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 served as a proving ground for aspiring statesmen. For decades, American presidents and would-be presidents traveled to the Bavarian capital to affirm Washington’s commitment to Europe and to reinforce the idea that the United States stood at the helm of the Western alliance. This year’s meeting, however, unfolded against a backdrop of skepticism and recalibration, with European leaders openly questioning whether the United States can still claim the mantle 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 doubts and the strain on 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 admitted to engaging in confidential talks with France on Europe’s nuclear deterrent, a remarkable indication that confidence in automatic U.S. protection is no longer fully assured, whereas in previous decades such exchanges would have seemed virtually unimaginable when American security commitments were broadly taken for granted.
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.
Geopolitical realities confront presidential aspirations
Several of the Democratic attendees are widely viewed as potential 2028 contenders. In addition to Newsom and Ocasio-Cortez, figures such as Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, Sen. Chris Murphy, Sen. Elissa Slotkin, Sen. Ruben Gallego, and former Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo were also part of the broader conversation surrounding Democratic foreign policy credentials.
Newsom, whose height and prominence made him stand out in Munich’s packed corridors, admitted that many European leaders increasingly view the United States as an uncertain partner. Although he voiced confidence that relationships can be restored, he recognized that numerous counterparts remain skeptical about fully reverting to the former status quo. His message to Europeans and to fellow Democrats underscored resolve and directness, asserting that American voters have long tended to favor leaders seen as firm and 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 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 declining American footprint 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 result conveyed a portrait of an America grappling with how it fits into the world. European commentators, having witnessed the swings in U.S. policy across successive administrations, seemed increasingly reluctant to expect consistency. Trump’s return to power strengthened the perception that his style is not a fleeting exception but rather a lasting evolution within American political life.
Domestic shifts and global consequences
Back in the United States, shifting political currents are taking shape as Trump’s approval levels rise and fall, giving Democrats a fresh opening ahead of the midterm elections. Several attendees at the conference noted that a shift in congressional control might reshape certain elements of U.S. foreign policy. Still, European leaders, though mindful of American electoral rhythms, continue to stress their own strategic agendas that increasingly operate apart from Washington’s domestic disputes.
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 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 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.
