G7 opens in Évian as Macron scrambles to hold the center against transatlantic storms
EVIAN-LES-BAINS, France — The 52nd Group of Seven summit opened Monday on the shores of Lake Geneva under a cloud of violent anti-globalization protests and deepening fractures between the United States and its traditional allies, with host President Emmanuel Macron facing his most delicate diplomatic balancing act in years: keeping President Donald Trump in the room long enough to salvage what remains of Western unity.
Thousands of protesters clashed with French riot police in nearby Geneva over the weekend in demonstrations that turned increasingly confrontational as the summit got underway. Authorities reported dozens of injuries and multiple arrests as masked demonstrators shattered storefronts and set fire to vehicles in what activists described as a condemnation of “elite-driven globalization” and what police termed an unacceptable descent into urban warfare. Security was at maximum levels across the lakeside resort town, with armed patrols visible on every corner and a no-fly zone in effect over the conference venue.
The dominant item on the summit agenda is the implementation of the Iran ceasefire deal and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, a development that would unlock global energy markets that have been roiled by months of tension in the Persian Gulf. The agreement, brokered through months of quiet shuttle diplomacy, represents a potential breakthrough — but its survival depends on commitments from the United States, and Trump’s enthusiasm for multilateral engagements has historically been measured in hours rather than days.
Behind the scenes, Macron has been working feverishly to keep Trump from departing early, a pattern that has defined previous G7 and NATO gatherings during the Trump era. French diplomatic sources told reporters that the president has personally intervened to ensure that one-on-one sessions with Trump are scheduled early in the program, before the American leader’s attention span for multilateral diplomacy typically wanes. The strategy reflects a grim reality: on issues from Iran to trade to Ukraine, European leaders can no longer assume U.S. cooperation as a given.
The Iran deal itself is a fragile construction. The ceasefire has halted open hostilities in the Gulf, and the Hormuz reopening is expected to bring down global oil prices that have squeezed European consumers and developing economies alike. But the details — verification mechanisms, sanctions relief sequencing, and the fate of Iranian oil revenue — remain contentious. Trump has signaled skepticism about any agreement that does not include stringent nuclear inspection protocols and permanent restrictions on Iranian missile development, conditions that Tehran has so far rejected.
Beyond Iran, the agenda is crowded with flashpoints. A July 24 tariff deadline looms, with Trump threatening to impose sweeping duties on European steel, aluminum, and luxury goods unless the EU agrees to a new trade framework heavily skewed in Washington’s favor. European Council President Charles Michel was blunt in his assessment: “We cannot negotiate under the shadow of a guillotine.”
China’s recent decision to tighten export controls on rare-earth minerals has added another layer of tension. The strategic metals, essential for everything from electric vehicle batteries to military hardware, are overwhelmingly sourced from Chinese refineries, and Beijing’s willingness to weaponize that dependency has sent shockwaves through Western supply chains. Leaders are expected to issue a joint statement on critical mineral cooperation, though the absence of specific investment commitments has left officials skeptical.
Ukraine funding is another fault line. As Kyiv presses for sustained military and financial assistance, Trump has suggested that European allies must bear a larger share of the burden — a position that plays well with his domestic base but frustrates European leaders who note that the United States’ direct security guarantees remain irreplaceable. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, attending his first G7 as leader, is expected to push for a strengthened Ukraine package, but the political arithmetic in Washington makes any significant new aid authorization uncertain.
The sidelines have already produced their share of drama. A scheduled meeting between Trump and Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi was overshadowed by outrage in New Delhi over the U.S. Navy’s killing of Indian sailors during a maritime incident in the Arabian Sea last month. Indian officials have demanded a formal apology and compensation, while Washington has offered only a terse expression of regret. The diplomatic chill between the two countries threatens to complicate American efforts to build a united front against China’s expanding influence in the Indo-Pacific.
Other leaders attending include Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, and Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. Each arrives with their own national priorities, but the collective mood is one of anxiety. The G7 format — once the preeminent forum for coordinating Western economic and security policy — has struggled to project coherence in an era defined by unilateralism, great-power competition, and the fragmentation of the post-Cold War order.
Macron, for his part, framed the summit as an opportunity to “restore confidence in collective action.” Whether that confidence can be restored within the constrained timeframe of a single summit, and with an American president who has made skepticism of multilateralism a defining feature of his political identity, remains very much an open question.
As night fell over the Alpine lake and the first round of working dinners began, the chateau hosting the leaders glowed under floodlights. Behind the polished facade, the real work was far less ceremonial. Macron was running a holding action — and the entire Western alliance was watching to see if he could pull it off.