Across Europe, budgets are tightening, classrooms are overcrowded, hospitals are understaffed, and climate targets are slipping out of reach. Yet, in the midst of this so-called austerity, NATO countries are preparing to commit to something extraordinary: raising military spending to 5% of GDP. At a time when governments claim there’s “no money” for essential services, this massive shift demands scrutiny. Who benefits from this build-up? What are we sacrificing to fund it? And most importantly, is this really what security looks like in the 21st century?
Can NATO’s military build-up coexist with Europe’s climate and peace goals?
The world seems to be becoming a less safe place.
According to the 2024 Global Peace Index, the world is now witnessing the highest number of armed conflicts since World War II. Regardless of the origins of the conflicts or the actors involved, the outcomes are often very similar: significant civilian casualties, large-scale displacement, and systematic violations of human rights and international humanitarian law. Just in the past year, 160,000 people died in conflict, with Ukraine accounting for 83,000 deaths and Palestine for at least 33,000 as of April 2024.
Faced with this grim reality, governments are ramping up military budgets. In 2024,
global military spending surged to a record-breaking $2.7 trillion, the sharpest increase since the end of the Cold War and the tenth consecutive year of rising expenditures. European countries, particularly NATO members, are following this trend. Over the past decade, defence spending by EU NATO member states rose by
45%, from €145 billion in 2014 to an estimated €326 billion in 2024. That is about 1.9% of EU GDP, edging closer to NATO’s current 2% target, and equivalent to the
entire annual GDP of several EU member states such as Finland, Portugal, or the Czech Republic.
But here’s the rub: this rapid increase is happening even as public finances are under increasing pressure. Overall, government spending in NATO EU countries grew by just 20% in real terms over the past decade, while defence budgets jumped by more than double that. Spending on health grew 34%, education just 12%, and environmental protection 10%. This highlights a growing imbalance of EU priorities.
A big chunk of this money is going straight into arms and military equipment.
In 2024, EU NATO spent €90bn on military hardware, a staggering 50% increase over 2023, accounting for nearly 90% of all defence investments. But does buying more arms make us safer? That depends on what we’re buying, why, who benefits, and what kind of “security” we want. At the same time, the freshly reformed EU fiscal rules have been suspended to allow an increase in military spending, without any changes to the need to generally reduce budgets, meaning austerity still applies.
At
NATO’s upcoming summit in The Hague on 24 June, there is momentum to raise the alliance’s defence spending target from 2% to an
alarming 5% of GDP. This article does not aim to argue whether military defence is needed. But it encourages us to ask, how much is too much? Who’s profiting? And what does this mean for Europe’s democratic and social fabric? Because a jump to 5% won’t just tweak budgets – it will transform priorities for decades to come. This is not a technical or isolated defence issue. As budgets are redirected toward weapons and away from healthcare, education, housing, nature protection, and green transitions, we must ask: What kind of Europe are we building? If civil society does not pose the right questions, this decision risks being made behind closed doors, without a clear democratic mandate or transparent debate.
What kind of security are we talking about?
Europe needs to be able to defend itself, but one key piece is missing: a serious, independent assessment of what Europe needs to do so.
Peace researchers Herbert Wulf and Christopher Steinmetz, in a report commissioned by Greenpeace, found that even without the U.S., NATO Europe far surpasses Russia in nearly all key military parameters. The idea that we are dramatically underprepared is not supported by the data. So, why the rush to build up? What threats are driving this? Are we confronting non-military threats like cyber-attacks, disinformation, or economic coercion with the same urgency as discussions around “air and missile defence” or “long-range weapons, logistics, and large land manoeuvre formations” as
suggested by NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte?
Framing defence needs as a percentage of GDP doesn’t help; it’s arbitrary.
The proposed 5% defence target is not based on a transparent, evidence-based assessment of actual security needs. Using a percentage of GDP doesn’t reflect either the actual capabilities or military efficiency, nor differences in country size or economic performance, and non-military security needs (e.g., climate, energy, cyber resilience). It’s also proposed without public debate on the consequences for health, education, climate, or social spending.
In short, basing policy on a percentage of GDP distracts from the real work of defining what “security” means and how to achieve it holistically.
Who is benefiting from the increase in military spending?
Follow the money, and another pattern emerges: Europe isn’t just spending more – it’s spending outward. Nearly 80% of European defence procurement is imported, mostly
from the United States. So, are our investments really strengthening European security and resilience, or simply boosting American military firms? And what happens when those suppliers are tied to fossil fuel lobbies, political instability, or unpredictable presidents? Let’s not forget: the
U.S. military industry played a key role in Trump’s last campaign and could again. By feeding this system, are we fuelling the very instability we claim to resist?
Meanwhile, public money flows steadily into the hands of military shareholders. Where do we draw the line? What becomes of budgets meant for healthcare, education, childcare, housing, nature protection and the climate? If we see direct transfers from public pockets to company shareholders as part of the industrial-military complex, would the wealthiest rentiers not again reap profits at the expense of taxpayers? When arms companies and investment funds profit from conflict, how do we safeguard democratic oversight? Should we revisit, if not reverse, the privatisation of military industries to preempt a situation where profits depend on global unrest?
This is more than just a budget issue. It’s a structural shift that could weaken democracy, deepen inequality, and make conflict more profitable than peace.
How beneficial is militarisation for economic performance and jobs?
Compare that to investments in energy efficiency, renewables, public transport,
care work, or nature restoration, which generate more employment, faster returns, and healthier communities. At a time of fiscal constraint, prioritising defence risks crowding out essential public services, deepening social inequalities, and weakening economic resilience.
And what about the climate and the environment?
Militarisation comes with a
hefty environmental price tag, long before war ever breaks out. Military forces are among the world’s biggest energy users. Building and maintaining military forces consume large amounts of fossil fuels, critical minerals, and water, which places a strain on ecosystems and contributes to global emissions. Control over such materials has become a strategic priority, influencing geopolitical decisions in regions like Ukraine and the DRC. Day-to-day military readiness requires constant training, and training means consuming resources and energy, notably oil, with low levels of energy efficiency.
The global military carbon footprint is estimated at 5.5% of all greenhouse gas emissions, yet it’s mostly invisible in climate accounting frameworks. That means countries can meet climate targets on paper while quietly ramping up emissions through their armies.
There’s also the question of land. Militaries also occupy vast land and sea areas, up to 6% of the planet’s surface, including ecologically sensitive zones. Some areas may be shielded by restricted access, but many suffer heavy degradation from training, testing, and infrastructure. Pollution, habitat loss, and contamination are all common issues, with little to no public accountability.
This raises a fundamental issue: what if military “readiness” is undermining planetary stability, the very foundation of long-term peace?
A turning point
We are living through uncertain, volatile times. The threats are real, but so are the choices.
We can choose to define security broadly, not just as the absence of war but as the presence of care, fairness, resilience, and sustainability. We can build safety from the ground up — with strong communities, thriving nature, and just economies.
Or we can double down on outdated models of defence, lock in spending that benefits the few, and lose sight of the Europe we claim to defend. Civil society must not shy away from this debate.
Because in the end, security isn’t just about protecting borders; it’s about protecting what matters most.
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