The recent meeting between Trump and Putin in Alaska summit marked more than just a shift in international relations. It underscored the steady erosion of European influence on the world stage. Although some framed the summit as a step toward safer global relations, the underlying message told a different story: a return to the power politics of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, when territorial disputes were resolved not through established diplomatic channels but through force and backroom negotiations.
That sense of regression was reinforced when President Volodymyr Zelensky met with Trump and key European figures this week at the White House. Once again, Europe found itself reacting rather than leading, its role in transatlantic security appearing more passive than strategic. This encounter, coming just days after the Alaska Summit, underscored a larger pattern: Europe is operating not from a place of authority, but of reliance.
President Putin, a former KGB officer with a keen grasp of power dynamics, seems to have recognized something many in Europe are reluctant to admit. The European Union, when confronted with Russia’s geopolitical ambitions, lacks the capacity to act as a genuine power. This became apparent when Putin bypassed dialogue with European leaders, choosing instead to speak directly with the U.S. president. The exclusion of European figures from the negotiating table was no accident. It was a deliberate affront, signaling that Europe no longer holds the leverage to shape global outcomes, especially in crises like the one in Ukraine.
This sidelining of Europe has been evident in other arenas as well. During the Iran nuclear talks in Muscat in April 2025, the United States engaged Tehran directly while European negotiators were kept at arm’s length, despite the E3 still holding the formal “snapback” mechanism at the UN. A similar dynamic emerged in 2023, when the EU quietly dissolved INSTEX, its special financial vehicle designed to shield European firms trading with Iran, after years of near-zero usage, underscoring Europe’s inability to counter U.S. secondary sanctions.
And in the economic realm, Washington’s unilateral tariff hikes on Chinese goods in 2024 forced Brussels into reactive measures, first with provisional duties on Chinese electric vehicles and later, in 2025, with a reluctant U.S.–EU trade deal that left an average 15 percent tariff on European exports to the American market. These moves show Europe reacting to U.S. tariff diplomacy rather than defining the rules.
Though the EU presents itself as a champion of diplomacy and peace, the reality is far more complex. Faced with Russia’s war on Ukraine, European countries have responded with disunity and weakness, failing to present a coherent front. Their reliance on the United States to mediate with Russia highlights their lack of independent geopolitical strength. Putin’s and even Trump’s disregard for European leadership sends a clear message: Europe has become a spectator in the global power game, unable to influence the terms of conflict resolution.
This summit was not an isolated event but part of a broader transformation in global diplomacy, one where power, not principles, guides the course of events. The Trump-Putin dialogue signals the unsettling revival of territorial negotiations reminiscent of the nineteenth century. The notion of trading land, whether through military occupation or political agreements, is no longer a relic of the past; it has become a defining feature of modern diplomacy. Take, for example, Trump’s proposal for Gaza, which envisioned transforming the area into an economic zone while removing its Palestinian inhabitants. Such proposals are not just a product of Trump’s distinctive diplomatic style but reflect a dangerous logic in which territorial disputes are resolved through negotiation backed by power. This logic echoes the longstanding tradition of power politics, where might often determines right.
The Alaska summit, with Putin’s cold pragmatism and Trump’s unpredictable remarks, serves as a stark reminder of the diminishing relevance of traditional diplomatic norms. The language of diplomacy, once rooted in peace and mutual respect, is now overshadowed by the rhetoric of force, where military strength and strategic interests override any pretense of a rules-based order.
The idea of diplomacy as a cooperative tool for peace, where nations work together to resolve crises, is gradually being replaced by a more realist view. Diplomacy is becoming a means of legitimizing the realities of power. Trump’s approach to international relations, where military action and territorial control are treated as practical solutions, reflects this shift in global governance.
This shift poses dangers not only for a sidelined Europe but for the international community at large. Normalizing power-based diplomacy risks legitimizing forms of military aggression that once led to the devastating wars of the twentieth century. Territorial disputes are increasingly seen as bargaining chips in high-stakes negotiations, signaling the dawn of a new era in international relations; one in which diplomacy no longer seeks cooperation, but enforces dominance through coercion. This is precisely the model promoted by Trump and, in a pilot form, by his closest ally in the Middle East, Israel. The message is blunt: peace through force.
In the end, the Alaska summit did not mark a diplomatic revival. It represented the entrenchment of a new global order defined by power struggles and military leverage. For Europe, it was a bitter reminder of the present reality. The age of European diplomacy appears to be over, and a new phase of power-driven negotiations has begun. The real question now is whether European leaders can adapt to this transformation or remain passive players in an increasingly volatile world. Can Europe redefine its role, not merely as a voice issuing statements of support or condemnation, but as a force capable of shaping a sustainable, peaceful, and politically stable world order?