OPINION: Rutte and Cohesion: The Hard Truths of Ankara

Ankara, capital of every challenge

The NATO summit in Ankara, in June 2026, was no ordinary summit. For the first time since the end of the Cold War, allies found themselves facing an existential question: can the Atlantic Alliance survive its own internal contradictions? The answer, whispered in the corridors by exhausted diplomats and clear-eyed generals, is a nuanced one. Neither collapse nor triumphant unity — but something more fragile, and more honest.

Secretary General Mark Rutte worked to project an image of unity. Defense spending commitments were renewed, statements were solemn, and handshakes were televised. But behind the cameras, the fractures were visible to the naked eye: Washington was sending contradictory signals, Budapest was obstructing, and several European capitals were watching Washington with a mixture of suspicion and desperate hope.

Rutte and the cohesion test

The expression «Stringer test» — referring to the process of evaluating the credibility of commitments between allies — became the unofficial password of the summit. Several delegations raised this concept during bilateral meetings: does each ally truly keep its promises, or do announcements remain dead letters?

The numbers speak for themselves: in 2024, only 23 of NATO's 32 members met the 2% of GDP threshold for defense spending. By 2026, that number had grown, but significant gaps remain. Germany is making colossal efforts, France is holding to its commitments, but some members of the eastern flank are demanding more than promises.

I won't pretend that the unity on display in Ankara convinced me. When you read between the lines of the official communiqués, you see an Alliance still searching for its compass in a world where its principal protector keeps sending contradictory signals. NATO cohesion is not a given — it is daily work, often thankless and rarely spectacular.

The race to two percent

Since Russia's invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, pressure on NATO members to hit the 2% of GDP defense spending threshold has never been stronger. At Ankara, several countries announced significant increases. Poland continues to lead the pack, allocating more than 4% of GDP to national defense — a historic record that reflects Warsaw's deep geopolitical anxiety.

But spectacular announcements are not enough. Equipment delivery delays, industrial bottlenecks, and shortages of skilled personnel in European armed forces are slowing the real buildup. The Atlantic Alliance has full order books — and arsenals struggling to fill at the desired pace.

The new defense contracts

In Ankara, NATO announced «tens of billions of dollars» in new collective defense contracts. These contracts aim to pool weapons procurement, standardize ammunition, and accelerate European industrial production. It is a direct response to lessons learned from the war in Ukraine: Europe can no longer depend on a single supply chain.

Companies like Rheinmetall, BAE Systems, and Leonardo landed major contracts. Europe's defense industrial base is in the midst of transformation — slow, costly, but irreversible. The signal sent to Moscow is clear: the West is restarting its industrial war machine.

These defense contracts are symbolically important, but I remain cautious. NATO's history is paved with well-intentioned industrial plans that took decades to materialize. The real question is not how much you order — it's how much you deliver, and when.

Trump and strategic ambiguity

Donald Trump was not physically present in Ankara in the way a traditional president would have been. His administration sent delegates, advisers, signals — but persistent doubt about America's long-term commitment still hangs over the Alliance. Recent polls show that European leaders are deeply worried about US reliability in the face of a potential Russian attack.

The decision, announced in May 2026, to cancel the deployment of 4,000 American troops to Poland left its mark. Even though logistical explanations were offered, the political signal was devastating. In Warsaw, Vilnius, Tallinn — the message was received: the American security guarantee was no longer automatic, that it carried a price and conditions.

Article 5 under pressure

Article 5 of the NATO treaty — the collective defense clause — is the backbone of the Alliance. But its effectiveness rests on the credibility of the American response. When Washington hesitates, when American officials hint that the response depends on the «financial contribution» of the attacked ally, the entire deterrence system is weakened.

Experts from the Atlantic Council and other think tanks have warned that credible deterrence demands predictability. Strategic ambiguity can work against the enemy — but it must never apply to allies. Putin reads Washington's hesitation as an invitation to test the limits.

Trump is a necessary evil — I have said it often, and I stand by it. But a necessary evil that sows doubt in Baltic and Polish capitals at the precise moment Russia is probing for weaknesses is a historical responsibility that his administration seems not to fully grasp.

The Baltic states on the front line

For Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, the Ankara summit was not an abstract foreign policy meeting. It was a matter of national survival. These three small countries share a border with Russia or its ally Belarus, and their historical memory — Soviet deportations, occupation, terror — is alive. They are demanding permanent battalions, heavy equipment, and guarantees of rapid response.

At Ankara, commitments were renewed on NATO's forward presence in the Baltic states. The German brigade deployed in Lithuania — the first permanent stationing of the German army abroad since World War II — is a powerful signal. But these countries want more than signals: they want operational guarantees.

Poland: the military pivot of the East

Poland has transformed itself in just a few years into the leading land military power in Eastern Europe. Its 4% of GDP in defense spending, its massive purchases of American equipment (F-35s, Abrams tanks, HIMARS systems), and its expanding armed forces make it an indispensable actor. But Warsaw is also a demanding ally that constantly reminds its partners of their obligations.

The surprise cancellation of the 4,000 American troop deployment in May was a shock. The Polish government responded with diplomatic restraint on the surface, but defense officials expressed their frustration in private. Poland is investing massively in its own defense precisely because it cannot afford to depend on an ally as unpredictable as the Trump administration.

There is something deeply moving about the determination of the Baltic states and Poland. These nations have learned, at the price of blood, what it means to be abandoned by great powers. Their insistence on concrete guarantees is not paranoia — it is historical memory transformed into national security policy.

Ankara between two chairs

Hosting the NATO summit in Ankara was a decision heavy with symbolism for Turkey. President Erdoğan wanted to demonstrate that his country remains a credible Atlantic ally — while maintaining commercial relations with Russia, refusing to join Western sanctions, and playing an intermediary role in several sensitive dossiers. It is a complex, sometimes contradictory posture, but one consistent with Turkey's strategic vision.

Turkey sold Bayraktar drones to Ukraine — a gesture appreciated in Kyiv. But it continues to import Russian oil and gas, host sanctioned companies, and maintain diplomatic channels with Moscow. For Erdoğan, this ambiguity is a strength — it lets him negotiate with everyone. For his NATO allies, it is a permanent source of irritation.

The strategic usefulness of an undisciplined ally

Despite its contradictions, Turkey remains indispensable to NATO. Its control of the Bosphorus and Dardanelles straits is strategically decisive — it was Turkey that blocked Russian naval access to the Black Sea after the 2022 invasion by applying the Montreux Convention. Its military power, second in the Alliance only to the United States, is a reality that cannot be ignored.

In Ankara, Erdoğan played his role with flair: he hosted the summit, issued declarations of Atlantic solidarity, and discreetly reminded allies that his cooperation had a price. That is Turkey under Erdoğan — never entirely in, never entirely out, always at the center of every negotiation.

Turkey fascinates and irritates me in equal measure. Erdoğan has understood something the West refuses to admit: in the current geopolitical disorder, strategic ambiguity is sometimes more valuable than absolute loyalty. It is not moral — but it is effective.

Zelensky and his demands

Volodymyr Zelensky attended the Ankara summit with a specific list of demands: more air defense systems, accelerated deliveries of long-range weapons, and above all a clear roadmap toward NATO membership. On the last point, allies remain divided — some support rapid accession, others fear escalating the conflict with Russia.

Zelensky secured additional commitments on Patriot systems, fighter pilot training, and intelligence sharing. These are concrete advances — but far short of Kyiv's maximum demands. The Ukrainian president knows how to navigate between gratitude and pressure; it has become a hallmark of his wartime diplomacy.

NATO membership: horizon or mirage?

The question of Ukraine's NATO membership is the issue most deeply dividing allies. For the Baltic states and Poland, it is an obvious strategic necessity — a Ukraine inside NATO makes any future Russian aggression impossible to justify. For others, like Germany or France, caution is warranted to avoid direct escalation with Moscow.

In Ankara, the formula adopted was that of a «bridge to membership» — vague, intentionally ambiguous. Zelensky accepted it without enthusiasm. He understands his allies' political constraints. But he also knows that every month without membership guarantees is a month during which Putin can hope that Western resolve will eventually crumble.

Zelensky is one of the most extraordinary leaders of this era. Not perfect — no leader is — but extraordinary in his capacity to hold a nation together under the bombs while conducting high-stakes diplomacy across five continents. He deserves more than vague formulas about membership.

Beijing and its support for Moscow

The Ankara summit devoted a significant portion of its discussions to China — not as a guest, but as a systemic threat. Allies adopted stronger language on Beijing's indirect support for the Russian war effort: dual-use technology transfers, indirect financing, and the provision of electronic components. This support is not yet openly military — but it is real and documented.

Secondary sanctions against Chinese companies supplying components to Russia's defense industry were tightened. Washington and Brussels coordinated their approaches to target intermediaries. This is an economic and technological front opening in parallel with the Ukrainian military front.

NATO facing the Indo-Pacific threat

For the first time in its history, NATO officially incorporated the Indo-Pacific dimension into its strategic analysis. Allies acknowledge that the security of Europe and that of the Indo-Pacific region are inseparable: a China that succeeds in taking Taiwan or dominating the South China Sea directly weakens the West's capacity to uphold a rules-based international order.

Partners like Japan, South Korea, and Australia were present in Ankara as observers. This is not yet a formal expansion of NATO — but it is the beginning of a global security network that extends beyond the boundaries of the North Atlantic.

China was the conspicuously absent presence at the Ankara summit — and yet it was everywhere in the discussions. That is Beijing's power: it does not need to be in the room to set the agenda. The West must learn to think in terms of systemic long-term threats, not just immediate crises.

What holds the Alliance together

Despite all the tensions, it would be wrong to conclude that NATO is disintegrating. What holds the Alliance together is, first and foremost, the reality of the Russian threat — tangible, documented, active. As long as Putin maintains his aggression in Ukraine and his threats against neighboring countries, NATO members have a powerful reason to remain united. Fear is a formidable political cement.

There is also NATO's own institutional infrastructure — decades of military standardization, interoperability, joint training, and shared doctrine. These bonds do not dissolve easily. Even when politics diverge, militaries continue to work together smoothly and professionally.

The limits of declaratory cohesion

But declaratory cohesion — unanimous communiqués, televised handshakes — cannot indefinitely mask deep strategic divergences. Questions like Ukraine's NATO membership, the level of American engagement, Turkey's role, or the limits of commitment in the event of a direct Russian attack remain unresolved. They are managed, bypassed, deferred.

The real test of NATO cohesion will not come at a well-orchestrated diplomatic summit. It will come during a sudden crisis — a Moscow attack on a Baltic state, an unexpected escalation in the Black Sea, a unilateral American decision that short-circuits European allies. Those are the moments when we will see whether the ties forged in Ankara truly hold.

I look at NATO the way you look at an old building hastily renovated: the foundations are solid, but some walls have cracks that were simply repainted. An earthquake — a real crisis — will reveal what is genuinely holding and what is cosmetic.

What the summit accomplished

The Ankara summit produced concrete commitments on defense spending, significant industrial contracts, and stronger language on China. It maintained the Alliance's apparent cohesion at a moment when centrifugal forces — American unpredictability, Turkish ambiguity, European war fatigue — could have triggered a visible fracture. That is no small thing.

Mark Rutte managed to keep the ship steady. Zelensky left with additional promises. Eastern flank allies received assurances, imperfect but real. The signal sent to Putin is that the Alliance is not ready to dissolve under the pressure of its own internal contradictions.

What the summit did not resolve

But the fundamental questions remain. American reliability remains uncertain. Ukraine's NATO membership remains a blurry horizon. China continues its indirect support of Russia. And the war in Ukraine — the true test of Western cohesion — continues to bleed, to burn, to kill.

The hard truths of Ankara are these: an Alliance that holds, but still seeking its voice in a multipolar and dangerous world. A cohesion that is real but fragile, solid on the fundamentals and cracked on the strategic details. And a war in Europe that serves as a daily reminder that summit diplomacy is no substitute for the political will to honor commitments when it truly costs something.

In the end, what matters is not the communiqués from Ankara — it is what happens when the next crisis strikes. Will NATO have the cohesion to respond quickly, forcefully, and together? I want to believe it will. But I keep my eyes open.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

I do not claim the cold objectivity of traditional journalism, which stops at reporting facts. I claim analytical clarity, rigorous interpretation and a deep understanding of the complex issues that concern us all. My role is to give meaning to the facts, to place them in their historical and strategic context, and to offer a critical reading of events.

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