Donald Trump sees alliances like NATO as mere business agreements—if allies can't pay the bill, he's prepared to send them the eviction notice, regardless of historical ties or mutual security interests.
Just
when you thought global diplomacy couldn't get more unpredictable, Donald Trump
is getting ready to return to the White House, promising a performance that
might best be described as 'The Art of the Deal, Season Two.' But make no
mistake, while much of what Trump plans for the world is unclear, a few of his
core beliefs are as unshakeable as the gold plating in his penthouse. Some
people see this as a form of consistency—others see it as a freight train
heading straight for the delicate balance of global alliances.
Trump
has always viewed international alliances not as friendships forged in blood or
diplomacy, but as simple contracts, where America offers security for a price.
And if you're a nation that happens to sit under the American security
umbrella, buckle up. Because in Trump’s world, everything—and I mean
everything—has a price tag. NATO, which has been the cornerstone of European
defense for decades, is set to become just another item on Trump's list of
"bad deals." Trump has never been shy about his skepticism of NATO.
Back in 2018, he described the alliance as "obsolete" until people
started paying what he deemed their fair share. Now, with his return to power
looming, it seems highly likely that European leaders may once again find
themselves summoned to "negotiate" their security bills.
Joe
Biden's administration worked hard to rebuild transatlantic ties that were left
frayed after Trump's last term, but Trump's return will likely shift
everything—again. To Trump, alliances like NATO are less about mutual
protection and more like an insurance policy where, if you don't pay your
premium, you lose your coverage. In recent months, sources have indicated that
Trump has been consulting his old foreign policy advisors and mulling over the
possibility of demanding direct payments for American military bases. Imagine,
the U.S. Army acting like a neighborhood security firm, ringing doorbells to
ask for contributions—except the neighborhood happens to be the entire European
continent.
Nowhere
is this transactional worldview more evident than in Trump's attitude towards
Ukraine. Joe Biden has been a stalwart supporter of Kyiv, providing billions in
aid and rallying Western nations to stand against Russian aggression. But for
Trump, Ukraine has always been a potential bargaining chip rather than a
partner deserving of support. It is not difficult to imagine a scenario where
Trump and Vladimir Putin engage in a backroom deal to divide Ukraine's future,
much like two businessmen negotiating over a plot of land. After all, during
his presidency, Trump showed a curious affinity for Putin, once stating that he
believed the Russian president's denials over his own intelligence agencies'
conclusions regarding election interference.
There
is an undeniable danger in Trump's unpredictability, but there is also a thread
of consistency running through his foreign policy—he values deals that make
America appear to "win." If America is to continue supporting Europe,
Trump will demand something tangible in return—whether it’s more favorable
trade terms, exclusive military contracts, or even direct payments for military
aid. This approach ignores the soft power benefits that America has long reaped
from alliances: diplomatic influence, global stability, and a united front
against authoritarianism. Trump's logic, however, is that if American tanks are
stationed in Germany, then Germany should be picking up the tab, no questions
asked.
One
possible flashpoint could be a renewed push to demand that NATO members spend
more on defense. Trump was notoriously dissatisfied with the number of
countries meeting the 2% of GDP target, a goal set by NATO itself. He famously
berated allies like Angela Merkel, and it is likely that a second Trump
administration would be even more forceful. In Trump's mind, Europe has been
riding on the coattails of American power for far too long, and it's time for
them to pay up or risk losing American support—a threat that has always loomed
large in his rhetoric. Forget about the collective memory of World War II and
the importance of keeping Europe stable—for Trump, it’s all business, and
business must be profitable.
His
approach to foreign policy is likely to extend beyond Europe, and his
transactional mindset may affect the U.S. stance in Asia as well. South Korea
and Japan, both critical allies in the region, were pressured during Trump’s
first term to pay more for the U.S. military presence on their soil. Trump even
floated the idea of pulling U.S. troops out of South Korea altogether if Seoul
didn’t cough up more cash. As tensions simmer between China and Taiwan, the
prospect of Trump’s brand of "security as a service" foreign policy
should give Asian allies considerable pause. Could he, in typical Trump
fashion, turn around and suggest a deal with Xi Jinping, cutting off Taiwan's
support in exchange for trade concessions? Such unpredictability is part of his
playbook, where nothing is sacred, and everything is up for negotiation.
Then
there's Russia. Donald Trump's relationship with Vladimir Putin has always been
controversial, to say the least. During his first presidency, Trump famously
refused to condemn Putin at a press conference in Helsinki, choosing instead to
heap praise on the Russian leader. The idea of Trump and Putin carving up
Ukraine is not just a fantasy cooked up by his critics—it's a genuine fear
among European leaders. Putin, emboldened by a potential Trump return, could
see an opportunity to strike a deal that would benefit both leaders. For Trump,
it could mean fewer American commitments and costs in Europe, while for Putin,
it would be a chance to further his imperial ambitions with the tacit approval
of the world’s most powerful country.
Trump's
disregard for long-term strategic alliances, combined with his willingness to
make bold, dramatic moves, makes for a dangerous cocktail. His return could
easily destabilize the very Western order that America helped build after World
War II. When America pulled out of Afghanistan in 2021 under Biden’s watch, the
chaos that ensued showed what happens when careful planning is absent. With
Trump, it’s not just about a lack of planning—it’s the intent to dismantle what
he perceives as unfair agreements, no matter the cost.
The
fact is, Trump sees the world in stark transactional terms. Friends are only
friends if they are paying customers, and enemies are potential business
partners if the right deal can be struck. This mindset will guide his foreign
policy in his upcoming administration, likely turning allies into anxious
clients and turning geopolitical rivals into negotiable partners. It’s a
worldview devoid of nuance—where every handshake is just the beginning of
haggling over the bill.
Europeans,
in particular, should prepare for the reality that America under Trump will not
be the steadfast partner they may hope for. His view of alliances as contracts
means that loyalty and shared history are secondary to immediate gain. If the
numbers don’t add up, Trump won’t hesitate to pull out. And while some may see
this as a refreshing dose of realism in international relations, the risks of
such an approach—alienating allies, emboldening adversaries, and destabilizing
regions—cannot be ignored.
In
plain English, when it comes to international relations, Trump’s upcoming
administration promises a return to chaos dressed up as straight talk. His
allies will have to get used to the idea that friendship is conditional and
that, in Trump's America, there are no free rides. And as for his detractors?
Well, they can expect a rollercoaster—one where the track is being built even
as the train is barreling forward. They say the devil is in the details, but in
Trump's world, the devil might just be in the deal itself.
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