In early February, the United States again finds itself at the center of attention in European and Korean media — but not as the unquestioned leader of the “collective West.” Three interrelated stories come to the fore: an American push to accelerate peace talks on Ukraine and fit them into a strict deadline; an increasingly ambivalent attitude toward the US role in Europe’s security architecture; and, in Asia, growing concern about protectionism and Washington’s pressure on other countries’ digital sovereignty. Germany, France and South Korea are debating — both among themselves and internally — not whether they “need America,” but what America has become and how to live with it now.
The loudest news is Volodymyr Zelensky’s statement that the US wants to see an end to the war in Ukraine by June 2026 and has invited Ukrainian and Russian negotiating teams to a new round of talks in the United States, most likely in Miami. French outlets such as Le Parisien report this, emphasizing that Washington is setting a deadline “by early summer” and is ready to “push” the parties to meet the timetable; Euronews also covers the story in detail, examining American proposals including turning Donbass into a “free economic zone” as part of a potential compromise. In the Ukrainian framing quoted by French media, the US is already acting not only as the main military donor but also as the architect of a postwar arrangement, up to discussions of multi‑trillion economic packages for Russia and Ukraine in exchange for a peace deal — a line of analysis Euronews links to the so‑called “Dmitriev package,” proposed by Russian emissary Kirill Dmitriev. In this narrative America appears simultaneously as an indispensable mediator and a force feared for striking a deal with Moscow “about peace without Ukraine” behind Kyiv’s back. Zelensky, cited by both Le Parisien and Boursorama, stresses that Kyiv will not accept any agreement made “about us without us,” above all on territorial questions.
The German press senses primarily a shift in the American position and asks what this means for European security. Reports and newsfeeds like those in Die Zeit underline that the US “demanded Ukraine and Russia agree to end the war by June” and is preparing to hold a three‑way round of talks on its soil for the first time. German readers see both a chance to reduce the risk of escalation and a worrying sign: if Washington begins to tie support strictly to a willingness to compromise, Europe may face a fait accompli peace whose terms were set in Washington and Abu Dhabi rather than in Brussels and Berlin. Against this backdrop darker scenarios appear in Germany — for example, modeling a situation where, after a peace forced on Ukraine, Russia re‑concentrates forces and attacks Lithuania while the US “distances” itself, a simulation described in Die Welt’s “Was wäre, wenn Russland uns angreift?” In this imagined crisis, Washington, preoccupied with its bargaining, leaves Europe in a strategic vacuum, and German participants in the wargame conclude that without early and decisive deterrence Europe risks being left alone against a revisionist Russia — this is no longer abstract talk about “strategic autonomy,” but an attempt to answer the question: what if the US really doesn’t come?
The French debate over the June “deadline” is much less hysterical but no less suspicious of American motives. News segments on TF1 Info and other channels present Zelensky’s announcement that “the United States wants the war to end ‘by early summer’ and invited both delegations to talks in the US” alongside reminders of previous Washington initiatives — from ideas of limited truces to talks about security guarantees. French observers draw parallels with American logic: the White House is willing to invest in peace but primarily views it through the prism of domestic political cycles and its own society’s fatigue with the conflict. As Le Parisien emphasizes, Zelensky publicly sets “red lines” in response: no backroom deals between Washington and Moscow over territory will satisfy Kyiv. For a French audience this resonates as a reminder of a colonial past: you cannot decide the fate of a third country in metropolitan centers. Thus, within France — where there is already debate over the scale of support for Ukraine and Paris’s role in Europe — the news that the US is setting a deadline for the war fuels discussion about how much Europeans should allow Washington to dictate the pace and terms of peace.
On the second major theme — NATO’s future and the place of the US in European security — European texts have become noticeably tougher toward Washington. The influence of a new Trump‑2 administration is felt in the background: American signals of “conditional” support for NATO and demands that Europeans pay more and behave “more obediently” provoke, on one hand, irritation and on the other, a forced sobering-up. A British debate aimed at all of Europe on the pages of the Financial Times sums up this shift well: in a reader letter titled “If Nato is on fire, Trump is just the accelerant,” Robert Clark argues that erosion of American commitment to the alliance began long before Trump, and Europeans systematically ignored warnings and did not prepare for a scenario of partial “American withdrawal.” He urges Europe to acknowledge that “the era of unquestioned American primacy is over” and that declaring “strategic autonomy” while relying on the US as insurance against all threats no longer works. In the German context this idea intersects with the Die Welt simulation mentioned earlier: if the US is not prepared to automatically plug every gap, Berlin and Brussels will have to build their own deterrent architecture.
However, as Peter Pomerantsev’s FT analysis about the need for a “community of democracies” shows, many European writers still imagine this architecture in conjunction with the US, only in a more “mature” format: America is wanted not as a “world policeman” but as a senior partner among equals, alongside the EU, Canada, Japan and, paradoxically, Ukraine itself as a future military and technological hub. In this sense European criticism of the US is not antagonistic but demanding: America must stop wavering and decide — is it with the democracies for the long haul or only as long as that aligns with the immediate interests of the administration in Washington.
The third direction along which Europe is listening to the US today concerns not tanks and missiles but the informational and ideological sphere. The Financial Times recently reported on a State Department plan to fund think tanks and charitable organizations in Europe sympathetic to the MAGA movement, to promote American positions on “free speech” and to fight what Washington considers repressive EU rules on digital platforms. The article describes the tour of Deputy Assistant Secretary for Public Diplomacy Sara Rogers to European capitals, her meetings with right‑wing forces like Britain’s Reform UK and her sharp criticism of laws such as the UK’s Online Safety Act and the EU’s Digital Services Act. European commentators quoted by the FT see this not as classic US “soft power” in the spirit of civil society support, but as an attempt at ideological intervention: under the slogan of protecting “the American conception of free speech,” Washington is effectively siding with large American IT companies, which the EU is trying to subject to additional moderation, transparency and tax obligations. For the left‑liberal segment of the European public this is an example of how America uses its influence to weaken European digital sovereignty, while for right‑wing Euroskeptics it is a welcome ally against “Brussels bureaucracy.” In any case, the US again becomes a crystallization point for internal European splits.
Notably, French press often distinguishes between two Americas — the institutional and the “Trumpist.” Official Washington, pushing for Ukraine talks, and the State Department, criticizing European digital laws, are perceived as inevitable partners; while MAGA campaigns in Europe are seen as a softer but dangerous erosion of the European political field. In that sense Europe’s anxieties echo the Korean experience: in Seoul they, too, remember well that a change of occupant in the White House radically alters not only tone but substance of American foreign policy.
In South Korea, America is now perceived primarily through the prism of economic pressure and disputes over digital sovereignty. Leading economic outlets such as Maeil Kyungje recall Donald Trump’s recent statements about possible imposition of 25 percent “reciprocal tariffs” on Korean goods, potentially extending to cars, pharmaceuticals and, in more extreme scenarios, semiconductors and energy resources. Analytical coverage in Maeil Kyungje unfolds a whole scenario of a “new era of protectionism,” where US tariff increases trigger retaliatory measures by China and the EU, and Korean exports, critically dependent on the US market, are put at risk. The authors note that such threats have already been voiced and stress that even if the most extreme measures are not ultimately implemented, Washington’s readiness to use tariffs as a tool of political blackmail has become a constant variable Seoul must adapt to.
At the same time Korean media are actively discussing another conflict with the US — over changes to Korea’s law on networks and online platforms, the so‑called “anti‑disinformation law” (정보통신망법 개정안). As Maeil Kyungje reports, the US State Department in early January expressed “serious concern” that the new rules could negatively affect the business of “US‑based online platforms” and weaken freedom of expression. Seoul insists the law is aimed at protecting users and does not discriminate against particular countries or companies. An editorial column on the Daum portal states that the ruling party “pushed through” the law, effectively ignoring warnings that it could become “the fuse for a trade conflict with the US,” and now risks facing both pressure from American authorities and displeasure from global IT giants. For a Korean audience this recalls European debates on digital regulation, but with an important difference: Europe at least has its own digital champions and economic weight, while Korea fears being squeezed between American and Chinese platforms and losing space for its own regulatory policy.
Korean analytical programs, such as Yonhap News TV’s report on the war in Ukraine and the US role, paint an even more complex picture. The piece highlights that Russia continues to increase strikes on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure precisely as talks on a ceasefire are underway, while the US, “advocating peace,” avoids more active intervention that could change the balance on the battlefield. For a Korean viewer the familiar motif is audible: America supports an ally but carefully meters the degree of involvement, primarily based on its own risks. Seoul projects the Ukrainian case onto its own situation with North Korea and China: how far is the US willing to go to defend an ally if that risks direct confrontation with a nuclear power?
It is interesting that in Korean discourse, as in European discourse, criticism of the US does not mean rejection of the alliance. On the contrary, comments often rest on the idea that this is precisely why the ally must be predictable and consistent. When the US State Department first warns of free speech risks from a Korean law and then pushes in Europe and Korea for terms more favorable to its tech giants on trade and data protection, this is perceived not as an abstract ideological dispute but as a concrete struggle for control over data, advertising and markets.
There is also a softer line of discussion of the US, visible for example in German political commentary: a comparison of economic dynamics. In a Die Welt article about Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s foreign policy ambitions, it is said that one of his central tasks is to close the “growth gap” with the US and China and, within Europe, to push for deregulation, strengthening the single market and new trade agreements to restore competitiveness. In this context the US serves not only as a foreign policy but also an economic benchmark: Germany recognizes that under the American “Inflation Reduction Act” and the pull of investment into green and high‑tech industry, Europe will have to either adapt or lose out.
Against this backdrop even seemingly “outside‑the‑system” stories, like German Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt’s refusal to support a boycott of the 2026 World Cup in the US, Canada and Mexico, take on political significance. In an interview quoted by WELT he says he does not think it right to “politicize sport,” even as he criticizes practices of the US immigration agency ICE. In polemics with Greens and some SPD members calling for a boycott, the word “US” becomes symbolic: for some it represents double standards on human rights, for others it remains a necessary partner — someone to argue with, but not to burn bridges with.
If one tries to bring these disparate groans, hopes and threats into a single chorus, a paradoxical picture emerges. In German, French and Korean perspectives the US simultaneously plays four roles. First, it is an indispensable pillar of security — from Ukraine to the Korean Peninsula — without which no deterrence architecture looks reliable. Second, it is an increasingly tough trade and technological competitor, ready to use tariffs, regulatory pressure and an ideological discourse about “free speech” to push the interests of its companies. Third, it is an internal factor in European and Asian politics: America’s presence or absence in any given issue — from a networks law to a football championship — automatically divides audiences and parties into camps. And finally, fourth, it is a country undergoing an identity crisis whose internal conflicts (MAGA vs. liberals, “deep state” vs. “the people,” as Trump supporters see it) are increasingly projected outward — through choice of allies, diplomacy style and control over the information space.
What is clearly lacking in discussions in Berlin, Paris and Seoul is a sense of long‑term clarity. European and Korean analysts are now almost unanimous in recognizing that the era of “automatic guarantees” from the US is over. But the answer to what exactly will replace it — a new, more equal configuration of democracies led by the same United States, regional blocs with weaker but still significant American support, or a fragmented world where Washington becomes just one among several major players alongside Beijing and possibly Delhi — is still being sought. Meanwhile Germany, France and South Korea are learning the same uncomfortable lesson: to look at America not as a myth but as a complex, contradictory and, above all, not omnipotent partner with whom they will have to negotiate more hardheadedly and think about their own Plan Bs — from Baltic defense to steel tariffs and social‑media moderation rules.
