Resit Kemal As / Editor-in-Chief, World of Global
In international politics, there is no such thing as a vacuum; when one actor retreats, another inevitably steps in. The erosion of trust among U.S. allies during the Trump era, the questioning of NATO’s internal cohesion, and the “America First” reflex produced a serious decline in American authority within the global system. But what happens if this lost authority is strategically redirected by Russia toward the United Kingdom and the European Union?
First, one must acknowledge this reality: Russia is a system-builder that thrives on chaos. Moscow’s objective is not to completely dismantle the West, but to transform it into a multi-headed, incoherent structure riddled with internal competition. Every moment in which U.S. leadership weakens becomes a maneuvering space for Russian diplomacy. Elevating the roles of the UK and the EU in this context would be a sophisticated chess move aimed at eroding Washington’s centralized dominance.
While the United Kingdom seeks to reassert itself on the global stage under the banner of “Global Britain” following Brexit, the European Union continues its search for strategic autonomy. Russia’s indirect facilitation of space for these actors could encourage Europe to make decisions increasingly independent of the United States. In energy policy, security architecture, and even crisis areas such as Ukraine, the question of “What does Washington say?” may give way to debates over “How far can Brussels and London go?”
Yet this picture is far less promising than it appears. The EU’s chronic slowness in decision-making and the UK’s limited military capacity make it difficult for them to fully fill the vacuum left by the United States. This is precisely where Russia benefits: a Europe that is strong yet slow, ambitious yet fragmented. Neither fully independent nor fully aligned with Washington—manageable uncertainty.
The global consequences of such a shift would be profound. Leadership disputes within NATO would intensify, Eastern European states would feel increasingly insecure, and new tensions would emerge along the France–Germany–UK axis. The United States, meanwhile, would attempt to remain influential at the negotiating table rather than on the ground—but no longer as the sole decision-maker. A multipolar yet weakened West aligns perfectly with Russia’s long-term security doctrine.
Is this transfer of authority permanent, or merely a temporary fluctuation?
History suggests that the United States never fully abandons global leadership; it merely changes its style. However, the gaps that emerge in the meantime give rise to new habits and new actors. If the UK and the EU rise to prominence during this period, even a return to the old order would not restore the past as it once was.
Ultimately, the transfer of American authority eroded during the Trump era to Europe through Russia’s maneuvering does not strengthen the West—it redefines it. In this new definition, there is no clarity, but there is direction; no unity, but there is ambition. For Moscow, this is sufficient. Because for great powers, the ideal rival is not a strong one, but an indecisive one.