LASTING TURNING POINT
The starting point of this modern tension is 1958, with De Gaulle’s return to power. From his earliest years, the General affirms a clear ambition: to give France full sovereignty, to refuse automatic subordination to the American ally, and to reinsert Paris into a logic of strategic independence. This posture, which has never been directed against the United States as such, however established a principle that will cross the entire Fifth Republic: France does not want to be a mere satellite, it wants to be a respected partner. The most emblematic case of this refusal was undoubtedly France’s withdrawal from NATO’s integrated command in 1966, a gesture as symbolic as it was political, which marks a lasting turning point. De Gaulle does not invent anti Americanism, but he refuses the Americanization of European policy, and above all he refuses that Paris be considered a mere executor.
Over the decades, French presidents have all, in their own way, navigated between admiration and defiance. The Mitterrand and Chirac years, for example, are marked by a deep alliance on certain issues, and by a constant desire to maintain an independent voice on the international stage. France supports NATO, but insists on a strong political Europe. It applauds American power, but refuses the idea that this power alone should decide the world. Divergences often crystallize on the role of diplomacy, the legitimacy of military interventions, or the place of international law.
In the conflict of the former Yugoslavia, and notably during NATO’s intervention against Serbia and Montenegro in 1999, France stood alongside its allies but with a more nuanced stance than that of some American states. It supported NATO’s action, mainly with the aim of avoiding a humanitarian catastrophe and preventing escalation of the conflict, while claiming a European approach and political legitimacy. Paris insists on the need to find a diplomatic solution and on the role of the European Union in stabilizing the Balkans, refusing to reduce the intervention to a simple military operation carried out solely for strategic interests.
In the Bosnian war, France adopted a position that, in the face of the American vision, aimed to be both more cautious and more political. Paris supported the recognition of the independence of Bosnia and Herzegovina, but it refused that this recognition become a posture of power. France insists on the international framework and on the role of institutions, convinced that the protection of civilians cannot be dissociated from a durable political solution. Faced with the American logic, which tends to favor a more direct and faster military intervention, France advocates a graduated strategy, where diplomatic pressure precedes the use of force, in order to avoid uncontrolled escalation.
On the ground, France is involved in UN and NATO operations, but it does so by insisting on a strong humanitarian dimension, and by seeking to prevent security zones from becoming exposed ghettos. Paris participates in the establishment of security zones, in the protection of populations and stabilization actions, while demanding a clear political strategy to prevent the end of the war from being only a fragile ceasefire. France wants peace to be built with institutions, reconstruction and reconciliation, and not only with bombings.
DIPLOMACY ABOVE ALL
At the same time, France deploys an active diplomatic presence within the OSCE, notably in Pristina, where its diplomats are present even before NATO’s intervention in Kosovo. This presence is part of a logic of prevention and observation, aimed at understanding local dynamics, supporting civil institutions and preparing an organized exit from the crisis. The French diplomats at the OSCE, being on site, seek to prevent the situation from degenerating, to give visibility to tensions and to promote a political settlement. This approach contrasts with the American tendency to favor the military option as the main lever of resolution, while Paris wants to keep diplomacy at the center of the process, even when armed intervention becomes inevitable.
Then comes the turning point of the early twenty first century, with the war in Iraq. France then became the symbol of a refusal: that of unilateral intervention. It defends the framework of the United Nations, the idea that international legality must precede military action. The United States, for their part, see in this opposition a betrayal, or at least a lack of solidarity. The fracture is media, but it reveals above all a deep divergence on the meaning of the world order. From that moment on, the Franco-American relationship is marked by a clearer mutual mistrust, even if the alliance endures, because it is structuring.
In recent years, the link has become even more complex. Crises follow one another, and France, anxious to maintain an independent diplomacy, sometimes finds itself at odds with Washington. The current situation around Gaza is a perfect example: the American proposal to create a peace council, with an architecture that could bypass existing institutions, meets a French reaction of immediate caution. Paris recalls its attachment to the Charter of the United Nations, to Security Council resolution 2803, and to the need to respect the principles of multilateralism. It is not a refusal of peace, but a refusal of the way in which some want to govern it, as if France felt, behind the American offer, a risk of dilution of UN mechanisms, and therefore a questioning of the international legal order.
France, in this position, does not seek to place itself above others. It simply wants to preserve a framework that it considers indispensable to world stability: that of the UN, resolutions, rules, and dialogue between parties. It does not reject the American proposal, but it refuses to respond favorably as long as the legal and political framework is not clear, as long as the fundamental principles are not guaranteed. It is a reflex that comes from far away, rooted in the Gaullist idea that France must keep an autonomous decision-making capacity, and that the world must not be governed by a single power.
MACRON’S OPPOSITION
Today, however, a new element imposes itself in this already ancient landscape. Emmanuel Macron appears as the only European leader to assume openly a political and doctrinal opposition to Donald Trump. His speech delivered in Davos marks a clear break with the prevailing caution of European capitals. Where many adapt their language to the hypothesis of a lasting return of Trumpism, Macron chose intellectual confrontation.
In Davos, he defended without ambiguity multilateralism, international law, the central role of institutions, and the idea that peace can neither be negotiated outside collective frameworks nor imposed by the sole logic of power. This speech was not addressed only to Washington, but also to Europe itself, summoned not to abandon its principles out of weariness or fear.
In a fragmented Europe, often tempted by waiting and strategic silence, France finds itself once again isolated, not out of a taste for singularity, but out of fidelity to a certain idea of international order. Faced with a Trump openly assuming balance of power politics, transaction, and the questioning of common rules, Macron now embodies the last European voice affirming that power must remain tied to law, and that alliance never means submission.
This contrast reveals less a personal disagreement than a historical moment in which Europe hesitates and France chooses, once again, to speak alone rather than remain silent with others.
*Autor is a former member of the UN senior staff