The Élysée Palace witnessed an extraordinary diplomatic event on March 27 as Emmanuel Macron attempted what no European leader has achieved since the Cold War – forging a truly independent European security policy. The French president’s ambitious plan to create a European peacekeeping force for Ukraine represents both a bold strategic vision and a tacit admission of failure: failure to maintain transatlantic unity, failure to deter Russian aggression through existing mechanisms, and failure to reconcile Europe’s competing national interests into coherent action.
The summit of what Macron calls the “coalition of the willing” brought together nearly 30 nations, yet as the French president acknowledged with characteristic bluntness, “It is not unanimous.” The carefully choreographed summit revealed both the potential for European unity and the deep fissures that continue to plague continental security policy.
Macron imagines a multinational force deployed to strategic locations across Ukraine, not to fight on the frontlines but to serve as a deterrent – a tripwire ensuring that any renewed Russian offensive would risk direct confrontation with NATO powers. He has framed the mission in deceptively simple terms: “It’s a pacifist approach,” he insists, a shield rather than a provocation.
Behind this rhetoric lies a calculated strategy with three interlocking objectives. First, deterrence – by embedding European troops in Ukraine, Macron aims to make the cost of further Russian aggression intolerable, signaling that Europe, not just the United States, is willing to back its commitments with tangible military presence. Second, strategic autonomy – with U.S. President Donald Trump openly dismissive of the plan and prioritizing direct negotiations with Moscow, Macron sees an opportunity for Europe to assert its independence.
“We have to be prepared for a situation where [the Americans] won’t join in,”
he warned.
Third, long-term security – the plan includes a Franco-British effort to overhaul Ukraine’s military, transforming it into what one advisor called a “porcupine,” bristling with defenses and indigestible to Russian ambitions.
The Paris summit drew a broader and more committed group of nations than earlier meetings, a fact his team cites as proof the idea is “gathering steam.” Key allies like the United Kingdom have embraced the plan’s underlying logic, though even his backing came with unspoken caveats about practical implementation.
Keir Starmer pledged “full support” for Ukraine and framed the proposed force in stark terms: “This is designed to stop Putin playing games.” Military planners are already sketching the outlines of the mission, weighing options that range from a symbolic presence along the Dnieper River, far from active combat zones, to a more substantial deployment of 10,000 to 30,000 troops in western Ukraine or neighboring countries, poised for rapid response.
These efforts would complement ongoing EU and NATO initiatives to arm Ukraine, including Macron’s own pledge of €2 billion in new military aid – light tanks, air defense systems, and missiles – to bolster Kyiv’s defenses.
Yet for all its promise, Macron’s ambition collides with stubborn geopolitical realities. The most immediate challenge is the lack of unanimity among European powers. Italy’s Giorgia Meloni and Greece’s Kyriakos Mitsotakis publicly rejected the idea of contributing troops, dismissing the debate as “divisive.”
Eastern European reactions exposed another layer of complexity. While Baltic leaders cautiously welcomed Macron’s initiative as overdue evidence of Western European seriousness, Poland’s Donald Tusk ruled out sending soldiers altogether, while the Czech Republic deemed discussions premature.
This divergence reflects painful historical lessons: nations bordering Russia instinctively distrust grand diplomatic designs that might ultimately concede Ukrainian territory for temporary peace.
The shadow of American ambivalence looms equally large. The Trump administration has dismissed the European force as little more than “posture and a pose,” with special envoy Steve Witkoff deriding it as “simplistic.” Without American airpower, logistics, and intelligence support, the mission’s credibility hangs in the balance. Starmer tacitly acknowledged this vulnerability, stressing that U.S. engagement remains indispensable.
Then there is the question of Russia’s response. Moscow has wasted no time framing the plan as a NATO “military intervention,” with Foreign Ministry spokesperson Maria Zakharova warning darkly of “a direct military clash.” The critical unknown is whether Putin will view the force as a genuine deterrent or an empty threat – a calculation that could determine whether the gamble averts conflict or accelerates it.
Macron now faces the delicate task of threading multiple needles simultaneously. Diplomatically, he must placate dissenters like Italy while rallying a critical mass of contributors, a balancing act that may require sidelining reluctant partners in favor of a Franco-British “co-pilot” model.
Militarily, the force must be substantial enough to deter Russia without succumbing to mission creep – a challenge underscored by the unanswered questions: “Who commands it? How does it respond to violations?” And time is not on his side. With Trump pushing for a swift ceasefire and Russia escalating attacks – like the recent strike on Kharkiv that left 12 wounded, including a child – Macron is racing against the clock.
Macron’s gamble transcends Ukraine. It is a litmus test for Europe’s ability to act as a unified geopolitical force – a vision he has championed since Russia’s 2022 invasion. “Europe knows how to defend itself,” declared Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy during his visit to Paris. But knowing and doing, as the past weeks have shown, are very different things.
The coming days will reveal whether Macron’s “reassurance force” becomes a cornerstone of European security or a footnote in the saga of continental discord. For now, the French president’s audacity has forced Europe to confront a defining question: In a world where American commitment can no longer be taken for granted, can it defend its own backyard? The answer will shape not only Ukraine’s fate, but the future of the West itself.
Yet the very act of proposing such radical solutions changes the diplomatic calculus. By forcing European capitals to confront hard questions about collective defense, Emmanuel Macron has already shifted the parameters of what’s considered possible. As autumn approaches, with its traditional fighting season in Ukraine, Macron’s initiative will face its sternest tests.
The coming days will reveal whether this was a prescient move to shore up European security or a quixotic overreach. Either way, the debate itself marks a watershed moment – one that future historians may view as the point when Europe began grappling in earnest with its post-American future.
