In a world of constant change, the endurance of the
trans-Atlantic partnership stands out. NATO is older than I am, and I’m
no youngster. It has been around even longer than Queen Elizabeth II
reigned in Britain. Its original rationale—to “keep
the Soviet Union out, the Americans in, and the Germans down”—is less
relevant than it used to be (Russia’s war in Ukraine notwithstanding),
yet it still commands reflexive reverence on both sides of the Atlantic.
If you’re an aspiring policy wonk hoping to make your mark in
Washington, Berlin, Paris, London, etc., learning to praise NATO’s
enduring virtues is still the smart career move.
This longevity is especially remarkable when one considers how much
has changed since NATO was formed and the idea of a “trans-Atlantic
community” began to take shape. The Warsaw Pact is gone, and the Soviet
Union has collapsed. The United States has spent 20-plus years fighting
costly and unsuccessful wars in the greater Middle East.
China has risen from an impoverished nation with little global clout to
the world’s second-most-powerful country, and its leaders aspire to an
even greater global role in the future. Europe itself has experienced
profound shifts as well: changing demographics, repeated economic
crises, civil wars in the Balkans, and, in 2022, a destructive war that
seems likely to continue for some time.
To be sure, the “trans-Atlantic partnership” hasn’t been entirely
static. NATO has added new members throughout its history, beginning
with Greece and Turkey in 1952, followed by Spain in 1982, then a flurry
of former Soviet allies beginning in 1999, and most recently Sweden and
Finland. The distribution of burdens within the alliance has fluctuated
as well, with most of Europe cutting their defense contributions
drastically after the end of the Cold War. NATO has also gone through
various doctrinal shifts, some of them more consequential than others.
It is therefore worth asking what form the trans-Atlantic partnership
should take in the future. How should it define its mission and
distribute its responsibilities? As with a mutual fund, past success is
no guarantee of future performance, which is why smart portfolio
managers seeking the best returns will adjust a fund’s assets as
conditions change. Given past changes, current events, and likely future
circumstances, what broad vision should shape the trans-Atlantic
partnership in the future, assuming it continues to exist at all?
I can think of at least four distinct models going forward.
Model 1: Business as Usual
One obvious approach—and given bureaucratic rigidity and political
caution, perhaps the most likely one—is to keep the present arrangements
more or less intact and change as little as possible. In this model,
NATO would remain primarily focused on European security (as the phrase
“North Atlantic” in its name implies). The United States would remain
Europe’s “first responder” and unchallenged alliance leader, as it has
been during the Ukraine crisis. Burden-sharing would still be skewed:
America’s military capabilities would continue to dwarf Europe’s
military forces, and the U.S. nuclear umbrella would still cover the
other members of the alliance. “Out-of-area” mission would be
deemphasized in favor of a renewed focus on Europe itself, a decision
that makes sense in light of the disappointing results of NATO’s past
adventures in Afghanistan, Libya, and the Balkans.
To be fair, this model has some obvious virtues. It’s familiar, and it keeps Europe’s “American pacifier”
in place. European states won’t have to worry about conflicts arising
between them as long as Uncle Sam is still there to blow the whistle and
break up quarrels. European governments that don’t want to trim their
generous welfare states to pay the costs of rearmament will be happy to
let Uncle Sam bear a disproportionate share of the burden, and countries
closest to Russia will be especially desirous of a strong U.S. security
guarantee. Having a clear alliance leader with disproportionate
capabilities will facilitate more rapid and consistent decision-making
within what might otherwise be an unwieldly coalition. Thus, there are
good reasons why die-hard Atlanticists sound the alarm whenever someone
proposes tampering with this formula.
Yet the business-as-usual model has some serious downsides as well.
The most obvious is opportunity cost: keeping the United States as
Europe’s first responder makes it hard for the Washington to devote
sufficient time, attention, and resources to Asia, where threats to the
balance of power are significantly greater and the diplomatic environment is especially complicated.
A strong U.S. commitment to Europe may dampen certain potential causes
of conflict there, but it didn’t prevent the Balkan wars in the 1990s,
and the U.S.-led effort to bring Ukraine into the Western security orbit
helped provoke
the current war. This is not what anyone in the West intended, of
course, but results are what matters. Ukraine’s recent successes on the
battlefield are extremely gratifying, and I hope they continue, but it
would have been far better for all concerned had the war not occurred at
all.
Moreover, the business-as-usual model encourages Europe to remain
dependent on European protection and contributes to a general
complacency and lack of realism in the conduct of European foreign
policy. If you’re confident the world’s mightiest power will leap to
your side as soon as trouble starts, it’s easier to ignore the risks of
being overly dependent on foreign energy supplies and overly tolerant of
creeping authoritarianism closer to home. And though hardly anybody
wants to admit this, this model has the potential to drag the United
States into peripheral conflicts that may not always be vital to the
security or prosperity of the United States itself. At the very least,
business as usual is no longer an approach we should endorse
uncritically.
Model 2: Democracy International
A second model for trans-Atlantic security cooperation highlights the
shared democratic character of (most of) NATO’s members and the growing
divide between democracies and autocracies (and especially Russia and
China). This vision lies behind the Biden administration’s efforts to
emphasize shared democratic values and its openly stated desire
to prove that democracy can still outperform autocracy on the global
stage. Former NATO Secretary-General Anders Fogh Rasmussen’s Alliance of Democracies Foundation reflects a similar conception.
Unlike the business-as-usual model, which is focused primarily on
European security, this conception of the trans-Atlantic partnership
embraces a broader global agenda. It conceives of contemporary world
politics as an ideological contest between democracy and autocracy and
believes this struggle must be waged on a global scale. If the United
States is “pivoting” to Asia, then its European partners need to do so
as well, but for the broader purpose of defending and promotive
democratic systems. Consistent with that vision, Germany’s new Indo-Pacific strategy calls for strengthening ties with that region’s democracies, and the German defense minister recently announced an expanded naval presence there in 2024 as well.
This
vision has the merit of simplicity—democracy good, autocracy bad—but
its flaws far outweigh its virtues. For starters, such a framework will
inevitably complicate relations with autocracies that the United States
and/or Europe have chosen to support (such as Saudi Arabia or the other
Gulf monarchies, or potential Asian partners such as Vietnam), and
expose the trans-Atlantic partnership to a charge of rampant hypocrisy.
Second, dividing the world into friendly democracies and hostile
dictatorships is bound to reinforce ties among the latter and discourage
the former from playing divide-and-rule. From this perspective, we
should be glad that then-U.S. President Richard Nixon and his advisor
Henry Kissinger did not adopt this framework in 1971, when their
rapprochement with Maoist China gave the Kremlin a new headache to worry
about.
Finally, putting democratic values front and center risks turning the
trans-Atlantic partnership into a crusading organization seeking to
plant democracy wherever it can. However desirable that goal might be in
the abstract, the past 30 years should show that no member of the
alliance knows how to do this effectively. Exporting democracy is
exceedingly hard to do and usually fails, especially when outsiders try
to impose
it by force. And given the parlous state of democracy in some of NATO’s
current members, to adopt this as the alliance’s primary raison d’être
seems quixotic in the extreme.
Model 3: Going Global vs. China
Model 3 is a close cousin of Model 2, but instead of organizing
trans-Atlantic relations around democracy and other liberal values, it
seeks to enlist Europe in the broader U.S. effort to contain a rising
China. In effect, it seeks to unite America’s multilateral European
partners with the bilateral hub-and-spoke arrangements that already
exist in Asia, and bring Europe’s power potential to bear against the
only serious peer competitor that the United States is likely to face
for many years to come.
At first glance, this is an appealing vision, and one could point to the AUKUS agreement
between the United States, United Kingdom, and Australia as an early
manifestation of it. As Michael Mazarr of the Rand Corp. recently observed,
there is growing evidence that Europe no longer views China as simply a
lucrative market and valuable investment partner, and is beginning to “soft balance”
against it. From a purely American perspective, it would be highly
desirable to have Europe’s economic and military potential lined up
against its primary challenger.
But there are two obvious problems with this model. First, states balance not against power alone but against threats,
and geography plays a critical role in those assessments. China may be
increasingly powerful and ambitious, but its army is not going to march
across Asia and strike at Europe, and its navy isn’t going to sail
around the world and blockade European ports. Russia is far weaker than
China but a whole lot closer, and its recent behavior is worrisome even
if its actions have unwittingly revealed its military limitations. One
should therefore expect the softest of soft balancing from Europe and
not a serious effort to counter China’s capabilities.
NATO’s European members do not have the military capacity to affect
the balance of power in the Indo-Pacific region in any significant way,
and they are unlikely to acquire it any time soon. The war in Ukraine
may lead European states to get serious about rebuilding their military
forces—finally—but most of their efforts will go to acquiring ground,
air, and surveillance capabilities designed to defend against and deter
Russia. That makes good sense from Europe’s perspective, but most of
these forces would be irrelevant to any conflict involving China.
Sending a few German frigates to the Indo-Pacific region may be a nice
way to signal Germany’s stated interest in the evolving security
environment there, but it is not going to alter the regional balance of
power or make much difference in China’s calculations.
Europe can help balance China in other ways, of course—helping train
foreign military forces, selling weapons, participating in regional
security forums, etc.—and the United States should welcome such efforts.
But nobody should count on Europe to do much hard balancing in the
Indo-Pacific theater. Trying to put this model into place is a recipe
for disappointment and increased trans-Atlantic rancor.
Model 4: A New Division of Labor
You knew this was coming: the model I think is the right one. As I’ve argued before (including most recently here in Foreign Policy),
the optimal future model for the trans-Atlantic partnership is a new
division of labor, with Europe taking primary responsibility for its own
security and the United States devoting much greater attention to the
Indo-Pacific region. The United States would remain a formal member of
NATO, but instead of being Europe’s first responder, it would become its
ally of last resort. Henceforth, the United States would plan to go
back onshore in Europe only if the regional balance of power eroded
dramatically, but not otherwise.
This model cannot be implemented overnight and should be negotiated
in a cooperative spirit, with the United States helping its European
partners design and acquire the capabilities they need. Because many of
these states will do everything in their power to convince Uncle Sam to
stay, however, Washington will have to make it crystal clear that this
is the only model it will support going forward. Unless and until NATO’s
European members really believe they are going to be mostly on their
own, their resolve to take the necessary steps will remain fragile, and
backsliding on their pledges is to be expected.
Unlike Donald Trump, whose bluster and bombast during his time as
U.S. president annoyed allies to no good purpose, his successor Joe
Biden is in an ideal position to start this process. He has a
well-earned reputation as a dedicated Atlanticist, so pushing for a new
division of labor wouldn’t be seen as a sign of resentment or pique. He
and his team are uniquely positioned to tell our European partners that
this step is in everyone’s long-term interest. Mind you, I don’t really
expect Biden & Co. to take this step—for reasons I’ve explained elsewhere—but they should.