There is a paradox running through today’s governing or possible governing European right-wingers: the more central Donald Trump returns to the global stage, the more his figure risks becoming politically toxic for those in Europe who lead or aspire to lead mature liberal democracies.

Image inversion

Until a few years ago, the association with Trump was perceived as a symbolic asset: the strong man, the decision-maker, the leader who ‘tells it like it is’ and promises to break with the liturgies of political correctness and the international establishment. Today that same image produces the opposite effect. Not because Europe has suddenly become all progressive, but because Trump has crossed a threshold: from awkward ally to perceived instability factor.

The breaking point is not ideological, but geopolitical and anthropological. The threats over Greenland represented a symbolic shock: not a trade dispute or a diplomatic skirmish, but the direct questioning of the sovereignty of a European territory belonging to an EU member state. For the first time, many European sovereignists found themselves in the paradoxical position of having to defend international law against the leader they had looked up to for years.

The European reaction was clear

Not unanimous, not nuanced, but firm. And above all, transversal: governments of different political persuasions spoke the same language, because what was at stake here was not a political line, but a principle. It was at that moment that Trump began to go radioactive: anyone who appeared too close to him risked being perceived as weak or subordinate, not as a privileged ally.

This change in perception has been amplified by the way Trump conceives of international relations: not as alliances, but as relations of force; not as cooperation, but as futures contracts; not as shared security, but as conditional protection. It is an openly extortionist logic: either you pay, or you lose protection; either you concede, or you suffer retaliation. A logic that may work in asymmetric bilateral relations, but which enters on a collision course with the European idea of an alliance.

European citizens grasped this even before the governments

And here a new, often underestimated element opens up: foreign policy, traditionally irrelevant in electoral consensus, is becoming an emotional and identity factor. This is not because voters suddenly become passionate about geopolitics, but because they instinctively recognise when a foreign leader is not acting out of common interest, but for personal and circle advantage.

This is why many of Trump’s intemerates are rejected without distinction even by voters who, on other issues, share conservative or sovereignist positions. For Italians, defending Greenland from Trump, even by sending in the military, appears legitimate; defending Ukraine from Putin, for a section of public opinion, does not. It is only an apparent contradiction: in the first case, a direct aggression against Europe is perceived; in the second, an external conflict that is read through more complex ideological filters.

The same applies to threats of unilateral military intervention, from Iran to Venezuela. Here another element that makes Trump indigestible emerges clearly: the total absence of a recognisable ethical horizon. There is no altruism, no defence of peoples, not even ideological coherence. There is business, resources, concessions. If a regime grants access to oil, it suddenly becomes ‘fantastic’. If it does not, it becomes a target.

Running away from Trump

This explains why any European leader who is perceived as too lenient towards Trump automatically loses credibility, even among his own most loyal electorate. This is not a matter of personal dislike, but of political trust: it is not credible to defend a president who openly declares that he has no interest in allies, except as temporary tools.

In France, the Rassemblement National members also quickly realised this, responding harshly to the threats on Greenland and supporting the hypothesis of the European ‘bazooka‘ of counter-sanctions. A choice not of ideology, but of political survival. In Italy the situation is more delicate. Giorgia Meloni has shown diplomatic skill and a less improvised geopolitical vision than many recognise. But balance has its limits: when Trump forces a choice, neutrality becomes impossible.

Trump is doing something unprecedented: he is turning American foreign policy into a factor of instability even for his supposed friends. In Europe, this produces a paradoxical but real effect: it brings together political forces that remain divided on everything else in order to keep him at a distance.

This is not a moral judgement. It is a political fact

The surreal ‘Board of Peace’ – which has much of a board and very little of peace – is emblematic. A body that demands permanent constraints, invites autocrats and marginalises existing multilateral institutions. In this case,Article 11 of the Italian Constitution functions as a political parachute: it allows non-membership without having to enter into the merits. But it is a temporary solution. Sooner or later, Trump will present a new aut aut.

And that is where the knot will become electoral

Because while it is true that foreign policy rarely decides elections, it is equally true that a foreign leader perceived as overbearing, unstable and only interested in himself can drag anyone too close to him down with him.

Trump, today, is no longer a consensus multiplier for European right-wingers. It is a risk factor. A divisive element that forces explanations, distinctions, justifications. In a word: he has become uncomfortable.

And in politics, we know, nothing does more harm than the need to defend the indefensible.