This piece is part of a joint CFR analysis assessing the geopolitical effect of the Trump administration’s tariffs policy on traditional U.S. allies, including the European Union as well as Canada, Japan, and Australia and New Zealand.
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Matthias Matthijs is senior fellow for Europe at the Council on Foreign Relations.
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When European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen met with U.S. President Donald Trump at his Turnberry golf resort in Scotland in late July, the outcome was an imperfect and one-sided trade deal. Brussels agreed to lift most of its tariffs on U.S. industrial goods and committed to $600 billion in new private investments and $750 billion in American energy purchases. Washington agreed to cap its new tariffs on European imports at 15 percent—half the figure Trump had threatened earlier in the summer.
For its many critics, the deal looked like a humiliating capitulation for the European Union (EU). The Europeans had been forced to swallow an asymmetric and unfair framework dictated by Trump’s misguided economic ideas and cynical transactional politics. But this interpretation ignores the complexity of the negotiations.
The reality is that von der Leyen’s ability to maneuver was constrained not by the Commission’s lack of heft or will, but by the member states themselves. Germany, Italy, and several smaller economies that rely on access to the U.S. market pressed hard for compromise, fearing a spiraling tariff war that would punish exporters already struggling with slow growth. France’s calls for retaliation and use of the EU’s new “anti-coercion instrument” were politely but firmly rebuffed by Eastern European member states, which remain desperate to keep Trump and the United States engaged on the side of Ukraine in its war against Russian aggression. In this sense, Brussels combined realism with pragmatism in a difficult two-level game: by accepting much higher tariffs, the EU avoided an escalation to 30 percent, preserved The United States’ commitment to Europe’s defense, and kept a measure of unity and predictability for its firms.
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Dealing with the new tariff reality of the second Trump administration was not, in the end, all that different for the EU from dealing with Brexit. Both the United Kingdom’s choice to leave the EU and the return of “tariff man” Trump to the White House in January 2025 were democratic choices by major sovereign partners, both posed the threat of severe economic disruption, and both forced the EU into a defensive posture that tested its unity. In each case, Europe’s objective was less about winning concessions and more about damage limitation. And as with Brexit, the ultimate success lay not in the substance of the deal—unsatisfying though it may have been—but in maintaining EU unity under pressure. The outcome is suboptimal but confirms that the EU can act collectively when the stakes are high.
Yet the Turnberry deal could cut the other way by sparking Europe’s strategic awakening. In the short term, it entrenches Europe’s dependence on the United States—especially in energy and defense. The EU’s commitment to purchase hundreds of billions of dollars in American liquefied natural gas (LNG) could reduce its reliance on Russia, but it also deepens its vulnerability to U.S. political cycles and Trump’s unpredictable trade tactics.
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Similarly, the tariff ceiling means Europe’s export industries will remain hostage to U.S. goodwill. For the next several years, the EU has also committed to invest hundreds of billions of dollars into the U.S. economy, even though that will be difficult to enforce. Undoubtedly, the EU will be the more junior partner in the transatlantic economic relationship in the coming years. But this forced dependence has also set in motion countervailing dynamics that will reshape Europe’s geopolitical posture in the medium and long term.
Trade diversification. Brussels is accelerating trade talks with Canada, Japan, and South Korea, while the free trade agreement with Mercosur—the South American trade bloc consisting of Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay—would lead to the largest free trading area in the world, with the ratification process now officially underway. Even the long-stalled EU-India negotiations may enjoy a sudden strategic push and could be completed by the end of the year.
There is also growing momentum behind the EU’s engagement with the Trans-Pacific Partnership, which represents roughly 15 percent of the world’s merchandise trade. By seeking like-minded partners committed to open and rules-based trade, Europe signals that it will remain receptive to the United States, but it will not be captive to it. After all, the United States represents only 20 percent of the EU’s total trade with the world.
Defense spending. The Turnberry deal has also served to bolster arguments for greater investment in European defense that were set in motion in the spring of 2025. If Trump’s tariff threats could be leveraged in exchange for vague promises of U.S. security guarantees, then Europe must (and will) reduce its reliance on U.S. military power in the medium term. This logic of “strategic autonomy,” long derided as rhetorical and a French vanity project, is gaining traction in Berlin, The Hague, and even Warsaw—all of which have long been skeptical of the concept. In practical terms, this could mean more procurement directed toward European defense firms, the gradual exclusion of U.S. contractors from major tenders, and the establishment of an industrial base capable of sustaining Europe’s own security.
Energy transition. European energy policy is currently undergoing a structural reevaluation. While the EU’s commitment to U.S. LNG locks in short-term dependence, the political lesson has been internalized: Europe cannot afford to swap reliance on Russian pipelines for reliance on U.S. tankers. The logical response will be a doubling down on renewable energy—from offshore wind to green hydrogen—with a focus on building supply chains that are largely domestic or sourced from diverse partners. The energy transition thus becomes not only a climate imperative, but also a geopolitical hedge.
Together, these dynamics suggest that the U.S.-EU “deal” at Turnberry, paradoxically, could catalyze a more autonomous and balanced transatlantic relationship over the next decade. Today, Europe is on the defensive, compelled to accept asymmetric terms to avoid economic war. But by the mid-2030s, the EU is likely to have diversified its trade partnerships, developed stronger defense capabilities, and built a more resilient energy system. In that world, the United States will find that Europe needs it far less—economically, militarily, and strategically.
This evolution will not be cost-free for the transatlantic alliance. The United States benefits enormously from Europe’s structural dependence, whether through energy sales, privileged market access for its firms, or strategic leverage in NATO. As that dependence erodes, Washington’s ability to shape European choices will diminish. The Turnberry deal thus marks both a pyrrhic victory for Trump and the beginning of a genuine shift away from U.S. primacy in Europe.
While the EU did not emerge from Scotland unscathed, it did not emerge defeated either. Like Brexit, the episode is best understood as a stress test of Europe’s resilience. By absorbing the blow and quietly laying the groundwork for alternatives, Brussels has chosen a strategy of survival today with an eye toward autonomy tomorrow. If the EU follows through—and that is still a big “if”—the irony is that what looks like capitulation in 2025 may be remembered in 2035 as the moment Europe’s strategic awakening truly began.
This work represents the views and opinions solely of the author. The Council on Foreign Relations is an independent, nonpartisan membership organization, think tank, and publisher, and takes no institutional positions on matters of policy.