We have to be ready if the United States is not the case.
In Brussels on Thursday, the leaders of twenty-seven European nations gathered to reaffirm their commitment to Ukraine at a moment when the architecture of Western security — built over eight decades — was visibly straining. With American military aid frozen by the Trump administration and Russian strikes still claiming lives in Ukrainian cities, Europe found itself at a threshold it had long deferred approaching: the question of whether it could, and would, defend its own order. The summit produced pledges of historic scale, but also exposed the fractures within, as the gap between declaration and capacity remained wide.
- Russian missiles killed four people in Zelenskyy's hometown of Kryvyi Rih the night before the summit, and a drone strike on Sumy killed another — the war's grinding reality pressing against every diplomatic word spoken in Brussels.
- The Trump administration's freeze on military aid — previously covering more than forty percent of Ukraine's defence needs — has left a void that Europe's most ambitious spending proposals cannot yet fill.
- France's Macron broke a long-standing taboo by openly discussing the extension of French nuclear protection to European partners, a signal of how dramatically the continent's strategic imagination has been forced to expand.
- Hungary and Slovakia threatened to fracture European unity from within, with Orban warning of unbridgeable strategic differences and Fico demanding concessions on Russian gas transit as the price of his signature.
- Europe announced plans to mobilize up to eight hundred billion euros for defence and loosened fiscal rules to allow greater military spending, setting the machinery of rearmament in motion even as its gears caught and ground.
- The path forward remains unresolved: Europe must choose between building genuine strategic autonomy or entering any negotiation from a position of dependence — and Thursday's summit made clear the choice has not yet been made.
The leaders of Europe's twenty-seven nations gathered in Brussels on Thursday with an uninvited presence shaping every conversation: the sudden withdrawal of American certainty. Volodymyr Zelenskyy sat among them, representing a country that had come to rely on Washington for more than forty percent of its military support — support that Donald Trump had now frozen. The summit was meant to announce increased defence commitments, but the mood was one of reckoning.
The immediate backdrop was grim. The night before, a Russian missile had struck a hotel in Kryvyi Rih — Zelenskyy's hometown — killing four and wounding thirty-two. In Sumy, a drone strike on a postal depot killed one person and destroyed thousands of parcels. The war, now in its fourth year, showed no sign of relenting even as the question of who would sustain Ukraine's fight was shifting beneath everyone's feet.
Emmanuel Macron had already signalled the depth of the moment. In a national address on the eve of the summit, he said France was open to extending its nuclear protection to European partners — a statement that would have been unthinkable months earlier. The Kremlin called it confrontational. Macron's reply was characteristically direct: standing idle in this new era of danger would be madness.
The European Commission unveiled a proposal to mobilize up to eight hundred billion euros for defence, including plans to borrow and lend to member governments for military procurement. Britain announced expanded drone capabilities for Ukrainian forces in the Black Sea. Germany moved to loosen its borrowing limits. The architecture of European rearmament was beginning to take shape.
But it faced resistance from within. Hungary's Viktor Orban threatened to veto the summit's conclusions, citing irreconcilable differences over Ukraine strategy. Slovakia's Robert Fico demanded the final statement address Russian gas transit — a route Kyiv had closed — as a condition of his support. No unified pledge of military aid had yet been agreed.
From Washington, Secretary of State Marco Rubio described the conflict as a stalemated proxy war that needed to end, and the U.S. had already cut Ukraine's access to critical intelligence sharing. Russia's foreign minister warned that any European peacekeeping presence in Ukraine would be treated as direct NATO involvement.
Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk insisted Europe was strong enough to prevail in any confrontation with Russia. But the arithmetic was sobering. The summit could offer words and spending commitments, yet the deeper truth was plain: the post-war security order that had sheltered Europe for eighty years was fracturing, and the continent would have to choose between building genuine self-reliance or negotiating from weakness. That choice remained unresolved.
The leaders of Europe's twenty-seven nations gathered in Brussels on Thursday with an uninvited guest shadowing their deliberations: the sudden absence of American certainty. Volodymyr Zelenskyy sat among them, present in person but representing a country that had grown accustomed to American military support accounting for more than forty percent of its defence. Donald Trump had frozen that aid. The meeting was meant to affirm Europe's commitment to Ukraine and announce a significant increase in defence spending, but the mood was one of reckoning rather than celebration.
The immediate backdrop was brutal. On Wednesday night, a Russian missile had struck a hotel in Kryvyi Rih—Zelenskyy's hometown—killing four people and wounding thirty-two. In the northeastern city of Sumy, Russian drones had hit a postal facility, starting a fire that consumed more than twenty-five hundred parcels and killed one person. The war, now grinding through its fourth year since Putin's invasion in February 2022, showed no signs of slowing. Yet the calculus of who would fight it, and how, was shifting beneath everyone's feet.
France's Emmanuel Macron had already signalled the scale of the shift. In an address to his nation on the eve of the summit, he said something that would have been unthinkable months earlier: France was open to extending the protection of its nuclear arsenal to other European partners. "I want to believe that the United States will stand by us," Macron said. "But we have to be ready if that is not the case." The Kremlin's spokesperson, Dmitry Peskov, called the speech "highly confrontational," accusing France of thinking more about continuing the war than ending it. Macron's response was blunt: remaining a spectator in this new world of danger would be madness.
The European Commission unveiled a proposal to mobilize up to eight hundred billion euros—roughly one point two four trillion Canadian dollars—for defence, including a plan to borrow one hundred fifty billion euros to lend to member governments for military spending. Ursula von der Leyen, the Commission's chief, framed it as a way to give countries fiscal room to spend on weapons and to coordinate procurement across the continent. Britain announced it had struck a deal allowing Ukrainian forces to use more advanced attack drones in the Black Sea. Germany's incoming coalition government agreed to loosen borrowing limits to free up billions for defence. The machinery of European rearmament was beginning to turn.
But the machinery had friction. Hungary's Viktor Orban, who has maintained friendly relations with the Kremlin and endorsed Trump's approach to Ukraine, threatened to veto the summit's conclusions. In a letter dated Saturday, he wrote that there were "strategic differences in our approach to Ukraine that cannot be bridged." Slovakia's Prime Minister Robert Fico, who has also rejected military aid to Ukraine, demanded that the summit's final statement include language about reopening Russian gas transit through Ukrainian territory—a route Kyiv had shut down and that Slovakia depended on for energy. The EU had not yet managed to agree on a specific figure for military aid to pledge to Ukraine this year.
Meanwhile, the Trump administration was signalling its own terms. Secretary of State Marco Rubio told Fox News that the conflict was a "protracted, stalemated" proxy war between nuclear powers that needed to end. The U.S. had already cut Ukraine off from crucial intelligence sharing—potentially life-saving information in wartime—and suggested it could be restored if Zelenskyy complied with American efforts to broker a ceasefire. Peskov noted approvingly that Rubio's comments aligned with Russia's own position. Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov added a warning: any European peacekeeping force deployed to Ukraine would be regarded as official NATO involvement in the war.
Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk tried to project confidence. "Europe as a whole is truly capable of winning any military, financial, economic confrontation with Russia," he said. "We are simply stronger." But the arithmetic told a different story. Europe could not easily replace the weapons Washington had been providing. The summit would offer words of support and announce spending increases, but the fundamental shift was clear: the post-war order that had underwritten European security for eighty years was fracturing. Europe would have to learn to defend itself, or negotiate from weakness. The question of which path it would choose remained open.
Citações Notáveis
Europe as a whole is truly capable of winning any military, financial, economic confrontation with Russia—we are simply stronger.— Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk
I want to believe that the United States will stand by us. But we have to be ready if that is not the case.— French President Emmanuel Macron
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does Trump's aid freeze matter so much if Europe can spend more on defence?
Because money and weapons aren't the same thing. The U.S. provided over forty percent of Ukraine's military aid last year. Europe doesn't have the industrial capacity to replace that overnight. You can't just print advanced weapons systems.
So the summit was really about Europe admitting it can't rely on America anymore?
Not admitting it—accepting it. There's a difference. Macron's nuclear offer, the eight-hundred-billion-euro proposal, Germany loosening its borrowing rules—these are all moves that assume the U.S. security umbrella is closing.
What about Orban and Fico blocking things? Doesn't that undermine the whole effort?
It does, but it also reveals something real. Not all of Europe sees Russia the same way. Orban has ties to Moscow. Fico wants Russian gas flowing again. When you're trying to move twenty-seven countries in one direction, two holdouts can be enough to slow you down.
Is there any chance Trump reverses course and keeps supporting Ukraine?
Rubio's comments suggest otherwise. He's calling it a proxy war that needs to end. That's not the language of someone planning to escalate support. The intelligence cutoff is the real signal—it's leverage.
What happens if Europe can't match American aid and Ukraine loses ground?
Then the conversation shifts from how to win to how to negotiate. That's what Russia is waiting for. Lavrov's warning about peacekeepers shows they're already thinking about the endgame.