The ‘Coalition of the Willing’ summit in Paris proved that the US and Europe are an ocean apart

However hard Emmanuel Macron and Sir Keir Starmer tried to disguise the fact, it was transatlantic divisions, rather than agreements, that emerged from Thursday’s Paris summit.

Despite their designation as joint chairs, the French and UK leaders held separate press conferences. As Starmer noted in his, this was the fourth meeting to consider what is termed either a “coalition of the willing” (UK) or a “reassurance force” (France and Germany). He noted that more than 200 military specialists had spent days planning in London. Both he and Macron did their best to avoid directly cutting across the US’s peace efforts, stressing that European plans were designed for “the day after” a deal. Both went out of their way to appear positive about President Trump.

It was hard, nonetheless, to escape the impression that they were waiting for the US effort to fail, and so were banking on some rather different tactics.

These included toughening sanctions against Russia in the hope of increasing pressure on Moscow to accept current terms for a ceasefire, which flies in the face of the US hinting at a loosening of sanctions in return for Russia’s acceptance of a ceasefire in the Black Sea; and constant talk of peace being possible only “through strength”, which both Macron and Starmer underlined was embodied in the unity on display from the Europeans.

Now, it is probably fair to say that the heavy emphasis on these points of agreement was designed in part to deflect from European divisions elsewhere. They included the longstanding quarrel about whether or not to start spending captured Russian assets, rather than just the accrued interest. Another point concerned the wisdom of sending European troops to Ukraine without security guarantees backed by the United States. Astonishingly, perhaps, there are some Europeans still holding out for the US to change its opposition to military involvement.

What is becoming ever clearer is a deep rift between the two sides of the Atlantic – one that may turn out to be unbridgeable.

At one pole, we have the United States under Donald Trump, whose administration – certainly, key members of it – shows little but contempt for Europe. The latest, glaring evidence came from the messages sent by Trump’s advisers on Signal, which included a reference to the Europeans as “pathetic freeloaders” who did not deserve to be “bailed out” again.

But these exchanges had been preceded by the Oval Office cornering of Ukraine’s President Zelensky, JD Vance’s excoriation of the Europeans at the Munich Security Conference, and the US defence secretary Pete Hegseth detailing how Europe was now a secondary concern to the US.

Rather than the Europeans, the US is now courting the Russians, with at least two lengthy calls between Trump and Vladimir Putin, and a visit to Moscow by Trump’s special envoy, Steve Witkoff. Details of this emerged via an interview with the journalist Tucker Carlson, where Witkoff scorned the UK’s support for Ukraine as “a posture and a pose” born of a Churchill complex.

Then we have the European pole, exemplified by the Paris meeting, where the red carpet was rolled out for Zelensky, the Eiffel Tower was illuminated in Ukraine’s national colours, and Macron promised more arms deliveries. Practically everyone talked of upping defence spending, and Starmer accused the Russians of “playing games” and not wanting peace.

The perspective from the US would be described as “realist” in some quarters, based on the unpalatable truth that Ukraine risks losing the war, and the priority must be to cut its losses and stop the killing. But Ukraine’s fate is not going to determine that of the United States, an ocean away, which sees China as its chief threat.

Back to Europe, and the view is that Russia must not be allowed to benefit from its illegal invasion, that Ukraine must emerge with its sovereignty intact, and that its fate is as vital to the future of Europe as it is not to the United States.

The US’s dismissive attitudes towards the Europeans have deep roots and should not have shocked Paris and London quite as much as they did. It might also be said that Trump’s views, in so far as they can be categorised, are more “hemispheric” than strictly isolationist. Nor is it unknown for Europeans to be at odds with the US, and themselves, on military operations. Most recently, France was fiercely opposed to the Iraq war, causing severe ructions with both Washington and London. Germany opted out more quietly.

But the war in Ukraine is different because the US has abruptly abandoned even lip service to the European stance. It is now trying to end the war in Ukraine as part of its normalisation with Russia and restoring what might be called a “great power” relationship. And if its efforts to tie up what it might see as the loose ends left by the previous administration in Ukraine come to nought, then it is the great power relationship that will take priority. Europe will be left to pick up the pieces in what the US would see as its own backyard.

The difficulty is that this turnaround has come too early and too quickly for them to organise a purely European defence capability; it risks leaving Ukraine in the lurch. It is already in the process of opening up a yawning gap between the US and the Europeans, which could presage the end of a US military presence in Europe that has lasted more than 80 years.

This prospect – and it is still a prospect, not a certainty – is already distressing several generations of European Atlanticists, for whom the alliance was not just a fact of life but a guarantee that they, and the way they looked at the world, were on the right side of history. That age may be drawing to a close.