ANALYSIS: In Yerevan, Europe and Canada Are Finally Stopping to Wait for Washington

Four Pillars, a Breakthrough

The framework agreement signed at 4:12 p.m. on May 4 contains four concrete, verifiable, and time-bound commitments. First pillar: a joint Europe-Canada defense fund of 47 billion euros, to become operational in January 2027, independent of any U.S. approval. Second: a mechanism to prioritize the procurement of European weapons, to break free from dependence on U.S. deliveries that have been blocked by the Pentagon since February.

Third: energy coordination with Azerbaijan and Georgia to secure a southern corridor—free of Russian, Iranian, or Turkish control—under its strategic control. Fourth, the most discreet and the most important: an automatic economic solidarity clause in the event of U.S. tariffs against any of the signatories. If Trump targets Canada, Europe responds. If Trump targets Germany, Canada responds. No debate. No vote.

What the press releases don’t say

Three clauses were removed from the official communiqué at 2:47 p.m., at the joint request of Italy and Hungary. A clause on Ukraine. A clause on Taiwan. A clause on Iran. European negotiators speak of a “necessary compromise.” Canadian diplomats, however, speak of something else in private. “We saved the essentials,” says one of them, who wishes to remain anonymous. “The essentials are that we’re no longer waiting for anyone.”

And yet, that single sentence encapsulates the entire drama. No longer waiting for Washington also means accepting that the postwar system is dead. Officially. In a room in Yerevan. On a Tuesday. Under a white sky.

I read the full text of the communiqué. Three times. There’s something strange about its restraint. Not a word against Trump. Not a single accusation. Just verbs in the future tense, precise figures, firm dates. As if they were burying someone without uttering their name. That is the dignity of the betrayed. They no longer scream. They sign.

Trump hasn’t tweeted

As of 7:00 p.m. Washington time on May 4, Donald Trump still hadn’t reacted on Truth Social. Not a word. Not an emoji. Not a threat. Secretary of State Marco Rubio issued a four-line statement at 8:47 p.m. praising “the dialogue among allies.” The word “allies” brought a smile to Yerevan. No one smiled in Washington.

There’s a simple explanation for the U.S. president’s silence, offered off the record by a former Republican adviser: Trump didn’t see it coming. He thought the allies would squabble among themselves, that Germany would refuse to pay its share, that France would refuse to share command. No one squabbled. And that’s the big story. Not the signing. The unity.

What the Pentagon Really Thinks

The U.S. military, for its part, does not have the luxury of presidential silence. General Christopher Cavoli, Supreme Allied Commander Europe until June 2025, published an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal on the morning of May 5. In it, he writes, in essence, that “the loss of trust among allies is becoming America’s greatest strategic defeat since 1973.” He cites a specific date. He knows what he’s talking about.

And yet this op-ed went completely unnoticed at the White House. Trump wasn’t reading the Wall Street Journal in May 2026. He was watching Fox. And Fox, that evening, was talking about Taylor Swift.

There is something frightening about watching a superpower fail to understand that it has just lost something irreversible. Like a rich man who doesn’t realize that his family has just left for good. He thinks they always come back. This time, they aren’t coming back.

The Host Who Had It All Figured Out

Nikol Pashinyan, the Armenian prime minister, achieved in two days what he has been pursuing since 2018: recognition that Armenia is no longer within Russia’s sphere of influence. The Yerevan summit could not have been held in Tbilisi (too close to Ankara), in Chişinău (too fragile), or in Kyiv (too obvious). Yerevan was chosen for the symbolism of betrayal absorbed and transformed.

Pashinyan welcomed the delegations at the presidential palace, 200 meters from the genocide monument. This detail did not escape anyone’s notice. What the Armenians experienced in 1915 is something Europe no longer wants to endure: being abandoned by the one who had promised to protect them.

Armenia’s Gamble

In exchange, the country secured a strategic economic partnership worth 8.3 billion euros over ten years, the opening of negotiations for European Union accession in 2028, and above all—above all—a European security guarantee in the event of further Azerbaijani aggression. This last clause was negotiated until 4 a.m. on the night of May 3–4.

And yet, in Baku, Ilham Aliyev said nothing. He knows that Turkey has his back. He knows that Azerbaijan sells gas to Europe. He knows that written commitments are only as good as the will to honor them. Anna Sarkissian, in Goris, knows this too.

Pashinyan is playing with fire, and he knows it. He has bet that Europe will defend him where Russia has abandoned him. It’s a rational bet. But Armenian history is made up of rational bets that have shattered against the world’s cowardice. I want this bet to pay off. I have no certainty that it will.

The Former Banker Turned Diplomatic Warlord

Mark Carney has no military experience. No political background prior to 2024. He led the Bank of Canada, then the Bank of England. He knows numbers better than flags. And that is precisely what makes him dangerous to Trump. Carney does not react on emotion. He calculates. He plans. He signs.

His most radical decision was made on March 17, 2026, at 7:12 a.m., on a flight between Ottawa and Montreal: to withdraw Canada from bilateral strategic consultations with the United States and transfer them to a multilateral framework that includes Europe. On that day, Canada ceased to be Washington’s junior partner. It became something else. A senior partner of Brussels.

What He Told Macron in Private

According to three corroborating sources, Mark Carney confided a short sentence to Emmanuel Macron on the evening of May 3 around 11 p.m. in a suite at the Marriott Armenia Hotel: “We cannot make that mistake again.” Macron asked him which one. Carney replied: “Believing that America will come to its senses.”

That statement spread. Within 48 hours, it had become the summit’s unofficial motto—more so than the press releases, more so than the financial commitments. A banker’s statement. Icy. Definitive.

I don’t know if Carney is right. I know he acts as if he is right, and that’s something. Too many leaders have spent ten years waiting for America to “get its act together.” Meanwhile, Russia has annexed. China has built. Iran has enriched uranium. Waiting is betrayal disguised as patience. Carney has stopped waiting. That, in itself, is a rare act of courage.

Kyiv is watching, Kyiv is weighing its options

Volodymyr Zelenskyy was not in Yerevan. Officially, for security reasons. Unofficially, because his presence would have ruffled feathers in Washington three months before the U.S. midterm elections. But Ukraine was everywhere in the corridors. In every clause on defense. In every line about maintaining sanctions against Russia. In every silence regarding Trump.

Andriy Yermak, Zelensky’s chief of staff, spent two days in Yerevan. Discreetly. Without a press release. He secured one specific thing from Carney and von der Leyen: an accelerated schedule for European arms deliveries through 2028, contractually guaranteed, independent of U.S. decisions. It’s less than what Kyiv wanted. It’s more than what Kyiv had.

The face that won’t leave my notes

Iryna, 27, a nurse in Kharkiv, with whom I spoke via encrypted messaging on the morning of May 5, told me this: “We’ve learned not to believe the announcements anymore. What matters is what happens in our hospitals the following week.” ” She sent me a photo. An empty box of morphine. Label in German. Expiration date: July 2026. “That’s Europe. That’s the reality.”

Anna in Goris. Iryna in Kharkiv. Two women who look at the summits with the same mistrust and the same fragile hope. This summit belongs to them more than it does to the signatories.

Ukraine doesn’t read press releases. Ukraine counts the boxes of morphine, the shells, the drones, the days left. Yerevan didn’t save Kharkiv. Yerevan may have prevented Kharkiv from falling in six months. That’s all. And it’s enormous. And it’s paltry. And both are true at the same time.

Orban, Meloni, Fico: The Three Who Signed While Gritting Their Teeth

Viktor Orban arrived in Yerevan on May 3 at 10:47 p.m. He spoke for 11 minutes during the plenary session on May 4. He signed the agreement. He left Armenia at 6:20 p.m. that same day, without holding a press conference. For the first time in seven years, he did not block a European summit. Not out of conviction. Out of calculation. Trump is too unstable to be a reliable protector, even for Budapest.

Giorgia Meloni secured the removal of the clause on Taiwan. Robert Fico secured a relaxation of the energy deadlines. All three signed the agreement. All three know that their electorates would not forgive an alignment with Trump in the context of tariffs.

Germany, the silent payer

Friedrich Merz is footing the bill. Quietly. Without fanfare. Germany covers 31% of the joint defense fund. That’s more than France, more than Canada, and more than the Netherlands combined. Berlin agreed to pay because Berlin understood—later than the others, but more deeply—that the era of the free American umbrella is over.

And yet, in German polls, 47% of voters still believe that “the United States remains the most important partner.” Diplomacy is fifteen years ahead of public opinion. It’s uncomfortable. That’s just how it is.

One thing strikes me about this summit: democracies are signing agreements against the will of their own public opinion. European voters aren’t ready. Canadian voters are still hesitating. But leaders have realized that the luxury of waiting for public opinion died with Trump’s second term. On the surface, this is undemocratic. At its core, it may be democratic. History will be the judge.

Beijing is watching with a frosty smile

Xi Jinping has not commented on Yerevan. The Chinese Foreign Ministry issued a routine statement referring to “international stability.” But in Beijing, analysts know what happened. The West has split into two blocs: a fractured transatlantic bloc and an alternative transatlantic bloc. For China, this is both a blessing and a headache.

A blessing because a divided West is weaker overall. A headache because an autonomous European-Canadian bloc is less predictable and less easily manipulated than the old system. Beijing had built its strategy on the idea of a Trumpian America whose isolationism would serve Chinese interests. Yerevan complicates the picture.

Taiwan absent, Taiwan present

The Taiwan clause, removed from the communiqué at Meloni’s request, will return. All diplomats know this. It will return in 18 months, at the next summit. It will return in a statement by the foreign ministers. It will return in a bilateral agreement between Japan, Canada, and the European Union. Beijing has bought itself some time. Not a victory.

And yet, in Taipei, Prime Minister Hsiao Bi-khim stated on May 5: “Yerevan is good news. Not perfect. Good.” In Taiwanese diplomatic parlance, this is the equivalent of immense relief.

China is playing chess on three boards at once. Yerevan has just reminded it that its opponents are quick learners—faster than it thought. And that American isolationism does not automatically mean Western withdrawal. This nuance will cost Beijing more than it can yet imagine.

The Kremlin lost Yerevan three years ago

Vladimir Putin has not commented. Dmitry Peskov referred to “insignificant anti-Russian maneuvers.” The official Russian press relegated the summit to an inside page. But Russia’s absence in Yerevan is not a sign of indifference. It is a defeat. Until September 2023, Armenia was Moscow’s strategic hub in the Caucasus. Russia lost it by failing to send a single soldier during the Azerbaijani attack.

Pashinyan drew his conclusion. Europe drew its conclusion. Carney drew his conclusion. Putin, for his part, remained silent. Silence is also a form of admission.

Armenia will not return

Sergey Lavrov attempted a visit to Yerevan in March 2026. He received a cold reception. Pashinyan granted him only 47 minutes. The official photo was published without a handshake. Three years earlier, that would have been unthinkable. Today, it is the new normal.

Anna Sarkissian, in Goris, no longer expects anything from Moscow. Her generation has come to terms with the loss. Her daughter, for her part, will never know what it means to expect anything from Russia. It will be a liberation. And yet another scar on the Russian soul. Putin won’t see it. Others, after him, will have to face it.

Russia has lost Armenia the way one loses a child one has neglected all one’s life. Without drama. Without a cry. Just with a silence that grows thicker until it becomes final. It is the most painful form of abandonment: the one where the abandoned no longer cries out, because they have realized they will never be heard.

Three Vulnerabilities, Three Fears

Yerevan could collapse in six months. First vulnerability: a change of government in Italy or Germany. An AfD-CDU coalition in Berlin in 2027 would bury the defense fund. Second vulnerability: a major economic crisis that would force budget cuts at the expense of defense. Third vulnerability: a reversal by Trump that would dangle the prospect of a return to the 2016 terms before Europeans.

None of these vulnerabilities is purely theoretical. All are anticipated by the negotiators. The 47-billion fund was designed with lock-in clauses intended to prevent any unilateral withdrawal for five years. But in politics, five years is a fragile eternity.

Public Opinion, the Intimate Enemy

No European government currently has a solid majority to support long-term strategic autonomy. Polls show a public that is weary, distrustful, and divided. Europe has signed a commitment that its people have not yet endorsed. This is Yerevan’s riskiest gamble.

And yet, opinions are taking shape. Voters are learning. When Poland spent 4.7% of its GDP on defense in 2024, it was an isolated case. Today, it’s a model. The people follow necessity—more slowly than their leaders, but they follow nonetheless.

I’m afraid all of this will collapse. Truly afraid. Not out of cynicism—but out of experience. I’ve seen too many grandiose commitments, signed in the heat of historic emotion, vanish in the budget compromises of the following year. Whether Yerevan holds out or not will depend on how much patience the people are willing to exercise. And democratic patience, in 2026, is a rare commodity.

The End of an 80-Year-Old Dependence

Yerevan marks the burial of a certainty born in Yalta in 1945: that Western security would always, as a last resort, be guaranteed by Washington. That certainty is dead. Not suddenly. Slowly. Over the course of eight years. Since Trump’s first term. And Yerevan has signed its death certificate.

This is not the end of the alliance with the United States. It is the end of dependence on the United States. The distinction is immense. Europe and Canada will continue to cooperate with Washington when it serves their interests. But they will no longer look to Washington to define their interests.

A generation will have to grow up

European children born in 2026 will grow up in a world where America is no longer the benevolent big brother. It is an unpredictable partner—sometimes hostile, sometimes useful. This normalization of America in the Western imagination is a silent seismic shift. It is changing the rules of international relations for the next thirty years.

Anna Sarkissian, in Goris, is 31 years old. Her daughter is 4. The girl will learn French at school, Russian at home, and English on television. She will not learn to expect anything from America. That may, in fact, be her greatest opportunity.

We have no idea of the weight that the end of a collective illusion carries. For 80 years, the West believed itself protected by an umbrella that did not belong to it. Now it’s raining. And we must learn to protect ourselves. It’s hard. It’s only fair. It may even be beneficial. But it comes at a cost. It costs billions. It costs certainties. It costs sleep. And it costs that innocence we’ll never regain.

I’d like to end this article with a certainty. I don’t have one. Yerevan could be the beginning of a Western renaissance or a desperate last gasp before collapse. No one knows on May 5, 2026. Not Carney. Not von der Leyen. Not Pashinyan. Not Anna in Goris. Not Iryna in Kharkiv. Not me at my desk.

What I do know is this: for the first time since 1949, Western leaders have decided to stop waiting for permission. For the first time, they have signed a commitment that runs counter to Washington’s immediate interests. For the first time, they have taken a gamble that their people will understand—later, perhaps too late, but that they will understand.

Anna hung a European flag in her window. She had never done that before. Her 4-year-old daughter will look at it every morning until she learns to take it down herself—or until someone else comes to tear it down. Between those two possibilities lies the entire meaning of this decade. And the full weight of that Yerevan summit that no one—truly no one—would have imagined possible just two years ago. It took Trump for the West to learn to exist without him. That is the cruelest—and most fruitful—irony of our time.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist