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We are on the eve of a historic election. Since World War II, the far right has never been so strong in Germany, and it is about to take power alone in a federal state. This explosive political context must be understood within a singular geopolitical moment: as the United States withdraws from Europe, Germany re-arms. A new German question haunts the continent. In your latest book, you seek to answer this tangle of problems by starting from the concept of hegemony. What does it mean today, particularly in Germany?
Historically, since 1945, Europe unquestionably had a hegemon: the United States. Their economic and military-political influence was so much greater than that of any European state that it constituted an indisputable hegemony. Consequently, Washington shaped the postwar European order, partly with NATO and partly with its support for European integration.
Today, as the United States withdraws from Europe, a old question resurfaces: who truly leads Europe?
Can anyone lead it?
Like European states, especially the most influential, all are more or less equal in power, so none can claim a hegemony as strong as that of the United States. The American withdrawal creates a leadership vacuum. The question is whether the emergence of a new hegemonic power is possible. With its rearmament — its defense budget will surpass by 2029 the current combined budgets of France and the United Kingdom — Germany would overnight become the leading European power, both economically and militarily.
What would that mean for European balances?
It especially raises the question of the need for collective leadership among the three main European states (France, Germany and the United Kingdom), or among the five largest states, including Poland and Italy. We must collectively address the future balance of Europe with a Germany that is as strong at the continent’s center. Berlin would wield a form of hegemony of a new type, hardly comparable to the current American hegemony; that is why I prefer to speak of domination.
What would be the effects of this domination?
We have already seen this domination at work during the financial and economic crisis, where Germany’s power to say “no” was not limited to dictating its course to others, but also to blocking certain policy directions, thereby obstructing any collective solution. Now, strengthening German power will pose strategic rather than financial problems, because a categorical refusal by Berlin can no longer be easily circumvented as before.
In Friedrich Merz’s speeches, the expression “the most powerful conventional army in Europe” has crystallized tensions and sparked sharp controversy abroad. How do you understand this formulation? Is it relevant? Does it reflect reality?
First, it should be noted that all European countries welcome Germany’s rearmament. It is undeniable that Germany must rearm and shoulder its responsibilities.
The question, however, is not whether this rearmament will take place, but how it will occur and whether it will fit within the European context. This is where the phrase “the most powerful conventional armed force” takes on its full meaning.
This is a very significant ambition. Germany has a goal it can certainly attain if one does not count the manpower of the current Ukrainian armed forces. Poland certainly shares the same ambition. Warsaw already spends a noticeably larger share of its GDP on defense than Germany, and Warsaw therefore questions why Germany insists so much on its ambition to become Europe’s leading conventional power.
What is its objective?
It is to enable Germany to protect the states located to its east, namely the Baltic states and Poland. In other words, this rearmament does not serve Germany’s immediate national interests. It aims to deter Russia from attacking with the strongest conventional power.
In other words, it is also in Poland’s interest. Polish sensitivity to the formulation “the leading conventional power” is nevertheless understandable. Why insist so much? Whether justified or not, German–Polish relations are difficult in many respects, and not everything has always run smoothly, including with some instrumentalization on the Polish side. The problem is that this sensitivity among neighboring countries has almost fallen into oblivion in Germany.
In what sense?
In 1990, everyone still knew that every strengthening of German power would entail a loss of sovereignty. Helmut Kohl achieved reunification, but he also gave up the Deutsche Mark. Konrad Adenauer secured the sovereignty of West Germany, but he also integrated the Bundeswehr into NATO’s command structures. There has always been a compromise.
For 35 years, in German discourse, there were more criticisms of Germany being too weak than too strong. One almost forgot that fears of a potentially overpowered Germany could still exist among its neighbors.
Berlin must therefore reflect on how to anchor its power within the European fabric and avoid, even inadvertently, generating resentment. This matters all the more since Germany is the country in Europe most reliant on the United States and the Western order under its influence. France, for example, even if the United States and the idea of a united West disappeared, would retain its own vision of its foreign policy and a historical heritage to lean on. Britain holds this perspective, and Poland also sees itself as a land of resistance.
Germany, by contrast, has no reference point in its past since 1945. It certainly cannot refer to Prussia, World War I, or the period before World War II. That is why the withdrawal of the United States from Europe is so hard to bear. Indeed, for Germany, the long road West, as historian Heinrich August Winkler would put it, represented the culmination of its development. It was the main objective. Germany had finally joined the West, it was democratic and liberal. If the United States is removed from this equation today, one of the two pillars of Germany’s identity since 1945 collapses.
Do you foresee two turning points in history or “Zeitenwenden,” the first with Scholz on February 27, 2022, and a second now, or is it still the same movement?
I prefer to speak of shocks rather than historical turning points, because the term turning point seems too proactive. It is often said today that Germany is “fulfilling its historical turning.” Yet in the February 27, 2022 policy speech, Chancellor Olaf Scholz uses a more passive formulation: “We are living through a historic turning point.” The first was the Putin shock, and the second, Trump, which was the catalyst making the real turning point possible: Germany’s return to military power. Under Scholz, this was possible only on a small scale; with Friedrich Merz and the adoption of the constitutional reform on indebtedness, Germany can again become a fully engaged military power in defense of the continent.
Why didn’t Donald Trump’s first term produce the same effect?
No. The real Trump shock occurred during his second term. The first had already been a shock, and we still remember Angela Merkel’s speech at a popular festival under a beer tent. Her analysis was sound, but it hardly led to any行动. She basically said: “We must take on more responsibilities.” It’s a typically German way of speaking euphemistically about what must be done. The term “responsibility” was very fashionable between 2014 and 2016 to minimize the real problem. Responsibility always carries a positive, normative connotation.
That may also seem condescending, as if we claim to know what is right and that we are taking responsibility. In reality, taking on responsibility, as we saw in 2025, naturally implies substantial rearmament, but that wording sounds less good, especially in German discourse.
It isn’t always necessary to go back to 1945. From 1955 to 1992, up to 600,000 young West Germans wore uniform, which was completely normal and broadly accepted by society. Are the conditions of that era transferrable to the current situation?
This rapprochement is clearly visible in German discourse, as evidenced by the famous phrase “Peace is the true test” (Frieden ist der Ernstfall), popularized in 1969 by Federal President Gustav Heinemann. Initially conceived as a pacifist statement calling for peace to be treated as an effort, it was later reinterpreted by the Bundeswehr as a call to military preparedness. “We must be ready,” to be so well prepared for a potential war that we can prevent it.
This justified German rearmament after the war, when the Soviet threat was the main concern. The creation of the Bundeswehr in 1955 rested on a reading of history that went like: “After 1945, we rearmed not for ourselves, but for the defense of Europe. In the end, we simply want peace. And to maintain this peace, we must be militarily strong.” It is therefore perfectly logical to rely on this principle today, despite two important differences.
Which ones?
First, at the time, American leadership was very clear, the Bundeswehr was almost integrated into NATO’s command structures, which made German rearmament acceptable in the eyes of European countries.
Today, American hegemony and its claim to exercise strategic leadership in Europe no longer exist. It is therefore necessary to put in place more European structures to integrate German military power.
The second difference lies in what I call the pacifism myth. During the Cold War Germany was anything but pacifist. It was a heavily armed country. But after reunification, the lesson drawn from that period was that peaceful protest and dialogue were more effective than weapons. Think of Willy Brandt and Gorbachev, two heroic figures who, from the German point of view, contributed most to reunification, not to mention Helmut Kohl. Those who embodied deterrence, such as Helmut Schmidt, who had been a very firm Defense Minister, played a less important role retrospectively. With German reunification at the end of the Cold War, the role of deterrence in maintaining peace was relegated to the background in the German discourse on ending the conflict.
For a new unified German identity to emerge, the memory of peaceful demonstrations in Leipzig and Berlin was more relevant than that of troops in uniform. Thus, the lessons Germany drew from the Cold War are not only that deterrence was effective and kept peace, but also that military power was obsolete and that we were entering the era of dialogue and trade.
Where does German rearmament actually stand? What has been done?
We should begin the calculation only in 2025, the moment from which Germany has sufficient financial resources, funded by borrowing.
It is about reaching a satisfactory state of preparedness, but several problems arise. After 2022, many contracts were awarded to the United States, with air defense completely dependent on the Americans. Yet the Iran war again showed that U.S. stocks were insufficient. Financing is therefore not the problem; the challenge is to acquire these capabilities, previously provided by the United States, in Europe. The timetable is key. How to manage the situation if the American withdrawal is faster than Europe’s capacity to rearm or to produce what it needs?
What avenues do you see if this scenario were to materialize?
Ukraine provides an answer. In 2022, support for Ukraine was partly motivated by altruism. We, Germans and Europeans, helped because it was morally right. The situation has radically changed. As the United States disengages, Ukraine becomes a guarantor of security. Kiev will survive, of course, thanks to financial aid and European support, but its role is now crucial: it is able to hold back Russian troops during this period of vulnerability, while acquiring the necessary capabilities remains our main challenge. Ukraine is aware of this and rightly asserts its accession to the European Union.
The question that will arise is no longer whether to send troops to Ukraine, but whether Ukraine would agree to send troops to reinforce Europeans if they find themselves alone against Russia. Ukraine will also be a site of production of things we might need more than ever, such as drones and anti-drone defense systems. This last point is crucial, because as long as Russia remains militarily and conventionally immobilized in Ukraine, it has two options for escalating against Europe. The first is a nuclear threat, which it could deploy in Kaliningrad and Belarus. The second is drone strikes, for which it does not need to invade the Baltic states. These attacks can be carried out easily on NATO territory.
What role does the Bundeswehr brigade deployed in Lithuania play in this scheme, and what is the reach of the policy of pre-positioning troops on a scale unprecedented for Germany? Is this a matter of symbolic politics?
The deployment of an entire German brigade in Lithuania is no longer symbolic, even though I believe it is far from sufficient and that we should double, triple, or even quadruple that number.
To close the corridor between Kaliningrad and Belarus, that seems insufficient. Indeed, even with the United States, when its role within NATO was still undisputed, we already had difficulty protecting the Baltic states.
Is there something deeper at stake?
This pre-positioning serves two purposes.
Firstly, it complicates Germany’s position if it shows cowardice and seeks to avoid a confrontation involving its troops. In case of escalation, five hundred soldiers can be recalled quite easily. Five thousand soldiers represent a substantial contingent, meaning that, just as the United States were tied to the fate of West Germany during the Cold War, Germany is now tied to Lithuania’s fate. This is immensely important domestically, given the prevalence of the “Deutsche Angst.”
These troops also have the military capacity to slow the Russian advance for a few hours, or a few days, if one is optimistic.
In the end, Germany acts in its own interest. Poland and the Baltic states’ accession to the European Union and NATO in 1999 and 2004 was, of course, in Germany’s interest, because it created a buffer zone. It meant that NATO would not have to fight for Fulda, as it did during the Cold War, but rather for Białystok. Germany is no longer a frontline state.
Thus, maintaining this buffer zone remains in Germany’s interest. But regarding the Baltic states, Berlin can still think: “Poland remains between us and Russia.”
As if we still had some cartridges left, so to speak.
It is easy to imagine what such a discussion would look like if the situation deteriorated.
Franco-German projects have long been a cornerstone of European defense, but their future is now uncertain. FCAS, in its current version as a combat aircraft, has been abandoned. According to the Franco-German Defense Council, the Main Ground Combat System (MGCS) is following a similar trajectory. Does this confident new German stance still intend to cooperate with France?
Fundamental difficulties in Franco-German relations, notably in the defense sector, have always existed and are not easily solved. France naturally has a very precise view of who should drive these projects. As Germany’s military capabilities grow, it understandably wants to have a say.
What could help maintain the progressive character of this relationship, i.e., ensure its evolution, is, from the German perspective, the recognition of the absolute necessity to participate in France’s advanced deterrence.
For Berlin, it is obviously essential to be part of it, because Germany does not possess as a deterrent anything beyond the Taurus missile, a non-strategic conventional weapon, and nothing beyond the current nuclear sharing with the United States within NATO.
The fact that we have just published a declaration and that work continues within this Franco-German nuclear steering group is extremely important; ten years ago, that would have been unimaginable.
A discourse currently widespread among sovereigntists, from left to right, in France, claims that Germany’s main objective in this hegemonic project would be to achieve, for the first time, industrial consolidation. Is this assertion justified?
Germany, like all other countries, naturally tends to prioritize its national interests in its defense policy; France does the same. The problem, from the German perspective, lies in conflicts of interest.
That is to say?
On the one hand, there is a desire to cooperate with European countries, notably France. On the other hand, a sizable portion of rearmament is intended for the German industry, and more specifically the defense industry. The simple reason: jobs are at stake, because the “Chinese shock” is now acknowledged and part of the German public debate.
It’s not only a strategic issue or a desire to dominate the European arms industry, but a pragmatic question of national economic order. Today, the ideal life for a German is that of an engineer living in Stuttgart or Munich and working for BMW or another car manufacturer. In ten years, the enviable life will be that of an engineer working for a German defense company. It will be, in a way, the plan B: as the “Chinese shock” destroys many jobs, high-quality jobs will thus be much more concentrated in this sector.
How to dispel the misunderstanding?
One option would be to strengthen cooperation between arms industries, which is not the case currently. Another option would be to integrate the armed forces more deeply. The third would be European defense funding through common debt.
In February last year, the German Foreign Minister, Johann Wadephul, was invited on Deutschlandfunk for a fairly banal morning interview. He criticized neighboring countries, such as France, for allocating too few resources to their defense. This is not necessarily evident in Germany, but such statements are heard, read and translated abroad. Even those who are generally pro-German saw it as an offense.
That’s exactly the same reaction as during the financial crisis: since we have managed our budget and finances well, we can increase our military spending, because we have room to maneuver. If you don’t have it and you are in debt like France, that’s not our fault: that’s your problem and you must manage it.
The problem, of course, is that Germany has every interest in other countries being able to rearm themselves as well.
Germany must understand that European debt, limited to defense, is inevitable to ensure Europe’s military deterrence.
This could simply mean, in small steps, multiplying the budget of a specific fund derived from the common European debt to support Ukraine and finance European defense, for example.
If you ask Germans about Europe’s defense role in the Union’s core missions, the answer is unanimous. Provided that this role is played by the Union, it would not reopen the major debate on European debt and financing of French social expenditures, a point of contention between France and Germany on shared debt.
Therefore, one cannot simply demand more from France. On the one hand, that would be condescending, and on the other hand, it is up to Germany to be, in the end, the financial guarantor of European rearmament through common debt. There is no other solution.
How is the German social fabric evolving in the face of this military strengthening? One doesn’t get the impression that young people, for example, answer the call to arms, issued by Defense Minister Boris Pistorius.
Social identity is still undergoing transformation. The pacifism myth persists in German society, but pacifism is not a reality within the Bundeswehr. If in the German debate it has been acknowledged that civilian power and military restraint are no longer current and that these concepts are outdated, awareness is not yet complete for individuals, unlike Polish and Baltic citizens.
The escalation of Russian actions against Europe, whether through hybrid warfare or future large-scale attacks, will accelerate this process. It will indeed become increasingly difficult to say: “We do not feel the conflict with Russia, this confrontation does not affect me personally.”
In Germany, there are more soldiers in train stations on Sunday evenings, probably because they are more inclined to take the train since Minister Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer made transport free for uniformed soldiers. Has the army and the uniform become more acceptable within society?
I recall, during my studies and even afterwards, incidents where German soldiers were subjected to public spitting. The dominant view was that one joined the Bundeswehr when there was really no other choice, and that anyone who did so was responsible for their own fate if deployed to Afghanistan, for instance, and lost their life there.
We remember the Afghanistan war during which Defense Minister Karl-Theodor zu Guttenberg dared to call the Bundeswehr’s first ground combat mission a “war,” whereas the Germans would likely have preferred to view it as a “stabilization and peace-building mission.” The Bundeswehr was then highly unpopular. But that has changed, and the war in Ukraine has clearly shown that these soldiers risk their lives for a greater cause.
A part of your book deals with the prospect of a Germany led by the AfD. What exactly does this party represent in terms of security policy, and why would that pose a problem?
The AfD is often lumped together with other right‑wing populist parties across Europe, or even with some left‑populist parties, which are skeptical of defense spending and focus mainly on immigration and social policy.
What is specific to the AfD, however — and it should be noted that the party is deeply divided into factions — is that its radical wing, highly critical of European integration, anti-American and pro-Russian, is gaining influence. This eurosceptic wing was in part the founding element of the AfD; it is from this wing that the party emerged. The AfD has largely transformed into an anti‑Western party, as evidenced by the gradual elimination of representatives with divergent opinions from key posts. The spokesperson for defense policy was recently replaced because he was considered too Atlanticist for the party.
What does that concretely mean for defense?
Although the AfD voted against Friedrich Merz’s plan to finance higher defense spending via borrowing, it supports this massive increase in military credits.
The AfD voted against this measure only to attract voters frustrated and critical of debt-financed spending.
If you look at its 2025 electoral platform, you’ll see it is in favor of rearmament and a strong German army. The key difference with centrist parties on this issue is that the AfD no longer wants Germany to remain integrated into Europe.
How does it imagine this rearmament?
It aspires to transform the Union into a Europe of nations, where only a single market would remain, while all other supranational elements would disappear. It defends a new security architecture in which the United States is depicted as a foreign power and Russia as a force of compromise. It argues that Germany could stay temporarily within NATO.
So it’s not merely rearmament, but nationalist rearmament aimed at creating an independent German military force that would ultimately no longer be integrated into European or NATO structures.
Many AfD parliamentarians and representatives have stood out with revisionist slogans such as “Silesia was stolen from us” or “Alsace-Lorraine is essentially German and should theoretically become so again.” These statements seem to have become commonplace and are not denied. How much weight should be given to these claims?
The AfD has not made any openly revisionist or irredentist statements in its official documents. However, each party platform is a source of sharp controversy. The party congresses, where these documents are discussed and adopted, are always highly acrimonious.
This means nothing is formalized in writing. Yet, if one examines the AfD’s underlying vision for Germany in Europe — a Germany that is independent, militarized and strong, turning away from the West and the United States toward Russia — it becomes clear that these historical questions could resurface. Just as one could imagine Donald Trump claiming Greenland, there would be little more than a step toward an AfD pressing its neighbors, insulting or intimidating them.
Several regional elections are scheduled in Germany in the coming months and several government programs have been developed addressing educational policy questions where historic revisionism plays a major role.
These programs also have a significant impact on the east of the country, as they mobilize elements related to honoring soldiers fallen in combat, to the “reassessment of military exploits” of the two world wars, and to a return to military tradition. It is true that the most radical AfD elements claim this military tradition. This is particularly true of the faction led by Björn Höcke, whose concept of military honor harkens back to the pre-1945 period.
One of the AfD’s most controversial statements is that this period of German history would be “just a bird’s droppings in German history.” The AfD as a whole would not dare say it outright, but certain factions within the party do. These propositions are increasingly voiced and the AfD acts openly in an unconstitutional manner in some cases, even tolerating neo-Nazis within its ranks.
To what extent are certain elements or individuals within the Bundeswehr likely to be influenced by the AfD?
There have certainly been far-right scandals within the Bundeswehr in the past twenty years, and this has been the subject of debate, just as the question of whether Germans born in Russia vote predominantly for the AfD. But it is very difficult to verify empirically whether this is truly the case.
Since Donald Trump’s return to the White House, have you observed any major evolutions within the AfD?
I think the AfD’s positions on foreign policy have a relatively minor impact on its electorate. Indeed, the party has distanced itself on these issues, for example by opposing support for Ukraine. But the rapprochement with the United States, with Trump and with Elon Musk, that the AfD had initially pursued, has proven to be a failure. The AfD’s foreign policy positions are in reality the least known by the general public. This means that the AfD mainly attracts its voters through its positions on domestic policy. Many people still do not realize how radical the AfD’s positions are: the party fundamentally rejects Germany’s post-1945 integration with the West as it occurred. It’s a dangerous mix, because the AfD is already elected on extreme issues, such as the support it receives for its “remigration” slogan.
The AfD excels at expressing itself vaguely and imprecisely to render some of its more radical positions less visible. On foreign policy issues, it speaks of “Europe” rather than the European Union to mask the fact that it is in reality a deeply eurosceptic party that does not want the Union kept in its current form, because the majority of Germans are pro-European.
Is the honeymoon between J.D. Vance and the AfD in Munich, the grand dream of a “reactionary international,” definitively buried?
Efforts are still underway. The State Department recently created a fund to support nationalist right-wing parties in Europe. But Vance’s speech in Munich, Zelensky–Trump meeting soon after at the White House, and of course the Greenland crisis, marked a turning point in German and European perception of the United States.
How to prevent a nationalist Germany from pursuing the kind of policy you described? How to avoid a strategic Dexit?
Without the AfD, Germany would not become nationalist or militarist, but the question of domination would still arise, given its undeniable economic and military power in Europe.
To avert the worst, the best solution is to integrate Germany into Europe as deeply as possible: first, by increasing defense spending via a common loan, so that Germany becomes de facto the financial guarantor of the continent’s rearmament. Second, by integrating European armed forces more deeply, and third, by more closely integrating defense industries in Europe.
As they say, spending money is the cheapest thing we can do right now.
Exactly. Germany has always been adept at spending and managing money.
The integration of the armed forces remains perhaps an even more delicate issue than common borrowing.
We can integrate the armed forces without necessarily envisaging immediately a supranational European army. There are many smaller-scale examples, such as the first German-Dutch corps or tactical groupings that have never been deployed. All sorts of experiments have already been conducted in transport and air operations, all of which point toward a multinational command.
Can these units actually be operational, or will they remain confined to symbolic policy?
We need to agree on command structures, such as a rotating system, with close cooperation and joint planning for the defense of a part of Europe. A trilateral command, for example. That would be the only solution, because a supranational European army is unlikely. If the model in which the Americans lead and organize Europe’s defense is no longer current, we must find ways to distribute responsibilities among the nations that want to take them on and clearly define the command structures, specifying who is responsible and when.
The major problem is more political. In Berlin, one only hears talk of a “government of last resort.” How to find the energy needed to push these questions forward in a meaningful way, whether it concerns industrial policy, defense integration, or European debt? We must move beyond this “last cartridge of democracy” discourse.
Such rhetoric can be mobilizing in the short term, but it does nothing to aid strategic thinking if we settle for a survivalist approach. Planning our security requires a long‑term vision.