Until last week, flattery and self-humiliation were the most visible outward elements of Europe’s strategy for dealing with President Donald Trump. Mark Rutte, the secretary general of NATO, who famously called Trump “daddy” at the NATO summit last June, epitomized the collective effort to ensure the U.S. president does not have any reason to turn on America’s European allies.
There were other Trump whisperers as well—-Finland’s Alex Stubb, who probably appealed to Trump more because of his looks, height, and interest in golf than thanks to his formidable intellect, or Italy’s Giorgia Meloni, whose political party, Brothers of Italy, traditionally shared some of Trump’s policy intuitions, on issues from from immigration to “wokeism.”
The U.S. escalation over Greenland and Europe’s response, however, mark an important shift. Last week, the U.S. president threatened to impose 10 percent (and eventually higher) tariffs on exports to the United States from eight European nations unless Denmark handed over Greenland. It was an extraordinary, stunning ask, without precedent in the postwar history of the transatlantic relationship. With the threat of tariffs, as well as increasingly aggressive rhetoric from the likes of Stephen Miller, the White House deputy chief of staff, it was impossible to dismiss the demand as a joke or empty bluster.
This time, Europeans decided to stand their ground, though nervous about their vulnerabilities and dependence on the United States. But they have also concluded that accommodation would no longer work—and that the hope for any return to business as usual is misplaced.
After Trump’s threat and ahead of world leaders gathering at the World Economic Forum meeting in Davos, Switzerland, several European countries made small, symbolic troop deployments to Greenland—not with the intention of actually fighting off an American invasion but with the aim of increasing the political price Trump would have to pay if he did press ahead with a forcible takeover. Further, some Danish pension funds started divesting from U.S. debt, citing poor economic fundamentals. The initial moves were modest, but European financial institutions hold more than $3 trillion in treasuries, or 40 percent of all holdings overseas, in addition to trillions of other U.S. securities.
Ahead of the European Council meeting in Brussels on Thursday night, the EU was readying to deploy its “bazooka,” the so-called anti-coercion instrument, for the first time. Few know exactly what the legal instrument does, but the legislation, which was devised to counter Chinese economic blackmail, would likely empower the EU to respond to U.S. tariffs with countermeasures that could go beyond just trade.
Instability on financial markets on Tuesday, anticipating a possible transatlantic trade and financial war, almost certainly helped to change Trump’s mind. What played a role too was that Trump’s plan was spectacularly unpopular at home, with a CNN poll showing 75 percent of Americans opposed to the plan (including half of Republicans). That proportion would surely go up if it became evident that the takeover involved actual economic pain or the destruction of alliances.
“What is beyond any doubt, however, is that the Greenland episode has damaged the transatlantic relationship in a way that the United States, under Trump or under some future president, will not be able to simply undo.”
Trump left Davos without Greenland and having surrendered on tariffs. The question, of course, is whether the EU’s shift was a one-off or whether it is now likely to play hardball with the United States as a default. There are some, such as University of St. Andrews professor Phillips O’Brien, who believe that the EU should extend its muscular tactics to Ukraine. “One of the reasons Trump talks incessantly about Europeans needing to spend more on defense,” O’Brien writes, “is that he is keen to have them buy as many US weapons as possible. This has been a major theme of his all year. The Europeans should, politely but firmly, use that need to try and pry out more military support for Ukraine (and at better prices).”
Whether Europe has what it takes to adopt a more confrontational style with the United States as a new baseline remains to be seen. Whatever state one thinks NATO is in, Europeans need at least the simulacrum of an alliance with Washington until they can genuinely stand on both feet—a prospect that is still distant. U.S. military platforms, technology, and equipment are ubiquitous within European militaries, making them dependent on the U.S. for spare parts, maintenance, and servicing contracts. Replacing key U.S. “enablers”—satellite intelligence and targeting, refueling in flight, etc.—will require more investment still, which will come to fruition only over long time horizons.
What is beyond any doubt, however, is that the Greenland episode has damaged the transatlantic relationship in a way that the United States, under Trump or under some future president, will not be able to simply undo. True, in a narrow sense, the outcome of the stand-off is a good one. A deal that addresses reality-based U.S. concerns (sovereignty over military bases, exclusion of China from mining, etc.) is infinitely preferable to a military takeover, which would have ended NATO, or a Danish handover of the island under duress, 1938-style. Yet, it also remains true that the administration could have easily reached the exact same set of arrangements with Copenhagen by simply asking politely—without any of the grotesque threats that the administration addressed to one of America’s most exemplary allies.
What Europeans will remember from the opening weeks of 2026 is an America that has no inhibitions in treating them worse than its adversaries—and only backs off in the face of considerable pressure. On the surface, the facade of the transatlantic relationship today might look the same as it did last year. NATO still exists, the U.S.-EU trade deal is still on (pending ratification), Greenland remains a Danish territory, and Trump seems to have moved on to other subjects. Yet, the residual trust that Europeans had in the United States as a benign, friendly nation, albeit governed by an eccentric and mercurial president, has all but evaporated.
Restoring that trust will take much more than Trump’s defeat at the hands of another Democrat who will declare that “America is back,” as Joe Biden did. It will necessitate a far more thorough repudiation of the MAGA foreign policy agenda than what is likely to occur in the next few election cycles. As a result, it is perfectly believable that U.S. policymakers in the 2050s or later will still be grappling with the fallout from Trump’s megalomaniacal, and totally unnecessary, mistreatment of U.S. allies. And in doing so, they will likely face a Europe that will have moved on from its overwhelming reliance on the United States. It seems unlikely that Americans will like all the practical ramifications of such a new reality.