The Price of Protection

The NATO summit at The Hague this week delivered what some feared it might not: a headline agreement that kept the alliance intact. The “five for-five” deal—5 percent of GDP spent on defense in exchange for a reaffirmation of NATO’s Article 5—was tailored to appeal to U.S. President Donald Trump and to demonstrate to the American public that European allies are finally shouldering more of the burden. The agreement provided political cover for those in Washington who still believe in NATO. It also avoided an open crisis with a president openly skeptical of the alliance he is once again meant to lead.

Yet in securing that outcome, allies paid a political and strategic price. The alliance emerged alive but diminished. Secretary General Mark Rutte’s performance at the summit typified the mood. His sycophantic praise of Trump betrayed not just diplomatic pragmatism, but a loss of institutional self-respect. With the theatrics concluded, allies must now reckon with what was actually agreed—and how little the new targets say about NATO’s ability to confront the threats it faces.

The 5 percent target is made up of two components: 3.5 percent for defense and 1.5 percent for dual-use infrastructure, civil preparedness, and efforts to strengthen the alliance’s defense industrial base. The 1.5 percent category is particularly susceptible to creative accounting, with allies potentially tempted to reclassify civilian infrastructure projects as security spending. The goal is not without merit—NATO does require better mobility, resilience, and logistics—but the door is wide open to manipulation.

The 3.5 percent defense target is more serious. It is derived from NATO’s regional defense plans, developed under former president Joe Biden’s administration, to deter and defend against heightened Russian aggression. There are caveats here. NATO’s plans assume a certain level of U.S. involvement in European security. But with the Trump administration preparing a force posture review, that assumption may no longer hold. NATO’s plans are only as valid as the force planning they rely on.

GDP-based targets also suffer from inherent limitations. A percentage of GDP is only as strong as the economy it reflects. If the European economy weakens, so too does the continent’s defense spending—even if allies hit their targets on paper. Trade skirmishes between allies, growing protectionism, and sluggish growth all contribute to the erosion of the alliance’s resource base. Europe’s economic resilience is not just a matter of prosperity; it is a matter of security.

Moreover, while symbolic unity on the 5 percent figure is important, real output depends on what the largest economies deliver. Germany, Italy, France, and the UK account for the bulk of Europe’s military potential. A 5 percent pledge from a smaller NATO member matters symbolically (and for that country’s national resilience), but it cannot compensate for the decisions made in Berlin, Paris, or London. NATO’s burden-sharing debate too often obscures this reality. It is hard to overstate the importance of Germany’s decision to exempt defense spending from its strict debt rules and commit to 3.5 percent defense spending by 2029. Other European heavyweights simply lack the fiscal space to follow suit.

Spending more also does not immediately translate into increased readiness. NATO’s 20 percent capability target encourages investment in major equipment, training, and modernization rather than personnel costs and pensions. But even when allies spend in the right places, procurement timelines are often slow and defense industries fragmented. National programs remain largely uncoordinated, resulting in duplication and inefficiencies, and foreign leverage over Europe’s defense systems is substantial. Without serious efforts to consolidate procurement and coordinate planning, the impact of new spending will be diluted, and risky dependencies will remain in place. Quality matters (almost) as much as quantity. Europeans need to invest not just more, but better. That means spending collectively, reducing—where possible and necessary—dependency on non-European suppliers, and enabling genuine military integration. Without it, the alliance risks becoming less than the sum of its parts—even with higher budgets.

All of this would be manageable if there were a strategic framework to guide the spending. But the Hague summit exposed a deeper problem: NATO has entered an era of low expectations. The alliance survived the summit—but with little to show for it. No new strategy for dealing with Russia was adopted. Ukraine received scant attention. The primary objective was not deterrence, but survival.

European allies have adapted too quickly to the diminished ambitions of the Trump administration. By accepting the premise that Trump must be appeased as a matter of highest importance, they have allowed the strategic agenda to shrink. The 5 percent pledge may have bought short-term unity, but it does not solve the governance challenge that lies beneath the surface. NATO’s deterrence posture has long relied on U.S. leadership to set priorities, force coherence, and drive integration. In the absence of that leadership, European allies must step up—not only by spending more, but by aligning their efforts strategically. That will require uncomfortable political choices.

This is not just about closing capability gaps. It’s about replacing the leadership, cohesion, and readiness once ensured by the United States. No single European country can fill that void. Various governance models—a European pillar within NATO, flexible coalitions, an EU Defense Union—cannot yet provide the strategic coherence needed across a fragmented landscape.

The EU is increasingly central, especially on the defense industrial side, but these efforts must be paired with sustained political coordination and clear strategic purpose. Europe’s patchwork of coalitions and capability projects reflects pragmatic adaptation to geopolitical shocks, but without institutional budgets, command structures, or a shared defense vision, it cannot succeed. A relaunch of NATO-EU cooperation is essential, but so is clarity about Europe’s own defense ambitions, especially as debates over “rearmament” versus “readiness” reveal deeper uncertainties about what Europe is defending and why. Strategic coherence requires solidarity across national and institutional lines, and a common defense interest that justifies long-term investment and shared sacrifice. In the absence of clear signals from Washington, Europe must press ahead on its own terms—toward a defense posture that is resilient, integrated, and distinctly European.

The Hague summit avoided the worst-case scenario. Trump even hinted that he left the summit less skeptical of the alliance than when he arrived. But NATO’s survival came at the cost of ambition and, arguably, dignity.

The United States has yet to clarify the parameters of its future military presence in Europe, the extent of its long-term commitment to Ukraine, and whether future industrial cooperation will remain tied to security guarantees. This ambiguity leaves European planners uncertain about how to scale their own ambitions, complicating both force planning and defense investment decisions.

But ambiguity should be sufficient to spur action. The path forward now depends on whether Europe can use this moment not just to meet spending targets, but to define a coherent approach to defense without waiting for American permission. The 5 percent deal is a starting point—not a solution.