The transatlantic alliance, De Gaulle argued, should be a partnership of equals, not a strategic appendage of Washington’s whims.
Politics is too serious a matter to be left to the politicians.
Charles de Gaulle
Was Charles de Gaulle simply ahead of his time? Decades ago, the French President famously pulled France out of NATO’s integrated military command, insisting that Europe must not be subservient to American strategic whims and diktats. He astutely warned against undue US interference in European affairs, advocating instead for an autonomous European defence architecture. Back then, his stance was seen as controversial, even eccentric. Today, it seems almost prophetic.
The Western alliance—once hailed as a community of shared values, united by democracy, liberalism, and imagined cultural solidarity against communism—visibly reveals sore faultlines. The rise of Trumpism has thrown into sharp relief what de Gaulle foresaw – an overt reliance on an America that, when it decides to, may turn its back on global responsibilities with astonishing swiftness and convenience. Under Trump, these fissures have widened. With his sledgehammer-styled foreign policy, he stripped away diplomatic niceties and exposed a West that no longer stands united in purpose or strategy. De Gaulle initiated his “politics of grandeur”, asserting that France as a major power should not rely on other countries, such as the United States, for its national security and prosperity.
De Gaulle’s vision was grounded in realism. He understood that national interests drive international politics, not sentiment. The transatlantic alliance, he argued, should be a partnership of equals, not a strategic appendage of Washington’s whims. Today, the European Union (EU) echoes that sentiment, albeit more cautiously, by reviving calls for strategic autonomy and a European defence force independent of NATO. And its supporters are rightly asking why not? If the US cannot be trusted to preserve Europe’s defence or uphold shared global commitments, why does European self-reliance seem an overcorrection?
The roots of the current fracture may appear new, but they are quite historical. The end of the Cold War removed the ideological glue that once held the West (and NATO) together. What followed was not the triumph of the liberal order, as many like Fukuyama hoped in “End of History”, but rather a descent into strategic disorder and chaos. The so-called unipolar moment of US dominance was shockingly short-lived. From the challenges by the rise of non-state actors after 9/11, when the “balance of power” gave way to a “balance of terror” to the later return of great power politics, with Russia and China started reclaiming their strategic space, the US power and hegemony is not viewed as benign as Americans would perceive it.
The Ukraine war exemplifies and captures this shift. Washington’s muscular backing of Ukraine and its demonization of Russia have not brought about clarity, but rather caused confusion. Plus, it’s hard to oversee the larger trend of the US’s deep state to illegally prop up and sponsor regimes like Bangladesh’s Muhammad Yunus, while simultaneously thrusting others as “dictators”. But smaller states are learning, painfully, that playing proxy in the great power contest comes at a heavy price. Today, Ukraine is paying the price for being at the centre of an American geopolitical wager against a former superpower. Therefore, the lesson is brutal yet simple: power remains unequal in the international system, and small states, no matter how sympathetic their causes, cannot indefinitely challenge the will of major powers.
What we see with Trumpism unfolding is how rapidly it has accelerated this realignment. The isolationist America with a vengeance, under the “America First” dictum, has turned out to be the defining character of US engagement with the world. This leaves Europe in a vulnerable position, especially as it continues to rely on American military muscle while lacking both the cohesion and the will to forge a credible alternative. India’s External Affairs Minister, Dr S. Jaishankar, was not wrong when he said Europe is no longer the centre of global affairs, but it is a sobering reality. Europe’s posturing, its declarations of moral clarity, finger-wagging, and all its calls for a rules-based international order have rarely been matched by commensurate action. In Washington under Trump, this has not gone unnoticed. Recent leaks from the US Defence Department, where Trump-aligned voices openly expose and call out Europe’s defence stance “pathetic,” only to underscore the wider contempt within the US establishment.
If Europe is now scrambling to reposition itself in an increasingly fragmented world, it is because the Atlantic alliance no longer guarantees stability. The very foundation of NATO is being questioned, not just by adversaries but also by its own members. If the US becomes unwilling to act as the West’s security guarantor, then what is NATO’s true purpose? De Gaulle’s insistence on strategic autonomy was not anti-Americanism but a demand for dignity and sovereignty. Europe, in his view, should not have to choose between irrelevance and subservience. Yet, amid these fractures, we must ask: where is the West headed? Is the idea of the “West” itself now obsolete? Or has NATO outlived its utility after the dismantling of the Warsaw Pact? Does it signal that the new Cold War has shifted to the Indo-Pacific?
Once a beacon of shared values and collective strength, it now looks more like a reluctant, dysfunctional family where the eldest sibling has decided to move out—and take the house keys with him. Meanwhile, the younger ones are left bickering over who pays the rent. Russia and China are watching and benefiting. Their pitch is simple: the West is in decline, its internal contradictions unravelling its external power. And the way Europe has dealt with unfolding global issues and events only buttresses the fact that they may be correct after all. In an international system governed by national interests, alliances are temporary, conditional, and transactional. But gone seems to be the era of permanent friends. What remains are fleeting convergences of convenience, something De Gaulle understood well. So had Putin. But the question in front of us remains: does Europe understand it? Can they exemplify the political, strategic, and moral maturity that they expect of others? Realism has warned that any big power has no permanent friends, not even permanent interests—only temporary interests.
Europe must rethink its security architecture not in opposition to the US but independently of its reliability. India, too, must read these signs with clarity. The emerging world order is no longer about ideology. It is about survival, sovereignty, and strategic autonomy. De Gaulle’s ghost haunts Europe not because he was wrong but because his warnings are being vindicated over time. The global order defies linearity and idealism. Instead, it showcases a cyclical, unpredictable, and brutal pattern, where Trump 2.0 may just be the catalyst that forces Europe to finally acknowledge such realities. In this reshaping of the world, the real question is not whether the West can hold together. The real question is whether the rest of the world still needs it or is willing to work for it.
* Author is the VC of JNU.