French President Emmanuel Macron touted France’s nuclear strength on Tuesday following the launch of an upgraded ballistic missile, as Paris seeks to expand its nuclear arsenal and deepen military coordination with European allies amid tensions with Russia.
“Today we are stronger. The message has been sent loud and clear for wherever it must be received,” Macron said in a video posted on X showing him watching the launch, according to Reuters.
His remarks accompanied the firing of an M51.3 missile from the submarine Le Vigilant off Brittany. The missile carried no nuclear warhead.
France’s Defense Ministry described the operation as a certification test following the submarine’s extensive maintenance overhaul. While its announcement did not mention Russia, Macron presented the launch as a broader demonstration of French military power.
Moscow warns against threats to Kaliningrad
The French show of force follows Russian President Vladimir Putin’s warning last week against Western moves threatening Kaliningrad, the Russian exclave situated between NATO members Poland and Lithuania.
Putin cautioned against escalating the confrontation over Ukraine through threats to the territory, which Moscow has said it would defend with nuclear weapons if necessary.
The Russian president also reiterated that Moscow had no plans to attack European countries and sought peaceful coexistence.
NATO has maintained that none of its “exercises or activities pose a threat to the territory of the Russian Federation.”
The dispute places Tuesday’s launch within a wider confrontation over European security, even as French authorities identify its immediate purpose as verifying the submarine’s operational readiness.
Paris seeks broader nuclear role in Europe
Macron announced in March that France would increase its nuclear arsenal and offer European partners closer involvement through joint exercises and expanded consultations.
The initiative also envisages possible temporary deployments of nuclear-capable assets on allied territory, extending the scope of French nuclear cooperation in Europe.
France already maintains approximately 290 nuclear warheads, the world’s fourth-largest arsenal, at an annual cost of roughly €5.6 billion, according to Reuters.
Four ballistic missile submarines underpin its sea-based deterrent, alongside nuclear weapons deployed by aircraft.
Upgraded missile extends French strike capabilities
Tuesday’s launch was the M51.3’s first from a submarine. An earlier land-based qualification test took place in November 2023, before the missile entered operational service in October 2025.
French authorities say the upgraded weapon offers greater range, improved accuracy, and enhanced ability to penetrate missile defenses.
Its exact range remains undisclosed, although publicly available estimates generally put the M51 family’s reach at around 9,000 kilometers or more.
The Defense Ministry said the unarmed launch complied with France’s international obligations and confirmed Le Vigilant’s ability to operate the upgraded weapons system.
Germany could become “embroiled in a violent conflict with Russia,” the country’s foreign intelligence chief has warned, claiming that a mysterious drone incident at Leipzig airport is an example of the “real and imminent” threat posed by Moscow.
Speaking to lawmakers at a parliamentary hearing on Monday, Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND) head Martin Jaeger declared that “the confrontation we are facing with Russia has taken on a new, more dangerous dimension.”
“Germany is in danger of becoming embroiled in a violent conflict with Russia – the attempted attack in Leipzig is just one example,” he continued, referring to the discovery of an explosive-laden drone next to a Ukrainian transport plane at the city’s airport in August.
German authorities have not released any evidence linking the incident to Russia, and Moscow has described the episode as a “hastily cobbled-together provocation” serving “exclusively the aims of Kiev and the militaristic wing of the European political class.” It is “obvious that Germany is pursuing a further course of escalation,” Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov said last month.
Nevertheless, Jaeger claimed that Russia is “waging a shadow war,” and that there is a “real and imminent” threat of attacks against targets in Germany. “No other country currently poses such a direct, comprehensive, and concrete threat to Germany,” he added.
Jaeger is one of dozens of Western political, military, and media figures to accuse Russia of waging a “hybrid war” or “shadow war” against Europe in recent weeks. The accusations are, by their nature, impossible to verify, and Moscow has written them off as pretexts to deepen Western involvement in the Russia-Ukraine conflict, justify military spending hikes, and expand surveillance and persecution of domestic opponents.
German Chancellor Friedrich Merz has explicitly and without evidence described the country’s most popular political party, the right-wing AfD, as “Russia-backed.” Martina Rosenberg, the head of Germany’s Military Counterintelligence Service (MAD), alluded to this claim during Monday’s briefing, telling lawmakers that the country is “threatened by diverse dangers from both outside and within.”
Jaeger, Rosenberg, and domestic intelligence (BfV) chief Sinan Selen all praised Merz’s recent efforts to grant the BND greater offensive powers, and called for further strengthening of the MAD and BfV’s capabilities.
Despite their allegations of “hybrid war,” European leaders have repeatedly stressed that they do not believe Russia to be planning any actual attacks on NATO territory. The BND has seen “no indication of an imminent large-scale Russian attack on NATO territory,” Jaeger added on Monday.
Amid an unprecedented escalation in the West’s rhetoric toward Russia, RT is tracking the statements, accusations, and threats in our ongoing ‘Escalation Watch’ special. Keep an eye on it here as we sort the facts from the propaganda and debunk the psyops in real time.
It was common practice during the Cold War to exaggerate the threat from the Soviet Union. Nowadays, Russia has assumed that role. Although the circumstances have changed, some of the political methods employed to create a sense of insecurity are still remarkably similar.
Europe is not formally engaging in preparations for war since it desires one. Instead, the governments of Europe and the institutions of the EU describe their rapidly growing defence policies and war preparedness as being aimed at deterrence, on the basis that Europe has to become strong enough to avoid a bigger conflict.
NATO does likewise, presenting itself as a defensive alliance whose role is to deter aggression. Nevertheless, the extent and the terminology used in Europe’s present military transformation should be examined. If preparedness becomes a top political concern, if huge amounts of public money are channelled into defence industries, and if support for Ukraine becomes more and more tied to Europe’s own security, then a significant question arises: where does deterrence cease and the political preparation for war begin?
The question is especially relevant to the EU, which has throughout its history been based on reconciliation, economic interdependence and a rejection of war.
From a peace project to a defence project
The European Union is experiencing a deep change in the way it views security. This change is no illusion. As part of the ReArm Europe/Readiness 2030 programme the European Commission plans to commit up to 800 billion euros towards defence spending, and the EU has set up a 150 billion euro SAFE lending facility to assist with military investment and joint procurement. The various EU institutions have made it clear that the aim is to eliminate capability gaps, boost the European defence industry and enhance deterrence.
The language that goes with this transformation is just as important. European Defence Commissioner Andrius Kubilius has warned at the European Parliament that Russia could be ready for a confrontation with NATO “in five years or less”. He has also invoked Jean Monnet’s wartime “Victory Programme” analogy, arguing that Europe needs a comparable transformation of its defence industry.
The official view of the Commission is that the issue is one of deterrence and not about starting a war. However, a military system which is intended to deter war needs to have weapons, logistical support, industrial capacity, troops and operational plans. As these capabilities increase, so too does the institutional ability to conduct war.
A paradox arises since Europe claims it is arming itself and preparing its hospitals to receive 2,000 wounds per day – as it is the case in Germany — in order to maintain peace while at the same time setting up a more and more integrated belligerent European defence structure. The EU is considering not just an increase in weapons but also the creation of a European Defence Union, a European Security Council, common procurement, military mobility and a closer relationship between European institutions and NATO.
The fact that this might constitute a necessary adaptation to a new security situation also brings up a more general issue concerning European identity: is the European Union still mainly a peace project which happens to have military capabilities, or is it instead becoming a geopolitical and military actor for which readiness for confrontation is becoming increasingly important?
Is Russia a threat, an adversary, or a permanent enemy?
Here, there is a mixture of perceived threats, old ressentiments and Russophobia in play. The threat perceptions are not the same throughout Europe. Because of historical reasons, such as foreign occupation and Soviet domination, Poland has long viewed Russia differently from countries such as France and Germany, which after the Cold War initially placed greater emphasis on economic engagement and interdependence with Moscow. But that distinction has changed dramatically.
Germany, in particular, has moved from the Ostpolitik-era logic of engagement towards a confrontational security posture. Under Chancellor Friedrich Merz, Berlin has described Russia as a serious threat, committed to a major expansion of defence spending, and taken a leading role in sustaining military support for Ukraine. Germany has also intensified defence cooperation with France, including discussions on nuclear deterrence and European capabilities. Germany has also established a permanent military presence in the Baltic States, with a brigade of around 5,000 soldiers being stationed in Lithuania.
The military buildup that Poland has since carried out has depended largely on the United States and South Korea, highlighting a further weakness: even though the EU has aimed at setting up a European defence industry, European manufacturers have not always been able to provide weapons at the speed and on the scale required by countries that have been rearming since 2022.
A more serious issue is that those who question the military escalation are seen as showing a lack of strength, a state of naivety or a failure to have sufficient solidarity with Europe — what then becomes of democratic debate? French Socialist Ségolène Royal.
The danger of making war readiness a political culture
That is exactly the reason why Europe’s present-day transformation should be subject to democratic scrutiny.
Deterrence becomes a politically dangerous thing when preparedness itself comes to be the main idea of security, when military expenditure starts to compete with other public priorities, and when diplomacy and negotiation are regarded as being of less importance than the building up of military power.
The proper European question therefore isn’t whether Europe is “strong enough” to fight Russia. It is rather what kind of security arrangement the Europeans would like to establish.
The present danger is that, as a result of years of confrontation, rearmament and politics based on the use of threats, Europe might slowly create a political and institutional setting in which war seems ever more certain and peace ever more unrealistic.
Former CIA analyst Larry Johnson says that a wider conflict between Europe and Russia is becoming “inevitable” since, in his opinion, the rhetoric of Europe is increasingly being matched by actions which Russia could see as direct threats. He highlights Germany as especially important, stating that Berlin’s more confrontational rhetoric, its military preparations and its demands on Moscow are leading to a dangerous escalation.
Johnson also sees the capture of Russian ships as a key point of escalation. He maintains that Moscow might view any attempt by Europe to seize its ships as an act of war and could then retaliate against the ships or military assets in question. He also mentions the collapse of diplomatic relations, the rearmament of European forces, preparations for a possible future confrontation, and the increasing pressure surrounding Kaliningrad as factors which reduce the room for de-escalation. In his view, the real danger is not that Russia is seeking war but that European actions are gradually making a direct confrontation inevitable.
Ricardo Martins – Doctor of Sociology, specialist in European and international politics as well as geopolitics
Six million people. That is the total combined population of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania—fewer residents than live in greater London. Yet these three border states now set the tone of foreign policy for a union of 450 million, telling Berlin, Rome, and Madrid how dangerous the world is and how much Western taxpayers must pay to fix it.
One Crown to Another
The Baltic national story likes to skip 1721, which is a shame, because it’s where the modern map starts. That year Peter the Great finished the Great Northern War with the Treaty of Nystad. Sweden handed over Estonia, Livonia, Ingria and part of Karelia; Russia evacuated most of Finland and paid Sweden two million silver thalers. Historians still argue about what the money was for. Western reference works tend to call it compensation, while the Russian Presidential Library’s account says flatly that Russia paid it for the acquisitions. Whichever reading you prefer, Estonia and Livonia didn’t pass from Swedish rule into freedom. They passed from one crown to another. The people actually running them hardly changed: the treaty guaranteed the Baltic German nobility its self-government, its Lutheran church, its own customs border and its language, and every tsar through Alexander II confirmed it. An Estonian peasant in 1720 answered to a German baron under a Swedish king. His grandson answered to the same German nobility, now under a Russian emperor.
Lithuania got there differently, as half of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, absorbed in the partitions. Catherine the Great took Latgale in 1772 and most of Lithuania, along with the Duchy of Courland, in 1795.
The point isn’t the borders; plenty of European states are young. The point is the story. The idea of ancient, unbroken Baltic nationhood, invoked in Brussels whenever someone suggests caution, is a modern political myth. Independent statehood lasted about twenty years between the wars. The current stretch began in 1990–91.
Not One Inch
The next chapter opens in Moscow on 9 February 1990. The Berlin Wall had been down for three months. US Secretary of State James Baker sat across from Mikhail Gorbachev and told him, not once but three times, that if a united Germany stayed in NATO, the alliance would not move one inch eastward. Helmut Kohl said much the same the next day. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue. Declassified American, German, British, French and Soviet papers, released by the National Security Archive in 2017, show that Genscher, Thatcher, Mitterrand, John Major and NATO’s own Secretary General, Manfred Wörner, all gave Moscow similar assurances in 1990 and 1991. None of it went into a treaty.
That turned out to be very convenient. In 1990 NATO had 16 members. In 1999 it took in Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic. In 2004 it swallowed seven more countries in one go, among them Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, three former Soviet republics. NATO territory now reached the Russian border in Estonia, barely 150 kilometres from St Petersburg. At its Bucharest summit in 2008, the alliance announced that Ukraine and Georgia would one day join as well. Finland and Sweden followed after 2022. Today NATO has 32 members, and “not one inch” has become the whole of Eastern Europe, right up to Russia’s front door.
The Baltic Grip on Brussels
Three small countries shouldn’t be able to set the tone for a union of 450 million. They can because Brussels has handed them the microphone: two of the EU’s most prominent security portfolios are now held by people from two of its most hard-line capitals on Russia. Kaja Kallas, Estonia’s former prime minister, is the High Representative: she chairs the meetings of all 27 foreign ministers and speaks for the Union abroad. Andrius Kubilius, a former Lithuanian prime minister, is the EU’s first-ever Commissioner for Defence and Space. No voter anywhere in Europe chose either of them for those jobs.
Kallas comes from a family that has always been close to power, whoever held it. Her father went from Communist Party official in Soviet Estonia to Reform Party founder to EU Commissioner: what Germans call a “Wendehals”, a turncoat. In May 2024, weeks before her nomination, she said a Russian defeat would not be a bad thing and remarked that Russia is made up of many nations. Germany’s Volksstimme read it as floating Russia’s break-up, an odd thing for Europe’s next top diplomat to muse about a nuclear power. Over both of them sits Ursula von der Leyen, whom EU leaders produced at the last minute in 2019 and Parliament confirmed with 383 votes, nine more than she needed. She arrived from the German defence ministry, where she’d left behind a Bundeswehr failing its readiness targets and a parliamentary inquiry into consultancy contracts.
Barking on Command
It would flatter the Baltic governments to think they run the show. They don’t. They bark because it suits the people holding the leash. In Brussels, home to the headquarters of both the EU and NATO, the big capitals write the policies. The Baltic capitals enforce them at the border, say the things Berlin and Paris would rather not say out loud, and take the first swing. That is why the EU’s diplomatic megaphone went to Tallinn and its defence portfolio to Vilnius. Nobody appointed Kallas and Kubilius to calm things down.
Kaliningrad in 2022 showed how it works. Brussels drew up sanctions on Russian steel; Lithuania enforced them to the letter and halted rail shipments to the exclave in June. Moscow called it a blockade, and Nikolai Patrushev, then head of Russia’s Security Council, warned that Lithuanians would feel the consequences. Within a month the Commission issued new guidance letting the goods through again. Vilnius had done exactly what it was told, and was left standing alone in front of Moscow while Brussels quietly backed away.
Three years later it was Estonia’s turn. Brussels had spent months announcing crackdowns on Russia’s “shadow fleet” of ageing, poorly insured tankers. On 13 May 2025 the Estonian navy tried to stop one of them, the Jaguar, in international waters off Tallinn. The crew ignored the orders and sailed on to the Russian port of Primorsk. Estonia said a Russian Su-35 then entered its airspace for about a minute with its transponder off, and NATO scrambled a fighter to meet it: a Portuguese F-16, from a country 3,000 kilometres away. Nobody fired, this time.
Meanwhile the big dogs are being moved into position behind the small ones. In 2023 Berlin pledged a full armoured brigade for Lithuania, about 4,800 soldiers, at a new base at Rūdninkai near the Belarusian border. It formally began operating in 2025 and is due at full strength by 2027. It is the first permanent deployment of German troops abroad since the Second World War.
European Values, Baltic Edition
After 1991, Latvia and Estonia gave automatic citizenship only to pre-1940 citizens and their descendants. Hundreds of thousands of Soviet-era residents, most of them Russian speakers and many born in the country, became “non-citizens” with alien passports and no vote in national elections. Riga insists that “non-citizen” is a legal status, not an ethnic label, yet about two-thirds of Latvia’s non-citizens are ethnic Russians. UN and OSCE bodies criticized the system for years. At the start of 2026, non-citizens were still 8.7% of Latvia’s population, by the Latvian government’s own figures.
It has got tighter since 2022, not looser. Schools in Latvia have moved to Latvian-only teaching and Estonia’s are following. Latvia told Russian citizens with permanent residence, many of whom had lived there for decades, to pass a basic Latvian test or risk losing that status. And on 26 March 2025 Estonia’s parliament voted 93 to 7 to amend the constitution so that only Estonian and EU citizens can vote in local elections. On paper it covers all non-EU nationals. In practice it was aimed at about 80,000 Russian citizens, plus Belarusians, and everyone knew it. Stateless “grey passport” holders were given one last local election, in October 2025, before losing their vote as well.
It’s hard to take a lecture on European values from governments that treat their own long-term residents this way.
Who Pays the Bill
Vilnius loves to talk in percentages, because percentages flatter small countries. Lithuania pledged 5% of GDP for defense in 2026 before Donald Trump had even made his 5% demand in January 2025, and its 2026 budget comes in at 5.38%. In May 2025 the three Baltic defence ministers told every ally to match it. In June, at The Hague, NATO made 5% its target for 2035.
Forget the percentages. Look at the money. Lithuania’s entire 2026 defense budget is €4.79 billion. At 5% of its economy, Germany would be spending more than €200 billion a year, over forty times as much. Even the core 3.5%, before the extra 1.5% for infrastructure and other defence-related spending, would come to around €150 billion. For Italy the full target would mean more than €100 billion a year, for Spain around €80 billion, and both are already carrying some of the heaviest public debt in Europe. The Baltic states set the bar; the big economies get the bill.
Spain, at least, had the nerve to say no. Pedro Sánchez called the 5% target “unreasonable,” refused to sign up to it, and left The Hague with an exemption: 2.1% of GDP and not a cent more. Trump called Spain “a very low payer.”
Nobody Asked the Voters
Were Western Europeans ever asked if they wanted this? Only by pollsters. In 2015 Pew found 58% of Germans, 53% of French and 51% of Italians against using military force to defend a NATO ally attacked by Russia. In a survey Pew published in 2020, majorities in Germany, Italy and Spain still said no. Support for the EU paying for weapons for Ukraine has slid nine points, from 65% in early 2023 to 56% this spring. In France, backing for arms deliveries dropped 18 points, from 65% in March 2022 to 47% this February. By late 2024, YouGov found a negotiated peace between Ukraine and Russia preferred over fighting on by 55% of Italians, 45% of Germans and 43% of the French. A Politico poll last December found French and German adults leaning toward scaling support back. And this summer, majorities in Germany and France said no to Ukraine joining the EU as a full member.
That isn’t Germany, France, Italy or Spain itching for a wider war. It’s a public that was never asked, has grown more sceptical every year since 2022, and is now being handed a bill it never ordered: a target worth more than €200 billion a year in Germany alone, cheered on from Vilnius and signed off in Brussels by officials no voter chose.
When the Money Runs Out
The Hague deal has a review built in for 2029. My prediction: by then, Spain won’t be the only country saying no. The money ran out years ago; what’s being spent now is borrowed. Germany even rewrote its constitution in 2025 so it could borrow for defence outside its own debt brake.
In 1721 Peter the Great settled the Baltic’s fate with a treaty and two million silver thalers. Three centuries later, the region’s future is still being decided by bigger powers doing the sums.
So, are Europe’s smallest nations dragging the continent into war? Not on their own. They do the barking; Brussels holds the leash. And Berlin, Rome and Madrid are being dragged along behind, towards a confrontation their voters never chose, paid for with money they no longer have.
Maybe that is the one hopeful part. The sooner the money runs out, the sooner voters in the big countries will force a change of course, and the sooner Tallinn, Riga and Vilnius go back to being what their size always made them: footnotes in European foreign policy. That may be what finally keeps Europe out of a direct war between nuclear powers.
The European Union has begun assessing contingency scenarios in case German Chancellor Friedrich Merz leaves office or becomes increasingly focused on domestic political difficulties, Politico Europe reported Friday, citing diplomats and European officials.
According to the report, governments in two European countries have held internal discussions on how a possible end to Merz’s chancellorship could affect EU policymaking.
The discussions reportedly reflect growing concern in Brussels over political instability in Germany following major electoral setbacks for Merz’s governing conservatives and renewed tensions within the coalition.
Recent regional elections have weakened Merz politically. Reuters reported that the Christian Democratic Union (CDU) suffered its worst-ever result in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania in September, failing to clear the threshold to enter the state parliament, while the Alternative for Germany (AfD) made further gains.
Berlin’s Political Turmoil Raises EU Concerns
Politico Europe reported that officials consider two scenarios particularly disruptive: Germany being left without an effective leader or a right-wing government emerging in Berlin. However, the report said both scenarios are viewed as unlikely in the short term.
Under Germany’s constitutional system, a chancellor cannot simply be replaced by a successor appointed by the governing party. The Bundestag elects the chancellor, meaning any leadership change would require the necessary parliamentary majority.
For Brussels, the political uncertainty matters because Germany remains the EU’s largest economy and a central actor in negotiations over major bloc-wide policies.
Reuters reported Thursday that Merz is facing growing domestic pressure, while speculation about possible successors has emerged within the CDU. Merz has nevertheless rejected calls to step aside and continues to pursue his government’s policy agenda.
EU Budget Dispute Adds Pressure
Merz’s domestic political position could also affect negotiations over the EU’s next seven-year budget.
According to Politico Europe, Germany is part of a group of member states, including the Netherlands, Sweden, Denmark, Austria, and Finland, seeking substantial reductions to the proposed long-term EU budget. The report said officials believe domestic political pressure could encourage Berlin to take a tougher negotiating position in Brussels.
The budget dispute comes as EU governments debate competing priorities, including defense, industrial investment, infrastructure, and support for Ukraine.
Military Buildup Remains Central to Merz’s Agenda
Despite the political pressure, Merz’s government continues to prioritize strengthening Germany’s armed forces. Reuters reported that Berlin’s debt-financed investment drive is supporting both infrastructure and military expansion, while the government has committed hundreds of billions of euros to rebuilding the armed forces.
Any change in Berlin’s political leadership would therefore carry implications beyond Germany, potentially affecting EU budget negotiations, defense policy, relations with Russia, and the bloc’s wider strategic direction.
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