In the beginning, for post-Cold War Europe, was Dayton, Ohio. The breakup of Yugoslavia had generated Europe’s first geopolitical crisis since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Many European countries had a vested interest in ending the conflicts that had bubbled up in the Balkans. Yet they lacked the cohesion, the common position, and the military capacity to act. A definitive round of diplomacy took place in the American Midwest—in Dayton—and the United States assumed the role of Europe’s uncontested security guarantor. To the indispensable security guarantor go the diplomatic spoils.
It is easy to tell the story of European military incapacity over the past three decades. When the United States was eager to invade Iraq in 2003, many European countries were horrified, but there was little that they could do; some European countries, such as Spain and the United Kingdom, joined the U.S. war effort and some very conspicuously did not. The Baltics rushed to support the United States. They wanted to prove their solidarity and value to Washington.
Whatever its reservations about U.S. power, Europe did little to augment its military capacity after 2003. When Russia annexed Crimea and invaded eastern Ukraine in 2014, Germany and France brokered the Minsk agreements between 2014 and 2015. They manifestly failed to restore Ukraine’s sovereignty or territorial integrity. U.S. President Barack Obama had hoped it would be the hour of Europe. Instead, it was the prelude to Russia’s massive invasion of Ukraine in 2022.
Much as Europe has struggled to bring victory to Ukraine, the story of European incapacity is getting old. By now, it is half the story—and maybe not even that. The other half is one of consolidation, a process initiated by two non-European leaders: Russian President Vladimir Putin, whose appetite for war has no clear limits, and U.S. President Donald Trump, whose commitment to Europe is uncertain.
The Trump administration does not see the United States as Europe’s primary security guarantor. For its own sake, Europe must fill the void, which it is has begun doing by fostering widespread support for Ukraine and greater European investment in defense. In June, NATO allies endorsed a spending pledge of committing 5 percent of their GDPs to defense. Berlin announced that it would reach defense spending of 3.5 percent of its GDP by 2029—well ahead of the alliance’s timeline. Germany is poised to become one of the world’s top three defense spenders.
This newfound sobriety is reshaping NATO’s eastern flank. While the Kremlin repeatedly demands a return to 1997 and a retraction of NATO, Europe is reinforcing its forward defenses. The Baltic states have driven the transition from symbolic trip wire to credible deterrence: prepositioned stocks, enhanced air surveillance, and the deployment of a full German brigade in Lithuania. This effort has been spearheaded by the Europeans themselves and not by Washington, as it would have been previously.
The hastily arranged meeting between Trump and Putin in Alaska on Aug. 15, followed by a chaotic day of trans-Atlantic summitry in the White House, seemed to sideline Europe. Trump positioned himself before the cameras as the pivotal decision-maker and host. Nevertheless, the photographs of European leaders gathered dutifully around his desk are misleading. The Europeans carefully prepared and choreographed their visit. Leaders from across the political spectrum—from Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni on the right to U.K. Prime Minister Keir Starmer on the center left—put aside their differences and spoke in one voice.
At the White House, they were addressing three separate audiences. They signaled unwavering support for Ukraine and opposition to any scenario in which Moscow dictates terms to Ukraine or to Europe. To Washington, they were politely demonstrating that Europe would have a seat at the table.
European leaders traveled to the White House for the sake of Ukraine. Their argument was soft-spoken but consequential: Ukraine should not concede territory to Russia, and Europe would not recognize Russian control over Ukrainian territory (even if the United States might). As long as Russia challenges Ukraine’s sovereignty, Europe will continue its military support—whether or not the United States chooses to do so.
That stance is backed by material capabilities. The European Union’s 50 billion euro ($58.4 billion) Ukraine Facility (intended to be used from 2024 through 2027) provides predictable financing; European military support has, at points in 2025, surpassed U.S. military aid flows. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, who was impeccably polite to Trump, did not have to sit alone in the Oval Office—as he had back in February—and be told that he should consider surrendering to Russia. Despite popularity at home that has plateaued or declined, Zelensky could return to Kyiv with his head held high.
In their meetings with Trump, European leaders conveyed no weakness toward Russia. To the contrary: They emphasized that Europe would not normalize relations with Russia unless Russia would withdraw from Ukraine and credibly accept Ukrainian sovereignty as a fact of European life. Europe has backed up this position with an expanding sanctions regime—reaching an 18th EU package on July 18—targeting energy, finance, and circumvention channels tied to the Russian “shadow fleet” of oil tankers.
Russia’s natural market is not the United States, and it is not China: It is Europe. Even if Russia were to forge ahead on the battlefield, it would struggle to achieve economic growth without access to European markets and without getting Europe to lift its sanctions. In a war of attrition, which the war in Ukraine has become, Europe has enormous leverage over the Russian economy. It is using this leverage.
Europe has the power to constrain the United States on Ukraine, as demonstrated by the presence of so many European leaders at the White House meeting. Trump has styled himself a peacemaker in his second term and speaks often about wishing to end the war. He cannot do so merely by withdrawing U.S. military assistance to Ukraine or by signing documents with Putin. Too many European countries are doing too much to sustain the Ukrainian war effort.
In 2003, Joschka Fischer, then Germany’s foreign minister, famously objected to the march to war in Iraq. “I am not convinced,” he said to U.S. policymakers when they made their case for war. His memorable comment was irrelevant. The war took place. Now, it matters whether European leaders are convinced or not, and they are convinced that a Ukrainian defeat would be disastrous for Europe.
The White House has reluctantly come to understand this. The level of coordination with Europeans before and after Alaska did not resemble the early stages of Trump’s second term, when Europeans were left in the dark about his dealings with Moscow.
Trump remains delusional on Europe. On the one hand, his administration is exploring ways to reduce the number of U.S. troops on the continent, hoping either to shift resources toward China or to replicate former President Bill Clinton’s cost-cutting “peace dividend.” On the other hand, Trump has called himself “the president of Europe” after his recent push to end the war in Ukraine. Though he has declared himself negotiator in chief, he cannot reprise Dayton and impose a solution of purely U.S. design on Europe. Trump has not earned European trust, and Europeans are expanding rather than relinquishing their agency.
The United States remains indispensable in Europe. No credible security guarantees for Ukraine are possible without a U.S. role, and Europe knows that it must bring Trump along. That once looked implausible: His administration still calls it “Biden’s war.”
The Washington meeting may have marked a turning point. For now, the narrative has changed from Trump musing about quitting NATO to the U.S. president discussing security provisions for Ukraine, a non-ally whose president is not one of Trump’s friends. Contributing to this reversal was no minor achievement for Europe.
The hour of Europe will truly come not just when Europe commands enough military power to contain Russia on its own, if it ever does. It will come when it can integrate Ukraine into European institutions.
Russia will surely try to prevent this from happening, whereas Washington will be on the sidelines. It is not for Washington to say how and when Ukraine should join the European Union. It is not for Washington to say how Europeans should contribute to the postwar reconstruction of Ukraine. These will be European decisions, and immense as the challenges will be, Europe is skilled at East-West integration, having pursued it relentlessly since 1991. Ideally, the United States will continue working with Europe on shared security concerns while Europe addresses the political fallout from Russia’s serial invasions of Ukraine.
As for the ongoing war, it is a mistake to dwell on all that Europe has not achieved since February 2022. Ukraine was invaded by a nuclear power and by a country that has the means to sustain and expand a sizable military. More surprising than Russia’s ability to fund its war and to continue finding recruits is the strategic futility of this war—for Russia.
In 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine in order to remake the security architecture of Europe. Since Putin’s trip to Alaska, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov has restated this ambition, but in the past three and a half years, Russia has not carved out a place for itself in Europe. Finland and Sweden have entered the NATO alliance, and Europe is doing what it can to prevent Russia from remaking the security architecture of Ukraine. In summer 2024, the EU formally opened accession talks with Ukraine, placing institutional integration, not Russian diktat, at the center of Europe’s long-term strategy.
The futility of Russia’s war is, among other things, a reflection of Europe’s will. The open question is whether Europeans themselves can see what they have achieved or whether they become psychologically burdened by the costs of war, by the terrible suffering in Ukraine, and by the generational job of containing Russia.
The evidence of the past few weeks and months—leaders speaking in one voice in Washington, hardening force posture on the eastern flank, and increasing their spending commitments—implies a positive trajectory for Ukraine. This was surely not the outcome Putin expected from his in-person meeting with Trump. And yet it may be the most important transition of the past few months. If the hour of Europe is still not here, it is getting closer.
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