Trump’s ambiguity is the worst of all worlds
He supports Europe enough to make it complacent but not enough to make it safe
Janan Ganesh
Donald Trump has given Vladimir Putin the immense prestige of a one-to-one meeting.
But he has also raised tariffs on India for doing business with the same man.
He ambushed Volodymyr Zelenskyy in the Oval Office in February.
But he hosted him again this week with some bonhomie.
As for ending the war in Ukraine, he won’t give that violated nation a security guarantee of the kind that applies to Japan, the Philippines or indeed most of Europe.
But he doesn’t rule out some kind of US backstop.
To all these cases of ambiguity, there is a natural reaction.
“It could be worse.”
I wonder.
If Trump were clear and consistent that he is abandoning Ukraine, as well as Europe and Nato, the continent would have no choice but to become militarily self-sufficient as soon as possible.
It might fail, of course, but there could be little doubt what should be done.
If Trump were clear and consistent that he stands with democratic Europe, to the death, there would be no problem.
One of these situations is ideal.
The other, while grim, is an impetus for Europe to change: a fixed point that its leaders and voters can plan around.
The worst of all worlds is one in which Trump blows hot and cold, and we are living in it.
The risk is that Europe will have enough commitment from the US to grow complacent but not quite enough to be safe from its enemies.
It will devote thought and energy to cultivating Trump — a project that absolutely obsesses European diplomats now — that could be spent on building a sovereign Europe, which requires not just cash but the threading of endless political needles.
Granted, keeping Trump at least semi-engaged in Europe is a must.
The continent is in no position to replace America’s hard power yet.
But it is also a kind of moral hazard.
Consider the future of Ukraine.
If the US recused itself entirely from enforcing any peace settlement, Europe would simply have to fortify the country — by sending more arms, by deploying troops there — or risk catastrophe on its doorstep a few years later.
It is America’s partial commitment, the prospect of some security assurances but not decisive ones, that could be perversely more unsettling.
Crisis has its uses.
Last February was the queasiest that many of us have ever felt about politics.
As well as the treatment of Zelenskyy, JD Vance gave succour to the German hard right before a federal election there.
If nothing else, though, the trauma of that month focused European minds.
It is hard to picture a German coalition government signing off on theoretically unlimited borrowing for defence without the raw shock of those events.
Now, imagine if the idea takes hold that February was an aberration, that Trump might be a semi-useful partner after all: not Harry Truman, no, but not Charles Lindbergh either.
In that case, will European voters forgo private consumption and state welfare to fund the continent’s rearmament?
Will their leaders surrender national powers so that Europe can make security decisions as one?
Consider me doubtful.
Especially if populist parties campaign on a butter-not-guns platform at the next round of general elections.
I don’t suggest that Trump sends mixed signals to stunt Europe: to stop it committing to the grand project of becoming sovereign.
He just likes having people grovel to him.
Sir Keir Starmer, Emmanuel Macron and Ursula von der Leyen would not have raced to flatter the president in the White House if he were wholly committed to Ukraine’s security (for there would be no need) or wholly contemptuous of it (for there would be no point).
It is the ambiguity, the sense that he can be won over, that keeps them hooked.
The parallel with other kinds of human relations — with affairs of the heart in particular — shouldn’t need spelling out.
This explains his on-and-off, up-and-down tariffs.
The telling thing is that he behaves like this in domestic politics, too.
Republicans can denounce Trump and later enter his fold (Lindsey Graham) or go in the opposite direction (Steve Bannon).
If he insisted on permanent loyalties and permanent enmities, what incentive would anyone have to suck up to him?
Still, Trump doesn’t need to be trying to sabotage European security to have that ultimate effect.
An absent America is bad, but at least it is analysed to the nth degree.
Too little is said about an America that does just enough to give Europe false hope of salvaging the post-1945 order.
Of course, it is just about possible to have it both ways.
Europe can press Trump for short-term support without losing sight of the ultimate goal of increased self-sufficiency.
But consider the record.
This continent was still wittering about soft power after Russia had gone into Georgia in 2008 and Crimea in 2014.
Several governments refused to believe that Putin would go for all of Ukraine even as US intelligence warned them in the winter of 2021-22.
Much of southern Europe is still dragging its feet about defence spending.
The slightest sign from the US that it is back in the business of defending Europe and some electorates will decide that rearmament isn’t so urgent.
Rich and mature democracies struggle to do painful reform except in a crisis.
Trump keeps Europe just short of that.
When a situation “could be worse”, it already is.
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