What would happen if Estonia, a NATO ally spending 2% or higher of its GDP on defense for the last decade, was invaded by Russia tomorrow? Would the United States intervene, “gambling with World War III”? Or would Estonia be expected to negotiate “peace” because it does not “have the cards,” as President Donald Trump puts it, to defend itself?
That type of question is not entirely new, but it has become more pressing. In the whirlwind of U.S.-Ukraine relations in the last two weeks, the line from the debacle of a White House meeting between President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance and President Volodymyr Zelenskyy that clearly caught the attention of European countries dependent on the U.S. for their security was Trump’s warning: “You don’t have the cards.”
The message was that U.S. support is tenuous, and it was driven home by the temporary suspension of U.S. military and intelligence assistance to Ukraine. While Ukraine is not a U.S. treaty ally, the logical implications for the security architecture led by the U.S. since the end of World War II are potentially enormous.
Previous American presidents have tried to rebalance the cost of the U.S. security umbrella — as they should. Since the end of the Cold War, Europe in particular has prioritized its social safety net, the economic certainty of a heavily regulated but slow growth economy, and environmental spending over the most fundamental role of the state: providing for national defense. But previous American presidents also identified American national interest — the enormous associated economic and political benefit to the U.S. — in maintaining the U.S. as the credible foundation of these alliances. Trump recognizes the costs but does not see the benefits.
What is a responsible foreign leader to do? Gamble that Ukraine is something wholly different from their own security concerns? Is the Trump administration likely to feel beholden to treaty commitments at the risk of a wider war, one that could involve American troops? Currently, which U.S. ally would be able on its own, regardless of defense spending, to face down and defeat a Russian or Chinese threat?
Hedging is the most rational option, one that appears to be underway in Europe. The first step is to build military independence, to the degree possible, from the United States. That does not necessitate a break from the U.S., but the focus would be the ability to act separately. That means more military spending, and as the EU and Japan expand their defense spending and defense industrial bases, it may mean more military spending on non-U.S. suppliers that could be cut off if an American president decides that interests diverge.
It could also mean new alliance structures to complement those in Europe and Asia. Europe has the financial capability if it can unify around the Russian threat and muster the political will. It may not reach “strategic autonomy” beyond Europe’s borders, but the coalition of the willing taking shape now could defend itself from Russia in the longer term.
At its most extreme, questions of the reliability of the extended U.S. nuclear deterrent may lead countries capable of producing or acquiring their own nuclear weapons — South Korea, Japan and Turkey, to name three — to consider doing so. In Europe, leaders in Germany and Poland already have raised the prospect of relying more on British and French nuclear forces for Europe’s protection.
Second, countries will look for new forms of political or economic leverage. Ukraine actually has more than Trump credits. It still has not signed the mineral rights deal Trump seems to covet, and is no doubt aware that Russia’s suffering economy is not getting better as the war goes on longer.
Europe would be wise to seize frozen Russian assets that the Trump administration may be counting on to entice Russian cooperation in a larger project of separating it from China, and resist efforts to reintegrate Russia economically or include it in the G7. Economic and political concessions that have been teed up to preemptively assuage Trump may be better held in reserve to bargain.
These strategies are expensive and take time to reach effectiveness, which has made them politically difficult and easy to dismiss in the past. That also means that allies will have to make determinations about long-term U.S. political trajectories and goals quickly. For them not to consider paths that “couldn’t” be taken in the past, however, amounts to a strategy of crossing fingers.
An irony of the Trump administration’s new foreign policy organizing principle of “peace” is that the U.S.-led system it finds simply a burden was designed to overcome a paradox of international politics: Each state rationally pursuing its own security makes the system as a whole less secure.
Trump, the real estate developer, conflates U.S. mistakes (Vietnam, Iraq) with flaws in the structure (a U.S.-led and supported system of alliances and partners). U.S. allies and partners are on their way to spending more for their defense. That is good. But before congratulating itself, the Trump team should realize that allies hedging is not the same as allies carrying more of the load. The rational decisions of leaders responsible for their countries’ security may see unintended consequences for the U.S.