The debate around European defense spending is dangerously misleading. While political leaders proudly announce that they are hitting NATO’s 2 percent of GDP target, a more uncomfortable reality lies behind the political theater: Europe remains nowhere near capable of fielding a unified, credible fighting force without American support. Without real integration, interoperability, and societal commitment, Europe risks building expensive but hollow militaries—forces that might look impressive in parades, but that would crumble under the weight of a real, high-intensity conflict.
For decades, Europe operated under the comforting assumption that the United States would always be there to guarantee its security. The American military machine -its enormous airlift capacity, its intelligence apparatus, its nuclear shield—was the pillar upon which European peace was built. That era is now drawing to a close. Across Europe’s eastern frontier, old threats are reemerging in more aggressive and destabilizing forms, while Washington’s willingness to underwrite Europe’s defense is waning. Europe must now confront an unavoidable truth: its peace and prosperity can no longer rest on the assumption of American rescue.
Not only is Europe’s reliance on Washington under threat, its ability to defend itself is also waning. The infrastructure built for the continent’s defense during the Cold War is crumbling. Weak bridges, aging tunnels, and fragmented railway systems severely constrain the ability to move heavy military equipment across the continent. What once might have taken days now risks taking weeks—an unacceptable delay in modern, fast-moving conflicts where time and speed determine survival. The vulnerability of the Suwałki Gap—the narrow corridor linking Poland to the Baltic states—illustrates this point brutally. Military exercises continue to show that reinforcing NATO’s eastern flank would be agonizingly slow, leaving frontline allies dangerously exposed. In a real crisis, the consequences of such delays would not be theoretical—they would be lethal.
Beyond its own failing logistics, Europe is dependent on the United States in more critical domains. Heavy airlift capacity, aerial refueling, real-time satellite surveillance, cyber defense, and strategic intelligence collection all remain heavily dependent on American assets. Despite recent initiatives, European forces still lack sufficient transport aircraft to move armored units rapidly. Air-to-air refueling, vital for contested air operations, is still overwhelmingly an American capability. Even more concerning, Europe has not seriously confronted the colossal challenge of building autonomous intelligence networks. Real-time surveillance, signals intelligence, satellite constellations, and the ability to rapidly analyze and act upon strategic data form the backbone of modern military power. However, developing true European intelligence capabilities will require more than new satellites and cyber centers. It will require the political courage to build trusted information-sharing networks across national boundaries, to harmonize security standards, and to prioritize continental survival over narrow national interests. Europe must be willing to invest heavily now in capabilities that may not fully mature for over a decade. As things stand, Europe has yet to summon that political will, and as such would be left blind on the modern battlefield.
Building these capabilities will not be cheap. It would require tens of billions of euros, a sustained multi-decade commitment, and the creation of entirely new institutions capable of collecting, analyzing, and securely sharing highly sensitive information across national borders. As of today, there is no realistic roadmap to achieve this. Defense ministers in Brussels may talk about “strategic autonomy,” but so far, the ambition has been unaccompanied by the hard decisions and investments necessary to make it real.
No amount of budget increases or flashy procurement announcements will close the readiness gap.
Fragmentation across European militaries makes matters worse. National priorities continue to dominate procurement decisions, leading to incompatible weapons systems, redundant projects, and fractured supply chains. Europe’s armies today operate twelve different models of main battle tanks, multiple variants of artillery systems, and divergent communications platforms. In a modern war, these fractures would cause devastating delays, confusion, and inefficiency.
Societal resilience presents another critical weakness. In Spain, fewer than one-third of citizens say they would be willing to fight for their country if required, and public willingness is similarly low in Germany and Italy. A military is only as strong as the society that stands behind it. Without a civic culture that accepts the sacrifices necessary for national defense, even the best-funded forces risk becoming hollow. As the world learned from Ukraine, resilience under fire is born not just from hardware, but also from collective will.
Across Europe, the cracks in readiness are easy to spot once the illusions are stripped away. Britain remains capable of deploying forces quickly—it sent 2,600 troops to NATO’s eastern flank during recent exercises—but its ability to sustain operations over time is questionable. The British Army today fields just 72,000 regular soldiers, the smallest it has been since the 18th century. France, for its part, continues to champion the cause of European strategic autonomy, showcasing its Rafale fighter jets and nuclear submarines. Yet behind the rhetoric, France remains reliant on American intelligence support and faces its own integration dilemmas within broader European defense debates.
Germany presents an even more complex case. Berlin has technically met NATO’s 2 percent spending goal, but much of that spending has been absorbed by creative accounting and political compromises. Germany’s key military division will not be fully combat-ready until at least 2027, and deep recruitment problems persist. Poland has been far more ambitious, committing 4.7 percent of its GDP to defense and setting out plans to build a 500,000-strong military by 2030. But Poland’s rapid military expansion has relied heavily on purchasing equipment from a patchwork of suppliers in the United States, South Korea, and across Europe, creating serious risks around interoperability and logistical cohesion.
Elsewhere, Turkey maintains NATO’s second-largest army and has become a formidable drone power. Yet its acquisition of Russian air defense systems and its unpredictable geopolitical behavior have strained trust within the alliance. The Baltic states and Romania have built agile, mobile forces that integrate well with NATO, but their limited manpower and resources leave them heavily dependent on outside reinforcements. Italy, Spain, and Greece retain capable air forces, but their defense budgets often include non-military spending like pensions and climate initiatives, inflating their numbers without truly strengthening their forces. Sweden and Finland bring strong civilian readiness and deep societal resilience, but their small standing forces would struggle to sustain a long, grinding conflict without significant external support.
Europe’s defense problem, therefore, is not primarily about how much it spends. It is about what it builds. It is about whether its forces can deploy rapidly, fight effectively, sustain operations under pressure, and integrate seamlessly across national lines. Until Europe confronts this reality head-on, no amount of budget increases or flashy procurement announcements will close the readiness gap.
Recognizing these vulnerabilities, some European policymakers have started to act. The European Union’s effort to upgrade more than 500 critical military mobility “hot spots” is a step in the right direction. The finalization of a new UK-EU defense pact, aimed at strengthening operational cooperation and providing access to EU defense funds through the SAFE (Security Action For Europe) program, marks an important shift. SAFE alone could mobilize up to €150 billion in EU-backed defense loans. These initiatives represent an emerging recognition that fragmented national efforts are no longer enough. At the same time, NATO and EU leaders are working to identify and close Europe’s most urgent capability gaps, focusing on areas like air defense systems, long-range precision fires, electronic warfare, and strategic mobility infrastructure.
The fiscal debates around European defense mirror larger strategic divisions across the continent. Southern states like France and Spain advocate for a larger EU budget and joint debt issuance to fund defense projects, while their northern partners like the Netherlands and Sweden emphasize national control and budget discipline. These arguments are not simply about money. They reveal a deeper uncertainty about whether Europe is willing to think and act as a unified strategic actor despite the external pressures growing more acute by the day. Russian aggression, the Trump-era lessons about America’s shifting global priorities, and the brutal realities exposed by the war in Ukraine all make one thing clear: fragmented national forces cannot defend Europe. Pretending otherwise is an invitation to strategic disaster.
Europe now faces a defining choice. Its leaders can continue to chase headlines with budget announcements and flashy procurement contracts. Or it can confront the harder path: building a true defense union capable of deploying and sustaining combat-ready forces across the continent without relying on the distant hope of American rescue. True security will demand political courage, deep structural reform, and a shared commitment to deterrence to create integrated forces, interoperable equipment, and autonomous intelligence. If it fails to act now, the next crisis may come faster than anyone expects—and Europe may find itself looking across the Atlantic, waiting for help that never arrives.
© IE Insights.
