Committees are sometimes the fairest way to decide policy; rarely, if ever, are they the most efficient. As a system for conducting wars, their shortcomings are obvious.

Public concern about the risks of intervention in Libya are hardly allayed by the impression that no one appears to be taking ultimate political charge of the mission.

The diplomatic impetus for action came from France and Britain. The US was, after some delay, recruited as a key advocate. Most of the military assets being used in the operation come from members of the Nato alliance. The Arab League is providing diplomatic support and some hardware in the form of Qatari and UAE jets.

The tactical imperative of halting Colonel Gaddafi's assault on Benghazi meant it was necessary last week to shoot missiles first and ask organisational questions later. But those questions quickly reasserted themselves. Almost as quickly, they led to disagreement among anti-Gaddafi allies.

The US does not want to take the lead role, preferring Nato members in Europe to conduct a conflict on their Mediterranean flank. That idea was then bogged down in disagreement between France and Turkey, both Nato members, but with different views of what should be happening in Libya. Paris wants maximum freedom to interpret the UN mandate for intervention. Ankara is more circumspect, wary of a creeping escalation of Nato involvement in North Africa. Britain's view seems to be expressed mainly in sullen whispers of disappointment that the Americans are not more engaged.

For now, the significance of these disagreements should not be exaggerated. But they do expose fault lines that will become more dangerous if the Libyan operation drags on, as well it may. It is revealing also how disorderly the strategic and military dialogue can be among Europeans when the US does not hold their hands.

There are good reasons why Washington wants to be a semi-detached partner. American forces have heavy commitments in Afghanistan. Public opinion in the US is not remotely prepared for a campaign against Gaddafi. Washington has little cause to agitate for regime change in Tripoli. President Obama might plausibly have decided – as indeed he appears initially to have done – that this particular North African rebellion was not his fight. Only late in the day was he persuaded that it was a cause worth fighting for.

Such ambivalence has led to charges of fatal vacillation against the White House. An alternative view is that President Obama, for obvious reasons, weighed his country's interests carefully before committing to another risky military intervention in a fissile Arab country. Having agreed to get involved, perhaps President Obama also surmised that an all-American banner draped over the operation would make it harder to win support in the Arab world and thereby hinder the chances of success.

All of the strategic logic of this conflict points to a predominantly European operation. Tripoli is a short boat ride away from the border of the EU. It is thousands of miles away from Washington. Historically and economically, Libya is in Europe's backyard. Seen from the American perspective, it is a bit rich for Europeans, many of whom are quick to complain about US global hegemony, also to lament a lack of transatlantic GI swagger in a crisis.

The idea of a more assertive, collective continental foreign and security policy has been the ambition of a number of European leaders in recent years. It was a key rationale behind the EU's much-disliked Lisbon treaty, which came into effect last year. But those ambitions have looked painfully naive as a social and political conflagration has torn through North Africa and the Middle East

The US is looking weary of policing the world and, rightly or wrongly, feels starved of gratitude when it does. Nato will take command in Libya, so the US continues to have a major stake in military operations. But the lesson is clear: whatever happens next in North Africa, it is Europe's problem.