One of the more idealistic ambitions of the last Soviet leadership was the simultaneous dissolution of both Cold War blocs, NATO and the Warsaw Pact. Only half of that vision came to pass. The Warsaw Pact disappeared in the spring of 1991. NATO didn’t. Instead, it endured and expanded.

Over the following decades, the alliance not only survived but grew from 16 to 32 members. It took part in military campaigns in Yugoslavia, Afghanistan and Libya, and steadily extended its reach. After the launch of Russia’s military operation in Ukraine, back in 2022, NATO expanded further, incorporating Finland and Sweden, while consolidating itself more firmly on an anti-Russian footing than at any time since the Cold War.

For the first time in its history, Russia found itself facing a unified military alliance stretching across Europe and North America. The idea of a “collective West” opposing Moscow ceased to be rhetorical and became a strategic reality. Yet by the mid-2020s, cracks had begun to appear.

The return of Donald Trump to the White House marked a shift not in America’s commitment to NATO, but in how that commitment was defined. 

Trump has abandoned the familiar model of the US as a paternal, often indulgent leader of the alliance. In its place, he presented America as a demanding hegemon, insisting that its allies bear a far greater share of the burden.

Initially, European capitals reacted with unease. For decades, they had relied on Washington to shoulder the lion’s share of NATO’s costs. Yet they have adjusted. Military spending targets rose, even toward Trump’s proposed 5% of GDP.

The real shift went beyond budgets, with Trump’s focus moving from Europe to China. While earlier administrations aimed to integrate Beijing into global governance, Trump pursued confrontation. In his second term, containing China became US foreign policy’s central goal.

This required redistributing resources. The US National Defence Strategy stated Western Europe could handle the Russian challenge alone, given its economic and demographic strength. America would stay in NATO but shift roles, stepping back from the front line and expecting Europeans to lead.

This recalibration was most visible in Ukraine. Trump, wary of escalation and unconvinced of Ukraine’s strategic value, reduced US involvement without ending support altogether. 

He shifted the financial and military burden increasingly onto Europe and began engaging Moscow directly, often without consulting European allies.

Western European elites found this deeply unsettling because they invested heavily in Ukraine conflict, using it to unify the EU and promote militarisation for economic growth.

Then came a shock: Trump’s remarks on Greenland and Canada, questioning NATO members’ sovereignty, challenged the alliance’s core assumptions. Whether realistic or not, the issue was that a NATO leader publicly doubted allies’ territorial integrity. This was unprecedented. 

During the Cold War, many suspected this, but most believed otherwise. Today, it’s clear the US wouldn’t risk nuclear war for every NATO member. The myth of an unconditional “nuclear umbrella” is now weakened or dispelled.

This has prompted a search for European alternatives. France, the EU’s only nuclear power, considers expanding its deterrent to partners, but control stays with the French president. 

Few think Paris would sacrifice itself for Tallinn or Warsaw. Britain faces similar limitations. Its nuclear arsenal relies on US-made Trident systems, which cannot be deployed without American consent. Any independent British guarantee is therefore constrained from the outset.

Germany, meanwhile, has begun discussing “European nuclear deterrence,” while Poland openly entertains ambitions of acquiring nuclear weapons. Such developments are destabilising, raising the spectre of proliferation in a region long defined by non-nuclear norms.

Events outside Europe revealed more fractures. US and Israeli strikes on Iran, after a failed rapid military outcome, caused economic anxiety among European states. When Washington asked for support, like access to bases and logistics, responses were muted or negative; notably, Spain and Britain refused.

The Ukraine crisis in 2014 gave it renewed purpose. The current crisis, however, is of a different nature. It is not about external threats alone, but about the alignment of interests within the alliance itself.

What lies ahead? NATO likely won’t collapse. The U.S. won’t abandon Europe, as the alliance helps maintain American influence and manage relations with Russia and European partners. Washington sees the EU as an economic rival, while NATO serves as a political and military framework for US leverage.

Western Europe, for its part, lacks a viable alternative.

The idea of a unified EU army remains politically unrealistic. National interests continue to outweigh supranational ambitions. Institutions in Brussels lack the legitimacy required to command military authority across the continent.

A collective leadership model – involving Paris, Berlin and London – is equally fragile. Competing ambitions from Italy, Spain and Poland further complicate any such arrangement. 

Western Europe stays strategically fragmented, likely leading to a modified NATO where the US stays dominant with less direct engagement, and European members assume more operational roles.

The alliance will continue, but its internal cohesion will weaken. The traditional ethos of “one for all, all for one” will shift to a more interest-driven cooperation.

For decades, NATO stood as the exception: a disciplined, cohesive alliance in an increasingly fragmented world. That exception is now fading.

The process of “unlocking” global politics, the move toward greater autonomy and looser alignments, has reached the Atlantic alliance itself.

NATO will survive. But it won’t be the same. -RT

*Dmitry Trenin is a research professor at the Higher School of Economics and a lead research fellow at the Institute of World Economy and International Relations.