Last month’s NATO summit in The Hague was officially about boosting military spending, shared security, and alliance unity. But one figure overshadowed every agenda item: Donald Trump. The main question on everyone’s mind wasn’t how to strengthen Western defence – it was how to keep Trump from walking away.
And the result? A rushed 24-hour meeting, Ukraine sidelined, and headlines dominated by Secretary-General Mark Rutte’s awkward defence of Trump’s Middle East outburst: “Sometimes daddy needs to use strong language.” Without the rapidly deteriorating crises in Ukraine, the Middle East, and Sudan, this choreography of appeasement would be absurd. Instead, it’s deeply alarming.
While Czech Foreign Minister Jan Lipavský optimistically said both Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio still “believe in NATO” the deep ideological divide between the US and Europe is hard to ignore. At its core is Trump’s transactional worldview – tying military aid for a war-torn country to access to its mineral resources. This was already clear months earlier, when, in a chummy interview with Sean Hannity, Vice President J.D. Vance claimed “the very best security guarantee [for Ukraine] is to give Americans economic upside in the future of Ukraine.” This would be better, he said, than “20,000 troops from some random country that hasn’t fought a war in 30 or 40 years.”
This logic reduces everything to a price tag. It mocks allies, measures commitment in dollars, and sees unity as a burden. When such rhetoric comes from what was once Europe’s most reliable ally, it matters. It shapes public perception and can’t go unchallenged. Why is this view so dangerously out of touch? Who are Trump and Vance dismissing as “random countries”? And perhaps most importantly: how should democracies like the Czech Republic respond to what looks like an American betrayal of its own values?
The Fantasy of Economics as a Deterrent
Trump and his allies see the world as a marketplace, where influence is bought, not earned. And so they seemed baffled when, a few months ago, Ukraine pleaded for more concrete security guarantees than just the flimsy mineral deal they offered.
But their argument, if we can call it that, hinges on two faulty assumptions:
- Russia will avoid attacking Ukraine if the US has economic interests there.
- If Russia does attack, the US will be compelled to intervene to protect its investments.
First, the notion that economic engagement by a third country deters aggression simply doesn’t hold up to the facts. Take the situation in 2014, when Russia annexed Crimea. Ukraine at that time was not an economically isolated country. Quite to the contrary, just two years earlier, ExxonMobil and Royal Dutch Shell had secured a $10 billion gas project in Ukraine’s Black Sea. Yet, the presence of these US and Dutch companies did not deter Putin’s expansionism. And the outcome? ExxonMobil was forced to suspend its Skifska gas project, and the US responded with symbolic gestures and light sanctions, not military force.
Nor is this a one-off case. Consider interwar Europe. The United States held substantial economic stakes across the continent, with massive investments and debts owed by countries like France, the United Kingdom, and Germany. Yet those financial ties did not amount to a security guarantee. When Nazi Germany invaded France, Belgium, and the Netherlands in 1940, Washington did not mobilise to defend its economic interests. It stayed on the sidelines. Only after the attack on Pearl Harbour – and the direct loss of American lives – did the US enter the war. The intervention wasn’t about protecting foreign economies. It was about defending US citizens and territory.
“Random Countries” Who Paid in Blood
Even more offensive than Vance’s economic argument is his casual dismissal of the United States’ European allies as “random countries” that haven’t fought a war in decades. Assuming he was referring to members of the “coalition of the willing,” led by the United Kingdom and France, his claim is not only inaccurate but deeply disrespectful. The UK and France have fought alongside the United States in many major conflicts of the past few decades, including Kosovo, Iraq and Afghanistan. These were not symbolic gestures. They involved real deployments and real casualties. The United Kingdom lost 454 soldiers in Afghanistan alone. France deployed thousands. And Denmark, another member of the coalition of the willing, lost 43 service members. On a per capita basis, Denmark suffered more losses than the US.
All of this was done in solidarity with the US following the September 11 attacks. When the United States invoked NATO’s Article 5 mutual defence clause, it was European troops who answered the call. Contrary to J.D. Vance’s dismissive comments on the infamous Signal chat, where he labelled Europe a “pathetic freeloader,” they didn’t whine about “bailing out America.” They saw it as defending democratic values, global stability, and the rules-based order. To dismiss their sacrifice now is not only historically illiterate – it’s morally bankrupt. Yet, it echoes the worldview of Donald Trump, who reportedly referred to fallen soldiers as “losers” and “suckers.” In this political universe, sacrifice is weakness, and solidarity is optional.
A New Reality for Europe
The pace and intensity of Trump’s actions since his return to the White House in January 2025 stunned Washington’s traditional allies. In just the first 40 days, he withdrew from international cooperation on climate and global health, floated the idea of a US “takeover” of Gaza, and branded Zelenskyy a dictator – as if free elections were possible under occupation, with millions displaced or forced to flee. Yet the initial shock is giving way to a sobering realisation: the transatlantic relationship, as Europe once knew it, is over. That recognition is now driving a historic shift across the continent.
Poland, long wary of Russia, is investing heavily in its military – up to 5% of GDP – and proposing a 500,000-strong armed force. Prime Minister Donald Tusk even floated the ambition of gaining access to nuclear weapons. Germany, after decades of military hesitancy, has taken bold steps. In March, the Bundestag adopted a major debt reform to unlock billions in defence investment. This is a radical shift for a country long constrained by its history. Defence spending is no longer seen as a threat, but as protection for a vulnerable continent. France, too, is adapting. President Emmanuel Macron has reiterated his offer to extend France’s nuclear umbrella to other EU states and demanded greater European cooperation. At the EU level, Ursula von der Leyen has introduced the ReArm Europe plan – a vision for defence readiness by 2030. It aims to boost procurement of European-made military products, reduce dependence on foreign suppliers, and increase resilience in times of crisis. If successful, it will enhance both economic sovereignty and collective security.
Ukraine Can’t Wait
But these long-term regional plans will not help Ukraine survive the upcoming months. With US military aid in doubt, Europe must step up now – not tomorrow, not next year. Especially since Europe can do more. According to the Kiel Institute for the World Economy, the average annual spending by EU countries on Ukraine amounts to just 0.1% of their GDP. To offset lost US support, that needs to rise to 0.21%. This is entirely achievable.
Denmark gives over 0.7% of its GDP to Ukraine each year. Estonia and Lithuania give more than 0.5%. These countries understand what’s at stake because they’ve lived in Russia’s shadow. And while smaller nations like the Czech Republic, currently giving 0.15%, can still do more, the real laggards are wealthy powerhouses like Germany, the United Kingdom and France. To reach the ideal 0.21%, German support needs to rise from €5 billion to at least €9 billion. The UK’s aid should grow from €5 billion to €6.5 billion. France must go further – from €1.5 billion to €6 billion. And EU institutions must lead by example, doubling their aid from €16 billion to €36 billion. This isn’t about charity. It’s about credibility – and about survival.
But financial aid alone will not be enough. Europe must help Ukraine achieve greater independence and resilience in its military capabilities. At present, Kyiv remains heavily dependent on US supplies – particularly in rocket artillery, howitzer ammunition, and long-range air defence systems like the Patriot. Replacing this dependence will be difficult – but not impossible. The EU’s new ReArm initiative is designed to boost the continent’s defence-industrial base. While it will primarily serve Europe’s own needs, it can be redirected to support Ukraine. The priority must be investment in European alternatives to US systems, such as the Franco-Italian SAMP/T theatre anti-missile system. The more autonomous Europe becomes, the more dependable it can be as a partner.
The Moral Test of Our Time
Donald Trump once boasted he could end the war in Ukraine within 24 hours. One hundred days into his return to the Oval Office, Russian missiles continue to strike homes, hospitals, and playgrounds. Recently, in Kryvyj Rih, nine children were killed in a single attack. While democratic leaders condemned the massacre, Vance and his allies remained silent – unmoved, perhaps, by anything that cannot be quantified in dollars.
But their logic has been rejected before – both by history and by the facts. The idea that economic investment alone can bring peace has been disproven time and again. Treaties did not stop Putin in Georgia, Crimea, or Donbas. There is no reason to believe a memorandum or trade deal will stop him now.
More dangerously, Vance’s contempt for US allies – mocking European countries and questioning long-standing partnerships – risks becoming the final blow to transatlantic unity. He may not understand the consequences of his rhetoric – but the fallout will be real: diminished US credibility, weakened alliances, and a shift in global power as partners diversify away from Washington. Vance, Trump, and the US are not just showing bad manners. They are showing a disastrous misunderstanding of history and geopolitical strategy.
