Defeat Begins Not on the Battlefield, but Within

Imagine: war has broken out again in Europe. But instead of mobilization, we see debates. Instead of heroes—hashtags. Instead of resistance—philosophical arguments about the nature of evil.

Today’s Europe is not ready to defend itself—neither institutionally nor morally. And even if new Churchills and de Gaulles were to appear tomorrow, they would likely be powerless to change anything. Because there would simply be no one left to stand behind them.

Lost will: what happened to European society?

Europe’s vulnerability lies in the loss of collective will to resist—particularly in Old Europe. This is not about military budgets or army size. It’s about a psychological and cultural shift that has occurred in Western societies over the past fifty years—intensified after the Cold War.

Across Western and Central Europe, values have shifted toward personal rights and comfort. Citizens increasingly prioritize individual freedoms and well-being, while collective duties fade into the background.

Among younger generations raised in peace and prosperity, mobilization and military service are seen not as civic duties, but as outdated relics.

Meanwhile, in countries like China, North Korea, and Iran, ideals of self-sacrifice and duty to the state remain central. Citizens are expected to defend national interests—even at personal cost. This creates an advantage in potential conflicts.

History illustrates how such shifts undermine empires. In the late Roman Empire, Romans became so attached to luxury that they outsourced defense to mercenaries—and lost the ability to fight for themselves.

Western Europe faces a similar risk. Without a shift in values and a return to collective defense ideals, European democracies may struggle to preserve themselves against more determined adversaries.

Unfreedom as an illusion: why pacifism is dangerous

In recent years, a formula has been increasingly heard in European public discourse: ‘It is better to live in unfreedom than to die for freedom.’ At first glance, a humanist thesis, a rejection of heroism in favor of life. But in reality, it is a symptom of deep moral naivety and loss of historical memory.

Such a position relies on a false illusion: that modern unfreedom means limited rights, some censorship, and political bias. That it is still a form of life—incomplete, but tolerable. In many minds, unfreedom is associated with 20th-century authoritarian Europe—flags changed over buildings, control over the press—but daily life remained relatively stable.

But modern unfreedom is not an administrative inconvenience. It is systemic violence. It means razed cities, mass deportations, disappearances, filtration camps, deliberate terror against civilians. This is not a hypothesis—it has already occurred.

Those who believe that under totalitarianism, one can simply ‘live quietly’ forget: no one promised that you’d be allowed to live. Unfreedom is a space of arbitrariness. A place where safety depends not on law, but on loyalty, fear, and chance. Where a person can be destroyed—physically or morally—simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The illusion of ‘better to live than to fight’ turns into surrender—not to the enemy, but to oneself. Because such pacifism isn’t about humanism—it’s about fear. Fear of responsibility, of effort, of choice. And in this fear, society gives up on the future.

Pacifism, if not backed by a clear understanding of the threat, becomes a form of self-justification. When the adversary denies borders, morality, and the value of human life itself, refusal to resist is not a path to peace. It is a path to erasure.

No society, no leader: the limits of political will

A common explanation for Europe’s weakness is the absence of strong and decisive leaders. But the problem lies not only in the elites. Even if a new Churchill were to appear, he would likely not be able to change course. Because no one would stand behind him.

Historic leaders succeeded because they had societies ready to make sacrifices. Churchill did not create British resolve—he gave it voice. The French Resistance was not born from de Gaulle’s will—it had already been forming from within. Today, even a strategic leader would be speaking into a void.

Modern European society, especially in Old Europe, has forgotten how to be a participant in history. Political energy from below has weakened. The instinct to mobilize has been lost. Instead of calls to action, there is the expectation of protection. Instead of responsibility, delegation.

Dependence on electoral cycles worsens the problem. Politicians think in short terms, focusing on ratings and party interests. Any decision requiring strain, risk, or mobilization is unpopular. And in a society that neither demands nor tolerates firmness, elites become hostages of passivity.

Thus, the crisis lies not only in leadership but in who should lead,and where. Without public readiness for action, without resolve to defend its principles, politics loses meaning.

Do we have something worth defending?

Much of contemporary Europe is a civilization that no longer believes in the necessity of self-defense. Not because it lacks resources, technology, or allies. On the contrary—materially, it remains one of the dominant forces on the planet. But strength without will is not action. And therein lies the core weakness.

For decades, European societies have gradually abandoned mobilizational thinking. War became ‘archaic,’ and violence something that only happens elsewhere. National armies were downsized, reserve forces disbanded, and the idea of strategic self-preservation gave way to the illusion of eternal peace.

But history has returned in the form of military aggression, terror, and destruction. And it turns out that a society raised on rights and consumption cannot adapt to survival. It not only does not want to die—it cannot even think in those terms. It refuses to acknowledge that evil exists and that it cannot be reasoned with, only stopped.

Strategic defeat begins not with failure on the battlefield. It begins with a society’s refusal to recognize that it has something worth defending. With the belief that it can buy time, negotiate, or hide. This is true surrender—not to the enemy, but to oneself.

Freedom requires effort

Europe has not yet been defeated, but it stands in a dangerously vulnerable position. And the threat comes not only from outside, from authoritarian states. The most serious threat lies within: in moral exhaustion, in loss of will, in the desire to avoid responsibility for one’s principles.

Until European societies rediscover the understanding of freedom as a duty—and not only as a right—no army, no leaders, no alliances will be able to protect them. A civilization unwilling to fight for itself disappears not because it was conquered, but because it refused to exist under the conditions of conflict.

The choice facing Europe is not between war and peace. It is between gradual disappearance and conscious resistance. Either Europe rethinks itself and reclaims its agency, or it will watch as it loses everything it once created.