Hawks in The High North: The emerging Nordic cluster in NATO

Domestic Alignments and Allied Posture Transformation

We develop a new framework for how small-state protégés adapt their allied postures following security shocks. First, we argue that what is broadly described as “consensus” in the small-states literature reflects an elite–public alignment of preferences that must be generated and then sustained by elites. Where this consensus becomes embedded in political parties and in narratives of national identity (for example, where dovish practices such as pro-disarmament efforts are entrenched as part of national identity and as the special moral responsibility of the small state), it tends to become more robust, even in the face of disruptions to the security environment. Where the consensus instead rests on a necessary accommodation of adversaries or patrons, with a weaker connection to narratives of state formation and survival against external threats, it is more vulnerable to disruption.

For small consensus-oriented democracies, resistance on the part of elites to demands made by the public likely carries a higher penalty than in other democratic systems. This suggests that smaller states may be subject to higher audience costs than other democratic systems (Fearon, 1994). As a result, a sharp divergence between elite and public opinion that upends the consensus can produce more rapid and more transformational posture changes than these elites would otherwise have preferred. This effect should be strongest where the gap between public and elite preferences is largest, which is more likely to arise in states where the consensus is more weakly anchored.

We also argue that there is a spillover effect that emerges as close neighbours in subregional complexes change their allied postures. In the Nordic region, this spillover builds on existing “top-down” measures at the elite level, such as forms of Nordic cooperation invoking shared history and narratives of “brethren” states. There is also a bottom-up dynamic, as illustrated during the Nordic applications for EU membership in the 1990s, when Norwegian politicians feared a “Swedish wave” sweeping the Norwegian ballots. In the context of allied postures, however, a distinct logic is at work: the adoption of more hawkish options by one state makes it costlier for another to maintain dovish policies, such as nonalignment and unilateral restrictions, in the face of a clear adversarial threat.

In the next sections, we apply this framework to the Nordic allied postures. Doing so, we draw on original data collected through elite interviews, the analysis of public speeches, and a comparison of how Nordic states have adapted their integration in the extended deterrence enterprise (ie., in forming and adapting agreements with allies and changes in domestic legal frameworks). Eight semi-structured interviews were conducted with Norwegian, Swedish, and Finnish analysts and participants directly involved in policymaking or recommendations (see Appendix A: List of Interviews). Interviewees were selected through snowball sampling with a focus on balancing prominent analyst perspectives with actors closely engaged with governmental decision-making. We pair these interviews with data from other published work drawing on interviews across the Nordic region (Olesen, 2026). By combining these insights with popular opinion surveys and historical analysis, we analyse how new alignments between elite and popular preferences affect these choices, and how this relates to the varying pace and scope of how the Nordic countries adapt to a transforming security environment.

Small States and Extended Deterrence Choices: Existing Insights

Smaller states bordering large nuclear-armed adversaries face a notoriously difficult balancing act of navigating entanglement risks while managing security dilemmas (Tamnes, 1986; Holst, 1966; Snyder, 1984). Small states must also balance competing pressures from allies, the public, and adversaries in crafting defence and security policy (Braut-Hegghammer, 2025; Tamnes, 2019). Within the alliance theory literature, threat-driven integration generates broad predictions for protégé choices (Walt, 1987) yet does not explain variation among different protégés facing the same threat. Nor does the existing literature explain how allies respond to perceived threats or demands of territorial annexation by their patron. When junior allies doubt the commitment of their patron, or face territorial annexation demands, they do not necessarily opt to exit alliances or opt for a similar response (Castillo & Downes, 2020).

Existing theories posit interactive effects between a state’s security environment and its nuclear choices. First, Saunders (2019) emphasizes the key role of elites in shaping this process. There should be greater scope for domestic politics when there is uncertainty about a patron’s protection under a nuclear umbrella (Saunders, 2019). As threats increase the “salience” of nuclear issues, the influence of domestic actors can still vary (Saunders, 2019, p. 169). It follows that we should expect larger leeway for domestic politics influencing the choices of the Nordic countries since 2022, given the growing uncertainty regarding the U.S. commitment to its European allies, with elites in a proactive role in channelling this influence.

While Nordic nuclear choices received considerable scholarly attention during the Cold War, interest dwindled in the post-Cold War era. Notwithstanding the rich literature on the evolution of individual Nordic cases (see, for example, Tamnes, 1986; Bjørgulfsdottir, 1989; Tamnes, 2019; Hilde, 2019; Weislander, 2021; Pesu & Juntunen, 2023; Bjur, 2024; Pesu & Iso-Markku, 2024; Sörenson, 2024), the existing literature does not explicitly address the dynamic effects of allied posture choices in a transformed threat environment. Recent contributions challenge outdated perceptions in the historical and political science literatures about these cases (Jonter & Rosengren, 2015; Jonter, 2016; Braut-Hegghammer, 2019). The nuclear policy dilemmas of Norway and Denmark, longstanding Nordic NATO members, have received careful historical attention (Holst, 1966; Tamnes, 1986; Bjerga & Skogrand, 2006; Agger & Michelsen, 2006; Agger & Wolsgaard, 2006), while a newer body of work examines contemporary developments in the region (Pesu & Iso-Markku, 2022; Elgin & Lanoszka, 2023; Juntunen et al., 2024; Juntunen & Rosengren, 2024; Spohr, 2025; Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025; Olesen, 2026). The shift from Cold War “screening” of the patron’s demands by junior allies, intended to reduce the risk of entanglement, to containing a patron that makes territorial annexation demands on an ally has not, however, yet been examined in empirical or conceptual terms in either the Nordic or the alliance literature.

The Nordic countries have been described as a regional sub-complex facing distinct challenges (Creutz et al., 2021). However, their choices have been described both in terms of competition and cooperation. Røren (2019) shows that the Nordic states engage in friendly rivalry, while Haugevik and Sending (2020) find that the Nordic states have maintained different foreign policy niches despite the stated emphasis on cooperation. Regional clusters have been explored in other contexts, among them the Visegrád Group and the Frugal Four (Eihmanis, 2024; Schoeller & Falkner, 2021). As the Nordic region emerges as a distinct deterrence cluster within NATO, prospects for greater cooperation are often emphasized while the potential constraints associated with varying national strategic cultures have received limited attention.

Previous scholarship has explored how elites and public opinion influence nuclear policy-making. For example, several studies examine how public opinion enables and constrains policymakers’ decisions on nuclear weapons, finding a lack of support for nuclear strikes in specific scenarios (Allison et al., 2022; Sukin, 2020). Recent work shows how public opinion can shape elite preferences on nuclear sharing (Onderco, 2026) or use (Smetana & Onderco, 2025; Smetana & Onderco, 2022; Smetana et al., 2024).

The scope for domestic-level factors to shape nuclear choices is likely to vary across regime types and to reflect the norms governing foreign and security policy in different political systems. The literature on foreign and security policymaking in small states brings additional insight into the relative impact of domestic political factors on these choices. As several recent studies highlight, small states shape their foreign and security policies according to consensus principles (Braut-Hegghammer, 2025; Haugevik & Leira, 2024; Larsen, 2005; Miles, 2006). The collusion tactics that smaller states adopt against patrons and domestic critics, however, remain underexplored.

The nuclear literature frequently refers to “dovish” and “hawkish” positions in debate on nuclear deterrence and strategy (Allison et al., 1985). Broadly speaking, hawkish positions tend to be associated with deterrence optimism, escalation optimism, and an emphasis on qualitative or quantitative competition to address security challenges. Dovish positions have tended to be more pessimistic regarding deterrence, instead emphasizing risk, and to favour policy-imposed “guardrails” to manage competition and risk-taking; they frequently centre risk reduction, among other options, to mitigate deterrence failure. Nordic states have generally been described as aligning with these more dovish positions (Brodén et al., 2025). It remains an open question why and when individuals or states move between these categories, and what the consequences may be.

In the following sections, we explore the Nordic shift from dovish to more hawkish trajectories. Across these shifts, we trace both how Nordic elites have historically sought to navigate changes in their security environment, and variances in alignments between elite and popular opinions about allied integration. In the final section, we analyse the drivers of the Nordic deterrence cluster’s uneven and unexpected reorientation towards more explicitly hawkish postures since 2022.

Dovish Trajectories, 1949–1991

From the early stages of the Cold War, Nordic elites and publics aligned along dovish lines. In this section, we examine the origins of these national positions and how they became entrenched during the Cold War, finding variation between states where these alignments became a feature of party politics and national identity as opposed to others where this was an adaptation to adversarial demands and pressure. This section also demonstrates how elites sought to collude behind the scenes during their bargaining with the United States and the emerging NATO alliance, with mixed results.

After the Second World War, Norway, Denmark, and Iceland joined NATO as founding members, while Sweden maintained a policy of nonalignment and Finland adopted “Finlandization” – a strategy, discussed below, necessitated by the obligation to reassure the Soviet Union. Two nuclear aspirants rolled back their exploratory programmes amid elite concerns about domestic opposition, including opposition in parliament: Norway, which shelved its nascent nuclear programme following its entry into NATO, and Sweden, which rolled back their exploratory programs following elite concerns about domestic opposition, including in parliament, and a behind-the-scenes understanding that it would be protected by the U.S. nuclear umbrella (Braut-Hegghammer, 2019; Jonter, 2016; Saunders, 2019). Across all five Nordic countries, elite reservations and popular unease about nuclear weapons steered declared nuclear policy in dovish directions over the following decades.

Norway, Iceland and Denmark negotiated bilateral agreements with the United States regarding their participation in the U.S. extended nuclear deterrence enterprise of the early 1950s. Norway declared a series of principles for allied “base policy” to reassure the Soviet Union, before negotiating a secret 1952 bilateral agreement with the United States on allied reinforcements and command arrangements (Skogrand & Tamnes, 2001, p. 75). In 1951, Denmark and Iceland concluded bilateral agreements with the United States regarding their participation and integration in U.S. extended deterrence (Bjorgulfsdottir, 1989). For these countries, coordinating demands behind the scenes was central both for negotiating with the United States and for managing domestic opposition. Their negotiations had mixed outcomes, however: both Denmark and Iceland had recurring concerns about possible (and, in the case of Denmark, actual) U.S. violations of these agreements.

In Norway, dovish policies, adopted as a necessary accommodation of adversarial concerns and elite reservations, became entrenched in domestic consensus and in foreign policy “self-images”– that is, questions of identity. First, because of its exposed geographical position, Norway was obliged to balance security measures with efforts to reduce the risk of escalation and to influence Soviet behaviour (Holst, 1966). It pursued a strategy of “integration and screening”, seeking protection from its allies while reducing the risk of entanglement by, for example, ensuring that it would not become the point from which NATO launched an attack against the Soviet Union (Tamnes, 1986). In line with domestic dovish nuclear preferences, Norway ruled out stationing nuclear weapons in peacetime and, during the 1960s, mothballed the option of equipping Norwegian forces with nuclear weapons in crisis or war (Skogrand & Tamnes, 2001). Measures adopted ostensibly to reassure the Soviet Union were occasionally geared towards Norwegian domestic audiences and cleavages within the Labour Party. In 1975, for example, Prime Minister Trygve Bratteli stated that Norway assumed allied ships did not carry nuclear weapons; following confusion and questioning from allies, references to the “Bratteli doctrine” were removed from diplomatic clearances of ships (Børresen, 2011). Dovish policies took on a domestic political logic and became “totemic,” leading to increasingly complex measures and self-imposed restrictions over the course of the Cold War (Braut-Hegghammer, 2025; Hilde, 2019).

Denmark, like Norway, was an early outlier in NATO due to its self-imposed restriction against hosting allied nuclear weapons during peacetime. As a frontline democracy, Danish popular and elite reservations shaped these dovish preferences. With regard to Greenland, Danish governments turned a blind eye to U.S. nuclear operations and deployments in contradiction of this policy, until the 1968 Thule accident led to major adjustments following domestic concern (Burr, 2025). During the 1980s, domestic preferences aligned in leading the Danish coalition government to reserve itself from certain NATO positions, earning it the undesirable moniker of a “footnote country” (Petersen, 2012). This “footnote” policy was driven by a coalition government and an increasingly nuclear-sceptical population that effectively forced the government’s hand, moving the country away from NATO “mainstream” positions, at the cost of political capital in the alliance. As public opinion and ruling coalitions aligned on the nuclear question, the government accepted the strategic and political costs of the resulting policy despite external pressure – a clear case of a dovish trajectory driven by domestic alignment.

The Icelandic case reveals a more difficult set of elite manoeuvres in the face of robust domestic opposition, and the importance of the contagion effect in navigating these constraints. For Iceland, Norway and Denmark’s decisions to join the alliance were “a relief as it made it much easier for Iceland to follow the same course” (Bjorgulfsdottir, 1989, p. 81). The Nordic prime ministers were in close dialogue behind the scenes, and their private correspondence of 1949 shows that the Icelandic choice hinged on those of its Nordic neighbours (Bjorgulfsdottir, 1989). There was consensus across the three ruling parties that Iceland could join NATO “provided that no foreign troops or military bases would be maintained in the country during peacetime,” echoing the Norwegian position on foreign bases (Bjorgulfsdottir, 1989, p. 83). Iceland opted not to include a formal base provision in the agreement, given U.S. concerns that this would lead the other Nordic countries to make similar formal demands and reservations (Bjorgulfsdottir, 1989). Icelandic governments subsequently feared that the United States would ignore these provisions, and repeatedly asked American representatives whether the U.S. brought nuclear weapons to Iceland (Burr, 2016).

As the Icelandic case reflects, the Nordic states developed their integration into extended deterrence in close collusion. Over the next decades, possible changes to their allied postures were assessed based on their likely consequences for the changing Nordic balance (Brundtland, 1966): Norway and Sweden’s restraint on integration with the United States, for example, was a pragmatic decision made in the interests of a balance minimizing Soviet pressure on Finland (Dalsjö, 2013).

During the Cold War, Sweden’s foreign-policy elites affirmed non-alignment while the military enthusiastically pursued cooperation with the West. Sweden’s neutrality, underpinned by a domestic ideological commitment, became intertwined with a sense of moral goodness (Dalsjö, 2013). The objectives of nuclear disarmament were adopted across a range of Swedish civil society organizations, including the youth wings of political parties, peace movements, and the feminist movement, and was championed by prominent figures such as Alva Myrdal and Olof Palme. This entrenched these dovish objectives in both the elite and public spheres. Behind the scenes, however, Sweden cooperated in Western defence through intelligence sharing (Moores, 2002; Petersson, 2023) and the use of British and U.S. engines in its fighter jets (Holst, 1984), amounting to an “unofficial alliance” in which the United States would come to Sweden’s aid if it were attacked by the Soviet Union (Elgin & Lanoszka, 2023). American forces could likely have relied on access to Swedish infrastructure in the event of a NATO conflict with the Soviet Union, potentially including the stationing of U.S. weapons on Swedish soil.

The Swedish elite–public consensus focused on declaratory aspects of policy that would apply only in peacetime. Sweden served as a “shield” between Western Europe and the Soviet Union, offering assurance that NATO’s routes would be protected in a crisis and providing additional control over Soviet naval access to the Atlantic and the Arctic through the Baltic Sea (Andrén, 2024). This left central aspects of Swedish policy on the role of allied nuclear weapons in a crisis or war opaque, since the two strands – the declared line of foreign policy and the behind-the-scenes understanding with the United States – were otherwise difficult to reconcile. Swedish conflict scenarios, moreover, reflected the assumption of nonalignment to an absurd degree throughout the Cold War (Dalsjö, 2024). In other words, the Swedish consensus was strong enough to shape even planning for crisis and war.

Finland’s dovish consensus emerged from a rather different set of circumstances. It was a necessary adaptation to Finland’s proximity to the Soviet Union and accordingly rested on more brittle foundations than that of the other Nordic countries. After the loss of 12% of Finnish territory to the Soviet Union, Finland adopted a position of strict formal neutrality, known as “Finlandization” (Arter, 2023), to prevent Soviet intervention and to preserve its independence after the Second World War (Aunesluoma & Rainio-Niemi, 2016; Forsberg & Pesu, 2016). The 1948 Finland–USSR Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance Treaty ruled out joining NATO, or any Western military alliances (Gricius & Fakhoury, 2024). Finlandization began to soften during the 1980s, reflecting perestroika in the Soviet Union and a generational shift in Finland (Arter, 2023). However, public discussions of nuclear weapons focused on arms control and non-proliferation, with deterrence still considered a taboo subject (Piirainen, Interview, August 2025).

Cold War Nordic policies emphasized low tension, unilateral restrictions, the objectives of disarmament, confidence-building, and risk reduction. But there were significant differences in terms of how these dovish principles and practices emerged and the extent to which they became entrenched among elites and publics. As frontline NATO allies, Norway and Denmark carved out unilateral positions and reservations that became entrenched among elites and publics during the Cold War. While Sweden and Finland adopted dovish policies, the mechanisms by which elites sought to entrench these preferences and built a consensus anchoring their declared policies varied in several dimensions, leading to a more precarious anchoring of the Finnish consensus than the more entrenched Swedish elite–public alignment.

Nordic Harmonization, 1991–2022

The end of the Cold War led to closer Nordic military cooperation and Swedish and Finnish overtures towards the United States and NATO. As the Nordic states pursued incremental integration with NATO and the United States, and Norway relaxed Cold War restrictions to avoid being abandoned by its key allies, their publics largely held fast to their dovish preferences. Despite the security shocks that came with Russian aggression in 2008 and 2014, adjustments in Nordic allied postures were incremental rather than transformative – an approach reflecting the elite origins of these adaptations and the relatively stable domestic preferences in the Nordic countries during this period.

By the mid-2000s, Norway was among the first NATO countries to sound the alarm over Russia’s accumulation of capabilities and signals of aggressive intent following the country’s attack on Georgia (Hilde & Holtsmark, 2025). This led to several adjustments in Norway’s relations with the United States as Norway agreed to the establishment of a rotating U.S. Marine Corps presence in 2016 and signed a supplementary Defence Cooperation Agreement (DCA) in 2021. These decisions led to domestic critics accusing the government of straining or even violating Norway’s base policy, which were rebutted by the government. In contrast to Norway’s quiet bolstering of allied activity and deterrence, Sweden embraced Palme’s legacy of non-alignment under Foreign Minister Margot Wallström’s tenure from 2014 to 2019 (Dalsjö, 2017). However, Sweden refused to sign the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) to avoid jeopardizing defence cooperation with the United States (Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, 2019). The United States had made it clear to Sweden that signing the TPNW would take extended nuclear deterrence off the table (Anthony, interview, August 2025). In Finland, the Russian invasion of Crimea mobilized elites while the population largely continued to prefer the status quo. The consequence was incremental adaptations in foreign and security policy – notably, incremental elite efforts to edge closer to NATO (Olesen, 2026). As Finland became increasingly aligned with NATO, Helsinki remained formally militarily non-aligned but signalled its interest in membership and conducted studies to determine the resources required if it were to join (Kuusela, interview, August 2025).

Despite variation in individual trajectories, changes in Russian intentions and capabilities during the post-Cold War era led to greater Nordic efforts to enhance operational capabilities and bolster deterrence. The establishment of the Nordic Defence Cooperation (NORDEFCO) format in 2009, following the 2008 Russian invasion of Georgia, strengthened the partnership between Nordic air forces and technological coordination with NATO. After Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014, the Nordic states took leaps towards Nordic interoperability and closer alignment with NATO and the United States. In 2018, Finland, Sweden, and the United States agreed to improve defence cooperation on exercises, situational awareness and interoperability. In the NORDEFCO format, Finland and Sweden participated in “paper exercises” that demonstrated how Norway would consult NATO allies in a crisis (Efjestad, interview, June 2025). Sweden and Finland placed officers in Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) and joined exercises with NATO countries, participating in BALTOPS, for example, a de facto NATO exercise under the auspices of the U.S. Navy. Finland acquired NATO interoperable materiel and modified its military training and education to meet NATO standards (Kuusela, interview, August 2025).

Over the course of three decades, the Nordic region shifted from dovish practices inherited from the Cold War towards greater elite integration and development of infrastructure to operate seamlessly within the region and with NATO. This was, however, an elite-driven project, and it generated domestic tensions as these states abandoned earlier constraints and sought to integrate further into extended deterrence frameworks inside or close to alliances.

A Nordic Deterrence Cluster Emerges, 2022–2025

Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 was an external shock upending the elite–public consensus that had underpinned Nordic postures in relation to Russia and NATO for seven decades. At this turning point, public opinion forged ahead of elite preferences in these consensus-oriented democracies. In the following, we trace these changing alignments and their consequences for the pace and scope of allied postures in the Nordic region.

With the disrupted elite–public consensus, the scene was set for domestic actors significantly affecting nuclear decisions in unexpected ways. Finland was the first Nordic case in which, following this upending, domestic pressures pushed elite choices beyond their initial preferences, illustrating the first proposition we make above. Before 2022, public opinion on NATO membership had not shifted significantly in response to acts of Russian aggression (Pesu, interview, August 2025). In January 2022, only 28% of the Finnish public supported joining NATO; by May 2022, 76% did (Forsberg, 2022). This shift created new urgency for Finnish leaders (Pesu, interview, August 2025). Finnish political parties followed public opinion and drafted new electoral platforms that included a positive stance on NATO membership (Kuusela, interview, August 2025; Piirainen, interview, August 2025).

There was tangible frustration among the Finnish public that the foreign policy elite did not change their position quickly enough (Piirainen, interview, August 2025). Finnish citizens launched two initiatives to propose legislation to apply for NATO membership, collecting 50,000 signatures in record time for these initiatives to be sent to parliament (Pesu & Iso-Markku, 2024; Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). The public demand allowed Finnish leaders to proceed without calling a referendum (Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). If the implications of this sea change were clear to Finnish leaders, it was not necessarily the case for the country’s Nordic neighbours. In an early meeting between Swedish and Finnish political leadership, the Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin stressed that Sweden needed to understand the strength of the Finnish public’s concerns (Strömberg & Nilsson, 2022).

The swell of popular support for NATO overrode prior impressions that a Finnish decision to join the alliance would be determined by elites. There was a longstanding assumption that the Finnish public would change their opinion on NATO membership if political leadership changed theirs (Piirainen, interview, August 2025). Before February 2022, the debate on NATO membership was set by experts and politicians (Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). Immediately following the Russian invasion, experts were slow to change opinion, expressing doubt that joining NATO during a crisis was a smart decision (Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). Transformation in public opinion drove the NATO debate, forcing politicians to react (Piirainen, interview, August 2025); for MP Riika Purra of the Finns Party, “first the people’s opinion changed, then that of the nation’s leaders” (Forsberg, 2024, p. 297).

The nuclear aspect of Russian threats was a key driver and rationale of these developments. Russia’s explicit nuclear threats in 2022 led Finnish leaders to ask “with what kind of cooperation would we best address the threat of unconventional weapons” (Haavisto, 2022). Without the protection of NATO’s nuclear umbrella, Finland would have remained vulnerable to future Russian threats and nuclear coercion (Pesu, interview, August 2025). Finnish president Sauli Niinistö argued that Russia threatened Finnish and Swedish sovereignty (Niinistö, 2022). This “deterrence deficit” was a key driver of Finland’s decision to join NATO, with Sweden following closely afterwards (Pesu & Iso-Markku, 2024). Indeed, Finland’s 2024 Defence Report cited NATO’s nuclear weapons as a last resort against the threat posed by Russia (Finnish Ministry of Defence, 2024).

Finland’s rapid shift triggered a contagion effect in Sweden, illustrating this article’s second proposition. It became, in other words, more politically feasible for Sweden’s elites to press ahead with their own application for NATO membership (Anthony, interview, August 2025), first through the prospect of Sweden being left as the lone neutral state (Savolainen, 2024), and presumably becoming more exposed to Russian coercion as a result, and, second, through collusion between Swedish and Finnish elites, who cited Finnish public pressure as making it necessary to abandon their ostensibly neutral posture and join NATO.

In the Swedish case, however, change was slower and met with greater elite and public resistance. Sweden initially proposed a mutual defence pact with Finland as an alternative to joining NATO (Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). When the Finnish President visited Washington to meet President Biden on 4 March 2022, Swedish leaders realized that Finland was seriously contemplating membership (Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). The Swedish Foreign Minister at the time, Ann Linde, reportedly exclaimed: “Damned Finns, now we also might have to join NATO!” (Strömberg & Nilsson, 2022; Ålander & Salo, 2023). Public opinion, meanwhile, was also shifting in Sweden: a 2021 poll found 29% of Swedes supporting NATO membership and 29% opposing it (Bjereld & Oscarsson, 2023). By autumn 2022, Swedish support had risen to 64% (Forsberg & Christiansson, 2025). That same year, a poll found that 78% of Swedes rated Russia a 7 out of 10 or higher as a serious threat to their country (YouGov, 2022). This shift upended the Swedish elite–public alignment and constituted a clear mandate, indeed a demand, for change.

Public pressure generated the momentum for more hawkish policies across the Nordic states, but especially in Finland and Sweden. Where public opinion shifted most sharply, elites and political parties had to respond in order to calibrate a new consensus. Norwegian political leaders cited public opinion when describing government deliberations and policy changes (Søreide, 2022). The Norwegian, Danish, and Icelandic publics likewise strengthened their support for the alliance. In a survey conducted immediately after the 2022 invasion, 95.6% of Norwegians believed Norway should remain a NATO member, and 70% believed the country’s relationship with Russia had been damaged for generations to come (Joner et al., 2022; Aasland & Myhre, 2024). In Iceland, support for NATO membership rose from approximately 50% in 2021 to 75% in 2022 (Edvardsen, 2023; Mbl, 2025). Following threats to Greenland made by the United States in 2026, however, over 30% of Danes came to see the country as a rival to the EU, and 56% supported a national nuclear deterrent (Kobzová & Zerka, 2026). Meanwhile, 54% of Greenlanders are worried that the United States could use military force to annex Greenland (Vesterløkke, 2026).

Despite these clear public mandates, the shape and emergence of a new regional deterrence cluster was not a foregone conclusion. Here, we find additional evidence of the forcing hand of public opinion – it was this which compelled elites in Finland and Sweden to more rapidly forge ahead with allied integration.

There were initially different visions of the geographical orientation and core features of the emerging regional cluster. Finnish and Swedish analytic communities held different views on whether their integration into NATO should be based on existing regional models or be created ab initio to meet the needs of a transformed security environment (Friis, 2024; Linnainmäki et al., 2024; Adamson & Ålander, 2023). While some initially assumed that this cluster would scale up existing models adopted by the longstanding Nordic NATO members Norway and Denmark, others saw a need (and an opportunity) to carve out a new approach.

As new NATO members, Sweden and Finland had to decide whether to focus more on the Arctic or the Baltic. The Joint Force Command (JFC) they fell under would have implications for the geographical orientation of the nascent cluster.¹ Swedish and Finnish geography made the choice between Brunssum and Norfolk complicated. Because both countries are drawn militarily and politically to the Baltic region, JFC Brunssum seemed a natural option (Andrén, 2024). This is especially relevant for Gotland, an island critical for control of the Baltic Sea and regional airspace. At the same time, Sweden and Finland have considerable interests in the High North, given the Russian assets on the Kola Peninsula. Some experts worried that Swedish and Finnish attention would be diverted from the Baltic Sea if they chose JFC Norfolk (Baer & Besch, 2024). Falling under different commands could also create coordination challenges with the Baltic states (Baer & Besch, 2024). Ultimately, NATO’s new Multi-Corps Land Component Command in Finland was established under JFC Norfolk, bolstering defence of the High North (Finnish Government, 2025b). In December 2025, Sweden, Finland and Denmark were transferred to JFC Norfolk. With all Nordic states under the same command, the cluster will “have greater predictability in crises, closer preparedness and a more holistic approach to security and defence” (Forsvaret, 2025b).

Joining NATO, Finland and Sweden initially considered the Norwegian approach but decided against having similar reservations or opt-outs (Pesu, interview, August 2025): nuclear deterrence in the face of Russian threats formed an explicit part of the rationale for joining the alliance, and the new members felt obliged to demonstrate commitment to the alliance. The rejection of the Norwegian model was also seen as a necessity given the changed threat environment post-2022, especially in Finland where the perceived threat of Russian aggression was acute (Anthony, interview, August 2025). Both Sweden and Finland wanted to join NATO and to participate in the alliance, as fully as possible and as quickly as they could (Piirainen, interview, August 2025).

By comparison, Norway’s slower pace in adaptation and the still near-totemic status of the long-standing unilateral restrictions reflect a relatively more stable elite–public consensus. Returning to the core logic of our argument, the relative stability of this consensus is central to explaining this variation in adaptation within the subregional cluster. In Norway this is a delicate domestic political exercise, in which the Labour government has been wary of upending the decades-long consensus underpinning foreign and defence policy (Efjestad, interview, June 2025; Tamnes, interview, June 2025; Braut-Hegghammer, 2025). Three factors have combined to slow Norwegian posture adaptation: the virtually totemic position of the self-imposed restrictions within Norwegian domestic cleavages, the particular sensitivity of nuclear weapons policy for the social-democratic governing coalition, and a broader responsiveness to domestic political sentiment. Notably, it took three years after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine for Norway to adjust its policy to allow allied military forces to operate closer to the Russian border – a step Oslo had ruled out since the 1950s in order to reassure Russia (Tamnes, interview, June 2025). Finland, meanwhile, had already decided to permit exercises near the Russian border, making it easier for Norway to follow suit: a further instance of contagion.

As Norway and NATO obtain more advanced conventional weapons capable of striking deep inside Russian territory, the Norwegian government persisted with a cautious approach, wary of stoking Russian fears regarding conventional challenges to their second-strike capability in the High North (Tamnes, interview, June 2025). At the same time, the changing Russian threat has produced quiet changes in Norwegian capabilities and allied postures, including the signing of a new mutual defence agreement with France in May 2026. Similarly, Denmark shifted its longstanding policies by acquiring long-range precision weapons and investing 27 billion Danish kroner in Greenland’s defence (NRK, 2025a; NRK, 2025b). Long-established Nordic NATO members are aligning with the posture choices of the newer members, rather than the other way around – a reflection of the logic of contagion.

Hawkish in the High North?

The previous section demonstrated how elite–public realignment and contagion effects have enabled a hawkish regional turn, going beyond elite preferences in all Nordic countries. In this section, we examine this hawkish turn and its implications for the emerging Nordic deterrence cluster.

The hawkish turn is reflected in both speech evidence from Nordic leaders and elites, domestic legislative developments, and changes in their military capabilities and allied integration. First, Nordic leaders explicitly cite their needs to bolster deterrence and an embrace of the nuclear dimension of extended deterrence with their allies. The Finnish Minister for European Affairs Anders Adlercreutz, for example, underscored that it would be detrimental to explicitly draw red lines regarding the ways in which the alliance might or might not react to certain scenarios or actions in areas such as the hybrid domain: Finland and Sweden joined NATO because Article 5 offered recourse to a nuclear response (Debatten, 2024). The two nations explicitly cite deterrence logics and deficits as key drivers of this choice. While Nordic leaders more openly embrace deterrence logics in public settings, increased material support for their nuclear-capable allies and improvements to their nation’s capabilities – notably long-range precision weapons – their possible participation in evolving nuclear deterrence formats within NATO and the French forward deterrence initiative have so far remained less openly discussed.

A clear indication of a regional shift is visible in the deeper allied integration and the abandonment of earlier domestic legal restrictions that had fenced off nuclear options, in those countries with recalibrated elite–public alignments. The older Norwegian and Danish Defence Cooperation Agreements (DCAs) ruled out the stationing of nuclear weapons on each state’s territory in peacetime, a policy Norway reiterated as recently as 2026. Finland and Sweden signed DCAs in late 2023, granting the U.S. military access to 32 facilities and areas in the Nordic region. The Swedish DCA does not specifically address nuclear weapons, while Finland’s agreement does not rule them out; both cite existing national and international law on the stationing of nuclear weapons on their soil.

Since 1987, the Finnish Nuclear Energy Act had prohibited the import, manufacture, possession, and detonation of nuclear weapons in Finland. At an all-Nordic public meeting in 2024, Adlercreutz stressed that the Finnish government was open to changing this legislation, since it was “wiser to be uncertain in this question and not state anything absolute” (Debatten, 2024). In April 2026, the government submitted a proposal to parliament to amend the Nuclear Energy Act and the Criminal Code, removing the barriers to nuclear devices on Finnish territory in order to “maximize Finland’s security” (Finnish Government, 2026). On 17 June, the Finnish parliament approved the proposal, enabling deeper integration and participation in extended deterrence within the NATO framework, as well as participation in the French forward deterrence initiative.

There are no domestic laws banning the transport or storage of nuclear weapons on Swedish territory. Swedish Minister of Defence Pål Jonson stated in 2024 that there would be no reason to host nuclear weapons in Sweden during peacetime (Debatten, 2024). Swedish Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson stressed that war would be an entirely different matter, and Sweden might host nuclear weapons in order to defend itself under certain circumstances (Allik, 2024). This message has been reiterated by Swedish and NATO leaders. In a 2024 press conference with Jens Stoltenberg, Kristersson stated that the Swedish government embraced all of NATO’s capabilities without hesitation, including its nuclear forces, but that there was currently no need for Sweden to host nuclear weapons during peacetime (NATO, 2024b). Sweden reserves the option to host nuclear weapons in a crisis, despite domestic-level criticism of its DCA and public concern that Russia will target Swedish towns with military bases (Israelsson, 2024; Sundberg, 2023).

Enhanced Nordic participation in NATO exercises and support for NATO’s nuclear operations offers another departure from past dovish restrictions. Finland participated in the NATO nuclear exercise Steadfast Noon in 2024 and is involved in NATO’s Conventional Support to Nuclear Operations (CSNO) structure.² Finland expanded its nuclear-capable aircraft capability with the 2021 purchase of 64 F-35A fighter jets. In Steadfast Noon, Norway first participated as an observer in 2023, subsequently sending aircraft as a full participant in 2025 (Paust, 2024; Forsvaret, 2025a); Sweden participated with aircraft for the first time in 2025 (Regeringskansliet, 2025); Denmark participated with both aircraft and host nation support in 2025 (Danish Defence, 2025). Norway also hosted the anti-submarine exercise Dynamic Mongoose in 2026, training NATO allies for warfare in the High North (Toftaker & Glørstad, 2026).

The shift from past restrictions presents new dilemmas for Oslo. While Norway continues to balance deterrence and reassurance in foreign and security policy (Huitfeldt, 2022), there are several indications of an elite-driven shift towards deterrence and away from previous measures aligned with a traditional public reluctance. In 2024, Norway further amended its 2021 Supplementary DCA to give the United States access to eight additional facilities, six of which are located in the North. The agreement upholds Norway’s self-imposed nuclear restrictions, standing in contrast to Sweden and Finland who omitted these provisions from their agreements, demonstrating how Norway’s relatively more stable elite–public alignment has brought about a more incremental approach.

As a cluster, the Nordic states can overcome long-standing resource constraints and improve their collective bargaining power. Norway, Sweden, and Finland each benefit from faster reinforcement and greater interoperability within the new cluster (see Pesu, 2026). With Finland as an added frontline nation, Sweden and Norway help facilitate allied reinforcement, while Norway and Denmark can draw on Finnish and Swedish forces in new ways (Friis, 2024). This is already visible in the Nordic collaboration with France and the United Kingdom to develop NATO’s Forward Land Forces (FLF) in Finland. Sweden serves as the framework nation for the FLF in Finland and is establishing a new NATO logistics command in Enköping to coordinate the movement of troops and materiel. The FLF is, in the words of the Swedish Minister of Defence, Pål Jonson, a “robust answer to Russia’s provocations along NATO’s Eastern Flank” (Edvardsen, 2026). Improved planning and pooled resources greatly enhance the cluster’s bargaining power in relation to its nuclear patrons. As the Nordic cluster integrates its military forces, the focus falls on making “NATO’s deterrence and defence as robust as possible in our direction” (Kuusela, interview, August 2025). The Nordics also have new avenues for collaboration and operations through NORDEFCO, “notwithstanding if NATO decides to act or not” (Kuusela, interview, August 2025).

The Nordic cluster has an expansive set of options to work with bigger states in the alliance (Sörenson, interview, September 2025). This enhanced logistic and defence cooperation creates a stronger northern flank which the United States, France, and Britain can integrate with nuclear weapons when needed (Kuusela, interview, August 2025; Sörenson, interview, September 2025). Nordic integration with Britain, the Netherlands, and the Baltics through the Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF) provides an additional layer of protection as first response in a crisis (Friis, 2024). These states are developing options to operate together beyond NATO if necessary. In March 2026, France announced a “forward deterrence” concept with “shouldering” from several European countries. As France has pursued this on a bilateral basis, the readiness in Sweden, Denmark, and Norway to participate in this initiative (Johnsen, 2026), with Finland also expressing interest – indicates a future Nordic cluster within this framework. In May 2026, Norway signed a mutual defence agreement with France as part of their hedging strategy to strengthen ties with European military powers, especially in the Arctic (Office of the Prime Minister, 2026).

The combined geographic depth of the Nordic cluster provides NATO with new logistics chains, basing options, and air corridors across the North Atlantic. As Finland re-addresses its responsibilities in defending a 1,340 km border with Russia, Sweden and Norway can provide strategic depth and support by moving materiel to Finland and the Baltics (Friis, 2024). Sweden prioritizes capabilities to operate in and from the High North (Bye, 2026) and contributes warships enhancing allied presence in the Baltic Sea (Moyer, 2025). Norway can work alongside Britain, France and the United States in securing the Greenland-Iceland-UK (GIUK) and Bear (Svalbard-North Cape) gaps (Black et al., 2024). Iceland is strengthening its facilities for host-country support and air defence and surveillance systems as part of NATO’s integrated air and missile defence (NATO, 2025). Greenland has a crucial role in ballistic missile early warning systems and monitoring space-based threats (Gad, 2025). By closely integrating their air forces, the Nordic states use airspace to further enhance the collective strategic depth of the bloc (Black et al., 2024).

The demands made regarding Greenland by the United States under the second Trump administration outpace existing academic theories of extended deterrence and alliances, where a patron makes demands of territorial acquisition of allies (as in the case of Greenland), or repeated gestures made in this direction (as in the case of Canada). The demonstration of Nordic and allied solidarity in January 2026 – when Danish forces, given orders to defend Greenland if necessary, prepared denial measures that included the destruction of runways in the event of an airborne attack – illustrates how clustering raises the costs of aggression (Fastrup et al., 2026). The nominal exercise Operation Arctic Endurance was designed to raise the costs of aggression from the United States, serving both as a deterrence signal and to bolster Denmark’s position in the diplomatic negotiations with the superpower over allied security and the role of Greenland. This expands the protégé repertoire beyond Cold War “screening” of specific measures to include exercises among clusters of allies as a deterrence signal against a patron making territorial demands against a junior ally. Across the Arctic region, allies are expanding their options for signalling deterrence and assurances.