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Putin, Europe and the New Atlantic Battle

Imagine it is the autumn of 2032. Following several months of crisis, Russia launches a “special operation for the protection of Russian speaking minorities” in the Baltics with the immediate military target being the annexation of territories claimed as Russian and the desired strategic effect of breaking up the Atlantic alliance and the European Union. From the outset, Russian troops, acting under false flags, attack the three republics simultaneously with the main effort directed against Latvia, considered to be the “weak link.” Secondary feints are launched against Narva in Estonia and the Suwalki Corridor.

For months, the crisis had been brewing against a backdrop of hybrid operations carried out by Russia. Moscow’s choice of date is no coincidence: the United States is in the midst of a presidential campaign and the outgoing administration, inheritor of Trumpism, is hostile to any intervention in Europe.

Fortunately, Europe has been rearming itself since 2025. The Europeans are united and reasonably confident. On paper, the balance of ground and air power favors the defending forces.

And yet, six months later, Europe is defeated — by the Russian submarine war.

The Russian Atlantic sabotage: return on experience of a lost war

Nothing about the aggression’s initial phase would lead one to think that the decisive conflict would play out at sea.

Following a campaign of attacks against Russian minorities organized by the FSB and attributed by Russia to “neo-Nazi extremists acting on orders from Brussels,” the Russian assault begins — as in Crimea in 2014 — with the intervention of “little green men” against a backdrop of denials from Moscow . Lithuania and Estonia are the first two countries to suffer Russian “feints.” The three Baltic countries immediately invoke Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty and Article 42(7) of the Treaty on European Union, as well as all their bilateral defense agreements.

Unsurprisingly, the meeting of the Atlantic council is difficult.

Although the United States reluctantly concedes that the aggression is indeed coming from the Russians, it refuses to make any direct commitments. The American president eventually authorizes a “minimum service”: providing Europeans with some support (in-flight refueling, intelligence) and some ammunition stocks, but no direct U.S. participation in the fighting. He is also very evasive about U.S. nuclear guarantees to the Baltic states; the final NATO communiqué is a treasure trove of ambiguity.

Regardless, European resolve is strong and, despite a few dissenting voices warning of the risk of escalation, the Union is committed to providing full support to the Baltic states.

The “coalition of the willing” led by Paris and London since 2025 has borne fruit. On the defensive front at least, the resources are there, as are the structures to command them. Canada and Norway also join the coalition, despite warnings from Washington.

From the very beginning of the crisis, the Franco-British policy of coordinating nuclear deterrence decides to activate the “bastion” of the Bay of Biscay, sending four of the available French and British SSBNs to patrol the area. Although the maneuver is a success and no Russian submarines approach the maritime zone during the crisis, it “consumes” a very significant portion of both navies’ resources: frigates, nuclear attack submarines (SSN), and maritime patrol aircraft monitor the bastion and its immediate vicinity.

This choice has important consequences down the line. During the initial phase, at least, this strategic signal from Paris and London discourages Moscow from any nuclear blackmail.

On the ground: containing the Russians

Despite Narva’s rapid fall in Estonia and the bombarding of Vilnius, the defense holds.

NATO combat units stationed in the Baltic states immediately engage, despite their limited resources and the withdrawal of American troops from the three republics on orders from Washington. The Polish army quickly carries out “preventive” strikes against Kaliningrad, neutralizing the enclave with hundreds of rocket launchers, in accordance with a carefully thought-out targeting plan designed to avoid the nuclear weapon sites in the area.

As fighting continues for a third day, Russia launches its main offensive against Latvia.

From the outset, there is a slight hesitation when groups of “separatists” attack the mined and fortified border: the Canadian combat group first receives instructions from Ottawa that, in accordance with the convention banning anti-personnel mines, it is not allowed to move up to occupy a sector of the front that would make it responsible for holding such a minefield and must remain in the second echelon. Fortunately, the Canadian troops defy the order and, under a barrage of drones, take the first pounding alongside their Baltic comrades. In the days that follow, faced with reality, the Europeans and Canadians update their rules of engagement.

In Riga, undercover FSB agents attempt to overthrow the government and proclaim a “Republic of Vidzeme.” The attempt fails within a few hours.

Three days after the crisis begins, European rapid reaction forces — mainly French and British, as well as some from the Benelux countries — arrive in the Baltics. From the air, European air forces thwart all Russian maneuvers over the Baltics, even though Anti-access bubbles and political concerns limit the possibilities of strikes over Russia. Hundreds of Geran drones rain down on Poland and the Baltic republics, but most are shot down by European-developed weapons: laser-guided rockets, combat helicopters, automatic cannons… On every front, Russia appears to be failing.

Polls confirm that European public opinion supports a firm defensive stance, even though fears of escalation are high.

This sequence of events prevents Russia from achieving a “fait accompli” and gives Germany, Poland, and the Scandinavian countries time to call up their reservists and build up their capabilities, despite significant political divisions in the first two countries. In the week that follows, protected by a robust and comprehensive air defense system, European forces can deploy their combined combat doctrine, with a significant drone component.

After those first three critical days, the Suwalki corridor is no longer under serious threat; Kaliningrad is neutralized but hasn’t been invaded, which the most prudent European countries have refused.

Although Paris and London have plans to strike Russia from either the eastern Mediterranean or the North Atlantic, in order to limit the risk of nuclear escalation, European political and military leaders decide not to strike Russia more than fifty kilometers from the Baltic border and to maintain the blockade of Kaliningrad while allowing Russia to send “humanitarian supplies” there via neutral ships.

Despite these restrictions, Russian forces seeking to “liberate oppressed minorities” are unable to extend their advance beyond a few kilometers at a few points along the fortified border; they are proving incapable of joining forces with the “separatist militias” made up of a few hundred Russian soldiers who secretly entered the country by leveraging migration flows. At sea, an aggressive campaign of mining in the Gulf of Finland by the Finnish navy has paralyzed Russia’s Baltic fleet, which is stuck in St. Petersburg.

Under the sea: the war we didn’t see coming

Barely ten days after the start of its aggression, seeing that European defense is solid and that Europeans are reaching a form of political consensus to defend the Baltic republics with almost no American support, Moscow activates its submarine warfare plan.

Within hours, dozens of  ocean gliders — underwater drones that glide just below the ocean’s surface — pre-positioned in the North Sea, converge on British, Dutch, and German wind farms.

One by one, any substation on the sea floor less than fifty meters below the surface is destroyed.

A massive electrical outage strikes the United Kingdom, depriving millions of households of electricity while the country is urgently disconnected from the rest of the European grid in order to avoid a domino effect in mainland Europe.

At the same time, off the coast of Hamburg, several of these same gliders destroy a container ship.

A few hours later, in the middle of the Atlantic, an oil tanker is hit by three heavy torpedoes fired by an unidentified submarine and sinks in a matter of hours.

Panic immediately grips the financial markets and marine insurers.

In the two days that follow, as was the case during the war in Ukraine, insurance premiums skyrocket to levels that are unsustainable for shipowners, while the entire Atlantic north of the Tropic of Cancer is declared a “war zone.”

European shipowners, largely unmoved by their governments’ appeals for patriotism, decide to reroute ships that are able to do so and leave European waters as quickly as possible.

A few explosions linked to other ocean gliders in the English Channel and off the British coast are enough to ensure sustained tension. A Dutch frigate at anchor is sunk in Den Helder by a drifting “smart” mine.

On the diplomatic front, Europe’s embarrassment is palpable: the countries of Central Europe, which have been at the heart of continental military buildup since 2025, have always considered the Atlantic to be NATO territory.

However, the U.S. Navy has been ordered to refrain from participating in any operations east of the 40th parallel; the U.S. president points out, in between election controversies, that if Greenland had been handed over to the United States, the Russians would never dare to behave this way. He also announces that only ships bound for or departing from U.S. ports will benefit from the protection of the United States Navy and concludes by asking Europeans to “negotiate with Russia” in order to resolve the crisis.

At the same time, Russia paralyzes the UN Security Council’s work, denying any involvement and accusing Ukraine of plotting the entire underwater operation out of a spirit of revenge.

China echoes this point and accuses Europe of provocation.

At sea, however, the latter is not inactive and their naval resources are believed to be far superior to Russia’s. The French aircraft carrier group, which was heading for the Pacific at the start of the crisis, is held in the eastern Mediterranean, while the British aircraft carrier group, which has returned from a long mission in the Pacific, must be made available as soon as possible.

However, activating the joint Franco-British bastion for nuclear deterrence places a strain on resources. As a consequence, in the absence of U.S. naval support, and given European requirements to maintain a presence in the Mediterranean and the Baltic Sea, only about ten French, British, Spanish, Canadian, Belgian, and Portuguese frigates are left to patrol an area of more than ten million square kilometers, stretching from Greenland to Madeira and as far as the U.S. coast.

Worse still, given the political divisions among Europeans over rules of engagement at sea or strikes deep inside Russian territory, the use of these assets is not coordinated.

Whereas there had been relatively good political and military preparation for defending the Baltic states, Europeans had never anticipated what Russia is now imposing on them: a battle of the Atlantic.

With Russia refusing to claim responsibility for the submarine attacks and accusing Ukraine of being responsible, some European countries refuse to accept rules of engagement that would allow them to fire on a Russian submarine in the absence of “in flagrante” evidence of an attack. Others, such as Norway and Greece, have reserved their naval resources for protecting their coasts and national merchant fleets.

While Moscow’s agents stir up fears of a nuclear disaster in the event that a Russian nuclear submarine is destroyed, only France, the United Kingdom, Canada, and Portugal decide to take on an “active” hunt in the Atlantic; but due to the proliferation of commitments and priorities given to land and air assets since 2025, there is a lack of naval resources.

Under the sea, only one French and two British nuclear attack submarines (SSN) are available for this hunt for Russian submarines, while American SSNs are given orders to stay away from European waters.

Compared to the immensity of the ocean, it’s too little.

The United Kingdom, however, had launched an ambitious project called “Cabot” to monitor the seabed using drones.

Unfortunately, the project fell behind schedule, as merging and exchanging data proved too ambitious, and Russia manages to neutralize several drones at sea, as the Royal Navy lacks the means to protect them. The Americans refuse to transfer data from their own seabed detection networks; Russian submarines, traveling at low speed, are difficult to locate precisely.

What’s more, these submarines do not need to be numerous or actively engaged in destroying maritime trade; the mere mention of their presence in the Atlantic by the authorities in Moscow is enough to keep pressure on shipowners, pressure that can be revived by occasionally torpedoing a ship should there be a backlash.

While the Royal Navy quickly destroys a conventional Kilo-class submarine in the maritime zone surrounding the United Kingdom. The situation remains unchanged for more than ten days.

This is nothing shocking for specialists in submarine warfare, but it is more difficult for combined general staffs and public opinion to accept; since 1945, they have all but forgotten the thankless, defensive, and arduous nature of anti-submarine operations at sea.

The disruption of maritime commerce

In the ensuing weeks, the first attempts at escorting ships ad hoc encounter a new difficulty: Russia has modified several merchant ships in its “ghost fleet” to carry swarms of naval, underwater, and aerial drones.

Operating in the English Channel, they strike Le Havre, Cherbourg, Hamburg, and the Thames estuary.

Although Europeans had invested heavily in an “anti-drone wall” on Europe’s eastern border and the Baltic Sea, they had neglected the ocean front.

They overlooked an old rule of warfare: when faced with a strictly defensive effort, the attacker can always freely choose the day, the time — and the place.

The cargo ships responsible for launching the attacks are quickly destroyed or boarded. The extent of the damage is limited. However, the impact on public opinion is significant and requires strengthening mainland defenses, to the detriment of support for ground forces in the Baltic states.

Of course, Russia — backed by China, who continues to denounce Europe as warmongering and deceitful — refuses to accept any responsibility. European financial markets continue their downward spiral, and interest rates soar. A joint crisis meeting of the ECB and the Bank of England discreetly sends a message to European governments, warning of the risk of a European economic meltdown in the coming weeks.

Hoping to resume maritime trade via Mediterranean ports, Europeans suffer another setback a month after the crisis begins: the Houthis, with Moscow’s support, are also deploying underwater drones loaded with explosives, in addition to their large stockpile of missiles and aerial drones supplied by Iran.

With this arsenal, they primarily target any vessels belonging to European shipowners.

Russia has made sure to position a few old cargo ships from its “ghost fleet”, loaded with aerial and naval drones, off the coast of Africa and has deployed two SSNs from its Pacific fleet to the Indian Ocean. Once again, all it takes is a single torpedo attack and a few attacks by underwater drones on ships at anchor for insurance premiums to skyrocket and the sea route to close — all against the backdrop of collapsing European stock markets.

Despite a strong joint ground defense in the Baltic states and a limited but effective no-fly zone campaign, the Europeans are falling behind at sea, and the risk of shortages is changing European public opinion, which initially favored a firm response.

Weeks pass, and with winter approaching, European oil and gas stocks begin to run low.

There begin to be serious shortages of manufactured goods, and Amazon’s suspension of its delivery services from Asia to Europe causes protests across the continent.

Seeming to always be one step ahead in its provocations, all while continuing to deny any torpedo attacks, Russia, along with China and Iran, moves a fleet to the vicinity of New Caledonia.

In Africa, in the Mozambique Channel, fleets of Comorian militiamen, armed and supported by mercenaries from the Russian Africa Corps, board Chinese “fishing” vessels and land on the French island of Chissioua Mtsamboro, a short distance from Mayotte, where they begin to consolidate their position.

At the same time, several undersea cables are cut in an attack of unknown origin off the coast of France and the United Kingdom, as well as off the coast of several French and British overseas territories.

Those linking other European countries are spared.

While redundancies are sufficient to prevent a generalized breakdown of IT systems, the attack sends a strong signal to Europeans, with Russia accusing France and the United Kingdom of wanting to “drag the continent into a revenge war over Ukraine.” The French president has no choice but to send the Charles de Gaulle aircraft carrier group to the Indian Ocean, as the Air Force has proven incapable of achieving a decisive result with the few sporadic raids it can launch from Abu Dhabi.

Weaponizing the economic crisis they caused, the Russians impose an armed peace

While the battle rages at sea, Brussels is busy organizing a convoy system and trying to reassure the maritime world.

However, it is no longer a question of requisitioning as in 1914 or 1940: private transport operators must be persuaded.

The attitude of certain pro-Russian European countries is slowing down initiatives; when a solution finally seems to be in sight, Moscow offers safe passage to ships heading for the ports of countries that agree to immediately cease all hostile actions toward Russia, withdraw their troops, and recognize the troubling humanitarian situation of “Russian minorities” in the Baltic states. Russia proposes this deal without acknowledging its involvement in the torpedoing of a dozen oil tankers, LNG carriers, and container ships destroyed since the beginning of the conflict.

Greece and Cyprus immediately accept the proposal under pressure from their shipowners, causing division within the European Union.

Tensions further intensify among Europeans when a Russian nuclear submarine is destroyed by ac Franco-Portuguese attack of opportunity off the coast of the Azores, without it having been definitively and immediately implicated in the torpedoing of a merchant ship.

In response, Moscow explicitly threatens Lisbon with nuclear attack on the Atlantic islands if they continue to be used to “threaten freedom of navigation and carry out illegal attacks on Russian submarines.”

To back up its threats, it fires a salvo of Orechnik missiles at Flores Island, the furthest of the Azores.

Although the response from Paris and London is firm and reassuring in terms of security guarantees, Washington is once again prevaricating about its extended deterrence, arguing that in this case “Portugal is the aggressor.” The only notable American action during the crisis has been to send several thousand troops to Greenland without warning to take control “before Russia.” Copenhagen can only protest. Admittedly, the arrival of the British aircraft carrier group in the Far North blocks a similar attempt by Russia against Svalbard, but the Europeans are too absorbed by the maritime transport crisis in the Atlantic to help Denmark, as they lack the means and the will to act on two fronts.

Ten days after leaving the eastern Mediterranean, the French naval air group begins air operations against the invaders of the Mayotte archipelago, with Rafale jets flying over the whole of Africa. Angola’s protests are relayed to the United Nations General Assembly and calls for a boycott against France, which is described as a “neo-colonial power,” are growing.

Although the Charles de Gaulle‘s mission was a military success and managed to save Mayotte from invasion or blockade, it does not resolve the situation in the North Atlantic, where Russian submarines and ocean gliders continue to attack merchant shipping.

Several European countries introduce food rationing, triggering general strikes and demonstrations calling for an end to the fighting.

In the ensuing days, several countries in the Balkan region, with Turkey’s support, launch a peace initiative calling for an immediate ceasefire and the creation of a demilitarized zone 50 kilometers deep between the Russian border and Alliance forces. The vote on a resolution by China, Russia, the United States, and the majority of the United Nations Security Council supporting the initiative divides Europeans. France and the United Kingdom are isolated; a “whiff of Suez” hangs over Whitehall and the Quai d’Orsay.

The two European nuclear powers, which have been united since the beginning of the crisis, now face growing domestic unrest amid shortages and power cuts. London wants to preserve transatlantic relations by not vetoing a U.S. resolution, especially since Washington has explicitly threatened the future of the British ballistic program and the provision of services for the F-35 fleet. In Paris, the “Gaullist reflex” could push the country to use its veto on its own, but subtle pressure from Berlin and the European Commission dissuades it from doing so: the economic crisis linked to shortages of energy, raw materials, and consumer goods is too severe. Notes from the General Directorate for Internal Security on the risks of social unrest ultimately sway the decision: France resolves to not block the resolution, adopted under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter.

As a final humiliation, a “peacekeeping” force is assigned to Chinese and Pakistani peacekeepers a few days later.

For the Baltic republics, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Even though they’ve barely given up any ground to the invaders, they’re forced to withdraw from dozens of towns and lose their entire border defense system.

Several Central European countries take note of this defeat and, in the weeks that follow, decide to leave the European Union and NATO, proclaiming their neutrality, and announcing their “desire to establish dialogue and trust-based relations with Russia.”

Moscow has won.

Submarine defense: the blind spot of European defense

This short, predictive tale, though bleak, does not describe anything inevitable.

Its purpose is to draw attention to the reality of a Russian submarine threat that is somewhat underestimated in Europe and, more broadly, to highlight our continent’s vulnerability to disruption of trade in the Atlantic.

While it seems both imperative and urgent to rearm Europe’s land and air capabilities and to have sufficient forces, stocks, and human reserves to sustain a prolonged conflict on European soil, we would be wrong to assume that the Atlantic will always be free and open for us to navigate.

Faced with the combination of Russia’s ageing but still sizeable and seasoned submarine forces, and given the potential offered by the development of underwater drones throughout the water column — from ocean gliders to deep-sea rovers — we in Europe do not have the capacity to confront a new “Battle of the Atlantic” without American support.

While we often picture modern naval combat as brief and violent, with the decisive advantage going to the attacker — whoever can be the first to open fire — we forget the key role played by underwater operations.

During both world wars, protecting maritime communication routes proved to be a thankless, drawn-out task that required a significant amount of resources over a long period of time.

Although actively and aggressively searching for enemy submarines is an important part of these operations, their “defensive” aspect should not be underestimated: protecting an isolated ship or even a convoy may lead the defender to settle for prohibiting all approach, a grueling task of “plowing the waters,” without necessarily being able to pursue and destroy every contact, as the priority is the survival of the escorted ships.

This situation nearly led to the defeat of the Allies in the North Atlantic on two occasions, even though the Europeans had large merchant fleets flying their national flags, navies with more escort vessels, and larger maritime populations.

Japan’s defeat in the face of the American submarine campaign and Italy’s defeat in the face of the British campaign show the cost of ignoring this threat or devoting insufficient resources to it.

This difficulty of defensive submarine warfare is compounded tenfold by the characteristics of modern maritime transport: it is a globalized industry, with ships built in Asia and owned by Asian or European shipowners; insured by European companies and crewed mostly by sailors from emerging countries with no ties to our continent, they fly the flags of distant countries with flags of convenience, while being supported by a financial industry that can rely on non-European jurisdictions and “tax havens.”

This sector has a very strong aversion to the risk of war; it is not aligned with any particular country.

The change in insurance premiums from the start of the Ukrainian conflict — when it became clear that sea mines had been laid in the Black Sea — showed that the underwater threat is the one that creates the most fear; it can interrupt maritime traffic almost instantly.

The Russian front is in the Atlantic—and the ocean glider could be the tank of the coming war

The risk posed by submarine warfare is no longer in proportion to the number of submarines operating in the Atlantic, as it was during the two world wars, but rather to the ability to pose a credible threat, reflected in a handful of incidents.

Granted, Russia’s Northern Fleet has only a dozen SSNs and around ten conventional submarines — far fewer than during the Cold War — but four or five submarines positioned in the North Atlantic could be enough to paralyze trade, especially if two or three submarines from the Pacific were to threaten shipping lanes passing through the Horn of Africa at the same time.

Yet these submarines and mines are still fairly conventional threats. The arrival of underwater drones has the potential to make the battle beneath the waves much more complicated.

While the Atlantic Alliance is testing the potential of drones for maritime control on and below the surface — such as Task Force X in the Baltic Sea and the British “Cabot” project — it is doing little to prepare for the threats that underwater drones, particularly ocean gliders, could pose.

These machines, which are less expensive than conventional torpedoes, can drift for weeks in ocean currents.

Equipped with a GPS positioning module and an inertial navigation system, they can be fitted with simple acoustic detectors and carry a large explosive payload.

Their energy consumption is low because they navigate by changing their buoyancy to follow the currents.

Although ocean gliders cannot threaten warships at sea, they could take advantage of the vulnerabilities of fixed offshore infrastructure — energy or communications — as well as those of merchant ships anchored off major ports.

Additionally, as Russia does in our predictive scenario, it would also be possible to strike European military and civilian ports from the very outset of a conflict with swarms of aerial and naval drones pre-positioned in civilian cargo ships, which would complicate the initial phases of naval deployment. In either case, the absence of markings and crews, the opacity of the environment, and the inconspicuous deployment would complicate the task of attributing responsibility for the attack and allow for “plausible deniability” in the context of information warfare.

The response to these threats is neither unique nor strictly “capacity-based”.

Writing a check will not be enough — nor will purchasing a few frigates.

First and foremost, it is important, from a strategic perspective, to reestablish a clear and shared understanding of the importance of the Atlantic Ocean for European communications.

For Europe, this coastline, free of straits, is a gateway to the “world ocean.” But in order to benefit from this access, it must be able to dominate this space and prevent hostile submarines from entering it.

This is what the Allies had to do during the two world wars, conducting long, thankless, and too often forgotten naval campaigns that were profoundly defensive in nature.

If, since 1957, NATO’s approach has focused on the idea of “holding” the “GIUK gap” (Greenland, Iceland, United Kingdom), a future crisis between Russia and a Europe that has been at least partially abandoned by the Americans could see, from the very outset, a sufficiently large Russian submarine presence off the European Atlantic coast to threaten shipping flows, banking on the risk aversion of maritime transport operators.

Combined with swarms of ocean gliders and underwater robots in the North Sea, Baltic Sea, and English Channel, this underwater threat could potentially cripple European economies, which have historically never been so dependent on permanent, unhindered access to maritime trade. Finally, as this is a slow-moving, complex crisis involving many private actors and taking place at sea far from national territories, the use of nuclear deterrence would undoubtedly be more complex and less obvious than if it were a question of ensuring the survival of European civilian populations or armed forces on the ground.

Providing relief for the Franco-British duo

Surviving such a crisis — once we understand the systemic risk — requires developing a comprehensive strategy for Europe that goes beyond the ambition of building a land and air “wall” on Russia’s land border.

In political terms, Europeans need to agree on a “division of labor.” We cannot ask France and the United Kingdom alone to provide nuclear deterrence for the continent, air superiority and deep strike capabilities, “first entry” of ground troops, as well as maintaining naval superiority over the continent’s maritime approaches and distant communication routes.

At present, France and the United Kingdom are the only nations capable of mounting a true naval effort, as demonstrated by recent operations against the Houthis, where other European navies were conspicuous by their absence and setbacks. European burden sharing must endorse the principle that only the two European nuclear powers and the countries of the Iberian Peninsula are relevant for ensuring this naval superiority in distant oceans due to their free access to the Atlantic: this must lead to relieving them of certain obligations, particularly on land.

In other words, it is undoubtedly better for Europe if France and the United Kingdom order more frigates and submarines than battle tanks. The main condition for credibility, however, would be to give unambiguous priority to defending European waters and communication flows.

For this reason, any large-scale deployment or ambition east of Singapore should be abandoned in favor of focusing on the Atlantic and the Horn of Africa. Franco-British political ambitions in the Indo-Pacific consume significant air and naval resources for a strategic interest that is highly debatable.

Preventing another “Battle of the Atlantic”

In economic terms, we must anticipate potential supply disruptions by encouraging stockpiling, substitution, and relocation across all value chains. We must also develop a public “plan” for rationing and arbitrating resources and consumer goods.

These are choices that will take time to consider, are often costly, and are not very compatible with the habits of European consumers and economic actors. They must be made without overestimating our ability to wean ourselves off maritime transport.

On the military front, we cannot afford to forego a coherent doctrine within the Alliance but, if necessary, without the United States, in order to be able to effectively ensure the oceanic component of French and British nuclear deterrence without consuming all our naval resources, while at the same time reassuring private maritime transport operators. This means offering them, from the outset of the crisis, public reassurance mechanisms, robust requisitioning schemes including crew substitution, a system of rationing and prioritization of European maritime transport to ensure the most crucial imports and exports, appropriate escort methods and, possibly, containerized weapon modules that can be installed on merchant ships to combat certain low-end threats such as aerial, surface, or underwater drones.

This doctrine, designed with and for civilian transport operators in mind, must be supplemented by urgent consideration of capacity issues.

If it is too late to start building new nuclear attack submarines, there are other options. Among other things, these include new escort vessels, new countermeasures against underwater drones (perhaps marking the return of depth charges and anti-submarine rockets), sensor networks on the seabed for certain sensitive areas, and aerial and naval patrol drones with autonomous engagement capabilities — particularly for defending offshore infrastructure and ports.

Other medium-term measures could be considered in France, but at significant cost: permanently relocating the naval air group to the Atlantic coast to maintain its freedom of action, establishing a base for conventional submarines on the same coast that could accommodate submarines from other European navies, considering the return of a fixed-wing anti-submarine component — an Alizée 2.0 drone, for example — and strengthening the defense of coastal bases and major commercial and military ports against drone threats. 

The task ahead is vast and complex, but it is urgent that Europe address the issue of its maritime vulnerability from a political and strategic perspective.

This new awareness would also allow us to prepare ourselves in terms of information, to counter the disinformation tactics of Russia and its supporters, and to make public opinion — even in Central Europe — understand that their defense begins far offshore.

Europe is a continent that greatly depends on its access to the ocean.

This access itself depends on an economic system that is both efficient and redundant — and fragile when faced with the risk of war.

Russia knows this.

It will not hesitate to use this vulnerability to its advantage — especially if our American ally is not there to maintain Western supremacy on and below the waters of the Atlantic.

This is not a matter of choosing between “Tahiti and Warsaw”.

We must remember, however, that the most important waters for Europe and France are not those of the Indo-Pacific, but those of the Atlantic: for the continent’s defense, Brest and Lisbon are just as important as Vilnius or Warsaw.