Before embarking on his first visit to the White House since Donald Trump returned to power, French president Emmanuel Macron huddled with UK Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer and came up with a common position: the Europeans were willing to put tens of thousands of their own troops in Ukraine after a truce is struck with Russia. The plan would involve the deployment of a 30,000-strong European force concentrated in multiple Ukrainian cities behind the ceasefire lines, and rely on the United States to serve as a so-called “backstop” to make it a more credible deterrent in the eyes of the Russians.
Macron pushed this point repeatedly in his meetings in Washington this week. The French president even appeared to try to bounce Trump into becoming a part of his scheme. It didn’t work. Trump merely re-stated his position that a peace settlement needed to be negotiated as soon as possible.
But could Europe handle the Ukraine file on its own even if it wanted to? Despite hurried pledges by Britain and France to increase defence spending in the past few days, one can’t help but be sceptical.
Between the fall of the Soviet Union and Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Europe was content with watching its defence capacity atrophy and its readiness decline. This was by choice; Europe, after all, was enjoying a presumed peace dividend after the Soviet Union came tumbling down. While the wars in Bosnia and Kosovo in the mid to late 1990s forced European armies into action, great power conflict was treated as a thing of the past. Nato’s expansion to former Soviet states and Washington’s willingness to maintain a position of primacy on the continent meant that European governments had little incentive to worry much about security.
Russia’s aggression in Ukraine upended those calculations. All of a sudden, great power conflict was a present-day threat. Ukraine turned from a relatively obscure country straddling the Russian sphere of influence into what Europe now regards as the front line between democrats and authoritarians. European countries have contributed almost €62 billion towards arming the Ukrainian military since the war began three years ago, a considerable sum that has helped Kyiv sustain a formidable defence against a far larger adversary.
However, deploying troops to Ukraine and pledging to defend the country would obviously be a far bigger, more expensive task. Macron and Starmer appear to believe the Europeans are up to the job. That may be the case if the Trump administration provides assistance in the form of air support, intelligence, reconnaissance and surveillance (ISR) or air defence. But that would depend on Washington agreeing to protect Ukraine and its European partners in the event of a Russian violation of any truce — the very thing the Trump administration wants to avoid given the risks of any conflict escalating into a direct confrontation with a nuclear-armed Russia.
Remove the US from the equation and a European reassurance force in Ukraine risks becoming almost dangerously problematic. The Europeans are still digging themselves out of a three decade-long military slumber. Washington’s Nato allies in Europe remain highly dependent on the US, including but not limited to long-range strike capabilities, command-and-control, ISR — particularly satellite-based communications — and mid-air refuelling. European munitions production is still lacking, and if the war in Ukraine has shown us anything, it’s that manufacturing artillery at scale is a key ingredient in managing a war of attrition. The last thing France, Britain and other European states should want is a repeat of the Libya debacle in 2011 — that is, agreeing to a military operation only to find themselves embarrassingly short of the most basic supplies essential to executing it.
Unfortunately, Europe does have serious military deficiencies. European armies have a finite number of advanced air defence systems, and you can bet that some European states — like Germany and Poland — would be averse to loaning them out to Ukraine due to concerns about their own vulnerabilities. The European Union missed its self-imposed deadline last year of shipping one million 155-mm artillery shells to the Ukrainian army and had to scrounge around in the depots of former Warsaw Pact states to try to make up the difference. Europe must be prepared to not only address these issues but to sustain a high rate of production over an extended period of time, knowing full well that any ceasefire crafted in Ukraine could very well be broken.
There are also manpower problems to consider. As a whole, Europe has nearly one and a half million active-duty military personnel, so finding 30,000 troops to staff a reassurance force in Ukraine shouldn’t be a challenge. But raw numbers are deceptive, since they don’t account for political realities. Germany, for instance, might not agree to participate if the US isn’t involved. Others, like Hungary, won’t participate at all. Still others, like Italy and Spain, might chip in with a symbolic contribution to ensure solidarity, but frankly have higher priorities, like stemming irregular migration and maintaining security in the Mediterranean. The Brits may have the intention of putting boots on the ground, but they don’t have many boots to spare; any deployments and the accompanying assets that go along with them would stress the UK’s limited power projection capabilities and force London to reallocate resources from other Nato missions.
None of this even begins to account for the credibility aspect. When push comes to shove, will the Europeans actually enforce a ceasefire against Russia? The answer will determine just how important Ukraine’s security truly is for the continent.
Daniel DePetris is a fellow at Defense Priorities
Before embarking on his first visit to the White House since Donald Trump returned to power, French president Emmanuel Macron huddled with UK Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer and came up with a common position: the Europeans were willing to put tens of thousands of their own troops in Ukraine after a truce is struck with Russia. The plan would involve the deployment of a 30,000-strong European force concentrated in multiple Ukrainian cities behind the ceasefire lines, and rely on the United States to serve as a so-called “backstop” to make it a more credible deterrent in the eyes of the Russians.
Macron pushed this point repeatedly in his meetings in Washington this week. The French president even appeared to try to bounce Trump into becoming a part of his scheme. It didn’t work. Trump merely re-stated his position that a peace settlement needed to be negotiated as soon as possible.
But could Europe handle the Ukraine file on its own even if it wanted to? Despite hurried pledges by Britain and France to increase defence spending in the past few days, one can’t help but be sceptical.
Between the fall of the Soviet Union and Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Europe was content with watching its defence capacity atrophy and its readiness decline. This was by choice; Europe, after all, was enjoying a presumed peace dividend after the Soviet Union came tumbling down. While the wars in Bosnia and Kosovo in the mid to late 1990s forced European armies into action, great power conflict was treated as a thing of the past. Nato’s expansion to former Soviet states and Washington’s willingness to maintain a position of primacy on the continent meant that European governments had little incentive to worry much about security.
Russia’s aggression in Ukraine upended those calculations. All of a sudden, great power conflict was a present-day threat. Ukraine turned from a relatively obscure country straddling the Russian sphere of influence into what Europe now regards as the front line between democrats and authoritarians. European countries have contributed almost €62 billion towards arming the Ukrainian military since the war began three years ago, a considerable sum that has helped Kyiv sustain a formidable defence against a far larger adversary.
However, deploying troops to Ukraine and pledging to defend the country would obviously be a far bigger, more expensive task. Macron and Starmer appear to believe the Europeans are up to the job. That may be the case if the Trump administration provides assistance in the form of air support, intelligence, reconnaissance and surveillance (ISR) or air defence. But that would depend on Washington agreeing to protect Ukraine and its European partners in the event of a Russian violation of any truce — the very thing the Trump administration wants to avoid given the risks of any conflict escalating into a direct confrontation with a nuclear-armed Russia.
Remove the US from the equation and a European reassurance force in Ukraine risks becoming almost dangerously problematic. The Europeans are still digging themselves out of a three decade-long military slumber. Washington’s Nato allies in Europe remain highly dependent on the US, including but not limited to long-range strike capabilities, command-and-control, ISR — particularly satellite-based communications — and mid-air refuelling. European munitions production is still lacking, and if the war in Ukraine has shown us anything, it’s that manufacturing artillery at scale is a key ingredient in managing a war of attrition. The last thing France, Britain and other European states should want is a repeat of the Libya debacle in 2011 — that is, agreeing to a military operation only to find themselves embarrassingly short of the most basic supplies essential to executing it.
Unfortunately, Europe does have serious military deficiencies. European armies have a finite number of advanced air defence systems, and you can bet that some European states — like Germany and Poland — would be averse to loaning them out to Ukraine due to concerns about their own vulnerabilities. The European Union missed its self-imposed deadline last year of shipping one million 155-mm artillery shells to the Ukrainian army and had to scrounge around in the depots of former Warsaw Pact states to try to make up the difference. Europe must be prepared to not only address these issues but to sustain a high rate of production over an extended period of time, knowing full well that any ceasefire crafted in Ukraine could very well be broken.
There are also manpower problems to consider. As a whole, Europe has nearly one and a half million active-duty military personnel, so finding 30,000 troops to staff a reassurance force in Ukraine shouldn’t be a challenge. But raw numbers are deceptive, since they don’t account for political realities. Germany, for instance, might not agree to participate if the US isn’t involved. Others, like Hungary, won’t participate at all. Still others, like Italy and Spain, might chip in with a symbolic contribution to ensure solidarity, but frankly have higher priorities, like stemming irregular migration and maintaining security in the Mediterranean. The Brits may have the intention of putting boots on the ground, but they don’t have many boots to spare; any deployments and the accompanying assets that go along with them would stress the UK’s limited power projection capabilities and force London to reallocate resources from other Nato missions.
None of this even begins to account for the credibility aspect. When push comes to shove, will the Europeans actually enforce a ceasefire against Russia? The answer will determine just how important Ukraine’s security truly is for the continent.
Daniel DePetris is a fellow at Defense Priorities