I observe, in Western European leftist circles, a principled opposition to any strengthening of European military capabilities. The argument is clear: Europe is supposedly an imperialist power, and it would therefore be morally unacceptable for it to rearm. France’s current role in the Congo, for example, illustrates this. This horrible reality fuels legitimate resentment in many regions of the world and demonstrates the persistent blindness of most Europeans.

This idea deserves to be heard, but it masks a dangerous contradiction. It implicitly leads to the belief that because of its economic power, Europe also enjoys military power, which eliminates the risk of external military aggression. Nothing could be further from the truth. Militarily, Europe is extremely vulnerable. It has neither a unified army nor strategic coordination. Yet, a centralised and coherent army can defeat a conglomerate of armies, even if they are more numerous or wealthy. Comparing the military expenditures of China or Russia, which possess unified structures, with those of Europe, fragmented into 27 national armies, simply makes no sense. Even if, on paper, the cumulative capabilities of European states might surpass those of Russia, this in no way guarantees effective deterrence. Deterrence does not rest solely on material capacity; it relies on the will to act. During the Cold War, NATO’s real security guarantee was not so much its armament as the certainty of a massive United States response in case of attack. Today, this guarantee no longer exists.

The problem is not just material. It is cultural, political, psychological. It is based on the absence of a collective will to defend oneself. In a large part of European societies, the connection between citizens and defence has weakened. Even if Europe possesses the wealth and industrial means, its citizens must still be ready to commit themselves. And they clearly do not give that impression.

Some continue to assert that it is unnecessary to increase defence budgets or restart arms production. They simply say that we should send Ukraine what we have in stock (indeed, we are still far from doing so!), as if these reserves were inexhaustible.

In Ukraine, approximately 10,000 drones are used daily. Europe does not have the industrial capacity to produce them at this rate. During the second offensive on Kharkiv at the end of 2023, the Russians benefited from an overwhelming firepower ratio: 15,000 shells fired per day compared to only 2,000 on the Ukrainian side. It was not Europe that could rectify the situation, but Czech President Petr Pavel, who had to find 800,000 shells outside Europe to stabilise the front in February 2024.

And this is just one example among many. But the essential point lies elsewhere. The strategic sectors necessary for the functioning of European armies depend almost entirely on the United States: air transport, satellite intelligence, long-range missiles, air defence... If the United States withdraws – which seems inevitable – the defence system of several European countries becomes completely inoperative.

Finally, there is another perverse effect of this refusal to consider power, which I think about more and more often: the delegation of European security to its eastern members. For if Western European countries invest neither in their collective defence capabilities nor in strategic coordination at the continental level, they effectively outsource their security to Eastern Europeans. It is then Ukraine (if it still exists), Poland, the Baltic States, Finland, the Czech Republic, or Romania that must bear – alone – the burden of militarisation, mobilisation, and permanent alert. And while they concretely assume this burden, Western societies allow themselves to look down on them: as backward countries obsessed with war. This contempt, sometimes dressed up as pacifism or abstract universalism, becomes a moral abandonment.

It is not enough to deplore the rise of authoritarianism. We must have the honesty to recognise that the world in which we have lived here since 1945 – a world framed by American power – no longer exists. Europe risks once again becoming a playground for external powers. And you will not like it.

We need only remember: in the 1930s, after the horror of the First World War, European democracies chose the path of disarmament. The Briand-Kellogg Pact of 1928 claimed to abolish war. The League of Nations multiplied calls for peace. Meanwhile, Nazi Germany rearmed with impunity. In 1936, Hitler remilitarised the Rhineland. The French army did not move, paralysed by the fear of a new conflict. A few years later, Europe was plunged back into war. What could have been stopped at a low cost in 1936 was paid for in blood a few years later (Do I need to remind you which country paid the highest price? Which country lost a quarter of its total population in this war? Any thoughts?).

Europe, like any modern liberal project, is crossed by a fundamental tension. On one hand, it aims to guarantee protections against political arbitrariness; on the other, it often leaves individuals without defence against economic arbitrariness. Like any modern liberal project, it is rotten from within. But those who today have the capacity and the declared will to dismember this project are precisely the regimes where citizens are protected NEITHER from political oppression NOR from economic oppression. In theory, one might rejoice at the relative loss of power of this Europe. But in fact, this loss opens up a free field for states that are not content to be imperialist or capitalist: they are also obscurantist, authoritarian, and fundamentally anti-universalist. In a world governed solely by such powers, the chances of liberation – social, political, human – are close to zero.

We must therefore hold two requirements together: ensuring the structural survival of Europe as a democratic space and fighting from within to redefine its political, social, and strategic content. It is not about rallying to those who, in the name of economic liberalism, have undermined the very foundations of democratic sovereignty. It is about combating their neoliberal cult. But this implies never relativising the importance of the democratic framework in which this fight can still take place, while giving it concrete social content.

Hanna Perekhoda