At the Munich Security Conference, several prominent Democrats signaled presidential ambitions while facing a sobering message from Europe: the transatlantic relationship may never return to its previous form. As global alliances strain under renewed nationalism and geopolitical rivalry, questions about America’s leadership loom over the 2028 race.
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 ambitions attended the conference, seeking to project steadiness abroad even as domestic politics remain volatile. Among them were California Gov. Gavin Newsom, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, and Sen. Mark Kelly. Each appeared intent on demonstrating foreign policy credibility ahead of a potential 2028 presidential campaign. Yet the mood in Munich suggested that reassurance alone may not be enough to restore 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 offered a more measured tone in his address, receiving polite applause from attendees. His remarks contrasted with the sharper rhetoric delivered at the conference a year earlier by Vice President JD Vance. Yet Rubio’s broader message—that the geopolitical landscape has fundamentally shifted—reinforced the perception that a new era is underway. His subsequent travel to Slovakia and Hungary, countries led by populist figures sympathetic to Trump, underscored the complexity of America’s current diplomatic posture.
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.
Presidential ambitions meet geopolitical reality
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, billed by some as a global debut for the progressive lawmaker, proved more complicated. During a discussion touching on Taiwan—a central flashpoint in relations between the United States and China—she hesitated when asked whether she would support deploying U.S. troops to defend the island in the event of an invasion. Taiwan remains a cornerstone of U.S. strategy in the Indo-Pacific, and ambiguity on the issue quickly drew scrutiny. The episode illustrated the steep learning curve facing domestic-focused politicians as they transition onto the international stage.
Even so, Ocasio-Cortez and her allies recast their message with a focus on mistrust toward long-entrenched elites and on the belief that the current international framework has failed to secure fair results for working-class citizens, a critique that echoed wider discussions on globalization and inequality, themes that have been reshaping politics across 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 in his honor continues, the absence of a comparable unifying figure was palpable. Attendance from the U.S. House of Representatives was thinner than expected after Speaker Mike Johnson canceled the official congressional delegation. A handful of lawmakers, including Rep. Jason Crow, traveled independently in an effort to signal ongoing engagement.
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 larger issue confronting Munich centered on whether the post‑World War II international order is shifting in ways that cannot be undone, a system long shaped by American military power, economic influence, and alliances built on common democratic principles, yet now described by leaders across both continents as evolving into a multipolar landscape where U.S. preeminence is no longer guaranteed.
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 served as both opportunity and warning. It provided a stage to articulate alternative visions of American engagement, yet it also revealed the limits of rhetoric in the face of structural geopolitical change. Winning the White House in 2028 may not automatically restore the title that every American president since the 1940s has claimed.
As Munich drew to a close, a lingering sense remained that the world is moving through a pivotal transition—one marked by shifting alliances, revised assumptions, and an evolving definition of leadership. Whether the United States will reclaim its role as the unquestioned cornerstone of the Western alliance is still unresolved. What is evident is that upcoming presidential hopefuls will face not only internal fractures but also an international arena reshaped by doubt, rivalry, and a rebalancing of global influence.
