In recent days, the Israeli, German and Australian press has focused not on any single U.S. initiative, but on a more troubling picture: Donald Trump’s foreign policy increasingly appears to be an extension of his domestic election campaign ahead of the November 3, 2026 midterm elections. In Jerusalem, this is being discussed through the prism of Washington’s personal intervention in Israeli politics and the future of relations with Iran; in Berlin, through fears of a “concert of great powers” involving Russia and China, behind Ukraine and Europe’s back; and in Canberra, as a question of how safe it is to base the country’s strategy on an alliance with a state whose policies have become unpredictable.
The common thread running through these reactions is doubt that America still acts as a predictable ally governed by stable rules. None of the three societies concludes that the United States has ceased to be an indispensable power. On the contrary: it is precisely because of America’s strength that every sharp decision by the White House is felt abroad as an immediate domestic problem. But dependence on the alliance is increasingly being accompanied by political wariness.
In Israel, the American issue is currently highly personalized. On the Ynet page updated on October 21, two columns with opposing tones appeared side by side on Trump’s support for Benjamin Netanyahu. In her commentary, Neve Dromi interprets Trump’s statement not only as an endorsement of Israel’s prime minister, but also as a warning about the rise of political Islam—a threat that, in her view, is shared by the United States, Israel and the “liberal world.” In this logic, Washington and Jerusalem remain part of the same civilizational and security coalition: American pressure or support is not external interference, but an element of the struggle for shared security.
Yet a diametrically opposite conclusion is also being voiced in the same Israeli debate. In the column “Netanyahu Under Pressure—and Applying Pressure Himself”, Gilad Sharon describes the American president as a force interfering in Israel’s elections and sarcastically warns that Israel has not yet officially been declared a “banana republic.” This is an important shift. The criticism is aimed not merely at Trump’s style, but at the political price of closeness to the White House itself: Washington’s support may strengthen Netanyahu, while simultaneously undermining the perception of Israel’s democracy as independent.
Israeli anxiety is particularly evident where the American electoral calendar intersects with the war against Iran. In a Calcalist report, Trump links the end of the war to the period immediately after the congressional elections and to falling energy prices. For Israeli readers, this creates an uncomfortable uncertainty: could the pace of pressure on Tehran, the scale of military operations and the diplomatic terms of a deal depend primarily on gas prices and electoral calculations in the United States? This thought is especially sensitive in a country that views Iran as a long-term existential threat, rather than as an episode in an American campaign.
German discussion focuses on a different but logically related concern: Washington may be changing not only the tactics of war, but also the very principle of international representation. The trigger was Trump’s willingness to discuss a three-way meeting with Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping on Ukraine. Deutschlandfunk conveyed the reaction of Ukrainian Foreign Minister Andrii Sybiha: a Russia–China–U.S. format, he said, would not bring peace closer, but would instead encourage Moscow to continue the war. For a German audience, this is not simply a Ukrainian protest. It is a return to Europe’s historic fear of great powers deciding the fate of smaller states without their participation.
German media and experts therefore view the midterm elections not as a familiar American domestic political story, but as a test of how far “Trumpism” can extend into foreign policy. In the announcement for a Frankfurt discussion titled “The U.S. Midterm Elections: The Beginning of the End of Trumpism?”, the organizers explicitly place inflation, trade policy, the cost of living, the U.S. war with Iran, and the consequences for Germany and Europe side by side. This combination is telling: the German perspective sees the American domestic economy and international security as parts of a single mechanism. Rising prices in the United States could make the White House more accommodating toward Russia, more cautious on Iran, or tougher on its allies.
Australia formulates the same problem in the most pragmatic terms. There is less hope here that Trump will change, and more discussion of how to live with his unpredictability without destroying the key alliance. The Guardian Australia political editor, Tom McIlroy, warns in a column that if Republicans lose control of Congress, the president could become even more impulsive, making engagement with him riskier for Prime Minister Anthony Albanese. McIlroy links this to the invitation extended to Putin to attend the G20 summit in Florida and to the concerns of Australians watching their closest ally increasingly seek common ground with authoritarian leaders.
At the same time, Canberra cannot choose between alliance and distance as simply as this may appear in the European debate. Australia depends on the United States for deterring China, intelligence and the AUKUS project—the defense partnership between Australia, the United Kingdom and the United States. Thus, the local formula is not a rupture, but a cautious “neither buy into it nor lash out”: do not adapt to Trump’s political style, but do not provoke him publicly either. However, this strategy becomes more difficult when the U.S. administration attacks Australian domestic decisions. In an ABC report, Albanese responds to U.S. accusations of “censorship” over Australia’s digital duty-of-care bill and emphasizes that he will “always stand up for Australian interests.” This is not a break with America, but neither is it traditional automatic solidarity.
Particularly telling is Albanese’s assessment, cited by ABC: under Trump, the United States is “playing a different role in the world.” The Australian prime minister links this to protectionism, tariffs and the launch of the war against Iran without prior consultation with allies. This phrase perhaps reflects the broadest conclusion shared by the three countries. The issue is not that America has become weaker. It has become less collective: a powerful state that increasingly acts on the basis of immediate domestic advantage and then expects its allies to adapt.
There is also a difference that explains much of this. Israel is debating how to use American power without becoming hostage to it in its own elections. Germany is considering how to prevent world politics from returning to the division of spheres of influence. Australia is trying to preserve its military alliance while simultaneously building a safeguard against its political instability. But all three reactions converge on one point: American policy is no longer perceived as an external backdrop. It has become a factor in the domestic politics of U.S. allies—from Israel’s election campaign to German debates over Ukraine and Australian social media legislation.
This is precisely what makes the coming weeks in the United States so important beyond America’s borders. For Israelis, Germans and Australians, the question on November 3 is not only about control of Congress. It is a referendum on whether, after the election, the White House will subordinate international decisions even more closely to the logic of personal power, energy prices and the president’s political survival.
