Copenhagen: The Summit of Europe’s Insecurity

When Europe’s heads of state and government met in Copenhagen for two days of informal talks on October 1 and 2, the symbolism was unmistakable. The Danish capital sits at the hinge between Northern and Central-Eastern Europe, a bridge between regions that now share a growing sense of vulnerability. The summit’s tone was set early, as drones were sighted near the airport and military sites. Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen warned of “hybrid attacks,” calling Russia “a threat to us all.”

But once the delegations departed, the mood turned from alarm to resignation. Behind the rhetorical unity lies a deeper question: how much security is the EU truly prepared to organise? And how much can it organise at all without breaking on its own contradictions?

Virtually everyone agrees that Europe’s security architecture is too weak to defend its people and values. Yet consensus stops there. Russia’s war in Ukraine still hangs over European politics like a sword of Damocles. Three and a half years after the invasion, the war continues to sap Europe’s strategic weight, now entangled with crises from Gaza to Iran to the Caucasus. Meanwhile, the geopolitical balance among the United States, China, and the EU has shifted sharply to Europe’s detriment. Awareness is not the problem—panic is. Never has Europe felt so threatened, and never has it been so institutionally paralysed.

Copenhagen generated a flurry of proposals, many of which were recycled. The SAFE instrument, a €150 billion financial framework, is designed to boost Europe’s defence industry through new EU-level borrowing. Yet the details—who pays, who controls—remain unresolved. The EU reaffirmed its support for the Ukrainian war effort, but divisions persist over how to fund it, particularly whether to use frozen Russian assets. Plans to strengthen hybrid resilience, such as cyber defence, early warning systems, and counter-disinformation networks, were announced but left vague. The summit’s supposed centrepiece, a European ‘drone wall’ to guard against unmanned threats, won easy applause but no commitment on financing or governance. Lofty declarations, uncertain delivery.

Unity vs. sovereignty

An honest debate on sovereignty never materialised. Leaders repeated the mantra of “closer cooperation” in defence but fiercely protected national control whenever specifics arose. The European Commission, eager for a coordinating role, met resistance from major powers like France and Germany, which defend their military autonomy. The paradox is obvious: Europe calls for unity against external threats while refusing to share real power internally. German Chancellor Merz questioned why Brussels should duplicate NATO’s work, especially given the Commission’s lack of defence expertise. Many fear that bureaucratic reflexes from Brussels could seep into the field of military affairs that operates on entirely different logic.

The summit’s rhetoric radiated confidence: Europe must defend itself, modernise its forces, and achieve technological independence. Yet the EU has no common defence mandate and no binding mechanisms for implementation. Article 42 of the EU Treaty explicitly limits the EU to a supporting role. In practice, Europe’s ‘strategic autonomy’ remains a PowerPoint project, a glossy narrative without the instruments to make it a reality. Nobody can imagine that the Commission’s Directorate-General for defence industry, which is, of course, just another bureaucratic big head with no boots on the ground, should be able to add something meaningful to Europe’s security architecture that experienced national militaries do not already do.

Security promises and fiscal realities

Talk of rearmament and investment collided with empty coffers. Germany’s and France’s governments wrestle with endless budget crises; Italy has depended on ECB lifelines for a long time. The EU’s plan to raise money from its members—or directly from citizens and firms—only to funnel it back to them for military spending invites scepticism over the efficiency of this mechanism. It is, critics say, the old redistribution debate in disguise: EU funds being transferred from one region to another under the guise of ‘collective security.’ The additional €150 billion in new EU debt triggered a political gold rush. Italy’s prime minister insisted the “southern flank” must not be forgotten, a code for keeping money from flowing eastward. Consequently, Council President António Costa and Commission President Ursula von der Leyen introduced a new Brussels mantra: a “360-degree defence approach,” meaning Europe must be defended on all fronts. The slogan sounds comprehensive but discards any real strategic prioritisation and lacks any leadership whatsoever.

The deeper gap between the EU’s foreign and defence policies lies in the contrast between its words and its mindset. Officially, every leader speaks of peace and stability. In practice, the discourse becomes increasingly martial, characterised by deterrence, readiness, and fear. Europe talks of peace while preparing psychologically and politically for war. Diplomacy and negotiation have slipped out of fashion. The continent born from reconciliation now lives in a permanent security emergency—trapped between an unspoken wish for de-escalation and a dread of weakness. When Hungary’s Viktor Orbán dared question the prevailing alarmism, he was swiftly vilified. Yet Europe’s real task is not only to wield the stick but to offer the carrot. Furthermore, the martial rhetoric out of the mouths of politicians, who preached cosmopolitanism for decades but now suddenly discovered their patriotic feelings because some drones appeared over their heads, defies belief for most Europeans.

The drone panic that wasn’t

Days after the summit, Denmark’s defence ministry quietly downgraded most alleged “drone attacks” near Copenhagen, supposedly part of a hybrid attack by Russia, to simple “aerial observations.” The episode underscored Europe’s nervous state: a continent so uncertain of itself that it sees a Russian drone behind every cloud. Unless the EU learns to temper its alarmism, it risks becoming not safer but more vulnerable, frightened by its own shadow.