In March 2026 the image of the United States again became a central figure in international debates—not as an abstract idea of “American leadership,” but through very concrete crises and decisions coming out of Washington. Editorial columns and analyses in Germany, France and Russia focus primarily on the sharp escalation of the U.S.–Iran conflict and the largest U.S. military buildup in the Middle East since Iraq, disputes over Washington’s commitments to NATO and Ukraine, and the gradual “tightening of the screws” in American migration and digital policy—from tourist visas to social media and data controls. Against this backdrop the internal transformation of the United States under Donald Trump’s administration is read differently: in some places it is seen as a threatening return to unilateralism, elsewhere as a symptom of waning hegemony, and in others as an opening for maneuvering.
The new U.S.–Iran escalation is the central focus in almost all three countries. French experts describe the U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran on 28 February 2026—an operation reported to have killed supreme leader Ali Khamenei—as a “war for regime change” that tore apart months of multilateral talks brokered by Oman. Political scientists from the Parisian analytical center Le Grand Continent emphasize in their analysis that Washington and Tehran had held three rounds of talks since January, and then within days resorted to massive strikes on military and nuclear facilities—what for a French audience looks like a sharp abandonment of diplomacy and a return to the logic of 2003, only in a far more explosive region. Analysts note that France finds itself in a difficult position: on the one hand, Paris traditionally advocates “strategic autonomy” for the EU and caution in following the U.S. into military action; on the other, it cannot ignore the threat of the Strait of Hormuz being blocked, through which a critically important stream of oil for Europe passes.
In the French press the crisis in the Strait of Hormuz is described as a “structural test” for Europe: if the U.S. mobilizes the largest military contingent in the region since Iraq, strengthening its navy, air force and missile defense amid Iranian protests and brutal repression, are Europeans ready to pay the political price of supporting that— including higher energy prices and the threat of a refugee flow from Iran and the Levant. This is presented both as a repeat of old scenarios—where Europe pays an economic and political price for American pressure on adversaries—and as a new moment, given European societies’ fatigue from protracted crises.
The Russian discourse around the same conflict is constructed differently: Russian materials view the U.S.–Iran escalation both as confirmation of Washington’s “irremediable unilateralism” and as a window of opportunity. Russian publications emphasize that already in early January 2026 the U.S. president publicly promised to “help” Iranian protesters and then announced the deployment of “armadas” of warships to the Middle East; this is interpreted as a typical U.S. shift from political support to demonstrative military pressure. Overlaid on this is a broader narrative that the 2026 crisis is another example of using sanctions and threats of force for “regime change,” which in the Russian perspective confirms the necessity for Moscow to draw closer to Tehran and Beijing as a counterweight. At the same time, Russia is actively discussing the new phenomenon of massive disinformation and deepfakes accompanying this crisis: fake videos of unrest in Tehran and of the alleged “elimination of Iran’s leadership” are treated as examples of how the U.S. and its allies increasingly rely on information operations as well as missiles, raising separate concerns about future conflicts.
The German reaction largely goes through European frameworks. Analytical pieces in the German press discuss the U.S.–Iran escalation as part of a broader dilemma: on the one hand, the security of Germany’s and the EU’s energy systems depends directly on stable sea lanes and oil prices heavily influenced by Hormuz; on the other hand, German public opinion, after Afghanistan and Iraq, is extremely wary of any operations under U.S. auspices perceived as carrying a high risk of failure and humanitarian catastrophe. Against this background the German discourse includes the idea that Berlin should more actively promote diplomatic settlement, acting as a mediator between Washington and Tehran while defending a “European interest” distinct from the hardline positions of the U.S. and Israel. The subtext of this analysis is the long-standing German debate about whether Europe is becoming merely a “theater” for U.S. strategies.
The second major line of discussion concerns the role of the U.S. in NATO and on the European continent. Here the contrast between French and Russian perspectives is especially noticeable, with the German debate positioned between them. In Germany concern is raised not only by specific statements from Donald Trump about possibly making Article 5 guarantees “conditional,” but also by the general drift of American policy toward selective commitments: the Republican segment of the American establishment is increasingly skeptical about NATO expansion and long-term support for Ukraine, while Democrats continue to speak of the alliance as a “pillar of the international order.” This domestic polarization in the U.S. is discussed in German articles as a factor of strategic uncertainty: a team far less interested in defending Europe could be in the White House tomorrow, and Berlin would have to choose between increasing its own military spending and seeking new forms of European autonomy.
In the Russian discourse these doubts are interpreted as evidence of a “structural crisis of NATO” and the weakening of American hegemony. Russian commentators point out that within the U.S., according to polls, attitudes toward NATO are split along party lines: Democrats by majority support the alliance, while support among Republicans is noticeably lower. This is read as a long-term trend that could lead to a more fragmented security architecture in Europe, especially if the U.S. begins to openly demand that allies “pay for protection” in a harsher form. Against this backdrop, Russian materials on the war in Ukraine and strikes on Ukrainian infrastructure raise the theme that Washington allegedly is not willing to go beyond certain “red lines,” fearing direct confrontation with Russia, and that this too undermines the myth of the all-powerful American military machine.
The French press adds its own emphasis: for Paris the key question is not only how reliable Washington is, but how to integrate American power into the European project. In analytical articles from French think tanks the U.S. is still called an “indispensable power” in defense, but increasingly a “unreliable partner” politically: the risk of course shifts, personalized diplomacy and sudden decisions by Trump make European capitals hostages to American domestic politics. As a result, in Paris and Berlin the debate grows over whether Europe needs its own guaranteed nuclear and missile protection in addition to NATO’s U.S. “nuclear umbrella,” and whether France and Germany could become the center of an autonomous European military bloc in the future.
The third theme, gaining traction mainly in France and Germany, is “digital sovereignty” and U.S. migration policy—primarily changes to the visa‑waiver regime and data controls. A recent analysis by the World Travel & Tourism Council, widely cited in French media, shows that the proposed reform of the U.S. ESTA program—which would expand the collection of foreigners’ social media and digital activity data—could deter a significant share of European tourists: in surveys in France, Germany, Italy and the UK, a third of respondents said they would be less inclined to travel to the U.S. if such measures were introduced. French outlets emphasize that, given that inbound tourism to the U.S. has not yet returned to 2019 levels, additional restrictions would be a blow to Washington’s own economic interests. Some French commentators concede that in light of recurring terrorist attacks and rising political violence, security requirements will tighten everywhere, but they criticize the American approach for its unilateralism and lack of reciprocity—arguing that Europe, in response, does not tighten rules for Americans to the same degree.
In Germany the same theme is tied to a broader debate about the “digitalization of borders”: if Washington can demand that potential visitors disclose essentially their entire digital biography, how far away is the moment when such standards become the norm for global movement? German analysts see in this the risk of a further rupture of the transatlantic space: the U.S. is becoming less “hospitable” not only socially and politically but also procedurally. Notably, several German commentaries stress that European companies and the tourism sector would actively reorient their marketing strategies toward Asian and Latin American destinations in that case, accelerating the redistribution of flows of people and money away from America to other centers.
In the Russian context the topic of U.S. migration and digital control sounds different. The emphasis here is not on the rights of European tourists, but on the fact that tightening American visa and sanctions regimes reinforces the segregation of the world into “friends” and “enemies” of Washington. Russian commentators note that since 2022, and especially after the expansion of sanctions, America has consistently turned its migration and financial legislation into instruments of foreign policy—closing itself off to citizens of “unfriendly” countries and limiting their access to the American financial system and technologies. In this framework U.S. plans to control new spheres of influence, including the Arctic direction and the dispute over Greenland, are also discussed: Trump’s statements about wanting to take the island under control are interpreted both as a continuation of unilateral logic and as a threat to displace other players, primarily Russia, from key geostrategic regions.
Against this background, it is particularly telling how specific figures are cited across all three countries. In France experts are frequently quoted stressing that the U.S. operation against Iran, despite rhetoric about “protecting the international order,” in practice increases chaos and risks for the West itself: the region stands on the brink of yet another protracted war, and European states find themselves hostages to decisions in which they participated only indirectly. In the German sphere assessments come from both governing coalition representatives and the opposition: some urge “not to demonize” the U.S. and to remember that without the American umbrella Europe would be defenseless; others warn that excessive dependence on Washington makes the EU vulnerable to any changes in the White House. In Russia, Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov calls U.S. policy “an attempt to encroach on parts of the world far removed from the country and unrelated to its security,” stressing that Moscow is trying to “convey to American colleagues” the need for mutual respect and a renunciation of global patrolling of the planet. In his words one hears not only the official position but also a narrative popular in Russian society that Washington has become a “global sheriff” whose actions bring more destabilization than order.
There are also less obvious but indicative storylines. French and German analyses discuss how the Iran crisis intertwines with the ongoing war between Israel and Hezbollah and the general collapse of security in the Middle East: for Europeans this is not only a moral and political challenge but also a direct domestic political factor—from energy prices to radicalization in diasporas. Many European authors note that the U.S. in this situation shows decreasing willingness to take responsibility for the post-war order in regions it intervenes in: Trump is much less inclined than previous administrations toward multilateral “stabilization” and state-building, preferring short military operations and limited engagement. This forces Europe to rethink the old formula “the U.S. does the hard work, Europe pays,” because scenarios are emerging in which Washington provokes a crisis and Europeans have to deal with its consequences with minimal American involvement.
The Russian view, in turn, emphasizes that such “selective engagement” by the U.S. opens more room for other powers—from Russia and China to regional players like Turkey and Saudi Arabia. Using Iran and Venezuela as examples, Russian analysts show how U.S. military operations and sanctions push those countries closer to Moscow and Beijing, creating alternative economic and military ties. The Russian discourse regularly includes the idea that “the world is entering an era of fierce multipolarity,” in which Washington no longer has the same resources and legitimacy to manage global processes.
Finally, U.S. domestic politics and the personality of Donald Trump remain important backdrops to all these discussions. French and German articles often stress his tendency toward personalized decision-making, reliance on a small circle of trusted aides and a media-driven image of friend and foe. Russian commentaries present this with a shade of sarcasm: sources recount American reports that on issues like Ukraine and Gaza Trump is guided by “how it looks on television” and by his wife’s opinion, presented as an illustration of the irrationality of American policy. But behind the irony lies a serious conclusion: if such key decisions as a strike on Iran or a change of course on Ukraine depend on personalized and emotional factors, then U.S. predictability as an international actor drops sharply, and other countries must develop multi-level strategies for sudden turns.
A recurring motif across all three countries is the sense that the role of the U.S. in the world is changing, but the final shape of the new order has not yet formed. For France this is primarily a challenge to European autonomy: is it possible to build a “sovereign Europe” while remaining in the shadow of American military power and under the pressure of its digital and financial standards? For Germany the question is how to reconcile historical caution, pacifist instincts in society and growing expectations from allies and Washington about Berlin’s contribution to security. For Russia it confirms a long-promoted narrative about the “decline of the unipolar world,” but at the same time is a source of new risks: the less predictable the United States, the harder it is to build any stable confrontation or balance with it.
Thus, viewed from Berlin, Paris and Moscow, America today is not simply a “global leader” or “world policeman,” but a bundle of contradictory roles: guarantor of security and source of instability, technological and financial magnet and simultaneously a factor of digital control and segregation, a necessary but increasingly unreliable ally and still a dangerous, though no longer all-powerful, adversary. The Iran crisis, debates about NATO, visa barriers and battles over Greenland and the Arctic are only separate scenes of a larger drama: the world is learning to live with an America that is gradually ceasing to be the sole center of gravity and becoming one of several great powers whose decisions must not only be taken into account but constantly contested.
