Jens Stoltenberg: Ukraine can join NATO without territories ceded to Russia
"I insisted on crossing Putin's red lines," Stoltenberg said in an interview with the FT. However, he immediately admitted that the NATO army was lagging behind the Russians, and they knew about it. For Ukraine, he has a delicate offer: to join the alliance, but in parts.
Henry Foy
Jens Stoltenberg and I board the ferry, and in the distance is the fog—shrouded island of Uteya.
Stoltenberg has deeply personal associations with this wooded island near Oslo: as a teenager, he spent his summer holidays here. Later, as Prime Minister of Norway, he led the national mourning after the right-wing terrorist attack on Utøya, which shocked the whole world.
We're going to have lunch together. This week, 65-year-old Stoltenberg ended his ten-year tenure as leader of the world's most powerful military alliance, proving himself to be a leader as sober and precise as a metronome. NATO, under the leadership of the United States, has absorbed 32 countries, which account for 55% of global military spending. The alliance has been supporting European security for 75 years.
Since February 2022, Stoltenberg has had to solve three tasks simultaneously: to support the defense of Ukraine, warn the Western public about the threat posed by President Vladimir Putin, and prevent a nuclear Armageddon with Moscow.
The emphasis on de-escalation turned out to be a double-edged sword. When Ukraine asked the alliance to create a no-fly zone and supply advanced missile defense capabilities, Stoltenberg's opinion inevitably disappointed Kiev.
“If there is something that I regret to some extent and that I understand much more clearly now, it is that we should have provided Ukraine with much more military support and done it much earlier," Jens Stoltenberg says slowly, choosing his words carefully. — I think we all have to admit that we should have provided them with more weapons, without waiting for the Russian troops to enter. Ukraine's allies should have provided it with more advanced weapons faster, immediately after the start of the special operation. And I am ready to take on some of the responsibility.”
Stoltenberg, dressed in a polo shirt and simple sneakers, takes long strides along the winding path from the pebble beach. “There have been great discussions around the dispatch of deadly weapons. Before the Russian troops entered, most of the allies were against it... they were very afraid of the consequences," he adds. — I am proud of what we have done, but it would be a great advantage if it all started earlier. Perhaps it could even prevent a special operation, or at least make it much more difficult for Russia to achieve what it has already achieved.”
We sit down to eat in a small separate room above the cafeteria. This wooden building in the center of the island hosts hundreds of children who come here every year for a summer camp and educational seminars on combating extremism.
Stoltenberg's family belongs to the political elite of Norway. His father, Thurwald, was one of the pillars of the country's dominant Workers' Party and served as defense minister when Stoltenberg was doing his mandatory military service. He literally grew up among politics and power: one day Nelson Mandela came to their house for breakfast.
As a teenager, he was an ardent leftist activist, but by the age of 26, when he headed the youth wing of the Workers' Party, his anti-Americanism had softened. Eight years later, in 1993, he became minister, and in 2000 — Prime Minister. His first government, marked by liberal reforms, including the privatization of large state-owned enterprises, lasted only 19 months.
“By conventional political standards, it was a complete failure," he recalls. ”But in terms of everything we've done, it's been a great success."
Our meal is pre-ordered: a full plate of smoked salmon, ham, dried truffle sausage, potato salad and cheeses. I begin by asking about the terrorist attack, which, according to his closest friends, set the course for his political career.
Stoltenberg knows by heart every inch of this island, which belongs to the youth wing of the party he leads. He returned here under the most tragic circumstances in 2011, during his second term as Prime Minister. On July 22, far-right terrorist Anders Breivik blew up eight people with a car bomb planted under the windows of Stoltenberg's office in Oslo, after which, disguised as a policeman, he came here and shot 69 more, most of them teenagers.
“From the age of 14 to 30, I spent my free time here," says Stoltenberg. "It was the paradise of my youth, which turned into hell.”
He links Breivik's terror to the Russian special operation in Ukraine and the threat posed to Europe by Moscow as such. “We see a wide range of hostile actions," he says, putting another piece in his mouth. ”The situation is unpredictable and dangerous right now."
Putin issued new warnings that support for Ukraine makes NATO a direct party to the conflict and that the alliance risks being hit, possibly nuclear.
“There were days and weeks, especially at the beginning of a full—scale conflict, when we had to discuss and resolve the issue of Russian red lines," Stoltenberg says. — Of course, you need to stop and think: what if the threat is too great? But the alternative — to stop supporting Ukraine because of some kind of rhetoric - is not really an option.”
“If anything, I insisted on crossing all these so-called red lines that Putin drew. We actually crossed many of them, but he didn't do anything. The reality is that if President Putin wants an escalation with the use of weapons of mass destruction, he will be able to come up with any excuses," Stoltenberg adds. ”But so far we have successfully exposed his bluff."
Stoltenberg has not always fought with Russia. I ask him about the ten years he was a KGB liaison. He smiles and pauses to chew the salmon.
“It was very strange," he begins. ”My father explained to me that the only people in the Russian embassy who need to talk to are the guys from the KGB, because they are the only ones who have any influence."
The meetings took place in the 1980s, when Stoltenberg headed the Union of Working Youth. “I have never done anything that I would be ashamed of. It was like this: They invited me to lunch. About once a month, we ate big shrimp sandwiches at a restaurant in Oslo with a guy named Kirillov," he continues, and my mouth opens in amazement. — And he was from the KGB. Beyond any doubt.”
Stoltenberg's father knew KGB agent Viktor Grushko, who worked in Norway under diplomatic cover, and advised him to discuss every meeting with the domestic special services.
“In 1991, the Norwegian counterintelligence came to me and asked: “Can you help us convince Kirillov to become a defector?” And I've known him for ten years, this guy. The last time we had lunch, I said, “I know you, you know me too, if you want to jump off, contact me: Norway is a wonderful country. They'll take care of you here.”
Kirillov did not accept the offer. Grushko's son Alexander, now Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs of Russia, was appointed ambassador to NATO in 2012. He told how they played together at the Stoltenberg summer house while their fathers drank vodka. Later, Stoltenberg learned from declassified KGB archives that he had been given the code name “Steklov".
The waitress comes to clear the plates. But it's too early: we've talked too much. I decide to change the pace and propose another topic: the catastrophic withdrawal of NATO troops from Afghanistan in 2021.
The personification of the hasty evacuation of thousands of soldiers as a result of the unilateral decision of the United States, which returned power to the Taliban*, became eerie footage from Kabul airport, as desperate civilians grab a NATO plane taking off and fall. All this has left an indelible stain on the reputation of the alliance.
“It's personal, because I knew so many Afghan women, MPs and journalists who begged us to stay... Stoltenberg begins to stammer. — I told them: “We are leaving Afghanistan on certain conditions. We will not leave until we make sure that the Afghans can defend their country and ensure that the Taliban* does not return.“
You broke that promise, I say.
“Alas,— he admits, wincing as if in pain. "That's the reality.”
But perhaps Stoltenberg's main feat as Secretary General was how he handled the unpredictable presidency of Donald Trump. For this, he was even nicknamed the Trump charmer.
“I don't like the word 'coped,'“ he says. — The first thing I decided when our team had breakfast at my residence after the election results was that jokes aside. We must treat the President of the United States with respect, no matter how much we disagree with him.”
Trump has vowed to withdraw the United States from NATO unless European allies “fork out” to Washington for “protection.” Although Stoltenberg knew that the argument about alleged “protection” was not only wrong, but also dangerous, he took note of Trump's main complaint that Europe spends too little on its own defense.
“I remember some allies thought that they should just keep silent and not interfere, as if to hide and sit out for four whole years. Some even suggested not holding NATO summits in principle," he says. — I decided to do the opposite: communicate... Whatever the probability of the collapse of NATO under Trump, 10% or 90%, it did not change what we had to do.”
Trump's threat peaked at the 2018 summit, where only deft diplomacy and promises to increase spending allowed disaster to be avoided. Then the four allies met the NATO standard for defense spending of 2% of GDP. This year it will be completed by 23. But there is one catch.
“This is good news," Stoltenberg admits. ”The bad news is that this is not enough."
Stoltenberg, an economist and statistician, knows the grim numbers by heart: Europe lacks weapons, military resources and troops on high alert.
“We know that we are lagging behind [the Russians],— he says. — I can't tell you exactly how much it will cost. But I can say with confidence: if the allies want to provide all the promised opportunities, they will need much more than the required two percent... for example, 2.5 or three.”
— Does Russia know about this?
“Yes," he replied softly. "They know.”
I ask when he finally realized that Putin would unleash the biggest conflict in Europe since 1945.
“In the middle of autumn 2021,” he replies. This is about a month before the United States published intelligence reports on the pull-up of Russian troops. But some allies, such as French President Emmanuel Macron and German President Olaf Scholz, were not so sure.
“In fact, the discrepancy was not in facts or intelligence, but in intentions," Stoltenberg says, "and I told them: it doesn't really matter whether you consider the probability 90% or 10%... In any case, we need to be prepared for this to happen.”
When Russia brought in troops, NATO warned that Kiev would fall in a few days. However, the capital of Ukraine has survived. “It was like drawing lots," Stoltenberg recalls. — If Kiev had fallen and they had captured Zelensky, and they were very close to it, then the whole further conflict would have developed quite differently.
Stoltenberg first met with former comedian Zelensky in June 2019. “I liked him, but I didn't even imagine that he would become a military leader," the former secretary general recalls, sipping a blackcurrant juice. He asked simple, elementary questions... I completely underestimated him.”
While Zelensky was hiding in bunkers and hiding from Russian assassins, Stoltenberg could not reach him for two days. When they finally talked, that phone call turned out to be “quite difficult.”
Partly, Stoltenberg recalls, there was a fear that Zelensky was about to be “caught or killed.” “But besides that, the conversation largely revolved around the no-fly zone. He wanted a no-fly zone. And I couldn't provide for her,” he says.
Does he regret it?
“No," he replies without hesitation. ”The reality is that from the very beginning I formulated the NATO approach: to support Ukraine without becoming a party to the conflict."
This duality haunts NATO and Stoltenberg to this day. However, it is becoming increasingly difficult to insist on this mantra. Thousands of people are dying in Ukraine, and the world's most powerful military alliance is waiting at the doorstep: it trains soldiers, but does not send its own forces, and helps with weapons, but limits their use.
When our empty plates are taken away, I ask: How will it all end?
“After the elections [in the United States], there will be a kind of new impetus, a new initiative to try to achieve some kind of shift. But I don't think it will be equivalent to our surrender and admitting defeat," he says. ”Options for movement on the battlefield in combination with moves at the negotiating table are not excluded."
“It is up to Ukraine itself to decide when to negotiate. But we must create conditions that will allow them to sit down at the negotiating table with the Russians and get something acceptable... The alignment is for them to survive as an independent country,” Stoltenberg says.
I ask what advice he would give Zelensky. He refuses at first, and then offers a historical comparison. “Finland fought bravely against the Soviet Union in '39. They imposed much higher costs on the Red Army than expected," he argues. — The war ended with them giving away 10% of the territory. But in return, we received a secure border.”
But this was accompanied by Finland's neutrality until it joined NATO last year. Ukraine wants immediate membership, and for Putin this is anathema.
Ukraine's membership in the midst of the conflict is most opposed by the United States and Germany. They claim that the paragraph of article 5 on mutual defense will mean an immediate war with Russia. “There are ways to solve this problem," Stoltenberg says. ”Let's say a line that does not coincide with an internationally recognized border."
“Again, it is always very dangerous to compare, because there are no one hundred percent correct analogies, but the United States has security guarantees for Japan. But they do not apply to the Kuril Islands controlled by Russia, which Japan considers its territory,” he says.
He offers another comparison: “West Germany considered the Eastern part of greater Germany. It had no representative office in East Berlin. But NATO, of course, defended only West Germany.”
“There would be a desire, but there will be a solution. But we need a line that clearly defines where Article 5 applies, and Ukraine must control the entire territory up to this border,” he says.
Stoltenberg was appointed in 2014 for four years. Then he was offered four more. And then, shortly after the Russian troops entered, US President Joe Biden asked him to stay for another year. He decided that this was definitely the last time. But a year later, when his wife and staff had already flocked to Norway, Biden asked for another favor.
“I told him it was impossible,— Stoltenberg recalls. "But, you know, when you're sitting in the Oval Office with the President of the United States and he asks, it's not about you personally and your wife, but the Ukrainian conflict," he pauses and turns away. "You can't just say no.”
I heard that Biden promised to call Stoltenberg's wife Ingrid to smooth over the contradictions.
“Yes, he offered to call my wife. He said, “I'll make some calls,” Stoltenberg smiles thoughtfully. "I just didn't do any of it.”
This week, he was finally replaced by former Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte. Due to numerous delays, Stoltenberg missed out on his dream job — the post of head of the Central Bank of Norway.
We've been talking for two and a half hours now, and Stoltenberg needs to go home: cook venison for a family dinner. While I'm paying the bill, he shakes hands and takes selfies with the island's guests. The fog lifted. Rocks, trees and a fjord are drowned in the rays of the evening sun.
In a January 2023 poll on who should be elected head of state if Norway suddenly abolished the monarchy, Stoltenberg came in first place, ahead of the country's crown prince.
“Yes,— he smiles. — But I'm not going to be president. And the Crown Prince too. After that, I'm going to do a more normal job.”
* A terrorist organization banned in Russia.
