Meanwhile Ukraine’s recent battlefield advances have revived a sense of diplomatic possibility. Europe wants to take over where American efforts have fizzled. “We will be part of the solution, and we should be part of the discussion,” said Emmanuel Macron, France’s president, in February. For the first time, such words sound descriptive rather than pleading. Europe’s support, says Katarina Mathernova, the EU’s ambassador to Ukraine, “has been more resilient than we could have dared imagine.” Yet although Europe’s takeover gives it leverage, ministers and officials acknowledge that their governments are still groping towards a strategy that goes beyond maintaining Ukraine’s survival. In recent weeks policymakers have prematurely debated sending an envoy to negotiate with Mr Putin (the array of names floated included Angela Merkel and Mario Draghi), without a clear sense of what Europeans hope to achieve. On May 28th Kaja Kallas, the EU’s foreign-policy co-ordinator, deemed it wise to play down the speculation. European officials agree that Mr Putin is in a tight spot. Yet few see any sign that he is willing to row back on his demands. That limits the potential for meaningful talks. One official says Europe will have nothing to offer Mr Putin except a gradual slowing of further sanctions. “We are not against
negotiations if they are real,” says Margus Tsahkna, Estonia’s foreign minister. “But there is nothing to talk about yet.” The confusion reflects differing aims. Some European governments want to sound out Russia’s red lines via “mediation” efforts, which could involve individual go-betweens rather than governments, or non-EU states such as Turkey. A serious negotiation with Mr Putin, in which Europe would sit on Ukraine’s side, still appears to be a way off. “I think we need both,” says one foreign minister. Some of the most intensive discussions about potential talks are taking place among the E3: Britain, France and Germany. That could revive fears among eastern European countries such as Poland that western countries might seek a “reset” with Russia over their heads. Ukraine is also sceptical. Should Mr Putin grow willing to compromise, a ceasefire would probably require Ukraine to accept a loss of territory in the eastern Donbas region. Beyond providing as-yet-vague security guarantees, Europe’s best way of sugaring that pill is to speed up Ukraine’s bid to join the EU, something Ukrainians have craved since the Maidan revolution of 2014. Last year suggestions emerged—during peace talks led by America—that Ukraine could join the EU as soon as 2027. But although Mrs von der Leyen and others are pushing to keep Ukraine’s dream alive, that date is utterly implausible for a large, partly corrupt country with an income per person roughly one-third of Bulgaria’s. Officials believe Ukraine would be lucky to join in a decade. That leaves a growing gulf between Ukraine’s sky-high hopes and many EU governments’ willingness to let the topic slide. To arrest that, Friedrich Merz, Germany’s chancellor, recently proposed an “associate membership” that would see Ukraine granted access to various EU institutions with limited or no voting rights, subsidies or single-market access. This is probably “as good as it’s going to get for Ukraine”, says Alexander Gabuev, the Berlin-based director of the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Centre, a think- tank. But the proposal has flopped among Ukrainians, who hear it as code for sitting in indefinite limbo. Volodymyr Zelensky, Ukraine’s president, immediately dismissed Mr Merz’s suggestion as “unfair”.
One or more negotiating “clusters” may be opened at an EU summit this month. But, as one European official says, “the accession discussion is hypocritical on both sides.” Europeans think Mr Zelensky’s failure to rein in expectations is irresponsible. They also worry that making an exception for Ukraine would upset aspirants in the Balkans. Meanwhile, among Ukrainians a new mood of scepticism towards the West is emerging. New polling finds that nearly three-quarters of Ukrainians still back EU membership—but that support has fallen most quickly among the young. As the country has taken on a growing share of responsibility for its own defence, including the manufacture of arms and drone technology sought by partners across the world, it wants recognition of the shifting balance of power. “I see a deep change in Ukraine’s identity,” says Jana Kobzova, a Ukraine-watcher at the European Council on Foreign Relations. “Where they once saw the EU as a saviour, now it’s about self-reliance. Many say, ‘We are protecting you now.’” Reformers in Ukraine still hope to use the EU’s money and political pledges as a barrier against authoritarian drift. “EU accession is like a light in the tunnel for Ukraine,” says Lana Zerkal, a Ukrainian diplomat. Conditions have been attached to the €90bn package, to Mr Zelensky’s chagrin. The first stage of the accession process requires rule-of-law reforms by 2027 before funding is released. Yet the slow pace of reform in Ukraine frustrates European officials. “We need to see more effort in Kyiv,” says one. “They need to help us advocate for them.” Time is short. Although Ukraine’s “long-range sanctions”, as Mr Zelensky calls its drone and missile strikes inside Russian territory, have lifted spirits, no one knows how long that will last. Russia is escalating its attacks on Kyiv and other cities, and further attacks on power and water infrastructure could make next winter even harder than the last. For now, European arms and money keep Ukraine in the game. Last week Mr Zelensky struck a deal with Sweden for fighter jets that could help stop cruise missiles. But Europe cannot yet provide the anti-ballistic missiles needed to protect Ukraine’s cities. Last week Mr Zelensky also sent a letter to Donald Trump appealing for Patriot interceptors.
Meanwhile Europe’s own clock is ticking. Next year brings elections in most of its bigger countries, starting with France in April. Foreign-policy analysts worry that if the populist-right National Rally secures the presidency it would try to pull the plug on some of Europe’s commitments, including fundraising. It would certainly oppose Ukraine’s EU bid. “The French farmers have not woken up to this yet,” says Fabrice Pothier, a former NATO official now at Rasmussen Global, a consultancy. “We have not started the hard part.” Intensifying discussions over aid, diplomacy and accession show that Europe is taking responsibility for the war on its eastern flank. But much of its plan still rests on hope: that Ukrainian resolve will not be broken, that Mr Trump can somehow be persuaded to turn against Russia or that Mr Putin can be forced to negotiate. “This is clearly Europe’s war now,” says Mr Pothier. “The question is whether it can be Europe’s peace.” ■ To stay on top of the biggest European stories, sign up to Café Europa, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter. This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com//europe/2026/06/01/ukraine-is-now-europes-war-survival- cant-be-the-only-aim
Why France is uneasy about German rearmament Germany could become the benchmark military power in Europe June 4th 2026 When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 France and Germany spent nearly the same amount on defence. By 2029 Germany’s defence budget is expected to swell to at least €150bn ($174bn)—roughly double France’s. For European security, German rearmament is plainly welcome. Yet in Paris the prospect also prompts discomfort. The risk, General Fabien Mandon, head of the armed forces, told a Senate hearing last month, is that in five years France “falls behind” its neighbour in the field it has hitherto dominated. The Franco-German link was forged around an implicit equilibrium: France carries the military burden, while Germany provides economic might. As the EU’s only nuclear power, and with a strong expeditionary and strategic
culture, France is used to taking the lead. For example, Emmanuel Macron, the president, has partnered with Britain to set up a “coalition of the willing” for Ukraine to be deployed in the event of a ceasefire. Germany has signed up, but Friedrich Merz, the chancellor, is reluctant to commit ground troops. Indeed French military types are dismissive about Germany’s low appetite for risk, and its tendency to need American reassurance. “We have to be able to think about waging war differently, and without America, but they are absolutely not ready to think about this,” says a French military official. On most defence matters, the French still find that they are far more in tune with the British. Across Europe Mr Merz’s promise to make the Bundeswehr “the strongest conventional army in Europe”, with a 40% increase in troops by 2035, is broadly applauded. Mr Macron has long argued for greater European “strategic autonomy”. A bigger German contribution could help achieve that ambition. Poland and the Baltics are reassured by the prospect, as is Italy. A poll last year suggested that 48% of Poles think a reinforced Bundeswehr would improve Poland’s security, with just 25% disagreeing. Yet, behind closed doors, the French are uneasy—and not only out of frustration that they do not have the fiscal space to spend as much. “It’s the elephant in the room,” says a top French military figure. That Germany might have the biggest army in Europe is “unthinkable for us”. Germany has invaded France three times, but nobody in the French establishment seriously thinks it might pose a threat to its NATO allies. The popularity of the populist-right Alternative for Germany stirs concern, but mainly due to its pro-Russian tilt. Yet a desire to embed German power in larger organisations, the EU and NATO, has long guided French geopolitical thinking. “Beneath the relief”, suggested Franziska Brantner, co-head of Germany’s Greens, in a speech about rearmament last month, “[allies] also feel something they are too polite to say loudly: a quiet, persistent, historically rooted unease at the prospect of a continent in which the dominant military power, by a considerable margin, is once again Germany.” One genuine worry is industrial rivalry. France has leading defence firms such as Dassault, Thales, Safran and Naval Group, which have won big recent export contracts. But in other sectors, such as the manufacture of combat tanks, the two countries compete for exports. If Germany’s extra