The fatal flaw in a commander, suggested Carl von Clausewitz, a 19th-century Prussian general, is obstinacy, or “resistance against our better judgment”. For a modern example of this behavior, look no further than Mark Rutte, the secretary-general of NATO.
For months Mr Rutte has refused to admit that the transatlantic alliance, the cornerstone of European security for more than seven decades, is close to falling apart. That has required willful blindness.
Mr Rutte ignores Donald Trump’s repeated statements casting doubt on America’s readiness to honor NATO‘s Article 5, which says that an attack on one is an attack on all. Mr Trump also talks about withdrawing some forces from Europe. Nevertheless, Mr Rutte, a former Dutch prime minister, has gamely insisted that he has no doubt America is “completely committed to NATOcompletely committed to Article 5”. He maintains NATO has no need for a “Plan b” in case America were suddenly to pull out of the alliance. He has even banned any discussion of one within the NATO headquarters. On all of these counts, he is wrong.
In Mr Rutte’s defense, he is being diplomatic. Striving to keep America in the alliance, he has flattered Mr Trump, endured his tirades and called him “daddy”. Mr Rutte fears that Europe’s attempts to wean itself off America’s security guarantees may further offend its capricious president, and hasten the divorce that the rest of NATO wishes to avoid.
Other European leaders also resort to flattery and try to appeal to Mr Trump’s dealmaking instincts by spending billions on American weaponsmany of which are to be sent to Ukraine. In some cases, they have little choice. For instance, Europe has few alternatives to America’s Patriot air-defense systems.
Just thinking about a plan b is enough to give generals the collywobbles. Much of NATO‘s deterrence comes from its ability to knit the armed forces of many countries into a single cohesive force under a unified command led by an American general. Without the superpower to keep good order, the rump of the alliance may be weakened by rows about who should be in charge—and doubts about whether they would actually have the authority to call the shots if Europe found itself at war.
Yet for all the risks of Europe openly planning for a divorce, it has no choice. Mr Rutte’s optimism has been overtaken by events. Mr Trump’s threats in January to seize Greenland from Denmark, a NATO member, have spurred several European countries to begin secretly planning how to fight without America. Since then, Mr Trump has undermined his officials’ reassurances that the drawdown will be slow and orderly, as Europe takes responsibility for its own conventional defense. He has also announced unexpected cuts to the number of troops stationed in Europe and canceled the deployment of others. On May 22nd America was expected to reduce the forces it pledges to send to Europe in a war. Its allies cannot be sure they will get the weapons they have bought from America, which is postponing deliveries in order to restock those used up in Iran.
Renovating the American-led alliance will be hard and costly: all the more reason to start now. Europe could Europeanise NATO‘s structures; it could form a new alliance; or it could build on embryonic ones, such as the ten-member Joint Expeditionary Force, led by Britain, or the “coalition of the willing” that plans to offer security guarantees to Ukraine. Each would be risky—but less risky than doing nothing.
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