Because we can. That's exactly the kind of behaviour we allowed.
From Prague, a soldier-turned-statesman is pressing NATO to reckon with a truth it has long deferred: that measured restraint, when met with calculated aggression, functions less as wisdom than as invitation. Czech President Petr Pavel, drawing on decades of military command and his former role atop NATO's own committee, argues that Russia has not stumbled into its pattern of provocations — it has been taught them, one unanswered test at a time. His call is not for war, but for the kind of credible consequence that transforms an alliance's words into weight.
- Russia has been systematically probing NATO's eastern flank — drones in Baltic airspace, jets buzzing warships, electronic warfare spilling into alliance territory — and a NATO fighter downed a drone over Estonia just this week.
- Pavel says Russian military leaders told him directly they conduct these provocations 'because we can,' a confession that indicts years of NATO's own diplomatic caution as the enabling condition.
- He is proposing a spectrum of responses — from shooting down violating aircraft to cutting Russian banks from global financial systems and disabling satellite networks — tools designed to speak the language of power without crossing into open war.
- The window to pressure Moscow may be narrowing: oil revenues boosted by US-Israeli tensions with Iran are easing Russia's economic strain, making the cost of inaction higher with each passing month.
- Even at home, Pavel is fighting a parallel battle — a constitutional dispute with Prime Minister Babiš over who represents the Czech Republic at the NATO summit in Ankara, a domestic fracture that mirrors the broader alliance tensions he is trying to resolve.
Petr Pavel speaks with a soldier's economy of language, and what he sees from Prague is an alliance that has been educating its adversary in the wrong lessons. The Czech president — a retired general who once chaired NATO's military committee — has grown openly impatient with what he describes as paralysis in the face of deliberate Russian testing along the eastern flank. Drones crossing into Baltic airspace, jets making close passes over warships, electronic warfare pushing unmanned aircraft into NATO territory: the pattern is not reckless, he insists. It is strategic. When he asked Russian military leaders why they do it, they told him plainly — because they can.
The deeper problem, as Pavel frames it, is that Russia has spent years mastering the space just below Article 5 — the treaty threshold that would compel a collective alliance response. Moscow's planners have learned to read NATO's decision-making better than NATO reads itself, calibrating each provocation to stay within the zone of tolerable ambiguity. This is what Pavel calls Russia's post-2014 'behaviour style': aggression as doctrine, escalation as negotiation.
His proposed remedies are deliberately varied. On the military side, he argues NATO should be prepared to shoot down aircraft — manned or unmanned — that violate its airspace. But he also envisions asymmetric pressure: internet shutdowns, financial system exclusions, satellite disruptions. Pain without killing. The EU's long deliberation over Russia's shadow fleet, he notes, ended with the fleet simply relocating once action finally came — a parable about what hesitation teaches.
Pavel's frustration reaches Washington too. He has said privately that recent American conduct has done more damage to NATO's credibility than Putin has managed in years, though he reserves his public argument for a broader point: US negotiators should tie sanctions relief explicitly to Russian concessions, and Europe must stop waiting for Washington to hand it a framework. The optimal pressure point — when Russia was most economically strained — may already be receding, with rising oil revenues improving Moscow's position. Yet he sees leverage remaining: Russia wants sanctions relief and has signaled interest in security talks. The condition, he says, must be unambiguous — ceasefire first, then negotiation.
Back in Prague, Pavel is simultaneously navigating a constitutional dispute with Prime Minister Babiš over attendance at the NATO summit in Ankara. He has offered a compromise — informal participation while leaving formal defense talks to the government — and jokes that exclusion might free him for a ZZ Top concert nearby. But the lightness is surface. For Pavel, the principle of the presidency's constitutional role matters as much as any summit seat. He would miss the performance gladly. What he cannot afford to miss is the moment.
Petr Pavel sits in Prague with a soldier's clarity about what he sees coming. The Czech president, a retired general who once chaired NATO's military committee, has grown impatient with what he calls the alliance's paralysis in the face of Russian testing. He is not a man given to theatrical language, but the phrase he reaches for is blunt: NATO must "show its teeth."
For years now, Russia has been probing the eastern flank—drones crossing into Baltic airspace, jets making close passes over warships, electronic warfare jamming systems that send Ukrainian-controlled unmanned aircraft spiraling into NATO territory. A NATO fighter shot down a drone over Estonia just this week. The pattern is deliberate, Pavel argues, and it works because the alliance has allowed it to work. When he asked Russian military leaders directly why they conduct these provocations, their answer was simple: "because we can." That answer, he believes, reveals everything about what NATO has taught Moscow through years of measured responses and diplomatic caution.
The core of Pavel's concern runs deeper than any single incident. After Russia's 2014 annexation of Crimea, Moscow developed what he calls a "behaviour style"—a calculated approach to aggression that stays just below the threshold of Article 5, the NATO treaty clause that treats an attack on one member as an attack on all. Russian military planners, Pavel says, have learned to laugh at the alliance's decision-making. They understand the boundaries better than NATO does. They know exactly how far they can push without triggering the collective response that would force the alliance's hand. This is not recklessness; it is strategy.
Pavel's proposed responses span a spectrum from military to economic. If violations of NATO airspace continue, he argues, the alliance should be prepared to shoot down aircraft—manned or unmanned. But he also envisions what he calls "asymmetric" measures that stop short of kinetic action: shutting down internet access, cutting Russian banks from global financial systems, disabling satellite networks. These are tools that inflict pain without killing, that speak the language Moscow understands—the language of power and consequence. The European Union spent years discussing Russia's shadow fleet before finally acting; within days, the fleet simply relocated. The lesson, Pavel suggests, is that hesitation teaches nothing.
His frustration extends to Washington. He has said privately that Trump has done more to undermine NATO's credibility in recent weeks than Putin has managed in years, though he stops short of direct public criticism of the US president. Instead, he channels his concern into a broader argument about American resolve on Russia and about Europe's failure to develop its own strategic vision. The US negotiators handling Ukraine peace talks, he suggests, should tie sanctions relief directly to Russian concessions—making the cost of aggression clear. Europe, meanwhile, has largely abdicated responsibility, waiting to see what Washington decides rather than proposing its own framework for post-war security.
Pavel believes the optimal moment to pressure Russia was last year, when Moscow was economically and militarily strained. That window may be closing. The US-Israeli conflict with Iran has inadvertently helped Russia by driving up oil revenues. Yet he sees an opening still: Russia wants sanctions relief, Russia has indicated interest in discussing European security architecture. The condition should be explicit and non-negotiable—a ceasefire in Ukraine and genuine negotiations toward peace. Without that pressure now, he warns, Russia will interpret restraint as permission and escalate further. This is not speculation; it is doctrine. Russia's military strategy explicitly includes what it calls "escalate to de-escalate"—the idea that one more provocation, one more test, might finally break NATO's will.
Back home in Prague, Pavel is locked in a constitutional dispute with Prime Minister Andrej Babiš over who should represent the Czech Republic at the upcoming NATO summit in Ankara. The disagreement reflects a deeper tension between the presidency and government that has played out over months—Pavel's refusal to appoint a controversial coalition politician, his insistence on the president's constitutional role. He has offered compromise: attend informal discussions while leaving formal defense talks to the government. He jokes that if excluded, he could catch a ZZ Top concert in Pardubice instead. But he would gladly miss it. For Pavel, the principle matters more than the performance.
Citas Notables
Russia, unfortunately, does not understand nice language. They mostly understand the language of power, ideally accompanied with action.— Petr Pavel, Czech President
If we do not react to the violations we face today, then Russia would probably step up.— Petr Pavel, Czech President
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you say Russia learned to operate just below Article 5, what does that actually look like in practice?
It means they've mapped the exact boundary of what triggers collective defense and they stay one step short. A drone over Estonia, a jet making a close pass over a warship—each incident alone might not be enough to invoke Article 5, but together they're a pattern of testing. They're learning what the alliance will tolerate.
Why does that matter if NATO hasn't actually invoked Article 5 in response?
Because it shows Russia believes it can keep pushing. When their military leaders laugh at NATO's decision-making, they're not joking—they're expressing confidence that the alliance will remain divided, that some members will always prefer diplomacy over action.
You mention asymmetric responses like shutting down the internet. Isn't that an act of war?
It's a question of definition. Pavel sees it as a tool that inflicts consequence without crossing into kinetic conflict. The point is to make the cost of provocation real and immediate, not abstract or delayed.
What about the US role? You seem critical of Washington.
Not critical so much as concerned about resolve. If the US is signaling doubt about its NATO commitments while also negotiating Ukraine's future, Russia reads that as weakness. The negotiators need to tie sanctions relief to actual Russian concessions, not just hope for the best.
Is there still time to change Russia's calculus?
Pavel thinks so, but the window is closing. Last year was better—Russia was economically vulnerable. Now oil revenues are rising again. But if Europe and the US make a coordinated final push on sanctions while offering a clear path to relief through negotiation, there's still leverage. The question is whether the alliance can actually move together.
And if it doesn't?
Then Russia keeps testing, keeps learning, keeps escalating. That's their doctrine. Whatever NATO allows, they'll try further.