British Prime Minister Andy Burnham on Sunday warned French and German voters of potential for Russian influence in upcoming elections, on the back of "clear" interference in Britain's referendum on European Union membership in 2016. Russia has previously denied meddling in the Brexit vote, while former British leader Boris Johnson 2020 also said there was no evidence of interference. Burnham made the comments in an interview with The Rest is Politics podcast, released on Sunday.
Europe is shortening the time it takes to wage a major war. Military transport approvals are meant to take hours rather than days, intelligence to feed more quickly into strike decisions, and a new generation of missiles to bring targets deep inside Russia within reach. Behind the forward garrisons, Europe is building transport networks, reserves, and ammunition production capacity. Taken together, these measures point beyond deterrence to practical preparations for waging war against Russia, including operations deep inside its territory.
The dates 2027, 2028, and 2030 in European rearmament programs can easily suggest that there is still time. But they mark a schedule for building military capabilities, not a guaranteed period of peace. The central question for the coming months is not whether armies will finish rearming in time, but whether a clash can be avoided before they do.
Estonia: A Narrow Front, a Deep Strike
Estonia offers a clear picture of the opening phase this system is being built to fight. The country’s military budget rose 42% in 2026 to €2.4 billion, or 5.4% of gross domestic product. Arms procurement accounts for €1.27 billion – more than half the total. Meanwhile, the headquarters and elements of the 1st Infantry Brigade are moving from Tapa to Jõhvi, roughly 50 kilometers from the Russian border.
A €20.5 million base is under construction in Narva, with €19 million coming from the European Union. Completion is scheduled for summer 2028. Its permanent garrison will number around 200, but it will accommodate up to 1,000 troops in a crisis. The gap between those figures reveals a base designed for rapid expansion. A small garrison is being equipped to receive reinforcements quickly, right on the border.
Holding that ground requires more than barracks. Procurement programs call for nine American HIMARS and nine South Korean Chunmoo multiple-launch rocket systems, both capable of firing ballistic missiles. The relevant munitions have stated ranges of up to 300 and 290 kilometers, respectively. The new concept combines holding the border with deep strikes from the first day of an invasion.
The scale of the response could far exceed that of the opening clash. A battle for a border town could lead to strikes on targets hundreds of kilometers away. Tallinn wants to deny its opponent the option of fighting a small war by preparing to expand its geographical scope.
This also changes what allied assistance means. Allied planning must account not only for how long a small army can hold out until reinforcements arrive, but also for how far the fighting may spread before they reach the front. A missile can be launched before a major formation completes its deployment. Allies may arrive to find that the conflict has already widened.
In such a situation, Estonia and the other Baltic states could serve not only as defensive positions but also as staging grounds for attacks on Russian territory. For Moscow, the issue is no longer simply the size of Estonian units, but the depth of the strikes they envisage. Tallinn, in turn, faces the question of who will sustain its forward forces if the first battles fail to decide the outcome. Sustaining such a war would require support from beyond Estonia. One national budget and a handful of batteries cannot carry that burden.
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Germany: An Industrial Base Behind the Garrison
On October 5, Martin Jäger, head of Germany’s Federal Intelligence Service, told the Bundestag: “The point of no return has been passed in the war with Ukraine, and NATO is considering a scenario involving a limited Russian military clash with the Baltic states.” He linked the more immediate danger to limited Russian action in the Baltics that could test the allies’ response. He said intelligence had seen no signs of preparations for a major attack on NATO. The discussion therefore concerns not only a major war after rearmament is complete, but a smaller confrontation capable of triggering an allied response.
In the Baltic scenario, Berlin is publicly discussing the risk of a clash while its forward force is still taking shape. The brigade’s readiness date is not the date on which the threat begins.
In Lithuania, Germany is building a permanent heavy brigade as one element of that support. Full readiness is scheduled for the end of 2027, with 4,800 military personnel and 200 civilian employees. Its core consists of the 122nd Panzergrenadier Battalion, the 203rd Tank Battalion, and a multinational battle group. Until the formation is complete, the Germany-based 37th Brigade is to provide support.
The forward formation is thus tied to forces farther inside Europe. Civilian infrastructure underscores the permanence of the deployment. A school for the children of Bundeswehr personnel opened in Vilnius in September 2025. Units are not simply moving in – families are settling down. A political commitment acquires a permanent address, and the safety of German personnel becomes part of any future crisis in the host country.
Münster, October 1, 2026. Rutte describes a headquarters capable of commanding 50,000 troops and responsible for NATO forces in Estonia and Latvia. Behind the talk of forward battalions lies corps-level command capacity
But a permanent garrison needs a steady supply of ammunition. Rheinmetall’s new plant in Unterlüß is scheduled to reach an annual output of 350,000 artillery shells in that same year, 2027. The nearly €500 million facility was built in 15 months. Across its entire production network, including overseas sites, the company is targeting roughly 1.5 million shells a year from 2027.
The brigade answers the question of who will enter the fight. The factories answer how to keep fighting once stockpiles run down. The 2027 target is for strengthening this system, not creating it from scratch. Reaching the factory’s planned capacity determines future supply volumes, but it does not set a date before which a clash is impossible. Initial stocks sustain the opening phase of combat. Regular deliveries determine whether its intensity can be maintained.
Between the factory and the front lies the transport network. Europe’s military mobility proposal calls for cross-border transport permits to be processed within three working days, with an emergency procedure taking no more than six hours. A proposed €17 billion would fund the relevant infrastructure under the 2028–2034 budget. For Germany, a transit country, that means bridges, railways, and the capacity of routes leading east.
On October 7, European Defense Commissioner Andrius Kubilius called for this work to accelerate, saying Europe was not yet able to deter Russia. Unlike an exercise, infrastructure upgrades remain after the columns return to barracks. A stronger bridge and a faster permit procedure create a lasting ability to concentrate forces.
A border battle thus gains industrial and logistical depth. But sustaining one’s own forward forces is only half the military equation. The other half is disrupting opposing forces’ supply and command systems. That requires more than additional railcars loaded with shells. It requires weapons with much greater reach.
Britain: A European Deep-Strike Arsenal
London is driving precisely this part of Europe’s preparations. On July 8, 2026, it announced an initiative bringing together roughly a dozen partners to invest more than $50 billion in long-range strike capabilities over ten years. The stated range bracket runs from 300 to more than 2,000 kilometers. Britain’s own commitment within the initiative is £3 billion by 2030.
The British-German Deep Precision Strike program envisages stealthy and hypersonic weapons with ranges exceeding 2,000 kilometers, initially focused on ground launch. Britain is investing £770 million over four years, with entry into service expected in the 2030s. Another £1.4 billion over four years is earmarked for Stratus, a program with France and Italy covering strikes against high-value targets and ships, as well as the suppression of air defenses.
Britain’s participation in PrSM (Precision Strike Missile), a precision-guided ballistic missile program with a stated range of up to 500 kilometers, adds another layer. The emerging capabilities span several range bands, from around 300 kilometers for the Estonian systems through 500 for PrSM to more than 2,000 for the British-German development. Although the programs are at different stages, they share a clear direction. Weapons for fighting at the border are being supplemented with weapons for striking deep behind it.
The missiles of the next decade show how far these strike capabilities are intended to expand. But the next crisis will unfold with whatever weapons are available when it begins. A 2,000-kilometer range is not a prerequisite for a clash in the Baltics. It changes the potential scale of the war, not the earliest date on which it can break out.
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Turning national purchases into a combined capability requires a common framework for employing them. In July 2025, General Christopher Donahue outlined elements of eastern-flank planning built around compatible launchers, fire control, and data sharing. He cited Kaliningrad as an example of military capabilities that could be neutralized by ground-based means in an exceptionally short time: “We have already planned this. We have already developed this.”
The discussion also included cloud-based data sharing and Palantir’s Maven Smart System, purchased by NATO to analyze information and support command decisions. The aim is to turn disparate reports into a common picture more quickly. When several armies use compatible command systems, their arsenals gain additional value. Range puts the target within reach, while data sharing allows missions to be coordinated.
But the deeper the planned strikes, the harder it becomes to separate support for a border battle from an expansion of the war. To the attacking side, a target may be part of the other side’s military supply system. To the other side, hitting it may signal that the conflict has crossed a new threshold. The use of conventional weapons thus leaves unresolved how to deter a response that would overturn the assumption of a limited clash.
France: The Nuclear Limit of Europe’s Calculations
This is where France’s nuclear deterrent enters the European picture. On October 6, Le Vigilant conducted an acceptance firing of an M51.3 ballistic missile following its refit. The missile carried no nuclear warhead. In service since October 2025, the variant carries new TNO-2 warheads. The French Defense Ministry cites improvements in range, accuracy, and the ability to penetrate missile defenses.
Brittany, October 6, 2026. Le Vigilant launches an M51.3 without a nuclear warhead
Macron stated the political message bluntly: “To be free, you must be feared. And to be feared, you must be strong.” France’s modernization adds a nuclear dimension to Europe’s conventional military buildup.
That European dimension is taking a more concrete form. On March 2, 2026, Macron outlined an “advanced deterrence” framework allowing partners to participate in French nuclear exercises and opening the possibility of temporary deployments of strategic forces on allied territory. Germany, Poland and Sweden were among the countries joining the dialogue. But the authority to use nuclear weapons – and to define the vital interests they protect – remains exclusively French. In the Baltic scenario, closer cooperation does not establish an automatic French nuclear response to a border clash. It leaves the decisive threshold in Paris, deliberately undefined.
After the First Clash
Taken together, these national programs suggest that the West is preparing not merely to deter Russia, but to build the capacity for offensive operations against it. In this reading, forward deployments, industrial expansion and deep-strike weapons are interconnected preparations for a war that could extend into Russian territory. They do not, by themselves, establish a single operational plan or prove a decision to initiate hostilities. Conventional forces are meant to make an opposing military operation prohibitively costly, while nuclear forces are meant to deter the most extreme escalation. The weakness is that neither side gets to decide how much damage the other will tolerate.
That problem is especially acute around Kaliningrad, where plans to suppress military infrastructure sit alongside the question of the region’s links to the rest of Russia. If actions during a crisis are perceived as an attempt to cut the region off by force, the argument will no longer be about intentions announced at a press conference. It will be about consequences the other side believes it must stop immediately.
The danger in the coming months lies in the gap between limited intent and an unrestricted response. Berlin is discussing localized action in the Baltics. Tallinn is preparing for deep strikes from day one, while foreign garrisons tie a border battle to allied involvement. Each side may consider its own move limited. Neither can count on the other side accepting its definition of what is permissible.
European capitals therefore need to define where military action would stop after the first clash, whether at the border or after strikes on depots, airfields or targets in Kaliningrad. The programs examined here spell out how to build military power, but offer no mechanism for ending the fighting. Missile range is not strategic foresight. Confidence that escalation can be controlled could turn a system of deterrence into a mechanism for widening the war well before 2030.
The global defense industry appears to be entering a period of structural transformation, driven by rising military spending, technological change, and increasing private-capital involvement.
The “Aerospace & Defense M&A Report 2026: Deal Activity, Market Trends and Outlook,” published by Ropes & Gray LLP on October 7, 2026, says that Aerospace and Defense Mergers and Acquisitions (M&A), Private Equity (PE), and Venture Capital (VC) funding are likely to expand further, showing that 2026 is on track to be one of “the strongest deal-making years” on record.
The report highlights that Defense Tech/Services is the fastest-growing segment at a 22% Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR), followed by Aerospace at 16% CAGR; Aircraft Manufacturers, Parts & Components at 14% CAGR; and Air, Land, & Sea Defense at 9% CAGR.
The report argues that the growth is not simply a temporary response to international conflicts. Governments are rebuilding industrial capacity, replenishing weapons inventories, strengthening supply chains, and accelerating the development of advanced military technologies.
In the United States, the largest market, proposed increases in defense resources, procurement reforms, longer-term contracts, and financial support for defense technology companies aim to attract private capital and expand manufacturing capacity.
In Europe, the EU’s Security Action for Europe initiative aims to mobilize about €800 billion in defense-related investment through national fiscal flexibility, loans, and related financing support.
Germany’s increased spending and procurement reforms can accelerate equipment acquisition and industrial expansion. Collectively, these policies are reshaping the geography of defense investment in Europe.
In fact, the report says that Europe has emerged as a major driver of new activity. “Europe has become a primary engine of deal flow, not a secondary market. Rising national budgets and new EU-wide financing mechanisms are reshaping where capital is being deployed as well as dictating deployment speed”, it says. NATO’s higher spending ambitions, European rearmament and new financing arrangements are encouraging companies to expand, consolidate and acquire specialist capabilities.
Meanwhile, the Indo-Pacific is undergoing a rapid, structural alignment driven by what regional planners call a “contested era.”
China is consolidating its domestic defense industry, though restrictions on cross-border investment limit Western investors’ access. Japan is rapidly reshaping its defense posture and adapting to an environment where the traditional binary definitions of “peacetime” and “wartime” have effectively blurred.
In this era of continuous competition, the report says Japan has elevated allied burden-sharing to its foundational organizing principle.
This shift is most visible in the digital domain. With the operationalization of Japan’s Active Cyber Defense Oversight Commission, Tokyo has adopted a proactive cyber defense strategy. By implementing legal public-private threat reporting and neutralized-access protocols, Japan is signaling a willingness to legally counter and neutralize state-sponsored infrastructure targeting before cyber assaults can cripple critical domestic networks.
One of the report’s most important observations is that defense investment is increasingly a private-equity story. Private-equity firms are acquiring established manufacturers, selling businesses to strategic buyers and building larger companies through additional acquisitions. Venture capital is also financing newer businesses developing military technologies.
Among the ten largest transactions listed for 2026 up to September 30 was GE Aerospace’s $11.8 billion acquisition of Consolidated Precision Products. Other major deals involved aerospace leasing, maritime defense, aircraft components, and specialist detection technologies.
Dubai Aerospace Enterprise bought Macquarie Airfinance for $9.0 billion in what was a leasing consolidation. In a move that signals European rearmament, land-defense scaling, and main-battle tank production, KfW Group (German State Bank) is backing KNDS [Franco-German tank maker Krauss-Maffei Wegmann + Nexter] with $7.8 billion.
In other words, private investors are no longer confined to peripheral suppliers. They are becoming key participants in the industrial ecosystem that supports national defense.
Significantly, the traditional reliance on a handful of legacy prime contractors is giving way to an ecosystem heavily backed by private equity and venture capital.
The private sector is now driving global defense deal-making as it pivots toward software-defined defense, autonomy, and next-generation platforms.
The report shows how defense technology is changing the industry’s center of gravity. Although aerospace and defense remains one of the most active and strategically complex sectors for private capital deployment, software-defined defense, autonomy, and next-generation platforms are pulling ahead as the fastest-growing corner of the market.
Investors are particularly interested in artificial intelligence and software-defined defense systems; autonomous platforms, including unmanned aircraft and maritime systems; counter-drone and missile-defense capabilities; space infrastructure and surveillance; and specialist electronics, communications, and mission-critical components.
However, while these technologies can drive rapid growth, they also carry risks due to restrictive policies in the US and Europe. The report notes that regulatory compliance is becoming a structural hurdle rather than an afterthought.
In the United States, the largest market by transaction value, more national security vetting—including CFIUS (Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States) and FOCI (Foreign Ownership, Control, or Influence) mitigation—is becoming foundational to ensuring a clean exit.
In other words, the global defense landscape seems to be marked by a distinct paradox.
On the one hand, geopolitical threat vectors are accelerating at breakneck speed. On the other hand, the financial and regulatory machinery needed to field next-generation capabilities faces structural friction.
As a result, companies may depend heavily on a single government customer, handle classified information, or face restrictions on intellectual property developed under government contracts. Cybersecurity compliance and access to sensitive facilities can also complicate acquisitions.
In the United States, the CFIUS can scrutinize foreign investment for national-security risks. FOCI can also affect access to classified work and sensitive facilities.
Similarly, European foreign-investment screening is marked with many complexities. Even businesses that are not conventional arms manufacturers may face scrutiny if they supply strategically important electronics, software, communications or other dual-use technologies.
German Chancellor Friedrich Merz (R) and French President Emmanuel Macron talk on the terrace of the Chancellery at the start of the meeting of State leaders of the European Group of Five (E5) and the NATO Secretary General on June 24, 2026 at the Chancellery in Berlin, Germany. (Photo by Ludovic MARIN / AFP)
Commercial risks matter too. Fixed-price government contracts can leave manufacturers exposed when costs rise unexpectedly. Buyers must therefore examine contract liabilities, working capital, supply-chain resilience, workforce retention and the restrictions that could affect a future sale, the report advises.
The report’s overall conclusion, therefore, is that while defense investment opportunities are expanding, success increasingly depends on technological relevance, reliable industrial execution, regulatory compliance and the ability to navigate national-security restrictions throughout the ownership cycle.
What lessons could India draw from the trends above?
For India, the report is particularly relevant because it highlights a shift in how advanced military capabilities are developed and financed. The implications extend beyond aircraft, missiles, and ships to defense electronics, artificial intelligence, autonomous systems, space technology, supply chains, and foreign investment.
India’s first opportunity is to integrate more deeply into international aerospace and defense supply chains. As Western manufacturers expand production and diversify their suppliers, Indian companies could become more important producers of precision components, avionics, electronics, aerospace structures, and maintenance services.
The most instructive lesson may come from GE Aerospace’s September 8, 2026 acquisition of Consolidated Precision Products (CPP). Experts say that it was a paradigm shift in aerospace and heavy industrial manufacturing. For decades, aerospace primes aggressively outsourced manufacturing to optimize their balance sheets, shifting capital-expenditure risks onto multi-tiered supply chains.
But years of systemic, compounding engine delays—magnified by the Pratt & Whitney GTF powder metal crisis and Boeing’s structural manufacturing gridlock — exposed a fatal flaw: primes (like GE) outsourced execution, but they could never outsource the risk.
Therefore, GE Aerospace decided to buy the absolute bottleneck of jet engine production: structural castings and complex airfoils. Its deal with private equity firms Warburg Pincus and Berkshire Partners is meant to address persistent, industry-wide shortages of critical engine parts and airfoils. In other words, GE bought the supply chain to control the delivery.
For India, this implies that beyond focusing on “Make in India” as screwdriver assembly, it should also consider “Own the Supply Chain.”
Second, as defense technology gains primacy, expanding AI-enabled systems, autonomous platforms, counter-drone technology, advanced sensors, and space infrastructure could be more relevant for India than producing isolated components.
Some experts argue that because European primes are cash-rich and seeking low-cost engineering, they would prefer a JV with India to meet capacity needs.
Lastly, as the Ropes & Gray LLP report illustrates, private equity and venture capital can help consolidate fragmented industries, finance expansion, and support specialized technology businesses. India could adapt this approach to build stronger domestic defense suppliers.
Author and veteran journalist Prakash Nanda is Chairman of the Editorial Board of the EurAsian Times and has been commenting on politics, foreign policy, and strategic affairs for nearly three decades. He is a former National Fellow of the Indian Council for Historical Research and a recipient of the Seoul Peace Prize Scholarship.
The author can be reached at prakash.nanda (at) hotmail.com
US President Trump said Sunday via social media platform Truth Social that Russia and Ukraine had agreed to an energy ceasefire. Neither Kyiv nor Moscow confirmed the agreement, but Zelensky later confirmed new Russian strikes to a Ukrainian powerplant. Additional reports suggest at least 5 have been killed and other civilians injured in strikes in the cities of Kharkiv and Ivano-Frankivsk.
Blockades and protests by French secondary school and university students continued, occasionally becoming violent; French astronaut Sophie Adenot returned to Earth after eight months aboard the International Space Station; Israel's commemorations marking the three-year anniversary of the October 7 attacks: here's a look back at some of the most striking images from the past week's news.
Russia is expanding efforts to target European defense industry leaders as part of a broader campaign of sabotage and hybrid operations aimed at weakening support for Ukraine, the Financial Times reported on 11 October, citing officials from five European intelligence agencies.
The warnings come amid a wider increase in Russia-linked sabotage and other covert operations targeting European defense companies and critical infrastructure. Moscow is expanding its so-called hybrid warfare campaign against European countries as they continue to support Ukraine, using covert networks, intimidation, and suspected sabotage to undermine security and deter further assistance to Kyiv.
The FT reported that assassinations of civilian targets in Europe, once considered "taboo" even within Russian intelligence services, are becoming an increasingly prominent part of the Kremlin’s plans.
Russian operatives target defense industry leaders
European intelligence officials told the FT that Russian operatives are targeting chief executives and senior employees at defense companies, including smaller firms manufacturing drones and drone components.
The campaign comes as Russia seeks to undermine European backing for Ukraine amid a battlefield stalemate and mounting pressure on the Russian economy.
The warnings have prompted defense companies to strengthen security around senior executives. Some have increased personal protection, while others have relocated production sites in response to suspected Russian threats, according to the FT.
Germany's domestic intelligence service, the BfV, has stepped up contact with employees and management at German defense companies and recommended that some use privately contracted close-protection teams, an agency official told the newspaper.
BfV chief Sinan Selen warned German lawmakers that Russia was deliberately planning acts of violence against individuals through state or state-controlled actors. He said the operations were evolving in their targets, methods, and use of organized crime networks.
Russia adapts its methods to carry out attacks
According to the intelligence officials cited by the FT, Russia's military intelligence agency, the GRU, has adapted its methods by working more closely with criminal groups and dividing surveillance, logistics, planning, and execution among different operatives.
Officials said some plots had been disrupted, while other cases involved surveillance of targets at home and at work.
The campaign's intended effect extends beyond any individual attack. One European intelligence official told the FT that the threat is psychological, designed to make people reconsider doing business with Ukraine.
Although some Russian operations remain amateurish and have been detected early, the resulting uncertainty forces companies to devote more resources to security. Smaller firms, which may have fewer resources to protect their personnel and facilities, could be particularly vulnerable.
Plot against Rheinmetall CEO raised alarm in 2024
European defense executives have been on heightened alert since 2024, when US and German intelligence agencies uncovered a Russian plot against Rheinmetall CEO Armin Papperger, a prominent advocate of supplying weapons to Ukraine.
Papperger has said he now receives round-the-clock protection from private security personnel and police.
The FT reported that European intelligence agencies now view threats against defense industry leaders as part of a broader effort to disrupt the production and supply of weapons to Ukraine, rather than isolated plots against individual executives.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky on Sunday said Kyiv was ready to halt strikes Russian oil refineries if Moscow stopped attacks on Ukrainian energy infrastructure. Zelensky also pushed back on US President Donald Trump's comments made Saturday evening calling for Ukraine to elect a new leader by saying, "It's up to our people".
We remember Nokia as the company behind some of the most popular mobile phones of the past, as well as its famous slogan, “Connecting people.”
Founded in Finland in 1865 and now operating as a multinational company in telecommunications and information technology, Nokia continues to work in the field of communications – that is, to “connect people.” But with its latest project, it appears that the company is now preparing to connect people in uniform.
Nokia has teamed up with ICEYE, another Finnish company specializing in the production of microsatellites that provide high-resolution Earth observation data day and night and in all weather conditions.
The two companies have partnered to develop secure and sovereign satellite communications systems for governments and defense customers, with the first communications satellites planned for launch in 2028.
Defense, border security, emergency response…
Announced on October 1, the project envisages satellite systems operating in low Earth orbit (LEO) for use in areas including defense, border security, emergency services and disaster response.
Under the project, governments will be able to own and control not only the satellites themselves, but also the ground infrastructure and user terminals.
Rafal Modrzewski, co-founder and CEO of ICEYE, said countries should not leave control over their communications infrastructure in the hands of foreign commercial satellite operators, emphasizing that the project is ultimately aimed at reducing external dependence.
As part of the partnership, Nokia will contribute its expertise in secure networking technologies and network management, while ICEYE will provide its experience in satellite platforms, satellite constellation operations and ground infrastructure.
The cooperation between Nokia and ICEYE is not entirely new. Nokia was among the companies that participated in an investment round announced by ICEYE in June 2026, through which the company secured more than €1 billion in financing.
First satellites planned for 2028
The first satellites are scheduled to be launched in 2028. If the project is implemented, ICEYE will expand its activities in government-controlled satellite intelligence into the communications sector, while Nokia will strengthen its presence in Europe’s rapidly growing defense and space communications market.
Europe’s “strategic autonomy”: the militarization of civilian technology
The new partnership between Nokia and ICEYE is a striking example of where the concepts of “strategic autonomy” and “technological sovereignty,” which Europe has increasingly embraced in recent years, are actually heading.
The satellite communications systems being developed by the two Finnish companies may initially appear to be nothing more than a technological investment. Yet the companies themselves explicitly list defense, border security and government operations among the project’s intended areas of use. With the first satellites planned for launch in 2028, the system is also designed to remain under government control, including its satellites, ground stations and terminals.
What is significant here is not simply that two companies are entering the defense sector. The boundary between civilian and military technology is increasingly disappearing in Europe.
Companies operating in telecommunications, artificial intelligence, satellite technology, data analysis and digital infrastructure are being turned into direct components of European states’ rearmament and security policies.
This transformation is being marketed under the rhetoric of “European independence.” Yet what is emerging is not a Europe moving away from militarism. On the contrary, Europe is building its own militarized infrastructure.
Reducing dependence on the U.S. does not eliminate militarism
Europe’s basic argument is that it should not remain dependent on U.S.-based companies for its security and communications infrastructure. That is why European states are seeking to develop their own satellite systems, defense technologies and secure communications networks.
But there is a serious contradiction here.
The infrastructure being developed to reduce dependence on U.S. companies is being used to expand the military capabilities of European states. In other words, the question of “militarism or peace?” is being reduced to a choice between “American militarism or European militarism.”
The EU’s IRIS² program is a larger-scale example of this transformation. Although the system was initially presented as a secure communications and digital infrastructure project, the program was expanded in August 2026 to include 66 additional LEO satellites for defense, security and emergency services, bringing the total planned core constellation to 348 satellites. The European Commission has also explicitly identified defense and security applications as among the main drivers behind the changes.
What we are therefore witnessing is not simply a European space program designed to “improve internet access.” Space infrastructure is being transformed into a component of Europe’s security and defense architecture.
Companies are becoming part of the war economy
More importantly, this transformation is not taking place solely through state institutions.
The European model places private companies at the center of this process. As in the case of Nokia and ICEYE, private technology companies are developing infrastructure designed to meet the defense and security needs of governments. Public-private partnerships are also at the heart of the IRIS² model.
The program’s total cost over 12 years has been set at €10.6 billion, with €6 billion expected to be provided by the EU and more than €4 billion by the private sector.
Thus, the expansion of Europe’s “defense capacity” does not simply mean larger state budgets. Private capital is becoming a direct partner in Europe’s emerging security economy.
This transformation is also changing the fields in which technology companies operate. Technologies once associated primarily with consumer communications, the internet, software or civilian infrastructure are now becoming integrated into border surveillance, military communications, intelligence and crisis-management systems.
This is not the neutralization of Europe’s technology sector. It is its militarization.
The technological infrastructure of “Fortress Europe”
All of these developments cannot be considered separately from the increasingly powerful concept of “Fortress Europe.”
Tighter border controls, the treatment of migration as a security issue, increased military spending and the expansion of Europe’s own defense industry are different components of the same political direction.
Satellite technology is no exception. Indeed, border surveillance is explicitly listed among the intended uses of IRIS² in EU documents.
In this way, seemingly positive concepts such as “digital sovereignty,” “technological independence” and “strategic autonomy” are, in practice, becoming technological instruments for building a stronger European security apparatus.
The fundamental issue here is not that Europe is reducing its dependence on the United States. There is nothing inherently wrong with any country developing its own technological capabilities. The question is what those capabilities are being developed for.
If the result of technological independence is more military satellites, more sophisticated border surveillance systems, stronger military communications networks and larger defense budgets, then what is being created is not simply independence. It is the expansion of the militarist capacity of European states and European capital.
From this perspective, the Nokia-ICEYE agreement represents more than a technological partnership.
As Europe seeks to create an alternative to the United States’ military and technological dominance, it is simultaneously building its own military-technological complex.
And perhaps the most important feature of this process is that the war economy is no longer built solely in arms factories.
Telecommunications companies, satellite companies, artificial intelligence firms and other high-tech corporations are becoming increasingly important actors in this economy.
Europe’s “strategic autonomy” therefore cannot be understood merely as a project to become independent from Washington. It is also a project through which Europe is rebuilding its own imperial and militarist capabilities.
In recent years, Georgia has become the stage for a struggle whose implications extend far beyond its borders. The political conflict, often presented as a debate over democracy, European integration, and civil rights, should in fact be understood as another chapter in the delicate geopolitical game unfolding across the Caucasus.
It is against this backdrop that Tbilisi’s decision to distance itself from the confrontational policies promoted by its Western partners takes on particular significance.
The fundamental question is not whether Georgia should be “European” or “Russian.” Such a framework is excessively simplistic. The real issue is whether a small state situated between major centers of power should be free to determine its own foreign policy or whether its international position should be dictated by the strategic interests of outside actors.
The Georgian government chose the first option.
The rise of Georgian Dream brought about a significant shift in the country’s foreign policy. Rather than automatically echoing the anti-Russian rhetoric prevailing in Brussels, Tbilisi adopted a more pragmatic approach. Its priority became avoiding another war while preserving economic relations with its neighbors.
For Georgia, this is no abstract matter. Russia remains an important economic partner. Trade, tourism, energy, and the movement of people create realities that cannot simply be erased by political decisions. Fully adopting the Western sanctions regime against Moscow would have particularly serious consequences for an economy far smaller and more vulnerable than those of Europe’s major powers.
This is where Tbilisi’s policy fundamentally diverges from the strategy advocated by Brussel’s hawks. Brussels wants Georgia to become increasingly integrated into European political structures. The Georgian government, however, has insisted that integration cannot mean automatically submitting to the European Union’s geopolitical priorities.
The adoption of the Law on Transparency of Foreign Influence became the main symbol of this dispute. Its critics regard the legislation as a democratic setback. Its supporters see it as a legitimate attempt to limit the political influence of organizations financed from abroad.
The same divide is evident in cultural matters. Georgian legislation concerning LGBT propaganda provoked a strong European reaction and reinforced the perception among its critics that Tbilisi was abandoning the liberal values promoted by the European Union.
Yet one question rarely receives the same attention: who should determine Georgia’s political and cultural rules?
For Georgian Dream, the answer is the Georgian state itself. It was precisely this insistence on autonomy that made the government the target of increasingly intense international pressure.
Recently, Tbilisi Mayor Kakha Kaladze openly accused Brussels of financing an attempted coup in Georgia during last year’s protests. He claims that European actors funded groups involved in the demonstrations and supported efforts to bring about a change of government. According to Kaladze, the objective was to install political forces more closely aligned with the interests of the European Union.
In fact, such allegations should come as little surprise in the current geopolitical environment. Brussels is now discussing the possibility of imposing sanctions on most Georgian Dream leaders and government officials. These developments nevertheless reveal the broader geopolitical dimensions of the crisis. The dispute is not merely a controversy over domestic legislation, but a genuine struggle over the country’s strategic orientation.
Here lies the principal danger facing Georgia. The Caucasus is not a neutral space. The region lies between Russia, Turkey, Iran, and the Euro-Atlantic world. Any attempt to turn Georgia into a platform for confrontation with Moscow would have far greater consequences for Georgians themselves than for the powers supporting such a policy from a distance.
The experience of Ukraine has made this reality even more obvious. A state can receive political, financial, and military support from foreign powers while ultimately paying the highest price when rivalries between those powers escalate into open conflict. For a small country such as Georgia, avoiding this fate is a fundamental strategic consideration.
It was precisely on this point that Tbilisi projected a different course from Kiev. Rather than accepting the transformation of the country into another frontline state, the Georgian government sought to preserve workable relations with Moscow. This does not mean that Georgia has formed an alliance with Russia. The two countries still lack formal diplomatic relations, and Tbilisi maintains its own disagreements with the Kremlin. The national priority, however, is to safeguard strategic autonomy, peace, security, and development.
By avoiding direct confrontation with Moscow, Georgia reduces the risk of opening another military front near Russia’s borders. It also preserves economic ties with neighboring countries and retains greater freedom to engage with different centers of power simultaneously.
What is at stake is the sovereignty of a small state amid competition between major powers. In a region increasingly shaped by geopolitical rivalry, the most important question may not be which side Georgia belongs to, but how the country intends to protect itself amid the confrontation between opposing external forces.
The Georgian people have shown that Georgia’s interests come first. And they were right to make that choice.
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez launched his campaign for a snap November election on Saturday. The vote comes as a deepening housing crisis is driving protests and putting pressure on his left-wing coalition.
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