For decades, Europe’s defense posture has leaned on an unspoken promise: when conflict arrives, so will American firepower. Picture 2030: European generals frantically call Washington as Russian forces cross the Baltics, only to hear a chilling voicemail—“The U.S. is no longer accepting calls from this region.”
This isn’t fiction. It’s the quiet contingency haunting European defense planners, especially as a second Trump presidency turns strategic autonomy from a French ambition into a European necessity. Yet Europe remains dangerously underprepared to face war alone. Its defense infrastructure—built for American logistics, not European readiness—now threatens to be its greatest liability.
Mobility, by permit only
Europe’s military mobility resembles a Kafkaesque farce. Key corridors like the route from Rotterdam to the Suwałki Gap were designed for NATO reinforcements under U.S. leadership. Without them, moving troops becomes a logistical nightmare—less Blitzkrieg, more Eurovision with paperwork.
Heavy transport? American. In-flight refueling? American. Satellite surveillance, cyber defense, stockpiles? All largely American. Meanwhile, European roads crack under armored weight limits, tunnels are too narrow, and train gauges shift across borders like relics of warring empires.
Even the Joint Support and Enabling Command (JSEC), responsible for troop movements across Europe, answers to an American officer. It’s a symbolic cornerstone of Europe’s dependency—a command structure waiting for leadership that might never arrive.
A Greek Commissioner grabs the wheel
Into this dysfunctional landscape steps EU Sustainable Transport Commissioner Apostolos Tzitzikostas. On April 2nd, he unveiled an ambitious plan to simplify hazardous goods regulation, lift outdated weight restrictions, and tackle 500 military mobility “hot spots.”
His team promises quick wins: stronger bridges, expanded ports, wider tunnels, and rail bypasses. His chief of staff, Anna Panagopoulou, highlighted a forthcoming EU port strategy tailored to wartime logistics.
These are rare concrete steps in a landscape usually flooded with strategy documents. And yet, a fundamental contradiction lingers: the entire effort is still designed to facilitate American reinforcement.
Brussels opens its wallet—cautiously
The Commission’s recent proposal to stimulate defense-related investment reflects a late awakening. Defense, once a taboo word in Brussels, is now being awkwardly sewn into the fabric of civilian programs.
Through amendments to existing funds, the Strategic Technologies for Europe Platform (STEP) will now cover defense technologies—awarding projects with bureaucratic honors like the European Defense Fund’s equivalent of a gold star sticker.
Horizon Europe will open to dual-use startups. Digital Europe will fund AI Gigafactories useful for both civil and defense applications. It took a full-scale invasion for Europe to realize military technology might be useful in … military contexts.
“Voluntary transfers” of cohesion funds to defense programs are now possible. But “voluntary” is a keyword in a Union where national defense priorities diverge wildly—from countering Russia to managing migration.
A new dual-use push under the Connecting Europe Facility will also support military-ready transport and digital infrastructure. These steps will culminate in the Omnibus Defense Simplification Package in June 2025—assuming Europe hasn’t been simplified by external forces first.
Infrastructure vs. intent
To any military planner, the synergy between mobility and industrial capacity is obvious. Yet Europe has taken decades to realize tanks need bridges and factories—logistical basics overshadowed by legal frameworks.
The dual-use strategy is promising. It offers a smart way to address both civilian needs and defense gaps. But the timelines involved suggest most capabilities will mature just in time for the crisis after the one they were built to address.
This reflects Europe’s chronic mindset: defense as a regulatory exercise, not an operational imperative. While Russian generals study how to take key junctions, European officials master interdepartmental memos.
Barriers to autonomy
Bureaucracy isn’t Europe’s only barricade. There are incompatible rail systems, diverging national doctrines, and deep political splits. France pushes for autonomy. Germany worries it might offend Washington. Eastern states fear weakening NATO. Southern members focus on the Mediterranean.
Economic realities deepen the divide. Defense remains politically toxic in many Member States. Budget choices are driven by elections, not threats—a luxury that may soon become unsustainable.
Defense autonomy or strategic theater?
To their credit, these initiatives mark a shift from the status quo. The military mobility strategy and defense investment regulation attack two sides of the same problem. They could lay the foundation for real defense autonomy—if implemented with urgency.
The White Paper for European Defense-Readiness 2030 offers strategic clarity. The Omnibus Defense Simplification Package hints that Brussels is learning procurement can’t follow the same rules as swing set tenders.
But these are still plans. Europe’s future hinges on whether they’re a genuine pivot or institutional theater—self-preservation dressed in camouflage.
Because at the moment, Europe’s ability to move a tank battalion across its own territory still depends on American goodwill and legal fine print.
The clock is ticking
Commissioner Tzitzikostas and the Commission’s new investment regulation may signal the start of a new path. But Europe’s strategic culture remains rooted in dependency and delay.
As Russian armor idles at NATO’s gates, Europe races to finish another round of consultation documents. If Europe’s 2030 response to aggression is still based on PowerPoint decks and fragmented rail gauges, the only thing moving fast might be history—without Europe on board.