In my long journalistic career, I have never seen European leaders as bewildered and on edge as they appear today. Their political leadership and media, until recently secure in the knowledge that they enjoyed the unconditional backing of the world’s most powerful country, now look shell-shocked. For decades, Europe enjoyed an easy ride under the US security umbrella, with Washington acting as protector-in-chief and paymaster of last resort. That comfortable certainty has now been shaken if not shattered by President Donald Trump’s continued insistence that he wants Greenland at all costs, even at the expense of allies.
From the White House’s perspective, this may be hard-nosed realism or transactional diplomacy. From Europe’s point of view, it feels like betrayal. The mere suggestion that economic punishment, higher tariffs or even coercion could be used against NATO allies to advance American territorial ambition has turned the post-war Western order on its head. Yet, from an Indian and Global South perspective, this spectacle is far less shocking and in some quarters, even quietly welcomed.
For decades, NATO was marketed as the gold standard of collective security. Born in the aftermath of the Second World War, it was sold as a defensive alliance rooted in shared values, mutual respect and a solemn promise: an attack on one would be treated as an attack on all. This pledge, enshrined in NATO’s Article 5, was presented as sacred and unconditional.
It now appears that this promise comes with fine print. Support American strategic ambitions, or prepare to pay the price. This raises a blunt but unavoidable question: do we really need NATO in its current form?
Do we really need NATO in its current form?
Critics have long argued that NATO has outlived much of its original utility. It was designed for a world that no longer exists, a bipolar Cold War order defined by the ideological confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union. NATO’s original purpose was clear: deter the expansion of a powerful leftist bloc under conditions of global bipolarity.
That context vanished more than three decades ago. Yet instead of gracefully redefining its role, NATO chose expansion and intervention. Deprived of its original adversary, the alliance struggled to justify its relevance without either pushing eastward or manufacturing new threats. In the process, it drifted away from collective defence and became increasingly associated with interventionism.
This is precisely why the prospect of a weakened or even dismantled NATO does not provoke tears outside the Western hemisphere. In Asia, Africa and much of the Global South, NATO is not remembered primarily as a force for peace. It is remembered for Yugoslavia, Afghanistan and Libya interventions that destabilised entire regions, triggered humanitarian disasters and left behind political vacuums filled by chaos and extremism.
Trump, Greenland and NATO: How US Pressure Is Forcing Europe’s Strategic Rethink
President Trump’s obsession with Greenland, coupled with his willingness to threaten economic punishment against European countries, all of them NATO members, has stripped the alliance of its moral varnish. It has exposed what many outside the West have always suspected: NATO is not a partnership of equals but a hierarchy.
European leaders may not like hearing this, but the truth is uncomfortable. By outsourcing their security to Washington for decades, European states systematically underinvested in defence and postponed hard strategic choices. NATO allowed them to enjoy prosperity while assuming that American power would forever underwrite their safety. Trump’s threats are now forcing a reluctant and painful rethink across the continent. This debate resonates deeply in India.
Strategic autonomy has long been a guiding principle of Indian foreign policy. During the Cold War, India resisted the temptation to join formal military blocs. That instinct remains intact today. India does not believe in defence alliances. It does not have allies; it has partners. This is not semantic gymnastics but a deliberate doctrine rooted in historical experience.
How India Practices Strategic Balancing in a Multipolar World
India understands that alliances dominated by a single power inevitably demand obedience. Today, India works with the United States in the Indo-Pacific, buys weapons and oil from Russia, trades extensively with China, supports Palestinian rights and has simultaneously deepened ties with Israel. Critics lazily dismiss this as fence-sitting. In reality, it is strategic balancing in an increasingly chaotic world. That doctrine is now being tested closer to home.
In September 2025, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan signed a Strategic Mutual Defence Agreement, formalising their long-standing military relationship and introducing a collective defence clause. An attack on one would be treated as an attack on both. In a region already undergoing rapid realignment, this pact has raised serious concerns in New Delhi and in Tel Aviv about the future strategic balance.
Pakistan’s military experience and strategic posture, combined with Saudi Arabia’s financial muscle and regional influence, create a partnership that cannot be ignored. Even if the agreement remains limited on paper, its signalling value is immense. It tells the region that old assumptions about security guarantees are eroding and that alliances are becoming more transactional, more conditional and more fluid.
It would not be surprising if India responds by strengthening security partnerships with the UAE and other regional players. Such arrangements would not mirror NATO-style collective defence clauses. Instead, they would focus on intelligence sharing, maritime security, cyber defence and counter-terror cooperation flexible, interest-based partnerships rather than rigid military blocs. This is what strategic autonomy looks like in practice: not isolation, but agility.
What is driving this broader global trend?
At the centre of it lies Donald Trump’s unconventional worldview. His administration has shown little respect for multilateral institutions created after the Second World War. NATO, the United Nations and even the idea of collective decision-making appear secondary to bilateral deals, leverage and raw power.
Trump’s proposed “Board of Peace” for Gaza, complete with a hefty price tag for permanent membership, perfectly captures this mindset. Global governance is being reimagined as a club for the wealthy and compliant. Ironically, this chaos makes Beijing look orderly.
China and Russia are watching the transatlantic drift with quiet satisfaction. From Beijing’s perspective, Western unity is fraying. The US and Europe, once tightly bound, now look increasingly divided and distrustful. This creates opportunity. China hopes that Washington’s unpredictability will make Beijing appear a more stable and reliable partner, especially to countries tired of conditional alliances and moral lecturing.
Canada offers a telling example. During Prime Minister Mark Carney’s recent visit to China, his efforts to reduce dependence on Washington were a subtle but significant signal. Across Asia, the Middle East and Latin America, middle powers are quietly diversifying partnerships to avoid overreliance on any single security guarantor.
The real question, then, is not whether NATO will collapse tomorrow. It is whether the model it represents still fits the world we inhabit. Security architectures built around one dominant power may have made sense in a bipolar Cold War. In a multipolar world, they generate resentment, vulnerability and, eventually, coercion.
For Europe, Trump’s second term has been a strategic nightmare. Leaders have been jolted out of their comfort zones and are scrambling to defy Trump without provoking him. They fear him, yet cannot do without him. At Davos and other global forums, Western leaders blow hot and cold, unsure how to deal with a US president who does not value sentimental alliances. Their options are limited. They are still trying to “manage” Trump.
For Global South, including India, the lesson is stark: Dependence is dangerous!
Trump may yet climb down on Greenland. Tariffs may be delayed or quietly dropped. Deals may be struck. But the damage is already done. Trust in unconditional security guarantees has been shaken. Alliances once portrayed as permanent now look fragile, even wobbly.
That may well be the defining legacy of our time not the fate of Greenland, but the exposure of a global security architecture that has outlived its original purpose. For Europe, this is a shock. For the rest of the world, it is confirmation.
