By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers
To deter - or, if
necessary, defeat - a Chinese invasion of Taiwan or a U.S. ally in the
Indo-Pacific or a Russian attack on a NATO member, the United States must be
prepared to deny its adversary a quick operational victory and either escalate
to win or prevail in an extended war. A long war would create extraordinary
demands on U.S. forces and burn through stockpiles of munitions, missiles, and
air defenses. It would damage the U.S. economy, disrupting international trade
and supply chains for critical goods and manufacturing inputs. The United
States has begun to address some of these challenges, most notably by investing
in the defense industrial base, but it has not done enough to prepare for
protracted wars of attrition and less-piercing acts of aggression, such as a
sustained blockade of Taiwan.
This lack of
preparation could force Washington’s hand strategically. If the United States
were less equipped than its adversary to fight a protracted conflict, it may
feel the need to escalate early and dramatically - including potentially to use
nuclear weapons - to curtail the conflict before it found itself stretched too
thin. Washington relied on this escalation strategy to defend NATO during the
Cold War out of necessity, but it has spent the decades since seeking to
instead maintain conventional military superiority to place the burden of
escalation on adversaries and avoid being boxed into its riskier previous
approach. Today, preparing for protraction, arduous as it may be, is the only
way to provide the White House with the full complement of options required for
a great-power conflict.

Ukrainian service members under an anti-drone net in
the Donetsk region, Ukraine, January 2026
Bargaining Phase
In Ukraine, the
United States and Russia have each attempted to find
limits on warfare that would achieve their desired objectives at the lowest
possible cost. But neither entered the war with a clear, shared understanding
of the other’s escalation thresholds. Only repeated probing, signaling, and
adjustment by Washington and Moscow revealed how far each would be willing to
go. This process of negotiation and contestation, rather than a
fixed understanding of escalation thresholds, is likely to define any future
great-power war.
In the run-up to
Russia’s full-scale invasion, Washington and Moscow set the initial parameters
of escalation. In December 2021, U.S. President Joe Biden said that putting
U.S. troops on the ground to deter or defeat a Russian invasion was “not on the
table.” Biden wanted to avoid a direct conflict that would come with the
significant risk of nuclear escalation - or, as he put it, “World War III.”
Putin, for his part, sought to deter direct intervention by third parties and
prevent - or at least limit - support for Ukraine by the United States and its
allies and partners. He warned “those who may be tempted to interfere” that
“Russia will respond immediately, and the consequences will be such as you have
never seen in your entire history.”
After the invasion,
Washington and Moscow began a process of active probing and tacit
bargaining. The Western alliance refused to heed Putin’s threat and continued
providing significant economic and military assistance aimed at enabling
Ukraine to preserve its sovereignty and retake lost territory. Biden made clear
that the United States would defend “every inch of NATO territory,” warning
Putin against expanding the conflict or interdicting military assistance
provided through Poland and Romania. Moscow attempted to deter the United
States from providing tanks, fighter jets, and long-range missiles that would
enable Ukrainian strikes into Russian territory.
In most instances,
concerns over escalation did not drive the Biden administration’s decisions
about what assistance to provide. The United States wanted to give Ukraine the
best chance to win the war, and with limited funding made available by
Congress, Washington was skeptical of the military utility of high-end
capabilities compared with more immediately useful alternatives
such as air defenses and artillery rounds. The United States also had its own
significant shortfalls in weapons stocks and needed to conserve them for
other contingencies.

Russia did, however,
find ways to shape the calculus in Washington and other NATO capitals by
threatening escalation. Moscow tested what it could get away with short of a
direct kinetic attack on NATO: jamming Western space capabilities, carrying out
a sabotage campaign against infrastructure and logistics targets in
Europe, conducting incursions into NATO airspace. Doing so allowed Russia to
create a perception in Washington and European capitals that it might be
willing to escalate. That concern, in turn, led the United States and its NATO
allies to circumscribe their on-the-ground military and intelligence
cooperation with Ukraine; delay the provision of long-range strike capabilities,
such as the surface-to-surface ballistic Army Tactical Missile System (ATACMS);
and put limits on the types of Ukrainian strikes into Russian
territory they were willing to support or tolerate.
Yet over the course
of the war, the United States and its allies and partners contravened nearly
all the limits on Western assistance that Russia attempted to maintain. By
probing Russia’s threats and gradually escalating its support for Ukraine’s
forces, Washington was able to “salami slice” away Russia’s purported
escalation thresholds, exposing most Russian threats as hollow. Meanwhile, Western
intelligence sharing and operations support have enabled the Ukrainian military
to use increasingly sophisticated capabilities to great effect.
Before the war, it
would have been unthinkable that the United States would go as far as it has in
facilitating long-range strikes into Russia without inviting a direct attack
against NATO - and if the United States had taken that step in the first days after
the invasion, it may have provoked such a response from Russia. But because the
Biden administration escalated its assistance gradually, each step looked like
an incremental change, not a dramatic jump. Before providing ATACMS, the United
States sent Ukraine shorter-range missiles and one-way attack drones. Before
enabling strikes on targets in Russia, the United States supported attacks
against occupied Crimea.
To be sure, this
strategy had its limitations. Although Ukraine has been able to prevent
conquest and impose severe costs on Russia, it has little prospect of
recovering full control of its entire territory any time soon. It is doubtful
that any form of military assistance would have been a silver bullet, but in
retrospect, Washington withheld some assistance and constrained Ukrainian
operations longer than necessary: although earlier provision of ATACMS would
not have made the difference that the most vocal advocates of their use suggest,
the Ukrainian military could have employed them to target logistics hubs,
airfields, and other high-value targets well behind the front in order to
disrupt Russian operations and support Kyiv’s counteroffensives in 2023 and
2024.
In the event of a
conflict with Russia or China, bargaining over escalation thresholds will again
prove critical in determining the costs both sides will endure - and in
determining which side emerges victorious. Unlike in Ukraine, a war with Russia
or China will likely invoke Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty, the Taiwan
Relations Act, or a bilateral mutual defense treaty, meaning that direct U.S.
involvement will not represent the most consequential threshold. But even then,
the parties will bargain over significant conflict thresholds, be they strikes
on national territory, attacks on critical infrastructure, or nuclear
escalation. Washington must be prepared to probe, signal, and maneuver along
the escalation spectrum - sometimes restraining itself, sometimes escalating
deliberately - to establish advantageous limits that provide the United States
the military freedom to achieve its desired objectives while minimizing the
cost and risk.
Beyond deterring
nuclear attack, the United States must be prepared to set limits on conflict.
Conflict in space and cyberspace, for example, may be unavoidable, but
Washington should nonetheless seek to spare its most important assets in space,
including those that facilitate nuclear command and control, and prevent
cyberattacks that could permanently damage critical infrastructure, such as the
power grid or the financial system, by threatening severe consequences while
withholding commensurate attacks. On land, Russia and China will hope to
protect their own territory so that they can strike and resupply with impunity.
The United States must be prepared to escalate and probe, seeking to conduct
select strikes on mainland targets from which Moscow and Beijing are likely to
launch aggressive attacks. Washington should still exercise restraint in the
intensity of strikes on these mainland targets to deter large-scale retaliatory strikes.
Precisely because any limits will emerge through tacit bargaining, it will be
impossible to establish these thresholds in advance of a potential conflict.
Washington needs approaches to warfare designed as much for probing as for
military effect.

Firing toward Russian troops in the Donetsk region,
Ukraine, January 2026
Agree To Disagree
As much as the war
has showcased NATO’s capacity to come together in support of a threatened
partner, it has also tested Washington’s ability to manage a
coalition during a high-stakes conflict and made clear the limits of
Washington’s control of escalation management. Ukraine has demonstrated a
higher tolerance for escalation risks, particularly those associated with
strikes on Russian territory, than the United States and some of
its NATO allies have. It has also acted without U.S. input, at times
working at cross-purposes with the United States. These dynamics would exist
even if Washington were fighting alongside treaty allies, but they are
particularly challenging when the United States must come to the aid of
quasi-allies such as Ukraine and, in the event of a conflict with China,
Taiwan.
Ukraine’s forces are
fighting for the survival of their country, with military, intelligence, and
other assistance from the United States and other partners. Washington can
decide the scope and scale of the security assistance it provides and include
end-use restrictions on how the Ukrainian armed forces employ U.S. weapons. But
since the United States is not a combatant, key tactical, operational, and
strategic choices ultimately lie with Kyiv.
The United States and
Ukraine have at several points diverged in their assessments of the risk-reward
calculus of strikes on targets in Russia. Whereas Washington counseled caution,
particularly in using U.S. military materiel to hit Russian territory, and
encouraged a focus on operations that would degrade Russia’s occupying forces
or otherwise disrupt Russian military operations, Kyiv consistently sought
permission for deeper strikes against a broader range of targets, seeking to
weaken Russia’s military operations, impose economic and political costs on
Putin’s regime, and bolster Ukrainian morale. Although Ukraine generally
honored the limits the United States placed on it, it conducted the invasion of
the Kursk region using American equipment without Washington’s approval or
coordination. Kyiv also used its own drone capabilities, over which Western
governments could exert less control, to strike critical infrastructure and
targets thought to have symbolic importance for Moscow. This divergence is hardly
surprising; Ukraine was not concerned about provoking a Russian attack on NATO.
If anything, drawing the West directly into the war would be a boon for Kyiv.
But U.S. allies and
partners will not always be more risk-tolerant than Washington. If Russia had
employed nuclear weapons against Ukraine and Kyiv feared that follow-on strikes
might devastate its armed forces or kill hundreds of thousands of civilians in
population centers, Ukraine, in the nuclear cross hairs with much to lose,
might have proved less risk tolerant. The United States, by contrast, might
have felt that with the norm against nuclear use already shattered, its
leadership of the global nuclear order was at stake. As a result, Washington
might have been willing to take on more risk, including potentially entering
the conflict directly.
The United States
should recognize the inevitability of wartime friction with its
coalition partners and plan accordingly. The need for such planning is
particularly acute with respect to quasi-allies such as Ukraine and Taiwan, for
which the United States has devised no mature processes for peacetime planning
and wartime combined operations. But even when the United States comes to the
defense of a treaty ally and can assume more direct control, national interests
and leaders’ political incentives will invariably diverge. And because of the
proliferation of long-range weapons systems, U.S. allies will be independently
capable of inflicting meaningful damage on adversaries. Washington and its
partners can reduce friction by seeking alignment ahead of time on questions of
military strategy and escalation management.
With its treaty
allies, Washington should revisit joint military plans and test command
structures by conducting realistic war games and exercises. With Taipei, it
needs to develop a common understanding of how command and control would work
if the United States were to intervene to defend Taiwan, using war games,
alongside official and unofficial dialogues, to surface and resolve disagreements
over operational risk tolerance, escalation management, and war termination.
And with Ukraine, although Kyiv and Washington already cooperate successfully,
the United States should take advantage of any cease-fire to
jointly plan for how to fight renewed Russian aggression, especially if
Washington extends a security guarantee and NATO allies deploy forces in
Ukrainian territory.

Repairing a pipe at Darnytsia
Thermal Power Plant in Kyiv, February 2026
The Fires Next Time
The war in Ukraine
has been a tragic and costly tutorial in twenty-first-century conflict. Both
sides have mobilized and reshaped their societies, attacked a variety of
important targets, and suffered devastating casualties. The great-power wars of
the future could be even more destructive.
Yet these wars are
likely to remain limited rather than total, because all sides want to achieve
their objectives while containing costs and avoiding nuclear catastrophe. This
challenge is not novel; it was a hallmark of the Cold War. But the war in Ukraine
is a harbinger of a new era of limited war. Preparing for it demands a theory
of victory rooted in favorable escalation management, refined through constant
interrogation of escalation thresholds, and translated into refreshed U.S.
strategies, plans, and capabilities that expand options available to the
president. By showing that it can come to the defense of allies and partners at
an acceptable risk level, the United States will strengthen deterrence by
making its intervention more credible in the eyes of its adversaries.
Escalation management
is not only about avoiding nuclear war. The United States must also shape how
its adversaries fight under the nuclear shadow by threatening higher costs and
greater risk if they cross certain thresholds. Future wars between the United
States and Russia or China are likely to extend into their respective homelands
and into space and cyberspace, and Washington will need to figure out what
limits it ought to maintain on conflicts in those domains.
Planning is crucial.
But wars never unfold exactly as envisioned. The United States must hone its
skills in probing and tacit negotiation. Adversaries will try to constrain and
deter U.S. actions while seeing what they can get away with under U.S.-imposed limits
by testing the seriousness of American threats to escalate. At times, the
United States will need to intentionally escalate to an advantageous position.
At other times, slow escalation or self-restraint may be the best way to
discourage escalation by adversaries. In every case, policymakers must ensure
that the risks Washington takes are calculated and aimed at bringing a
potential conflict to an acceptable close. And in every case, Washington should
make the necessary investments in its strategic stockpiles, its defense
industrial base, and its national resilience against cyberattacks and economic
shocks to prevail in a protracted conflict. Such careful calibration will
require intense coordination with coalition partners fighting alongside the United
States. Whenever possible, Washington and its partners should carry out joint
exercises designed to align expectations in advance of a conflict. But
exquisite coordination on strategic messaging and signaling in the midst of
hostilities is also essential, particularly with Taiwan, where restrictions on
contact between Washington and Taipei constrain joint peacetime contingency
planning and operational integration.
Above all, the war in
Ukraine has shown the United States that it needs a new theory of victory for
wars that feature great-power aggressors attacking U.S. allies or quasi-allies.
Only by linking credible threats, calibrating escalation, and managing coalition
partnerships can Washington and its allies prevail in wars that remain limited
in intensity and scope but take a massive toll.
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