Who are the decision-makers?

The ReArm Europe Plan will likely be remembered as a historic turning point for European military and security cooperation. As President of the European Council António Costa remarked, a unified position on defence was “unthinkable only a few weeks ago,” calling this the birth of a "Europe of defence." Previous essays have rightfully addressed the socio-cultural void in today’s European politics today [Mattia Bulgarini, May 2], as a result of the techno-individualistic and neoliberal atmosphere to which we have largely conformed. They have also expressed concerns regarding the dangers of rearmament and the potential fait accompli that such a shift might impose [Jose D'Alessandro, Apr 30]. One essay, Foucauldian in tone, explored how fear and discourse are instrumentalised to justify policy decisions, crises and conflicts, and how these perpetuate and strengthen pre-existing power structures [Andres Acosta, May 2].

What emerges from this spectrum of perspectives is, in my view, some defining questions: who decides on European rearmament and what are the motives guiding these decisions? The article’s title, “Who are the decision-makers?”, is not referring to names, but seeks to understand their psyche, how leaders make sense of the world from the context in which they operate. What intentions are behind this grand security narrative at this point in time? Should ordinary citizens, who want to live peacefully, feel reassured by a military build-up as a deterrent to external threats, or concerned about militarisation unfolding alongside a social implosion and the erosion of cohesion across European societies?

Over the past 25 years, European security integration has often been slow and burdensome, occasionally galvanised by external shocks that exposed Europe’s lack of hard power, weak foreign policy and continuing dependence on the United States. Europe was typically depicted as Venus, the often-considered naïve follower of multilateralism and interdependence, in contrast with the Mars-like United States, which readily embraced power politics. ReArm Europe can be considered a clear rapprochement with Mars, an acceptance of power politics as a reaction to the global rise of authoritarian regimes. But we cannot ignore the timing in the European change of heart. Should we read it as a capitulation to American hawkishness? Or is it an attempt to remain strategically autonomous by gradually stepping out of the American security umbrella? Or both?

Once again, external factors have proven decisive in driving European integration, not only due to Europe’s recurring desire to become independent from its Atlantic partner, but also because of the increasingly visible threat emanating from the East. What needs to be clear is that Russia’s threat is not only the result of their aggression in Ukraine. For years, Putin’s regime has actively engaged in hybrid warfare on European soil: meddling in elections, promoting extremist violence, spreading disinformation, probing energy infrastructure, and weaponising migration to spark social unrest. The geopolitical rationale for Europe to strengthen its defense infrastructure is logical and legitimate.

Even within the logic of the security dilemma, it is incorrect to assume that every military build-up inevitably leads to war. Wars are more often caused by inconsiderate decisions of leaders who themselves remain far from the trenches. These decision-makers frequently act on motivations that sharply diverge from those of the people they govern, whether driven by expansionist ambitions, economic interests, ideological or religious affiliations, historic grievances, unresolved generational traumas or to consolidate domestic power by redirecting the attention of citizens and rallying them around the flag. Yet, when the conflict escalates, people are so consumed by reciprocal hatred and violence that the instigator is already forgotten. 

This is where the moral framework of jus ad bellum, the set of criteria that determine whether going to war can be considered just, comes into question. While it aspires to establish ethical boundaries, history is filled with examples where political demagoguery has stirred enough fear and hatred to trigger violence, making the first act of war an emotional inevitability rather than a rational, justifiable choice. Once the cycle of violence begins, retribution follows swiftly, cloaked in moral justification. 

Doesn’t this raise a deeper concern? It points out that the criteria of jus ad bellum are already manipulated before they are even invoked. Political discourse is so often crafted precisely to frame actions within a moral logic that reinforces our self-righteousness. If so, then the only truly consistent ethical position would be that violence is never justifiable. Failing that, we risk living in a world like today’s, where a state's claimed right to self-defence becomes a thin veil for atrocities, and moral language becomes a smokescreen for political brutality.

This manipulation of moral frameworks points back, once again, to the decision-makers themselves, those who operate with full awareness of the irrational, emotional, and tribal dimensions of the societies they lead. Far from being oblivious, they often exploit these instincts with precision.

This is not to say that decision-makers are never held accountable. The Nuremberg Trials remain a powerful historical precedent for prosecuting state-led atrocities, affirming the principle of individual responsibility for war crimes. Yet accountability, when it arrives, often comes only after the damage is done, when remorse offers no comfort to the victims. Worse still, those prosecuted are not always condemned at home. Figures like Slobodan Milošević and Radovan Karadžić have been martyred by large segments of the Serb population, elevated as unsung heroes rather than disgraced perpetrators.

In both cases, delayed justice or glorified guilt, the pattern is the same: the decision-makers are not meaningfully constrained a priori. They remain free to pursue selfish or strategic interests, largely unimpeded, until the consequences are irreversible. 

What does this say about ReArm Europe?

It suggests that rearmament is not inherently problematic in and of itself, provided that certain conditions are in place that can constrain the manipulation of jus ad bellum. First and foremost, we, as European citizens, should be guaranteed the accountability of our leadership: that those who hold power are bound by the rule of law, shaped over centuries as the ultimate expression of our collective interest, and in the spirit of Rawlsian principles such as the Veil of Ignorance. Second, on the condition that the rule of law can be assertively upheld both domestically and internationally, and that a shared understanding of its necessity stems from a fundamental idea of justice, something that can truly serve the common interest only if applied equally to all. And third, on the condition that our leaders incessantly prioritise diplomacy over force, as a means for de-escalation, prevention, and compromise.

Yet the logical consequence of this argument compels us to confront an uncomfortable question: Are these essential conditions, which boil down to the sanity of a democratic system in its most effective and ideal form, truly met within our current European system? Or are the intentions of decision-makers too often carried out without meaningful checks from civic-democratic institutions? 

By debating this topic and asking questions, we are exposing systemic failures within our socio-political structures that obstruct the unconditional allegiance between democracy and power, an alignment essential for constructive and principled engagement with the outside world. Since, we should seek neither power without democratic foundations nor democracy without power. We should acknowledge the realist and idealist tension at the heart of political theory and practice, a balance between values and capability as part of our grand strategy.

Along this line, a few final points must be emphasised in the context of ReArm Europe:

1. The scope of the current military-industrial investments pales in comparison to the urgency of other clearly defined existential threats, such as climate change, an issue that European citizens have protested for decades. Yet it has been deprioritised in favour of deregulation, industrial empowerment, and geopolitical emancipation. Moreover, increased military spending through debt will eventually require fiscal adjustment, meaning either higher taxes or the redirection of civilian spending. The opportunity costs of this redirection should not be underestimated. In this sense, military Keynesianism risks further hollowing out the European social welfare system, leaving citizens to bear the cost.

2. To what extent can we trust European decision-makers to uphold the values they so readily invoke? Can we still rely on our political leaders to listen, act, and truly empathise with voices calling out against autocracy, repression, and genocide? Protest, one of the last meaningful forms of democratic resistance, is already being curtailed under the pretexts of security and public order. This dangerous trend requires attention in its own right, as it reflects a slippery detachment of our decision-makers from meaningful forms of accountability.

3. Beyond the traditional countervailing powers of democratic societies, such as voting and protesting, do we still possess effective mechanisms to safeguard our rights against increasingly consolidated and transnational forms of power, both economic and political? I sincerely doubt that we do. And this brings me to a final, yet vital point:

4. Do other actors, trade unions, small business owners, local and national politicians, activists, still possess the courage and capacity to resist these dominant forces? Can they act without fear for their careers, their wealth, or even their personal freedom? And just as importantly, do they have the integrity to remain uncorrupted, even as those around them succumb to pressure, ambition, or complicity? 

   
   

Ultimately, we must also ask whether we can resist the increasingly common tendency of individuals and institutions to pre-emptively conform to what they believe those in power expect, a form of anticipatory obedience that erodes the very foundations of democracy by conforming to the logic of personal benefit. If democratic structures become merely procedural while real influence shifts to unaccountable elites, we risk moving from inclusive to extractive governance, even under the banner of democracy. Are European decision-makers still operating within a reality that provides sufficient resistance so that, at least in their intention, they will genuinely aim to improve the human condition?  

Our answer to this question inevitably leads to a normative stance on ReArm Europe, since no sane citizen should accept the prospect of a militarised Europe if decisions are not driven by virtue, but by greed or ignorance. If, in the hypothetical scenario, our answer is ‘no,’ then the logical implications should form the foundation of our civic awareness and, most of all, our agitation.

The views expressed in this article are solely my own and do not reflect the views or positions of my employer or any organisation I am affiliated with.