Could Europe take on Russia without American help? Once bitten, twice shy

 «IMAGINE THIS scenario: in the half-light of a March morning in 2027, Russian armoured units cross the Latvian border near Rezekne, seize the rail station and turn south toward Daugavpils, Latvia’s second city, half of whose population is ethnically Russian. Capitalising on the fruits of a malign influence campaign, their aim is to seize a sliver of territory on the pretext that “Russian-speaking communities” require Moscow’s protection. Russian troops rapidly build fixed positions and deploy mobile air defences, while their president, Vladimir Putin, still basking in the glow of newly acquired lands in the Donbas, waits for NATO to decide how to respond.

In Washington, the response is what the Europeans had feared. President Donald Trump informs them that America will not fight a European war over a slice of Latvia that, he claims, is basically Russian anyway. Russia is just too powerful to fight and, as in Ukraine, will just grind it out. Besides, Mr Trump argues, European weakness practically invited this incursion in the first place. He calls for “peace” on social media, but will send no troops, no heavy lift and no fighter jets—though Europeans are welcome to purchase American weapons.

The fictional land-grab in Latvia invites NATO to think the previously unthinkable: can the alliance, without America, contain and then repel a Russian advance?

Any theory of victory for a NATO without American troops begins with an acknowledgment that Europe can fight a short war but not a long one. Without the heavy lift, air-to-air refuelling, airborne command-and-control, satellite-enabled intelligence and deep munitions stockpiles that America provides, Europe’s capacity to sustain high-intensity combat would evaporate in weeks.

This does not mean Europeans would inevitably lose. Europe sans America has enormous demographic and economic advantages. Donald Tusk, Poland’s prime minister, put the task in proper perspective, noting that “500m Europeans are asking 300m Americans to protect them from 140m Russians.” Further, NATO’s GDP (without America) is ten times larger than Russia’s. However, Russia’s economy and civil society are geared for war so, despite latent material advantages, Europe must repel the invaders quickly. A short war would turn on urgent speed: in political decision-making, in operational reinforcement of the eastern flank and in seizing the initiative before Russia could exploit Europe’s industrial and logistical constraints.

Unfortunately, Mr Putin has shown that he has the stomach for longer wars, provided China supplies the sort of support he received during his war in Ukraine. He is less sensitive to casualties and material sacrifice than his democratic peers. If the Kremlin perceived that domestic politics in western Europe were beginning to wobble, he might simply choose to endure any initial setbacks and grind on, as he has done in Ukraine. The longer the war, the poorer Europe’s odds without America as an “arsenal of democracy”.

The first phase of war would involve blunting and containing Russia’s initial thrust. Geography makes this manageable. NATO knows where Russia can mass forces; the frontiers of the Baltic states and the Suwalki Gap are not mysteries, and the challenge posed by the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad is understood. European armies—especially those of Poland, Nordic countries, the Baltic states and, increasingly, Germany—have capable kit, rehearsed plans and access to rail and road networks that would allow reinforcements to move eastwards at a reasonable speed. If Europe can avoid being overwhelmed in the opening days, it could contain the incursion long enough to reinforce.

Retaking seized territory would be difficult. To push Russian forces out of Latvia, Europe would need not only local superiority but also to degrade Russian air defences inside Russia—something many NATO members might recoil from. Mr Putin understands this dynamic and would ruthlessly exploit it.

Authorising the use of this level of force against Russia could exacerbate NATO’s political divisions. Whereas Britain, Poland, the Baltic states and Nordic countries view Russia as the central threat to European security, many Mediterranean members feel less threatened and would therefore be willing to run fewer risks to counter it. Some perceive other challenges, such as mass migration, as more urgent. These differing threat perceptions could quickly transform NATO into a narrower coalition of the willing with less combat power. It is not hard to imagine Hungary or Slovakia declining to participate; Turkey, another NATO member, might seek a role as a mediator instead of fighting.

Operationally, Europe’s capabilities vary by domain. On land, it is reasonably well prepared for a short fight, with modern forces close to the front line and well trained for defending familiar terrain. In the air, Europe has better fighter aircraft than Russia but suffers from a lack of aerial-refuelling and airborne command-and-control platforms—assets that America has long provided. At sea, Europe would stretch resources thin in any attempt to dominate the Baltic and Black Seas and the northern approaches.

In cyber operations Europe holds its own, though some of the relevant infrastructure is owned by American firms whose co-operation might be constrained by an American government decree. Space is another vulnerability. Without American satellite intelligence, Europe would be forced to rely on a patchwork of national assets and potentially unreliable private providers such as Starlink.

More seriously, the Kremlin has repeatedly demonstrated its ability to manipulate Western fears of nuclear escalation, as the Ukraine war has shown. While British and French nuclear forces are credible, this fight would be without the backstop of American nuclear guarantees.

Europe is far from helpless, but it has become dangerously accustomed to American capability. In Ukraine, Russia’s armed forces have proved to be weaker than anticipated, but also more adaptable. And, being a dictator, Mr Putin has a clear advantage when it comes to putting bodies in harm’s way in a protracted conflict. Big question marks hang over European democracies’ ability to convince sceptical populations to take up arms in defence of European territory and liberal values.

A short war without American troops is winnable, but only if Europe dramatically steps up preparation. That means expanding the defence industrial base, investing in heavy lift, refuelling platforms and autonomous intelligence gathering, clarifying wartime command arrangements, and preparing to act without American leadership rather than hoping not to need it. The alternative is to continue the risky bet that America will always arrive. In the fictional Latvian crisis, that assumption looks increasingly like a gamble, not a strategy.»

David Gioe and Doug Chalmers ask if Europe could take on Russia without American help

David Gioe is a visiting professor in the King’s College London Department of War Studies and academic director of the Cambridge Security Initiative.

Doug Chalmers was Britain’s deputy chief of the defence staff from 2018 to 2021. He is the master of Emmanuel College, University of Cambridge.