Mari-Liis Jakobson: Trump's foreign policy and the far-right

The two cornerstones of far-right foreign policy are sovereignty-centeredness and realism. Donald Trump shows what far-right foreign policy looks like when it's actually put into practice, writes Mari-Liis Jakobson in her Vikerraadio daily commentary.
It's only the end of January, but it's already clear that the year 2026 will be a turning point in international politics. Venezuela, Greenland, the discussions in Davos about the decline of the current world order — all of these point to a shift from a norms-based system of international relations to an era of power politics.
Much has already been written about what this means for countries and the international system more broadly. Less attention has been given to how it reshuffles the deck in party politics. And in particular, what this change means for those political forces that have for years claimed that this very kind of world — interest-driven, free of norms and "fair" — is the goal. In other words: could Donald Trump's foreign policy adventures turn out to be a death knell or a springboard for the success of far-right parties in Europe?
Far-right radicalism and foreign policy
To begin with, it's worth clarifying what political scientists mean by the term "far-right." Among political actors, it's often simply used as a club to beat opponents with.
According to the political science definition, today's far-right is characterized by three core values: nativism, authoritarianism and populism. In other words, these are parties that promote exclusionary nationalism, oppose immigration, emphasize so-called conservative social norms and harbor deep distrust toward political elites and institutions. Donald Trump is also classified within this political family.
The two cornerstones of far-right foreign policy are sovereignty-centeredness and realism. A country's own interests and independence are placed above international norms, alliances or values-based cooperation. As a result, there is skepticism toward the European Union, multilateralism in general, as well as development cooperation and professional diplomacy. From this perspective, foreign policy should be stripped of ideological veils, seen as a weakness of the liberal world order, and guided instead by national interests.
Trump's foreign policy fits this framework almost perfectly. A transactional view of alliances, doubts about the automaticity of NATO's collective defense, trade wars and disregard for international law are not accidental deviations but a logical extension of the far-right realist worldview. Trump is not an exception but rather a litmus test — he shows what far-right foreign policy looks like when it's actually put into practice.
In certain respects, however, he has gone further than others. While many European far-right parties have so far limited themselves to rhetorical opposition to the liberal world order and have pursued their interest-based politics under the cover of multilateralism, Trump has pushed these ideas into full gear and from the position of a great power.
In practice, this has meant actions that are imperialist in nature: territorial pressure, openly placing one's economic interests above all else and the frank instrumental use of international law. This is precisely what makes Trump an uncomfortable role model for many European far-right leaders, especially in smaller countries: ideologically inspiring, but politically difficult to defend.
Could a small country 'pull a Trump'?
From the perspective of small states, several paradoxes arise here that are difficult to answer with ideological consistency.
First, unless you are the United States, China or Russia, it is impossible to be fully sovereign and defend yourself by your own means alone. Therefore, some degree of sovereignty must inevitably be relinquished in the name of survival.
Second, from the position of a small state, transactionalism and national interests are always in tension with one another. What would such forces be willing to give up from their national wealth in exchange for a greater power's protection of their territorial integrity? And how is that better, for instance, than the compromises made within the framework of the European Union?
Third, as a negotiation format, multilateralism is a necessity for small states. In a world of power politics, no one comes to negotiate one-on-one with a small country. Both the United States and China prefer blocs, not bilateral relationships.
It's true that several European far-right parties have expressed hope that under Trump's leadership, a new alliance could emerge — one more ideologically aligned with their values and based on different moral foundations than, say, the European Union. But if rules and institutions don't matter, then what holds such an international bloc together and protects it from the mistrust inherent in interest-based politics? In a world where everyone acts according to immediate self-interest, trust is inevitably fragile.
And finally, if the new norm becomes the imperial ambitions of superpowers, where weaker states are treated at will and the facade of the current world order has collapsed, then why would superpowers form alliances at all?
Trumpification, Finlandization or a third way?
Thus, Trump's foreign policy undoubtedly boosts the visibility and brand recognition of far-right politics. And given past experience — where fear of refugee masses swelled support for far-right parties even in countries where virtually no refugees ever arrived — one should not overestimate the power of rational argument.
Still, the risk of being steamrolled by the great powers' interest-based politics may bring these issues to the forefront and reshuffle the domestic political deck as well. For example, in both Denmark and Canada — countries Trump has mentioned in the context of his territorial ambitions — it is the more liberal forces that are currently gaining support by positioning themselves in opposition to him.
In addition to short-term gains in public opinion, it will be interesting to observe how European far-right ideology and rhetoric adapt to what might be called the Trump era. One possibility is the rise of "Trumpification," where Trump's logic is adopted at a rhetorical level while internal contradictions are simply ignored. For certain segments of the electorate, this approach even works because they simply don't care about foreign policy as long as they themselves aren't on the menu.
It's also conceivable that Trump's influence could give momentum to a strand of far-right politics that emphasizes regional cooperation or even spark a kind of far-right search for a "third way" — one that acknowledges the necessity of multilateralism and invests in value-based alliances with like-minded forces. These alliances would prioritize the concept of the nation-state in the security domain, even if pragmatism continues to dominate in economic relations.
Another possible outcome is a modified version of what's known as Finlandization where a small state adjusts its foreign and partially domestic policy in line with the interests of a more powerful neighbor in order to preserve formal independence and avoid direct pressure, conflict or interference. In this scenario, a country might explicitly position itself as a vassal of Trump, while acknowledging that a worldview based on power and self-interest is at odds with the interests of small states, but that no better alternative currently exists. At the same time, this would introduce shades of gray that have so far been largely absent from the far-right's black-and-white worldview.
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Editor: Marcus Turovski








