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For decades, the transatlantic relationship was sustained by a comforting ambiguity. Europe could speak the language of partnership, shared civilisation, and common values. At the same time, it relied on the hard fact of American protection. The United States could complain about burden-sharing while continuing to underwrite European security. That arrangement always rested less on sentiment than on power. Now, at last, the illusion is breaking down.
The two-week Iran war pause, combined with renewed American threats to leave Europe alone to face its challenges — mainly Russia in Ukraine —and to reduce military presence, or even to exit NATO, exposes a reality Europe has delayed facing: Alliances are important, but so is sovereignty. And sovereignty must be a prerequisite to enter alliances willingly and with statesmanship’s wisdom, as otherwise countries surrender their own strategic interests when entering such partnerships.
Recent statements by Donald Trump and members of his Administration have made this unmistakably clear. Washington’s expectation is no longer simply that Europeans defend Europe. That was the demand prior to the 40-day Iran War. Now, Europeans must align themselves with American strategic choices, often well beyond their immediate interests, particularly—for now—in the Middle East. Europe already noted last year that the American security guarantee itself is conditional under Trump, and that no freeloading will be allowed from the U.S. anymore.
However, recent developments mark more than a temporary shift in E.U.–U.S. relations; they signal a bigger, structural change. And for the first time, Europe appears to have recognised this turning point, and rather than folding to U.S. demands and threats, the E.U. — and the broader Europe, including the United Kingdom — seems to be signalling that Europeans will no longer turn instinctively to Washington for security guarantees.
What we are witnessing goes beyond rhetorical divergence and into material reorientation. Europe is now committing unprecedented resources to its own defence, industrial base, and strategic future. The implications are profound. The contracts, the jobs, the technological development, the strategic leverage—these are increasingly being retained within Europe itself. EU defence spending alone reached approximately €381 billion in 2025—an 11% increase from 2024 and nearly 63% higher than just a few years ago. The implications of these shifts are already profound, but they would be even more so if the EU was to have a military industry in which to invest.
While some frame this shift as a European loss—the weakening of transatlantic ties and diminished American protection—such a view is incomplete. The United States does not lose an ungrateful ally. It loses trillions in long-term defence spending. That money would otherwise have flowed through American contractors, bases, and influence networks for decades. This is not, at its core, Europe’s loss. Instead, the loss belongs to America.
As mentioned above, none of this implies naïveté about Russia. Russia poses a threat in the current security environment. That reality must be acknowledged clearly. But it does not follow that Europe must remain indefinitely dependent on American military power more than eighty years after the Second World War.
Two propositions can be true at once: Russia is a threat today; Europe should nonetheless be able to defend itself. For too long, the opposite assumption prevailed. European security was treated as something structurally and politically outsourced to Washington. The result was not only underinvestment, but a deeper form of dependency—one embedded in technology, infrastructure, and operational doctrine.
This brings us to a critical point: the justification for continued dependence now collapses under its own weight. Recent attempts to demonstrate that Europe cannot break free from its reliance on American military power have, paradoxically, revealed the opposite. The evidence is overwhelming—and damning. When two-thirds of European weapons imports come from a single external supplier —the U.S.—it creates dependency. The same applies to Europe’s most advanced fighter jets, which operate on software Europeans do not control, including mission data files, targeting systems, satellite communications, and intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance architectures, all of which depend on external inputs. In this situation, Europe is right not to see the long-standing partnership with the U.S. so much as an alliance — also not necessarily a U.S. military outpost — but, overall, as a vulnerability.
The example of systems such as the F-35 is particularly revealing. The software architecture, the mission data integration, and the upgrade pathways—all remain tied to U.S. control. European operators cannot fully modify or deploy these systems independently. This is not simply a technical detail. It is a structural constraint.
Europe does not fully control its own air defence architecture. It does not fully own its targeting data. It cannot independently update critical systems without external authorisation. That is not a partnership. It is a client relationship with an increasingly unpredictable patron. Paradoxically, both partners in this partnership consider themselves clients of the other party and denounce them for taking advantage of them. The U.S. is increasingly voicing concerns about a parasitic Europe that drains its military resources. And Europe is now arguing that the leech in the story is really the U.S., treating Europeans as clients who cannot switch providers or manage their own affairs in-house.
To treat such a condition of dependence as a permanent or irremediable status quo is not strategic prudence. It is strategic negligence. Because what is being described is not interdependence. It is leverage on the U.S. part. And with each passing year, Washington’s accumulated leverage has increased.
What Europeans have failed to comprehend until now is that very component of that dependency—software, data, communications, logistics—is a potential lever. It can be pulled the moment interests diverge. After the last two years, it is no longer credible to argue that European and American interests are always identical.
Because of these vulnerabilities, the current moment should be understood as an opportunity, not a crisis. The timing has never been more favourable for a strategic correction. The nature of warfare is evolving rapidly. The conflict in Ukraine has accelerated the development of new operational models—distributed systems, drone-centric warfare, and electronic warfare capabilities—that reduce reliance on armament designed for a different era.
The future of European defence will not be built solely around inherited Cold War architectures. It will be built through new technologies, new industrial capacities, and new doctrinal approaches. Europe is already beginning to develop many of these as I write these lines, although any industry — especially the military industry — takes years from design to budget to realisation.
The longer Europe delays this transition, the more deeply these dependencies become entrenched. More contracts will be signed, more systems will be integrated, and the architecture will become more irreversible. At this point, it seems, the question will no longer be whether Europe chooses strategic autonomy. It will be whether Europe retains the ability to do so on its own terms.
This is why the present moment matters. The issue is not how NATO is reshuffled among European countries or which one becomes stripped of U.S. military bases. Nor is it whether NATO is to survive at all. Nor is it whether the transatlantic relationship should end. The question is whether that relationship can be rebalanced on a more sustainable, sovereign basis.
A Europe that cannot defend itself is not a stronger ally—it is a dependent one. And dependency, over time, erodes credibility, autonomy and, most importantly, freedom. The transatlantic alliance was built in a very different world. It was a world defined by post-war reconstruction, bipolar confrontation, and American predominance. That world no longer exists in the same form.
What is emerging instead is a more fragmented, more contested, and more multipolar international system. In such a world, alliances will endure. But they will function differently. They will be shaped less by inherited assumptions and more by negotiated interests.
Europe has the economic weight, technological capacity, and industrial base to become a fully sovereign security actor. What it has lacked—until now—has been the political will. That may finally be changing.
The wake-up call has arrived. The real danger is not American disengagement. It is Europe’s failure, once again, to act upon it.