In mid‑June 2026, debates about the United States in Germany, Brazil and Australia are rarely abstract; they almost always come through the prism of very concrete conflicts and bills owed to Washington. In the German press the US appears as an aggressive and increasingly unpredictable hegemon — from the war with Iran to scandals surrounding the 2026 World Cup. In Brazil, discussion of America inevitably focuses on tariffs, pressure on industry and President Lula’s maneuvers between Washington and Donald Trump. In Australia the US is simultaneously a military shield, an economic risk and a political problem: AUKUS, the war with Iran, new American tariffs and the question of whether the alliance is becoming a relationship of dependence.
If one tries to weave these different conversations into a single tapestry, several crosscutting threads emerge: distrust of Washington’s military adventures, anxiety about American protectionism, skepticism toward “anti‑slave” and “anti‑corruption” arguments as covers for tariff policy, and doubts about whether the current White House can simultaneously manage a war in the Persian Gulf, a confrontation with China, and trade wars with allies.
The first major knot is the US war with Iran and the broader question of American power. In Australia this issue is not theoretical: the country is participating in the campaign, and public debate over whether Washington has dragged Canberra into yet another “other people’s” war runs everywhere — from parliamentary debates to Reddit. In one summarizing note on Australian politics, an anonymous analyst recounts the argument of former foreign minister Gareth Evans: a future US administration will not come to Australia’s aid in case of an “existential attack,” and will intervene only when its own assets on Australian territory are threatened. That, he says, is what the real architecture of the alliance looks like, where American bases and interests matter more than formulas about “collective defense” (reddit.com).
Official Canberra is trying to hold a double line. On the one hand, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese must explain to voters why Australia is paying a political and economic price for participating in an unpopular war. ABC commentator David Spears, analyzing the domestic scene, describes how war spending falls on top of a cost‑of‑living crisis and pushes the government toward new temporary fuel tax relief measures to at least soften the blow to household budgets (abc.net.au). On the other hand, the defense minister and Albanese himself continue to stress that AUKUS is moving “full steam ahead,” and that the war only demonstrates the importance of even tighter integration with the US Navy. A significant portion of the public, especially Greens and the left intelligentsia, do not see this as a “shield of democracy” but as a risk that Australia will become a forward staging ground in future US conflicts with China or Iran. Publications such as an analysis in Asia Times explicitly say that the change in the submarine deal — buying used Virginia‑class boats from the US — is essentially payment for granting American forces even broader use of Australian bases (antinuclear.net).
Against this background, in the German discourse the US appears more as a source of instability than as a protector. Here the war with Iran interweaves with a broader picture — the “Greenland crisis,” Washington’s claims on the island, conflicts around the World Cup and the Shield of the Americas initiative. German Wikipedia’s article on the Greenland crisis reminds readers that in January 2026 it was aggressive, legally unfounded claims by the Trump administration on Greenland that escalated tensions between the US, Denmark, the EU and Greenland itself (de.wikipedia.org). For German commentators this fits into a line of American “neo‑imperialism” — from the Middle East to the Arctic.
It is telling that even the football agenda becomes a channel for criticizing Washington. The Frankfurter Rundschau relays the remarks of Christian Streich, one of the Bundesliga’s most respected coaches, who, appearing as a ZDF expert ahead of the World Cup matches in the US, Mexico and Canada, lashed out at the “highly racist” atmosphere around some decisions and controversies in American football and politics. The piece emphasizes that Streich used the broadcast to once again take aim at Donald Trump and “the values” that, in his view, present‑day America exports to the world (fr.de).
At the far side of the planet, in Brazil, the war in the Persian Gulf is not the central storyline, but it is perceived through the lens of how the US exerts coercive pressure outside the region. Local commentators recall past “American wars” and draw parallels between sanctions, blockades and current tariffs on Brazilian products: Washington is said to be used to getting its way either with bombs or with duties. Here two other agenda knots play a key role — tariff wars and Lula’s role as a mediator between the Global South and Washington.
It is precisely tariffs that turn the US in Brazil from an abstract “global hegemon” into a very concrete economic adversary. Veja magazine notes that trade between Brazil and the US has fallen for the tenth consecutive month, down a combined 14.3% in 2026, and this is already perceived as an alarming signal for bilateral relations. Abraw Neto, president of the American Chamber of Commerce in Brazil (Amcham Brasil), tells the magazine that to prevent further decline and retaliatory steps, the roadmap of negotiations must be urgently advanced; otherwise another tariff hike will become reality (veja.abril.com.br).
The Brazilian press is vividly discussing the “tarifaço” already proposed by Washington — raising duties up to 25% on a range of Brazilian goods. Commentators describe how Lula’s government is negotiating with China and preparing possible countermeasures, trying on the one hand not to collapse exports and on the other not to appear weak before the White House. In an analytical piece on Brazil’s strategy, an industry‑representing agency stresses that this is no longer only about the economy: the extreme asymmetry in trade relations with the US calls Lula’s entire “Global South strategy” into question — a strategy based on multipolarity and reducing dependence on Washington (abpi.org.br).
It is expected that Lula will raise some of these grievances at the G7 summit. The portal Acessa.com, citing sources from the Brazilian delegation, reports that in his G7 speech the president intends to send “direct messages” to the United States, but — importantly — did not request a separate bilateral meeting with Donald Trump. This is read as a demonstrative distancing: Lula is ready to speak to the US from a partner’s position, not as a supplicant. The same publication reminds readers that USTR has an internal deadline — July 15 — to publish the final report on the question of 25% tariffs against Brazil, and everyone understands that the US president has the final word on this decision (acessa.com).
Interestingly, this game of nerves over tariffs is unfolding not only with Brazil but also with Australia, making the theme of American protectionism genuinely global. In Canberra and Sydney, the new package of US duties — at least 12.5% — is seen as a blow not only to exports but also to the image of the alliance. Financial Standard notes that the US Trade Representative (USTR) justifies these measures by claiming that Australia does not fully prevent the import of goods produced with forced labor. The Trump administration, journalists report, argues that weakness in Australia’s enforcement practices on “modern slavery” gives companies an unfair advantage, using human‑rights rhetoric as the basis for tariffs (financialstandard.com.au).
This argument generates skepticism among many Australian commentators. In academic circles and on platforms like The Conversation, international law scholars such as Justin Nolan analyze Australia’s Modern Slavery Act and conclude that its architecture is largely declaratory and cannot, by itself, be a real instrument of “fair competition” — too many loopholes, too few sanctions. As a result, critics argue, the American side is using precisely those gaps that no one paid attention to for years as a convenient formal pretext for protectionist measures, showing how politically constructed moral rhetoric has become in global trade (reddit.com).
The mood in Brazil is similar: there is historical experience of the United States using the language of “fighting corruption” and “democratic standards” to justify pressure on companies and state firms, so current arguments about “fair trade” are met with suspicion. A business review recalls that the country once experienced periods when US duties on certain Brazilian products reached 50%, and that the current prospect of a 25% “tarifaço” is seen not as an exception but as a repetition of an old logic where Washington uses its weight in the WTO and international institutions to push rules favorable to itself (abpi.org.br).
Germany, as the EU’s largest economy, watches this tariff drama somewhat from the sidelines but not without interest. German business associations are closely monitoring how the US is building a network of bilateral military‑economic deals with allies against the backdrop of a global confrontation with China. A bulletin from the Bavarian employers’ association examines in detail new US tariffs against China and other countries, as well as recent Washington agreements with South Korea, Japan and the UK on cooperation in shipbuilding and the defense industry, where economic preferences are tied to political and military commitments (vbw-bayern.de). In this context Germany is not only watching the collision between the US and Brazil and Australia but also asking whether it could itself fall into a similar trap if Washington again tries to force Europe to “choose sides” in a trade war with China.
Another key thread, present across all three countries, is the military architecture around the US: AUKUS, the expansion of American presence in Asia and initiatives like Shield of the Americas. For Australia, AUKUS is an internal political cleavage. The Albanese government continues to insist that acquiring American nuclear submarines strengthens sovereign defense, but critics from the Australian Greens and several think tanks warn that the multi‑billion‑dollar deal effectively ties the future of Australia’s navy to the American industrial base, whose reliability and political predictability are in question. Several analytical pieces explicitly state that Australia is investing about a third of what the UK invests in comparable programs, yet Washington’s degree of control over supply chains and technologies makes Canberra vulnerable to shifts in the White House (antinuclear.net).
In the German public sphere the AUKUS topic also appears — predominantly as an example of how ready the US is to “unwrap” defense technologies to strengthen an anti‑China coalition, and how this fits into a broader pattern of American strategy to reconfigure military alliances. German commentators point out that behind AUKUS Washington is actively promoting other formats — from the Shield of the Americas to deepen cooperation in shipbuilding with South Korea and Japan — and the logic is the same everywhere: economic and technological bonuses are offered in exchange for ever‑closer political and military alignment with the US (de.wikipedia.org).
In Brazil these alliances are viewed with suspicion: they are seen primarily as instruments for projecting American power in Latin America. Shield of the Americas, which is mentioned less often in the Brazilian press but still appears in analytical notes, is perceived as another attempt to lock the regional crime‑ and drug‑fighting agenda under American command, thus increasing Washington’s ability to intervene in neighbors’ internal affairs under the pretext of security (de.wikipedia.org). For Lula, who advocates for Latin American autonomy, the question is not only about tariffs but also about how to prevent a new US military architecture in the Western Hemisphere from supplanting regional initiatives where Brazil seeks a leading role.
Against this background, moments when politicians in the three countries try either to distance themselves from Washington or to use relations with the US as a resource become especially notable. In Brazil fresh Quaest polls show Lula’s personal ratings gradually rising while support for his likely rival Flávio Bolsonaro declines. Commentators explain this in part by saying Lula has managed to maintain a balance between criticizing the US and practicing pragmatism: he criticizes protectionism and Trump’s line while avoiding direct confrontation, preferring to send signals at forums like the G7 rather than engage in loud one‑on‑one scandals (jc.uol.com.br).
In Australia the situation is more complex: the alliance with the US is deeply embedded in political culture, and any move toward distancing is seen as risky. Still, notable voices are calling to rethink automatic alignment with Washington. In a popular Reddit discussion participants debate whether Australia is too closely tied to American military and intelligence facilities and whether that makes the country complicit in all American military adventures, including the current war with Iran. One commenter put it bluntly: as long as there are American installations and companies on our soil supplying weapons to “genocidal regimes,” we cannot speak of an independent foreign policy (reddit.com).
In Germany, where massive anti‑regime protests inside the United States — the “No Kings” movement against what its participants see as an increasingly authoritarian style of Donald Trump’s rule — are viewed as an important symptom, a particular type of “American narrative” emerges. German observers increasingly write not of the US as a monolithic actor but as a field of intense internal struggle between different Americas. An article on the “No Kings” protests notes that March 2026 demonstrations gathered up to eight million people nationwide and became some of the largest in recent US history; German editorial columns present this as a sign that beneath the outward facade of American democratic power there are fierce domestic conflicts affecting not just Trump but the very architecture of American authority (de.wikipedia.org).
Finally, at the intersection of sport, politics and morality a symbolically important thread appears — the 2026 FIFA World Cup in the US, Mexico and Canada. In Germany Christian Streich’s criticism, calling the atmosphere around certain decisions “highly racist,” resonates especially strongly because he is long known as a coach who combines footballing success with an outspoken civic stance. His attack on Trump and the America that, he says, turns sport into an arena for demonstrating exceptionalism and power opens another round of questions in the German debate: can football be separated from politics when the tournament host is a country involved in war, territorial conflicts and large domestic protests? (fr.de)
In Brazil, however, the same tournament is seen more as an opportunity. Local commentators debate how to use the attention around the Cup to promote Brazilian brands and players in the American market despite tariffs and political disagreements. They note that unlike in Europe and Australia — where America is first and foremost associated with security and a military umbrella — for Brazil the US remains a huge, if complicated, market. Economic publications discuss how to balance participation of Brazilian companies in the tournament with lobbying in Washington to ease trade barriers, using the soft power of football as an informal channel of negotiation.
Weaving all these threads together yields a complex but fairly coherent picture. Germany, Brazil and Australia look at the US from different angles but increasingly see the same thing: a state attempting at once to wage wars, build new military blocs and protect its economy through protectionism and “moral” arguments about human rights and the fight against slavery. For Australia the primary question is whether an ally is turning into an elder partner whose decisions determine its wars, its submarines and its tariffs. For Brazil it is a test of its ambition to be the voice of the Global South in dealings with Washington without losing access to a critically important market. For Germany it is a reason to ponder how much it can rely on the US as guarantor of international order when mass protests within America challenge the president’s “monarchical” tendencies and abroad the country more often behaves like a hard, sometimes indiscriminate, hegemon.
The common denominator of these different conversations may be that the world is increasingly unwilling to accept the US as the “natural center” of the global system. In Berlin, Brasília and Canberra people more often speak of the US not as an inevitable leader but as a complex, contradictory partner (and sometimes an adversary) with whom one must be able to bargain, argue and, when necessary, say “no” — while remembering that without this partner the current architecture of security and the world economy still does not function.
