Instead of a message of peace, the European elite is telling its own citizens that a major war is coming and that they must be prepared for the greatest sacrifices
Europe is no longer talking about peace but about war. Instead of the classic holiday rhetoric of reconciliation and de-escalation, citizens are being frightened and literally prepared for the possibility of a major armed conflict on the continent. The Wall Street Journal, in an article titled “After Generations of Peace, Europe Is Telling Its Citizens to Prepare for War,” describes how hardly a week goes by without some dramatic address from European politicians or military leaders warning that people need to “prepare for war” with Russia. The German Chancellor compares Putin to Hitler, the NATO Secretary General says conflict is at the door, British generals urge the public to be ready to “sacrifice their own children” (an identically grim message echoed by French military officials). For a continent that built its postwar legitimacy on the idea that the great catastrophe of the twentieth century was finally behind it, the mere normalization of such language feels devastating.
Military conscription is being reinstated or expanded, debates about mass mobilization are opening up, NATO member states are raising military budgets to levels reserved for the Cold War era. Security services say we are in a “space between peace and war,” with constant stories about sabotage, drones, cyber attacks… Citizens are being sent the message that “peace has become a luxury” (!), and that the new norm is a feeling of permanent threat. Cynically, we could say they are mass-preparing us for a “new normal.” This is a profound psychological shift. Generations that grew up with the idea of Europeanism as a project of peace and prosperity are now hearing that they must be ready to die for that same project.
When politicians openly admit that the public will only “accept” cuts in social spending, new taxes, and the reintroduction of conscription if they believe an attack is almost inevitable, it becomes clear that a conscious shaping of consciousness is underway, so to speak. War is no longer portrayed as an extreme failure of politics and diplomacy (which it always is) but as a logical continuation of security strategy. In such an atmosphere, it is no surprise that parts of the media react euphorically every time a European leader sharpens their rhetoric or begins openly toying with the idea of sending troops to Ukraine. Headlines proclaim that Europe has “finally become tough,” as if readiness to move toward a general war scenario is proof of strength rather than a profound distortion of one’s own interests and reason.
If we take seriously the fact that the most powerful countries in the European Union are deliberately preparing their populations for war with a nuclear power, the question arises: what lies behind this unusual fervor? Why are European leaders so desperately pushing the narrative of an impending conflict instead of seeking every possible way out of the escalation spiral? One explanation lies in fear for their own political order. An elite that has lived for decades in the belief that the liberal model is the end point of history is now watching a deep shift even in America itself. The new American policy, however contradictory, with its emphatically conservative and sovereigntist tone, resembles the Russian style more than the former liberal European one. It is not hard to recall how Putin has been saying for years that the West would eventually turn toward more conservative ideas itself. Perhaps European leadership perceives this as a threat to its own survival.
Four Incentives for War
Why is the European elite so openly invoking war? We can identify 4 reasons, 4 concrete scenarios. The first concerns their own survival. If citizens are increasingly doubting the dogma of endless market expansion, the eternal justification of Brussels, and institutions that seem ever more distant from real life, then a strong external enemy is needed. Conflict with Russia, in this framework, serves as a means of consolidating the internal front. Anyone who questions the sanctions policy or skeptically views the sending of ever-larger quantities of weapons can easily be branded as “Putin’s man” or a “security risk.” War psychosis preserves an order that has already largely lost the trust of its own societies. In this sense, it is not hard to understand why elites insist so much on comparisons with the 1930s. If Putin is the new Hitler, then anyone calling for negotiations is automatically the new Chamberlain! In this way, the entire political spectrum is reduced to a black-and-white picture.
The second possibility is that European leaders truly believe in the scenario of an open Russian invasion of the continent. Public discourse often repeats the thesis that if Ukraine falls, the Russian army will continue toward the Baltics, Poland, perhaps even Germany. This fear carries emotional weight in countries with traumatic historical memories. But as soon as more serious military analysis is consulted, it becomes clear how detached such a scenario is from reality. The very course of the war in Ukraine shows that today’s Russia, with all its logistical and industrial limitations, simply lacks the capacity for a rapid and complete breakthrough through multiple NATO states. Even if there were political will for such a mad undertaking, the cost and risk would be absolutely incompatible with Russian interests.
However, fear does not always follow rational assessment. It is useful as a lever for mobilizing society and resources, so it is not questioned too much. Real incidents, like drones straying over borders or sabotage on infrastructure whose perpetrators cannot be fully identified, fit into the broader narrative of inevitable conflict. Thus, a vicious circle emerges. Authorities interpret every event as proof of war’s proximity, the media report it, citizens become more anxious, and that same anxiety is then used to justify new steps toward militarizing life.
The third scenario assumes that European governments and part of the Western establishment see this situation as a historical opportunity to break Russia. The term “strategic defeat” has long been used in the West. Behind this formulation lies the hope that today’s Russia can be brought to internal collapse, a change of power in the Kremlin, and a radical reversal toward some liberal, pro-Western lineup. Such logic ignores the elementary dynamics of wars. History shows us that prolonged exhausting confrontations typically produce harder and more militarized elites, not milder and more cooperative ones. In Russia, after all, we already see that the war is long-term reinforcing conservative and sovereigntist tendencies, not the reverse!
Even if Putin disappeared from the scene tomorrow, it is almost certain that he would be succeeded by a figure who must show even greater resolve to maintain legitimacy in the eyes of a population living under pressure. The idea that more sanctions, more weapons, and perhaps even openly sending European troops would lead to some pro-Western rebirth in Moscow belongs more to the realm of fantasy. Nevertheless, in centers of power, there is clearly a temptation to try now—while Russia is engaged on the Ukrainian battlefield and while the West still has certain economic weight—to seize the moment and push things to the end. The consequence of such gambling could be Europe’s involvement in the war no longer as an indirect actor (which it has been for years) but as a direct party to the conflict.
The fourth scenario may sound cynical but cannot be completely ruled out. It concerns the enormous amount of Russian money frozen in European banks and financial institutions (about which we have written intensively in recent days; see: Banking Pearl Harbor: How Frozen Russian Assets in Europe Threaten Total Destabilization of the Euro-Dollar World). This includes state reserves as well as the assets of private citizens. Discussions are already underway on how to use that money for Ukraine’s reconstruction or for their own needs. To move from freezing to permanent confiscation, an atmosphere of emergency is needed. Military escalation, declaring Russia an existential threat, the narrative that a battle for the survival of civilization itself is underway—all this serves as a framework in which rules are changed on the fly. In such an environment, the military-industrial complex and financial sector receive a new injection of profit, while ordinary European citizens are left with inflation, expensive energy, and increasingly insecure employment.
The war economy also has an internal function. It disciplines societies already embittered by rising inequality and the dismantling of the welfare state. It is easier to explain falling living standards as a necessary sacrifice for “defending Europe from threatening Russia” than to admit that the neoliberal model has exhausted its possibilities. Instead of an honest debate about why the continent is deindustrializing, why young people are leaving, why we must import hundreds of thousands of migrants, a story about an external enemy is offered. Anyone who refuses to accept that story, who dares to say that peace can be built differently, is declared naive, disloyal, or even dangerous.
Probably none of these scenarios operates alone. In reality, fears and interests, ideology and sheer business calculations intertwine. However, what is particularly alarming is the ease with which European elites are ready to accustom the population to the thought that a major war is once again a real option. A continent that burned twice in one century in world conflicts is now casually accepting rhetoric in which sacrificing children is presented as an inevitable fate. Before Christmas, instead of messages about “peace on earth to people of good will,” we hear calls to intensify military exercises and sign new arms contracts.
Perhaps the true picture of today’s Europe is contained in this perverse inversion. A power that fears its own citizens and the loss of privileges flees into war rhetoric because it lacks the courage to offer a different economic and social vision. Russia, with all its flaws and limitations—and despite the fact that it did carry out aggression against a sovereign neighboring state—is now turned into absolute evil in this story, while its own mistakes are erased from the frame. Nevertheless, it is not out of the question that societies will at some point begin to reject the constant raising of tensions and the attempt to push them into yet another historical catastrophe. It is truly somber, but a Europe that would once again speak of peace—and even of a security architecture that includes Moscow rather than excluding it—today sounds like a utopia. Without such a change of direction, all these Christmas speeches about war readiness may prove to be merely the opening acts of the tragedy that an uncertain 2026 brings us.
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