At the end of February 2026, the United States simultaneously appears as the main military actor, a key trading partner, and a source of systemic uncertainty for allies and adversaries. US‑led strikes on Iran, Washington's tariff war with the rest of the world, the build‑up of American missile defense and the nuclear triad, the struggle for critical raw materials, and Turkey's attempts to balance between Washington and Moscow — all these storylines form a mosaic of how different countries view America and their future alongside it. In Turkey, security questions and US pressure on its foreign trade come to the fore; in Russia, concern about Washington's military superiority and criticism of its “realpolitik”; in Australia, a painful mix of allied loyalty on security and growing irritation on economic issues.
One of the sharpest topics in recent days has been American military leadership in the strike on Iran. In Australia, this episode is perceived through the prism of traditional alliance with the US and at the same time fear of escalation in a region where Australian citizens and interests are present. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese openly supported Washington's actions, saying Australia “supports US actions against Iran” and “stands with the Iranian people's struggle against oppression,” stressing the need to prevent Tehran from approaching nuclear weapons and threatening global security, in a speech quoted in The Guardian’s piece on Canberra’s reaction to the strike on Iran. As the publication noted on 28 February 2026, the government simultaneously tightened travel warnings for Iran, Israel and Lebanon, reclassifying them as “do not travel” and in effect urging Australians to leave the region, which shows that Australian support for the US comes with awareness of the cost of possible escalation and risks to its own citizens and economy. Against this backdrop, local Greens accuse Albanese of supporting “illegal escalation,” demonstrating an internal Australian split: part of society sees the United States as a guarantor of order, part sees it as a source of new wars.
Turkey views the same “US — security — Iran” bundle quite differently. For Ankara, the immediate issue is not so much Iran’s nuclear program as security on its own borders and autonomy in decision‑making. Notably, it was the US embassy in Ankara that on 28 February issued an advisory asking US citizens to avoid travel to southeastern regions of Turkey bordering Iran, Iraq and Syria, effectively pointing to the risk of instability spilling across borders; Belarusian agency Sputnik reported this, emphasizing that Washington is operating on a scenario of possible escalation around Iran. Against this background, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, according to the same reports, insists that Turkey has “no problems in the sky or on the borders” in connection with attacks on Iranian territory, demonstratively emphasizing the country's ability to control the situation without external oversight. The Turkish discourse regarding the US is ambivalent: on one hand, Washington is seen as a source of risk that forces Turkey to explain itself to its own population and to counter panic narratives; on the other, the United States remains for Ankara the main foreign‑policy pole on which its NATO ties and access to Western markets depend.
In the Russian media space and expert circles, the same US military activity fits into a broader image of the United States as a state steadily increasing its global military power and not inclined to compromise. In a January forecast by the Institute of World Economy and International Relations of the Russian Academy of Sciences, cited by Moskovsky Komsomolets in the article “RAN predicted strengthening of US defense potential,” American policy in 2026 is described as a course toward strengthening missile defense and air defense systems, modernizing the nuclear triad and actively renewing the navy, including plans to build a series of combat ships of a new class, as well as implementing an anti‑missile defense architecture called the “Golden Dome,” estimated in the tens, and by some estimates hundreds, of billions of dollars. Such analysis is presented not merely as a military overview: for a Russian audience it is an argument that the US does not intend to give up military dominance, and therefore Moscow cannot count on sustained disarmament or an equal dialogue. A motif of a “protracted arms race set by Washington” and doubt that the US‑declared “realistic” national security strategy leaves real room for compromise appears in commentary. This is discussed by Alexey Podberezkin, director of the Center for Military‑Political Problems at MGIMO, in his column for TASS about the upcoming Munich Security Conference, reminding readers that any European security discussion inevitably runs up against US strategy and their refusal to “really take into account the interests of other centres of power” in that document.
The second major cluster of topics, linking Australia and Turkey and indirectly touching Russia, is US economic pressure and trade wars. In Australia, the discussion today is focused on a new 10 percent “temporary import surcharge” the US is applying to virtually all imports after a significant part of Donald Trump's tariff “day of exemption” was ruled illegal by the US Supreme Court. According to news.com.au, in a piece about how “Australia is lobbying the US for zero tariffs” published in late February, Trade Minister Don Farrell called the new levy “unjustified” and said its removal would be the main subject of talks with US Trade Representative Jameson Greer. Canberra is particularly irritated that Washington is effectively nullifying the economic meaning of existing free trade agreements while simultaneously threatening to raise the duty to 15 percent. Australian commentators stress the duality of American policy: in their view, the US demands strategic loyalty from allies on security, but increasingly behaves as harshly in economic matters as it does toward competitors. In another piece from the same outlet about a possible rise of the universal tariff to 15 percent, it is emphasized that Canberra is “considering all options” and is trying to secure an exemption, while opposition senator James Patterson warns that such a move “would harm trade relations between Australia and the US” and undermine trust in Washington's long‑term predictability as an economic partner.
The Turkish perspective on US economic pressure is colored differently: the focus is not so much on tariffs as on the sanctions and political lever through which Washington seeks to reconfigure trade flows. Russian agency RIA Novosti, in a 24 February piece titled “Turkey under US pressure shifts trade focus away from Russia,” describes how Ankara, amid increasing American pressure, has begun to reorient part of its trade turnover away from Russia. According to the agency, mutual trade between Russia and Turkey for 2025 amounted to about $49.1 billion — still a large figure, but 6.6 percent less than a year earlier. Erdoğan himself noted in the autumn that the US has already become the second largest destination for Turkish exports and the fifth largest source of imports, and that Ankara and Washington have set a joint goal of reaching $100 billion in trade turnover in the coming years. In Turkish business and analytical circles, judging by reviews such as a recent report by investment company Gedik Yatırım on “possible global and regional effects of changes in Turkey‑US relations,” ties with Washington are seen both as a source of risk and huge economic potential: the more Turkey integrates into American supply chains and the financial system, the stronger the real leverage of the US over its foreign policy and trade with third countries, primarily Russia. This provokes an internal debate about whether Turkey is paying too high a geopolitical price for economic growth.
Russia in this context views Turkish maneuvers as a direct consequence of US pressure and an indirect loss for itself. Discussing the reduction in Russian‑Turkish trade and Ankara’s orientation toward the US, Russian commentators emphasize that Washington is purposefully “squeezing” Moscow out of economic niches, using the market and the dollar as tools of political influence. This motive echoes previous Russian analyses of American trade wars in other regions, where, according to some authors, Washington similarly “tightens the screws” on neighbors to achieve renegotiation of agreements or reorientation, as described, for example, in publications about US attempts to displace China from strategic infrastructure projects in Latin America. For a Russian audience, the Turkey story confirms the thesis that for Washington any partners are merely elements of a broader strategy to contain rivals.
The third important line is the struggle for control over critical resources and technologies, where the US is increasingly reluctant to rely on the market and more on “friendly” geopolitics. Australian media have been widely discussing the country's role in the American “friendshoring” strategy — shifting supply chains of critical minerals to allies. In The Australian’s piece on how “America is building Western demand with Australia to counter China’s leverage in rare earths,” Pentagon representatives are quoted as saying China today supplies up to 95 percent of the world’s heavy rare earths, and the US depends on it for about 90 percent of critical minerals. In response, Washington is investing in Australian projects — including a joint Alcoa‑Sojitz project to extract gallium and Arafura’s Nolans deposit — building an $8.5 billion “critical minerals flow,” with about $1 billion contributed by the US. Governments of both countries retain rights to part of the production and are simultaneously funding research to find substitutes for elements like dysprosium and terbium. In Australian discourse this is presented as a rare case where US strategic pressure creates economic and technological bonuses for Canberra: local commentators speak of “elevating Australia’s status as a key ally in confronting China” and the opportunity to turn resources into long‑term political influence. Yet a question immediately arises: will the country become too dependent on American defense procurement, and will security displace its own climate and environmental priorities?
For Turkey and Russia the “resource” pressure from the US sounds different but the meaning is similar. Turkish analysts point out that shifting Turkish exports and imports towards the US increases the country’s ties to the dollar system and American regulation, making it vulnerable to potential sanctions or regulatory measures. Against the background of discussions of new American restrictions on companies violating sanctions against Russia and Iran, the tone in the Turkish press grows cautious: working too closely with Russian suppliers may provoke Washington’s displeasure, while too rapid reorientation to the US risks angering Moscow and domestic industry oriented toward eastern markets. In Russia, US control over critical technologies and resources is linked to the aforementioned arms race and an attempt to build a “technological iron curtain” around the West: Russian experts emphasize that “friendly shoring” of supply chains toward US allies, like Australia and Canada, effectively closes Moscow’s access to a number of key materials and markets, which in the long term pushes it toward accelerated import substitution and a closer alliance with China.
Finally, a distinct but important layer in responses to the US is debate over its political philosophy and image as a global leader. In Russia, in preparation for the Munich Security Conference, experts like Alexey Podberezkin in TASS stress that the new US National Security Strategy, while professing commitment to multilateralism, in fact fixes a “realpolitik of national interests” in which Washington sees itself as the guarantor of order but leaves minimal space for alternative centers of power. In Turkish discourse similar motifs appear regarding how the US uses democracy and human‑rights issues to pressure Ankara, while simultaneously needing Turkey as an intermediary in negotiations between Washington and Moscow — be it technical embassy‑level meetings, as in Istanbul, or discussions about Ukraine and the architecture of European security. This creates among Turkish elites the feeling that the US perceives the country more as an instrument than as an equal partner.
In Australia, by contrast, criticism of the US is mainly pragmatic and rarely questions the idea of American leadership itself. Even when local politicians and experts sharply condemn the new tariffs or warn of the danger of escalation with Iran, they usually start from the premise that there is no alternative to the American security umbrella and that Canberra’s task is to “influence Washington from within” and secure consideration of Australian interests. In this sense the Australian perspective is closer to classic Atlanticism than the Turkish or Russian views, but precisely for that reason economic and trade frictions are felt especially painfully: an ally that demands security sacrifices while simultaneously raising taxes on your goods irritates even the staunchest supporters of the alliance.
If one tries to reduce all these disparate reactions to a few common themes, a fairly coherent picture emerges. First, even allies increasingly no longer see the US as a “global public good” and more as a state that consistently capitalizes on its military, financial and technological superiority, expecting loyalty from partners in exchange for access to markets, security, or supply chains. In Australia this sparks a debate about the cost of alliance; in Turkey — a painful bargain between economic gains and strategic autonomy; in Russia — the conviction that dialogue is possible only from a position of strength.
Second, in all three countries the US is at once perceived as a threat and as a necessary partner. For Ankara, Washington is an authoritative NATO member and the largest trading counterparty, but also a state whose pressure forces distancing from Russia and maneuvering in sensitive issues such as Kurdish settlement or relations with Iran. For Moscow, the US is the main adversary setting the parameters of the arms race and sanctions, but without negotiating with it it is impossible to resolve the Ukrainian conflict or reduce tensions in Europe. For Canberra, the White House is the guarantor of regional security and a key investor in critical minerals, but also the author of tariff decisions that undermine the very idea of open trade.
And finally, assessments of the US increasingly feature a motif of unpredictability. Military strikes, massive defense programs, sharp tariff moves and quick adjustments to sanctions policy create a sense of continual “compression” of time: Turkey must almost in real time rebuild trade chains and explain itself to neighbors, Russia must annually rewrite long‑term strategic forecasts, Australia must revise economic calculations according to Washington’s latest decisions. In this reality responses to the US are less determined by ideological sympathy or antipathy and more by cold calculation about how best to survive and preserve room for maneuver in a world where America remains the principal, but by no means uncontested, center of gravity.
