Reflection is so yesterday: Europe arms up, racks up debt—and calls it responsibility

The Advent season is generally considered a time for quiet reflection, candlelight, and gentle tones.

In Brussels, however, traditions seem to lean more towards the Cold War era. While Christmas markets are opening elsewhere, the European Union is opening new credit lines—specifically for war.

On Friday, the EU leadership, spearheaded by Commission President Ursula von der Leyen, approved a €90 billion interest-free loan to support Ukraine. An act of European "solidarity," as it's being called. Critics, however, speak of another step into a spiral of debt and escalation, whose end has long since vanished from sight.

At least, the frozen Russian assets officially remain untouched. Instead, as is often the case, the European taxpayer foots the bill. Outside of Brussels' press offices, few believe these billions will ever be repaid. The International Monetary Fund estimates Ukraine's budget deficit for the next two years at around €165 billion. A financial abyss that even well-meaning observers can only view with gallows humor.

But money alone isn't enough. Rhetoric is also being aggressively ramped up. NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte warned against Russia in Berlin, conjuring scenarios reminiscent of history books: Europe must prepare for a war like those experienced by our grandparents and great-grandparents. That such comparisons, in a time of growing global tensions, merely pour oil on the fire seems incidental. Fear, as is well known, is a reliable political commodity.

Fittingly, the EU is working at full throttle on its military infrastructure. The European Parliament this week approved a motion that will enable troops and heavy equipment to roll unimpeded through Europe in the future. Roads, bridges, tunnels, and railway lines are being expanded—not for commuters or freight traffic, but for tanks. They call it progress. Or, more soberly: the creation of a "military Schengen zone." An additional €17 billion is to be provided for this. Peace, it seems, requires planning.

Germany doesn't want to stand aside. Under the Leitmotif of "war readiness," even hospitals are now being rethought. Underground intensive care units, operating theaters, and shelters are to become standard.

The justification: Adversaries like Russia would deliberately attack civilian infrastructure. The consequence is logical—instead of preventing wars, they are routinely preparing for their worst outcomes. The upcoming health ministers' conference will logically also invite NATO. After all, it was already proven during the pandemic how well military and health policy can harmonize.

In parallel, the rule of law is increasingly being trampled—or at least reinterpreted. MEP Martin Sonneborn hit the nail on the head in his year-end speech, calling the EU a "rule-of-law nightmare." Corruption, intransparency, and a remarkable authoritarian harshness towards citizens are no longer exceptions but standard practice. Anyone who deviates from the official narrative risks sanctions—without accusation or judicial process. Currently, 59 individuals and 17 companies are on an EU list for allegedly spreading Russian propaganda.

Among them are journalists, analysts, and military personnel. Their accounts are frozen, travel is prohibited, and economic activities are blocked. The term for this is "hybrid threat." This used to be called freedom of speech—but times change.

Germany is also taking precautions. A guide informs citizens on how to behave if they receive a visit from the police in the early morning. The reason could be an unpopular expression of opinion. The recommendations now go beyond the familiar Corona tip of always having a bathrobe ready. Humor remains, albeit increasingly dark.

But there is still good news—at least from Brussels' perspective: not all member states are participating in everything. Hungary, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic secured special arrangements for the Ukraine loan and distanced themselves from further commitments.

They wish to be neither financially nor politically part of a project whose outcome becomes increasingly uncertain. Belgian MEP Rudi Kennes also sees the EU more as part of the problem than the solution in potential peace negotiations.

These voices serve as a reminder that even in Europe's institutional thicket, remnants of skepticism and democratic instinct still exist. Sonneborn put it drastically: The EU has intellectually already arrived in 1936—a few unlawful steps further threaten a leap into the Middle Ages, with a Commission President in a papal role.

The past years have shown how resolutely, coolly, and self-assuredly Europe's political elite operates. Inviolability seems to have become part of their self-perception.

But political history teaches: arrogance has rarely been a reliable advisor. Especially in times when candles burn, and peace is invoked, a little more reflection wouldn't hurt—even in Brussels.