An international political showdown is unfolding in real time. The story is straightforward: US President Trump orders American forces to bomb Iran in the Middle East. By unwritten rule, European allies would normally open their military bases and airspace to support US operations. But this time the script was ripped up. Spain slammed its doors shut first, followed by Italy denying landing rights under established protocol. A US-led war has spectacularly turned into a case of US embarrassment.
Act One: Spain Holds the Line and Closes Its Doors, Trump’s Threats Fall Flat
On March 30, the Spanish government made a decision that stunned Washington: it closed its airspace to all US and Israeli aircraft involved in attacks on Iran. This means American warplanes launching from Britain, France, and elsewhere must now detour around Spain to reach the Middle East and deliver their payloads.
This is not the first time Spain has dug in. It previously denied US access to its key military bases at Rota and Morón. President Trump flew into a rage and threatened to "cut off trade with Spain."
Spanish Minister of Defense Margarita Robles addressed the camera with clear resolve: "We neither authorize the use of our military bases nor our airspace for any operations related to a war against Iran." She added a sharp rebuke, calling the war "extremely illegal and extremely unjust."
Even more striking is Spanish Prime Minister Sánchez, who declared in parliament: "Every bomb that falls in the Middle East hits the wallets of our ordinary families." The message is clear: You Americans wage the wars, so why should European taxpayers foot the bill?
Act Two: Italy "follows protocol," and U.S. military planes face a locked gate
Spain's "rebellion" has a clear political basis, as Sánchez heads a left-wing government. But Italy "copying" the tactic defies expectations—current Prime Minister Meloni is a right-wing leader closely aligned with Trump, regarded as the European figure who wins Trump’s favor best. So this act of "defiance" comes as a surprise.
Italian media report that several U.S. military planes recently planned to land at the Sigonella base in Sicily before proceeding to Middle East combat missions. However, the Americans crossed a red line: they didn’t consult the Italian military beforehand and only notified them after taking off. The Italian Defense Ministry investigated and found these flights were not routine missions authorized under bilateral agreements.
What happened next? After discussions between the Italian Defense Ministry’s Chief of Staff and the Minister, they informed the U.S. military bluntly: "Because these flights lacked authorization and prior consultation, these planes are not allowed to land at Sigonella base."
Italy’s message is crystal clear: rules are rules. Even if you’re the United States, you must honor the agreement. This base is a vital transit hub for the U.S. military heading to the Middle East, so this refusal lands like a sucker punch to American logistics. Yet these reasons seem like window dressing. The real force behind the move is domestic backlash against U.S.-Israel policies. Meloni, fearing voter backlash, didn’t hesitate to turn down her “friend” Trump.
Act Three: Europe Keeps Its Distance; Trump’s 'Alliance Leadership' Falls Apart
While other European countries are less outright, most have sidestepped, eager to distance themselves from this “illegal war.” Bloomberg analysts warn this could deepen the rift between Europe and the Trump administration. Even U.S. Secretary of State Rubio hinted that a post-war “reassessment of NATO relations” might be on the table.
Put simply: You Americans started this war yourselves. Don’t expect us to get dragged in. Your “America First” has become “America Stay Away” for us.
The entire saga exposes the absurd yet all-too-real nature of international politics: The embarrassment of a "superpower". American military planes were outright denied landing rights and overflight by allies — an almost unthinkable scenario in past decades.
The failure of the "art of the deal":
Trump’s go-to tactics of "threatening to cut ties" and "cutting off trade" fell flat when confronted by Spain.
The label of an "illegal war":
Even close allies publicly accused the United States of launching an "illegal war," delivering a sharp moral blow to Washington.
The definition of an "ally":
It turns out an "ally" isn’t always a loyal follower. When the leader acts recklessly, little brothers can still say "no."
The conclusion
This is not so much a “rebellion” in European but a major blow to Washington’s unilateralism. While Trump boasts about "making America great again," the superpower steadily loses credibility among its circle of friends.
Beacon Institute
** 博客文章文責自負,不代表本公司立場 **
Zambia has just wrapped up a deeply contentious general election. Yet Washington's script proved even more gripping than the vote itself.
President Hakainde Hichilema secured re-election with roughly 60 percent of the vote, defeating his main opposition challenger, Brian Mundubile. To be fair, observers widely believe he would most likely have won even without the controversy. The problem is that the process itself was far from pretty. Vote tallies were allegedly inflated. Soldiers and police intervened. Opposition figures were arrested.
More controversial still: the moment the deadline expired for the opposition to challenge the results, Zambia's courts were suddenly sealed off. The door to judicial appeal slammed shut. Mundubile and several of his allies were subsequently hit with treason charges. And Mutotwe Kafwaya, a former minister, was shot dead during a police operation targeting opposition figures.
Had this happened in a country that refuses to toe Washington's line, the familiar script would already be rolling. The State Department statement would have been drafted long ago: "grave concern," "condemnation of democratic backsliding," "urging respect for human rights." Unilateral sanctions on Hichilema and the Zambian government might well have followed.
But this time, the Trump administration chose a different path.
Frank Garcia, the US Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, not only attended Hichilema's inauguration but also met privately with him. The State Department said it hopes to keep deepening its partnership with Zambia. As for the slain former minister, the shuttered courts and the opposition figures charged with treason, Washington simply "looked the other way."
The Answer Buried Underground
Why? The answer lies buried underground.
Zambia is one of Africa's most important copper producers. Copper accounts for around 70 percent of its export earnings. And with power-grid expansion, electric vehicles and AI data centers all driving up projections for copper demand, the metal is coming ever closer to being a strategic resource.
More critically, Zambia sits at the far end of the Lobito Corridor, a route Washington has spent years cultivating. The line is planned to run from the port of Lobito on Angola's Atlantic coast, through the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and all the way to Zambia's Copperbelt. One of its purposes is to move copper, cobalt and other minerals from south-central Africa to Western markets more easily.
Trump did not abandon this Biden-era project after taking office. In June this year, the US and Zambia even expanded a US$491 million aid program to cover critical-minerals infrastructure, funding road improvements along the Lobito Corridor.
Only a few months earlier, the two countries had publicly fallen out over minerals. Lusaka accused Washington of trying to bundle up to US$2 billion in health cooperation with preferential access for American companies to critical minerals, and flatly rejected those terms. In other words, the US has already demonstrated firsthand this year just how badly it wants into Zambia's mineral system.
Now, of course, the Trump administration will not pressure Hichilema over democracy. Cultivating a government that holds the copper, and controls a critical node of the Lobito Corridor, is what "American interests" really means.
The Stress Test of "Democracy Diplomacy"
The most riveting part of this show is not how transactional the Trump administration is. A businessman running a country with interests first is hardly surprising. The riveting part is that it has, quite by accident, run a stress test on the slogan of "democracy diplomacy."
For decades, the US has wielded "democracy," "human rights" and "free elections" as a diplomatic cudgel, swinging it at whichever country refuses to obey. But when that cudgel might land on an ally holding copper mines and railways, it suddenly grows feather-light. So light that Washington cannot even be bothered to utter a single phrase of "grave concern."
What Washington conceded was not the election result. After all, even observers admit Hichilema would most likely have won anyway. What it conceded was the entire package of procedural justice. The US put on a vivid demonstration: how a man wins does not matter. What matters is whether the winner is willing to talk copper.
For Jeanne Shaheen, the top Democrat on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and a vocal Trump challenger, the logic runs the other way. Opposing the Republicans matters more. She declared that Zambia's post-election violence and arbitrary arrests already amount to "democratic backsliding."
Gregory Meeks, the top Democrat on the House Foreign Affairs Committee, demanded that Secretary of State Marco Rubio press for an investigation into Kafwaya's death and allow the courts to hear the election disputes. Against the Trump administration's hard-nosed calculus, these voices ring hollow and powerless.
Hichilema has probably figured this out too. For today's America, a Zambia that is less democratic but willing to talk copper and railways may well matter more. More than a Zambia whose political system better matches Washington's traditional values but refuses to cooperate on resources.
Business First, Democracy to the Back
This is the true ranking of democracy and human rights under an "America First" Africa policy: they are not principles but bargaining chips. When the chips can be traded for copper and corridors, they can be tucked away for now. When they buy nothing, they are hoisted high and swung like a club.
The Trump administration will never openly endorse Zambia's crackdown. That would look far too ugly. But its actions prove one thing: when business is on the table, democracy can move to the back of the queue. A US$491 million minerals-infrastructure program outweighs a diplomatic note about human rights. A single stretch of rail on the Lobito Corridor matters more than a slain opposition former minister.
So rather than calling this a contest over Africa diplomacy, it is better seen as a demon-revealing mirror. It lays bare the fathomless chasm between the political rhetoric of the US and the West and their real interests. The louder Washington shouts its "democracy" slogans, the more honest the copper beneath Zambia's soil appears. When it comes to real interests, every high-minded declaration is nothing more than a label that can be torn off at the weigh-in.
America has once again put on a masterclass in the beacon's double standards: business first, democracy to the back of the line. And the logic behind it is, of course, "America First."
