Do Europe and the United States still need each other?

In the mid-1880s, my great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side, August Langholf, left the tiny village of Deschel in Prussia – today part of Poland – in search of a new life. Together with his wife, Elisabeth, and their two children, he travelled by train to Hamburg, where they boarded the Polaria, bound for America. After passing through Ellis Island, they settled in Wisconsin, joining thousands of German-speaking immigrants seeking opportunity, land and a future in the United States. He could not have imagined where that decision would lead.

His son, August Jr, who was born in the United States, would later fight in the American Army during the First World War. Part of his service was in Europe. And his son, Allen – my grandfather – would fly bombing missions over Europe during the Second World War, over lands that had once been a part of his family’s homeland.

Four generations later, I would cross the Atlantic once again, this time permanently, to build a life in Europe near the places my family had left more than a century earlier. Being here, in these difficult times, I often think about that journey as I watch the transatlantic relationship enter perhaps its most uncertain period since 1945. My family’s story is not unique. Millions of Americans trace their roots to Europe, just as millions of Europeans have family connections across the Atlantic. Yet it illustrates something important about the relationship between Europe and the United States: it was never merely an alliance between states. It was built by people, families, and generations of movement between two continents.

Today, as a new geopolitical order is taking shape, I find myself suspended between identities: American by birth, European by choice, and increasingly Polish in both outlook and belonging. This dual perspective is not unique, nor does it grant me any special authority. Yet, it has shaped how I see the growing distance and enduring ties between the United States and Europe and allows me to consider both perspectives. Despite the tensions that now define the transatlantic relationship, thanks largely in part Donald Trump’s policies, I still believe that the two sides need one another. That bond may be strained, perhaps more than at any time in recent decades, but it is not broken.

Roots

I grew up in a small town, home to around 3,000 people, in the Midwest state of Wisconsin. Founded by German immigrants in the 19th century, it reflected a broader pattern across the region, where European settlers sought land, opportunity, and distance from the conflicts of the Old Continent. My own family followed that path, building a life around farming and industry that extended across generations.

Yet, by the time I was growing up, much of that heritage had faded. My grandparents on my father’s side still spoke German among themselves, but my parent’s generation had largely shifted to English, and mine had little connection to the language, culture or to farming as a way of life. What remained was subtler: a sense of community and a belief in hard work and self-reliance. Like most families at that time, my family had become simply ‘American’. The language disappeared. The Old Country became an abstraction. For most, the German heritage was especially abandoned not just due to assimilation, but also as a rejection during the two world wars. It was only after moving to Europe myself that I began to understand how much had been lost, and how much remained hidden beneath the surface.

Yet the subtler influences of that German heritage unconsciously remained. My hometown was, in many ways, an ideal place to grow up. The schools were small but forward-looking, and the rhythms of life were predictable and worry-free. Conversations at the local diner revolved around sports, weather, church news, and the harvest, not national politics. Partisan identity felt distant from everyday life.

That has changed. Like much of the United States, my hometown has become polarized, more defined by politics than by community. During a recent visit, I passed houses flying American flags – only now many were emblazoned with political slogans. One displayed a banner reading ‘Make America Great Again’; another, more starkly, ‘Fuck Joe Biden’. The image left a lasting impression. A community that was once bound together by church picnics and school sporting events is now increasingly divided by political identity and allegiance.

What I was witnessing back home was not just a local shift in tone, but part of a broader transformation in American political culture, one that has had direct consequences for how the United States engages with the world. For decades, the transatlantic relationship rested on a relatively stable foundation. And this foundation was formed largely during the Second World War. Americans helped to free parts of Europe from tyranny.

My grandfather played a role in that as well. He served as a bomber pilot during the Second World War. Yet, what was even more ironic is that he flew several missions over the lands from which his own family had come just decades earlier. I often wonder whether he thought about that contradiction. Did he see Europe as just a battlefield, or as a place that connected him to his family’s past? Did he understand how Europe and America were so closely connected? By family histories, migrations, and shared experiences? What did the war mean to him personally, as a grandson of a German migrant?

Growing up he never talked about his war experiences, so I never had a chance to ask any of these questions. Most of the stories about his youth and his family I discovered in research long after his death in 2002. He was still alive when I went to study in Poland, and he had general questions about my experiences and motivations, but little did I ever suspect he himself saw some of these same places, from a different angle.

Perspectives

I first came to Poland as a student in 1998. I spent two years here as a student, met my future wife, and have now been living in Europe permanently since 2009. I have Polish (and European) citizenship since 2023. After researching my family’s 19th century migration journey, I started reflecting on my own experiences as a migrant. Though coming from the US, one is not a migrant – for some unexplainable reason we are called ‘expats’, putting us in a different category than other migrants from countries like Ukraine, Belarus or India. Yet, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I have undergone similar experiences as many migrants in Poland, and Europe. I struggled with language, overcame cultural differences, and after some time, I started identifying more with the local population, calling Poland home.

During these last 16 years, I not only feel comfortable in Poland, but also feel that I developed a unique sense of understanding of both sides of the Atlantic. I often found myself representing a duo-voice, providing interpretations of developments with this special lens. Yet, since 2025, I have started experiencing a strong sense of confusion about what is happening back in the US. How could a country, my country (is it still my country?), so central in building the post-war international order begin to question its own commitments? Why would the United States, which once championed alliances, now appear ambivalent about them?

Part of the answer lies not only in perception but also in distance – geographical, historical, and psychological. The connection Americans have to the Old World seems less relevant these days. And most of the newer migrants to the US come from other parts of the world; Latin America, South East Asia, the Middle East. The European heritage has largely disappeared.

At the same time, the responsibility that America had taken on in the world since the end of the Second World War and the Cold War was also less relevant. This is despite the fact that Europe is now experiencing the worst conflict on the continent since 1945. Being in Poland I understand how tangible and immediate the threats are, in light of Russia’s war against Ukraine. Yet, for many Americans those same threats are abstract, filtered through domestic politics and this lost connection to Europe.

A more nuanced part of the answer, however, lies in the fact that this fragmentation had actually been building for some time. The Former US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, in an essay in Foreign Affairs from 2024, addressed the shifting global circumstances affecting the US. Reading between the lines, the challenges identified as threats to US security also reveal the underlying sources of fragmentation between the US and its European allies. First and foremost, the era of great power conflict and competition has returned.

Russia, China, and middle powers like Iran are engaged in territorial disputes or armed conflict within their respective regions, advancing revisionist agendas that challenge the foundations of the previous order.

The US operation in Venezuela, which essentially saw a sovereign state kidnap the leader of another sovereign state, provided no illusions that 19th century-style geopolitical competition is once again en vogue. Indeed, the invocation of the Monroe Doctrine – which was a declaration by US President James Monroe in 1823 stating the Western Hemisphere was closed to European colonization and interference – sent a strong signal of how far this US administration was willing to go.

Four horsemen

Another source of the growing rift between the US and Europe lies in what Secretary Rice called ‘the four horsemen of the apocalypse’: populism, nativism, isolationism and protectionism. This is where the core challenge actually resides – corrosive forces that actively test and dismantle democracies from within. No one is immune, and the domino effect has already been visible across countries like Hungary, Slovakia, Italy, Poland, Bulgaria, and Czechia. France faces the risk, as does Germany. The US is currently embodying it.

Adding to this fragility is the threat of illiberal elected leaders who hijack democratic institutions, thereby weakening them overall. These actors reject governance tied to electoral cycles in favour of long-term authoritarian ambitions, executed through top-down systems that bypass the need for consensus or bureaucratic checks. This logic of control is central not only in the Kremlin but also in Beijing and, today, Washington.

Today’s world, shaped by rapid technological change and artificial intelligence competition, is increasingly tied to questions of power, security and influence, with a lack of greater vision of a prosperous future for all. The rise of China as a technological and economic actor has only intensified this dynamic, offering an alternative model that does not align with democratic norms. At the same time, the American technology billionaires do not move in step with broader strategic or democratic considerations. Instead, the focus is building a new oligarchy of capital and power, which at the moment seems to fit the tone in Washington. 

Fundamental questions

Against this backdrop, fundamental questions emerge: how far have the United States and Europe drifted apart? Is this a temporary rupture that can still be repaired? There are obvious signs of serious divergence. Trump’s recent announcement that the United States plans to draw down at least 5,000 US troops from bases in Germany is one recent notable development. At the same time, the German Chancellor, Friedrich Merz, has stated that transatlantic relations are changing, and that the US and Europe are drifting apart. Poland’s Prime Minister Donald Tusk also recently warned that the ‘greatest threat to the transatlantic community is not its external enemies, but the ongoing disintegration of our alliance’.

Trump has even called NATO a ‘paper tiger’, which not only further undermines the relationship but invites adversaries, like Russia, to openly challenge the collective defence of the Alliance. Indeed, many European intelligence agencies believe the window for Vladimir Putin to put NATO unity to the test is wide open.

However, there is one unresolved issue that has the largest potential of driving the wedge of transatlantic relations beyond repair indefinitely – Greenland. Since coming back to the White House, Trump has been insistent that the United States ‘has to have’ Greenland. The threat of taking the Danish territory dates to statements made by Trump as early as 2019, but most Europeans, including the Danes, did not take it very seriously.

It was only after the Venezuela operation that Trump brought Greenland back to his discourse, triggering high-level discussions – and some panic – between Europe and the United States. The threat of a US annexation still lingers. Should the US Administration decide to make good on its threat and actually take Greenland – either through military or other hybrid means – this would fundamentally change our relations. It would also likely end NATO, once and for all, handing Putin the victory of his dreams.

For someone whose family history spans both sides of the Atlantic, the prospect remains difficult to comprehend. My great-grandfather fought for the US in one world war. My grandfather fought in another. Generations of Americans have viewed the security of Europe as inseparable from their own security.

Even today, after everything that this administration has done in foreign policy – with Venezuela, Iran, Ukraine/Russia, etc. – most people still cannot fathom the US attacking an ally. Considering that 75% of Americans are against the annexation of Greenland, perhaps there is some hope that we will not have to the face that ultimate test. Even in attitudes towards Europeans, despite the anti-European rhetoric coming from Washington, 93% of Americans in January 2026, believed that economic and trade ties with Europe were very important or somewhat important; while 81% stated shared democratic values were important for strong relations between the US and Europe.

Waiting for Godot?

After attending debates and discussions in many European fora over the last year, I have tried my best to gauge how Europe is developing an approach to fix transatlantic relations, or at least minimize the damage caused by the Trump Administration. Undoubtedly, Trump’s policies have caused anger and confusion across the continent and certainly attempts were made to divide European states. Yet, for the most part, the unity of Europe towards attacks and ill will coming from Washington gives hope that the bond on this side of the Atlantic is stronger than we often are willing to give ourselves credit for. The latest example can be seen in Europe’s refusal to join Trump’s pointless war against Iran. Perhaps it is a lesson we have already learnt from dealing with Putin in Russia; only strength is respected. Weakness is an invitation for more attacks.

While European unity in the face of Washington’s barrages is definitely a strength, there were plenty of signs of European weakness as well. Most visible is the NATO Secretary General, Mark Rutte, and his over-the-top approach to communicating with Trump, at one point calling him ‘daddy’. There is unquestionably a fine line to balance between showing strength against Trump and openly challenging him and offending him. Due to his unpredictable nature no one knows how he and his circle might react.

Today, however, many European leaders have decided to play the waiting game. In informal discussions, many democrats in Washington inform their counterparts in Europe that change is coming, and coming soon. There seems to be a lot of hope placed on the mid-term elections, which will take place in November. Early indications show that the Democrats will certainly win the House of Representatives and may even win a majority in the Senate. This gives Europeans hope that the erratic policies of the administration will finally be checked, and even slowed down.

Yet, this strategy is flawed. First, the recent ruling by the Supreme Court to roll-back some provisions of the Voting Rights Act has altered the playing field. In short, states – particularly in the south – have been given more unrestricted power to create electoral districts which no longer need to ensure representation of minorities. It is a complicated and legal matter, but one analysis believes the Democrats could lose 12 seats in the House of Representatives, no longer guaranteeing them victory.

Second, even if Democrats win, there is no guarantee that Trump and his administration would fully comply with congressional checks on his powers. Instead, it would mean the further deterioration of the rule of law at the highest levels and a furthering political polarization. A fully Democratic-led Congress would certainly attempt big moves, including abolishing ICE, defunding administration projects, ending tariffs and even attempt impeachment. Yet, the margins of the majority will not be enough for the Democrats to succeed. The American public will become even more consumed by the internal political fight, and international policies will only reflect that growing chaos.

Looking at what is happening in the United States, with this distance, I often wonder if my migration experience is becoming complete. Since 2025, unlike any other time in my life, I have found myself referring to Europeans as ‘us’ and ‘our’; while Americans, for me, became ‘them’ and ‘they’. This is done mostly unconsciously; it took a colleague of mine to point this out to me – asking if my identity has shifted so much that I no longer identify primarily as American. Perhaps she was right. I sympathize more with Europe and sometimes even feel hostility towards my home country. Though, the recognition of this internal conflict has forced me to confront myself, and step back to gain a wider perspective.

We still need each other

The United States of America is losing its status as the leading superpower. The society is being torn apart by toxic politics and the world is struggling to define the new order that we will one day find ourselves in as a result. Whatever Americans are going through will definitely take time. And after it is all over, and I believe it will end one day, the focus must turn to healing: both internally and in the relations with Europe (indeed the world).

For the short term, however, I am less optimistic. The politics are so divisive, and the human element is far removed from the equation on both sides of the political spectrum. The American society is in turmoil. Millions are facing growing disparities in wealth, education, health care, racial inequality, and overall quality of life. For many, the illusion of what was once the American dream is all but dead.

My great-great-grandfather sought this dream and the promise of a better future when he and his family crossed the Atlantic. Four generations later, when I crossed in the opposite direction, I never expected to find myself not only redefining who I was, but also writing a new chapter in my family’s migration story. Yet this ‘return to Europe’ is not unique to me and my family. Thousands of Americans are rediscovering their family connections, ancestral citizenships, and opportunities across the Atlantic. In doing so, they remind us that migration is not a closed chapter of history but an ongoing process. The ties created by earlier generations continue to shape lives in ways that those who first boarded ships for America could never have imagined.

If my own trajectory – from a small town in Wisconsin to a life rooted in Europe – has taught me anything, it is that these two worlds remain far more intertwined than they sometimes appear. The challenge today is not simply to defend the transatlantic relationship out of habit or nostalgia. It is to remember what created it in the first place.