The budding, year-long bromance between US president Donald Trump and French president Emmanuel Macron seems to have ended abruptly following a Twitter spat over one of the transatlantic alliance’s perennial fault lines: the creation of a ‘European Army.’ Trump attacked Macron’s claim that Europe needed to protect itself against ‘China, Russia and even the United States of America.’ The President tweeted he was ‘very insulted,’ hammered Europe’s pitiful level of defence spending and taunted Macron the French ‘were starting to learn German in Paris before the U.S. came along. Pay for NATO or not!’ The war of words reached a climax as Angela Merkel, traditionally an EU Army sceptic, backed Macron’s plan in the European Parliament to create a ‘true European Army’ as she noted the ‘times when we could rely on others are over.’

The debate over the creation of an EU Army is hardly a new one. From the aborted 1952 European Defence Community to the establishment of PESCO in 2017, the idea that Europe should possess a unified military—capable of independent action from the United States—has been an intermittent feature of European politics. Indeed, plans for a European Army are generally dusted off the shelves whenever Europe is confronted with crisis. In light of Brexit, Donald Trump’s ambivalence towards protecting NATO partners, Russian revisionism and instability in the Middle East, it is not surprising the idea is once again under study by Brussels. There are still, however, major obstacles hindering the development of any European Army. Not least what a “true European Army” actually means, but also the clear clash between European strategic cultures, hollowed militaries, and a fragmented defence industry.

Is it not yet clear among defence experts what a “true European Army” would actually look like, just as how the “United States of Europe” remains a nebulous term today. “European Army” would imply the ultimate pooling of sovereignty—doing away with national armies—into the creation of a force under the control of the European Union. A comparison could be drawn with the 1960s American proposal to create a European Multilateral Force (MLF) to carry a sea-based European nuclear deterrent. Rather than operate under the auspices of their national flags, MLF crews were to be drawn from various European member-states and execute NATO-led missions. Switch NATO for the EU and enlarge the scope of military operations to include all air, sea and land domains, and you have a similar structure to what a purported EU Army might look like. Indeed, the integration of smaller foreign military units into the command structure of larger states is already underway with NATO’s 2014 ‘Framework Nations Concepts.’ Examples include the incorporation of a Dutch tank company under the command of the German Army’s 414 Panzerbataillon. To believe Eurosceptic British tabloids, these small attempts at closer European defence integration represent the foundation for a military directed by Brussels; fully autonomous in its capabilities and independent of the United States’ military umbrella.

British and American military planners have repeatedly expressed misgivings about an EU Army’s practical difficulties and its geopolitical ramifications. The establishment of an EU military command structure risks acting as a rival to NATO’s. Unlike the EU, NATO possess a clear military doctrine and has practiced military exercises with its allies for almost 70 years. The issue of language and how to integrate multinational forces into a single military entity raise all sorts of other questions. Geopolitically, an EU Army threatens to de-couple Europe from the US and NATO—considerably weakening the transatlantic alliance to Russia’s great pleasure. NATO’s General Secretary, Jens Stoltenberg, has welcomed European efforts at defence integration, but reminded European defence ministers these efforts should “complement NATO” and not work against it.

Though a federal European army of this scale might be the stuff of Guy Verhofstadt’s dreams—and in keeping with the EU’s rallying call for an ‘ever closer union’—it seems highly unlikely and counter to current European defence planning. German Defence Minister, Ursula von der Leyen has in fact designated a European Army as “armed forces under national authority, closely interlinked, uniformly equipped, trained and ready to deploy in joint operations.” European armies would therefore remain under national sovereignty, but place emphasis on deeper cooperation, joint procurement and the ability to undertake missions in conjunction with other member-states. Even the EU paper on The Future of European Defence did not call for the creation of an outright European Army, but rather for member-states to ‘deepen cooperation and integration’ towards the framing of a ‘common Union defence policy’ and achieving ‘strategic autonomy’ (i.e., undertaking missions without reliance on US capabilities). In other words, there is no such thing as a “European Army.” EU defence policy aims to synchronise defence planning, procurement and strategy among its members who will retain sovereignty over their militaries. This should help increase the effectives of European militaries and save on wasteful spending. Yet the road to achieving a common Union defence policy remains fraught with problems.

Firstly, is the issue of reconciling differing strategies and worldviews. France and Germany—the supposed leaders of European defence integration—hold widely different strategic cultures. France has consistently used military force in pursuit of its interests; as demonstrated by various interventions in Mali, the Central African Republic, Libya, its strong support for airstrikes against Bashar al-Assad in 2013, and its intensive airstrike campaign against ISIS in Syria. Its participation in a joint airstrike with the US and Britain against the Assad regime’s chemical weapons capabilities in March of 2018 was merely the latest manifestation of France’s strong tradition of military intervention. On the other hand, German leaders are far more cautious over the use of military force, and its society actively shuns militarism.

For a country involved in two World Wars, the Wehrmacht’s culpability in Nazi crimes and the ever-constant threat of nuclear annihilation during the Cold War, it is not hard to understand such pacifist sentiments. A Pew poll from 2017 found that only 40 percent of Germans would support defending a NATO ally in a conflict with Russia. Whilst Macron plans to see France meet the NATO 2 percent defence spending goal by 2024, Germany, based on current projections, will still be languishing at 1.5 percent in 2025. Even the most sceptic Germany observers think the electorate will curb increases in the defence budget. Carlo Masala, a professor of international politics at the Bundeswehr University Munich, stated over ‘the past several years, we have been increasing defence spending, but if we move to swiftly increase it further, it will look as if we’re doing it for Trump. That just won’t fly with the German voters.’ With the rise of “defence-phobic” parties like the Greens and Die Linke, this already seems to be happening. Though Germany has called for greater engagement in international security—reflected by its participation in the UN’s peacekeeping mission in Mali and leading NATO’s enhanced forward presence in Lithuania—it will be some time before Germany and its voters can reconcile their military recalcitrance with France’s interventionist approach into a common European defence strategy.

Moreover, the inherent hollowness of European militaries and their intimate dependence on US capabilities means that the EU’s desire to achieve “strategic autonomy” will have to be put on the backburner in the short and medium terms. Long-term cuts in defence spending have left Europe’s armies a shadow of their former selves. Though understandable in the context of unwinding Cold War tensions, these cuts have left Europe exposed to the return of “great-power politics.” Currently only four European states meet NATO’s 2 percent guideline. Though arbitrary, and hardly a good measure of capability, NATO’s guideline figure acts as a good barometer for European defence trends, and it is worrying so few states meet it. As a result, European militaries are facing titanic readiness, maintenance and capability shortfalls. A leaked report from German military circles revealed the operational capability of only 10 out of 31 Tiger helicopters, 38 out of 89 Tornado fighters and 42 out of 109 Eurofighters. Most Eastern European member-states like Bulgaria and Romania are stacked with obsolete Soviet-era legacy systems. Despite the military might of nations like France and the UK, EU member-states still have limited power-projection ability. Air-to-air refuelling is an area where Europe faces critical capability shortfalls—operations in Kosovo, Mali and Libya exposed European reliance on US air assets. Not to mention other capabilities like drones, missile defence, radar-systems and satellites. It will take decades before Europe can aspire to the sort of power-projection capabilities currently enjoyed by the United States. In light of this, the EU’s aim to achieve ‘strategic autonomy’ as part of a common defence policy in the near future seems fanciful.

Lastly, in order to “pool and share” defence platforms, Europe needs to harmonise its fragmented defence industry and encourage joint-procurement. European armies currently field 178 different weapons systems and platforms, compared to just 30 in the US, highlighting massive duplications in European defence capabilities. Broken down by major capabilities, European armies possess 17 different variations of Main Battle Tanks, 29 different types of frigates and destroyers and 20 fighter plane systems. Lowering these numbers and ensuring the procurement of identical platforms will be essential to help Europe save costs by instilling joint maintenance, joint training and most importantly increasing interoperability. The creation of the European Defence Fund in 2016 and the establishment of PESCO in 2017 are important steps in the direction of joint planning and procurement. Indeed, France and Germany are planning to unveil a sixth-generation fighter to replace the Eurofighter Typhoon, whilst funds are opening to new cyberwarfare projects. Yet, events still threaten to upend European defence harmonisation. Belgium, for instance, decided to opt for the superior American F-35A fighter to replace its ageing fleet of F-16s, rather than choosing a European platform like a French Rafale. Macron scathingly commented that the Belgian MoD’s move towards the F-35 “strategically goes against European interests.” Furthermore, the protection of domestic armament industries is often prioritized over cost efficiency and weapon system effectiveness. Other joint procurement projects, like the disastrous A400M programme, have not always been the most cost-efficient or quick either. Thus, while important steps are being made towards greater defence harmonisation and planning, European defence is still bedevilled by protectionism and internal conflicts over which platforms to buy—this threatens to unravel EU plans for a common defence policy. If Europe cannot harmonise its defence requirements it will keep haemorrhaging funds and dilute the interoperability of its militaries.

As the threats to European security intensify, it is essential for the EU member-states to really kick-start the process of defence integration and joint planning. Coupling great-power politics with constrained domestic budgets means “pooling and sharing” offers the only palatable solution to European defence issues. The EU is not planning on creating an army with Jean-Claude Juncker as its Commander-in-Chief any time soon. It will focus on ensuring national armies remain closely linked, interoperable, move towards joint procurement and achieve “strategic autonomy.” Nonetheless, the path to achieving a “common Union defence policy” will be peppered with hurdles. The clash in strategic culture of numerous European states will hinder efforts at synchronising strategy, whilst the pitiful state Europe’s armed forces and dependence on US military assets makes “strategic autonomy” a long, long term goal at best. Even while the EU is making strides towards joint procurement through the European Defence Fund and PESCO, bitter feuds over which exact platforms to buy—American or European built—will further complicate matters. These factors will need to be overcome before there is any talk whatsoever of a “true European Army.”