America steps back, and the Alliance starts to wobble
https://www.rt.com/op-ed/authors/dmitry-trenin/By Dmitry Trenin, a research professor at the Higher School of Economics and a lead research fellow at the Institute of World Economy and International Relations. He is also a member of the Russian International Affairs Council (RIAC).
https://www.rt.com/op-ed/authors/dmitry-trenin/
https://www.rt.com/op-ed/authors/dmitry-trenin/RIAC
US President Donald Trump attends a bilateral meeting with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte on the sidelines of the World Economic Forum (WEF) Annual Meeting on January 21, 2026 in Davos, Switzerland. © Getty Images / Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images
One
of the more idealistic ambitions of the last Soviet leadership was the
simultaneous dissolution of both Cold War blocs, NATO and the Warsaw
Pact. Only half of that vision came to pass. The Warsaw Pact disappeared
in the spring of 1991. NATO didn’t. Instead, it endured and expanded.
Over
the following decades, the alliance not only survived but grew from 16
to 32 members. It took part in military campaigns in Yugoslavia,
Afghanistan and Libya, and steadily extended its reach. After the launch
of Russia’s military operation in Ukraine, back in 2022, NATO expanded
further, incorporating Finland and Sweden, while consolidating itself
more firmly on an anti-Russian footing than at any time since the Cold
War.
For the first time in its history, Russia found itself facing
a unified military alliance stretching across Europe and North America.
The idea of a “collective West” opposing Moscow ceased to be rhetorical and became a strategic reality. Yet by the mid-2020s, cracks had begun to appear.
The
return of Donald Trump to the White House marked a shift not in
America’s commitment to NATO, but in how that commitment was defined.
Trump has abandoned the familiar model of the US as a paternal, often
indulgent leader of the alliance. In its place, he presented America as a
demanding hegemon, insisting that its allies bear a far greater share
of the burden.
Initially, European capitals reacted with unease.
For decades, they had relied on Washington to shoulder the lion’s share
of NATO’s costs. Yet they have adjusted. Military spending targets rose,
even toward Trump’s proposed 5% of GDP.
But the real shift went deeper than budgets. Under Trump,
Washington’s strategic focus moved decisively away from Europe and
toward China. While previous administrations had sought to integrate
Beijing into global governance structures, Trump pursued confrontation,
both economic and geopolitical. In his second term, containing China has
become the central pillar of US foreign policy.
This inevitably
required a redistribution of resources. The latest US National Defense
Strategy made the logic explicit: Western Europe, with its combined
economic and demographic weight, was capable of managing the Russian
challenge on its own. America would remain within NATO, but its role
would change. It would step back from the front line and expect
Europeans to step forward.
This recalibration was most visible in
Ukraine. Trump, wary of escalation and unconvinced of Ukraine’s
strategic value, reduced US involvement without ending support
altogether. He shifted the financial and military burden increasingly
onto Europe and began engaging Moscow directly, often without consulting
European allies.
For Western European elites, this was deeply
unsettling. They had invested heavily, politically and economically, in
the Ukraine conflict. For some, it had even become a tool for
consolidating the European Union and driving militarization as a means
of economic stimulus.
Then came a further shock. Trump’s remarks
on Greenland and Canada in which he questioned the sovereignty of
longstanding NATO members struck at the alliance’s core assumptions.
Whether or not such ambitions were realistic was beside the point. What
mattered was that the leader of NATO had publicly cast doubt on the
territorial integrity of its own allies. This was unprecedented.
Taken
together, these developments called into question NATO’s foundational
principle: collective defense. For decades, Article 5 had been treated
as an ironclad guarantee, underpinned by American nuclear power. Yet in
reality, that guarantee had always contained ambiguity. When the treaty
was ratified, the US Senate ensured that Washington wouldn’t be
automatically committed to war.
During the Cold War, many suspected this. Most chose to believe
otherwise. Today, that ambiguity is no longer theoretical. It’s widely
understood that the US wouldn’t lightly risk nuclear war in defense of
every NATO member. The myth of the unconditional “nuclear umbrella” has been weakened, if not entirely dispelled.
This
has triggered a search for alternatives within Europe. France, the EU’s
only nuclear power, has floated the idea of extending its deterrent to
partners. Yet ultimate control would remain with the French president,
and few believe Paris would sacrifice itself for Tallinn or Warsaw.
Britain
faces similar limitations. Its nuclear arsenal relies on US-made
Trident systems, which cannot be deployed without American consent. Any
independent British guarantee is therefore constrained from the outset.
Germany, meanwhile, has begun discussing “European nuclear deterrence,”
while Poland openly entertains ambitions of acquiring nuclear weapons.
Such developments are destabilizing, raising the specter of
proliferation in a region long defined by non-nuclear norms.
At
the same time, events beyond Europe have exposed further fractures. The
US and Israeli strikes on Iran, particularly after the failure of a
rapid military outcome, created anxiety among European states, primarily
for economic reasons. Yet when Washington called for support, including
access to bases and logistical assistance, Western European responses
were muted or negative. Spain and Britain, notably, refused.
Atlantic
solidarity, once assumed, proved conditional. This isn’t the first time
NATO has faced internal strain. In 1956, during the Suez Crisis,
Washington refused to back its British and French allies. In 2003, the
Iraq War split the alliance, with France and Germany opposing US policy.
In both cases, NATO endured.
Even the end of the Cold War, when
the alliance lost its original adversary, failed to destroy it. Instead,
NATO reinvented itself, expanding its mission geographically and
functionally.
The Ukraine crisis in 2014 gave it renewed purpose. The current
crisis, however, is of a different nature. It is not about external
threats alone, but about the alignment of interests within the alliance
itself.
What, then, lies ahead? NATO is unlikely to collapse. The
United States has no intention of abandoning Europe entirely. The
alliance remains a useful instrument for maintaining American influence
and for managing relations with both Russia and European partners.
At
the same time, Washington views the European Union as an economic
competitor. NATO, by contrast, is a political and military framework
through which the US can retain leverage.
Western Europe, for its part, lacks a viable alternative.
The
idea of a unified EU army remains politically unrealistic. National
interests continue to outweigh supranational ambitions. Institutions in
Brussels lack the legitimacy required to command military authority
across the continent.
Leadership by a single European power is
equally implausible. France’s ambitions exceed its capabilities.
Germany, despite its economic weight, faces historical constraints and
growing suspicion from its neighbors as it pursues rearmament. Britain,
outside the EU and tied closely to the United States, is unlikely to
lead a continental project.
A collective leadership model – involving Paris, Berlin and London –
is equally fragile. Competing ambitions from Italy, Spain and Poland
further complicate any such arrangement.
In short, Western Europe
remains strategically fragmented. Therefore, the most probable outcome
is a modified NATO: one in which the US remains at the top, but with
reduced direct engagement, while European members take on greater
operational responsibility.
The alliance will persist, but its internal cohesion will weaken. The traditional ethos of “one for all, all for one” will give way to a more conditional, interest-driven form of cooperation.
Beyond
NATO, this trend reflects a broader shift in international relations.
Military blocs are losing their rigidity. Even organizations such as the
CSTO, SCO and BRICS have struggled to maintain unified positions on
major conflicts. Strategic partnerships, including that between Russia
and China, are becoming more fluid and more transactional.
For
decades, NATO stood as the exception: a disciplined, cohesive alliance
in an increasingly fragmented world. That exception is now fading.
The process of “unlocking” global politics, the move toward greater autonomy and looser alignments, has reached the Atlantic alliance itself.
NATO will survive. But it won’t be the same.