The European Union continues to face a fundamental contradiction that threatens continental security. As it pursues an ambitious rearmament programme that is supposed to mobilise €800 billion through the ReArm Europe initiative (rebranded as “Readiness 2030” after a considerable PR backlash), it simultaneously pursues regulatory policies that sever the lifelines upon which energy security and military production depend.
Pressure to rearm is of course not just internal, but also external. The United States are all but done with providing free security for Europe, and the Trump administration expects Brussels to pick up a bigger share of the bill and buy more weapons from the US (as part of the “reverse Marshall Plan” that I have discussed in a recent newsletter). This became absolutely clear earlier this year during the June NATO Summit in The Hague, which was designed to mark a watershed moment for European defence. Amid tensions over NATO spending disparities – with the US contributing 65 per cent of NATO’s budget despite comprising only one member – and concerns about American commitment to Article 5, European leaders agreed to increase defence spending to five per cent of GDP by 2035. Remarkably, this exceeded President Trump’s expectations. Of this total, 3.5 per cent will fund core military assets, while 1.5 per cent supports infrastructure including cybersecurity and Ukraine aid.
Yet this commitment still does not address a major flaw in EU policies: The material capacity to execute this spending remains hostage to external powers. Without energy and industry, there can be no rearmament. For example, Qatar’s State Minister for Energy Affairs delivered an explicit ultimatum: If the European Union does not water down its Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive (CSDDD), Qatar will halt LNG deliveries to Europe. With Qatar supplying 12-14 per cent of European LNG this is no diplomatic posturing, especially considering plans to become entirely independent from Russian energy sources.
Originally, the exhaustingly named CSDDD imposes potential fines of up to five per cent of global turnover on companies failing to meet stringent sustainability standards across supply chains. Europe finds itself lecturing its energy providers on sustainability standards while desperately dependent on their exports. Brussels did cave last week, but the entire episode is a strong demonstration how far the EU leadership still is from accepting basic realities: If you are a global energy vassal, you have no cards to play. And this is especially true vis-à-vis the world’s energy superpowers.
Alas, if you thought the energy predicament is bad, it pales beside Europe’s dependence on Chinese rare earth elements for virtually all advanced military systems (and, let’s be honest, civilian applications from cars to coffee makers). China controls approximately 90 per cent of global rare earth processing. Following April 2025 restrictions on exports, Chinese shipments of rare earth magnets dropped by 75 per cent compared with the previous year, forcing defence contractors to pause production.
These materials are indispensable for almost everybody: F-35 fighter jets require over 400 kilograms of rare earths; precision-guided munitions, radar systems, and submarine components all depend on them. China supplies 31 per cent of the EU’s tungsten and 97 per cent of its magnesium metal. Under regulations enforced through a Chinese licensing system introduced in April 2025, companies affiliated with foreign militaries face near-total denial of export licenses. The Federation of German Industries called these measures “a direct assault on the West’s rearmament efforts.” The EU Trade Commissioner acknowledged in October of this year that the Chinese licensing system has only “properly processed” 50 per cent of EU applications. A defence budget without the material capacity to execute defence production is budget theatre rather than strategic policy.
Simultaneously, Europe’s industrial base is collapsing. Germany’s manufacturing engine exemplifies this decline: Thyssenkrupp announced plans to cut annual steelmaking capacity from 11.5 million metric tons to 8.7-9 million metric tons, eliminating 5,000-11,000 jobs by 2030. Similar shutdowns occurred across the continent: ArcelorMittal Poland shut down a blast furnace due to record energy prices and cheap imports; Acciaierie d’Italia closed its only operating blast furnace. And this does not come as a surprise, given global energy realities: According to the Statistical Review of World Energy, the EU consumed 38 exajoules of fossil-fuel based energy in 2024 but produced only approximately five exajoules domestically. This means Europe imports roughly 33 exajoules annually (the equivalent of the entire U.S. natural gas production), while paying full capital costs. This is not an environment in which to build a military-industrial base.
European leadership appears constitutionally incapable of recognising or addressing these contradictions. The continent is governed by a managerial class selected for bureaucratic navigation rather than strategic vision. Political and corporate leaders optimise for personal survival within institutional structures rather than for national or institutional success.
The result: Europe demands energy independence while threatening suppliers through ideological overreach; pursues military rearmament while dependent on geopolitical rivals for essential materials; announces defence spending while systematically shuttering the industrial capacity needed to convert spending into capability.
Brussels faces an inescapable choice: prioritize security and accept regulatory concessions that entails, or persist in regulatory maximalism and accept strategic impotence. Qatar and Beijing are not merely calling this bluff, but they are making it explicit.
The question is whether Europe will recognise this contradiction before the consequences become irreversible.
Jews confront bad arguments and a civilisational instinct against them