There is something deliciously pathetic about watching the high priests of the European Union attempt to navigate the return of Donald Trump. It is a performance of such profound, anaemic desperation that one almost feels a pang of sympathy for the bureaucrats in Brussels—almost. As the shadows of Mar-a-Lago lengthen across the Atlantic, the ‘Old World’ finds itself in a familiar, tragicomic posture: clutching its pearls with one hand while holding its wallet open with the other. This is not a geopolitical strategy; it is a psychiatric condition. For years, the European elite has whispered the phrase ‘strategic autonomy’ like a secular rosary, hoping that if they said it enough times, a domestic defense industry and a coherent foreign policy would spontaneously manifest out of the ether. Instead, they are faced with the reality that their entire security architecture and economic stability are tethered to the whims of a man who views international treaties as opening bids in a failing real estate deal.

Take, for instance, the Greenland affair. To the refined, hyper-civilized sensibilities of Copenhagen and Brussels, the suggestion that a sovereign territory could be purchased like a distressed shopping mall was a vulgarity of the highest order. They reacted with the horrified gasps of a Victorian aunt seeing a tattoo for the first time. Yet, beneath the performative outrage lies a chilling realization: the American president does not see ‘allies’; he sees ‘tenants.’ And in the Trumpian worldview, the tenants of Europe are perpetually behind on their rent. The tragedy, of course, is that the Europeans have spent so long enjoying the peace dividend of the American umbrella that they have forgotten how to hold their own shield. They are a collection of museum-states, beautiful and fragile, guarded by a bouncer who is currently pricing out the marble and wondering if the gift shop could be turned into a casino.

Then there is the matter of the ‘tariffs-for-all’ approach. The European response has been a masterclass in bureaucratic impotence. They speak of ‘level playing fields’ and ‘rules-based orders’ while the other side is busy rewriting the rules with a Sharpie. The irony is surgical. Europe, the supposed bastion of green energy and moral superiority, finds itself economically dependent on the very volatility it claims to despise. To break with Trump would require an act of existential courage that the current crop of European leaders—men and women who seem to have been grown in a lab specifically to be forgotten in history books—simply cannot muster. They are trapped in a cycle of transactional humiliation. They loathe the tariffs, yet they fear the loss of the American market more than they value their own dignity. It is the ultimate expression of the neoliberal dream turned nightmare: a world where everything is for sale, including the pride of a continent.

Defense spending is the most hilarious chapter of this saga. For decades, Europe has outsourced its survival to Washington, treating the US military as a free security service provided by a particularly loud and aggressive uncle. Now that the uncle is asking for his cut, the panic is palpable. The talk of a ‘European Army’ is, as usual, a fever dream shared by French intellectuals over lunch, never to survive the cold light of a budget meeting. They are caught between the hammer of Russian proximity and the anvil of American indifference. The result? A frantic scramble to buy American-made jets to prove their loyalty, effectively subsidizing the very industry that ensures their continued subservience. It is a perfect closed loop of incompetence.

Even in energy, the hypocrisy is thick enough to choke on. Having spent years lecturing the world on carbon footprints while huddling under the warm glow of Russian gas, Europe now finds itself pivoting to American LNG. They have traded one dependency for another, swapping a geopolitical antagonist for a commercial predator. They are not breaking with anyone; they are merely changing the brand of their shackles. One can almost see the smirk on the face of the American delegation as they watch the Europeans debate ‘sovereignty’ while signing long-term contracts for Texan methane. It is the ‘I told you so’ of the century, delivered with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Ultimately, the tale of Europe and Trump is not one of conflict, but of a dysfunctional marriage where both parties are fundamentally terrified of being alone. Europe lacks the spine to lead, and Trump lacks the patience to follow. We are left with a spectacle of mutual decline, where the only thing more absurd than the American president’s demands is the European Union’s inability to say ‘no.’ They will grumble, they will hold emergency summits, and they will draft strongly worded communiqués that no one will read. And in the end, they will do exactly what they are told, because the only thing scarier to a European bureaucrat than a world with Donald Trump is a world without him. It is a pathetic end for the cradle of Western civilization, but at least the irony is world-class.