Germany Is Becoming a Military Power—and Changing the Balance of Forces in Europe

For decades, an unwritten pact within the European Union assigned Germany the financial lead and France the military one. That balance is now shifting. Berlin aims to become Europe’s leading military power, tilting the continent’s political scales. France is rushing to preserve its influence, while in Poland, Germany’s rearmament stirs uneasy historical echoes—yet convinces many that a Berlin–Warsaw alliance may prove the most effective deterrent to Russia.

“Wherever I go—from the Baltics to Asia—I hear the same thing: the world expects more responsibility from Germany,” says Bundestag member Christoph Schmid of the Social Democratic Party, who sits on the defense committee. “Everyone expects Germany to finally match its economic strength with military capability.”

Germany, now fielding Europe’s largest army equipped with modern tanks, missiles, and fighter jets, will bear little resemblance to the once-demoralized Bundeswehr of outdated hardware and low morale. Yet a stronger military inevitably brings greater political and economic weight—something the rest of Europe will have to adjust to.

By 2029, Germany plans to spend €153 billion annually on defense—about 3.5 percent of GDP—the country’s largest military buildup since reunification. By comparison, France aims to reach around €80 billion by 2030. Poland, meanwhile, intends to allocate 186 billion zlotys (roughly €44 billion) this year, or 4.7 percent of GDP—the highest share in NATO—as it seeks to build one of Europe’s biggest and best-equipped armies.

Financial capacity also differs. France’s public debt exceeds 110 percent of GDP, with a budget deficit of 5 percent, while Germany—thanks to steadier borrowing—retains fiscal room unavailable to its neighbors. Poland, by contrast, is forced to tighten spending as surging defense costs strain its budget.

One EU official described Germany’s growing military power as “tectonic.” Another diplomat put it more bluntly: “This is the most significant development now happening across the entire Union.”

For European diplomats, Germany’s rise is not merely a matter of budgets. It challenges long-held assumptions about who safeguards Europe’s security—and now Brussels is asking just how “European” this German rearmament will be.

The nature of Germany’s new course is already evident in its procurement strategy. Berlin continues to jealously guard national prerogatives in defense and resists efforts to expand the European Commission’s role in centralized arms purchases. Instead, Germany intends to rely on its own mechanisms, including a new procurement law that systematically invokes Article 346 of the EU Treaty—allowing member states to bypass EU competition rules and favor domestic contractors.

The “Germany First” approach is already taking shape. By the end of 2026, Berlin plans to push through the Bundestag defense contracts worth €83 billion—an unprecedented surge in procurement that spans every branch of the armed forces, from tanks and frigates to drones, satellites, and radar systems.

And this is only the beginning. Behind it lies a far more ambitious agenda—a Bundeswehr “wish list” totaling €377 billion and encompassing more than 320 new weapons programs across every domain of military capability.

The allocation of these funds is particularly telling. According to the procurement plans, less than 10 percent of new contracts will go to U.S. firms—a sharp reversal after years when Germany ranked among Washington’s top defense clients. Nearly all remaining orders will stay within Europe, with a significant share going to German manufacturers.

For Europe, this means the bloc’s economic engine is also becoming the industrial core of its defense power. Berlin is channeling hundreds of billions into domestic production, while France and the southern member states remain constrained by debt and budget limits.

In Paris, Germany’s growing military strength is viewed with unease and suspicion. “In France, defense is the backbone of the entire state apparatus,” noted one EU official. “The difference between Paris and Berlin is that in France every senior official, in one way or another, is connected to defense.”

Despite President Emmanuel Macron’s efforts since 2017 to deepen Franco-German cooperation, distrust of Berlin remains deeply rooted within French military circles. “It’s somewhere between vigilance and a sense of threat,” said a source at France’s Ministry of Defense. “They will be difficult to work with because they’ll become extremely dominant,” he added, noting that much will depend on whether Chancellor Friedrich Merz can resolve the Bundeswehr’s personnel shortage.

Yet the unease stems not only from Germany’s military buildup but also from its industrial and economic weight. “They no longer need to seize Alsace and Moselle,” one interlocutor said wryly, recalling Germany’s 1940 occupation of those regions. “Now they can simply buy them.”

Beyond historical anxieties, France and other European countries are asking what role Berlin under Chancellor Friedrich Merz intends to play on the global stage. “It’s still unclear what Merz actually wants,” said a European diplomat based in Paris. “Germany will have to assume broader international responsibilities—but how exactly remains to be seen.”

Additional tension has arisen around the next-generation fighter jet project, the Future Combat Air System (FCAS). Conceived as a €100 billion flagship of Franco-German-Spanish defense cooperation, the program has been plagued by delays and disputes over production shares—pushing the partnership to the brink of collapse.

In recent weeks, officials from Germany’s Defense Ministry have begun exploring alternative options—potential cooperation with Sweden or the United Kingdom, or continuing the project solely with Spain. This prospect is causing alarm in Paris.

For France, FCAS is far more than another defense initiative; it is a political project directly tied to its nuclear capability, which underpins Paris’s claim to leadership in European defense. Eric Trappier, head of Dassault Aviation—the company with a central role in the program—made his position clear to lawmakers: “I’m not against the project, but when Germany says it plans to exclude France, doesn’t that concern you?”

If Berlin continues its large-scale military spending while aligning primarily with its Northern and Eastern European allies, Paris risks losing the central position it has held in Europe’s defense architecture for decades.

Not everyone views Germany’s military buildup as a threat. In Warsaw, it is seen as a necessary and long-overdue step.

“Poland has become a leading example among NATO allies when it comes to defense spending,” said Marek Magierowski, former Polish ambassador to Israel and the United States. “That’s why we insist that other partners do the same. But if we truly care about collective defense, we can’t keep saying: ‘Everyone should spend more on defense—except Germany.’”

A group of Polish officials expressed a similar view. “They’re moving in the right direction,” one of them said. “From our perspective, this should have happened earlier—but it’s good that it’s finally happening.”

Still, history’s shadow runs deep. “Looking at the past, the combination of Germany’s economic power and military strength has always raised concerns,” said Pawel Zalewski, Poland’s deputy defense minister. “Today, Poland has the largest land army in Europe and will be one of the strongest players in the future—so the Bundeswehr’s modernization must be seen in context. Every European country is rearming.”

Zalewski noted that Germany’s buildup comes as the U.S. presence in Europe declines. “The growth of Germany’s military power is a natural response,” he stressed. “The main countries defending NATO’s eastern flank will be Poland and Germany.”

Yet old memories persist in Warsaw—both of war and of the economic dependence on Russia pursued under former Chancellor Angela Merkel. “We also remember Merkel’s pro-Russian stance,” Zalewski said. “We urge Germany to clearly demonstrate how firmly it intends to defend the international order against Russia. That requires constant verification. We’ve forgotten nothing.”

Magierowski voiced similar concerns. “What troubles me most are Germany’s trade ties with Russia, which remain quite active, and the growing pressure in Berlin to ‘normalize’ relations once the war in Ukraine is over.”

This softer stance toward Moscow is particularly evident within the Alternative for Germany (AfD) party, now the country’s second-largest political force. “The prospect of AfD coming to power or joining a coalition is alarming,” said one Polish official. “AfD openly supports Putin and talks about the ‘return’ of parts of Polish territory. That’s not a topic Europe can reopen. The Second World War began precisely because Germany was dissatisfied with the outcome of the First.”

Taken together, Germany’s rapid rearmament and its partners’ mixed reactions reveal how Europe’s center of gravity is shifting eastward. The continent’s economic powerhouse is becoming its military-industrial one, while France clings to its nuclear advantage and Poland emerges as a major force on NATO’s eastern flank.

In Brussels, this realignment is seen as a test: can the EU channel the new momentum into common institutions, or will it deepen the bloc’s defense fragmentation?

For now, Germany’s growing military strength is seen more as a return to responsibility than a bid for dominance. Yet even supporters admit that the scale of change is hard to grasp.

“It could be frightening, no doubt,” said one EU diplomat. “But Germany acts within alliances. It’s part of the EU and NATO — and a lot can happen in the meantime.”