The news from the U.S.-Ukraine talks in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, on Tuesday brought relief across Ukraine last night. The outcome could have been much worse—in keeping with the brutal negotiating style Washington has favored in recent weeks. The agreement stipulates a 30-day ceasefire in exchange for a resumed flow of the U.S. weapons and intelligence essential for Kyiv’s defense. Now the ball is in Russia’s court. Will Vladimir Putin observe the truce? Is he serious about wanting peace?
Even if he is—a big if—neither Ukraine nor the rest of Europe are likely to forget the way Washington bullied and abused them in recent weeks.
On March 4, just days after Donald Trump’s dressing down of Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office, Washington cut off the supply of U.S. arms and ammunition, threatening to incapacitate some 40 percent of the equipment Kyiv counts on to defend itself. A day later, the U.S. restricted vital targeting and intelligence data, endangering the lives of soldiers and civilians by sharply limiting Ukrainian knowledge of Russian troop movements and missile launches. The immediate result was one of the fiercest Russian air attacks in recent months: 67 missiles and 194 attack drones launched overnight on March 6, killing at least 20 people in the front-line city of Dobropillia.
For the first time since the early months of the war, I saw fear in the eyes of my Ukrainian friends. Sources said soldiers’ morale was teetering between despair and defiance. And many still fear there is worse to come: a U.S. push to compel Kyiv to surrender to Moscow’s steepest demands—for demilitarization and a change of government.
Western European leaders responded resolutely after the Oval Office brawl, gathering in London and Brussels to discuss ramping up European defense spending and aid for Ukraine. The European Union proposed a huge burst of increased investment—new fiscal rules and a new loan fund that could unleash as much as €800 billion for weaponry and ammunition. Incoming German chancellor Friedrich Merz proposed policy changes that could open the door to doubling his country’s defense budget. French President Emmanuel Macron raised the possibility of extending the French nuclear umbrella to European allies, and leaders across the continent spoke with new resolve about the need for independence from the U.S.
It was a seismic shift, long overdue. But many Ukrainians remain cautious. Will Europeans follow through on promises of increased defense spending? Can they overcome their differences? Perhaps most important, how firm is Europe’s resolve to end its reliance on American protection—guarantees that helped keep the peace for eight decades but are now dissolving abruptly, leaving the continent vulnerable to a revanchist Russia?
Europeans are in disbelief at the speed of Washington’s pivot from its traditional allies. The continent still relies on the U.S. for too many essential elements of its war-fighting capacity, including intelligence, air defense, and command and control. [See Mike Lofgren, “How Ukraine Can Survive Without America.”] Even leaders who see the need to decouple are divided about what kind of shift is needed. Is what’s ahead a modest rebalancing—or bitter divorce? Should the allies worry that Trump’s America will be less reliable—or opposed to European interests?
France and Britain lean in different directions, as they have since World War II. London still hopes that Trump can be brought around. In the tradition of post-World War II-era French president Charles de Gaulle, Paris is much more willing to chart an independent path. “I do not accept that the U.S. is an unreliable ally,” British Prime Minister Keir Starmer maintained after the meeting between Trump and Zelensky in the Oval Office.
A few days later, Starmer reassured parliament that Trump would not pull the plug on Ukraine aid—hours before the president announced he was doing just that. As France proposes to extend its nuclear force de frappe—independent from the U.S. since the Suez Crisis in 1956—Britain continues to rely on the U.S. for parts and maintenance of its nuclear deterrent. Indeed, the lion’s share of British weapons is stored on American soil.
Arguably, the most surprising reaction came from one of Trump’s favorite European countries, Poland. The president goes out of his way to praise Poland at every opportunity, among other reasons, because it spends nearly 5 percent of GDP on defense, compared to a European average of 1.9 percent, and, more often than not, purchases its new weapons from America. But last week, Warsaw, too, began to talk about a turning point. A “profound change of American geopolitics” has put Poland in a difficult position, Prime Minister Donald Tusk declared, calling on his country to double the size of its armed forces and “reach for opportunities related to nuclear weapons.”
The about-face in Germany could be even more consequential. “My absolute priority,” the newly elected Merz declared just hours after his victory last month, “will be to strengthen Europe as quickly as possible so that, step by step, we can really achieve independence from the USA.” It couldn’t have been an easy announcement for a lifelong Trans-Atlanticist who spent most of his career doing business with Americans. Yet, with the White House tilting toward Moscow and ambushing Kyiv, the outraged Merz was unequivocal. “It is clear,” he said, “that the Americans, at least this part of the Americans, this administration, are largely indifferent to the fate of Europe.”
But the sad truth is that these differences—the gulf between Starmer’s hopeful best-case scenario and Merz’s apocalyptic vision—may not matter much. The alarming lesson from Ukraine is how hard it will be for Europe to achieve independence from the U.S., whether it moves gradually or abruptly.
The heaviest blow to Ukraine last week was the cutoff of U.S. intelligence, blinding it to Russian activity at airfields and other staging areas behind the front line. The results were felt immediately in Russia’s Kursk province, where Ukraine once occupied some 500 square miles. Kyiv suffered severe losses over the past week and may have to give up on the offensive it launched last August. Also critical was the severing of electronic information used to direct GPS-guided missiles fired by High Mobility Artillery Rocket Systems (HIMARS). Early Wednesday afternoon, with little or no warning, Ukrainian soldiers preparing to launch the missiles found that the targeting had been disabled. Had the cutoff continued, other interrupted feeds would have rendered F-16 fighter jets more vulnerable to Russian air defense.
Still, other shortages would have kicked in over time, and it would be felt if aid were cut again. American HIMARS, Bradley fighting vehicles, and M777 howitzers are the workhorses of the war—in use all along the front line and essential to Ukrainian survival. Kyiv wouldn’t run out immediately, but a few months of wear and tear would leave much of this equipment unusable. Ammunition would dwindle, especially if Washington tried to block even European arms shipments into Ukraine, as it did last week. Most pressing, Ukraine would eventually use the last of the Patriot air-defense missiles that have made life livable in Kyiv and other cities—the only weapon from any country capable of downing Russian ballistic missiles.
Europe’s predicament differs from Ukraine’s, but the parallels are—or should be—unnerving. Disentangling from NATO would be less abrupt but no less complex than the challenges Kyiv faced last week. For Europeans, too, American intelligence and air defenses are currently irreplaceable. All the continent’s war-fighting plans link back to NATO, for which the U.S. plays a decisive role in planning and coordinating combined European and American troop movements. If Europe can’t enforce a Ukrainian ceasefire without a U.S. “backstop,” it’s hard to see how it would defend itself against Russian aggression, all the more likely in the wake of a victory in Ukraine.
As Britain and France learned the hard way last year when they decided to allow Ukraine to use their long-range SCALP and Storm Shadow missiles to hit targets inside Russia, many European-made weapons rely on U.S. components, and Washington can refuse to grant permission. What happened last week in Ukraine—the incapacitating of the HIMARS missiles—will surely steer Europeans away from future U.S. weapons purchases. But breaking years of habit will not be easy—in 2023, the U.S. accounted for 49 percent of European weapons buys.
Europe’s options are limited—there is only so much it can do in the short term to decouple from the U.S. The first step is realism—hoping for the best, as Starmer and others do, but planning for the worst. Both the EU and Germany should act on the principles they outlined last week—increased defense spending and more coordinated continental weapons production. The next step would be seizing the $230 billion frozen Russian assets in European banks and funneling the proceeds to Ukraine for military purposes or reconstruction.
Europe should try to persuade Washington to let it purchase some of the weaponry that only America can supply to Ukraine, starting with Patriot air-defense missiles. The continent can invest more in Ukraine’s burgeoning defense industry, which already supplies roughly 40 percent of Kyiv’s battlefield equipment, including most drones. Most important and most difficult, Europe must start to imagine and implement a plan for a new mutual defense pact outside of NATO.
Like any bid for independence, a European push toward self-reliance could backfire disastrously. We all know how such things go wrong: you think you’re protecting yourself from abandonment but end up pushing away a vital source of sustenance and support. But Trump’s bruising first six weeks back in the White House leave Europe with little choice.
