a flag in the regolith but a large Keynesian contract for the aerospace industry, feeding supply chains from rare earth metals to software.

In France interest in Artemis is tinged with a European complex of “missed opportunity.” French and pan‑European commentators remind readers that Europe once dreamed of its own crewed program, but now must choose between close cooperation with NASA and attempting to build an autonomous path practically from scratch. Some columns note that the US lunar project complements the economic agenda of a “new industrial policy” aimed at creating jobs in high‑tech sectors within the country — from defense to green energy. In this sense Paris looks at Washington and sees not only the militarization of space but also an example for its own, far less advanced, industrialization.

Finally, there are quieter but extremely important themes running like a common thread through all three discourses. The first is the chronic growth of US public debt and the question of its sustainability. French analysts cautiously warn that by 2026 debt will exceed 100% of GDP, but immediately reassure: as long as the dollar remains the world’s reserve currency and the American market remains the deepest and most liquid, there is no talk of an immediate crisis.(economic-research.bnpparibas.com) Chinese authors are harsher: for them rising debt is another argument for accelerating diversification of reserves and developing their own payment infrastructures. Russian commentators use this figure as a rhetorical club to demonstrate the “impending collapse of the American model” — even though many of them well understand that real erosion of dollar hegemony is still far off.

The second crosscutting theme is the gap between perceptions of the American economy inside the country and outside it. Chinese financial portals emphasize the “resilience of US fundamentals,” still high employment and strong profitability of some corporations, which makes the American market “uncomfortably attractive” even for those politically opposed to Washington.(meigu.news) French economists, while not hiding annoyance about tariffs and unilateral moves, are forced to admit that the US is pulling the global economy out of stagnation. Russian media, on the other hand, focus on the negatives — inflation, social stratification, political polarization — but even in this context cannot ignore the fact that the dollar still dominates and US markets remain the “main arena of the game.”

Putting these pieces together yields a complex but fairly coherent picture of how the world sees today’s United States. In Russia America appears as a contradictory giant enemy: a militarist power waging wars in Iran and Ukraine through support for Kyiv, while at the same time a technological and financial center whose decisions cannot be shrugged off. In France the US is an inconvenient but indispensable partner whose actions constantly force Paris and Brussels to choose between strategic autonomy and economic pragmatism. In China the US is above all a variable in the growth equation: a source of risks, opportunities and price shocks, treated coolly and instrumentally, translating almost every political move from Washington into the language of interest rates, indexes and exchange rates.

The common thread across all three discourses is the realization that the “American century” has not disappeared but has simply become much more conflictual and unpredictable. The US still sends people to the Moon, moves global markets with a single court decision, and shapes the contours of global security with its wars and its pauses for peace. But now each projection of that power is accompanied by questions and doubts: where does the defense of national interests end and the undermining of allies begin; how politicized are institutions that used to be considered neutral; and how long will the rest of the world tolerate the fate of its economies being so tightly tied to a changeable American course. Answers to these questions in Moscow, Paris and Beijing differ, but they coincide in one respect: the era of unconditional trust in the US is gone for good, and today every new step by Washington is viewed through the prism of one’s own sovereignty and vulnerability.

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Washington in the Crosshairs: Australia, Brazil and South Africa Push Back

At the end of April 2026, the United States again found itself at the center of foreign-policy nerves on multiple continents. For Australia, the main question is how far it is willing to go following Washington into a war with Iran and into military pressure on the Middle East. For Brazil, the question is where the red line lies in relations with the Donald Trump administration when it comes to intervention in its internal political battles. For South Africa, the issue is how to defend its right to an independent course on Palestine, BRICS and trade without losing vital access to the U.S. market and American health funding.

At first glance these are three unconnected stories. Together they show how countries of the global South and middle-weight U.S. allies are simultaneously trying to constrain American influence — not by severing ties, but by openly contesting Washington’s right to set the rules.

Around Australia the debate is not about whether it is “for” or “against” America, but whether the country should, out of habit, join another “American war.” The government’s decision to support U.S. and Israeli actions against Iran in spring 2026 by sending a contingent and providing logistical support has sparked a heated political dispute. In the English-language Australian press and in opposition statements this looks like Canberra’s classic dilemma: allied solidarity versus strategic autonomy.

The Greens have been particularly outspoken. Their leader Larissa Waters said that Australia’s participation in the Iran campaign effectively turns the country into a participant in “yet another endless U.S.-led war,” drawing a direct parallel with Iraq and Afghanistan — a view detailed in the English Wikipedia article on Australia’s involvement in the 2026 war with Iran, which compiles key political reactions in Canberra (“Australia and the 2026 Iran war”). In the same discourse, Labor and independent commentators emphasize that the U.S. under Trump is acting increasingly unilaterally, and that Australia, by joining such a war, assumes risks over which it has no real control.

Economists and market analysts in Australia view America through a different prism — as the nervous center of the global economy on which their own markets depend. Westpac and IG Australia reviews stress that investor attention in the region in the coming week will be fully fixed on the FOMC decision, PCE inflation figures and other key U.S. releases, as well as on any escalation between the U.S. and Iran, since this combination determines global market sentiment and the dynamics of the Australian dollar and stock indexes, as Westpac notes in its weekly review “Australia and NZ Weekly 27 April 2026” and broker IG in its analysis “Week Ahead: 27 April 2026” (westpaciq.com.au).

This creates a dual Australian perspective: on one hand, capital markets and part of the political class still see America as an indispensable anchor of the world economy and a key military partner. On the other hand, criticism of involvement in “American wars” is growing, especially when they are perceived as initiatives of Trump’s personal style rather than an inevitable collective Western response. For those who read only the American press, it may be surprising how often the argument that Canberra must “finally learn to say no to Washington” appears in Australian debates, and how commonplace is the view that U.S. and Australian interests do not always coincide.

In Brazil the dispute with the U.S. is more personalized and emotional. Here the U.S. is not only a military ally or economic giant but also an arbiter in a bitter domestic conflict between Bolsonaristas and the current leftist government. The latest escalation was the expulsion from the U.S. of a Brazilian police liaison who had worked in Florida with the immigration agency ICE, accused of using American territory as a platform for a “political witch hunt” against a prominent Bolsonarista hiding in the U.S. Washington’s decision was a blow to cooperation between law-enforcement agencies and is perceived in Brazil as U.S. interference in its internal fight with the far right.

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who until recently maintained a pragmatic dialogue with Trump, has sharpened his rhetoric in April interviews and speeches. In a conversation with Spain’s El País he said bluntly that “Trump has no right to wake up in the morning and threaten any country,” linking the U.S. president’s personal style to a broader weakening of international law and multipolarity, as El País reports in “Lula sopesa aplicar ‘la reciprocidad’ a Estados Unidos” (elpais.com). In the same logic Lula has declared that Brazil will act on the principle of reciprocity and “respond in kind” if Washington abuses its powers regarding the Brazilian police officer.

The threat of reciprocity has already materialized: Brazil’s Federal Police withdrew accreditation from a U.S. law-enforcement officer stationed in Brasília as part of joint programs. As El País notes in a separate item “Brasil aplica la reciprocidad y retira las credenciales a un policía de Estados Unidos destinado en Brasilia,” Federal Police chief Andrei Rodrigues stresses that he does this “with great regret” but emphasizes the need to protect Brazil’s sovereignty (elpais.com). Commentators in the Brazilian press see this episode not only as a diplomatic incident but as an internal signal: ahead of the October 2026 elections, Lula is trying to show voters he will not allow either the U.S. or the Bolsonarista diaspora in Texas to dictate the agenda of Brazilian justice.

The triangle “Washington — the Pope — Brazil” adds an extra layer. The long-running diplomatic conflict between the Trump administration and the Vatican, which began after stark papal criticism of the U.S. war on Iran and of U.S. policy on Venezuela, is discussed in Portuguese-language analyses as part of a broader ideological line from the White House. According to a review of a Portuguese-language article on the conflict between the United States and the Holy See on Portuguese Wikipedia, U.S. Deputy Defense Secretary for Policy Elbridge Colby even summoned nuncio Pierre for an unprecedented “lecture” at the Pentagon, and the Pope publicly condemned the Iran war as morally unacceptable (pt.wikipedia.org). In this context Lula’s statement supporting the Pope, addressed to the Conference of Brazilian Bishops, becomes not only an intra-church gesture but also part of criticism of American “neo‑Monroeism.” Brazilian political scientists writing on the Monroe Doctrine in the Journal of Democracy em Português remind readers that Trump’s interpretation of the U.S. mission in the Western Hemisphere as a right to dominate “dependent” states clashes with left and part of the centrist Latin American elite’s view of sovereign equality among nations (fundacaofhc.org.br).

Against this backdrop it is not surprising that far‑reaching warnings are coming from other Latin American leaders. Colombian President Gustavo Petro told El País that if the U.S. does not rethink its line toward Latin America — from sanctions and migration to interference in elections — “there will be a revolt,” and he emphasized that the region is increasingly looking to alternative centers of power (elpais.com). Those words are being widely cited in Brazilian and Spanish-language media as an expression of broader fatigue with American paternalism.

South Africa views the U.S. primarily through cold‑pragmatic calculations: trade, sanctions risk, status in the global architecture and the consequences of U.S. domestic politics for the African continent. Observers describe Pretoria–Washington relations in April 2026 as the worst since 1994. An opinion column in Independent Online, “Perceptions of South Africa’s Foreign Policy in Turmoil,” states that the Trump administration sees South Africa as a “problem partner” sympathetic to “U.S. adversaries” — Russia, China and Iran — and that Washington has already called into question trade preferences under AGOA and South Africa’s role in the G20 (iol.co.za).

At the same time, initiatives periodically surface in the U.S. Congress to revisit relations with South Africa, accusing it of “betrayal” and of forging ties with “terrorist organizations.” As far back as April 2025 two U.S. congressmen introduced a bill to review bilateral relations, claiming that South Africa had “brazenly abandoned relations with the U.S. in favor of alignment with China, Russia, Iran and terrorist organizations,” as the South African portal Polity.org.za quotes (polity.org.za). Over the past year that accusation has hardened amid Pretoria’s stance on Palestine, its active role in BRICS and contacts with Tehran.

From the South African side the picture looks different: the U.S. is perceived as a partner that too readily resorts to pressure tools — from threats to review AGOA to political campaigns about “genocide of white farmers.” BusinessTech’s analysis emphasizes that although Trump extended AGOA’s operation to the end of 2026 in February, rumors of possible tariffs and restrictions create the risk of “another disaster” for South Africa, since billions of rand in export revenue could be at stake if another review by the U.S. Trade Representative ends in tough measures (businesstech.co.za). For South African commentators this confirms that Washington is prepared to use economic levers for political pressure.

Especially painful is the rollback of American health funding. The Trump administration’s cancellation of most of the PEPFAR program in February 2025 and the subsequent winding down of USAID deprived South Africa of roughly 17% of its HIV-fighting budget, as well as of the infrastructure on which prevention and treatment systems were built. In a Mail & Guardian column about the upcoming rollout of injectable HIV prevention, authors stress that the most vulnerable patients risk losing access to innovative therapy precisely because the system previously funded by PEPFAR, USAID and the CDC has been hollowed out by cuts (mg.co.za). In South African discourse this reinforces the image of the U.S. as a country whose domestic political struggles can instantly erase years of health-support efforts in Africa.

The same link — “U.S. foreign policy — vulnerability of peripheral countries” — appears in discussions about Washington’s broader global role. A budget office briefing from the South African parliament on the global and South African economic outlook emphasizes that the style of the current American government has increased distrust of digital platforms and globalized capitalism: data accumulation, manipulation of political preferences and trade wars have become part of how African societies perceive America (parliament.gov.za). In South African debates this is taken as an argument for greater strategic autonomy and a pivot to the Global South, even if that risks further deterioration in relations with Washington.

If these disparate threads are brought together, several common motifs emerge that often remain peripheral in U.S. discussion. The first is fatigue with Trump’s “personal foreign policy.” In Brazil this appears through the personalization of conflicts with Lula and Bolsonaristas, where Washington’s decisions are read as part of an ideological battle rather than institutional policy. In Australia it appears in condemnation of “another U.S. war” as the choice of a president rather than an inevitability. In South Africa it manifests as the sense that a single shift in Washington’s political line can wreck long-standing trade and HIV-fighting agreements.

The second motif is sovereignty and unilateralism. Left and centrist elites in Brazil and South Africa, and a significant portion of the Australian political spectrum, emphasize that cooperation with the U.S. is possible and necessary, but on an equal basis. In Brazil that means the right to prosecute its politicians without external interference and resisting any use of U.S. territory as a refuge for fugitive figures. In South Africa it means the right to determine its position on Palestine and relations with Russia and China without threats to trade preferences. In Australia it means the right to say “no” to participation in military campaigns that do not directly affect national security.

The third motif is the search for alternatives. In articles on African foreign policy or Latin American democracy, the U.S. increasingly appears not as the “unequivocal leader of the free world” but as one pole alongside the EU, China, regional blocs and even the moral authority of the Pope. When South African authors discuss BRICS and Iran, and Brazilians discuss the Monroe Doctrine and the Pope’s criticism of Trump, they are slotting America into a multipolar landscape where partners can be chosen and contradictions exploited.

The paradox is that none of Australia, Brazil or South Africa seeks a rupture with the U.S. Australian economists still watch every Fed move and the dynamics of American indices; Brazil’s finance ministry travels to Washington for IMF meetings to discuss the impact of the Middle East war on fuel prices, as a report on the radio program “A Voz do Brasil” recounts regarding Minister Dario Durigana’s visit to the U.S. (reddit.com); South Africa anxiously but persistently seeks to extend trade arrangements and preserve export niches.

But the general background of these ties is changing. America remains necessary, but it is becoming less liked and more contested. For Washington this means the old formula of “default allies plus compliant peripheral partners” no longer works. For Australia, Brazil and South Africa, the art of balancing cooperation with resistance to the U.S. is becoming a central skill of their foreign policies. And the longer the Iran war, the Venezuelan crisis and the hard bilateral trade-and-human-rights disputes continue, the louder the simple question grows in Sydney, Brasília and Pretoria: isn’t it time to treat America as an equal, not an imperial center?

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How the World Sees Washington Today: Economic War, Iran, and Erosion

The outside world now discusses the US primarily not as an abstract “superpower,” but as a source of very concrete risks: from a shock on the oil market to the politicization of the dollar and the fragility of American institutions themselves. Turkish, German and Chinese media focus on different aspects, but the themes noticeably overlap: Washington’s “economic weapon,” the crisis around Iran and the Strait of Hormuz, political pressure on the Fed and the courts, and domestic socio‑economic tensions within the United States.

Perhaps the sharpest international conversation revolves around the US operation against Iran and oil sanctions. Chinese official and semi‑official media directly call the new wave of sanctions and threats against buyers of Iranian oil an “economic bombing raid.” In an analytical column on China News’ site a special term is even introduced — the “Economic Fury” operation — to describe Washington’s course: anyone who continues to buy Iranian oil or service its flows will be hit by the US Treasury and its “secondary sanctions.” The author compares this to an extension of a military blockade to the financial and logistics system: from intercepting tankers to striking banks and shipping companies that support Tehran’s exports, and emphasizes that warning letters have already been sent to the Emirates and Oman, while more than two dozen companies, individuals and vessels connected to Iranian oil have been sanctioned. Beijing’s interpretation is unequivocal: the US is using dollar dominance and control over settlement infrastructure as an “extra‑territorial weapon,” forcing third countries to comply with American foreign policy under threat of financial isolation and undermining trust in the dollar as a global public good. In this logic Washington acts not merely as a participant in the Middle East conflict but as a “掠夺性霸权” — predatory hegemony that does not balk at economic blows to allies in order to pressure adversaries, as explicitly stated in a China.com.cn column criticizing “Economic Fury” as yet another example of US sanctional hypertrophy. The author also recalls a broader picture: from the long embargo on Cuba to a series of banking and energy sanctions against other states, painting America as, by definition, a “sanctions power.”

From the Turkish perspective the Iran story is colored differently: it’s a question of the balance of power in a “global war” and of the vulnerability of the US and its allies themselves. Conservative Turkish media analyze in detail how Washington and Tel Aviv find themselves “pinched” around the Strait of Hormuz, where Iran, relying on asymmetric tools, can make any attempt at coercion very costly. In a piece on A Haber the actions of the great powers around Iran are described as “giants’ chess,” and international security expert Yaldyn Deniz stresses that Washington traditionally seeks “legitimacy” before each military operation — resolutions, coalitions, humanitarian pretexts — but this time, in his view, “the picture is different”: international support is fragmentary, regional allies are cautious, and the US is increasingly accused of pushing the region toward escalation under the cover of talk about “freedom of navigation.” Deniz notes that for Ankara and other regional players the crisis around Hormuz is not only a risk of oil price spikes but also a test of the real ability of the US to control key maritime chokepoints at a time when its global leadership is being contested. Turkish analysis draws attention to nervousness in Washington: behind the scenes of military decisions, American press reports discuss both the president’s psychological state and the lack of a clear long‑term Iran strategy, which in Ankara is interpreted as a symptom of a deeper crisis of governability in the US. (ahaber.com.tr)

The common thread clearly read in both Turkey and China is the fear of US economic and financial power becoming a systemic weapon that undermines the very basis of global interdependence. In the Turkish context this is expressed through the question of oil and energy markets: if Washington threatens sanctions against countries that simply meet their energy needs via Iran, what are states whose economies critically depend on imports supposed to do? In the Chinese discourse the story enlarges into a critique of the entire US sanctions policy, where the Iran case is only the latest iteration. Chinese analysts link the current “economic fury” to accumulated experience with Cuba, Russia, North Korea and other countries hit by American restrictions, and they cite Western experts who point to the limited effectiveness and serious humanitarian consequences of such tactics. Against this backdrop the argument gains strength that the more the US uses the dollar as a cudgel, the more it motivates the world toward dedollarization and the search for alternative payment mechanisms.

The second major crosscutting theme is the internal condition of the American economy and its political “superstructure.” Chinese media use recent US stories to illustrate growing socio‑economic inequality and the politicization of economic policy. In a recent China News piece the picture of a so‑called “K‑shaped” recovery is sketched: wealthy households and Wall Street form the upper branch of the graph, benefiting from rising asset values; the broad middle and lower classes form the lower branch, whose real incomes lag behind inflation. Data from a metropolitan food bank are cited: about a third of families in the Washington area faced food shortages last year. The organization’s director, Lada Mutia, notes that even families with formally high incomes — $90–120,000 a year, previously considered a stable middle class — increasingly seek help. She explains this by persistently high post‑pandemic inflation and wage growth lagging behind the rising cost of living: rent, groceries and services pull household budgets down. The piece also features voices of ordinary Americans: a suburban Washington resident recounts how a household with two working adults still “can’t make ends meet,” has to cut expenses and rely on food aid, while the government reduces federal funding for social programs. The Chinese author draws the conclusion that behind the facade of “sustained GDP growth” there is an exacerbation of social fissures that become a factor in political polarization and distrust of institutions. (hn.chinanews.com.cn)

Chinese observers believe this social tension is worsened by the way politics increasingly aggressively interferes with independent economic institutions, above all the Federal Reserve. An analytical piece on Chinanews.com.cn examines in detail the high‑profile conflict between the White House and the Fed: Chair Jerome Powell, who faces a criminal investigation regarding Fed building renovation expenses and alleged false testimony to Congress, sees these accusations as merely a “pretext” and believes the real reason for the pressure is the Fed’s refusal to tailor monetary policy to the president’s wishes. The author describes this as a new phase in a long struggle between Washington and Wall Street for control of the Fed, where the key question is whether the central bank will preserve its independence in setting interest rates or become an instrument of the current administration. The article discusses candidates for Fed chair at length, naming former presidential economic adviser Kevin Hassett as a favorite — a man whose close political ties to the White House alarm parts of the financial community. Researcher Liu Yin from the Financial Research Institute at the People’s University of China comments that choosing an overtly politically loyal Fed head could undermine confidence in the predictability of US monetary policy, trigger capital flow turbulence and increase global market instability. In this context China sees the American economy not only as a source of global demand but also as a potential source of shock if the conflict between populist politics and independent institutions gets out of control. (chinanews.com.cn)

The third layer of international discussion concerns the erosion of American political‑legal institutions and what many outside the US perceive as a crisis of “American democracy.” Chinese commentators actively use recent episodes — from record federal government shutdowns to attacks on the judiciary — as illustrations of systemic problems. An analysis on the Guancha portal dissects a sharp speech by Chief Justice John Roberts, who publicly criticized officials threatening judicial independence and, according to American and British media, was primarily referring to President‑elect Donald Trump and Vice President J. D. Vance. The Chinese author cites Western analysts pointing to a paradox: initial dissatisfaction with the Supreme Court came mainly from Republicans angry about cases against Trump, but after the court adopted decisions expanding presidential immunity, Democrats sharply lost trust in the institution. As a result, the article emphasizes, the Supreme Court — which in the American political system should embody stability and arbitration — itself became the object of mass distrust and political attacks, creating risks for the long‑term legitimacy of the entire constitutional framework. (guancha.cn)

This theme of the breakdown of the “model democracy” also appears in more ideologically charged Chinese texts, where the crisis of American institutions is linked to the practice of external coercion. On the Chinese MFA’s site and related resources there are detailed accounts of how the US, in the authors’ view, simultaneously proclaims itself a defender of democratic values and systematically violates international law through unilateral sanctions and military interventions. Arguments cited include, among other things, the January 6, 2021, Capitol riot, the long embargo against Cuba and the practice of “extra‑territorial” laws like the Helms‑Burton Act, which allow punishment of foreign companies for not complying with American policy. The article also quotes Professor Daniel Drezner’s piece in Foreign Policy, which calls the US a “republic of sanctions” — a country that elevates sanctions to a universal foreign policy tool, often ignoring their real impact on humanitarian situations. In the Chinese reading all this forms a narrative that the United States is losing moral authority both at home and abroad, and the conflicts now under discussion around Iran, the Fed and the Supreme Court are merely symptoms of a deeper “system fatigue.” (gh.china-embassy.gov.cn)

The German media field’s view of the US is less emotional than the Turkish or Chinese ones, but similar motifs are clearly present. German quality newspapers and public broadcasters continue to register an ambivalent attitude toward America: on the one hand, as an indispensable NATO and economic partner; on the other, as a source of instability through trade frictions, sanction policy and internal political distortions. In the context of the Iran crisis and the “Economic Fury” operation German analysts are most concerned about effects on the energy market and the global economy: new oil price spikes, a hit to Eurozone industry, and increased pressure on companies operating in the Middle East. At the same time Germany, committed to a multilateral approach, traditionally looks critically at unilateral US “secondary sanctions” that de facto impose American foreign policy on European businesses. Against this backdrop the German discussion on Europe’s strategic autonomy intensifies: how long can the EU allow itself to depend on decisions made in Washington if those decisions lead to direct economic losses for European countries?

Bringing together these different perspectives — the Turkish regional‑security, the Chinese system‑critical and the German pragmatic‑economic — one can see a common outline: the world is finding it harder to perceive the US as a predictable “guardian of order.” In many national debates Washington is turning into a complex phenomenon: partner, competitor, source of risks, and often an example of domestic problems comparable in scale to those it has long pointed to in others. The “Economic Fury” operation against Iran, the struggle for control of the Fed, growing social inequality and the politicization of the Supreme Court are not disparate news items but symptoms that American power increasingly relies on tools that provoke irritation and anxiety even in allied capitals.

That is why in Turkey, Germany and China the discussion now is less about whether America will be great again and more about the cost to others of how it seeks to keep its place in the world, and whether the international community has the resources and the will to offset the consequences of this policy — through regional initiatives, alternative payment systems, or simply a more sober, pragmatic distance from Washington.

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World Through Washington's Lens: Turkey, Germany and Australia Debate New American Power

Against the backdrop of a protracted war with Iran, an intensified confrontation around the Strait of Hormuz and a series of impulsive moves by the Donald Trump administration, the United States has again found itself at the center of global disputes. But viewed not from Washington, but from Ankara, Berlin or Canberra, the picture looks far more troubling and contradictory. In Turkey there is debate over whether the current hard U.S. line will be a reason to reboot bilateral relations or, conversely, will cement a strategic distance. In Germany, American policy is seen as a mix of chaotic coercion and economic selfishness that undermines the previous architecture of world trade. In Australia, public and expert debate is torn between the instinct to lean on the U.S. alliance and a growing fear of being dragged into someone else’s war without the navy or domestic consensus to do so.

The common thread of all these discussions is three big themes. First, the U.S. and allied war with Iran and the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, perceived as a test of the responsibility and predictability of American leadership. Second, Trump’s new trade-and-economics line—from the “Liberation Day” tariff increases to the courts’ annulment of parts of his duties—and how this is felt in export-oriented Germany and in the Turkish private sector, which depends on dollar liquidity. And finally, the evolution of U.S. military alliances—from AUKUS to pressure on allies to contribute more—which is felt particularly acutely in Australia, where the new defense strategy is clearly written through Washington’s prism, yet America itself, according to some experts, is becoming a less reliable partner. (en.wikipedia.org)

Around Iran and the Strait of Hormuz the picture is almost grotesquely heterogeneous. The Turkish press, even the segment oriented toward financial investors, closely monitors every Washington statement: analytical bulletins from Turkish brokerage houses recount in detail news that the U.S. and Iran are negotiating via Pakistan, and record how Trump’s remarks that “bombings” might be “a more effective position” if talks fail are immediately reflected in oil prices and the dollar exchange rate. In one such roundup, Turkish analysts noted how reports of progress in talks in Pakistan and intentions to extend a ceasefire improved market sentiment, while subsequent Trump comments about possibly not extending the truce increased nervousness again—something Turkey feels directly through oil imports and inflationary pressure. (gedik.com) It is through this prism of risk assessment and the dollar cost of borrowing that Turkey’s business audience discusses American strategy: not as an abstract “fight for democracy,” but as a source of price spikes and the threat of a new wave of sanctions.

At the political level in Ankara, very different notes are sounding. Last week Turkish leadership, via friendly media, actively circulated leaks that the U.S. is ready to compromise in the long-running dispute over Russian S-400 systems and Turkey’s exclusion from the F-35 program. A compilation of international commentary prepared by the ruling party’s think tank cites a Reuters piece in which Turkish officials warn that if the U.S. “withdraws” its commitments from the European security system, the consequences could be “devastating” for the continent, while the same document records the U.S. ambassador to Ankara speaking of a “near resolution” of the sanctions issue over the S-400—framed in the paper as a possible turn toward “normalization” of relations. (akparti.org.tr) In this Turkish conversation the U.S. is no longer an abstract superpower but a concrete military and technological partner on whom the fate of the defense industry, Turkey’s status in NATO and the balance with Russia depend.

In Australia, the same events around Iran and Hormuz are experienced far more existentially. Australian media and experts note that the war with Iran has already directly affected the country: according to reports, three Australian service members were on board a U.S. submarine that sank an Iranian frigate off the coast of Sri Lanka, and Canberra, on that basis, refused a U.S. request to send a warship to the Strait of Hormuz, citing the condition of its own navy. (en.wikipedia.org) That decision became an important marker that unconditional support for U.S. military initiatives is no longer automatic.

Respected Australian commentators speak directly of a “paralysis” in thinking about the alliance with the U.S. A University of Sydney analysis emphasizes that Washington is simultaneously dragging Australia into confrontation with China and into conflict with Iran while itself pursuing an ever more impulsive policy, where Trump’s decisions on sanctions, tariffs and strikes on Iran are hard to predict. (ussc.edu.au) An Asia Times piece on Australian defense strategy notes that the document is formally geared toward strengthening cooperation with the U.S. and AUKUS, but hardly answers the question: what to do if Washington itself is less interested in a long-term presence in the region or starts demanding increasingly politically toxic involvement from allies in operations like the current campaign against Iran. (asiatimes.com) The paradox is that the riskier and less predictable the American line looks, the more Australia is forced to invest in it—and the more painful the domestic debate becomes over the limits of loyalty.

The German perspective on the U.S. in recent weeks has focused less on Hormuz and more on the economy and the architecture of world trade, though the Middle East war forms a constant backdrop. Analysts at Helaba bank in a recent review called last year’s “Liberation Day”—the moment of sharp tariff increases by the Trump administration to punish foreign suppliers—a “failure on all counts.” Detailed charts in that study show that after an import surge ahead of the tariff introductions, actual volumes of U.S. imports through early 2026 ended up higher than in the baseline 2024 period, while American consumers faced price increases and now, after the U.S. Supreme Court in February ruled much of the tariffs unlawful, Washington must prepare to return about $200 billion of revenues to the budget. (helaba.de) German authors see this as a classic example of how unilateral U.S. moves undermine confidence in the dollar system and the predictability of global trade—a risk that is structural for export-driven Germany.

Alongside this, German financial market commentators increasingly view the war in Iran as a backdrop complicating already nervy debates about Fed and ECB rates. In one recent daily analytical report Helaba stressed that the “Middle East war” and hopes for a quick ceasefire directly affect bond yields and the euro-dollar exchange rate, as well as investors’ willingness to take risks. The report adds that markets are closely awaiting another of Trump’s war statements at 3 a.m. European time, because any new escalation could instantly change oil and inflation expectations. (helaba.de) In such German conversations the U.S. appears more as a factor of global instability—on which the trajectory of an energy shock and thus monetary policy in the eurozone depends—than as a guarantor of security in the classic “Atlantic” sense.

A sticking point in Berlin’s debates remains the broader question of what will happen to the European security architecture if Washington continues drifting toward “selective” support for allies. The same fear is voiced in Turkey, where, in the Reuters account cited by Turkish party analysts, Ankara’s officials explicitly warn that any real steps by the U.S. to reduce commitments in Europe could be “devastating.” (akparti.org.tr) Echoes of that concern are heard in Germany, where experts increasingly argue for the need for a “Plan B” in case Trump-era U.S. policy finally loses predictability.

Where Turkey, Germany and Australia converge is on the economic dimension of American power. Turkish market reviews almost daily link the dynamics of inflation expectations and the lira with U.S. statistics: oil inventory reports, import price data and Fed decisions are treated as an “external shock” to which Ankara can respond with only limited tools. One of the latest analytical notes emphasized how a renewed closure of the Strait of Hormuz and expectations of tougher U.S. sanctions immediately push oil prices up and worsen Turkey’s balance-of-payments outlook. (vkyanaliz.com)

In Germany the conversation has shifted from tactical oscillations to a systemic threat: the distortion of the global trading system by U.S. tariff wars. German economists in the Helaba study explicitly state that Trump’s unilateral tariffs undermined the U.S. reputation as guardian of the liberal trading order, and the subsequent Supreme Court decision only underscores how domestic American political games can destroy predictability for external partners. (helaba.de) In Australia, stockmarket analysts note that local retail investors are actively shifting capital into the defense sector while also placing bets on U.S. tech and defense stocks amid the Iran war and the conflict in Ukraine: eToro data cited by ABC show rising interest in defense and AI equities in Q1 2026, which authors directly link to increased U.S. military presence and rhetoric. (abc.net.au)

Australia adds another layer to the international conversation about the U.S. in the context of AUKUS and broader Indo-Pacific competition. Canberra’s new defense strategy, Asia Times emphasizes, formally focuses on boosting its own capabilities and cooperating with the U.S. and the U.K., but many experts see in it the “elephant in the room”: the unspoken question of how ready Australia is to follow Washington unconditionally in its confrontation with China and in a simultaneous war with Iran. (asiatimes.com) Institutional reports, such as a JRI study on the role of “middle powers” in the era of U.S.-China rivalry, stress that Australia must seek additional support from relations with Japan and other regional partners because the U.S. “insurance policy” alone is no longer sufficient under such turbulent American policy. (jri.co.jp)

Also noteworthy is the reaction to recent U.S. strikes on Venezuela and the capture of Nicolás Maduro: while Australia’s right-wing Liberal-National coalition welcomed Washington’s actions, saying “we must live in a world where dictators are held accountable for their crimes,” this support is no longer seen as the nation’s obvious stance but as the position of one political force, whereas a segment of the public, weary of the Iran campaign, is much cooler to the idea of another American “export” operation. (en.wikipedia.org)

Taken together, looking at these three countries produces an interesting paradox: the louder the U.S. proclaims itself the “leader of the free world,” the more complex, conditional and pragmatic relations with it become even among formal allies. In Ankara, Washington is seen simultaneously as a source of sanctions, oil-price instability and a potential partner for a deal over the S-400 and a return to aviation programs. In Berlin, the U.S. is increasingly perceived as a factor of external instability—on energy and trade fronts—which must be adapted to but is ever harder to consider a reliable “anchor” of the global system. In Canberra, the U.S. remains the main security guarantor and key ally in the Indo-Pacific, but each new crisis—from Iran to Venezuela—strengthens the fear of becoming a puppet in someone else’s game.

These voices rarely reach an American audience in full: English-language readers in the U.S. are typically not exposed to the details of Turkish disputes over the S-400 and F-35, to German charts showing the failure of Trump’s tariff policy, or to Australian fears of dependence on a “capricious hegemon.” Yet it is in these local debates that the real state of American influence is revealed: it remains enormous, it still shapes agendas from Ankara to Canberra, but it is increasingly seen as neither natural nor indisputable. Instead of the old “Atlantic” consensus, we see a tangle of bargaining, cautious distancing and searches for contingencies—and in this new world the U.S., perhaps for the first time in decades, faces allies who not only listen but also assess, doubt and argue.

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The World Through Washington: How China, Brazil and Australia Argue With and About the U.S.

In mid‑April 2026 the United States are once again at the center of international debate, but the picture varies greatly depending on where one looks from. In Beijing the focus is primarily on U.S. trade and tariff policy, the dollar and the role of the Federal Reserve in the global financial system. In Brazil the conversation is about diplomatic humiliations, “recurrences of imperialism” and how President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is constructing a complex, contradictory stance toward Donald Trump. In Australia the spotlight is the U.S. role in the war with Iran and the broader question: to what extent should Canberra follow Washington’s lead when its own security and reputation are at stake. The common thread through these discussions is distrust of unilateral American actions and attempts to preserve maneuverability in a world where Washington remains powerful but is no longer omnipotent.

One of the main shared themes is U.S. “economic selfishness” and its consequences. In China analysts dissect in detail the combination of tough tariff policy and White House pressure on the Federal Reserve. Chinese economic commentators emphasize that the Fed’s shift to looser monetary policy in 2026 is perceived not as a technical adjustment but as part of Washington’s political course to implement the slogan “America First” by financing global imbalances. An Eastmoney piece notes that the Fed’s moves balance inflation, growth and financial stability, but that American politicians are openly pressuring the regulator to speed up rate cuts, turning the Fed’s independence into a “testing ground” for Trump’s populist rhetoric. Chinese commentators link this to the risk of losing confidence in the dollar as a stable settlement currency and to rising interest in alternatives, including the yuan and regional currency agreements. Writers at Sina Finance explicitly state that in 2026 Washington will “manipulate public opinion to pressure the Fed, export domestic problems through protectionism and undermine confidence in the dollar as a reliable settlement currency,” and that the abuse of financial sanctions increases the systemic risk of the dollar system.

On the other side of the globe, in Brazil the economic aspect of U.S. policy is overlaid on the painful backdrop of last year’s tariff conflict. The memory of Washington’s 2025 decision to impose 10 percent duties on a wide range of Brazilian imports, and then to expand tariff pressure to dozens of trading partners, is alive not only among experts but in popular perception. Brazilian analysts stress that Trump, justifying the new tariffs, portrayed trade relations as inherently unfavorable for the U.S., while the actual trade balance in 2024 showed a surplus for America in both goods and services. This gives ammunition to those who see Washington’s current trade policy not as protection of “Ohio jobs,” but as a tool of political pressure and a symbol of disregard for the rules of multilateral trade. Brazilian media regularly compare the current situation to the era of unilateral sanctions and embargoes of the Cold War, only now the targets include formal U.S. partners.

The Chinese discourse on the American economic line is broader and more systemic. There, tariffs against China and other countries, trade wars and financial sanctions fit into a picture of a long‑term U.S. attempt to cement dollar dominance and technological superiority through “managed chaos.” Chinese economists, relying on analyses from international organizations, note that by 2026 reciprocal “symmetric” tariffs exceeding 10 percent in trade between the U.S. and China have already become the new norm, not a temporary anomaly, prompting Beijing to accelerate diversification of export markets and development of domestic demand. At the same time Chinese media underline that in the new version of the U.S. National Security Strategy, Beijing no longer appears as the “most serious systemic threat” but is described as an “almost equal competitor,” and the slogan of “complete decoupling” has been replaced by the formula “reducing dependence in key areas.” In China this is read two ways: as recognition that a full “divorce” of the two largest economies is impossible, and as a signal that Washington is simply shifting from an openly confrontational course to a more sophisticated, managed competition.

Against this backdrop diplomatic scandals and conflicts involving the U.S. are perceived in Brazil as symptoms of the same illness – American confidence in the right to unilateral use of force and legal measures. The latest episode – the expulsion by U.S. authorities of a Brazilian police liaison officer from Florida – provoked an outcry in Brasília. In an interview with the Spanish edition of El País, Lula directly threatened reciprocity, saying that if American authorities abused their powers regarding the Brazilian officer, Brazil would respond in kind toward American personnel. As the paper notes, in recent weeks Lula has noticeably hardened his rhetoric toward Trump, accusing him of “bellicism and disregard for multilateralism” and stressing that “Trump has no right to wake up in the morning and threaten some country” — words he used in a recent conversation with El País journalists. In Brazilian discourse this is woven into a line from the tariff dispute of 2025 to the current diplomatic scandal, reinforcing the argument that the U.S. treats partners’ sovereignty selectively and views international law as a toolkit of options.

Brazil–U.S. relations are also complicated by internal Brazilian polarization. Right‑wing supporters of former president Jair Bolsonaro — the so‑called “Bolsonarism” — criticize Lula for “ideologizing” foreign policy and risking a cooling with Washington at a time when Brazil needs American investment and market access. The left, by contrast, sees Lula’s tougher tone as a long‑overdue correction: in their view Brazil should engage with the U.S. “as equals,” relying on its regional role and participation in BRICS. As a result any Washington move — from tariffs to the expulsion of an officer — becomes part of an internal struggle to define national identity: dependent “junior partner” or an autonomous pole in a multipolar world.

If from South America the U.S. looks like an overwhelmingly powerful but capricious partner, for Australia the key question sounds different: to what extent can and should it follow Washington on matters of war and peace. Against the backdrop of intensifying U.S. and allied conflict with Iran and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, a lively debate about Canberra’s role unfolded in Australian political discourse. In March and April 2026 Australian media covered in detail the country’s involvement in the U.S.‑led coalition’s actions, including the incident with an American submarine that sank an Iranian frigate carrying Australian servicemembers. This posed for the public the painful question: how transparent are decisions about Australia’s participation in U.S.‑commanded operations to citizens, and what is the price of such alignment for national security.

In interviews and comments to ABC News and other Australian outlets, Defense Minister Richard Marles emphasized that additional Australian participation in operations in the Strait of Hormuz would depend on achieving a sustainable ceasefire. He publicly disagreed with former prime minister Tony Abbott, who demanded more decisive support for U.S. military actions against Iran. In practice this debate symbolizes a broader split: part of the political class continues to believe that Australia’s security is inseparable from showing unconditional loyalty to the U.S., while others insist on a more “sovereign” approach — joining only those operations approved by the international community and backed by a clear mandate.

Against this backdrop Australia’s strategic debate about the alliance with the United States has taken on a new scale. Specialized outlets such as Defense News highlight that Australia is simultaneously sharply increasing its defense budget and investing in modernization of its navy, air force and cyber capabilities, relying on technological and intelligence cooperation with Washington. But the question is increasingly raised: are these steps arriving too late and do they undermine Canberra’s long‑term initiative in its own regional policy. Commentators speak of a “dependency dilemma”: the more Australia invests in joint U.S. programs, the harder it becomes to pursue a line different from America’s in crises like the Iranian one.

Interestingly, in both China and Australia the American line toward Iran and the Middle East is seen as symptomatic of a broader doctrine: the use of the threat of disproportionate force and the disregard of other actors’ mediation efforts. In China official and semi‑official commentators, including authors writing for party and academic platforms, stress that Washington’s reliance on “deterrence through denial” — a strategy embedded in American defense planning — is perceived by Beijing as justification for expanding the U.S. military presence in the Indo‑Pacific. Chinese experts note that the same logic the U.S. applies to Iran and the Strait of Hormuz can easily be transferred to the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea: the U.S. proclaims willingness to “deny the adversary victory,” even at the cost of escalating the risk of a major conflict.

Another layer of international reaction to the U.S. is criticism of its moral and political leadership from religious and humanitarian authorities, which is especially noticeable in the Latin American information space. The story of the confrontation between Washington and the Holy See, which began in January 2026 with Pope Leo XIV’s public opposition to American domestic and foreign policy — from actions in Venezuela and Iran to threats of annexing Greenland — elicited a strong response in predominantly Catholic South American countries. The Pope sharply denounced Trump’s April 7 statement threatening to “destroy Iranian civilization” to compel Tehran to open the Strait of Hormuz, calling it “truly unacceptable.” Brazilian press uses this conflict to argue that criticism of the U.S. comes not only from “anti‑American regimes” but from central figures of global Catholicism.

Against this backdrop Lula and other Latin American leaders readily situate their disagreements with Washington in a broader moral‑political context: defense of multilateralism, rejection of threats of genocide as diplomatic tools, respect for the sovereignty of weaker states. For Brazil’s domestic audience this allows a tough tone toward the U.S. to be presented not as a reckless provocation but as solidarity with the Pope and the developing world in opposing “impunity‑driven hegemonism.”

Finally, in China discussion of the U.S. is increasingly framed in terms of “systemic competition” and long‑term geopolitics. Chinese political and expert platforms analyze the upcoming visit of Donald Trump to Beijing and consider whether a new, conditional “fourth joint communique” between the U.S. and China might be possible to redefine the framework of relations after another round of escalation over Taiwan and trade wars. Chinese authors, including commentators writing for outlets aimed at the overseas Chinese diaspora, stress that in the new American strategy Beijing is no longer labeled an absolute enemy, but this does not mean a relaxation of confrontation: Washington is merely adapting to a situation of “near‑equal competition,” in which it must simultaneously contain, negotiate and compete. In this logic any concession by Washington — on tariffs, technological restrictions or rhetoric — is seen in China not as a goodwill gesture but as a forced acknowledgment of interdependence.

The result is a multidimensional, contradictory picture. In China the U.S. is primarily an economic‑financial and technological competitor which, while flirting with undermining its own dollar architecture, seeks to preserve advantages. In Brazil America appears as a powerful but unpredictable partner whose tariffs, expulsions and military threats force talk of “reciprocity” and sovereignty, while internal Brazilian disputes about the U.S. reflect societal division. In Australia Washington is both a security guarantor and the main ally, but also a source of strategic dependency that provokes debate over the limits of participation in its wars and the price of access to American technologies and nuclear submarines. What unites these perspectives is one belief: the era of unipolarity is over, and the U.S. ability to dictate terms without regard for partners and institutions faces increasingly firm, articulated and in its own way rational pushback on both sides of the Pacific and Atlantic.

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