Europe is once again talking about forming its own defense alliance. The idea of a European army—discussed on and off since the early days of the Cold War—was revived in February by Volodymyr Zelensky. The Ukrainian president claims that Donald Trump’s retraction of military support for Ukraine and ambivalence towards the EU shows that the bloc urgently needs its own military unit. Zelensky has reignited a debate that has failed to generate consensus within Europe, despite its long history.
Spain’s Socialist prime minister, Pedro Sánchez, is the latest EU leader to echo Zelensky—and according to a YouGov poll conducted in 2022, 64% of Spaniards are on his side. On March 28, he announced that Europe needs its own defense force to combat “old imperialist impulses in Russia,” especially in light of reduced support from the US. He called for a military force “with troops from all 27 member countries, working under a single flag with the same objectives.” Sánchez also wants greater economic integration within the bloc, and recently proposed a debt mutualization scheme—which has caused division along similar lines as the idea of a 27-nation army.
Despite Sánchez’s crusading rhetoric, one suspects there’s a self-interested motivation behind his call for an EU army. He is under intense pressure from both the EU and US to increase Spain’s defense spending; but anti-military sentiment in the country is strong, and he governs in partnership with Sumar, a leftist alliance that opposes increased investment in arms and troops. By claiming that EU defense is a collective, rather than national, responsibility, Sánchez no doubt hopes to deflect attention from his own difficulties.
The EU does collaborate on defense to some extent. At any one time, at least one multinational Battle Group, consisting of 1,500 troops, is on standby. These reached operational capacity in 2007, but according to the multinational military headquarters Eurocorps, “issues relating to political will, usability, and financial solidarity have prevented them from being deployed.” Precisely the same problems would arise within an EU army, of course—but on a much larger scale. There is also the European Maritime Force, formed in 1995 by Spain, France, Italy, and Portugal to conduct sea control, crisis response operations, and humanitarian missions. Advocates of an EU army argue that while these collaborative forces are an important pillar of the bloc’s defense, they are not equipped for long-running conflicts. They also claim that the EU is too dependent on the US for protection—a point on which Trump 2.0 completely agrees.
The notion of an EU army was first suggested in the early 1950s as a way of building capability against the Soviet Union without rearming West Germany. Proposed by the French government, it would have consisted of the EU’s six founding members—France, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Italy, West Germany, and Belgium. A treaty creating the European Defence Community was signed in 1952, but never ratified; instead, West Germany joined NATO and the Western Union, a military alliance formed in 1948, and the idea was shelved.
This decades-old idea was revived in 2016. Then, as now, a perceived threat from Russia was intensified by the sudden withdrawal of a military heavyweight. Following the Brexit referendum, in which 52% of the UK opted to leave the EU, the prime ministers of Hungary and the Czech Republic called for a European army. They were joined by Ursula von der Leyen—then Germany’s defense minister—who said that Europe needed a “Schengen of defense”—a reference to the continent’s border-free Schengen Area, made up of 29 nations (four of which are outside the EU). Jean-Claude Juncker, her predecessor as president of the EU Commission, had said a year earlier that the EU needed its own army in order to “convey a clear message to Russia that we are serious about defending our European values.” Whenever those are perceived to be in danger, the old idea of an EU army is reanimated.
Since Brexit, it has steadily gained traction. The idea was endorsed in 2018 by Angela Merkel, then the German chancellor, and French president Emmanuel Macron. A furious Trump, at that point halfway through his first term, saw it as an act of ingratitude towards NATO: “They were starting to learn German in Paris before the US came along,” he tweeted (a misleading reference to World War II). Ursula von der Leyen, president of the EU Commission since 2019, has called for a “European Defence Union,” and last month unveiled “Rearm Europe”—a five-year plan quickly rebranded “Readiness 2030,” after Spain and Italy complained that the original title was too militaristic. (Sánchez didn’t explain how that objection sits with his demand for an EU fighting force, presumably armed with more than goodwill.) Von der Leyen plans to mobilize €800 billion for the bloc’s defense over the next five years, by which point some analysts believe Russia could be ready to attack a member of NATO or the EU. Italy’s foreign minister, Antonio Tajani, also supports the idea of an EU army.
But Kaja Kallas, the EU’s foreign affairs chief and vice president of the EU Commission, claims that it’s not necessary. What’s more important, she says, is that the bloc’s 27 armies “are capable and can effectively work together to deter our rivals and defend Europe.” She is supported by Poland’s foreign minister, Radosław Sikorski, who is adamant that an EU army “will not happen,” and Denmark, which has historically seen NATO as the continent’s primary defense mechanism. During its membership of the bloc, the UK opposed the idea of an EU army for the same reason, arguing that it would unnecessarily duplicate NATO.
One of the major practical difficulties is how a 27-nation army would be funded. The issue of mutual financing has also arisen over the EU’s call for members to increase their national defense budgets—and there is no agreement there, either. Rather than the cheap loans suggested by von der Leyen as part of the “Readiness 2030” plan, heavily indebted southern nations such as Spain and Italy favor common defense bonds, or grants similar to those distributed during the pandemic. The suggestion has revived a long-standing grievance amongst wealthier northern members such as Germany and the Netherlands, which are reluctant to fund joint initiatives: “No Eurobonds,” said Dutch prime minister Dick Schoof after a meeting of EU leaders in late March. Another possibility, as recently suggested by France’s economy minister, is increasing taxes, especially on the wealthy.
Sánchez claims the EU should reconsider the idea of a joint army because its individual members have been unable to find common ground on defense. But that same problem would likely prevent the creation of an EU fighting force. Since their formation almost twenty years ago, none of the EU’s Battle Groups—which typically consist of troops from three or four countries—have been activated. This hardly suggests that the bloc is ready to form a 27-nation army, controlled from Brussels and entering battle under a blue-and-gold flag.
