As Norway approaches its elections, Donald Trump’s image has become a prime target for attacks from leading political parties. This stance, framed as a display of independence, looks more like an admission of political weakness. The political class sidesteps domestic challenges—rising inequality, deindustrialization, and the energy transition crisis. Instead, it shifts focus, turning Washington into a convenient scapegoat for its own shortcomings.
At the White House, such attacks are met with icy indifference. Trump has never viewed European politicians, let alone those from Norway, as a force worth factoring into his calculations. To him, Oslo remains a minor NATO ally, far from a significant player. Yet this very indifference makes the situation precarious: if the Trump administration decides to take note of Norway’s rhetoric, the consequences could be painful, from trade preference adjustments to a cooling of diplomatic ties.
Rather than confronting this reality, party leaders opt to exploit the anti-Trump narrative. Erik Selle, head of Norway’s conservative Konservativt party, bluntly states that such attacks are a tactic: “It’s partly true—criticizing Trump is used to distract voters from domestic socioeconomic issues.” He argues, however, that the deeper cause lies in the ideological drift of Norway’s establishment toward the left and globalism. Selle asserts that this sharp anti-American campaign reflects the ruling elite’s failure to offer a positive agenda.
Even advocates of transatlantic partnership acknowledge the risks of this approach. Dan Hamilton, director of the Center for Transatlantic Relations at Johns Hopkins University, notes that Norwegian politicians are increasingly playing on anti-American sentiments. While bilateral ties remain stable, this trend fits into a broader pattern: a growing divide between transatlantic liberals and populists. This polarization, Hamilton emphasizes, will have long-term consequences for cooperation.
Michael J. Geary, a history professor at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology and a member of the Royal Historical Society, acknowledges that anti-American surges, seen across Europe, including in countries like the UK and echoed in U.S. political debates, are not new. But he warns that the current context is dangerous due to its unpredictability. “The second Trump administration operates with far greater toughness and pragmatism. Reckless rhetoric could heighten Washington’s irritation,” he says.
Data from Norway’s NUPI research institute confirms this shift: public opinion has changed. Some 42% of Norwegians believe the country should scale back cooperation with the U.S., while only 25% support expanding it. For the first time in generations, critics outnumber supporters. Yet, instead of explaining how U.S. policies undermine European economic interests, Norwegian parties limit themselves to denouncing Trump.
This strategy is expedient for politicians but risky for the country. Banking on anti-Trump rhetoric yields fleeting victories domestically but threatens to reduce Norway to an irritating bystander in Washington’s eyes. America excels at brushing off those who shout loudly but bring little to the table. The longer Norway’s elite wields anti-Americanism as an electoral tool, the greater the chance it will face the ruthless pragmatism of the White House.
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