Are we really on the cusp of a real, shooting war with Russia? If you believe some of the rhetoric, it would seem so – but does anyone really think it? The war drums are certainly beating. Last night, Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard Knighton, the Chief of the Defence Staff, called for ‘our defence and resilience [to be] a higher national priority for all of us. An “all-in” mentality’ because ‘the situation is more dangerous than I have known during my career’.
Armed Forces minister Al Carns warned more picturesquely that ‘the shadow of war is knocking on Europe’s door once more’. Meanwhile, Mark Rutte, the reliably alarmist secretary-general of Nato, evoked the spectacle of million-man armies clashing in apocalyptic fury, sternly instructing Europeans that they had to ‘be prepared for the scale of war our grandparents or great-grandparents endured’.
It sounds like all the great and the good agree, the only question being quite when Putin’s legions will or may come storming westward. Will it be within five years, as Rutte most recently suggested? Or even tomorrow, as German Lieutenant General Alexander Sollfrank claimed last month (in fairness, referring to a ‘small, quick, regionally limited’ attack).
There is no harm in not putting temptation Putin’s way
Yet maybe it is worth looking less at top-line rhetoric and more at revealed preferences – in other words, deeds not words. Nato members have committed themselves to increasing defence spending from the existing minimum of 2 per cent of GDP to 3.5 (and another 1.5 per cent on ‘defence-related’ spending that, in practice, can mean pretty much anything, from healthcare to road resurfacing). That’s by 2035, though, and if past experience is any guide, many countries will fail to reach this target – or at best will have to rely on questionable accounting to make it appear as if they have.
There are clear exceptions. Poland has already committed 4.2 per cent of GDP to defence, and once its shopping spree of US M1A1/M1A2 Abrams and South Korean K2 Black Panthers has been fully delivered, it will have a larger modern tank fleet than the Russians. In part, though, this is a geopolitical move to position itself as Germany’s replacement as the powerhouse of Central Europe – which might explain why Berlin now expects to spend 3.5 per cent by 2029.
And the UK? We are currently at 2.3 per cent, planning to hit 2.5 per cent in 2027, with an ‘ambition’ – not a commitment – to reach 3 per cent by the next parliament. This could mean the end of 2029, just in time for cataclysmic war, if we accept Rutte’s timeline.
If the threat of a Russian invasion is so real, terrible and imminent, then how can one reconcile this with the relaxed pace of rearmament in so many European countries, not just the UK? Are their – and our – leaders either exaggerating the threat in order to justify promising Donald Trump higher defence budgets in an age of austerity, or else criminally negligent in their sluggish response to a real danger? Would you rather think of your leaders as lying to you or betraying you?
The same day as the Chief of the Defence Staff’s ode to warfighting, Blaise Metreweli, the new head of MI6, was discussing Moscow’s attempts ‘to bully, fearmonger and manipulate’. Could this, in its own way, also refer to so many western political leaders?
As ever, though, the truth is more complex. The professionals are often much more nuanced in their understanding of the actual threat. Metreweli, while admitting to an ‘acute threat posed by Russia’, presented this as ‘operating in a space between peace and war’. Meanwhile, Sir Richard depressingly may have had to call on toxic-tweeting has-been ex-president Dmitry Medvedev as his main witness for a Russian commitment to destroy both Ukraine and Nato. But behind the eye-catching quotes that made it into the headlines, he suggested the danger of Moscow attacking some day was no more than a possibility. He cited predictions of between ‘up to 5 per cent’ and 16 per cent. His point was about the catastrophic consequences if it nonetheless happened: ‘Our objective must be to avoid war, but the price of maintaining peace is rising.’
I don’t believe that Putin is the kind of risk-taker tempted into even some smaller-scale test or provocation of the most powerful military alliance in the world – remember, he had no idea his move into Ukraine in 2022 would trigger a major war. But even I can accept the need for European rearmament after such a long period of self-indulgent defence decline.
After all, I could be wrong. There is no harm in not putting temptation Putin’s way – and, considering that this is a process which will stretch into the future, we have no idea who will replace him, and when. Europe has also infantilised itself by sheltering under the US military umbrella and is now discovering how uncomfortable that can be. If the EU and Europe as a continent want to be taken seriously again in an unstable, unruly world, they do need to put on some muscle mass.
But justifying ‘the largest sustained increase in defence spending since the end of the Cold War’ – in Sir Richard’s words – ought not to be on the basis of just dramatic hyperbole and claims that Putin is coming to eat our babies any day now. This is a long-term process which will inevitably entail tough decisions and burdens on society as a whole. Scaremongering is like sugar – a quick rush, which passes just as quickly. Instead of risking a backlash in a year or two, followed by a repudiation of rearmament, this demands a mature, serious national debate. The case for defence should be presented – as Sir Richard did – not just as a precaution but also as a rebalancing: the thirty or so relatively relaxed years after the Soviet collapse were a blessed aberration and not, alas, a peaceable new normal.
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