Keywords

Even before the Russian Federation launched its war of aggression against Ukraine on 24 February 2022, it was evident that the conflict also concerned the security order in Europe and the values and principles ​​that underpin it since the middle of the last century. As 2021 came to a close, some 150,000 Russian troops were stationed along the border with Ukraine, and Sergei Lavrov, the Russian foreign minister, was demanding that the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) refrain from expanding to the east and from deploying offensive weapons in Russia’s immediate vicinity (Kramer & Erlanger, 2021). Consequently, the sovereignty of individual European states within the realm of security and defence was called into question.

If Russia ultimately fails to subdue Ukraine by military means, then the conditions should be present for recreating a European security order, consolidating it, in part, by Finland and Sweden joining NATO. On a more general level, however, it is far less certain that most of the world’s great powers, such as Russia, will relinquish their seemingly increasing demands that smaller states conform to their wishes. The effect of such a trend, over the long run, will be to weaken the rules-based international order.

In this chapter, Russia’s war in Ukraine will be treated as a concrete and specific threat to the continent’s largest country (geographically speaking), but above all as a deliberate attempt to break up the current security order in Europe. The question of the inviolability of borders is thereby also raised at the level of global politics and of international law. Although Ukraine is not a member of either NATO or the European Union (EU), both of these institutions are now confronted with an antagonistic regional power that opposes, by military means, the vision of a ‘European neighbourhood’ with stable and increasingly prosperous societies in the east and south. While NATO had taken several steps and measures to deal with the situation that arose in 2014, with Russia’s annexation of Crimea and its support for separatists in southeastern Ukraine, the large-scale war that broke out in February 2022 brought about an abrupt awakening for the EU as a political system.

This chapter begins with a description of what is usually termed the European security order from 1946 to 2021. It then proceeds to an examination of how this order was openly challenged by Russia’s express demands in the late autumn of 2021, and above all by the decision of that country’s leadership in February 2022 to order a large-scale war of aggression against a neighbour on the European continent. A third section discusses the various measures that the EU and NATO took during the spring and summer of the same year to defend the existing security order in Europe, and to preserve cohesion within both organisations on the subject. The focus of the fourth section is on the bilateral military support that Ukraine has received from a number of countries in order to resist the Russian invasion, and on what this concrete cooperation says about the prospects for more integrated policies among Europe’s democracies in the area of security and defence. A fifth section looks at the demands made by great powers in a global perspective, as they may reinforce the trend towards European integration. Finally, in its last section the chapter returns to the overall question of Europe’s security order, and whether the EU and the non-American part of NATO need to shoulder a greater responsibility for it, now that Russia has chosen direct confrontation and the involvement of the us in Asia, and the Pacific is steadily increasing.

European Security 1945–2021

According to two American political scientists, David Lake and Patrick Morgan, a regional security order consists of member states which are so intertwined in their security policies that actions by their individual governments, and significant events within each country, have a substantial impact on all of them (Lake & Morgan, 1997). It is this mutual dependence that distinguishes a regional security order, although many such arrangements are also strongly affected by external actors, in this case the United States and the Russian Federation (previously the Soviet Union). Global and regional institutions—such as the United Nations (un), the EU, and NATO—may exert significant influence as well.

In part, it can be said that the European security order has existed since the late 1940s, as an extension of the rules-based world order that came about through the establishment of the un. The victorious powers were prepared to guarantee this order through political, economic, and military means in countries and regions over which they exercised control. This reflected not least the commitment to reintegrating Germany and Japan—the two former ‘Axis powers’ that had tried to subjugate large parts of Europe and East Asia respectively during the Second World War—into the international community. The first and second articles of the un Charter laid down that war is only legitimate for self-defence, or when conducted under a mandate from the un Security Council. Furthermore, all un members must undertake to observe certain principles for relations between states: above all, to settle disputes by peaceful means; to respect the sovereignty of states and their formal equality; and, in the words of Article 2(4) of the un Charter, to ‘refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any State, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations’ (UN Charter, 1945).

However, precisely because the European continent had experienced two world wars within the space of less than a generation, such pledges were regarded as insufficient. With mainly American support, therefore, several joint organisations were established, for the primary purpose of reducing the risk for renewed serious conflict on the European continent. It may also be said here that Europe’s security order gained credibility and grew deeper as a result of institutional innovations in several policy areas, in line with what is usually known as a ‘collective security system’—with a common commitment to stability and the suppression of aggression, whether political or military (Kupchan, 1995; Inis, 2006).

The foundations for this security order were laid in 1949, with the establishment of NATO under American leadership. However, the Council of Europe and its European Court of Human Rights, created in 1949 and 1958 respectively, bear mentioning here as well. The European Coal and Steel Community was formed in 1952, and in 1967 the six founding countries of that body—Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, and West Germany—merged it with the European Economic Community (eec) and the European Atomic Energy Community (Euratom), thereby forming the European Communities (ec). In 1993, finally, the latter were brought together in the European Union (EU), which then had twelve member states. NATO had sixteen members at the time (Wallace, 1994).

While the EU and NATO contributed the most to Europe’s security order—alongside the Council of Europe, with its efforts to strengthen human rights and the rule of law—the importance of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (csce) should be recognised too. The csce provided diplomatic mechanisms for promoting security between the countries of Western Europe and their counterparts in the communist bloc, including the then-Soviet Union. The Helsinki Conference of 1975 was unique in this regard, as it resulted in a commitment by thirty-five European states, and by us and Canada as well, to recognise existing borders, to increase trade, and to respect human rights. Up until 1990, when a new charter was adopted that transformed it into the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (osce), the csce was one of the few places where government representatives from both sides of the ‘Iron Curtain’ on the continent could meet (Flynn & Farrell, 1999).

At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the osce also functioned as a diplomatic buffer between the Russian political leadership under President Vladimir Putin, who took office at the New Year of 2000, and Western leaders. Cooperation with the us also proceeded well to begin with, following the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington on 11 September 2001. Then-President George W. Bush sought partners beyond the traditional ones, and he hoped to take advantage of Russia’s geographical location and its knowledge about Islamist extremism in Afghanistan and the former Soviet Union. This collaboration then flourished within the framework of the G8, in the form of intelligence exchange. It was when ‘colour revolutions’ took place in Georgia and Ukraine, with demands for greater independence from Moscow, that Putin’s suspicions seem to have been awakened (or sooner strengthened) that the us government was trying to curtail Russia’s freedom of action. In 2007, at the Munich Security Conference, he decided to speak frankly, sharply criticising what he saw as intervention in Russia’s sphere of influence (Fried & Volker, 2022).

After this, the osce too became the scene for constant Russian objections to the European security order (Engelbrekt, 2013). These objections have concerned attempts by Western leaders to encourage democratic reforms within Russia or in its immediate vicinity, and they have evinced strong irritation on the part of Russian leaders at criticisms aimed at the functioning of the Russian legal system, or at the corruption believed to be particularly widespread in countries that were formerly part of the Soviet Union. The Kremlin has felt an ever greater need to limit freedom of expression for political and social movements that have sought closer ties with Europe or the United States, or which have demanded political and economic reforms in line with how Western democracies function. Moreover, Russian officials have repeatedly claimed that the underlying motive for the concern displayed by governments in Europe and particularly the United States for the political freedoms of post-Soviet citizens has lain ultimately in a desire to expand Western geopolitical influence at Russia’s expense.

The EU and NATO—Complementary Institutions

A great deal has been written about friction and organisational rivalry between the EU and NATO (see, for instance, Ewers-Peters, 2021). It has been difficult at times to sort out the distribution of roles and responsibilities in the security area. Viewed historically and on an overarching level, however, the two Brussels-based organisations have almost always taken complementary and mutually reinforcing approaches to the European security order. The EU has been ‘liberated’ from purely defence questions (such as how to achieve deterrence by military means), and NATO has not needed to take on complex foreign-policy issues like the Middle East.

NATO’s expansion in the 1990s and 2000s paved the way for post-communist states to reach association agreements with the EU, and to become members of the Union after some years. To become a member of NATO, a country must have civilian control over its armed forces; it must respect democratic rights and freedoms; and its state administration must function according to the rule of law. There is also one thing it cannot have: namely, an unresolved border dispute with a neighbouring country. In reality, the post-communist states were asked to qualify for EU membership gradually—first by joining the Council of Europe, and then by joining NATO. In the case of the former organisation, the need for a well-functioning rule of law was the biggest stumbling block; in the case of the latter, it was the manner in which defence and security affairs were organised. As candidates in the ‘Partnership for Peace’ programme, finally, the countries in question received support from NATO members throughout their period of preparation.

Scholars of international relations often depict security policy as dictated by the interests and desires of great powers, such that the preferences of smaller states almost always have to take a back seat. John Mearsheimer, political scientist at the University of Chicago and renowned researcher in the theory-driven ‘realist’ school, has repeatedly argued that it was ultimately the us that pushed for NATO’s expansion into Central and Eastern Europe (Mearsheimer, 2014). The empirical research, however, shows with all due clarity that it was sooner the other way round: i.e., that the expansion was demand-driven, reflecting the concern felt by voters and political decision-makers in these countries—dominated as they had been by the Soviet Union—about Russia’s lingering imperialism and its military bullying of smaller neighbours.

It is true, however, that Russia rarely expressed opposition to the eu’s eastward expansion until the 2010s (Engelbrekt & Nygren, 2010). Table 9.1 shows the progress of European integration following the formation, on 18 April 1951, of the European Coal and Steel Community by six countries: Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, and West Germany. In the years following the collapse of communism and the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Moscow too seemed to see increasing prosperity in Europe as offering economic opportunities for Russia itself. Between 2004 and 2007, a total of twelve states joined the EU, of which ten had been part of the Soviet sphere of influence and members of the Warsaw Pact during the Cold War.

The line went, however, at the borders of Belarus and Ukraine. This became clear already in 2004, in connection with the ‘Orange Revolution’ in the latter country. There is much to indicate that the Kremlin’s involvement in Ukrainian politics from that time on has consisted both in open support for various leaders and parties and in covert attempts at exerting influence via economic policy, intelligence activities, and the like (Belton, 2020). In addition, the large pipeline systems that had been built in Ukraine during the Soviet era—for storing and exporting gas to a number of countries in Europe—have been the subject of recurrent conflict and tough negotiation (see the chapter on energy by Torbjörn Becker and Anders Åslund in this volume.) The same has been true of the Russian naval base in Sevastopol on the Crimean Peninsula—it too a legacy of the Soviet era.

Around the New Year of 2014, what the Kremlin described as a geopolitical tug-of-war between the West and Russia over the most important component in the latter’s sphere of interest—namely Ukraine—grew more intense. Ukraine’s then-President Viktor Yanukovych—who had promised in his election campaign to negotiate an association agreement with the EU, and who also received such an offer from Brussels—suddenly did a U-turn in favour of a proposal from Moscow for greater cooperation. The ‘Maidan Revolution’, born of the disappointment of many Ukrainian citizens with this reversal, became for Moscow a direct challenge to the idea of incorporating Ukraine into an economic union with its eastern neighbour. When Yanukovych fled to Russia in February 2014, Putin decided to take control over Crimea by military means, to annex it, and to support Russian-speaking separatists in the Donbass in southeastern Ukraine (Allison, 2014; Bukkvoll, 2016).

One way of describing the situation over the past fifteen years is to say that two rival conceptions of a security order have confronted one another. According to the one, coercive military power is the sole effective means for creating real stability, which must be based ultimately on the military might of a great power. According to the other, if regional actors prefer a multilateral order where diplomacy and economic relations play an important role, they can bring a more polycentric security order into being. The contrast between the two conceptions has been described by Derrick Frazier and Robert Stewart-lngersoll, as they examined Russia’s unilateral, paternalistic, and not seldom openly revisionist behaviour in the so-called post-Soviet sphere (Frazier & Stewart-Ingersoll, 2012). In the view of the two authors, Russia represents an almost stereotypical illustration of the first-mentioned approach.

The Kremlin’s Repeated Demands for an Alternative Security Arrangement

There is thus a clear continuity between, on the one hand, Russian diplomacy in the osce for some fifteen years (Stronski & Sokolsky, 2020), and, on the other, the specific demands Moscow made in late 2021—i.e., prior to the war in Ukraine breaking out—that the European security order adapts to its desires (Kramer & Erlanger, 2021). Three demands were recurrent: Russia would have veto power over significant changes in the security regime; the deployment of weapons systems capable of hitting military installations deep within Russian territory would be banned; and nato and eu countries would refrain from political intervention in the post-Soviet sphere.

Where the demand for a Russian veto over adjustments in the security order is concerned, the question of nato membership for additional European states has been paramount. Ever since Putin assumed the presidency, the Kremlin has consistently demanded that no further nato expansion take place without Russia’s consent. This applies above all to countries with which Russia shares a border, as Moscow believes the effect thereof would be to shift geopolitical conditions to the West’s favour. As a rule, any domestic debate about joining nato in any country—whether Montenegro, North Macedonia, Sweden, or Ukraine—has resulted in criticism and threats of countermeasures from Russian officials (on threats against the non-NATO Nordic countries, see Roth, 2022).

The demand for a ban on the deployment of weapons systems has mostly been made in narrower contexts, in connection with negotiations over disarmament. Russian leaders have aimed their harshest criticism at the possible deployment of long-range missiles in nato countries in Central Europe, and they have called attempts to differentiate between offensive and defensive systems into question. At the same time, the Russian defence industry has continually developed new robotic systems which, in the view of many experts, have violated agreements entered into—above all the 1987 agreement not to develop medium-range missiles (with a range from 500 to 5500 kilometres), due to the risk they pose of undermining the military balance on the European continent. In 2019, after the publication of documents detailing how certain types of Russian missiles had violated the terms of previous agreements, the us withdrew from the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty (Lopez, 2019).

However, it is the demand for political non-intervention in the post-Soviet sphere that has posed the greatest challenge for Western democracies, as it conflicts both with the European security order and with Russian commitments to respect sovereignty and territorial integrity. As noted above, the European security order is more ‘finely meshed’ than that of other regions, in the sense that the principles and rules of the un Charter are reinforced in its case by additional agreements and institutions. These include the Council of Europe, with its Convention on Human Rights; the osce, with its Helsinki Accords and its 1990 Paris Charter; and the eu and nato, with their respective frameworks for how their members are to act towards each other and in relation to third parties.

When countries like Georgia and Ukraine have chosen leaders who have tried to break away from economic and political dependence on Russia, formal and informal norms of behaviour have been broken, and the conflict between Europe and Russia has deepened. This was seen in 2003–2004, with the ‘colour revolutions’, and again with Russia’s military intrusion into Georgian territory in 2008 and into Ukrainian territory from 2014 on. On the surface, the aim of official Russian statements may seem to have been to defend the rights of Russian-speaking populations—in connection, for example, with Ukraine’s legislation on the standing of the Russian language in that country. Observers with knowledge, however, of how the opposition within Russia has not just been restricted but also eliminated—through politically controlled trials, repression by government agencies, forced exile, and even political assassination—realised early on that the Kremlin’s actions evinced no true concern for the rights of Russian-speakers in the post-Soviet sphere (Snegovaya, 2023; Umland, 2021).

Despite a large number of clear signs of what was to come, relatively few outsiders read the situation correctly in the months leading up to the invasion in February 2022. Most observers expected a military operation limited to the Donbass—the area in southeastern Ukraine over which Russia already exercised considerable control. Others pointed to the enormous financial losses that members of Putin’s inner circle would likely suffer in the event of open military conflict. It is well-known that Russia’s political leaders are intertwined with the members of its economic elite, who control a wide range of industries—above all in oil and gas—and who have taken enormous assets out of Russia and placed them in a number of European countries instead. Observers expected both Putin and his closest confidants to take care first and foremost not to risk endangering such assets through actions that would elicit far-reaching economic sanctions or political isolation (Gardner, 2022).

European Security: Signs of Renewed Consolidation

The portrayal of the EU as a ‘normative power’ (Manners, 2002), has sometimes been criticised for expressing smugness or even a sense of moral superiority among EU citizens and leaders. In this understanding, the EU does not behave in the classical fashion of a great power: instead of practising power politics, it conducts a positive type of foreign policy—thereby exerting an ‘attraction’ over others in the world, rather than inspiring respect or fear for its military might or material strength (For a more extensive treatment of this concept, see Ann-Kristin Jonasson’s chapter in this volume). It can be argued that the war in Ukraine has shown the potential strength of consistent action in accordance with strong moral conviction, which according to many is central to the concept of ‘normative power’. Such moral conviction not only increases the power of resistance, the will to defend; it also boosts the fighting morale of the soldiers charged with defending a Ukraine oriented towards Europe and the EU. Similarly, many EU leaders and officials, and millions of EU citizens, strongly empathise with Ukraine’s struggle in the face of tough military odds—a struggle to which citizens themselves are showing great commitment.

Russian political leaders clearly hoped that the ‘special military operation’, not unlike the takeover of Crimea in February 2014, would be accomplished quickly and with overwhelming force (Harris et al, 2022). There would be no time for any far-reaching mobilisation of Ukraine’s armed forces or civil society; nor would outside assistance to the Ukrainian authorities be possible. This proved, however, not to be the case. Already in the first days of the combat, moreover, the lack of any justification for the invasion in terms of international law served to strengthen Ukraine’s cause. At an emergency special session of the un General Assembly on 2 March 2022, the Russian invasion was condemned by 141 votes to five; 35 countries abstained, while another twelve were absent (UN News, 2022). The resolution also demanded that civilians be protected and that access to humanitarian aid be ensured.

Unlike the case in the un, the condemnation from NATO and the EU regarding the invasion was altogether unison, and emphatic besides. It was also quickly followed up by a series of concrete countermeasures. In the course of 2022 and 2023, as shown in Table 9.2, a series of joint decisions and sanctions ‘packages’—coordinated with the us and a number of like-minded countries—expanded the breadth and depth of the Union’s economic sanctions. The legal basis for EU action had already been laid in important respects in 2014, when sanctions were imposed in connection with Russia’s takeover of Crimea (European Council Regulations 208/2014 & 269/2014). However, the Union’s efforts in this regard were gradually expanded and specified through export bans on technology in the maritime, space, and aviation sectors; on technology and services in the area of energy; on electronics and machinery with a potential for strengthening Russia’s industrial capacity; on trade in gold and gold products; on petroleum products via a so-called price cap; on Russian media companies broadcasting in Arabic; on the Wagner Group private military entity. Similarly, in several stages over the course of 2022, the access of Russian banks to the so-called SWIFT system was restricted.

Illustrating: implemented sanctions against Russia by the european union and like-minded entities, autumn 2023.

Imports banned during the spring and summer of 2022 included wood, coal, cement, fossil fuels, petroleum products, and iron and steel products. Bans were then extended as well to other products that generate significant revenues for the Russian state—revenues that can be used in turn to finance Russia’s warfare in Ukraine. Some of the most effective sanctions—the price cap on crude oil and a ban on maritime transport of Russian oil and petroleum products—took effect in late 2022 or early 2023. Already on 31 August 2022, the eu cancelled the relaxation of visa rules that had applied for Russian citizens since 2007.

One significant weakness in the sanctions regime in 2022 was the fact that several European countries—notably Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, and Poland—had grown dependent on imports of Russian fossil fuels through long-term agreements and shared infrastructure for the transport of natural gas (see Becker and Åslund this volume). The Kremlin was clearly aware of this weakness, and imagined it meant that European governments would not be able to put very great economic pressure on Russia. Greek shipping companies were allowed to continue transporting Russian oil, and Belgian diamond merchants could continue to import rough diamonds. However, these concessions were of minor importance for Russia’s state revenues overall. Overall, the problem of sanctions-evasion had more to do with a lack of political support for EU objectives in parts of the Middle East, Asia, and Latin America.

Had the war ended quickly, the political calculation in European countries might not have changed. However, the protracted situation that followed Ukraine’s successful resistance to the invasion meant there was enough time to mobilise structural countermeasures, and not least to take various steps to reduce dependence on Russian gas. The coordinating role played by the European Commission—and maybe also the fact that its current president, Ursula von der Leyen, was once Germany’s defence minister—contributed to the ability of the Union’s member states to come together and to mitigate the impact of reduced imports of natural gas. The problem here consists, however, not just in the dependence itself, but also in the enormous revenues that Russia generates through its combined energy exports—revenues that far exceeded the loans and aid offered to Ukraine until the fall of 2022.

While political solidarity with Ukraine has been unanimous, the readiness to supply Kyiv with military support has been more variable, both over time and as between different governments. Training assistance for Ukraine’s armed forces has been ongoing since 2014. For the most part, however, the delivery of complete weapons systems was long conspicuous by its absence. This sluggishness was due in part to Ukraine’s financial situation (the country struggled with deficits during the 2010s), and in part to political considerations (Goldberg, 2016). NATO countries have been aware all along that the Kremlin can cite the sale (or transfer) of advanced weapons systems to Ukraine in support of its claim that Western countries, especially the US, seek to advance their geopolitical position to Ukraine’s eastern border and ‘contain’, and eventually threaten, Russia. Even the delivery of state-of-the-art defensive systems, such as the Javelin anti-tank missile, has come under constant scrutiny in arms-producing countries. It was first in early February 2022 that the uk started exporting the British-Swedish equivalent of the Javelin—the nlaw system—to the Ukrainian army.

The situation changed very soon after Russia’s full-scale invasion in late February 2022. The governments first and foremost of NATO countries bordering on Russia, Belarus, or Ukraine itself started delivering various weapons systems. A ‘triangular’ pattern of export emerged, whereby Czechia, Slovakia, Romania, and Bulgaria supplied Ukraine with Warsaw Pact-era materiel; and Germany, the uk, and the us supplied more modern, NATO-compatible weaponry to the former countries. It could be a question of tanks, artillery pieces, or military vehicles. This way, the Ukrainian armed forces would not need to spend time practising with the equipment supplied; instead, they could start using it immediately. An accelerated modernisation of materiel within Central Europe’s armed forces took place thereby—a modernisation which would otherwise, on the basis of regular methods of procurement, have taken a longer time.

A qualitative shift in terms of military support took place in the spring of 2022, when the us and France started transferring long-range missile and artillery systems—of the himars, m777, and Caesar types respectively—to the Ukrainian army. These require time for training and for incorporation into logistics systems, which is why it was only in June and July that they could start being used. At that point, however, the military impact was considerable: Russian command centres and ammunition depots behind the front lines were attacked to great effect, and the Russian offensive in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions came to a halt. In addition, deliveries of American-made Harpoon anti-ship missiles—from among other sources the Danish military—helped persuade Russia’s Black Sea fleet to stay further away from the Ukrainian mainland, as did an increasingly effective use of drones by Ukrainian armed forces.

It bears noting too that the EU and NATO, after decades of friction and mutual rivalry in the area of security, seem to have reached a new consensus as a result of the Ukraine war and their concerted action in 2022–23. This consensus applies not least to the need for an autonomous European conventional military capacity that can be deployed in the continent’s immediate proximity. The two organisations have also taken a quite pragmatic stance where the shared utilisation of logistical resources is concerned.

Why a Security Order Is Ultimately Dependent on Military Capacity

The normative power of the Union is insufficient, however, when the adversary is a great power whose political leadership has already shown itself prepared to use military means to enforce its will, to conquer territories, and to destroy the infrastructure, economic life, and social institutions of its enemies—as well as to undermine the authority of the EU and NATO. There is no doubt that the European security order is at stake in the war between Russia and Ukraine. The demands that the Kremlin, with increasing intensity, has made on NATO, the EU, and all of their member states are extremely far-reaching. Moscow claims the right to veto the deployment of weapons systems in Russia’s vicinity, as well as the membership of other countries in security organisations. It also aims, at least as much, to force former Soviet republics—especially those with Russian-speaking or other Slavic populations—to adhere to its preferred political and economic order. In other words, the Kremlin does not regard sovereignty or territorial integrity as valid principles for Russia’s ‘near abroad’ (Deyermond, 2016).

As long, however, as these demands were made through diplomatic channels and within the framework of organisations like the OSCE—as they were until 2014—they could be dealt with by political means. Western powers have made various concessions over the years, without by virtue of that accepting any undermining of the European security order itself. Now, however—after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine—there is a large consensus among observers that diplomacy is no longer an effective means. The tools of Realpolitik must be used in defence of Europe’s security order. Since February 2022, moreover, it has been clear that they must be used before opposed military forces create realities ‘on the ground’ that are extremely hard to reverse (Bugayova, 2022).

As early as the fall of 2021, the administration of President Joe Biden seems to have had highly reliable information on the far-reaching plans of Russia’s political and military leaders. us leaders understood early on that Europe’s security order was under direct threat. They found themselves faced with several decision-making dilemmas, having among other things to do with the leaders of Ukraine, who wanted to keep their economy going as long as possible, and who therefore sought to avoid giving public expression to their unease. In addition, President Biden, Secretary of State Antony Blinken, Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin, and National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan found it hard to convince their European partners that the intelligence was credible, and the attempt of us leaders to mislead the world before the invasion of Iraq in 2003 seems to have played a role here (Beaumont, 2022).

These dilemmas and past experiences were swept aside the moment Russian troops crossed the border on 24 February. Their place was taken by a consensus regarding the threat to Europe, and to the institutions that had more or less guaranteed peace on the continent—with exceptions such as the Cyprus conflict in 1974 and the violent disintegration of Yugoslavia in the 1990s—since the end of the Second World War. Achieving unity on the need to defend Ukraine’s sovereignty was suddenly easy, and all were agreed on the need to provide humanitarian, political, and financial support to that country. As noted above, however, there has been less agreement on the provision of military support, or on what economic and other sacrifices the citizens of Europe should be called upon to make in order to help Ukraine resist Russia’s territorial demands.

One manifest challenge for Europe’s countries lies in the fact that political and economic commitments need to be aligned with the will to maintain the European security order (Engelbrekt & Hallenberg, 2007). This will is far from identical, for geographic and historical reasons, across the whole continent. Nevertheless, the experience of successful cooperation over several decades does furnish fairly firm ground on which to stand. Furthermore, Western countries are the time of writing (autumn 2023) providing resources—including military ones—needed to repel Russia’s attack and thus to refuse its demands for an alternative security order. Anything that might be interpreted as a Russian ‘victory’ risk undermining the entire security order in the long run. In such a case, namely, rules and principles which are perceived as fundamental would be set at nought. Restoring the status quo ante—i.e., the situation that prevailed prior to 24 February 2022—was always viewed as a minimum requirement for being able to say that Russia’s demands have been denied. By the autumn of 2023, President Volodomyr Zelenskyy told the UN Security Council that nothing short of full restoration of the 1991 borders including Crimea was acceptable to his fellow citizens (Lederer and Peltz 2023).

The stamina shown by European countries and their common institutions will likely be decisive for whether the security order on the continent lasts. Already after six months of warfare, it was clear that Ukraine had been the biggest loser, that the economy of the Union’s member states had been negatively affected, and that the Russian Federation had mainly suffered losses in terms of reduced imports. Exports of gas, coal, crude oil, and petroleum products, which constitute Russia’s main sources of income, fell only slowly, while their prices rose sharply. As a result, the country’s revenues from its energy exports remained large until they began decreasing in early 2023, thus for many months helping to finance the war.

Due to a range of factors—military, geographic, economic, and politico-moral—Ukraine’s ability to retake most of what Russian forces captured in 2022 is likely to be critical for the credibility of Europe’s security order. To be sure, one can argue that the very failure of Moscow’s most ambitious war goals—to take over the whole country save for a quarter portion in the west—demonstrates the viability of said security order. The fact that Ukraine and its European allies resisted the attack and were able to limit its success to less than half of Russia’s original plans would thus be a sign that the security order largely endures, and that greater vigilance going forward may be sufficient to keep it alive. A more pessimistic view, in line with the predictions of Ukrainian leaders and of Russia experts, is that Putin and his sympathisers within and outside Europe will consider such an outcome to be a partial victory. The risk in that case is that Russia’s leaders will try to conquer more Ukrainian territory at a later stage. Moreover, an outcome of this kind might inspire others who seek border changes in violation of Europe’s current security order, e.g., rendering permanent the separate status of Transnistria from the Republic of Moldova.

European decision-makers were also increasingly worried about what they perceived as a greatly increased propensity on the part of Russian leaders to take risks. In the same way that European leaders viewed the continent’s security as under challenge and as requiring defence by all available means, the Kremlin saw regime stability as dependent on a successful military campaign. That the stakes were seen as high was already evident in Putin’s repeated warnings to Western leaders against intervening on Ukraine’s side in the war. He announced, notably, that nuclear forces would be put on alert. When Russian troops occupied parts of Ukraine’s Zaporizhzhya region and placed combat vehicles and artillery in the immediate vicinity of the nuclear power plant there, Europe’s largest, the aforementioned propensity was confirmed again. In 2022 and 2023, representatives of the International Atomic Energy Agency (iaea) repeatedly expressed great concern that the nuclear plant could be seriously damaged by the fighting, thereby causing a nuclear accident with consequences far beyond Ukraine.

Some of these fears nevertheless abated in the second year of the war, as Ukraine’s armed forces were able to independently recapture large swaths of the Kharkiv and Kherson regions as part of the broader counteroffensive. Given that Russia’s reputation as a major international power inevitably is at stake when allegations of war crimes, genocide and gross violations of the UN Charter have accumulated, restraining factors are assumed to be at work. As long as the United States and European allies and partners only gradually provided advanced military assistance to the Ukrainian armed forces in 2022–2023, this incrementalism was expected to reduce the risk of rash escalation on the part of the Kremlin. In the spring of 2023, however, voices urging Western governments to tip the scales in favour of Ukraine’s armed forces grew stronger (see, e g, Schadlow, 2023).

The Demands of Great Powers in the Future, Both Within and Outside Europe

For more than two decades now, Putin’s Russia has been calling for a multipolar world order where the us no longer plays the role of guarantor of regional stability, free trade, and freedom of navigation in Europe, the Middle East, East Asia, and Central and South America. It was with the aim of achieving such an order that, already in 2005, Russia entered into a ‘special partnership’ with the People’s Republic of China (prc). Subsequently, it spearheaded the establishment of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, as well as—together with Brazil, China, India, and South Africa—of the ‘brics’ group. Russia has also been very active in the informal body for cooperation between the world’s twenty biggest economies, the G20, especially after it got expelled from the G8 in 2014 due to its annexation of Crimea. (The current G7 only includes countries—Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the uk, and the us—that recognise each other as functioning democracies, plus the EU.)

Although Russia in particular was the driving force behind the launch of bodies like brics and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, signs have been accumulating for some time that other regional powers wish to expand their own room for manoeuvre. Not least the brics countries have become more active in their neighbouring areas, even as they have worked together to support each other’s interests vis-à-vis the us and its allies. For example, they have discussed the possibility of laying underwater cables between them, so as to offer an alternative communication infrastructure to the one in place (provided as the latter has been by the West and especially the United States) (Braw, 2023). Recent military investments by regional great powers, which have been significant in both quantitative and qualitative terms, suggest that diplomacy and trade policy may be marked in the future by an undertone of coercion—something of which neighbouring countries may need to take account in their security policy. The most important player here, not unexpectedly, is the prc, with its ever larger defence budget.

The main arena within which the struggle between the us and the prc may end up being fought out is currently Taiwan, to which Washington has made renewed security commitments in recent years. The prc’s line towards Taiwan, which it regards as a kind of apostate from the true fatherland, has hardened significantly under the current president, Xi Jinping. This in turn must be interpreted as aimed at the position of the us in East Asia generally. The fact that few members of the international community recognise Taiwan as an independent state facilitates attempts by the prc to get other countries to discontinue their protests and expressions of solidarity with Taipei. The way in which Beijing managed to ‘discipline’ Hong Kong—by introducing several new laws (especially the Security Law that went into force in mid-2020) and revoking various rights and freedoms—looks like a dress rehearsal for what it hopes to achieve in Taiwan over the next few years.

It is logical and probably unavoidable for the EU and the European part of NATO to respond to such global and regional challenges in the future with a more robust security and defence policy, following the pro-Taiwanese example of Lithuania (Lau, 2023). Such a policy will need, moreover, to be accompanied by the development of a larger and more usable military capability. Relying on the Union’s diplomatic voice seems naive here, particularly now that China’s leaders and like-minded people have sided with Russia rather than Ukraine in connection with the most serious military conflict in Europe since 1945. In this regard, Germany’s dramatic investment over the next few years in defence—to the tune of 100 billion euros, alongside its regular defence budget of 50 billion—stands out as the most important development (Fleischer, 2023). This special appropriation is intended for the German Air Force, which wants to acquire helicopters and more F-35 fighter jets. But it is not enough for European countries simply to increase their defence budgets. If they are to be capable of acting jointly vis-à-vis other parts of the world, they must also maintain their unity and internal stability.

The Americans, for their part, have long thought—since well before the outbreak of the war in Ukraine—that their European allies ought to increase their defence spending substantially. At least since Obama’s first term as president (2009–2013), the us has sought to convince its European allies of the need to upgrade their defence capabilities significantly. Such a move would be particularly apposite, in the American view, given the steadily growing weight of Asia’s economies in the world, and the consequent need to transfer American military resources to the region. It is only in recent years, however, that leading politicians and defence experts in NATO and the EU have started systematically collaborating to accomplish such a shift—now that they see an acute need and experience broader public support for European defence (Engelbrekt, 2022; Karampekios, 2015).

Building up a robust conventional military capacity in Europe capable of replacing the American one will take time. The same applies to getting the armed forces of the different countries to cooperate in the absence of any strong American component (which has always served as a common denominator in a NATO context). The funds which the EU is now prepared to invest in ‘military mobility’—i.e., on being able to move troops and resources from one part of Europe to another—are a good start, as are the Permanent Structured Cooperation (pesco) and the European Defence Fund (the last of which was added to the Union’s budget in 2021) (Britz, 2023). The year 2022 saw the completion of the work of developing a ‘strategic compass’ within the EU, the aim of which was to get a better overview of various cooperative projects, to coordinate them more effectively, and thereby to strengthen the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP). On this basis, it is hoped, cyber defence can be strengthened, cooperation on intelligence matters improved, defence expenditures utilised more effectively, and the fight against deception and disinformation expanded—thereby enhancing military capacity and operational readiness in the EU’s immediate surroundings.

The European External Action Service (eeas) headed by the High Representative—currently Josep Borrell of Spain—has been an important component of the Union’s ambition to play a ‘strategic role’ in the world beyond Europe. The eeas today has over 4,000 employees, of whom about half serve in more than 140 EU delegations in most independent states, with multilateral accreditation in the remaining countries represented in the un, and in cities that host international organisations (Addis Ababa, Geneva, New York, Paris, Rome, and Vienna). Roughly half of the employees in these delegations are sent out by the various directorates-general of the European Commission or the EEAS; and their work is often in the areas of trade, migration, energy supply, counter-terrorism, or development assistance.

The British decision to leave the EU has the effect of temporarily undermining the latter’s ambition to gain greater credibility as a strategic actor and to increase its independence vis-à-vis the us, the prc, and a number of regional powers. Yet, in the shadow of the war in Ukraine, a more optimistic sense of the matter—that work can continue in the same spirit towards a Union that is ‘sharper’ and more capable of making and implementing decisions—may be showing itself to be warranted. It has really only been, after all, in the course of managing crises in connection with Brexit, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the war in Ukraine that the Union’s main decision-makers and institutions have had to show clear and firm leadership. Not having given in to populist pressures from British negotiators; having agreed on the joint purchase and distribution of COVID-19 vaccines; and having instituted increasingly effective sanctions against Russia—these achievements seem to have resulted in greater self-confidence in Brussels.

The Road to a More Robust European Security Order

As long as Russia fails to renounce its political and military claims on Ukraine, as well as its efforts to dictate the terms of the foreign and domestic policies pursued by its Western neighbours, the acute threat to the European security order will persist. A change of regime in Moscow, combined with a Russian military collapse in southeastern Ukraine, could remove the short-term threat; but not even a new Russian government would necessarily take a different attitude. Nor would new leaders necessarily succeed in altering the views of those elements in society that support the country’s aggression against Ukraine; or which are deeply suspicious of NATO, the us, and the Western world in general. In other words, the security problems that have resulted from the war in Ukraine, and from the demands Moscow has made in connection with it, are likely to last for quite some time.

As far as Europe and the EU are concerned, there is therefore no alternative at present to putting the house in order in terms of security and societal resilience. This means preserving political unity on the continent as best one can; further reducing the dependence on Russian oil, gas, fertiliser, rare metals and other income-generating exports; and preparing to defend Europe against the threat from the east with such societal and military means as may be necessary. It means working with several different types of question at the same time, so as to increase stamina and resilience in Europe as a whole. And it means taking defence issues more seriously than has been done over the last three decades—i.e., since the end of the Cold War.

Satisfaction is in order, to be sure, at Europe’s relatively robust and unified response during the first eighteen months of this crisis: the sanctions imposed on Russia, the financial and diplomatic support extended to Ukraine, and so on. In this regard, as the situation looks now in the autumn of 2023, the Union’s institutions, its member states, and Europe’s civil society have passed the test with flying colours. Military defence, however, is clearly neglected in the majority of EU countries, and it will take a period approaching a decade to build up the capability to defend European territory with conventional forces without American help. In addition to joint investments in defence industries, in transport capacity, and in infrastructure, efforts are needed in the training of officers and the recruitment of soldiers and conscripts. Measures must be taken to ensure that, in the face of changing conditions on the labour market, members of the military are retained. Defence capabilities must be developed in close cooperation with industrial enterprises and academic institutions—ideally in European research networks and consortia—so as to achieve synergies and to ensure that scarce resources are well-spent.

Where the ‘nuclear umbrella’ over Europe is concerned, dependence on the us will continue for a longer time, largely irrespective of what measures are taken in Brussels in the coming years. Neither France, nor Germany, nor the uk is in a position to replace American nuclear weapons over the short or medium term. It is not least here that the transatlantic link needs to be nurtured (Engelbrekt, 2022). This will be necessary in order to ensure that the us, or indeed Europe, does not neglect over the long run to conduct successful cooperation on matters of security. To the extent that strategic and geopolitical rivalry at the global level continues to intensify over the next few decades, the value of a robust transatlantic link will likely increase rather than diminish.

Fig. 9.1
A stacked horizontal bar graph. It illustrates support across different countries. The highest support for military aid is 42 in the U S A, for humanitarian aid is 4 in the U S A, and for financial aid is 85 in E U institutions.

Govermental support to Ukraine. Source ‘Ukraine support tracker’, website to a database on military, financial, and humanitarian aid to Ukraine, KIEL institute for the World Economy, 2023

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Table 9.1 EU’s enlargement following the signing of the European coal and steel community on april 18, 1951 (European Parliament 2023) EU’s enlargement
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Table 9.2 Sanctions imposed on Russia by EU and like-minded countries, Fall 2023
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