The Russia-Ukraine crisis has irreversibly exposed the structural fragility of the European security architecture established with great hope in the post-Cold War era. By undermining Europe’s decades-old security paradigm, which was based on the assumption that peace could be rendered permanent through economic integration, the conflict in question has driven the continent toward one of the most critical strategic crossroads in modern history. In the current conjuncture, Europe finds itself compelled to maintain its structural dependence on Washington’s nuclear and conventional military capabilities at the highest level on the one hand; and on the other, it pursues strategic sovereignty with a desire for self-determination against the risk of US internal political fluctuations and shifting global priorities. This chronic tension points to a deep and structural institutionalization problem that limits the European Union’s (EU) capacity to be not only an economic giant but also an autonomous geopolitical actor.
Europe’s security architecture is currently being shaped by the philosophical and operational tension between two fundamental strategic poles. The first of these poles is constituted by the vision of strategic autonomy, represented by France and aiming for Europe’s military-industrial independence; while the second is represented by the ‘Atlanticism’ doctrine—led by Poland and the Baltic states—which seeks the sole guarantor of security across the Atlantic. This divergence should not be viewed merely as a distribution of defense budgets or a technical disagreement; on the contrary, it represents a profound identity crisis rooted in differing historical traumas, geographical realities, and deep-seated strategic cultures.
France’s security perspective is built upon the principles of strategic independence and national sovereignty, which date back to the era of Charles de Gaulle, the founder of the Fifth Republic. In the view of Paris, Europe can only escape its role as a passive spectator in the global power struggle and emerge as an autonomous actor by establishing military planning, command-and-control structures, and logistical capacities that are independent of the United States. Emmanuel Macron’s ‘brain death’ characterization of NATO in 2019, which drew attention to the lack of coordination within the alliance, is a stark manifestation of this strategic legacy in the face of contemporary geopolitical crises. From France’s perspective, Washington is viewed as an actor that may pivot its strategic focus toward the Indo-Pacific at any time, an act that would relegate European security guarantees to a mere transactional framework.
In contrast, for states such as Poland, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, which share a direct border with Russia or perceive this threat in an existential dimension, security is a matter of providing the swiftest and most effective deterrence against tangible aggression, rather than a debate over theoretical autonomy. For Warsaw and Tallinn, the most reliable security guarantee is not the EU’s as-yet immature military structures, but rather the ‘nuclear umbrella’ provided by the US and NATO’s Article 5. Due to historical experiences from the Soviet occupation and geographical risks, the strategic culture of these states harbors a deep-seated mistrust toward Western Europe’s, specifically France and Germany’s, realpolitik-based pursuit of dialogue with Moscow; they view security as attainable only through unshakable bilateral ties with Washington.
The war in Ukraine had both validated this structural tension within Europe’s security identity and carried the asymmetry between the parties to a more complex dimension. The early stages of the conflict, by compelling European nations to raise defense expenditures above the 2% of GDP threshold, created a basis that bolstered France’s thesis of ‘we must look after ourselves’. However, the operational course of the war has painfully demonstrated just how limited Europe’s capacity is to manage a large-scale conventional war without US support, particularly regarding advanced intelligence sharing, satellite communications, long-range precision munitions, and logistical depth.
The Zeitenwende policy announced by Germany constitutes one of the most dramatic examples of this strategic dilemma. Despite deciding to augment its defense budget with a 100-billion-euro fund, the Berlin administration undermined confidence in Europe-centric projects, such as the ‘Future Combat Air System’ (FCAS) conducted jointly with France, by making its first major strategic procurement choice in favor of American-made F-35 fighter jets. This choice has proven how dominant the reflex to take refuge in tried-and-tested, reliable transatlantic ties remains, rather than pursuing autonomy during times of security crises and hot conflicts in Europe. This situation constitutes a serious obstacle to the standardization and independence of the European defense industry.
From one perspective, Poland’s stance is a survival strategy based on aligning with the most powerful actor in the system against a regional hegemonic threat. For Poland and the Baltic states, the rational choice is to remain under the protection of the existing superpower rather than relying on an as-yet untested ‘European Army’. On the other hand, France’s approach is an effort to transform Europe into an independent pole of power and undertake a balancing role in the system by reducing the asymmetric dependence on US global hegemony.
Another perspective draws attention to the fact that the issue is not merely about military capacity but is rooted in profound differences in identity and norms. While the French security identity has been built upon the norms of a ‘great power’ and an ‘independent actor’ since Napoleon; the collective identity of Eastern European states has been shaped by ‘post-Soviet trauma’ and the aspiration to be part of Western democratic institutions. These two contrasting identity constructions hinder the formation of a shared ‘strategic culture’ across Europe; even when a common threat perception emerges, they alienate the parties from one another regarding the nature of the response to be given to that threat.
In conclusion, this structural tension between transatlantic commitment and strategic sovereignty is the ultimate test that will determine whether the European Union will become a geopolitical subject or remain a strategic object on the global stage. The fact that Europe continues to reside under a protective tutelage, one where strategic agency rests in Washington and security remains tethered to the volatility of US domestic politics, including potential isolationist shifts, steadily erodes the continent’s relevance in the global power struggle.
As long as the competition for market share in the defense industry and absolute US superiority in nuclear deterrence continue to hold sway, it is foreseeable that this dual-headed structure and the state of ‘strategic schizophrenia’ in Europe’s security policies will continue. Europe’s potential to become a security actor in the true sense lies in its ability to redefine the asymmetric dependence on transatlantic relations on the basis of ‘complementarity’ and its capacity to demonstrate the institutional will to protect its strategic interests independently of Washington, if necessary. This process necessitates not only an increase in military spending but also the construction of a security identity based on a shared vision for a geopolitical future, one that heals the historical wounds between the east and west of the continent.
