Today, in spring 2026, discussion of the United States in the foreign press and expert circles centers on several interconnected narratives. Foremost is Washington’s attempt to impose its vision for ending the war in Ukraine, the emergence of a new American "peace council" and security architecture around that, and how this is breaking or reshaping US relations with Europe and Ukraine. Against this backdrop a new US–Israel war with Iran has unfolded, forcing Europeans and East Asian societies — from Germany to South Korea — to reassess American power strategy, the use of bases and infrastructure, and the risks to energy supplies and the global economy. Finally, as Donald Trump’s second presidency gains momentum, the question grows sharper: where is the boundary between "America First" and the responsibilities of a global hegemon?
The first major knot of disputes is the American "peace plan" for Ukraine and the accompanying idea to reform international institutions under Washington’s aegis. European and Ukrainian sources, as well as Russian and Middle Eastern media, describe the essence differently but with similar conclusions: Washington is trying to convert the war into a managed deal in which key parameters include not only the fate of Ukrainian territories but the very configuration of global security. Russian-language press contains many references to a 28-point plan attributed to the Trump administration, which, according to reports, would demand "significant concessions" from Kyiv — ceding all of eastern Donbas to Russia, de facto recognition of Moscow’s control over a number of other territories, renouncing NATO accession, and holding elections under a tight timetable and external oversight, with the creation of a special "peace council" led by the US president responsible for implementing the deal. Russian outlets such as Vzglyad and Meduza, citing Wall Street Journal publications, wrote about this in detail, analyzing how realistic such conditions are and what risks an attempt by Washington to "close" the war on these bases would pose for Ukraine. In one such analysis the Trump peace plan was directly described as a document by which "Ukraine must give up Donbas, reduce the size of its armed forces and renounce NATO," and the effect of this plan on Ukrainian politics and Russia’s position was discussed as part of a broader US strategy to repackage European security under its long-term priorities. Such interpretations reinforce a view common in Russian and some European discourse that the White House seeks "peace at any price" — but primarily at Ukraine’s expense.
Within Ukraine itself the reaction to American initiatives is far more complex and contradictory. In official discourse, Volodymyr Zelensky and his team balance between the need to maintain American support and a hard domestic line: no territorial concessions, peace only on the terms of restored sovereignty. In November 2025, commenting on versions of the "US plan," Zelensky publicly emphasized that Kyiv "will not agree to territorial concessions," and that any negotiations would concern only a full ceasefire and troop withdrawal. Local and foreign press juxtaposed this stance with leaks suggesting that Washington expects a prompt response from Kyiv, creating a sense of pressure: either agree to a painful compromise, or risk losing part of American military and financial support. In the Ukrainian public space two powerful strands of debate emerged: one about the acceptability of compromise to save lives and preserve the state, and the other about whether Ukraine is becoming a pawn in a game between the US and Russia. As Chatham House noted in an analytical piece, polls from early 2026 show that more than half of Ukrainians categorically reject the idea of withdrawing troops from still-controlled parts of Donbas in exchange for Western security guarantees. Against this backdrop any hints from Washington about a "realistic peace" are perceived by much of society not as concern for security but as an attempt to shift onto Ukraine the cost of restoring US–Russia relations and reducing risks for American domestic politics. For many in Kyiv the key fear is phrased this way: we may lose not only territory but agency if the final peace format is written in Washington and Moscow rather than in Kyiv and Brussels.
The European debate around the same American initiatives is built differently but concerns the same issues. In Germany and across the EU the dominant motif is: yes, we need the US, but Washington is no longer the guarantor of a global "common good" — it primarily bargains for its own interests. German press and think tanks actively discuss both the "peace plan" itself and the accompanying idea of a Trumpian "Peace Council" — an alternative or parallel mechanism to the UN Security Council in which the US would have a disproportionate role. In German-language coverage this initiative is often described as an attempt to "take global security out of the UN and NATO into a personalized, poorly controlled format where key decisions depend on the will of one or two leaders." At the same time experts, for example in studies by the Berlin-based SWP, ask whether this means Europe will finally have to shoulder the main burden of supporting Ukraine if the US sees its task as as rapid and managed "removal" of the Ukrainian question from the agenda. This motive is reflected in a recent Chatham House column that emphasized European military assistance to Ukraine rose by two-thirds in 2025 and the EU approved a multiyear package of €90 billion for 2026–27 — and against this background Europeans feel Washington is essentially trying to "capitalize" their efforts, turning them into leverage to pressure Kyiv toward a deal convenient for the US.
Against this background Germany becomes a convenient lens through which the divergence of expectations between Europe and the US is visible. German domestic debate exploded after the Munich Security Conference, where Chancellor Friedrich Merz, newly elected on a wave of "hard realities," tried both to distance himself from Washington and to reaffirm commitment to NATO. One characteristic comment in the left-leaning paper taz ran under the headline "Der Kniefall von Washington" — "Washington’s Bow," where author Stefan Reineke criticized the chancellor for, having gone to Trump to ask for tariff reductions and greater support for Ukraine, effectively legitimizing the new US–Israel war with Iran by publicly stating Germany supports that conflict. The article stressed that Merz "talks about Europe needing to learn the language of Machtpolitik, the politics of power, yet agrees to all of Washington’s ultimatums" — which, the author argued, turns Germany into a hostage of American military logic. On Deutschlandfunk programs that collect the international press, British and French analyses are regularly cited warning that the US proposal to expand the role of Kurdish forces and use Middle Eastern bases to strike Iran increases the risk of "chaotic civil war and further regional fragmentation," as The Guardian wrote in a recent editorial. It is Germany’s public sphere that is carefully weighing: how far can it go with the US without losing its own strategic autonomy and without becoming complicit in conflicts that European societies largely view as destabilizing.
Eastern Europe sounds a dual note in this story. On one hand, Polish and Baltic commentators often stress that they do not view American initiatives for peace in Ukraine as "betrayal of Kyiv" but as a reaction to American domestic fatigue and the need to prevent Russia from winning by dragging the war out. In the Polish newspaper Myśl Polska, which is not mainstream but is a notable national-conservative voice, a paradoxical thesis appeared: "the Trump plan is not a peace agreement but a position of his administration," reflecting that "peace has ceased to be unipolar, and US influence confronts growing resistance from China, Russia, India and other countries." The author argued a real peace is possible only through "serious closed negotiations," not via "a paper written on the fly." There is an important nuance for understanding Eastern Europe here: even those traditionally oriented toward the US increasingly see Washington not as a guarantor but as another player that bargains and permits rough tactical moves.
The most painful reaction to American peace activism, naturally, is in Ukraine itself. There, not only polls but local independent analysts and public figures emphasize that US pressure is perceived as a new form of constrained sovereignty. Ukrainian experts note that the idea of multinational forces on Ukrainian territory — which Europeans envision should "ensure the restoration of armed forces, security of the skies and seas" — intensifies anxiety: who will ultimately control their mandate — European capitals, NATO, or the White House? When reports surfaced in the international press that Russia was allegedly "in principle ready" to accept the American plan, Ukrainian media space experienced a sense that Moscow and Washington could strike a deal over Kyiv’s head.
The second major narrative is the new US–Israel war with Iran and how it is perceived in Europe, the post‑Soviet space and East Asia. In German and East European press the prevailing motif is that Washington is returning to a logic of force management in the Middle East, where strikes, special operations and support for regional allies are presented as "local" actions but carry systemic risks. German official briefings by the Foreign Office and the government, posted on Auswärtiges Amt and the chancellor’s site, cautiously remind readers that the use of the Ramstein air base by Americans is governed by a bilateral agreement, that Germany adheres to its commitments but is not directly at war in the Middle East. Nevertheless, criticism is voiced in parliament and the media: if Ramstein is a key logistics platform for US and Israeli operations, does Germany not bear political and moral responsibility for the consequences of airstrikes on Iranian sites and infrastructure? Analysts simultaneously warn about risks to oil and gas supplies: any escalation involving Iran inevitably hits energy markets, and therefore Germany’s economy, which has already endured years of turbulence due to the break with Russia.
In post‑Soviet and Middle Eastern media, for example in the Georgian outlet JNEWS, the US–Israel conflict with Iran is analyzed through the prism of regional elites and opportunities. Experts interviewed by that portal noted that the Iranian drone strike on facilities in Nakhchivan heightened anxiety in South Caucasus countries, but at the same time the US–Israel war with Iran opens a window of opportunity for local governments — redistribution of transit flows and strengthening their role in the regional security architecture. These voices stress that officially none of the South Caucasus states has yet decided to "take anyone’s side," and that is the new reality: states are trying to play between Washington, Moscow, Tehran and Brussels without hard-aligning with any camp.
A third cross-cutting theme uniting reactions in Germany, Ukraine and the wider Russian-language sphere is growing fatigue and mistrust about how the US uses its leadership. German conservative and liberal commentators debate whether it is possible to continue building European strategy on the assumption of a "predictable America." In a late‑2025 German analytical review, former US ambassador to NATO Ivo Daalder was quoted saying Europe faces a choice: whether to regard "tactical victories" — individual aid packages to Ukraine, sanctions against Russia — as enough to win the "strategic war" to preserve the transatlantic alliance. Some German authors already answer negatively: in their view, the deep rupture between the EU and "Trump’s America" on Russia and Ukraine is not a temporary misunderstanding but a new structural fact.
In Russian‑language analysis — both Ukrainian and Russian — another, no less telling motif appears: the US can no longer and no longer wants to bear the burden of a "universal arbiter," and therefore is forced to bargain, to make deals that ten years ago would have been unacceptable. In a Meduza podcast dissecting the new American peace plan in detail, the point was made that the American administration effectively recognizes the limits of its ability to "crush" Russia economically and militarily and therefore moves to a logic of "fixing the conflict at an acceptable level for us, even if it is not the level at which Russia would be decisively pushed back." The political effect inside the US is also important: Trump sells voters the image of "a man who knows how to end wars," while abroad this is perceived as cynicism and a willingness to sacrifice principles for electoral gain.
Even where the US remains an indispensable partner — as in Germany or Ukraine — a layer of debate is growing that any alliance with Washington today must be built on much firmer calculation rather than faith in "shared values." For Europeans this means strengthening their own defense industry, creating parallel formats — from the European initiative for multinational forces in Ukraine to attempts to reform the UN without relying on the US. For Ukraine — finding ways to integrate American initiatives so they do not undermine domestic legitimacy and demoralize society. For Russian‑ and Middle Eastern‑language commentators — rethinking the phenomenon of American leadership itself: no longer as unequivocal "imperial evil" or "bulwark of democracy," but as a complex, contradictory actor that brings both risks and opportunities.
Finally, there is another, less visible but important line: the attitude of non‑European powers to American peace activism and the Middle Eastern war. In comments from Japanese, Turkish and South Caucasus experts featured in Russian‑language and European media, there is a sense of trying to exploit contradictions between the US and Europe and Russia to extract benefits — be they new contracts, transit routes or political clout. Japanese prime minister Shigeru Ishiba, quoted in one Russian news feed, bluntly noted that Ukraine must understand: without US help it cannot continue to fight, and that supposedly gives Washington the right to dictate the terms of peace. Yet the same commentary points to another side: such dependence also benefits Russia, which gains the ability to harden its demands if it sees Washington and Moscow effectively playing a joint game of imposing a compromise on Kyiv.
All these disparate voices — from Berlin editorial columns and Kyiv evening addresses to Chatham House analysis and post‑Soviet news sites — form a common picture. The US remains the central player without whom neither the Ukrainian war, nor the Middle Eastern crisis, nor the reform of global institutions can be resolved. But precisely for that reason each step by Washington is now subject to very different demands than ten or twenty years ago. Europeans demand real partnership and recognition of their contributions and risks, Ukrainians demand respect for their sovereign choice and limits of compromise, and countries of the Global South and the post‑Soviet space demand the right not to be automatically dragged into American wars. In that sense the current moment is a test not only for the US but for the entire "collective West": will it be possible to turn an attempt at "peace at any price" into an honest, albeit painful, resetting of rules, or will the world witness yet another great‑power deal at the expense of those on the front line?
