When Donald Trump lands at a NATO summit, the story rarely stays diplomatic. In Ankara, the American president opened with a gift and a threat in the same sentence - he lifted sanctions on Turkey and hinted at selling F-35 fighter jets, while at the same time declaring he was "very disappointed" in NATO and not ruling out withdrawing American forces from Europe. An old move: giving with one hand, pressure with the other.

The message to the allies was clear and it was about money. Five members of the alliance now spend over 3.5 percent of GDP on defense, and Secretary General Mark Rutte openly fawned over Trump, calling him "the kind of guy I like." When the man at the head of the alliance acts like a schoolboy angling for a top grade, you can see who really holds the finances on the table.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky came with a concrete request - urgent air-defense systems, anti-ballistic missiles, and production licenses. He also signed a drone agreement with Estonia. Britain announced a 222-million-pound investment in long-range precision-strike missiles, and South Korea offered enhanced cooperation with the members' defense industries.

But not everything went smoothly. Czech Prime Minister Andrej Babiš rejected the 70-billion-euro aid package for Ukraine - a reminder that unity in NATO is for the cameras, while the bills are split behind closed doors. For the Balkans, which have waited at the door of those same institutions for decades, the picture is familiar: the big players trade jets and sanctions, and the smaller ones watch and wonder where their place is in that equation.