Erkin Oncan
If Europe fails to draw the necessary lessons from this moment, it risks once again forcing its societies to bear the cost of militarism.
Donald Trump's statement that he is "seriously considering" pulling the United States out of NATO and that the issue may be approaching a "point of no return" has once again exposed the truth that has long been eroding the transatlantic alliance from within: for years, the United States has treated Europe's security not as a genuine partnership, but as an instrument shaped according to its own political and strategic needs.
The very foundation of this alliance reflects that reality. NATO was originally built during the Cold War as a collective defense mechanism against the Soviet threat. In practice, however, the militarization of Europe was driven less by the rhetoric of "freedom" and more by Washington's geopolitical interests. Eastern Europe, in particular, was turned into a forward line of defense under the constant narrative of a Russian threat.
Today, that same Washington is signaling that it may dismantle this architecture the moment its own interests shift. Trump's threat is not merely a political outburst; it is a deliberate form of strategic blackmail that leaves America's allies trapped in uncertainty. For decades, Europe was encouraged-indeed pressured-to arm itself under the banner of collective security, only to now face the possibility of abandonment.
The first victim of such a scenario would undoubtedly be Europe itself. A U.S. withdrawal from NATO would amount to the effective collapse of the alliance as it exists today. European states would be forced to dramatically increase defense spending, expand military supply chains, and attempt to fill the vacuum left by Washington. For Ukraine, this could mean weakened external support, a prolonged war, or negotiations conducted on entirely different terms.
But the deeper issue lies in Europe's continued willingness to follow those who still market this agenda as "European security." For years, militarization has been justified in the name of protecting the continent, while social restrictions, budget cuts, and the narrowing of political space were imposed to serve broader strategic objectives aligned with American interests. Yet now, the very architect of this order openly signals that it may walk away.
If Washington is no longer willing to guarantee the security structure it built, Europe's response should not be more weapons, but greater strategic independence. Security guaranteed by a power that can abandon it at will is ultimately nothing more than paper.
This is why the issue goes beyond Trump's remarks alone. What we are witnessing is the moral and political decay of a U.S.-centered security order. Europe has been pushed into a permanent state of militarization under the recurring claim that Russia is poised to invade the continent. Yet now, the same power that built this climate of fear is openly considering leaving Europe to face the consequences alone.
What is perhaps even more striking is that some European leaders still seem unwilling to learn from this reality. Under the name of "European security," they continue to pursue militarization and aid packages for Ukraine, while branding those who oppose this path as irresponsible or even dangerous.
And here lies the central paradox: Russia, which has long been presented as the perpetual force that would "invade Europe," may in fact emerge as the only viable path toward peace. This is not an endorsement of Moscow, but rather a recognition that if the American security framework is collapsing, the only realistic alternative may be a new diplomatic architecture built through dialogue rather than endless escalation.
If Europe fails to draw the necessary lessons from this moment, it risks once again forcing its societies to bear the cost of militarism-this time without even the illusion of American protection.