Politics · Defence politics
Ankara summit kept NATO together and started reshaping it
The alliance survived Trump, held the 5% spending line, and committed €70 billion to Ukraine. The real consequence may be a Europe that no longer assumes Washington will always answer the phone.
Judged by the narrowest possible standard, the NATO summit in Ankara was a success: the alliance did not break apart. Judged by almost any wider measure, it was something more complicated. Article 5 was reaffirmed. The 5 per cent of GDP defence spending target survived. Ukraine secured a multi-year commitment worth €70 billion in 2026 alone. Donald Trump confirmed that the United States would stay in the alliance. These are real outcomes. They are also, in several cases, commitments whose meaning will be decided years from now, in budgets and production lines rather than communiqués.
A low bar, cleared
Before the summit, the list of potential crises was long. Trump had spent months attacking European allies over burden-sharing. Washington and European capitals disagreed sharply on Iran. The future of American troop deployments in Europe was unclear. The 5 per cent spending target was contested. Greenland had become an unlikely flashpoint. And Ukraine's relationship with the alliance remained unresolved. That the summit produced a collective declaration at all, let alone one reaffirming the core mutual defence commitment, required significant diplomatic work behind the scenes.
Calling this a triumph would be generous. What Ankara demonstrated was the alliance's capacity to weather a period of intense internal pressure without fracturing. The bar was low. It was cleared. That is not nothing, but it is not the same as a strategic transformation.
The spending figure that reshapes the architecture
The 5 per cent of GDP target matters more than its appearance in a summit declaration might suggest. If European governments actually implement it, the consequence will be substantial: more ammunition, more air defence systems, more drones, larger stockpiles and more troops. The cumulative effect would be a European capacity to sustain military operations without immediately turning to Washington for the essentials. NATO's defence spending commitments have historically been treated as aspirational. The 2014 Wales pledge of 2 per cent took a decade to approach reality in many capitals. The Ankara figure could meet the same fate. But the political signal is different this time. European leaders are not merely being asked to spend more by an American president. Several of them have concluded, independently, that they must.
The structural implication is worth spelling out. For decades, NATO operated on a simple premise: the United States provided the strategic backbone, and European members contributed supplementary forces and political legitimacy. That arrangement is not dead, but it is no longer reliable enough to be the sole foundation of European security. What is emerging instead is something closer to a two-pillar alliance, in which Europe must be capable of acting with far greater autonomy than it has since the Cold War ended.
This is the paradox of Trump's pressure. His demand that Europe pay more was genuine. The European response, however, has been to start building military capacity that reduces dependence on American decision-making. If you are going to spend 5 per cent of GDP regardless, the logic runs, you might as well spend it on capabilities you control. That is not a European NATO without America. It is a Europe that treats American support as valuable but not guaranteed.
Ukraine: money and production, not membership
Ukraine left Ankara with tangible commitments and no membership card. The €70 billion pledge for 2026, with a comparable amount indicated for 2027, represents a shift in how support is structured. Rather than ad hoc packages negotiated under political pressure, the commitment is multi-year. Trump also agreed to the possibility of Ukraine producing Patriot missiles domestically, a decision with implications well beyond symbolism.
The production angle is where the logic of support starts to change. Ukraine has spent years waiting for weapons deliveries, subject to the political cycles of donor countries. If Kyiv can manufacture what it needs, or at least produce some of it, the dependency relationship weakens. Ukraine becomes less a recipient and more a participant in European security production. For a country fighting an active war, the difference is not trivial.
Membership, however, remains distant. The summit did not open an accession process. For Trump, the priority is ending the war and reaching an agreement with Russia, not extending the alliance's mutual defence guarantee eastward. That tension between Ukraine's long-term aspiration and the current American diplomatic posture was not resolved in Ankara and will not be resolved soon.
Russia's miscalculation
From Moscow's perspective, the summit could hardly have gone worse. The Kremlin's working assumption appears to have been that Trump's return would fracture Western unity: Washington against Europe, reduced aid to Ukraine, a weakened alliance. Instead, the summit produced higher European defence spending, continued support for Kyiv, and further reinforcement of NATO's eastern flank.
Maria Zakharova, spokeswoman for the Russian Foreign Ministry, described the summit decisions as a continuation of Europe's militarisation and preparations for confrontation with Russia. Moscow does not treat the 5 per cent spending target as a routine budgetary adjustment. It presents it as a long-term Western mobilisation. The Russians warned that such actions could have what they termed catastrophic consequences for the entire world.
There is a risk embedded in this dynamic. European defence spending does not translate into operational capability overnight. Ammunition factories, missile production lines, air defence deployments and new military units take years to build. If Moscow concludes that its window of advantage is closing, the incentive to act before those capabilities materialise grows. Deterrence and escalation pressure can coexist.
Turkey's diplomatic dividend
The host of the summit emerged as one of its clearest beneficiaries. Recep Tayyip Erdoğan used Ankara to demonstrate something that was already true but not always visible: that building European defence without Turkey is impractical. NATO's second-largest army, the Black Sea position, the control of the straits, an increasingly capable defence industry, and a relationship with both Kyiv and Moscow that no other ally can replicate. All of these give Ankara leverage.
The practical gains matter as much as the symbolism. Turkey wants NATO to lower barriers to the arms trade between allies, because if Europe is about to spend hundreds of billions on defence, Turkish manufacturers want a share. The portfolio is already substantial: drones, ammunition, missiles, armoured vehicles, naval platforms, electronics. Ankara is not seeking a seat at the table out of vanity. It is seeking contracts.
In the background sits the long-running dispute over the S-400 air defence system and Turkey's exclusion from the F-35 programme. If Ankara can resolve the S-400 issue and return to the F-35, the summit's diplomatic gains acquire a concrete military dimension. Beyond NATO, Turkey is simultaneously pursuing arrangements with Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, positioning itself as indispensable in multiple theatres. Erdoğan's strategy is consistent: make yourself necessary everywhere, and the world will negotiate with you.
Poland: stronger position, heavier bill
For Warsaw, Ankara was a better outcome than seemed likely just weeks earlier. European rearmament is proceeding. The eastern flank remains central to NATO's defensive planning. Poland's military weight within the alliance has grown. The Eastern Shield programme and the development of military infrastructure stand to be integrated more deeply into NATO's broader posture.
The difficulty is cost. Poland can no longer operate on the assumption that proximity to the United States is sufficient. Warsaw needs the capacity to fight for weeks or months before the full allied mechanism activates. That is what the 5 per cent spending figure is supposed to deliver. The question is sustainability: how long can the Polish economy carry that burden, and at what point does defence spending crowd out the investment that makes the economy strong enough to sustain it?
There is a further risk. If Poland spends heavily on imported equipment without building its own industrial base, the result strengthens foreign manufacturers more than Polish security. The challenge for Warsaw is converting expenditure into domestic production, logistics and operational capability, rather than adding to a list of procurement invoices.
The credibility question that declarations cannot fix
Trump reaffirmed Article 5 and confirmed continued American membership in NATO. Those statements matter. But his presidency has also demonstrated something that no declaration can fully reverse: American priorities can shift abruptly, and allies cannot be certain that Washington will respond as expected in a crisis. Deterrence depends on more than hardware. It depends on an adversary's calculation that the alliance will act together when it matters. If that certainty erodes, someone will eventually test how far the erosion has gone.
This is the underlying structural shift that Ankara accelerated but did not create. The alliance is moving away from a model built on American dominance toward one in which Europe must hold its own pillar. The destination is not a Europe that replaces American power. It is a Europe that no longer assumes American power will always be available on demand.
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North Atlantic Treaty Organization · Russian Foreign Ministry