NATO Rolls Out the Red Carpet for Trump, the President Who Would Be King

“I think Secretary General Rutte has unlocked the secret to dealing with Trump. But it unfortunately requires him to flatter Trump to such an extent that it’s embarrassing,” said Rachel Rizzo, senior nonresident fellow at the Atlantic Council. “I don’t think it necessarily undermines the alliance, but I do think it highlights the fact that there really isn’t a sense of a shared transatlantic destiny anymore. At least not with the current US administration. Perhaps the future will more resemble the past, but I doubt it. I think we’ve entered a new era of transatlanticism, whereby the US approach is far more transactional and will require Europe to take on the responsibility for its own security.”

Transactional is perhaps generous. Trump doesn’t engage with NATO as a coalition of democratic equals but rather as a medieval fiefdom. The other members are his vassals, and their job is not to deliberate but to pay tribute.

It’s no secret that Trump has long questioned the US commitment to NATO’s mutual defense clause, Article 5. Even on Air Force One en route to the summit, he continued to cast doubt. When reporters asked about his obligation to Article 5, he responded that it “depends on your definition. There are numerous definitions of Article 5. You know that, right? But I’m committed to being their friends.”

That ambiguity was not new, but it nevertheless sent chills through the member delegations. There are few who would challenge that US participation in NATO is essential to the organization’s credibility. Even after defense spending hikes, a NATO without the United States might not be able to repel a full-scale Russian assault.

“Despite all the talk about greater European responsibility and higher defense expenditure—even if there’s now more political will for that—it still takes time, and Europe or European NATO member states can’t afford to alienate the US or Trump,” said Hendrik Ohnesorge, managing director of the Center for Global Studies at the University of Bonn. “So overall, I think Rutte’s is a good strategy, even if it comes at a cost.”

And to see where Rutte may have been strategic here, one need only to look at the threats Trump made to Spain, who is the sole member state to not commit to the 5 percent GDP spending target. Prior to the summit, Spain wrote in a blistering letter to Rutte that said committing to 5 percent spending “would not only be unreasonable, but also counterproductive.” Spain is flatly refusing to share that target, instead remaining at 2.1 percent spending goals. Spain ultimately signed off on the pledge but was granted an exemption, which infuriated Trump. At his closing press conference, he interrupted and berated reporters from Spain, threatening a trade deal that would force them to “pay twice as much.” (As a member of the European Union, Spain does not negotiate directly with the United States on trade; rather, the European Commission handles those negotiations on behalf of all 27 EU member states.)

And so, Rutte made a choice: He sacrificed dignity for unity.

Historically, NATO has always been deferential to the United States. As NATO’s first general secretary, Hastings Ismay, once put it, the alliance was created “to keep the Americans in, the Russians out, and the Germans down.” But in 2025, that logic has become scrambled. Germany is now being asked to be one of the alliance’s largest spenders. Russia remains a threat, but for Trump, the real concern is China rather than Putin, whom Trump has repeatedly referred to as a friend.

Rutte knows how to navigate power. As the Netherland’s prime minister, he was famous for his political and ideological flexibility. He resigned in 2023 amid public backlash over his government’s migration policy, a crisis that ultimately catapulted the far-right Geert Wilders, often dubbed the “Dutch Trump,” into first place in national elections. (Wilders, unable to form a coalition, gave way to Dick Schoof, a technocrat widely seen as a proxy for Wilders.) In that political environment, Rutte’s NATO appointment was understood as a return to establishment credibility. But in The Hague, Rutte didn’t and probably couldn’t restore the old order; he had to adapt to the new one.

Trump responds to hard power, and Rutte has effectively conceded that NATO has little of it without the United States. The soft power that the United States has cultivated since the end of World War II—like respect for rules, norms, and long-game diplomacy—is meaningless to Trump. That means soft power must be made legible through rituals of praise, and so allies must become supplicants.

To the extent that NATO survives under Trump, it will do so because its members have agreed to this new reality. For now, it’s working. NATO is holding itself together—but increasingly on Trump’s terms. But the danger of treating Trump like a king is that it could help him become one. And those coronation costs would be incalculable.

Trump’s behavior in The Hague underscored not just a shift in tone but a shift in the structural logic of the alliance. NATO is no longer animated by at least the principles of consensus and continuity; it now revolves around mood management. Its traditional purpose, mutual defense, is being eclipsed by the short-term priority of keeping the US president engaged.

Even that might not last.

In this environment, Rutte’s performance may well be remembered as pragmatic. His theatrics kept the summit on track, secured Trump’s fleeting approval, and helped NATO secure a rare agreement on future spending.

But kings, unlike presidents, don’t ask for power. They don’t campaign or negotiate. They simply rule, because others let them. And in The Hague, the crown wasn’t seized by Trump. NATO handed it to him.