EDITORIAL: FREE-RIDING IS OVER — THE ATLANTIC ALLIANCE OR DEATH

A word that will remain in history

There are words you cannot take back once they have been spoken publicly. "Shameful" is one of them. US Secretary of War Pete Hegseth, standing before NATO's Defence Ministers in Brussels on June 18, 2026, said it plainly: when Washington asked its allies for base access and overflight rights for operations against Iran, "too many allies said no or tried to drown us in abstruse legal debates." He called that shameful. He was right. And the truth is that the allies in question knew it — they simply hoped nobody would say it out loud. Hegseth chose to say it. With the microphone open. On camera. In front of the offended partners themselves.

This moment — the public accusation of "free-riding", of security parasitism — is a turning point in the history of NATO. Not because it reveals something new: the excessive dependence of some allies on American power has been documented for decades. But because it says it now, with this bluntness, in a context where Russia is waging war in Ukraine, where China is intensifying pressure in the Indo-Pacific, and where Iran has just conducted direct operations against American targets. In this context, security free-riding is no longer a question of budgetary fairness. It is a question of collective survival.

What "free-riding" really means

"Free-riding" in NATO vocabulary describes the behaviour of an ally that benefits from the collective security umbrella without contributing proportionally. This behaviour takes multiple forms: insufficient defence spending, refusal of base access in times of crisis, reservations about operational deployments, public criticism of allied operations while silently benefiting from them. The expression has economic origins — the theory of public goods and free-riders. But in the military context, its consequences are not theoretical. They are measured in missing capabilities, in extended response times, and — at worst — in lives lost when coordination fails at a critical moment.

Hegseth pointed, without naming them, at the allies who refused base access during the campaign against Iran. According to The Guardian of June 18, 2026, this included most European allies with the notable exception of the United Kingdom — which granted access to the RAF Fairford airbase in Gloucestershire. The others said no, or engaged in "arcane legal debates" that amounted to a no with more syllables. This is the reality of the Alliance in a real crisis: solidarity evaporates when decisions are hard.

I am not naive about what it means to refuse base access in wartime. Governments have domestic political constraints, public opinions to manage, fragile coalitions. But when you sign Article 5 — collective defence — you also sign Article 5 in the other direction: you must be ready to help when the ally asks. Refusing because it is politically uncomfortable is exactly what "shameful" means.

Forty years of rhetoric without follow-through

The critique of European free-riding in NATO is not new. It goes back at least to the 1970s, when US Defence Secretary Caspar Weinberger began pressing allies to increase their contributions. It intensified after the end of the Cold War, when "peace dividends" led to massive reductions in European defence budgets while Washington maintained a significant presence. It reached a rhetorical peak under Obama — "allies are not paying their fair share" — and became explicit policy under Trump's first term. But until June 18, 2026, it had remained in the register of polite reprimand or implicit threat.

What changed with Hegseth is that the threat became concrete policy. No longer "spend more or we will be upset" — but "spend more or your American contributions decrease, your American troops leave, and your influence in Alliance decisions collapses." And this threat is carried by an administration that demonstrated, in the Iranian file, that it is prepared to act without allies if allies refuse to cooperate. The message has been received. The question is whether the responses will be adequate.

The numbers of free-riding

To understand the scale of free-riding, a few figures suffice. In 2024, according to data published by NATO, the United States represented approximately 68 percent of the Alliance's total defence spending — for a share of the Atlantic economy of roughly 50 percent. This asymmetry is the product of decades of imbalance. Meanwhile, Germany — Europe's largest economy — only reached the 2% of GDP threshold in 2024, after years of delay. France maintains a respectable defence effort but its power projection capabilities suffer from chronic capability gaps. Italy and Spain struggle to reach 2%. Belgium, the Netherlands, and several other allies have been structurally below targets for years.

The new threshold of 5% of GDP by 2035, adopted at the Hague summit in 2025 and confirmed in Brussels on June 18, 2026, is not a punishment. It is a strategic reality: in a world where Russia attacks Europe, where China arms its allies and develops its arsenal, and where Iran tests the American response, defence spending calculated for a peaceful world is insufficient. The 5% is the answer to the world as it is, not the world as we would like it to be.

Germany at 2% of GDP in 2024. That is good. Well done. But 2% of a 4,000-billion-euro economy is 80 billion euros. And with 80 billion we are supposed to defend NATO's eastern flank, contribute to Ukraine, maintain a presence in the Balkans, and operate in the Indo-Pacific? That is not enough. It is an insult to the geopolitical reality of the moment.

When alliance theory meets reality

Operation Epic Fury — the American military campaign against Iran in spring 2026 — was the most revealing Atlantic cohesion test since the Iraq crisis of 2003. And like in 2003, the results were disappointing. Most European allies refused to grant Washington base access and overflight authorisation for strike missions against Iran. Some publicly criticised the operation. A few privately indicated they supported it but could not say so publicly for domestic political reasons. The United Kingdom alone, according to The Guardian of June 18, 2026, granted full access to RAF Fairford.

From Washington's perspective, this situation was unacceptable. The Iranian targets — ballistic missiles, nuclear sites, military infrastructure — represented a direct threat to American forces in the Gulf and, indirectly, to the interests of all NATO members. The oil transiting through Hormuz fuels European economies as much as, if not more than, the American economy. And yet, when the moment of choice came, Europeans chose their domestic political comfort over operational solidarity. Hegseth said it: it was shameful. And he announced it would have consequences.

The consequences already visible

The consequences announced by Hegseth on June 18 are already partly visible or planned. The six-month review of American posture in Europe will examine precisely which allies provided or refused access during Epic Fury. Those who refused can expect a reduction in American presence on their soil and diminished influence in Alliance decisions. The potential reassignment of a third of American F-16 and F-15s assigned to NATO is on the table, according to The Guardian of June 18. Discussions about American contributions conditional on allied spending have moved from rhetorical to official policy status.

These consequences are not gratuitous punishments. They are the internal logic of an alliance where operational trust is fundamental. If an ally refuses base access during a crisis — even for legitimate reasons — it signals that its reliability in a more serious crisis is uncertain. And in the American military calculation, an ally whose reliability is uncertain is an ally around whom one plans differently. This recalibration is rational. It is also painful for the allies concerned — because it reduces their influence without necessarily giving them the resources to immediately fill the gaps left by the reduction of American presence.

Call her Maja. She is a captain in the air force of a Central European country that said no to Washington during Epic Fury. Her government had its reasons — legal, political, domestic. She, on the ground, knows what it means when the next time NATO needs a coordinated response and the trust is not there. She lives with this tension every day. She cannot speak about it publicly. But she thinks about Hegseth.

The allies passing the test

In Hegseth's language — "some allies will pass, others will fail" — which allies are currently passing the test? Available data allows an honest assessment. Poland spends more than 4% of its GDP on defence in 2025, hosts American bases, provided massive military aid to Ukraine, and maintained operational cooperation with Washington during the crises. The Baltic states — Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania — all exceed 3% and some approach 4%. Finland, new to NATO, is investing heavily and developing its conventional combat capability. The United Kingdom granted access during Epic Fury and maintains one of Europe's most capable armed forces.

It is not coincidental that these allies — the most exposed to the Russian threat — are also the strongest contributors. When the threat is existential, the budgetary calculation becomes clear. Poland does not calculate its defence budget in terms of GDP percentage — it calculates it in terms of survivability. This strategic clarity is exactly what the rest of the Alliance should adopt — not out of immediate existential fear, but out of solidarity and lucidity about the nature of the world we live in.

The allies still struggling

Other allies are in a more complicated situation. Germany underwent a Zeitenwende — a historic turning point — after 2022 and increased its defence spending. But its military industrial base still suffers from decades of under-investment, and its acquisition processes have been repeatedly criticised for their slowness. France, with its autonomous vision of European defence, is sometimes in tension with the logic of full integration into the NATO command structure. Italy and Spain fall short of the new targets. Belgium and several other mid-sized allies struggle to convert their budgetary commitments into real deployable capabilities.

These allies are not enemies of the Alliance — they are members living under real political and economic constraints. But the pressure Hegseth applied on June 18 is not without reason. If the struggling allies do not improve quickly, and if the American posture review results in reductions of presence in their countries, they will find themselves in a paradoxical position: less protected by Washington, but not yet capable of compensating with their own means.

Germany in 2024 at 2% of GDP after being at 1.2% in 2021. That is a real and sincere catch-up. But when you look at what Poland achieves with less absolute money and more urgency, you understand that the issue is not only budgetary. It is a question of strategic culture — and that does not change with a budget line. It changes with a generation.

When pressure becomes counter-productive

There is an inherent paradox in Hegseth's policy that nobody in the Alliance dares formulate clearly: conditioning American presence on allied spending can weaken the alliance it is supposed to strengthen. Here is why. If the United States reduces its presence in countries that spend insufficiently, those countries become more vulnerable — which creates a window of opportunity for Russia precisely in the least well-defended zones. Budgetary pressure is legitimate, but if it is accompanied by a reduction of presence before allies have developed their own replacement capabilities, the net result could be a weaker Alliance during the transition period.

This is the risk of timing. NATO 3.0 asks Europe to take on its own conventional defence. That is the right direction. But if the United States reduces its presence faster than Europe develops its capabilities, the window of vulnerability will be real and visible. Putin is planning. He sees this window. The question for the Alliance is to close it before he decides to walk through it — or to persuade him the window does not exist by maintaining solid American presence during the transition.

Solidarity as a strategic asset

Atlantic solidarity is not merely a moral value — it is a strategic asset. An alliance perceived as cohesive, reliable, and resolute deters aggression. An alliance perceived as divided, hesitant, and conditional invites adventure. When Hegseth tells allies they have behaved "shamefully" at a public press conference, he is right in substance but takes a risk in form: he gives our adversaries narrative ammunition about Atlantic disunity. Putin and Xi both watched the June 18 press conference. And they smiled — not because the Alliance is about to collapse, but because its fractures are now publicly documented.

The response to this risk is not to silence the problems — they are real. The response is to resolve them quickly and visibly. Each ally that increases its spending beyond targets, develops deployable capabilities, offers reliable access in times of crisis, closes a fracture that our adversaries seek to exploit. This is the real response to free-riding: not public shame, but actions that make shame obsolete.

Hegseth said what he thought. I respect that. But a good commander states the hard truth in private before stating it in public — so as not to encourage the enemy. Atlantic diplomacy needs both: Hegseth's honesty and the strategic discretion that great alliances require to function under pressure.

Condition 1: Speed of converting budgets into capabilities

The first condition for NATO 3.0's success is that allies' budgetary increases rapidly translate into concrete and deployable military capabilities. The challenges are technical as much as political. European defence industries reduced their production capacity during the years of peace. Supply chains were dismantled. Specialised engineers and technicians moved to other sectors. Rebuilding takes time — more time than politicians are willing to admit publicly. And in the meantime, the Russian threat is real and present.

The delivery pace of European armament programmes will need to accelerate significantly. Acquisition processes that took ten years will need to be completed in five. Industrial cooperations that had been waiting for years in diplomatic drawers will need to materialise now. That is why the Daimler-Roshel partnership at Eurosatory 2026, the Marconi-Poland contract through SAFE, and Canada's M-346 negotiations matter — not for their respective volumes, but for what they signal: that the transatlantic defence industrial chain is beginning to move.

Condition 2: Operational reliability in crises

The second condition is that allies demonstrate their operational reliability — their real capacity and will to cooperate militarily when crises arise. This condition is the hardest to meet because it depends not only on military capabilities but on political decisions made under pressure. The refusal of base access during Epic Fury showed this reliability cannot be assumed. It must be tested, developed, and reinforced through joint exercises, clear memoranda of understanding, and frank discussions about what each ally can — and cannot — offer in times of crisis.

The Atlantic Alliance needs a more robust mechanism for managing operational reliability. Annual exercise simulations are no longer sufficient if allies can unilaterally decline during real crises. Bilateral agreements on base access in wartime — similar to Status of Forces Agreements but specifically designed for active crises — could reduce ambiguity and the temptation of operational free-riding.

In a real alliance, you do not negotiate base access during a strike. It is decided in advance, put in an agreement, ratified by parliaments. What the Iranian crisis revealed is that we had not done this sufficiently. Peacetime bureaucracy has its advantages. It also has its costs, and we saw them the night American pilots asked for runways and were told no.

What is NATO supposed to do?

At the heart of this debate about free-riding lies an identity question: what is NATO supposed to do? NATO 2.0 had become an alliance of global crisis management, peacekeeping, democratisation — all useful missions but far from the original mandate. NATO 3.0 wants to return to essentials: collective deterrence, Article 5, defence of the Atlantic territory. But does "Atlantic territory" include operations in the Gulf? Freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz? European economic interests in global maritime routes?

These questions have no simple answers. The Alliance is diverse enough that each member has a different response. What NATO 3.0 seeks to do is reduce the scope of these ambiguities by refocusing on a clear and militarily demanding mission. But this reduction is itself political — it advantages allies whose principal threat is conventional and territorial (the Baltics, Poland) and may marginalise allies whose concerns are more global (France with its overseas territories, Turkey with its complex regional environment).

The Atlantic Alliance as idea, not only institution

The Atlantic Alliance is not merely a military organisation. It is also an idea — the idea that liberal democracies, despite their differences, share values and interests fundamental enough to merit collective defence. This idea is more robust than it appears in moments of friction. It survived Suez, NATO without France between 1966 and 2009, the 2003 Iraq quarrel, the vicissitudes of Trump's first term. It will survive this recomposition phase — if the members who carry it do what they must do.

Free-riding is not only a budgetary problem. It is an attack on this idea. An ally that takes without giving says implicitly: I benefit from your security but do not share the risks. This asymmetry erodes trust, fuels American resentment, and weakens the cohesion that gives the Alliance its deterrence value. Hegseth's response — naming the thing publicly and conditioning American contributions — is brutal but understandable in this context.

The Atlantic Alliance is the most remarkable creation of 20th century diplomacy: sovereign nations that agree to pool their security. This is not self-evident. It requires a permanent effort of mutual trust. Free-riding destroys that trust. And without trust, even the best institutions become empty shells.

Transparency on spending

If European governments are going to ask their citizens to accept sharply rising defence spending — toward 3.5% then 5% of GDP — those citizens have the right to demand total transparency about how this money is used. Not abstract budget lines. Not diplomatic communiqués. Concrete information: how many tanks ordered? How many missiles produced? How many soldiers trained to what level of readiness? What new capabilities created? This transparency is not a democratic luxury — it is the foundation of citizen consent to a sustained defence effort.

Governments that refuse this transparency under the pretext of national security create precisely the kind of popular mistrust that the West's adversaries seek to fuel. If citizens do not understand why they are paying and what they receive in return, they will listen to populist voices telling them that NATO is an American racket and that their billions would be better spent in hospitals or schools. These voices already exist. They have elected representatives in many European parliaments. The best response to these voices is the factual demonstration that defence spending is an investment in real security, not a gift to Washington.

Defence democracy as a citizen requirement

Defence democracy — the right of citizens to understand, debate, and influence national security decisions — is a legitimate requirement that governments too often ignore. NATO treaties, troop stationing agreements, arms acquisition programmes, deployment decisions — all these decisions are made by executives with often insufficient parliamentary oversight and even more limited citizen information. NATO 3.0 will require even more important and more costly decisions. These decisions deserve a robust public debate — with all the technical complexity that implies.

Columnists, analysts, correspondents, and researchers have a responsibility in this debate: making complex strategic realities understandable, without demagogic simplification but without inaccessible jargon. This work — modest, daily, often invisible — feeds the defence democracy that our societies have the right to have. And it is precisely this work that makes political free-riding even more unacceptable: when citizens are informed, they understand that security does not fall from the sky.

I believe deeply in defence democracy. Not because citizens are all strategists — they are not, and that would be worrying. But because in a democracy, decisions that commit lives and deaths deserve to be made with the consent of those they commit. Yes, including defence decisions. Especially defence decisions.

My personal conviction

In an editorial, I must be honest about what I believe — not as a neutral analyst, but as a committed columnist. I believe that Hegseth is right on substance: free-riding is unacceptable, the redistribution of responsibilities is necessary, and allies who refuse to contribute proportionally do not deserve to fully benefit from collective solidarity. I also believe that form matters: the public humiliation of allies, even when deserved, weakens the Alliance by giving our adversaries ammunition and creating resentments that complicate future coordination.

I believe that NATO 3.0 is necessary. The Alliance must reform, refocus, and redistribute its responsibilities if it wants to remain credible against an aggressive Russia, a rising China, and an Iran testing the limits. I also believe that this reform must be managed with care — not brutally imposed, but patiently built, in a dialogue where the constraints of each ally are recognised even if they are not accepted as permanent excuses.

What the West must do now

The West must do three things simultaneously and rapidly. First, European allies must accelerate their defence spending — not because Washington demands it, but because the threat is real and their own security depends on it. Second, the United States must manage the transition from NATO 2.0 to NATO 3.0 with enough stability not to create a window of vulnerability that Putin would exploit. Third, all Alliance members must invest in mutual operational trust — the exercises, access agreements, and crisis protocols — that make the difference between an alliance on paper and an alliance that works when the bombs fall.

These three things are difficult. They are also indispensable. And they are the only serious response to the challenge posed by free-riding — not a punitive response, but a constructive one that reinforces what we have built together since 1949. The Atlantic Alliance, with all its imperfections, remains the best security instrument that Western democracies have ever produced. It deserves better than parasitism. It deserves the real commitment of all its members.

I end this editorial with the same conviction that opened it: Hegseth said something true and necessary. What we do with this truth — whether we transform it into real reforms or hide behind diplomatic communiqués — will determine whether NATO 3.0 becomes a historic success or a warning heard too late.

The allies' reaction on June 18

The immediate reaction of European allies to Hegseth's speech was measured in public but more candid in private, according to available accounts. Rutte sought to highlight progress — 90 billion dollars of additional investment in 2025, commitment to 5%, support for Ukraine through PURL. The ministers who refused base access during Epic Fury did not — understandably — publicly acknowledge their error. But the atmosphere of the meeting, according to analysts present, was that of an Alliance that understands something has fundamentally changed, and that old habits are no longer viable.

The Bundestag statement in the days following the meeting — announcing an acceleration of the programme to strengthen German military capabilities — and the Baltic states' commitments to reach 4% of GDP before 2027 are positive signals. These are the concrete responses Washington expects. Every euro spent, every system delivered, every joint exercise conducted is a response to Hegseth. Not a verbal response — a factual one. And in the strategic realm, facts count more than speeches.

What Europe can offer that America cannot replace

It would be unfair, in this editorial, not to acknowledge what Europe brings to the Alliance that America alone cannot offer. The geographic legitimacy of European defence — the fact that it is European soldiers defending European soil — carries a political and moral value that American troops cannot replace. The knowledge of terrains, languages, local political dynamics — from Eastern Europe to the Mediterranean — is an asset that Europeans hold naturally. And the democratic persistence of European societies — their capacity to sustain security efforts over time with citizen consent — is a long-term strategic resource.

A NATO 3.0 that recognises and develops these European assets is a stronger alliance than NATO 2.0 that ignored them in favour of excessive dependence on American power. Free-riding was bad policy not only because it was unfair, but because it under-utilised the real capabilities Europe could offer. A rebalancing that valorises those capabilities — rather than simply demanding GDP percentages — is better security policy for everyone.

Europe is greater than the sum of its defence budgets. It carries values, history, and legitimacy that America, for all its power, cannot offer alone. A NATO 3.0 that understands this — and builds on European assets rather than simply on European cheques — will be a truly transformed alliance. Not merely rebranded.

Collective responsibility

There is a truth this editorial cannot dodge: free-riding was not imposed on European democracies. It was chosen. Chosen by governments that preferred to spend on social programmes rather than tanks. Chosen by parliaments that voted insufficient defence budgets for decades. Chosen by citizens who elected those governments and parliaments. Free-riding is a collective choice of post-Cold War Europe — a choice understandable, perhaps even justifiable in the context of the time, but a choice whose bill has now arrived.

If we, Europeans, are honest, we must acknowledge that we benefited from American military presence for decades. Benefited to fund our healthcare systems, universities, infrastructure. Benefited to maintain high living standards without paying the real cost of the security that made them possible. This is not a condemnation — it is a statement of fact. And this fact implies a responsibility: now that the bill has arrived, the response cannot be to complain that it is too high.

The high road out

The path out of free-riding requires a change of political and civic culture in European democracies. It requires political leaders to speak honestly to their citizens: security costs. It requires citizens to accept that certain expenditures — even in contexts of budgetary constraint — cannot be deferred without endangering something fundamental. And it requires alliances — NATO, EU, bilateral — to function with transparency and mutual accountability that allow each member to verify the others are honouring their commitments.

This is not easy. Defence policy is rarely popular, rarely spectacular, rarely electorally rewarded. It is an investment one hopes never to have to demonstrate the value of — because the best outcome is that deterrence works and wars do not happen. But in our era, an era where Russia wages war in Europe and China tests limits everywhere, deterrence only works if it is credible. And credibility is paid for in dollars, in euros, in tanks, in missiles — and sometimes in blood.

I address the reader directly: if you are reading these lines in an Atlantic democracy, you have a vote. And your vote influences defence budgets, and the governments that decide whether the Alliance works or dysfunctions. Free-riding is not only your governments' problem. It is yours. And each of ours.

What we must defend

The Atlantic Alliance is not perfect. It has its fractures, its hypocrisies, its free-riders, its difficult members, its internal tensions. It is also, in all its imperfection, the structure that maintained peace in Europe for 77 years — the longest peace the European continent has known since the Roman Empire. This reality deserves to be recalled every time we are tempted to reduce it to a budgetary organisation.

What we must defend is not a budget line at 5% of GDP. It is the idea that liberal democracies deserve to survive — and that they will only survive if they are prepared to defend themselves. Free-riding implicitly contests this idea: it says security can come from others, that one need not pay for it oneself. This idea is false. It always was. And the events of 2022 to 2026 — from the invasion of Ukraine to Hegseth's speech — have made this falseness impossible to ignore any longer.

The moment to choose

The West is at a moment of choice. It can choose to take the threat seriously, to invest in its own defence, to assume its share of responsibility for the world order it created and from which it benefits. Or it can continue to look for ways to benefit from public security goods without fully funding them — and progressively watch the United States withdraw, deterrence capabilities erode, and the West's adversaries draw conclusions from its weakness. Both paths are available. Only the first leads to security. The choice belongs to the democracies themselves.

This editorial is the hardest thing I have written this week. Because saying the truth about our own collective cowardice — the choice of comfort over security for decades — demands a honesty that most of us prefer to avoid. But uncomfortable honesty is the only thing that can change what must change. So here it is.

NATO 3.0's moment of truth

NATO 3.0 is simultaneously an opportunity and a test. An opportunity to rebuild a credible, equitable, and operationally reliable alliance for the challenges of the 21st century. A test of whether European democracies are capable, politically and economically, of taking charge of their own security destiny. The week of June 18, 2026 posed the question clearly. The weeks, months, and years ahead will provide the answer. And this answer will not be given in press conferences or diplomatic communiqués. It will be given in national budgets, industrial production lines, deployed units, and base access agreements signed before, not during, the next crises.

Free-riding is over. Not because Hegseth said so — though he did. But because the world no longer permits pretending that security is free. The bill has arrived. It is time to pay it — with seriousness, with courage, and with the conviction that what we are defending — our democracies, our values, our freedom — is well worth the price.

I always end my editorials with the same private question: did I tell the truth? Was I fair? Did I avoid the easy path? This time, my answer is yes to all three. And this answer commits me — to maintain this line, to not yield to the pressures of convenience or popularity, to say what must be said even when it stings. That is the column. Nothing less.

A call to action

If this editorial had a single demand to make of the governments of Atlantic democracies, it would be this: do what you say. Spend the 3.5%, the 5%, the promised percentages. Build the announced capabilities. Offer base access when your allies ask for it. Participate in exercises. Ratify the agreements. Deliver the equipment. Train the soldiers. This is not glamorous. It is not viral. But it is what makes the difference between a real alliance and a public relations organisation.

NATO needs real allies. The West needs real defence. And democracies need citizens who understand that their freedom is not a permanent given — it is the result of sustained collective effort, generation after generation. We are the generation to whom this effort has been entrusted. It is not ours to let it degrade. Free-riding is over. The hour of co-responsibility has arrived.

A final thought: there is something liberating in the end of illusions. Free-riding was an illusion — the illusion that security could be indefinitely funded by others. This illusion is over. And in its end lies the possibility of something healthier, more honest, more solid. An Atlantic Alliance of true co-partners in responsibility. That is what NATO 3.0 can be. That is what it must be.

What I expect from governments and citizens

From governments: transparency, consistency, and the courage to explain to their citizens why defence spending is a necessity, not an option. From citizens: the willingness to hear this truth, to ask questions, to demand accountability, but also to accept that certain expenditures cannot be avoided if one wants to live free in a dangerous world. From allies: operational reliability, proportional contribution, and respect for given commitments — even when politically difficult. And from the United States: the strategic patience not to precipitate the transition to the point of creating the vulnerabilities the posture review seeks to avoid.

These demands are reasonable. They are not guaranteed to be heard. That is precisely why they must be formulated — clearly, publicly, and without relenting. The column, in this world, is not an intellectual luxury. It is a civic necessity. And this necessity I claim with the same conviction that Hegseth claimed his before the ministers in Brussels. With one difference: he had the power to condition American contributions. I have only words. But honest words, in a democracy, can change votes. And votes can change the world.

There it is. I said what I thought. Without a safety net. Without softening. Without the diplomatic politeness that gives governments the ability to keep ignoring reality. The column serves precisely this purpose — and if it stings, it is doing its job.

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.

Method and sources

This text keeps the basic distinction between verified facts and interpretive analysis. The rule never changes: a factual claim is published only when a verifiable source supports it, and the sources this article actually used are listed under Sources, never here.

Primary source families used by the publication, when the story has them: official statements from governments and international institutions, public statements by political leaders, reports from intergovernmental organisations, dispatches from recognised international news agencies.

Secondary source families: specialised publications, internationally recognised news media, analyses from established research institutions, reports from industry organisations.

When an article cites statistical, economic or geopolitical data, it comes from the institutions that produce it (intergovernmental organisations, central banks, national statistics offices), and the exact institution is named under Sources.

Nature of the analysis

The analyses, interpretations and perspectives in the analytical sections of this article are a critical, contextual synthesis based on the information available, the trends observed and the expert comments cited in the sources consulted.

My role is to interpret these facts, to set them in the context of today's geopolitical and economic dynamics, and to give them a coherent meaning within the larger story of the changes shaping our time. These analyses reflect expertise built through continuous observation of international affairs and an understanding of the strategic mechanisms that drive global actors.

This article describes a documented state of affairs on its publication date, not a prediction: later developments may shift its outlook. No update is promised in advance; when an article is corrected or completed, the change is dated in the text.