Ankara’s self-image: Peacemaker and stabilizer

For years, the government of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has consistently described Turkey’s role in the world as providing moral and strategic leadership, seeking peace and stability in its region and beyond. As tensions between the United States and Iran escalated earlier this year, Erdoğan underscored Turkey’s readiness to mediate between the two countries. Indeed, Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan, hosted Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi in Istanbul in late February. Since the war began, Fidan has echoed this sentiment throughout his intensive engagement with Gulf leaders, asserting that Turkey’s unique ability to talk to all parties is a strategic asset that can prevent regional contagion and foster long-term stability. 

Fidan’s goal is clear: a “regional ownership” of security that prevents the Middle East from becoming a permanent playground for external military escalations. In the run-up to the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, Turkish officials pleaded with Washington not to attack without a detailed and workable plan to stabilize the country after its military was defeated. Today, Turkey is eager to prevent another cauldron of chaos from emerging on its southern border, this time in a country that is larger, militarily stronger, and more politically and ethnically complex than Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. Ankara’s successes so far in its efforts to help stabilize post-Assad Syria have provided Turkish leaders with a new confidence that the country can similarly reduce regional tensions by helping to mediate an end to the war in Iran.

Diplomatic dissonance in the Mediterranean

This vision of Turkey as a regional stabilizer sharply contradicts conventional wisdom across much of Europe. In Athens in particular, memories of the 2020 tensions in the Eastern Mediterranean remain vivid. At that time, Turkish Navy warships accompanied a seismic survey ship of Turkey’s national oil company, TPAO, as it searched for oil and natural gas in waters that both Turkey and Greece claim as part of their exclusive economic zones. Tensions peaked in August 2020, when a Turkish and Greek warship collided near Crete. Recent months have seen a resurgence of pointed rhetoric over the countries’ maritime claims. Senior Greek officials have expressed deep skepticism regarding Ankara’s ambitions, with Greek Defense Minister Nikos Dendias early last month stating that Turkey’s “revisionist agenda” remains a threat to Aegean stability. Greek leadership has specifically raised alarms over Turkey’s rapidly expanding defense industrial sector and its “Blue Homeland” (Mavi Vatan) naval doctrine, which calls for Turkey to defend its interpretation of international law on maritime borders and exclusive economic zones. For Greece, Turkey’s strong military is viewed less as a tool for regional peace and more as a mechanism for coercive diplomacy that continues to challenge Greek and Greek Cypriot sovereignty.

The rhetorical attacks have been even sharper between Turkey and Israel, posing a potentially serious challenge to Ankara’s mediation ambitions. Erdoğan and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have regularly accused each other of crimes against humanity.

Growing support for Turkish mediation elsewhere

Despite the reservations of Greece and Israel, interest in Turkish mediation is growing elsewhere. On March 1, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen stated in a social media post that she welcomes Turkey’s “readiness to mediate and support a resolution” to the Iran war “through peaceful means.” Pakistan, along with Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt, have now taken the lead in relaying messages between the warring parties in the hope of containing regional chaos.

Most importantly, US support for Turkish mediation also seems to be growing. A key factor is the personal rapport between the US and Turkish presidents. US President Donald Trump has frequently praised Erdoğan, describing him in October 2019 as a “hell of a leader” and a “tough man who deserves respect.” More recently, when asked whether Erdoğan could play a useful mediation role between Ukraine and Russia in October 2025, Trump replied, “Yeah, Erdoğan can. He’s respected by Russia, Ukraine. I can’t tell you about it, but he is respected by the world. And he’s a friend of mine.” 

Ankara has indeed taken a balanced approach toward Kyiv and Moscow. On the one hand, Turkey has sustained military-technical cooperation with Ukraine throughout Russia’s invasion and steadfastly supported its territorial integrity. Turkey also prevented Russia from reinforcing its Black Sea Fleet via the Turkish Straits in accord with the Montreux Convention of 1936. On the other hand, Turkey has refused to join sanctions against Russia and Erdoğan has maintained a robust communication line with Russian President Vladimir Putin. This evenhanded positioning allowed Turkey to broker, together with the United Nations, the July 2022 agreement between Ukraine and Russia on grain exports via the Black Sea.

Turkey’s behind-the-scenes mediation was also crucial to securing the release of hostages from Gaza in late 2023. While the world focused on Qatar’s high-profile mediation, Ankara quietly leveraged its long-standing relations with Hamas’s political bureau, (a relationship that had irritated both Israel and the United States for years), to facilitate the release of more than twenty Thai agricultural workers who were not part of the primary prisoner-exchange deals negotiated by the United States, Qatar, and Egypt. Hamas credited Turkish mediation with securing the deal.

At the time, then US President Joe Biden made no mention of Erdoğan’s role in securing the Thai hostages’ release, instead crediting trilateral efforts by Washington, Doha, and Cairo. Trump has been more willing to publicly credit Turkey’s mediation role in the Israel-Hamas war. While announcing his twenty-point plan to end the Gaza conflict in October 2025, Trump stated, “President Erdoğan was fantastic. He really helped a lot, because he’s very respected.”

US embraces Turkey’s mediation

Trump’s appreciation for Turkey’s mediation seems sufficiently strong to have prompted his administration to drop the criminal case against Halkbank, a major Turkish state-owned bank. The bank was awaiting a multibillion-dollar fine after its 2019 indictment for money laundering over illicit gold shipments to Iran. Had the United States imposed the fine, Halkbank could have collapsed, possibly sparking a crisis across Turkey’s banking system. For years, the Turkish government argued that Halkbank enjoyed sovereign immunity and the case should be dropped, but as recently as October 2025, the Trump administration refused to express support to the US Supreme Court for Halkbank’s appeal that the case be dropped.  

Then on March 6, the US Department of Justice (DOJ) requested that Judge Richard Berman drop the case, citing “extraordinary national security and foreign policy considerations.” The DOJ’s main justification was that Turkey’s assistance was “critical to securing the ceasefire agreement and Hamas’s release of the hostages” that the Trump administration brokered in early 2025.

The timing of the Trump administration’s reversal on the Halkbank case may be telling. Coming a week after the United States and Israel launched their attacks on Iran, Washington’s move may suggest that Trump foresees a role for Turkish mediation in the war. While Netanyahu may balk, Trump may find Ankara’s record of mediation too successful to resist. And indeed, Ankara has already begun playing that mediation role in concert with Pakistan, Saudia Arabia, and Egypt.

Matthew Bryza is a nonresident fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Turkey Program.

The views expressed in TURKEYSource are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Atlantic Council, its staff, or its supporters.

The post Could Turkey help mediate an end to the Iran war? appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Bottom lines up front

• Europe is entering a period of strategic indecision: some capitals are doubling down on deterrence and defense, while others are reviving calls for engagement with Moscow.
• Renewed appeals to re-engage Russia do not reflect improved strategic conditions but uncertainty over how to respond to Russian aggression and the breakdown of the rules-based order.
• Containment remains the only viable European approach to Russia, but it must be updated to reflect the changing US role on the continent.

VILNIUS and WASHINGTON—February 22, 2026, marked eighty years since US diplomat George Kennan sent the Long Telegram from Moscow, laying the intellectual foundations for a containment strategy against Russia. As Kennan described in a follow-up Foreign Affairs essay that presented his ideas to the public, “the main element of any United States policy toward the Soviet Union must be that of a long-term, patient but firm and vigilant containment of Russian expansive tendencies.” Two days after this anniversary marked four years since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, starkly illustrating the consequences of abandoning Kennan’s core strategic insight in favor of illusions about convergence, dialogue, or historical inevitability.

Europe today faces a familiar temptation: to substitute process for power, engagement for strategy, and institutional continuity for genuine security. The question is no longer whether Russia can be accommodated into a cooperative European order—that experiment has already failed. The question now is whether Europe and its allies are prepared to organize their security around the reality that Russia cannot be accommodated and must be contained.

Europe’s strategic indecision: Why calls for engagement are back

So far this year, several European countries—France, Germany, and Italy among them—have revived calls for renewed engagement with Moscow. Just this month, the Belgian prime minister said that Europe must negotiate with Russia, adding: “In private, European leaders agree with me, but no one dares to say it out loud.” Meanwhile, the United Kingdom, Poland, and some Baltic leaders remain skeptical.

At the surface level, renewed engagement seems to be driven by fears of European marginalization in emerging diplomatic formats, particularly as the United States has engaged in limited talks about Russia’s war in Ukraine, which have now been paused due to the war in Iran. Europeans do not want to wait for a seat at the table in these talks—especially regarding peace in Ukraine and any future security architecture for the continent.

At a deeper structural level, engagement returns precisely when high-end deterrence and defense posture becomes politically costly, and institutional enforcement weakens. Dialogue appears less disruptive than sustained military modernization, sanctions, and forward deployments. But it is also less pertinent.

Limited but persistent European calls to re-engage with Moscow do not amount to a coherent plan to restore stability. They are reactions to the breakdown of the rules-based order—and to Europe’s inherent uncertainty about how to respond. The core fallacy here lies in conflating the existence of the rules-based order with the institutions that once embodied it. When those rules are violated, the question is not how to preserve institutions as they are, but whether they must be reformed, redesigned, or, in some cases, abandoned altogether.

The failure of stand-alone multilateralism

For decades, Euro-Atlantic security rested on the implicit assumption that institutions themselves generate stability by establishing expectations and enforcing adherence to norms. Multilateral diplomacy presumes rational actors and assumes that repeated interaction will gradually encourage restraint. Authoritarian regimes, nevertheless, have repeatedly exploited this logic by using engagement to gain time, acquire undeserved legitimacy, and garner asymmetric advantage. When enforcement erodes, institutions tend to maintain themselves through inertia rather than effectiveness. Processes replace outcomes, and participation becomes an end rather than a means for something more valuable.

Simply being at the table does not produce peace. When detached from military instruments of power, engagement consumes time while aggressors build strength. The Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) provides a cautionary example. Rather than confronting Russia’s systematic violations, the organization has increasingly prioritized procedural continuity over substance. Russia and Belarus remain formally engaged while openly dismantling every foundational principle of the OSCE. The result is a structure without content—an institution unable to defend itself, trapped in outdated working methods, and unwilling to adapt to strategic reality.

Multilateralism that cannot enforce its own norms ceases to be a safeguard and becomes a liability. But if a full-scale war in Europe has not forced an institutional transformation, what will?

Why neither engagement nor Cold War nostalgia works

Engagement is often framed as the alternative to escalation. History suggests otherwise. The United States did not pacify Europe during the Cold War through talks. Rather, Washington’s containment strategy deterred the Kremlin from aggression against the United States’ European allies. Kennan’s concept rested on sustained counterpressure—political, economic, and military—designed to shape adversary behavior over time.

At the same time, a nostalgic return to Cold War models is neither possible nor desirable. The Cold War–era strategies of “forward defense” and “flexible response” entailed a permanent, large-scale US military engagement in Europe. The era of such US engagement in Europe is ending. Washington has been explicit about this for years: Europe must develop its own capabilities, capacity, and strategic will. NATO’s ongoing command reforms reflect this shift toward greater European responsibility. The Alliance has begun moving toward a new agenda centered on credible deterrence and defense, resilience, scaling up industrial production, and burden-sharing.

Uncoordinated European initiatives to restart dialogue with Moscow risk undercutting this trajectory by weakening NATO deterrence and defense posture before it is fully restored. The real danger lies in drifting into an incoherent middle ground—where deterrence is insufficient to constrain Russia and engagement without the strength to back it up is insufficient to stabilize Europe’s relations with Moscow.

Updated containment: A functional Euro-Atlantic approach

Containment does not lead to escalation. Rather, it is a stabilizing approach that ensures any dialogue takes place within the framework of credible defense. Similarly, escalation and escalation dominance are different concepts. NATO does not seek to escalate conflicts, but it must retain the capacity to respond from a position of strength if escalation occurs. Securing such escalation dominance requires clear red lines, credible capabilities, political will, and courage.

An updated containment strategy for European countries should rest on five pillars:

First, deterrence before dialogue. Credible military posture is not optional—it is the precondition for engagement. Without the ability to deny cost-free aggression, dialogue risks becoming a channel for delay, leverage, and asymmetry rather than a tool for stability.

Second, institutions are judged by function, not sentiment. Structures that cannot enforce norms must be reformed, bypassed, or replaced. Preserving institutional continuity in the absence of enforcement does not uphold order—it obscures its erosion and delays necessary adaptation.

Third, favor regional and functional formats. Where consensus-bound forums fail, coalitions, primarily regional ones, need to come to the fore. Smaller, purpose-driven groupings can act where unanimity-based institutions are blocked, restoring effectiveness without waiting for unreachable consensus.

Fourth, European ownership. Defense industrial mobilization, infrastructure hardening, and sustained support for Ukraine must become permanent features of European security.

Fifth, strategic coherence. NATO must seize escalation management—through large-scale multidomain exercises, robust responses to hybrid attacks, and the explicit recognition that legacy arrangements with Russia no longer apply. Maintaining escalation dominance will also require breaking a long-standing taboo and integrating conventional and nuclear planning.

An updated containment strategy will require closing sanctions loopholes, integrating civil-military logistics, and expanding defense production through state-backed investment. The Kremlin’s allies and enablers will need to be constrained across multiple regions—from the Indo-Pacific to the South Caucasus and Central Asia.

Europe’s renewed debate over engagement with Russia reflects a deeper reluctance to accept that the previous security order has already collapsed. Peace is preserved through strategic clarity, credible deterrence, and robust defense capabilities—not through nostalgia for processes that no longer deliver stability. Only a comprehensive policy grounded in strength, combined with a refusal to compromise on core principles, can alter Moscow’s calculus.

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• Executive summary
• Introduction
• Part one: Military AI tech trends
• Part two: The specter of algorithmic warfare
• Part three: Future scenarios
• Part four: Policy recommendations
• Conclusion

Executive summary

Military artificial intelligence (AI) is moving from the margins of experimentation into the core of how NATO will fight, make critical decisions, and deter competitors over the next decade. The 2022 NATO Strategic Concept identifies the technological edge to be critical for the Alliance to fulfil its core tasks. Both contemporary warfare and renewed strategic competition suggest that data-driven AI decision-support systems and autonomous battlefield capabilities augmented with AI will define the character of future conflicts. There is a justified focus on evaluating strategic risks associated with such systems.

This report argues that integrating AI into military systems does not generate vulnerabilities that are fundamentally new in kind compared to existing cyber risks. But the difference lies in consequences. Once AI-enabled decision-support systems and autonomous platforms become critical to Alliance operations, interference with data, models, and computing infrastructure may have implications for NATO’s ability to see, decide, and act under pressure. Similarly, the offensive use of AI-enabled capabilities does not, on its own, raise or lower the nuclear threshold. Escalation thresholds in algorithmic warfare will continue to be driven by effects on the ground rather than by whether a system is AI-enabled. Yet the characteristics of AI—the speed, system opacity, and physical infrastructure—create more room for human error, misperception, and miscalculation.

To explore such possibilities, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, in partnership with the NATO Office of the Chief Scientist, conducted a foresight study to clarify how adversaries might counter AI-enabled capabilities and to examine what this means for NATO doctrine, strategy, and deterrence. The research combined horizon scanning and expert interviews, an off-the-record workshop held in Washington, under Chatham House rules, and scenario modeling. The project mapped AI technology trends across decision-support systems and autonomous platforms, identified likely AI vulnerabilities and vectors of attack, and explored escalation dynamics through structured discussion and scenario-based exercises.

This project brought a new perspective into the debate on the impacts of transformative military AI on future warfare for two reasons. First, it is innovative in its comprehensive scope that encompasses both physical and cyber dimensions of algorithmic warfare. Indeed, it foregrounds the AI triad of data, algorithms, and computing power and shows how each can be attacked through cyber, kinetic, and electromagnetic (EM) means. And second, it examines the intersection of AI and nuclear weapons from a different angle: Tailored nuclear weapons are treated as a potential countermeasure against military AI for their electromagnetic pulse (EMP) effects.

There are two key findings.

While military AI does not generate “shock and awe” in and of itself, AI can exacerbate existing risk conditions for accidents and inadvertent escalations.

The report finds that the employment of military AI does not make the use of tailored nuclear weapons more likely. Instead, the choice of target, physical damage, and casualties are what matter. Workshop participants ranked responses to a notional AI-enabled drone saturation attack in the Baltic region by their perceived escalatory potential. Diplomatic action and electronic warfare were the most preferred responses, followed by kinetic strikes, cyber operations, and directed-energy weapons (DEW). Tailored nuclear EMP attacks were viewed as highly escalatory and politically unacceptable for NATO to use to repel an attack over NATO territory, even when framed as a tool of “information warfare.”

At the same time, military AI is expected to make the difference in terms of increasing speed, autonomy, scale, and uncertainty. This research, however, revealed that in comparison with all three components of the AI triad, the human remains the most vulnerable element of AI. Humans are routinely exposed to phishing, social engineering, cognitive bias, and already run the risk of deskilling as more tasks are delegated to machines.

Integrating AI into military operations therefore creates dangers along two pathways. First, speed and data are working against their user. Such compressed timelines can create cognitive problems in decision-making. Without safety and quality protocols in place, flooding decision-support systems with noisy or nonpatternable data can further thicken the fog of war for commanders. Second, AI-enabled military systems become increasingly complex and can lead to normal accidents, making foreign interference detection and exposure difficult to distinguish from system failures.

Algorithmic warfare highlights the importance of electromagnetic spectrum dominance.

Digital modernization of defense—the data-centric approach and software-defined capabilities—will make electromagnetic threats more salient. Russia’s war in Ukraine already highlights how GPS jamming, communications blackouts, and electronic warfare shape combat operations. This trend will intensify as NATO begins to lean on AI-enabled and multidomain command and control.

Advances in military applications of AI further strengthen the convergence between the cyber domain of operations (digital code) and the electromagnetic environment (electrons). In a crowded and contested spectrum, where software-defined radios, commercial satellites, and cloud-linked data centers underpin military networks, the distinction between “cyber” and “conventional” attack begins to blur. Further fielding of directed-energy weapons also indicates shifting the center of gravity to energy supplies.

Attacks on AI systems can use several vectors. The adversary can target model weights through espionage and hacking; poison training datasets; blind or spoof sensors on intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) platforms; disable data relays; or physically damage hardware in data centers, cables, satellites, or uncrewed systems. Cyber operators, electronic warfare units, special forces, and conventional reconnaissance-strike systems may all participate in degrading AI-enabled capabilities. In contrast, the ongoing trend of lowering the cost of warfare will make any requirements for new protection measures, such as shielding or hardening, difficult to implement due to the trade-offs in terms of cost, weight, and endurance.

The report develops three future scenarios, including a fourth baseline case, to identify likely implications of future algorithmic warfare for NATO’s doctrine and strategy: guarded opportunism, brave new world, and minority report.

• Guarded opportunism outlines a future in which military AI, despite its transformative impacts, does not require the military to dramatically alter the rules of engagement. Instead of introducing qualitatively new risks or vulnerabilities, the challenges related to military AI remain manageable with disciplined cyber hygiene and resilient power supply. On the risk side, this scenario points to heightened dangers of AI-fueled hybrid warfare below the threshold of armed conflict.
• Brave new world is a less likely but more dangerous scenario detailing the conditions for escalation spirals. Transformative effects of AI lead to conventionalizing nuclear weapons. Fielding of AI-enabled military capabilities provokes the adversary to use new nuclear-powered EM weapons. Nuclear EMP attacks are viewed as a legitimate use of nuclear weapons that belong to the specter of algorithmic warfare.
• Minority report presents a different take on the possible algorithmic future in which AI technology hype drives strategy. This scenario focuses on cognitive challenges for political and military decision-makers, who tend to overestimate near‑term benefits and discount the long-term risks and compound challenges of AI integration. Instead of improving AI operational implementation processes, countries race to achieve phantom AI advantages that destabilize the international security environment.

For NATO to leverage and maintain the advantage from transformative AI technologies, this report makes seven recommendations for NATO leaders that can contribute to NATO’s future strategy and doctrine adaptation.

1. Master AI literacy. NATO needs to develop standards for continuous AI skill development for commanders, operators, and policymakers. AI literacy is not just a strategic competency but also an instrument of restraint.
2. Engineer redundancy. Instead of creating a digital copy of all existing procedures, NATO should prioritize maintaining the ability to transmit information on rehearsed secondary systems.
3. Coordinate approach to AI tech industry. NATO should develop a code of conduct for AI tech company engagements that addresses the formation of an exclusive suppliers’ group, the knowledge gap in the private sector, and the rules for civilian software engineers in war zones.
4. Maintain information dominance. NATO should develop a functional framework for operationalizing AI in support of algorithmic warfare that prioritizes military objectives over abstract benchmarks and diversify its early warning systems.
5. Clarify escalation thresholds. NATO should develop a shared understanding of escalation thresholds for algorithmic warfare, decide on response triggers, and predelegate command authority in time-compressed scenarios to avoid escalation risks and decision paralysis.
6. Assess the electromagnetic layer with accuracy. Future algorithmic warfare will require NATO to treat electromagnetic spectrum operations as a distinct layer of multidomain operations to protect its strategic initiative and command-and-control superiority. NATO should also update its standards to reflect the changing scope of critical infrastructure as AI becomes a strategic asset to avoid underestimating the EM layer.
7. Deter by ambiguity. NATO should project resilience while cloaking its sensitive AI assets in a black box unexplainable by adversaries. However, such deterrence by ambiguity should not erode internal accountability of NATO-run AI systems.

Introduction

The 2022 NATO Strategic Concept emphasizes the importance of the Alliance maintaining its technological edge to achieve mission success.¹ But NATO’s ability to ensure military effectiveness and uphold a credible deterrence and defense posture faces challenges in the era of emerging and disruptive technologies. In the context of rapidly evolving warfare tactics and renewed strategic competition, AI-powered decision-support systems (DSS) and autonomous battlefield capabilities are expected to shape future conflicts. NATO’s 2022 Digital Transformation Vision therefore intended to accelerate the adoption of data and AI analytics to unlock new advantages for the Alliance.²

Accordingly, NATO’s AI Strategy encourages strategic foresight activities to help allies achieve a reasonable level of AI readiness.³ It also focuses on anticipating new challenges and risks related to algorithmic warfare from adversarial use of AI. While the military potential of AI is versatile and uncertain, it has nonetheless become difficult to overlook its importance to strategic competition. Countries are racing to develop and deploy AI across their civilian economies and militaries. Russia, the most significant and direct threat to NATO allies, and the People’s Republic of China, a strategic competitor seeking to control key technologies, have widely communicated their intentions to field AI for military purposes.⁴

Research objective

The Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, in partnership with the NATO Office of the Chief Scientist, has conducted a foresight study addressing this crucial topic. This effort seeks to gain more clarity on AI’s transformative military effects over the next decade. This report assesses the vulnerabilities entailed in AI integration into NATO military capabilities in the context of the digital transformation of defense and the growing importance of electromagnetic spectrum operations. Importantly, it identifies ways in which adversaries might counter future AI-enabled capabilities on and off the battlefield. The objective is thus to understand how these developments may affect NATO’s doctrine and strategy moving forward.

This report’s focus on the transformative effects of military AI is highly relevant given NATO’s ambition to conduct multidomain operations.⁵ As outlined in the Digital Transformation Implementation Strategy, NATO political and military leaders intend to use advanced analytics in combination with multimodal data from sensor networks for a consolidated multidomain situational awareness in real time.⁶ While the “digital backbone” is intended to enable command and control across all domains, a broader digital interoperability framework with a secured data-sharing ecosystem will enhance political consultation and decision-making processes.  

This report therefore seeks to address the complex question of the likely implications of future military AI countermeasures on NATO’s doctrine and strategy. This means identifying the risks from integrating transformative AI into military systems, examining the vulnerabilities the adoption of AI will create, assessing the severity and probability of corresponding adversarial attacks, and formulating recommendations. Importantly, to limit the dangers of technological determinism, this project examined how political and military leaders and policy planners (at the state level of decision-making) perceive new technologies appearing on the battlefield and craft their responses to escalate or not.⁷

Methodology

In terms of methodology, this report used several data collection and analysis tools. The first phase of the project consisted of horizon scanning and road mapping. Through a structured evidence-gathering process based on desk research of relevant open-source documents and background expert interviews, this report identified the most important drivers of change, as well as the likely future developments at the intersection of AI and the defense sector that are at the margins of current thinking and planning.

In the second phase, the Atlantic Council hosted an off-the-record closed workshop held on an unclassified level in Washington. Through two prescripted discussions, conducted under Chatham House rules, policy and scholarly experts were asked to stress test the assumptions from the first phase. This informed the project on the likelihood of AI countermeasures and conditions for escalation in future algorithmic warfare, as well as to validate recommendations.

The third and last phase of the project centered on future scenario development. This is a useful policy analysis tool that visualizes a set of possible future conditions to help NATO decision-makers to anticipate challenges as they define capability requirements for NATO’s success in future algorithmic warfare.

Structure

This report proceeds as follows. Part One maps AI technology trends and their military applications over the next decade, from the battlefield to the war room. Part Two then proceeds to anticipate the vulnerabilities of AI-enabled systems and to assess the possible vectors of attack to explore escalation pathways in algorithmic warfare; it covers both digital and physical dimensions across the so-called “AI triad” of algorithms, data, and computing power—and adds a human factor.

Part Three outlines three algorithmic futures—guarded opportunism, brave new world, and minority report—based on the likely transformative effects of military AI and their impact on international security. This line of scientific inquiry is highly relevant given ongoing research concerned with the impact of roboticized autonomous systems operating with minimal human supervision on future conflicts.⁸

Part Four discusses recommendations for NATO leaders. Based on the project’s findings, this report raises seven main action points that are categorized into three areas: AI readiness and resilience; military AI doctrine; and deterrence.

Part one: Military AI tech trends

AI is becoming a general-purpose military technology that will sit inside almost every digital system that NATO uses.⁹ Its transformative effects will likely concentrate in two areas. First, decision-support systems will expand the scale of information analytics military commanders can process to make better decisions fast. Second, autonomous and semiautonomous platforms will shift how militaries sense, move, and strike on the battlefield. Together, these developments are driving an AI era of algorithmic warfare.¹⁰

AI can, in principle, be implemented in everything that uses a computer. As defense establishments digitize, AI has never been a single-purpose capability in itself. Rather, AI architecture underpins modern command, control, communications, intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, logistics, and weapons systems. NATO’s own definitions reflect this evolution. In 1995, NATO described AI as the capability of a functional unit to perform tasks generally associated with human intelligence, such as reasoning and learning. By 2005, it was also seen as “the branch of computer science” focused on building systems that reason, learn, and improve themselves.¹¹ These definitions now apply across a much broader digital ecosystem. Software has become a defining component of many weapon systems and AI is increasingly embedded in sensors, networks, and command-and-control tools.

The overall expectations about AI’s impact on future warfare can be captured in three concepts: speed, scale, and autonomy. Speed refers to faster sensing, processing, and engagement cycles. Scale refers to the ability to handle vast volumes of data and to coordinate large numbers of distributed assets, including swarms of UASs. Autonomy refers to the degree to which AI systems can operate with minimal human supervision. NATO’s challenge will be to harness these three dimensions without sacrificing control, accountability, or interoperability.

From general-purpose enabler to algorithmic warfare

The military applications of AI span relatively low-stakes use cases such as administrative automation and training, operational functions like logistics and cybersecurity, and high-stakes roles in targeting, electronic warfare, and human-machine teaming in combat.¹² From a functional standpoint, experts in defense and military affairs expect AI to matter depending on the AI model type, broadly divided in four categories: generative AI, classification, prediction, and autonomy.¹³ This includes tasks in which large volumes of data must be processed quickly, where patterns are too complex for human perception, where actions need to follow real-time operational intelligence fast, and where simulated environments can meet high training requirements.

Generative AI: Content, coaching, and cognitive effects

Generative AI models create novel content that mimics the statistical properties of the data on which they are trained in response to human prompts. In the military context, these systems are likely to be used as “agents” or virtual advisers that support commanders and staff in alleviating their daily administrative burdens and automating less critical processes, such as drafting routine reports, summarizing long documents, and translating technical information.¹⁴ In training and simulation, generative AI models can serve as simulation tools in war games and exercises. They populate synthetic environments with plausible adversarial actors and behaviors. This role improves scenario realism and generates alternative courses of action.

At the same time, these features can also be weaponized for offensive information operations. Adversaries can use generative AI to run large-scale, low-cost disinformation campaigns. This may involve producing tailored propaganda or impersonating Alliance leaders, journalists, and civil society voices. Generative AI will therefore be a powerful tool in the hands of adversaries seeking to manipulate perceptions and erode NATO’s cohesion.¹⁵

Classification: Noise and signal in a sensor-saturated battlespace

Classification models excel at recognizing patterns in labeled data and assigning new inputs to categories they have learned. Militaries already use such models for computer vision, facial and object recognition, and behavior detection. Computer vision models can identify vehicles, aircraft, ships, and infrastructure in imagery from satellites, aircraft, and UASs against their regularly updated data libraries. Classification tools can become crucial for early warning systems, from detecting stealthy cyber intrusions to flagging irregular troop movements. In sum, over the next decade, these systems are well-suited to sit at the core of intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and targeting architectures.

Much is expected from AI-enabled electronic warfare too. In a battlespace saturated with sensors, classification tools can automate filtering of the electromagnetic spectrum, such as distinguishing signal from noise and highlighting anomalous signals that warrant human attention. Furthermore, signal processing algorithms can suggest waveforms to counter hostile signals and thus help overcome adversarial jamming in real time.¹⁶ As the electromagnetic spectrum becomes more contested, the ability to recognize and respond to subtle patterns faster than an adversary will be a critical advantage.

Prediction and data fusion: Scaling decision support

Prediction models analyze historical and real-time data to identify trends and forecast likely future events. In military settings, they underpin decision-support systems (DSS) designed to help commanders cope with complexity and information overload. The transition to multidomain operations underscores the importance of such multimodal data fusion and analytics.¹⁷

This type of AI model is therefore suitable to support battle management, as they fuse information from multiple sources and data streams from land, air, maritime, cyber, and space assets, and integrate them into a single operating picture that is updatable in real time.¹⁸ However, this also means that such data-centric decision-making processes can narrow commanders’ perceptions and constrain their choices.¹⁹

They can also highlight early warning indicators, propose likely adversary courses of action, and flag emerging risks in logistics and supply chains. In logistics, in particular, AI can support predictive maintenance of critical stockpiles; forecast demand for ammunition, fuel, and spare parts; and anticipate bottlenecks in transportation networks.²⁰ Predictive systems can also assist with medical support by estimating casualties and optimizing the positioning of medical resources.²¹

Autonomy: From perception to action

Autonomy involves AI systems that perceive their environment, process real-time data from sensors, and make decisions in pursuit of a mission objective without constant human intervention. In this case, AI models can cause kinetic effects, as they can direct hardware and/or software to react within the physical realm based on the input from the immediate environment.

Onboard AI enables uncrewed aircraft, ground vehicles, and maritime platforms to filter and fuse sensor inputs, navigate in contested environments, and pass the most relevant information back to human controllers. Advances in machine vision, for example, allow drones to compare real-time imagery from downward-facing cameras with stored satellite images and inertial data to determine their position without reliance on global navigation satellite systems. This is particularly important in GPS-denied or heavily jammed environments.²²

Autonomy is also extending to terminal guidance and target recognition. Today, many drones operate on autopilot for parts of their mission, with humans in- or on-the-loop for final engagement decisions. Over time, fully autonomous solutions that combine visual navigation, target recognition, and terminal guidance are likely to proliferate. Seamless data flows, however, are crucial. The Ukrainian forces use a practice that resembles “Uber targeting,” where one unit identifies a target, shares the observation on an encrypted network, and the targeting assignment goes to whichever unit is available, even facilitating joint-strike capability from multiple vectors.²³ AI-enabled systems that can collect, process, and act on information in real time will make such dynamic targeting more common, especially when communications with higher headquarters are degraded.

From incremental adoption to algorithmic warfare

Together, developments in these functional areas point toward the algorithmic future of warfare. Broadly speaking, algorithmic warfare refers to integrating automated, autonomous, and AI technologies into the conduct of war, while decreasing the role of human elements.²⁴ In algorithmic warfare, the military conducts operations through AI-enabled capabilities that collect, analyze, and act on data at speeds and scales beyond human capacity. Artificially intelligent means operate when human warfighters cannot and reduce their exposure to danger. Such AI-enabled autonomous capabilities will especially be assigned tasks at the edge of the battlespace to handle time-critical sensing and response functions without human supervision and with minimum guidance.²⁵

Yet the most transformative effects of military AI are likely to appear in two use cases. First, AI in DSS will expand the scale and speed of information processing, giving commanders a richer but more mediated view of the operating environment. Decision-support tools will not only help humans make better-informed choices but also shape the decision space by highlighting some options and obscuring others. Second, AI embedded in weapons platforms will use speed and autonomy to compress the kill chain, shrinking the time between detection, identification, decision, and engagement.²⁶ This has implications for escalation control, the rules of engagement (ROE), and the role of commanders in supervising rapid, machine-driven engagements.

Drivers of change

Several structural drivers are signaling greater reliance on AI and algorithmic approaches to warfare. These drivers are particularly important for NATO as it implements its Digital Transformation Vision and prepares for multidomain operations.

Digital modernization of defense

First, the broader digital modernization of defense is creating the conditions in which AI can thrive. Modern militaries are upgrading their IT infrastructure and moving to software-defined capabilities that deliver new functionality to existing platforms.²⁷ This also means adopting data-centric approaches to capability development through collaborative digital spaces.

As militaries continue implementing digital modernization of their forces, their dominance in the electromagnetic spectrum is crucial for their new dependencies on sensors, satellites, and networked systems. Russia’s war in Ukraine has underscored the importance of EM warfare, including GPS jamming and communications blackouts.²⁸ These developments push militaries to design more resilient, autonomous, and decentralized command-and-control structures with better cybersecurity measures. At the same time, electromagnetic warfare in the West has not gotten the attention it needs and is still seen as largely subservient to or stovepiped from cyber.²⁹

Interconnected domains

Second, the move toward multidomain operations (MDO) requires integrating effects across land, air, maritime, space, and cyberspace, as well as in the virtual and cognitive dimensions. MDO aims to “[orchestrate] military activities, synchronize non-military instruments of power, and deliver converging effects at the speed of relevance.”³⁰ To make this possible, allies are building a digital backbone that can enable command and control across all domains. However, the effectiveness of this backbone depends on interoperable data sharing, secure and reliable communications, and advanced analytics capable of fusing data into a real-time consolidated multidomain picture. Turning well-integrated AI models into C4ISR systems that enhance situational awareness and support decision-making becomes part of the key conditions for conducting multidomain operations.

Autonomy pursuits

Third, recent and ongoing conflicts are accelerating experimentation with AI-enabled autonomous and decision-support systems. In Ukraine, AI-driven platforms already analyze extensive sensor and signal data to generate real-time targeting suggestions and logistical predictions.³¹ In Gaza, reports indicate that machine-learning systems such as “Gospel” and “Lavender” have been used to support dynamic targeting and terminal navigation by combining multi-source imagery with other intelligence inputs.³² These cases illustrate a shift from isolated, weapon-centric AI applications toward more comprehensive systems that inform planning, targeting, and force deployment at all command levels.

Drones are no longer only agents of remote warfare but are fast becoming agents of algorithmic warfare as well. Demand has surged for battlefield drone footage. Thousands of drone-camera videos depicting successful strikes are used to train computer-vision models, while engineers race to design uncrewed systems that can navigate and coordinate in GPS- and communications-denied environments using on-board processing and limited power.

Two motivations stand out: building “mass for precision” and supplementing shrinking human force structures. Swarm tactics and swarm command seek to saturate defenses and compress reaction times through the coordinated use of large numbers of low-cost platforms. At the same time, demographic trends and recruitment challenges will incentivize greater robotic integration and human-machine teaming. Forward-deployed, uninhabited platforms on standby will increasingly redefine how militaries think about force projection and readiness.³³ For instance, large drone formations can provide the aggressor with an edge in the invasion of foreign territory, highlighting the challenge to the capacity of air defenses.³⁴ Across these trends, AI is fast becoming more than just a technological tool; it is a vital strategic competency,³⁵ and will likely determine which militaries can exploit AI—at scale and under stress. For NATO, understanding where AI is most likely to transform operations, and how adversaries might target the vulnerabilities of AI-enabled systems, is a prerequisite for credible deterrence and effective defense in the emerging era of algorithmic warfare.

Part two: The specter of algorithmic warfare

Militaries have not yet realized the full potential of AI technologies, but it is not difficult to see how AI will shape the strategic environment and wartime paradigms. As the AI race intensifies, potent AI-enabled capabilities will be deployed as part of NATO’s digital transformation and decision-support ambitions.³⁶ This section translates interview insights and workshop discussions into a structured analysis of AI’s core components and their vulnerabilities and the likely vectors of adversarial attack. Two case studies used in the workshop—AI applications in autonomous weapons platforms and in a decision-support system—further informed the analysis of the limits of main AI countermeasures and the conditions under which escalation in algorithmic warfare may occur. This is because the likelihood of an adversary attacking NATO for using AI models for predictive maintenance is comparatively low.

AI triad

Military AI rests on three interlocking components often described as the AI triad: data, algorithms, and computing power.³⁷ Each component has a specific implication for offense-defense parameters. For instance, algorithms imply attacks on model architecture, computing power involves disrupting semiconductors and supply chains, while data concern cyberattacks to poison datasets.

Data refers to information about the focus area of the machine-learning system, collected from sensors and other sources, organized, stored, and made accessible. Algorithms are the series of instructions used to process information; machine-learning algorithms derive insights from datasets and the learnable parameters that encode the core capabilities of an AI model in model weights. Computing power provides the speed and capacity to execute algorithms at scale, train models to determine weights, and run inference offline on deployed systems.³⁸ In practice, computing power includes processors and graphics cards, advanced semiconductors, content delivery networks, power supplies, and cooling. Defense applications often need to run offline on edge devices under strict size, weight, and power constraints, or on government cloud resources with limited GPU availability. Data, sometimes dubbed the new “munition” due to their importance for modern warfare, encompasses issues such as volume, quality, salience, and labeling. The amount of training data strongly influences effectiveness, though collecting the right operational data and labeling it correctly are important for accuracy and alignment. Algorithms feed data into model weights through training, and their resulting internal architecture determines future data analysis in real-time operations.

AI vulnerabilities and vectors of attack

Integrating AI introduces several challenges along the entire triad. Core datasets are massive, models can be opaque, and natural-language prompting expands input surfaces. These characteristics create multiple entry points for adversaries and raise the importance of disciplined processes and safeguards. Adversaries will attempt to degrade NATO’s AI-enabled capabilities by targeting the triad across cyber, electromagnetic, and conventional kinetic dimensions. This section outlines how such attacks would prevent the Alliance from enjoying advantages from AI.

Computing power

Vulnerabilities associated with computing power reflect the physicality of AI infrastructure. This is because advanced semiconductors and specialized chips must be sourced, supplied, and integrated into systems that also require stable energy and cooling. The performance of inference-heavy applications may depend on AI-optimized hardware. These dependencies create risks during material shortages, expose weak points in data centers, and constrain performance at the tactical edge.

Adversaries can exploit material attributes of semiconductors. They can disrupt the supply of specialized AI chips, seed vendor-supplied Trojan backdoors, or manipulate cloud architectures built with commercial technology. They can target the electricity supply of data centers and sabotage their water-cooling systems to cause outages, or damage undersea cables and content-delivery networks to disrupt data flows.

Data

Data is vulnerable across the lifecycle of AI models. Adversaries can poison training datasets through cyber operations that mislabel data or introduce hidden triggers that cause the model to misbehave. Poorly labeled or biased datasets degrade performance, making certain classes of objects invisible to the system or misclassifying them at critical ranges. If the wrong data is collected, or if the right data is corrupted, the entire decision-support chain can lead a model to malfunction and reduce its reliability in the long term.

Adversaries can also interfere with real-life data collection. Because drones and other autonomous systems rely on environmental input, adversaries can tamper with surroundings to impact sensory input and cause abnormal behavior. For instance, blinding sensors on ISR platforms with optical illusions, or adjusting the sensors themselves, and generating spoofing signals can mislead the model into inappropriate responses.³⁹ In addition to onboard perception and planning modules, adversaries can target control interfaces, power management, data relays, and user interfaces used to coordinate connected autonomous systems. Alternatively, disabling low-orbit satellites can also stop real-time input and data sharing.

Algorithms

Incorporating AI into the digital architecture makes the existing systems susceptible to attacks that target the AI model itself. Because model parameters encode internal configuration variables crucial for its operation, compromising weights and biases gives an attacker significant leverage. Adversaries can also try to steal model weights through espionage or proxy hackers, gaining access to the core capabilities of the model for manipulation.⁴⁰
Adversaries can thicken the fog of war for algorithms by flooding AI-enabled DSS with inputs that are inaccurate, uncategorizable, or nonpatternable. They can exploit the rare and unpredictable features of the battlefield, since AI models are mostly trained on either synthetic data or on datasets from previous conflicts that may not quite fit the type and circumstances of the current war zone.

Interviewed experts and workshop participants indicated that the most likely adversarial action against military AI architecture would include:

1. Blinding sensors on ISR platforms to stop the real-time input of new data.
2. Spreading misinformation to confuse the algorithms with nonpatternable data.
3. Physically damaging undersea cables to disrupt data sharing.
4. Conducting espionage in the suppliers’ private lab facilities.

Surprisingly, however, the most vulnerable component of AI seems to be the human; data and algorithms follow, with the computing power being the least vulnerable of AI components. Such human-related vulnerabilities include personalized phishing, social engineering, cognitive bias, and deskilling.

Countering military AI

Having discussed the vectors of adversarial attacks on AI-enabled military systems and capabilities, this section now briefly comments on the means of such attacks. These AI countermeasures include cyber operations, conventional kinetic attack, electronic warfare, directed energy weapons (DEW), and tailored nuclear weapons with enhanced electromagnetic pulse (EMP). Each has distinct advantages and limitations.

Cyber operations

Cyber operations can interfere with how AI models learn and operate by manipulating ones and zeros. Cyberattacks can degrade the model’s performance or integrity, limit its availability by delaying responses or rendering command-and-control systems inoperative at crucial moments.⁴¹ Integrating AI into military systems increases their vulnerability simply by creating more targets for computer hacking.⁴² These AI vulnerabilities include compromising software libraries, poisoning training data, hijacking AI infrastructure, or stealing sensitive AI properties. Such cyberattacks, however, require prior intelligence to target the right datasets and processing centers. Their effects can be difficult to assess and attribute in real time, which increases the potential for miscalculation.

Conventional kinetic action

Conventional kinetic attacks can target ISR assets including space-based systems, airborne warning and control system aircraft, and other hardware components integral in critical AI infrastructure. Traditional air defenses can target offensive AI onboard small autonomous vehicles with low-cost interceptors, nets, and guns. Kinetic action is tangible but can be escalatory depending on target and context, and it may be expensive or resource-intensive if used at scale against saturation attacks.

Electronic warfare

Electronic warfare uses electromagnetic energy to degrade hostile systems by jamming or spoofing. EW can produce reversible, nonlethal effects, but it is constrained by range, power, antennas, and by the need for detailed knowledge of enemy waveforms and code. Focused jamming and signal spoofing in case of multisensor platforms can confuse AI into analytical errors and lead to wrong reactions. Jamming, however, is possible only in the case of collaborative autonomous platforms that communicate among themselves the adaptive course of their action.

Directed-energy weapons

High-power microwaves and high-energy lasers widen the range of electromagnetic spectrum operations (EMSO). They can disable or destroy electronics on autonomous platforms using concentrated electromagnetic energy.⁴³ While microwaves are suitable for area defenses and perimeter denial against swarms of drones, lasers with their energy beams perform point defense similar to short-range air defense and counter-rocket, artillery, and mortar missions. They have low logistics tails and low cost per shot, but they are power hungry and range-limited. Atmospheric conditions, such as rain and fog, can reduce beam quality and effectiveness, as well as increase fratricide risks. Their applications for space missions look promising given their reusability and the potential to degrade or destroy a satellite.⁴⁴

Tailored nuclear weapons with enhanced electromagnetic pulse

Nuclear explosions of all types—from underground to high altitudes—are accompanied by an electromagnetic pulse. The strength and area coverage of this intense time varying electromagnetic radiation depends on the warhead type and yield, and the altitude of the detonation.⁴⁵ This means that while high-altitude airbursts can have a continent-wide deposition region, for explosions in the atmosphere at altitudes below 30 kilometers, the radius ranges from 5 to 16 kilometers.⁴⁶

Since the 1960s, EMPs, either man-made or natural, have been known to have a potential to disrupt, damage, or destroy a wide array of electrical and electronic systems.⁴⁷ Degradation of electrical and electronic system performance as a result of exposure to the EMP may cause either permanent functional damage or a temporary operational impairment, lasting from seconds to hours.⁴⁸ Computers used in data processing systems, communications systems, and semiconductors belong to the category of devices most susceptible to failure.⁴⁹

While airbursts have little or no fallout and no residual radiation, it is difficult to predict their effects and impact on today’s sensitive electronics, as well as avoid collateral damage and civilian casualties. Together with the difficulty to signal limited nuclear use, since the adversary cannot distinguish low-yield from high-yield weapons, such employment of nuclear EMP weapons remains highly problematic and inherently escalatory.⁵⁰ Experimental exercises over the past decades have identified no assurance that a nuclear strike would remain limited.⁵¹

Escalation and algorithmic warfare

The workshop assessed the salience of AI-enabled lethal operations along an escalatory pathway from minor cyber operations to DEW and nuclear EMP. The following paragraphs summarize the expert participants’ discussion on the conditions under which the use of military AI could increase the risk of escalation.

Escalation is defined as “an increase in the intensity or scope of conflict that crosses threshold(s) considered significant by one or more of the participants.”⁵² Escalation thresholds then depend on retaliation in response to some form of attack. The workshop discussion highlighted the distinction between effects-based and means-based escalation logics. While effects-based logic identifies thresholds depending on the impact that is irrespective of the weapons type, means-based logic emphasizes the qualitative difference between nuclear, conventional, and cyber domains. Some means are regarded as less escalatory than others. For instance, cyberattacks have proven capable of restraining the escalation dynamic and even de-escalating geopolitical crises.⁵³ Similarly, attacks on large drones are less likely to lead to escalation than attacks on inhabited aircraft.⁵⁴

Most researchers studying the AI-nuclear intersection focus on AI amplifying existing risks in nuclear command, control, and communications that can spark accidental nuclear confrontation,⁵⁵ undermining deterrence with AI-enabled conventional systems,⁵⁶ incentivizing first strike,⁵⁷ or exacerbating the proliferation/verification dilemma.⁵⁸ This workshop addressed the concern of a possible deliberate use of nuclear weapons as a warfighting tool designed to produce electromagnetic pulse effects to counter military AI. Previous experimental war-gaming showed that although low-yield nuclear weapons do indeed destabilize international security since they are seen as a substitute for high-yield nuclear use, they do not seem to increase the likelihood of crossing the nuclear threshold.⁵⁹

The workshop scenario described an AI-enabled fast and lethal drone saturation attack into the Baltic region. The scenario listed a number of possible responses:

1. Diplomatic action.
2. Economic sanctions.
3. Cyberattack.
4. Conventional kinetic response.
5. Electronic warfare measures.
6. Directed energy weapons.
7. Tailored nuclear weapons with enhanced electromagnetic pulse.

The workshop participants ranked responses by their perceived escalatory potential. Diplomatic action and electronic warfare tended to come first and often in parallel. Kinetic action, cyber operations, and DEW followed as second-ring responses. Economic sanctions were seen as medium-term tools, not immediate response levers. Tailored nuclear EMP was considered least probable but most escalatory, with a consensus that its use over NATO territory would be unacceptable. Among the most prevalent concerns against the nuclear EMP use, the participants noted: lowering the threshold for strategic nuclear weapon use; observing the nuclear “taboo,” the response’s proportionality, proliferation of nuclear weapons following nuclear use, and setting a negative precedent.

The follow-on discussion highlighted that adversaries may exploit AI structural risks. Complex AI systems can make attribution and intent assessment harder as AI and autonomy create conditions for plausible deniability. In addition, increased speed and data volumes can work against the user, since time-pressured scenarios increase the risk that decision-makers may rely more heavily on potentially compromised AI outputs, without even understanding the source of unanticipated inputs or system failures.⁶⁰

The workshop confirmed that military AI is not escalatory because offensive AI-enabled capabilities do not meaningfully increase the nature or intensity of a conflict. What matters is the choice of target, the physical damage, and the presence of casualties. At the same time, the properties of AI—speed, autonomy, and opacity—can increase the risk of inadvertent escalation. Despite the fight for EM spectrum dominance, the AI status of an attack does not lower nuclear thresholds—effects on the ground determine response. Ultimately, the vicinity of the adversary’s troops continues to be perceived as more escalatory than an AI-powered swarm attack.

Part three: Future scenarios

Juxtaposing the possible transformative effects of military AI against the threat perception (table A), this foresight study outlines three military AI future scenarios: Guarded opportunism, brave new world, and minority report. The goal is to anticipate long‑haul innovation in countering adversarial attacks on NATO’s AI systems and to inform military research and development decisions.⁶¹

The scenarios are modeled after two variables with a graduated level of likelihood. The first variable concerns the transformative impact of AI: whether countries achieve any strategic advantage from integrating AI into their militaries. And the second variable addresses an adversary’s threat perception: whether integrating AI provokes the development of new countermeasures and/or changes on the escalation ladder.

The fourth quadrant—AI fatigue—represents the most unlikely scenario with no decisive AI advantage and no heightened threat perception. It is less policy‑salient but remains useful as a control for future policy planning.

Scenario I. Guarded opportunism

This is the most plausible future scenario. AI meaningfully transforms military affairs and confers comparative advantage on states that integrate it well, yet it does not worsen adversary threat perceptions. Business continues largely as usual. AI‑enabled decision support and autonomy systems transform the character of warfare through expanded scale and increased operational speed yet without changing the nature of war.

NATO’s digital transformation and integrated AI-enabled military capabilities do not introduce qualitatively new risks or vulnerabilities. These remain familiar to cyberspace and can be managed with disciplined cyber hygiene and resilient power-supply architectures. However, AI may heighten some of the existing threat pathways and security risks. As AI becomes integral to the ability to operate and respond, degraded situational awareness and power outages, for instance, could become more consequential—and a new center of gravity—in digitalized, software-defined defense. Decision‑support systems help commanders filter the noise and frame choices faster, but they do not demand new categories of resilience beyond what Part Two already identified for the AI triad.

Hybrid pressure intensifies below the threshold of armed conflict. Cable cuts, data center intrusions, and information operations become routine. Russia continues sabotaging critical AI infrastructure to disrupt supply chains and cyber and drone intimidation campaigns across Europe.⁶² Yet technology knowledge and investments into resilient computer systems limit these escalation attempts. Better engineering and AI literacy shorten detection and attribution loops and make recovery faster.

Two challenges stand out. The first is the intergovernmental character of the Alliance. NATO relies on its member countries for certain types of cyber operations. This dependence on capitals to act creates latency in time‑sensitive crises and may result in inefficient responses that may not prevent further escalation of hybrid warfare. The second is information warfare targeting the Alliance’s reputation. NATO publics in left‑leaning governments are targeted with disinformation campaigns that frame AI‑enabled capabilities as unethical “killer robots,” arguing that NATO violates its own principles of responsible use of AI. Adversaries are further fueling domestic opposition to reduce tech-sector cooperation.

Still, guarded opportunism is defined by low escalation risks. Algorithmic warfare remains bounded by existing ROE and proportional responses. The only time AI and nuclear fields cross their paths with real-world consequences is in the widespread adoption of small nuclear reactors across the military to power demanding computations of AI models.

Scenario II. Brave new world

In the second scenario, AI is transformative and threat perception worsens. The AI triad delivers a real strategic and operational edge. However, AI-related risks grow with it over time due to insufficient literacy, lack of regular training, lagging skill development, and sloppy implementation of zero‑trust policy across armed forces. Furthermore, rapid and widespread integration of AI models creates new vulnerabilities, stemming from limited human agency, which complicate the cognitive aspects of decision-making.⁶³ The result is an increased probability of flash wars among autonomous robotic systems, in which algorithms interact at such a fast pace that humans would not be involved.⁶⁴

Such a degraded security environment sees multiple escalation spirals. Compressed decision-making times and fully autonomous systems contribute to perceptions of asymmetric disadvantage between Russia and NATO. Russia’s doctrine and force structure amplify the problem. Russia’s revision of its nuclear doctrine in 2024—with its greater emphasis on “aerospace attacks,” explicitly including drones, as one of the conditions under which nuclear weapons may be used—seems to lower the threshold for nuclear use.⁶⁵ This demonstrates that Russia became more reliant on its nonstrategic nuclear weapons after its conventional forces degraded in the war on Ukraine.⁶⁶ This seems to strengthen the Russian leadership’s belief that nonstrategic nuclear weapons are Russia’s “competitive advantage” over NATO.⁶⁷ Furthermore, Russia’s vision of new generation warfare builds upon weapons based on new physical principles, including radio frequency, laser, infrasonic, and electromagnetic. Russia has indeed been developing a precision-strike system built on integration of EW, uncrewed strike and reconnaissance systems, hypersonic weapons, and low-yield nuclear warheads.

In contrast, as NATO’s deterrent power derives from advanced conventional capabilities, this scenario portrays a deeper blurring of conventional and nuclear domains.⁶⁸ Yet NATO struggles to attain superiority in strategic command and control, while avoiding dependencies on commercial clouds and satellites. Large‑scale outages and cascading failures are more frequent. Allies hold regular war-gaming exercises to make sure that the Alliance’s responses remain proportionate even when attacks are AI‑generated. Yet Russia’s asymmetric countermeasures to the multidomain concept keep causing electronic damage to NATO command posts and communications centers.⁶⁹

In high tension, states embrace capabilities that manipulate the spectrum—microwaves, lasers, tailored EMP—seeking to blunt swarms and blind sensors. While EW once seemed unbeatable, jamming lost its teeth against uncrewed vehicles that do not use communication and navigation links. And if autonomy was an antidote to EW, then degrading the electromagnetic environment has become the antidote to AI-enabled military capabilities.

Some governments resume nuclear explosive testing of airburst effects, which contributes to further entangling AI with the nuclear domain. The line between conventional and nuclear war will get more fragile with the proliferation of new classes of EMP weapons. Nuclear proliferation gets out of control as more countries strive to develop their own low-yield nuclear EMP deterrent to counter AI-enabled adversaries. Worse, numerous experts inside and outside Russia believe that a nuclear EMP attack does not need to be governed by the same set of considerations as strategic nuclear weapons and nuclear doctrine.⁷⁰ Nuclear EMP weapons are understood within the category of electronic warfare or information warfare, not nuclear warfare. In this increasingly popular interpretation, an EMP attack is regarded as a legitimate use of nuclear weapons within the specter of algorithmic warfare. Even if nuclear EMP is conceptualized as a form of information warfare in some circles, its use would be profoundly escalatory.

Scenario III. Minority report

In the third scenario, technology hype drives strategy. AI does not deliver decisive comparative advantage for the military, yet threat perceptions grow worse. Exaggerated expectations about the game-changing, transformative, and inevitable impact of AI fuel anxiety about falling behind. The fear of missing out, rather than tangible advantages from AI models, pushes countries deep into the AI race. Such alarmism about phantom AI advantages has a destabilizing effect on strategic balance.

Information asymmetries deepen the problem. NATO militaries and Russian officials tout milestones and “breakthroughs,” while major AI firms speak of revolutionary models. The strategic conversation fixates on what might be developed tomorrow rather than what is fielded today. Decision‑makers overestimate near‑term effects and discount the risks and challenges of AI integration work highlighted in Parts One and Two. As a result, nuclear-armed great powers interpret routine military exercises as cover for preemptive strikes at machine‑speeds and tend to see AI-enabled ISR improvements as a direct threat to their second-strike capabilities.

Escalation pathways in this scenario are cognitive. On the one hand, leaders race to push fully autonomous prototypes forward before safety case evaluations are completed. Miscalculation risk rises not because AI-enabled autonomous weapons systems are unstoppable, but because the decision-makers believe they are. On the other, the adversaries deploy cognitive warfare tactics of “algorithmic amplification” to influence how decision-makers reason, degrade critical decision-making processes, and undermine their sense of security.⁷¹

The Alliance faces the challenge of lowering expectations while preserving its technological edge. However, while allies agreed to coordinate their political objectives of developing AI-enabled armed forces, the lack of national resources and ineffectiveness of their national AI strategies to achieve them weakened NATO’s cohesion.⁷² Leading AI countries are reluctant to institutionalize transparent metrics for AI readiness that separate laboratory promise from operational proof.

This scenario points to the need to move beyond the polarizing hopes-vs-fears dichotomy of AI in order to translate technological potential into military advantage through a sound implementation strategy.⁷³ This scenario reminds policymakers and defense planners to budget for the cognitive dimension of technological competition. Publics and markets react to hyped narratives faster than to scientific results. Adversaries will try to exploit this gap with rhetoric about their AI leapfrogging, announcing the winner of the AI race.

Across all three futures, NATO faces distinct challenges posed by future algorithmic warfare. NATO’s advantage from AI models rests on speed, scale, and autonomy delivered by a resilient AI triad under close human oversight. Guarded opportunism is the most likely scenario and highlights AI vulnerabilities in the light of hybrid and information warfare. Brave new world is less likely but the more dangerous of the three futures. In this algorithmic future, NATO is constantly on the cusp of spirals of escalation and de-escalation and points to the dangers from rapid and widespread integration of AI models without correspondingly fast doctrinal adaptation. Minority report, meanwhile, outlines the destabilizing effects of AI hype in the context of lacking safety and transparency standards.

Part four: Policy recommendations

NATO’s advantage in algorithmic warfare will depend on converting AI’s speed, scale, and autonomy into reliable military capabilities while avoiding inadvertent escalation. This report suggests that the Alliance should focus on three lines of effort. First, it must build AI readiness and resilience across the Alliance. Second, it must refine military AI doctrine to preserve information dominance and to clarify response triggers under compressed timelines. Third, it must develop a deterrence strategy for its strategic AI-enabled DSS. These policy recommendations address the AI vulnerabilities and attack vectors identified in the report’s earlier sections, providing practical steps for NATO leaders implementing the Digital Transformation Vision and preparing for multidomain operations. Each recommendation is intended for near‑term adoption to set conditions for long‑term advantages from AI.

I. AI readiness and resilience

NATO should anchor its AI strategy in two core principles—literacy and redundancy—and reinforce those principles through a coordinated approach to the AI tech industry. Such an approach will help NATO avoid the risks of stale knowledge and deskilling.

Recommendation 1: Master AI literacy

AI literacy should be treated as a strategic competency for commanders, operators, and policymakers rather than as a niche topic confined to chief information officers. NATO should integrate AI education into professional military education, operational exercises, and staff development programs so that leaders understand both the promise and the limits of current AI models. AI-literate armed forces are less likely to succumb to tech-centric thinking and automation bias in future strategy and doctrine development.

NATO should also educate wider publics and political elites so that strategy debates do not become hostage to hype. Clear explanations of how models are evaluated, how data shape military performance, and how human judgment remains central are key for preparing policymakers at all levels to make informed AI-related decisions.⁷⁴

Recommendation 2: Engineer redundancy

Maintaining the ability to transmit information is essential for coordinated actions. NATO should assume that outages and system failures will occur. The Alliance needs to exercise capabilities in communications‑degraded electromagnetic environments and design robust and rehearsed secondary systems. This involves mapping cyber and physical dependencies to avoid single points of failure.

The Alliance should pursue controlled geographic decentralization of data centers to improve resilience of its AI architecture. This will require lawmakers to align national legislative requirements on strict data standards and protocols for insider-outsider threat detection. Vetting the data that goes into AI-enabled DSS, together with delineating clear boundaries between training periods and operational deployment of AI models, will improve the ability to isolate “poisoned” data and contain their spread. Training a team of experts to ensure human oversight of AI workings can limit the consequences of system malfunctions, while limiting the number of people with authorized access to base model parameters, can reduce the risk of sabotage and espionage.

Investment priorities should include research programs that work on future novel materials for shielding and protection of high-speed digital computers against EM interference. Given that the adversaries are likely to invest heavily in spoofing and dazzling hardware capabilities, the Allies should consider hardened interfaces against exfiltration. Lastly, NATO should invest in resources for continuous active defenses that constantly look for evidence of deception and run malfunction diagnostics.

Recommendation 3: Coordinate approach to AI tech industry

NATO should develop a code of conduct for private-sector engagements. The code would require AI companies developing products for decision-support systems and autonomous platforms to adhere to safety and ethical standards. The Alliance should create a trusted group of commercial suppliers and establish clear rules for civilian software engineers and technicians deployed in war zones. To prevent adversaries from achieving tech superiority, the Allies should examine their technology dependencies, “friend-shore” supply chains, and tighten export controls of critical components.

The Alliance should try to address the knowledge gap that exists in the private sector on how EMPs affect computer-based systems. NATO should partner with space tech organizations that have experience with the most advanced research into electromagnetic disturbances. As part of coordinating government–industry unclassified information sharing, NATO could also facilitate partnerships between traditional military hardware providers with software developers so that commercial capabilities can be deployed on military‑grade platforms. Lastly, NATO should encourage forward thinking. Routine, joint red‑teaming and data‑poisoning drills with industry will expose weaknesses. Regular brainstorming on risks from new EMP weapons and postquantum cryptography should feed into the life-cycle design of current systems.

II. Military AI doctrine

Doctrine must convert technical possibility into operational advantage while reducing the pathways to inadvertent escalation. Three recommendations on doctrinal adaptation can contribute to preserving NATO’s advantage from AI.

Recommendation 4: Maintain information dominance

NATO should develop a functional framework for operationalizing AI in support of algorithmic warfare that prioritizes military objectives over abstract benchmarks. Commanders should measure success in terms of effects—such as optimized asset‑to‑target allocation on defense—rather than in terms of statistical thresholds.

Investments should focus on early warning systems, electromagnetic warfare capabilities, and a layered counter‑UAS architecture that combines continuous passive radars, electronic warfare, DEW, and point defenses.

Maintaining information dominance also requires the ability to distinguish routine probing in the form of hybrid air denial operations from preparations for larger operations using drone saturation attacks. Exercises should therefore include ambiguous data, degraded sensors, and adversarial attempts to manipulate inputs so that the troops learn to question AI outputs without losing their operational tempo.

Recommendation 5: Clarify escalation thresholds

Compressed timelines will produce decision paralysis unless allies agree on response triggers and predelegate command authority to avoid escalation risks. NATO allies should develop a shared understanding of escalation thresholds for algorithmic warfare, including thresholds defining the strategic effects of adversarial AI-enabled attacks, as well as of attacks on NATO’s own AI architecture.

NATO also should have clear protocols in place for attribution and proportionality regarding the Alliance’s responses. For instance, would poisoning an adversary’s data count as an offensive cyber operation? NATO allies also need to make sure there are clear rules of engagement for autonomous and semiautonomous response systems. In anticipating the adversary’s deniability claims in the event of AI-enabled attacks, such as “accident” or “loss of control,” NATO should not be adjusting its red lines between subthreshold manipulation and armed attack.

Recommendation 6: Assess the electromagnetic layer with accuracy

The electromagnetic spectrum should not be an afterthought. NATO defense planners need to take the electromagnetic spectrum into consideration at the beginning of warfare planning and develop a spectrum plan with assigned frequencies. Future algorithmic warfare may require NATO to update its standards for survivability (STANAG 4145) to reflect the reality that modern critical infrastructure includes data centers and commercial satellites in addition to traditional command facilities.
In planning for EM-contested environments, NATO allies should preposition shielded assets—power, fuel, generators, and communications equipment—in forward locations to avoid logistical shortages during compressed timelines. They could also invest in software‑defined or reconfigurable radios and optical/laser communications. They should also explore the use of UAS or balloon‑based repeaters to restore the ability to transmit information when ground infrastructure is compromised. Treating the spectrum as a distinct layer of multidomain operations will protect the strategic initiative and the superiority in command and control that NATO seeks to maintain.

III. Deterrence

As AI‑enabled systems underpin strategic command‑and‑control functions, NATO must develop a deterrence strategy based on black box ambiguity without locking itself into a rigid declaratory policy.

Recommendation 7: Deter by ambiguity

NATO should project resilience while keeping the internal architecture of sensitive AI systems opaque to adversaries. Black box AI would also deprive adversaries of the ability to assess the real costs of potential attack. At the same time, the Alliance must maintain the diagnostic capacity to distinguish foreign interference from technical failure in case of system malfunctions, so that ambiguity does not erode internal accountability.

Building and demonstrating resilience—technical, organizational, and informational—will enable NATO to signal confidence and control. Its strategic communication should make clear that deliberate interference with decision‑support systems could carry serious consequences, even if precise thresholds and responses remain undisclosed. Taken together, these seven recommendations translate the analytical sections into concrete actionable items. Literacy keeps humans in charge under compressed timelines. Redundancy and industry coordination make the AI triad more trustworthy. Doctrine secures the informational high ground and clarifies action in crisis. Finally, deterrence by ambiguity protects the Alliance’s AI advantage without inspiring its adversaries into building new countermeasures. Implemented in parallel, these steps position NATO to enjoy its AI advantage in algorithmic warfare on terms that contribute to a stable security environment.

Conclusion

NATO’s competitive edge in the era of emerging and disruptive technologies will come from treating AI as a general-purpose enabler embedded across the Alliance’s digital backbone, rather than as a stand-alone “wonder weapon.” AI-enabled decision support and autonomy do not create vulnerabilities that are different in kind from cyber risks, but they raise the stakes by tying mission-critical effects—speed, scale, and autonomy—to software-defined systems that adversaries will target. Escalation will continue to be governed by effects and targets, not labels, while cognitive factors complicate judgment under time pressure. The practical implication for NATO is clear: invest in literacy, engineer redundancy, clarify doctrine, and project resilience with measured ambiguity.

This report addresses NATO’s ambition to protect its AI technological edge while digitalizing defense. Part One showed how AI will matter most in two intertwined areas: decision-support systems that compress time and expand the scale of information processing, and autonomous or semiautonomous platforms that accelerate sensing, movement, and strike. These advantages rely on the secured AI triad of algorithms, data, and computing power. Part Two mapped where adversaries will try to turn those strengths into liabilities—poisoning data, spoofing sensors, stealing model weights, interrupting cloud access and cable backhaul, and attacking the AI physical infrastructure. The analysis emphasized that while attempts to degrade AI-enabled military capabilities will resemble cyberspace operations, the consequences of failure are amplified when AI is made responsible for situational awareness at the core of command-and-control decision-making.

Parts Three and Four translated those findings into future forecasting and recommendations. The foresight scenario exercise underscored that the most likely near-term pathway is one of guarded opportunism—AI improves productivity and tempo without changing the nature of war—while the most dangerous pathway blends real AI advantage with worsening threat perception, making EMSO and directed-energy tools more salient in crisis. The most deceptive pathway is driven by hype: Threat perceptions rise even when fielded capabilities do not correspond to exaggerated predictions. Across all futures, effects, targets, and collateral risk determine algorithmic warfare dynamics.

Crucially, military AI systems do not introduce vulnerabilities that are categorically new, yet the consequences of foreign interference can be greater. If AI-enabled systems are integral to a unit’s ability to operate and respond, then successful attacks on those systems may warrant responses that are more escalatory than tit-for-tat cyber exchanges. Timing matters as well. Loss of real-time situational awareness in a crisis reduces clarity about what happened and who is responsible, raising the probability of misperception and inadvertent escalation. In practice, this report calls for disciplined deployment of decision-support systems that can only rely on rehearsed secondary systems.

The study also clarified the relationship between EMSO and nuclear restraint in the context of tailored, nonstrategic nuclear weapons. Means-based analysis sheds light on how emerging technologies shape modern escalation dynamics. Rather than making technology-centric estimates, this report highlights systemic risks related to AI: How leaders perceive risk under pressure remains decisive.

Literacy is therefore more than a training agenda; it is an instrument of restraint. Educated policymakers, commanders, and publics are less likely to treat AI as “cyber pixie dust” or to confuse reversible electronic effects with strategic attack. They will be better able to choose the right mission for the AI-enabled capability. In parallel, designating data centers, cables, AI labs, and commercial satellites as critical infrastructure and strategic assets will help align strategy and doctrine with the realities of a software-defined force.

This study contributes to AI literacy by stripping away hype and clarifying where algorithmic warfare introduces new challenges. For NATO leaders implementing the Digital Transformation Vision, the immediate tasks are practical: align skill development programs, harden the AI triad, codify response triggers, and show resilience without over-specifying red lines. Doing so reduces the risk that exaggerated expectations about new technology will drive strategy.

The report’s findings point to a future research agenda that looks into how tactical actions can engage strategic effects. AI-enabled autonomy and speed can magnify the psychological impact of hybrid campaigns, especially where the cost of interceptors is high and the pace of exchange is machine-driven. Routine “gray zone” activities are already redefining the baseline of normalcy across Europe.⁷⁵ Such threshold uncertainty permits plausible deniability, keeping the adversarial action away from Article 5 territory.

Open questions remain. How robust is the “firebreak” in escalation theory when algorithmic systems increasingly shape perception and timing? Can allies maintain recognizable qualitative distinctions between domains when effects propagate across them in multidomain operations? And where, precisely, do we draw escalation thresholds when nonkinetic actions in the electromagnetic spectrum generate strategic consequences? Answering these questions will require continued red teaming, transparent metrics for AI readiness, and joint experimentation that links tactical vignettes to strategic decision-making fora.

The Alliance has long excelled at military hardware. In a data-centric, software-defined approach to defense, advantage will come from systems engineering and smart innovation adoption choices. If NATO invests in AI literacy and redundancy, elevates the EM spectrum within the multidomain operations concept, and projects resilience with measured ambiguity, it can protect its AI edge and defend against adversarial attacks. That is the path to credible deterrence and effective defense in the emerging AI era of algorithmic warfare.

The author would like to thank the interviewed experts and workshop participants for their generosity in sharing their time and knowledge, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative staff for making a home for this project, and the NATO Office of the Chief Scientist for choosing to fund this project as part of its 2025 grants program.

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Dominika Kunertova

Nonresident Senior Fellow

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security Transatlantic Security Initiative

Artificial Intelligence Central Europe

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The implications extend well beyond Turkey. These incidents are testing NATO’s credibility under modern conditions, where threats often fall into the gray zone between peacetime nuisance and full-scale armed attack. In such cases, the Alliance faces a genuine strategic dilemma. It must reassure an exposed ally and preserve deterrence while also avoiding an impulsive response that could widen a regional war and create a far more dangerous confrontation. Turkey’s current predicament shows that the future of NATO will be shaped not only by whether its members can fight together in a worst-case scenario, but by whether it can respond credibly to dangerous cases that fall short of one.

At first glance, the obvious question is whether this is an Article 5 moment. But Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty was never designed to operate as a mechanical trigger. The treaty states that an armed attack against one ally shall be considered an attack against all, while also leaving each ally to take “such action as it deems necessary.” NATO’s own explanation of collective defense and Article 5 makes the same point: Solidarity is firm, but the form of assistance remains up to member states’ political and strategic calculations rather than being automatically triggered. That is why Alliance leaders were able to keep Article 5 off the table after the first incident without suggesting indifference to Turkey’s security.

That should not be read as passivity. Turkish officials said explicitly that NATO air defenses shot down the missiles, with the interceptions carried out by Alliance assets in the Eastern Mediterranean. Ankara also announced on March 10 that the Alliance reinforced Turkey’s air defenses by deploying a US Patriot system near the Kürecik radar site in Malatya, a key NATO facility for missile tracking and early warning. These steps show that the Alliance is already doing what modern deterrence increasingly requires: Reinforcing defenses, reducing vulnerability, and containing escalation before it gets out of hand.

Still, restraint by itself does not fully answer the credibility question. Alliance credibility today cannot rest only on treaty language or quiet military measures. It also depends on whether exposed allies and potential adversaries can see that attacks affecting NATO territory produce visible political seriousness. If repeated incidents on allied territory are met in a way that feels too muted, too improvised, or too private, uncertainty begins to grow around what solidarity actually looks like in practice. NATO does not need to escalate militarily every time a missile or drone crosses into allied airspace. It does, however, need to show more clearly that pressure on member territory is noticed, discussed, and answered with coordinated resolve.

Turkey is an especially important test case because it sits on NATO’s southern flank, where Alliance challenges have often looked different from those on the eastern flank. Much of NATO’s recent debate has focused, understandably, on Russia’s war against Ukraine and the defense of eastern Europe. But NATO has long insisted that its commitment extends to threats “from all directions” under a 360-degree approach. If that language is to carry strategic weight, the Alliance has to show that the security of a southern ally under regional pressure is treated as part of the same collective credibility problem, even when the source of danger is different.

Turkey’s own behavior also deserves careful attention. Ankara has not sought Article 4 consultations, and Turkish officials have signaled that they do not want to be pulled more deeply into the Iran war. That caution is understandable. A government can view an incident as serious while still deciding that a formal Alliance process is not the wisest next step. This is precisely what makes the Turkey case so revealing. Modern Alliance management depends not only on what NATO is willing to do, but also on what an exposed ally wants NATO to do, and when. At times, an ally may prefer reinforcement and quiet coordination to a dramatic collective declaration. However, even if Turkey demurs from direct requests or consultations, NATO offering these things still benefits the Alliance’s reputation in Ankara and among the general public in Turkey.

At the same time, caution should not obscure a larger institutional lesson. Turkey has turned to NATO consultation mechanisms before during regional crises, especially in 2012, when violence spilling over from Syria led Turkey to seek Article 4 consultations and later prompted NATO’s deployment of Patriot batteries to help protect Turkish territory. The current moment therefore fits into a broader pattern: Turkey periodically reminds NATO that the southern flank can become a front line with little warning, and NATO periodically rediscovers that credibility is not only an eastern-flank question. The difference today is that the surrounding international environment is even more polarized, making calibrated responses more difficult and more important.

This is also part of a wider pattern of pressure on Alliance boundaries. In recent years, Russian drones and missiles have repeatedly entered or threatened NATO airspace, prompting calls for a more coordinated response. Alliance commanders have argued that firm responses to Russian incursions have helped deter further violations. The pattern is becoming clear: NATO is increasingly being tested not only by invasion scenarios, but by limited, ambiguous, and politically complicated actions that probe its thresholds without crossing them in the clearest possible way. Turkey’s experience with Iranian missiles now belongs in that same category of Alliance stress test.

For NATO, the challenge is to prevent these gray-zone incidents from producing a credibility gap. If every incident below the level of a major attack is treated as too minor for a serious political response, adversaries may conclude that there is broad space to pressure Alliance members without triggering meaningful consequences. If, on the other hand, every such incident is treated as a trigger for dramatic escalation, deterrence risks becoming recklessness. The future of the Alliance depends on avoiding both errors. What is needed is a stronger middle ground, one in which NATO pairs strategic restraint with visible solidarity, rapid consultation, and practical defensive action.

That is why the Alliance now needs a clearer framework for military incursions that fall short of open war. Drones, missile overflights, limited strikes, airspace violations, and similar coercive acts no longer belong to the margins of Alliance security. They are becoming part of its daily strategic environment. NATO should therefore develop more explicit procedures for what happens when members’ territory is exposed to repeated sub-threshold attacks. Such a framework would not replace Article 5, nor would it commit the Alliance to automatic escalation. It would instead clarify the menu of responses available below that threshold: immediate consultations, public statements of solidarity, temporary defensive deployments, intelligence coordination, air and missile defense reinforcement, and clear diplomatic signaling toward the source of the incident. In today’s security environment, credibility requires that allies and adversaries alike understand that NATO has a plan not only for full-scale war, but also for the increasingly common forms of aggression that fall below it.

That means several steps should now be considered. NATO should become more comfortable using consultation mechanisms quickly and flexibly when allied territory is repeatedly exposed to missile, drone, or airspace incidents, even when Article 5 is not under discussion. The Alliance should make defensive reinforcement more visible, especially on the southern flank, where reassurance has often been quieter than on the eastern one. It should also improve public signaling. Even where NATO chooses restraint, it should communicate that limited attacks on allied territory are neither being normalized nor ignored. These steps would not make the Alliance more escalatory. They would make it more credible.

Turkey’s recent missile incidents therefore reveal something important about NATO’s future. The Alliance’s credibility in this challenging period will not be judged only by whether it can invoke Article 5 in the most dramatic scenario. It will also be judged by whether it can handle repeated, dangerous, sub-threshold challenges without appearing passive, divided, or uncertain. In that sense, the attacks affecting Turkey are not just a regional security story. They are a warning that NATO’s next great test may come not from a single unmistakable attack, but from the accumulation of smaller crises that force the Alliance to prove that prudence and credibility can still go together.

Ali Mammadov is a PhD researcher at George Mason University’s Schar School of Policy and Government focusing on global stability, alliance formation, and rising powers. You can find him on X.

The views expressed in TURKEYSource are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Atlantic Council, its staff, or its supporters.

The post What Iran’s attacks on Turkey reveal about NATO’s future appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On March 25, Atlantic Council vice president and Scowcroft Center senior director Matthew Kroenig was quoted in The New York Times on NATO Secretary General Rutte’s praise of the war in Iran, arguing that Rutte openly criticizing President Trump would undermine the alliance.

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Matthew Kroenig

Vice President, Geostrategy and Fellows and Senior Director, Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

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Estonia’s Internal Security Service, which has earned considerable respect in recent years for a string of high-profile counterintelligence successes, has dismissed the “Narva People’s Republic” initiative as an information operation. Meanwhile, the Estonian Foreign Intelligence Service doubts any direct Russian government involvement.

A journalist from the Estonian newspaper Postimees recently managed to infiltrate a Telegram chat group and expose the “Narva People’s Republic” as a tiny operation being run by someone likely outside Estonia with apparent ties to St. Petersburg. Given the small scale of the campaign, there is a lively debate in Estonia and across social media over whether highlighting it is a sensible precautionary measure or counterproductive.

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Many have inevitably drawn comparisons with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the role played by fake separatist movements created by the Kremlin to justify Moscow’s expansionist agenda in eastern Ukraine’s Donbas region. When separatist propaganda about “People’s Republics” first began appearing in Ukraine in the years prior to the onset of Russian aggression in 2014, it was not initially taken seriously.

Recent references to a “Narva People’s Republic” appear to refer to the entire Ida-Viru County in northeastern Estonia rather than the city of Narva alone. Like Ukraine’s Donbas, Ida-Viru County was subject to an extended period of russification. During the Soviet occupation following World War II, large numbers of Russian-speakers from various parts of the Soviet Union were settled in Narva and in newly built Soviet industrial cities in the region.

With a current population that remains dominated by Russian-speakers and ethnic Russians, this would seem to make Ida-Viru County ripe for the Kremlin’s influence operations and grievance politics. However, the Estonian government has invested significantly in the region’s economic development and cultural integration.

Also, the fact that many residents of Estonia’s northeast have family links to Russia means they are well aware that they currently enjoy a far better standard of living than most people across the Narva River in the Russian Federation. With Estonia, like Ukraine, one must avoid the fallacy of conflating language with loyalty.

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The fact that a grassroots separatist movement is unlikely to develop in Ida-Viru County will not necessarily prevent Russia from using the separatist narrative to advance its agenda. When efforts to cultivate a local separatist movement in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions of Ukraine proved insufficient in 2014, the Kremlin sent in Russian citizens and military personnel without insignia. Soon after, they were followed by an undeclared invasion force.

Russia’s goal in Estonia might not be military conquest. It is often suggested that Moscow could aim to test NATO’s collective security commitments and discredit the alliance by launching a relatively minor incursion and claiming a small chunk of Estonian territory on the pretext of protecting compatriots. This would be much easier said than done, however, given Estonia’s heavily monitored border, where even the smallest infraction is noticed quickly. In such a case, Estonia would not wait for NATO to respond.

Estonian officials can be prickly about any portrayal of their country as particularly vulnerable or overly reliant on others for security. Since Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine, there have been endless articles asking “is Narva next?” This framing has been met with strong push back from Estonian security experts.

Similarly, war games exercises resulting in a quick Russian takeover of the Baltic region have been criticized by Estonian officials as lacking understanding of the Baltic states’ own security posture to the point of being insulting. In common with nearby Finland, Latvia, and Lithuania, Estonia employs a whole of society “total defense” concept that should not be underestimated.

Due to the enormous losses it is sustaining in Ukraine, Russia’s military is currently thought to be in no position to launch an invasion of Estonia. In its annual report for 2026, Estonia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, while clear-eyed about the Kremlin’s expansionist ambitions, assessed that Russia has no intention of militarily attacking Estonia or any other NATO member state in the present year, or likely the next.

It is no wonder that Estonia’s foreign and defense policy has been focused on marshaling support for Ukraine as it confronts Russian aggression. It is also easy to understand why elements in Russia would like to create the impression of a looming threat to Estonia. So far, Estonia’s reaction to social media chatter about a supposed separatist movement has been typically phlegmatic. As this narrative has drawn media attention, we can expect to see it pushed further and recycled. Estonia’s NATO allies should follow Tallinn’s lead and react by remaining alert but calm.

James Rice is a doctoral student at the Institute of World Politics and former legislative director for US Senator Chuck Grassley.

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The post Could Russia use fake separatists to destabilize Estonia and discredit NATO? appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Bottom lines up front

• Romania has approved the deployment of additional US military capabilities on its territory amid the Iran war.
• In doing so, Romania is demonstrating its commitment to both US bilateral ties and NATO in the face of Iranian threats.
• As the war continues, Romania must adopt a balance between the United States and its European allies at a time of tense and evolving transatlantic relations.

BUCHAREST and WASHINGTON—Recent diplomatic tensions involving Iran and Romania reveal more than a temporary geopolitical episode. They illustrate the increasingly complex strategic environment facing NATO allies on Europe’s eastern flank. Romania’s decision to authorize additional US military capabilities on its territory reflects a long-standing commitment to the transatlantic alliance. But it also highlights the delicate balancing act Bucharest must perform: reinforcing its strategic partnership with Washington while maintaining cohesion with European partners that are navigating a more uncertain transatlantic relationship.

The developments began when the United States requested temporary access to Romanian military infrastructure to support operations in the Middle East. Romania’s Supreme Council of National Defense approved the US request to deploy several capabilities, including aerial refueling aircraft and satellite communication systems serving a defensive role. Romania’s Parliament then endorsed the decision, reaffirming the legal framework that governs US access to Romanian bases under bilateral agreements and NATO commitments.

Soon after the approval, the first visible signs of this deployment appeared. According to Romanian media reports, three US Air Force KC-135 Stratotanker aerial refueling aircraft landed at the 90th Air Base near Otopeni. While these aircraft are not combat platforms, they are among the most critical enablers of modern air operations. By allowing fighter jets and surveillance aircraft to refuel midair, tanker aircraft extend operational range and endurance, effectively expanding the geographic reach of allied airpower. Their presence in Romania strengthens the logistical backbone supporting US and NATO operations across multiple theaters.

Iran’s reaction followed quickly. A spokesperson for the Iranian foreign ministry warned that allowing US forces to operate from Romanian territory could be interpreted as participation in military aggression. Bucharest responded to Tehran’s threats with notable restraint. Romanian officials emphasized that the country is not involved in any conflict with Iran and reiterated that the deployment of US assets is defensive and conducted under existing bilateral agreements. The Romanian foreign ministry also stressed that the missile defense infrastructure hosted by Romania serves purely defensive purposes and operates within NATO’s collective security framework.

When Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesman Esmail Baghaei warned that hosting US aerial refueling tankers would make Romania a participant in military aggression, he was not making a legal argument so much as a threat intended to deter US partners. Tehran’s objective is to ensure that each US partner—including Romania, Greece, Italy, and the United Kingdom—concludes that the risk is not worth bearing alone and quietly declines. If enough partners hesitate, then the coalition Washington is trying to consolidate never fully materializes, improving Iran’s strategic position without requiring direct military confrontation.

Iran has pressed Gulf states and European partners separately, issuing warnings calibrated to each country—threatening Gulf states with strikes on energy infrastructure while warning European governments of legal consequences and damage to bilateral ties. The logic is consistent: Make the cost of cooperation feel personal and isolating, in the hope that no partner feels confident enough in collective backing to hold firm. The approach works when partners deliberate alone; it is far less effective when they coordinate openly and signal unity.

Romania has strong grounds to hold firm on its position. The 2005 US-Romania Defense Cooperation Agreement established the framework for US military access to multiple joint-use facilities, including the Mihail Kogălniceanu Air Base. Together with the NATO Status of Forces Agreement and the 2011 Joint Declaration on Strategic Partnership for the 21st Century, this creates a comprehensive legal basis for US operations on Romanian soil—one that has been ratified by the Parliament and upheld consistently for two decades. Iran’s invocation of potential damage to bilateral relations underscores the limits of its leverage. Romania-Iran ties are sufficiently limited that their deterioration carries minimal strategic cost for Bucharest.

The energy dimension reinforces this asymmetry. Iran does not export natural gas to Romania and has no infrastructure or contractual mechanism through which it could exert pressure. Meanwhile, Romania’s energy sector is expanding, positioning it to become a major European gas producer. Tehran therefore lacks meaningful economic leverage over Bucharest in the energy domain.

On the military side, Romania has approved the deployment of support assets rather than strike capabilities. After weeks of sustained military pressure on Iranian infrastructure, Tehran’s ability to project force into southeastern Europe is constrained, though not eliminated. More importantly, US forces are present on Romanian territory. Any direct attack on facilities such as the Mihail Kogălniceanu Air Base would involve US personnel, raising the stakes significantly and triggering a bilateral response that would not depend on full NATO consensus.

However, Iran has a documented history of covert operations across Europe, and Romania’s role as a host for US forces increases its exposure to malign activities. While real, this threat remains limited by Iran’s current operational constraints and the escalation risks associated with targeting a NATO member hosting US troops.

That said, Romania’s position also brings into focus one of NATO’s most sensitive strategic assets: the ballistic missile defense installation at Deveselu. Operational since 2016, the Aegis Ashore system forms part of NATO’s broader missile defense architecture designed to intercept ballistic threats originating outside the Euro-Atlantic area. While the system is purely defensive, its presence places Romania at the center of ongoing geopolitical debates and makes it a frequent target of criticism from both Russia and Iran.

Asked about Iran’s warnings on March 19, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte emphasized Alliance unity, stating that “Romania is safe; we will defend every centimeter of allied territory,” while highlighting Romania’s key role in strengthening security on the eastern flank. This reassurance reflects the broader strategic importance of Romania within NATO’s deterrence posture, particularly in the Black Sea region.

Even more recent developments—including Iran firing missiles toward the Diego Garcia military base and threatening to attack power generation across the Gulf—point to the regime’s willingness and capability to strike beyond its immediate neighborhood. In recent days, several European countries have put their security services on heightened alert. Reports by the Romanian news site HotNews that Iran may be activating operational networks in Europe have increased the relevance of NATO’s missile defense shield. The Aegis Ashore site at Deveselu increasingly represents not only a defensive buffer but a front line in the protection of major European capitals against evolving ballistic threats.

At the same time, the episode highlights a broader debate within the Alliance. While Romania continues to rely heavily on the United States as the cornerstone of its security guarantees, discussions in Europe increasingly emphasize strategic autonomy. Proposals such as expanding France’s nuclear deterrence to cover European allies reflect concerns about the long-term reliability of US security commitments. Romania’s response has been cautious: open to deeper European cooperation but firmly committed to NATO as the central pillar of deterrence.

Meanwhile, the current tensions among NATO allies over the Iran war may ultimately strengthen allied cohesion despite short-term turbulence. As Iulian Chifu, a former advisor to the president of Romania on strategic affairs, put it, the war has “exposed the limits of unilateral action, forcing the United States to rediscover the strategic necessity of allied coordination and reinforcing NATO as the central framework for collective security.”

Navigating this environment requires careful diplomacy. Romania’s challenge is not to choose between Washington and its European partners, but to reinforce both pillars simultaneously. Clear coordination and collective messaging among allies will be essential to counter efforts to fragment the coalition. In an era of intensifying geopolitical competition and evolving transatlantic dynamics, Romania’s ability to maintain that balance may prove to be one of its most important strategic contributions to the Alliance.

The post What Romania’s role in the Iran war reveals about its diplomatic positioning appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Bottom lines up front

• Despite frustration with the US president’s approach and rhetoric, European allies should consider supporting security efforts in the Gulf based on their own interests.
• European militaries and know-how should contribute to unblocking the Strait of Hormuz and defending Gulf partners from Iranian attacks.
• Europe has strong incentives to get involved: rising energy prices threaten its economy and boost Russia’s revenues, which aid Moscow’s war effort against Ukraine.

WASHINGTON—The Iran war wasn’t their idea, and they may not like the way President Donald Trump is conducting it. But despite bullying rhetoric from Trump, the United States’ European allies might consider what they can reasonably do to support security around the Gulf rather than reject White House demands for it out of hand.

Building a coalition and preparing the battlespace for military action takes time and effort, especially when the conflict is in the Middle East. The United States sought and received significant military help from its allies in Iraq and Afghanistan, despite sharp political differences; help that grew over time. Failure in Afghanistan, mixed success in Iraq, and popular frustration over both wars have not made it easier for the United States to get help this time with Iran. The Trump administration’s approach has hurt too: Trump has swung from initially keeping allies in the dark about the operation to demanding allied military support, to then spurning such help as unneeded. The United States started out from behind after Trump’s public attacks on those allies who did fight alongside US troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. Moreover, Trump has denigrated Ukraine’s actual offers of drones and drone specialists to Gulf countries—a field in which the embattled country is arguably the world leader. 

Trump’s March 17 social media post was another sharp rejection of European help: “[W]e no longer ‘need’, or desire, the NATO Countries’ assistance – WE NEVER DID!” That post also included another attack on NATO as a “one way street – We will protect them, but they will do nothing for us.” Given all this, it would be understandable for Europeans to slam Trump for starting a war without consulting with them, only to demand their military support when things start to look complicated. 

Nevertheless, European allies would be better advised to consider what they can do to help reopen the Strait of Hormuz and defend Gulf states under attack by Iran. They should do so not to assuage Trump or to help him out of a self-induced jam, but because Europe’s own critical interests are at stake in this conflict. 

Why Europe should act

The spiking price of oil hurts the entire free world and has sent European governments scrambling for short-term fixes at the gas pump. Parallel surges in oil and gasoline prices have worsened an already bleak outlook for European industry, its competitiveness, and economic growth. At home, rising costs could cause political instability and benefit pro-Russian challengers on the right and left. Abroad, the price spikes in oil could create an estimated three to five billion dollars in additional revenue by the end of March for Russia, Europe’s most aggressive adversary, whose war against Ukraine remains the defining threat to the continent’s own freedom and security.

That windfall from energy-price shocks risks giving Russia a boost, just as Moscow’s position on the battlefield and the prospects for its war economy were deteriorating. Until the present moment, Russia’s position was weakening , thanks primarily to Ukraine’s bravery, grit, and sacrifice, but also because Europe stepped up to provide the financing needed to keep US weapons flowing to Kyiv over the past fourteen months.

European weapons stocks and production are a well-documented problem, but Europe’s stronger engagement in the Gulf could also present important openings in the defense space. The continent’s defense companies have been among the most effective and nimble partners for Ukraine’s battle-tested drone start-ups, and together they could bring new and more cost-effective means for Gulf allies to defend themselves against future attacks from Iran or other actors. That could achieve multiple European-Ukrainian objectives at once: It would preserve much-needed high-end interceptors that Ukraine needs—and Europe would buy from the United States—to defend against Russian ballistic missiles. It would expand cooperation and build new trust in Europe-Gulf relations. And it might shift the position of Gulf countries that have long sat on the fence when it comes to Russia’s war in Ukraine. It would accomplish all of this while avoiding further deterioration in transatlantic relations.

European leaders, therefore, have plenty of reasons to engage constructively with the United States and partners in the Gulf. Speed matters here. How quickly European countries move in pursuit of their own interests sends an important signal to Washington and adversaries in Moscow and Beijing alike. It matters almost as much as the movement itself.

What Europe can do

Some Europeans had already figured this out. On March 1, a day after the start of the military action, a joint statement by France, Germany, and the United Kingdom declared:

“We will take steps to defend our interests and those of our allies in the region, potentially through enabling necessary and proportionate defensive action to destroy Iran’s capability to fire missiles and drones at their source. We have agreed to work together with the US and allies in the region on this matter.”

That statement suggested a willingness to attack Iranian drone and missile sites. An experienced former senior Pentagon official pointed out to the authors that the United Kingdom and French navies could support the United States in protecting Gulf terminals and cities from Iranian attacks and, possibly, help with escorting ships through the Strait of Hormuz. Ukrainian know-how combined with European resourcing and production, from air defense to drone-based mine-hunting, could make important differences as well. If Trump’s language has made it politically complicated for European leaders to help, then these leaders could arrange to respond to requests from Gulf states or other countries affected by the war. 

Trump’s social media posts are unlikely to last; responding to them as they are written risks locking in their bluster and threats. The US military is apt to be a steady partner in figuring out practical details of how European forces can fit into defensive operations intended to limit the war’s damage to the world economy and regional countries. Even if European capabilities are limited, they could free up some US assets elsewhere. 

NATO is probably not the institution to organize such operations and, at this point, gaining Alliance-wide consensus might prove too complex. But individual NATO countries working together could offer military support for Gulf states and safe(r) passage through the strait, structured in a way to be most politically acceptable to domestic audiences. European leaders could even make that offer on the understanding that the United States would continue, and even increase, its support for Ukraine, as Finnish President Alexander Stubb has suggested.

It is neither pleasant nor glorious to respond constructively to Trump’s bullying rhetoric. But finding a way forward that meets European interests and avoids damage to transatlantic ties may be the best of a bad deal.

Trump himself could help, as a start by thanking Ukraine for pitching in and calling on Europeans to follow that example and do what they can. Some, for their own reasons, might take him up on it.

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Beneath this public-facing layer, however, lies a more consequential trend. Turkey and Spain have been consolidating a pragmatic form of political alignment that is increasingly underpinned by security cooperation. It is shaped less by ideology than by a shared view that their strategic and security environments are becoming more fragmented.

That logic became especially visible after two ballistic missiles launched from Iran entered Turkish airspace and were intercepted by NATO air defenses stationed in the Mediterranean. In Ankara, the episode reinforced the perception that allied reassurance can still be tangible at a time when the credibility of security commitments is being tested. For Spain, whose forces have contributed to NATO’s air and missile defense posture in Turkey for more than a decade—and whose Patriot battery detected the Iranian missile that NATO air defenses shot down on March 9—the incident highlighted how sustained operational cooperation can translate into political capital and strategic trust.

Turkey and Spain are operating under a dual-track approach in which Madrid continues to endorse democratic standards and the rule of law as the normative horizon of Turkey’s relations with the European Union (EU) while deepening defense and security ties with Ankara.

The optics matter here. Spanish President Pedro Sánchez’s outspoken opposition to the US-Israeli war on Iran, widely framed in Turkey as being on the right side of history, has reinforced Madrid’s image as a principled yet pragmatic European interlocutor. In other words, although several political and structural constraints limit further progress within the traditional EU accession process framework, Spain’s approach suggests that pragmatic defense cooperation with Turkey can advance even in the absence of political integration. And this cooperation could help normalize Turkey as a security actor within the Euro-Atlantic perimeter.

A relationship shaped by trust and the absence of vetoes

Often overlooked in debates on Turkey–Europe relations, Spain has nonetheless emerged as one of Ankara’s most pragmatic security partners. And this deepening cooperation comes at a moment when Russia’s war in Ukraine, Middle East volatility, uncertainty over US commitments, and Europe’s rearmament are reshaping the strategic landscape. Turkey has already penetrated Europe’s defense market through bilateral deals and is increasingly discussed as a potential contributor to EU-adjacent instruments such as Security Action for Europe (SAFE) and the European Defense Fund. Yet political constraints remain decisive: Vetoes from some EU member states, low alignment on common foreign and security policy, and the absence of a formal EU–Turkey security framework continue to block meaningful institutionalization. Spain’s approach, therefore, illustrates both an opportunity and its limits. Bilateral defense cooperation can deepen and help normalize Turkey as a security actor. But on its own, this cooperation is unlikely to lead to significant enhancements in EU-Turkey defense cooperation at the broader EU absent changes to the current accession process.

Much of the bilateral relationship hinges on a seeming paradox: The geographical distance between Spain and Turkey has often translated into greater strategic room for convergence on security and defense. Unlike Greece and Cyprus, Spain has no territorial disputes with Turkey. Unlike France, it has not positioned itself as a geopolitical competitor in the Eastern Mediterranean or the Middle East. Unlike Germany or Austria, Spain’s domestic politics are not shaped by large Turkish diaspora communities. Finally, both countries have faced separatist challenges in different forms, a shared experience that can bring their security outlooks closer in some respects. Thus, the relationship is largely depoliticized and insulated from domestic pressures, making it easier for any Spanish government to adopt a relatively favorable posture toward Ankara.

This absence of friction has translated into a high degree of institutional trust. From Ankara’s perspective, Spain is not associated with a priori vetoes against Turkey in European forums. From Madrid’s perspective, Turkey is not a rival—either geopolitically or in the military-industrial domain—but a capable partner whose strategic relevance has increased in a more fragmented security environment. This mutual perception has allowed cooperation to deepen without becoming hostage to broader political tensions.

Spain’s diplomatic posture has reinforced this trust. During periods of heightened tension between Turkey and the EU, Madrid has favored mediation and de-escalation over sanctions and confrontation, as in the case of Eastern Mediterranean energy disputes. Successive Spanish governments, regardless of political orientation, have also maintained a broadly pro-enlargement stance toward Turkey, even as expectations surrounding accession have diminished. Like Italy, Spain has never challenged the EU consensus on Turkey directly but has consistently worked to keep engagement viable and to frame Ankara as a partner rather than an outlier.

Ultimately, despite significant domestic differences, Turkey and Spain have found themselves politically aligned on a critical set of issues, representing among the most critical voices against the war in Gaza and the US-Israeli war against Iran. While this certainly does not suggest ideological alignment between the two governments, it underscores a similar perception of changing global dynamics, paving the way for more direct, constructive engagement.

Strategic convergence under NATO’s umbrella

All this helps explain why defense and strategic cooperation could expand relatively smoothly once geopolitical conditions made such cooperation more necessary. Such convergence can be traced to certain concrete actions within NATO since 2015. As regional instability intensified after the outbreak of the Syrian civil war, Spain assumed a sustained role in Turkey’s air defense by deploying Patriot air and missile defense systems on Turkish territory under NATO command. Since then, this presence has been continuous, involving multiple rotations and thousands of Spanish military personnel at Incirlik air base.

Over time, this interaction came to assume significance beyond its immediate operational function. It created dense networks of cooperation between their armed forces, strengthened interoperability, and generated political capital in Ankara by demonstrating Spain’s willingness to assume tangible responsibility for Turkey’s security.

This NATO-based convergence also reflects a deeper alignment on strategic priorities. Spain has long resisted a narrow focus on NATO’s eastern flank, warning against the risk of neglecting the Alliance’s southern neighborhood. Madrid has consistently emphasized the security relevance of the Mediterranean, the Middle East, and North Africa—regions in which Turkey plays a central role as a frontline NATO ally on the southern flank. The appointment of Javier Colomina as the NATO secretary general’s special representative for the southern neighborhood demonstrates Spain’s insistence on “operating equally” on both flanks and is therefore naturally aligned with Turkey’s security priorities.

From strategic alignment to material cooperation

As operational trust consolidated within NATO, Spain–Turkey relations shifted from political coordination to material cooperation, especially in the defense industry. The logic was straightforward: Spain wanted to modernize and internationalize its defense base, but budget constraints and limited political appetite for reaching NATO’s 2 percent of gross domestic product benchmark for military spending pushed Madrid toward partnerships that can deliver faster and more flexibly than some European-led consortia. The Franco-German dispute surrounding Future Combat Air System fighter jets is a reminder of how slow, costly, and politically rigid intra-European industrial cooperation can become. As one military observer we spoke with put it, Spain needs external partners to accelerate programs, expand exports, and avoid overdependence on larger European defense players.

Turkey’s defense industrial rise has positioned it to meet this demand. Over the past decade, Ankara has moved from supplier-dependence to producing NATO-relevant platforms at scale, with defense exports topping $10 billion in 2025. For Spain, Turkey is less a competitor than a complementary industrial actor—one that brings speed, production capacity, and increasingly interoperable systems.

The bilateral track has also favored coproduction over one-off sales. Navantia’s cooperation with Turkish shipyards on TCG Anadolu established an early template of technology transfer and joint work, now feeding into debates on naval innovation, including drone-enabled concepts. More recently, the relationship has evolved into greater interdependence: In December, Spain finalized a deal to acquire Hürjet to replace its aging F-5s, which will deepen integration in the training and aviation ecosystems. Turkey’s acquisition of Eurofighter Typhoon jets—partly assembled in Spain—links industrial interests, jobs, and production lines. Early talks between Indra and Otokar on land systems point in the same direction. The question is whether this bilateral momentum can be translated into a broader European framework or if it will remain confined to ad hoc cooperation.

Pragmatism under EU constraints

This deepening bilateral cooperation is unfolding against the backdrop of a congested and largely stagnant EU–Turkey relationship. Spain has consistently supported a values-based and institutionalized EU–Turkey horizon, and, more recently, aligned with Josep Borrel, a former EU High Representative from Spain, in advocating a “positive agenda” on common issues. At the margins of the 2024 Madrid bilateral summit, Sánchez emphasized the “exceptional state of bilateral relations,” referring to “Turkey and Spain [as] friends, partners and allies with important cultural, social and economic exchanges.” The numbers seem to confirm this, as the two countries’ bilateral trade reached $20.6 billion in 2025.

This has not prevented Spain from taking public positions on domestic developments in Turkey. Sánchez, especially compared to other European leaders, has been notably vocal on the case against Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu, signaling that Spain’s push for a constructive relationship does not imply silence on democracy and the rule of law. Rather, it reflects a compartmentalized approach in which normative conditionality and security engagement proceed on separate tracks.

This dual-track logic comes to the fore on EU defense initiatives. On paper, instruments such as the European Defense Fund and the SAFE program offer frameworks for cooperation with third countries. SAFE allows for limited non-EU procurement projects, suggesting that Turkish industrial participation is not excluded by design. Spain has also expressed openness to Turkey’s possible inclusion in mechanisms such as Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO), a framework aimed at deepening defense cooperation between EU members, but which has also included the United Kingdom since 2022. Yet, Madrid has not been able to leverage its position to convince other EU members to grant Turkey access to the project. Under these conditions, bilateral defense cooperation becomes a means of preserving strategic interdependence when institutional integration remains blocked.

Strategic convergence in an era of uncertainty

The broader geopolitical environment has reinforced incentives for this form of pragmatic engagement. The Trump administration’s foreign policy has heightened concerns over the unpredictable and transactional nature of US security commitments, accelerating a shift toward selective partnerships among middle powers. In this context, states with significant regional exposure are increasingly seeking to reduce risk through flexible coalitions and defense‑industrial linkages that are not fully dependent on Washington.

Finally, the Spain–Turkey partnership raises the question of whether such bilateral pragmatism can resonate in Brussels. Spain can help normalize Turkey as a security actor within the Euro-Atlantic perimeter and keep a “positive agenda” politically viable. Uncertainty over the international order and the fragmented nature of the European security backdrop can help Spain–Turkey relations stand as an example for how strategic convergence can shape and be shaped by political alignment.

Riccardo Gasco is the foreign policy program coordinator at IstanPol Institute and a doctoral researcher at Bologna University.

Samuele C. Abrami is a research fellow at the Barcelona Center for International Affairs (CIDOB) and a former Mercator-Istanbul Policy Center fellow.

The views expressed in TURKEYSource are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Atlantic Council, its staff, or its supporters.

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Bottom lines up front

• Dutch Prime Minister Rob Jetten leads a minority government that may test whether fragmented parliaments can still deliver effective governance during major geopolitical shifts.
• The government’s agenda prioritizes building a stronger European pillar within NATO and balancing closer European cooperation with continued ties to the United States.
• Its success will depend on managing fiscal pressures, parliamentary fragmentation, and broader debates about Europe’s strategic autonomy and political future.

UTRECHT—When you narrowly beat your primary election foe but can’t form a majority coalition to govern, what do you do? Can you still steer your country through some of the most significant geopolitical realignments since 1945 with a minority government? How Rob Jetten, the Netherlands’ youngest-ever prime minister, and his new government coalition answer these questions may serve as an acid test of minority governance in a highly fragmented political environment.

To form the new government, which was sworn in on February 23, three coalition parties negotiated for nearly four months. The result was a document, titled “Getting started,” which outlines the coalition’s agenda. Maintaining this coalition is one challenge; another is advancing the government’s agenda because the coalition lacks a majority in either chamber of parliament. The minority government’s success in implementing its agenda, including its plans for European security and defense, is likely to have implications well beyond the Low Countries. 

Putting the coalition together

The new coalition consists of Jetten’s progressive liberal Democrats 66 (D66) party, the Christian Democratic Appeal (CDA), and the centrist-liberal People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD). Out of 150 seats in parliament, this coalition holds only sixty-six seats, ten short of a majority. Its shortfall is even more pronounced in the Senate, where the coalition holds just twenty-two of the seventy-five seats. To enact any new laws or ratify any new international agreements, therefore, Jetten’s minority coalition will need to find compromises with opposition parties.

The Dutch parliament contains no less than seventeen parties, and the new government will need to be creative in finding ways to assemble assorted groups to pass legislation. The main opposition party is the progressive eco-socialist PvdA-Groenlinks (Labour-Green-Left) with twenty seats. Geert Wilders’ anti-immigrant Freedom Party (PVV) disintegrated after losing the elections and a subsequent internal row; its position has been halved from thirty-seven seats before the election to just nineteen now. On the right flank, Right Answer 21 (JA21) has nine seats, and Forum for Democracy and Group Markuzower (a PVV splinter group) each have seven seats.

European pattern and prospects

As the European Union’s (EU’s) fifth-largest economy and one of NATO’s most capable middle powers, the Netherlands often signals broader trends within Northern Europe. If successful in moving legislation forward in parliament, the new government’s foreign and European policy agenda could contribute to larger shifts in overall Euro-Atlantic diplomatic and security relations. At the top of the new government’s security agenda is the ambition of moving toward a European pillar within NATO. At the same time, the government will need to remain fiscally prudent and avoid proposing radical legislative changes to ensure support. 

The relative weakness of the new Dutch government coalition, its minority rule, and the fragmented parliament fit squarely within a wider pattern in European politics. While the constructively pro-European orientation of The Hague may in the short run help support other European centrists, in the longer run, Europe’s structural political problems persist. Together with European partners, the new Jetten government should therefore publicly address the more profound issues facing European liberal democracies, moving beyond the usual technocratic policy analysis. Doing so includes fostering a continental debate about Europe’s future as a civilization underpinning Western values. 

In terms of foreign and security policy, the Netherlands under Jetten and his Foreign Minister Tom Berendsen, a former Christian Democrat member of the European Parliament, seek to strengthen European defenses and strategic autonomy while remaining close to the United States. The coalition document spells out this balancing act, explaining that “the Netherlands must pursue a realistic foreign policy in which Dutch and European interests take precedence. NATO constitutes the cornerstone of our collective security. The United States is the global power with which we share the greatest number of interests. At the same time, our future and prosperity are inextricably linked to a strong Europe.”

What this means in practice is the Netherlands taking steps to strengthen the European pillar within NATO. This requires some notable changes, as demonstrated recently when the Dutch government announced that it would join French-led discussions on European nuclear deterrence. Such nuclear diplomacy is a key indicator of The Hague’s strategic realignment. Historically, the Netherlands was highly skeptical about any European nuclear deterrence initiatives, preferring to rely on the US nuclear umbrella. Also notable is the new coalition’s ambition to create a European equivalent to the Five Eyes intelligence partnership.

Defense acquisition is another major aspect. There will also be an effort to set up a “European Defence Mechanism” for the joint European acquisition of military equipment and common military standard setting. The Hague aims to acquire 40 percent of its defense purchases jointly with European partners. And 50 percent should be procured from Dutch and/or European industry.

Notwithstanding these Europeanization efforts in defense policy, the Netherlands remains committed to its ties with the United States, not in the least through the bilateral nuclear sharing agreements and its F-35 air fleet. Toward this end, the coalition government has proposed a law to enshrine a commitment to spending 3.5 percent of gross domestic product on defense, ensuring a long-term, sustained defense effort. The Netherlands also continues to be a major financial contributor to Ukraine’s war efforts, spending 1 percent of Dutch gross domestic product in support of Ukraine. 

Geopolitical and financial challenges

In financial and economic policy, it is notable that Finance Minister Eelco Heinen of the VVD party remains in place. Heinen faces a “geofinancial challenge”: to strike the right balance between financial policy and geopolitical exigencies, including the search for greater European strategic autonomy. Under his stewardship, fiscal prudence will remain a key theme. In light of the 3.5 percent defense spending pledge, this prudence is already leading to sharp discussions about social welfare reforms.

In the European context, the Netherlands remains opposed to financing other member states’ national debt, or “eurobonds,” reflecting a longstanding Dutch preference for fiscal discipline in the eurozone. Nonetheless, The Hague looks favorably at common European debt-financed instruments like the Defence Fund, SAFE, and the European Investment Bank. This stance befits a broader trend in the Dutch outlook on European debt mutualization. Furthermore, the new government views implementation of the recommendations of both Enrico Letta’s 2024 report on the future of the European single market and Mario Draghi’s 2025 report on EU competitiveness as crucial. And the Netherlands is a frontrunner in the deepening of Europe’s savings and investment union, previously known as the capital markets union. 

The Dutch debate reflects a broader, structural European question: Can a more strategically autonomous Europe emerge not merely from institutional and bureaucratic coordination, which is constrained by a fragmented democratic base, but from a deeper recognition of a shared political destiny? Whether the Jetten government can realize its ambitious European agenda depends on its ability to assemble parliamentary majorities in one of Europe’s most fragmented political systems. The deeper challenge Jetten faces, like other European leaders, is therefore whether he can convincingly give a more profound meaning to his European agenda. His persuasive power may thus ultimately rest on how he approaches Europe: as a civilization underpinning Western values or as an institution for technocratic governance.

The post What Rob Jetten’s new minority government means for Dutch and European defense appeared first on Atlantic Council.

However, on Wednesday, March 4, two developments shattered the illusion of Turkey’s ability to steer clear of the conflict. First, NATO shot down an Iranian ballistic missile “directed at Turkish airspace.” Second, there was widespread reporting that the CIA was working to arm Kurdish forces to foment rebellion in Iran.

It was unclear what the Iranian missile was targeting or even whether it was aimed at Turkey or elsewhere in the Eastern Mediterranean, such as Cyprus. But even if it was aimed in error, Turkey takes violations of its airspace very seriously. Simply ask Russia, whose jet Turkey shot down in October 2015 after straying into Turkish airspace during a Russian bombing campaign in Syria.

Turkey limited its response to the violation from Iran to formal diplomatic channels, summoning the Iranian ambassador in Ankara and holding a private call between the two nations’ foreign ministers. Meanwhile, public pronouncements from Turkish government officials underscored the state’s commitment to protecting its sovereignty. There was no indication that the missile would trigger NATO’s Article 5 mutual defense clause—Alliance officials quickly poured cold water on the notion and it’s not clear Turkey would even want or seek it in this circumstance.

But on March 9, NATO intercepted a second Iranian missile over Turkey, creating new complications for Ankara. The debris of the second missile fell over the inland province of Gaziantep, in contrast to the first, which hit Hatay, located on the coast. The second missile strike to breach Turkish airspace is therefore less easily explained as an error than the first, and it is likely that one or both of them were aimed at Incirlik.

US intelligence appears to be lining up behind this assessment. On Monday, the US State Department raised its warning for southeast Turkey, the region nearest the Iranian border, to “do not travel,” the highest risk level. And nonessential staff were ordered to leave the US consulate in Adana. The second missile also led to a more direct and targeted rebuke from Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, who said Tehran continues to take “wrong and provocative” steps and that Turkey has issued the necessary warnings to Iran.

Meanwhile, the news that the CIA was arming Kurdish forces to combat Iran set off alarm bells in Turkey, which has been burnt badly by previous partnerships between the United States and auxiliary Kurdish ground forces. Most notably, there have been Turkish tensions with the United States over US support for the People’s Defense Units (YPG), a Syrian affiliate of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), which is designated as a terrorist organization by the United States, the European Union, and Turkey. With US support, the YPG was effective in combatting and curtailing the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Shams (ISIS) starting in 2014, but the group also precipitated a diplomatic crisis with Turkey that the US-Turkish bilateral relationship is only now beginning to recover from. The prospect of a similar scenario repeating itself in Iran was raised at a recent event the Atlantic Council’s Turkey program hosted on US-Turkey cooperation in Syria.

Moreover, the emboldening of the transnational Kurdish nationalist movement in Syria also played a key role in the breakdown of the peace process between Turkey and the PKK in 2015. Now in 2026, Turkey is once again moving toward resolving the PKK issue, under the “terror-free Turkey” initiative. Regional spoilers or irritants to this very delicate and choreographed process could once again threaten to derail the conclusion of the almost fifty-year conflict between Turkey and the PKK, which has claimed the lives of tens of thousands.

Fortunately, based on US President Donald Trump’s messaging over the weekend and signals that the Kurdistan Regional Government of Iraq was not keen to put itself more into the crosshairs, it looks as if Turkey’s fears of a Kurdish uprising in Iran aligned with the PKK will be avoided.

But the fact that support for such an insurgency was being considered underscores the lack of clarity on the goals and endgame of the conflict, which is particularly concerning for states like Turkey that neighbor Iran. Given its experiences with the Syrian civil war and the war in Iraq, Turkey is deeply averse to the potential of regional disintegration and power vacuums at its border. The specter of terror organizations with freedom to operate on its border is something Turkey cannot help but be vigilant against, as would any country in its position.

In this context, Turkey is adopting a delicate balancing act, seeking to protect its territory, security, and economic interests. Despite significant concerns over the war in Iran, Turkey has invested heavily in its outreach to the Trump administration, working to turn its bilateral relationship with the United States around from historic lows. Thus far, Turkey has crafted public messaging aiming to avoid criticizing the United States and drawing Trump’s ire.

But much in the same way Turkey approaches Russia, Ankara views Iran as a fact of life to be managed simultaneously through cooperation when possible and competition when it is not. An irony is that Turkey has been one of the largest beneficiaries of the severe degradation to Iran and its regional proxy network wrought mainly by Israel since the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023. Since then, Turkey’s influence in Syria, the South Caucasus, and Iraq has increased while Iran’s has decreased.

But when it comes to the US and Israeli war against Iran, the risks are greater and the outcomes more uncertain. Any actions Turkey considers taking to respond to Iran’s missiles or to protect its borders are calibrated against the inevitability that it will need to deal with whatever Iran is left standing after the conflict ends—and the regional fallout that results. For now, that means Turkey is, to the extent possible with war raging next door, seeking to avoid escalating in both kinetic and rhetorical terms.

Grady Wilson is a deputy director at the Atlantic Council Turkey Program.

The views expressed in TURKEYSource are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Atlantic Council, its staff, or its supporters.

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The interview was conducted on February 18, 2026 and has been lightly edited for style.

DJ: Recent developments in Syria appear to have removed a long-standing elephant in the room in US–Turkish relations. Washington and Ankara now seem aligned on preserving Syria’s territorial integrity and on the primacy of a centralized government in Damascus under President Ahmed al-Sharaa’s leadership. How do you assess this convergence, and what does it signal for the future of US–Turkish security cooperation?

Oktay: It is true that Türkiye and the United States have converged in recent years on a number of foreign policy issues. This convergence is visible not only in Syria, but also in efforts to end the war in Ukraine, support a durable framework in Gaza, and encouraging progress in the Azerbaijan-Armenia peace process, among other areas. This convergence is for the establishment of sustainable peace and stability in our region. Our region is tired of conflicts and war. The issues in our region should be solved through dialogue and not through armed clashes and war.

In Syria, Türkiye has been supporting the unity and territorial integrity of this country since the very beginning. Now both Türkiye and the United States support Syria’s territorial integrity and unity and recognize the importance of a centralized and effective government in Damascus. A united, stable, inclusive, and prosperous Syria is, first and foremost, in the interest of the Syrian people. It is also in the interest of the broader region.

This convergence reflects a realistic reading of regional dynamics and a mutual understanding that sustainable solutions require regional actors and inclusive diplomacy.

It is the right time to reinforce the positive momentum in Türkiye–US relations to a resilient, future-oriented, principled relationship, grounded in mutual respect and strategic responsibility.

DJ: Do you see this more constructive atmosphere on Syria translating into movement on bilateral defense ties? In your view, what should both sides do to enhance the defense portfolio? And to follow up, what are the odds of Türkiye’s eventual return to the F-35 program in the near to medium term?

Oktay: Defense cooperation should be viewed in the wider context of the overall relationship. One of the main drivers of a more constructive atmosphere has been the direct and cordial dialogue between President [Recep Tayyip] Erdoğan and President [Donald] Trump. Strong engagement at the leadership level has generated momentum across multiple areas of cooperation.

Economically, our bilateral trade volume is approaching $40 billion, and we share the objective of reaching $100 billion. Major items—such as Turkish airline companies’ aircraft purchases, long-term LNG [liquefied natural gas] arrangements, and potential future cooperation in civil nuclear energy—can further deepen our economic ties.

In this spirit, defense cooperation should mirror the positive trajectory in our bilateral relations, as well as the growing convergence on regional policy issues. For this reason, it is important to overcome the existing restrictions affecting Türkiye in the defense industry domain. Restrictions between allies are, by definition, inconsistent with the spirit of alliance and partnership.

At present, there are efforts at the governmental level in both countries to identify a workable path forward, including on the question of Türkiye’s access to the F-35 program. In February, as the Foreign Affairs Committee of the Turkish Grand National Assembly, we visited Washington, DC, and held constructive discussions with our counterparts in both the Senate and the House of Representatives. We conveyed our view that it is neither coherent nor sustainable to maintain such restrictions among partners and allies. We hope to see tangible progress at the congressional level to strengthen defense industry cooperation.

DJ: Türkiye’s defense industry has undergone a remarkable transformation over the past decade. Where do you see Turkish defense industrial capabilities today, and what do they represent for both Türkiye and the NATO Alliance? Looking ahead, what should be Ankara’s strategic priorities in this domain?

Oktay: Türkiye’s defense industry has achieved significant and sustained progress over the past two decades. During this period, we have transitioned from an import-procurement model toward a high-volume domestic design and production model, with a growing export dimension.

The share of local and national production in the defense industry has increased from around 20 percent to more than 80 percent, and we expect this rate to reach 85 percent in the near future.

Today, Türkiye is producing manned and unmanned fighter aircraft, such as the Kaan and Kızılelma jets, warships, armored vehicles, missiles, and rockets, as well as advanced sensors and related systems. At the same time, Türkiye is increasingly localizing critical electronic subsystems, including avionics, data links, communications, and mission computers, as well as smart munitions. Defense exports have now surpassed $10 billion annually. Turkish defense industry exports and cooperation cover 185 countries covering all continents, including such NATO members as the US, UK, Spain, and Italy.

In summary, Türkiye has become an important global producer of advanced defense technologies. These capabilities—both in production scale and technological innovation—represent a valuable contribution to NATO’s collective security, and particularly to European security. In this context, the inclusion of Türkiye in European defense industry initiatives is essential in order for both NATO and Europe to fully benefit from Türkiye’s achievements in this field.

DJ: The KAAN fighter program is widely viewed as a cornerstone of Türkiye’s future force structure. What vision do you associate with KAAN, both in terms of operational capabilities and Türkiye’s broader ambitions for defense cooperation and access to new defense markets?

Oktay: KAAN is among the most advanced fifth-generation fighter projects currently under development. It reflects core fifth-generation design requirements such as low observability, sensor fusion, and network-enabled operational concepts.

KAAN will represent a significant capability enhancement for the Turkish Air Force and will strengthen NATO’s southeastern flank. In addition, the program is a major driver of innovation for Türkiye’s broader aerospace ecosystem, with spillover effects across engineering, production, and advanced systems integration.

A number of countries have expressed interest in acquiring or co-producing KAAN. Last year, an agreement for forty-eight KAANaircraft was signed with Indonesia, and several other countries remain in close contact with Türkiye regarding potential cooperation.

DJ: The next NATO summit will be hosted in Ankara. What does this mean symbolically and strategically for the Alliance and for Türkiye? How do you assess Türkiye’s role within NATO today—and NATO’s importance for Türkiye?

Oktay: We look forward to hosting NATO’s next summit in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026. The summit will be an important opportunity to review progress in implementing the Hague commitments and to take decisions that further strengthen NATO’s deterrence and defense posture.

As the war in Ukraine has heightened Europe’s security concerns and uncertainty is affecting transatlantic relations, the Ankara Summit will be a critical meeting. Key issues will be discussed, and major decisions will be taken on the future direction of the Alliance.

Türkiye has always played, and continues to play, a vital role in the security of the entire Euro-Atlantic region. Türkiye holds NATO’s second-largest army and remains among the top contributors to NATO operations and missions, supporting both the Alliance’s southeastern and eastern flanks. We have already exceeded the 2-percent benchmark in defense spending, and we remain committed to further strengthening our contributions.

As we are committed to the security of our allies, we likewise expect them to be fully committed to Türkiye’s security and defense.

DJ: Türkiye’s influence across the Turkic world has grown, particularly through the Organization of Turkic States. How would you characterize Ankara’s strategic vision in this space, and what does the geopolitical horizon suggest about Türkiye’s long-term role across this geography?

Oktay: Türkiye has deep historical and cultural ties across the Turkic world. The Organization of Turkic States (OTS) is today the principal political framework for multilateral cooperation in this space. It reflects a shared vision to deepen integration and promote regional peace, stability, and prosperity. The OTS also functions as a catalyst for stronger regional ownership, and with the establishment of multiple sub-institutions, it is evolving rapidly into a more structured and specialized organization.

In parallel, the Parliamentary Assembly of Turkic States (TÜRKPA) serves as the main platform for strengthening parliamentary cooperation among Turkic states and supporting broader integration efforts. At the parliamentary level, we have also developed a mechanism for bringing together the Foreign Relations Committees of the Parliaments of Turkic States. The first such meeting took place in Azerbaijan, and the second meeting was held in Istanbul last year. 

Through these institutions—along with strong bilateral relations—Türkiye is expanding cultural, political, and economic cooperation and coordination among Turkic states, with the objective of promoting peace and prosperity across Central Asia and the Caucasus.Bottom of Form

Fuat Oktay is the Chairman of the Foreign Affairs Commission of the Grand National Assembly of the Republic of Türkiye. He served as the last Undersecretary of the Prime Ministry between 2016 and 2018. In the first cabinet of the Presidential Government System, he served as Türkiye’s first Vice President between 2018 and 2023.

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Russia’s invasion of Ukraine disproved this view, revealing how mass missile and drone salvos can quickly overwhelm limited interceptor supplies and unready command structures. The threat is not about somebody else’s war. When as many as two dozen Russian unmanned aerial vehicles entered Polish airspace on September 10, 2025, NATO allies responded by scrambling one of the most sophisticated tactical defensive contingents in the world. Italian airborne early warning and control aircraft, German Patriot air and missile defense systems, Polish F-16s, fifth-generation Dutch F-35s, and a Belgian A330 Multi Role Tanker Transport aircraft were all brought forth to track and engage the drones. The imbalance between the overall price tags of the offensive and defensive packages clashing in the aerial engagement was gargantuan. More importantly, Russia could pursue similar concepts of operations in a NATO showdown—whereas Europe’s air defenses would experience wear and tear quickly in a high-operational-tempo scenario.

While Europe debates between urgent gap filling and long-term industrial autonomy amid the drone wall talks, Turkey has taken a different path. The Steel Dome initiative demonstrates Ankara’s early understanding that air defense requires integrated, scalable, and mass-produced systems on rapid timelines.

Air defense as a strategic imperative after Europe’s post-Cold War illusion

During the Cold War, NATO treated air defense as a foundational mission. This paradigm eroded after 1991 as threat perceptions faded. For more than three decades after the Cold War, Europe operated under the egregiously naive assumption that peer-level air and missile threats had receded into history. That illusion collapsed with Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, which reintroduced ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, combat aviation, and mass drone attacks as central tools of interstate warfare. Moreover, the Twelve-Day War between Iran and Israel in June 2025 cemented the new air threat picture. The new conflict trends have forced Europe to confront a long-neglected reality: without a coherent, layered air and missile defense, control of the air cannot be assumed and nations cannot stay safe.

Russia fields two missile types that matter most to European defense: the 500-kilometer range, ground-launched 9M723 Iskander and the air-launched, medium-range Kh-47M2 Kinzhal. Ukrainian intelligence assesses combined annual production at roughly 840 to 1,020 missiles, higher than earlier

estimates. The ballistic and aeroballistic missiles are backed by large salvos of cruise missiles and Shahed drones—the latter marks more than five thousand kamikaze assets raining overwhelming damage onto Ukraine in a given month.

Europe’s defense relies mainly on the US Patriot and the Franco-Italian SAMP/T antimissile systems, both dependent on costly interceptors priced at around $2 million to $4 million each—often far more expensive than the missiles they are meant to defeat. Production is the choke point. Patriot interceptor output across the United States, Japan, and Germany might rise from about 850 today to 1,130 by 2027, and possibly to 1,470 by 2029. Even then, global demand means Europe might receive only a fraction of the output, and combat experience shows two or three interceptors are often needed per incoming missile. Output of the alternative, Aster 30 interceptors for SAMP/T, is projected at only 230 to 270 annually for ballistic missile defense, and their performance in Ukraine has lagged that of Patriots, implying higher interceptor consumption. Compounding the problem, Russia and Iran have been producing large numbers of long-range drones that can saturate defenses, increasing the odds that ballistic missiles penetrate targets. Cheaper, mass-produced systems might eventually counter drones, and lasers could one day address ballistic threats—but neither solution will arrive in time to close the imminent missile defense gap.

Europe’s current air defense posture remains uneven. High-end fighter fleets and a mix of European, US, and Israeli missile systems exist, but warfighting prowess lags behind capability. Interceptor stockpiles are insufficient for sustained high-intensity conflict, production timelines are slow, and short-range air defense gaps leave European forces exposed to the kind of kamikaze drone warfare now routine in Ukraine. These weaknesses are as much industrial as military. The response has revealed a strategic divide between two conceptual camps: the “gap fillers” and the “autonomists.” Gap fillers, as defined in this paper, favor rapid procurement of proven, off-the-shelf systems, primarily from the United States and Israel—predominantly the Arrow-3, Patriot, NASAMS, and Barak systems—to close urgent gaps. In contrast, autonomists, led by France, argue for long-term European autonomy through indigenous systems, even at the cost of slower fielding. This tension defines current debates over air defense initiatives and reinforces Europe’s continued reliance on US-made systems at the upper tier. Meanwhile, Turkey, a sui generis European NATO nation with its national defense technological and industrial base, has an alternative path: the Steel Dome.

Europe’s strategic air defense gaps and Turkey’s Steel Dome architecture

Turkey’s Steel Dome represents a critical leap in framing air defense as a national, system-of-systems architecture rather than a collection of stand-alone platforms. The Russian S-400, therefore, will need to be left out in the cold as a stand-alone weapon in Turkish military capabilities.

Designed as an integrated and layered air and missile defense construct, the Steel Dome aims to address threats across short-, medium-, and long-range engagement envelopes and all endoatmospheric altitude segments, while preserving operational sovereignty through indigenous development. The system-of-defensive system has been endorsed at the highest levels of defense decision-making and support for it continues rising as additional components reach operational status. In late August 2025, Turkey crossed a critical threshold in its pursuit of strategic autonomy in air defense with the first operational delivery of the components for the indigenous Steel Dome air defense system. The delivery coincided with the expansion of military electronics company Aselsan’s industrial base, reflecting Ankara’s view of defense production as a pillar of sovereignty. In November 2025, Turkey’s defense industrial base took a significant step forward with the signing of contracts valued at approximately $6.5 billion to procure a broad range of systems for the Steel Dome.

At the force-employment level, the Steel Dome integrates point and area air defense assets with longer-range interceptors into a unified command-and-control framework. Close-in defense is provided by antiaircraft artillery and very short-range systems optimized for counter-UAS (unmanned aircraft system) and low-altitude cruise missile threats. The Hisar family forms the short- and medium-range surface-to-air missile layer, while the Siper system anchors the long-range air and missile defense mission, extending coverage against high-performance aircraft and missile threats. An artificial intelligence (AI)-assisted command-and-control architecture fuses sensors, shooters, and electronic warfare elements into a unified air picture, compressing decision timelines and enabling commanders to operate in a dynamic, contested airspace. In an era defined by unmanned systems and saturation salvos, this coherence is as decisive as kinetic action. The strategic significance of Steel Dome lies less in individual interceptors than in its integration logic. By fusing sensors, effectors, and command elements into a single air picture and prioritizing serial production under national control, Turkey is building an air defense posture designed for sustained competition rather than episodic procurement. In other words, Steel Dome epitomizes the Turkish leadership’s strategic autonomy agenda. The most critical lesson of Ukraine is not merely about the quantities of missiles or radars, but about strategic coherence. Air defense is no longer a procurement problem to be managed in peacetime cycles. Turkey has already grasped the bitter truth and made its choice to act rapidly and decisively through the Steel Dome initiative—a response Turkey’s European allies should study. The Steel Dome initiative also serves industrial and geopolitical purposes. It is intended to reduce dependence on foreign air defense systems while positioning Turkey as a supplier to states facing similar threat environments. The emphasis on modularity and scalability suggests an export-oriented mindset, enabling partners to buy into the architecture incrementally rather than commit to a single, rigid system.

Conclusion

Europe’s current air defense dilemma is defined by scarcity and sequencing. Interceptors are expensive, production is slow, and operational experience shows that quantity alone does not translate into resilience. The deeper vulnerability lies in fragmentation: multiple systems, limited stockpiles, and insufficient integration across sensors, shooters, and command layers. As long as air defense remains divided between national stopgaps and Alliance bottlenecks, Europe will struggle to convert capability into credible deterrence.

Turkey’s Steel Dome offers a contrasting defense industrial policy. By building a layered, integrated architecture under national coordination from the outset, Ankara has prioritized coherence over perfection and sustainability over symbolic capability or overpriced foreign sales. The emphasis on systems integration, domestic production, and serial scalability is key to the Turkish government. In an era in which airspace is increasingly contested by mass and speed, the strategic advantage revolves around a defense that can endure, adapt, and sustain in highly attritional and prolonged wars.

Dr. Can Kasapoglu is a non-resident senior fellow at Hudson Institute. Dr. Kasapoglu holds a Ph.D. from the Turkish War College and an M.Sci. degree from the Turkish Military Academy. Previously he was an Eisenhower Fellow at the NATO Defense College in Rome and held a visiting research post at the NATO Cyber Center of Excellence in Tallinn.

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In this context, compromise should be viewed not as romanticism but as a geopolitical necessity and a cost-reduction mechanism. The interests of Turkey and the United States do not coincide one to one but, when they clash, the costs paid by both sides increase. Therefore, the emerging picture can be summarized as the two countries moving toward greater coordination in areas where they cannot replace each other and managing their disputes by compartmentalizing them. The return of leadership diplomacy, coordination aimed at producing results on the ground in Gaza, the window of opportunity for cooperation in post-Bashar al-Assad Syria and the Middle East, signals of controlled normalization in the defense sector, the institutional leverage created by the July 2026 NATO Summit, and Trump’s visit to Ankara beforehand all lead to the same conclusion: the relationship can progress not only through crisis-producing issues but also through crisis-preventing areas of agreement.

Leadership diplomacy

The first practical result of leadership diplomacy was the reactivation of that crucial channel with President Recep Erdoğan’s visit to Washington in 2025. The critical implication of this is that most of the problems in Turkish-US relations are political, not technical; even those that appear technical carry the burden of domestic politics, bureaucratic resistance, and intra-Alliance bargaining. Leader-level diplomacy does not eliminate this burden, but it does two things. First, it removes a deadlock from being a permanent obstacle; second, it produces the political authorization that makes technical negotiations possible. What is needed to expand areas of compromise in 2026 is to anchor this momentum in institutional channels: regular strategic dialogue, coordination between defense and foreign affairs channels, and rapid contact mechanisms that can be activated in times of crisis. Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan’s functional contribution on Syria and Gaza in 2025 serves as proof for the White House of improved Turkish-US relations.

Gaza: Despite differences in rhetoric, results-oriented cooperation on the ground

The Gaza issue in Turkish-US relations can be positioned as an important example of compromise in 2025. Although Turkey and the United States have different discourses and priorities regarding the region, it was possible to produce results on the ground in areas such as establishing a ceasefire, access to humanitarian aid, practical implementation mechanisms, and diplomatic coordination. This stands out as a model in which compromise means producing the same result rather than establishing the same discourse.

In 2026, the strategic value of the Gaza file is twofold. First, it demonstrates that a joint crisis management capacity can be developed despite the long-standing normative divergence in Turkish-US relations. Second, this capacity is not just a momentary agreement. If it evolves into a process that can be sustained through multilateral formats, it creates a common output area that reduces regional costs for both countries. But the lesson of 2025 is clear: harmony is not absolute; it is sustainable when it is functional and goal oriented. Despite Israel’s objections, the White House’s support for Turkey’s participation in the International Stabilization Force and Ankara’s willingness to participate are among the most promising recent developments on the Ankara-Washington front. More importantly, the Turkish foreign minister’s presence as a signatory—standing alongside Trump at the inaugural meeting of his Board of Peace in Davos—underscores the weight Washington assigns to Turkey in addressing the Gaza crisis and highlights the potentially constructive role Ankara could play on the ground.

Syria and the Middle East after Assad

The Syria issue has long been a source of tension in Turkish-US relations. However, the past year has shown that the post-Assad era offers an opportunity to reframe this issue. The survival of the new order, the country’s territorial integrity, the establishment of central authority, the easing of sanctions, and the start of reconstruction processes create broad common ground between Ankara and Washington.

The key point that makes compromise possible here is this: for Turkey, stability in Syria means not only increasing border security but also preventing the risk of fragmentation and ensuring that terrorist threats are not reproduced. For the United States, a stable Syria is an outcome that limits the risk of regional wars spreading and reduces the need for costly military engagement. Therefore, in 2026, Syria might cease to be an area where the two countries pursue the same goal with different means and instead evolve into a partial convergence of means.

The file on the YPG and the YPG-dominated Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) is not completely closed; however, with the SDF withdrawing from areas it had long controlled in the face of advancing Syrian forces, Ankara-Washington ties appear to be entering a new phase in terms of Syria. In particular, US Ambassador Tom Barrack’s remark that the conditions on the ground—and thus the perceived need for the SDF in the fight against the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS)—have changed could be read as a historic turning point in Turkish-US relations. The critical element that will increase reconciliation in 2026 is verifiable progress on the ground in the post-SDF era: an integration timetable, security arrangements, the alignment of local administrations with the central state, and the limitation of moves by external actors that undermine stability. When this happens, the Syria file could transform from an unsolvable crisis to a manageable transition in the relationship. Furthermore, Washington’s goal is both to align with Ankara on the SDF/YPG issue and to play a role in bringing Israel to an understanding with Syria. Washington and Ankara are on the same page regarding Turkey’s political and military role in Syria providing security for Israel. When considered alongside the constructive and reasonable progress on the Gaza file, this could put the United States, Arab states, and Gulf countries on the same page—and, in turn, create an opportunity for Washington to renew its image as a Middle East peacemaker. This is a new historical threshold and allows for a restructuring of the Middle East regional security architecture that produces security for everyone. With its diplomatic capacity and crisis resolution capabilities, Turkey stands out as a key country in such a process. Saudi Arabia and Pakistan’s evolving defense pact—and the ongoing talks on Turkey’s potential participation—constitute a noteworthy development, signaling that regional security is shifting from ad hoc responses toward a more institutionalized architecture.

The issue of Iran—one of the critical topics in Turkish-US relations in the Middle East—stands out as an area to be managed (rather than to seek full agreement). Before the conflict broke out, Turkey pursued a cautious approach based on regional balance, economic interaction channels, and border security and cautioned against the military option.

Ankara and Washington share many interest vis-à-vis Iran, including preventing instability by Iranian proxy networks, securing maritime trade routes, limiting Iran’s nuclear program, and ensuring the resilience to shocks of regional energy and connectivity projects. However, Turkey’s security concerns related to potential outcomes of regime collapse and a power vacuum take precedence in policymakers decision-making.

Nevertheless, the United States and Turkey need to stay closely coordinated to prevent fallout from the conflict creating shocks to bilateral relations. Turkey is also poised to play a role in an eventual deescalation and resolution, in tandem with other regional countries.

Defense cooperation

Defense cooperation in Turkish-US relations is both the most fragile and the highest strategic lever. Throughout 2025, signals of normalization and controlled progress at the rhetorical level in the defense sector are coming to the fore: the F-35 issue becoming renegotiable, the emergence of more flexible language on US sanctions on weapons and military systems subject to the Countering America’s Adversaries through Sanctions Act, the F-16 procurement and modernization process advancing to a certain stage, and Turkey continuing its air force modernization with different options. Ankara’s Eurofighter initiative is a striking example of this.

It would be wrong to interpret this table as an immediate solution, but to say that there is no solution at all would miss the mark for 2026. In the defense sector, compromise is achieved not through a single major decision but through a series of complementary, small steps: technical working groups, oversight and transparency mechanisms that address compliance and security concerns, supply chain and subsystem cooperation, joint production, and modernization packages. In particular, the emergence of Turkey’s need for critical components such as domestic fighter jets and engines presents an opportunity to shift the relationship from the crisis files of the past to the capacity partnership of the future. Real compromise could grow in 2026 as the parties shift from the language of maximum demand to the language of feasible packages.

NATO and European security

One of the most important topics to emphasize in bilateral relations is Turkey’s hosting of the 2026 NATO Summit. This is not a protocol detail in terms of bilateral relations; it is a strategic framework opportunity. NATO is the historical backbone of Turkish-US relations. When the backbone is strengthened, the management of side issues also becomes easier.

Washington’s approach in 2026, which pushes Europe to take on more responsibility and pressures it to share the defense burden, increases Turkey’s value within the Alliance. For Ankara, this opportunity is not just about rehashing the rhetoric of strategic importance—it is about institutionalizing coordination through concrete agendas: southern flank security, Black Sea balance, defense industrial capacity, readiness levels, and new threat areas. If the summit process is well managed, Turkish-US relations could enter a more predictable trajectory over the next year, fueled by a common Alliance agenda rather than scattered crisis headlines.

Russia-Ukraine and the Black Sea

In the context of the Russia-Ukraine War, Turkey’s mediation and balancing policy is seen by Washington as a complementary diplomatic role. This area offers one of the most realistic forms of compromise: not complete alignment but a division of labor. There are differences between the US approach and Turkey’s concerns about Black Sea balance, but both sides acknowledge the strategic value of keeping diplomatic channels open and striving to manage the war in a controlled manner. Trump’s frequent references to Turkey’s mediation capacity on Ukraine is more than a normative position; it is an indication that Turkey’s military diplomatic capacity is understood.

What will increase consensus in 2026 is the institutionalization of this division of labor: preventing escalation in the Black Sea, managing trade and maritime security risks, and maintaining concrete mechanisms such as prisoner exchanges and humanitarian mechanisms could make Turkey a burden reducer from Washington’s perspective. Success in this area will be measured less by declaring a common position and more by operating a common crisis management capacity.

South Caucasus

The capacity for compromise in Turkish-US relations can be interpreted as a quiet coordination that manifests itself in the Middle East, the NATO axis, and the South Caucasus. Although Washington and Ankara’s perspectives on this region do not always fit within the same conceptual framework, the common ground between the two capitals is clear: strengthening lasting stability in the South Caucasus, ending cycles of conflict, and preventing the region from becoming a fierce proxy arena for external power competition. For this reason, the Caucasus could form a constructive agenda in the Turkey-US relationship, one that does not generate major headlines but makes the relationship more predictable.

The logic of this compromise takes shape on two levels. First, it supports normalization and peace processes (e.g., between Armenia and Azerbaijan). Progress toward regional peace is consistent with Turkey’s goals of security and connectivity in its immediate neighborhood, while also contributing to the erosion of Russia-centered security dependencies. Second, a security approach that enhances the capacity of regional actors but does not encourage conflict requires a more measured form of engagement aimed at deterrence and stability without completely overwhelming the field with military competition.

In these early days of 2026, there is another reason for addressing the Caucasus as a separate point of agreement in Turkish-US relations: this region is a rare area in which the two countries’ interests often produce complementarity rather than competition. Turkey’s proximity to the region, its political influence, and its capacity for connectivity—combined with the United States’ diplomatic weight and its ability to generate international legitimacy—increase the likelihood of producing a solution file rather than a crisis file. Of course, there are vulnerabilities. The slowdown of peace processes, disruptive moves by external actors, and internal political fluctuations could turn this area back into a source of tension. However, precisely because of these risks, the Caucasus will be an important testing ground in 2026 for what compromise means in Turkish-US relations: not complete alignment in rhetoric but coordination that enhances stability on the ground.

Conclusion

In 2026, Ankara and Washington can create strategic breathing room in their relations through well-designed compromises. The common character of these compromises is cost-reducing functionality rather than ideological convergence. This includes results-oriented coordination on the ground in Gaza, common ground for the sustainability of the post-Assad order in Syria and the Middle East, a shift from crisis to process management in the defense sector, a strengthened institutional backbone within the NATO 2026 framework, and a division of labor in the Black Sea. They all point to the same thing: the future of the relationship lies not in denying disagreements but in accumulating enough common ground to prevent disagreements from holding the relationship hostage.

If these areas of compromise are linked to shared timelines, verifiable steps, and regular consultation mechanisms, Turkish-US relations could make a real leap from controlled fragility to institutionalized pragmatism. And this leap would produce what both sides need most in today’s stormy international environment: predictability.

Murat Yeşiltaş serves as director of foreign policy research at the Foundation for Political, Economic, and Social Research, a policy think tank based in Ankara and also known as SETA. In addition, he is a professor of international politics at the Social Science University of Ankara.

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Mutually antagonistic narratives have served domestic political purposes in both countries and have become something of a staple in the age of populist democracy of the twenty-first century. Yet the two countries rely on each other extensively in matters of trade, diplomacy, and security. State-to-state relationships are sometimes smoothed over in public but fractious in practice; the US-Turkish dyad is the rarer obverse: disagreeable in public for domestic audiences while resting on a high degree of alignment and collaboration.

Where do bilateral relations go when trust is low, mutual perception negative, but operational collaboration frequent? The answer depends less on rhetoric or polemical discourse and more on alignment of practical interests: We therefore must clear away the smoke of domestically motivated rhetoric to instead focus on mutual benefit. If two states pursue compatible goals and interests, room remains to balance internal political benefits with geopolitical cooperation in a form of complex interdependence. Whether that is the case for the United States and Turkey is a matter of substantial interest, given the weight that both have in the international system and the substantial number of crises and international matters that affect them.

Rorschach test

Articulating interests is more of a political than an academic exercise. It also presents something of a Rorschach test: If you ascribe ideological frames as determinative of status for Ankara (e.g., neo-Ottomanism, Muslim Brotherhood Islamism, reckless aggression) it brings you to one implied set of Turkish interests. If you accept declarative policy as the whole story you get another implied set. It is similarly the case for the United States: If you assume hegemonic interests are the primary driver, it takes you down a certain path; however, that road shifts significantly between and sometimes within presidential administrations. American interests as viewed by Trump differ significantly from those of his predecessor. Yet pattern analysis over time—observed behaviors and statements toward particular goals—tell us how specific a US president and his Turkish counterpart actually perceive the degree to which their interests overlap.

As an imperfect but useful generality, we can ascribe the following traits to Turkish foreign policy: multiaxial engagement and balance-seeking, nationalistic, hard power/realpolitik, traditionally but conditionally attached to the status quo. For decades, Ankara has sought to maximize autonomy while pressing for positive coalitions, where possible. For most of the current century, the United States has focused on maintaining a privileged or primary position in the international system, leavened increasingly with a dose of parsimony and pragmatism, but resting on what might be called enduring counter-revisionism (still in the tradition of US naval strategist and historian Alfred Thayer Mahan).

Ankara and Washington have demonstrated a generally cooperative approach across numerous regional and global issues in recent decades because their top-line approaches are compatible: one a retrenching-but-potent leading power, the other a rising middle power, both disinclined to establish imperial arrangements or to allow others to do so. A brief review of these issues illustrates this general (if imperfect) alignment by assigning numeric values reflecting relative alignment of strategic and diplomatic approaches between the two. Any such numbers game comes with attendant risk of overgeneralizing and missing some context, but statecraft and policy analysis at the higher levels of abstraction unavoidably entail some risk in this regard. So the numbers below are presented as suggestive rather than determinative.

In the table below, full interest alignment equals 1, partial interest alignment 0.5, neither alignment nor friction 0, friction -0.5, counteralignment -1. Descriptions of the cases follow the table.

Table 1: Sizing up US-Turkish alignment and friction on sixteen issues

Black Sea/Ukraine: Both sides wish to see the war end with Ukrainian independence intact; neither recognizes Russian claims over Crimea or Donbass, though Washington has signaled willingness to negotiate the status of territories Russia partially or fully occupies at present. Some differences exist regarding Black Sea access: The United States might like to have access for its own ships and more broadly for a NATO presence and routine access, while Turkey has preferred littoral NATO states do the lifting and a strict interpretation of the Montreux Convention; but neither wants a Russian conquest of Ukraine’s coastline. For a Trump administration interested in some compromise deal with Moscow, the Turkish position is complementary.

Caucasus/Russia: While the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP) offers wins for the region and the United States, the Armenian position is a wildcard with elections approaching. Should Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan get the boot in parliamentary elections (to be held no later than mid-June 2026), the United States may tack back to a position that pressures Azerbaijan and marginalizes Ankara. Russian and Iranian pushback on a deal that opens the region to trade on US-friendly terms can be expected. Interest alignment here between Ankara and Washington is solid, though the prospects for realized gain uncertain.

Central Asia: The TRIPP shows US interest in opening up more trade to Central Asia and balancing against outright domination of the region by Russia or China. The Middle Corridor and the Organization of Turkic States both have value in this regard—and have generated more interest from the Trump administration than its predecessor. Central Asia has not traditionally been an area of high investment for the US government; however, energy companies are interested, so having an ally be more engaged is an advantage.  

Africa: US investment and engagement in Africa has lagged, but Washington has concerns about Chinese or Russian influence on the continent. Meanwhile, Turkey has dramatically increased its diplomatic, military, and economic presence in Africa over the past two decades. In countries like Somalia and Libya, Turkish presence has lent heft to US diplomatic and counterterror initiatives. Africa demonstrates the complementarity of having compatible goals but varying levels of commitment.

Syria: Trump has made clear his policy that Syria will be stabilized and maintained as a unitary state and that Ahmed al-Sharaa is an acceptable figure to lead. This comports with Turkish policy, despite Israel’s objections. The assignment of Trump confidant Thomas J. Barrack Jr. as special envoy and positive statements from the US-Turkish working group on Syria have shown close convergence on Syria policy, a remarkable turnaround from the previous decade. The January 2026 agreement to reintegrate northeast Syria with the Syrian Transitional Government was a sign that this alignment was proving determinative on the ground. 

Iraq: Washington wants a stable Iraq that is: not dominated by Iran; oriented to Western energy markets more than Iranian or Chinese; and working amicably with the Kurdistan Regional Government. Iraq may not fulfill all those interests, but Ankara shares them, and the Development Road project to foster Eastern trade with Europe provides a vehicle for all three countries to earn profits while tightening Baghdad’s ties to Western economies. The presence of PKK fighters in northern Iraq remains a point of friction, but ongoing negotiations to disarm the PKK – and US support for those talks – has taken helped reduce that friction.

Gaza: Washington and Ankara both pressed Israel and Hamas, respectively, to accept a ceasefire deal, return of hostages, and military withdrawal from Gaza in return for disarmament. While the truce remains shaky as of late 2025 and the end state Trump and Erdoğan have in mind may differ somewhat, the coordination on diplomatic efforts has been unambiguous.

Iran: There is divergence here between the hard line taken in Washington toward the Islamic Republic and the modus vivendi approach in Ankara. While Ankara may not want regime change in Tehran, and wants to protect trade with its neighbor, the Turkish government has no illusions about Tehran’s destabilizing regional behavior and shares an interest in deterring it. Ankara has tightened enforcement of multilateral sanctions on the Iranian nuclear program—partially redressing a long-standing US grievance with Ankara. The launch of Israel-U.S. Operation Epic Fury to destroy Iran’s power projection and nuclear capabilities has driven fears of instability and chaos along the Turkish border, turning this from an area of some overlap into an area of friction.

Energy: Ankara’s energy diplomacy has sought to position the country as a hub for multidirectional energy transit and major new gas, oil, and nuclear deals have been signed with Washington. US pressure to decrease oil purchases from Russia has created some strain, as Ankara cannot shift to alternate suppliers as quickly as it can with gas.

US global leadership: American leadership that cooperates with Ankara on key strategic objectives, praising in public and transacting in private, plays like music to the ears of Turks. This contrasts greatly with the constraining approach Turkish leaders called for regarding perceived American overreach in Iraq, Syria, and other regions over the past two decades, including demands to reform the United Nations to lessen the power of the five permanent members. Still, this middle power and the great power have imperfect but positive alignment at present.

Trade/defense trade: The relatively light 15 percent tariff levied on Turkish goods and the $100 billion shared goal for bilateral trade are clear indicators of positive intentions. But defense trade is thorny, with a congressional role and some competition between rising Turkish defense players and US prime defense contractors.

European Union: Ankara and Washington remain at odds with Brussels ideologically and stylistically, while maintaining strong strategic and trade ties with numerous members states. Yet the tensions stem from different sources: Turkish desire to enter the bloc and the American administration’s desire to end what it perceives as the EU’s exploitative trade and security practices.

Eastern Mediterranean: The continuing friction between Greece and Turkey redounds against US-Turkish bilateral relations—a problem that continues to play out in the region and in Congress.

Sanctions: The divergences are clear regarding imposition: Ankara supports multilateral but generally not unilateral sanctions and enforcement, whereas the Turkish track record looks spotty from Washington’s perspective.

Israel: Ankara and Jerusalem pursued a rapprochement in the months before October 7, 2023; since then, rancor, acrimony, and mutual suspicion have become the norm. While regional competition over Syria, the Palestinians, and other issues can be managed, related tensions spill over into US-Turkish bilateral relations in a major way—and that seems likely to persist.

Venezuela: Erdoğan’s quixotic friendship with President Maduro had its roots in terms of oil sales and multipolarity theory, but was a clear point of policy divergence as Trump upped the pressure level on Caracas. With the early 2026 arrest of Maduro and muted response from Ankara, this seems likely to be a decreasing source of tension in U.S.-Turkish relations.

A clear trend and policy takeaway

In conclusion, this assessment sketch of sixteen complicated cases of regional and global policy matters yields eleven that demonstrate substantial bilateral alignment, four with significant unalignment, and one somewhere in between. The aggregate score by the simple rubric of “words and deeds reflect alignment” was positive (+4.5 – with the caveat that these numbers are illustrative but rooted more in subjective alignment rather than formal quantitative criteria). An honest critic might quibble with individual ratings and the framing of the cases or argue for the salience of other matters. Yet sixteen is a reasonable sample size, the thought exercise is revealing, and the trend clear: more alignment than friction overall.  

The policy takeaway is equally clear: maintaining a working relationship is vital for both countries. Those arguing for punitive approaches (by the United States) or hedging (by Turkey) disregard potential mutual benefits as well as both opportunity costs and implementation costs. Managing differences and satisfying domestic sentiment require an adaptive response from policy elites in both countries, but the record of cooperation in 2025 indicates that the pragmatism of both presidents fits the moment—and the alignment.

Rich Outzen is a geopolitical consultant and nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council in Turkey with thirty-two years of government service both in uniform and as a civilian. Follow him on X @RichOutzen.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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This interview was conducted on January 26, 2026 and has been lightly edited for style.

DJ: We’ve heard that you have agreed to join the Caucus on US-Turkish Relations and Turkish Americans—great news for the bilateral relationship and those interested in it. Can you tell us a little bit about the role of congressional caucuses in general and why we need a Turkey Caucus?

Walkinshaw: I served as chief of staff to the late Rep. Gerry Connolly for nearly a decade. During that time, Rep. Connolly was a member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee and served as a co-chair of the bipartisan Caucus on US-Turkish Relations and Turkish Americans. In my capacity as chief of staff, I supported his leadership on the caucus and, in response to constituent engagement and the strategic importance of the US–Turkish relationship, chose to join the caucus myself.

Congressional country caucuses can play a constructive role in strengthening bilateral relationships, while also providing a bipartisan forum to raise concerns and address areas of disagreement. Rep. Connolly understood the importance of maintaining a strong diplomatic relationship with Turkey, but he was also clear-eyed and outspoken about President Erdoğan’s persistent efforts to consolidate power and suppress political dissent. He used his position as co-chair to consistently sound the alarm about the erosion of democratic norms in Turkey.

I spent years supporting Rep. Connolly’s work in this space, and I intend to use my role on the caucus to continue advocating for a stable, prosperous, and democratic Turkey, and a strong US-Turkish relationship.

DJ: Turkey plays an important role in several major foreign policy priorities for Washington: ending the war in Ukraine, stabilizing Syria, finding a better way out for Israel and the Palestinians in Gaza, and forging a lasting peace in the South Caucasus. And despite the prevailing polarization in US politics, there have been encouraging signs of bipartisan approach in these areas—illustrated by the trip of Sen. Jeanne Shaheen, a Democrat, and Rep. Joe Wilson, a Republican, to Syria and the region last August. How hard is it to work across the aisle on foreign policy matters in the current environment?

Walkinshaw: US foreign policy is framed through bilateral ties, diplomatic and security agreements, treaties, and international organizations with guiding principles to promote democracy, ensure stability, and to invest and work with partners while deterring escalation or military action by adversaries.

It requires balancing the three D’s: defense, diplomacy, and development. Congress may not always agree on how the three D’s should be best implemented, but it’s important to acknowledge that one should not exist without the other and that’s the balance we are always trying to strike when working on foreign policy matters in Congress. Nevertheless, my approach is to identify a path to “yes.” Effective governance requires bipartisan engagement and a willingness to work constructively with colleagues across the aisle. Even in such a polarized environment, I am pleased that Congress worked on consequential issues such as reunifying families separated after the Korean War by passing the Korean American Divided Families National Registry Act, repealing the 1991 and 2002 Authorizations for Use of Military Force, and reestablishing the program at the US State Department to support the Ukrainian government in tracking Ukrainian children abducted by Russia. While significant work remains, these efforts underscore that there are serious foreign policy challenges where Congress can, and must, continue to act in a bipartisan manner.

DJ: How do you see the role of Congress—both houses—in shaping US foreign policy and interacting with the executive branch? What is the right balance between oversight/checks and balances on the one hand and “divisions stop at the water’s edge” on the other?

Walkinshaw: Congress is the preeminent branch of government, with broad powers outlined in Article I of the Constitution. What we have seen over the last twenty years, when the White House and Congress are controlled by different parties, Congress finds its Article 1 powers, and when the White House and Congress are controlled by the same party, Congress loses sight of its Article 1 powers. Article 1 of the US Constitution states clearly that Congress has the power to declare war, to lay and collect taxes and duties, and regulate commerce with foreign nations. President Trump is running roughshod and Congress has the responsibility to assert its authorities under the Constitution. President Trump illegally invaded Venezuela with no congressional authorization, putting US service members’ lives at risk, has implemented tariffs unilaterally and illegally, and recently foolishly threatened to purchase or invade Greenland.

Congress must reassert its powers under Article 1 in a bipartisan manner. I’ve supported War Powers resolutions to withdraw troops from hostilities that haven’t been authorized by Congress and voted to terminate the president’s misuse of International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) authorities to implement tariffs on long-standing US allies. This is a consequential moment in modern American history. President Trump has repeatedly undermined the postwar, rules-based international order and pressured long-standing US allies. Congress possesses clear constitutional authorities to act as a check on this behavior. The challenge is not a lack of power, but a lack of political will among some members to exercise it in the face of partisan pressure and potential political retaliation.

DJ: Your district is one of a handful in the Congress that have massive intrinsic interest in foreign policy and foreign affairs—because of a significant foreign-born population, businesses with foreign interests, and constituents involved with foreign policy and defense. Do you get a lot of input from constituents in your district about foreign policy?

Walkinshaw: I’m proud to represent such a diverse district: 31 percent of the residents in my district are foreign-born. VA-11 is home to a vibrant Korean American community, Uyghur community, South Asian community, and many other immigrant communities that enrich our civic life. VA-11 is also home to more than 50,000 federal employees, many of whom bring national security, foreign policy, and public service experience shaped by our proximity to Washington, DC, and the Pentagon. As a result, my constituents are deeply engaged, highly informed, and passionate about international affairs and US foreign policy.

I value that engagement and actively seek input from constituents, welcome substantive dialogue on their priorities and concerns, and work to ensure their perspectives inform the actions I take in Congress. Representing this district carries both a responsibility and an opportunity; to listen, to lead, and to translate constituent expertise into effective policymaking.

DJ: The US-Turkish relationship has traditionally been focused on defense and security and followed the ups and downs of regional crises. Is it possible to broaden that scope a bit through people-to-people ties, parliamentary exchanges, and greater business cooperation? Is there a role for Congress to play in catalyzing that sort of growth?

Walkinshaw: It is possible to broaden and deepen the US-Turkish relationship, and Congress can play a constructive role in catalyzing that progress. Increased people-to-people ties, parliamentary exchange, and greater business cooperation can and should play an important role in advancing the dialogue around the benefits of civil society and democracy.

DJ: Your predecessor, Congressman Connolly, was a co-chair of the Turkey Caucus, and you were a major support to him during your previous work. Is there unfinished work for the caucus, and what do you see as the best priorities for it after several years of being relatively quiet?

Walkinshaw: The late Rep. Connolly was a steadfast advocate for democratic governance and the rule of law in Turkey. He forcefully condemned the 2016 coup attempt and was equally clear-eyed about President Erdoğan’s subsequent consolidation of power and erosion of democratic institutions. I share those concerns.

At the same time, it is important to recognize Turkey’s significant diplomatic role in a volatile region. Owing to its geostrategic position at the crossroads of Europe, the Middle East, and the South Caucasus, Turkey has at times served as a key intermediary, including through its role in brokering the Black Sea Grain Initiative and supporting US efforts to secure a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas.

Moving forward, my approach is to uphold democratic principles while engaging with strategic realities.

DJ: What are your greatest concerns regarding US-Turkish relations currently, and what (if any) advice would you have for leaders in both countries to address those?

Walkinshaw: My primary concerns regarding US-Turkish relations center on President Erdoğan’s consolidation of power and his continued engagement with US adversaries. His suppression of political dissent and pursuit of closer alignment with blocs such as BRICS raise serious questions, particularly given Turkey’s status as a NATO ally.

A stronger and more durable US-Turkish relationship ultimately depends on shared democratic commitments. Reaffirming respect for free and fair elections, the rule of law, and the expressed priorities of the Turkish people would not only strengthen Turkey’s democratic institutions but also improve trust and cooperation with the United States and our allies. With respect to President Trump, his record reflects a disregard for democratic norms and the postwar rules-based international order. While his tenure is limited, Congress retains an enduring responsibility to assert its constitutional authorities. I remain confident that Congress will be positioned to more effectively reassert its role, restore oversight, and serve as a meaningful check on executive overreach in the near future.

Congressman James Walkinshaw is a first-term representative of Virginia’s eleventh congressional district. Congressman Walkinshaw serves on the influential House Oversight and Government Reform Committee, on the Military and Foreign Affairs Subcommittee, and on the Committee on Homeland Security. He is the Founder and Co-Chair of the Federal Workforce Caucus, launched alongside Rep. Steny Hoyer (D-Md.) and Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.)

Explore the journal

Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

Learn more

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As we enter the second year of the Trump Administration, US-Turkish relations and developments in regions critical to both have been dramatic and fast-paced. Events in Syria and Libya are trending towards state consolidation and strategic opportunity for both Washington and Ankara, while the continuing Russian invasion of Ukraine at NATO’s doorstep, the volatile situation in Gaza, and the unfolding war in Iran present challenges both sides seek to navigate in complementary ways.

Technological and geopolitical developments have increased the need for close consultation between the NATO allies, and bilateral coordination has been evident across a range of issues. Yet strategic cooperation remains constrained by a variety of factors. This issue of the Defense Journal takes up several of the regional, military-technical, and policy issues of interest to readers in both countries and to those tracking US-Turkish relations. In an era of positive relations between the two countries’ presidents, parliamentary relations and policy influence also carry great weight—and in this issue we are pleased to have interviews with US Congressman James Walkinshaw and the chairman of the foreign affairs committee of the Turkish Parliament Fuat Oktay to add the legislative perspective to bilateral strategic ties.

Rich Outzen and Can Kasapoglu, Defense Journal by Atlantic Council Turkey Program co-managing editors

Honorary advisory board

The Defense Journal by Atlantic Council Turkey Program‘s honorary advisory board provides vision and direction for the journal. We are honored to have Atlantic Council board directors Gen. Wesley K. Clark, former commander of US European Command; Amb. Paula J. Dobriansky, former Under Secretary of State for Global Affairs; Gen. James L. Jones, former national security advisor to the President of the United States; Franklin D. Kramer, former Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs; Lt. Gen. Douglas E. Lute, former US Ambassador to NATO; and Dov S. Zakheim, former Under Secretary of Defense (Comptroller) and Chief Financial Officer for the Department of Defense.

Gen. Wesley K. Clark

Chairman and CEO of Wesley K. Clark & Associates & Board Director, Atlantic Council; former Supreme Allied Commander Europe of NATO

Amb. Paula J. Dobriansky, Ph.D.

Senior Fellow at Harvard University JFK Belfer Center for Science & International Affairs; Board Director, Atlantic Council; former Under Secretary of State for Global Affairs (2001-2009)

Gen. James L. Jones

President, Jones Group International and Executive Chairman Emeritus, Atlantic Council; former National Security Advisor to the President of the United States

Franklin D. Kramer

Distinguished Fellow & Board Director, Atlantic Council; former US Assistant Secretary of Defense

Lt. Gen. Douglas E. Lute

CEO, Cambridge Global Advisors & Board Director, Atlantic Council; former US Permanent Representative to NATO

Dov S. Zakheim

Senior Advisor, Center for Strategic and International Studies; Senior Fellow, CNA Corporation; Board Director, Atlantic Council; former US Under Secretary of Defense

Explore the journal

Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

Learn more

The post Navigating change: US-Turkish defense relations in 2026 appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On February 25, Mark Temnycky, nonresident fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Eurasia Center, was published in Real Clear Defense on how Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has altered US and European security and ended the post-Cold War era in European security.

Fellow

Mark Temnycky

Nonresident Fellow

Eurasia Center

Ukraine Geopolitics & Energy Security

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On the main stage, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte underscored that bringing an end to the war in Ukraine will require sending more arms support to Ukraine and also placing sustained economic pressure on Russia. He highlighted the need to address China’s evasion of Western sanctions and its role in sustaining Russia’s wartime economy. The message was clear: Military resilience and economic pressure are two sides of the same coin.

The leaders gathering at MSC also discussed trade, highlighting how trade deals and tariffs have become geopolitical instruments. US Senator Thom Tillis (R-NC) argued that trade policy and national security are deeply intertwined, warning that if the United States creates an untenable trade environment for smaller economies, it risks driving them toward malign actors such as China and Russia. Economic policy, in other words, can either reinforce alliances or fracture them.

German Chancellor Friedrich Merz echoed this concern, pointing to the erosion of multilateralism. He warned that the world has entered an era defined by great-power politics above all else, and that in such an environment, some countries are increasingly deploying natural resources, technologies, and supply chains as bargaining tools. Smaller economies, he argued, must coordinate more closely to avoid being squeezed in the crossfire. In a world in which some weaponize economic interdependence, economic unity becomes a form of defense.

This convergence of economics and security was on display not only in Munich but also weeks earlier in Davos. The World Economic Forum has traditionally been a platform to discuss markets, business, and the state of the global economy, and while this continues to be the case, these conversations now require more consideration for geopolitical issues, which increasingly play a role in shaping markets. For example, US President Donald Trump’s remarks about Greenland, and the tariffs he placed on Europe, stole much of the spotlight, as did Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney when he called on middle powers to band together in the face of coercive economic practices.

Geopolitical challenges are increasingly being tackled in the economic domain. Governments are deploying instruments of economic power and coercion such as sanctions, export controls, investment screening, tariffs, and control over critical mineral supply chains to confront adversaries. Governments are also using economic tools on allies and partners to create leverage in negotiating favorable trade agreements. The use of these tools has required governments to reflect on their longstanding geopolitical relationships and consider how and with whom they will need to work to defend their economic sovereignty and security.

In this moment, smaller trade-dependent economies will need to build coalitions among like-minded partners to preserve the multilateral institutions that maximize their agency. To avoid any vulnerability to coercion by larger powers, these smaller trade-dependent economies will need to invest in their collective resilience by diversifying their supply chains, coordinating sanctions, codifying shared standards, and forming trusted technology partnerships.

Additionally, countries will need to address persistent trade imbalances and perceived inequities in burden-sharing within alliances. If left unaddressed, these imbalances and inequities will continue to drive decision-making that prioritizes short-term economic leverage instead of long-term economic security strategies. Such strategies require sustained alignment between economic and security objectives, not episodic reactions to crisis.

Governments cannot meet the challenge of building economic resilience alone, since it is built in markets, supply chains, capital flows, and innovation ecosystems. As economic tools become central to foreign policy, the private sector increasingly sits at the tip of the spear of national security, implementing export controls, monitoring sanctions compliance, reconfiguring supply chains, and making investment decisions.

Our team at the Atlantic Council’s Economic Statecraft Initiative, in partnership with the United Kingdom House of Commons’ Business and Trade Committee, convened policymakers and business leaders in Munich in a discussion that illuminated the need to redesign globalization in this age of strategic competition, where the line between boardroom decisions and national security outcomes is increasingly blurring.

Economic security will depend on the private sector’s ability to implement governments’ foreign policy decisions, making a new level of public-private partnership essential. Governments must clearly communicate the rationale behind deploying economic tools and provide the private sector with consistent, clear, and sustainable guidance and signals through enhanced public-private partnerships and dialogue. Information sharing related to national security risks will also be vital. Furthermore, governments should seek out and incorporate private sector feedback into their foreign policy decisions to mitigate against unintended consequences in the economic domain.

The MSC has long been the premier forum for confronting hard security questions. This year’s convening made clear that economic security belongs squarely in that category. Thus, at future MSCs, expect to see more and more finance ministers, trade negotiators, sanctions envoys, and business leaders roaming the streets of Munich.

Kimberly Donovan is director of the Economic Statecraft Initiative within the Atlantic Council’s GeoEconomics Center. She is a former senior Treasury official and National Security Council director.

Lize de Kruijf is a program assistant at the Atlantic Council’s Economic Statecraft Initiative within the GeoEconomics Center.

Housed within the GeoEconomics Center, the Economic Statecraft Initiative (ESI) publishes leading-edge research and analysis on sanctions and the use of economic power to achieve foreign policy objectives and protect national security interests.

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Bottom lines up front

• NATO allies recently agreed to spend 5 percent of their gross domestic product on defense, including 1.5 percent on an undefined category of defense-related priorities, by 2030.
• This defense-related category should include not only relevant areas of public spending, but also some private-sector spending that qualifies.
• Six guidelines listed below can help NATO define this “1.5 percent” category in areas ranging from critical infrastructures to defense-critical supply chains.

WASHINGTON—At the 2025 NATO Summit in The Hague, allies agreed to increase their defense spending to 3.5 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) and their defense-related spending to 1.5 percent of GDP by 2030. Specifically on the latter figure, NATO leaders decided that “Allies will account for up to 1.5 percent of GDP annually to inter alia protect our critical infrastructure, defend our networks, ensure our civil preparedness and resilience, unleash innovation, and strengthen our defense industrial base.” This combination of defense and defense-related spending is how NATO arrived at the now often-quoted figure of 5 percent of GDP. 

But beyond those general categories named in the communiqué, NATO provided no further details as to which elements of national GDP should be included in the accounting for the 1.5 percent. Just as the 3.5 percent of GDP defense spending goal is tied to NATO military planning, so should the 1.5 percent be focused on specific ways to enhance the Alliance’s broader defense and security posture.

The percentages may sound small, but the sums involved are quite large. With a combined NATO GDP of around $55 trillion, 1.5 percent adds up roughly $825 billion. Focusing on only the non-US allies, 1.5 percent of their GDP of $26 trillion still generates a sum of $390 billion. It is therefore important for the Alliance to be clear how these very large amounts should be defined within the overall spending categories if NATO defense and security are to be most effectively achieved. 

Ahead of this year’s NATO Summit in Ankara in June, the Alliance should establish guidelines as to what will be included in the relevant categories, and it should require nations to utilize common approaches to collect the relevant information. Most importantly, the spending categories should be designed so that the goal is neither unattainable nor already met. The objective should be to incentivize allies to make the most effective contributions to NATO’s common defense. 

Below are six recommendations for NATO to inform the establishment of such spending guidelines:

1. Include private-sector spending that enhances defense

A fundamental question is whether private-sector spending should be included alongside government spending. Many of the categories identified in the communiqué as part of the 1.5 percent are substantially private-sector activities, including much of the spending on critical infrastructures and networks, as well as corporate spending on the defense industrial base. Accordingly, as a starting point, private sector spending to “protect” critical infrastructures, “defend” networks, and “strengthen” the defense industrial base should be included in calculating the 1.5 percent. Governments would need to establish procedures to collect this data from their private sectors. 

2. Identify critical infrastructures

NATO should establish a list of agreed critical infrastructures, starting with those most relevant to military operations. That would include airports, rail, seaports, roads, electric grids, pipelines, and hospitals. It would likely also include the internet and other telecommunications. For example, private sector spending on such infrastructure that enhances the Alliance’s military mobility capabilities or replaces Chinese telecommunications equipment should fall within the 1.5 percent. Other categories are also important—including water and waste treatment, as well as internet data centers—and worth consideration for inclusion. Following the first point, spending from both governments and the private sector on protecting critical infrastructures should be counted toward the 1.5 percent of GDP. 

As part of undertaking this review, NATO will need to determine how spending on its seven categories of national resilience should be counted, as several involve the critical infrastructures identified above. The seven core resilience areas are continuity of government, resilient energy, managing population movement, food and water security, mass casualty response, civil communications, and civil transportation. Of these categories, energy, food, water, mass-casualty response, civil communications, and civil transport will also each involve private-sector spending necessary to “ensure resilience.” Such capital spending by the private sector should also be included in the 1.5 percent.

3. Include protection of critical infrastructure against both cyber- and physical attacks

NATO countries vary in their cybersecurity requirements for critical infrastructures. In determining the 1.5 percent, spending by private-sector entities pursuant to regulatory requirements, such as the interstate electric transmission requirements in the United States or the NIS2 cybersecurity requirements in the European Union, should be included. Likewise, for any critical infrastructures identified by NATO as important to military operations, cybersecurity spending should be included even if not already covered by regulatory requirements. 

Protection against kinetic attacks should also be included. This would include spending, for example, to protect undersea and land-based cables and pipelines, as well as spending for stockpiling of materials and repair and rebuilding capabilities for the critical infrastructures most relevant to national defense. Not all spending on critical infrastructures will count, however: NATO will want to determine how to define spending to “protect” critical infrastructures as opposed to ordinary capital and operational spending.

4. Define “defense industrial base,” as well as “strengthen” and “innovation”

The Hague summit communiqué does not set out what is included in these important terms. The defense industrial base, for example, includes both governmental and private sector activities and, like the critical infrastructures, the relevant entities and activities need to be identified. That will likely be an ongoing activity, as the defense industrial base has been expanding to include nontraditional suppliers in areas such as unmanned vehicles and space. 

Within that context, NATO will likewise want to define what is meant by “strengthen.” Capital spending by the private sector that expands the defense industrial base—for instance, for a new ammunition plant or an expanded capacity to produce weaponry or enhanced space capabilities—should count as part of the 1.5 percent. Similarly, innovations such as military use of artificial intelligence and drones that strengthen NATO’s defense capabilities need to be identified and counted. 

5. Determine how enhancements to important supply chains should be counted

NATO has established a “Defense-Critical Supply Chain Security Roadmap,” approved in June 2024, and the Alliance’s “Updated Defense Production Action Plan,” released in February 2025, includes as an action item the need to “protect our defense-critical supply chains.” The 1.5 percent category should include both governmental and private-sector spending to increase the availability and security of the critical raw materials identified on the NATO list of twelve defense-critical raw materials. A starting place for this category would be expenditures for mining, processing, and stockpiling of defense-critical raw materials. Another area of high significance for defense-critical supply chains might be expansion of industrial capacity for microelectronic production.

6. Establish a process to guide the 1.5 percent pledge expenditures 

To accomplish the best use of these funds, NATO will need to ensure effective high-level direction akin to the NATO Defense Planning Process for military requirements. One way to do this would be to task NATO’s Allied Command Transformation with developing guidelines that could be implemented at NATO headquarters, with guidance to nations by the assistant secretary general and with NATO permanent representatives providing national input. 

An effective defense for NATO will involve not only military forces and weapons but also the underlying infrastructures required for resilience. Defining the substance of the 1.5 percent pledge will provide NATO with an effective means to ensure that nations generate the required resilience.

Trackers and Data Visualizations

Jun 20, 2025

NATO Defense Spending Tracker

By Kristen Taylor, Julia Salabert

The Transatlantic Security Initiative’s NATO defense spending tracker delves into data and figures to analyze current defense spending trends.

Europe & Eurasia NATO

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“Europe needs Trump,” this official told me with a wink suggesting half-seriousness. Love Trump or hate him, the European argued, no US leader in the official’s lifetime has done as much to advance European defense, political, and economic common cause. 

As a result of his threats that he would not help defend allies who didn’t bear more of the burden, European countries have dramatically increased their defense spending in the past year. Through his tariff blandishments and economic bullying, Trump has accelerated historic European Union (EU) trade deals with Latin America, India, and Indonesia—and has triggered progress toward a capital markets union. In response to his threats (since withdrawn) to acquire Denmark’s autonomous territory of Greenland, European leaders showed rare backbone in near-unanimous alignment against him. 

Over its sixty-three-year history, the MSC has provided a thermostat for transatlantic relations. By that measure, Trump’s return to the White House produced a bracing chill last year, when US Vice President JD Vance delivered his “bad cop” broadside against Europe. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio provided some countervailing warmth this past weekend, but his underlying message was no less tough on Europe’s need to change. “We want Europe to be strong,” he said, “because the two great wars of the last century serve for us as history’s constant reminder that ultimately, our destiny is and will always be intertwined with yours, because we know that the fate of Europe will never be irrelevant to our own.”

What was most important about this year’s MSC, however, wasn’t what it said about US-European relations, but rather what it demonstrated about Europe itself. Last year’s European emotional shock has evolved into a steely determination among the continent’s leaders to address their enduring vulnerabilities. These vulnerabilities include insufficient political unity, inadequate economic vibrancy, and—most immediately perilous—inadequate defense capabilities.

French politician Benjamin Haddad, minister delegate for Europe, invoked Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius’s thoughts on stoicism to describe the shift from European hand wringing to more resolute action. “You have power over your mind—not outside events,” the Roman emperor wrote in his Meditations. “Realize this, and you will have strength.” 

Haddad’s point was that Europe cannot control US elections or presidential mood swings, but it can control its defense spending, its industrial capacity, its political cohesion, and its resilience. Marcus Aurelius ruled an empire beset by plague, invasion, and political instability, so his writings weren’t abstract philosophy. Europe’s existential test is whether its political experiment of pooled sovereignty can be leveraged and expanded in a world where Russia threatens its security, China threatens its economy, and the United States has become a more uncertain partner.

While Europe might have the luxury of time to address many aspects of this combined challenge, the most immediate danger is its race against the clock in Ukraine, where Russia’s full-scale war will soon enter its fifth year. Meanwhile, Moscow’s hybrid threats to Europe are growing, in particular against countries nearest to its border. Beyond that, The Financial Times reported over the weekend on a growing Russian sabotage network in Europe.

The “European awakening”

The EU’s existential problem is that it was created to integrate Europe peacefully after World War II but was not designed to defend it. At the MSC, one European leader after another addressed this challenge from the main stage as a high priority, while down the street, the inspiring SPARTA conference, a new MSC feature to meet the demands of the times, brought together dozens of European defense startups and prime contractors with private capital and government decision makers who have the authority to deploy, fund, or integrate next-generation defense technologies. 

“We must grow a European backbone of strategic enablers: in space, intelligence, and deep strike capabilities,” said Ursula von der Leyen, the European Commission president and a former German defense minister. “Mutual defense is not optional for the EU,” she noted. It is an obligation in the little-invoked Article 42(7) of the Treaty on European Union, a clause, she said, that now needed to be brought to life.

She speaks as no EU leader before her about the urgency of building up Europe’s military muscle. “As they say in Ukraine, you change or die,” she said. “We must adopt this mantra too.” She urged Europe to “tear down the rigid wall between the civilian and defense sectors,” seeking ways for its formidable automobile, aerospace, and heavy-machinery industries to urgently contribute to the “defense value chain.”

Some progress is already being made. European defense spending in 2025, von der Leyen said, was up some 80 percent since before Russia’s war in Ukraine. By 2028, she added, European defense investment is projected to be even higher than what the United States spent in 2025. Beyond that, European countries are buying US arms for Ukraine worth billions through NATO’s Prioritised Ukraine Requirements List initiative. Europe also recently approved a ninety-billion-euro loan for Ukraine’s budgetary needs, which Kyiv would only be required to pay back if Russia eventually pays it war reparations. At the same time, the EU’s new Defense Innovation Office in Kyiv is merging European scale with Ukraine’s war-time speed and ingenuity.

“This is a true European awakening,” von der Leyen said, laying out a goal of independence. “We need a new doctrine for this—with a simple goal: to ensure that Europe can defend its own territory, economy, democracy, and way of life at all times. Because this is ultimately the true meaning of independence.” 

The ticking clock

The question for Ukraine is whether the awakening has come soon enough. The clock is ticking as Russia continues to hammer away at civilian targets, energy infrastructure, and national morale, while the Trump administration continues to pressure Kyiv to make concessions to strike a peace deal that many Europeans feel would only be an interlude before further threats on Ukraine and beyond.

What’s little recognized, one European foreign minister shared with me, is that Vance’s jarring speech last year was followed the next day by European leader-level meetings that set in motion the Coalition of the Willing, led by British Prime Minister Keir Starmer and French President Emmanuel Macron. This group has since grown to embrace thirty-five countries, including Australia, Japan, and New Zealand. 

The group has played two roles in the past year: It has stepped up European support for Ukraine as an existential imperative, including deep and continuing discussions over how best to provide Ukraine security guarantees. And it has done so while ensuring that Washington doesn’t abandon Kyiv. What concerned its leading members in Munich this past weekend was that Rubio didn’t meet with them—and also that he didn’t speak at all about continued US support for Ukraine in his otherwise encouraging speech.

In his speech at the MSC, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz noted that the EU’s gross domestic product (GDP), which was over $22 trillion in 2025, is about ten times as big as Russia’s. “Our military, political, and technological potential is huge,” he said, “but we haven’t tapped it to the necessary extent for a very long time.” Add to that the United States’ GDP in 2025 of more than $31 trillion, and the potential of the transatlantic community to shape the global future remains unequaled.

“Dear friends, being part of NATO is not only Europe’s competitive advantage,” said Merz almost wistfully, hoping the Trump administration was listening. “It’s also the United States’ competitive advantage. So, let’s repair and revive transatlantic trust together.” He poignantly reminded his audience that after 1945 it was “our American friends in particular who whetted us Germans’ appetite” for partnerships, alliances, and organizations that fought for freedom based on the rule of law. “We will not forget what you did for us. On this foundation, NATO became the strongest political alliance of all time.”

As for the Trump administration, Washington’s critics here focused on Rubio’s comments on Europe’s “climate cult” and the civilizational threat of mass migration. Alongside that, Rubio’s conciliatory message on shared values and history provided hope that’s worth building upon. “We belong together,” he said.

This year’s MSC made clear what Europe needs to do, irrespective of what happens next in US politics. To paraphrase another of Marcus Aurelius’s axioms, then: Waste no time arguing what should be done. Do it.

Frederick Kempe is president and chief executive officer of the Atlantic Council. You can follow him on X @FredKempe.

This edition is part of Frederick Kempe’s Inflection Points newsletter, a column of dispatches from a world in transition. To receive this newsletter throughout the week, sign up here.

Note: The Atlantic Council has a strategic partnership with the MSC and convenes several sessions in Munich each year.

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“Both our histories and our fates will always be linked.” On Saturday, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio delivered a notably positive message to allies at the Munich Security Conference (MSC), just a month after a transatlantic showdown over US President Donald Trump’s aims over Greenland and with many European leaders speaking more openly about a deteriorating alliance. Below, our experts, several of whom are working the halls at the MSC, look at what was said, what was heard, and what to expect next.

• Matthew Kroenig (@MatthewKroenig): Vice president and senior director of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security
• Daniel Fried (@AmbDanFried): Weiser Family distinguished fellow and former US assistant secretary of state for Europe
• Philippe Dickinson (@PhilGDickinson): Deputy director with the Transatlantic Security Initiative and a former career diplomat with the United Kingdom’s Foreign, Commonwealth, and Development Office
• Tressa Guenov: Director for programs and operations and senior fellow at the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, and former US principal deputy assistant secretary of defense for international security affairs

What Rubio said

• Rubio “gave a great speech that was well received,” Matt tells us from Munich, where Rubio earned a standing ovation. The US secretary of state “did not repudiate anything in Vice President JD Vance’s more pugnacious speech last year, but he presented the same themes in a more positive light, focusing on shared challenges facing both Europe and the United States and how allies can work together to address them.”
• The MSC addresses by Vance and Rubio, Dan argues, display different impulses in the Trump administration: One is “to pick new fights or engage in unresolvable culture wars,” and the other is to “take the win” when it has won the larger argument, in this case on Europe needing to do more.
• Dan welcomes Rubio’s positive “free world” message that called for the reform, not the destruction, of institutions such as NATO. However, he adds, “Rubio could have been more explicit in identifying the free world’s adversaries Russia and China. There could have been more than a passing reference to Russia’s war against Ukraine.”
• “The substantive focus was on addressing the excesses of globalization,” says Matt. Rubio “argued that it was ‘foolish’ to offshore manufacturing, allow mass migration, become economically entangled with dangerous allies, and wish away the importance of national identities.”

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What Europe heard

• Before Rubio’s speech, “European leaders were dialing the geopolitical anxiety up to eleven,” Phil reports from Munich, where Europeans were talking about destruction, disorder, and the world order as we know it being “over.” Lingering tension over the recent Greenland episode was readily apparent in conversations on Friday, he adds.
• “Secretary Rubio’s speech in Munich cooled down the transatlantic temperature for now,” Tressa tells us from Munich. “But beneath the political churn and damaged transatlantic trust, there is a clear recognition in Munich that mutual security and defense industrial capacity questions simply need to be solved—and soon.”
• Dan notes that the Trump administration’s message to Europe was not only coming from Rubio: US Under Secretary of War for Policy Elbridge Colby “gave a similarly constructive speech” to NATO defense ministers earlier in the week, “in which he outlined terms for a renewed transatlantic alliance,” including a strengthened Europe and continued US commitment to NATO.
• Dan advises Europeans to take the opportunity that Rubio’s and Colby’s speeches provide to work with the administration to reform NATO. His message to skeptics: “Nothing is written. Work the problem. There is a potential path ahead to a better Alliance.”

What comes next

• “Europe’s fundamental mission now is to be credibly prepared to prevail in a protracted conflict should one ever come to pass,” Tressa says. “Europe must overcome endemic political fragmentation in order to boost its defense industry” and improve deterrence “at the NATO and national levels.”
• To be sure, Phil says, calls for Europe to “step up” will require “many years of steady, diligent work.” But, he adds, “The more encouraging message from Munich is that, away from the main stage, that work is underway,” as officials “are not paralyzed by fatalism.”
• “We want allies who can defend themselves so that no adversary will ever be tempted to test our collective strength,” Rubio said in his speech. “Deep down,” says Phil, “even the most alarmist Europeans know that they cannot afford to write off the United States as a partner, and that Europe being compelled to take a strategic grip of its own destiny will, in the long run, be a good thing.”

The post What Rubio said in Munich, what Europe heard, and what comes next appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On February 13, Atlantic Council vice president and Scowcroft Center senior director Matthew Kroenig was quoted in Semafor on the future of US-Europe relations, arguing that the US will continue to play a leadership role, even as Europe works to bolster its autonomy.

Staff

Matthew Kroenig

Vice President, Geostrategy and Fellows and Senior Director, Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

China Defense Policy

The post Kroenig quoted in Semafor on the future of US-Europe relations appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Drawing on discussions at the conference, Wieslander notes a more constructive attitude of how to practically work forward, rather than a prevailing “Europe alone” sentiment. At the same time, she underlined that Europe’s trust in the United States remains severely harmed, while U.S. representatives continue to make clear that Europe must pay more and assume greater responsibility for conventional capabilities within NATO.

“We have to start a major burden-shifting process,” Wieslander says, adding that “the U.S. will keep the extended deterrence, but there will be major changes, and Europe will take a lead in a way we have not done before.”

Concerned about the uneven implementation of defence spending commitments across Europe, Wieslander also called for greater responsibility from the larger European powers within NATO, including the U.K.

“There are expectations on the U.K. to deliver capabilities […] and there is more needed to be done here” she claims, emphasizing that while smaller countries may allocate a higher share of GDP to defence, their overall impact remains limited.

Listen to the broadcast with Wieslander here.

The post Wieslander on Times Radio appeared first on Atlantic Council.

In the article, Wieslander and Rachel Ellehuus, Director-General of the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI), argues that Europe must urgently take action to strengthen its defence capabilities, rather than “muddle through the Trump years until a new administration restores American engagement in the alliance.”

“An action-oriented process could start immediately and move along three major lines”, they write:

First, allies should review the regional plans for the defence of Europe through the lens of how to execute them with less – or no – American support.

Second, the shifting operational capacity must be paired with command reform that allows for credible European leadership.

Third, the European nuclear pillar in NATO should be strengthened.

The op-ed was published ahead of the Munich Security Conference, where, according to Wieslander and Ellehuus, European leaders must “move beyond talk and get to work.”

Read the full article here:

The post Wieslander published in Euractiv appeared first on Atlantic Council.

• The strategic setting: Autocrats on the rise
• The threat: A formidable military backed by a resilient war economy
• The risk: NATO is not ready
• Target 1: Svalbard archipelago
• Target 2: Åland islands
• Target 3: Eastern Estonia
• Target 4: Gotland
• Target 5: Land bridge to Kaliningrad

The accession of Sweden and Finland as NATO’s newest members has fundamentally altered Russia’s security calculations in the Baltic and Nordic region. Should the war in Ukraine evolve into a prolonged frozen conflict, Russia will rearm its military in pursuit of Vladimir Putin’s imperial ambitions. He will seek opportunities to rebuild Russian prestige and recover former or disputed territories, improve Russia’s strategic posture, and test NATO’s resolve in Article 5 scenarios in which he assesses the chance of a robust Alliance response is low, or the chances of success at acceptable cost are high. As one expert notes, “Russia wants to expand its military and political opportunities in the face of the West and considers a direct clash with the West highly probable, if not unavoidable.”¹

The potential rewards for continued and successful Russian aggression in Europe include enhanced prestige for Putin’s regime, an improved geostrategic position along Russia’s periphery, delivery of a damaging and perhaps fatal blow to NATO, and the severing of the transatlantic link—all of which are powerful incentives. To deter future Russian aggression, NATO should identify and address these challenges now with concrete solutions. If Putin succeeds in such tests the lack of an effective response could well fracture NATO, fundamentally altering the transatlantic security environment.²

Despite its war in Ukraine, Russia remains a formidable, capable, and determined adversary in possession of the world’s largest and strongest nuclear arsenal. As Western intelligence services have warned, the Russian military is reconstituting its forces in preparation for future contingencies. Senior NATO military and intelligence leaders regularly warn that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the near term is a serious threat.³ This study will assess five key scenarios in which Russia might seek to improve its geostrategic position in the Nordic-Baltic region—the most likely target for future Russian aggression on NATO territory. In order of least to most risk for Russia, these are: military occupation of Svalbard; military occupation of the Åland islands; seizure of NATO territory in eastern Estonia; seizure of Gotland; and military operations to establish a land corridor to Kaliningrad. The intent of the study is to develop specific, realistic, and practical recommendations to deter Russian aggression in the Nordic and Baltic region.

The strategic setting: Autocrats on the rise

In 2025 the transatlantic community finds itself facing multiple serious challenges, framed by major-theater war on its doorstep in Ukraine, a new US administration critical of NATO and strongly prioritizing the homeland and China, dissensus within the Alliance on burden sharing and how to deal with Russia, and the potential for further Russian aggression in the European security space. More broadly, a consortium of autocratic states (China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea)—enabled by supporters such as India, Brazil, South Africa, and others—supports Russian aggression in Ukraine directly and indirectly by providing arms, troops, or markets that prop up Russia’s war economy.⁴

The strongest and most alarming trend in global affairs is the rise of autocratic regimes that threaten the stability of the international system. On every continent, democratic institutions face concerted opposition from authoritarian movements and regimes seeking to undermine the rule of law, free elections, and constitutional frameworks. Many of these movements are supported and financed by China and Russia. As Europe and the United States struggled to recover from the effects of the pandemic, global supply chain disruptions, and rising inflation, worsening tensions in the Indo-Pacific region and the outbreak of major-theater war in Ukraine roiled international markets, energy transfers, and food supplies. The international system today is marked by instability and increasing fragmentation as traditional alliances and coalitions come under growing pressure and strain.⁵

US economic policy, foreign policy, and national security responses to these challenges under the current administration differ strikingly from those of the past. US leaders have strongly condemned European Union (EU) trade practices, harshly criticized NATO member states, and imposed stiff tariffs on European and Canadian goods, provoking angry economic retaliation and damaging diplomatic relationships with traditionally staunch allies.⁶ It remains to be seen whether these measures are bargaining chips, which can be lessened or withdrawn in exchange for European concessions (such as increased defense spending or US defense contracts), or long-term shifts in US policy. US conservatives today regularly call for disengagement from Europe.⁷ Apparently serious US threats to expand territory by annexing Canada and Greenland have widened this breach, a process only intensified by the Donald Trump administration’s embrace of far-right movements across Europe and autocratic leaders such as Hungary’s Viktor Orban. Senior officials have repeatedly argued that Europe must “look to itself” for security so that the United States can prioritize the Indo-Pacific, now described as its “sole pacing threat.”⁸ Increasingly, the United States is no longer seen across Europe as a reliable ally with common values and interests.⁹

Several alternative futures thus appear possible, ranging from outright US withdrawal to a measured drawdown of forces to a purely transactional approach, whereby the United States demands bilateral concessions (more European forces and defense spending, as well as economic and trade concessions) in exchange for continued support.¹⁰ Regardless of which outcome materializes, it seems clear that Europe must rapidly increase its defense capabilities. For the contingencies addressed in this study, solutions that rely primarily on European contributions are optimal.

The threat: A formidable military backed by a resilient war economy

Russian aggression in Europe clearly presents the most serious challenge facing NATO and the European Union.¹¹ The 2022 NATO Strategic Concept highlights Russia as “the most significant threat to Allied security,” while the 2025 Hague Summit cites the “long-term threat posed by Russia to Euro-Atlantic security.”¹² Following its seizure of Georgian territory in 2008, the occupation of Crimea in 2014, and the incursion into the Donbas in the same year—the latter two both sovereign Ukrainian territory—the Russian Federation conducted a festering campaign in eastern Ukraine resulting in more than fifty thousand killed and wounded through 2021.¹³ In February 2022, Russia launched an unprovoked, massive invasion of Ukraine that continues today.

Russian losses in Ukraine have been severe, with as many as 770,000 killed, wounded, or missing, more than twice the size of the entire initial invasion force.¹⁴ (A disproportionate number are non-ethnic Russians drawn from more rural areas.¹⁵) Most of Russia’s inventory of modern main battle tanks—some three thousand in all—have been destroyed or captured, along with 5,600 armored fighting vehicles, 1,500 artillery systems, 110 fixed-wing aircraft, and more than one hundred helicopters.¹⁶ The Russian Black Sea Fleet has also been crippled, with seventeen ships sunk (including the flagship cruiser Moskva). At the outset, all of Russia’s then eleven combined-arms armies, its one tank army, and all of its airborne/air assault and naval infantry forces were committed to the invasion. That force was shattered by more than two years of intense combat.

Nevertheless, the Russian Federation’s ability to replace its losses has been remarkable.¹⁷ Through forced conscription and by offering financial incentives to boost recruiting, Russian forces fighting in Ukraine now total more than six hundred thousand.¹⁸ By drawing on reserve stocks of older equipment and ramping up production, Russia has made up for equipment losses, albeit with older and less capable systems and weapons.¹⁹ At the Munich Security Conference in February 2025, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy reported that Russia is building an additional fifty combat divisions, totaling some 150,000 troops—far more than any European state.²⁰ Supported by China, Iran, North Korea, and others, Russia has managed to evade sanctions to obtain the microchips and other advanced electronics it needs to manufacture and repair its advanced military technology.²¹ Now on a war footing, with defense spending exceeding 6 percent of gross domestic product (GDP), Russia has escaped the worst effects of international sanctions.²² There is little evidence to suggest its economy will collapse in the near or medium term.²³

The state of the Russian military

The Russian armed forces consist of 1.5 million active-duty soldiers, with another nine hundred thousand reservists, organized into three branches (the aerospace forces, ground forces, and navy), two independent arms (the strategic rocket forces and airborne forces) and the Special Operations Forces Command. The National Guard and Border Service are paramilitary formations not controlled by the Russian General Staff. Russian military forces are made up of both contract and conscripted soldiers, with elite formations such as special operation, parachute, and naval infantry enjoying a higher proportion of volunteers. All physically qualified Russian males aged 18–27 are subject to one year of military service.

The world’s strongest nuclear power, Russia fields an array of strategic and tactical nuclear systems that provide a wide range of options on the escalatory ladder.²⁴ The total number of nuclear warheads of all types is 5,600, including some two thousand tactical weapons (almost ten times the US number).²⁵ Russian intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) are controlled by the strategic rocket forces, headquartered in Moscow with an alternate command post in the Ural Mountains. The aerospace forces control a fleet of some sixty-six strategic bombers, though as many as thirteen were damaged or destroyed in recent Ukrainian drone attacks.²⁶ The Russian navy has eleven ballistic missile submarines equipped with sea-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs). Russian ground forces include a variety of tactical nuclear systems, such as the Kalibr cruise missile and Iskander ballistic missile, deployed in the missile brigades found at army level. Russia also possesses air- and sea-launched tactical nuclear weapons in its army and navy. This inventory provides Russian leaders with a variety of escalatory options below the strategic threshold that NATO is poorly equipped to answer.

The Russian ground order of battle today consists of fourteen combined arms armies (CAA), roughly equivalent to NATO corps, and one tank army (the 1st Guards Tank Army or 1GTA) with a total of seventeen army divisions.²⁷ (Ukrainian sources report that an additional fifteen divisions will be raised in the near term, although independent confirmation is lacking.²⁸) Russian ground forces also include some twenty-six independent motor rifle or tank brigades. (There are also three “army corps,” non-standard groupings with generally fewer units than armies.) Ground forces are geographically assigned to five military districts (Leningrad, Moscow, Eastern, Southern, and Central).²⁹ Russian field armies are less uniform in organization than in Soviet times and can include as many as three divisions plus supporting arms (as in the case of 1GTA) or as few as a single brigade (as with the 29th CAA in Siberia). However, all armies include an artillery brigade, missile brigade, and air defense brigade. Of note, Russian army units are supported by far more tubed and rocket artillery than is found in any NATO ally, including the United States.³⁰

The Russian military also fields strong airborne/air assault forces (considered a separate service), including four divisions and three separate brigades, often used as spearhead forces in conventional roles (a fifth division is reportedly forming).³¹ Referred to as Vozdushno-desantnye-voyska (VDV), literally “air landing troops,” all are mechanized with greater firepower and mobility than NATO counterparts. Their primary mission is to seize key strategic terrain in support of military operations or campaigns directed by the Russian General Staff.³² Russian naval infantry operates under control of the Russian navy in support of the Northern, Baltic, Black Sea, and Pacific fleets; there are five brigades, organized along army lines. Russian special operations forces (SOF) include eight spetsnaz brigades, much smaller units trained and equipped for deep penetration raids against high-value targets. All of these formations have been badly damaged in Ukraine and are reconstituting.³³

Private military companies (PMCs) such as the Wagner Group must also be considered. They have been used extensively in the Middle East, Africa, and, of course, Ukraine, where they sustained heavy losses.³⁴ PMCs offer several advantages: a degree of deniability, flexibility in the place and manner of employment, and a lack of accountability or public outcry when they suffer heavy losses. Since the abortive coup of June 2023, Yevgeniy Prigozhin’s Wagner Group has declined in importance and influence while PMCs have been more strictly subordinated to state control.³⁵ With some twenty-seven PMCs officially registered with the Russian Ministry of Defense, Russia has multiple options for employment of mercenaries in clandestine or covert operations in which a measure of deception is considered advisable. Just such a scenario appears in the 2024 Finnish documentary series Konflicti, which describes the introduction of Russian mercenaries on the Hanko Peninsula in an attempt to destabilize the Finnish government.

On the whole, Russian ground forces have underperformed in Ukraine despite massive superiority in artillery, armored vehicles, and airpower. Pre-war training and combined-arms proficiency were shown to be lacking, while command arrangements, battlefield leadership, and logistic planning have all been criticized.³⁶ Lack of initiative and an inability to fuse intelligence in support of targeting are common problems.³⁷ Since 2022, many Russian general officers have been killed, wounded, or relieved, disrupting the chain of command.³⁸ Nevertheless, Russian resilience has been impressive and Russian excellence in some areas, such as electronic warfare and use of drones, is impressive.³⁹ The Russian Army today is far more combat experienced than any NATO land force, and it continues to learn and adapt. Its resilience and willingness to take high casualties to achieve its objectives make it a dangerous adversary that should not be underestimated in future conflicts.⁴⁰

Traditionally, the Russian navy has operated in support of its land forces and not at great distances from the homeland, except in small numbers. Those trends are likely to continue.⁴¹ Even so, Russian naval power is increasing, with twenty-three new vessels commissioned since 2023.⁴² In the transatlantic region, its principal tasks are to contribute to strategic nuclear deterrence with its submarine-launched ballistic missile submarines; to defend the ballistic missile submarine (SSBN) bastions in and around the Kola Peninsula; to threaten the Atlantic sea lanes with its attack submarines; to defend against enemy sea-launched carrier and missile strikes against critical targets ashore; and to support ground operations with its cruise missiles, naval gunfire, and naval infantry. The Russian navy currently lists 283 vessels in its order of battle, though many are aging or are smaller corvettes or coastal patrol craft. A significant number are partially manned, under refit, or otherwise not battle worthy. Principal surface combatants include one carrier (the Kuznetsov, under long-term refit if not cancellation), four cruisers, ten destroyers, and twelve frigates. These are supported by eighty-three corvettes, forty-eight mine warfare vessels, fifty patrol vessels, and seventeen amphibious assault vessels, along with other support craft. The Russian submarine force consists of fifty-eight vessels, including twelve nuclear ballistic missile boats and fourteen nuclear attack subs.⁴³ While most Russian submarines were commissioned in the 1980s or 1990s, a small number—such as the nuclear-powered guided missile sub Severodvinsk—are modern, powerful, and difficult to detect.⁴⁴ The bulk of the Russian navy is assigned to the Northern Fleet, based in Severomorsk on the Kola Peninsula. In confined waters, such as the Black Sea or Baltic Sea, the Russian navy has been shown to be vulnerable to land-based anti-ship missiles as well as unmanned surface attacks.⁴⁵ Beyond the range of its land-based anti-ship missiles, the Russian navy is vulnerable to NATO’s maritime forces—but the European allies will find it difficult to cope without the US Navy.⁴⁶

The Russian Air Force, on paper at least, is one of the strongest in the world, with some 1,200 fighter aircraft and more than one hundred bombers, supported by an array of command and control (C2), electronic warfare, transport, and intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) aircraft.⁴⁷ Russian aerospace forces also include eleven air and missile defense brigades. The Russian Air Force has not performed well in Ukraine despite its overwhelming numbers and despite facing older Ukrainian air defense systems.⁴⁸ With a ten-to-one superiority in fighter aircraft at the outset, Russia failed to achieve air dominance—primarily due to outstanding Ukrainian air defense, but also due to deficiencies in Russian training and airpower employment. More than one hundred fixed-wing Russian combat aircraft have been lost, while many others are aging out prematurely due to heavy strain in flying hours.⁴⁹ About half of Russia’s aircraft fleet is more than thirty years old.⁵⁰ Attack and transport helicopters belong to the Russian air force, not the army, and they have also suffered grave losses, losing 40 percent of their strength in combat. Maintenance issues, battle damage, and the requirements of other theaters also reduce the number of airframes available. Effective Ukrainian air defense forced Russia to change tactics, increasing reliance on attack drones and on aerial delivery of glide bombs launched beyond the range of enemy air defenses.⁵¹ Russian high and medium air defense also resides in the air force and is impressive, especially in the air defense bastions surrounding Kaliningrad, St. Petersburg, and the Kola Peninsula. In the near term, Russia will field more modern replacement aircraft in modest numbers, but NATO airpower should have the advantage.⁵² In all scenarios involving military force, Russian unmanned aerial vehicles can be employed en masse and in sophisticated ways, with heavy use of decoys and deliberate targeting of civilian populations and infrastructure if deemed necessary.

Russian politics presents no threat to Putin’s control

Now in power for a quarter of a century, Putin at seventy-two is in firm control of the Russian political system, which stages periodic “show elections” that do not threaten his hold on power. Powerful oligarchs, military and intelligence figures, and legislators cannot establish independent centers of power able to challenge his authority, while opposition figures are regularly imprisoned, assassinated, or executed. As Freedom House reports:

Power in Russia’s authoritarian political system is concentrated in the hands
of President Vladimir Putin. With loyalist security forces, a subservient judiciary, a controlled media environment, and a legislature consisting of a ruling party and pliable opposition factions, the Kremlin manipulates elections and suppresses genuine dissent.⁵³

Strongly nationalist and supported by the Russian Orthodox Church, the Russian political system follows centuries of Russian history as an authoritarian and autocratic regime preoccupied with expansion and external threats. As one expert observes, “The main aim of the system is the perpetuation of the ruling elite’s hold on power, first by shielding it against any challenges that might emerge from the society, and second, by regulating the intra-elite rivalries . . . the state is treated by the elite as if it were its collective property through neo-patrimonialism. Neither citizens’ welfare nor economic development are among its primary goals.”⁵⁴ The Russian system is opaque, rendering independent assessments and analyses difficult. Catastrophic defeat on the battlefield, economic collapse, or serious internal rivalries might conceivably cause Putin’s overthrow, but at present his hold on power appears solid and durable. For planning purposes, analysts should assume that the current power structures will remain in place through Putin’s lifetime.

The Russian economy has rebounded from sanctions pressure

Though beset with comprehensive sanctions since 2022, the Russian economy has proven to be resilient, with GDP growing by 3.4 percent in 2024 as Russia transitioned to a war economy. There is disagreement regarding Russian economic prospects going forward.⁵⁵ Rising inflation and interest rates, corporate debt increases, a weakening ruble, declining energy prices, labor shortages, sharp reductions in foreign investment, and the loss of European markets for Russian energy have all negatively impacted Russian economic performance.⁵⁶ Diversion of capital into the defense sector has also affected investment in other parts of the economy, stunting efforts to offset these impacts.⁵⁷ Russia’s sovereign wealth fund has also declined from $175 billion in early February 2022 to $135 billion in March 2025, while $340 billion in Russian assets held in foreign banks were frozen following the 2022 invasion of Ukraine.⁵⁸ Some economists therefore conclude that the Russian economy might collapse or decline in the near term.⁵⁹

Others, however, point to factors that challenge this assessment.⁶⁰ Russia is self-sufficient in both agriculture and energy, rendering the state at least partially immune to external economic pressures. It includes perhaps the world’s largest reserves of natural resources, including oil, natural gas, timber, iron ore, coal, bauxite, diamonds, rare earths, and other commodities. The Russian shadow fleet, chartered by Russian entities but operating under foreign registries, includes hundreds of vessels engaged in carrying Russian cargoes (principally oil and natural gas) in order to evade international sanctions.⁶¹ The Russian steel industry ranked first in Europe in 2024 with $74 billion in revenue.⁶²

With new energy markets in China, India, Turkey, and elsewhere, the Russian energy sector has adapted well to Europe’s attempts to wean itself from Russian oil and natural gas (though a substantial fraction of Europe’s energy today is still supplied by Russian energy purchased from other countries on the secondary market and transported by Russia’s shadow fleet to avoid sanctions).⁶³ The EU also continues to import Russian oil, nickel, natural gas, fertilizer, iron, and steel.⁶⁴ Wages for Russian workers across the economy have risen and are running well ahead of inflation, while sanctions regimes have historically eroded as international business interests push for renewed access to Russian markets, commodities, and capital. Trade with China alone has risen by 70 percent, or $237 billion, since 2021.⁶⁵ Since then, Russia has transformed its economy to sharply prioritize military production, a change that will not be reversed quickly.⁶⁶ Russian debt, by international standards, is relatively moderate at 20 percent of GDP.⁶⁷ Unlike European consumers, the Russian population—especially in a starkly autocratic Russian state—appears well able to withstand privation and hardship. Given these realities, Russia is unlikely to suspend its military ambitions anytime soon due to economic constraints.⁶⁸ Stronger Western sanctions could change this calculus, but sanctions fatigue and an erosion of the sanctions regime over time appear just as likely.⁶⁹ While long-term collapse is possible, Russia seems well able to sustain its military activity for the near to medium term.

Russian hybrid operations seek to “fracture” Europe

Russian capabilities in the information domain are formidable and include offensive cyber, subversion, propaganda, and disinformation. State-sponsored media such as RT and Sputnik collaborate with sophisticated hacking and social media manipulation to sow dissension and distrust of institutions on a global scale. Financial support for opposition parties in Western democracies is a favored tactic with proven results; the recent election of an almost unknown, Russian-backed candidate in the Romanian presidential election is a primary example.⁷⁰ (As another example, almost every living Austrian chancellor has accepted highly paid employment with Russian businesses upon leaving office.⁷¹) Russian interference in US elections in 2016, 2020, and 2024 is well documented.⁷² The Baltic region is a high priority for Russian information operations, which seek to destabilize host nation governments using highly sophisticated means, often leveraging the ethnic Russian populations found there.⁷³

Direct sabotage is a regular feature of these efforts. Attacks on Baltic and Nordic infrastructure on land and at sea escalated alarmingly since 2022, often involving explosives and incendiaries as well as targeted assassinations.⁷⁴ Deniable attacks on undersea infrastructure have increased dramatically and are now a standard part of Russia’s hybrid toolkit.⁷⁵ Airspace violations by Russian aircraft and drones are now almost common, most spectacularly on September 9, 2025, when nineteen Russian drones entered Polish airspace.⁷⁶ These activities suggest at least an attempt to probe and test host country and NATO detection and response capabilities, if not a deliberate program of intimidation. Any kinetic operation launched by Russia in the region will almost certainly be preceded by comprehensive hybrid activities meant to fracture civilian support for the authorities, cripple financial and command-and-control systems, and alarm and distract civil society. These efforts are ongoing and increasing on a large scale.⁷⁷

Russian objectives

Russian active measures, in the Nordic and Baltic region and more broadly, are based on a series of strategic objectives with deep roots. Among these are:

• enhancing the prestige and stability of the regime by demonstrating influence and power relative to adversaries;
• destabilizing neighboring democratic states;
• laying the groundwork for recovery of former imperial possessions;
• restoration of the Russian Federation as a great power;
• reconfiguration of the international order in ways that benefit Russia in particular, and friendly autocratic regimes in general;
• resetting geostrategic conditions in ways that favor Russian political and military interests and goals;
• conducting intelligence preparation in support of future military operations;
• punishing formerly neutral Sweden and Finland for joining NATO; and
• fracturing the NATO Alliance and the European Union.

Though it has sustained serious losses in Ukraine, Russia remains a capable and determined adversary and the world’s strongest nuclear power. Its ultimate victory in Ukraine is in some doubt, with the conflict likely to subside into yet another frozen conflict.⁷⁸ (In the unlikely event of a Russian victory or a durable peace in Ukraine, Russia is even more likely to consider aggression in other parts of Europe, as more of its forces would be freed for other contingencies.) As Putin has repeatedly asserted, his ambitions go beyond Ukraine and encompass the recovery of former imperial territories lost over the centuries.⁷⁹ Both Finland and Sweden have difficult conflict histories with Russia extending back to imperial times, complicated by Russian anger over their recent accession to NATO.⁸⁰ Norway, formerly part of Sweden and sharing a border with Russia, is similarly a target of Russian ire as a strong supporter of Ukraine and an outspoken champion of sanctions. Baltic allies Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania are regular targets as well; all formerly belonged to the Russian Empire and all possess ethnic Russian minorities that are oppressed, according to Russian propaganda.⁸¹ They also represent prosperous Western democracies whose high standards of living and free societies stand in sharp contrast to conditions in bordering Russia—a clear threat Putin is known to fear. Standing between Russian territory and the Russian exclave at Kaliningrad (home to the Russian Baltic Fleet), the Baltic states are a high priority for Russian disinformation and subversion, as well as outright aggression.

The Russian Federation today is an aggressive state determined to restore its former glory and its place as a great power.⁸² Russian troops occupy Moldovan and Georgian sovereign territory and are based in Armenia as well. With a powerful conventional military and the world’s largest nuclear arsenal, Russia has used force repeatedly and successfully in recent years to achieve its political aims. Western intelligence agencies assess that further aggression is under serious consideration.⁸³ Over the next two to five years, Russia will continue to rearm and reconstitute its forces, posing a serious threat to the transatlantic region.⁸⁴ Meanwhile, Russian hybrid warfare will continue to play a prominent role.⁸⁵

The potential rewards for continued and successful Russian aggression in Europe include enhanced prestige for Putin’s regime, an improved geostrategic position along Russia’s periphery, delivery of a damaging and perhaps fatal blow to NATO, and the severing of the transatlantic link. These are powerful incentives. The most likely scenarios for future Russian aggression in Europe share several factors in common: they are relatively close to Russian territory; they represent a lower probability of a strong NATO or US-led response; they are opposed by weak defending forces; and they are subject to Russian historical claims. Western leaders should have no illusions. The prospects for direct conflict with Russia are substantial.⁸⁶ As one senior Nordic officer opined when interviewed for this study, “What Putin says he will do, he does.”

The risk: NATO is not ready

For some seven decades, NATO has been the backbone of North American and European security. The Russian invasion of Ukraine has fundamentally altered the security landscape in which NATO is operating, posing a threat not seen since its inception. How the Alliance meets these challenges will define its future and survival.

Inside the Alliance, NATO faces serious challenges. The Trump administration’s aversion to NATO is well documented, as is its strong prioritization of China as the principal threat.⁸⁷ Redeployment of some or all US forces in Europe is reportedly under active consideration.⁸⁸ A steady drift away from NATO’s core values of democracy, human rights, and rule of law in some member states impairs Alliance cohesion.⁸⁹ Key allies such as Canada, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Belgium still fall well below the defense spending threshold of 2 percent of GDP. Autocratic states such as Hungary, Turkey, and Slovakia refused to participate in sanctions against Russia over Ukraine and represent difficult allies should direct conflict with the Russian Federation erupt. Readiness is low across the Alliance, with half of NATO allies possessing no tanks or combat aircraft. Differing threat perceptions across NATO and the EU further complicate concerted action.

These dynamics suggest opportunities for Russia to exploit in the next few years. The United Kingdom’s difficult exit from the European Union, chronically low interoperability and military readiness across the Alliance, underinvestment in key capabilities such as space, theater missile defense, and offensive cyber, and wide divergences in burden sharing all complicate Alliance cohesion.⁹⁰ The rise of far-right political movements in Germany, France, and elsewhere raises elemental concerns. Financial and military support for Ukraine is taxing strained defense budgets, particularly given reductions in US aid. Looming over all of this is the question of the US role in NATO going forward. Faced with US demands to raise defense spending to 5 percent of GDP “or else,” a requirement that many allies cannot realistically meet, European states must question the US administration’s actual commitment to the Washington Treaty and the defense of the transatlantic community.⁹¹ Alarmingly, the head of the German Federal Intelligence Service reported in 2025 that his agency “had clear intelligence indications that Russian officials believed the collective defence obligations enshrined in the NATO treaty no longer had practical force.”⁹²

NATO’s security posture on its eastern flank is generally characterized by small regular forces, limited reserves, an absence of large armored formations, and weak artillery. The Baltic states presently field no tanks or combat aircraft and only coastal patrol craft. Poland, much larger than its neighbors to the north, is an exception. It has much stronger active and reserve forces and formidable tank, artillery, and fighter holdings (though these are still far smaller than Russian forces). NATO forward forces in the form of multinational battalion battlegroups are present in each of the eastern flank countries.⁹³ Lacking strategic depth, the Baltic states are unlikely to successfully defend against Russian aggression without substantial augmentation from allies.

NATO’s posture in Nordic Europe is, in some ways, more reassuring. All Nordic allies (except Iceland, which has no military) require mandatory military service. Defense spending is well above the NATO average and rising. A shared strategic culture, common history, and geographical proximity ensure higher interoperability. Difficult terrain, limited road and rail nets, greater strategic depth, and harsh weather conditions favor the defense. Nordic defense cooperation is long-standing and advanced.⁹⁴ Finland, Sweden, and Norway, with their long experience bordering Russia, can boast resilient societies marked by high levels of defense preparedness, advanced technology, and significant defense industries. Finland possesses large reserves and the largest artillery inventory in European NATO, while Nordic air forces field some 250 modern fourth- and fifth-generation fighter aircraft.⁹⁵ Nevertheless, minimal force projection capabilities, small active forces, modest ballistic missile defense, and limited blue-water naval strength all constitute vulnerabilities. All Nordic countries lack corps and higher-level formations and staffs with appropriate enablers. A serious threat from Russia would require assistance from across the Alliance.

This discussion feeds into the larger question of how best to deter further Russian aggression in the Nordic-Baltic region under present circumstances. The following considerations should be addressed as the Alliance seeks to meet its many challenges in this dangerous time.

• A shared consensus and commitment to action with respect to Russia is imperative. NATO should establish clear redlines respecting the sovereignty and territorial integrity of members and speak with one voice. A major part of this effort must be combating Russian disinformation through unified and coordinated messaging from capitals.
• Readiness and interoperability are by far the most urgent concerns. Though NATO force structure far outmatches Russia’s on paper, low readiness undermines deterrence across the board.⁹⁶ Operational readiness rates, deployment timelines, training, and stocks of ammunition, spare parts, fuel, and precision-guided munitions must all be strengthened and improved.⁹⁷ Addressing the lack of space-based ISR is an urgent priority.
• Addressing capability shortfalls is also an urgent need. High-altitude air and missile defense, intra-theater airlift, division- and corps-level “enablers,” electronic warfare, and offensive cyber, drone, and counter-drone systems all require investment and strengthening.
• Across Europe, the defense industrial base must grow in size and capacity to generate adequate stocks of major end items (tanks, aircraft, warships), as well as ammunition and spare parts.
• Military mobility, long recognized as a debilitating problem, must be solved. Here, close coordination and effective interaction with the European Union will be required.⁹⁸ Stress testing through regular exercises should be implemented.
• Burden sharing—currently the most divisive issue within the Alliance—must be addressed and rationalized. Overall, NATO allies reached the target of 2 percent of GDP set at the 2014 Summit in 2024, spending $500 billion on defense, or about four times more than Russia. However, key allies such as Italy, Spain, Canada, and Belgium (among others) remain below the 2-percent threshold. To relieve rising pressures related to burden sharing, all allies must achieve a minimum threshold of 2 percent of GDP for defense spending now and show clear progress toward a revised goal of 3.5 percent within the next decade, as agreed at the 2025 NATO Summit at the Hague.
• Updates to NATO’s cyber and nuclear policies are also needed.⁹⁹ Especially for tactical nuclear weapons, important questions about basing, release authority, site security, deterrent posture, and messaging are all appropriate policy issues affecting NATO as a whole.¹⁰⁰ In the cyber domain, NATO can help to improve cyber defense and cyber awareness across the Alliance, sharing best practices and advanced technology.
• As the conflict in Ukraine has highlighted, addressing the lack of reserves is essential. Small volunteer militaries or limited conscription with short terms of service cannot generate the forces and replacements needed to deter and defend. Conscription based on the Israeli model, especially for those states under greatest threat, will almost certainly be required—and would send a strong deterrent signal.
• Above all, deterrence—the concrete ability and will to inflict unacceptable costs on any aggressor—must be strengthened. This requires the stationing of heavy NATO forces, with enablers, on the eastern flank. Specifically, the enhanced Forward Presence (eFP) battle groups should be increased from battalion to brigade size, as NATO committed to in Madrid in 2022; NATO should assist the Baltic states in transitioning to heavy forces of divisional strength, with enablers; and the US “heel-to-toe” rotational brigade in Poland should be maintained. These forces represent a credible defensive deterrent but are far too small to pose an offensive threat.

Here NATO has many advantages. Its combined GDP is some twenty times greater than Russia’s, and its overall defense spending is some fourteen times greater. NATO’s thirty-two allies and close, official partners such as Japan, Australia, and South Korea constitute most of the economic and military power on the planet, and their combined populations dwarf Russia’s. Nevertheless, NATO must generate the political will to compete. The unity and cohesion of the Alliance is at stake. It is decisively in the US national interest to combine and cooperate with likeminded and wealthy allies who share common values and interests. Accordingly, key Alliance objectives include:

• maintaining Alliance unity and cohesion;
• deterring and defending member states’ sovereignty and territorial integrity;
• increasing overall defense spending;
• correcting capability shortfalls;
• strengthening the defense industrial base;
• improving readiness and interoperability to meet wartime requirements;
• generating manpower reserves; and
• improving NATO-EU cooperation.

What NATO could look like—from the status quo to full US withdrawal

In the near and medium term, NATO might assume one of three forms. The first is the status quo, perhaps with a reduced US footprint and a more transactional approach. Allies should expect continued strong pressure to assume greater defense burdens. In this scenario, the United States will continue to provide its nuclear umbrella; three European-based brigade combat teams; forward divisional and corps headquarters with enablers; one divisional set of pre-positioned equipment; four fighter squadrons based in Europe; the US Sixth Fleet; US European Command; and a US Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR). In time of war, the US contribution would be reinforced to include four fighter wings, an army corps of two divisions with enablers, and the US Second Fleet. US pressure to assume costs for its presence in countries like Germany is likely. This option could see the United States prioritizing exercises and troop deployments in those countries that meet the administration’s defense spending demands.

The second would resemble France’s withdrawal from the military command structure in 1967, with a much-reduced US presence. This option would see most US ground and air forces withdrawn; retention of the US nuclear umbrella and pre-positioned equipment; trainers and advisers as well as staff representation in NATO structures; and a European SACEUR. In this scenario, the United States will remain committed to Article 5 but only in a reinforcing role, with far greater reliance on Europe.

In a third case, the United States withdraws from NATO, removes its nuclear umbrella, and redeploys its military forces to the United States or the Indo-Pacific region.¹⁰¹ In this circumstance, NATO might carry on without the United States, be disestablished, or perhaps function as the military component of an expanded European Union.¹⁰² Should the Alliance fold altogether, a regional coalition or consortium including the Nordic and Baltic states, Poland, and perhaps the United Kingdom (UK) could evolve.

This study assumes a reduced US presence in Europe, continued US extended nuclear deterrence, and a US SACEUR. As mentioned above, proposed solutions for the threats and challenges presented herein assume limited US participation. With these considerations in mind, the following discussion will examine possible scenarios for further aggression in the Nordic and Baltic region along with suggested solutions for deterrence and defense.

In all the scenarios discussed below, certain factors apply. Any Russian military operation to seize NATO territory will be preceded by an assessment of expected Alliance reactions; if the chances of a robust response are considered low, the probabilities that Russia might act increase. The scenarios considered here could unfold in isolation or in tandem. Russian diplomacy will focus on support for nationalist or right-wing parties in order to generate dissensus inside NATO and the EU. Russian forces based in western Russia, such as 1GTA, must first be reconstituted, reequipped, and returned to full strength. Any operation will be fully joint, involving air, sea, land, space, and cyber domains. In all, intelligence preparation of the battlefield will be intense, and Russia will deploy disinformation, espionage, and sabotage. Indicators of a pending operation might include redeployment of air and sealift platforms; increased aerial and maritime reconnaissance; increased activity of rapid intervention forces; stepped-up disinformation; and no-notice snap exercises intended to mask actual operations. Russian SOF will participate and will probably precede the introduction of conventional forces. Military deception, such as the use of civilian shipping and commercial air transport and diversionary operations elsewhere, should be expected. A “cold start” using elite intervention forces (e.g., naval infantry and airborne units) is more likely than extensive mobilization that might alert NATO forces in advance. Finally, the timing of Russian aggression might be linked to climactic conditions and time of year, Western political transitions or domestic unrest, or crises such as conflict in the Indo-Pacific or Middle East that might hinder effective responses.¹⁰³

Target 1: Svalbard archipelago 

Undefended and far from military assistance, the Svalbard archipelago is a tempting opportunity to test NATO resolve and improve Russia’s geostrategic posture in the High North.¹⁰⁴ A sudden, uncontested military occupation by Russian troops would pose a severe test for both Norway and the Alliance. Located 750 kilometers (km) north of the Norwegian mainland in the Norwegian Sea, the archipelago includes Svalbard (formerly Spitzbergen), Hopen, and Jan Mayen islands. In accordance with the 1920 Svalbard Treaty, the archipelago is sovereign Norwegian territory but subject to a number of stipulations: military installations cannot be placed there; citizens of any treaty signatories can reside and pursue commercial opportunities on the islands, subject to Norwegian law; and all parties must respect and preserve the local environment.

The archipelago is sparsely populated, with fewer than three thousand residents spread across seven locations and only two permanent settlements (Longyearbyen and Barentsburg, on Svalbard island). Seventeen percent of its population is made up of Russian nationals. Its principal mineral resources are coal, zinc, copper, and phosphate. Norway operated a single coal mine that exports 80,000 tons annually to European customers, but it closed in 2025.¹⁰⁵ One local airport supports regular commercial air service to Svalbard from mainland Norway. One of the world’s largest ground-based commercial telecommunications stations is based on the island. It was bombed by Germany in World War II and later used as a weather station by the German military.

In support of its commercial interests—and as allowed by the treaty—Russia has maintained a nearly permanent presence on Svalbard for decades, principally for mining. At the height of the Cold War, Svalbard was home to more than twice as many Russian citizens as Norwegians. A major mining complex at Pyramiden was abandoned in 1998; today it is manned as a research station by twelve Russian nationals. A Russian mining operation remains active at Barentsburg, producing 120,000 tons of coal per year but programmed for reduction to 40,000 tons by 2032.¹⁰⁶ A Russian Geographical Society office opened in Barentsburg in October 2025 as well. The Russian government also encourages tourism from “friendly” countries, raising the Russian profile and footprint on Svalbard. In recent years, Russia has stepped up its complaints, asserting various violations of the treaty concerning fishing rights, treatment of Russian citizens, research activities, Norwegian military activity, and Norwegian claims to an exclusive economic zone (EEZ).¹⁰⁷

Current Norwegian government documents acknowledge “the risk of military conflict involving Norway [has] increased” and assert that “the exercise of national control in Svalbard is to be strengthened.”¹⁰⁸ Though lacking in military infrastructure, the archipelago represents a potential platform for reconnaissance and surveillance of the Norwegian and Barents Seas and a listening post for observation of the High North, as well as Russian naval activity out of Murmansk and the Kola Peninsula, home to the Russian Northern Fleet.¹⁰⁹ The bulk of the Russian navy is based in the Kola Peninsula, including the majority of Russian ballistic missile and attack submarines, as well as long-range naval aviation.¹¹⁰ If militarized, Russian possession of Svalbard would deny NATO allies this potential advantage and enhance Russian presence and reach in these waters, contributing to a layered defense of the Kola complex and strengthening Russian access to the Arctic Ocean and the North Atlantic. Of note, Norwegian analysts report a strong Russian intelligence focus on the archipelago, as well as the Arctic region and the Northern Sea Route in recent years, highlighting the islands’ geographic importance.¹¹¹ In January 2022, just weeks before the invasion of Ukraine, a major telecommunications cable from the mainland to Svalbard was cut, almost certainly by Russian commercial vessels.¹¹²

These developments suggest that, as part of a larger program to drive wedges inside NATO and to punish Norway for its unstinting support of Ukraine (including economic sanctions), Russia could see greater political value in exploiting Svalbard’s territorial “ambiguity” by seizing the undefended archipelago. Contrived complaints about Norwegian treatment of Russian nationals and arguments over disputed Norwegian sovereignty in Svalbard have been simmering for years and would provide a ready, if thinly veiled, justification.¹¹³ In recent years, Russian officials have also falsely claimed that Norway is “militarizing” Svalbard, a clear attempt to generate a false narrative in support of possible military action.¹¹⁴

Any Russian operation to seize Svalbard would be preceded by hybrid activities, such as destruction of undersea telecommunications, the insertion of intelligence officers in civilian clothes, and SOF troops conducting strategic reconnaissance and seizing key locations such as the commercial airfield north of Longyearbyen. Naval infantry from the Northern Fleet (the 61st Naval Infantry Brigade, based in Murmansk) or airborne troops flown in from mainland Russia could rapidly seize and occupy the archipelago with little warning, presenting NATO with a fait accompli.¹¹⁵ Although an overt military movement using Russian amphibious assault craft or military transport aircraft is possible, a military occupation might involve maskirovka (military deception) using commercial aircraft or ships, at least for the leading echelon. The initial occupying force would likely be of battalion strength, followed by its parent brigade with the normal enablers (air defense, artillery, engineers, intelligence, and electronic warfare units), supported by fighters, warships, and submarines from the Kola Peninsula.¹¹⁶ Some form of civil administration and ministry of the interior border guards would follow in due course.

Given Svalbard’s remote location and small population, it is not certain that all thirty-two NATO allies would agree to oppose Russian aggression on Svalbard.¹¹⁷ Without consensus, a robust NATO response is less likely. At the outset, Norway’s small military can do little in response. Though a clear Article 5 violation, NATO’s failure to respond effectively will significantly damage Alliance prestige and cohesion, at low risk and low cost to Russia. Should Russian planners assess that NATO lacks the resolve to act, this scenario becomes far more probable.

Technically, Norway might not abrogate the 1920 treaty without the consent of the participating parties (which number some forty-eight, including Russia).¹¹⁸ The introduction of foreign troops is forbidden. However, Article 9 of the treaty permits the presence of Norwegian troops with caveats: Norway cannot establish naval bases or other military fortifications on Svalbard and the archipelago cannot be used “for warlike purposes,” but “defensive measures” are permitted.¹¹⁹ Citing repeated Russian aggression and violations of international law, Norway could station a rotational force—perhaps border guards or other paramilitary troops—in company strength as a reaction force on Svalbard to deter an unopposed landing. Such a force could not withstand a determined attack but would raise the political stakes and signal Norway’s determination to assert its sovereignty and defend its territory, strengthening the case for NATO and international diplomatic and military intervention.

These steps can be augmented by more focused intelligence and surveillance, including signal and human intelligence, aimed specifically at detecting Russian troop movements before they happen. Early detection could provide opportunities for diplomacy, activation of response plans, and perhaps some form of interdiction prior to the operation taking place. Any strong evidence of a pending coup de main should trigger stepped-up NATO air and maritime patrols. In these circumstances, the Norwegian government might also consider a preemptive deployment.¹²⁰

NATO should also prepare detailed plans to retake Svalbard in the event of aggression. Unfortunately, Norway has no amphibious assault ships or marines, other than a company-sized coastal ranger unit equipped with CB90 fast assault craft.¹²¹ It also lacks parachute troops needed for no-notice, long-range response. One option is to employ Norwegian special forces along with US, UK, and Dutch marines who regularly exercise in north Norway.¹²² Another is to employ UK, Dutch, and Belgian parachute troops along with Norwegian SOF—a more rapid solution.¹²³ Such an operation would require air and naval forces, as well as ground troops in sufficient strength to overcome local Russian resistance and any reinforcing echelon. Russian planners will surely anticipate a NATO response, so effective air defense and anti-submarine assets in support of the reaction force are essential. Speed is critical, as delay would enable the Russian military to both establish stronger defenses (such as air defense and anti-ship missiles) and bring in reinforcements. Norwegian and Alliance public diplomacy should reinforce Norway’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened, reinforced by recurring exercises to demonstrate Alliance resolve and capability.¹²⁴ Should the North Atlantic Council decline to respond, an alternative is a “coalition of the willing” supported by the UK, the Nordic powers, and perhaps others.

Recommendations

• Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Norway’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
• Implement diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to deter or defend against aggression on Svalbard.
• Position a rotational company-sized Norwegian military or paramilitary unit on Svalbard.
• Conduct focused intelligence and surveillance, to include signal and human intelligence, aimed specifically at detecting Russian troop movements toward Svalbard.
• Conduct detailed military planning to reinforce or retake Svalbard in crisis scenarios.
• Conduct regular NATO exercises to practice rapid reinforcement, beginning with BALTOPS 2026.
• Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts in north Norway in support of contingency plans.
• Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 2: Åland islands 

As with Svalbard, the Åland islands are undefended and represent a tempting prize for Russian forces. Situated at the entrance to the Gulf of Bothnia in the Baltic Sea, they are in close proximity to three NATO capitals: Stockholm in Sweden, Tallinn in Estonia, and Helsinki in Finland. Described by Napoleon Bonaparte as “a pistol aimed at the heart of Sweden,” the 6,700 islands in the chain were formerly Swedish territory but were ceded to Russia in 1809 along with the Grand Duchy of Finland.¹²⁵ Following the Crimean War, the islands were demilitarized in accordance with the Treaty of Paris. Though sovereign Finnish territory since Finland’s independence in 1917, the islands enjoy substantial autonomy and remain demilitarized, with no military installations or infrastructure.

The population is Swedish speaking and enjoys the highest standard of living in Finland. Residents are not subject to military service. With thirty thousand inhabitants and a surface area of 1,700 km, the regional economy is based on shipping, fishing, and agriculture. The regional capital is Mariehamn on Fasta island, home to 90 percent of the local population. The islands are a crucial maritime waterway, as shipping routes nearby carry $180 billion of regional trade annually along with critical undersea cables linking Finland to the rest of Europe.¹²⁶ There is daily ferry service to Sweden and the Finnish mainland, as well as to the Baltic states, and daily air service to Stockholm and Helsinki from Mariehamn, the islands’ only commercial airport. The islands’ status is governed by the 1921 Åland convention, brokered by the League of Nations, which grants substantial cultural and political autonomy to the islanders.¹²⁷

Largely due to the conflict in Ukraine and Finland’s subsequent joining of NATO, some Finnish politicians and analysts have suggested revisiting the islands’ demilitarized status, provoking a strong reaction from Russian commentators.¹²⁸ Although a majority of Finns support this step, local residents do not.¹²⁹ The Finnish government has tabled such proposals, careful not to inflame an already tense relationship with the Russian Federation.¹³⁰ Still, an evolving security environment in the Baltic and Nordic region could change that calculus. Given the geostrategic stakes, Helsinki must take such threats seriously.¹³¹

A prime driver for Moscow is the importance of Baltic Sea trade, a major contributor to the Russian economy.¹³² The Åland islands also sit astride the entrance to the Gulf of Finland and the approaches to St. Petersburg, Russia’s second largest city, while the Kaliningrad exclave to the south is the home of the Russian Baltic Fleet and Russia’s only year-round, ice-free port in the Baltic. With almost all of the Baltic coastline now NATO territory, Russian planners face an acute challenge: in the event of direct confrontation with the Alliance, their use of Baltic waters and airspace is at grave risk, as is the survival of Kaliningrad as a Russian entity. The defense of St. Petersburg, now almost a NATO suburb, is also in question from the Russian perspective.

For these reasons, the Åland islands represent an attractive target.¹³³ Their possession in time of war confers vital advantages to Russia, altering the strategic landscape in the Baltic region significantly. These include more defense in depth for St. Petersburg, an enhanced air defense zone in the northern Baltic, and a potential platform for surveillance and reconnaissance as well as anti-ship missiles and rocket artillery. A military operation to seize them would also punish Finland for joining NATO and, like Svalbard, pose a wrenching dilemma for NATO. Though clearly an act of war, as well as a striking violation of international law, an unopposed military occupation in time of peace would more likely than not result in diplomatic protests, but perhaps not a NATO military response.

As in the Svalbard scenario, any Russian operation to occupy the islands would be preceded by Russian SOF, inserted clandestinely, to conduct strategic reconnaissance and seize critical infrastructure, such as the commercial airfield at Mariehamn.¹³⁴ These would be supported by combat aircraft and air defense forces from the Leningrad Military District. The occupation force would likely come from the 336th Naval Infantry Brigade based in Kaliningrad, or the 76th Air Assault Division based in Pskov.¹³⁵ As in Scenario 1, troops in battalion or regimental strength could be inserted by sea or air with little or no warning, possibly using commercial shipping or aircraft. Elements of the Russian Baltic Fleet would support the operation.¹³⁶ Moscow would likely then annex the islands, following up with national guard or border police troops and emplacing air defense, anti-ship missiles, electronic warfare units, and other enablers—in all, the equivalent of an independent brigade group.

Finnish military leaders are well aware of the Russian threat to the islands and increasingly advocate for their defense, as do a growing number of parliamentarians.¹³⁷ An appropriate response to the growing Russian threat is to amend the 1921 Åland convention (Russia is not a signatory) and position adequate defense forces on Fasta, perhaps with Swedish and other NATO elements equipped with armored vehicles, air defense, and supporting artillery, and supplemented by local volunteer reserve units. A possible solution is the Nyland Brigade, Swedish-speaking “coastal jaegers” currently based at Ekenas on the southern tip of Finland, augmented by air defense, field artillery, and anti-ship missile units.¹³⁸ This force would deny Russian forces an unopposed landing, impose costs on an attacking force, strengthen the case for NATO intervention in the event of Russian aggression, and buy time for reinforcements to arrive. Should the mission be to retake the islands, spearhead forces would be Finnish SOF (specifically the Uttii Jaeger Regiment) and the Nyland battlegroup, perhaps supported by Swedish marines.¹³⁹ Though the Russian government would protest any preventive deployment strongly, the islands are sovereign Finnish territory and such a deployment would clearly pose no offensive threat to Russian territory or interests. Given heightened tensions in the region and Russia’s demonstrated propensity for aggression, as well as direct Russian threats related to Finland’s accession to NATO, a defensive deployment like this is both prudent and necessary. Now, while Russia remains preoccupied in Ukraine, is the best time to bolster Finnish defenses in this critical area.

Recommendations

• Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Finland’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
• Implement focused diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to improve local defense.
• Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
• Position a composite Swedish and Finnish mechanized battalion battle group and reserve infantry battalion on Fasta.
• Equip these composite forces with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, air defense, and electronic warfare units.
• Prepare the terrain for defense with fortifications and obstacles.
• Strengthen Finnish capabilities to react to and retake occupied territory.
• Conduct detailed contingency planning and regular NATO exercises to practice rapid reinforcement, beginning with BALTOPS 2026.
• Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts.
• Strengthen NATO air patrols and presence.
• Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 3: Eastern Estonia

Located on the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland, Estonia shares a 294-km border with Russia (its easternmost city, Narva, is only 136 km from St. Petersburg). Formerly a possession of the Holy Roman Empire and later of the Kingdom of Sweden, Estonia was incorporated into the Russian empire in 1710 following the Great Northern War. Estonia enjoyed brief independence from 1918–1940 before reoccupation by Soviet troops, and it existed as part of the USSR until the end of the Cold War. Between 1945 and 1989, the presence of ethnic Russians in Estonia increased from 3 percent to 39 percent as part of a deliberate “russification” policy.¹⁴⁰ Since independence in 1991, Estonia has grown into a modern functioning democracy with a thriving economy and robust institutions. A member state of both NATO and the EU, Estonia has a population of 1.4 million, 21 percent of whom are ethnic Russians. Most are concentrated in Tallinn, the capital, and in Ida-Viru, Estonia’s northeastern province centered on Narva.

A prime target of Russian influence operations, Estonia has struggled to effectively integrate its ethnic Russian citizens, many of whom hold Russian passports and do not speak Estonian. (A recent constitutional amendment bars ethnic Russians who lack Estonian citizenship from voting.¹⁴¹) Russian intelligence services employ a variety of methods, including clandestine support of political parties, cyberattacks, disinformation spread through social media, vandalism, aggressive propaganda, and orchestrated bomb threat campaigns to affect Estonian social and political life.¹⁴² Although Estonian defense spending exceeds 3 percent, its tiny GDP means that external support is essential for its defense. Its defense forces consist of one active brigade, one reserve brigade, and no tanks or fighter aircraft; its navy consists of a handful of coastal patrol craft. A UK-led NATO battalion battle group based in Tapa is also present as a deterrent. (Allies committed in Madrid in 2022 to station NATO brigades in threatened eastern flank states “where and when required,” but that promise never materialized.¹⁴³) A NATO Air Policing activity is also located at Amari Air Base. Border fortifications are being constructed but will take time. With such a small and poorly equipped military, Estonia depends on NATO’s Article 5 security guarantees to deter possible Russian aggression. That threat is looming; as one expert recently opined, “Russia is thinking seriously about a combat operation in the Baltic region.”¹⁴⁴

In this scenario, Russian paramilitary troops, special operations soldiers, and intelligence officers without markings would enter eastern Estonia to carve out a separatist enclave in support of “oppressed” Russian minorities seeking reincorporation into the Russian Federation.¹⁴⁵

Using this cover story, Russian operatives backed with armed force would occupy the area around Narva and Lake Peipus. “Separatists” would then set up a mock government and vote for reincorporation into the Russian Federation, as seen in the Donbas and Crimea. The operational objectives would be to test NATO’s resolve, to intimidate and destabilize a neighbor and former imperial possession, and to set conditions for possible future aggression against the Baltic states.¹⁴⁶ Estonian authorities would surely act quickly in response to this threat, alerting military and police forces, mobilizing reserves, stiffening cyber defenses, and calling for immediate Article 4 and Article 5 consultations under the Washington Treaty. Should actual fighting break out, which is likely, Russia will swiftly escalate and introduce combat troops under the pretext of assisting ethnic Russians seeking self-determination. Local Estonian active and reserve forces and police might be able to deal with small incursions, but a sophisticated operation backed by Russian GRU and SOF, supported by conventional forces such as the 76th Air Assault Division in nearby Pskov and the 6th CAA in St. Petersburg, would exceed their capabilities. The lone NATO eFP battalion in Estonia is not enough to materially alter the balance of forces.

Here the risks for Russia appear to be relatively low. NATO intervention in strength is not certain; in all probability, close neighbors such as Sweden, Finland, and Latvia would not send ground forces or risk a direct confrontation with Putin. Large Russian forces would not be required, easing logistical requirements, and the prospect of high casualties is remote. A successful Russian operation of this kind would demonstrate the cleavages within NATO and force neighboring Baltic and Nordic states to reassess their relationships with the Russian Federation. Strong measures—above all, the timely deployment of a full-strength NATO heavy brigade combat team with enablers to Estonia—are needed now to deter this threat. In short, there is much Estonia can do for itself, but it will remain vulnerable without significant external support.

Recommendations

• Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Estonia’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
• Implement focused diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to improve local defense.
• Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
• Increase active Estonian forces to divisional strength.
• Equip these forces with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, air defense, and electronic warfare units.
• Solicit increased security assistance from wealthier allies and partners in the form of needed equipment and funding.
• Revise Estonian conscription laws to expand military manpower and extend service commitments.
• Prepare the national territory for defense with fortifications and obstacles.
• Increase in-place NATO forces from battalion to brigade strength with enablers.
• Conduct detailed contingency planning and regular NATO exercises to practice rapid reinforcement.
• Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts.
• Strengthen national cyber defense and resilience measures.
• Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 4: Gotland

Situated in the middle of the Baltic Sea, the island of Gotland confers major advantages to any regional power in time of war.¹⁴⁷ These include air and maritime dominance over the Baltic Sea and environs; enhanced security for Kaliningrad and the Russian Baltic Fleet; a strike platform and “unsinkable aircraft carrier” to threaten Sweden and the other Nordic powers; and an intelligence-gathering site to extend the reach of Russian sensors in the region. The Swedish government openly recognizes a deteriorating security environment.¹⁴⁸ Russian leaders, citing Swedish efforts to shore up Gotland’s defenses, state publicly that “western actions in Gotland, Bornholm, and other islands in the Baltic Sea threaten Russian national security . . . Russia will soon have no choice but to respond militarily.”¹⁴⁹ For these reasons, Swedish leaders are increasingly concerned that Russia might seize the island in time of crisis or war.¹⁵⁰

Gotland encompasses 3,200 square kilometers and lies 224 km from Stockholm and 345 km from Kaliningrad. A major Hanseatic trading emporium in medieval times, the island was ceded to Sweden from Denmark-Norway in 1645 and was briefly occupied by Russian troops in 1808 during the Napoleonic Wars. Gotland has sixty-one thousand inhabitants and its economy is based principally on agriculture and tourism. Its largest municipality is Visby, with twenty-two thousand citizens. The island is largely forested and free of ice year-round, with regular air and ferry service. There is one 2,000-meter airfield suitable for military use.

At the height of the Cold War, the Gotland garrison numbered some twenty-five thousand soldiers.¹⁵¹ Demilitarized in 2004, Gotland gained greater attention as a strategic flashpoint following the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014. Control of the island gives Sweden, and NATO, virtual command of the air and maritime domains in the Baltic Sea, potentially a decisive advantage in times of conflict. In 2017, the Gotland regiment was reconstituted as a mechanized infantry battalion with CV90 infantry fighting vehicles and a company of Leopard 2 tanks.¹⁵² There is also a Home Guard reserve battalion, but no artillery. An air defense battery equipped with a modest array of air defense systems provides limited coverage.¹⁵³

Russian forces in the area are based in Kaliningrad and consist of the Baltic Fleet, a naval infantry brigade, a motor rifle division with supporting units, and strong air defense, anti-ship missile, and aviation formations.¹⁵⁴ The fleet includes one attack submarine, one destroyer, two frigates, fourteen corvettes, and an assortment of smaller patrol craft, minesweepers, landing craft, and support vessels.¹⁵⁵ Some nuclear systems are reportedly based in the exclave.¹⁵⁶ Gotland falls just inside the range of Russian S-400 long-range air defense systems based in Kaliningrad and is well within range of Russian missile systems.

Should Russian leaders decide to confront NATO in the Baltic region, seizure of Gotland is almost imperative, both to deny NATO its strategic advantages and to secure them for Russia itself.¹⁵⁷ For commercial as well as military reasons, control of the Baltic Sea is critical, as 40 percent of Russia’s total energy exports transit the region.¹⁵⁸ This might be attempted as a standalone operation to set conditions for future aggression, or as a supporting effort for larger-scale attacks.

A Russian coup de main against Gotland would, in all probability, avoid the use of conventional motor rifle or tank units. Naval infantry or VDV forces in brigade strength, assisted by the Baltic Fleet and supporting aviation and missile units, would likely conduct the operation with little advance warning.¹⁵⁹ (One battalion of the 336th Naval Infantry Brigade at Kaliningrad is trained in airborne operations.) As in other scenarios, Russian SOF would be inserted clandestinely prior to invasion and commercial air and sea platforms might be used to preserve surprise.¹⁶⁰ (Russian ground forces in Kaliningrad would remain in place to defend against possible NATO reprisals.) Sabotage against critical infrastructure, such as the power grid, is likely.¹⁶¹ With surprise, these forces could overwhelm the defenders before Swedish reinforcements from the mainland could arrive. If successful, control of the Baltic Sea would shift from NATO to Russia—a decisive outcome.

To deter such an attack, or to successfully defend should deterrence fail, Sweden should increase its ground defense force on Gotland from battalion to brigade strength; position stronger artillery, air defense, and anti-ship missile units there; rehearse rapid reinforcement with Swedish SOF and the 1st Marine Regiment; conduct annual exercises with potential NATO reinforcements; prepare the terrain for defense with obstacles, mines, and field fortifications; and pre-position supplies and ammunition.¹⁶² Based on intelligence indicators, the Swedish military should be ready to increase air and sea patrols on short notice to provide early warning.

Attacking a major NATO state carries risks, to be sure, but the rewards for Russia are also great—a decisive strategic setback for the Alliance, a punishing blow to Sweden in response to its actions in joining NATO, and the intimidation of neighbor states such as Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Finland. Should Russian planners conclude that a coordinated, heavy response from NATO is unlikely, the prospects for a coup de main to seize Gotland could increase greatly.

Effective defense of Gotland, however, is certainly within Sweden’s means and would require strengthening the garrison in the near term. All this will require extensive diplomacy and domestic political work. Unlike the Svalbard and Åland cases, however, there are no treaty impediments or local autonomy considerations. If completed, these preparations can ensure that NATO holds the trump cards in any Baltic crisis.

Recommendations

• Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Sweden’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
• Implement focused diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to improve local defense.
• Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
• Increase Swedish ground forces on Gotland from battalion to brigade strength.
• Incorporate NATO contingents in the Gotland defense force.
• Station a 155-millimeter (mm) self-propelled artillery regiment on Gotland equipped with the Swedish FH77BW L52 “Archer” system.¹⁶³
• Position an air defense battalion on the island equipped with the Swedish Saab MSHORAD system.¹⁶⁴
• Site anti-ship missile units on Gotland equipped with the Swedish RBS15 system.¹⁶⁵
• Conduct detailed contingency planning and rehearse rapid reinforcement through regular exercises, beginning with BALTOPS 2026.
• Pre-position critical supplies.
• Establish obstacles and fortifications on key terrain.
• Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 5: Land bridge to Kaliningrad

Since the fall of the Soviet Union, the Russian exclave at Kaliningrad has been separated from mainland Russia by some 300 km. As Russia’s only ice-free port in the west and the home anchorage of the Baltic Fleet, it is a critical strategic asset. Supplied overland and by air and sea through NATO territory, and contiguous to powerful Polish forces, Kaliningrad is extremely vulnerable should conflict erupt—especially following Sweden and Finland’s accession to NATO. From a geostrategic perspective, this situation is untenable for Russia and, under the right circumstances, a sudden and large-scale strike through Lithuania to link up with the Kaliningrad garrison would yield important and even decisive advantages.

With a population of 2.9 million and a surface area of 65,000 square kilometers, Lithuania borders Latvia to the north, Poland to the south, Belarus to the east, and the Baltic Sea to the west. The largest country in Europe in the fourteenth century, Lithuania occupied Moscow in 1410 as part of the Lithuanian-Polish Commonwealth in the Livonian War, but was absorbed into the Russian Empire in the late 1700s. Except for a brief period of independence between the world wars and German occupation from 1941–1944, Lithuania was a Russian and later Soviet possession, regaining its independence in 1991 (the United States, however, did not recognize its loss of sovereignty at any time). With modern transportation and industrial infrastructure, Lithuania is a prosperous, stable democracy, a member of the European Union, and a NATO ally. Its terrain is generally forested and rolling, or flat with few large urban centers. The capital, Vilnius, is located only 38 km from the Belorussian border.

Lithuania’s modest defense budget of $2.1 billion supports two regular brigades (one mechanized and one motorized), a reserve brigade, and a number of territorial defense battalions. Current plans call for this force to increase to divisional strength over the next few years.¹⁶⁶ At present, Lithuania has no tanks or fighter aircraft, and no frigates, destroyers, or submarines in its navy. A German-led NATO battalion battle group is forward deployed in Lithuania and Germany has announced plans to increase this force to brigade strength by 2027, though internal political challenges might curtail this initiative.¹⁶⁷ A US tank battalion and artillery battalion, drawn from the “heel-to-toe” rotational heavy brigade deployed to Poland, are also present and headquartered in Pabrade.¹⁶⁸ Swedish and Finnish air, maritime, and special operations forces might operate against Russian forces in the Baltic littorals but would probably not participate in strength on the ground.

Russian leaders make no secret of their desire to reincorporate the Baltic states into the Russian Federation. On multiple occasions, Putin has asserted the right to intervene using military force to “protect” ethnic Russians living abroad, citing the return of the Baltics and other former Russian territories as a matter of “historical justice.”¹⁶⁹ Such talk is no mere rhetoric. Since Putin’s strident presentation at the Munich Security Conference in 2007, Russia has invaded Georgia (where Russian troops remain), occupied the Donbas, annexed Crimea, and invaded Ukraine, leading to hundreds of thousands of deaths and the destruction of entire cities.¹⁷⁰

What conditions could entice Putin to contemplate a sudden strike into Lithuania? US disengagement from NATO or withdrawal of troops from Europe, major conflict or tension with China that diverts US resources, an assessment that NATO would not respond, or internal challenges to the Russian regime requiring an external enemy could all factor into a decision to invade. The rise of right-wing, nationalist governments in Europe and a calculation that Russia should strike before NATO can harden its defenses in the Baltic region are also considerations. At least from the Russian perspective, some or all of these might apply in the near term, leading to a risk assessment that the potential gains of the venture outweigh the costs. At present, the war in Ukraine appears to be at a stalemate, with neither side likely to achieve a decisive victory. Should it harden into stasis, Russia can rearm and reequip its armed forces as Putin looks elsewhere in pursuit of his imperial ambitions.

An invasion of Lithuania would probably be conducted by the 1GTA, based in western Russia, with perhaps 7–10 days of strategic warning (probably masked as an exercise). 1GTA consists of two tank divisions, one motor rifle division, an independent motor rifle brigade, and supporting aviation, artillery, air defense, electronic warfare, and other enabling units. An airborne division and special operations (Spetsnaz) brigade would precede the main force. Marshaling in the vicinity of Minsk, the main effort would be a rapid attack across the Lithuanian border with two divisions along improved roads through Vilnius and Kaunas to link up with Kaliningrad, cutting off the Baltic states altogether and preventing NATO reinforcements from entering the region. A supporting effort with one division and one independent brigade would deal with Latvian forces, perhaps in tandem with elements of the Russian 6th Combined Arms Army (based in St. Petersburg), pinning down Estonian forces. These attacks would be supported by heavy ballistic missile strikes. The powerful Kaliningrad garrison is a grave concern as it is well postured to attack Lithuanian forces from the rear.¹⁷¹

Together, these forces represent less than 20 percent of Russian force structure, leaving substantial forces for Ukraine and other contingencies. Intense Russian disinformation, subversion, and cyberattacks would complement kinetic operations. Many experts assume that Russian forces will attack from jumping-off positions in Belarus and pass through the 64-mile-wide Suwałki Gap in northeastern Poland, the shortest and most direct path to Kaliningrad.¹⁷² However, that route will ensure that Russian forces take on the Polish Armed Forces, among the best in NATO, with their hundreds of tanks and dozens of fighter aircraft. The alternate route through Vilnius, the Lithuanian capital, avoids Polish territory and might well limit Polish participation inside the Baltic states.

Here geography favors Russia. As a virtual satellite state, Belarus is an ideal staging ground for Russian operations against Lithuania. Meaningful NATO reinforcements must come from hundreds of kilometers away and are far from ready (Germany, France, Italy, and the UK cannot deploy a single division to Lithuania in less than 60–90 days—far too slow to affect the outcome). The remaining option is to rely on host nation solutions and in-place NATO forces. This approach will require significant security assistance to the Baltic states and strong support from key allies, but the Baltics themselves must step up first. Although small in population and GDP, they are capable of much more than they are doing now. With a combined population of some 6 million, only twenty-two thousand Baltic citizens are under arms. Most are contract soldiers who serve short tours of duty. Thirty thousand partially trained and equipped reservists are also on the books. In comparison, with a similarly sized population, Finland fielded more than five hundred thousand troops in the 1941 Continuation War. Tiny Latvia fielded a seventy-thousand-man army during its War of Independence in 1919. The Estonian army at the same time fielded eighty thousand. Today, Israel, with a mobilizable population of some 7 million, fields an active army of 170,000 with another 465,000 upon full mobilization.

These examples show that the Baltic states can do much more to increase their own defense potential. Universal conscription of males aged 18–24 for a period of two years, with fair compensation and incentives for those who choose to become career soldiers and officers, would yield an order of magnitude improvement in size and quality and provide the basis for expanding Baltic ground forces at lower cost than expensive professional soldiers.

A reasonable goal is for each of the Baltic states to field one active and one reserve division with enablers such as artillery, air defense, engineer, logistics, electronic warfare, and signal battalions—about 10,000–12,000 soldiers. (Lithuania, with its larger economy and population, should also field an additional independent heavy brigade.) At least one brigade in each division should be a heavy or mechanized formation with one tank and two mechanized battalions. The others should be motorized to allow battlefield mobility. Each brigade should include a direct-support field artillery battalion (ideally self-propelled 155-mm howitzers), air defense battery, engineer company, logistics company, electronic warfare company, reconnaissance company, and signals company. A general-support 155-mm artillery battalion with attached multiple-launch rocket system (MLRS) battery should be provided at division level. Maneuver units should be liberally supplied with modern drones as well as fire-and-forget anti-tank and man-portable air defense systems. Reserves should be organized to provide combat replacements (recently discharged soldiers are best for this task) as well as territorial defense units to secure critical infrastructure.

These formations should be supported by NATO mechanized or armored brigades in each of the Baltic states, as promised at Madrid in 2022.¹⁷³ Forward defense is critical, as US and UK naval units will likely not operate inside the Baltic Sea and, in the opening stages, NATO airpower will struggle to reduce Russian air defenses and gain air supremacy, making air-to-ground operations and close air support largely unavailable.¹⁷⁴ Poland is the best candidate to provide this brigade for Lithuania, as it is closest, more ready than others, and will be in great peril should Lithuania be overrun. High-altitude air and ballistic missile defense and fighter aviation are all-important and must also come from NATO, as small Baltic defense budgets cannot support them. These enhancements would yield a ground force of thirteen active brigades (seven of which are heavy), adequate to initially defend against the anticipated Russian first echelon—that is, 1GTA—and to impose significant costs on an attacking force. Given the enormous expense and long lead times required, the Baltic states should not attempt to procure fighter aircraft or major surface combatants, which must come from larger NATO allies.

The Russian garrison at Kaliningrad is, of course, a major concern in this scenario as it poses a direct threat to the rear of Lithuanian and NATO forces and to supporting allied air and naval activity. (Much of the garrison was deployed to Ukraine in 2022, where it was badly damaged. It has not yet been reconstituted.¹⁷⁵) Here there are two challenges. The first is to eliminate the air defense threat, which extends for hundreds of kilometers over the operational area, to reduce or nullify NATO air operations.¹⁷⁶ Only a well-executed aerial campaign, mounted in strength and supplemented by land, sea, and air-based missile strikes, can achieve this aim.¹⁷⁷ The second is dealing with Russian ground forces based there.¹⁷⁸ As sovereign Russian territory since 1945, any direct assault on Kaliningrad would probably elicit nuclear threats from Moscow, but actual use is problematic. The solution is likely a Polish-led operation to either mask or defeat the Kaliningrad garrison, in concert with strong NATO air operations to degrade the air defense threat, with or without an actual takeover.¹⁷⁹ In this way, Lithuanian and forward-deployed NATO forces are left free to confront attacking Russian forces at the border.

While the Baltic states can certainly field larger forces demographically, they will need help financially from wealthier allies such as the United States, Germany, France, the UK, and Italy (these contributions can, and should, be counted against NATO defense spending goals).¹⁸⁰ There are other innovative ways to help. For example, the US Army maintains a large stockpile of excess equipment—including M1A1 tanks, M2 Bradley fighting vehicles, and many other items—in storage.¹⁸¹ With minor refurbishment, some can be quickly returned to full operational status and transferred to the Baltic states as excess defense articles through the Defense Security Cooperation Agency (DSCA).¹⁸² For the first few years, US contract advisers can be provided to train new crews on maintenance and operations. Sustained funding would be required to ensure a regular pipeline of spare parts and ammunition.

These steps will go far to improve the ability of the Baltic states to defend themselves, but more is required. Like West Germany during the Cold War, the Baltic states should organize the national territory for defense. This means pre-chambering key bridges and overpasses for demolition; stockpiling munitions and developing plans to emplace minefields in key locations in accordance with a national obstacle plan; hardening command posts and logistics storage areas; constructing field fortifications; and preparing anti-tank obstacles along avenues of approach.¹⁸³ Civil defense preparations such as stockpiling food and medical supplies, potable water, oil, and natural gas will be needed. Such measures need not unduly disrupt civilian life, but they will go far to enhance deterrence and defense.

The existing solution is the NATO Multinational Corps Northeast (MNC-NE), a German-Polish-Danish formation located in Szczecin, Poland, on the Oder River near the German border. However, MNC-E is separated geographically from the area of operations (it is 900 km from Szczecin to the Lithuanian border and more than 1,200 km to Tallinn) and does not currently possess a trained battle staff closely linked to the Baltics. The corps also lacks many of the enablers required. MNC-E can play a vital role in organizing the reception, staging, and onward movement of reinforcing NATO forces in Poland and, with augmentation, can provide a corps-level headquarters to command Polish forces should Poland itself be attacked.

To provide C2 for Baltic ground forces, a Baltic corps headquarters with NATO-trained Baltic commanders and staff officers and NATO augmentees is probably the best solution. This formation should be commanded by a Lithuanian lieutenant general with a two-star deputy and chief of staff, respectively, from Estonia and Latvia. Enablers are essential and should include corps artillery, air defense, engineer, signal, logistics, medical, intelligence, and electronic warfare units. Importing one of NATO’s many lower-readiness corps headquarters is not a realistic option.

Recommendations

• Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Lithuania’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened; state clearly that if attacked, Kaliningrad will not enjoy sanctuary if Russia attacks a NATO ally.
• Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
• Increase active and reserve Baltic forces to divisional strength.
• Equip these forces with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, air defense, and electronic warfare units.
• Establish a combined Baltic corps headquarters with NATO advisers and appropriate enablers.
• Solicit increased security assistance from wealthier allies and partners in the form of needed equipment and funding.
• Revise Baltic conscription laws to expand military manpower and extend service commitments.
• Prepare the national territory for defense with fortifications and obstacles.
• Increase in-place NATO forces from battalion to brigade strength with enablers.
• Conduct detailed contingency planning and rehearsals, along with regular NATO exercises, to practice rapid reinforcement, with emphasis on Polish participation.
• Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts.
• Strengthen Baltic naval establishments with anti-ship missiles and coastal patrol craft.
• Strengthen national cyber defense and resilience measures.
• Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.
• Coordinate with NATO on measures to deal with Kaliningrad in time of war.

Observations

The foregoing discussion suggests that, while steps are being taken to strengthen deterrence in the Nordic-Baltic region, much remains to be done.¹⁸⁴ Current trends indicate a reduced US presence in Europe, which must embolden Putin as he considers next steps in executing a broader agenda to reincorporate former Russian imperial territories, fracture NATO and the EU, position Russia as a world power, and improve Russia’s geostrategic posture.¹⁸⁵ The Nordic-Baltic region is a high priority for Russian planners for several reasons: its prosperous democracies present a deadly threat to Putin’s regime as thriving examples of what the Russian people might aspire to without Putin; gaining Russian possession would add strategic depth that is now lacking, particularly with respect to high-value locations like the Kola Peninsula, St. Petersburg, and Kaliningrad; successful military operations offer opportunities to damage or collapse the NATO Alliance at lower risk than direct confrontation with the major powers; and the prospect of reincorporating former territories can, from the Russian perspective, only enhance the stability of the regime and Russia’s standing as a world power.¹⁸⁶

One area that deserves special mention is the advent of drones—unmanned or uncrewed air and maritime vehicles. As the conflict in Ukraine clearly demonstrates, they have come to dominate the battlefield. From large weapons that can strike over hundreds of kilometers with large payloads, to small commercial drones that can be used to attack individual soldiers, drones are superseding, though not replacing, other forms of combat power.¹⁸⁷

As technology advances at speed, microprocessors become both smaller and more powerful, increasing range, accuracy, explosive power and endurance, and doing so at lower cost. Both Ukraine and Russia employ, and lose, tens of thousands of drones per month.¹⁸⁸ Their prolific use enables dynamic, real-time targeting and situational awareness to a degree unknown before. Very soon, autonomous drone swarms that can acquire and attack targets without operator control (and therefore downlinks that can be jammed) will appear.¹⁸⁹ They will be used to attack enemy targets and to counter enemy drones, as well as for persistent surveillance.¹⁹⁰ To cope with this emerging reality, all NATO allies—but particularly those most threatened—must embrace drone and counter-drone warfare as a matter of urgency. That means fielding capable electronic warfare units in all tactical formations; acquiring commercial, off-the-shelf unmanned platforms at scale and integrating them into training and doctrine programs; investing in cutting-edge technology to stay abreast of rapid advances in capability; and fostering organizational cultures that can support and exploit these extraordinary changes. In so doing, allies should avoid the trap of buying large, costly platforms in favor of cheaper, more readily available, easier to replace systems that can be employed by the average soldier.¹⁹¹

This study identifies numerous shortfalls, such as air and ballistic missile defense, lack of reserves, low readiness, inadequate force structure, and others. At the Alliance level, one capability is glaring for its absence: the lack of a genuinely high-readiness, air-transportable combat force that can project meaningful combat power to threatened areas on short notice. Through 2002, that force existed in the form of the Allied Command Europe Mobile Force or AMF, a formation manned by fourteen troop-contributing nations commanded by a NATO major general and battle staff. Built primarily around parachute battalion battlegroups from major allies such as the United States, France, the UK, Germany, and Italy, the AMF included light artillery, antitank, engineer, and air defense units and could deploy with as little as 48–72 hours’ notice. The intent was to provide a credible force that could move rapidly to threatened areas to demonstrate Alliance resolve. As these units still exist in many NATO countries, maintained at high readiness and able to move quickly using national air transport, it makes sense to recreate the AMF to provide rapid response options for SACEUR that are now lacking. Such a force could play a major role in all of the scenarios addressed in this study.¹⁹²

Relatedly, the current NATO command structure is also not optimized for today’s threat environment and invites revision. At present Svalbard is in Joint Force Command (JFC) Norfolk’s area of responsibility (AOR). Located more than 6,000 km away in Virginia and commanded by a US three-star admiral, JFC Norfolk is primarily a maritime headquarters whose chief responsibility is securing the sea lanes of communication in the North Atlantic. A better solution would be to establish a “JFC North” command under a Swedish or Finnish four-star, perhaps supported in this scenario by NATO’s Maritime Command, with responsibility for the Nordic region. Similarly, scenarios two through five fall under JFC Brunssum, located in the Netherlands and also far from the scene. Commanded by a German or Italian four-star, JFC Brunssum lacks a fully manned battle staff and is commanded by an officer whose parent nation would not provide the bulk of the forces needed to resist Russian aggression. A more optimal arrangement is to establish a “JFC East” in Poland—perhaps in Szczecin—under a Polish four-star. Ideally, for all scenarios the NATO command structure should align with the principles of geographic proximity (to ensure a fuller understanding of local conditions), preponderance of force, and national sensitivities.¹⁹³ These commands should be fully staffed with officers with strong expertise in the region.

Summary

Future Russian military operations in the Baltic and Nordic regions are not certain but could well occur in the near to medium term, given recent examples of Russian aggression and repeated Russian claims to former and disputed territories. The prospect of US withdrawal or disengagement from Europe can only serve to encourage such aggression. Russian leaders have made clear that they consider the war in Ukraine to be a conflict with NATO and the West, and that they aspire to recover former Russian lands.¹⁹⁴ NATO and host nation planners and leaders should prepare accordingly to deter and, if necessary, defend these areas to preclude escalation and preserve NATO solidarity and cohesion, as well as the sovereignty and territorial integrity of member states. These measures should assume limited US participation. Should certain allies block an effective Alliance response based on Article 5, contingency planning for coalition-based responses is prudent. The UK-led Joint Expeditionary Force, which includes the Nordic and Baltic countries as well as the Netherlands, is one example.¹⁹⁵

The steps described herein are well within the capabilities of NATO allies. Essential factors are a shared understanding of the threat and the political will to deter or counter Russian aggression. In the recent past, Russia has demonstrated repeatedly that perceived weakness invites aggression. Accordingly, this project is intended to provide specific, realistic, and practical options for policy and military planners to deter potential Russian aggression against NATO members in the Nordic and Baltic regions. The danger is immediate and real, and effective solutions are urgent and imperative.

The author acknowledges review and comment from the following experts in the preparation of this study:

Field Marshal Lord Richards; Field Marshal Lord Houghton; General Phil Breedlove; Admiral Jamie Foggo; General Sir James Everard; Ambassador Doug Lute; Ambassador Sandy Vershbow; Frank Kramer; Ian Brzezinski; Ambassador Tomasz Szatkowski;  Professor Sir Hew Strachan; Giedrimas Jeglinskas MP; Karolis Aleksa; Vaidotas Urbelis; Janne Kuusela; Major General Pekka Toveri; Rasmus Hindren; Fredrik Lindvall; Kate Hansen Bundt; Marius Endsjø; Dr Hans Binnendijk; Dr. Fiona Hill; Nina Borgen; Vice Admiral Sir Martin Connell; Lieutenant General Arne Dalhaug; Lieutenant General Rick Waddell; Lieutenant General Ben Hodges; Lieutenant General Michel Yakovleff; Lieutenant General Sir Nick Borton; Air Marshal Sir Chris Harper; Liis Mure; Steve Shapiro Esq.; Professor S. Neil MacFarlane; Major General Gordon Davis; Brigadier General Peter Zwack; Air Commodore Carl Scott; Dr. Tormod Heier; Colonel Seth Johnston

Fellow

Richard D. Hooker, Jr.

Senior Fellow

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security Transatlantic Security Initiative

Europe & Eurasia National Security

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The post Putin’s next move? Five Russian attack scenarios Europe must prepare for appeared first on Atlantic Council.

The MSC, arguably the most significant annual transatlantic security gathering, itself contributed to the unsettling noise in its conference-opening report, titled “Under Destruction,” setting the stage for one of the most crucial convenings in its sixty-three-year history.

“The world has entered a period of wrecking-ball politics,” the report explains. “Sweeping destruction—rather than careful reforms and policy corrections—is the order of the day. The most prominent of those who promise to free their country from the existing order’s constraints and rebuild a stronger, more prosperous nation is the current US administration. As a result, more than 80 years after construction began, the US-led post-1945 international order is now under destruction.”

Benedikt Franke, the MSC CEO, tells me, “The transatlantic relationship is in serious trouble. It seems there is insufficient awareness in certain political circles in the US of just how much trust was destroyed and how deep the rift runs.” 

“Yes,” Franke continues, “Europeans can distinguish between the Trump administration and the rest of the US. But they are increasingly disappointed by the lack of pushback in the US. We watch with morbid fascination how the land of the free is deconstructing itself and what it has represented for 250 years.”

Getting oriented ahead of Munich

With all that as context, it’s worth taking a deep breath to separate hyperbole from reality. To do so, I recommend reflecting on the good, the bad, and the dangerous as transatlantic and global leaders converge on Munich—with some thoughts on how everyone could come out stronger. First, it’s useful to start with what good the Trumpian disruptive pressures and actions have produced.

After years of underinvestment and political neglect, US allies in Europe are finally spending more on defense capabilities and readiness, training together more frequently, and stepping up more seriously to their security responsibilities in the fourth year of a murderous Russian war on Ukraine—amid growing hybrid threats to Europe. NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte has generated controversy by telling his fellow Europeans that without Trump none of that would have happened—but he’s dead right.

Second, economic challenges from both China and the United States have shaken Europe into a greater recognition of—if not yet adequate action to resolve—their insufficient technological innovation and business entrepreneurship, their counterproductive overregulation, and their inadequate steps toward creating a true union for capital markets, defense, and foreign policy. 

Third, look to the Middle East, where the chances have rarely been better for lasting regional peace and prosperity, and for greater economic and security integration. The region’s spoiler, Iran, has seldom been weaker. Its defensive and offensive capabilities are down, its nuclear capabilities are seriously damaged, its proxies are decapitated, its economy is battered, and its internal opposition is boiling. Those are all good things.

And despite all the talk of geopolitical risk, global equity benchmarks ended 2025 near their strongest annual performance in years, with European shares and the Dow Jones Industrial Average hitting new records this year.

That’s the good side. Now the bad.

What has eroded is confidence in the United States. Confidence in US intentions, reliability, and predictability hit new lows recently when President Donald Trump threatened to take Greenland by whatever means necessary, holding out the possibility of new tariffs on any European country that stood in his way. Allies don’t question US power and influence, but they increasingly ask whether Washington is on their side or whether it is more likely to weaponize its economic might against them when it is seen to serve US interests.

From the standpoint of Europeans, Trump’s second term has transformed transatlantic politics from a shared enterprise into a rolling negotiation, where commitments feel provisional, support for Ukraine comes with growing price tags, and transactions have replaced assurances. When French President Emmanuel Macron, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen, and former Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi all speak in one way or another about a ruptured relationship, they are coming to terms with a fundamentally changed world where an overregulated, disunified Europe with insufficient defense capabilities is in immediate peril of falling prey to the more avaricious Americans and Chinese. As Macron put it this week, “We have the Chinese tsunami on the trade front, and we have minute-by-minute instability on the American side. These two crises amount to a profound shock, a rupture for Europeans.”

That is the bad. There’s also the dangerous, not just for Europeans, but for Americans and freedom-loving peoples everywhere.

The greatest risk in Munich is not that the United States will formally abandon its European or Asian allies, which remains unlikely. The danger is that persistent ambiguity and eroding confidence becomes the norm, a situation adversaries are already exploiting. Russia continues to hammer away at Ukraine with impunity. Russian President Vladimir Putin sees that the Trump administration hesitates to condemn and punish Russian aggression. Observing that, Chinese President Xi Jinping may well decide that his country’s best chance to make a move on Taiwan is with Trump in office. 

The larger question at the conference

Franke tells me that organizing this year’s Munich conference has been an exercise in maximum uncertainty and constant change. “We are used to moving targets and the occasional drama,” he said, “but this was the norm this time, rather than the exception. This seems to fit with our report [‘Under Destruction’], which laments the return of wrecking-ball politics.”

Wolfgang Ischinger, long-time chair of the MSC and a lifetime Atlantic Council board member, diagnosed the situation bluntly ahead of this year’s gathering: “transatlantic relations are, in my view, in a considerable crisis of trust and credibility.” 

When allies cannot depend on one another’s intentions or actions, some dangerous dynamics emerge. Some European countries are already beginning to hedge against contingencies that assume US support in the event of an attack might arrive late, conditionally, diluted, or not at all. Such hedging weakens deterrence. 

At the same time, Russia and China are incentivized to probe cracks and seams in Alliance solidarity, testing how far they can push before a unified response materializes. Russia is doing this every day in Ukraine, and every day it learns more about how far it can go before the United States responds alongside its allies to fully back Ukraine.

In Munich this week, the uncomfortable question is not whether NATO can still deter Russian aggression or whether Europe will really lift its defense spending to its new targets. These are crucial issues, but they are tactical. The larger question is strategic: Can the Alliance, nearing its eightieth anniversary, maintain the predictability that deterrence requires in an age of volatility and transactional politics? If the answer is no, then the Alliance could still appear to hold together—with all its exercises, committees, and flags—but it will steadily hollow out.

Two post-Munich possibilities

I come to Munich worried. Europe’s hyperbolic response to Trump could miss a golden opportunity—the possibility of a fortified and fundamentally improved Europe shaping the next iteration of the international order alongside its ally of the past eighty years, the United States, which doesn’t want to destroy the order that it created so much as remake it at less cost to itself and with more responsibilities laid upon its allies. To its credit, the MSC report also points to that possibility, invoking comparisons to the post–World War II age that Dean Acheson, former US secretary of state and one of the Atlantic Council’s founders, captured in his memoir Present at the Creation.

The MSC report notes, “A lifetime later, Acheson’s contemporary successor, Marco Rubio, invoked this language during his confirmation hearings, arguing the United States was ‘once again called to create a free world out of the chaos,’ because the existing order had ceased to serve US interests and was being exploited by others.”

With all this as context, Franke sums up the challenge: “The key questions we seek to answer this weekend are: Is the global order we have grown used to beyond repair? Are we seeing the end of progress or what [Joseph] Schumpeter has called ‘creative destruction,’ a painful process leading to something better in the end? Or are we seeing destructive creation, where something is built up which leads to the end of everything else?”

It’s hard to imagine a more significant inflection point than one that decides between those two very real possibilities. The stakes have seldom, if ever, been so large as the curtain rises on this year’s MSC. 

Frederick Kempe is president and chief executive officer of the Atlantic Council. You can follow him on X @FredKempe.

This edition is part of Frederick Kempe’s Inflection Points newsletter, a column of dispatches from a world in transition. To receive this newsletter throughout the week, sign up here.

The post Dispatch from Munich: Present at the destruction or the creation? appeared first on Atlantic Council.

The Swedish government is crafting a new Arctic strategy, updating its 2020 document of the same name and building on its 2024 National Security Strategy. This makes indubitable sense. The last five years have seen significant global developments, including a pandemic, Russia reinvading Ukraine, a European energy transition, increased great-power competition, and the rise of artificial intelligence, unmanned warfare, and other potentially disruptive technologies. The Nordic-Baltic-Arctic region was not immune to changes. Finland and Sweden joined NATO. The Arctic saw greater levels of military activity. The Arctic Council ceased having in-person meetings with Russia. Data showed that the Arctic was warming four times faster than the rest of the planet.¹ Ice melt could lead to increased economic opportunities in northern latitudes but also potential environmental and cultural dislocation for northern inhabitants. Those developments suggest a need for a revised Arctic strategy.

In this issue brief, I explore the contours of a hypothetical Swedish Arctic strategy given today’s circumstances. What follows is a thought experiment on what would be a logically consistent strategy that achieves reasonable objectives given available means, while minimizing risks associated with the strategy. I begin by reviewing existing Swedish government priorities, the domestic constraints facing Sweden’s government, and Swedish capabilities. I then turn to an assessment of the global context as one might perceive it from Stockholm’s perspective. The strategy follows, with a discussion of a prioritized objective, strategic approaches to meet that objective, and how to minimize risks associated with those approaches.

Existing priorities, domestic politics, and Swedish capabilities

Protecting the Arctic is crucial to our national and to our collective security. For Sweden, the Arctic is an area where national and international interests intersect.
—Maria Malmer Stenergard, Sweden’s minister for foreign affairs²

Strategies do not exist in a vacuum. Absent a dramatic exogenous shock, we would expect any future Arctic strategy to be relatively consistent with preexisting policies. For example, Sweden has a long history of supporting the rule of law, which makes sense for a relatively small country seeking to insulate itself from the whims of more powerful neighbors and to enhance its own voice in international affairs. The most recent manifestations of that predilection include Sweden’s advocacy of an EU policy for the Arctic; Sweden’s support for Ukraine in its war against Russian aggression even at the expense of Sweden’s other foreign aid projects; and, in the Arctic context, the importance of the Arctic Council for Arctic governance.³ We would expect any Arctic strategy acceptable to government stakeholders to reinforce, or at least not undercut, those core initiatives.

This is particularly true for identified national interests. Sweden released a National Security Strategy (NSS) in 2024. The vital interests listed in the Swedish NSS fell naturally into three categories: security, which includes the protection of Sweden’s sovereignty, independence, freedom of action, and allied defense; a functional, resilient society; and support of Swedish values, including democracy, the rule of law, and the protection of rights. Limited interests listed in the NSS included a rules-based, democratic, connected, and united Europe and the United States, robust domestic safety, and multifaceted resiliency. I would not expect the new Arctic strategy to diverge substantially from this characterization.

Relative consistency is also reinforced by Sweden’s government structure. Sweden is a parliamentary democracy with a tradition of consensual policies promulgated by coalition governments. On the security front, Sweden uses periodic Defense Commissions to get cross-party buy-in for multiyear budgets and long-term defense initiatives. This helps insulate foreign and security policy from changes in government coalitions. (The same might not be true for domestic policy initiatives, which are often the battlefield over which elections are fought.) Cross-party agreement in the Riksdag, Sweden’s parliament, is yet another reason why we would expect relative continuity between documents across time, including the forthcoming Arctic strategy.

Capabilities also matter. Strategies with overly ambitious goals relative to available capabilities suffer from the classic ends-means mismatch. Adequate capabilities are vital for determining the feasibility and sustainability of any strategy. Sweden has respectable capabilities for a country of 10.6 million people but is by no means a European great power.

On the diplomatic front, Sweden’s foreign service has approximately 2,700 employees, of whom eight hundred are based in Stockholm while five hundred work abroad in Sweden’s one hundred or so international missions, supported by fourteen hundred local staff.⁴ Sweden has embassies in all Arctic nations as well as in Brussels. Sweden has a dedicated Arctic ambassador portfolio handling circumpolar issues. These capabilities give Sweden a voice in Arctic developments.

In terms of gathering and processing information, Sweden has three main intelligence entities. The Swedish Security Service (SAPO) employs roughly 1,500 people focused on counterterrorism and counterintelligence. The nine-hundred-person National Defense Radio Establishment (FRA) is focused on signals intelligence collection and has a very good reputation. Finally, the Military Intelligence and Security Service (MUST) collects and analyzes military and security information. In addition to these formal intelligence agencies, the nine-hundred-person Swedish Defense Research Agency (FOI) is a Swedish government resource capable of intelligence analysis, though that is not its sole purpose. Finally, Sweden is in the process of creating a new civilian foreign intelligence agency to complement and build upon existing intelligence capabilities.⁵

Sweden is expanding its relatively small military. The Swedes maintain a very capable air force, are modernizing their navy, and have a relatively robust defense industry (dominated by Saab and BAE Systems) whose growth is a government priority. They have created a new NSC system with a national security advisor, a new Civil Defense Ministry with authorities in emergency preparedness, and a reorganized defense ministry. The Swedish government has dramatically increased the defense budget, tripling it over the last seven years and doubling it within the last four.⁶ It has committed to meeting NATO’s defense spending goals of 3.5 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) for direct spending and an additional 1.5 percent for infrastructure spending, as specified in the July 2025 NATO Summit communique. As part of that effort, the Swedish army will create two northern mechanized brigades, each with a motorized rifle battalion, and will also acquire up to four frigates for service beyond the Baltic Sea.⁷ Sweden has volunteered to lead NATO’s Forward Land Force in northern Finland. Sweden’s defense efforts are bolstered by comprehensive defense planning—called Total Defence—that includes roles for the Swedish population writ large and Sweden’s private sector in the event of war, as well as a renewed emphasis on societal resilience.

Sweden has the largest economy of the Nordic states. It has a low national debt and ranks high in competitiveness indexes.⁸ Sweden is a member of the EU, giving it access to the continental market. The economy is highly dependent on trade through the Baltic Sea. Sweden’s total imports and exports represent roughly $400 billion in economic activity, with Germany, Norway, and Denmark its largest trading partners.⁹ The Swedes fear depopulation and economic stagnation in their northern regions and have attempted to build a green northern economy to attract workers, with mixed success.¹⁰ The positives include the Esrange space launch facility and the LKAB iron ore mine, both outside Kiruna. The Northvolt battery initiative did not fare as well, filing for bankruptcy in early 2025. That said, Sweden has a reputation as a low-corruption, high-wealth, stable trading partner with an innovative economy.

The international context

For many years, the Arctic region was seen as a peaceful zone of cooperation. That era ended with Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Security policy now plays a greater role in Arctic affairs than it did before 2022. That is the main reason why the Swedish Government will present a new, updated Arctic strategy next spring.
—Maria Malmer Stenergard¹¹

To have any chance of success, strategies must account for the current and future international context. Swedish foreign policy has been dominated by four large events. The first was the aftermath of Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine and annexation of Crimea. This created a sea change in Swedish rhetoric and policy toward Russia. No longer was Russia portrayed as a potential partner. Instead, successive Swedish governments recognized Russia as posing a significant threat to European stability and Swedish sovereignty. A recognition also emerged that conflict between NATO and Russia would spill into the Nordic-Baltic region and affect Sweden. In reaction to Russian aggression, Sweden would negotiate new defense partnership agreements with Finland, with all of Sweden’s Nordic neighbors, and with the United States; develop and participate in large-scale military exercises against possible Russian attack; reactivate its military conscription program; station a larger military force on Gotland island in the Baltic Sea; and begin a general rearmament program.

The second event was the Syrian refugee crisis of 2015 and 2016. Sweden took in more than 160,000 refugees in 2015 alone, equal to 1.6 percent of Sweden’s population. Swedes were overwhelmed by the sheer volume, leading the government to close the border with Denmark in 2016 and dramatically tighten asylum laws. The refugee situation and growing youth violence led to a crisis in Swedish governance. The influx undermined the left-leaning governing coalition’s popularity while support grew for the nationalist Sweden Democrats party. Prime Minister Stefan Lofven of the Social Democrats lost parliamentary confidence in late September 2018. The main political factions—the Red-Greens and the Alliance—then spent four months arguing about who should lead the government.¹² Lofven’s Red-Green coalition eventually came out on top but would be replaced in 2022 by a conservative governing coalition led by Ulf Kristersson of the Moderate Party.¹³ Election issues centered around immigration, crime, and electricity prices. The important point was that cross-party unity on external security policy did not necessarily translate to consensus on domestic policy issues.

The third shock was Russia’s reinvasion of Ukraine in 2022. The Ukraine war focused Sweden’s security policy on the Baltic Sea and Russia’s threat to international order and international law. Government statements painted a grim picture, noting the Russian military threat in the Baltic Sea as well as the threat of Russian-backed gray zone activities.¹⁴ As discussed below, Sweden increased its defense spending in response and abandoned its nonaligned posture by joining NATO. The Arctic Council ceased formal meetings, though working groups continued without their Russian counterparts.

The fourth and final shock is recent changes in US foreign and security policy. Sweden, like the rest of the EU, was hit with steep US tariffs early in President Donald Trump’s second term.¹⁵ Soon after, a Pew global survey noted that 79 percent of Swedish respondents had an unfavorable view of the United States, a dramatic change from the 44-percent unfavorable view in 2024.¹⁶ On the security front, Sweden has been a steadfast supporter of Ukraine and does not share the Trump administration’s desire to end the war quickly if that comes at Ukraine’s expense.¹⁷ The Trump administration’s new National Security Strategy is a clear example of this transatlantic disconnect. It warned, “The Trump Administration finds itself at odds with European officials who hold unrealistic expectations for the war perched in unstable minority governments, many of which trample on basic principles of democracy to suppress opposition.”¹⁸ The US strategy noted that Europe should take “primary responsibility for its own defense,” with a target date of 2027 for doing so.¹⁹ Together, these initiatives signified that, from a US perspective, European nations including Sweden need to dramatically increase their focus on military security. That shook Europe. EU Defense Commissioner Andrius Kubilius exemplified the European reaction: “The question is whether we need to have some kind of additional security guarantees and institutional arrangements in order to be ready—in case Article 5 suddenly is not implemented.”²⁰

Assumptions, objective, strategic approaches, and risks

With all this as background, what might a prudent Swedish Arctic strategy entail? It cannot veer too far from the priorities listed in the 2024 Swedish NSS or undermine any cross-party defense agreements in the Riksdag. It must be capable of being implemented with somewhat limited means and in a parliamentary election year. It needs to account for a revanchist, aggressive Russia and do so without significant US assistance. And it needs to be consistent with longstanding Swedish principles, including the rule of law, the critical nature of the EU, and the usefulness of forums like the Arctic Council.

Assumptions: Any strategy requires assumptions. A first assumption is that this is a short-term strategy for the next four years, rather than Sweden’s strategy in perpetuity. I assume that the strategy will focus on the European Arctic rather than the circumpolar Arctic, given Sweden’s limited means. As noted in the earlier context section, I assume regional officials realize that the Nordic-Baltic-Arctic region is a military operating environment with the potential for spillover from one part of the region to another. I assume that Russia will continue to represent a threat to regional peace and stability for the duration of the strategy, and that China is not a direct threat to Sweden’s economy or security—or more broadly, to regional governance by the European Arctic nations, at least for the next four years.²¹ I further assume that the United States will prioritize the Western Hemisphere and East Asia over Europe, consistent with its NSS. I assume that the EU will remain unified in the face of US tariffs. I further assume a continuation of the Russia-Ukraine war, and that Germany, France, the United Kingdom, Poland, and the Nordic and Baltic states will continue to support Ukraine. Finally, I assume that NATO faces an uncertain future given emerging US policies.²²

Objective and approaches: The strategy’s overall objective is to deter Russian aggression in the European Arctic. Achieving that objective requires a deterrence-by-denial approach toward Russia and a persuasion and inducement approach toward European allies that are concerned about the Russian threat.

Deterrence by denial requires developing the capabilities to deny an adversary the ability to achieve its objectives and signal to the adversary that one has those capabilities. From a military security perspective, that will require Sweden to improve its unilateral defense capabilities, especially in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR), electronic warfare, air and drone defenses, distributed operations by small units, and unmanned systems, above levels in current plans. Sweden is taking steps in that direction, with the Riksdag borrowing $31 billion to fund increased defense spending and dramatically speeding up defense acquisition programs.²³ According to Defense Minister Pål Jonson in October: “The Government is now taking steps to rapidly operationalize anti-drone capabilities and increase the availability of our combat aircraft. There is a significant need for new anti-drone capabilities, and we are shortening lead times by eight years. This will result in increased safety and security for the Swedish Armed Forces and for Sweden.”²⁴

Unilateral capabilities are important signals to allies and adversaries alike, but they will be insufficient to deter a much larger adversary like Russia. Sweden must integrate more closely with its regional neighbors, particularly as a hedge against NATO’s uncertain future. Sweden should deepen its already excellent air force integration with Norway and Finland, and should consider adding Denmark to the mix. Sweden should consider proposing an explicit naval division of labor across the region, with Norway focused on the eastern Atlantic and Barents Sea, and Sweden and Germany focused on the Baltic Sea in joint operations that build on NATO’s Operation Eastern Sentry. Finland, Sweden, and Norway should consider dual-hatting the Forward Land Force in northern Finland as both a NATO command and a mini-multilateral force outside of NATO, and should expand it beyond a brigade size. In addition, the three countries should partner to diversify and standardize the rail lines connecting Finnish Lapland to Swedish Lapland and Norrbotten, and Norway’s Finnmark, Nordland, and Troms regions. To keep the US and Canadian militaries involved in the European Arctic, if only tangentially, Sweden should continue to support the Arctic Security Forces Roundtable and the Arctic Security Policy Roundtable. Finally, Sweden could take a larger role in efforts to integrate Total Defence and societal resilience both vertically within Sweden and horizontally across northern counties in Norway, Sweden, and Finland. This initiative would build on existing coordination efforts through more frequent exercises, first responder cross-training, and trilateral actions to protect critical infrastructure.²⁵ Combined, these actions would signal to Russia that overt military or gray zone aggression in northern latitudes is doomed to fail.

These actions are not without costs and risks. A unilateral military buildup and increased multilateral operations and planning will require significant funds, likely above and beyond current budgets. The same holds true for improved rail infrastructure and multilateral operations. The stakes involved in the current moment, however, would seem to justify such additional expenditures. Moreover, these actions are consistent with current trends in terms of Sweden’s defense spending, focus on Total Defence, and need to keep trade routes open for continued economic viability.

In terms of risks, strategy is interactive. These actions could lead to a security dilemma in which Russia perceives Nordic defensive actions as offensive in nature and shifts its aggressive activities north. The counterargument, of course, is that Russia preys on weakness, so Swedish half measures would invite aggression, whereas a defensive buildup and visible societal resilience initiatives could forestall that aggression. Russia could respond by focusing its attention on a particular Nordic-Baltic-Arctic country, seeking to intimidate that target into inaction or neutrality. That risk can be countered with the strategy’s second line of effort.

Deterrence in the Nordic-Baltic-Arctic region can only succeed if allies signal their unified willingness to resist Russian aggression. Here, Sweden could position itself as a key interlocutor between the Nordic north and the rest of Europe through a combination of persuasion and inducements. The persuasive line of effort would see Sweden as a convening authority, facilitated by Sweden’s geographic location and its reputation for supporting multilateralism, international institutions like the EU and the Arctic Council, and the rule of law, as well as Sweden’s openness to non-Arctic countries playing a constructive role in the Arctic. It would also see Sweden taking a larger role in publicizing Russian gray zone activities and threats to the EU project. Sweden’s diplomatic presence across the Arctic and a willingness to declassify SAPO, FRA, and MUST intelligence analyses could facilitate regional coordination and broad-based public support for such coordination. Finally, the persuasive approach would see Sweden taking a leadership role in deepening classified intelligence sharing with likeminded governments.

Inducements could be used to further unify Western signals aimed at Russia. This might include larger, long-term contracts to Nordic defense industries to speed up procurement. This would improve Nordic interoperability and military integration, which sends a powerful signal to any aggressor.²⁶ Inducements could include accelerating the construction of the LKAB critical mineral refining facility in Luleå and then offering refined products at below-market rates to countries taking an active role in deterrence-by-denial efforts in the north. Sweden could also offer to work with Norway on space launch and satellite management, as partners rather than competitors.

There are, of course, costs and risks for persuasion and inducements. This strategy calls on Sweden to focus more on the European theater and perhaps less on global issues. That comes as an opportunity cost and could potentially weaken Sweden’s reputation as a provider of international aid. Such a shift is justified, however, when we look at the Swedish NSS’s prioritization of interests. Inducements always cost money. Larger defense contracts, building a critical minerals processing facility, and expanding space launch are no exceptions. Again, the needs of the moment arguably necessitate such expenditures. Consensus already exists in the Riksdag to suspend debt limits and increase defense spending by 18 percent in 2026.²⁷ Convening an off-cycle Defense Commission could provide additional cross-party support to sustain these initiatives. Moreover, Sweden is in a strong debt and fiscal situation, giving it the leeway to increase government outlays as recommended here.²⁸ All this suggests that Sweden’s Arctic strategy could advocate successfully for greater government expenditures, even in an election year.

The largest risk in this portion of the strategy involves trust; trust that Nordic partners will be there for one another in a crisis, will use shared information responsibly, and will not take advantage of each other for short-term gain. Today’s threat environment and preexisting cultural and economic ties across the Nordic region should minimize that risk.

Conclusion

The last five years have witnessed dramatic changes to Sweden’s circumstances. The world suffered a pandemic. Russia is nakedly aggressive, both militarily in Ukraine and via gray zone actions across Europe. Sanctions against Russian energy forced Europe to change its energy portfolio. Drones, electronic warfare, and artificial intelligence have changed the character of war. The United States has new foreign policy priorities. And the Arctic is warming much faster than expected.

All this necessitates a new Swedish Arctic strategy. The notional strategy discussed above is heavily weighted toward security, which I believe is appropriate given today’s circumstances. Its goal is to deter Russian aggression in the European Arctic, which it does via two strategic approaches. The theory here is that urgently creating the needed capabilities for a deterrence-by-denial approach, and signaling the Nordic states’ willingness to resist Russian aggression, will lead Russia to reconsider its aggressive intentions. Sweden can improve that willingness through a series of persuasive and inducement actions aimed at its regional partners. The added benefit of these actions is that they prepare Sweden for war should deterrence fail. The strategy is not without costs and risks. Costs are consistent with current Swedish priorities and are bearable given Sweden’s economic power and resources and its tradition of cross-party consensus on security policy. The risks are arguably better, and certainly no worse, than doing nothing.

The time is ripe for a new Swedish Arctic strategy. The ideas put forward here are one possible way of crafting such a document.

David Auerswald is a nonresident senior fellow at the Transatlantic Security Initiative in the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. He is also professor of security studies at the US National War College in Washington, DC. 

The views expressed here are the author’s own and not those of the National Defense University or any other US government entity.

This issue brief was made possible by support from the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Atlantic Council maintains a strict intellectual independence policy for all its projects and publications. The Council requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of any products resulting from sponsored projects. 

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The post A new Arctic strategy for Sweden appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Sweden and Finland’s accession to NATO in 2024 has completed the Alliance’s northern arc, effectively transforming the Baltic Sea into what is often described as an “allied lake.” Yet the geostrategic gains of the Alliance have not eliminated the region’s exposure to sub-threshold aggression, especially against critical infrastructure in the energy, data, communications, and transportation sectors. As Russia continues to probe NATO’s resolve with hostile actions calibrated to stay below the threshold of armed conflict, the core challenge for Sweden—as a Baltic littoral state and a NATO member—and for the Alliance more broadly is to extend deterrence and defense to the sub-threshold domain. Failing to close this gap risks signaling political hesitation to Russia, which, in turn, might increase the likelihood that hybrid pressure escalates into a conventional conflict.

Geostrategic shifts after recent NATO enlargement

Sweden and Finland’s accession to NATO closed the long-standing strategic gap in the Baltic Sea region. With nearly the entire northern coastline—from Norway to the Baltic states—now within NATO’s defense perimeter, only Russia’s Gulf of Finland coastline and the Kaliningrad exclave remain outside of the Alliance’s territory. This shift significantly strengthens NATO’s ability to reinforce the Baltic states and secure vital lines of communication in the entire region. Central to this new posture is Sweden’s Gotland island, whose location at the geographic center of the Baltic Sea gives NATO a decisive position from which to influence regional air and maritime movement and to counter Russia’s anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities, preventing the eastern Baltic from being sealed off militarily.

These strategic gains extend westward to the Danish Straits, the critical maritime chokepoints linking the Baltic and North Seas. With Sweden’s accession, NATO now controls both sides of these passages, enhancing the Alliance’s freedom of maneuver and safeguarding naval reinforcement routes. This consolidated control simultaneously restricts the operational flexibility of Russia’s Baltic Fleet, reinforcing NATO’s dominance across the broader Baltic maritime space.

Sub-threshold aggression in the Baltic Sea region

These geostrategic shifts in the Nordic-Baltic security map favor NATO and were met with an asymmetric response from Russia. Hesitant to use conventional military power against the enlarged Alliance, yet willing to test NATO’s readiness and political cohesion, Russia adapted to operate within the “allied lake” by employing covert hybrid tactics that exploit sub-threshold seams in NATO’s deterrence and defense posture. Russia’s goal is to relativize and downplay the Alliance’s strategic advantage in the Baltic Sea region. Russia bets that its strategy of persistent sub-threshold pressure can convince the Nordic-Baltic societies that NATO is weak, unready, and unwilling to defend its member states, while signaling that Russia can retain the initiative within the so-called “NATO lake.”

Russia’s hybrid toolkit includes, but is not limited to, sabotage against undersea energy, data, and telecommunications cables; recurrent airspace violations using military jets, drones, and meteorological balloons; and massive disruptions to civilian aviation through Global Positioning System (GPS) jamming and spoofing. Russia’s hybrid attacks are designed to exploit the characteristics of the Baltic Sea and its surroundings as a densely networked area, with vital infrastructure such as pipelines, cables, liquified natural gas terminals, ports, and airports connecting the littoral states to form an integrated energy, communications, transportation, and trade hub.

As the sub-threshold contest formally unfolds in a peacetime setting where traditional military superiority offers limited deterrent value, NATO’s geostrategic advantages resulting from the recent enlargement do not seamlessly translate into operational leverage against Russia’s hybrid strategy in the Baltic Sea region.

The Alliance has recognized the problem and has taken steps to improve information sharing, coordination, and situational awareness. This is demonstrated by the recent launch of the Baltic Sentry maritime and Eastern Sentry multi-domain activities, the creation of a Critical Undersea Infrastructure Network, and the establishment of a Maritime Centre for the Security of Critical Undersea Infrastructure within NATO’s Maritime Command in Northwood, United Kingdom. Despite progress, NATO still lacks a comprehensive sub-threshold deterrence and defense architecture that would enable swift responses to hybrid attacks and also serve to deter future disruptions.

Challenges with sub-threshold aggression

Sub-threshold attacks are designed to blur the lines between peacetime incidents and deliberate hostile actions, complicating the ability of NATO and littoral states to calibrate their responses. It is a combination of structural, legal, political, and technical constraints that create the gray zones that Russia exploits.

Sabotage of critical infrastructure in the Baltic Sea almost always occurs in environments where determining responsibility is slow, uncertain, and highly contestable. Underwater pipelines and data cables lie in complex maritime traffic zones where accidental damage can look nearly identical to deliberate interference, making attribution analysis lengthy and often inconclusive. Russia also relies on commercial vessels and proxy actors—mainly from its shadow fleet—to launch hybrid operations, as seen recently in sabotage incidents against undersea energy infrastructure, and as suspected in some cases of drone sightings near European airports.

The timing, political context, and type of attacks clearly point to Russia as the mastermind behind them. But because Moscow deliberately sustains this activity below the threshold of open conflict, allies lack the definitive evidence and legal grounding required for a conventional collective response. This creates a cycle of operational hesitation in which Western governments know who is responsible but cannot act decisively without risking escalation, undermining international law, or generating political divisions among NATO capitals. This ambiguity is precisely what Russia seeks to exploit.

Much of the critical infrastructure that has been targeted by sabotage includes undersea pipelines and cables that lie in international waters or exclusive economic zones (EEZ), where states have limited enforcement authority and ambiguous rights to interdict suspicious vessels. Russia conducts hybrid attacks through civilian-flagged or dual-use vessels, exploiting legal regimes that protect freedom of navigation under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and constrain states from boarding or detaining ships without incontrovertible evidence. Despite these legal constraints, Finland has set a significant precedent by boarding the Cook Islands-flagged tanker Eagle S, which had damaged the Estlink 2 power cable connecting Estonia and Finland. Although this did not directly target Russia as the mastermind behind the attack, it at least had ramifications for the proxies executing its plans.

Furthermore, there is an acute issue with multi-actor and inter-agency coordination, which is crucial for countering hybrid threats. In addition to running through several EEZs and international waters, resulting in a single hybrid attack affecting several countries, critical infrastructure is often civilian and privately owned, further expanding the number of actors to consult in the event of an attack. As armed forces, coast guards, intelligence agencies, and private operators act under different mandates, gaps emerge in who can respond, when, and under what legal justification.

Finally, there is a significant technological challenge. Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine has accelerated its ability to combine inexpensive technologies—unmanned systems, electronic warfare tools, and simple disruptive devices—with covert tactics to generate asymmetric, high-cost effects for Baltic Sea littoral states. Europe is developing cost-effective countermeasures, but these capabilities still lack scale and, more importantly, the defense-industrial and governmental alignment needed to drive rapid operational innovation. Only by testing new technologies early and repeatedly in realistic operating environments can innovators adapt to a fast-evolving threat landscape and stay ahead of Russian tactics rather than merely reacting to them. At the same time, European critical infrastructure often relies on bespoke, complex systems that are difficult to repair quickly and frequently lack redundancy or standardized backup capabilities, making them especially vulnerable to sabotage.

Sweden’s edge in countering hybrid threats

As NATO adapts to this nontraditional security environment, Sweden offers several unique advantages that position it at the center of the Alliance’s hybrid deterrence and defense architecture. While Sweden’s geography provides strategic depth and operational access to allied armed forces that would greatly benefit the Alliance in wartime, it is Sweden’s institutional, societal, and technological foundations that give it leverage in shaping an effective allied response to hybrid threats evolving in the gray zone between war and peace.

First, Sweden’s deeply institutionalized model of civil-military integration, underpinned by its Total Defence concept, offers NATO a framework for improving cross-sectoral, multi-actor coordination in response to hybrid threats. Through this concept, Sweden integrates its armed forces, government agencies, civilian infrastructure operators, municipalities, private companies, and the population into a single national preparedness system. This is precisely the type of model NATO now needs for the sub-threshold domain, in which deterrence hinges on multi-actor inputs for better situational awareness and cross-domain coordination on responses.

Second, Sweden’s advanced, technologically sophisticated armed forces are well designed to operate effectively in environments most prone to hybrid pressure. The Swedish Navy’s shallow-water expertise and underwater domain awareness platforms are uniquely adapted to the Baltic Sea’s complex environment, making Sweden one of NATO’s most capable members for monitoring seabed infrastructure and detecting anomalous maritime activity. Similarly, the Swedish Air Force—with its advanced Gripen fleet, dispersed basing model, surveillance systems, and deep interoperability with other Nordic nations—provides NATO with a regionally integrated situational awareness model that can identify anomalies early and shorten the decision window for response.

Beyond operational capabilities, Sweden’s well-established defense industry and research ecosystem have the potential to give the Alliance a technological advantage in sub-threshold competition. From innovations in integrated surveillance systems to advanced unmanned platforms and cutting-edge electronic warfare solutions, Sweden brings industrial depth and innovation capacity that can directly support NATO’s emerging initiatives on seabed security, autonomous systems, and contested electromagnetic environments.

Third, Sweden’s regional integration with other Nordic and Baltic states creates a multiplier effect for sub-threshold deterrence and defense. Sweden participates in the Nordic Defense Cooperation (NORDEFCO) format, the Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF), the Nordic-Baltic Eight (NB8) group, and numerous trilateral and bilateral arrangements with Finland, Norway, Denmark, and the Baltic states. These formats enable intelligence sharing, coordinated crisis procedure, surveillance, and cross-border military support. The combined effect of these formats is a resilient, interoperable, and politically agile security ecosystem in which hybrid aggression against one state is more likely to be detected, shared, interpreted correctly, and met with a coordinated response.

Finally, Sweden’s political credibility and strategic culture give it influence within NATO’s internal debates on how to deter hybrid threats effectively. Sweden has long prioritized resilience, whole-of-society readiness, and the defense of critical infrastructure as core pillars of national security. As NATO strives to articulate clearer thresholds for hybrid aggression and to improve coordination between civilian and military domains, Sweden can help the Alliance integrate resilience, societal endurance, infrastructure protection, and rapid attribution mechanisms into its broader deterrence and defense model.

Steps forward for Sweden and NATO

As hybrid aggression becomes an increasingly central feature of Russia’s strategy in the Baltic Sea region, Sweden and NATO must adopt a forward-leaning posture that closes the current gaps between NATO’s geostrategic advantages and its sub-threshold operational vulnerabilities. In this area, Sweden and NATO should pursue a dual-track approach: strengthening the capacity to respond rapidly and effectively to hybrid attacks when they occur, while building a credible, Alliance-wide deterrent that raises the political and operational costs of sub-threshold aggression before it occurs. The following recommendations outline priorities for Sweden and NATO as they consolidate an effective hybrid deterrence and defense architecture in the Baltic Sea region.

Measures to strengthen the responses to hybrid attacks

1. Increase pressure on Russia’s shadow fleet.
   
   Sweden should work with the European Union (EU) and regional groups to expand the list of sanctioned shadow fleet vessels, blocking their access to services and ports. Sweden, along with other Baltic littoral states, should argue that vessels that are improperly insured or flying under false flags do not have the right of free navigation under UNCLOS. Such vessels can be denied passage near critical infrastructure sites and can be boarded for inspections.
   
2. Create a Nordic-Baltic interagency hybrid-attribution cell.
   
   Sweden could lead efforts to fuse intelligence, maritime surveillance, cyber forensics, and private-sector reporting on suspicious activities close to critical infrastructure sites. The goal is to shorten the time between an incident and a coordinated response. This cell should promote a more flexible interpretation of attribution: when identifying the ultimate chain of command behind an attack is impossible within relevant timelines, NATO and the EU should adopt the principle that proxies can be targeted with diplomatic, legal, or economic consequences. This would help erode the network of intermediaries willing to take risks on behalf of state actors.
   
3. Apply Ukraine’s lessons on operational innovation.
   
   Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine shows that rapid integration of new technologies can shift an adversary’s cost-benefit calculus. Sweden and NATO should establish mechanisms, such as testing corridors along the Baltic littoral, to accelerate the deployment of unmanned systems, counter-UAS (unmanned aerial system) solutions, distributed sensors, and electronic warfare tools. The keys are modularity, adaptability, and cost-effectiveness, rather than high-end technological excellence.
   
4. Enhance redundancy and standardization of critical infrastructure.
   
   Sweden should advocate within the EU for standardized infrastructure, backup systems, and repair capabilities. Europe’s infrastructure is interconnected but technologically fragmented. The EU should establish a standing capability to conduct urgent repairs after sabotage against critical infrastructure. This would shorten response time, reducing Russia’s ability to generate lasting effects through low-cost attacks. Harmonizing standards and repair protocols could significantly reduce downtime and prevent Russia from exploiting single points of failure.
   
5. Expand joint situational awareness and incident response exercises.
   
   Sweden can lead recurring exercises focused on hybrid scenarios such as cable failures, GPS interference, and anomalous vessel activity. Regular rehearsals of multi-agency cooperation improve legal coherence, decision speed, and interagency coordination.

Measures to strengthen deterrence against further sub-threshold aggression

1. Operationalize NATO’s 1.5 percent resilience spending pillar.
   
   NATO should operationalize the new 1.5 percent resilience spending pillar, agreed to during the 2025 The Hague NATO Summit, to build a durable Alliance-wide architecture for sub-threshold defense. NATO should define which projects qualify, how performance should be measured, and which outcomes at the regional and Alliance levels are required for sub-threshold deterrence and defense architecture to merge into the broader NATO defense and capability planning process.
   
2. Support innovation among Baltic-littoral defense tech companies.
   
   Regional companies understand the operational environment better than global contractors. Sweden and NATO should streamline procurement processes and enable rapid field testing, replicating successful Ukrainian models. This would keep NATO ahead of Russian adaptation cycles.
   
3. Impose coordinated consequences on hybrid proxies.
   
   Deterrence in the gray zone requires clear, predictable penalties. NATO members should agree that hybrid attacks—whether carried out by Russian state vessels, intelligence operators, or commercial proxies—will trigger coordinated diplomatic expulsions, maritime inspections, targeted sanctions, or legal action against the companies enabling malign activity.
   
4. Clarify NATO’s hybrid thresholds.
   
   Sweden should advocate for clearer definitions of hostile hybrid acts requiring collective action. Thresholds should consider intent, pattern, and cumulative destabilization, rather than rigid criteria that Russia could exploit.
   
5. Deepen integration with Nordic-Baltic frameworks.
   
   Integration with Nordic and Baltic response frameworks should be deepened. Sweden should leverage NORDEFCO, JEF, and NB8 to build habitual coordination on detection, strategic communications, and consequence management. More coherent regional messaging and synchronized decision-making will increase the credibility of deterrence and limit Russia’s opportunities to isolate or pressure individual states.

Toward a Nordic-Baltic sub-threshold deterrence architecture

The strategic task now facing Sweden and NATO is to convert geostrategic advantage in the Baltic Sea region into operational resilience in the sub-threshold domain. Hybrid threats will remain Russia’s preferred tool in the region for as long as they continue to produce political hesitation and asymmetric effects. Sweden’s accession to NATO offers an opportunity to close this gap by strengthening rapid-response mechanisms and shaping a credible, collective deterrence framework for the sub-threshold domain. By driving operational innovation, improving attribution processes, hardening critical infrastructure, and enabling coordinated regional action, Sweden can help ensure that hybrid aggression in the Baltic Sea produces not operational indecision, but strategic backlash.

Justina Budginaite-Froehly is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center and Transatlantic Security Initiative within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. Her professional focus is on security and defense-related issues, including defense industrial developments, military mobility, and energy security in Europe.

This issue brief was made possible by support from the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Atlantic Council maintains a strict intellectual independence policy for all its projects and publications. The Council requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of any products resulting from sponsored projects.

Report Jan 2, 2026

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Maritime Security Northern Europe

The Transatlantic Security Initiative aims to reinforce the strong and resilient transatlantic relationship that is prepared to deter and defend, succeed in strategic competition, and harness emerging capabilities to address future threats and opportunities.

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The post Sweden’s role in countering hybrid threats in the Baltic Sea region appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On February 2, Atlantic Council vice president and Scowcroft Center senior director Matthew Kroenig was quoted in The Hill on talks between the US and Denmark regarding Greenland.

Staff

Matthew Kroenig

Vice President, Geostrategy and Fellows and Senior Director, Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

China Defense Policy

The post Kroenig quoted in The Hill on US strategy in Greenland appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Bottom lines up front

• Greenland and Ukraine will continue to dominate the European security agenda in 2026.
• The Nordic-Baltic states are increasingly taking the lead on these issues through coordinated action, joint funding, and operational support.
• Their approach shows that when small and medium-size states act together, they can have an outsized impact on European and transatlantic security.

STOCKHOLM—When US President Donald Trump escalated the Greenland crisis in early January by insisting on US ownership of the island and not ruling out military force, Denmark quickly received support from its Nordic and Baltic neighbors. This was no coincidence. Over just a few years, the Nordic-Baltic Eight (NB8)—Denmark, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Iceland, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania—has become far more proactive and agile in shaping European security policy. 

Unity matters, and strong joint statements matter too. But in a European security debate characterized by constant declarations and uneven follow-through, matching words with action is what has truly built credibility for this Northern European forum.

If 2024 marked the year the Nordic-Baltic states became more “visible and relevant” in European security, and 2025 the year they emerged as Europe’s forward security hub—acting early and speaking clearly—then 2026 is shaping up to be the year their model will be tested under pressure. 

A regional forum with strategic intent

As the year begins, Estonia assumes the rotational chairmanship of the NB8, with an agenda focused on strengthening cooperation and raising the group’s international profile. This ambition underscores that the group’s influence is not tied to a single crisis or a particular leadership term. It is becoming structural. Coordination rotates, but strategic intent remains stable, backed by a growing track record of action and results. 

Even as Greenland dominates headlines, Ukraine remains the issue that anchors the NB8’s credibility. Throughout 2025, the group turned recurring joint signaling into a near-institutional voice, with coordinated statements issued in February, August, September, and November. Together, the members formed a sustained narrative: rejecting any settlement imposed on Kyiv, insisting that borders cannot be changed by force, and reaffirming that support for Ukraine must continue as long as Russia refuses a genuine cease-fire. 

What gives the NB8 credibility, however, is not just what it says but what it does—specifically, what it funds and delivers. Not only are the Nordic and Baltic states well on track—or already meeting—NATO’s defense spending target of 5 percent of gross domestic product (GDP), they are among the leading contributors of military support to Ukraine relative to GDP. Increasingly, this support is coordinated. In November, all eight Nordic-Baltic states jointly financed a $500 million package of US-sourced military equipment and munitions for Ukraine through NATO’s Prioritised Ukraine Requirements List. This was one of the largest coordinated European contributions of the year and a clear example of what a European coalition looks like when political alignment translates into operational effect. 

Over the course of 2025, Nordic-Baltic states moved from drawing down stockpiles to building sustainable capacity, including co-production with Ukraine. Sweden’s work with Kyiv on future air capabilities and Denmark’s efforts to facilitate Ukrainian defense manufacturing on Danish territory signal a shift from short-term transfers to enduring war-fighting capacity. 

That industrial turn has been matched by a dense ecosystem of Nordic-Baltic-led coalitions: Latvia driving Europe’s most dynamic drone procurement for Ukraine, Lithuania anchoring multinational demining efforts, Estonia committing a fixed share of GDP to sustained military support, and a broader Nordic-Baltic initiative training and equipping Ukrainian brigades alongside Poland. Together, these efforts translate political will into deployable capabilities, reaching the battlefield faster and with fewer institutional frictions than those of larger European formats.  

Countering Russia in the Baltic Sea is yet another example of Nordic-Baltic action. Today, the Baltic Sea is one of the most monitored maritime spaces in Europe, with continuous naval patrols, air surveillance, and undersea infrastructure protection driven largely by Nordic-Baltic contributions. The launch of NATO’s Operation Baltic Sentry in early 2025, combined with Sweden’s first major NATO maritime deployments, signals that the Alliance’s northern defense posture is moving from political concept to operational reality. 

This effort has expanded beyond ships and aircraft to the legal and regulatory domain. Countering Russia’s shadow fleet and grey-zone maritime activity, enforcing sanctions, and coordinating maritime regulation have become part of the same security logic, reflecting a Nordic-Baltic approach that treats coercion at sea as both a governance and a military challenge. 

The signal to Moscow is clear, and Beijing is registering it too. Coordinated European action, when sustained and enforced, carries strategic weight.

This message is particularly poignant today, as deterrence is increasingly about the ability to stay the course for years—whether in supporting Ukraine, countering hybrid threats, or maintaining political clarity on values and interests. Against this backdrop, Nordic-Baltic states are far from the “small” actors they’re often assumed to be. Together, their combined economic weight rivals that of Europe’s largest powers—a reminder that scale in security is often a political choice. The Nordic-Baltic states have acted on this insight, translating pooled resources into procurement decisions, industrial planning, and sustained policy commitments.  

The next phase of Nordic-Baltic leadership

What comes next is likely to follow two main tracks. First, Greenland will remain a test of allied norms and Nordic-Baltic cohesion, requiring sustained political backing as diplomacy with the United States continues. For years, Nordic-Baltic defense policy rested on a familiar logic: stay close to Washington, prove seriousness, and earn reassurance. That logic still matters, but the Greenland crisis shows it can no longer be taken for granted. In response to the US escalation, Denmark and its Nordic-Baltic partners have focused on keeping the issue firmly within a diplomatic and legal framework, while reinforcing the principle that Arctic security remains a collective NATO responsibility.

Second, Ukraine will remain the central credibility test, demanding resistance to premature settlements and continued investment in military, industrial, and political support. 

There is also a broader strategic task. The NB8 is well-positioned to strengthen the European pillar within NATO while bridging gaps between NATO and the European Union, particularly in areas where security, industrial capacity, and sanctions enforcement increasingly overlap. Equally important, the group must avoid becoming a northern island detached from the rest of Europe. The new habit of including Poland and Germany in the NB8 meetings is wise in this regard. However, credible deterrence and resilience across Europe require wider networks beyond the region, including engagement with partners in the south and the ability to connect regional leadership to continental cohesion. 

The deeper lesson, however, is the same across Greenland and Ukraine: credibility is cumulative. It is built by acting together early, speaking clearly about principles, and turning solidarity into capabilities and delivery. 

In 2026, Europe will spend more time debating which coalitions can be relied upon, which will hold under pressure, and which can shoulder responsibility amid ongoing geopolitical uncertainty. Increasingly, the answer points north—not because the members of the NB8 are Europe’s largest powers, but because they consistently deliver on their promises.

The post How the Nordic-Baltic states became Europe’s reliable security engine appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Today started with ice and ended with a thaw. Shortly after a speech at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland—in which he made his case for why the United States should own the “big, beautiful piece of ice” that is Greenland—Donald Trump announced that he had reached a “framework of a future deal” on the issue. The breakthrough came after Trump met with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, and led to the US president dropping his tariff threats against European nations that had opposed the US acquisition of the semiautonomous Danish territory. According to Trump, the deal will concern potential US rights over Greenland’s minerals, as well as the island’s involvement in his administration’s proposed “Golden Dome” missile defense system. Below, our experts shed light on all the transatlantic tumult. 

• Josh Lipsky (@joshualipsky): Chair of international economics at the Atlantic Council, senior director of the GeoEconomics Center, and former International Monetary Fund advisor  
• Matthew Kroenig (@MatthewKroenig): Vice president and senior director of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security
• Tressa Guenov: Director for programs and operations and senior fellow at the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, and former US principal deputy assistant secretary of defense for international security affairs 
• Jörn Fleck (@JornFleck): Senior director of the Europe Center and former European Parliament staffer

Tariff troubles

• Now that Trump appears to have backed down from both his military and economic threats, “Europe is breathing a sigh of relief,” Josh reports from the World Economic Forum, but it’s one that “will be short-lived.”
• Don’t expect Europe to jump back in to last year’s US-EU trade deal, which Brussels paused in recent days. European leaders “feel like they’ve been burned by the volatility, paid a political price at home, and want commitments that next weekend they don’t wake up to new tariff threats,” Josh tells us. “Businesses, many of which said as much privately to the Trump administration this week in Davos, want the same” sort of commitments. 
• “Markets had their say” as well, Josh writes, noting that fears of a US-EU trade war drove up bond yields in recent days. That’s “the exact kind of pressure point that made Trump relent” in April 2025 when he paused his “Liberation Day” tariffs. “With mortgage rates shooting up” in response to the volatility, says Josh, “Trump showed that he can be especially sensitive to the bond markets.”

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NATO’s next steps

• “The idea that Trump would attack a NATO ally was always hard to imagine,” says Matt, who argues that “Trump’s threats were clearly part of his now-trademark style of building leverage to force a negotiation.”
• Matt now expects a future deal to include “increased military presence in Greenland from Denmark and other NATO allies and increased access and basing for the United States.”
• The “hard work” ahead for negotiators, he explains, will be “hammering out an agreement that addresses Trump’s legitimate security concerns while also respecting the sovereignty of NATO allies.”
• Matt identifies several cases that could provide “creative solutions,” including “the United Kingdom’s ‘sovereign base area’ in Cyprus, the bishop of Urgell and the president of France’s ‘shared sovereignty’ over Andorra, and the United States’ possession of a perpetual lease in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.”

The bigger picture

• But even if a deal gets done, says Tressa, Trump’s pressure campaign against Europe over Greenland could have consequences for security issues that must be solved on both sides of the Atlantic: “A sustained atmosphere of crisis has the potential to detract from Trump’s own success in getting NATO countries to spend 5 percent of gross domestic product on defense and, he hopes, buy American products.” She points out that “many of the countries that he threatened with tariffs are the ones who have stepped up defense spending the most.” 
• Jörn agrees on the lasting impact of “Trump’s willingness to engage in brinkmanship with the Alliance, Europe’s economy, and personal relationships with key leaders.” The approach “has destroyed much of the domestic political space in Europe for those arguing that Europe has a weak hand and therefore few options but to engage, assuage, and accommodate” the US president, “even if few European leaders will say this out loud for now.”  
• Still, while “Davos is sometimes criticized for a lot of talk but little action, this year no one can doubt the forum mattered,” Josh adds. “Having Trump meet in person with leaders—privately—is where the US-European alliance was, at least temporarily, put back on track.”

The post The future of Greenland and NATO after Trump’s Davos deal appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Bottom lines up front

• To spend larger defense budgets wisely, European NATO allies will need to develop an ecosystem that fosters innovation.
• To increase innovation and the adoption of new technologies, NATO allies will need to address regulations that too often inhibit cooperation.
• Among other steps, NATO should establish a Defense Innovation Unit modeled after the US organization of the same name.

WASHINGTON—From the specter of US retrenchment to ongoing Russian revanchism, European NATO members must face up to a harsh reality: the Alliance lacks the industrial capabilities to meet today’s security challenges. Their recent promises to increase defense spending, while substantial and welcome, will not be enough alone to change this. 

To adapt quickly enough to confront evolving threats, NATO allies must get the basics right. This means adopting functional and flexible financing mechanisms, streamlining regulatory frameworks, and building production foundations that prioritize scalable and sustainable innovation.

These challenges that NATO faces, as well as the need for the Alliance to get the basics right, are being actively discussed, including at the 2025 Netherlands-US Defense Industry Days conference in Washington, DC, this past October. At this event, organized by the Embassy of the Kingdom of the Netherlands and the Atlantic Council, policymakers, industry leaders, financiers, and experts discussed how transatlantic allies can accelerate defense innovation while strengthening their defense industrial bases. Below are a few of the authors’ major takeaways from this conference on how NATO can meet these challenges.

Don’t just spend more—spend smarter

Increasingly, the battlefields of the future will be won in the realm of innovation. Building ecosystems to support technology development will require allies to use newly unlocked defense dollars to fill immediate capability gaps and build flexible financing pathways to foster innovation. If done right, these defense ecosystems can allocate more resources directly to innovators, boosting returns on investment and generating cutting-edge capabilities in North America and Europe. 

To do this, allies should take a two-pronged approach to financing innovation:

Accept risk to accelerate adoption. Many innovation initiatives—such as NATO’s Defense Innovation Accelerator for the North Atlantic (DIANA) organization—too often fall short because they prioritize immediate return on investment or quick-turn results over long-term innovation development. This places a strain on innovators, limiting their access to seed money and signaling to the private sector that the Alliance does not prioritize lasting defense technology innovation. Instead, NATO should give these initiatives greater latitude to prioritize experimentation and iteration rather than meeting often arbitrary metrics and quotas. 

Protect research and development budgets. From the rise of the space domain to electromagnetic warfare, NATO allies must win not just a single innovation race; they need to win many at once. Research and development (R&D) budgets are critical to this effort. Yet, far too often, as participants at the conference noted, R&D budgets for defense technologies are cannibalized in favor of immediate operational needs, particularly during periods of heightened security pressure. By prioritizing R&D budgets, governments can send a clear signal to defense industries, investment bankers, and venture capitalists that NATO members see investment in defense technology as a long-term and sustainable demand. These signals can help spur greater private-sector investment in these technologies.

To produce at scale, regulate at scale

Current regulatory environments on both sides of the Atlantic are not designed for the speed of innovation or adoption needed in today’s rapidly evolving security environment. Instead, NATO allies must strike a careful balance: NATO countries should impose regulations that protect sensitive technologies and intellectual property while also encouraging cooperation among allies on innovation development. Two main principles should inform this approach: 

Break down barriers to transatlantic defense industrial cooperation. In the United States, having to navigate dense bureaucracy can stifle innovation, hamper collaborative partnerships, and stretch lead times for critical defense technologies. However, US Secretary of War Pete Hegseth recently made several announcements that show promise in this area—including loosening restrictions on defense contractors and emphasizing speed—indicating that the Pentagon will work to streamline defense cooperation for allies looking to buy US capabilities. Despite this positive momentum, meaningful changes to US foreign military sales and armaments cooperation will require sustained efforts to reform these overly burdensome bureaucratic processes. 

Keep agile firms top of mind when writing regulations. Small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) will make or break the next era of warfare. Yet defense industrial and innovation regulations often impose disproportionate costs on SMEs because they are designed only for the largest defense companies. For example, the US Cybersecurity Maturity Model Certification rightly protects sensitive data through third-party audit and monitoring requirements. But as written, the cost of compliance with these regulations is prohibitively expensive for SMEs, risking pushing many smaller defense firms out of the market altogether. Therefore, policymakers and military planners must establish more frequent, institutionalized relationships with SMEs to better understand how regulations affect these new players. A good step in the right direction would be for policymakers to apply regulations on a sliding scale, setting thresholds for how large a defense company must grow before it has to comply with certain requirements.

Build integrated innovation ecosystems

NATO should adopt a holistic approach to capability development that marries research, design, and production to turn industrial development into more than just the sum of its structural parts. Three ways to build this holistic approach are: 

Champion defense industrial cooperation. To innovate at the necessary pace, the Alliance must build defense industrial co-development, co-production, and co-assembly pathways. Working industry-to-industry or industry-to-partner, such collaborative efforts can help enable allied industries to scale up production and develop cutting-edge defense technologies. This approach defrays risk for industry, builds stronger transatlantic bonds, and shortens lead times for capability delivery. 

Advance a model that combines expertise across sectors. To build more resilient and sustainable defense innovation ecosystems, allies should foster a defense innovation model that integrates government, industry, and academia. With these three sectors working together, allies can coordinate experimentation, testing, and manufacturing efforts to accelerate development and deployment timelines. Applied across the Atlantic, such a model could replace isolated national pilot projects with a coordinated framework for sustained, interoperable innovation.

Establish a NATO Defense Innovation Unit to spur development. Modeled after the United States’ own Defense Innovation Unit, a NATO version of the institution would help the Alliance coordinate funding, regulation, and capability development. A NATO Defense Innovation Unit would maintain shared test facilities, align technical standards, and guide the transition of prototypes into fielded systems. It would serve as a permanent platform connecting NATO’s innovation initiatives—such as DIANA and the NATO Innovation Fund—with national and private-sector efforts.

Building transatlantic innovation ecosystems must begin with the basics: financing innovation wisely, regulating for speed and scalability, and building integrated defense innovation models across sectors and allied capitals. A roadmap grounded in smart investment, adaptive regulations, and collaborative production can transform innovation into readiness.

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The post Rich Outzen discusses Greenland on TRT World print appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On January 19, Atlantic Council vice president and Scowcroft Center senior director Matthew Kroenig was quoted in The Wall Street Journal on the Trump administration’s policy toward Greenland, arguing that threats are a negotiating tool.

Staff

Matthew Kroenig

Vice President, Geostrategy and Fellows and Senior Director, Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

China Defense Policy

The post Kroenig quoted in Wall Street Journal on Greenland appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On January 9, Alexander B. Gray, a GeoStrategy Initiative nonresident senior fellow, published an article in The Wall Street Journal titled “A Defense of the Donroe Doctrine in Greenland.”

Fellow

Alexander B. Gray

Nonresident Senior Fellow

GeoStrategy Initiative Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Defense Policy Defense Technologies

The GeoStrategy Initiative, housed within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, leverages strategy development and long-range foresight to serve as the preeminent thought-leader and convener for policy-relevant analysis and solutions to understand a complex and unpredictable world. Through its work, the initiative strives to revitalize, adapt, and defend a rules-based international system in order to foster peace, prosperity, and freedom for decades to come.

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The post Gray in The Wall Street Journal on the Donroe doctrine in Greenland appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On January 8, Imran Bayoumi, associate director of the GeoStrategy Initiative, was quoted in a CBC News article titled “With Trump’s Venezuela move and Greenland threats, are Canadians vulnerable?” discussing Trump’s renewed focus on the Western hemisphere. He argues that US threats of military action against Greenland are unproductive, urging for bolstered cooperation without threats.

Staff

Imran Bayoumi

Associate Director

GeoStrategy Initiative Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

The GeoStrategy Initiative, housed within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, leverages strategy development and long-range foresight to serve as the preeminent thought-leader and convener for policy-relevant analysis and solutions to understand a complex and unpredictable world. Through its work, the initiative strives to revitalize, adapt, and defend a rules-based international system in order to foster peace, prosperity, and freedom for decades to come.

learn more

The post Bayoumi quoted in CBC News on Trump’s approach to Greenland appeared first on Atlantic Council.

Bottom lines up front

• Following the recent US operation in Venezuela, the Trump administration has revived the idea of the United States taking Greenland, and it has not ruled out using US military force to do so.
• The Danish prime minister has responded by suggesting such a move by the United States could lead to the end of NATO, the most successful alliance in history.
• A collapse of NATO over Greenland would be contrary to US national interests as defined in the Trump administration’s own recently published National Security Strategy.

STOCKHOLM—After a bumpy start with the new Trump administration in 2025, NATO enters 2026 facing what could become the worst crisis of its existence. “We need Greenland from the standpoint of national security,” US President Donald Trump said on Sunday, ignoring the warnings of Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen that the United States should stop threatening the Kingdom of Denmark or it might lead to the end of NATO.

Following the US intervention in Venezuela and the capture of Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro on Saturday, the wife of Trump’s close adviser Stephen Miller, Katie Miller, a Republican podcaster, posted on social media a map of Greenland covered by the American flag and accompanied by one word in capital letters: “SOON.” Sparking harsh reactions in Europe, the remarkable post was followed by Stephen Miller himself, who stated that Greenland should be part of the United States and that no one would militarily challenge a US takeover.

For NATO, this means the worst possible start to the year. The possibility that the United States, the leading member of the Alliance, would use its might to annex part of another ally’s territory is almost beyond imagination and a nightmare for NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte. As expressed in the first paragraph of the North Atlantic Treaty, the Alliance rests on the principles of the United Nations Charter that international disputes are settled by peaceful means, and that the parties refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force inconsistent with the charter.

Denmark is a founding member of the Alliance, and it has been a loyal ally since 1949. In Afghanistan, Denmark fought alongside the United States in the tougher mission areas and suffered the most casualties in relation to its population of all NATO allies, apart from the United States.

There is nothing new about Greenland’s importance to US national security. An autonomous part of the Kingdom of Denmark, Greenland has hosted a US military base since the 1950s for exactly that reason. A 1951 treaty between the United States and the Kingdom of Denmark allows for increased US presence on Greenland if requested. But that is not what Trump is looking for, as the harsh dialogue between Copenhagen and Washington over the past year has revealed. The Trump administration argues that Greenland is part of the Western Hemisphere, and as such it should belong to the United States, which Greenland clearly opposes. This extraordinary US stance, in flagrant disrespect of international law, has caused the Danish defense intelligence service to flag the United States as a concern to Danish national security.

More broadly, the Trump administration’s stance risks dissolving the transatlantic community and putting an end to the most successful military alliance in history.

Trump has nurtured the idea of US ownership of Greenland for a long time. In his first term, he suggested a US purchase of the island on several occasions. When reelected, Trump renewed his interest, stating that “the United States of America feels that the ownership and control of Greenland is an absolute necessity.” This time, he did not rule out the use of military force to get it. A few months later, when Rutte visited the White House, Trump suggested that NATO could help him get Greenland, a request that Rutte declined.

Trump has defended his stance, saying there are “Chinese and Russian ships everywhere” near Greenland and that Denmark cannot protect it. Former National Security Advisor Mike Waltz has emphasized the need for the United States to access Greenland’s vast natural resources. But since Denmark has signaled that the United States is welcome to increase US troop numbers on Greenland should it so wish, and Greenland has announced that it is open for business if US companies are interested, neither of these arguments make sense.

Perhaps importantly, there is a parallel interest in Greenland stemming from the tech giants with close connections to the Trump administration. As reported by Reuters and The Guardian, a circle of US tech entrepreneurs and venture capital figures is promoting Greenland as a potential site for so-called “freedom cities” and large-scale extraction and infrastructure projects. These ideas are framed through libertarian concepts of minimal corporate regulation and ambitions spanning artificial intelligence, space launches, and micronuclear energy. Several of these actors are among Trump’s largest campaign donors and investors, including investors linked to mining operations in Greenland, fossil fuels, and cryptocurrency ventures. Collectively, this cohort reportedly contributed more than $240 million to his 2024 campaign and potentially stand to benefit from a US takeover of the island.

As the United States starts implementing the “Trump corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine, first by intervening in Venezuela and then quickly threatening Cuba, Colombia, Mexico, and Greenland, Europe is witnessing its strongest ally voluntarily retreat from global leadership to excel in regional dominance. “This is OUR hemisphere”, the State Department declared in an X posting on Monday to underline the launch of its new strategy, presumably sending a message to Russia and China. However, from a NATO perspective, where does this leave allies such as Canada and Denmark? Are they targets of this message as well?

Copenhagen certainly feels that way. In the past year, Denmark has substantially increased its military support in the Arctic. In January 2025, it committed 14.6 billion kroner ($2.05 billion) to Arctic defense, followed by an additional 27.4 billion kroner ($2.7 billion) later in the year. Denmark has also invested in its relationship with Greenland, including a formal apology for government abuses against Inuit women involving forced birth control in the 1960s and 1970s. On Monday, Greenland’s prime minister, Jens-Frederik Nielsen, downplayed concerns of a military takeover and repeated to the Trump administration that Greenland is not for sale. Nor, he said, are the people of Greenland interested in voluntarily becoming part of the United States.

The Trump administration’s latest escalating rhetoric about seizing Greenland has sparked intense activity in European capitals in support of Greenland and Denmark. Statements clarifying that Greenland belonged to the Greenlanders came quickly from the Nordic and Baltic capitals, and then British Prime Minister Keir Starmer followed suit, before he was joined in a statement on Tuesday by France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Poland, and Denmark. NATO ally Canada has been explicit in its support as well, and Ottawa is opening a consulate in Greenland to strengthen relations further.

For NATO, Rutte’s ambition to keep the issue off the table in the Alliance is getting increasingly difficult. Rather, he is cautiously joining the diplomatic efforts to prevent a US intervention. On Tuesday, he said that NATO “collectively . . . has to make sure that the Arctic stays safe.” He added, “We all agree that the Russians and Chinese are more and more active in that area.”

Meanwhile NATO officials continue their important work to strengthen the role of the Alliance in Arctic security through increased surveillance, patrolling, exercises, and training. This work embodies the Alliance’s collective efforts to ensure security while addressing the concerns of underinvestment expressed by the Trump administration. Allies should promptly increase these efforts even further.

So far, Denmark has rejected an offer from France to send troops to Greenland as a signal of European solidarity, likely to avoid provoking the United States. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio has also signaled a preference for negotiations to US lawmakers, indicating that the military threat is primarily being used to force Denmark to sell Greenland.

Regardless, diplomacy seems like the most reasonable, albeit challenging, option. Those European countries that have been able to establish good communication channels with the Trump administration, such as the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Italy, and Finland, should side with Denmark and lead efforts to settle the crisis, in a similar manner as Europe was able to support Ukraine in the peace process after Trump’s Alaska summit with Russian President Vladimir Putin. Rutte, another voice that has good relations with Trump, needs to engage further, as well.

The argument should be that the survival of NATO is at stake if the United States intervenes to seize Greenland, and that such a development would be contrary to US national interests. For example, the Trump administration’s own National Security Strategy (NSS) emphasizes that it is a US interest to maintain strategic stability with Russia. For that, the United States needs its European bases. Proximity matters, as the operation this past summer against Iran’s nuclear facilities clearly illustrated. Furthermore, the NSS outlines how the United States depends on Europe to succeed with its economic agenda elsewhere.

The US Congress recently went further and conditioned a range of measures in its latest defense bill to preserve NATO and US engagement in Europe. Engaging with members of Congress in Washington, DC, and with the delegations soon visiting the World Economic Forum in Davos and the Munich Security Conference is therefore crucial, as well.

Should the darkest hour come and the United States uses military force to annex Greenland, the essence of Article 5 and collective defense within NATO would lose its meaning. As Norwegian Minister of Foreign Affairs Espen Barth Eide recently put it: “The idea of NATO will be broken if the US takes Greenland.” It would be perfectly clear to Russia, China, and other adversaries that credible extended deterrence no longer exists for Europe or Canada, and that the United States has lost its closest and most powerful allies.

The post Trump’s quest for Greenland could be NATO’s darkest hour appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On January 7, Atlantic Council vice president and Scowcroft Center senior director Matthew Kroenig was interviewed on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation on recent developments in US foreign policy. He explains that Trump’s threats of military action in Greenland are a negotiating tactic, defends the decision to capture Venezuelan leader Nicolas Maduro, and argues that the administration will shift its focus to Cuba and its collaboration with the People’s Republic of China next.

Staff

Matthew Kroenig

Vice President, Geostrategy and Fellows and Senior Director, Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

China Defense Policy

The post Kroenig interviewed on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation on Trump’s foreign policy appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On January 6, Alexander B. Gray, a GeoStrategy Initiative nonresident senior fellow, was interviewed on RealClearPolitics podcast about the futures of Venezuela and Greenland. He explains that, due to historical precedent and divisions within opposition groups, Venezuela will likely require a transitional government before elections take place. He also argues that as the Arctic emerges as a key strategic region, closer collaboration with Greenland is essential to US security interests.

Fellow

Alexander B. Gray

Nonresident Senior Fellow

GeoStrategy Initiative Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Defense Policy Defense Technologies

The GeoStrategy Initiative, housed within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, leverages strategy development and long-range foresight to serve as the preeminent thought-leader and convener for policy-relevant analysis and solutions to understand a complex and unpredictable world. Through its work, the initiative strives to revitalize, adapt, and defend a rules-based international system in order to foster peace, prosperity, and freedom for decades to come.

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The post Gray interviewed on RealClearPolitics podcast on Venezuela and Greenland appeared first on Atlantic Council.

• Executive summary
• Introduction
• A comprehensive approach to defense and resilience
• Key pillars of Latvian resilience
• Challenges and future imperatives for resilience
• Annex 1: Management structure
• Annex 2: Framework of concepts, plans, laws, and regulations

Executive summary

Latvia has significantly evolved its defense and security policy, focusing on national resilience as a cornerstone of its statehood, as analyzed in LVARes: The Evolution of Latvia’s Defense and Security Policy in Resilience Building, a project of the Centre for East European Policy Studies and the Atlantic Council. This transformation is anchored in Latvia’s Comprehensive National Defense (CND) framework, a whole-of-society strategy that integrates civilian, military, and private-sector efforts to deter aggression and manage crises. Key to this approach are legal underpinnings from evolving state defense concepts and amendments to foundational laws like the National Security Law.

Pillars of this resilience include ensuring the continuity of essential services and critical infrastructure, with a shift from mere asset protection to guaranteeing operational functionality through public-private partnerships and an enhanced role for municipalities. Regular exercises like Namejs and Pilskalns test these preparations.

To counter hybrid threats, Latvia formally recognizes the information space as a defense domain, implementing multilayered strategies that combine government-led strategic communications, support for independent media, civil-society engagement against disinformation, and international cooperation, notably through hosting the NATO Strategic Communications Center of Excellence. Societal resilience is further boosted by public-preparedness campaigns like “72 Hours: What to do in case of a crisis,” media literacy programs, and integrating national defense education, including psychological defense and nonviolent civil resistance, into curricula.

Significant reforms are modernizing Latvia’s crisis management, with the planned National Crisis Management Center (CMC) under the prime minister, centralizing coordination and decision-making. Civil-protection measures are strengthening as well, with new legislation for public shelters and updates to the State Civil Protection Plan.

International cooperation is indispensable, with NATO providing collective defense, the EU offering funding and policy coordination, and robust bilateral ties with the United States and regional cooperation with Baltic and Nordic partners. The LVARes project itself exemplifies Latvia’s proactive international engagement in studying national capabilities, raising awareness, and sharing best practices.

Challenges persist, including resource constraints, interagency coordination complexities, evolving threats, and the need to bolster societal cohesion. Future imperatives involve fully operationalizing the CMC, implementing the shelter program, sustained investment in capabilities, and deeper public engagement in CND. Strategic recommendations for policymakers emphasize CMC effectiveness, civil-protection investments, public-private partnerships, psychological resilience, volunteer engagement, and integrating nonviolent resistance. For international partners, continued support for Latvian capability development, amplifying LVARes findings, facilitating resilience benchmarking, and supporting cross-border exercises are crucial. Through these efforts, Latvia fortifies its security and contributes valuable lessons to the Euro-Atlantic community.

Introduction

The contemporary security environment is characterized by an array of complex and interconnected threats. These range from the potential for conventional military aggression to the more pervasive and persistent challenges of hybrid warfare, sophisticated information operations, and malicious cyber activities. Russia’s aggressive foreign policy and its full-scale war against Ukraine have significantly amplified these threats, underscoring the vulnerability of states in the region and the urgent need for robust national preparedness. Latvia’s position as a frontline state of both the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the European Union (EU), sharing a direct border with the Russian Federation, has inherently shaped its national security posture and necessitated a continuous adaptation of its defense strategies, pushing for an essential shift in Latvia’s defense thinking.

The traditional focus on military defense, while still fundamental, is increasingly understood as insufficient on its own. Consequently, Latvia has progressively embraced a broader concept of national resilience encompassing not only military strength but also the resilience of its society, the continuity of government and essential services during crises, the protection of critical infrastructure, and the cultivation of psychological defense among its populace. This evolution reflects a growing understanding that national security in the twenty-first century is a whole-of-society endeavor.

Latvia’s pursuit of national resilience is not confined to a single strategy but is realized through a multifaceted approach that addresses various dimensions of security. These include ensuring the operational continuity of essential services and the resilience of critical infrastructure, actively countering hybrid threats in the information and cyber domains, fostering broad societal resilience through public preparedness and education, and acknowledging the potential role of nonviolent civil resistance. The aim of this report is to systematically analyze the evolution in Latvia’s defense and security policy, particularly its implementation of a comprehensive national defense framework, and to share the insights and lessons learned with allies, partners, and the broader public to enhance collective security in the Euro-Atlantic region.

A comprehensive approach to defense and resilience

Latvia’s approach to national defense has undergone a significant evolution, moving from a primary focus on conventional military capabilities and professional military service orientation toward a more encompassing strategy known as Comprehensive National Defense (CND). Adopted in 2018, the CND system is designed to ensure security and crisis preparedness across all sectors of the state and society, thereby enhancing Latvia’s overall deterrence posture and its resilience against armed conflicts or a wide spectrum of potential crises. The overarching aims of CND are the following:

• Preparing the Latvian population to actively participate in the defense of their country. 
• Facilitating efficient and effective crisis management at the national level. 
• Ensuring the continuity and support of critical state functions, including government operations, energy supply, healthcare, and logistics, even under duress. 

A fundamental and defining characteristic of Latvia’s CND is its “whole-of-society” approach, which recognizes that national defense and resilience are not the sole responsibility of the armed forces or government ministries but require the active involvement and cooperation of every element of society. This comprehensive vision entails the systematic integration of municipalities, the owners and managers of both public and private critical infrastructure (spanning sectors such as energy, communications, finance, and healthcare), nongovernmental organizations, the broader business community, and individual citizens into national defense planning and preparedness efforts. 

A significant emphasis within this approach is placed on building and nurturing mutual trust and robust partnerships between public authorities at all levels and private-sector entities. These collaborative efforts are seen as essential for creating a networked civil and military defense system where each component is prepared and able to work in sync. The success of the CND model hinges on the ability to overcome traditional challenges and foster a shared sense of responsibility for national security.

The whole-of-society approach is further strengthened through the way the CND is managed and its legal basis, both of which are designed as a multitiered framework to ensure a whole-of-government and -societal approach to national resilience. The management structure (detailed in Annex 1) integrates political leadership, ministerial responsibilities, operational agencies, local governments, and societal actors to prepare for and respond effectively to a diverse spectrum of threats, ranging from military aggression to civil emergencies. Whereas the framework of strategic concepts, national plans, legal acts, and supporting regulations (a detailed list provided in Annex 2) ensure that CND is not merely a theoretical construct but a systematically planned and implemented national effort. Strategic concepts like the National Security Concept and the State Defense Concept, both approved by the parliament, articulate Latvia’s high-level strategic assessments, goals, and priorities in response to the evolving security environment, providing the overarching vision and direction for the development of the CND.

This approach also aligns with the direction set by NATO at its 2016 Warsaw Summit, where the Alliance adopted seven baseline requirements for national resilience. For the first time, NATO established clear conditions that member states’ civilian institutions must meet to support Article 4 and 5 military operations. These requirements include: continuity of government and critical services; resilient energy, food, and water supplies; the ability to manage uncontrolled population movements; resilient civil communication and transportation systems; and the capacity to handle mass casualties. In this regard, Latvia’s CND system goes beyond these NATO requirements by also incorporating societal resilience and the involvement of the private sector in defense operations and other aspects.

Alongside NATO’s framework, relevant EU-level initiatives provide significant complementary support for resilience. These include the EU’s crisis-management framework, particularly its Civil Protection Mechanism, and the Military Mobility initiative, which supports development of civilian infrastructure to facilitate the rapid movement of military forces across Europe. These efforts directly reinforce both NATO and national resilience objectives, providing practical tools and funding to enhance collective defense.

Beyond multilateral alliances, Latvia cultivates strong bilateral partnerships and engages actively in regional cooperation formats to enhance its security and resilience. The 2020 State Defense Concept emphasizes the strong military cooperation between Latvia and the United States, highlighting the long-standing and highly valued partnership between the Latvian National Armed Forces and the Michigan National Guard. The United States is widely regarded as a major strategic partner for Latvia’s security and independence.

The three Baltic states also work closely together to develop their collective security and defense capabilities. This cooperation includes joint efforts to strengthen their external borders, deepen collaboration in civil protection and crisis management, combat disinformation through shared intelligence and strategies, and enhance overall societal resilience. Joint military exercises are also a regular feature of this trilateral cooperation.

Nordic-Baltic cooperation provides another layer of security collaboration. Latvia’s comprehensive defense approach shares many similarities with the strategies adopted by Nordic countries, facilitating mutual learning and coordinated efforts. The Nordic and Baltic countries have also demonstrated solidarity through joint statements and coordinated actions, for example, in reaffirming their support for Ukraine.

Latvia’s multifaceted international engagement—spanning NATO, the EU, key bilateral relationships such as with the United States, and intensive regional cooperation—is not merely about receiving security assistance or aligning with external frameworks. It increasingly reflects a strategy of proactive contribution. As a frontline state that has rapidly developed its resilience concepts and capabilities in response to direct and evolving threats, Latvia is well-positioned to share valuable expertise and lessons learned.

Key pillars of Latvian resilience

Since the adoption of CND, Latvia has pursued a comprehensive approach to defense based on an understanding that every element of the government and population plays a part in creating a networked civil and military defense system—and recent lessons from Ukraine’s resistance to Russian aggression have further reinforced this understanding. This approach grew out of necessity: Latvia, a small country with limited strategic depth, neighbors Russia, a large, aggressive military power that has attacked countries in its so-called near abroad. Latvia’s approach, like those of its fellow Nordic-Baltic countries, is built on a straightforward idea that the country’s civil and military defense systems can achieve a greater deterrence and defense impact if they collaborate and if each part is prepared. Meanwhile, Latvia’s pursuit of national resilience is not confined to a single strategy but is realized through a multifaceted approach that addresses various dimensions of security. 

While the CND concept encompasses eight dimensions, ranging from military development to psychological resilience, our report examines it through four perspectives: military, civil, societal, and governmental resilience. This approach allows for a cohesive, strategic evaluation of the dimensions of readiness without sacrificing the scope of the original concept.

Military resilience

Latvia’s military resilience is a central aspect of its national defense, resting on the fundamental pillars of domestic responsibility for developing its own capabilities and a robust collective defense provided by its allies.

Lessons learned from Russia’s aggression in Ukraine since 2014 have driven initiatives to ensure that Latvian institutions and society can respond effectively to any unconventional or hybrid threat scenarios. Changes to the National Security Law have empowered the National Armed Forces (NAF), from the lowest level up, with the authority to respond to any military threat, conventional or unconventional, even without immediate orders from the political leadership. The law explicitly states that armed resistance may not be prohibited in times of war or occupation and affirms that every citizen has the right to take up arms to resist an aggressor. This legal framework solidifies the principle of total defense, ensuring that the entire nation is prepared and authorized to contribute to the defense of the country.

To maintain this posture, Latvia has steadily increased its defense budget. By 2018, Latvia had met the NATO defense spending goal of 2 percent of gross domestic product (GDP), which has significantly contributed to the development of military capabilities, including within the National Guard. Military resolve is evident in the budget’s rapid growth, which is projected to reach approximately 3.65 percent of GDP in 2025, with announcements indicating a further increase to 5 percent by 2026. This funding is crucial for keeping military modernization on track through the strategic procurement of advanced weapon systems. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Latvia has significantly increased investment in conventional war-fighting capabilities to enhance its deterrence posture. The commitment to acquiring advanced systems—such as High Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS) launchers, IRIS-T air defense systems, and coastal defense missiles—sends a vital message that the country is serious about bolstering its defense. National resilience also necessitates forging a cohesive fighting force from diverse sources of manpower. Latvia is proactively addressing manpower challenges, most notably through the reintroduction of mandatory conscription in the form of the State Defense Service (SDS). Introduced in 2023, the SDS aims to increase recruitment and build a larger, well-trained reserve force. This policy of eleven-month mandatory service has shown early signs of success. Latvia plans to enlist four thousand new recruits annually by 2028 and, notably, 40 percent of the 2024 intake opted for professional careers after their mandatory service. Current military plans envision 31,000 troops by 2029, complemented by an equally large reserve contingent thereafter. However, this rapid expansion presents significant challenges. The primary obstacles include a lack of sufficient modern training infrastructure to accommodate the larger number of recruits, a shortage of qualified instructors to lead the training, and the immense organizational task of building a functional reserve system that can effectively manage and retrain thousands of new reservists annually after their active service ends. Successfully overcoming these hurdles is critical to ensuring the SDS translates into a genuine increase in combat-ready forces.

Advanced capabilities and increased manpower are only effective if they are maintained at a high state of readiness. This is achieved through a rigorous schedule of military exercises designed to test plans and ensure interoperability. The flagship event is the annual Comprehensive Defense Exercise “Namejs,” which tests the armed forces in joint operations at every level.

These exercises are crucial for more than just military units, serving as the primary mechanism for implementing the whole-of-society defense concept in practice. During Namejs, the NAF systematically drills its cooperation with the civilian sector. This includes collaborating with municipalities and state-owned companies to support military mobility and countermobility efforts, and working with private-sector entrepreneurs on resource mobilization. Similarly, through this whole-of-society approach, Latvia has demonstrated both ingenuity and cooperation. It is exemplified by efforts to formalize the roles of civilian groups in national defense, such as the involvement of hunters in the national defense system—a patriotic and armed segment of society that can be integrated with the National Guard and tasked with support assignments. As comprehensive defense evolves into a societal reality, it demonstrates credible national will, complicates adversary planning, and builds the societal backbone needed to withstand pressure and deter aggression, including hybrid attacks from Russia.

Civil resilience

Civil resilience in Latvia focuses on the comprehensive preparedness of its civilian structures and population, encompassing robust civil-defense planning across all government levels, from national ministries to local municipalities. This emphasis recognizes the critical role of municipalities in fostering a society-wide culture of preparedness and resilience.

Russia’s aggression against Ukraine beginning in 2014 and 2022 deeply reverberated across Latvian society, creating significant momentum for action. The latter created public demand that pushed local governments beyond mere declaratory contingency plans to proactively explain preparedness strategies to their constituents. Latvia has adopted the necessary legislative basis that mandates that Latvian municipalities ensure the continuity of essential services during crises or war, therefore actively participating in developing a society-wide culture of preparedness and resilience.

Another key aspect of civil resilience involves ensuring the continuity of essential services and protecting critical infrastructure. Latvia has strategically shifted its crisis-management thinking from solely focusing on infrastructure protection to prioritizing the uninterrupted delivery of essential services and functions. While this shift presents additional planning challenges, it stems from the understanding that critical infrastructure cannot operate in isolation from broader national defense factors; it is rendered ineffective without skilled personnel, operational processes, and supporting services vital for its functioning. Businesses are consequently required to develop robust continuity plans.

The ability to ensure the flow of money for goods and services constitutes another critical service. Societal upheavals, crises, and wars often disrupt peacetime payment systems, as demonstrated by Ukraine’s experience. To address this, the Bank of Latvia (which is analogous to the US Federal Reserve) is developing crisis payment solutions, both cash and noncash, for a society with a high adoption rate for noncash transactions. For example, the Bank of Latvia is collaborating with major commercial banks to develop approved offline solutions, ensuring individuals can use their bank cards for basic necessities even if bank communications are down. Similarly, during a crisis or war, banks are required to maintain a predefined network of ATMs, with at least one ATM per municipal center, and have developed a map of critical ATMs that would operate in case of crisis.

Latvia also has proactively sought to improve the integrity of its communications systems. This involves ensuring that critical data—including sensitive healthcare, defense, security, and economic data—remains within Latvian territory and that critical information technology systems continue to function without interruption even if the connection to the global internet is disrupted. To achieve this, the government now mandates that national and municipal institutions, companies, and owners/managers of critical IT infrastructure prioritize using a single national internet exchange point, GLV-IX, a statewide and state-operated local internet ecosystem, for their data flows if the outer perimeter of electronic communications is compromised.

Finally, Latvia has actively addressed two common challenges in building preparedness: improving the communication of preparedness requirements and funding resilience efforts. Many national governments struggle with effectively communicating military crisis and war preparedness expectations to municipalities and private industries. While both disseminating information and issuing legislation are important, these efforts must be augmented by activities that encourage thoughtful planning, accurate understanding of requirements, and knowledge development. Indeed, Latvian municipalities have sometimes voiced concerns about insufficient resources for civil preparedness, arguing it should be a national responsibility. Similarly, even large, well-funded hospitals struggle to meet the three-month supply requirement for medicine and supplies, while smaller hospitals lack adequate funding altogether.

Latvia has sought to address these questions through legislative changes, clarifying responsibilities and tasks, and mandating regular exercises. Over time, continuous cooperation and the mandatory requirement of yearly exercises are expected to foster a better understanding of the overall defense system, individual roles within it, and mutual expectations among all parties involved. Regular exercise schedules significantly benefit Latvia’s preparedness across sectors by stress testing developed plans, building knowledge, and informing participants about potential organizational challenges during a military crisis or war. For example, the yearly state-wide comprehensive defense exercises Namejs involve municipalities, allied forces, and local companies playing out different scenarios alongside the National Armed Forces. On a local level, Pilskalns exercises, in use since 2020, test municipalities’ planning and practical response capabilities under wartime scenarios, involving national and local institutions, the NAF, and local companies. These exercises are crucial for stress testing plans, identifying gaps, and building practical experience among all involved parties. Ultimately, however, private enterprises are expected to fund their own preparedness planning and implementation activities.

Societal resilience

Societal resilience in Latvia is built on the principle that national security is a shared responsibility that extends to every citizen, empowering individuals with the practical knowledge and tools needed to withstand a crisis. The government has fostered a “culture of readiness” through regular information campaigns and hands-on materials that include tips to spot false information.

The most visible example of this is Latvia’s “72-hour preparedness guide,” a practical tool aimed at bolstering individual and, by extension, societal resilience. This campaign advises citizens on how to be self-sufficient for the first seventy-two hours of a crisis, a critical period before state emergency services may be able to provide widespread assistance. The booklet provides practical guidance on reliable information sources, identifying and countering disinformation, essential supplies to stock like water and food, preparing an emergency kit, and developing a family crisis action plan. This proactive approach is rooted in both general emergency-management principles and Latvia’s specific geopolitical and historical context. It not only promotes self-sufficiency that reduces the immediate burden on state resources, but also empowers citizens with concrete actions they can take, which reduces feelings of helplessness and fosters a sense of control and readiness. Public preparedness campaigns like this booklet encourage citizens to volunteer and self-organize, which are foundational elements for any form of collective resistance. The State Fire and Rescue Service (VUGD) plays a vital role in this public preparedness effort by actively informing the population on safety measures. To significantly enhance these capabilities, Latvia fully implemented a national cell broadcast system in early 2025. This modern alert system allows the VUGD to instantly send critical warnings directly to all mobile phones within a specific geographic area during an emergency, functioning without requiring users to install an application. This technology provides an immediate and widespread communication layer, complementing existing tools like sirens and the “112 Latvija” mobile application, which is also promoted by the VUGD as a key resource for emergency information.

These practical and educational efforts are underpinned by a broader national defense strategy that formally acknowledges psychological defense and nonviolent civil resistance as crucial components of CND. A noteworthy aspect of Latvia’s posture is the formal integration of nonviolent civil

resistance, where the 2020 State Defense Concept explicitly includes “nonviolent civil resistance against occupation forces” as a component of the societal dimension of “total defense.” This signifies a preparedness to resist aggression through a wide spectrum of means, not limited to armed conflict. This is, in large part, a direct response to Russia’s information manipulation and its treatment of the information space as a critical front. Securing an open media space and bolstering psychological resilience against manipulation is now a paramount security goal, involving the cultivation of critical thinking skills to withstand attempts to sow discord.  

To defend this front, Latvia employs a multilayered approach. The state has bolstered strategic communication resources, with a dedicated unit under the State Chancellery that coordinates messaging and works to disarm foreign malign information activities. Quality journalism is supported by funding and policy, and authorities have banned most of the Russian propaganda channels. In 2021, Latvia became the first Baltic state to prosecute individuals for willfully spreading dangerous falsehoods as per the criminal law, though there have been few convictions due to legal ambiguity in Article 231 around the definition of “fake news.” This state-led approach is complemented by a vibrant ecosystem of nongovernmental organizations, academics, and volunteers—such as the “Baltic elves”—who actively debunk falsehoods. Investigative journalists, fact-checkers, and initiatives like the Baltic Centre for Media Excellence also work to expose disinformation and promote high standards in journalism.

At the community level, these principles are put into practice through societal and municipality-led initiatives. Continuing work started in the previous year, the Riga municipality has organized a cycle of seven practical civil-defense seminars across various city neighborhoods. During the workshops, residents learn about specific risks in their area, such as nearby high-risk objects and evacuation routes, as identified by the Riga city municipality. They also receive practical training on how to: adapt a basement into a safe shelter; properly assemble a seventy-two-hour emergency bag; and build mental resilience with psychological self-help techniques.

To address the wider Russian threat to Western society, Latvia is sharing what it is learning with its allies and partners. It hosts NATO’s Strategic Communications Center of Excellence, and it works with allies and partners to combat malign influence. Examples of this kind of cooperation are IREX (International Research and Exchanges Board), which conducts media training in the Baltic area, and the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab, which investigates disinformation and debunks narratives, educates media consumers, and has had staff based in Latvia since 2017.

Governmental resilience

Governmental resilience is the central pillar that ensures the state can continue to lead and function during a crisis, providing the necessary command, control, and coordination within the CND system. This is achieved through a robust legal framework, a clear institutional hierarchy, contingency and crisis-response planning, and a commitment to testing these plans through regular exercises to guarantee the continuity of government.

The crisis-management system of Latvia is multilayered. The State Civil Protection Plan clearly outlines the responsibilities and leading roles of all state institutions in case of state-level contingencies. The system is designed to be flexible; for example, the Ministry of Health has the leading role and responsibility for management of pandemics, as was the case with COVID-19, with all institutions (including the armed forces) supporting these efforts. Meanwhile, in the case of a military threat or war, civilian institutions have the role of supporting the armed forces and ensuring continuity of governance and essential services. At the practical level, the system envisions the establishment of the Civil Protection Operational Management Centre (abbreviated in Latvian as CAOVC), that is formed in case of state-level contingencies, including war. It would be led by the Ministry of the Interior and composed of delegated experts from across the government, tasking it with coordinating interinstitutional response, compiling a comprehensive situational picture, and providing support to the NAF.

This role is to be complemented by municipal-level responsibility through the establishment of municipal civil-protection commissions that are obliged to plan and execute response activities on a regional level, as well as coordinate with state-level efforts.

The “Kristaps” series involves the Cabinet of Ministers in simulating strategic decision-making, as well as NATO Crisis Management Exercises (CMX), while the operational comprehensive defense exercise Namejs includes tests of civil-military cooperation, the practical implementation of civil defense plans, and the coordination functions of the planned CAOVC.

Latvia’s current push to improve its crisis-management system and governmental resilience is a direct response to lessons learned from a series of major crises. The COVID-19 pandemic served as a stark, real-world test of cross-sectoral crisis management, exposing significant shortcomings in interministerial coordination, public communication, and the ability to manage state material reserves effectively. The 2021 hybrid attack and instrumentalization of migration organized by Belarus on the EU’s eastern border tested the state’s ability to coordinate a response between interior, defense, and foreign policy bodies under “gray zone” threat conditions that are, as another Atlantic Council report put it, diffuse and hard to attribute. Most significantly, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine since 2022 has provided an invaluable, albeit grim, case study in the requirements of modern national defense. It underscored the absolute necessity of a resilient government able to overcome the massive scale of civil-defense challenges and pervasive hybrid threats. These events collectively created a clear need for reevaluation and reform of the crisis-management system in Latvia, highlighting systemic challenges in achieving effective horizontal coordination across ministries.

To resolve these issues, Latvia is establishing a new centralized National Crisis Management Center (CMC). The concept for the CMC, approved by the government in early 2025, represents the keystone of the nation’s reformed resilience architecture. Its creation is a direct answer to the lessons learned from past crises, designed to provide the professional, permanent, and agile coordination that was previously lacking. Operating under the direct authority of the prime minister, the CMC is designed to provide a single, empowered hub for analysis, planning, and, crucially, to improve coordination in crisis management between key state institutions, especially in complex threat scenarios, and provide support to decision-makers and political leadership.

The core functions of the CMC will include: continuous monitoring of the situation and information gathering; identifying potential risks and threats; conducting analysis of information and data to assess these risks and threats; strategic planning and coordination of operational planning; coordinating the planning, logistics, and recovery of state-level civilian crisis-management resources, including state material reserves; and coordinating crisis-communication efforts. Meanwhile, in the specific context of a military crisis, the CMC will be responsible for coordinating the civilian sector’s response and ensuring seamless cooperation with the military sector.

In essence, this new structure, continuously validated through planning and exercises, aims to ensure the leadership and effective whole-of-government coordination deemed essential for navigating these complex security challenges.

Challenges and future imperatives for resilience

Latvia has been systematically working to integrate all societal elements into its national defense posture, particularly since 2014. This ongoing effort, while showing significant progress, presents a range of challenges and necessitates clear future developments to ensure sustained and enhanced security in a complex geopolitical landscape.

Latvia’s commendable strides in building a comprehensive national resilience model are met with several persistent and evolving challenges; therefore, for the continued evolution and strengthening of Latvian resilience it is crucial to address them in a timely manner:

1. Building and maintaining robust military defense capabilities. Maintaining momentum in military modernization programs and ensuring the capacity to sustain combat operations beyond an initial phase are crucial for credible deterrence and defense. This includes addressing the timeline for military buildup in relation to potential Russian force reconstitution. While Latvia’s defense spending is projected to reach 3.45 percent of GDP in 2025, with ambitions for 5 percent by 2026, efficient allocation across diverse needs—from military modernization to civil protection and societal programs—remains a complex undertaking. This financial strain also impacts critical infrastructure operators and municipalities tasked with new preparedness responsibilities. Therefore, continued investment in critical military capabilities, including air defense, coastal defense systems (like Naval Strike Missile systems), and long-range precision fires (HIMARS) should be pursued.
2. Expanding the National Armed Forces. Planned expansions of the NAF and the full implementation of the State Defense Service face manpower constraints, requiring substantial investment in training infrastructure, qualified instructors, and innovative recruitment policies. The current reserve system also requires significant overhaul. Latvia should continue the expansion of the NAF, overhaul the reserve system to effectively integrate SDS graduates, and implement both dedicated reservist training and early military education. Ensuring adequate infrastructure, qualified instructors, and innovative policies for recruitment and training is crucial.
3. Developing targeted strategies for critical areas. The development of industry-specific expertise for business and service continuity, particularly for critical infrastructure, can be a bottleneck. Cultivation of a deeper culture of shared responsibility with the private sector through targeted incentives, joint training programs, and secure information-sharing platforms should be continued. Additionally, mechanisms for improving intermunicipal coordination and resource sharing can alleviate the burden or strain associated with this issue. Latvia should also move beyond awareness campaigns to foster active participation, skill building, and a sense of ownership among the citizenry. Relatively low levels of public trust in certain state institutions can potentially hinder the full engagement of society in defense and resilience efforts. Actively integrating civilian agencies, businesses, and citizens into national resilience and defense planning through practical taskings and drills could help resolve this challenge. A primary challenge is also extending the intensity of preparedness from military threat scenarios to encompass nonmilitary crises across all civilian institutions. Intermunicipal coordination, particularly in resource sharing, needs strengthening. Consistent funding for new municipal responsibilities in civil defense is also a point of discussion, which the municipalities have on previous occasions cited as one of the reasons for their inability to build up civil defense capacities.
4. Interagency coordination and centralized leadership. Ensuring seamless collaboration and clear, consistent communication of preparedness requirements across all sectors and among numerous actors remains a continuous task. Latvia faces persistent interagency coordination complexities. While the spirit of comprehensive national defense promotes collaboration, the practicalities of aligning different ministries, agencies, and even different levels of government can be challenging. Each entity has its own priorities, budgets, and institutional cultures. The MoD, while a key actor, cannot guarantee or ensure the engagement and resource commitments of other ministries. Effective comprehensive national defense requires a process led by a centralized authority with the power to direct and synchronize efforts across government—ideally the prime minister’s office or a dedicated high-level body. This is especially true for distributing tasks effectively among ministries and bodies of equivalent hierarchical power. Therefore, the establishment of the new Crisis Management Center is a promising development that could further leadership in the implementation of comprehensive national defense and serve as a central actor for confronting crisis situations. However, its mandate, authority, and resourcing will be critical. It must be empowered to not just coordinate but also to direct and enforce; it also must avoid becoming yet another silo and instead act as a true hub for national crisis response and comprehensive national defense implementation. The assurance that the CMC is rapidly and effectively staffed, resourced, and empowered to coordinate across all government levels, municipalities, and the private sector is paramount. The CMC should also be tasked with leading institutionalized, regular, complex cross-sectoral crisis-management exercises. Engaging all nongovernmental organizations and local media more consistently in preparedness exercises and overcoming local political inertia are both ongoing efforts. Effective Comprehensive National Defense coordination across ministries, especially in horizontal tasking, presents difficulties. 
5. Countering evolving threats in the information landscape. Democratic countries like Latvia must counter influence within political, ethical, moral, and legal constraints, while adversaries often operate without such limits, giving them an advantage in proactive narrative projection. Latvia must continuously adapt its resilience strategies to counter new and evolving hybrid threats, sophisticated disinformation techniques, and novel cyberattack methods. Sustaining and enhancing programs to equip the population to withstand long-term information influence operations and maintain morale during crises is crucial. Further exploration and integration of nonviolent resistance concepts into national defense training and public guidance could promote the adaptability of resilience in this area. Latvia’s main approach to countering malign activities in the information space has been blocking narratives rather than proactively projecting its own strategic messages. A shift in policy is also needed from primarily blocking disinformation to more proactive narrative projection by developing and disseminating national strategic narratives that reinforce democratic values and societal cohesion. Expanding media literacy and critical thinking education is still an option; so, too, is allocating more support to independent and local media. Collaboration with allies on resilience benchmarking particularly for critical services, countering hybrid threats, and protecting critical infrastructure could bring about collective benefits in resilience building. 
6. Reviewing the conceptual framework of national defense. Latvia has made impressive progress in defining and implementing the CND concept. However, we believe that the evolution of its conceptual framework must continue to better adhere to the complexities of real-life challenges and diverse crisis situations. As time passes, a review of the initially laid out core principles is needed. A primary concern is preventing comprehensive national defense from becoming a catch-all concept. While its all-encompassing nature is a strength there is risk that its boundaries are too wide and therefore its core purpose can become diluted, leading to a diffusion of effort and resources. For instance, if every societal issue is framed as a comprehensive national defense matter, prioritization becomes difficult and the focus on core security and defense preparedness could be lost. Future work should aim to refine the operational scope of the comprehensive national defense, ensuring it remains a focused and effective framework while clearly delineating its relationship with broader societal well-being initiatives. We need to clearly define what falls within comprehensive national defense and what is supportive but distinct to maintain its strategic integrity. 
7. Deepening societal engagement and cohesion. Latvia should continue its efforts to make its comprehensive defense concept a nationwide reality not just a government policy on paper. As comprehensive defense evolves into a social reality, it demonstrates credible national will, complicates adversary planning, and builds the societal backbone needed to withstand pressure and deter aggression, including hybrid attacks from Russia. Although we have seen great examples of civil engagement from businesses in actively pursuing their role in the defense system, challenges remain with broad-based individual and community-level engagement. Latvia, for various historical and societal reasons, doesn’t always exhibit the strong deeply embedded community culture seen in some other nations. This can make reaching individuals and fostering grassroots resilience initiatives more challenging. Simply put, many individuals may not yet fully internalize their role or feel connected to a local preparedness network. Achieving genuine societal cohesion and developing the resilience of individuals within their respective communities must become a more pronounced strategic goal. This requires more than just information campaigns. It means investing in local leadership development, supporting community-based organizations, designing exercises that actively involve ordinary citizens in practical ways, and perhaps leveraging existing structures like schools, cultural centers, or even hobby groups to build networks of mutual support and preparedness. The aim should be to empower individuals and communities to self-mobilize for constructive action in crisis rather than relying solely on top-down directives.
8. Continued advocacy for enhanced support from NATO, the EU, the United States, and regional allies for Latvia’s capability development, military modernization, joint exercises, and resilience projects is crucial, as is maximizing the prepositioning of allied military equipment and stocks. The current strategic window, while Russian forces are degraded by the war in Ukraine, should be used to rapidly build up defense capacity and societal resilience, secure continued US commitment, generate a greater NATO forward presence, deepen regional integration, and refine reinforcement mechanisms. Other regional resilience priorities include transitioning the Baltic defense line from a concept to a concrete reality with fortified positions, leveraging natural terrain, and ensuring forces train to fight effectively from these prepared positions.

Editors: Armands Astukevičs, Elīna Vrobļevska.

Contributors: Mārcis Balodis, Hans Binnendijk, Marta Kepe, Beniamino Irdi.

Annex 1: Management structure

A. Strategy and policy level

President of Latvia and National Security Council (NSC): The president, as NAF supreme commander, chairs the NSC. The NSC, comprising top state officials and security heads, advises and coordinates on national security and defense, and offers recommendations to the Saeima (see below) and Cabinet.

Saeima (Parliament): Enacts national security, defense, and civil-protection laws; approves key strategic concepts (National Security Concept, State Defense Concept); and provides parliamentary oversight.

Key committees:

• National Security Committee: Prepares national security policy documents for Saeima approval.
  • Defense, Internal Affairs and Corruption Prevention Committee: Oversees relevant ministries, legislation, and budgets.
  • Comprehensive National Defense Subcommittee: Monitors government implementation of Comprehensive National Defense (CND) elements within the National Security and State Defense Concepts.
  • Other committees: May address specific CND implementation aspects as needed.

Cabinet of Ministers (CoM): The highest executive body, implementing national CND policy, approving strategic plans and regulations, allocating resources, and directing ministries.

Key bodies:

• Crisis Management Centre (CMC): Concept approval in early 2025; planned to be fully operational when legislation has been passed. Envisioned as the central, national crisis-management coordinator (monitoring, analysis, strategic planning. Its potential role in leading overall CND coordination is under active discussion.
  • Ministerial-Level Working Group for CND: Chaired by prime minister or lead minister. Ensures political alignment and high-level interministerial CND strategy coordination.

B. Planning and coordination level

State Secretary-Level Working Group for Comprehensive Defense (CND): Chaired by MoD state secretary. Coordinates CND plan development, harmonization, and monitoring across ministries at the senior-civil-servant level, translating Cabinet decisions into actionable plans.

Ministry of Defense (MoD): Lead institution for the State Defense Concept/Plan and CND concept development; responsible for military defense, NAF development, and civil-military cooperation planning.

Ministry of Interior (MoI): Lead institution for public order, internal security, and the State Civil Protection Plan; oversees the State Fire and Rescue Service (VUGD), State Police, and Border Guard; coordinates the Civil Defense Operational Management Centre.

Line ministries (e.g., health, transport, economy): Develop and implement sector-specific resilience plans and CND measures, ensuring continuity of essential services and participating in relevant working groups and exercises.

Bank of Latvia: Ensures financial-sector resilience, including payment systems and cash circulation, in cooperation with commercial banks.

C. Implementation and operations (state level):  

National Armed Forces Headquarters (NAF HQ): The NAF’s highest military headquarters and main operational command and control entity under the chief of defense; manages NAF operations, plans/executes joint operations (peacetime, crisis, war), and coordinates with civil authorities such as the Operational Control Centre of Civil Protection.

Operational Control Centre of Civil Protection: A state-level coordination body for major crises or military threats; integrates multiagency expert groups and works closely with NAF HQ to coordinate civil-military efforts.

State Fire and Rescue Service (VUGD): Primary state agency for firefighting, rescue operations, and practical civil-protection measures; implements elements of the State Civil Protection Plan.

Other key state agencies and services (e.g., Emergency Medical Service, State Police, Border Guard): Implement crisis response and resilience measures according to their mandates and plans, participating in exercises and interagency coordination.

Municipal and private-sector actors:

Civil Defense Commissions (thirty-seven at municipal level): Develop and implement local civil defense plans; coordinate local resources and crisis response (including public notification, evacuation, basic services, shelters); cooperate with regional NAF units and state services.

Private sector/critical infrastructure operators: Develop and implement business continuity plans for essential service resilience; cooperate with state and municipal authorities; may be involved in resource mobilization.  

Annex 2: Framework of concepts, plans, laws, and regulations

Armands Astukevičs is a researcher at the Center for East European Policy Studies in Riga, Latvia. Currently, he is working on his doctoral dissertation on authoritarian regime resilience. He has a master’s degree in political science from University of Latvia. Astukevičs’ previous work experience includes policy analysis and planning in the Latvian Ministry of Defense, where he focused on crisis management and comprehensive national defense issues. His current research interests relate to topics on the defense and security policy of the Baltic states, national resilience and resistance to hybrid threats, and analysis of Russia’s foreign policy processes.

Elīna Vrobļevska is a researcher and deputy director at the Center for East European Policy Studies in Riga, Latvia. She has a doctoral degree in international relations from Rīga Stradiņš University, with her thesis on “Russia’s foreign policy identity ideas and their manifestation in foreign policy (2012–2022).” Vroblevska serves as a lecturer and researcher at the Faculty of Social Sciences, Rīga Stradiņš University. Her research interests include the analysis of Russia’s foreign policy narratives and their impact on political processes, the study of Russia’s foreign policy and the security challenges it poses, as well as the examination of Russia’s activities in the information space.

Mārcis Balodis is a researcher and a member of the board of the Center for East European Policy Studies. His primary research focuses on Russia’s foreing and security policy as well as Russia’s use of hybrid warfare.

Hans Binnendijk is a distinguished fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

Marta Kepe is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. She is also a senior defense analyst at RAND, a nonprofit, nonpartisan research organization.

Beniamino Irdi is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. He is also the head of strategic and international affairs at Deloitte Legal Italy and founder and CEO of HighGround, a political risk consulting firm.

New Atlanticist May 14, 2025

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New Atlanticist May 7, 2025

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Latvia has shifted its crisis-management thinking from a focus on infrastructure protection to an emphasis on continuity of essential services and functions.

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The Transatlantic Security Initiative aims to reinforce the strong and resilient transatlantic relationship that is prepared to deter and defend, succeed in strategic competition, and harness emerging capabilities to address future threats and opportunities.

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The post The evolution of Latvia’s defense and security policy in resilience building appeared first on Atlantic Council.

At the June 2025 NATO summit in The Hague, allies committed to spend 5 percent of their GDP on defense, with 3.5 percent focused on core defense and 1.5 percent on related defense expenditures. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney says his country is committed to reaching NATO’s new defense spending target of 5 percent of GDP by 2035—and his government is also on track to meet the previous 2 percent target for the first time by spending an additional C$8.7 billion ($6.58 billion) this fiscal year (which ends in March 2026). Canada has struggled to meet NATO goals in the past. In 2023, it failed to meet both of NATO’s defense spending targets of 2 percent of GDP on defense and 20 percent of that spending allocated for research, development, and equipment. 

Although there is now support for increased defense expenditure at the highest levels of government, Canada has underinvested in its defense industrial base for decades and will need renewed focus, resources, and support to meet the country’s Hague commitments. How will Canada’s defense industrial base adapt to meet the current moment? Carney has put forward the bold claim that “Canada is meeting this moment with determination and resolve—modernising our defence capabilities, strengthening our industrial base, and reaffirming our role as a reliable partner in global security.” But what must its defense industrial base do to match this commitment?

In late 2025, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative hosted a workshop with government officials, academic experts, and participants from the public and private sectors of Canada, the United States, and Europe. The insights gathered from these conversations helped inform this issue brief, which assesses challenges, recommendations, and opportunities for Canada’s defense industrial base in an era defined by multiple conflicts and increased coordination by adversaries.

Canada’s defense industry at a crossroads

Canada has an extensive list of military equipment it needs to either produce domestically or purchase internationally, such as new warships, submarines, coastal defense vessels, fighter aircraft, and surveillance aircraft. This new equipment is needed for both national defense and to modernize Canada’s military to meet the current threat environment. In addition to renewing its leadership of the multinational NATO forces in Latvia, Canada has needed to strengthen its military capabilities along its three seas: in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Oceans. This comes at a time when Canada is also juggling bilateral border security cooperation and engaging in a major renewal of North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) in close cooperation with the United States.

Central to Canada’s defense industry is its reliance on the US market and US companies, which supply much of Canada’s defense needs. Carney has often noted that one challenge facing Canada’s defense industry is that approximately 75 cents of every dollar in capital spending on defense winds up going to firms based in the United States. The relative size of the Canadian defense industrial base and its ability to compete internationally for contracts remain concerns as new funding flows to industry at an unprecedented rate. 

For the first time, Canada’s military is poised to receive additional funding through the new federal budget and facing “the uncomfortable position of having so much cash it will be hard to keep up.” This represents a dramatic mindset shift for the military, which has had to cope with deficits of people, equipment, training, and sustainment. Now, with more funding allocated for defense, the hard work begins as Canada tries to use that funding effectively to address gaps in equipment, personnel shortages, and better training opportunities for its military. 

With this increased available funding, the question matters of Canada’s procurement process and how to adapt it to meet the current moment. Canada’s procurement process, sometimes described as “glacial,” has received more attention lately and has a new agency focused on eliminating waste and accelerating the process. At the same time, Canada should recognize the constraints it faces regarding the size and scope of its defense industry; it should instead focus on niche areas in which it can excel, such as the maritime or Arctic domains. Many hurdles remain for Canada to meet the current moment, including personnel shortages in both the Canadian Armed Forces and industry roles. The Canadian Armed Forces (CAF), in its army modernization report, outlines the challenges facing the CAF to modernize, with at least another fourteen thousand recruits needed to meet the current security environment.

Recommendations for the Department of National Defence

1. Create consistent and predictable defense contracts for industry

A frequent refrain from industry is that the lack of consistency and predictably about defense contracts makes it challenging to scale and expand. A stable defense industrial base can foster innovation and address evolving challenges facing Euro-Atlantic security. The Canadian defense industry contributes about $10 billion annually to the economy and supports an estimated eighty-one thousand jobs. By investing in its domestic defense industry, niche capabilities, and evergreen infrastructure in the near term, the Canadian government can not only meet its NATO commitments but also expand job growth and economic performance. The long-term timeline for this investment in Canada’s defense industrial base will be key—Carney leads a minority government and this inevitably leads to a degree of uncertainty about long-term government commitment. Canada’s defense industrial base will not be able to meet the current moment with a one-off surge in available funding; it requires consistent and predictable funding over a longer-term horizon.

To get a sense of the importance of consistent and predictable defense contracts, look no further than the Canadian Patrol Submarine Project (CPSP) modernization process. Canada has been in the market for a new submarine fleet that is deployable in the Arctic with extended range and endurance. Two qualified suppliers—a German company and a South Korean company—will work with the Canadian maritime and defense sectors to deliver new submarines by 2035. So far, there is no project budget for this initiative, leading to uncertainty from an industry perspective. The Justin Trudeau government frequently made promises about defense spending that failed to materialize. The Parliamentary Budget Office recently quantified past underspending: between 2017 and 2023, efforts to buy new equipment fell short by C$18.3 billion. Ammunition producers claim they need at least C$800 million to open new production lines. Ultimately, for industry to respond to government decisions regarding its defense and security needs, a level of consistency and predictability must be provided, which has been a challenge for Canada’s defense industrial base in the past.

2. Streamline and strengthen the procurement process 

If defense spending is now a given, the question then turns to how the Canadian Armed Forces will acquire the materiel they need. On October 2, Carney announced the formation of a new agency, the Defence Investment Agency (DIA), to facilitate and accelerate the defense procurement process. The procurement process had previously been fragmented across multiple departments, resulting in significant slowdowns in obtaining critical equipment. The DIA removes some of the red tape and redundancies with a centralized review and approval process. The agency has a specific aim to bolster Canada’s domestic defense industry, to empower Canadian companies to compete globally while also investing in dual-use capabilities. This will specifically address a frequent criticism that by the time equipment is delivered it is either out of date or unfit for the current mission. Additionally, the agency hopes to bridge the divide between industry and government by bolstering awareness on both sides of the timelines, costs, and expectations for equipment deliveries.

The formation of the DIA is the first step in an overdue streamlining and strengthening exercise for procurement. As the Canadian government seeks to foster innovation and create national champions in the defense space, it needs to continue bridging the divide between industry and government. Additional work can be done to ensure a role for Canada’s many small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) in its industrial base, which is critical to ensure agility and flexibility. The current conflict in Ukraine has demonstrated the significance of drones, but the next conflict might look very different and, in turn, might require industry to adapt to changing battlefield conditions. SMEs are better poised to adapt and pivot as technology evolves at a rapid pace and ensure Canada’s military is ready to respond to future conflicts. 

3. Balance “Buy Canadian” with buying the right equipment for the mission

Despite the improvements to the procurement process, the Canadian Armed Forces still needs to ensure they are buying the best possible equipment for the mission. As the CAF seeks more expeditionary and proactive capabilities, this modernization effort places a premium on not just buying domestically but buying the best possible equipment. The prime minister’s new goal of focusing investment on domestic manufacturers will naturally come into conflict with the army’s modernization efforts if Canada’s defense industrial base cannot produce equipment to meet its operational needs. In turn, this decision to “Buy Canadian” will impact Canada’s ability to export its materiel and potentially raise barriers to other markets. Canada exports about half of the defense materiel it produces, with 63 percent destined for the United States and a further 12 percent to the Middle East and Africa. Striking the right balance between investing in its domestic industrial base and strengthening ties to international markets will be key to the long-term sustainability of Canada’s defense industrial base.

4. Strengthen ties with Europe

The conversation around bolstering Canada’s defense industrial base mirrors those conversations taking place in Germany, France, and elsewhere across Europe. Indeed, a deepening of Canada-Europe relations has been on display in the last year in response to the growing complexity of international conflicts and crises. This includes a landmark security and defense partnership between the European Union (EU) and Canada, which was agreed to in June 2025. This defense pact paves the way for the two to cooperate on cyber, maritime, and space security, and also opens the door to joint weapon procurement. Additionally, Canada has been proposed as a potential participant in the EU’s Security Action for Europe (SAFE) program, offering low-interest loans to accelerate procurement and investment in defense capabilities.

Diversifying and increasing the number of strategic partnerships globally, instead of over-relying on a single provider for its defense materiel, is a logical step to strengthen Canada’s defense industrial base—and also spurs innovation and supply chain resilience. Beyond the EU, Canada has sought to strengthen opportunities to collaborate with its fellow Five Eyes members, particularly the United Kingdom and Australia. The newly formed Canadian DIA aims to facilitate conversations with its counterparts in France, the United Kingdom, and Australia. Due to the similarity of their intentions to spend more on defense, Canada will have natural partners in European nations, as well as the EU more broadly. 

5. Focus on doing a few things well rather than trying to do everything all at once

A consistent theme across the various challenges facing Canada’s defense industry—its size, speed, and reliance on the US market—can all be partially solved by specializing in a few niche areas rather than doing too much all at once. Three specific areas in which Canada has both urgent needs for development and the opportunity to specialize are: unmanned autonomous systems (aerial and underwater vehicles in particular); Arctic-specific technologies, including icebreakers; and maritime capabilities leveraging Canada’s three-ocean geography. The Arctic region emerges repeatedly as a unique domain in which Canada should invest more, for both its own national security purposes and for enhancing wider Alliance capabilities. Canada has the most icebreakers of any NATO ally and is working through the trilateral ICE Pact (with Finland and the United States) to build even more of these highly specialized vessels. Capitalizing on the dearth of icebreakers within NATO would give Canada a unique opportunity to leverage its Arctic capabilities to support its shipbuilding industry while enhancing Alliance capabilities in the Arctic.

Conclusion

Carney’s government is taking unprecedented steps to strengthen Canada’s armed forces, invest in the country’s industrial base, and reaffirm Canada’s role as a reliable partner within NATO and the wider global security context. While his government’s approach and announcements so far are laudable, Canada now must turn to the task of how to support and expand its defense industrial base to meet these goals. Without this foundation, Carney’s pledges will fail to translate into improved capabilities and will hinder attempts to modernize the CAF. Time is short, the amount of work ahead is significant, and history will remember how Canada meets the current moment and security environment. 

Fellow

Jason C. Moyer

Nonresident Fellow

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security Transatlantic Security Initiative

Europe & Eurasia NATO

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Report Aug 1, 2025

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Bottom lines up front

• The new US National Security Strategy seeks to divide the world into spheres of interest, a formulation reminiscent of the nineteenth century.
• The United States adopting this approach would put Europe, which faces a revisionist Russia to its east, in a bind.
• To ensure their security and interests, Europeans should now look to the EU, which is able to exert global influence more than any single European state.

STOCKHOLM—A prominent feature of the new US National Security Strategy (NSS) is the United States’ voluntary retreat from its role as the world’s dominant superpower. Indeed, the strategy rests on a peculiar buy-in of Russia’s and China’s visions of a multipolar world. This is in part why it was welcomed by Russia, with Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov calling it “largely consistent” with Moscow’s view of the world.

The new NSS stands in sharp contrast to the previous one released in 2022, which laid out the ambition of preserving US world dominance and pushing back contenders by working with allies and partners. The new NSS takes a clear stance against the notion of the United States as the leader of a unipolar world order that was created after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The NSS argues that after the Cold War, US elites pursued “permanent American domination of the entire world,” an approach it explicitly rejects. Instead, it declares of the United States that “the affairs of other countries are our concern only if their activities directly threaten our interests.” This reorientation has far-reaching consequences for US security policy. While some of the implications are acknowledged in the strategy, others are overlooked. The United States’ closest allies in Europe are likely to feel the effects most acutely, as the NSS emphasizes that “the days of the United States propping up the entire world order like Atlas are over” and calls for Europe to assume “primary responsibility for its own defense.”

One can argue that the United States’ new self-styled position as one great power among others is not a voluntary retreat but an acceptance of an inevitable reality. By adapting now, the argument goes, the United States will be better positioned to face challenges ahead. However, that is not how world systems work—they are not shaped preemptively by the choices a single country makes. Rather, the international system emerges from the long-term trajectories of states’ relative power.

The NSS seems to take the remarkable step of dividing the world into spheres of interest, a formulation that is reminiscent of the multipolar world of the nineteenth century. In this view of the world order, great powers have a right to a sphere of influence over smaller states, usually in their vicinity. For the United States, as the NSS asserts, this means a return to the Monroe Doctrine with the goal of regaining US preeminence in the Western Hemisphere.

In Asia, the United States is seeking strong relations with China based on strength, not force. In a speech on December 6, US Secretary of War Pete Hegseth outlined the Trump administration’s approach to Asia, which he said was based on “flexible realism” and “aimed not at domination, but rather a balance of power.” 

The consequences for Europe in a world once again divided into spheres of influence would be severe. It would mean an end to the transatlantic community, which is based on the indivisible link between the security of Europe and that of the United States. 

Since the second Trump administration came to office, the United States has repeatedly sent shock waves across Europe. By now, the alarm bells have gone off so many times that the noise has become constant. Europe is now being pushed from both the east and the west.

To the east, Europe neighbors Russia, a revisionist state that wants to expand its political power and territory at Europe’s expense. The primary aim of Russia’s decade-long campaign of hybrid warfare against Europe is to prepare the ground for a fragmented continent that is weak enough to accept an extended Russian sphere of influence. Between its recent proposed Ukraine peace plans and the NSS, the United States has suggested restoring strategic stability, blocking Ukraine and other countries from joining NATO, and deepening economic cooperation with Russia. But this approach will not satisfy Russia—it will only whet its appetite. What the NSS fails to account for is that revisionist states are not satisfied with the status quo.

To its west, Europe is military aligned with a United States that is signaling that it is preparing to hand over responsibility for the conventional defense of the continent to the Europeans, while only maintaining the nuclear umbrella. According to some sources, Europe will need to take on this responsibility as soon as 2027. If Europe is to navigate as a pole of its own in a brave new multipolar world, it will be through the European Union (EU). Only the EU—not Germany or France alone—is big enough to exert the influence needed for a global power posture. 

The NSS does not treat Europe like a respected partner. It severely criticizes Europe’s performance on the economy, defense, and democracy, all while threatening the continent with abandonment. At the same time, the strategy underscores the fact that the United States cannot manage the world without Europe. The strategy calls for “cultivating resistance to Europe’s current trajectory within European nations,” which would mean interfering in European countries’ domestic affairs to weaken the EU. If carried out, such an initiative would undermine US ambitions to work with Brussels to make economic gains in Asia and the Global South, which the strategy also proposes. The United States would be better off refraining from interfering in Europe’s domestic affairs and cooperating with the EU on economic issues of mutual interest.

However, as the EU was not designed as a military alliance, it will need to accelerate the ongoing buildup of its defense capabilities to function as a global player. As long as NATO exists, the core of European defense efforts must be anchored in the Alliance. The United States can be helpful in this regard by supporting the European defense industrial base and an orderly shift of capabilities and responsibilities within NATO.

With the United States adopting a spheres-of-influence approach to the global order, Europe needs to rise to the occasion. If Europe is to fend off an aggressive Russia, it will need to urgently invest in innovation, military capabilities and readiness, energy security, and societal resilience. The continent probably didn’t need another wake-up call, but it has arrived.

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These tensions have resulted in a new geopolitical landscape in the region, one in which any crisis should be analyzed through the lens of possible Russian subversion or interference. This reality is already reordering regional dynamics. The Kremlin’s militarization of the Black Sea has highlighted littoral allies’ vulnerabilities, including energy availability, gaps in the defense and technological industrial base (DTIB), reinvigorated nationalist and secessionist movements, and challenges to maritime traffic and commercial activity. And the Black Sea’s insecurity has implications far beyond its regional boundaries. Most recently, Russia’s drone and fighter jet actions have violated the airspace of Romania, as well as that of Poland and Estonia, demonstrating that Moscow’s hybrid aggression in the region threatens to spill over into equally vulnerable neighboring states.

To help secure the region and deter further Russian aggression, littoral allies must enhance their energy security and bolster the DTIB, those enterprises and institutions that provide the materials, products, and services vital to national defense. The wider Black Sea region boasts vast oil and gas reserves, and new offshore discoveries link the region with the global economy, while pipelines and commercial maritime activity act as a conduit. As a high-value commodity, hydrocarbons are a prime target for an adversary willing to destabilize an enemy’s economy, military readiness, and civil society.

For example, hybrid threats to offshore energy infrastructure could cause considerable disruptions to countries’ entire energy sectors. Romania’s Neptun Deep and Turkey’s Sakarya gas fields are especially exposed to such risks, requiring new technologies, such as unmanned undersea systems, to counter these hybrid threats. The Black Sea littoral states are also vulnerable to Russian-sponsored lawfare and maritime coercion, including the use of floating mines and other threats to maritime traffic and naval operations. Russia has designated large sections of the Black Sea off limits to maritime traffic for the purpose of military exercises, which impede freedom of navigation and commercial activity. These exercises are often unannounced or conducted with little advance warning, reducing investor confidence, creating timetable delays, and eroding the Black Sea’s longstanding maritime legal regime.

Black Sea regional stability is key to deterring Russian expansion into Eastern Europe, where the Kremlin wishes to splinter NATO and widen its sphere of influence. China and Iran are also trying to gain regional influence, leading to greater tensions on NATO’s southeastern flank. As Russia’s long-term goals in the wider Black Sea region are diametrically opposed to those of the West, much remains to be done to advance a counterstrategy. The Black Sea region’s instability demands greater transatlantic engagement across all domains and economic sectors. The United States’ Black Sea strategy, which was proposed in 2023 under the 2024 National Defense Authorization Act, has languished. On May 28, 2025, the European Commission submitted a Black Sea strategy, but it is too soon to evaluate its impact.

Over the long term, there is a need for more resilient civil-military infrastructure, as well as for increased military capability and interoperability in the region. While all the Black Sea littoral states will benefit from a continued transatlantic presence, three nations in particular stand out. Ukraine is bearing the brunt of Russian aggression in Eastern Europe. Romania’s size, strategic location, and strong transatlantic credentials have positioned it to become a military and economic hub, particularly as more NATO assets are deployed there. Turkey, with its burgeoning defense industry, has NATO’s second-largest military and serves a vital security role as the Alliance’s guardian of the straits, as codified under the Montreux Convention of 1936. NATO’s Black Sea states have taken the initiative in the face of growing regional threats from Russia. For instance, in January 2024, Romania, Turkey, and Bulgaria signed the Mine Counter Measures, which creates a framework for joint efforts to address naval mine threats and improve operational coordination among Black Sea NATO allies.

Countering Russian aggression in the wider Black Sea region will be expensive in both funds and political capital. It will also require greater collaboration among the Black Sea’s non-Russian littoral states. While not a NATO member, Ukraine has emerged as Europe’s most seasoned military power, capable of rapidly innovating and deploying new technologies. For example, Ukraine’s use of unmanned systems has inflicted considerable losses on the Russian Black Sea fleet, forcing it to disperse to safer ports and diminishing its effectiveness. In this regard, the Alliance has much to learn from Ukraine, particularly in twenty-first century multi-domain operations.

Whether or not a lasting cease-fire is implemented in Ukraine any time soon, Russian aggression has forever altered the Black Sea region’s security landscape. This escalation of the Black Sea’s militarization has heightened tensions, forcing regional governments to allocate increasing portions of their budgets to defense. All this portends greater destabilization, increased national debts, and the absence of a predictable commercial environment well into this century.

An effective response from NATO allies and partners requires novel and forceful policies that energize governments and private sectors to address key weaknesses in energy security and the DTIB. Indeed, a special emphasis should be placed on the private sector, which has demonstrated tremendous innovation and flexibility in the rapidly evolving battlespace.

While Kyiv’s role as a bulwark against Russian aggression deserves the greatest attention, Romania and Turkey have a major role to play in the Black Sea region’s security, as well. Both countries have increased their defense expenditures as a percentage of gross domestic product, stepped up joint exercises, and enhanced cross-border collaboration. But further actions will be needed if Turkey, Romania, and their littoral allies and partners are to help defend the Black Sea from Russian aggression. While Turkey has a generally robust DTIB, Romania’s and Bulgaria’s are underfunded and in need of reform. Additionally, the region’s infrastructure is in need of rapid expansion and modernization, especially when it comes to trade routes running north-to-south and energy interconnectors. Admittedly, there have been positive steps on this front, including the launch of the Gas Interconnector Greece-Bulgaria, which became operational in October 2022, among other successful Black Sea infrastructure projects. Romania’s efforts to increase its energy interconnection with Moldova are laudable, as well. And in December, Romania, Greece, and Bulgaria announced a joint project to build three new bridges over the Danube. Even so, time is not on NATO’s side.

These states and their neighbors cannot secure the Black Sea alone; this will require greater support from the transatlantic community. Moreover, the Black Sea states will need to find solutions with limited US involvement; the new 2025 US National Security Strategy makes it clear that Washington’s attention will be on the Western Hemisphere and the Indo-Pacific.

As Russia continues to destabilize and militarize the wider Black Sea region, helping bolster its security will require a concerted focus on informed government policies supported by a robust private sector to advance resilience, capabilities, and interoperability in the face of these growing security threats.

Arnold C. Dupuy is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Turkey Program.

The views expressed in TURKEYSource are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Atlantic Council, its staff, or its supporters.

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Bottom lines up front

• US officials have spent the past two days meeting with the Ukrainian president and other European leaders in Berlin.
• One proposed element of a deal to end the war is Ukraine giving up the Donbas in exchange for US security guarantees—but it’s not clear yet what Russian action would oblige a US response.
• Meanwhile, Russian officials speak openly of rejecting any deal and forcing complete Ukrainian capitulation instead. 

WASHINGTON—The likelihood of a cease-fire by Christmas is low, but the Trump administration’s latest effort to achieve a negotiated end to the Kremlin’s aggression in Ukraine continues in hope. Today, US envoy Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, US President Donald Trump’s son-in-law, wrapped up two days of meetings with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and other European leaders in Berlin. 

While the exact details of the current White House plan are not publicly available, reporting suggests that the key points include a renewed US proposal for Ukraine to cede the strategic regions in western Donbas that Russia has been unable to conquer and create a demilitarized zone there. Kyiv rejected this initiative when initially presented in mid-November, and it was widely criticized in the United States, including by Republicans in Congress, as dangerously favorable to the Kremlin. Kyiv still considers this proposal—an effort to meet Moscow’s demand that Ukraine give up all of the Donbas—extremely risky. If Russian troops were to move into this highly fortified “demilitarized zone,” then it would be much easier for them to move west and take far more Ukrainian territory. 

In order to persuade the Ukrainians to accept this, Washington is willing to give Ukraine, according to Axios’s Barak Ravid, “a guarantee based on NATO’s Article 5 that would be approved by Congress and be legally binding.” The exact details of this guarantee are not public. But talks regarding the guarantees have been underway since Zelenskyy and seven other European leaders met in August with Trump, following his Alaska summit with Russian President Vladimir Putin. For months, Team Trump has been reluctant to provide Ukraine concrete guarantees, preferring to reach agreement on the terms of a cease-fire first, and only then to turn to the issue of guarantees—a position Kyiv thought unsatisfactory. This is understandable given the fact that Ukraine gave up its nuclear arsenal under the Budapest Memorandum in 1994 in exchange for “security assurances” from Russia, the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and China that they would not permit any infringements on Ukraine’s territorial integrity—assurances that proved worthless. 

If Washington is now willing to provide Ukraine strong guarantees, either alone or, better yet, with at least some of its European allies, then that might be enough for Zelenskyy to consider a withdrawal from western Donbas. In connection to that, the Ukrainian president said publicly late last week that he was willing to consider a public referendum on handing over western Donbas. This step would likely meet his constitutional requirement not to make, without public approval, any change to Ukraine’s borders. 

In his December 12 report, Ravid quotes an unidentified senior US official as saying, “We want to give the Ukrainians a security guarantee that will not be a blank check on the one hand but will be strong enough on the other hand. We are willing to send it to Congress to vote on it.” This is certainly a gesture to Zelenskyy, but it does not make clear if the administration is talking about a (legally binding) treaty—Zelenskyy’s position—or something less.

There is also little public information on the critical elements of those guarantees. How would this work? Zelenskyy worries that Russia might secretly place troops in the demilitarized zone. This past Friday, senior Putin adviser Yuri Ushakov said that while “it’s entirely possible that there won’t be any troops [in the Donbas], either Russian or Ukrainian” in a postwar scenario, “there will be the Russian national guard” and “police.” Russia’s national guard is a paramilitary force, and it would not be difficult to conceal a build-up of troops in the zone as national guardsmen. In 2014, Russian troops without any markings seized Crimea. Would the security guarantees under discussion respond to a significant build-up of the Russian national guard in this zone? More broadly, what Russian violation of the demilitarized zone or offensive action beyond it would oblige a strong US response? 

It is worth noting that this proposal poses an unnecessary risk to the United States. To persuade Ukraine to give up strong defensive positions, the guarantees must offer strong US action if Russia breaks the cease-fire and moves troops into this area. That would immediately put any US forces—even from the air—in unnecessary danger because Russian troops would be operating from an advantageous position both for defensive or offensive operations. The United States would have to be prepared for this contingency. 

Trump’s envoys are claiming serious progress in the talks, but there are still no clear indications that the Kremlin is willing to accept conditions that would lead to a sustainable peace. Indeed, Ushakov said on Friday that while Moscow had not seen the latest draft following talks between the United States and Ukraine, “when we see them, we may not like a lot of things, that’s how I sense it.”  

Trump’s stated aim is still a peace that lasts. And despite nearly a month of talks since the launch of this latest Trump initiative, there is no indication that Putin has given up his objective to achieve effective political control of Ukraine, which would require Russia to take far more Ukrainian territory. Even Trump seemed to acknowledge this when criticizing Zelenskyy on December 7 for not responding favorably to the latest US proposal. While he felt that Russia would accept that proposal, Trump stated that “Russia . . . I guess, would rather have the whole country when you think of it.”  

Andrei Kelin, Russia’s ambassador in London, made this clear in a December 10 interview when he said that what was on the table was not a “deal” so much as Ukrainian “surrender.” As US envoys push Ukraine to accept even previously rejected Russian conditions, and as the United States and its European allies spar about the terms of the plans to end the war, Moscow watches, with no incentive to make concessions to achieve a durable peace.

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Thirty years after the Dayton Accords brought peace to Bosnia, a former war correspondent investigates how a conflict that ended in 1995 still shapes warfare and world affairs in 2025.

By Thom Shanker

Before Vladimir Putin’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine spawned the largest war in Europe since World War II, that grim distinction belonged to a conflict that accompanied the collapse of Yugoslavia in the 1990s—the fighting to carve up or hold onto Bosnia-Herzegovina by Eastern Orthodox Serbs, Catholic Croatians, and Muslim Bosniaks. In Bosnia, less than fifty years after the horror of the Nazi “final solution,” genocide returned to Europe.

The Bosnian war was fought with medieval tactics and twentieth-century weapons. Its signatures were siege, mass expulsion, the burning of villages and leveling of houses of worship, and mass rape and mass murder. The carnage ended thirty years ago this week, on December 14, 1995, with the signing of the US-brokered Dayton Accords.

The Balkans produce more history than can be consumed, goes the aphorism usually attributed to Winston Churchill, and that is true of the Bosnian war. Yet too many in the United States and around the world—though certainly not in the Balkans—have consigned the conflict to history or forgotten about it entirely.

Several decades on, the war’s consequences and lessons still have influence and resonance in many areas of modern warfare, including conflict diplomacy, intelligence gathering, war reporting, humanitarian relief missions, justice for war criminals, and the application of military power. In some instances, the Bosnian war has had concrete, lasting impact on more recent conflicts. In others, the war has offered relevant lessons that have nevertheless gone unheeded.

In reflecting on my nearly three years covering the Bosnian conflict for The Chicago Tribune, and the ways in which it has stayed with me in the three decades since, I have concluded that when you go off to cover a war, the war covers you. That is true not just for the journalists who risked all to witness and report on the conflict, but also for those who worked to provide assistance to civilians at risk, negotiate a peace plan, enforce an eventual cease-fire, and bring some measure of justice to the region when the guns finally fell silent. And it is true for all of us—even those with no firsthand experience of the conflict—in ways that should be more fully appreciated.

Conflict diplomacy

Militaries do not win wars. Militaries set the conditions—or, more often, impose the conditions—under which governments and their representatives end wars.

That is the conclusion of an American diplomat who played a pivotal role in ending the fighting in Bosnia—Christopher Hill, who served as a deputy to the late Richard Holbrooke, chief architect of the Dayton Accords.

“People felt that it was our willingness to use force that ultimately was the success at Dayton,” Hill told me, referring to the punishing bombing campaign, Operation Deliberate Force, that NATO carried out on Bosnian Serb targets in late summer 1995 after Bosnian Serb troops massacred eight thousand Muslims of fighting age around the town of Srebrenica. “There’s no question that we used force—but force was in support of diplomacy. It wasn’t the other way around.”

Hill, whose résumé includes posts as US ambassador to Serbia, the Republic of Macedonia, Iraq, South Korea, and Poland, and special envoy to Kosovo, identified a key element beyond military power that forced signatures on the peace plan from leaders of three warring republics—Slobodan Milosevic of Serbia, Alija Izetbegovic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Franjo Tudjman of Croatia. (The leadership of the self-declared Republika Srpska inside Bosnia were deliberately excluded.)

“We ended the war on terms that left no one terribly happy—but everyone got something from it,” Hill said. “We ended it in a way where we understood the equities on all sides. We did not try to create a situation where someone is a total loser and someone is a total winner, because that is just a recipe for more war.”

Hill credited Holbrooke as an example of how sometimes a strong, even overbearing, individual is needed to knock heads of autocratic bullies. The strategy of strong-arm negotiations under pressure of military punishment proved, Hill said, “that American diplomacy is not an oxymoron.”

Hill, who is now a distinguished fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center, grew pensive when assessing why the slaughter in Bosnia was allowed to continue for more than three years before decisive Western action. “Yes, it took a while, obviously, for people to understand that this situation, Bosnia, was making a mockery of a ‘Europe whole and free,’ and at peace. It took a while to realize that if we—the US and our European allies—pulled together instead of finger-pointing, we could get something done. And it ultimately succeeded in halting the killing.”

Underscoring the enduring value of the Atlantic alliance, Hill argued that “relationships between nations extend your reach, rather than inhibit your reach.” At the time of the Bosnian war, he added, “we had trust issues with some countries. But I’ve never seen it like it is today. If we can rebuild trust and a sense that, ‘together, we can do more,’ we can go further.”

The Bosnian war also was a defining moment for Europe. The initial response from European powers when war broke out on their continent in the 1990s was mostly hands-off. Then the Europe-backed United Nations Protection Force that did respond was handcuffed by insufficient personnel, the absence of effective weapons deployments, and rules of engagement distributed across so many capitals that it weighted the power of “no.” But out of that experience—of European capitals standing by powerlessly and watching Washington halt slaughter in Europe’s southeastern corner—came the roots of the still-evolving European common defense, foreign, and security policy, as well as Europe’s efforts to play a much stronger role in helping defend Ukraine than it did in protecting the victims of aggression in Bosnia.

Hill identified another essential ingredient in the success at Dayton in ending the war: “The intelligence was really good. We understood what the Serbs were after. By the way, I didn’t feel that way when I was in Iraq, nor did I feel that way when I was dealing with the North Koreans. But on Bosnia, the intel people really had it right.”

Intelligence gathering

The American intelligence community saw it coming.

A year before fighting broke out in Croatia, and two years before the far bloodier and longer war in Bosnia began, a detailed National Intelligence Estimate predicted with stunning accuracy that Yugoslavia—once a multi-ethnic, multi-religious, peaceful, nonaligned communist country with a standard of living far above its Soviet-bloc neighbors—would convulse with violence: Serbian Eastern Orthodox versus Croatian Catholic versus Bosnian Muslim.

“Yugoslavia will cease to function as a federal state within one year, and will probably dissolve within two,” the National Intelligence Estimate, titled Yugoslavia Transformed, declared—a timeline that proved correct. The report’s only significant error was one of sequencing, as it predicted that violence would most likely start in Serbia’s Muslim region of Kosovo; the Kosovo war did not begin until 1998, after fighting in Croatia ignited in 1991 and in Bosnia in 1992.

The report, stamped SECRET when it was completed on October 18, 1990, was declassified in 2006, and it now offers a lesson of what good intelligence looks like—even if its assessments did not inspire action by American and Western European leaders, who were hoping to reap the benefits of a peace dividend after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

After all, many Americans could not find Bosnia on a map and did not grasp its importance. US leaders incurred no political cost in looking the other way, certainly not in the early years of the war. The US-led NATO bombing and muscular diplomacy leading to Dayton only occurred after Bosnian Serbs cuffed and humiliated Dutch peacekeepers, and the discovery of the Srebrenica massacre.

The National Intelligence Estimate contained this prophecy: “The most plausible scenario for interrepublic violence is one in which Serbia, assisted by disaffected Serbian minorities in the other republics, moves to reincorporate disputed territory into a greater Serbia, with attendant and bloody shifts in population.”

The report also predicted, correctly, that Serbia would inherit the bulk of the armor and other weapons of the Yugoslav National Army when the central government dissolved, and would cite protection of fellow Serbs in neighboring republics as an excuse to turn those guns on Croatia and Bosnia to carve out a Greater Serbia. (In Croatia, people tended to live in communities that were mostly segregated, and war there was shorter. In Bosnia, as an accidental result of history, the different communities were intermingled.)

The National Intelligence Estimate assessed that a system designed to turn nonaligned Yugoslavia into a porcupine in the event of invasion from the west or the east—the creation of local militias, with command-and-control and plentiful small arms—would allow each minority group to take up arms against the others. That is precisely what happened.

The intelligence in advance of the war in Bosnia contrasts sharply with the community’s work on weapons of mass destruction held by Saddam Hussein, which was used by President George W. Bush to make a case—falsely—for invading Iraq a decade later, in 2003.

Yet three decades after the war in Bosnia and two decades after the invasion of Iraq, in the weeks before Russia’s large-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the intelligence community again showed what getting it right looks like—and, this time, how good intelligence could be put to good use in advance of conflict erupting. The CIA director at the time, William Burns, was a veteran diplomat who had served as ambassador to Moscow, and who often said that his insights into gathering and assessing intelligence stemmed from his decades as a consumer of intelligence at the State Department. With a diplomat’s sense for what it would take to rally a coalition to counter the Kremlin, he declassified and shared intelligence—with Ukraine, with European allies, and with the US media—predicting a Russian invasion. The world was warned, again. But, in an echo of what transpired in Bosnia, too few accepted the truth about Putin’s imminent intentions for Ukraine until blood was shed.

War reporting

Bosnia was a war crime masquerading as a war.

That dawned on Roy Gutman, who covered the conflict for Long Island’s Newsday newspaper. Like so many others in the band of brothers and sisters who took immense risks to relay the tragedy in Bosnia to the world, he devoted much of his time to tracking artillery, mortars, and troop movements. (As ever, since Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, scribes chase the sound of fighting.)

“That fighting was right in front of you,” Gutman told me. “Bosnian Serbs were doing normal military operations in some ways, like the siege of Sarajevo—but the real action was deep in the provinces, far from the cameras, where they were cleansing the population by using methods of terror—war crimes.”

Gutman was the first to widely publicize the Bosnian Serbs’ chain of concentration camps in Bosnia, where the mostly Muslim detainees were deposited after transport by bus, by forced march, or in cattle cars to be tortured and murdered. He wrote about the Serb campaign of systematic mass rape of Muslim girls and women and documented the destruction of mosques.

“I decided that was going to be my coverage, not just the bang-bang,” Gutman said. “I was going to cover the expulsions, the deportation of the populations—but looking carefully for examples where you can prove that the government is involved and responsible.” Gutman received the 1993 Pulitzer Prize in international reporting for “his courageous and persistent reporting that disclosed atrocities and other human rights violations in Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina.” (He shared the prize that year with John Burns of The New York Times, who put the Bosnian war on the map for global readers with his heartfelt stories documenting the siege of Sarajevo and the destruction of what once had been an Olympic city and a multicultural gem.)

In earlier conflicts, the press often traveled with military units, and could hope for assistance in emergencies from those forces or their embassy. Not in Bosnia. Diplomats had been withdrawn, and the United Nations Protection Force proved unable to protect Bosnians, its own troops, or anybody else.

The Bosnian conflict accelerated a trend of war reporting becoming increasingly dangerous. Journalists were targeted by snipers, mortars, and artillery, and getting the story often required traversing a series of roadblocks and checkpoints guarded by angry men with guns.

Every time I crossed into Bosnia, I brought a flak jacket with ballistic plates on the front and back (and my name and blood type stenciled on the front), a helmet, food, and a sleeping bag—and made sure that I had filled two five-gallon canisters of fuel in the trunk of my vehicle. Larger news organizations provided their reporters with armored cars and satellite phones. Also required were supplies of Marlboros, Deutsche marks, and whiskey—to bribe your way past Serb militia checkpoints. (After the Tribune’s accounting department initially kicked back my receipts—“We don’t pay for your booze and tobacco”—I created a new category called General Reporting Expenses. One colleague filed his receipts for checkpoint bribes as “chemische Reinigung,” German for dry cleaning.)

Getting to the story also required creativity. Early in the war, when Bosniak refugees reached safety and told of a new and vicious cycle of ethnic cleansing in the east of the republic, Serb forces on the Serbian side of the Drina River shut the border, obviously to assist their Bosnian Serb mates in continuing the violence with no outside witnesses.

At the time a group of us were working with a brilliant interpreter and “fixer,” a local journalist who was enterprising and courageous to the point that we fondly nicknamed her “Mad Alex.” Alex and I once made an appointment at the Bosnian Serb legation in Belgrade. While we were kept waiting in the reception area, we managed to lift a dozen sheets of formal Republika Srpska letterhead. We forged official-looking papers conferring the right to pass first the Serb and then the Bosnian Serb checkpoints on both banks of the Drina. (Think “letters of transit” in the film Casablanca.) Over several days, our band of reporters was the first to document a well-organized offensive to force the expulsion of thousands of Muslims from eastern Bosnia—a brutal ethnic-cleansing campaign accompanied by the looting and torching of their villages, and the toppling of the minarets of their mosques.

Attempts to prevent reporters from witnessing atrocities “is what drew me to Syria later,” Gutman said. “I just saw Bosnia all over again—where all the operations of the war were war crimes. But [Bashar al-Assad] learned the lesson of Bosnia: Don’t let in the media.”

And Putin has learned that lesson too. “On the Ukrainian side of the war, reporters have what looks like almost total freedom, and are doing a really fine job of on-the-ground war reporting,” Gutman said. “How many can go to the Russian side of the lines?”

Humanitarian relief

The fragmentation of Bosnia along ethnic and religious lines challenged the efforts of international relief organizations to an extent that they had rarely faced before—challenges intensified by the large scale and long duration of the conflict.

Many previous relief efforts around the world had followed a model of bringing aid to people in need on one side or the other of identifiable frontlines.

Before Bosnia, large-scale humanitarian aid missions were mostly “dancing with one devil,” said Amir Shaviv of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC, a relief organization founded in the shadow of World War I.

Instead of negotiating with a single aggressor to funnel relief to a population in need, aid organizations in Bosnia were forced to negotiate with numerous ethnic militias and rogue warlords to deliver help across a terrain contested by three factions, with large Muslim populations pushed from villages across swaths of Bosnia and locked mostly inside the besieged areas of Sarajevo, Srebrenica, Gorazde, Zepa, and Bihac.

Shaviv’s title during the three years of the Bosnia relief effort said it all: assistant executive vice-president for special operations of the Joint Distribution Committee—a military-sounding title that reflected the need for strict command-and-control, discretion to the point of secrecy, and negotiations with a criminal lineup of local militia captains.

“To move people out of Sarajevo and to bring them to safety in Croatia, we had to sometimes cross, literally, more than thirty checkpoints staffed by different militias, all armed and all ready to shoot,” Shaviv recalled when we spoke. “Some wanted money. Others wanted medications, which we happily gave them. Often, a case of whiskey settled it.”

Over the course of the war, JDC evacuated about 2,500 people from besieged Sarajevo. Women, children, and the elderly. Muslims, Christians, and Jews. All of the evacuations, he said, “were accomplished without a single injury or death.”

Many humanitarian aid groups did heroic work in Bosnia. But those identified with one faction or another risked failure at checkpoints operated by a rival group. What was JDC’s secret for success, even as the efforts of other, larger relief organizations were sometimes stymied?

“JDC operated in a nonsectarian, nonpolitical way,” he said. “When we brought food in, they cooked for Jews, Muslims, Christians, anybody. When we took people out, it was also the same thing—same with medicines.”

JDC even established a wireless radio connection after the Sarajevo phone system was destroyed by Serb artillery. Time slots for communicating outside the siege zone were allotted to the range of Sarajevo’s diverse residents.

Shaviv said that one of the Bosnian war’s lessons for today is that relief missions must be designed with stamina and resilience, since contemporary armed conflict seems never-ending and tends to feature complex webs of combatants. There are “no longer ‘slam dunk’ rescue operations” in which “you deal with a regime, execute a swift operation, get your people out—and celebrate,” Shaviv noted.

International law

Rape, enslavement, and the torching of entire villages by invading armies are tactics as old as human history. In the time of the Ancient Greeks, military commanders prayed to their gods atop Olympus for guidance on how to adjudicate whether people, property, and titles were fitting spoils of war. More recently, mortals have tried to legislate against and sit in judgment of war crimes, with varying effectiveness.

The war in Bosnia increased understanding and scrutiny of war crimes and conduct of aggressors. In subsequent conflicts—from Myanmar and Ukraine to the Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, Rwanda, and South Sudan—military acts of mass murder, mass rape, and ethnic cleansing have been identified for what they are: not an expected if horrific part of the battlefield, with spoils going to the victor, but illegal actions that deserve the world’s attention and legal penalties. The term “ethnic cleansing” itself—now a core part of the world’s lexicon for conflict—is a product of the Bosnian war, stemming from the Serbo-Croatian phrase etnicko ciscenje.

“The Bosnia conflict made war crimes as a concept an important part of the global vernacular,” said Diane Orentlicher, a professor of international law at American University who specializes in war crimes tribunals. “The phenomenon is hardly new, but attention to war crimes used to be largely the province of human rights organizations and military lawyers. As a result of the Bosnia conflict, I think awareness of war crimes was globalized.” Orentlicher is the author of Some Kind of Justice: The ICTY’s Impact in Bosnia and Serbia, the definitive account of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia as it sought to hold political and military leaders accountable for war crimes.

Until the conclusion of its final case in 2017, the UN-established International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia worked to prosecute those responsible for crimes committed during the Yugoslav wars, including Bosnia’s. (Data courtesy of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia)

The UN Security Council established the tribunal in May 1993 with a mandate to prosecute “those responsible for serious violations of international humanitarian law committed in the former Yugoslavia since 1991 and thus contribute to the restoration and maintenance of peace in the region.” The court delivered justice to victims of the Balkans wars by bringing to trial and convicting ninety-three people—Bosniak, Croat, and Serb—including Radovan Karadzic, the political leader of the Bosnian Serbs, and Ratko Mladic, the Bosnian Serb military commander. Both are serving life sentences. The mastermind of the wars across the former Yugoslavia, Serb leader Slobodan Milosevic, also was brought to trial at The Hague on charges including genocide, but he died before a verdict was handed down.

While she acknowledges that the court was flawed, Orentlicher said its impact on efforts to deliver justice (however imperfect) after peace (however fragile) continues today.

“The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia was the template that provided guidance for all subsequent international and hybrid tribunals, both in a positive and negative way,” she said. “For all its achievements, it wasn’t a perfect tribunal, and tribunals created since then have tried to improve on its example by, for example, enhancing victims’ participation in their work.”

The tribunal raised awareness about specific war crimes, especially the use of sexual violence as a tool of combat.*

“When there were reports of mass rapes in Bosnia, before the ICTY was even created, a global women’s rights movement demanded that these atrocities be prosecuted as war crimes, and their advocacy helped create momentum to create the Yugoslavia tribunal itself,” she added. “So the Bosnia conflict brought unprecedented attention to the issue and helped galvanize global efforts to combat sexual violence in war.”

Military power

With war in Ukraine now overshadowing the Bosnian war as Europe’s largest conflict since 1945, no lessons of the Balkans bloodshed are as relevant today as those on the smart application of military power—when to use it, how much to use, and how to do so with a clear eye on the adversary’s pressure points.

General Wesley Clark was the US Defense Department’s representative to the US negotiating team for Bosnia, and he was by Holbrooke’s side for treacherous trips into and out of Sarajevo and throughout the Dayton peace talks. He returned to the continent in 1997 with one of the military’s most prized assignments: NATO’s supreme allied commander, Europe. In 1999, he oversaw Operation Allied Force, the bombing campaign to punish Milosevic’s Serbia for its cleansing of ethnic Albanians in the province of Kosovo—in some ways, unfinished business from the Bosnian war.

Clark, who is now a member of the Atlantic Council’s Board of Directors, recalled that following the Dayton Accords, NATO deployed a US-led Implementation Force (or IFOR) into Bosnia that, unlike previous United Nations efforts, went in with armaments that clearly overmatched those of the three warring parties—and, just as importantly, with clear approvals for punishing violators of the peace deal.

“We gave the military more or less unlimited authorization in Bosnia,” Clark said. “We gave the military commander what was essentially a silver-bullet capacity so he could intervene at any time on any issue in any manner he chose. This was necessary to assure that we had US congressional support for the troops that went in—but it was also a powerful warning to the warring factions: No more messing around.”

A forgotten footnote of the IFOR mission was how clearly Serbians, Croatians, and Bosniaks heard the message. Not a single American combat death occurred during the peacekeeping—really peace-enforcement—mission.

Assessing the war in Ukraine in light of the lessons of Bosnia, Clark argues that the still-tentative proposals for deploying forces to support any armistice in the country should approach a peacekeeping mission with all of the tools required for a warfighting mission in order to deter further aggression. And those forces have to be forward-deployed at whatever border between Ukraine and Russia is set by an agreement, and with clear authorities to deal forcefully with cease-fire violations.

And just as the Dayton Accords required the assent of Serbia’s strongman Milosevic, peace in Ukraine is dependent on one person: Putin.

“The reason Dayton worked was because the Serbs wanted a deal,” Clark said. “Milosevic realized he had reached the end of the line, militarily, in Bosnia.”

In contrast, Putin has not reached that point. “The lesson of Bosnia is that you’re not going to be able to bring the war in Ukraine to an end until Putin thinks he’s losing,” Clark said. “And Putin does not think he’s losing, and right now sees no reason to think he is going to lose.”

What finally brought the vile war in Bosnia to a conclusion was a form of American idealism personified in Holbrooke, “a man who believed passionately in America’s power to do good in the world and to spread—it seems almost quaint today to talk about them—American values.”

That assessment came from Roger Cohen of The New York Times, speaking at an Atlantic Council panel convened by the Adrienne Arsht National Security Resilience Initiative to reflect on risks to journalists and diplomats thirty years after the negotiations in Dayton ended the slaughter.

The horrors of the war drove Holbrooke to Dayton. But so too did values: freedom, democracy, the right of peoples to govern themselves, the sanctity of borders, and the rule of law.

Holbrooke “wanted very much, and fought very hard, to bring that to Bosnia,” Cohen said.

“And if we forget those values, if we lose sight of those values, if we allow those values to be trampled in a way that they die,” Cohen warned, “then I think that will be at once a terrible thing for the world, and a very dangerous one.”

*This sentence was updated December 22 to clarify wording related to the legal definitions of genocide and sexual violence as a tool of combat.

Thom Shanker covered the war in Bosnia from 1992 to 1995 for The Chicago Tribune, before joining The New York Times as a national security reporter and editor. He directs the Project for Media and National Security at George Washington University’s School of Media and Public Affairs, and is a nonresident senior fellow at the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security at the Atlantic Council.

Inflection Points

May 28, 2025

Dispatch from Dayton: What Trump can learn about ending war

By Frederick Kempe

A recent visit of the NATO Parliamentary Assembly to Ohio—thirty years after the Dayton Accords ended the Bosnian War—raised important questions about what lessons can be applied to ending Russia’s war on Ukraine.

Conflict Peacekeeping and Peacebuilding

Report

Oct 7, 2024

Working on a new transatlantic approach toward the Western Balkans

By Maja Piscevic, Ilva Tare

The United States and the European Union must work together, and play to their own respective strengths, to prioritize democratic and economic growth and alignment with the West.

Corruption European Union

The Europe Center promotes leadership, strategies, and analysis to ensure a strong, ambitious, and forward-looking transatlantic relationship.

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The Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security works to develop sustainable, nonpartisan strategies to address the most important security challenges facing the United States and the world.

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Video footage of Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina, filmed May 19, 1994, courtesy of Reuters.

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Director for Northern Europe, Anna Wieslander was interviewed in the Swedish Radio podcast “USApodden” (The USA podcast) on the European reactions to the new US NSS and its implications for European security and policy.

While Europe remains important for the US Administration, it is perceived to have several challenges that Europe needs to deal with, says Wieslander. Wieslander argues that we are in a new era of European security and that the current Administration’s take on European security appears to be a longterm policy. “Europe must react and not remain passive”, Wieslander says.

It is “completely unrealistic”, argues Wieslander, that Europe would take over all US NATO responsibilities on European soil by 2027, as has been circulating over the weekend, adding that this may be a tactic from the US Administration to get European countries to do more on defense and quicker.

Listen to the whole episode to know more. It is recorded in Swedish.

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However, a premature deal that favors Russia or leaves Ukraine without credible and functional security arrangements would threaten Turkey’s own security, influence, and strategic position in the region. For Ankara, the consequences of a lopsided peace deal that advantages Moscow will continue to be felt long after the immediate cessation of hostilities. Any peace that cements Russian gains would alter the balance of power in the Black Sea region and constrain Turkey’s geopolitical footprint for decades.

The downside for Turkey in recent “peace” proposals

A “Russia-friendly” peace deal—one that legitimizes occupation or implicitly accepts the Kremlin’s claims to expand its territorial gains in Ukraine—would destabilize the region and seriously damage Turkey’s long-term position. A weakened Ukraine, stripped of its territorial integrity and military capacity, would alter the balance of power in the Black Sea in Russia’s favor—a scenario for which Turkey would pay a heavy price. From Crimea to the Caucasus, the consequences would reverberate across Ankara’s geopolitical environment.

As Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan said last month, a peace plan can only be acceptable if it “meets the legitimate expectations and security needs of both sides, without creating new instability.” And Turkish analysts warn that an unfavorable settlement for Kyiv would directly undermine Turkey’s strategic interests, as Russia has not abandoned its imperial ambitions to reassert control over the former Soviet space—from the South Caucasus and Central Asia to the Baltics.

For its own interests, Turkey should take a strong stance—particularly in its diplomatic interactions with the United States—that any proposal that cements Russia’s territorial gains and prepares the battlefield for Moscow’s next offensive is unacceptable and dangerous for the region.

If territorial concessions formalize Russia’s control over eastern and southern Ukraine and the Sea of Azov, Moscow would effectively turn it into a Russian inland sea. Combined with Russia’s attempts to militarize and dominate the wider Black Sea, this would reverse the naval balance of power, which has been favorable to Turkey since Ukraine’s successful attacks on Russia’s Black Sea fleet.

Crimea is a particularly sensitive issue. For Turkey, it is not an abstract bargaining chip—it defines forward posture in the Black Sea and is home to a Tatar community with deep cultural and historical ties to Ankara. Any deal legitimizing its illegal annexation would not only be a diplomatic defeat for Ukraine; it would be a strategic blow to Turkey. Any deal that allows Russia to expand or consolidate territorial gains would embolden Moscow, enable it to revive its naval capabilities, and deepen its foothold in the wider Black Sea region. Such an outcome would not only threaten Ukraine but also constrain Turkey’s influence from the Caucasus to the Middle East and North Africa and beyond.

What can Ankara do?

While the current talks are being held between US, Russian, and Ukrainian negotiators, European countries have also been conducting diplomatic outreach to Washington to advocate their positions on elements of a potential peace deal that are critical for their interests. Turkey should do the same. Turkey possesses real leverage—diplomatic, economic, and military—to influence the outcome of the peace talks aimed at ending the war. The country’s leaders should not shy away from using it.

Turkey’s role as a mediator between Russia and Ukraine, especially on the humanitarian track, remains important. For Ukraine, the return of abducted Ukrainian children and all prisoners of war and political detainees, including Crimean Tatars and religious prisoners, is a “mandatory element” for any peace process. During Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s visit to Ankara last month, these issues were at the core of his discussions with Erdoğan. Taking a proactive role in advocating for the return of Ukrainian prisoners of war and abducted children—including by raising these issues in bilateral engagements with Russia and in multilateral diplomatic fora—would bolster Turkey’s reputation as a key regional actor, humanitarian power, and credible mediator.

Beyond pressing for a fair deal in peace negotiations, Turkey must also take the lead in the maritime coalition of the willing and step up efforts to restore rules-based order and stability in the Black Sea. As NATO’s largest naval power in the region, Ankara is central to regional deterrence. Moscow’s aggression has increasingly spilled into NATO’s maritime space, directly affecting Turkey and Romania. Last month, a Turkish liquefied natural gas tanker operating in the Ukrainian Danube port of Izmail—mere meters from the Romanian border—was struck by Russian drones. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion, several other Turkish or Turkish-flagged vessels have been struck by missiles in Ukrainian ports, including the seaports of Odesa and Kherson. According to the Black Sea Monitoring Group, more than 40 percent of vessels entering Greater Odesa ports this year belong to Turkish companies, the largest share of any country. Thus, these attacks significantly undermine Turkish trade across both the Black Sea and the Danube.

Overall, this year alone, at least fourteen vessels have been hit in Ukrainian Black Sea ports. These are not isolated incidents, but clear indicators of Russia’s attempt to weaponize maritime trade, intimidate neighbors, and test the resolve of Turkey and NATO. Russia has targeted logistics nodes such as the Orlovka–Isaccea ferry terminal, struck Danube ports, and breached Moldovan and Romanian airspace with drones.

On the economic front, Russia has intensified the use of a “shadow fleet” of unregistered, sanctions-evading tankers transporting oil and military dual-use cargoes. This past week, Ukrainian naval drones struck two shadow fleet vessels, demonstrating that Kyiv is determined to deprive Russia of this source of revenue for its war machine. To keep the Black Sea stable, Turkey should step up efforts to counter the shadow fleet, prevent illicit maritime traffic, and ensure that the Black Sea does not become a safe haven for sanctions evasion.

Turkey has expressed concern over the attacks on oil tankers off its Black Sea coast arguing they “have posed serious risks to navigation, life, property and environmental safety in the region.” While Turkey’s call to protect commercial vessels is legitimate, it can hardly extend to unregistered—and therefore unlawful—vessels. Moreover, no comparable arrangements exist to safeguard official commercial shipping bound for Ukrainian ports, which remains subject to sustained Russian attacks.

Limits to only Ukraine’s actions cannot credibly be framed as de-escalatory, as they increase the risk of Russia’s unilateral escalation. Given that sea lanes and energy-export revenues are central to the Kremlin’s war effort, targeting oil tankers and related infrastructure is one of the few effective means of imposing costs and constraining Moscow’s ability to finance the conflict—an approach that may bring an end to the war closer.

To deter Russia’s maritime and aerial attacks, Ankara should invest more political capital and capabilities into the maritime coalition of the willing. Turkey should encourage the expansion of trilateral formats such as the Bulgaria–Turkey–Romania demining group, broadening its mandate to include sea patrols, critical infrastructure protection, and maritime domain awareness. It should deepen coordination with Romania on air defense and contribute to a “Black Sea sky shield” capable of monitoring Russian drone incursions and protecting critical maritime infrastructure and port facilities. Turkey must also continue to restrict the passage of Russian warships through the Dardanelles and Bosporus Straits under the terms of the Montreux Convention—a measure that has prevented Moscow from rapidly reconstituting its naval forces. These steps could serve as real “security guarantees” under any peace plan, rendering Russia’s war in the maritime and air domains operationally pointless.

Turkey has a right to protect its regional interests

Turkey should oppose several potential terms that have been discussed in recent rounds of peace talks.

First, any cap on Ukraine’s armed forces would undermine Turkey’s own deterrence posture. A militarily constrained Ukraine is not a buffer; it is an invitation for renewed Russian aggression and a weakened front line for European security. Ankara does not benefit from a disarmed Ukraine. It benefits from a capable Ukraine that can prevent Russia from projecting power across the Black Sea.

Second, Turkey should reject restrictions on Ukraine’s international defense-industrial cooperation. Ankara has invested heavily in joint development with Kyiv—in drones, naval systems, and engines—which strengthens both countries’ strategic autonomy. Blocking Ukraine’s access to advanced defense ecosystems would weaken Kyiv and strike at Turkey’s ambitions to become a leading regional producer of defense technologies.

Third, Turkey should resist attempts to impose “neutrality” on Ukraine. Turkey has historically supported Ukraine’s integration into NATO because a NATO-aligned Ukraine strengthens the collective deterrence against Russia in the wider Black Sea region. Ukrainian membership would reinforce NATO’s southeastern flank, helping protect the Alliance against Russia, Iran, and other revisionist actors.

More fundamentally, the idea that great powers may unilaterally impose their terms on other nations contradicts Turkey’s worldview: that sovereign states—including regional powers—must have agency to decide their own geopolitical orientation.

The interests of Ukraine, Turkey, and NATO are aligned: deterring Russia, protecting maritime infrastructure, preserving sovereignty, and preventing the normalization of territorial aggression. At this critical moment, Turkey cannot wait until the United States and Russia negotiate outcomes that reshape its neighborhood. It must reassert regional leadership, defend its strategic interests, and help secure a sustainable peace in Ukraine and in the Black Sea.

Yevgeniya Gaber is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council Turkey Program. She previously served as a Ukrainian foreign policy adviser and diplomat, including serving in the Ukrainian embassy in Ankara from 2014 to 2018. 

The views expressed here are the author’s own and do not represent the official positions of the Atlantic Council or any other institution or government.

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This opt-out has made Spain an outlier within the Alliance. In October, US President Donald Trump even suggested that NATO should consider Spain’s expulsion over its unwillingness to contribute more, calling the country a “very low payer” and hinting at potential trade retaliation.

Spain’s persistent spending shortfall

Spain’s defense spending has long fallen short of NATO’s benchmarks. Under the previous NATO benchmark of reaching 2 percent of GDP in military spending by 2024, Spain consistently underperformed, spending only about 1.2 percent in recent years. In 2024, its military budget stood at approximately €17.2 billion, or 1.24 percent of the country’s GDP, the lowest among NATO members as a percentage of economic output.

Meanwhile, most allies have increased spending to levels closer to or above 2 percent in response to Russia’s aggression in Ukraine. As Atlantic Council Fellow Andrew Bernard noted, Spain’s promise to reach 2 percent, which it only committed to in April of this year, has yet to translate into the modern military capabilities the Alliance needs. Although Spain contributes approximately three thousand troops to NATO missions from the Baltics to the Sahel, deployment alone does not substitute for investment in equipment, readiness, and modernization.

Few within the Alliance believe Spain can meet NATO capability requirements by spending just over 2 percent of its GDP. This gap only deepens the impression that Spain is benefiting from NATO without fully contributing to it.

Domestic politics: The main barrier to higher spending

Why does Spain lag so far behind in defense spending when it is one of the fastest-growing economies in the eurozone? The answer lies mainly in domestic politics and public opinion.

Sánchez leads a fragile minority coalition dependent on left-wing and regional nationalist parties that are skeptical of increased military spending. His Socialist Party governs in partnership with the far-left parties Unidas Podemos and Sumar, and it relies on small Basque and Catalan nationalist parties to maintain a parliamentary majority. These partners view military investment with suspicion, fearing that higher defense budgets would come at the expense of social spending programs.

As Ione Belarra, one of the leaders of Podemos, bluntly put it, these parties refuse to help the government “continue licking the boots of the United States.” Pro-independence Catalan and Basque parties are equally unwilling to strengthen the Spanish army, which they historically distrust.

Public opinion reinforces these pressures. The legacy of Francisco Franco’s dictatorship left Spaniards skeptical of the military for decades, and while the armed forces have gradually gained trust through peacekeeping and humanitarian missions, there remains limited enthusiasm for large budget increases. In a recent poll by the national polling institute CIS, only around 14 percent of Spaniards supported significantly increasing the military budget, as most prioritize healthcare and education.

Spain’s official neutrality during both world wars and its largely peripheral role during the Cold War helped shape a political culture that views defense as secondary to social welfare.

A weaker ally means weaker influence

Spain’s unwillingness to spend on defense comes at a cost, particularly to its image abroad. Eastern European NATO members such as Poland and the Baltic states, which are investing heavily in defense, may interpret Spain’s stance as a troubling lack of solidarity at a critical time. Burden-sharing in NATO is ultimately about sharing risk. Spain’s refusal to invest in new capabilities raises concerns over its willingness to do so. And that reluctance carries risks of its own, given the security challenges it faces at home, including tensions with Morocco over the bordering Spanish cities of Ceuta and Melilla, migration pressures, and instability across the Mediterranean, which could require NATO support in the near future.

The practical implications of this credibility gap are already visible. Diplomatically, Spain has found itself sidelined in some high-profile discussions on European security. In August, for instance, Sánchez did not take part in a White House meeting of key European leaders on Ukraine, a signal of its second-tier status among allies. If Madrid is perceived in Washington or Brussels as an unreliable partner on defense, it risks further losing influence, not just on defense and security issues, but in crucial areas such as trade, as well.

The spectacle of being publicly singled out by the US president only deepens the damage. Trump’s sharp criticism of Spain and his threat of tariffs have reinforced the country’s image as an underperforming and unreliable ally. The idea that Sánchez leads “an anti-Trump coalition” may play well domestically, but it has done little to strengthen Spain’s standing abroad. In reality, no such coalition exists, and the Spanish government has failed to find allies or present any credible alternative approach, leaving Spain isolated and exposed. Consequently, Spain’s internal vulnerability is translating into external weakness.

Spain needs to make hard choices

Spain now faces a strategic choice. On the one hand, the Sánchez government can continue trying to appease its domestic political partners, delaying or limiting defense investments to maintain the support of far-left and regional factions. This path may ensure short-term governmental stability, but it will likely further erode Spain’s standing within NATO and Europe.

On the other hand, it could make the hard political choices needed to shift course, accepting that Spain’s internal fragility is already damaging its international credibility. Until then, Spain will continue to be seen as NATO’s easy target.

The Sánchez government cannot have it both ways. A country cannot expect to benefit from NATO membership with deterrence, geopolitical influence, and allied solidarity, while not meeting the targets that almost all allies, even poorer ones, are striving to meet. If Spain wants to become a reliable ally, it will need to demonstrate, not just declare, a stronger commitment. That means real budgetary increases that translate into modern jets, ships, and infrastructure.

Ultimately, the more Spain appears divided and hesitant on defense, the more it invites actors such as Russia to exploit those divisions within NATO. With Europe’s security environment the most dangerous it has been in decades, the margin for underperformance is thin. The country’s friends and even some of its critics would welcome a Spain that robustly funds its defense and contributes its full weight to transatlantic security, in accordance with its status as the European Union’s fourth-largest economy. But getting there requires the political courage to prioritize long-term national and allied security interests over short-term parliamentary survival. Until that shift occurs, Spain’s own political choices will continue to undermine its international credibility and Europe’s collective defense.

Jacobo Ramos Folch is an international policy consultant, Contributor at Newsline, and a visiting professor at Universidad de Navarra and IE University. He is part of the Atlantic Council’s European Leadership Accelerator program.

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The recently renewed push for a peace agreement between Kyiv and Moscow is once again testing Russian President Vladimir Putin’s willingness to abandon his maximalist goal of fully subjugating Ukraine. The previous failure to get Putin to negotiate earlier this year led the West to intensify energy sanctions against Russia, while Moscow engaged in nuclear saber-rattling and probed NATO territory through aircraft and drone incursions, as well as hybrid attacks on European infrastructure.

Overall, the prospects for peace appear grim: In October, a US intelligence assessment reportedly concluded that Putin has “dug in” and is committed to a long war. And NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte has warned that even if there was a settlement over Ukraine, Moscow was preparing for a “long-term confrontation” with the West and could develop the capabilities to attack NATO in five years. If these current talks run break down, expect renewed escalation.

In part concerned about strategic divergence with Washington—especially in the context of US resources moving to the Asia-Pacific to deter Chinese aggression against Taiwan—European NATO members pledged in June to raise defense spending to 5 percent of their gross domestic product (GDP). And in October, the European Union (EU) approved the €800 billion “Readiness 2030” program to boost defense investment and industrial capacity.

The prospect of a prolonged, wider European war in the coming years is reshaping strategic calculations in Europe’s vulnerable “gray zones”—especially the Balkans. British officials have described the Balkans as the Kremlin’s “next playground,” a pressure point that could divert Western resources from NATO’s eastern flank. Because Russia is geographically distant from the Balkans, it has and will continue to rely on its partners—militarily-neutral Serbia and pro-Russian Serbian proxies around the region—to agitate and reopen the question of the regional borders set by the West after the 1990s wars in Kosovo and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

NATO has deterrence, but ‘everyone is preparing for war‘

So far, NATO countries have limited Russian troublemaking in the Balkans. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, for example, Milorad Dodik, the Kremlin-friendly former president of Republika Srpska, repeatedly threatened the entity’s secession from Bosnia and Herzogovina only to retreat after Western pushback. And in 2023, when Belgrade-backed Serbs led by Milan Radojičić launched an armed insurgency in northern Kosovo, Kosovo’s police repelled the attack within a day while NATO—which controls Kosovo’s borders—drew clear red lines to deter Serbia’s military involvement.

Meanwhile, Belgrade has maintained plausible deniability from Dodik’s and Radojičić’s actions, conveniently gaining leverage in the West as a “moderating force.” Serbia has also sought to ease Western concerns over its intentions by purchasing French warplanes, supplying weapons to Ukraine, and offering the West access to its lithium reserves.

Yet since 2022, Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić has notably avoided steering Serbian society toward the West, despite Russia’s aggression in Ukraine providing an opening to do so. On the contrary, an International Republican Institute poll published in September found that in a country where the government tightly controls media narratives, 78 percent of Serbs view Putin favorably and only 6 percent see Russia as solely to blame for the war. 

Russian proxies continue to use Serbian territory for disruptive operations. Moscow favorite Aleksandar Vulin—who was discharged as Serbia’s intelligence chief two years ago under Western pressure—actively promotes the “Serbian World” project to unite Serbs across the region. Radojičić enjoys state protection, despite NATO calls for accountability over the attack on Kosovo. Officers from Russia’s Federal Security Service (FSB) are reportedly receiving Serbian citizenship with expedited procedures, enabling them to travel to Europe visa-free. And earlier this year, Russia even reportedly used Serbia as a base to train saboteurs to interfere in Moldova’s elections.

Serbia’s neighbors are growing increasingly wary of Belgrade’s continued ties to Russian proxies and its major military build-up over the past decade. In the event of a war between Russia and the West, neighbors worry that Serbia would use the opportunity to enact its own designs on the region. Serbia has military preponderance—it is not only the largest country in the Balkans, but also the only one spending at least 2 percent of its GDP on defense, dwarfing Kosovo’s spending by tenfold.

In line with the broader rearmament wave throughout Europe, several of Serbia’s neighbors are now ramping up their defense spending and taking joint steps to strengthen deterrence. Kosovo, for example, is planning major investments in drone and ammunition production, largely with Turkish support. In March, Albania, Croatia, and Kosovo signed a defense cooperation pact to boost interoperability, pursue joint military investments, and coordinate the procurement of arms, including US weaponry.

Earlier this year, the regional pact triggered a furious reaction from Vučic, who cast it as a sign of aggression against Serbia. Then in September, he responded with Serbia’s largest-ever military parade, displaying a mix of Western, Russian, Iranian, and Chinese equipment. In October, when it was announced that Turkey had supplied Kosovo with Skydagger kamikaze drones, Vučić posted an unusually harsh tirade against Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, accusing him of “dreaming to restore the Ottoman Empire.”

Vučić’s extreme sensitivity to his neighbors’ military upgrades only reinforces their doubts about his long-term intentions. In October, Vučić remarked that “since everyone is preparing for war. . . it means there will be one”—a statement widely perceived as a threat in the region.

Insulating the Balkans from a Russian escalation

Much of this regional fearmongering is driven by domestic politics. Vučiċ’s military parades and his emphasis on threats from neighbors conveniently diverts attention from the mass protests that have shaken his rule. Regional military build-ups also have other geopolitical motives, such as securing political favor from countries through arms purchases. In Albania, for instance, defense spending is also seen as a chance to rebuild an industrial base long abandoned after it shut down its communist-era plants.

Some may therefore be tempted to downplay the motives behind the regional military build-up and argue that short-term deterrence against attempts to change Balkan borders remains strong. NATO and the EU still have decisive leverage, and the region’s fresh memory of war is a powerful restraint. Trump’s “peace through strength” approach may also have curbed troublemaking in a region reliant on US security.

But a broader war—one Europe is now arming for—would erode these deterrence factors, deepen security dilemmas, and heighten the risk of miscalculation, creating openings for Russia to incite and enable a new front. The United States and its European partners must therefore use this moment to insulate the Balkans from Moscow’s leverage.

Serbia’s continued nonalignment remains the core problem, giving Russia room to operate and fuel revisionism in the region. Vučić’s geopolitical balancing is the oxygen of his rule: it lets him coerce the West by casting himself as the guarantor of stability. The West’s tolerance for this has enabled democratic backsliding in Serbia and stalled the prospects of EU accession for Western Balkan countries, a goal that was originally intended to make the region’s borders irrelevant and sustain peace.

There are signs that the West is moving to constrain Vučić’s maneuvering. The Trump administration’s decision last month to push Gazprom out of Serbia’s energy sector and end sanctions exemptions on the country’s oil and gas companies is a good start to reduce Belgrade’s dependency on Moscow. EU officials are also speaking more plainly about Serbia’s trajectory and emphasizing the costs of Vučić’s policies. Moreover, Brussels is now accelerating the EU path of neighboring Albania and Montenegro while sidelining Serbia, making clear the opportunity costs of nonalignment.

Going forward, the United States should continue supporting allies in the region that are investing in their own defense, enabling them to become security contributors and to deter threats by increasing the costs of aggression. But nothing will reduce the risk of future escalation in the region more than the consolidation of the region’s security architecture. Getting Kosovo recognized by Serbia and fully embedded in Western security structures such as NATO, for example, would be a regional game changer.  

Agon Maliqi is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center. He is a political and foreign policy analyst from Pristina, Kosovo.

***

The Western Balkans stands at the nexus of many of Europe’s critical challenges. Some, if not all, of the countries of the region may soon join the European Union and shape the bloc’s ability to become a more effective geopolitical player. At the same time, longstanding disputes in the region, coupled with institutional weaknesses, will continue to pose problems and present a security vulnerability for NATO that could be exploited by Russia or China. The region is also a transit route for westward migration, a source of critical raw materials, and an important node in energy and trade routes. The BalkansForward column will explore the key strategic dynamics in the region and how they intersect with broader European and transatlantic goals.

The post What prolonged Russian aggression against Europe could mean for the Balkans appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On September 26, 2022, the Nord Stream 1 and 2 pipelines began leaking gas in the exclusive economic zones (EEZs) of Sweden and Denmark. It quickly became clear that the leak was not a technical fault but the result of explosions. In the months and weeks before the leak, Germany, the main importer of the Russian gas carried by Nord Stream, had completely cut its Russian gas imports.¹ It had also declined to certify Nord Stream 2, the second pipeline, which was full of gas and ready to commence operations.² Nord Stream AG—Nord Stream 1’s owner—had, in turn, scheduled maintenance suspensions, some of which were not part of standard maintenance. The two pipelines, conceived of during the peak of globalization but long opposed by the Baltic states and Poland, had become so geopolitically fraught that the explosions were quickly interpreted as an act of state-linked sabotage. Most analysts reasoned that Russia must have orchestrated the explosions as an act of revenge against Western countries slashing their imports of Russian gas.

Almost precisely one year later, on October 8, 2023, the Balticconnector pipeline connecting Finland and Estonia began leaking gas in the Gulf of Finland, the easternmost part of the Baltic Sea.³ Investigators soon established that the pipeline had been hit by the Hong Kong-flagged, Chinese-owned boxship Newnew Polar Bear.⁴ So had an undersea data cable. Even though different countries and outfits launched individual responses, the Newnew Polar Bear managed to sail through the Baltic Sea and along Norway’s coast before reaching Russian waters, where it was completely out of investigators’ reach.

Just over a year later, the Baltic Sea region was struck by another suspicious undersea incident. On November 17, 2024, a data cable connecting Sweden and Lithuania was damaged. So was a data cable connecting Finland and Germany, the only cable connecting Finland with the European continent. Authorities quickly identified a suspect, the Chinese-owned and Chinese-flagged bulk carrier Yi Peng 3.⁵ Vessels from different Baltic Sea states shadowed the bulker, but they could not detain it because it was sailing in EEZs, not territorial waters. After sailing through the Danish Straits—which count as international waters, not territorial ones—the ship stopped in Denmark’s EEZ.⁶ It remained there with China, the flag state, blocking Danish and other local investigators from boarding the ship. On December 20, the Chinese authorities allowed investigators from Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Germany to board, but only under Chinese supervision and only for a truncated visit.⁷ The following day, the bulker left.

A few weeks later, on Christmas Day, the Cook Islands-flagged tanker Eagle S struck one interconnector (power cable) and four data cables in the Gulf of Finland.⁸ Because the tanker was a shadow vessel known to the Finnish and Estonian authorities, both had been monitoring it.

There is no standard intergovernmental definition of “shadow vessel,” but the Atlantic Council’s Threats to the global maritime order project has developed this set of criteria.

After the Eagle S had struck the fifth cable and was approaching yet another cable, the Finnish police and coast guard dramatically boarded and detained it.⁹ They did so in Finland’s EEZ—a highly controversial move because coastal states only have jurisdiction in their territorial waters, with limited rights in the EEZ.¹⁰ However, the Finnish authorities reasoned that they had no choice but to detain the ship in the EEZ, because not doing so would have resulted in even more cables being struck.¹¹

The following month, the Maltese-flagged bulk carrier Vezhen struck a data cable connecting Sweden and Latvia. When the bulker approached Sweden, authorities escorted it into Swedish territorial waters, then seized it.¹² However, because the prosecutor couldn’t prove that the bulker’s crew had intentionally released the anchor, the investigation was shelved and the ship and crew were released.¹³

Between and after these high-profile incidents, ships were spotted behaving suspiciously near undersea cables and pipelines. The sightings, and especially the incidents, have highlighted a troubling reality: governments and undersea-infrastructure operators can no longer assume that ships will only hit undersea installations by accident. On the contrary, they must now assume that the waters above the cables and pipelines are frequented by state and non-state actors wishing to damage these installations.

This matters because existing cables and pipelines are indispensable to the functioning of the countries they connect. What is more, the continuing digital transformation and the advance of artificial intelligence (AI) will require even more undersea data cables, and the green transition will require even more undersea power cables. These undersea power cables transport electricity between different countries, between countries and islands, and between offshore wind farms and the mainland. For Europe, the need to replace Russian gas imports makes undersea pipelines providing gas from Norway essential.

A coordination cell takes on saboteurs and the shadow fleet

Even though it has long been known that saboteurs could target undersea cables and pipelines, countries and organizations affiliated with them have historically refrained from doing so, if only because the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) bans deliberate damage of undersea installations. Terrorist organizations, for their part, have had little interest in conducting attacks that would not result in dramatic footage. Although some damage to undersea cables and pipelines over the decades has been attributed to criminals, nation-state involvement has been exceedingly rare.

That explains why, in September 2022, the Nord Stream explosions caught Baltic Sea nations and the rest of the world by surprise.¹⁴ Because the explosions occurred in the EEZs of Sweden and Denmark, the two countries launched investigations. As one of two countries connected by the pipelines, Germany also launched an investigation. Russia, the other country connected by the pipelines, repeatedly accused the three other countries of not sharing information about their investigations with Russian authorities.¹⁵ These protestations were widely condemned and ridiculed by Western commentators, who assumed that Russia was behind the explosions.

Even after the incident, Nord Stream’s extremely high profile led the three countries to believe the attack had been a one-off incident. NATO and the Baltic Sea nations did not see a need to establish protocols in case further attacks occurred, though NATO tasked Hans-Werner Wiermann, a retired German general, with mapping out what role the Alliance could play in coordinating the response to future incidents. Wiermann responded by establishing a coordination cell, based at NATO headquarters, which would function as a clearinghouse of information between different agencies in different member states. The coordination cell began operations in early 2023.¹⁶

The coordination cell was, however, dependent on receiving all necessary information from authorities in NATO member states, and that stream of information was not yet fully functional when the Balticconnector began leaking gas. The lack of a NATO-wide protocol for such incidents meant that Finland and Estonia activated their national protocols, but that information was not systematically shared across NATO and national authorities. As a result, a few allies and NATO institutions independently discovered that an incident had taken place and began investigating. However, there was no regular coordination between the different entities. That meant that it took hours before the Newnew Polar Bear was identified as a suspect and, by that point, the boxship had left the EEZs of Finland and Estonia and struck a nearby data cable.¹⁷ The authorities later realized that the Chinese-owned ship appeared to have cut a data cable in Sweden’s EEZ before hitting the Balticconnector.

Precisely because there were no NATO-wide protocols for such situations, and also because Sweden was not yet a member of NATO, the information did not reach the right authorities and officials quickly enough. That enabled the Newnew Polar Bear to make its way through the Baltic Sea, through the Danish Straits, along the Norwegian coast, and into Russian waters before the respective countries’ authorities—and NATO—could decide what actions to take. (The Newnew Polar Bear had, in coordination with Russian authorities, recently undertaken a pioneering journey through Russia’s Northern Sea Route.¹⁸) “Where we were in 2023 was that damage to undersea cables and pipelines was in the risk scenarios, there was acknowledgement that these kinds of incidents could happen,” said Erkki Tori, Estonia’ national security advisor. “But I don’t think that we truly acknowledged the multinational nature of these incidents. What we learned in Estonia after the Newnew Polar Bear incident was that you need to have a very operational relationship with different nations that you share the undersea infrastructure with. And not only on one level, but on multiple levels: the government level, the agency level, but also on the level of the companies that use or co-own the infrastructure.”¹⁹

Since then, communication protocols and coordination have improved. Tori added: “On a bilateral basis [with Finland], we have tried to maintain and enhance the relationships that we built as a response to the Newnew Polar Bear incident. If you move further from there onto a regional perspective, you need such relationships across the region as well, because even just one moving ship might be a problem for various critical undersea infrastructure objects. You need to have the same kind of awareness, the same kind of response protocol throughout the region as well.”²⁰

A new NATO task force patrols the Baltic Sea

In March 2024, Sweden was finally admitted to NATO after Turkey dropped its opposition. A few months later, in October, Germany stood up Commander Task Force (CTF) Baltic.²¹ While NATO has other CTFs, CTF Baltic took on special significance the moment it was created, as it was seen as another response to the undersea incidents, with a role completely different from that of NATO’s coordination cell.

CTF Baltic, based in the German port city of Rostock, has some ninety naval officers, most of them from the Bundeswehr, with others on loan from Baltic Sea nations and even southern European countries like Italy. It also commands a fleet of naval vessels and some aircraft, most of which belong to the Bundeswehr while others are on loan from allies.

While CTF Baltic’s official task is “to coordinate naval activities in the region with Germany’s allies and provide them with a current joint maritime situational picture around the clock,” its focus since its inception has been on the shadow fleet and threats to undersea installations. “The Baltic Sea may seem like a small ocean, but it’s a significant body of water to patrol,” said Brian Svendsen of the Danish Navy, CTF Baltic’s assistant chief of staff for current and future operations. “We focus on the shipping lanes, on ships that have previously been identified as a potential source of concern, and naturally monitoring the undersea installations.”²²

Although CTF Baltic is a German entity, it undertakes its activities on behalf of NATO’s Maritime Command (MARCOM). It does so not only by patrolling selected parts of the Baltic Sea, but also by monitoring ship movements from land, including through radar. When the leaders of NATO’s Baltic littoral states announced the creation of Baltic Sentry in January 2025, it was not a matter of a new organization but rather a new component for CTF Baltic.²³ Baltic Sentry essentially added more vessels, patrol aircraft, and staff to the setup already in place in Rostock.²⁴ “We had found that in order to show that we take the threat to undersea installations seriously, we need allied presence on top of our national presence,” Tori said. “And by we, I don’t mean just Estonia and Finland. On a national basis, we already have ships patrolling. Baltic Sentry is there to show solidarity and as a very practical measure, a way of demonstrating vigilance.”²⁵

Around the same time that NATO allies launched Baltic Sentry, the Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF) activated Nordic Warden, a monitoring system that “harnesses AI to assess data from a range of sources, including the Automatic Identification System (AIS) ships use to broadcast their position, to calculate the risk posed by each vessel entering areas of interest.”²⁶ Nordic Warden was also integrated into CTF Baltic’s operations. (The United Kingdom-led JEF also comprises Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Iceland, Latvia, Lithuania, the Netherlands, Norway, and Sweden.)

Only a few weeks after CTF Baltic was launched, the Yi Peng 3 incident occurred, and the Eagle S and Vezhen incidents occurred after that, but the Baltic Sea has not experienced any suspicious undersea incidents since January 2025. “That is a sign that the deterrence we provide is working,” Svendsen said. As with all deterrence, it is impossible to ascertain whether the deterrent has worked or whether no further incidents were being planned, but mounting deterrence is better than testing one’s luck without it.

Either way, the Baltic Sea countries today have in place collaboration, monitoring, and response options that are a far cry from where they were when the Newnew Polar Bear struck the Balticconnector in October 2023. When shadow vessels approach undersea cables and pipelines, CTF Baltic monitors them. Should another vessel start behaving suspiciously around undersea installations, the task force will detect that too. Also, coastal states’ coast guards and navies conduct regular patrols, and the countries’ authorities systematically share updates in a manner that simply was not in place in mid-2023 and earlier. Their efforts also show how NATO member states can succeed in addressing regional threats without the entire Alliance needing to become involved.

In addition, Tori noted, the European Union (EU) is also part of the efforts to restore order in the Baltic Sea, not just through its sanctions on specific shadow vessels. EU officials also engage with counterparts in the countries that flag the shadow vessels. Today such countries—flags of extreme convenience, to use the phrase coined by this author—include the Gambia, Sierra Leone, and Comoros. In a noteworthy development that reflects European outreach, Barbados, Gabon, and the Cook Islands—which had been popular flag states for shadow vessels—have announced they will de-flag ships sanctioned by Western governments.²⁷ While incidents involving undersea infrastructure are not limited to shadow vessels, the fact that shadow vessels skirt rules and have opaque ownership structures makes them more likely candidates for suspicious incidents than conventional ships.

In addition, the EU is implementing its Action Plan on Cable Security, which it passed in February 2025. Among other measures, the plan involves steps to further develop information exchange and strengthen joint repair capabilities.²⁸

If, or when, another suspicious incident involving undersea cables or pipelines occurs, it is less clear how NATO, the EU, or the nations and entities now involved in the efforts to protect this infrastructure would respond. “We’d deploy there straight away, and it’s important to remember that the Baltic Sea is bigger than it seems,” Svendsen explained. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. In case of an incident, we’d deploy to the site and monitor it, but the response is up to the coastal state because it decides what can be done depends on that country’s legal system. And it’s important to remember that the owners of cables and pipelines have primary responsibility for their security. CTF Baltic and NATO are there to assist, but not to provide all-round security.”²⁹

As a military alliance, NATO is also not in charge of responding to suspected underwater sabotage; coastal states are. In the Baltic Sea, vessels seconded to CTF Baltic can return to national command if needed in incident response. But the question remains how the coastal states and NATO would respond. For now, they seem to bet that patrolling and monitoring the Baltic Sea will deter sabotage of undersea installations—but like all deterrence efforts, these activities are at best an educated guess. The real test for the Baltic Sea nations, and NATO, will arrive if—or when—a vessel ignores CTF Baltic’s patrols and coastal states’ instructions to change course.

From the Baltics to the South China Sea

The Baltic Sea is the region most affected by Russia’s shadow vessels and—together with Taiwan—the region most affected by suspicious incidents involving undersea cables and pipelines. At the time of the Newnew Polar Bear incident in October 2023, individual countries had impressive response protocols, but there were no real protocols involving information sharing and response with other countries. That situation has dramatically improved. Today, the Baltic Sea countries systematically share information, aided by NATO’s coordination cell, and consistently exchange updates and information with cable and pipeline operators, while national authorities and CTF Baltic monitor traffic around the clock and are able to deploy in case of an incident.

What is less clear is how CTF Baltic and national authorities would respond in case of an incident in which a vessel refuses to obey orders to move or has already struck a cable or pipeline and refuses orders to halt. Such rules of engagement cannot be established by CTF Baltic or national authorities. Instead, they depend on what NATO decides constitutes an aggressive act that could trigger Article 5.

CTF Baltic and Baltic Sea countries can bring further attention to suspicious incidents by adopting the Philippines’ strategy of total transparency. In contested parts of the South China Sea, where the Chinese Coast Guard and Maritime Militia harass Philippine and other vessels, the Philippine Coast Guard patrols the waters and films each dangerous Chinese activity. At times, the Philippine Coast Guard also invites reporters on board its vessels. This gives the public at home and abroad a better understanding of the dangerous activities transpiring in the South China Sea. A similar strategy could help educate the public about the situation in the Baltic Sea. As in the South China Sea, those involved in dangerous activities in the Baltic Sea are likely to be immune to naming and shaming, but public attention would increase the pressure on them and, at the same time, educate the public about actions their governments might need to take.

Fellow

Elisabeth Braw

Senior Fellow

Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security Transatlantic Security Initiative

NATO Resilience & Society

Threats to the global maritime order

Learn more about the Atlantic Council’s project Threats to the global maritime order: Protecting the freedom of the seas.

Issue Brief Jun 5, 2025

The world needs a maritime ‘elite league’ to combat rogue shipping

By Elisabeth Braw

Geopolitical tensions are undermining the mostly apolitical system that has regulated shipping since the 1950s, but hazards remain on the high seas. Countries interested in curtailing the rise of shadow vessels and the associated risks of accidents and environmental damage should band together to keep their waters places where the highest standards apply.

Economy & Business International Organizations

Report Jan 23, 2025

From Russia’s shadow fleet to China’s maritime claims: The freedom of the seas is under threat

By Elisabeth Braw

This report analyzes the deterioration of the global maritime order, focusing on rule violations in areas including maritime border alteration, harassment of civilian vessels, and disturbance of navigational tools

China Europe & Eurasia

Report Dec 6, 2024

The threats posed by the global shadow fleet—and how to stop it

By Elisabeth Braw

Since 2022 the number of aging ships whose ownership, insurance status, and safety is unknown has exploded, prompted by Russia’s reliance on this “dark fleet” to ship its oil in defiance of Western sanctions. What can be done about this environmental, economic, and safety threat on the high seas?

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The Transatlantic Security Initiative aims to reinforce the strong and resilient transatlantic relationship that is prepared to deter and defend, succeed in strategic competition, and harness emerging capabilities to address future threats and opportunities.

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The post How the Baltic Sea nations have tackled suspicious cable cuts appeared first on Atlantic Council.

On November 26, Andrew Michta, nonresident senior fellow with the GeoStrategy Initiative in the Scowcroft Center, was interviewed for an article in “Defense24”. He argues that as proposed, the deal could reward Russia and prove costly for Ukraine.

Fellow

Andrew A. Michta

Nonresident Senior Fellow

GeoStrategy Initiative Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Central Europe Eastern Europe

The post Michta interviewed in Defense24 on Ukraine peace plan appeared first on Atlantic Council.

“Thursday is it.” Today US President Donald Trump gave Ukraine a Thanksgiving deadline to approve a twenty-eight-point peace plan. The proposal reportedly gives Russia large chunks of Ukrainian territory and restricts Ukraine’s armed forces, while providing Ukraine a new security guarantee—though without Western troops. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy said that the choice could come down to “loss of dignity, or the risk of losing a key partner.” As always, we turned to our plan of asking our experts to assess the proposal and what to expect next. 

• Daniel Fried (@AmbDanFried): Weiser Family distinguished fellow and former US assistant secretary of state for Europe 
• John E. Herbst  (@JohnEdHerbst): Senior director of the Eurasia Center and former US ambassador to Ukraine 
• Leslie Shedd (@leslieshedd): Nonresident fellow at the Eurasia Center and former senior advisor to members of the US Congress, as well as US senatorial and presidential candidates

What’s in the deal

• Dan calls the US proposal “a hot mess” because it “is sloppy, internally inconsistent, and retreats from Trump’s stated position on ending the conflict—for example, that the current front line be the cease-fire line.” 
• The idea of granting Russia all of the Donbas region even without the Kremlin having conquered it on the battlefield is “a fatuous idea,” John argues, “rewarding the aggressor.” 
• But John adds that the inclusion of language on security guarantees is “a possible positive,” and a strong bilateral guarantee from the United States “would certainly deter future Russian aggression, because the Russians are afraid of our military.” 
• Dan also notes the deal’s “workable elements, including a provision that all commitments to Russia fall if it again attacks Ukraine” and points out that “we saw earlier this year how a bad initial US proposal—the ‘minerals deal’—could be transformed into a reasonable deal for development and a plus for US-Ukraine relations.” 

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Trumpology

• Leslie says Trump believes that the refusal of his predecessor, Joe Biden, “to send Ukraine the weapons it needed to fully repel Russia early in the invasion (and before Russian troops became entrenched inside the country) created a stalemate that Ukraine is unlikely to break.”  
• So in Trump’s mind, Leslie says, “a negotiated settlement that includes giving up some land is likely the only way to stop the killing.”  
• With European leaders now trying to get involved, John says he expects Trump to be receptive to their views, given that “several of those European leaders have terrific relations with Trump.” European leaders’ moves to increase “defense spending and willingness to put European troops on the ground in Ukraine have been important in making it harder for Putin to sell snake oil to the White House.”  
• John notes that “Trump is a mercurial figure,” who moves in different directions as he seeks a solution. “There have obviously been times when that’s worked for him. I don’t think that works in the current war because Putin’s aim has not changed. He is not going to give up his desire of achieving effective political control of Ukraine.” 

The next moves

• “The Ukrainians are in a tight place,” Dan says, because if they reject the plan “they are apt to trigger another Trump explosion and even more US withdrawal of support for Ukraine.”  
• So Dan advises Zelenskyy to work with Trump on the text. “It will not be pretty. But the Ukrainian objective should be to make sure the peace plan is not a disaster and to avoid blame for its likely failure.”  
• If they do reach a deal, Leslie says the Trump administration should submit the agreement to the US Senate to ratify as a treaty. “This will send a powerful message to Putin that Republicans and Democrats in both the executive and legislative branches are united in their commitment to following through on the security guarantees if [Putin] puts a toe into Ukraine again.”  

The post The good, the bad, and the ugly in the US peace plan for Ukraine  appeared first on Atlantic Council.

This month, a deliberate act of sabotage occurred on the Polish-Ukrainian railway corridor, where an explosion destroyed a section of track used to transport goods to Ukraine. The suspects reportedly escaped across the border into Belarus. A year earlier, Warsaw faced a high-profile arson attack that nearly destroyed a large shopping warehouse on the city’s outskirts; the Polish government attributed the incident to Russian involvement.

Throughout this year, drone sightings have forced temporary closures and flight cancellations at major airports in Copenhagen, Berlin, Munich, Frankfurt, Brussels, Liège, Oslo, Riga, and Gothenburg. These disruptions remain under investigation, but authorities across the continent increasingly view them as part of a broader pattern of hostile activity.

In response to the recent railway sabotage—and amid mounting evidence of Russian responsibility—Poland has launched Operation Horizon. The operation is a nationwide security initiative designed to prevent further attacks on rail corridors, logistics hubs, and other critical sites that could be targets of arson, disruption, or coordinated cyber operations. Up to ten thousand military personnel will be deployed, with the Territorial Defense Forces and Poland’s rapidly expanding cyber units playing a central role.

The scale and visibility of this effort recall the internal security measures introduced in several Western European countries after terrorist attacks in the early 2000s, including in Spain, France, the United Kingdom, and Belgium. But the situation in Poland today is different. Here, the threat comes not from a dispersed extremist network but from a nuclear-armed state deliberately probing the defenses of a NATO ally.

Russia’s “platformization” of sabotage

Before 2022, Russian-linked acts of sabotage appeared only sporadically and were usually directed at military targets. They also tended to occur at times of political significance. Over the past two years, however, such incidents have multiplied across NATO states and begun to form a recognizable pattern.

The incidents tend to share several traits: They are cheap to execute, hard to attribute quickly, and carry psychological weight. They create the impression that Europe’s security architecture is penetrable even inside NATO and the European Union (EU). That atmosphere of uncertainty is the intent.

A major driver behind the rising tempo of these operations is Moscow’s shift away from its traditional intelligence networks. After the expulsion of hundreds of Russian diplomats across Europe, many of whom served as intelligence officers, the Kremlin adapted. What has emerged is a fragmented, semi-outsourced approach that resembles a gig-economy model. Individuals recruited through Telegram or other online platforms, often with little understanding of who they are working for, carry out disruptive tasks for modest payments. Cryptocurrency transfers replace diplomatic pouches, and encrypted messages substitute for direct handling.

This approach gives Moscow several advantages: 

• It reduces exposure: When someone is caught, tracing responsibility becomes difficult.
• It lowers operational costs: Sabotage turns into a low-budget tool of statecraft.
• It exploits existing local tensions, especially when the perpetrators appear to be migrants, fringe activists, or opportunistic locals.

The goal is not just to damage infrastructure but also to sow distrust inside Western societies. Involving Ukrainians, EU citizens, or individuals with no political motivation helps Moscow feed narratives that allied states are infiltrated or internally divided.

Why the Kremlin feels free to escalate

Three strategic calculations underpin Russia’s willingness to intensify such operations.

First, Western responses so far have not created meaningful deterrence. Diplomatic notes, investigations, and targeted sanctions signal concern but do not carry meaningful consequences for Russia. For a regime that habitually probes boundaries, this looks less like a warning and more like permission to continue.

Second, even disruptions that serve no military value can have a profound psychological effect. A fire in a warehouse or a derailed train can dominate headlines and fuel anxiety at minimal cost.

Third, Russia wants to wear down long-term support for Kyiv. If Western publics begin to link aid to Ukraine with rising domestic insecurity, pressure on governments to rethink their commitments might increase. In Poland, this dynamic also feeds anti-migrant and anti-Ukrainian narratives, amplified by the fact that a pro-Russian presidential candidate attracted 1.2 million votes in the 2025 presidential election.

From Moscow’s perspective, this approach is producing results. Western (and more specifically Polish) unity holds, but its endurance is being tested more often, and the political price is rising.

A missing counterstrategy

Europe has improved infrastructure protection and intelligence cooperation, but the overall approach remains mostly defensive. If sabotage is now a permanent element of Russia’s confrontation with the West, then the response needs to match that reality.

This means agreeing on a common framework for hybrid deterrence, speeding up joint investigations to establish attribution quickly, and strengthening societal resilience against disinformation and panic. In practice, this would mean shared alerting procedures, joint threat-analysis cells, and faster intelligence exchange to trigger automatic, coordinated responses of all EU member states. Poland here has a bigger role to play as it has more skin in the game (it borders Russia from the north and Belarus from the east). And also it has the growing military and intelligence capacity other EU member states lack. 

Russia is waging a long, low-cost pressure campaign that targets not only the battlefield but everyday life across EU countries. The Kremlin wants Europeans to feel that they are at war, or close to it, and therefore that supporting Ukraine is no longer worth the risk. Now is the time for Europe to develop and use countermeasures to deter Russia’s hybrid threats and bolster societal resilience in the face of Moscow’s sabotage campaign. Because tomorrow, a successful attack could mean hundreds or even thousands of lives lost.

Piotr Arak is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center.

The post Russia’s shadow war: How the Kremlin uses sabotage to wear down Europe appeared first on Atlantic Council.

As the US role in the Sahel is weakening, Turkey’s role is rising. With new defense agreements, increasing diplomatic engagements, and joint economic development projects with new, junta governments that espouse anti-colonial rhetoric in Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, Turkey finds itself working in the same theater as the Kremlin to fill the void left after Western forces departed. Turkey’s new trusted status among Sahelian governments and its state-led approach make it one of the nations positioned to influence regional security dynamics during a time when other Western powers are constrained. Although Turkish efforts in the Sahel have been primarily based on its own strategic ambitions and national interests, Ankara’s growing influence offers a rare channel through which the United States and its allies could recalibrate their approaches to the region. 

The Sahel’s break with the West 

Since these coups and the establishment of military juntas in Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso, France and the United States have faced the annulment of defense agreements in the region, French and US troops have withdrawn from the region, the European Union’s Takuba Force ceased anti-Jihadist operations in Mali, and, in January, Niger revoked a counterterrorism accord with the United States, demanding the withdrawal of 1,000 US troops from the country. The United States has laws that prohibit it from assisting governments that have overthrown democratic governments, including clear guidance from the US State Department against foreign assistance to Niger, and now Washington finds itself without a clear role in the Sahel.

The region’s Western-backed security architecture has collapsed: Three withdrawals (i.e., Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger) prompted the dissolution of the Group of Five (G5) for the Sahel. The same three departures from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) has left the Sahel searching for new patrons and new strategic frameworks. Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, for example, have formed the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), a political and defense bloc that rejects old alignments. To fill the new defense void, alternative partners without the baggage of colonial legacy—most notably Russia and Turkey—have stepped in, offering defense cooperation without the governance conditions demanded by the West. 

The United States, which provided humanitarian aid, economic investment, and security forces to the region for roughly a decade prior to the coups, lost much of its ability to advance regional security interests when it was pushed out of the region. Its ability to monitor threats in the region and in neighboring countries like Libya, coordinate strategies with local forces, and access crucial intelligence was significantly degraded. Although US security operations in the region have been constrained by new partnerships, it still has options. Opportunities remain through indirect engagement—particularly with actors that retain both credibility on the ground and diplomatic standing in the West. Turkey is one of the only powers operating in the Sahel that meets both criteria.

​Turkey’s role amid a shrinking Western presence, rising Russian influence

Turkey’s military cooperation in the Sahel draws on nearly two decades of experience positioning itself as a rising power in Africa, rooted in its 2003 ​​​​Strategic Depth​ doctrine and early initiatives like the “Strategy for the Development of Economic Relations with Africa” and the “year of Africa” in 2005—the same year it secured observer status in the African Union. Initially, Turkey relied on soft power, leveraging shared Ottoman heritage, cultural diplomacy, and economic partnerships to expand its influence. However, what began as a soft-power push—through development aid, cultural ties, and embassy openings—has evolved into a defense and infrastructure strategy, especially under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s aim to position Turkey as a leader among emerging powers. Turkish delegations have conducted regular visits to AES capitals, striking arms and infrastructure deals while pursuing bilateral military agreements.  

At the same time, Russia, too, has made swift inroads. It is capitalizing on anti-colonial sentiment and offering support through its largest private military company, the Wagner Group, to provide “training, close protection, and counter-terrorism operations.” Through proxy forces, Russia has gained access to political influence and resource extraction in exchange for security-force training, arms deals, and protection of junta leaders. Russia’s use of proxy forces has allowed it to distance itself from Russian casualties and military failures. 

However, Russia’s war in Ukraine has slowed its operations in the Sahel. Across AES, Russian forces are stretched thin. Despite Russia’s success in stabilizing the Touadéra regime in the Central African Republic in 2021—a conflict that gave Russia defense legitimacy despite the fact that Sahel—Russian forces have largely been unsuccessful. In 2024, fifty-one percent of global terrorism-related deaths took place in the Sahel. This was the deadliest year in the Sahel’s history as the region remains mired in conflict and plagued by violent insurgencies, fragile state institutions, and waning international engagement. 

​​​​In the Sahel, Turkey can play the same role as Russia. Turkey can offer Sahelian militaries affordable, “rapidly deployable” equipment. And Russia, which has been struggling to keep up with military-industrial demands, is an increasingly unreliable partner. Sahelian clients grew more discontented with the Russian proxy forces’ unsuccessful operations and inability to fulfill weapons contracts, and the Wagner Group officially left Mali, announcing on Telegram that its mission was accomplished. In its place, Russia plans to consolidate its troops under the Russian Ministry of Defens​​​​e-backed Africa Corps. Reestablishing connections, building trust, and establishing higher capacity supply lines will take time; meanwhile, alternative partners like Turkey are in place in the Sahel and can take advantage of the Kremlin’s declining foreign-operations capacity. 

In contrast to Russia’s focus on mercenary deployments and ​​​​direct-combat missions, Turkey offers a more varied tool​ ​kit: combining diplomacy, state-to-state defense deals, economic engagement, intelligence sharing, and technology transfers. Turkey’s defense industry, particularly its drone sector, made early moves into the African market, supplying low-cost, high-capability platforms like Baykar’s Bayraktar TB2 and Akinci drones. These have become cornerstones of AES air power, and are ​​​​​often more cost-effective​ than systems from Iran, Israel, or even Russia. 

Turkey is now the main producer of combat drones for Africa, according to the Africa Center for Strategic Studies (part of the US Department of Defense). In December 2024 Mali received Turkish Akinci drones in addition to its eight TB2 drones; Niger has purchased six TB2 drones, five Karayel-SU drones, and Aksungur drones; and Burkina Faso has purchased at least six TB2s and two Turkish Akinci drones. These drones are managed and operated out of local airbases, like the Niamey air base in Niger or the Bamako Air Base 101 in Mali, and are managed by a “hyper-closed circle” of high-ranking officials. In early April 2025, Mali was also found to be using MAM-T bombs 20 kilometers from its border with Algeria when a Turkish-made Akinci drone was shot down. This was the first time the Malian armed forces were found to be using MAM-T bombs, which are guided, high-explosive fragmentation munitions that can be strapped to Bayrak drones, and are manufactured by Turkish company Roketsan.