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At a recent conference in France, a number of Europeans surprised their American guests by arguing that US President Donald Trump might be good for Europe. With Trump returning to Europe for the G20 summit in Hamburg, it’s worth asking whether they are right.

By most accounts, Trump’s presidency has been terrible for Europe. He seems to disdain the European Union. His relationship with German Chancellor Angela Merkel is cool in comparison to his friendship with Turkey’s authoritarian president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, or his admiration for Russian President Vladimir Putin.

Moreover, Trump welcomes Britain’s looming exit from the EU; upon meeting Prime Minister Theresa May for the first time, he is alleged to have asked enthusiastically, ‘Who’s next?’ Finally, Trump only belatedly reaffirmed NATO’s Article 5 (which pledges mutual defence); he withdrew the US from the Paris climate agreement, which is very popular in Europe; and he has cut US funds for the United Nations, which has strong European support.

Not surprisingly, Trump is personally unpopular across Europe. A recent Pew poll indicates that only 22% of Britons, 14% of French, and 11% of Germans have confidence in him. But this very unpopularity—more anti-Trump than anti-American—has helped to reinforce European values.

Earlier in the year, there was a fear that a rising tide of the type of nationalist populism that brought Trump to office and led to Brexit might be about to sweep Europe, even giving the far-right Marine Le Pen the French presidency. Instead, the populist wave seemed to have crested with Trump’s election. Since then, populists have been defeated in Austria and the Netherlands; the French elected Emmanuel Macron, a centrist newcomer; and May, the champion of a ‘hard’ Brexit, lost her parliamentary majority in last month’s snap general election.

Europe still confronts the slow growth, high unemployment, and political disunity that have plagued it in the decade since the 2008 global financial crisis. But whoever wins the German election this September will be a moderate, not an extreme nationalist, and will understand the importance of working with Macron to restart the Franco-German engine of European progress.

The Brexit negotiations promise to be complex and contentious. For ‘soft Brexiteers’, who want to preserve Britain’s access to the European single market, the problem is that the Brexit vote mainly reflected concerns about immigration, not about the minutiae of the single market’s rules. Yet Europe refuses to allow goods and services to flow freely without free movement of people. Some three million Europeans currently live in Britain, and a million Britons reside in Europe.

A possible compromise could be found by creating a new Euro-British entity, one that would guarantee the rights of both sides’ citizens while allowing some limits on immigration as well as on some goods. One could think of this entity in terms of concentric circles, with free movement characterising the inner circle of the EU and constraints allowed in the outer circle.

Whether such compromises will be possible depends upon European flexibility. In the past, Europeans have talked about allowing ‘variable speeds’ toward the implied goal of ‘ever closer union’. This federal goal would have to be replaced, and a metaphor of different levels would have to replace that of different speeds.

Many Europeans elites have already become more flexible regarding Europe’s future and have moved past the federalist goal to envision a European entity that is sui generis. They point out that three different levels of participation already exist in Europe: the customs union, the euro currency, and the Schengen Agreement on the removal of internal borders. Defence could become a fourth.

In the past, European progress on cooperation in defence has been inhibited not only by concerns about sovereignty, but also by the security guarantee offered by the United States. With Trump raising doubts about American reliability, the security issue has moved to the foreground.

Efforts to build a common European defence system have begun, but the process is slow. Other than Britain, only the French have major expeditionary force capabilities, while Germany has been inhibited by history from doing more. And Britain was always reluctant to do anything that might compete with NATO. But these attitudes are beginning to change.

Again, the image of concentric circles can help. In the run-up to the Iraq war in the early 2000s, some argued that, in terms of security, Americans are from Mars, while Europeans are from Venus. But the world has changed, and Europe now faces a series of external threats. Russia’s attacks on Georgia and Ukraine have reminded Europeans of the dangers they face from their large neighbour. Deterring Russia will still require a strong NATO.

Another set of threats, however, could come from violence in the Balkans. Some observers believe that civil war was only narrowly averted recently in Macedonia. A European peacekeeping force could make a major contribution to stability in the region.

A third set of threats to Europe originates in North Africa and the Middle East. Libya is in chaos and the source of dangerous Mediterranean voyages by desperate migrants, and one can also imagine the need to protect citizens or rescue hostages in the region. Here the French expeditionary capability, perhaps coupled with Britain’s, could help provide security. Even if Britain does not participate, other Europeans could help, as Germany now does in dealing with terrorism in Mali.

Europe is a long way from a common defence structure, but the need is growing. And, ironically, the unpopular Trump may prove more of a help than a hindrance.

North Korea’s quest for nuclear weapons is often depicted as a ‘rational’ response to its strategic imperatives of national security and regime survival. After all, the country is surrounded by larger, supposedly hostile states, and it has no allies on which it can rely to come to its defense. It is only logical, on this view, that Kim Jong-un wants to avoid the mistake made by Iraq’s Saddam Hussein and Libya’s Muammar el-Qaddafi, both of whom would still be alive and in power had they acquired deliverable nuclear weapons.

In fact, North Korea’s appetite for nuclear weapons is rooted more in aggression than pragmatism. North Korea seeks nothing less than to decouple the United States from its South Korean partner—a split that would enable the reunification of the Korean Peninsula on Kim’s terms. In other words, North Korea does not want only to defend itself; it wants to set the stage for an invasion of its own.

Of course, such a scenario is, in many ways, the stuff of fancy. But to be a North Korean today is not necessarily to accept the world as it is. And North Korean propaganda continues to reiterate the view that the Korean Peninsula consists of one people, sharing one language and one culture, indivisible—except by outsiders like the US. By this logic, the North needs to find a way to discourage those outsiders from intervening in the peninsula’s affairs.

As it stands, the US-South Korea relationship operates on the basis of something like the North Atlantic Treaty’s collective-defense clause, Article 5: any North Korean aggression against South Korea will, it is assured, be met by the combined forces of South Korea and the US. Such a counterattack would be decisive, ensuring the total destruction of the North Korean regime.

If North Korea had long-range nuclear weapons, however, it might be able to change the strategic calculus, by threatening to launch a nuclear attack on the US mainland in response to US intervention on the Korean Peninsula. The US might intervene anyway, launching its own devastating attack on North Korea. But it might also choose not to risk casualties on its own soil.

If the US did shirk its collective-defense responsibilities, South Korea would still have plenty of recourse against its northern neighbor. After all, South Korea’s conventional forces are far better trained, equipped, and motivated than their North Korean counterparts. But it is hard to say whether the North Koreans know that. Like many dictatorships before them, they may be the first to believe their own propaganda—in this case, that they can succeed against a South Korean foe that is not buttressed by American military might.

In any case, North Korea—which has invested heavily in forward deployed special forces and other asymmetrical elements of contemporary warfare—seems to be gearing up for an offensive, if only it can get the US out of the way. Against this background, efforts to bring the Kim regime back to the negotiating table—spearheaded largely by China—are misguided.

Such efforts aim to persuade North Koreans to freeze all missile and nuclear tests, in exchange for a scale-down and delay of annual joint exercises by US and South Korean forces. Advocates of this so-called ‘freeze for freeze’ approach say that such a tradeoff is only fair: the North cannot be expected to suspend its efforts to strengthen its defensive capabilities if the US and South Korea are pursuing supposedly hostile military cooperation in its near-abroad.

But this argument has it backward. In fact, it is the North whose activities are inherently hostile, and the South, along with the US, that is focused on defense. Indeed, planning for the annual US-South Korea spring exercises is always based on the premise that North Korea has invaded the South, not vice versa. North Korea knows this well.

But North Korea also knows that, without joint exercises, a military alliance becomes weak and hollow. In 1939, for example, when Germany invaded Poland, the British and French, per their treaty with Poland, declared war on Germany. But, in reality, they did little to protect Poland, which Germany subjugated rather quickly. If the US suspends joint military exercises with South Korea, its willingness or ability to respond to North Korean aggression in the South may become similarly weak.

This scenario is all the more dangerous, given the possibility that the suspension of missile and nuclear tests may not actually lead to a concomitant weakening of North Korea’s nuclear program. Testing is only a small element of a weapons program—and not necessarily an essential one. There is no sign that the North Koreans would actually end research and development of nuclear weapons.

In fact, the idea that North Korea will abandon its weapons programs in exchange for the promise of security and regime survival has been tested has failed whenever it has been tested. In September 2005, five world powers, including the US, offered North Korea an unimpeded civilian nuclear program, energy assistance, economic aid, and diplomatic recognition, as well as a promise to establish a regional mechanism for maintaining peace and security in Northeast Asia. A US commitment not to attack North Korea with conventional or nuclear weapons was also included in the deal.

All North Korea had to do to secure these benefits was abandon its nuclear-weapons programs and accede to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons. But the North was not willing to allow for a credible verification protocol. Instead, it attempted to limit verification to that which was already known. In the end, it walked away from the agreement, rather than work to find an acceptable way forward.

A stronger and more purposeful US-China dialogue on North Korea is essential to resolving what is emerging as the world’s most urgent security problem. But the discussion should focus on direct measures to impede and undermine the country’s inherently aggressive nuclear program—not to offer more concessions that will only strengthen a rogue regime’s hand.

Angela Merkel’s frustration, clearly aimed at the United States and Britain, boiled over in her extraordinary speech in Munich late last month.

‘The times in which we can fully count on others are to some extent over, as I have experienced in the past few days’, the German chancellor said. ‘We Europeans’, she added, ‘have to take our destiny into our own hands.’ And, to prove the point, she repeated the line in Berlin a day or so later.  Merkel is a cautious and careful leader and a strong trans-Atlanticist, as she has reaffirmed since the G7 summit in Sicily. The fact she made such a comment is a reflection of the depth of her displeasure and concern.

The tone of the lecture President Trump gave fellow NATO leaders in Brussels on the need to lift their defence expenditure was bad enough, although it could scarcely have come as a surprise to other NATO countries. And Trump is right on that point: the European NATO members need to improve their game significantly. His failure to reaffirm NATO’s mutual defence commitments, however, sent a terrible signal to Europe.

The President’s stance at the recent G7 meeting in Sicily on issues such as climate change and trade simply added to this sense of exasperation. Merkel described the US position on climate change as ‘unzufriedenstellend—unsatisfactory’. Trump’s decision since to withdraw from the Paris climate change agreement can only have reinforced this. His various egregious comments about Germany being ‘bad, very bad’ for its success in exporting cars to the US also didn’t go down well. The German reaction was to advise the Americans to make better cars.

Apart from reacting to Trump’s poor performance in Brussels and Sicily, three serious worries underlie Merkel’s comments.

First, these are deeply uncertain times for Germany and for Europe. Brexit has provided the greatest, but not the only shock to the framework that has brought stability to Europe since World War 2. The British decision to turn its back on membership of the EU has thrown all the cards in the air and there’s no way of knowing what the new Europe will look like.

Embedding Germany in Europe (especially a better relationship with France—the Germans must be hugely relieved to have Macron as President) has been a fundamental plank of the global security framework and of German foreign and security policy. So the Chancellor’s comments must also be seen as a wake-up call for the other Europeans, a heartfelt plea from a convinced European in favour of a stronger Europe.

Second, and more fundamentally, Europeans are starting to doubt whether the values and objectives that seemed to define ‘the West’ are still shared by key Western players. Britain’s decision to leave the EU and Trump’s ‘America first’ policy—on show for all to see in Brussels and Sicily—have been especially concerning in this regard.

Protestations from some British media commentators that it’s withdrawing from the EU but will remain part of NATO and therefore of the ‘Western’ security alliance miss the point: the European project has been as much about security as about economics. And, for the Chancellor and others, it’s becoming clear that the Trump administration does not seem to share a commitment to some of the things the Europeans hold dear, including international agreements on issues like climate change. ‘America first’, the Europeans feel, is increasingly being shown to mean ‘America only’. ‘Pittsburgh not Paris’, as the president’s put it so pithily.

And, finally, it’s worth remembering that Merkel’s in the middle of a serious election campaign, with the federal poll due in Germany in September. So her public comments must be seen against that background, especially as a reaction to the extreme nervousness of the German electorate about all these uncertainties—and others.

A ZDF (German television) poll in October 2016 had 82 per cent of Germans assessing the US-German relationship as good. A similar ZDF poll in June 2017 shows this figure falling to just 29 per cent, with 79 per cent of those polled doubting that the US under Trump is now a reliable security partner for Europe. As a response to this, 89 per cent want a stronger and more united Europe.

Merkel is very likely to be returned as chancellor. Polling in Germany suggests her CDU/CSU coalition is pulling ahead of the opposition Social Democrats (SPD)—38 per cent to the SPD’s 27 per cent, according to a 3 June Emnid poll—and Merkel’s personal popularity is way ahead of the SPD’s chancellor-candidate, Martin Schultz. The CDU has done remarkably well in three German state elections this year.

All of this explains why the Chancellor said what she did. That she did so is nevertheless remarkable. The Europeans are feeling that the world has turned upside down and President Trump’s recent visit and the Brexit decision have just reinforced this sense that they’re on their own. Ironically, getting the Germans to accept responsibility and have a greater role internationally, commensurate with their political and economic weight, is something we’ve all wanted for some time.

Some commentators have speculated that Merkel might now emerge as the de facto leader of whatever ‘West’ is produced after the current renovations. She, no doubt, is horrified by such suggestions. But hers is a voice well worth listening to.

A year ago, there were real fears that contested claims over tiny specks of coral in the South China Sea could spark a war in Southeast Asia involving China, the 10 ASEAN member states and the US. The risks greatly multiplied after a special tribunal convened in The Hague under the Law of the Sea ruled in July 2016 that China’s territorial claims in Philippine waters had no legal basis. What has transpired since then demonstrates the pragmatism of regional states, the limited extent of US influence in Asia, and says a lot about how China intends to wield power.

There was some dangerous brinkmanship in the lead-up to the July ruling. The US and China postured aggressively, using a mixture of rhetoric and sabre-rattling. China showed no sign of backing down from its claims, swiftly building runways and installing weaponry on some of the disputed islands. The US sailed warships and flew aircraft close to some of the islands, claiming the right to conduct freedom of navigation operations.

For ASEAN member states, these belligerent manoeuvres were deeply unsettling. Much as China’s militarisation of the South China Sea alarms the littoral states, there’s no desire to either pick a fight or choose sides. Nor was there much faith in the Obama administration’s much-touted pivot towards East Asia. The US expected ASEAN to stand up to China and wholeheartedly endorse the Law of the Sea tribunal’s ruling, but some governments were unsure whether the US had their back in case China refused to comply. Instead, under heavy pressure from Beijing, ASEAN blinked and issued a series of watered-down statements—or took no position at all.

Against this volatile background, there was considerable relief when towards the end of 2016 Rodrigo Duterte, the maverick newly elected President of the Philippines, who campaigned on taking a firm stand against China, unexpectedly decided to shelve the ruling and vie for better relations with Beijing.

What happened next was instructive about China’s behaviour towards the region. First, China’s belligerent tone subsided. Next, Chinese officials fanned out across the region, offering bilateral cooperation on maritime security. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Beijing promised progress on a code of conduct for the South China Sea—a quest that’s been languishing for more than a decade.

To some extent, China was lucky. The momentum against Beijing’s claims, spearheaded by the Hague ruling, started flagging as soon as the US election season got underway. One of the considerations driving Manila’s backdown from pressing its legal victory was a sense that Washington was distracted and that there was no certainty that the US would come to the defence of the Philippines, whatever the treaty guarantees. The pivot turned into a U-turn after President Trump took office in January 2017.

All this allowed China to make its own pivot to a more cooperative posture on the South China Sea. Towards the end of 2016, China’s coastguard, which is the most visible presence in disputed waters, offered bilateral agreements to Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam and the Philippines. In early 2017, Chinese Foreign Ministry officials made encouraging noises about completing a framework for the code of conduct.

Sure enough, by the end of April a draft framework of the code finally materialised. The framework is threadbare and doesn’t appear to be binding. The first of its general provisions states that the aim is to provide a ‘rules based framework containing a list of norms to guide the conduct of parties and promote maritime cooperation in the South China Sea’. However, the first item under the heading of ‘Principles’ states that the code is ‘not an instrument to settle territorial disputes or maritime delimitation issues’.

The code essentially preserves the status quo vis-a-vis territorial claims. At best, when completed, it might facilitate practical maritime cooperation and encourage the implementation of existing international agreements for managing incidents at sea. Most observers expect the completion of the code to take years, however.

Meanwhile, China has kept up construction activities in the disputed area of the South China Sea. Its vessels have even appeared in new areas to the east of the Philippines in a major shipping route, particularly for ore-bearing Australian vessels. What has changed is the appetite for challenging Beijing.

The Trump administration has shown little inclination to resume freedom of navigation operations—although this could reflect the vacuum in the chain of command because of the slow appointment of senior positions at the US Defense Department. A series of phone calls President Trump made to ASEAN leaders in late April suggest that Washington is reasserting its interests in Southeast Asia, but for now the main security challenge for the US is further north on the Korean peninsula.

ASEAN remains uncomfortable. Despite the Philippine government’ steering of a final statement that avoided any reference to China’s building activity in the South China Sea at the 28–29 April ASEAN summit in Manila, there was no real consensus on the issue.  But the silence of objecting member states suggests that ASEAN has neither the stomach nor the means to challenge China’s strategic advance. Australia has come under pressure from Washington to fill the gap but, with so much trade at stake, Canberra favours a more balanced approach—much like its ASEAN neighbours.

China appears to have sensed an opportunity to modify its hard diplomatic posture, which did considerable damage to its image in the run-up to the Hague ruling. There was a palpable sense of relief in Beijing that constructive cooperation could replace harsh uncompromising rhetoric after President Duterte signalled his back-down from pressing compliance with the legal ruling.

Instead, Beijing swiftly deployed bilateral security engagement and smothered the region with the economic promise of the Belt and Road Initiative. Indonesia found itself being wooed by the Chinese coastguard months after a serious clash between its navy and the coastguard in the Natunas. The Philippines was told its fishermen could return to Scarborough Shoal, although there was no evidence that Chinese vessels were pulling back. Surprised Malaysian maritime law enforcement officials were presented with a draft agreement by their Chinese counterparts after a single meeting.

In sum, Chinese policymakers might well reflect on the year since the Hague ruling and consider the outcome a ‘win–win’. While it seems likely that Beijing’s more cooperative mood will generate modest progress on confidence building measures that will help lower tensions in the South China Sea, the net result is that China’s strategic position in the region has been strengthened and is unlikely to be challenged.