On September 12, 2001, just one day after the United States watched its skyline burn and its sense of invincibility shatter, NATO invoked Article 5 for the first and only time in history. The rule is simple: an attack on one is an attack on all. And so, the allies lined up, ready to stand with the U.S. in its war on terror. Planes flew, troops deployed, intelligence shared. America called, and the world answered.
I was eight years old on 9/11. My father, an American, was on a plane that morning, flying from Washington, D.C. to Providence as the towers were being hit. My father didn’t know. Nobody on that plane did. After landing, he went straight to a meeting, unaware of what was unfolding. Everything seemed normal. Then, as he was leaving, a receptionist mentioned something about a helicopter crash at the Pentagon.
My father called my mother, who was home with me. British by birth, she had already been contacted by my uncle, who told her to take my father’s service pistol, get in the car, and flee the city. My uncle had already reached her, telling her to take my father’s service pistol, get in the car, and flee the city. My father told her to stay put.
The people he was traveling with came together like a team. One arranged transport, another sorted out money, and my father found a place where they could be safe for the night. The next day, they drove south—through Connecticut, down the Hudson, where they saw the smoke still rising from where the towers had stood. They kept going, heading for D.C., where, one at a time, they retrieved their cars.
After my father got his, he drove home, passing just a few hundred meters from the Pentagon, still on fire. Our apartment was a few miles south. From our balcony, my mother and I could see the smoke. She held me as we watched it rise.
And in that moment, America stood alone.
And then it didn’t.
It wasn’t just NATO countries that answered the call. Allies and partners who had no obligation to help still showed up. They sent their soldiers to fight, to train, to rebuild, to die. Because that’s what allies do.
The United Kingdom led the way, sending thousands of troops into some of the most dangerous parts of Afghanistan. At the height of operations, the UK had around 9,500 personnel in-country, particularly in Helmand Province, where British forces fought some of the toughest battles of the war. By the end, 456 British soldiers had lost their lives. Prince Harry, third in line to the British throne at the time, deployed to Afghanistan twice. He could have stayed in a palace. Instead, he flew Apache helicopters in combat missions, putting his life on the line for an alliance forged in blood and history.
Canada didn’t hesitate either. Over 40,000 Canadians cycled through Afghanistan over 13 years, most stationed in Kandahar Province, a hotbed of Taliban activity. The price they paid was steep: 158 killed, many more wounded. Canada poured billions into the war effort and reconstruction, not out of obligation, but out of principle.
Germany took the lead in the north, deploying over 5,000 troops at its peak. Their mission wasn’t just combat but stabilization, governance, and training Afghan forces. They lost 62 soldiers. France, Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, Denmark—each sent thousands. Each took casualties. Each stood firm in a fight that was never theirs to begin with but became theirs the moment America needed them.
And then there’s Poland. A country that wasn’t even a NATO member when the Twin Towers fell. A country that had no binding treaty to stand by America. But they did anyway. Polish troops fought in Ghazni Province, one of the more unstable regions of Afghanistan, taking casualties and proving their commitment to an alliance they hadn’t even fully joined yet. Forty-four Polish soldiers didn’t come home.
And let’s not forget Ukraine. Not a NATO country, not bound by Article 5, yet they sent peacekeepers, medical personnel, engineers, and specialists. They helped clear mines, treat the wounded, and stabilize the country. No obligation. Just solidarity. And it’s worth remembering—at the time, Ukraine was a young country itself. It had only been independent for ten years, still finding its footing after the collapse of the Soviet Union. It wasn’t a global power. It wasn’t rich. It wasn’t secure. But when America was attacked, Ukraine didn’t hesitate.
And here’s the part that should really stick: none of these countries asked to be repaid. Not a single one demanded oil, gas, minerals, land, or anything else in exchange for their sacrifices. They didn’t see America’s tragedy as an opportunity to profit. They didn’t negotiate for better trade deals or push for leverage in Washington. They sent their people to fight, to bleed, to die—because that’s what allies do. They didn’t ask America to surrender to its enemies or to cut a deal with the people who attacked it. They didn’t suggest that perhaps it was better to “get along” with those who killed thousands of innocent Americans in a single morning. They simply stood up and said, We’re with you.
Now, imagine you’re in a bar fight. Someone jumps you out of nowhere, and before you even know what’s happening, five of your buddies jump in to help. They take punches for you. They get knocked down. A couple of them leave in ambulances. You win the fight because they had your back.
And then, a year later, one of them gets jumped. And instead of stepping in, you stand back and watch. Maybe you even start saying the guy throwing the punches is “very strong” and “maybe we should get along.” What would you call that?
That’s exactly what’s happening now.
Now, some of those same countries are calling for America’s help, not in some far-flung desert but in their own backyard. And instead of stepping up, the U.S. is shrugging. Some would rather talk about “bad deals” and “fair shares” than honor the very alliances that stood by them when they needed it most. Countries that sent their sons and daughters to die in Afghanistan are now being told to figure it out on their own while Washington cozies up to their enemy.
The only country to ever invoke Article 5 is now the only one acting like it never mattered. That’s not strength. That’s betrayal.
The American part of me is ashamed that the U.S. is even entertaining the idea of not supporting those who helped us when we were in need. The British part of me is insulted by President Trump and JD Vance casually dismissing the long history of the UK supporting America in wars near and far. From World War I to Afghanistan, British soldiers have stood beside Americans, fought, bled, and died on the same battlefields. To wave that away as if it were meaningless is not just ignorant—it’s an insult to the alliance that has defined Western security for over a century. He’s a buffoon.
Allies aren’t just for when it’s convenient. The world remembers who shows up and who turns their back. America has a choice to make. History is watching.
