This training center, expected to be fully functional by 2014, is larger than anything that the Bundeswehr has, and it will also be used by German soldiers in cooperation with the Russians. However one looks at this, the German-built center inevitably will enhance the fighting capabilities of the Russian army, increasing the risks to neighboring countries such as Georgia and Ukraine, as well as to the most exposed eastern NATO members, notably Poland and the Baltic states. But such assessments of the security impact of a transfer of German know-how to Moscow didn’t seem to play a role in Germany’s decision-making process, which seemed to focus instead on the economic benefits and the potential for future deals. Russia has money to spend, while Germany seeks profits and needs jobs.

Such examples lay bare some European nations’ disregard for the security concerns, perceived or real, of other European countries. It is not necessary to ascribe malicious intent here. France and Germany were acting simply on the basis of a preference for financial profits and domestic employment, choosing to ignore the impact of their actions on the long-term security of the Continent.

THE MOST immediate impact of such business deals is that the European eastern frontier becomes more vulnerable. A more effective, modernized Russian army potentially threatens not only countries such as Georgia and Ukraine, which do not possess NATO security guarantees and are within what Russia considers its sphere of influence, but also NATO members such as the Baltic states and Poland. Consequently, these European states are focusing analytically and militarily on their territorial security, a development that is at odds with the belief, widespread throughout the EU, that the region has entered a postmodern era of peace—or at least nonviolent, negotiable conflicts.

No doubt this resurgence of territorial fear has been spurred in part by Putin’s persistent tough-guy rhetoric harkening back to the days of Russian empire. The 2008 war in Georgia, aggressive Russian military exercises adjacent to the Baltic states and Poland, and growing authoritarianism in Moscow are seen by some, correctly in my view, as evidence of a bellicose and revisionist Russia. Furthermore, the apparent American disengagement from Europe in favor of Asia and the Middle East, accompanied by a poorly thought-out “reset” with Russia, generated further fears of a weakening strategic assurance to the most vulnerable NATO members. To be sure, the preoccupation with territorial security along Europe’s eastern frontier has multiple causes. But the lack of European unity on security concerns, and the German and French contributions to the modernization of the Russian army in particular, are especially troublesome because they undermine the persistent attempts to build up a unified EU security and defense structure. Europeans have limited control over Moscow’s ambitions of regional influence or Washington’s geostrategic preferences. But they had the potential to translate the enormous economic and political successes of the postwar era, and particularly the post–Cold War period, into a strong security regime. European rhetoric notwithstanding, Europeans seem to lack the political will to do so.

As a result, some European states are arming themselves and pursuing their own defensive objectives with increased vigor and decisiveness. Poland, for instance, has purchased Norwegian antiship missiles for coastal defense, clearly in a move to deter potential Russian maritime forays. Furthermore, over the past year, Warsaw has made it clear that it plans to build a missile-defense system that would protect it against short- and medium-range ballistic missiles, as well as against aircraft and cruise missiles. (This is separate from the proposed American missile-defense system that would have been hosted by Poland and geared to intercept long-range missiles from the Middle East and North Africa.) In an August 2012 interview, Polish president Bronislaw Komorowski argued that “Poland must have this element of defense,” implying that the country cannot rely on European efforts and certainly not on the vagaries of U.S. electoral politics for protection against short- and medium-range missiles. The system would shield Poland from Russian missiles (the Iskander) that Moscow is planning to deploy in the Kaliningrad district.

Finland is another EU member that is aggressively developing strong conventional capabilities to deter Russia. Recently, for example, it has purchased U.S. air-to-surface missiles (the AGM-158 JASSM) that no other NATO country so far possesses. The rationale behind the purchase is straightforward: Finland cannot count on Europe to guarantee its security. As a Finnish analyst put it, the U.S.-Finnish deal

suggests that clear-eyed realism drives Finnish security policy thinking: that Finland knows that it is still the United States that serves as the European bulwark (and provider of guarantees) against potential external aggression; and, that NATO is a necessary but not sufficient component for broader European defence, mainly because most European states have ignored their own defence for too long.

If most of Europe is not willing to spend money to defend itself, and if it thinks it can gain by arming Russia, then the frontier states have little choice but to arm themselves. Behind these decisions there is a consistent effort to think through the various possible security scenarios and to consider the most effective way to deter a Russian conventional attack. Indeed, discussions on conventional deterrence, a topic that many Europeans consider antiquated, are lively in Central Europe. The premise is that war of a large, industrial scale is unlikely, but that the possibility of a small-scale, limited-aims assault by Russia is certainly not zero. The question then arises as to how to defend oneself from such an attack. The answer: to buy time by increasing costs to the assaulting army and by denying it the benefit of a quick fait accompli. The only way to do so is by acquiring sufficient denial capabilities (such as antiship missiles or theater missile defenses) that would impose unbearable costs on the Russian advance and give sufficient time for NATO consultative mechanisms and plans to work.

Conventional deterrence, especially when facing the possibility of a quick attack with limited objectives, is inherently difficult to achieve. The fact that this is a topic of lively conversation on Europe’s eastern and northern flanks is in itself worrisome because it indicates that the territorial security of some of these states is perceived to be at risk. The bottom line is that a renewed interest in conventional deterrence and recent military acquisitions are symptoms of the recognition that the crisis in Europe is having a negative impact on the willingness and ability of both EU and NATO members to provide adequate defenses to the Continent.

WEAK ALLIES are unreliable allies. The United States might well ponder this reality as it contemplates its ongoing relationship with Europe. The persistent EU financial crisis will continue to weaken Europe militarily as well as economically. This won’t necessarily have a major impact on the wider geopolitical situation. A weak Europe could remain safe if Russia turns more democratic and if the revolts in North Africa and the eastern Mediterranean become contained or end up stabilizing the region. Of course, these are big and rosy assumptions. But even if we accept them, Europe’s weakness ought to worry the United States.

That’s because Europe’s weakness will almost inevitably become a hindrance to the United States. A weak Europe will be unlikely to support the United States and its interests in the Middle East and Asia. At the core of this statement, which is based on murmurs that can be heard in Europe, lies the argument that weakness, and the accompanying sense of insecurity, creates powerful incentives to avoid confrontation with potentially hostile powers. Whether the threat comes from Russia, Iran, Syria or even faraway China, a weak Europe is likely to ignore it or accommodate the countries posing the threat. Some European states, as mentioned above, seem bent on balancing the assertive power, but overall in Europe the trend seems to be characterized by a lack of political will to do so. The foreign policy that arises out of the recognition of weakness does not generally move to assert power. Moreover, it may result in less support for Europe’s traditional security patron, the United States.

Indeed, a weak Europe may fear the United States more than Iran or China. An assertive America, capable and willing to protect its interests in the Middle East, may decide, for example, that a preventive war with Iran is preferable to a nuclear Iran bent on dominating the region. For some in Europe, such a scenario is worse than letting Iran continue on its path to develop nuclear capabilities. Europe’s inability to deal with the potential spillover effects of a U.S. strike on Iran—for example, Hezbollah-organized attacks in the Mediterranean, medium-range Iranian missiles launched toward Europe or oil-market disruption—creates a powerful incentive for its nations to oppose an assertive American foreign policy and to accommodate a nuclear Iran. To be sure, there are good reasons for anyone to be ambivalent about a U.S. or Israeli strike on Iranian nuclear facilities. There are also, however, good reasons to be fearful of a nuclear Iran, whose leadership consistently spews anti-Western venom and sponsors terrorism. But for a declining Europe, the greater threat is the United States (and possibly Israel), not Iran, because Europe’s assessment of the world is informed most prominently by its own limitations.