In the 75 years between the beginning of the Franco-Prussian War in 1870 and the end of World War II in 1945, what came to be known as the German Problem afflicted Europe. Germany became a problem because it grew too powerful for the peace of the continent, and over that period, Germany started three European wars that brought increasing death and destruction to both its neighbors and itself. The outcome of the Second World War left the country defeated, divided, and devoid of the capacity to act independently in military terms and thus put an end to the German Problem – or so it seemed.
Now, however, the German Problem has returned, albeit in a different guise. In 2025, for the purposes of European security, Germany is once again problematic, but this time not because it is too strong but because it is too weak.
At the root of this new version of an old and almost-forgotten international preoccupation is the attitude of the Trump administration toward America’s traditional friends and allies on the other side of the Atlantic. The major threat to Europe’s democracies comes from autocratic Russia, which is waging a war of aggression against Ukraine. In contrast to its predecessor’s policy of supporting the Ukrainians, the new administration has seemed disinclined to continue that support. This, in concert with Trump officials’ criticism of Europe’s less-than-robust contribution to paying the cost of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), which has provided a shield against aggression since its founding in 1949, has given the European members of the alliance reason to doubt that the United States will sustain its decades-long role as their chief protector.
From this it follows that the countries of Europe must be able to defend themselves without American help. That would require a pan-European effort, a major contribution to which would have to come from Germany, Europe’s largest and richest country. At the moment, neither the Germans nor the Europeans are up to the task: hence the new version of the German Problem.
The origins of the failure to form a common European defense force go back more than seven decades. In 1950, the year that the outbreak of the Korean War convinced the United States and Western Europe that major military forces on the continent were required to deter a Soviet-led communist assault from the east, France proposed the establishment of a European Defense Community. It was to be a supranational army, in which soldiers from the different Western European countries were to serve together in military units rather than being separated into traditional national armed forces. Had the project gone forward, it might have led to the common European armed force that the Europeans now believe they require. West Germany, under the leadership of its first chancellor, Konrad Adenauer, agreed to take part in the European Defense Community. On August 30, 1954, however, the French National Assembly vetoed it. Among the reasons for its decision was the fear that Germany would come to dominate the new force and use its power in ways injurious to its neighbors. French legislators, that is, feared the return of the all-too-familiar German Problem.
Germany’s impeccably peaceful record since then, both before and after the 1990 unification of the western and eastern states into which the Cold War divided the country, have eliminated that fear among Europeans. That does not mean, however, that Europe and Germany can pick up where they left off 71 years ago and assemble a defense force that does not depend on the United States, as NATO as presently configured does and always has. While in the intervening years the Europeans have gone a long way toward economic integration, which the European Union embodies, formidable obstacles stand in the way of military integration and the development of armed forces capable of standing up to Russia on their own.
One major obstacle is that perhaps ten years would be required to recruit and train the forces and, just as importantly, to build the defense industries necessary for European strategic autonomy. Even in the best case, therefore, dependence on the United States would likely persist well into the next decade; and it would be unwise to expect Vladimir Putin, the Russian leader who started the Ukraine war, to be inactive during that period.
Moreover, to confront a nuclear-armed Russia, Europe would need its own offsetting nuclear forces. Britain and France do possess small nuclear arsenals of their own, but Europe has relied until now on the far larger American nuclear force to protect them. Without that, would the British and French arsenals suffice to deter Russia? Would London and Paris have to expand their nuclear stockpiles? Would other European countries, and in particular Germany, have to acquire nuclear weapons of their own? The answers to these questions are far from clear.
In addition, modern military forces are costly, and the Europeans already find themselves fiscally stretched in paying for their generous domestic welfare programs. To defend itself, Europe will have to spend far more on guns and substantially less on butter. Large segments of the electorates across the continent, especially in its south where the Russian threat seems distant, will surely balk at such a shift in national priorities.
In the past, Germany, with its vibrant economy, would have counted as the European country best able to expand spending on defense. Now, however, as the financial journalist Wolfgang Munchau documents in his 2024 book Kaput, what was termed the German economic miracle (Wirtschaftswunder) has come to an end. The termination of access to cheap Russian energy as the result of Mr. Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, the reduction of exports to China as Chinese firms have displaced German ones for many products – above all automobiles – and Germany’s failure to anticipate and embrace the digital age, have combined in recent years to depress the country’s annual growth rate almost to zero. Economic stagnation has, in turn, strengthened political parties of the far right and far left, which now command the votes of fully a quarter of the national electorate. They are all friendly to Russia, which will make resistance to higher German defense expenditures all the stronger.
Still, Germany has taken some steps toward helping to create a stand-alone European defense force. The likely next chancellor, the Christian Democrat Friederich Merz, has made a commitment to this goal, saying that it is an “absolute priority” to move toward “independence of the US.” The German parliament has modified the so-called “debt brake,” which placed strict limits on national deficits. and by so doing has permitted higher defense expenditures. Finally, some Germans and Europeans believe, or at least hope, that more defense spending can lift Germany’s lagging economy. “Military Keynesianism,” by this account, can reduce the country’s deficiencies in both military might and economic growth.
Whether Germany and Europe can achieve anything like strategic autonomy is an open question. What is clear now is that after eight decades as a supporting player at best in matters of continental defense, Germany is once again at center stage. Although in an entirely different way, European security now greatly depends, as it did between 1870 and 1945, on what Germany chooses to do. In that sense, the German Problem has returned.
