The Price of Security: U.S. Strategy, European Dependency, and the Future of NATO
Ever since the 1940s, the United States has served as the guarantor of Western European security through NATO. After the Cold War, debates arose about NATO’s continued relevance, and the alliance struggled to redefine its mission. However, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in early 2022 reinvigorated NATO’s original purpose—protecting Europe and American interests against Russian aggression.
Additionally, Russia’s invasion is a stark reminder that large-scale war remains a reality. For years, there was a belief that conflicts were becoming more covert, sub-threshold, and irregular. The fact that NATO has united to support Ukraine has also led to increased interest in membership, reinforcing its core function of defense and security. With Sweden and Finland having joined, the alliance has once again expanded in direct response to Moscow’s actions, highlighting the continued relevance of collective security.
But NATO’s role has never been solely about deterring Russia. As an anthropologist, I am interested in what is particular and local but also in what is true across time and space. America’s alliances worldwide—supported by military bases and shared resources—augment its hard power and reach. To put it bluntly, however, the US’s alliances also serve to contain its adversaries and control regions. NATO, then, exists not solely as a collective defense security framework to stabilize a war-torn region, or merely as a military alliance to counter Russia (or formerly, the Soviet Union), but also as a system to ensure stabilization in ways that favor the United States.
During periods of NATO expansion after the Cold War, Russia was often an afterthought. Instead, enlargement was driven by the desire to integrate countries into a new geopolitical framework—both at their request and due to a general lack of opposition from the West. Now, however, NATO has returned to its foundational purpose: collective defense. The former Biden administration’s response to the Ukraine war has received mixed reviews. Some commend it for committing significant resources to Ukraine’s self-defense, while others argue the U.S. acted either too cautiously or too aggressively. The Biden administration’s approach—supporting Ukraine without direct military intervention—reflects an understanding that the US then, as today, has a genuine but limited interest in Ukraine’s fate.
Striking the right balance has been difficult. The US helped Ukraine resist Russian aggression but avoided escalation into a direct conflict. Biden, for all his political idiosyncrasies, seems to have understood the dangers of major war. While many compare the situation to Munich in 1938, the more relevant historical lesson is the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962—a stark reminder that nuclear war remains a possibility.
One missed opportunity was pressuring Europe to take on a greater share of the burden. While European nations have increased their efforts, the imbalance remains stark. The US stepped in as the primary force supporting Ukraine almost by default. A more strategic approach might have been to condition US support on Europe assuming more responsibility. Instead, America’s extensive involvement has reinforced Europe’s dependence on US leadership. The long-term consequence of this could be detrimental if the U.S. begins prioritizing Asia over European security concerns.
China’s exponential growth follows a hard arithmetic, ensuring that regardless of its future trajectory, in terms of scale, it will not revert to a time before the 1980s. The nation is actively pursuing hegemony (or as you prefer—primacy or “leadership”) in Asia, presenting significant implications for the United States and its global footprint. With its status as the largest near-peer rival and the richest challenger the U.S. has ever faced, China’s growth demands a concentrated effort due to the scarcity of both resources and time. Considering the implications of changing power dynamics, it is essential to balance power with goals and assess whether commitments ultimately benefit or hinder the United States.
Whether Europe is becoming post-American or merely less American, its defense strategy must account for the growing uncertainty of US commitments. As Blagden and Porter argue, NATO Europe faces a dangerous gap in its strategic posture due to its lack of tactical nuclear weapons—an asymmetry that Russia could exploit through nuclear coercion. The war in Ukraine has reinforced the necessity of deterrence, but without lower-yield nuclear capabilities, European allies may find themselves unable to counter Moscow’s calculated brinkmanship. A European coalition that relies solely on conventional forces and high-yield strategic weapons risks being paralyzed by the threat of limited nuclear use. Addressing this imbalance requires Britain to reconsider its nuclear posture, potentially following France’s model of maintaining air-launched, pre-strategic weapons. While costly, such an investment is a small price to pay for ensuring that NATO can deny Russia an advantage at every rung of the escalation ladder. If the alliance is to remain a credible deterrent, it must close this gap before a crisis forces the issue.
Some critics argue that the US has overcommitted, suggesting that allowing Ukraine to fall quickly could have minimized bloodshed. However, this perspective ignores the broader strategic consequences. A swift Russian victory would have emboldened Moscow, potentially leading to further aggression in the Baltics or elsewhere. History shows that regimes that achieve easy victories often become overconfident, leading to reckless expansionism. Ensuring that Russia pays a steep price for its invasion serves both a moral and strategic purpose—it signals that future territorial aggression will come at an unbearable cost.
Prior to the invasion, there was widespread belief that Russia had significantly modernized its military. Many expected Ukraine to collapse quickly, particularly given Russian infiltration efforts. However, these expectations were proven wrong. If Russia ultimately prevails, it will do so through sheer attrition, relying on its ability to absorb and inflict massive losses rather than demonstrating the kind of operational brilliance that defines historically great military campaigns. While Russia’s invasion force was arguably not designed to occupy all of Ukraine, early offensives—such as the push toward Kyiv and airborne operations near Hostomel—suggested ambitions beyond the east. Whether this was an attempt at full occupation or a rapid decapitation strike to install a favorable government remains debated. Ultimately, Russia’s war effort has concentrated on securing the eastern and southern regions, where its strategic interests have historically been strongest. The war has demonstrated that while Russia remains a nuclear threat, its conventional forces are far less formidable than previously feared.
The former Biden administration, in attempting to strengthen transatlantic ties, may have miscalculated the extent to which the US should bear responsibility for European security. There has been a tendency to treat NATO as an intrinsic good rather than a strategic tool. The administration’s response to then President Trump’s 2016-2020-era skepticism about NATO was to double down on its commitment, rather than using leverage to extract greater European contributions. Historically, effective alliance management has involved hard-nosed power politics, not just symbolic unity. Leaders from Kennedy to Reagan understood that alliances must justify themselves through strategic benefits, not mere sentimentality.
Some policymakers have sought to infuse NATO with broader ideological commitments, such as promoting democracy and human rights. However, NATO’s strength has traditionally been its pragmatism. During the Cold War, it accommodated authoritarian members like Portugal and Greece. Today, semi-authoritarian states like Hungary and Turkey play key roles. Overly ideological demands risk making NATO less flexible and more exclusionary, potentially weakening its cohesion.
Ultimately, NATO will persist because its members need it. However, its future role and structure remain uncertain. The U.S. faces growing pressure to prioritize Asia, regardless of who occupies the White House. While President Trump’s rhetoric may accelerate this shift, the underlying trend is structural and independent of any single administration. In response, European nations must recognize that the US will not always be able or willing to serve as the ultimate guarantor of their security. They will need to collectively rethink their security arrangements—whether within NATO or through alternative coalitions.
Looking ahead, NATO must evolve. Its survival in some form is really not in question, but its effectiveness depends on adapting to geopolitical realities rather than clinging to outdated assumptions. The alliance has served a vital purpose, but nothing in geopolitics is eternal. The challenge now is ensuring that NATO remains an instrument of strategic necessity rather than an unquestioned article of faith. The coming years will test the alliance’s ability to navigate an increasingly multipolar world, where the balance of power is shifting, and old security assumptions no longer hold.
