The Price of Voting for a Bully

In Davos, at the World Economic Forum, Donald Trump delivered a speech that removed any remaining ambiguity about what his presidency represents. It was not merely provocative or populist. It was openly hostile, contemptuous toward allies, and grounded in a worldview that treats international relations as domination rather than cooperation. For many Europeans, this moment marked a turning point. What had long been unsettling became unmistakably clear.

For many years, Europeans knew that there were serious problems in the United States. Racism, inequality, violence, corruption, and a deeply flawed political system were never invisible. Still, many of us chose to look past these realities. We trusted the United States. And trust has a powerful psychological effect: it makes people overlook uncomfortable facts.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Most Europeans also know that there are good politicians in the United States. People who believe in democracy, who want cooperation, who genuinely want the best for their citizens and for their allies. This is not in question. What has changed is not the existence of these people, but the realization that they are no longer decisive.

The election of Donald Trump forced something into the open that many Europeans had long ignored. Trump did not create America’s ugly sides. He revealed them. He did not invent arrogance, bullying, or imperial behavior. He normalized them. And most importantly, he did so with broad electoral support.

From a European perspective, this is the decisive point. Trump was not an accident. He was not a temporary glitch. He was the result of a long development. When a large share of a society votes for a political bully, it signals something fundamental. It signals a willingness to accept humiliation of others, contempt for allies, and the open use of power without responsibility.

For decades after 1945, the United States benefited from an extraordinary level of trust. Europe trusted American leadership even when it disagreed with specific decisions. That trust allowed Europeans to downplay many troubling aspects of US behavior. Covert regime change operations, the dominance of the dollar-centered financial system, repeated military interventions, and the strategic shaping of global institutions were often rationalized as the price of stability or security.

Trump changed that equation. His appearance in Davos made this rupture visible on a global stage. Speaking before political and economic elites from around the world, Trump did not attempt reconciliation, responsibility, or restraint. Instead, he doubled down on bullying rhetoric, transactional thinking, and open disdain for multilateralism. What was once dismissed as campaign exaggeration was now presented as governing philosophy. By attacking allies, questioning alliances, using open threats, and framing international relations as a zero-sum game, he stripped away the moral narrative that had protected the United States from deeper scrutiny. Once trust collapses, the past is reinterpreted. Actions that were previously excused begin to look different. Patterns become visible.

Europeans now look back and see how often European interests were subordinated to American strategic goals. They see how dependency was encouraged, not reduced. They see how power asymmetries were maintained. And they see how quickly decades of alliances could be treated as disposable.

Europe must also acknowledge its own role in this development. For a long time, Europeans tolerated being divided. Both the United States and Russia have consistently worked to play European countries against one another. In the past, this strategy was more subtle on the American side and more constrained on the Russian side, especially during the Cold War, when clear bloc structures offered a certain degree of protection. That protection no longer exists.

Today, attempts to destabilize Europe are far more open. Political interference, economic pressure, disinformation campaigns, and acts of sabotage have become part of the daily reality. What was once hidden diplomacy has turned into visible confrontation. Europe can no longer afford to ignore this pattern or pretend that fragmentation is harmless.

What makes this unforgivable is not Trump alone. It is the fact that so many Americans supported him. The United States was not facing existential poverty, collapse, or foreign occupation. This was not a society driven into desperation. This was a society with wounded pride, damaged identity, and a deeply narcissistic self-image that could not tolerate decline. A bully was elected to restore ego, not justice.

From Europe’s perspective, this marks a break. Trust, once lost, does not return quickly. It cannot be demanded, and it cannot be managed through public relations. Europe will take a long time before it can extend its hand again with genuine confidence. The relationship can still be administered. It can be coordinated. But it can no longer be taken for granted.

If the United States wants to regain trust, removing Trump is not enough. The deeper problem lies in the political system itself. A system that allows one individual and his network to undermine checks and balances so easily is not robust. Electoral rules, institutional safeguards, and democratic accountability must be fundamentally rethought. Without that, the risk remains.

This is not written with hatred, but with sadness, and with the clarity that moments like Davos force upon those who have long hoped for better. Many Europeans once admired the United States. Some wanted to live there. Many believed in the promise America represented after 1945. That promise has been badly damaged.

Voting for a bully has a price. The United States is paying it now.

And Europe, reluctantly, has learned that it can only rely on itself, that only a united Europe can be strong, and that it must not allow itself to be divided by either the United States or Russia.