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| Secretary of State Marco Rubio Maansi Srivastava for The New York Times |
I cover international politics from London. | |
As the United States deserts Ukraine, and Europe with it, leaders on the continent are closing ranks and arming up to defend their democracies against Russia. In Britain, Prime Minister Keir Starmer elicits comparisons to Winston Churchill. In France, President Emmanuel Macron is channeling Charles de Gaulle’s argument for independence from Washington. Germany changed its strict budget rules to spend more on defense. Marco Rubio, the U.S. secretary of state, came to Brussels yesterday to urge them on.
But Russia isn’t the only threat to democracy in Europe. Far-right and autocratic parties here have gained ground for a decade. They’re already part of the government in six capitals. And the impulse to ramp up defense may energize their voters.
Europe is rearming to battle fascism and autocracy abroad. Unfortunately, this may also empower fascism and autocracy at home.
Welfare vs. warfare
To understand why, remember the state of European politics: Economies are stagnating, governments are unpopular and efforts to keep the far right out of coalition governments are barely holding. Now, as critics see it, leaders want to spend money containing Russia instead of helping their citizens.
In Britain, Starmer plans to increase military spending from 2.3 percent of the economy today to 3 percent early in the next decade. At the same time, he plans to cut Britain’s annual welfare bill by some 5 billion pounds (about 6.5 million dollars) a year. It’s a risky proposition after the economy shrank in January and at a time when the hard-right Reform U.K. party is snapping at Labour’s heels in some working-class regions. British voters say welfare spending is more important than military spending. “Welfare Not Warfare,” read a banner at protests last week.
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| Outside Parliament in central London. Benjamin Cremel/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images |
Macron faces similar headwinds in France. Voters say they support a stronger military but don’t want to pay for it by increasing taxes, decreasing social spending or raising the retirement age. Macron has already promised not to raise taxes, so some cuts to social spending seem likely. Now parties on the far right and the far left smell blood: Macron is using the Ukraine war to “justify the destruction of the welfare state,” wrote one right-wing lawmaker on X. Cutting back the social services in favor of defense is “psychosis,” said the leader of one of France’s most powerful unions.
Already, France’s deadlocked Parliament struggles to govern. The political dysfunction — and the notion that it might slash popular programs — will only help the extremes. No wonder Marine Le Pen, leader of the National Rally, retains a comfortable lead in polls for the next presidential election. (An embezzlement conviction means she can’t run, but she is appealing it.)
Daring or deceptive?
The critique from the right isn’t just about unpopular budgetary choices. There is also a sense that mainstream politicians don’t listen to voters — and don’t keep their promises.
Before his conservative party came first in Germany’s snap election last month, Friedrich Merz said he wouldn’t alter the budget rules. But after the election, he pushed through a constitutional amendment that will let his future government spend nearly a trillion euros on the military and other things. He had to rush it through the outgoing Parliament because, in the newly elected chamber, pro-Russian parties on the left and the right gained enough seats to block the move.
The right-wing Alternative for Germany, or AfD, in particular has spent years arguing that mainstream parties adhere to a sort of elitist, trans-Atlantic centrism that gives voters little say in how their country is governed. Then Merz used departing lawmakers to enact a policy he had campaigned against. The AfD quickly branded the maneuver as “gigantic voter deception.” Three in four German voters agree, as do almost half of the supporters of Merz’s own conservative camp.
The political cost was immediately apparent: Approval ratings for the conservatives fell, while those of the AfD, already the second-biggest party in Germany, rose.
Ten years too late
If Europe’s rearmament push had come a decade ago — if Russia’s 2014 invasion and annexation of Crimea had served as a wake-up call — the trade-offs would have looked different. Back then, Europe’s economy was growing twice as fast as it is now. Barack Obama was in the White House. Brexit had not happened. The AfD was a one-year-old fringe party. Le Pen was nowhere near as popular. Europe’s big liberal democracies were in fighting shape.
Rearmament is still the only way Europe can deter Vladimir Putin at a time when Washington has abandoned it. But now governments are fighting for democracy at home as well as abroad.
Leaders hope that voters will ultimately rally behind them in the face of threats from Putin and President Trump. They also hope that rearmament will boost growth and manufacturing jobs. (Experts say that this is plausible but far from certain.) Yet because they waited, they may pay a steep price: Voters may punish those who push for a stronger military. Leaders may need to backpedal.
There’s another possibility, too. Rearming in the name of democracy today could leave the far-right governments of tomorrow — many with close ties to Moscow — in charge of big, muscular militaries.