Kiev’s (Nuclear) Umbrellas

Seizing on the panic spreading across Europe following Trump’s sudden about-face on Russia and Ukraine, Emmanuel Macron is enjoying his fifteen Warholian minutes of fame.

At home, he’s reemerged as a wartime leader, distancing himself from the political fallout of his failed parliamentary dissolution. Across Europe, he's crisscrossing summits, presenting himself as the would-be protector of our European neighbors. To those now left without the American nuclear umbrella—none of whom possess nuclear weapons—Macron reminds them that France is a nuclear power. What’s more, he solemnly declares France is ready to open a debate on potentially “extending its nuclear deterrent” to European partners.

And to his great satisfaction: Berlin, Warsaw, and even previously indifferent Scandinavia are now expressing keen interest in Macron’s proposal.

But what exactly are we talking about?

Extending France’s nuclear umbrella—but to whom? And who would have their finger on the button? A select group of heads of state? A federal committee? And if it comes to risking the incineration of Paris to save Vilnius, Warsaw, or Bratislava, would the French people—never consulted—be on board?

And what about France’s current stockpile of 290 warheads? It was calibrated to provide “strict sufficiency” for protecting 70 million French citizens. But when faced with Russia’s 5,000 nuclear weapons, wouldn’t we need to multiply our arsenal fivefold to cover 450 million Europeans? And who would foot the bill for that surge in missiles, submarines, and nuclear-capable Rafales?

The idea that our national deterrent protects our “vital interests,” and that those interests remain intentionally vague, has long served France’s strategic ambiguity—ever since de Gaulle. The goal: to cast a shadow of uncertainty over any potential aggressor (first the USSR, now Russia).

For de Gaulle, France’s vital interests would have been at stake in the event of an invasion of West Germany or the Benelux. Later, Europeanist Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and General Méry floated the concept of “extended deterrence,” but left it undefined. NATO itself has recognized the “contribution” of British and French nuclear forces to the Alliance’s broader deterrent since its 1974 Ottawa communiqué.

But that was yesterday’s world—one in which America was clearly committed to protecting its allies, even through the threat of nuclear response. France’s nuclear deterrent was, in essence, a backup.

To justify the French bomb, de Gaulle rightly argued that one could doubt an American president would risk New York to save Paris. Ironically, it’s the same question haunting Warsaw, Berlin, and of course Kiev today. Who truly believes a French president would trade Paris for Riga? If Washington no longer has our back, why should we place our trust in Paris?

Especially since the war in Ukraine has already delivered sobering nuclear lessons. Chief among them: nuclear arms, omnipresent across Europe, did nothing to stop a full-scale, high-intensity conventional war on the continent—one that’s already claimed or maimed over a million lives on both sides.

Worse still, Ukraine, under pressure from the five permanent UN Security Council members, was forced in 1994 to give up the 5,000 Soviet-era nuclear warheads left on its soil—per the Budapest Memorandum. That left it defenseless when Putin attacked. And none of the nuclear powers who guaranteed Ukraine’s disarmament—not even France—intervened directly in its defense, neither in 2014 nor in 2022.

That bitter lesson explains the newfound interest in Macron’s offer—but it also points to a likely nuclearization among the most threatened countries. Poland’s prime minister is already calling for his country to develop its own deterrent, a move that could inspire similar ambitions in Kiev and Berlin...

In these uncertain times, nuclear umbrellas are spreading fast.

By Pierre Lellouche
Published in VA – March 12, 2025