Britain, Defence, Europe, Military, NATO, United States

Without the US, can NATO survive?

NATO ALLIANCE

Intro: If Trump follows through on his threat to pull out of the alliance, the West will face its most profound crisis in 80 years

For eight decades, NATO has weathered internal disputes, enemy plots, and shooting wars in Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan. America’s departure of this historic alliance would be the biggest divorce in history.

If Donald Trump acts on his threat to finally pull the US out of NATO – having said publicly that he is “strongly considering pulling out” after allies failed to join his war on Iran – the transatlantic family will be torn asunder.

At which point, the club that calls itself the most successful alliance in history may as well close its doors.

And the pain could match that of the most acrimonious of break-ups.

The numbers are stark enough: the United States alone accounts for more than 60 per cent of NATO’s total defence spending and provides the bulk of the alliance’s firepower, particularly at sea, in the air, and in nuclear deterrence.

The US has 1.3 million active military personnel – a full million more than Turkey, the next largest NATO force.

The United States is, however, not simply the largest and richest member of the club. It is the linchpin, the tent pole around which the entire edifice has been constructed.

It has logistical capacities in airlift and shipping, as well as satellite and signals intelligence, that other NATO allies rely on to get them into battle and help them fight. And it has always provided the leadership that has kept the alliance together.

Europe

The most profound threat would be for European members, the primary beneficiaries of the Article 5 promise that “an armed attack against one or more of them in Europe or North America shall be considered an attack against them all”.

For the first time in 80 years, they would have to face Russia shorn of that basic security guarantee, even as war rages on the continent.

Trump allows other NATO countries to requisition US kit for Ukraine via a programme called The Prioritised Ukraine Requirements List, but has curtailed direct US military aid to Kyiv.

Nonetheless, Moscow has not doubted the seriousness of the NATO alliance. For four years, it has avoided risking a direct confrontation with NATO powers, to the point of refusing (for the most part) to bomb the airbases and railway depots in Poland that supply Ukraine.

But remove American conventional and nuclear power from the equation, and the risks of doing so suddenly look much more palatable. Vladimir Putin has long made the destruction of NATO and creation what he calls a “new European security architecture” one of his dearest and cherished ambitions.  

That does not make a direct Russian attack on Europe inevitable, should the US abandon the alliance. But the chances of Putin taking a gamble would increase substantially.

Greenland and Canada

Quitting the alliance would not only absolve Trump of the obligation to come to allies’ defence. It also opens the way – at least in theory – to one would-be former ally attacking another, a scenario NATO itself would never have been able to survive.

Canada, in particular, would face difficult new realities. Trump, who has ordered attacks across 13 countries since he returned to the White House, has coveted their country (a NATO founding member) as a future “51st state”. Suddenly uncoupled from its enormous neighbour and security partner, Ottawa would no longer live with the certainty that North America is a safe and secure home.

War is perhaps most likely in Greenland. In recent weeks, it emerged that the Danish military had secretly prepared to repel a possible American assault on the island amid repeated threats from Trump to annex it.

Troops were equipped and ordered to blow up key runways and even flew in blood bags to simulate treating the wounded from the anticipated battle.

These nightmarish prospects present serious dilemmas for Canada and Denmark’s remaining allies.

Would Britain, France, and Germany send troops and ships to fight off an American invasion? Or out of dependence on and fear of American might, would they turn their backs? Leaders in Britain will be praying that they never have to make such a choice.

Everything from Britain’s nuclear missiles, which must be serviced at American facilities, to GCHQ’s signals intelligence network, which overlaps with the US National Security Agency, is enmeshed in the apparatus of the US security system.

America

Like any major break up, the pain would not be one way. America, too, would suffer.

Since its founding, NATO has allowed the US to project power globally. US airbases in Britian and Germany, for example, are currently being used for American operations against Iran.

NATO states also house and accommodate American early warning systems. It is the UK and Norway, for example, whom the United States relies on to keep an eye on Russia’s nuclear missile submarines operating out of Kola Peninsula and the Barents Sea. And while some NATO members – France, Spain, and Italy – may have baulked at the war with Iran, the alliance has proved vital in other US-led engagements.

Its member states joined the Americans in ending the Serbian genocide in Kosovo in 1999, for example, and in the 20-year campaign in Afghanistan. Many also showed up for both the first and second Gulf Wars.

If the United States does find itself embroiled in the much feared and potentially epochal war with China in the Pacific, such former allies will be missed.

The consequences

For these reasons, and the fact that Trump cannot withdraw from NATO without approval of a two-thirds Senate majority or an act of Congress, it is possible the worst fears about transatlantic relations may not come to pass. Indeed, even in a future without the formal North Atlantic alliance, American will need allies and to maintain bilateral ties.

And since Trump’s public doubts about NATO and his threats against Greenland have already undermined the deterrent power of Article 5, perhaps losing it altogether would not do much more damage.

Conventional defence spending in Europe is already rapidly increasing, especially in the east and north of the continent. No sensible Russian general is likely to believe a fight with Poland would be a walk in the park.

Although small compared with America’s, Britain’s nuclear arsenal, which, unlike the French one, is committed to the defence of NATO, is potent enough to act as a serious deterrent. The UK would, however, have to develop a domestic delivery system if it is to eventually wean itself off dependence on US Trident missiles.

There is also the suggestion that the alliance could continue in some form, even shorn of the US. Trump’s repeated attacks on the alliance have already prompted some British and European strategists to think about how to preserve it without America.

The remaining allies could, for example, retain the North Atlantic Council, NATO’s main decision-making body, and the mutual defence clause.

Perhaps, then, there is a very narrow but plausible path to enduring a divorce and not suffering too greatly.

But should Trump or another incumbent president come to see Canada and Europe as enemies, the world will change profoundly.

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Britain, Europe, Greenland, NATO, Society, United States

Society as we know it must change if NATO is to survive

SOCIETY

Intro: Western societies have grown comfortable assuming that security, prosperity, and peace are the norm. They are not

The stand-off over Greenland has, for now, been defused. Donald Trump has withdrawn his threats of military action and tariffs. There is now an agreed framework for talks. Europeans, including Britons, should be relieved but not reassured. The deal is not done. More turbulence seems certain to lie ahead. The biggest winners in this disruption are not in Washington, let alone Europe, but in Moscow and Beijing.

For weeks, the world has been transfixed as America threatened a NATO ally over an Arctic territory that many struggle to locate on a map. That might have been “Art of the Deal” pressure and not a determination to be the president who acquired a 51st state, but it will have confirmed for Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping that Westen unity is brittle, that transactional pressure works, and even old alliances can be destabilised.

The strategic logic for Trump’s agenda is real. The Arctic is no longer a frozen periphery. Climate change is opening new shipping routes and exposing vast mineral deposits. Russia has militarised its northern coastline with submarine bases, icebreakers, and hypersonic missiles. China, despite having no Arctic territory, has declared itself a near-Arctic state and invested heavily in infrastructure and resources. Greenland sits at the intersection of these ambitions and astride the Golden Dome missile defence coverage.

The Arctic has always mattered to Britian. Our defence posture is northern-oriented, shaped by the Cold War imperative of protecting the Atlantic sea lanes to North America. That has not diminished but intensified as undersea energy and data cables have become critical to the modern economy. Our submarine patrols, maritime patrol aircraft, and our commitment to NATO’s northern flank all reflect this reality. The UK Commando Force will be in Norway shortly for their winter deployment – a tangible reminder that, for Britain, the High North is not a distant theatre but increasingly our strategic front line.

Greenland and Canada now sit on that front line too. Mark Carney’s call at the World Economic Forum in Davos for “middle powers” to collaborate more closely was not abstract multiculturalism but a recognition that the post-Cold War security architecture is fracturing. Countries like Britain, Canada, the Nordic nations, and others must build new coalitions. These will require substance – they need capability, capacity, and credibility.

For decades, we have relied on America’s military dominance to underwrite our security. Notwithstanding our sacrifices for American security in Iraq and Afghanistan, that guarantee can longer be assumed. The United States might be unwilling (isolationist sentiment is rising) or even unable to provide it (for example, were a crisis in the Euro-Atlantic to coincide with one in the Pacific). Shorn of its rhetoric, the Trump administration’s recently published national security strategy reflects priorities that any US administration would recognise: homeland security, the western hemisphere, China and the Middle East before the Euro-Atlantic.

Europe has committed to increasing defence expenditure over the next decade. Away from the eastern front line, those commitments are not yet backed by credible capability plans. Fragmentation is an issue. Europe operates 17 types of main battle tank; America has one. We have 20 different fighter jets; they have six. We have 29 classes of destroyers and frigates; they have four. Every variant means separate supply chains, training regimes, and maintenance.

Integration is not just about efficiency but credibility. An alliance that cannot operate as a coherent force will not deter a determined adversary. Putin has watched European defence debates for years and calculated – correctly so far – that we lack the collective will to match our rhetoric. European NATO must therefore accelerate defence investment, military interoperability, and defence industrial integration. Not as an alternative to NATO, but to reinforce NATO.

Political leaders must educate voters about the world we now inhabit. Western cohesion is brittle. The post-Cold War peace dividend has been spent. The threats are real and growing and the choices are hard: Europe spends 10-times more on welfare than on defence. No modern politician has dared echo John Kennedy’s “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country”. Someone will have to try.

These choices are not just about bigger budgets, they demand a broader reshaping of national resilience: how we protect critical infrastructure, secure supply chains, educate engineers and strategists, and prepare communities for disruption. During the Cold War, civil defence was a shared civic responsibility. We need a modern equivalent – not bunkers and drills but resilient energy systems, domestic manufacturing capacity, cyber literacy, and a citizenry that understands the strategic environment and can respond to crises from floods to hybrid warfare.

This isn’t about sacrifice. It’s about engagement. Higher educational establishments must train the technical talent and conduct the research that underpins resilience. Businesses must rebuild strategic capabilities. Local authorities must prepare for infrastructure disruption. And citizens must understand that security is not something government provides while we go about our lives – it is something we build together.

Darwin saw that it is not the strongest or smartest who survive but the most adaptable. The West has grown comfortable assuming that security, prosperity, and peace are the norm. They are not. They require constant effort. The Greenland episode has been a crisis. It must now become a catalyst. Europe has had its wake-up call.

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Denmark, Europe, European Union, Government, Greenland, NATO, Politics, Society, United States

The reasons behind Trump’s desire to acquire Greenland

UNITED STATES – GREENLAND

It is said that Donald Trump’s much-vaunted desire to acquire Greenland is all about US national security.

First, the US president claimed the Arctic island, a self-governing territory of the Kingdom of Denmark, was being swarmed by Russian and Chinese vessels. Then he said ownership of the sprawling territory was vital for his planned “Golden Dome” missile defence shield.

There are hints of truth in both claims, but security experts have broadly argued that a US acquisition of Greenland is not necessary to address the national security concerns.

The sparsely populated island plays an outsized role in the United States’ and NATO’s wider air defence architecture. It sits smack bang in the middle of the shortest flight path between Moscow and Washington – known as the great-circle distance.

Technically, the island is 2,000 miles from Washington and 2,000 miles from Moscow.

Since the end of the Second World War, the US has had military personnel stationed at Pituffik Space Base, on the far north coast of Greenland. It serves as the US military’s northernmost base, about 900 miles from the North Pole and is home to about 150 troops. It is a key cog in Washington’s early warning system for missiles. If Russia or China were to fire a ballistic missile at the US, its path would probably cross directly over Greenland, which is why the primary role of the personnel at Pituffik is to scan the skies for incoming aerial threats.

However, America’s military footprint on Greenland has significantly dwindled since the end of the Cold War.

At its peak, Washington had 17 installations and 15,000 soldiers on the island, hunting for Soviet submarines and ships, as well as being ready for a feared invasion.

This was underpinned by a 1951 agreement signed between the US and Danish governments. Copenhagen has repeatedly argued this deal still stands, and there is nothing preventing Mr Trump from deploying more soldiers to Greenland without the need to acquire the island.

This includes hosting any assets that would contribute to the US’s Golden Dome project – a $175bn (£131bn) air defence system that would mimic Israel’s Iron Dome, but on a vastly larger scale. Mr Trump had not mentioned Greenland, however, as being vital to this decade-long project until just recently – suggesting it has become a convenient excuse for the White House to use.

The Golden Dome project, it has been claimed, would also involve a system of satellites – some that track missiles and others that fire their own projectiles to shoot them down.

While analysts have questioned whether such technology even exists, or is likely to exist any time soon, US ownership of Greenland would not be a prerequisite for an American satellite defence system.

In real terms, Pituffik’s importance is expected to grow as climate change reshapes the polar Arctic by opening up new trade routes close to North America.

Greenland sits where the Arctic Ocean meets the Atlantic.

Russian ships and submarines leaving the country’s Arctic region bases to head south have to pass nearby to do so. One of the main routes sees the Russian vessels pass through the waters between Greenland, Iceland, and the UK – known as the GIUK Gap.

A second gap, the Bear Gap, between Norway and Iceland has also emerged as a favoured option.

Since Vladimir Putin ordered his invasion of Ukraine, NATO has increased its aerial and naval patrols in the area. Denmark says it will invest £1.73bn to bolster its Arctic Command with new ships, drones, and surveillance aircraft to guard the region. The spending was announced in January last year to deter Mr Trump’s interest in Greenland.

Again, as with missile defence, bolstering security in the waters around Greenland does not require acquisition of the island.

Denmark insists Washington could use existing treaties to address those national security concerns.

Greenland’s geography might provide the easiest route to explaining Mr Trump’s desire to acquire the territory. The island’s capital is closer to Washington than it is Copenhagen.

But it could be down to the maps drawn by Gerardus Mercator in the 16th century, and still commonly used.

On the Mercator Map, areas near the poles are greatly exaggerated in size.

Greenland can appear to be the same size of Africa, despite being 14-times smaller. South America also appears smaller than the Arctic island.

Mr Trump has publicly spoken of his love of maps, and for the size of perceived regional superpowers, such as the US or Russia. To some, the Mercator Distortion could just make a combined US-Greenland landmass look bigger than Russia.

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