Without a Visible Enemy: Why the EU Will Not Become a Defense Union

Western sanctions on Russia are losing effectiveness as the economy adapts, sourcing critical goods through third countries like India, UAE, and Türkiye. The South Caucasus and Central Asia become key re-export hubs, highlighting gaps in the sanctions regime. EU security remains fragmented, with Eastern states seeing Russia as a threat, while Western nations remain detached.

Alekper Aliyev
Alekper Aliyev
This illustration was generated using artificial intelligence.

The sanctions policy pursued by Western countries against the Russian Federation is showing signs of systemic exhaustion. Despite the steady expansion of restrictive measures by the European Union, the United States, and their partners, the overall effectiveness of economic pressure remains limited. The Russian economy has adapted to the new conditions, and the supply of critical components, including dual-use goods, continues through circumvention routes. In weapons systems produced in 2023–2024, electronic modules of American and European origin are still being identified. At the same time, petroleum products formally re-exported through third countries—primarily India, the United Arab Emirates, and Türkiye—are entering international markets without any structural changes in logistics.

The role of third countries, which are not formally involved in the conflict but serve as logistical hubs, deserves particular attention. The South Caucasus and Central Asia have become key corridors for re-export. For instance, the volume of vehicle shipments to member states of the Eurasian Economic Union exceeds several billion dollars annually. A significant share of automotive equipment shipped from the South Caucasus to Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan formally does not violate sanctions regulations but effectively establishes a parallel logistics chain into Russia. This situation illustrates not so much a legal vacuum as a strategic blind spot. Western governments have shown no consistent political or diplomatic response to such schemes, undermining long-term trust in sanctions as a credible instrument of geopolitical containment.

This imbalance becomes especially evident in the context of the changing transatlantic architecture. The decline in U.S. foreign policy engagement after 2016 has prompted greater rhetorical emphasis on European strategic autonomy. However, the practical implementation of the declared goals faces both institutional and cultural limitations. Financial assistance promised to Ukraine is being disbursed inconsistently. The much-discussed “coalition of the willing” has failed to evolve into a “coalition of the capable.” There is a clear absence of political will for extraordinary efforts. European leaders continue to express support for Ukraine, yet systematically shift responsibility onto an external security guarantor, which remains the United States.

This approach reflects the deeper political and historical structure of the European space. The current construct of collective European security is a relatively recent formation, dating back no more than a few decades. Until the mid-20th century, European states operated as sovereign entities with no assumed interdependence between their security interests. The idea that a threat to Estonia would automatically equate to a threat to Portugal is the result of institutional logic, not historical experience. Within the European Union, geopolitical stratification remains evident. Eastern and Northeastern countries—Poland, the Baltic States, and to a lesser extent Romania and the Czech Republic—regard Russia as a real and proximate threat. In contrast, Southern and Western European countries—Portugal, Spain, Italy, Greece—do not perceive any immediate danger. This is explained not only by the absence of a shared border with Russia but also by historical detachment, the logistical impossibility of an invasion, and the lack of any precedent for direct confrontation.

Against this backdrop, the notion of pan-European mobilization under the banner of a “collective Europe” appears more rhetorical than operational. Military budgets in southern Europe remain low, the development of armed forces lags behind emerging threats, and public opinion favors preserving social spending over defense allocations. For much of the European population, war remains a televised event, not a plausible scenario of domestic concern. As a result, even a hypothetical threat is not perceived as a mobilizing factor but as an abstraction relevant only to border states. In this sense, the myth of a 500-million-strong Europe trembling before a 145-million-strong Russia persists not as a strategic reality but as an instrument of intra-Brussels positioning.

Until the threat becomes tangible and visible, the emergence of a unified European defense architecture remains unlikely. The continent’s security framework will continue to be fragmented, its responses reactive, and its sanctions regime partial and porous. In place of strategic figures capable of reshaping the political order, Europe will continue to produce pragmatic administrators whose primary function is to minimize obligations while preserving the appearance of participation. Strategic leadership, should it emerge at all, will be the product of external shock rather than internal political will.

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