Europeans: A People of Lazy Bureaucrats

In recent months, social media and news outlets around the world have been bombarding us with reports and political statements predicting the end of the world—ever since the warmongering President von der Leyen announced the need for a sinister plan to boost military spending among EU member states.

Within these two opposing camps, one can find various packs of individuals with their own leaders, chasing each other down without realizing they belong to the same family. This essay aims to address both sides, by examining the shared flaws that unite them.

Among the main opponents of increased military spending and of the ReArm Europe project (which, frankly, would have made far more sense as Defend Europe, but that’s another story) we find two groups that, though they despise one another, often end up casting the same votes in parliament and shouting the same slogans at rallies: the populist, nationalist right and the radical, pacifist left. On one side, the right rejects any project of common defense in the name of national sovereignty; on the other, the left opposes it for ethical and social reasons, denouncing the militarization of the Union as a dangerous drift and a waste of resources that should go instead to the real priorities—welfare, education, healthcare (reasons that are, in part, understandable).

Two opposing ideological trajectories, then, yet they converge in rejecting what both perceive—though for different reasons—as a top-down militarization.

Amid this tangle of narratives, another story begins to take shape—one that appears, at first glance, lucid, calm, even noble at times: it is the voice urging Europe to pause, to reflect, to resist the trap of fear. It argues that rearmament is nothing more than an irrational reflex, a primitive response to the collective anxiety of European citizens, a surrender to strategic hysteria. Its advocates claim to speak for reason, for history, for humanity itself.

It begins with the psychology of fear: our dear Europe, says Andrés Acosta, is militarizing not out of necessity but out of anxiety. The real threat, then, is not external but internal—it is panic infecting institutions and paralyzing critical thought. This interpretation is, to put it mildly, detached from reality. Those who promote it probably live in some pastoral oasis, tending to their bucolic dreams while ignoring the sound of reality knocking at their door.

Of course, fear plays a part in driving Europe—but it comes together with the recognition that we are living through a historic turning point. War has returned to the continent; war has once again taken center stage in the international arena. Over the past two decades, old and volatile fronts have reignited—those of the Middle East and the eastern border with Russia—and new ones have opened, such as the increasingly tense rivalry in the Pacific between the United States and China.

Then comes Bulgarini’s evocation of the Pax Europaea, presented as a golden age that rearmament would supposedly betray forever. What is conveniently forgotten, however, is that that peace was guaranteed precisely by a balance of forces, by military alliances, and by shared deterrence. There has never been a disarmed Europe protected solely through dialogue; there has been a free Europe because it was defended—a diplomacy that was effective because it was backed by credible means of retaliation in the event of violations of the international order.

Read now AN ARMED EUROPE: THE END OF THE PAX EUROPEA?

By Mattia Bulgarini x L'Idiot Digital

Those who now invoke cooperation as an alternative to defense forget that without the ability to protect oneself, no negotiating table can stand. Diplomacy has value only when there is something to defend, and treaties mean something only if there is someone willing to enforce them.

Another recurring theme is the denunciation of militarization as a betrayal of Europe’s identity. But the question naturally arises: what exactly is that identity supposed to be? What are its defining features?

If one were to look for a common trait uniting all citizens of the EU member states—considering the real meaning of the word identity, from the Latin idem, meaning “same”—one would inevitably end up forcing interpretations across Europe’s entire history. It would be more accurate to speak instead of shared values: democracy, the rule of law, human rights. Yet even these are fragile, easily violated by certain member states without consequence, which has led in recent years to growing doubts about the Union’s moral authority.

To quote directly: “Enough of being pawns on a chessboard designed by others. Freedom, challenge, and self-determination must once again become the weapons with which Europe forges itself in a world without fear or submission.”

In this theology of Europe’s decline, the citizen is portrayed as a manipulated pawn, unable to understand or decide their own future, stripped of power and subordinated to their own institutions and to puppeteers overseas.

This attitude may sound like a form of anti-Americanism, tinged with either right-wing populism or self-righteous woke pacifism depending on the political side—but unfortunately, it isn’t that simple. It would be much easier if it were. What we are dealing with instead is a new disease, not yet officially classified, that has afflicted European citizens for many years now. It is the bureaucrat’s syndrome: a silent, well-mannered illness, perfectly integrated into the codes of Western comfort—but no less insidious for that.

The European citizen suffering from this syndrome is not a radical rebel, nor can they be called a true reactionary. On the contrary: they are composed, educated, supportive of the European project, often even in favor of rearmament and integration. But it ends there. Their Europeanism is not the embrace of an ideal capable of generating tension and purpose, but rather a permanent employment contract—complete with pension plan and benefits.

They do not dream of a Europe capable of true self-determination, of becoming a historical actor fit for the challenges ahead. They dream instead of an office on Rue de la Loi, a badge, and a harmonized welfare package. It is a civil-servant’s Europeanism in the flattest sense of the term: precise, polite, risk-averse, devoid of transformative ambition. As citizens, they are content merely to function—so long as the system holds well enough to preserve their small privileges. Occasionally they show flashes of outrage: they complain, they post indignant messages when they remember that Hungary still has a veto right. But they would never lift a finger to change the structure that allows that veto to exist—because change would mean disrupting the balance from which they benefit. And the bureaucrat, as we know, always prefers inertia to risk.

The ideal breeding ground for the bureaucrat’s syndrome can be found in the countless internships within European institutions (Blue Book, Schuman, etc.). These are highly selective, well-paid programs that every year involve about 1,900 young people in Brussels, Luxembourg, or Strasbourg. It sounds like a lot, but it pales in comparison to the bigger picture: across Europe, 3.7 million young people aged 18–35 start an internship each year as their first professional experience. Only a tiny elite—just 0.05% of them—gain access to an internship within EU institutions, roughly one in two thousand.

Within this narrow group, no critical consciousness develops to imagine a more ambitious political order. Instead, through a kind of habituation to bureaucratic functioning, the belief is reinforced that the existing system—despite its obvious flaws—is “progressing.” Each week brings new proclamations about fresh packages, regulations, and directives, all supposedly building a stronger Union through dialogue and cooperation. Yet the data tell another story.

According to the 2025 YouGov/TUI Foundation survey of over 6,700 young Europeans (aged 16–26), 39% consider the EU “not particularly democratic,” while 53% see it as focused on trivial or marginal issues. And although 51% of respondents describe themselves as “pro-European” (a vague term, whose meaning today is itself up for debate), they also define the Union as “a good idea, poorly implemented.” This reveals a latent tension—a genuine desire for transformation—that rarely, if ever, finds a voice in institutional corridors.

Returning to the two camps and their respective positions, both are deeply affected by the bureaucrat’s syndrome. The resemblance lies not so much in content as in mindset. Both portray Europe as a paralyzed, fragmented body—overwhelmed by fear and external pressures—but neither imagines a Europe rebuilt through the assumption of political responsibility. In the end, they too delegate, just as a bureaucrat does when faced with something “outside their remit.” Whenever there’s a short circuit or a crisis, the blame always falls on someone else: the elites, NATO, the markets, other technocrats.

Neither side offers a model of active participation; neither attempts to articulate what a truly autonomous European defense would look like.

The rearmament of European countries is a fundamental part of the physiology of any political union that seeks to matter. Guaranteeing the collective security of the Union in the years to come requires tools, resources, infrastructure—and, whether we like it or not, weapons.

Since the dawn of humanity, people have always wielded weapons: as extensions of the body, as instruments for action, as means of defense against the enemy. No civilization in history has existed without its own culture of defense—and the European Union should be no exception. Indeed, it was politically born from precisely this material core: coal and steel, the two founding elements of the ECSC, were intended for building armaments.

Sharing war resources once meant avoiding war itself. Today, increasing military spending does not mean militarizing the Union, but laying the foundation for what Europe has always lacked: a common defense, with a European army capable of genuine strategic autonomy.

Finally, even the most common argument against rearmament—that every euro spent on defense is a euro taken away from welfare, education, or the green transition—doesn’t hold up to the data. The European Union as a whole already spends almost as much on defense as China, around €240 billion a year, but it does so in a fragmented and inefficient way—through 27 armies, 27 logistics systems, 27 uncoordinated strategies.

This fragmentation results in enormous waste. Today, 78% of defense spending within the EU remains purely national, with minimal effect on overall operational capacity. Under the same level of resources, a centralized and integrated approach would significantly increase efficiency and deterrence, avoiding duplication in weapon systems, command structures, and logistics.

Moreover, bringing defense spending up to 2% of GDP is fiscally sustainable for almost all member states: it would mean an average increase of only 0.4–0.6% compared to current levels—easily offset through internal rationalization and European financial instruments. Investments in dual-use technologies (such as cybersecurity, aerospace, or AI) also have positive multiplier effects on GDP, strengthen strategic industrial sectors, and reduce dependence on external suppliers.

So Europe can go on invoking points of no return, supposed betrayals of EU values, cultural identities, and fears of subjugation—all as excuses to avoid taking responsibility. Or it can stop behaving like a class of bureaucrats chasing mere economic comfort, and instead take responsibility for laying the foundations of a truly political Union.

Europeans: A People of Lazy Bureaucrats