At the Munich Security Conference, several high‑profile Democrats quietly hinted at presidential aspirations while confronting a stark warning from Europe: the transatlantic bond may never fully revert to what it once was. With global partnerships strained by resurgent nationalism and intensifying geopolitical competition, unresolved doubts about America’s future leadership cast a long shadow over the 2028 campaign.
The annual gathering at the Munich Security Conference has long functioned as a testing stage for emerging statesmen, and for years American presidents and presidential hopefuls journeyed to the Bavarian capital to reaffirm Washington’s dedication to Europe and to emphasize that the United States guided the Western alliance. This year’s meeting, though, unfolded amid rising skepticism and strategic reconsideration, as European leaders publicly questioned whether the United States can still lay claim to the role of leader of the free world.
A number of Democratic figures with national aspirations attended the conference, aiming to convey a sense of stability on the world stage while domestic politics remain unsettled. Among them were California Gov. Gavin Newsom, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, and Sen. Mark Kelly. Each seemed focused on showcasing credible foreign policy credentials in advance of a possible 2028 presidential bid. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in Munich hinted that reassurance on its own might fall short of rebuilding Europe’s confidence in Washington.
German Chancellor Friedrich Merz delivered opening remarks that captured the unease permeating the conference halls. He spoke candidly about a widening divide between Europe and the United States, suggesting that America’s long-assumed leadership role has been challenged, perhaps irreversibly. His comments reflected broader European anxieties that the post-World War II order, anchored by U.S. security guarantees, is undergoing profound transformation.
European uncertainty and the mounting pressure facing the transatlantic alliance
For much of the modern era, the transatlantic partnership rested on mutual confidence in shared democratic values and collective defense. NATO, economic integration, and diplomatic coordination formed the pillars of that system. Yet recent years have tested these foundations. President Donald Trump’s combative rhetoric toward allies and his willingness to revisit long-standing commitments have unsettled European capitals.
In Munich, European officials conveyed a sobering message to visiting Democrats: even if political winds shift again in Washington, trust cannot be instantly restored. Some leaders privately suggested that the damage to the alliance may take generations to repair. The notion that U.S. policy can swing dramatically with each election cycle has forced European governments to contemplate greater strategic autonomy.
Merz acknowledged holding confidential discussions with France about European nuclear deterrence—an extraordinary signal that faith in automatic American protection is no longer absolute. Such conversations would have been nearly unthinkable in earlier decades, when U.S. security guarantees were viewed as unquestioned.
Meanwhile, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio struck a more restrained note in his address, drawing courteous applause from attendees. His comments stood in clear contrast to the sharper rhetoric Vice President JD Vance delivered at the conference the previous year. Still, Rubio’s overarching point—that the geopolitical landscape has undergone a profound shift—strengthened the sense that a new era has begun. His later trip to Slovakia and Hungary, nations governed by populist leaders aligned with Trump, further highlighted the complexity of America’s present diplomatic stance.
For Democrats aiming to cast themselves as guardians of the long‑standing alliance, the challenge was evident: how to pledge reliability in a world that grows ever more skeptical of Washington’s steadiness.
Geopolitical realities confront presidential aspirations
Several Democratic attendees widely regarded as prospective 2028 contenders were present. Beyond Newsom and Ocasio-Cortez, the broader discussion of Democratic foreign policy credentials also included Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, Sen. Chris Murphy, Sen. Elissa Slotkin, Sen. Ruben Gallego, and former Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo.
Newsom, whose stature and visibility set him apart in Munich’s crowded corridors, acknowledged that European leaders increasingly see the United States as unpredictable. While he expressed confidence that ties can be repaired, he conceded that many interlocutors doubt a full return to the previous status quo. His message to both Europeans and fellow Democrats emphasized strength and clarity, arguing that American voters historically gravitate toward leaders perceived as decisive.
Ocasio-Cortez’s appearance, promoted by some as a global introduction for the progressive lawmaker, turned out to be more nuanced. When the conversation shifted to Taiwan—a key flashpoint in U.S.-China relations—she paused after being asked whether she would back sending U.S. troops to defend the island in the event of an invasion. Taiwan continues to be a pillar of U.S. strategy in the Indo-Pacific, and any wavering on the matter quickly attracted attention. The moment underscored the sharp learning curve confronting politicians focused on domestic issues as they step onto the international stage.
Even so, Ocasio-Cortez and allies framed their message around skepticism of entrenched elites and a belief that the existing international system has failed to deliver equitable outcomes for working-class citizens. That critique resonated with broader debates about globalization and inequality, themes that have reshaped politics on both sides of the Atlantic.
A diminished American presence in Munich
The atmosphere at this year’s conference stood in contrast to earlier eras when U.S. participation projected unity and confidence. The late Sen. John McCain once made Munich a focal point of American engagement, delivering speeches that championed Western solidarity and democratic values. His presence symbolized bipartisan commitment to the transatlantic alliance.
Although a dinner held in his honor goes on, the lack of an equivalent unifying presence was unmistakable, and turnout from the U.S. House of Representatives proved slimmer than anticipated after Speaker Mike Johnson withdrew the official congressional delegation, while a small group of lawmakers, including Rep. Jason Crow, made the trip on their own to demonstrate sustained involvement.
Republican Sen. Lindsey Graham, long linked to assertive foreign policy positions, adopted an especially severe tone in his public statements, cautioning that failing to confront hostile regimes might embolden leaders like Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping, and his comments underscored ongoing discussions in Washington over deterrence, intervention, and the consequences of appearing weak.
The cumulative effect was an image of an America wrestling with its global identity. European observers, having experienced the oscillations of U.S. policy over multiple administrations, appeared less willing to assume continuity. Trump’s return to office reinforced the view that his approach is not an anomaly but part of a durable shift in American politics.
Domestic shifts and global consequences
Back in the United States, political dynamics are evolving. Trump’s approval ratings have fluctuated, and Democrats see opportunities in upcoming midterm elections. Some at the conference suggested that a change in congressional control could recalibrate aspects of U.S. foreign policy. Yet European leaders, while attentive to American electoral cycles, increasingly emphasize their own strategic planning independent of Washington’s internal debates.
The broader question looming over Munich was whether the international order established after World War II is undergoing irreversible change. For decades, that framework combined American military strength, economic leadership, and a network of alliances grounded in shared democratic norms. Now, leaders on both continents speak openly of a multipolar world in which U.S. dominance is no longer assured.
Merz’s assertion that the rules-based order “no longer exists in this form” encapsulated the moment. His statement echoed sentiments expressed by policymakers who believe Europe must shoulder greater responsibility for its own security and economic resilience.
For Democratic hopefuls, the conference emerged as both a chance and a cautionary signal, offering a platform to present alternative concepts of American engagement while simultaneously exposing how little rhetoric can achieve against deep geopolitical shifts; securing the White House in 2028 may no longer guarantee reclaiming the mantle every American president has asserted since the 1940s.
As Munich concluded, the sense lingered that the world is entering a transitional period—one in which alliances are renegotiated, assumptions reexamined, and leadership redefined. Whether the United States can reestablish itself as the unquestioned anchor of the Western alliance remains uncertain. What is clear is that future presidential contenders will inherit not only domestic divisions but also a global landscape reshaped by skepticism, competition, and the recalibration of power.
