Andriy Rudyk, PhD in social and behavioural sciences and a serviceman in the Armed Forces of Ukraine, spoke with The Ukrainian Week about Europe’s rearmament prospects amid the Russian-Ukrainian war and the evolving role of the United States.
— In March 2025, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen announced plans to mobilise €800 billion for the EU’s Readiness 2030 rearmament programme, aiming to strengthen defence by the end of the decade. To meet this goal, EU member states would need to more than double their defence spending from around 1.3% of GDP to 2.8%. There’s also talk of raising NATO’s spending target from 2% to 5% of GDP, though that still seems far off.
How realistic is this, considering most NATO countries have long missed the current 2% target — with only six of 27 EU countries meeting it today?
— It’s important to distinguish between NATO and the EU, especially since some neutral countries like Ireland, Malta, and Austria aren’t part of NATO but still have their own defence budgets. As for the goals — they’re definitely ambitious. I liked the phrase “mobilise funds” because it highlights the challenge: you have to find the money, and there are basically two ways to do that.
First, by raising revenue — through higher taxes, royalties from resource extraction, production, and so on. Second, by cutting certain spending. It’s simple: either you earn more or spend less. So why have EU countries struggled for so long to come up with the funds?
The truth is, they do have the money. The real problem is that accessing it would mean scaling back social programmes — that’s the first issue. The second is that EU member states aren’t all on the same level economically. You’ve got countries like Germany — the obvious powerhouse — and France, alongside others. Then there are the so-called catching-up economies: former Soviet republics like Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia, as well as ex-Eastern Bloc countries like the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, Hungary, and Romania.
If you take even a quick look, Romania is currently one of the fastest-growing economies and is making significant arms purchases. So for Romanians—and Bulgarians too—the question inevitably becomes: what needs to be cut, and how can they diversify their spending?
At least Bulgaria has a fairly strong defence industry of its own. For example, Bulgarian-made machine guns have been found in places like Chad, giving their military-industrial complex some international visibility. They’re also supplying Europe with a notable amount of ammunition and more. On the surface, it’s a small country with a modest economy, but it plays a crucial role in the EU’s regional security.
Still, the same core issue keeps coming up: social spending will have to be cut, and that inevitably impacts the population.
We know the sanctions on Russia haven’t gone as far as we hoped. Certain goods—especially natural resources—still make their way into the European market through China, the UAE, and other third countries. This has driven up prices for some products right here in the EU.
Simply put, Russian oil continues to reach Europe via increasingly complex logistics. Naturally, these longer routes come with higher costs, which push prices even higher. Russian propaganda exploits this, claiming Europeans are funding the war themselves. The impact of this narrative has been clear in recent elections across several European countries.
That’s why achieving savings in Europe will be tough. But setting clear goals is essential—without them, no real action will happen. Plus, increased defence spending can be seen from more than one perspective.
— For example, when the €800 billion target was announced, why did Spain’s government want climate change spending to count as part of defence expenditure?
— It’s like the old joke: why does North Korea launch missiles into the sea? To deter Godzilla—though nobody knows it. That’s pretty much how Spain plans to “deter” threats. But jokes aside, this brings up a bigger issue.
Even with a shared security strategy and overall strategic concept, EU—and NATO—member states face very different challenges and threats.
For Spain, the main concern is migration, especially around its semi-enclaves of Ceuta and Melilla. That’s where it’s focused: building physical barriers and boosting security measures. Russia, meanwhile, feels like a distant threat. Spain doesn’t depend much on Russian gas—it gets most of its supply via Morocco and Algeria. The same goes for Portugal—the war feels far removed.
In contrast, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia are deeply invested. But when it comes to defence spending, it all comes down to how the burden is shared among member states. And again, the question remains: are we talking about the EU or NATO? Because some countries belong to the EU but not NATO, and vice versa.
— At the end of May, the EU approved a loan scheme to fund €150 billion of the €800 billion through borrowing. Austria quickly showed keen interest in securing a piece of the action for its defence industry.
— In this case, it’s not just about Europe’s security. Austria might not be a global powerhouse, but it’s a solid player in the international arms market. It’s clearly interested in exporting weapons—potentially even to the US or other parts of North America. But the bigger question is whether Austria and its armed forces are truly ready to contribute to the EU’s collective security.
Austria is a neutral country. After the Soviet and Allied zones merged in 1955, Austria declared its neutrality. Since then, its stance has generally leaned toward Russia, shaped by Soviet-era interests. That’s different from Ireland or Malta—they’re not pro-Russian, but they share a similar neutral position.
And then there are countries like Luxembourg, even within the EU or NATO, whose entire armed forces number just 810 personnel. No offense meant, but there are practical limits: a small population and limited resources naturally mean a small army.
Even if Luxembourg were to raise its defence spending to just over 2% of GDP, we have to ask: would that really make a meaningful difference to the EU’s overall defence capacity? I have my doubts. Sure, it might mean better pay for soldiers or a slight increase in personnel—maybe forming another platoon. I haven’t seen Luxembourg’s official military structure, but typically, a platoon is about 30 to 40 people, depending on the unit. Such a contribution wouldn’t move the needle much. For Luxembourg, those expenses are real, but they’d probably have to come at the cost of healthcare, social services, or delaying other important investments.
It’s a different story with NATO—take Turkey, for example. In terms of troop numbers and military capability, Turkey is one of NATO’s key players, especially on its eastern flank. It has regional power ambitions and actively projects influence across Central Asia—Kyrgyzstan and beyond—as well as in Africa, including Ethiopia, Somalia, and Djibouti. That’s a crucial factor.
While Turkey isn’t an EU member, it is a NATO member with a highly independent foreign policy, which sets it apart. Unlike most European countries, Turkey has a well-developed defence industry and is largely self-sufficient in arms production.
— Turkey has real experience in modern warfare, like with its operations in Syria. How does that compare to most EU countries?
— It wouldn’t be fair to say Europeans have no combat experience. They’ve taken part in numerous missions—in Mozambique, the Gulf of Guinea, and beyond. But of course, that’s not remotely comparable to fighting in northern Syria with artillery, air strikes, and a variety of drones. There’s a big difference between firing at pirates, wagging your finger, and watching them retreat to some island in the Gulf of Guinea, and being engaged in sustained combat involving advanced military systems.
Even with the Houthis, European forces have been involved—Greek frigates, for example, have launched missiles into Yemen. But again, the scale and intensity of that engagement don’t compare to the experience Turkey has gained. That’s the key difference.
If Montenegro increases its defence budget—and it does have a slightly larger military than Luxembourg, with about two and a half to three times the personnel and better equipment—it’s still a small player. The real defence heavyweights in the EU and NATO are clear, based on troop numbers, hardware, and overall potential: Germany, France, Turkey (in NATO), and the United Kingdom (in NATO but outside the EU).
Here, we’re focusing on continental Europe. The United States and Canada are a whole different story—and that needs to be factored in as well.
— Here’s a key question: even if Europe manages to pool this money, where will they actually spend it? Russia has long invested in its defence and can scale up quickly, but Europe hasn’t, relying instead on the so-called “peace dividends” and US support. How long will it take for Europe to reach a meaningful level of defence—both to support Ukraine and protect themselves?
— That’s a good question—and definitely one of the toughest. Sure, you can save a little here, earn a bit more there, or turn a blind eye to sanctions (which is already happening in some cases). As the saying goes, “many a little makes a mickle.” But the real challenge lies in defence procurement.
The European Union—unlike even NATO—is far from united when it comes to military coordination. Yes, there are some defence institutions and joint rapid reaction forces, but only a handful of countries actually participate.
Out of 27 EU member states, for example, just six take part in the naval component. I get that countries like the Czech Republic, being landlocked, can’t physically join naval missions. But there are others who simply refuse, saying: “We don’t want to, we won’t participate.” As a result, a small group of countries ends up carrying most of the burden—France, Greece, and a few others.
This ties directly into defence procurement. The heaviest load falls on the stronger economies—financially, industrially, and operationally—especially France, Germany, and Italy. Greece is also arming itself, but more with an eye on Turkey than Russia. On the militarisation index—which measures active military personnel per 1,000 people—Greece actually leads Europe, with a notably high military presence for its population size.
The Greeks are focused on armaments primarily for their own security concerns regarding Turkey—a country that, interestingly, is also their NATO ally. Then there’s Cyprus, which isn’t a NATO member because part of the island remains occupied by Turkish forces.
Meanwhile, Bulgaria is actively developing its defence industry and doing quite well financially. But there are political risks: Bulgaria has strong pro-Russian factions. If Europe doesn’t diversify its defence contracts—spreading them among Germany, France, and others—and instead funnels them mostly to Bulgaria, this could create additional tensions.
Several Central and Eastern European countries, if I may say so, are indeed interested in placing defence orders with Bulgaria. Many still use Soviet-calibre weapons and equipment, and Bulgaria can supply a significant portion of those needs—not everything, of course, but a substantial amount.
The situation is further complicated by Bulgaria’s ongoing political instability. In a short span, the country has held over ten parliamentary elections. Governments change frequently, and there’s a real risk that pro-Russian forces could come to power. For instance, even the current president, Rumen Radev, is often accused of pro-Russian leanings. If such authorities gain strength, there’s a danger that classified information could be passed on to Russia. Defence contracts aren’t just routine paperwork—they involve highly sensitive and secret information.
Similar risks exist in other countries too, like Hungary, which may also be “leaking” data related to defence contracts. This isn’t just about Europe’s military capabilities; it’s about political will—about which leaders are truly ready to say, “We need to rearm.”
Take Poland, for example. It’s the only European country spending over 4% of its GDP on defence, a level considered the benchmark. Poland is genuinely rearming, and not just through European markets but also with American supplies.
That said, even here there are complexities. When the US suddenly cut Ukraine’s access to certain F-16 components that were transferred not directly by the US but via the Netherlands, it raised alarms. People began to wonder: what if this happens with other critical supplies?
— Are Europeans exploring alternatives instead of just relying on help from the US?
— Poland was already actively buying arms from South Korea even before recent events. But countries like China, North Korea, or Iran are hardly going to become hubs for European defence contracts—that would be, at best, unusual. Common sense says this won’t happen. So, all of this will likely be done within Europe itself.
The real question is political will. These moves mean significant spending, which inevitably impacts social programs and living standards. And immediately, people will ask, “Why spend so much when there’s no war? Why should we pay for this?”
On top of that, social surveys show that many citizens across the EU aren’t ready to go to war or even support active military action—and naturally, they’re reluctant to fund it.
Another factor is that in many European countries, the military is mostly voluntary. Those who want to serve do so, but that’s starting to change. Latvia has already brought back conscription, and Croatia plans to follow suit. Take Italy, for example—conscription was last in effect for the generation that served along the former Yugoslavia’s borders, people born in the 1950s. For them, war feels distant and irrelevant today.
Another key point is production within the EU. Ammunition isn’t particularly complex to manufacture, and Europe generally manages this well, though there can be occasional shortages of certain materials.
What’s more critical is the production of high-tech equipment: aircraft, software, advances in artificial intelligence, and the like. These tend to be joint projects where countries pool resources and expertise.
For example, the UK, Italy, Germany, and France have defence joint ventures that allow them to share technologies and capabilities. But a crucial nuance is that political will needs to be coordinated not just in Berlin or London, but among all the major players. Without that, each country ends up trying to build its own defence-industrial complex, resulting in costly duplication.
On the other hand, although the EU’s economy is roughly ten times larger than Russia’s, the Russian defence industry remains a highly centralised system, effectively the “engine” driving the war effort—even if it’s not operating at full capacity. Its strength lies in its ability to produce weapons quickly and on a massive scale. Europe, by contrast, lacks that kind of synergy.
Looking at Europe’s combined economies and nominal GDP, the potential is huge. But there are big differences between countries. Take Poland, for example—it’s actively rearming, buying modern systems, and developing its own projects. Meanwhile, some countries, like Albania, have very limited defence capabilities and low demand.
So, Europe’s defence industry is largely driven by those nations with real demand—Poland, the Baltic states, Norway (which isn’t in the EU but is part of NATO), and Finland. France and Germany, meanwhile, mostly operate independently in this sector, focusing heavily on exports.
— What’s your take on Macron’s suggestion about potentially hosting French nuclear weapons in other European countries?
— If France were to share its nuclear weapons with other countries or hand over full control, it could trigger serious tensions with the US, which maintains a similar policy with its allies and insists on keeping exclusive control.
At the same time, not all EU countries are eager for France to take a leading role in security and defence. Since the days of the European Coal and Steel Community, France has pushed for a common European army, preparing for a future where NATO—and the US—might pull back from European security. The idea of an EU Armed Forces has been a long-standing strategic goal for Paris.
However, this idea doesn’t excite all member states. Germany, for example, is cautious about France potentially dominating security matters. Smaller countries, too, often resist for historical or political reasons, fearing that French influence would simply replace American influence, leaving the balance of power largely unchanged.
The real challenge for the EU’s common defence policy isn’t just technical or resource-based — it’s the gap between bold political rhetoric and actual, coordinated action. Macron’s frequent calls to strengthen European security often come across as personal initiatives rather than a strategy backed by broad consensus across member states.
This creates a clear contradiction: France talks about Europe’s defence autonomy while at the same time pulling troops out of Africa — a region that’s long been a key part of its influence. Meanwhile, countries like Turkey are actively expanding their military and political presence across Africa — in Libya, Djibouti, Somalia, Ethiopia — through instructors, bases, and political partnerships.
Even though many EU countries are formally part of NATO, they still don’t meet the Alliance’s standards — not just technically but also in how they approach things. Different calibres, weapon types, and a lack of unified logistics raise serious questions about how well they can actually work together. Logistics is the biggest weak point. If Russia were to attack the Baltics or break through the Suwałki Corridor, it wouldn’t just be about how fast they respond but whether troops and equipment can actually be moved in time.
If military shipments get stuck somewhere between a railway station in Germany and a border crossing, and a political decision is delayed because of Hungary’s veto or another country saying “this isn’t our problem,” then the question is: does a truly unified European defence really exist? Isn’t it time to move beyond words and show real political commitment?
— If Russia were to attack the Baltic countries, do you think NATO’s Article 5 would actually come into play?
— I have my doubts about whether it would. Even Russian air attacks haven’t been intercepted over Polish or Romanian territory. So why didn’t the defence systems respond? You also have to factor in the ethnic element here.
Unlike Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia have large Russian minorities. There are cities like Narva in Estonia and Daugavpils in Latvia where Russians make up the majority. It could end up like Czechoslovakia back in the day, when mobilisation was called but things didn’t go as planned.
As I always say, the First Czechoslovak Republic might have been better called Czecho-Germany based on its ethnic makeup — before the communist regime took over. The ethnic Germans simply didn’t show up at what would be today’s territorial defence centres. That was it. NATO would just stand by and think, “Well, they’re surrendering themselves.” Russian propaganda would feed on that: why should we bother defending them?
Then all eyes would turn to Poland. Because we know Suwałki and Poland would be next. Finland, as a culturally and economically close partner to Estonia, and possibly Norway and Sweden, would also be affected. But that would risk splitting NATO. I’m worried Article 5 might not actually hold up, and that NATO is turning into more of an “alliance of concern” than a solid defence pact.
