Around the United States today a rare density of commentary and anxiety is forming: from Canberra to Moscow and Seoul the debate is not about whether the US matters, but about how dangerous its foreign policy is becoming, whether one can still rely on Washington as a nuclear and economic umbrella, and how to protect oneself from American decisions on trade, security and technology. The prompt for this new wave of discussion was the US and Israeli war against Iran, launched on 28 February 2026 with massive strikes against Iranian leadership and infrastructure, as well as the combination of a tough tariff and sanctions policy in Washington with attempts to cement technological leadership through access to rare earths and semiconductors. Against this backdrop Australia is debating how to “insulate itself from the US,” Russia is using the Iranian crisis and the Ukraine agenda to bolster a narrative of American “destructive hegemony,” and South Korea is balancing its military dependence on Washington with growing vulnerability to Washington’s strategic games on technology and containing China.
The central theme around which these national debates intertwine is the 2026 Iran war. The US and Israeli airstrikes on Iran, which resulted in the death of the supreme leader and large numbers of state and civilian sites, have already become the subject of separate analyses of different countries’ reactions, and the escalation itself is described as a “major and ongoing operation” to prevent an Iranian threat, in Donald Trump’s wording. In American discourse this is presented as protection of the international order and freedom of navigation, but in Europe and beyond the language of “regime‑change operation” and “a war imposed on allies” is increasingly heard. A detailed review of international reactions shows how quickly the war became a test not only for Iran but for the structure of US alliances and trust in Washington as a rational actor. This is also evident in the systematic international assessment of the conflict in the summary review “Reaction to the conflict in Iran in 2026,” which records both European leaders’ statements of “deep concern” and calls for restraint, and a surge of cynical takes in the Western information space, calling the war a “distraction operation” from domestic scandals in the US (ru.wikipedia.org).
The Australian perspective stands out because the Iran war overlays a painful conversation about the future of the alliance with the US. For Canberra, American actions in the Middle East are not abstract geopolitics but a practical question: will another “regime‑change operation” drag Australia into yet another protracted conflict, as happened in Iraq and Afghanistan? In the analysis “Australia and the 2026 Iran war” it is emphasized that Australia’s participation in the American operation sparked sharp controversy: Green Party leader Larissa Waters called support for the US effectively dragging the country into another “endless US‑led war” and accused the government of once again following Washington without serious public debate. Australians remember well how public opinion turned against previous US military adventures, and recent poll data show that only 16% of Australians consider a second Trump term “good for Australia,” as noted by former diplomat and ex‑chief of staff to the prime minister John Menadue in his piece “Plan B: insulating ourselves from the US” (en.wikipedia.org).
Menadue, a veteran of Australia’s foreign policy bureaucracy, writes bluntly that the US is becoming ever more “capricious and unreliable,” and therefore Australia needs to “insulate itself” — not by breaking with America, but by strengthening regional ties, reviewing defense policy and gradually reducing strategic dependence on Washington. He draws on research from the Australian Institute and the United States Studies Centre showing a sharp decline in trust in American leadership, especially in Washington’s ability to act predictably and not use allies as instruments in its domestic political games. One USSC analytical report explicitly points out that recent US tariff policy “shocked foreign governments and markets,” and that US‑China trade rivalry will only intensify by 2026, creating a risk for Australia of being caught between two fires (ussc.edu.au).
Against this background Canberra’s official strategic discourse tries to reassure the public but is changing too. The recently published National Defence Strategy 2026, analyzed by the Australian strategic center ASPI in the piece “NDS 2026 – The Australia‑US Alliance: the art of dealing with a great power,” effectively becomes an attempt to “retune” relations with the “great ally” without severing them. The author notes the strategy clearly responds to a growing chorus in society demanding a “fundamentally independent” foreign and defense policy, but ultimately only redefines the art of “dealing with a great power,” the alliance with which remains the cornerstone of Australia’s security. The text contains a sober warning: if the Trump administration intensifies a foreign policy course harmful to Australia’s and other liberal democracies’ interests, allies will have to think less about short‑term “survival under Trump” and more about long‑term management of relations with “our closest ally that does not share all our principles” (aspistrategist.org.au).
The Iran war only amplified these doubts. Australian pacifist and anti‑nuclear initiatives, like the Antinuclear platform, remind that the country once saw its shield not in the American “umbrella” but in a rules‑based order and the UN. In a 16 April 2026 text anti‑nuclear activists criticize the recent US approval to sell Australia nearly five hundred AIM‑260A missiles worth about $3.16 billion and recall Australia’s earlier diplomatic line: as a “middle‑power” whose best defense is rules, not the will of the strongest. In the new reality, the authors warn, Australia risks becoming a “client” in a world where the strongest sets the agenda, and the Iran war becomes an example of the consequences of such a security architecture (antinuclear.net).
The Russian discourse on the US, by contrast, uses the Iranian crisis, trade wars and the Ukraine agenda to confirm a long‑constructed Moscow narrative about American “destructive hegemony.” A comprehensive article “Reaction to the conflict in Iran in 2026” in the Russian segment of the internet systematizes not only official statements but also satirical reactions from Trump critics both in the US and Europe, noting the appearance on social media of expressions like “Epstein War” and “Operation ‘Epstein’s Fury’” — thinly veiled hints that the military campaign is meant to distract from investigations related to financier Jeffrey Epstein. For a Russian audience such details work as an argument: even within the US broad circles see Trump’s foreign policy as a tool of domestic political manipulation rather than strategic planning (ru.wikipedia.org).
At the same time, Russian political and quasi‑political media and academic publications continue efforts to dismantle American “moral superiority.” An example is a detailed critique in Russian of The New York Times’ positions on regime change in Venezuela hosted on the World Socialist Web Site. The author accuses influential conservative columnist Bret Stephens of “never having met a US aggressive war he didn’t like,” from Iraq to Venezuela, and reproaches him for simultaneously defending Israeli actions in Gaza while ignoring accusations of genocide. For a Russian audience this is woven into the broader thesis: the American mainstream justifies violence when it comes from the US and its allies, and therefore has no moral right to judge Russian policy (wsws.org).
A similar approach is used in discussions of US initiatives on Ukraine. Publications about a “US peace plan project for Ukraine” emphasize that Washington views the conflict not only as a European security issue but as a platform for long‑term economic expansion: the leaked document devotes considerable space to creating funds and agreements on energy, infrastructure, artificial intelligence and extraction of rare earth metals in the Arctic. Commentators in Russian‑language media read this as an “economic protectorate disguised as peace,” arguing that under rhetoric of “reconstruction” and “shared development” there is an attempt to lock in US dominance in the post‑conflict order of Eastern Europe and in new supply chains for critically important resources (rus.lsm.lv).
The South Korean perspective in recent months has been less loudly voiced in major newspapers as frontal criticism of the US, but a close reading of Korean materials shows rising tension where American containment strategy, the technology race and semiconductor supply‑chain security intersect. Official Seoul remains tightly tied to the US on security: from missile defense systems to naval cooperation in the region and participation in American initiatives to deter North Korea. But in Korea’s expert community there is growing discussion that US export‑control policy on chips and equipment effectively forces South Korea to take Washington’s side against China, risking loss of one of its largest markets.
An additional layer is created by debates at technological forums and initiatives like “AI Seoul 2026,” where Korean scientists who are members of American professional AI associations appear. There the ambiguity is evident: on the one hand the US remains a key scientific and technological hub, and membership in American societies like AAAI is a status symbol for Korean researchers; on the other hand, the question is increasingly raised about how safe it is to build an innovation architecture so tightly tied to American standards, platforms and export control. Organizers and speakers at such events directly speak of the need for South Korea “not to become a hostage of other peoples’ tech wars” and to develop its own agenda in AI and semiconductors, although publicly this is so far phrased gently, in terms of “diversifying partnerships” and “strategic autonomy” (aiseoul2026.com).
The topic of critical minerals is another knot where the interests of Australia, Russia, South Korea and the US are especially tightly intertwined. The agreement signed by Donald Trump and Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese on 21 October 2025 envisages deeper cooperation on rare earths and other resources for clean energy and high‑tech military production. In March 2026 a similar agreement was signed between the US and Chile. For Australia this is simultaneously an opportunity and a risk: on one hand, increased investment and demand; on the other, concern that the country will be integrated into American global chains as a raw‑material appendage while value added and technological control remain in the US. For Russia such deals signal that Washington seeks to control alternative sources of raw materials to reduce Western economies’ vulnerability to Russian and Chinese supplies. In Russian expert discourse this is interpreted as “resource militarization” of the American economy, where each new rare‑earth deal is a “brick” in a wall of economic and military pressure on Moscow and Beijing. Korean analysts view this through the prism of supply chains for their chipmakers: when the US simultaneously pressures China with sanctions and reserves access to key raw materials via Australia and Latin American countries, Seoul finds itself in a difficult position, forced to navigate between American demands and the Chinese market (en.wikipedia.org).
Finally, an important though less visible layer is the awareness of how American domestic politics and information wars project outward. In both Russian and Australian expert fields studies are readily cited that show how the American information space is susceptible to manipulation, including with participation of foreign actors. Research on framing of Russia in American media and campaigns to spread “junk news” among servicemembers and veterans in the US are used to show that American society is not only not immune to propaganda but itself has become a battlefield over the interpretation of war, sanctions and alliance obligations. For critics of Washington in Moscow this serves as an argument that American narratives about “freedom” and “objective press” are instruments of policy, not neutral mirrors, while for Australian and Korean analysts it is a worrying signal: alliance with the US no longer guarantees predictability if domestic polarization and information campaigns can push Washington to abrupt external moves (arxiv.org).
Taken together, all this paints a very ambiguous international image for the US. In Australia the country is still perceived as a “necessary evil” — an indispensable military partner but an increasingly toxic political and economic risk from which one must “insure” oneself through regional integration and development of one’s own capabilities. In Russia the US is entrenched as the main source of instability, whose military operations — from Iran to potential scenarios in Venezuela and Ukraine — are described as a hybrid of domestic political struggle and external expansion, and whose language of “law” and “democracy” is a rhetorical cover. In South Korea, where open anti‑American rhetoric is much less in demand, a subtler but no less important discussion is growing: how to live in a world where security, technology and raw materials are increasingly tied to decisions in Washington, and the Iran war and resource deals show that those decisions are increasingly made with an eye to short‑term gains and domestic politics.
American power has not disappeared; on the contrary, it is precisely that power that makes the US the focal point of these national anxieties. But in three very different societies — liberal Australia, authoritarian Russia and high‑tech yet vulnerable South Korea — the same thought is growing louder: alliance with the US and integration into the American order are no longer unambiguously beneficial. They are now complex risk management, where every new war, tariff package or tech deal immediately triggers a wave of questions: what price will have to be paid and can a country afford to remain in a position where the answer to that question depends not on itself.
