Sometimes you get along with the toughest people. Sometimes you don't.
At a NATO summit in Ankara last week, Donald Trump enacted in miniature the larger drama of American power in uncertain hands — arriving in fury, assigning blame across the alliance, then emerging from closed doors to declare the gathering filled with love. The whiplash, traced by analysts to personal chemistry with Turkey's Erdoğan and practiced flattery from Secretary General Rutte, revealed a president who navigates the world through individual bonds rather than institutional commitments. What unsettles allies most is not any single outburst but the pattern beneath it: a United States that, as one scholar put it, no longer knows its own mind, leaving partners to plan for an America they cannot count on.
- Trump arrived in Ankara visibly enraged over the collapse of his Iran ceasefire, and within hours had turned the summit into a public tribunal — denouncing allies, calling Iranian leaders 'scum,' and demanding trade punishment for Spain's failure to meet defense targets.
- Then, without explanation, he reversed course entirely, emerging from a private session to declare the summit the most positive NATO meeting he had ever attended and praising Zelenskyy as 'ingenious' — a man he had dismissed as powerless just days before.
- Analysts traced the pivot to Trump's genuine warmth for host Erdoğan and to Secretary General Rutte's cultivated habit of flattering Trump as NATO's unlikely savior — a dynamic that exposed how personal chemistry, not policy, governs American alliance behavior.
- Beneath the tactical explanations lies a structural alarm: scholars argue Trump is a symptom of a collapsed American political center, leaving allied nations — Germany, Japan, and others — unable to plan around US security guarantees they once treated as fixed.
- Europe's likely response is not withdrawal from NATO but a quiet reorientation — defense spending commitments toward five percent of GDP signal an alliance shifting from US-dependent to Europe-led, even as Trump's unpredictability continues to serve his appetite for keeping others off balance.
Donald Trump arrived in Ankara last Tuesday in visible fury. The ceasefire he had brokered with Iran had collapsed, and he needed somewhere to direct his anger. He found it at the NATO summit, where he denounced allied leaders as failures, called Iranian officials 'scum,' rehashed old grievances about Greenland, and demanded the United States sever trade ties with Spain over its defense spending. The performance was volatile even by his own standards.
Then, without warning, he emerged from a closed-door session and announced that the room had been filled with love — declaring it the most positive NATO meeting he had ever attended. He extended sudden warmth even to Zelenskyy, whom he called ingenious for holding Ukraine together, reversing a dismissal he had offered just days earlier. Analysts struggled to find language adequate to describe the whiplash.
The shift appeared to hinge on personal relationships. Trump's affinity for Turkey's President Erdoğan, in power for twenty-three years, seemed to set the summit's emotional temperature. Trump said he might not have attended had the meeting been held elsewhere, and he spoke of Erdoğan with genuine warmth. Ian Lesser of the German Marshall Fund, who attended, described the event's 'bipolar quality' as directly traceable to that chemistry.
Equally significant was NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, who has cultivated a reputation as a 'Trump whisperer' by consistently praising the president for pressuring Europe to spend more on defense. Georgetown professor Charles Kupchan suggested that Rutte's flattery, repeated before thirty-one allied leaders in the private session, likely tipped Trump's mood. The president, Kupchan noted, sees international affairs not through institutions but through individual relationships — and maintains a skeptical view of alliances themselves.
Yet beneath these tactical explanations lies a deeper anxiety. Kupchan has written that 'America does not know its own mind,' arguing that Trump is a symptom of a larger foreign policy dysfunction — a collapsed political center that swings the country's strategic direction with every election. For allies who have relied on American security guarantees for decades, this creates an impossible planning problem.
Some analysts note that eighty thousand US troops remain in Europe and the alliance structure persists. But European trust has eroded visibly, and what is changing is the alliance's character. European nations have committed to spending five percent of GDP on defense, a shift that will make NATO increasingly Europe-led. Meanwhile, Trump's hostile language will continue, Kupchan predicted, because he relishes keeping others off balance. For allies watching the performance, the question is no longer whether Trump will support them — but whether any American president reliably can.
Donald Trump arrived in Ankara last Tuesday in a visible rage. The temporary ceasefire he had brokered with Iran had collapsed, and he was looking for someone to blame. Within hours, he had turned the NATO summit into a stage for his fury, calling the alliance's leaders failures and the Iranian government—which he had praised as reasonable just fourteen days earlier—"scum" and "sick people." He sat beside NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte and complained that member states, including Britain, had refused to support his Iran campaign. He rehashed old grievances about Greenland, which remains Danish territory. He demanded the US cut trade ties with Spain because its socialist government would not meet new defense spending targets. The performance was volatile even by Trump's standards, and observers scrambled to explain what was happening.
Then, without warning, Trump emerged from a closed-door meeting with the same leaders he had just attacked and announced that the room had been filled with love. The summit, he said, was the most positive NATO meeting he had ever attended. He extended this sudden warmth to Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, whom he called ingenious for holding his country together during the Russian war—a striking reversal from his earlier dismissal of Zelenskyy as someone without leverage. The whiplash was so pronounced that analysts struggled to find language adequate to describe it.
The shift appeared to hinge on personal relationships rather than policy substance. Trump's affinity for Turkey's President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, who has held power for twenty-three years, seemed to set the tone for the entire summit. At a joint press conference, Trump said he might not have attended if the summit had not been held in Turkey, and he spoke of Erdoğan with genuine warmth, comparing their bond favorably to his relationships with other leaders. "Sometimes you get along with the toughest people," Trump said. Ian Lesser, a fellow at the German Marshall Fund who attended the summit, observed that the event had a "bipolar quality" directly traceable to Trump's chemistry with Erdoğan. The president, Lesser suggested, was eager to ensure that Erdoğan could claim success from hosting the gathering.
Equally important was the role of Mark Rutte, NATO's secretary general and a former Dutch prime minister, who has cultivated a reputation as a "Trump whisperer." Rutte has made a practice of praising Trump for pressuring European allies to increase defense spending—a longtime Trump complaint—and for effectively saving NATO through that pressure. Charles Kupchan, a Georgetown professor and former White House adviser on Europe, suggested that Rutte's flattery, repeated in the private meeting with thirty-one allied leaders, likely contributed to Trump's sudden change of heart. The president, Kupchan noted, sees international affairs not through the lens of institutions but through individual relationships with individual leaders, and he maintains a skeptical view of alliances themselves.
Trump's reversal on Zelenskyy may have reflected disappointment with Vladimir Putin, who has offered no concessions to end a conflict now longer than World War I, combined with awareness of congressional sentiment—a consideration that has rarely swayed Trump in other matters. As midterm elections approach, congressional opinion carries more weight. Yet beneath these tactical explanations lies a deeper anxiety among analysts: Trump's erratic behavior, regardless of its immediate cause, signals something more troubling about American strategic coherence.
Charles Kupchan has written that "America does not know its own mind," and he argues that Trump is a symptom rather than the cause of a larger foreign policy dysfunction. The political center in the United States has collapsed, he contends, leaving the country without a coherent grand strategy. Every presidential election swings the nation from one strategic direction to another. For leaders in Germany, Japan, or any allied nation that has relied on American security guarantees for decades, this creates an impossible planning problem. They must prepare for the worst because the United States is locked in prolonged political dysfunction, and they cannot be certain whether they can count on American support.
Some analysts believe Trump's rhetorical hostility has not fundamentally weakened NATO—eighty thousand US troops remain in Europe, and the alliance structure persists. But European trust in American reliability has eroded visibly. What will likely change is the character of the alliance itself. European nations have committed to spending five percent of GDP on defense by 2025, a shift that will make NATO increasingly Europe-led rather than US-dependent. Meanwhile, Trump's hostile language will continue to unsettle allies, Kupchan predicted, because Trump relishes keeping others off balance. He is, after all, a reality television performer who thrives on unpredictability. One moment he threatens to withdraw from NATO; the next he declares his love for it. For allies watching this performance, the question is no longer whether Trump will support them, but whether any American president can be relied upon to do so.
Citas Notables
Trump said he might not have attended the summit if it had not been held in Turkey, with which he said he had a 'great relationship'— Trump at joint press conference with Erdoğan
The United States doesn't really have a foreign policy anymore. Every time there's a presidential election, we swing from one grand strategy to a completely different grand strategy.— Charles Kupchan, Georgetown professor and former White House adviser
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did Trump's mood shift so dramatically between his arrival and that closed-door meeting?
The sources point to personal chemistry—his relationship with Erdoğan seems to have genuinely calmed him. But it's also about flattery. Rutte spent the meeting telling Trump that his pressure on defense spending actually worked, that NATO is stronger because of him. Trump responds to that kind of validation.
So this wasn't really about NATO policy at all?
Not primarily. Trump sees the world through individual leaders, not institutions. He likes Erdoğan, he respects strongmen, and he was in a room where people were telling him he'd won. That mattered more than any structural question about the alliance.
What about his sudden praise for Zelenskyy? That seemed like a real reversal.
It was. But it may reflect frustration with Putin—who hasn't given Trump anything to show for ending the war—and awareness that Congress cares about Ukraine. Trump doesn't usually listen to Congress, but midterms are coming. The calculation shifted.
Is NATO actually damaged by this, or is it just theater?
The institution survives. Troops are still there. But European trust is fractured. They're now planning to spend more on their own defense because they can't assume America will be there. That changes the alliance fundamentally.
What worries analysts most?
That Trump is a symptom of something deeper—that America no longer has a coherent foreign policy. Every election swings the country in a different direction. If you're leading Germany or Japan, you can't plan for the future because you don't know if the US security guarantee will exist in four years.
So the real problem isn't Trump's personality?
It's partly that. But it's also that the American political center has collapsed. There's no stable consensus on what America's role in the world should be. Trump just makes that dysfunction visible.