Something has quietly broken between Washington and Berlin, and it may not be easily fixed.
For decades the US-German relationship has survived trade rows, defence disputes and diplomatic slights. What’s unfolding now feels different. The US-Israeli military campaign against Iran has triggered consequences that many in Europe did not fully foresee, and one of the most visible casualties is the rapport between President Donald Trump and German Chancellor Friedrich Merz.
Trump threatened yesterday to review the number of American troops stationed in Germany, the hub of the US military presence in Europe. Germany hosts roughly 35,000 to 50,000 active-duty personnel. US bases there manage aircraft maintenance, medical services and act as staging points for operations across the Middle East. Cutting troop levels or downgrading bases could weaken the post-war European security architecture. Military experts warn that drawing down forces would be a backdoor way of undermining NATO without formally quitting it.
The threat was a direct response to Merz publicly criticising American strategy in the Iran war. To see why Merz spoke out, it helps to grasp how badly things have gone for him domestically. When he became chancellor he courted Trump: White House visits, flattery and photo opportunities followed. He even allowed German facilities to be used in the Iran campaign with little public fuss. But the closure of the Strait of Hormuz has been a major blow. It pushed fuel and energy prices up across Europe and hit Germany — an export-driven economy — particularly hard. Growth forecasts for 2026 and 2027 were cut. A much‑vaunted borrowing plan, billed by Merz as an economic “bazooka”, failed to deliver stimulus because much of the money plugged a €34 billion budget gap instead of jump-starting the economy. Reforms to health care, taxes and pensions have largely stalled.
The political fallout for Merz has been severe. His coalition faces a dismal 15 per cent favourability rating. The far-right Alternative for Germany has exploited public anger and risen to become the country’s most popular political force. Under that pressure, Merz felt compelled to criticise the US and Trump.
At a school assembly in western Germany he voiced what many European leaders have privately complained about: he accused the Americans of lacking an exit strategy in Iran, drew awkward parallels with the two-decade failures in Iraq and Afghanistan, and suggested Iranian negotiators outmaneuvered their American counterparts in Islamabad — leaving US diplomats empty-handed. He argued the war was harming German taxpayers and damaging the economy.
Trump fired back on Truth Social, accusing Merz of effectively supporting Iran’s nuclear ambitions and mocking Germany’s economic troubles. “The Chancellor of Germany, Friedrich Merz, thinks it’s OK for Iran to have a Nuclear Weapon,” he wrote. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! If Iran had a Nuclear Weapon, the whole World would be held hostage. I am doing something with Iran, right now, that other Nations, or Presidents, should have done long ago. No wonder Germany is doing so poorly, both Economically, and otherwise!”
Merz is not alone. Britain’s Keir Starmer, Italy’s Giorgia Meloni and Spain’s Pedro Sánchez have all publicly clashed with Washington over the conflict. Analysts note that opposing Trump has helped leaders like Sánchez politically. The recent electoral decline of Viktor Orbán — a staunch Trump ally — has not gone unnoticed. The lesson spreading through European capitals is that cosy ties with this White House can be a political liability.
The war began without meaningful consultation with European partners, yet Europe is shouldering much of the economic fallout. That imbalance is growing harder to sustain.
