The Iran war began with close operational cooperation between the United States and Israel. Although Washington sought broader support from its NATO allies, the conflict did not become a NATO war. Still, it offered a serious warning for the alliance.

As NATO prepares for its 2026 Summit in Ankara, the Iran war should be read as a stress test for a possible future confrontation with Russia. The conflict has exposed several questions the alliance can no longer avoid: whether NATO has sufficient ammunition stockpiles; whether current air defence systems can operate reliably and sustainably under prolonged pressure; what Ukraine has already taught the alliance about the rise of drone warfare; and how ongoing tensions between the United States and Europe affect NATO’s industrial production capacity, political stability and internal cohesion.

NATO remains a very powerful alliance. The real question, however, is whether NATO can utilize its “power on paper” in on-the-ground, attritional modern warfare against Russia or any other adversarial actors.   

Introduction

As NATO leaders prepare to meet in Ankara on 7–8 July 2026, the alliance faces a challenge greater than defence spending disputes or diplomatic turbulence. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the battlefield has offered valuable lessons about the evolution of modern warfare. Many of these lessons are now also visible in Iran and the wider Middle East, raising a central question: has NATO truly absorbed them and translated them into planning for future operational scenarios? This year’s summit may therefore become more than another diplomatic gathering; it could become a key moment that defines the architecture of European security for years to come. 

NATO did not enter the Iran war as an alliance, and the conflict should not be treated as a direct simulation of a NATO-Russia war. However, it revealed the kinds of pressures that would define such a confrontation: missile attacks, drone capacity, strained air defences, expensive interception systems, war economies, industrial pressure and political hesitation. 

Although the United States and Israel are seen as major military powers, military superiority did not automatically produce a quick strategic outcome. That is one of the most important lessons of the Iran war. In this sense, the conflict may not be NATO’s war, but it should still be understood as a warning for NATO.

The lesson is not that NATO lacks military power. On paper, NATO is still the most powerful military alliance in the world. The deeper problem is that power on paper does not automatically become usable power in a long war. Nor does it automatically become the key to victory.

Conventional military power ranking suggested that Ukraine would fall to Russia within days. A similar assumption often shapes debates about Iran: that overwhelming military superiority should quickly translate into political collapse. Yet Ukraine has already proven how misleading this logic can be. Modern warfare is not decided by raw power alone. An alliance may have advanced fighter jets, missile defence systems and a sophisticated bureaucratic structure. But if it cannot replenish ammunition, stop drones at a sustainable cost, maintain operational endurance and make rapid political decisions during the first days of a crisis, its material power becomes far more fragile than it appears.

For this reason, the Iran war matters far beyond the Middle East. It should be read as a stress test for NATO’s future battlefield and as a planning signal for the alliance. The type of war NATO says it is preparing for may arrive faster than NATO’s ability to adapt.

In simple terms, the Iran war is an X-ray of NATO’s lost time against Moscow.

The Issue Is Not Ammunition Shortage, but a Production Model Crisis

The first fracture is usually described as an ammunition shortage. But the problem goes deeper than that. NATO’s problem is not only that some stockpiles are limited. The deeper issue is that many countries in the alliance still think and produce according to a peacetime rhythm.

Russia, by contrast, has moved much closer to a wartime production model.

This distinction matters. In a short war, stockpiles may be enough. But in a long conventional war, production becomes a strategy in itself. The side that can replace artillery, missiles, ammunition, vehicles, drones, fighter jets, radars and air defence systems more quickly gains an advantage. This advantage may not be visible on the first day of war, but it becomes decisive over time.

Ukraine has already shown this. Since 2022, the war has consumed ammunition, equipment and military material at a scale many European states did not expect and were not prepared to sustain.

The Iran war pushes this issue even further. It shows how quickly expensive air defence systems can fall into a spiral of exhaustion and replenishment problems. A sophisticated air defence system may successfully destroy an incoming missile or drone. Tactically, this is a success. Strategically, however, the defender may still face a serious problem.

If every defensive shot costs far more than the attacking rocket, missile or drone, the war begins to work economically against the defender. In that case, even successful interception can become part of a larger strategic trap.

This logic is especially important for a Russia scenario. Moscow does not need to outright defeat NATO’s most advanced systems in a clean and symmetrical war. It can try to exhaust them. Large waves of drones, missiles and decoys can force NATO states to spend limited and extremely expensive defence systems.

Iran’s attacks against Israel and Russia’s attacks against Ukraine both show the growing importance of this logic. Large-scale drone and missile waves, especially against energy infrastructure, are no longer exceptional. They are becoming a central feature of modern warfare. Tehran and Moscow have both shown how saturation, pressure and repetition can be used as strategic tools.

This warning should be taken seriously in Ankara. Defence spending alone is not enough. NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte made a similar point during his visit to Türkiye’s defence industry in April 2026. He stressed that what will keep the alliance safe is not only money, but the ability to produce, sustain and deploy concrete capabilities such as air defence systems, drones, equipment, ammunition and other military assets.

This is one of the major lessons of the Iran war for NATO. The alliance does not only need more weapons. It needs a different production strategy. It needs to move closer to a war-economy logic.

NATO needs a defence industry that can scale under pressure, adapt quickly and replace losses. Otherwise, in a future crisis, NATO may remain powerful but lack the depth required to sustain that power.

The Fragility of Air Superiority in the Drone Age

The second fracture is conceptual. NATO has long believed that control of the air can shape the battlefield. In many past conflicts, Western air power was decisive. It could destroy command centres, suppress enemy air defences, strike energy infrastructure and give ground forces freedom of movement.

The Iran war, just like Ukraine, has shown the evolution of aerial warfare, one that relies heavily on drones and other Unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), rather than fighter aircrafts.  A new chapter that is increasingly shaped by saturation and sustainability.

Air defence saturation means overwhelming a defence system with a large number of incoming threats. These threats may include drones, missiles, rockets and decoys. The aim is not always to destroy every target. Sometimes the aim is to deceive radars, waste defensive ammunition, overload command systems and exhaust political patience.

This changes the logic of air defence. The question is no longer only: “Can this threat be stopped?” The more important question is: “Can this defence be repeated again and again at a sustainable cost?”

Ukraine has become the main laboratory of this new logic. Cheap drone warfare has reached an extraordinary scale. This is a direct lesson for NATO. The alliance should not rely only on expensive and advanced systems designed to defeat a limited number of high-value threats.

Cheaper interceptors are necessary. Mobile air defence units are necessary. Electronic warfare capacity, hardened infrastructure and layered defence are also necessary. In simpler terms, NATO must learn to defend not only against the most advanced missile, but also against the cheapest drone.

The Iran example made this problem even more visible. If even a regional war can create pressure on missile defence stocks, supply chains and allied coordination, then a wider confrontation with a threat such as Russia would be far more difficult.

Russia does not need to win the skies in the classical sense. It may be enough to keep the skies in a constant state of crisis. It can make defence expensive, repetitive and psychologically exhausting.

Therefore, “air superiority” is no longer enough as a strategic slogan. NATO must prepare for an age of air saturation and sustainable air defence. The alliance may still possess advanced aircraft and cutting-edge technologies. But if an opponent can fill the battlefield with cheap and continuous systems, that superiority becomes fragile.

In such a war, endurance may matter more than perfection.

NATO’s Deepest Weakness Is Not Military, but Political

NATO’s deepest weakness is the movement from collective defence toward collective distrust. Alliances do not fight only with weapons. They also fight with trust, common decisions, shared interests and a common strategic mind.

NATO’s biggest problem is not simply a lack of tanks, aircraft or missiles. The deeper problem is that the countries within the alliance live in the same world but often pursue different interests. Facing Russia, China’s rise, Middle Eastern crises, energy insecurity and migration pressures, the alliance often struggles to produce a common strategic language.

The Iran war is not only a military warning for NATO. It is also a political mirror. It reveals long-standing fragilities inside the alliance.

The United States has long argued that Europe does not carry a fair share of the defence burden. At the same time, Europe increasingly worries that American interests do not always overlap with its own. The leadership rivalry between France and Germany, Italy’s different priorities from the Paris-Berlin line, trust problems between Türkiye and Greece, and Türkiye’s exclusion from the European Union despite its military importance all point to deeper political tensions inside the Western security architecture.

This shows that NATO is not as homogeneous as it appears from the outside. NATO is a military alliance, but its members have different geopolitical priorities, threat perceptions and strategic cultures.

Given their forced incorporation into the Soviet Union, the Baltic states have repeatedly warned against Russian militarisation and expansionism. Türkiye also brings a historical layer to this threat perception. Its view of Russia is shaped not only by today’s crises in the Black Sea, Syria, the Caucasus and the Eastern Mediterranean, but also by the long rivalry between the Ottoman Empire and Tsarist Russia. For Ankara, Russia is not a distant theoretical threat, but a recurring strategic reality. France supports European strategic autonomy. Germany, partly because of its historical experience, has long been more cautious about military power, although debates over rearmament and Bundeswehr modernisation have become increasingly central in Berlin. Italy, meanwhile, often approaches security through the Mediterranean, migration and energy rather than through a strictly Paris-Berlin-centred perspective. 

These differences are normal. Every alliance contains divergences of interest. But today’s crises develop very quickly. Drone attacks, cyber operations, energy sabotage, missile crises and border provocations may require decisions not within days, but within hours or even minutes.

In such an environment, every strategic division inside NATO can slow decision-making. This is exactly what Russia may try to exploit. The key issue is not only how many weapons NATO has. It is whether NATO can use those weapons collectively, quickly and with political will.

For this reason, NATO’s first battlefield may not always be Eastern Europe. A cyberattack, an ambiguous provocation in the Baltic region, a naval crisis in the Black Sea, sabotage against energy infrastructure or escalation in the Eastern Mediterranean would test NATO politically before testing it militarily.

The real question is this: can NATO act as one alliance at such a moment?

That is why NATO’s first battlefield may not be Eastern Europe. It may be the meeting table in Brussels.

Why Ankara Matters

The Ankara Summit will take place at an important time and in an important location. Türkiye is not only a symbolic host. It is a bridge between NATO’s southern flank, the Black Sea, the Middle East and European security.

Türkiye is also an important ally because of its defence industry, drones, electronic systems, air defence capabilities, missile capacity and active and reserve personnel.

This gives the Ankara Summit a strategic meaning beyond protocol. If NATO wants to show that it has learned from Ukraine and the Iran war, Ankara is an appropriate place to do so. The summit may offer a glimpse into the security architecture Europe will need over the next decade.

The summit should not only produce another statement of unity or simple sentences of solidarity for the press. It should answer a harder question: what kind of alliance must NATO become in order to deter Russia and other potential threats in 2026 and beyond?

The answer must begin with production. NATO does not only need promises of higher defence budgets. It needs a real war production and economic strategy. Coordinated ammunition production, faster procurement and a more resilient defence industry are necessary.

The second priority is air defence. Europe needs more interception systems. But it also needs cheaper and more flexible systems to deal with attacks designed to waste or neutralise expensive defence assets.

The third and most important priority is political consensus. NATO must develop faster solidarity and decision-making mechanisms, especially for ambiguous crises below the threshold of open war.

The fourth priority is Ukraine. Ukraine should be seen not only as a country receiving aid, but also as a source of military learning and a living field of modern warfare. Ukraine is fighting an industrial, drone-intensive and attritional war that many NATO armies were not seriously prepared for. Its experience with drones, electronic warfare, layered air defence and rapid battlefield adaptation should be placed at the centre of NATO planning.

This learning process should not be limited to Ukraine. Ankara, as the host, also represents a NATO member that has dealt for many years with terrorism, cross-border security threats, irregular warfare and low-intensity conflict.

Türkiye’s experience in counter-terrorism, unmanned aerial vehicles, intelligence-field coordination and asymmetric threats should be included more seriously in NATO’s new security planning. The Ankara Summit may be an opportunity to show that NATO cannot rely only on a Western Europe-centred understanding of security. It must also draw on the experience of allies that have faced different kinds of conflict on different fronts.

Conclusion: NATO Is Powerful, But Is It Ready Enough?

The Iran war does not prove that NATO is powerless. It points to something more specific and more dangerous: NATO may be powerful in the wrong rhythm.

The alliance has budgets, institutions and advanced systems. Yet it still struggles with the speed, scale and political unity required by modern high-intensity war.

Since 2022, Russia has adapted to drone production, industrial mobilisation and, most importantly, a war-economy model. NATO has also adapted, but in a slower and more uneven way. The result is a dangerous time gap between strategic warnings and practical preparation.

This is why the Ankara Summit matters. It will either be remembered as another meeting where NATO repeated familiar promises, or as the moment when the alliance finally accepted the real meaning of modern war.

The Iran war gave NATO a warning. Ukraine offered NATO a battlefield guide. Russia remains the threat that may test whether NATO has learned the lesson in time.

The question is no longer whether NATO is powerful. The question is whether NATO can turn its power on paper into ready, usable and sustainable power in reality.