The West is not being broken by conflict. It is separating because it no longer thinks the same way. What until recently was a fundamental difference is now beginning to translate into concrete decisions.
For decades, the alliance between the United States and Europe sustained itself on more than just shared interests. There was a stronger foundation, a common way of understanding the world. It wasn’t just a question of security or trade, but a historic political community that shared, with nuances, the same idea of order, freedom and the role of the West in the international system. That assumption is now beginning to crumble. The U.S. and Europe are still allies, but they no longer think the same way. And that divergence, which for years could be covered up, is beginning to have clear consequences.
After the wars in the 20th century, Europe built a global vision focused on the containment of conflict. Its historical experience led it to prioritize multilateralism, international rights and strategic prudence. It is not just a question of material limitations. There is also a conviction, the idea that power should be moderated and that war represents, above everything, failure.
The U.S., on the other hand, never completely abandoned a different logic. For Washington, international order is not a stable fact, but rather a construction that must be actively sustained. And that implies accepting that conflict is not an anomaly, but a permanent dimension of global politics.
Neither of these positions is irrational. The problem is that both arguments, being coherent, are starting to become less and less compatible.
The recent crisis in the Middle East has made this tension visible. Europe chose not to provide military support to the U.S. From a European perspective, this decision is justified: An alliance does not imply automatic obedience, especially not when interventions aren’t always defined within fully shared frameworks.
But in Washington, it’s another story. A strategic alliance requires more than just verbal agreements. It entails a genuine commitment when the system that they are both part of comes under strain. It’s not about participating in every war, but it is about intervening when the balance is threatened.
This is the heart of the problem. This difference is no longer just conceptual. It is beginning to manifest itself in concrete decisions.
In the face of a high-intensity international crisis, the U.S. and Europe are no longer acting as a coordinated bloc. While one bears the cost of intervening to maintain the balance, the other chooses not to join in. This divergence is no longer theoretical; it has become a reality.
The U.S. is no longer structurally dependent on the Gulf as it was in the past. It is now much less vulnerable in terms of energy than Europe or Asia. However, it continues to bear the costs of maintaining conditions of stability that others need more than it does. The result is an uncomfortable one: International order continues to be guaranteed, to a large extent, by those who need it the least, while those who depend on it the most are not always willing to bear the cost of defending it.
This asymmetry is eroding reciprocity. And an alliance without reciprocity does not immediately break, but it begins to crack.
Because of this, the problem cannot be reduced to leadership or personal styles. In the U.S., there is a growing perception that the relationship with Europe is no longer fully balanced. But this view coexists with another fact: Washington has often acted unilaterally, deciding on interventions without building a solid consensus with its allies.
As such, the tension goes two ways. Europe is reluctant to support decisions it does not control. The U.S. questions the commitment of allies who are not there when it believes they should be. Both of these arguments are valid. But that does not solve the problem. It highlights it.
What’s at stake is not a single incident, but a deeper divergence in the ways we conceive of power, conflict and our role in the world.
Europe acts as if conflict can be contained by regulatory frameworks. The U.S. increasingly operates under the premise that conflict is inevitable and that order depends on the ability to manage it. For decades, these two visions coexisted without major friction. Now, this balance is becoming more unstable.
Transatlantic relations are not going to suddenly break down. But they could change. Less knee-jerk reaction, more deliberation. Less implicit commitment, more conditionality.
This shift is not a minor one. Because alliances are not only sustained by institutions, but also by a shared perception of what is worth defending and who is willing to do it.
This is not the only shared crisis that the West is dealing with. It is facing something more demanding: the possibility of ceasing to act as a coherent political power and becoming a space of partial alliances, where agreement is conditional rather than automatic.
Because when an alliance fails to act as a unified bloc during critical moments, it is not only its cohesion that is called into question, but its very nature.
It was only natural that the egomaniac-in-chief in the White House would see no need to get his allies on board with the campaign, not even diplomatically.