Tyson Barker on Transatlantic Risk, Mentorship, Languages, and Planning for Uncertainty

Tyson Barker has built a career that moves fluidly across think tanks, government, and transatlantic institutions. His work often rests at the intersection of Europe, technology, and geopolitical competition. But if there’s a single theme running through his story, it’s that “intentional” doesn’t have to mean linear. He describes a career defined by coordinates rather than a fixed itinerary: you choose a direction, you invest in a mission, and then you stay open to the opportunities (and shocks) that reroute you.
In this conversation, Barker traces how a few early decisions—what to study, which region to focus on, which mentors to seek—compounded into roles spanning U.S.–EU trade, digital governance, and Ukraine policy. He also offers unusually concrete guidance on mentorship: how to earn it, how to “pay it forward,” and how to treat networks (especially alumni networks) as real pipelines of opportunity rather than abstract “career advice.”
The discussion then widens into strategy: why he sees the greatest risk to the transatlantic relationship as internal, how Europe can build “shock absorbers” against U.S. political volatility, and what it means to balance China competition with European security in an era of rapidly shifting assumptions. He closes with a book recommendation he disagrees with—but that nevertheless shaped how he learned to impose order on a world that stopped making sense.

—Tyson Barker is a Senior Associate Fellow at the German Council on Foreign Relations, with expertise spanning U.S.–EU relations, technology policy, and European security.

Setting the frame: intentional direction, serendipitous outcomes
Ben Wolf (BW): You’ve worked across think tanks, government, and transatlantic institutions. Looking back, was your career path intentional, or did it evolve through opportunities and moments of uncertainty?

Tyson Barker (TB): I always wanted to work on U.S.–European relations. I prefer that phrasing because I think “transatlantic” can make it sound like we’re not independent actors. Europe and the U.S. have always been—at least in my lifetime—independent actors. So I like talking about a relationship that recognizes that.
If you mean “intentional” in the sense that I set out pursuing the idea that I would have this kind of career, then yes. But it’s also been very serendipitous in the way it developed.
I’ll give you examples. In grad school, I was trying to decide between Latin America and Europe. I got a position as a research assistant for a senior professor working on Europe, and that led me in that direction—doing research on the Cold War.
When I graduated, I had done some work on Europe–China relations in grad school, and I received a grant from the Starr Foundation. At the time I was trying to decide: do I focus on the private sector? Do I look at the World Bank or the international financial institutions?
I had a conversation with one of my mentors, and he said, “I think the Bertelsmann Foundation is going to open an office in Washington, D.C. You should contact them and see what their plans are.” I contacted them, and they said, “How did you know we were opening this office?” I told them I’d spoken with mentors and gotten that advice.
Long story short, I ended up being the first hire for the Bertelsmann Foundation’s Washington office—something I probably would not have gotten without doing informational interviews and building those relationships.
Opportunities kept presenting themselves, but they were also shaped by my own initiative. At Bertelsmann I focused on U.S.–European trade relations and digital issues—GDPR, information sharing, the Lisbon Treaty, the Eurozone crisis. At the same time, I did a lot of work on the political side. I co-founded Foreign Policy Professionals for Obama and helped raise money for the campaign.
Then, in the second Obama administration, a political position opened up, and I was fortunate enough to be selected by Victoria Nuland—one of the most accomplished diplomats in U.S. foreign policy in the past 25 years. She said, “I need somebody who knows TTIP”—the U.S.–EU trade negotiations—“I need somebody who understands this.” So she brought me on board because, for my generation, I had developed a reputation for working on U.S.–EU relations. Not Russia, not Turkey—U.S.–EU.
Then Crimea happened. Then Donbas happened. So I ended up spending my tenure in the Obama administration not focused as much on TTIP, but much more on Ukraine.
When I left government, I went to Berlin. I knew Germany quite well. I ended up working in a very academic environment on cyber risk—cyber insurance for critical infrastructure, particularly industrial control systems. Very technical work.
But through that—and through getting to know the technology space better—I ended up at Aspen Germany, where I started the digital program and later took over the transatlantic program. After that I went to the German Council on Foreign Relations and founded their digital program while continuing to work on transatlantic policy. Eventually I was brought back into the Biden administration to work on U.S.–Europe technology policy.
In that role, my boss ended up leaving—Karen Donfried, our top diplomat for Europe in the Biden administration. And my former boss, who was then the number two official at the State Department, said, “I’m putting you back on Ukraine.” So I ended up returning to Ukraine policy again.
I always joke that when I’m in government, I work on Ukraine, and when I’m out of government, I work on the EU. But it’s really a bit of both. You set your coordinates and create opportunities for yourself—but there’s always serendipity too.


Mentorship: how it’s formed, and how it actually works
BW: You mentioned mentors. A lot of people hear “mentor” and it can be confusing—is it a professor, a boss, a friend? When you’re looking for mentors, first: how do you create and foster those relationships? And second: how do you use mentorship effectively?

TB: Great question. Mentorship, like any relationship in life, is a two-way street. There’s agency on both sides. You select your mentors, and your mentors also select you.
They come from different parts of your life. I’ve been very fortunate to have bosses whom I consider great mentors. And I’ll be honest: many of those amazing bosses have been extremely ambitious, creative women.
My first boss at the Bertelsmann Foundation was Anetta Heuser—an incredible policy entrepreneur. She set up the office in Washington and Brussels and is now leading a major foundation in Germany. She invested in me because I invested in the mission.
Then I had Victoria Nuland—Dick Cheney’s national security adviser, Hillary Clinton’s spokesperson, married to Robert Kagan, and an architect of years of policy toward Russia. Again, she invested in me because I invested in the mission.
Before that—during undergrad or grad school—a lot of it comes down to demonstrated interest. If you have professors, researchers, fellows, or practitioners in the university ecosystem, demonstrated interest begins with what you did: reaching out. I did that constantly.
It’s one reason I try to pay it forward. I’m getting worse at it, frankly, but when people reach out to me, I want to say yes because people did it for me. When you’re established, you want to open doors and build ladders—pipelines of opportunity.
But many people simply don’t ask. It’s becoming more common now, but for a long time it wasn’t.
Especially in grad school—and maybe in undergrad too—use alumni networks. They can be incredibly helpful. I went to Columbia for undergrad and Johns Hopkins for graduate school, and Hopkins has a very supportive alumni network. People understand the value of helping others coming through the same program.
If you’re part of a specific program—even if it’s not the whole university—that network becomes a core resource. It never hurts to reach out. I remember being an undergrad and emailing professors—this was back in 2000—just cold emails, which felt strange at the time. But sometimes they responded. It starts with outreach.


The biggest strategic risk to the alliance: internal confidence and volatility
BW: Transitioning to current events: in your view, what is the greatest strategic risk facing the transatlantic alliance over the next decade, and how should it be addressed?

TB: The greatest risk is internal. You have to be confident in the core of the relationship in order to project outward.
There are external threats—Russia, China, climate change, competitiveness, technology—but at the end of the day there has to be a fundamental belief in the utility of the relationship in terms of both interests and values.
As articulated by figures like JD Vance and Marco Rubio, there are serious critiques of Europe within the United States—and very serious critiques of the United States within Europe. The message Europe is receiving from what many perceive as erratic U.S. behavior—tariffs, shifting positions on Ukraine, proposals like the so-called “28-point plan,” or even debates around Greenland—creates deep uncertainty.
The big question in Europe right now is: how do we build guardrails and shock absorbers to manage this volatility coming from the United States?
At the same time, there are anti-democratic forces within Europe—both far right and far left—and those pressures can deepen divisions.
So in my view, the greatest threat to the transatlantic alliance is internal.
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China and Europe: capacity, priorities, and who does what
BW: You mentioned China. How should the U.S. balance competition with China while maintaining focus on European security?

TB: The United States has immense capacity to walk and chew gum at the same time. There has been discussion since at least the Bush administration about a “pivot to Asia” or a “rebalance.”
Europe recognizes that the primary strategic theater may increasingly be the Indo-Pacific, because that’s where a lot of economic dynamism and security competition is happening.
But I would ask right now: is that even what the Trump administration believes? I don’t think the administration has articulated a clearly coherent position on its role as a security provider and economic actor in the Pacific with respect to China.
On one hand, there are impulses toward a more oligarchic or authoritarian-style entente with Chinese leadership. On the other hand, there is occasional rhetorical support for Taiwan and the South China Sea, though not necessarily to the degree seen in earlier periods.
So I’m not sure there is a coherent doctrine. It feels more focused on the Western Hemisphere, to be quite frank.
Europe recognizes that in the Indo-Pacific it will likely play a more junior role—supporting stability because global trade depends on a rules-based order. At the same time, Europe needs to take a more senior role in its own regional security. That’s an area where there is growing agreement.

Munich and the “wrecking ball” problem: predictability beyond four-year cycles
BW: You referenced the Munich Security Conference. Last year JD Vance gave a memorable, but polarizing speech. This year, it was Marco Rubio. What are your biggest takeaways from the past conferences, and what did you make of this year's speech?

TB: It comes back to the broader structural problem. The pendulum in the United States has increasingly become a wrecking ball. One administration sets a course, and the next knocks it down. That makes it extremely difficult for allies, businesses, or policymakers to plan because the long-term horizon disappears.
This administration has been particularly maximalist. You could describe it as a kind of demolition diplomacy. Many observers expect that some of these policies will not outlast the administration.
But even if the pendulum swings back—whether under Republicans or Democrats—it will be difficult to restore the level of predictability that once allowed allies to plan beyond four-year cycles. And that is a tragedy.
I assign a lot of responsibility to Trump for how he approached the world, but I also think these dynamics predate him. You can trace some of them to the Bush administration and even to aspects of the Obama administration.
Take the Iraq War. It was deeply divisive and sold domestically in ways that fractured international legitimacy. Then the Obama administration comes in and argues that the original legitimacy was never properly built. What does that say to allies who supported it?
You saw similar dynamics with Afghanistan. Allies indicated they might have stayed longer, but without the U.S. backbone the coalition could not hold.
So the lesson for Europe is that you have to plan around U.S. cycles. Increasingly, you cannot assume policies will outlast them—whether it’s incentives under the Inflation Reduction Act, tariffs imposed today, or diplomatic agreements reached in one administration. If I were advising Europe, I would assume many of those policies will not last beyond the current administration.


Career guidance: your 20s, travel, languages, and choosing inspiration
BW: For readers interested in your path, what has been the most rewarding part of your career? And what should they know if they want to enter this field?

TB: First, use your twenties to figure out what you want to do. Don’t feel pressure to have everything figured out by 25.
I learned that during my year abroad as an undergraduate. I was ambitious and thought, “By 24 I need to accomplish X.” But I was surrounded by people of different ages who were still figuring things out. You don’t need an extremely linear life.
Second, travel and learn languages. If you want to work in international relations or foreign policy, make a serious commitment to understanding countries, languages, cultures, and anthropology. It’s much more than tourism.
People sometimes say, “Everyone speaks English,” or “That language is too difficult.” But you should throw yourself into it—date in the language, make friends in the language, live with roommates who speak it.
I did that with several languages. I lived in Taiwan for a time. I lived in Germany. I actually left college for a year and went to Guatemala. I started graduate school in Italy.
In those places I learned languages—especially German and Spanish—well enough to work professionally. That opens entire worlds.
And sometimes the value isn’t about what seems “most useful.” People say, “Why learn German? Everyone in Germany speaks English.” But they don’t speak it professionally the way you need for policy work. German opened an enormous world for me in Europe.
The most important thing is to be inspired by the language and the culture. If you have that inspiration, the rest tends to follow.


The tradeoffs: pensions, stability, and being a “guest” abroad
BW: What’s been the biggest cost—or the most difficult aspect—that you wish you knew earlier?

TB: My career path has been fairly omnivorous. I’ve always earned a comfortable salary, so I’m not complaining there, although I have friends who have earned more.
But if you pursue certain government tracks—like the Foreign Service or congressional careers—you can receive retirement benefits like pensions. I’m 45 now, and some of my friends are getting close to eligibility. They may not retire immediately, but they can pivot while still drawing that pension, which is a significant advantage.
Because my path has been more serendipitous and less linear, I don’t have that same pension track.
Another tradeoff comes from living abroad. When you live in another country, you’re ultimately a guest. That shapes your access. German may be my working language, but I’m not German—I’m American. Access in political Berlin or Brussels is different from someone who has spent their entire career in that ecosystem.
And the dynamic works both ways. In Washington, there are advantages that Americans have which Europeans might not.


The book that mattered—even though he disagreed with it
BW: To conclude: what book or piece of literature has been most influential on your life, and why should others read it?
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TB: I should have thought about this beforehand—it’s such a good question.
This answer might get me in trouble, but I’ll say it anyway because it mattered at an important hinge point in my life. I had lived in Taiwan and studied abroad in Berlin in 2001, but I didn’t want to pursue foreign policy. I was planning on a domestic career.
What changed my mind—what changed my entire generation—was 9/11. I wanted to understand and impose some kind of order on a world that suddenly felt chaotic.
So I read Samuel Huntington’s The Clash of Civilizations. I bought it in a German bookstore in English and read it straight through.
It’s controversial. People criticize it for framing the world in terms of civilizational blocs. And it was in conversation with Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History, which argued that ideological conflict had essentially ended with the Cold War.
Even though I ultimately disagree with Huntington’s thesis, engaging with it—trying to make sense of the world through a framework—was very important for me. It shaped how I began thinking about international politics.