Since NATO was founded in 1949, the global balance of power has largely revolved around the West’s efforts to deter Russian aggression against Western Europe. For 76 years, this alliance has served as the cornerstone of transatlantic security. But today, that foundation is fracturing.

The shifting geopolitical landscape is being driven, in part, by the evolving foreign policy priorities of the United States under President Trump. Beyond these policy shifts, however, deeper structural forces are at play, widening the gap between the United States and its European allies.

NATO was established with a singular goal: preventing Western Europe from falling under communist control. The United States viewed its Cold War rivalry with the now-defunct Soviet Union as an existential struggle, one that shaped military and diplomatic strategies for decades. The 1944 Normandy invasion was not only a decisive moment in World War II but also a preemptive maneuver to ensure that Western Europe’s industrial and technological assets did not fall into communist hands. The Cold War formally ended in 1989 with the fall of the Berlin Wall, yet NATO endured—its role evolving alongside the shifting global order. Today, however, the alliance faces a new set of challenges, shaped by economic, political, and military realities that threaten to redefine global power structures.

Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States has shouldered the financial burden of Europe’s defense. As NATO’s dominant force, Washington committed significant economic resources to maintaining military superiority, ensuring Europe’s security in the process. Meanwhile, European nations, relieved of the immediate Soviet threat, drastically reduced their defense spending, redirecting funds toward social services and creating welfare states that prioritized domestic stability over military readiness.

In recent years, European nations have begun reversing this trend, increasing their defense budgets in response to growing global instability. However, decades of neglect have taken their toll. Rebuilding Europe’s defense industry will require massive investment, particularly in the production of military equipment, ammunition, and the logistical infrastructure necessary to sustain modern armed forces. Such investments come at a cost. Increased military expenditures mean cuts to social programs—programs that many Europeans have long considered fundamental rights. The resulting political backlash has been swift.

In January 2024, German farmers staged mass protests, blocking roads with their tractors to oppose government cuts to diesel fuel subsidies. The unrest coincided with a significant shift in Germany’s political landscape: a surge in support for the right-wing Alternative for Germany (AfD) party. Once relegated to the political fringes, the AfD is now shaping national policy. In February federal elections, the party had secured 20.8% of the vote—just eight points behind the center-right CDU, which won 28.52%. The CDU, once reluctant to engage with the AfD, has now found common ground with its hardline stance on immigration and its calls for a reorientation of German foreign policy. Notably, many AfD supporters advocate closer ties with Russia and endorse the establishment of an Ost-Ausschluss trade corridor linking Southeast Asia to Berlin. Such a project would require Russian cooperation—an unsettling prospect for NATO’s traditional leadership.

The diplomatic rift between the United States and Ukraine has only underscored the growing divergence in transatlantic relations. A recent high-profile incident laid bare the stark contrast between past U.S. foreign policy and the new approach under President Trump. During a highly publicized meeting at the White House, ostensibly convened to solidify U.S.-Ukrainian cooperation on rare-earth mineral development, tensions boiled over. In a moment broadcast worldwide, President Trump directly admonished Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, insisting that Ukraine should be more grateful for American support. The exchange escalated further when Trump physically gestured at Zelensky in an apparent display of frustration. The meeting, intended to culminate in a formal agreement, instead collapsed in dramatic fashion.

Following the diplomatic fallout, Zelensky quickly pivoted, traveling to the United Kingdom for an emergency meeting with Prime Minister Keir Starmer. Soon after, European leaders, alongside Turkey’s foreign minister, convened in London for urgent consultations. French President Emmanuel Macron announced that the EU will provide Ukraine with over $33 billion in aid, funded by assets seized from sanctioned Russians. “The priority is to support Ukraine and its army in the very short term,” Macron said. “In 2025, the EU will provide Ukraine with [$33 billion], financed by Russian assets.”

The geopolitical stakes continue to rise. Germany’s likely next chancellor, Friedrich Merz, has openly questioned the reliability of the United States as a security partner. Merz has even suggested that NATO, long considered the bedrock of Western defense, may need to be replaced with an alternative security framework. His remarks reflect a growing sentiment in Europe: if Washington continues shifting its strategic focus toward rapprochement with Russia, European leaders may be forced to seek new alliances—perhaps even with China.

The logic of power is unforgiving. Vacuums do not remain unfilled. If the United States distances itself from Europe, China may seize the opportunity to expand its influence on the continent. The unthinkable—Chinese military cooperation with European nations—may become a possibility. Such a development would fundamentally alter global geopolitics, potentially isolating the United States in its escalating competition with Beijing.

The world is at an inflection point. If the current trajectory holds, future historians may mark this period as the moment when the post-war international order came to an end—and the prelude to a new era of global realignment began.