For many, that is not enough. A consensus is forming that the threat outweighs concerns over retaliation. “Confronting China is going to be expensive either way, but the longer we wait, the more expensive it will get,” says a German industry representative. China’s economic chokeholds, such as its dominance of rare-earths refining, have helped focus minds. The EU’s first option is to use existing trade-defence tools more forcefully. Its anti-subsidy and anti-dumping instruments involve careful case-by-case investigations, which can be challenged in court. An official compares them to “taking a little spoon to get water out of the boat”. The EU is exploring applying them to broader groups of products, or even shifting the burden of proof: if macro-data suggest excessive subsidies, firms would need to show they have received none. A second possibility is to develop stronger barriers against import surges. EU officials have long talked of an “overcapacity instrument”, to be used when countries are producing more of a given product than can be economically justified. But the concept is hard to pin down and may be unworkable. The bloc could simply use safeguards more often, such as those it has applied to steel. But such tariffs are supposed to apply to all countries and are temporary. Sander Tordoir and Brad Setser, in an analysis for the Centre for European Reform, a think-tank, propose a European version of
America’s Section 301 tool. This allows sweeping tariffs to counter practices harming American trade. A third option is to complement defensive trade measures with industrial policy. “That combination of trade measures with investment and industrial policy is a significant intellectual shift,” argues Shahin Vallée of the German Council on Foreign Relations. The EU recently proposed making some public procurement conditional on local content. Its tech-sovereignty package includes a boost to Europe’s semiconductor supply chain. National governments are adding their own subsidies to the mix. The great unknown is China’s response. It might hit back with export bans that would deny European industry crucial materials or parts. “China is overconfident, but that makes them a difficult negotiation partner,” argues a longtime observer. It has little patience for European complaints about subsidies or overcapacity, and sees them as a sign of European weakness. On June 11th China cancelled two high-level meetings with the EU. China’s trade spat with America will have emboldened its leaders. Still, it will probably adopt strong but tailored responses to Europe, as it will want to avoid a full-scale trade war. Europe’s consensus is frail. Measures beyond broadening existing tools and “Buy European” policies are unlikely. Few believe Europe is willing to endure Chinese retaliation, or activate its powerful anti-coercion instrument in response. Germany and Spain will play crucial roles. Germany, which only recently converted to a tougher stance on China, will fear that retaliation could bring parts of its industry to a standstill. Spain, for its part, is taking a realist stance. It argues that the new global order must accommodate a powerful China, and that measures should be targeted only at demonstrably unfair practices. “The priority should be to reduce dependencies as quickly as possible, otherwise threats to deploy trade-defence instruments are toothless,” says a German official. Maros Sefcovic, the EU’s trade czar, has proposed forcing firms to diversify their suppliers (ie, beyond China). The Chinese will push back hard, says Max Zenglein of the Conference Board, a global business association. China’s recent decrees on supply chains and other countries’ extraterritorial measures make clear that it wants to keep the world
dependent. On trade policy, the EU and China are heading for a mighty collision. ■ 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/2026/06/11/a-trade-war-between-the-eu-and-china- seems-inevitable
Why Turkey likes NATO again The alliance is in trouble, but Erdogan is enthusiastic June 11th 2026 TUCKED INTO a back street in Karakoy, the port district on Istanbul’s European shore, the NATO Lokanta restaurant is easy to miss. Its first owner proudly hung up a sign bearing its name in 1952, when Turkey joined NATO. But it was taken down the same year, after people less enthusiastic about the alliance pelted the storefront with stones. These days diners do not object to the name, says Mevlut Ozturk, the current manager. He has no problem with NATO either. “There’s strength in unity, as long as it’s between equals,” he says, between servings of lamb shank topped with slices of aubergine. But he has not put up the old sign. NATO was never too popular among Turks, even during the cold war, when the country was a firm member of the Western alliance against the Soviet
Union. A recent nadir came in 2016, when Turkey complained that NATO governments were slow to condemn a coup attempt against Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the president. Mr Erdogan accused the West of “supporting terror and standing by the coup plotters”. His interior minister claimed America was behind the conspiracy. Yet with Turkey due to host a NATO summit on July 7th, a week before the coup’s tenth anniversary, the country is more invested in the alliance than at any point over the past decade. Mr Erdogan and his ministers regularly speak of NATO as a cornerstone of Turkey’s security. Public support for the alliance has risen since the 2010s, though it remains lower than in most member states. According to a survey by Metropoll, a pollster, in March, 61% of Turks see NATO as important to national security. America’s war with Iran and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine have brought home NATO’s value. In March NATO air defences shot down four Iranian ballistic missiles destined for Turkey. Turkey is host to two NATO bases and a radar station, and the alliance’s presence is set to grow. Germany plans to deploy a new Patriot air-defence system, accompanied by 150 troops, to southern Turkey in late June. NATO is also setting up a new multinational corps headquarters in the region. Relations with America are improving, too. Donald Trump decided earlier this year to withdraw troops from Syria, where they had fought alongside Kurdish fighters that Turkey considers terrorists. That removed an important source of friction. Mr Erdogan has also lapped up suggestions by America’s ambassador that Turkey may at last receive F-35 fighter jets it ordered a decade ago. America shelved the sale in 2019 after Turkey bought an S-400 air-defence system from Russia. Nervous about America’s waning commitment to NATO, other alliance members are eager to keep Turkey onside. Europe is indulging Mr Erdogan even as he continues to snuff out Turkey’s democracy. (Mr Trump never pretended to care.) Other than Germany, no NATO government has addressed, let alone condemned, Mr Erdogan’s lawfare against his opponents. On May 21st a Turkish court ousted the leader of the country’s main opposition group, the Republican People’s Party. Europe was silent.
That Turkey matters for Europe’s security is beyond question. With the exception of Ukraine, no European country has an army as big or as battle- tested as Turkey’s. Control of the Bosphorus and Dardanelles, together with a capable navy, give Turkey the means to contain Russia on the Black Sea. The country’s defence industry is becoming a major supplier for Europe’s armies. In the past few months Turkish companies (notably Baykar, a renowned drone manufacturer) have signed deals with France, Italy, Spain, and Estonia. Baykar had already sold armed drones to Albania, Croatia, Poland and Romania. Late last year Turkey agreed to sell 30 training jets to Spain’s air force for $3bn. Turkey’s role in NATO has become more important as concern grows that America may leave the alliance. Should that happen, some European members would want to take over the existing structure. Others are advocating security arrangements within the EU, or some new alliance. Turkish officials refuse to be drawn on their contingency plans, but the country’s preference is clear. Turkey is a member of NATO, whereas its longstanding candidacy for EU accession is moribund. In a NATO without America, Turkey would at least retain a seat at the table. Under an EU or other European arrangement, it would be stuck on the outside looking in. Turkish defence companies are largely excluded from SAFE, a €150bn ($172bn) rearmament scheme the EU adopted last year. That Turkey’s relations with other NATO countries have improved does not make them good. Trust is low. Turkey accuses NATO of overlooking threats on its southern flank, including Kurdish insurgents, human traffickers and a trigger-happy Israel. For their part, European governments still resent Mr Erdogan’s year-long refusal beginning in 2022 to allow Sweden and Finland to join NATO, which delayed their accession. Neither are they on the same page over Russia. The Europeans agree that Vladimir Putin’s regime constitutes the biggest threat to the alliance. Mr Erdogan does not. He has done little to reduce Turkey’s reliance on Russian energy and nuclear technology, let alone Russian tourists. The good news, ahead of the summit, is that Turkey is cooling on Russia. Mr Erdogan can see how Mr Putin is on the back foot. In the Black Sea, Russia’s navy has been crippled by Ukrainian attacks. In Syria its erstwhile
client, Bashar al-Assad, was deposed over a year ago; Turkey is the country’s new go-to partner. In the Caucasus, Armenia’s democratic government is turning from Russia and pursuing normalisation with Turkey. Mr Erdogan, a regular guest in Russia in the 2010s, has not paid Mr Putin a visit in almost three years. ■ 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/2026/06/09/why-turkey-likes-nato-again
Ukraine is transplanting its industrial heart to the west Soviet-built factory towns are in the wrong spot now that Russia is the enemy June 11th 2026 FOR ALL the talk of Ukraine’s battlefield momentum, there is little optimism in Kramatorsk, the front-line city facing Russia’s main military effort. Vladimir Putin’s troops are 14km from the city’s edge, destroying everything that remains. Multi-tonne guided bombs hit regularly, crushing housing and industrial blocks. First-person-view drones hunt soldiers and civilians. On May 13th the city began evacuating its public monuments.