This is the second article in a planned eight-part strategic series by the Gold Institute examining how global conflict is reshaping security, defense, industry, technology, alliances, diplomacy, and strategic decision-making.
Europe is the clearest case study in the new race for security.
For more than three decades after the end of the Cold War, much of Europe operated under a strategic belief that large-scale war on the continent had become unlikely, if not unthinkable. Defense spending declined. Industrial capacity was reduced. Military readiness was often treated as a long-term planning issue rather than an urgent political requirement. Armies became smaller. Stockpiles shrank. Procurement cycles slowed. Many governments worked under the understanding that the United States would remain the ultimate guarantor of European security, while Europe could focus on prosperity, regulation, trade, welfare, and diplomacy.
Russia’s war against Ukraine shattered that belief.
The war did not simply return military conflict to Europe. It exposed a deeper structural problem: Europe had underinvested not only in defense, but also in readiness, production, resilience, mobility, and decision speed.
That is why Europe now sits at the center of the new race for security.
But this race is not only about spending more money. It is about whether Europe can turn political alarm into usable power. It is about whether European countries can convert budgets into ammunition, platforms, logistics, air and missile defense, drones and unmanned aerial systems, electronic warfare, command-and-control systems, cyber resilience, industrial depth, and deployable military capability.
In other words, Europe’s challenge is not rearmament alone. It is integrated readiness.
This distinction matters.
Rearmament can be measured in budgets, contracts, procurement announcements, and political declarations. Integrated readiness is harder. It requires trained forces, functioning supply chains, secure infrastructure, industrial capacity capable of sustaining wartime production, interoperable systems, rapid repair, operational logistics, political and social will, and the ability to coordinate across national borders under pressure.
Europe now confronts both tasks at once.
The first Europe is institutional Europe: NATO, the European Union, and a growing set of smaller regional and mini-lateral cooperation frameworks. NATO remains the core military framework for collective defense. The EU is increasingly focused on the defense industry, joint procurement, military mobility, critical infrastructure, financing tools, industrial resilience, and reducing bureaucratic barriers. Smaller formats among Nordic, Baltic, Central European, and bilateral partners are becoming more important because they can sometimes move faster than large institutions.
The second Europe is national Europe: Germany, France, Poland, the United Kingdom, Italy, the Nordic countries, the Baltic states, the Czech Republic, Romania, the Netherlands, Spain, and others. Each has different threat perceptions, political cultures, defense industries, budget constraints, procurement systems, and strategic instincts.
These two Europes overlap, but they are not the same.
Institutional Europe can set targets, create funding mechanisms, define priorities, reduce bureaucratic barriers, and coordinate strategic direction. But national governments still control most of the money, forces, industries, planning processes, regulations, and political decisions that determine whether Europe can actually defend itself.
That is the central tension in European security today.
Europe can agree at the institutional level that it must become more capable. But readiness is built nationally, industrially, and operationally. It is built through factories, training areas, ports, railways, ammunition lines, shipyards, cyber defenses, drone production, air bases, command systems, and political decisions made inside individual capitals.
This makes Europe’s transformation uneven.
For Poland, the Baltic states, Finland, and other countries close to Russia, the threat is immediate and concrete. Their strategic culture has changed more quickly because geography makes delay dangerous. For parts of Western and Southern Europe, the Russian threat is serious but competes with other priorities: migration, terrorism, fiscal pressure, energy, domestic politics, North Africa, the Mediterranean, and industrial competitiveness.
For Germany, the challenge is different. Germany has the economic scale to become the central defense power in Europe, but money alone does not automatically create strategic leadership. Germany’s rearmament reflects a historic shift, but the harder question is whether Berlin can convert financial capacity into doctrine, deployable forces, political confidence, industrial mobilization, and operational leadership.
Germany is the perfect example of Europe’s broader dilemma: the gap between resources and capability.
A country may have fiscal strength, advanced industry, and political influence, but it will still struggle to move fast if its procurement systems are slow, its military culture is cautious, its political consensus is fragile, and its strategic doctrine remains underdeveloped. In Europe, this is not only a German problem. It is a continental problem.
France brings a different model: strategic culture, expeditionary experience, nuclear status, and a long-standing commitment to European strategic autonomy. But any serious European defense model also depends on German financial scale, industrial depth, and political willingness. France can help shape the strategic vision, but France alone cannot carry the industrial, financial, and operational burden of European defense.
The United Kingdom remains central to NATO and retains important military, intelligence, nuclear, and expeditionary capabilities. But it also faces constraints in readiness, capacity, and modernization, while Brexit complicates its relationship with EU defense mechanisms. Poland is moving quickly and ambitiously, but scale, sustainment, and integration remain major challenges. The Nordic and Baltic countries bring urgency, resilience, and geographic clarity, but require deeper integration with larger allies.
Europe is therefore not moving as one. It is moving through a combination of institutional pressure, national fear, industrial opportunity, fiscal constraint, old national rivalries, and geopolitical necessity.
The numbers show the scale of the shift.
Global defense spending is rising, but the more important change is the growth in investment: procurement, research, development, modernization, and long-term force building. Europe is part of that global trend, but it is also one of its main drivers. European defense budgets have increased sharply since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. NATO has moved from the old two-percent debate toward a much more demanding defense-and-security benchmark. The EU has launched new tools intended to mobilize large-scale defense investment, accelerate joint procurement, and strengthen Europe’s industrial base.
Arms-transfer trends tell the same story. Europe is not only spending more; it has also become a central destination for major weapons imports. European NATO members have sharply increased their arms imports, and much of that immediate capability still comes from the United States. This creates Europe’s rearmament paradox: the continent is moving toward greater strategic autonomy, but its near-term effort to rebuild military power still depends heavily on external suppliers, American platforms, and transatlantic industrial capacity.
This paradox should not be ignored. It is the reality of the transition.
Europe needs to move quickly, but it also wants to reduce dependency. It needs urgent capability, but it also wants a stronger European industrial base. It needs the United States, but it also knows that Washington’s attention, resources, and political will may be increasingly divided among Europe, the Indo-Pacific, the Middle East, and domestic priorities.
The question is not only how much Europe spends. The question is what Europe can actually do.
Can European forces deploy quickly? Can they sustain high-intensity operations? Can ammunition be produced and replenished according to wartime needs? Can air defenses protect critical infrastructure? Can drones be built at scale? Can governments share intelligence quickly enough? Can industry increase production fast enough? Can ports, railways, roads, and bridges support military mobility? Can Europe operate if U.S. support is delayed, limited, redirected, or politically contested?
These are the questions that matter.
Ukraine has become the forcing mechanism.
The war has shown that modern conflict is not only high-tech. It is also industrial, attritional, adaptive, and brutally material. Artillery shells, air defense interceptors, drones, armored vehicles, repair capacity, electronic warfare, logistics, manpower, and resilient infrastructure all matter. So do software, sensors, data, artificial intelligence, and commercial technologies, which have been adapted quickly to military use.
The lesson is not that Europe must choose between old warfare and new warfare. The lesson is that Europe needs both mass and innovation.
It needs ammunition and autonomy. It needs tanks and drones. It needs air defense and cyber defense. It needs military mobility and data fusion. It needs long-range fires and secure supply chains. It needs national resilience and coalition interoperability.
Ukraine has also shown that the speed of adaptation matters. The side that can identify a battlefield problem, develop a solution, produce it at scale, deploy it quickly, learn from its use, and improve it continuously has the advantage. This favors countries and coalitions that can connect soldiers, engineers, companies, intelligence analysts, procurement officials, and political leaders into a faster learning system.
Europe is not yet organized for that speed.
Its defense ecosystem remains fragmented. National procurement systems usually protect local industries. Requirements differ by country. Certification procedures are slow. Industrial planning is uneven. Ammunition production takes time. Defense companies need long-term contracts and certainty before they invest in new capacity. Smaller companies struggle to move from innovation to scale. Governments often announce ambition before they create the mechanisms needed to implement it.
This is why Europe’s defense challenge cannot be solved by budgets alone.
Money can buy platforms, but it cannot automatically create strategic coherence. It cannot automatically produce ammunition quickly, rebuild supply chains, train personnel, repair infrastructure, integrate software, or align political priorities across more than two dozen states.
The real question is whether Europe can convert spending into power.
This question becomes even more urgent when Europe considers what it would take to defend itself with less American support.
The U.S. contribution to European security is not limited to troops and platforms, or even the much-discussed nuclear umbrella. It includes the connective tissue of modern defense: intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance; space-based capabilities; command and control; airlift; logistics; senior command structures; operational planning; strategic communications; and the ability to move and sustain forces at scale.
These enablers are not always visible in public debates about burden sharing, but they are central to how NATO functions. Without them, Europe would not simply need to buy more tanks, aircraft, ships, and missiles. It would need to build much of the architecture that allows modern forces to see, move, coordinate, strike, defend, and sustain themselves.
That is the real cost of strategic autonomy.
It is not only financial. It is industrial, operational, political, and organizational. It requires Europe to develop capabilities that the United States has provided for decades, while also maintaining domestic political support, managing fiscal constraints, and avoiding duplication among national defense systems.
Independent assessments suggest that directly replacing key parts of the U.S. contribution would require a vast, long-term investment. But even the largest price estimates understate the challenge. The issue is not only the money. It is the time required to build capacity, train personnel, expand production, integrate systems, and create the public consensus needed to sustain the effort.
Europe’s immediate priorities are therefore clear: air and missile defense, long-range precision strike, area-denial systems, and the connective tissue of modern warfare — space, intelligence, electronic warfare, command and control, cyber resilience, and logistics.
These capabilities matter because they determine whether Europe can deny an adversary freedom of action, protect critical infrastructure, support maneuvering forces, strike at operational depth, and coordinate multinational operations under pressure.
The problem is that many of these capabilities take years to build.
Europe can close some gaps quickly through off-the-shelf purchases, joint procurement, and cooperation with non-European suppliers. But that creates a tension. If Europe buys quickly from outside the continent, it may reduce immediate vulnerability while sustaining external dependence. If it insists on European-only solutions, it may strengthen long-term autonomy but leave dangerous capability gaps open for too long.
This is one of the central dilemmas of European defense policy today.
Speed and autonomy do not always point in the same direction.
The answer cannot be ideological. Europe will need a mixed approach: urgent external procurement where the gap is immediate, European industrial expansion where the capability is strategic, joint production where scale is needed, and deeper partnerships where no single country can move alone.
This is also where the defense-industrial question becomes political.
European leaders can announce higher targets, but industry cannot expand without predictable demand. Companies will not build new factories, hire specialized workers, expand supply chains, and invest in production lines if governments send only short-term signals. Industrial mobilization requires multi-year commitments, clear priorities, faster contracting, common standards, and procurement mechanisms that reward speed, scale, and interoperability.
That is difficult in Europe because defense remains both national and collective. Governments want efficiency, but they also want domestic jobs. They want joint procurement, but they also want national control. They want European autonomy, but they often disagree over what should count as European. They want to increase production, but they face fiscal constraints, labor shortages, regulations, and political resistance.
The result is a familiar European problem: strategic ambition ahead of implementation capacity.
The Czech Republic offers one important example.
It is not one of Europe’s largest countries, but its defense industry has become more important because it is connected to real demand, practical production, ammunition supply, and battlefield urgency. The Czech case shows that smaller and mid-sized countries can become significant players in the new security race when they control useful parts of the supply chain, specialize in areas of urgent demand, and move faster than larger bureaucratic systems.
But it also shows the limits of opportunity. Smaller countries often depend heavily on exports, foreign demand, political access, and larger alliance frameworks. They can become important nodes in a security network, but they may struggle to sustain that role without stronger research and development, government-backed export mechanisms, industrial depth, and institutional influence.
That is a broader lesson for Europe.
The future European defense ecosystem will not be built only by the largest powers. It will depend on networks of countries, companies, suppliers, research centers, and military users. Some of the most important contributions may come from states that are not traditional strategic leaders but are agile, specialized, and industrially relevant.
This is where the civil and military worlds converge.
European security can no longer be understood only through defense ministries and armed forces. It now depends on transportation networks, energy systems, ports, rail corridors, digital infrastructure, space assets, cyber resilience, telecommunications, financial systems, private industry, and dual-use technology.
Military mobility is a good example. A tank, missile battery, or air defense system is only useful if it can move where it is needed, when it is needed. That requires roads, bridges, railways, ports, permissions, logistics planning, and coordination between civilian and military authorities. The same is true for ammunition production, energy resilience, drone manufacturing, data centers, and cyber defense.
The battlefield and the home front are no longer separate.
Europe must therefore rethink security as a whole-of-society and whole-of-alliance challenge. This does not mean militarizing society. It means recognizing that deterrence depends on the ability of civilian systems to support military resilience under pressure.
The war in Ukraine has also changed the meaning of strategic autonomy.
For years, European strategic autonomy was often debated as a political slogan, sometimes interpreted as distance from the United States. That framing is too narrow. The real issue is not whether Europe should separate from the United States. It should not. The transatlantic alliance remains central to European security.
The real question is whether Europe can become a more capable partner.
A Europe that cannot produce enough ammunition, defend its airspace, move forces across its own territory, secure its critical infrastructure, or sustain a long conflict will remain dependent in ways that weaken both Europe and the United States. A stronger Europe would not replace NATO. It would strengthen NATO.
Strategic autonomy, properly understood, is not strategic isolation. It is a strategic responsibility.
It means the ability to act, sustain, produce, decide, and contribute at scale. It means reducing dangerous dependencies without abandoning alliances. It means building enough European capacity so that transatlantic cooperation becomes more balanced and more credible.
This is especially important as the United States faces competing demands in the Indo-Pacific, the Middle East, and at home. Even when Washington remains committed to Europe, American attention, forces, industrial capacity, and political capital are not unlimited. Europe must prepare for a world in which U.S. support remains essential but cannot be taken for granted to cover every gap.
That requires a new European bargain.
European governments must spend more, but they must also spend differently. They must buy together where possible, standardize more, reduce fragmentation, support industrial expansion, integrate emerging technologies, and create faster pathways from innovation to procurement. They must build stockpiles not only for symbolic readiness, but for sustained operations. They must connect military planning with infrastructure, energy, cyber, transportation, and industrial policy.
They must also accept that deterrence is not a peacetime abstraction. It is a daily discipline.
The next European security model must be measured by practical questions: Can forces deploy quickly? Can ammunition be produced and replenished to match wartime needs? Can air defenses protect critical infrastructure? Can drones be built at scale? Can cyber systems survive sustained pressure? Can ports and railways move forces eastward? Can governments share intelligence fast enough? Can industry increase production fast enough? Can allies coordinate decisions before the crisis becomes unmanageable? Can governments bring civil society on board for a sustained security effort?
These are the questions that define integrated readiness.
Europe’s transformation is real. But it is incomplete.
The continent has recognized the danger. It has begun to shift budgets. It has launched new financing tools. It has rediscovered the importance of the defense industry. It has learned from Ukraine. It now understands that resilience, mobility, and production capacity matter.
Still, recognition is not the same as readiness.
Europe will be judged not by the ambition of its declarations, but by the speed and depth of its implementation. It will be judged by its ability to move from fragmented rearmament to integrated readiness.
The new race for security is not only a race to spend. It is a race to organize, produce, adapt, integrate, and decide.
Europe is the clearest case study because it faces the challenge first and most visibly. But the lesson extends far beyond Europe: in the new security environment, power belongs not only to those who possess resources, but to those who can convert resources into coordinated action.
That is Europe’s test.
And it may become the test for every democracy in the decade ahead.
Omer Haim is a Distinguished Fellow at the Gold Institute for International Strategy, a Washington D.C. based foreign policy and defense think tank.









