As Trust in the US Fades, Canada May Become a Nuclear Player

The upheaval in the international order prompts Canadians to think thoughts that would have seemed preposterous a short time ago. We hear our Department of Defence is “modelling” what a US invasion might look like. A former Canadian chief of defence staff says we should keep our “options open” with respect to building our own nuclear deterrent one day.

Anyone who had been asleep for a few years and suddenly woke up would think the world had gone mad. They would be right.

One of the key developments of the last year is the loss of confidence that the United States will honour its Article V commitment under the NATO Treaty, particularly in the light of a Russia that is seen to pose a greater threat than at any time since the end of the Cold War. Article V is the promise to come to the aid of any ally under attack. A strike against one member, in other words, would automatically widen into a war with the entire alliance. If adversaries believe that promise is now conditional, negotiable, or politically fragile, then the deterrent logic collapses. Indeed, there is now a fear—apparently put aside for the moment as far as Greenland is concerned—that the US might itself attack (or at least coerce) its allies.

This raises monumental questions for the rest of NATO. One of these is whether the US nuclear guarantee, the ultimate expression of its willingness to fulfill Article V, is still worth anything. In a major study prepared for the Munich Security Conference, European security experts explored possible responses, including the creation of an independent deterrent for the continent.

France, which possesses its own nuclear arsenal, now says it is exploring ways that deterrent could protect other European states. This would mean new warheads, new delivery systems, new command structures, and new red lines, all at a time when Russia has indicated it is prepared to threaten nuclear use to achieve its own aims in places like Ukraine. These are serious risks, but the alternative may be that countries like Germany, Poland, and Sweden will eventually seek their own deterrents if they believe the US nuclear guarantee is no longer ironclad and there is no other option.

For Canada, which has a fundamental stake in Europe’s security, hard decisions may be coming about whether, and how, we take part in this continental nuclear club.

Doubts about the American nuclear guarantee are not new. Fundamentally, deterrence rests not only on the possession of nuclear weapons but on the enemy’s perception that a country would actually use them. Former French president Charles de Gaulle famously justified France’s quest for a sovereign nuclear force by asking whether the US would trade New York for Paris; in extremis, would a US president launch nuclear missiles to defend a European city under invasion, knowing that it would invite a devastating response against an American city? Though no British prime minister ever posited the matter so starkly, these considerations were partially behind Britain’s search for its own deterrent.

Nuclear strategists refer to this as the question of “extended deterrence.” Can a country with nuclear weapons, which therefore can deter nuclear attacks against itself, credibly extend that deterrence to other countries by promising to use its weapons to defend them as well. Are such promises believable? Would the US sacrifice New York to defend Paris?

During the Cold War, NATO sought to reassure its European members. It also sought to prevent more European countries from establishing their own deterrents in what might have led to an uncontrolled spiral of proliferation. Sweden pursued nuclear weapons in the 1960s, until reassured by the US (even though Sweden was not part of NATO then). Further afield, Japan and South Korea also explored these options. All of them put these nuclear research programs aside, or at least into a deep freeze, when the US made it clear that it was prepared to guarantee their safety.

One method used to extend deterrence is so-called “dual-key” arrangements, in which US nuclear weapons are physically stationed with allied forces, but no single country can use them on its own. Both the ally and the US have to authorize their use in a crisis: the weapons are released only when the two “keys” are turned.

Though not the same as Germany, Belgium, or Italy having their own deterrent, this gives NATO allies some nuclear capability. It also spreads the load so that US forces in Europe are not the only ones firing missiles in a war; the Russians have to contend with weapons coming at them from several sources. Since the host nation did not develop, nor fully control, the nuclear weapons, it can maintain that it is not violating the Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty (NPT).

Few Canadians know it today, but Canada had a dual-key arrangement with the US. American nuclear weapons were stored on Canadian bases in Europe, guarded by Canadian troops, with Canadian pilots and army personnel trained to use them, and procedures in place requiring joint consent before they could be launched. We also housed American nuclear weapons in Canada, under dual-key controls, as part of NORAD.

In both cases, the weapons we had access to were not the sort that could destroy the Soviet Union. They were intended to disrupt or slow Soviet forces on the battlefield if they attacked NATO or North America. Canada’s deterrent role, in other words, did not extend to a direct strike against the USSR. Rather, it lay in joining an allied effort to deter a Soviet attack by showing the resolve to use nuclear weapons against advancing forces. It is an important nuance, even though many fiercely debate whether any tactical action would inevitably escalate to all-out, catastrophic exchange.

Canada’s nuclear role in Europe ran from the early ’60s until the early ’70s and our nuclear role in NORAD ran from the early ’60s until the early ’80s. Growing public opposition made the arrangements increasingly untenable, and the weapons were eventually withdrawn.

But for two decades, Canada had nukes. Let that sink in.

Now, ponder the question of whether reprising a version of this role might make sense. If European allies are doubting whether the US would honour its Article V commitment should Russian president Vladimir Putin ever coerce or attack a NATO country, how are they going to respond, both conventionally and, if necessary, in nuclear terms? This is something under serious discussion in Europe.

At least two scenarios are in play. One is that European countries develop nuclear weapons to replace the US deterrent. Expect Germany, Poland, and Sweden to do so—if it comes to this. More likely is a European deterrent, shared by several countries. Europe’s two nuclear powers, France and the United Kingdom, are reportedly deepening their co-operation, and experts are discussing this idea.

A European nuclear force would require France extending its deterrent—also known as the force de frappe—to neighbouring states. Britain might also take part, but its nuclear force is more dependent on the US than France’s—reliant on US-supplied Trident missiles with shared maintenance and infrastructure. If London were to contribute to a continental nuclear force, it would need warheads and a delivery system entirely under its command. Some in the UK believe that it may be forced down that path should the US ever withdraw support for Britain’s deterrent or demand too high a price in political loyalty.

In a recent speech, President Emmanuel Macron made the most explicit statement yet of his willingness to share the French nuclear umbrella. He rejected, for now, the idea of dual keys, stating that France’s deterrent would stay fully in French hands. But he described a future of far deeper nuclear integration with other European nations. This might include hosting French nuclear-capable aircraft at allied air bases, jointly developing new deep-strike weapons, and significant training for their use as part of a coordinated war-fighting strategy.

European nations, while welcoming this, have indicated it may not go far enough. The German chancellor has spoken of his hope that German aircraft will one day carry French nuclear weapons under dual keys. The Polish president has indicated that his country will likely seek its own weapons if this is as far as France will ultimately go. Preventing precisely this kind of proliferation was one reason Washington developed the dual-key system in the first place. Pressure may yet grow on France to reconsider its strategy.

What are the implications for Canada should the structure of continental deterrence begin to shift? A G7 nation with a highly professional military (which is about to get a lot of money) and experience of dual-key controls, Canada might want to declare full commitment to European defence in a post-NATO world, including reopening bases there. No single act would more fully demonstrate that commitment—nor strengthen the case for the privileged trade relationship Canada covets—than re-establishing a military presence in Europe and perhaps participating in the new nuclear arrangement.

If Canada were to buy some European fighter jets it could control fully, rather than only the F-35, which will always ultimately remain subject to American oversight, and base some of the planes in Europe, as it did during the Cold War, they could serve as a potential delivery system for any dual-key arrangement.

Of course, we are a very long way from such a plan. As noted, France is not yet ready to share control of its deterrent. More broadly, building a continental deterrent will be highly complex and expensive. Decision-making structures, weapons development—all of it would require extensive debate and significant investment. NATO’s secretary general has bluntly criticized the notion that Europe could ever be completely independent of the US in this area. But serious people across the pond are looking at this as the possible direction. They want a continued nuclear deterrent against a resurgent Russian threat, and wonder, as de Gaulle did, if the US will actually provide it.

The German chancellor floated the idea of a European deterrent in a January speech to the German Parliament. A few weeks later, at the Munich Security Conference, after acknowledging the international rules-based order “no longer exists,” Friedrich Merz said discussions were continuing and expressed hope that such a deterrent would remain inside NATO and that Germany would respect its NPT obligations. (In this context, he is likely envisioning a dual-key system in which France, legally recognized as a nuclear-armed state, owns the weapons, but allies help decide their use.)

One of the things to be worked out is what kind of a deterrent an independent European nuclear force would be. As noted earlier, the dual-key arrangements from the Cold War are primarily “tactical”; they employ smaller nuclear weapons against invading Russian forces. They were not meant to devastate Russia in a “strategic” sense—that is, wider, direct retaliation for strikes against European cities. This was primarily left to the US, though the French and British do have a comparatively small strategic-deterrent role. A new, independent European nuclear force would, presumably, seek to somehow fulfill both deterrent roles. For now, this issue is moot in that President Macron has stated that France does not recognize any boundary between tactical and strategic nuclear use.

Should this go ahead, with Canada seeking to be a part of it, there are very serious matters to ponder. Public opinion would need to be cultivated if a dual-key role is reprised, though Canadian views on defence are shifting rapidly in the Donald Trump era. Ownership of the weapons and command-and-control arrangements would have to be carefully worked out. Presumably, there would be a high-level advisory group on nuclear issues in the new post-NATO alliance. In practice, however, Britain and France may have a slightly more equal voice, if they are the ones building the weapons.

The relationship between tactical deterrence, in which Canada could be involved, and strategic deterrence might be the most complex issue to resolve. If Britain and France build and maintain the deterrent, would they give partners an actual say in whether a nuclear conflict begins and when it escalates from a tactical level to a strategic one in which their cities will be targets? Would London and Paris transfer the decision to launch nuclear weapons to some sort of higher European command?

Macron has already flatly said no, saying the decision “has always been and will remain in the hands of the President of the Republic.” Unless this changes, discussions over how Europe will coordinate nuclear decisions in a crisis will likely come down to some sort of French, or Franco-British command, into which others would have inputs but no decisive say.

All this may reveal, to paraphrase de Gaulle, whether France is ready to sacrifice Paris to defend Warsaw. There is a reason why NATO’s secretary general has told Europeans to “keep on dreaming” if they think a fully independent European defence is possible. Or the realization that London and Paris may never fully share nuclear decision making could prompt Germany, Poland, and others to explore again their own nuclear options. That would give everyone pause.

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For Canada, another question would be how to sustain some form of North American defence co-operation with the United States, even if Washington were to renounce NATO at some point in the future. If the US does substantially decouple itself from Europe militarily, Canada will have to consider how to be part of two increasingly separate defence arrangements at the same time.

Up to now, we have regarded membership of both NATO and NORAD as reinforcing commitments. By helping to defend North America, we were ensuring that it would come to the aid of Europe. Given we have always sought to avoid being locked up in North America with only the US as an overwhelming partner—and saw a transatlantic alliance as a way to avoid that—our membership in whatever emerges if NATO goes into terminal decline will still be evidence of us looking for wider defence alliances, even as we continue to work with the US to secure North America. Prime Minister Mark Carney’s idea of “variable geometry”—“different coalitions for different issues, based on common interests and values”— will be given a real workout here.

And, of course, an American separation from the defence of Europe, if it happens, probably won’t be a clean break but rather a messy and prolonged process. One can imagine an on-again, off-again relationship over a few decades as administrations change back and forth.

Those on both sides of the Atlantic who cannot fathom the possibility of a new order of things will cling to the hope that the old days can return. Deeply entrenched institutional and individual powers will fight against any acceptance of a transatlantic split, even as it is happening. But a slow, piecemeal American withdrawal from Europe would erode Washington’s nuclear guarantee over time. Even if it still remained formal policy during this period that America would extend deterrence to Europe, fewer and fewer would believe it, and the effect would be the same as a withdrawal of the pledge. Some believe this is already happening, as Trump openly questions whether he would come to Europe’s aid in a crisis.

On the other hand, though they have spent years castigating the Europeans for not stepping up on defence, Americans may not much like a Europe that really is independent on these matters. Decisions about nuclear war and peace in Europe will inevitably affect American security in a fundamental way. Washington may not be prepared to really let the Europeans go off on their own.

We may be about to find out if decades of American calls for Europe to “do more” have been primarily about seeking greater European financial commitment to common defence but with continued subservience to American leadership, or if the US really is prepared to live in a world where Europe is a more independent actor on the world stage, including, possibly, a more independent nuclear actor at all levels of deterrence.

Washington may find that it is easy to say the Europeans aren’t doing enough but that the real implications of watching them drift off are not palatable. To some extent, America’s bluff may well be called, and Washington may live to regret Trump having pushed the Europeans too far.

It is necessary, under these circumstances, for Canada to clearly lay out what we want to do in terms of a contribution to European security, including its nuclear security, even if America’s commitment waxes and wanes over a period of years.

If a new European deterrent emerges from the talks underway between France, Germany, and others, and it is nominally linked to NATO, as Germany’s chancellor says he hopes, Canadian participation could be seen both as a part of our NATO commitment as well as a step toward a future defence of Europe more independent of the US. These things need not be portrayed as mutually exclusive. If the US really did eventually and substantively leave European defence, this new deterrent could evolve organically rather than emerge from a sudden split.

But none of this certain. There are very good reasons why the idea of a European deterrent—which would likely really be a French or a Franco-British project to which others would contribute but not have a decisive say in a crisis—may come to naught. Despite a lot of brave talk on both sides of the Atlantic, both Europeans and Americans may find themselves getting very cold feet when the implications of all this start to become real.

As I noted at the outset, all of this has a highly bizarre quality. That it should even be discussed indicates the extent of the rupture taking place. But, perhaps, even as they are “modelling” an unthinkable US invasion of Canada, our defence planners should also “model” something equally unthinkable: active Canadian involvement at the sharp end of nuclear deterrence.