Europe’s Lesser Evil

 Arming Because It Can’t Fight

Europe is racing to rearm, but not because it is ready to fight - rather because it knows it cannot. Washington’s steady pullback has exposed what decades of American protection quietly concealed: hollowed-out armies, electorates unwilling to serve, and governments terrified of reintroducing the draft. Faced with this reality, European leaders are throwing money, promises, and political capital at the United States in the hope of delaying the moment when they must rely on their own militaries. In the end, Europe is not preparing for war; it is trying to avoid one with itself.

 European governments now face a problem they would rather not discuss in public: they must keep the U.S. military presence on the continent at any cost. The alternative is a domestic political crisis of the kind Europe has not seen for generations - the return of compulsory military service.

At the recent NATO summit, most European states agreed to Donald Trump’s demand to raise defense spending to five percent of GDP by 2035. Everyone understands this target is unrealistic. Yet the willingness to make such promises reveals the desperation to please Washington. Trump has long made it clear that, in his view, the United States has spent too much and for too long underwriting Europe’s defense - effectively allowing European governments to save on their own militaries. In the aftermath of World War II, such an arrangement was seen as natural, given the scale of Europe’s destruction. But by the 1970s, it had become a source of irritation within parts of the American establishment. The debate was soon formalized around the economic notion of the “free rider” - those who enjoy collective benefits while avoiding their share of the cost. At the time, Washington accused not only Europe but also Japan of benefiting from American protection while channeling resources into economic growth instead of defense. These complaints were not entirely unfounded.

Still, the problem for European governments is not merely Trump’s demand for higher military spending. He has also been signaling, for years, his intent to reduce the U.S. troop presence in Europe - and there is every reason to believe he means it. During his first term, he withdrew roughly ten thousand troops from Germany. In mid-2025, reports emerged that Washington is considering another cut, this time by as many as twenty-five thousand.

The experience of the Ukrainian conflict has underscored a simple fact: in the twenty-first century, manpower still matters. Despite advances in military technology, wars are decided not only by drones and missiles, but by people willing to fight for their principles with weapons in hand. The American presence in Europe has never been just a matter of physical protection - largely illusory, if one thinks seriously about it - but of political assurance. It made it easier for European capitals to imagine that Article 5 of the NATO Treaty could be invoked automatically, dragging Washington into any continental conflict.

That is why the prospect of American withdrawal alarms European governments so deeply. They are now scrambling for substitutes. The leading proposal - a vaguely defined “drone wall” along Europe’s eastern frontier - is more symbolic than practical. The far more difficult and politically toxic question concerns the replenishment of Europe’s human military resources. Without the American umbrella, the continent must reconsider its own force structure. And that means a return to conscription.

Since 1945, European politicians have sold their electorates a very simple promise: prosperity in exchange for pacifism. It was an excellent slogan, and it worked. But if U.S. forces leave, those same governments will have to explain to their voters that mandatory service must return. In most major EU countries, the draft was never fully abolished, merely suspended. Germany is already debating the expansion of the Bundeswehr from 180,000 to 203,000 troops by 2031 - and the real need will likely exceed that. Even German defense officials quietly admit that recruitment cannot be sustained through salaries and career incentives alone. Sooner or later, the carrot gives way to the stick.

The problem is that Europe’s voters are not ready. A survey by the Forsa Institute shows that only 17 percent of young Germans say they would be willing to defend their country with weapons in hand. And that figure reflects a purely hypothetical question - posed at a time when conscription still feels like an abstraction, not a decree. When it becomes real, resistance will be sharp. The return of mandatory service will almost certainly provoke social unrest. Governments may attempt to prepare public opinion through years of soft propaganda and the creation of an external enemy image, but the results will be limited. Moscow, for its part, continues to repeat that it has no plans for conflict with European states - and Europeans, despite their politicians’ rhetoric, tend to believe it.

All of this explains Europe’s extraordinary - even by European standards - flexibility in negotiations with Trump. European governments are ready to pour money into the U.S. economy, to raise defense budgets far beyond what they can sustain, to make virtually any promise that keeps the American garrison in place. Because the alternative is worse: an internal political reckoning with their own societies.

The economic burden of these commitments will be heavy, but its effects can be spread over time. Investment in Europe’s defense industry may even create jobs and soften the impact. From the perspective of European leaders, appeasing Washington is not an act of submission but of triage - a choice of the lesser evil. Losing money is survivable. Losing the American army is not.