Donald Trump's second term has returned the United States to the center of global debates not only as a superpower but also as a source of strategic uncertainty. In France, South Korea and Japan, Washington is discussed almost daily, but the focus differs: from fear of an "unpredictable ally" and economic tariff wars to anxiety over climate policy and the security architecture in Asia. The common nerve in all three countries is the same — the US is increasingly seen less as the predictable backbone of the liberal order and more as a large but capricious player with whom one must both cooperate and guard against.
In France, the image of America today is tinged with anxiety. A recent Ifop poll showed that 42% of French people already call the United States a "hostile country," and 51% consider it a military threat to France — a few years ago these figures were significantly lower, underlining a sharp decline in trust in the current Washington administration, regional site L’Est Républicain wrote, citing Ifop research prepared for the Partir à New York portal. According to the publication, only 24% of respondents still see the US as an ally, 34% as a neutral partner, and negativity toward Trump himself is almost total, with "very bad opinion" prevailing among respondents. The tone of the poll is echoed in debates in the National Assembly, where deputies from the left and Green opposition speak of "fear of economic lagging behind the US and China" and criticize Europe's retreat from climate ambitions under pressure from a "race for competitiveness" — with direct references to the US withdrawal from the Paris Agreement during Trump's first term. In the Assembly transcript one speaker recalled how Emmanuel Macron told Trump in 2017 that "there is no Planet B," while critics now argue that Macron himself is playing into the "Trumpization" of Europe's climate agenda by allowing business to push for relaxed environmental standards in response to American industrial policy and subsidies for the green industry.
Interestingly, the French conversation about America today runs along two lines at once. On the one hand, it's classic political criticism: Trump in Paris is seen as a leader undermining multilateral institutions, provoking trade conflicts and using sanctions as a habitual foreign policy tool. On the other hand, America is also a competitor setting the pace in the "green" industrial race. Some French economists and politicians, including centrists and moderate rightists, point out that the American strategy of subsidizing industry and protecting key sectors could become a model for Europe if France and the EU do not want to fall irrevocably behind the US and China. But in the left-wing and environmental press another motive dominates: Europe should not respond to "Trumpism" by mirroring it with a weakening of its own climate standards; instead it should use it as an argument for an even tougher green course, to avoid dependence on imports of American fossil fuels and technologies.
In East Asia — both in South Korea and Japan — America remains the main security guarantor, but Trump's second term has turned this alliance into a source of serious political and economic stress. Even before the current cycle, Korean and Japanese analysts warned that the new administration in Washington would treat relations with allies purely "transactionally," demanding money and concessions in exchange for security guarantees. Karishma Vaswani, writing for The Japan Times, noted that for decades the US could "by default" rely on Tokyo and Seoul as its most dependable partners in Asia, but Trump's rise and leadership changes in the two countries have made those ties no longer unquestionable; the emphasis is shifting to bargaining and mutual grievances rather than long-term strategic vision. In South Korea this feeling is particularly acute: memories remain of pressure during Trump's first term, when Washington demanded a multiple increase in Seoul's payment for the presence of US troops. A review of the evolution of the US–Korea alliance prepared by the Council on Foreign Relations reminded readers that Washington and Seoul struggled to agree on a new cost-sharing scheme for stationing forces, and the Korean side was repeatedly alarmed by Trump's statements about possibly withdrawing forces if the ally "doesn't pay enough."
US trade policy is a separate line of irritation in Seoul. Trump's 2025 proposal to introduce a universal 10% tariff on a wide range of imported goods and a separate 25% tariff on products from South Korea shocked the country, since the blow fell on key export sectors from automobiles to electronics. The CFR review emphasized that against the backdrop of upcoming presidential elections in South Korea, these moves became an important domestic factor: leading opposition candidate Lee Jae-myung ran on promises to reduce "excessive dependence on Washington" and to balance ties with China. South Korean outlets like Hankyoreh and Kyunghyang Shinmun, however, interpreted the situation differently: progressive authors saw it as proof that "a one-sided bet on Washington" makes Korea a hostage to American domestic politics, while conservative commentators reminded readers of the growing threat from North Korea and China and urged "weathering" tariff pressure for the sake of preserving the military alliance.
In Japan the debate over the US is even more nuanced, because America there is simultaneously the main military patron, the largest economic partner and a political factor in domestic debates. On expert platforms like the Institute of Geoeconomics (IOG) and in academic publications analysts examine each of Trump's tariff moves in detail. For example, an IOG analytical piece dissected February presidential proclamations sharply raising tariffs on aluminum and steel imports to 25% and removing previous exemptions for allies, including Japan. The authors stressed that this time the US is applying a logic of securitizing the economy: metallurgy is declared "vital to national security," which means Washington is willing to sacrifice even allies' interests to protect its own industry from Chinese competition and circumvention via third countries. In Tokyo this is perceived as a signal: there is no longer any "special Asian tie" with the US akin to the Anglo‑American relationship; there is only the American national interest, which at any moment can cut off trade privileges even for the closest partners.
The Japanese government's reaction to Trump's intention to raise auto tariffs illustrates Tokyo's cautious but alarmed tone. At a recent briefing, the minister of economy, trade and industry, responding to a question about Washington's plans to raise auto tariffs in April, acknowledged that this would be a blow to a "key sector of the Japanese economy," and promised to "carefully assess possible consequences" and maintain close dialogue with the American side, though he did not disclose specific countermeasures. Meanwhile Japanese industry associations and economic commentators speak much more directly about the risk of "de‑Americanizing" Japanese supply chains: if Washington continues to expand tariff pressure and restrict investment, some businesses will seek new markets and regional partnerships in Asia to reduce dependence on the US. Business press columns argue that this, paradoxically, brings Japanese interests closer to those of the EU, which is also suffering from Washington's protectionist turn.
The China factor and security in Asia are another key node around which French, Korean and Japanese discussions about the US interweave. Since the signing in 2023 of the US–Japan–South Korea trilateral pact at Camp David, which strengthened military coordination against China and North Korea, Tokyo and Seoul have been used to seeing Washington as the architect of regional security. However, the narrowing of American foreign policy to a transactional logic under Trump has generated doubts: is the White House ready to take real risks for allies if it comes to Taiwan or maritime incidents in the East China and South China Seas? In Japan some experts — for example, authors of analysis for the Foreign Policy Research Institute cited by The Japan Times — warn that if Washington treats alliances as a fee‑based service, political support for hosting US bases in the region could weaken over time. In South Korea similar concerns overlap with the traditional polarization over North Korea: conservatives insist that under any US administration Washington remains an indispensable deterrent guarantor, while progressive forces increasingly propose developing more autonomous defense and seeking a balance between Washington and Beijing.
In France the China question arises in another light — as part of the "great game" between Washington and Beijing in which Europe risks becoming peripheral. French commentators in Le Monde, Libération and several regional outlets write about the "fear of economic lagging behind the US and China" not only in GDP terms but in the technological race: both Washington and Beijing aggressively subsidize their companies in semiconductors, green technologies and the military industry. Against this backdrop the US under Trump is not simply a NATO ally but a competitor that, through tariffs and industrial policy, can drain investment and jobs from Europe. Paradoxically, Washington's anti‑China positioning strengthens anti‑American sentiments in France: the Ifop poll that showed a rise in those who view the US as an "enemy" placed America among perceived military threats immediately after classic adversaries like Russia, North Korea, Iran and China. This indicates an erosion of the familiar dichotomy of "the West against authoritarian states" in French public perception.
US climate policy and its influence on the global agenda is a topic discussed especially emotionally in France and Japan. In France the "climate Trump" long ago became a symbol of denial of the scientific consensus. Every new piece of news about another rollback of environmental standards or dismantling of conservation regulations in Washington serves as an argument for those calling on the EU not to follow the "American path." In the French parliament representatives of left forces openly accuse both the European Commission and the Élysée Palace of, by copying the logic of the US and China and invoking competitiveness, eroding Europe's own climate goals instead of becoming a "regulatory superpower" and imposing green standards on the world. In the Japanese press the tone is more technocratic: Japanese business outlets closely monitor how Trump changes the rules for energy and heavy industry. On the news aggregator The HEADLINE, which systematizes the day's main events, a recent piece examined the removal from the US Environmental Protection Agency website of references to "human factors" in climate change and the reduced availability of scientific data — Reuters Japan highlighted criticism from scientists and NGOs warning about undermining the basis for assessing climate risks by business and investors. For a Japanese audience this is not just an ideological question: a country vulnerable to natural disasters and actively investing in green technologies has an interest in a transparent and stable global climate architecture. Every US step that erodes it is perceived as a factor of long‑term uncertainty for Japanese companies.
A special place in Asian and European discussions is occupied by the US role in Russia's war against Ukraine. Recent reports, widely cited by Japanese media such as The HEADLINE referencing Asahi Shimbun, that Washington offered Moscow and Kyiv a "deadline" to end the war by June and demanded a roadmap for a possible agreement are perceived as a signal: the Trump administration seeks to "close" the conflict by a certain date, thinking more about domestic agendas and resources than about maximizing Ukraine's chances of a favorable outcome. Japanese commentaries use cautious phrasing: on the one hand, any step toward peace is welcomed; on the other hand, imposing hard deadlines and pressure on Kyiv raises fears that Washington is ready to make a "deal" with Moscow to relieve itself of the burden of European security. In France, where the Ukraine issue is highly politicized, some analysts see such positioning as confirmation of long‑standing fears: under Trump the US tends to view Europe as a playing field for its own geopolitical experiments rather than as a partner with whom joint strategies are developed. This further pushes the French debate toward "strategic autonomy" for Europe: the more arbitrarily Washington acts on Ukraine, the more insistently Paris calls for strengthening its own defense capabilities and reducing dependence on NATO.
Across all three countries another shared theme is rising — the need to learn to live alongside a tougher, internally polarized and externally unpredictable America without severing ties with it. French polls, Japanese expert columns and Korean pre‑election platforms describe this task in different ways, but the essence is the same: the US remains indispensable in terms of military power, the financial system and technological leadership, yet trust in Washington's long‑term predictability has been undermined. In France this translates into talk of boycotting American goods and even the hypothetical possibility of leaving NATO in a crisis — in the same Ifop poll a significant share of respondents supported strong countermeasures up to trade barriers against the US in response to gross actions by Washington, such as a hypothetical annexation of Greenland. In Japan and South Korea the rhetoric is more cautious, but between the lines it is clear they are preparing for a world in which the American "anchor" may falter: options such as increasing national defense budgets, developing regional formats without the US and diversifying trade partners are being discussed.
Against this backdrop voices trying to build a more complex, less emotional view of America stand out. French and Japanese academic journals regularly publish articles treating the US not as a monolithic "Trump" but as a field of struggle among different elites — industrial, financial, military, technological — whose priorities may diverge. These authors remind readers that even under a hard protectionist White House, large American corporations are interested in cooperation with Europe and Asia and oppose extreme ruptures of global supply chains. In South Korea a similar argument is used by those who urge not to "bet on China" in response to dissatisfaction with Trump: in their view, American democratic institutions and public opinion still limit the space for radical actions by the administration, whereas in China comparable restraints do not exist.
Thus, current international debates about the US in France, South Korea and Japan long ago surpassed the simple question of being "for" or "against" America. They have become a subtler conversation about how to adapt domestic strategies — in the economy, security and climate — to a United States that increasingly fails to match the image of the "leader of the free world" from 1990s textbooks. For the French this is above all a challenge to sovereignty and Europe's climate agenda; for the Koreans a painful choice between dependence on the American umbrella and a drive for greater autonomy; for the Japanese a test of whether they can pursue an independent line while remaining a pillar of American presence in the region. The common conclusion, heard more often in these societies, is this: the world is entering an era when Washington can be viewed neither as an assured protector nor as a clear adversary. It will be necessary to constantly bargain with it, dispute it and sometimes resist it — and Paris, Seoul and Tokyo are preparing for precisely that scenario today.
