Europe is experiencing a collective anxiety.
From Paris to London, from Warsaw to Berlin, political leaders across nations are holding frequent meetings and recalibrating strategies. Even traditionally neutral Switzerland is re-evaluating its security posture. The cause is singular: the possibility that the flames of the war in Ukraine could be carried to NATO’s doorstep.
The most sensitive point lies along the Suwałki Corridor. This narrow strip, just about 65 miles wide and sandwiched between Poland and Lithuania, is the sole land link connecting the Baltic states to the rest of NATO. Meanwhile, military exercises are underway near this region in Belarus.
Even more unsettling is the warning issued by Poland’s prime minister: Russia may launch drone or missile attacks and then frame them as “accidents.” In the UK, citizens are being urged to stockpile water and canned goods. Germany’s chancellor has described the moment as a “decisive juncture” for Europe. French President Emmanuel Macron convened a secret meeting.
Donald Trump announced plans to establish a permanent U.S. military base in Poland and dispatched the CIA director on a covert mission to warn Moscow. At the same time, the United States has indicted five individuals for allegedly collaborating with Russian intelligence to orchestrate global attacks and assassinations, targeting critical infrastructure across Europe.
Russia’s approach increasingly resembles gray-zone tactics—cyberattacks, sabotage of undersea cables, arson, cross-border drones, targeted killings—without formally declaring war. Low cost, plausible deniability, yet it places NATO in an untenable position: act, and risk escalation into nuclear conflict; stand aside, and erode the credibility of the alliance’s collective defense commitment over time.
The Suwałki Corridor is precisely the proving ground. If Russia and Belarus create a “limited fait accompli” in this region, would NATO’s 32 members be willing to go to war over a small stretch of territory against a nuclear-armed power? No one can say for certain. And that uncertainty is exactly what Putin seeks—to induce hesitation, blur red lines.
The United States itself faces multiple pressures. Competing priorities in the Middle East and the Indo-Pacific strain resources. Trump’s ambiguous stance toward collective defense commitments further emboldens Moscow.
Europe is now catching up. Lessons drawn from Ukraine’s real-world experience show that national resilience extends beyond military strength to include the ability to withstand disruption to power grids, hospitals, communications, transportation—and the capacity of society and government to endure pressure. Increasing defense spending, reinforcing civil defense mechanisms, and studying Ukraine’s model of resilience have become essential measures.
But preparing for conflict is not the same as initiating war. The key lies in making adversaries believe that aggression will inevitably fail. Europe must clearly define its red lines, reduce dependence on external guarantees, and avoid actions that could trigger miscalculation.
For China, this European unease signals the end of the post-Cold War “peace dividend,” marking a return to competition centered on societal and systemic resilience among great powers. It calls for calm observation, steadfast strategic autonomy, and vigilance against external risks—but not for being led by European narratives.
Deterrence has never been proclaimed; it is built on the belief that the adversary will lose.
Original: toutiao.com/article/1876931825896520/
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author alone.