European Commission president Ursula von der Leyen has announced initiatives to boost Europe's defence spending.
It says something about the mood in Europe that a record military spending figure is not being treated with alarm but with a measure of relief. According to the latest data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, global military expenditure soared to $2.7 trillion last year, with Europe accounting for a historically unprecedented $693 billion — its highest since the Cold War.
This surge in military spending, we’re assured, is a measured reaction to Russia’s war in Ukraine. But the subtext, increasingly difficult to ignore, is less about tanks in Donbas and more about uncertainty in Washington. Europe’s post-war defence architecture, premised on the reliability of American leadership, now looks increasingly fragile in the shadow of Trumpism — and whatever comes after it.
The institute’s researchers phrased it diplomatically: there are “concerns about possible US disengagement within the alliance”. Translation: Europe is bracing for the possibility that the next US president could abandon Nato — or at least redefine it beyond recognition. In theory, this is the moment Europe has been preparing for since the phrase “strategic autonomy” entered the EU lexicon.
In practice, however, the continent seems to be responding not with clear-eyed planning but with a familiar impulse: spend more, fast. Germany has announced a trillion euro plan to modernise its military. France is pushing for European defence production to be prioritised over imports. The EU has launched a €150 billion investment programme for common defence projects.
And yet, for all the rhetoric and revised budgets, strategic clarity remains elusive. Part of the problem is structural. Europe’s defence sector remains fragmented along national lines, riddled with duplication and beset by competing interests. Collective procurement is the exception, not the rule. Even the new funding schemes have sparked disputes over who qualifies for support — European arms manufacturers, of course, but should American or Israeli firms be excluded?
But the deeper issue is philosophical. European leaders continue to speak of autonomy while behaving like junior partners. The gap between aspiration and action remains yawning. As US Vice-president JD Vance pointed out, Europe has rarely had the muscle to turn its objections into deterrents. He cited the 2003 Iraq invasion as an example — France and Germany opposed the war but neither could halt it.
That episode underscored a fundamental truth. Europe’s strategic dependence is not a recent vulnerability but a long-standing condition of the transatlantic relationship. The US leads; Europe supports, critiques or occasionally dissents. Rarely does it chart an independent course — militarily or diplomatically.
Now, with a more volatile US, Europe appears to be doubling down on a familiar formula — spend more on defence and hope that credibility follows. But, as history suggests, firepower alone does not confer influence. Nor does autonomy automatically emerge from bigger budgets.
What’s needed is a coherent strategic vision; one that goes beyond buying more jets and building redundant missile systems. Europe must ask itself: “Autonomy for what?” To act independently of the US? To become a global military actor in its own right? Or simply to plug the gaps in an increasingly incoherent alliance?
There’s also a risk of moral confusion. A militarised Europe is not necessarily a principled one. The post-war European project was built, in part, on the idea that diplomacy, integration and economic interdependence could supplant the brute force of past centuries. Returning to the language of hard power without a clear political or ethical framework risks unravelling that legacy.
Russia’s aggression, China’s assertiveness and the dysfunction of global institutions have all chipped away at the liberal order Europe once championed. But the answer cannot be to emulate American-style militarism without the mitigating qualities of American power — economic heft, cultural projection and a willingness, however inconsistent, to shape global norms.
Strategic autonomy requires, not just military capability, but political will and diplomatic self-confidence. It means being able to say “no” to Washington when necessary, and “yes” to initiatives that might diverge from American preferences. It means crafting policy not just in Brussels or Berlin, but in response to realities in Kyiv, Ankara, Tehran and beyond.
The irony is that in seeking to insulate itself from American unpredictability, Europe risks replicating its own past mistakes: disunity, over militarisation and a failure to articulate a global role that is neither nostalgic nor naive.
If Europe’s ambition is to be more than a well-armed vassal, then the work ahead will require more than spreadsheets and contracts. It will demand a willingness to rethink not just defence policy, but the very principles that guide European power. Because if there’s one lesson from this century’s long parade of wars, it’s this — you can spend your way into a conflict but rarely out of one.
Dr Imran Khalid is a freelance columnist on international affairs based in Karachi, Pakistan.