Edwin Lefèvre, who covered Wall Street both in newspapers and as a fiction writer, scrutinized the boom-and-bust cycles of American capitalism, noting that “periods of depression invariably follow periods of overoptimism, when fear replaces hope as the controlling emotion.” The fat years of growth, coupled with the belief that the champagne will never stop flowing and that the good times will never end, often collapse under the weight of the hubris that inevitably defines these periods. Think of The Big Short, when a select few spotted what was around the bend, while many others felt the heavy blow of a dramatic correction.

Though it might not seem entirely generous to observers of American foreign policy to declare that the election of Donald Trump as the 47th President of the United States serves as a proverbial walloping—for the better part of a year, the consensus was that he had something like a 50/50 shot at joining Grover Cleveland as one of the only two-term presidents to serve non-consecutively—it is nevertheless a jarring reminder of the cyclical nature of American politics. Allies, competitors, and others are now more regularly being asked to come to grips with this reality.

For decades, the party in control of the administration or Congress shifted invariably—a natural byproduct of a two-party system—and the domestic policy agenda would pivot depending on whether it was a Democratic victory or a Republican surge. Foreign policy, however, remained largely a bastion of consensus within Washington and across far-flung diplomatic outposts. Perhaps this is because the stakes deemed critical by those in the upper echelons of U.S. foreign policymaking were clearer during the Cold War than they are today. Nonetheless, the two parties regularly shared the burden even during the most contentious interludes.

Nixon inherited the war in Vietnam from LBJ; Biden took the reins of the U.S. conflict in Afghanistan from Trump, who had received the baton from Obama, who carried the torch after George W. Bush launched the “War on Terror.” Both Democrats and Republicans might whine and grumble about partners like NATO and international organizations like the United Nations, but there was broad agreement that these and similar institutions were extensions of American power. Save for modest reforms, U.S. participation and leadership in these organizations were seen as assured.

After a tumultuous four years of Trumpian foreign policy—in which the former-and-incoming president exited the Paris Climate Agreement, ended a long-sought nuclear deal with Iran, and lamented that traditional allies were exploiting the U.S. through security and trade agreements while “not paying their fair share”—Joe Biden’s election in 2020 was seen as a reversion to the mean. Biden, who had previously served as Vice President and as Chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, was someone you could set your watch to. Accompanied by a Democratic-led Congress in 2021, Biden emphasized familiar themes that were thought to underpin U.S. foreign policy interests and provided a stark contrast to Beijing and Moscow: democracy, human rights, and the rule of law.

It was, some argued, the return to an America you could count on. States around the world once again felt they could trust the United States to, more often than not, do the right thing. Whether or not this trust was justified—given the outbreak of conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza, as well as the U.S.’s hasty and chaotic withdrawal from Afghanistan—is largely immaterial. Biden was a conventional operator who signaled that he valued America’s alliances.

Now, with Trump promising the introduction of new tariffs that would, in practice, amount to a trade war—including 25% tariffs on Canadian goods (Canada!)—and with his foreign policy circle confoundingly including figures like Marco Rubio and Michael Waltz on one hand, and Tulsi Gabbard and Pete Hegseth on the other, the return of an adventurous American foreign policy that pushes beyond conventional boundaries has arrived. Boom and bust, indeed.

With this stark reality setting in, how might foreign ministers, corporate executives, heads of intelligence agencies, and NGO chiefs, among others, approach the notion of “trusting” the United States? Do Trump and his cadre care about earning trust? Is a binding trust at the international level even achievable? And, finally, how might the U.S. work to re-establish trust in an era of hyper-partisanship in domestic American governance?

Historically, the U.S. has not always garnered universal acclaim for its foreign policy throughout the 20th and 21st centuries. Despite initiatives like détente, historically brief engagement strategies such as “responsibility to protect,” and the promotion of concepts like “democratic peace theory” in academia during the height of American hegemony, American interventions in Vietnam and Iraq, alongside controversial activities in Latin America aimed at curtailing the spread of communism, have drawn significant criticism from the global community over the years.

Academics have debated whether trust at the international level is achievable, given the anarchic nature of the international system. Within this system, “states might sign treaties with each other, but these do not have the same binding force as domestic contracts.” For instance, Donald Trump could theoretically lose in an American courtroom if he pursues certain policies or amendments that contradict established legislation. However, if he were to once again withdraw from the Paris Climate Agreement, there would be no arbiter to hold him accountable—except, of course, Mother Nature.

Practitioners can approach this challenge in a variety of ways: by accepting that trust is inherently contradictory to the rules of anarchy, or by consistently reinventing those rules to create a more hospitable environment for a trust-based approach to international relations. Indeed, cooperation in international relations has often stemmed from compatible states working together—those with similar political, economic, and cultural identities. Knowing that the person on the other end of the phone represents a country raising its children on Disney films viewed on Sony or Samsung TVs, after picking up groceries in a Volkswagen or Renault, is emblematic of shared values and the likelihood of finding common ground on most issues.

Donald Trump has thrown a wrench into this hypothesis (how can states across the world trust an accused slumlord who proudly boasts about not paying his bills?), but adjustments can still be made to account for his unique approach to policymaking. Despite the structural barriers to building trust within the international system, one need only look back to September and Davos to see how trust remains a priority for members of the global community.

Consider UN chief António Guterres, who has expressed frustration with the current state of global trust: “When global norms collapse, so does trust. I am personally shocked by the systematic undermining of principles and standards we used to take for granted…so let’s be clear: rebuilding trust is not a slogan or a PR campaign. It requires deep reforms to global governance to manage geopolitical tensions during a new era of multipolarity.”

Unfortunately for Guterres and those advocating for the idea of the U.S. as a reliable, trustworthy hegemon, one word generally encapsulates Trumpian foreign policy—and it does not inspire trust. Quite the opposite. That word? Transactional. Allies and competitors alike are likely to advance or compromise their priorities with the United States on a one-transaction-at-a-time basis, as Trump seeks foreign policy victories through a wheeling-and-dealing approach. Trump views foreign policy as akin to unloading a bad stock or renegotiating a previously settled land deal to secure better terms. What matters is what enhances the Trump brand, who offers a pathway to deals that benefit him both personally and politically, and who is willing to hold their nose and flatter him enough to make him believe he has gained a new ally.

In Europe, where states like Germany have spent the better part of eight decades since the end of the Second World War building a foreign policy rooted in cooperation and predictability, Trump’s tendency to view international relationships through a transactional lens—and his need to feel like he has “won” any deal the U.S. participates in—has the potential to provoke significant changes in approach. Most notably, Trump has repeatedly questioned U.S. participation in NATO and its commitments to Ukraine in defending against Russia. For Europe, the quickest way to earn Trump’s approval might be to allocate more resources to NATO and flatter him enough to make him believe he’s coming out ahead in any negotiation. Similarly, to avoid a trade conflict, Europe should anticipate that Trump will pressure them and come prepared to negotiate on his terms.

However, flattering the U.S. president and confronting existential questions—such as Emmanuel Macron’s European defense initiative—are not synonymous with fostering a trusting relationship. Macron and others have concluded that Europe’s security is “mortal” in light of a sharp shift in U.S. foreign policy circles, recognizing that predictability and guaranteed security are no longer ensured simply by hoping the U.S. will uphold its commitments. From the U.S. perspective, there is a need for a sober analysis by policymakers who value longstanding alliances and understand the importance of institutions like NATO. This analysis must also consider how that value is being communicated to the American electorate.

In the meantime, there will need to be a mutual understanding between European and American policymakers that greater investment in defense by European states is essential. This may represent the safest route to ensuring the U.S. remains engaged as a fundamental participant in NATO. Ukraine, meanwhile, will have to rely on hope—rather than trust—that Trump will not want to be perceived as being outmaneuvered by Vladimir Putin in any forthcoming peace negotiation. Putin, for his part, has played a shrewd game during the Trump era, positioning himself well to predict Trump’s next moves and adjust his expectations accordingly.

In the Middle East, the biggest winners following Trump’s victory are the Gulf states—Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE—as well as Israel. While Biden expended significant political capital through his steadfast public support for Israel (possibly contributing to Kamala Harris’s defeat in states like Michigan), Trump has shown himself to be far more in sync with Benjamin Netanyahu. His decision to appoint arch-conservative evangelical Mike Huckabee as Ambassador to Jerusalem is further evidence of this alignment. Netanyahu, as a result, is likely to receive an influx of resources and a wide berth in his operations in Gaza, with the expectation that they will conclude as swiftly as possible.

Trump wants Israel to achieve its goals—but in a way that removes the conflict from the headlines. In Gulf relations, the biggest winner is, unsurprisingly, Trump himself, as competition among Gulf states is likely to drive them to offer lucrative transactions to secure his support. This could manifest through diplomacy—such as the Saudis potentially adopting the Abraham Accords as a gesture of appeasement to Trump, balancing their preference to avoid directly confronting Iran—or through favorable trade deals. Iran, meanwhile, is likely to face significant challenges and may adopt a more cautious approach to foreign policy ventures, as Trump has previously demonstrated his willingness to exert economic and military pressure when necessary.

That said, while Trump may posture with rhetoric about “wiping Iran off the map,” others in his circle have publicly stated that avoiding war with Iran is in the best interest of the U.S. States in the region that work to limit Iran’s capacity for engaging in risky activities are likely to gain favor from Trump. For Trump, the appeal lies in the fact that many of these states can partner with the U.S. to address these concerns unilaterally, without worrying about the electoral consequences that typically influence American decision-making.

In Asia, Trump-aligned Japan may continue to present a “can-do” attitude, as it did during Trump’s first term, by pursuing further security and economic agreements aimed at countering Chinese influence in the region. Few understood how to navigate Trump’s instincts better than the late Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. However, whether Prime Minister Fumio Kishida can demonstrate the same finesse remains to be seen. The Japanese foreign policy establishment is well-versed in Trumpism and may trust in its ability to ride the wave, minimizing exposure to tariffs and other challenges posed by the White House. India also belongs to the short list of states that can feel relatively confident in their standing with Trump. Sharing a mutual concern over Beijing’s influence, New Delhi has successfully positioned itself as a willing partner in defense, security, and trade during previous engagements with Trump.

In what may be the clearest example of how allies cannot rely on trustworthiness in their approach to the U.S. under Trump, the incoming president has repeatedly suggested that he might not guarantee the defense of Taiwan in the event of a Chinese invasion. Despite bipartisan photo ops where Members of Congress visit Taipei to signal their commitment to Taiwan and counter China, Taiwan now finds itself as vulnerable as it has been in years. The only potential silver lining to Trump openly declaring the U.S. an “insurance agency” and voicing skepticism about Taiwan’s defense is that Taipei can use this time to work overtime in developing alternative strategies to deter Chinese aggression.

Beijing can assume that Trump will continue to oscillate between imposing new tariffs and praising Xi Jinping’s leadership style. This dynamic has been something of a gonzo relationship, fueled by Trump’s fascination with absolute power. To bypass those Republicans around Trump who view China as a significant threat to American national security, Beijing will likely return to the playbook that once led Trump to declare that he and Xi were friends—flattery. If paired with efforts to assist in winding down conflicts in Europe and the Middle East, and an ability to negotiate a tariff deal that allows both leaders to save face, U.S.-Chinese relations may not crater as widely expected. Instead, competition could remain largely confined to areas such as the South China Sea and the Global South, where China continues its efforts to expand influence.

To sum it up: whether you are the President of South Korea, a diplomat from Honduras, a chargé d’affaires from Estonia, or a Prime Minister from New Zealand, the shortest route to predictability—and thus trust—is to prepare for unpredictability. Under Trump, the U.S. is highly unlikely to act altruistically at the federal level, meaning any agreement will require an appropriate level of flattery and strategic framing to be marketed as a win for Trump. For those who view U.S. global leadership as essential to countering democratic backsliding, protecting press freedoms, deterring aggression from key actors, and advancing human rights, this is likely to be a deeply challenging period.

For those who believe that U.S. global leadership can still be trusted by allies and feared by adversaries, the challenge of maintaining that trust in a Trumpian era will be immense. Worst of all, it may feel positively Sisyphean—if Trumpism is defeated at the ballot box in 2028, it would be unwise to assume, as some did in 2020, that it cannot return in 2032. This cycle—this boom and bust—will be the defining struggle for those working to solidify America’s relationships abroad. At the same time, it may present an extraordinary opportunity for those seeking to exploit American weakness.