The Anglo-French Nuclear Frappe
- 4717
- Jul 10
- 3 min read
The saddest part of Keith Richard’s autobiography “Life” - is its midlife crisis where Mic and Keith try to show each other that they can go it alone. Both have solo tours that don’t amount to much, and realize their reputation and bank accounts were better off if they just put up with each other.
There are worse metaphors the for Anglo-French “nuclear supervision group” announced during President Macron’s recent jaunt to London. Granted, the previous Anglo‑French love‑in - the Lancaster House Treaties - produced more grand speeches and photo‑ops than tangible warheads. This time may be different, in 2010 Nor was a nuclear armed Russia trying to eat the entire continent. And American European policy wasn’t swinging between “we’ve got your back” and “wait, what administration are we in?”
Co-ordinating supervision is easier said than done. Britain is tethered to the U.S. via Trident missiles other kit and France is mincing about with a fully home‑baked Force de Frappe. Interoperability is a huge problem from the practical and mundane - systems have to work together and what about spare parts? - to meticulous legal and logistical work: aligning encryption standards, harmonizing patrol routines and, above all, reframing centuries‑old chains of command without blurring the red lines of national launch authority.
That last item may prove insurmountable. France and Britain haven’t been at war since 1815 when Britain won a close run thing against Napoleon at Waterloo. Since then the two have maintained a relationship based on practical tedium. Knowing there was no love lost, in World War I, a young Winston Churchill rallied his officers by telling them they were “fighting for Champagne” not France. In the next war, what the Free French were calling an army was entirely kitted out and funded by the UK, and yet still insisted on complete autonomy. If diplomatic history is any indicator, most of this coordination very well could stay on white papers and PowerPoint decks. Still, there’s symbolic power in both standing up to Moscow and Washington.
Non‑nuclear members of NATO —from Germany down to the Czech Republic — will be relieved that there’s another layer of defense between them and Russian strategic mischief. The arrangement, while intriguing and probably useful, is also potentially a bureaucratic nightmare. Another coordination cell means more meetings they’ll be asked to pay for while Germany is pursuing its own rapid rearmament and Spain is decidedly not.
But what does Uncle Sam think? On one hand, Washington will pat them both on the head as this is exactly what it wants. On the other, it will fret that this bilateral Franco‑British axis will complicate NATO’s single nuclear posture if London and Paris revert to the norm and disagree about everything. To avert duplication, fresh trilateral forums alongside NATO’s Nuclear Planning Group will have to be hashed out.
This may mark the dawn of a genuinely shared European deterrent (or frappe as the French say) or it might end up like mixing Scotch and Cognac in a fusion cocktail that’s bound to give you a headache. Yet, whatever happens in a post-Trump administration, for the time being both powers know that they are off Uncle Sam’s insurance at the precise moment of greatest danger. Which does tend to clear the head.
If Europe’s going to stand up without clinging to Uncle Sam, it might as well do so arm‑in‑arm. After all, in the nuclear game, nobody wants to play a solo. Someone might throw a whisky bottle at you.
Editor's Note: Sometimes we publish insights from collegues who wish to remain anonymous.
