Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel’s prime minister, right, and Viktor Orbán, Hungary’s prime minister, at the Buda Castle in Budapest, Hungary, on April 3. | Akos Stiller/Bloomberg via Getty Images
Is President Donald Trump leading a vanguard of right-wing populist world leaders, working together to lay waste to the liberal international order while consolidating power at home?
Possibly — but based on his recent foreign policy actions, he doesn’t appear to think so.
Establishment-bashing politicians around the world, from Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro to the Philippines’ Rodrigo Duterte to the UK’s Boris Johnson, have drawn comparisons to Trump over the years. Some, notably Hungary’s Viktor Orbán and Argentina’s Javier Milei, have cultivated ties to the Trump-era American right, becoming fixtures at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) and making the rounds on US talk shows and podcasts. In Romania’s recent presidential election, the leading right-wing candidate somewhat confusingly described himself as being on the “MAGA ticket.”
Trump himself has occasionally weighed in on other countries’ political debates to endorse right-wing politicians like France’s embattled far-right leader Marine Le Pen. Some of Trump’s senior officials have spoken openly of wanting to build ties with the global right. In his combative speech at the Munich Security Conference earlier this year, Vice President JD Vance described what he sees as the unfair marginalization of right-wing parties in countries like Romania and Germany as a greater threat to Europe’s security than China or Russia. Trump ally Elon Musk has been even more active in boosting far-right parties in elections around the world.
But just because Trump and his officials like to see politicians and parties in their own mold win, that doesn’t mean countries led by those politicians and parties can count on any special treatment from the Trump administration. This has been especially clear in recent weeks.
Just ask Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has spent years cultivating close ties with the US Republican Party, and with Trump in particular, and has followed a somewhat similar path in bringing previously marginalized far-right partners into the mainstream. All that has been of little use as Trump has left his Israeli supporters aghast by carrying out direct negotiations with the likes of Hamas, the Houthis, and Iran and being feted by Gulf monarchs on a Middle East tour that pointedly did not include Israel.
India’s Hindu nationalist prime minister, Narendra Modi, has likewise been compared to Trump in his populist appeal, majoritarian rhetoric, and dismantling of democratic norms. Trump has cultivated a massive coterie of fans among Hindu nationalist Modi supporters as well as a close working relationship with Modi himself.
But after Trump announced a ceasefire agreement in the recent flare-up of violence between India and Pakistan, Trump enraged many of his Indian supporters with remarks that appeared to take credit for pressuring India to halt its military campaign and drew equivalence between the Indian and Pakistani positions. Adding insult to injury, Trump publicly criticized Apple for plans to move the assembly of American iPhones from China to India, a move that in other administrations might have been praised as a victory for “friendshoring” — moving the production of critical goods from adversaries to allies — but doesn’t advance Trump’s goal of returning industrial manufacturing to the US.
Even Orbán, star of CPAC and favorite guest of Tucker Carlson, has appeared frustrated with Trump as of late. His government has described its close economic relationship with China as a “red line,” vowing not to decouple its economy from Beijing’s, no matter what pressure Trump applies. Orbán’s simultaneous position as the most pro-Trump and most pro-China leader in Europe is looking increasingly awkward.
Overall, there’s simply little evidence that political affinity guides Trump’s approach to foreign policy, a fact made abundantly clear by the “Liberation Day” tariffs the president announced in April.
Taking just Latin America, for example, Argentina — led by the floppy-haired iconoclast and Musk favorite Javier Milei — and El Salvador — led by Nayib Bukele, a crypto-loving authoritarian willing to turn his country’s prisons into an American gulag — might have expected exemptions from the tariffs. But they were hit with the same tariff rates as leftist-led governments like Colombia and Brazil.
Ultimately, it’s not the leaders who see eye to eye with Trump on migration, the rule of law, or wokeness who seem to have his fear. It’s the big-money monarchs of the Middle East, who can deliver the big deals and quick wins he craves.
And based on the probably-at-least-partly Trump-inspired drubbing inflicted on right-wing parties in Canada and Australia in recent elections, it’s not clear that being known as the “Trump of” your country really gets you all that much. Whatever his ultimate legacy for the United States and the world, he doesn’t seem likely to be remembered as the man who made global far-right populism great again, and he doesn’t really seem all that concerned about that.
