BRUSSELS — Eurostar services between London and mainland Europe resumed on Wednesday after a major disruption in the Channel Tunnel left thousands of passengers stranded a day earlier. The high-speed rail operator had canceled most of its London-bound and outbound services on Tuesday after an overhead power supply fault inside the tunnel was compounded by a failed Le Shuttle train, which transports passengers and vehicles through the crossing. The incident blocked all routes through the tunnel, causing hours-long delays and widespread cancellations. Some trains in Europe that do not use the Channel crossing, such as the Paris-Brussels route, were also suspended due to the overall delays. A Eurostar spokesperson told POLITICO that services were to resume at 7 p.m. Brussels time (6 p.m. London time) on Tuesday evening, after a “partial reopening of the Channel Tunnel.” Getlink, the company that operates the Channel Tunnel, said work continued through the night to fix the power issue, allowing rail traffic in both directions to restart early Wednesday, BBC reported. Eurostar apologized to passengers for the disruption and warned of possible knock-on delays and last-minute cancellations on Wednesday as services return to normal. Travelers were urged to check their journeys before heading to stations. On Tuesday, Eurostar “strongly” advised passengers to postpone travel where possible and not to head to the train station if their train had been canceled.

International high-speed rail service Eurostar, which connects Brussels and London, canceled all services Tuesday because of technical problems in the Channel Tunnel. “Due to a problem with the overhead power supply and a subsequent failed Le Shuttle train the Channel Tunnel is currently closed. Unfortunately, this means we have no choice but to suspend all services today until further notice,” the company said in a service update on its website. Le Shuttle, the rail service that transports vehicles and passengers through the Channel Tunnel, is experiencing delays of up to three-and-a-half hours, according to an update on its website. Eurostar also urged passengers not to travel to stations, which include Brussels-Midi, Gare du Nord in Paris and St Pancras in London. British media reported there were traffic jams in front of the tunnel terminal in Folkestone, England and stations crowded with stranded passengers in London and Paris. Eurostar denied reports about stranded train passengers in the tunnel. “It is a broken shuttle (LeShuttle) that has now been moved out of the tunnel,” a spokesperson told POLITICO. The Channel Tunnel links Great Britain with mainland Europe. Under normal conditions, the journey from London St Pancras to Brussels-Midi takes about two hours.

Europe’s night trains were hailed as a pillar of the EU’s green-mobility future, but the promised renaissance has stalled — leaving a handful of cash-strapped startups trying to keep the dream alive. The national rail giants best placed to invest see night services as money losers, while the newcomers hungry to run them can’t finance the expensive, highly specialized equipment. “The demand is there,” said Chris Engelsman, co‑founder of startup operator European Sleeper. “People like night trains. They think they’re better for the environment or more efficient — that’s not the issue. The problem is the limitations and bureaucracy of the railway system.” It’s a stalemate that has frozen the revival. “Those that could act don’t want to — and those that want to don’t have the means,” said railway expert Jon Worth. “Try booking a night train months ahead. You can’t. Demand is through the roof. But customer demand doesn’t drive railway behavior.” What does drive it are balance sheets — and most night services lose money. By definition, sleeper trains can run only once per night per trainset, need extra staff on board, and require rolling stock that is highly specific and very expensive. “A coach costs around €2 million, that’s pretty expensive,” said Thibault Constant, founder of French startup Nox Mobility. “Investors look at the history of night trains and say: ‘No way this can be profitable.’” European Sleeper, a Belgian-Dutch company, currently runs with carriages “basically saved from the scrap heap,” Worth noted. “You can’t scale up night trains without building more night trains,” he added. “But no one is making those orders.” Constant described the same chicken‑and‑egg problem. “There is no proof that night trains can be commercially successful right now, so investors don’t believe in the product. We have to show them that we can do better than existing operators — which is a challenge, but there is a way to do so.” Even Austrian state railway operator ÖBB — Europe’s most committed night‑train operator — acknowledged the crunch. “Long delivery times for new vehicles, high personnel costs, and increased night construction sites are major challenges,” an ÖBB spokesperson said. “Night trains are a good addition to daytime rail services … and there is sufficient demand for night trains, and there is a need for more night trains. [But] the costs of operation are limiting the service offering,” they added. German railway operator Deutsche Bahn sounded the same alarm. Even if someone finds the money for new trains, actually running them is another battle. | Alex Halada/Getty Images “Under current political conditions, operating night trains poses a major economic challenge,” said Marco Kampp, DB’s head of international long‑distance transport. “Passenger trains must no longer be disadvantaged compared to air travel and cars — the niche market of night trains is particularly affected by this.” And even if someone finds the money for new trains, actually running them is another battle. Engelsman described constant operational hurdles, including last‑minute messages from rail network managers that effectively say “sorry, your train can’t run for a month,” and a general reluctance from incumbents to help newcomers. Cross‑border bureaucracy makes things worse. “Timetabling is still national,” Engelsman said. When European Sleeper tried to plan its new Brussels–Milan service, it had to negotiate with each country separately. Belgium would first assign a border time that made the whole route commercially useless; then the process had to start again from scratch. “You can’t optimize the whole stretch — you’re stuck adjusting country by country. It’s very inefficient,” he said. Over time, he added, relationships with individual staff in these organizations improve — “they like trains, they like our projects” — but the structures they work within remain slow and rigid. “It’s not the individuals. It’s the bureaucracy.” According to Worth, the promised renaissance of night trains never materialized because it wasn’t grounded in rolling stock, financing or real coordination. “There was lots of hope, but not much planning,” he said. Even the flagship Paris–Vienna route run with ÖBB fell apart once French government subsidies vanished. “[French rail operator] SNCF didn’t want to run it. The moment the subsidy disappeared, they walked away,” he said. START-UP TIME Despite all this, a new wave of operators is still trying. Startups such as European Sleeper are expanding cautiously. Nox Mobility is experimenting with leased coaches to lower capital costs and redesign how a sleeper service works — from ticketing and pricing to onboard offerings. “We’re essentially rethinking the whole ecosystem,” Constant said. For European Sleeper, Worth noted, the key question is whether it can squeeze a break‑even operation out of its patched‑together, aging trains long enough to build the financial footing needed to buy new ones. For Nox, the equation is even starker: “How does Nox get the money?” Worth said. “That’s the most important question by quite some distance.” On paper, there is a list of potential routes and projects that could form the backbone of a real revival — if the money and the trains materialize. Worth pointed to plans in Central Europe as the most realistic starting point. “If they start by focusing in Central Europe, not France and Spain but Germany and its neighbors, then they have a real chance of success,” he said. Beyond that, the picture is hazier. A proposed overnight service by the Swiss Federal Railways from Basel to Malmö will not go ahead as planned after Swiss lawmakers scrapped the funding needed to support it. There are “odds and ends,” as Worth put it: some carriage renovations in Slovakia and Poland that may or may not turn into viable services. Rail Baltica, the new north-south line through the Baltics, is supposed to host night trains to Tallinn when it opens around 2030, but, Worth noted, “no one knows where those trains are going to come from,” and he was skeptical it will happen as advertised. Constant said “it will get easier” as more private players enter the market and infrastructure managers adapt. Worth said new projects “will happen” — but only in minimal form until someone funds large‑scale carriage production. Thijmen van Reijsen, an urban mobility researcher at Radbout University, summed it up: “There’s demand. People want night trains. But for now, the problems are structural — rolling stock, funding, cooperation, infrastructure.” Even ÖBB admitted to the limits: “Night trains are a niche market and will remain so.” All of these dysfunctions can be explained, Worth concluded, “but the question is: who’s going to step up and fix it?”

BRUSSELS — The European Commission is cracking down on two Chinese companies, airport scanner maker Nuctech and e-commerce giant Temu, that are suspected of unfairly penetrating the EU market with the help of state subsidies. The EU executive opened an in-depth probe into Nuctech under its Foreign Subsidies Regulation on Thursday, a year and a half after initial inspections at the company’s premises in Poland and the Netherlands. “The Commission has preliminary concerns that Nuctech may have been granted foreign subsidies that could distort the EU internal market,” the EU executive said in a press release.  Nuctech is a provider of threat detection systems including security and inspection scanners for airports, ports, or customs points in railways or roads located at borders, as well as the provision of related services.  EU officials worry that Nuctech may have received unfair support from China in tender contracts, prices and conditions that can’t be reasonably matched by other market players in the EU.  “We want a level playing field on the market for such [threat detection] systems, keeping fair opportunities for competitors, customers such as border authorities,” Executive Vice President Teresa Ribera said in a statement, noting that this is the first in-depth investigation launched by the Commission on its own initiative under the FSR regime.  Nuctech may need to offer commitments to address the Commission’s concerns at the end of the in-depth probe, which can also end in “redressive measures” or with a non-objection decision.   The FSR is aimed at making sure that companies operating in the EU market do so without receiving unfair support from foreign governments. In its first two years of enforcement, it has come under criticism for being cumbersome on companies and not delivering fast results.  In a statement, Nuctech acknowledged the Commission’s decision to open an in-depth investigation. “We respect the Commission’s role in ensuring fair and transparent market conditions within the European Union,” the company said. It said it would cooperate with the investigation: “We trust in the integrity and impartiality of the process and hope our actions will be evaluated on their merits.” TEMU RAIDED In a separate FSR probe, the Commission also made an unannounced inspection of Chinese e-commerce platform Temu.  “We can confirm that the Commission has carried out an unannounced inspection at the premises of a company active in the e-commerce sector in the EU, under the Foreign Subsidies Regulation,” an EU executive spokesperson said in an emailed statement on Thursday.   Temu’s Europe headquarters in Ireland were dawn-raided last week, a person familiar with Chinese business told POLITICO. Mlex first reported on the raids on Wednesday.  The platform has faced increased scrutiny in Brussels and across the EU. Most recently, it was accused of breaching the EU’s Digital Services Act by selling unsafe products, such as toys. The platform has also faced scrutiny around how it protects minors and uses age verification.  Temu did not respond to a request for comment.

EU countries are taking a harder look at who builds, owns and works on key infrastructure like ports, IT and rail — and that concern is now spilling into a wave of legislation aimed at countries like China. Sweden is the latest to move, proposing this week to give local authorities new powers to block “hostile states” from bidding on infrastructure if their involvement could threaten national security. “It’s part of a defense issue,” a Swedish official told POLITICO, describing growing worries about countries like China gaining access to public infrastructure. “We are acting very quickly on that, since we see a risk that hostile states might try to infiltrate infrastructure such as ports, but also IT solutions and energy infrastructure.” It’s also a worry in Poland, Austria and inside EU institutions — all of which are rushing to put in safeguards to block, or at least monitor, third-country investment in key tech and transport infrastructure. What accelerated Sweden’s move was a recent EU court ruling involving Turkish and Chinese companies bidding on two railway projects. Judges concluded that suppliers from countries without a free-trade agreement with the EU do not enjoy the same rights as EU firms — a reading Stockholm took as both a green light and a warning signal. Sweden’s new rules are due to take effect in 2027. No specific cases were cited, but the investigation repeatedly pointed to China — which also sits at the center of very similar concerns in Poland. Warsaw has long been uneasy about the scale of Chinese involvement in its ports. A new draft bill put forward by the country’s president would “adapt the existing regulations concerning the operation of ports, and in particular the ownership of real estate located within the boundaries of ports.” The president argued that the current model — state-owned port authorities holding land and infrastructure and leasing it long-term to terminal operators — needs tightening if the country wants to maintain control over assets of “fundamental importance to the national economy.” Gen. Dariusz Łuczak, former head of Poland’s Internal Security Agency and now adviser to the Special Services Commission, told Polish media late last month that “the most important provisions are those concerning the early termination of perpetual use agreements.” However, it’s unclear if the legislation will pass as President Karol Nawrocki is broadly opposed to the government led by Prime Minster Donald Tusk. The EU is also moving. Ana Miguel Pedro, a Portuguese member of the European Parliament with the center-right European People’s Party, told POLITICO in the spring that the growing presence of Chinese state-owned companies in European port terminals “is not just an economic concern, but a strategic vulnerability.” Those concerns appear in the bloc’s new military mobility package, which calls for member countries to put in place “stricter rules on the ownership and control of strategic dual use infrastructure.” Transport Commissioner Apostolos Tzitzikostas also flagged the Chinese presence in ports and said it will feature in the European Commission’s upcoming ports strategy, due in 2026. Austria has also been pushed into the debate after long-distance trains built by Chinese state-owned manufacturer CRRC rolled onto the Vienna-Salzburg line for the first time — triggering a political backlash. The country’s Mobility Minister Peter Hanke said the EU must tighten procurement and digital-security rules for state-backed rail purchases — and Vienna plans to propose new legislation before the end of the year. The Commission did not immediately respond to a request for comment. Industry is pushing Brussels to go even further. The European Rail Supply Industry Association argued that the bloc’s procurement rules are relics of an earlier era and asked the Commission to update them so companies from countries that shut out EU bidders cannot freely compete for European contracts. Sweden’s investigators saw the same risks. “Third-country suppliers without an agreement should not be given a more advantageous position than they have today and than other suppliers have,” Anneli Berglund Creutz, who led the Swedish government’s procurement review, told reporters. Contracting authorities, she added, should have the ability “to take into account the nationality of suppliers and to select suppliers from hostile states” — possibly excluding them “when that protects national security.”

Virgin is one step closer to launching cross-Channel rail services after Britain’s rail regulator approved its application to share Eurostar’s depot.  The multinational confirmed in March it was interested in launching Virgin Trains as a rival service to Eurostar by 2030. The Office of Rail and Road said Thursday that Virgin will be allowed to use the Temple Mills Depot in east London, a requirement for a train operator running cross-Channel services.   The depot is the only maintenance and storage facility that is accessible from the high-speed railway linking London to the Channel Tunnel, and is able to house the larger trains used for continental travel. The ORR decision thus makes Virgin’s ambition more attainable — though the company still needs to secure a “commercial agreement” with Eurostar to use the facility, the office warned.  Virgin founder and billionaire magnate Richard Branson hailed the ruling as a victory for consumers. “It’s time to end this 30-year monopoly and bring some Virgin magic to the cross-Channel route,” he said in a statement.   The ORR concurred, saying in a statement that the decision “unlocks plans for around £700mn of investment in new services and the creation of 400 new jobs, in a win for passengers, customer choice, and economic growth.”  The ORR added it had rejected similar applications from train operators Evolyn, Gemini and Trenitalia, with Virgin making the strongest case. “Virgin Trains’ plans were more financially and operationally robust than those of other applicants, and it provided clear evidence of investor backing,” the regulator said.   Eurostar has held a monopoly on cross-Channel travel since the tunnel opened in 1994. The operator wants to expand its fleet, announcing this month it had signed a €2 billion deal for at least 30 more double-decker trains.  However, the ORR said earlier this year that the Temple Mills Depot has room for either more Eurostar trains or another operator — but not both, teeing up a possible fight between the rivals.  A spokesperson for Eurostar said it was assessing the regulator’s decision and “considering our next steps to ensure we can continue to grow,” according to the BBC. Eurostar did not immediately respond to POLITICO’s request for comment.

ATHENS — A doctor whose daughter was killed in a train crash has emerged as the unlikely figurehead of a wave of protests against the political establishment in Greece. Many want Maria Karystianou to run for office, believing an outsider would be the best person to shake up a country that has been rocked by a series of scandals and where trust in politicians has plummeted. Karystianou, a 52-year-old pediatrician, is the president of the Tempi Victims’ Relatives Association, which is seeking justice for those involved in the February 2023 train crash in Tempi in which 57 people died, mostly students. Her 19-year-old daughter Marthi was one of those who died in the deadliest rail crash in Greek history, a disaster that raised deep concerns about the functioning of the state and resulted in mass street protests. “Greece has gone off the rails and remains there,” Karystianou said, juxtaposing the train crash and Greek politics. “I cannot bear to live in such a society, and I cannot imagine how we will continue to live with such a corrupt political system. This is an urgent need of society that cannot be met by the existing political system.” While speculation that Karystianou might be launching a political career has been rampant in local media, she has refused to confirm or deny the rumors, including when she spoke with POLITICO. Any new political movement would join a fragmented landscape, according to opinion polls, one that is overshadowed by profound distrust in the government and low support for the ruling party, the center-right New Democracy of Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis. With opposition parties also divided and unable to take advantage, some polls suggest a new political movement led by Karystianou could draw the support of 25 percent of voters. “I want to see something new, as does a large part of society. I also belong to this 25 percent,” she said. The deadly Tempi train crash “remains in the news mainly because it has managed to form a voice of opposition and express protest against the government and the political system more broadly. The protest is not necessarily anti-establishment but rather a voice of despair over the government’s chronic incompetence,” said Lamprini Rori, an assistant professor of political science at the University of Athens. THE TRAGEDY THAT HAUNTS THE GOVERNMENT The train crash left a deep scar on Greece. Two trains traveling at high speed in opposite directions on the same line — one carrying at least 150 people and one filled with cargo — collided head-on, killing 57 people and injuring 85. The disaster shone a spotlight on Greece’s aging 2,550-kilometer rail network, which had long faced criticism for alleged mismanagement, unfit equipment and poor maintenance.  “It is an open wound, as it is a crime committed by the state,” said Costas Eleftheriou, an assistant professor at Democritus University of Thrace and political analysis coordinator at the ENA Institute for Alternative Policies, an Athens think tank. “A railway that never operated according to the required specifications, a ministry leadership that assured it was safe, and then the conditions for the administration of justice are not being met.” In the February 2023 train crash in Tempi, 57 people died, mostly students. | Daneil Yovkov and Hans Lucas/Getty Images “Since those in government and opposition are unable to address the problem, we are currently in a deadlock.” Polls show that the vast majority of Greeks believe the government is trying to cover up what really happened and who was to blame. There have been claims that highly flammable chemicals were being transported. In March 2024 the Mitsotakis government survived a vote of no confidence, but its handling of the fallout has only intensified the scrutiny, with Athens dismissing a call from the European public prosecutor to take action over the potential criminal liability of two former transport ministers. (The government made use of a provision in the Greek constitution that gives ministers immunity.) That’s where Karystianou comes in. Hailing from a middle-class background, she has gained national fame and become a symbol of the call for justice, winning a reputation for speaking clearly but with emotion. Her every word is now scrutinized by supporters and opponents alike. “I feel ashamed that a European prosecutor would come and say that our constitution protects ministers from accountability. This constitutional provision is abused by politicians even in cases of felonies, such as Tempi,” Karystianou said. The victims’ association has organized protests in Greece and beyond, as well as concerts and other events to keep the case in the public eye. Karystianou and other relatives of those who died in the crash have received hundreds of messages from Greeks encouraging the creation of a new political movement. Her phone also buzzes constantly with calls from MPs and political officials pledging to sign up if she does start a party. “A huge lack of trust in the ruling party and the opposition parties has created a demand in society for unconventional politics,” said Eleftheriou, the assistant professor. “When voters think of the victims’ families, they say, ‘These are people like us, and they are claiming their rights.’ They can understand their goal, identify with it, and rally behind it.” ON HUNGER STRIKE The latest street protests were part of a campaign by the families of victims to have their loved ones exhumed, both for identification and so that toxicological and other tests can be performed to check for the presence of flammable material. Panos Ruci, whose son Denis was killed in the crash, went on a 23-day hunger strike and camped outside the Greek parliament to put pressure on the government to agree to the exhumation request. Judicial authorities, who had said no to the request, eventually agreed to dig up the bodies. A group called Till the End has set up a makeshift memorial for the Tempi victims and has written the names of the 57 victims in red paint in front of the parliament. Every night for the past eight months at 11:18 p.m. — the time of the crash — the protesters read out the names of the dead. The government has said it will pass an amendment this month that will stop the mourners and protesters from gathering there, a decision that has met strong opposition.  “The systematic and detailed efforts of the victims’ relatives to find evidence of administrative incompetence in the government’s response to the accident reinforced popular opposition to the ruling party,” said Iannis Konstantinidis, associate professor with the Department of International and European Studies at the University of Macedonia. “The victims’ relatives — already having the moral high ground — also gained the political upper hand against a government that was perceived as inadequate at best.” However, he added, moral support doesn’t automatically translate into electoral support: “Their political opponents can attack them with arguments that do not concern morality but rather their inexperience or governability. Their moral and symbolic capital will then be insufficient.” Such attacks from rivals are something Karistianou will have to get used to if she decides to become a politician. “None of us can respond to what Karistianou is saying,” Greek Health Minister Adonis Georgiadis told local radio station Parapolitika. “I respect her as a mother who lost her child. But if she becomes our political opponent tomorrow, she won’t have the same immunity and treatment. She’ll be our political opponent.” “None of us can respond to what Karistianou is saying,” Greek Health Minister Adonis Georgiadis said. | Thierry Monasse/Getty Images Another problem, according to Rori at the University of Athens, is that new parties find it extremely difficult to survive, even if they manage to stick around for a couple of elections. “The intense debate surrounding the possibility of a new party led by Karistianou highlights the need for opposition representation and a potential political opportunity for a newcomer to the political scene. However, it is more likely that such a party would be stillborn — yet another flash party.” MORE NEW PARTIES Despite New Democracy’s decline in the polls, which suggests it would be unable to form a majority government if elections were held today, no serious challenger to Mitsotakis has emerged. Meanwhile, Greece’s former left-wing prime minister, Alexis Tsipras, stepped down as an MP earlier this month, as speculation mounts that he is planning to form a new party. Pollsters have been trying to predict the public’s reaction to a potential new political party led by Tsipras and reckon that his potential base could be up to 20 percent of the electorate. While he has not officially confirmed rumors about a new party, Tsipras implied as much in his public resignation statement, telling former colleagues in the left-wing Syriza party: “We will not be rivals. Perhaps soon, we will travel together again to more beautiful seas.” Tsipras said he plans to publish a book by the end of the year on his time as prime minister. Another party from the right of the political spectrum is likely to emerge from former Prime Minister and New Democracy leader Antonis Samaras. He was expelled from the party last year after strongly criticizing government policies, including on the relationship with neighboring Turkey, as well as what he considers “woke” approaches such as legislation recognizing same-sex marriage. There have been media reports that Karystianou could join forces with Samaras on a new political movement, as one of her associates used to be an adviser to the ex-PM. According to pollsters, some 9 percent of voters could potentially support a new party led by Samaras, which is expected to adopt an agenda that owes more than a little to U.S. President Donald Trump.

A cable connecting two carriages snapped before Wednesday’s derailment of a Lisbon funicular, which left 16 dead, initial findings of a government investigation showed. “From the on-site study ot the wreckage, it was immediately clear that the cable connecting the two cabins had given way at its attachment point,” according to a report released on Saturday by Portugal’s authority in charge of railway and air traffic incidents. The cable used had been in place for less than a year and was not supposed to be replaced for another 263 days, the report said. Investigators added that the brakeman of one of the carriages applied the brakes, but that this didn’t have sufficient capacity to prevent the disaster. Both carriages had travelled only six meters after leaving their stations on Wednesday, around 6 p.m., when the cable connecting them snapped, the report said. Sixteen people died in Wednesday’s crash, among them 11 foreigners: five Portuguese, two South Koreans, one Swiss, three Brits, two Canadians, one Ukrainian, one American and one French. Lisbon is holding local elections next month, with incumbent Carlos Moedas, a former European Commissioner, seeking a second term.

BERLIN — It was a beating hot summer day and Gregor was dressed in the formal uniform of the German army: a sky-blue shirt and navy trousers, which he had received that week, the fabric still stiff. The 39-year-old office manager had never been patriotic, and like many liberal-leaning Germans his feelings toward the military for most of his life had been ambivalent at best. When he was 18 he’d even turned down the option of doing a year of military service, believing it was a waste of time. Now, two decades later, life had taken an unexpected turn. As a steel band played, he marched in time alongside 17 others dressed in the same freshly pressed outfits into an open square at Germany’s Ministry of Defense, a towering grey neoclassical building in western Berlin, following the commands they had learned just a few days earlier. They were all there to do the same thing: take the oath required of all new recruits to the German armed forces. Afterward, they would begin their official training as reserve officers, learning the basic skills needed to defend against a military invasion. Everything had changed for Gregor on Feb. 24, 2022, when news broke that Russia had invaded Ukraine. Suddenly, the peace he had always taken for granted in Europe didn’t seem so guaranteed. “I was watching videos of Ukrainian civilians joining soldiers to fight off Russian tanks as they rolled toward their towns,” he said. “I thought to myself: ‘If something like that happened here, I wouldn’t have any practical skills to help.’” It was a fitting day to take the oath: July 20, 2024, the 80th anniversary of the so-called Operation Valkyrie, when a group of German soldiers plotted, and failed, to assassinate Adolf Hitler. Usually oath ceremonies are low-key affairs, carried out at barracks with a few family members present — the close associations between the military and Germany’s dark history means servicemen are not celebrated with the pomp and pageantry they are in other countries. But in honor of the special date, around 400 other recruits from various divisions from all over Germany were gathered in the same square, ready to take their pledge. The country’s defense minister, Boris Pistorius from the center-left Social Democrats (SPD), gave a short speech, telling the recruits that the prospect of defending Germany’s democracy had “become more real after Putin’s attack on Ukraine.” Then a lieutenant colonel shouted out the words of the oath, as the group repeated them back: “I pledge to loyally serve the Federal Republic of Germany and to courageously defend the right and liberty of the German people.” As he repeated the words of the oath, Gregor felt an unexpected swell of emotion. “I realized this is going to be a big part of my life now,” he said. “I’m going to be dedicating a lot of my time to it, and I’m going to have to explain to people why I’m doing it.” His mother remarked afterward that she also experienced surprising feelings while watching from the benches. “That was the first time I ever heard the national anthem being sung and felt like I actually wanted to join in,” she told him. Across Germany, both politicians and members of the public have been going through a similar transformation. The country’s army, officially named the Bundeswehr — which translates as “federal defense” — was established by the United States during the Cold War. It was designed to support NATO rather than ever lead a conflict, for fear that a German military could be misused as it was during World War II. This supporting role suited Germany’s leaders: Throughout the latter half of the 20th century, the country’s politicians carefully shaped an image of a peaceful nation that prefers influencing global politics through trade and diplomacy. After the end of the Cold War the Bundeswehr began scaling down, with military spending falling from a high of 4.9 percent of GDP in 1963 to just 1.1 percent in 2005. But in the months following the Russian invasion, then-chancellor Olaf Scholz surprised the world by announcing a radical change in German foreign policy, including a €100 billion ($116 billion) plan to beef up its army. Then in early 2025, five days after the February election of new chancellor Friedrich Merz of the conservative Christian Democrats (CDU), Donald Trump invited Ukrainian President Volodymir Zelensky into the Oval Office for a browbeating broadcast around the world that signaled his lack of interest in standing up to Russia. A shocked Merz, who had campaigned on a platform of low taxes and low spending, immediately agreed with Scholz to work together to reform the country’s strict borrowing laws — which were embedded in the constitution — and build up its defense capabilities as quickly as possible with a €1 trillion loan, which amounts to about 25 percent of the country’s GDP. According to Lorenzo Scarazzato, a researcher at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), this type of defense spending was previously unheard of during peacetime. “Countries that spend this much are usually those at war, or autocratic states that don’t have democratic oversight,” he said. The following month, Germany’s lawmakers voted to back the plan, setting the country’s military on track to be the best-funded in Europe and the fourth-biggest in the world. In Merz’s view, Europe didn’t just need to arm itself against Russian aggression, but also “achieve independence from the USA.” Later in the year, NATO members would agree to raise their defense spending to 5 percent of GDP, at Trump’s behest. It marks a huge shift not just from how Germany manages its finances but how it perceives both itself and its place in the world. “After World War II, the allies did a tremendous job of re-educating the German population,” said Carsten Breuer, the Bundeswehr’s highest serving general. “This led to a society which I would say is peace-minded, and of course there’s nothing wrong with that. But it is also non-military.” So far, committing resources to the military has been fairly easy for the German government. But now it needs to convince thousands of people to do the same as Gregor and dedicate themselves to military service. After the end of the Cold War in the early 1990s, the government began scaling down the Bundeswehr from 500,000 soldiers to the current 180,000. The country’s national service, in which young men had to choose between serving in the army or undertaking another type of civil service, was scrapped in 2011. Now, General Breuer estimates the total personnel needs to rise to 460,000, including both full-time staff and reservists. Bundeswehr applications are up 20 percent this year, though not everyone will make it through the physical and security tests. Even then, that still isn’t enough to plug the gaps, and it is likely that conscription of some kind will return. Breuer believes the German public is softening up to the military after decades of standoffishness. The war on Ukraine, as well as the Covid-19 pandemic and the disaster response to devastating floods, have put many people in closer touch with the Bundeswehr, he says. “When I was talking to my soldiers in the early 2000s, they would always ask, ‘Why isn’t it like the U.S. here, where people thank you for your service?’” he said. “Nowadays, we’re starting to see this in Germany.” He recounted a recent moment when he was waiting for a flight in the city of Dusseldorf and an elderly man tapped him on the shoulder to offer his thanks. However, for many people, any glorification of the German military will always have uncomfortable associations with the country’s dark history: Neo-Nazi groups still use German military symbols and history as part of their recruitment propaganda, and the Bundeswehr has been plagued by far-right scandals in recent years. For some, the government’s push to embrace the army is one more sign of a dangerous transformation in the country’s political sentiments: The far-right AfD is currently second in the polls, and the ruling CDU has shed former leader Angela Merkel’s liberal image in favor of a harsh anti-immigration stance. And as welfare, social services and climate protection face possible cuts to support military spending, Germany’s politicians face a challenge in seeing how long they can keep the newfound support going. “When you have a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail, and you forget the rest of the toolkit, which includes diplomacy and cooperation,” said Scarazzato from SIPRI. “Military gives some level of deterrence, but engaging with the other side is perhaps what prevents escalation.” He warns that a beefed-up army “is not necessarily a panacea for whatever issue you are facing.” The Heuberg training ground in Baden-Württemberg has a long and dark history. Nestled in the southwestern part of Germany near the Swiss border, it was originally built as a base for the German Imperial Army, which existed from 1871 to 1919 and fought in World War I. Some timber-framed buildings and stables from this time still exist, many crumbling and disused. In early 1933 it became one of the country’s first concentration camps, housing 2,000 political opponents, before it was used as a base for the SS, the Nazis’ violent paramilitary group. Now, it is where the next generation of German military reserves come to train. This past June, I watched 18 people struggling through the same type of training Gregor undertook a year earlier. Heuberg serves as the anchor for recruits hailing from Baden-Württemberg, with each region of the country playing host to its own reserves trainings. The one I observed at Heuberg takes 17 days in total, spread out over long weekends throughout the summer. None of the recruits, including Gregor, can share their surnames for security reasons — the Bundeswehr says its soldiers have been targeted by foreign intelligence and been subject to identify theft. The lieutenant colonel leading the training, Stefan, told me that the sessions cover the most basic skills, meaning these recruits will know how to defend a barracks if Germany were attacked by a foreign power. They can then continue regular training as part of local defense units, learning how to secure critical infrastructure. The recruits range in age from their 20s to 60s, with most in their 30s and 40s, and work a variety of jobs. There’s a forester, a teacher, a chemical engineer and even an ex-journalist, although only three of them are women. Everyone mentioned the war on Ukraine as the catalyst that got them interested in the military. A German army spokesperson said a total of 3,000 untrained citizens have expressed interest in joining the reserve over the past five years, with a major peak just after the invasion of Ukraine and another in early 2025 following the U.S. election. The training is not for the faint-hearted. Recruits must learn to fire an 11-pound rifle, hike around the base in the soaring heat while carrying their 33-pound backpacks, and practice running and doing push-ups in their gas masks and protective clothing, which restricts their breathing. They will also learn orienteering and radio communication, with the 17 days eventually culminating in a simulation of a Russian attack, during which recruits will be fed information through their radios and organize themselves to defend the barracks. Stefan, who served in NATO missions in the former Yugoslavia, Mali and Afghanistan, explained that several people had dropped out already. “That’s normal, it’s not for everyone,” he said. As well as the physical strain, recruits often struggle with the emotional aspect of learning to fire guns. “I tell them, at the end of the day, you’re a soldier — it’s part of your job.” Kevin, 29, works as a banker. “In school, my best friend wanted to join the army, and I remember telling him he would be wasting his life,” he said. His father also had to do compulsory military service, “and he told me no one wanted to be there, it was so uncomfortable because you were reminded of history the whole time.” After the invasion of Ukraine, he remembers sitting in his office watching the price of commodities skyrocket. “We all watched Biden’s speech about the start of the war, and it really felt like a turning point in history,” he said. After many hours of running, shooting and hastily learning new commands, the recruits — many slightly red-faced — finish the day by learning to clean their guns, pushing strings down the barrel and out the other end. Some get stuck, prompting some awkward tugging. The commando deputy, Col. Markus Vollmann, looked on admiringly. “They are all quite extraordinary, how motivated they are,” he said. “They’re only a minority though.” So far, 45 percent of Germans say they are in favor of the country’s new 5 percent defense spending target, with 37 percent against and 18 percent undecided. It’s a marked difference from the days of the Afghan war, when two-thirds of the country wanted German troops to be withdrawn. Military sociologist Timo Graf says this fits with how most Germans have consistently viewed the Bundeswehr: The majority say its main role should be defense of the country rather than interventionist missions abroad. At Heuberg, Vollmann is nervous about how long support for military spending will be maintained once people see other services being cut around them. Germany is able to borrow much more than its European neighbors due to its low debt levels, but Merz is sticking to his low-tax-low-spend ideology with planned cuts to welfare spending. “We need to communicate better with the public about what we are doing and why it is necessary, but without scaring them,” he said, adding that debt-averse Germany needs better investment in all industry and infrastructure. “There’s no point having the most expensive tanks if, once you drive them out of the barracks, the roads are all potholed and the bridges are crumbling.” Stefan, the training manager, believes the many years of peace have left Germany ill-prepared to potentially face Russian aggression head-on. “We have too many soldiers who have never seen war,” he said. “If you have never smelt burning flesh or seen spilled blood everywhere, then you cannot understand how to make decisions in that environment. You can’t train adequately.” Just one week after the NATO conference sparked headlines around the world in July, I arrived at Germany’s Ministry of Defense to speak to Breuer, the highest serving general in the Bundeswehr. The building in western Berlin, also known as the Bendlerblock, was the home of the Nazi’s supreme military command and their intelligence agency, as well as the headquarters of the resistance soldiers who carried out the failed July 20 coup attempt. Breuer became a familiar face to Germans during the pandemic, as the head of the military’s Covid-19 task force. When we met, he was warm and jovial in his everyday combat uniform, rather than the formal jacket adorned with medals that he sports in his TV appearances. He is beaming about the budget increases, which he believes are long overdue. Following Germany’s post-Cold War disarmament, spending on everything from clothing to ammunition to helicopters was reduced — some argue by too much, leaving soldiers with out-of-date helmets and 30-year-old radio equipment. Breuer is particularly critical of how German troops were sent to support NATO missions abroad — most notably in Afghanistan — without adequate equipment. “It was clear to me that if you are sending soldiers on operations, risking their life and their health, then you have to give them everything they need,” he said. A total of 59 German soldiers were killed in the conflict. “We are now moving from a war of choice to a war of necessity,” he explained. From security analysis he believes Russia will be capable of attacking NATO territory by 2029, with the caveat that this depends on the outcome in Ukraine and whether the war exhausts the Kremlin. “Russia is producing around 1,500 battle tanks every year,” he said. In comparison, Germany currently produces 300. “And it is also building up its military structures facing West.” He says his main priorities are ramping up air defense, procuring battle tanks and drones, expanding homeland security, and beefing up the personnel that enables combat missions, such as engineers and logisticians. But tanks and drones don’t amount to much if the country can’t enlist and train to its goal of 460,000 personnel. German media is currently full of near-daily headlines about how this personnel target might be reached. Defense Minister Pistorius has proposed a hybrid voluntary draft, inspired by Sweden’s new model, in which all 18-year-old men will be sent a questionnaire. Only the most physically able will then be invited for service. However, if that fails to get the numbers needed, he has warned some kind of compulsory draft will be created. The country is already facing a massive skilled labor shortage and the Bundeswehr struggles to offer competitive salaries in fields such as IT. Business leaders such as Steffen Kampeter of the Confederation of German Employers’ Associations have claimed the German economy cannot cope with young people delaying their careers through serving in the army. One solution would be for service to be combined with vocational training, and Pistorius also wants to increase Bundeswehr salaries to make them more attractive. Breuer says he has no opinion on what system would be preferable for meeting the recruitment goals, explaining this is an issue for politicians to decide. “My military advice is: This is the number we need,” he said. At the same time as equipment and staff need to be beefed up, Breuer says administration and bureaucracy must be scaled down. Germany’s procurement offices have become so bloated over the past 30 years that multiple reports of their comical inefficiency can be found, such as parachutists having to wait over a decade for new, safer helmets that U.S. soldiers have already worn for years. Germany is also entering its third consecutive year of recession, and its heavy industries that are struggling to stay competitive are now hoping the defense spending will give them a boost: Shares in the steel sector have shot up since the announcements. However, the years of restricted budgets mean the country is starting the sudden ramp-up on the back foot. It is unlikely that industry can meet the targets in such a short space of time, meaning a large amount of equipment is likely to be purchased from U.S. companies, perhaps undermining the goal of European independence. “The fact is, once you buy the more complex weapons from the U.S., you become somewhat dependent on their systems,” said Scarazzato, the SIPRI researcher. “It would make more sense to be very deliberate in how the money is spent in order to avoid finding ourselves in the same position in 10 years’ time.” “For me it’s not about companies, it’s about capabilities,” confirmed Breuer. “This means that in a lot of cases we will have to buy off the shelf. We can’t afford the time you need to develop new items, new systems and new platforms.” With the rush across Europe to procure weapons and soldiers, Scarazzato warns that leaders should be careful not to “put all their eggs in one basket, which is the military.” Arms races also lead to issues such as price gouging and oversight processes potentially being circumvented. “You risk a race to the bottom,” he said. I asked Breuer if he had anything to say to people who are still skeptical about the need for rearmament. “I would like to take them with me on one of my visits to Ukraine.” How powerful the Bundeswehr should be, and even whether it should exist at all, has been fiercely debated ever since it was founded. As an institution, it has only existed since 1955 and was preceded by the Nazi-era Wehrmacht (1935 to 1945), the Weimar Republic’s Reichswehr (1919 to 1935) and, before that, the Imperial German Army. When the United States and its allies took control of Germany after the end of World War II, they dissolved the Wehrmacht and banned German military uniforms and symbols. As part of a larger “denazification” process, the country was prohibited from having an army in case it could be misused in the same way as the Wehrmacht. This changed as the Cold War intensified. After the 1950 North Korea invasion of South Korea, the United States urged its NATO partners to rearm Germany and admit it to the alliance. The country’s first Chancellor, Konrad Adenauer, believed it could be an opportunity for the young democracy to regain its sovereignty and establish itself as an equal partner amongst allies, and on Nov. 12, 1955, the first 100 volunteers joined the Bundeswehr. “The country had to answer the question of how to create an army that could integrate into a democracy and could follow the constitution,” said Thorsten Loch, a Bundeswehr officer and military historian. The founding officers decided to construct the new army around a concept known as “Innere Führung,” or “inner leadership,” meaning soldiers must think for themselves and not follow orders blindly. They decided soldiers should be “citizens in uniform,” with national conscription designed to keep the forces rooted within society. Parliament wields huge powers over the army, and its stated mission is supporting other NATO forces rather than leading battles itself. Germany’s constitution has strict rules about how and when the military can be deployed — for example, reserves can only be called up if another nation declares war on Germany. When it came to staffing the new army, however, making a complete break from the Wehrmacht was more complicated. As Loch points out, any army that needed to pose a serious threat to the Soviet Union couldn’t be staffed by 12-year-olds. Chancellor Adenauer declared in 1952 that anyone who had fought “honorably” in the Wehrmacht — that is, those who had not committed any war crimes — would be welcome in the new army. “The officers ‘cleaned’ themselves,” explained Loch. “I believe they knew amongst themselves who had committed crimes.” They are likely to have also had input from the British, French and American intelligence services. In comparison, communist East Germany opted to staff its Volksarmee (people’s army) with younger, inexperienced soldiers in order to avoid former Nazis. Whether this “self-cleaning” was effective is a point of contention. Only a tiny number of Wehrmacht officers were ever tried for war crimes, and the concept of “honorable” soldiers has led to what many perceive as a whitewashing of the Nazi-era army, often referred to as “the myth of the clean Wehrmacht.” “The narrative was born that it was the Nazi Party who committed the atrocities, not the Wehrmacht soldiers,” said Loch. “And of course this isn’t true, as things are more complicated in reality.” Some of those early Bundeswehr officers still have questions over their heads as to what they did in World War II. The first director of operations was Lt. Col. Karl-Theodor Molinari, who resigned in 1970 after it became public that he might have been involved in the shooting of 105 French resistance soldiers, although the allegations were never proven. And while care was taken to strip away the most obvious signs, symbols and rituals of the Wehrmacht, some remain, such as military music, which also pre-dates the Nazi era. Barracks were renamed after resistance figures but were not demolished. This is one of the reasons that German rearmament was unpopular with the public at the time, and the purpose — and even existence — of an army remains a divisive topic. There continues to be a push-pull between those who say the Bundeswehr must do more to fully break with its past, and those who argue the Wehrmacht is a part of military history that cannot just be ignored. On Sunday, June 15, around 1,000 people had decided to forgo summer picnics in the park to gather outside Germany’s Reichstag for the country’s first-ever Veterans’ Day celebration. After many years of campaigning by the Association of German Deployment Veterans the government finally decided to make the celebration official in 2025, symbolizing a major shift in how politicians seek to position the Bundeswehr in society. A German language EDM band blared loudly over speakers next to stalls selling beers and bratwursts, while children petted a military donkey. The turn-out was not huge: There was no line to enter, and the dancefloor in front of the stage was largely empty. All attendees I spoke to were from military families, rather than curious civilians. “We would like to build up a veterans’ culture like they have in the USA,” said Ralph Bartsch, who runs a veterans’ motorcycle club. “It’s an absolutely overdue event,” agreed another soldier, who was dressed in civilian clothes and did not want to give his name. “It makes the Bundeswehr stronger in our society.” Not everyone is so eager to see societal norms change. The day before, in the Berlin neighborhood of Kreuzberg, I watched as Kai Krieger, 40, and his companion demonstrated how they switch out bus stop posters for those of their own design. After unscrewing the case at the bottom, rolling up the existing poster and tucking it behind the frame — essential for ensuring they are not committing any crimes — they then unrolled a doctored Bundeswehr recruitment advertisement in its place. “German mix: Nazis, cartridges, isolated cases” it reads, alongside a banner, “No to veterans’ day.” It’s a reference to a series of scandals from recent years. In 2022, Franco Albrecht, a 33-year-old first lieutenant with far-right views, was found guilty of plotting terror attacks that he hoped would be blamed on refugees. Several members of the elite KSK — Germany’s equivalent of the Navy SEALs — were found to have been stockpiling weapons and Nazi memorabilia, and members were reported to have made Hitler salutes and played extremist music at gatherings. This led a parliamentary panel to determine in 2020 that “networks” of far-right extremists had established themselves in the Bundeswehr. Ex-military personnel were also involved in a bizarre 2022 foiled plot to overthrow the German state and replace it with a far-right monarchy. “I do think it’s possible for armies to not be fascist or far-right influenced, but the German army is so toxic to the country’s history that I don’t see how that can happen here,” Kai said. He would go as far as saying that Germany should not have an army at all, because “the history is just too heavy. … They say all these nice-sounding things about defending democracy, but then the nasty things always seem to come to the surface.” Despite the Bundeswehr’s efforts to emphasize its historical connections to resistance fighters and position itself as a defender of liberal values, Germany’s far-right groups continue to view the country’s military as their own. In 2019, the German office for the protection of the constitution reported that neo-Nazi groups were organizing lectures with former Wehrmacht soldiers around the country, in which speakers would praise the SS and deny or trivialize the Holocaust. Kai’s group posted around 100 of their posters across the city that weekend, but anti-military activism doesn’t currently have much momentum behind it. Outside the Veteran’s Day celebrations, only a mere cluster of protesters were holding signs and singing anti-war songs. It’s a far cry from the 1980s when the German peace movement was a major civic force, with four million people signing a petition that the West German government withdraw its promise to allow medium-range ballistic missiles to be stationed in the country. Kai doesn’t hold back on the reasons for the movement’s unpopularity. “Our organizations talk a lot of bullshit,” he said. According to him, many of his fellow peace activists “don’t agree that Vladimir Putin is conducting an illegal war in Ukraine. … They’ll say it’s NATO’s fault,” he added, rolling his eyes. While pacifism was long associated with the left, this has shifted in recent years as various far-right movements aligned themselves with Russia. The AfD opposed military aid for Ukraine and expanding the Bundeswehr, and peace marches have become associated with cranks and conspiracy theorists. The Bundeswehr’s recent far-right scandals give potential reserve volunteers pause for thought. Burak, 38, opted out of military service back when he was 18, but in February 2025 he withdrew his conscientious-objector status. “It took me two whole years to decide if I really wanted to do that,” he said. As someone of Turkish heritage, he is still worried about whether it will be “a safe environment” for him. Burak has been involved with the country’s Green Party for many years, and during the Covid-19 pandemic he began looking into the possibility of training in disaster relief. Then when the invasion of Ukraine happened, he considered the military for the first time in two decades. “I feel like this is going to be another burden on younger people, along with things like climate change,” he said. “My generation had the privilege to say that we didn’t want to do this.” Michael, who is 50, spent his youth in Berlin’s left-wing punk scene, putting on anti-fascist gigs in abandoned buildings, and still sports the tattoos and gauged ear piercings. The invasion of Ukraine “shocked me to my core,” he said. “I am an anti-fascist, and to me, the biggest fascist project in Europe right now is Russia,” he explained. “The whole symbol of Europe is under attack.” He added that he also wants “to know where I stand” if tanks ever did roll into Germany one day. “I don’t want to be sitting there thinking, ‘Do I flee or not?’” he said. “I don’t think we should allow the Bundeswehr to just be staffed by nationalists,” he continued, when I ask how it fits with his leftist politics. “We need to think: What brought the Third Reich down? What brought liberty to Europe? It wasn’t talking with Hitler for 10 years.” A year after Gregor completed his basic training, his life looks quite different. At home, he has three huge boxes of uniforms, gas masks and helmets that his girlfriend begrudgingly agreed could be stored in their apartment, as long as he kept them tidy. Other hobbies have had to make way for his continued service, which he now dedicates around 50 days a year to. With his defense unit he practices handling weapons and understanding the logistics of how to protect Berlin’s critical infrastructure and clear paths for military transport. “We learn about the motorways and railway network, and how troops can move through them without the risk of sabotage,” he said. As a major urban center, his Berlin unit would probably be one of the first to be called up if an invasion ever happened. His company, a Berlin-based tech startup, has been understanding of his time off: “My bosses said a war would be bad for business, so they’re happy I’m doing this.” Some of his closest friends are now those he went through training with. “You’re paired with everyone in the platoon for exercises at some point,” he said, which enables deep bonds. Whenever people struggled, the others rallied around them, invested in getting the whole team past the finish line. If someone got nervous learning how to handle rifles, the others were there to calm them down. Even when he’s not training, he’ll often spend his evenings mentoring others who want to join the reserves, talking them through the process. He wears his military uniform travelling to and from training, sometimes encountering people who thank him, other times being pestered by kids who want to try on his backpack. He often has conversations with friends who don’t understand why he is doing this, or who are politically opposed to the idea of a German military. “I have realized since I joined that people in the German military do tend to be more on the conservative side,” he said. “I would like to see more left-leaning people, to balance it out and make it more reflective of society.” He thinks some form of conscription would be a good idea, to help people understand what the army involves, and that there’s much more to it than frontline conflict. “But you need to make it meaningful to their lives. There’s no point in people feeling like they’ve been forced, or that they’ve wasted a year.” The idea of serving his country still makes him feel uncomfortable. “I don’t really like the term patriotism as it’s too closely associated with nationalism for me,” he said. “But I think about the things in my country that I like, such as free education and affordable health care, and how I want kids in the future to enjoy those, too. And I think that is worth defending.”

Faced with a daunting new NATO spending target, Italian politicians are proposing that a long-discussed €13.5 billion bridge to Sicily should be defined as military expenditure. Rome is one of NATO’s lowest military spenders — only targeting 1.49 percent of gross domestic product on its military last year. That makes the new goal of 5 percent by 2035 seem out of reach. And that’s where the bridge could help. The government of Giorgia Meloni is keen to advance with the pharaonic scheme to span the Strait of Messina with what would be world’s longest suspension bridge — a project that has been the dream of the Romans, dictator Benito Mussolini and former Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi. Both Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani and Infrastructure Minister Matteo Salvini, Meloni’s deputy prime ministers, are playing up the notion that the bridge has a strategic value to NATO rather than a purely economic role — a point that was also stressed in a government report in April. A government official stressed no formal decision had been made on the classification of the bridge as a security project, but said further talks would likely be held soon to “see how feasible this feels.” The idea could be politically useful for Meloni as she struggles to convince a war-wary public of the need for major defense outlays at a time when Italy is already inching toward austerity. There are some clear grounds on which Italy might be able to build a case for the bridge. Of the 5 percent of GDP NATO target, only 3.5 percent needs to be core defense spending, while 1.5 percent can be steered to broader strategic resilience such as infrastructure. An Italian Treasury official also suggested that branding the bridge as a military project would help the government overcome some of the economic and technical barriers that have stopped it being built in the past. For decades, efforts to build the bridge — with a estimated central span of 3.3 kilometers — have repeatedly run into problems of costs, the difficulties of operating in a seismic zone and the challenge of displacing people. The new designation would “override bureaucratic obstacles, litigation with local authorities that could challenge the government in court claiming that the bridge will damage disproportionately their land,” the Treasury official said. It would also “facilitate raising money, especially in the next year, for the bridge.” IMPERATIVE OR RIDICULOUS? In April, the Italian government adopted a document declaring the bridge should be built for “imperative reasons of overriding public interest.” In addition to its civilian use, “the bridge over the Strait of Messina also has strategic importance for national and international security, so much so that it will play a key role in defense and security, facilitating the movement of Italian armed forces and NATO allies,” the document added. Whether NATO — and more importantly U.S. President Donald Trump, who loves a big building project — will buy into that logic is another matter. | Remko de Waal/EPA Italy also requested that the project should be included in the EU’s financing plan for the mobility of military personnel, materiel and assets, as it “would fit perfectly into this strategy, providing key infrastructure for the transfer of NATO forces from Northern Europe to the Mediterranean,” the government report said. The bridge “represents an advantage for military mobility, enabling the rapid transport of heavy vehicles, troops, and resources both by road and rail,” the government added. Whether NATO — and more importantly U.S. President Donald Trump, who loves a big building project — will buy into that logic is another matter. Officially, the Strait of Messina lies outside Italy’s only designated NATO military mobility corridor — which begins at ports in the Puglia region on the heel of the Italian boot, crosses the Adriatic to Albania, and continues on to North Macedonia and Bulgaria. It is also unclear whether the strait features in the EU’s own military mobility network, whose corridors, according to people familiar with the discussions, are expected to align with NATO’s routes. The Americans aren’t showing their hand for now. When asked about the bridge at the NATO summit in The Hague in late June, U.S. aides chuckled, but offered no immediate response. BERLUSCONI BRIDGE Foreign Minister Tajani is a vocal advocate of the bridge. “We will make Italians understand that security is a broader concept than just tanks,” he said in a recent interview with business daily Milano Finanza. “To achieve this, we will focus on infrastructure that also has civilian uses, such as the bridge over the Strait [of Messina], which falls within the concept of defense given that Sicily is a NATO platform,” he added.  Infrastructure Minister Salvini, Meloni’s other deputy, sees the bridge as something that could transform his far-right League party — originally the secessionist Northern League — into a successful nationwide political movement that also commits to a big project in the south. “Of course,” he recently responded when asked by a reporter whether the bridge could help Italy reach its new NATO goal.“Infrastructure is also strategic from a security perspective in many ways, so if we invest more in security, some strategic infrastructure will also become part of this security plan.” Salvini has been pressing for the process to speed up, according to the Treasury official and a lawmaker familiar with internal government dynamics. “Matteo is pushing a lot to obtain some form of ‘approval’ of the project at technical and political level in order to show to the public opinion that something is moving,” the Treasury official said. Opposition parties disagree with both the need to build the bridge and its classification as military spending. Foreign Minister Tajani is a vocal advocate of the bridge. | Oliver Hoslet/EPA “This is a mockery of the citizens and of the commitments made at NATO. I doubt that this bluff by the government will be accepted,” said Giuseppe Antoci, a member of the European Parliament from the left-populist 5Star Movement. “The government should stop and avoid making an international fool of itself, which would cover Italy in ridicule,” he added. Another argument against the project is that it would connect two of Italy’s poorest regions, neither of which has an efficient transport system. Many believe that investing in local streets and railways is more urgent. “The population of Sicily and Calabria suffers from inadequate water infrastructure, snail-paced transport, potholed roads, and third-world hospitals. The bridge over the strait, therefore, cannot be a priority,” Antoci said. But the governing coalition is determined to move forward. On Tuesday, Salvini said the project’s final authorization is expected in July. In a somewhat inauspicious sign, Tajani has proposed naming the bridge after Berlusconi, a prime minister famed for his bunga bunga parties and interminable legal battles.