The Two-Month Snapshot

TTF gas settled at €44.1/MWh on 9 May, off the March peak above €69 (Trading Economics). Brent oil swung in a wide range during May: briefly under $100 on 7 May after a US one-page memorandum was transmitted to Tehran via Pakistan (Rigzone), then back above $107 by 11 May after Trump rejected Iran’s counter-proposal demanding sovereignty over the strait and war-damages compensation (Fortune). On the surface, this looks like normalisation.

Unfortunately, it is not. Maritime traffic through the Strait of Hormuz remains at roughly five percent of pre-war levels. Around 1,600 vessels remain idle in the Persian Gulf, with about 23,000 seafarers stranded (CNN). Iran’s selective-access tolling regime, transiting ships from China, Iraq, Pakistan, and Malaysia by diplomatic arrangement and excluding Western-linked vessels, has hardened into stated policy.

On 11 May, Saudi Aramco CEO Amin Nasser warned that even if reopening came today, market rebalancing would take months; if delayed by a few more weeks, normalisation would last into 2027, with the world having already lost more than a billion barrels of oil in ten weeks of conflict (CNN).

The US imposed a counter-blockade on Iranian ports on 13 April and has now turned around 58 commercial vessels at the strait. President Trump launched Operation Project Freedom on 4 May to escort merchant ships through the strait, then paused it 48 hours later for diplomatic talks (NPR). On 7 May, three US guided-missile destroyers transited Hormuz under Iranian missile fire; on 8 May, US forces struck Iranian military facilities in response. Both sides confirm the ceasefire remains nominally in effect (CBS).

The UK Royal Navy is prepositioning HMS Dragon to the region ahead of a potential multinational escort mission jointly led by the UK and France, pending political authorisation. Whether the US-side dynamics reflect a tactical handoff to the Beijing mediation track or an administration without further escalatory cards, the structural fact is the same.

The decisive mediation channel now runs through Washington and Beijing, not Brussels, with Trump scheduled to meet Xi on 14–15 May (Brookings). Iran’s Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi was in Beijing on 6 May, days before the summit (NBC News). Beijing’s leverage is structural. China is simultaneously Iran’s largest energy customer and the principal beneficiary of Tehran’s selective-access regime. Among the major powers, Beijing retains coercive leverage and diplomatic access to all sides of the conflict. Europe is economically exposed and strategically absent.

EU gas storage stands at approximately 34% per AGSI+, around 21 percentage points below the five-year average for this point in the injection season. Two material political shifts redrew the European map during the same period. On 12 April, Viktor Orbán lost the Hungarian parliamentary election to Péter Magyar’s Tisza Party in a two-thirds supermajority (Washington Post).

Magyar was sworn in as Prime Minister on 9 May with 140 votes in favour, 54 against, one abstention; the EU flag was reinstalled on the Hungarian parliament after twelve years of absence (Euronews). His victory substantially weakens the Hungarian-Slovak veto axis that has constrained EU energy coordination since 2022. On 23 April, the southern Druzhba pipeline resumed crude flows after a three-month standoff, and the European Council formally signed off the €90 billion Ukraine loan within hours (Euronews, Pipeline Technology Journal).

Russia’s Windfall

Two months of crisis transferred wealth to Moscow at a scale not seen since the 2022 invasion. Russian seaborne oil revenue reached its highest weekly level since the start of the full-scale war, $2.42 billion in the four weeks ending 3 May per Bloomberg’s tanker-tracking data (UNITED24). Russian Urals crude is trading near $96 a barrel, more than twice the pre-war price (CNN).

The US temporarily eased sanctions on seaborne Russian oil during the conflict (Carnegie). Pre-war, the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center assessed that Russia was heading toward “a genuine budget crisis.” Two months later, that crisis has been deferred. Chatham House described the Iran war as “an economic gift for Putin” (Chatham House). The gift is being received in real time.

Every day Hormuz remains at five percent of pre-war traffic, every day TTF settles above €40 and Brent above $90, transfers wealth to Moscow’s treasury. And from there to the war Europe is otherwise financing the defence against. For Europe, this is the central strategic contradiction of the crisis. The energy shock did not merely raise European costs. It directly funded the continuation of an aggression Europe is committed to opposing.

The Response Loop, and Who Built Architecture Instead

A response cycle that produces activity without architecture has a recognisable shape. Diagnosis, rhetoric, partial procurement, attention migration, repeat. The 2026 European cycle has now reached attention migration.

The IEA’s coordinated 400-million-barrel reserve release on 11 March covered roughly twenty days of normal Hormuz flows (CNBC). The ECB held rates and revised its 2026 inflation forecast to 2.6%. France and the UK convened two conferences on Hormuz access and assembled a 36-country statement on safe passage.

What is missing from this list is anything structural: no new joint procurement instrument, no automatic storage trigger, no pre-priced interconnector volumes. The European response architecture in place on 28 February remains in place on 12 May.

The deeper vulnerability exposed by the crisis is the mismatch between coercion timelines, measured in days, and European institutional activation timelines, measured in weeks or months. Adversaries do not need to defeat European markets outright; they only need to outpace European coordination. Compressing that gap is what architecture is for.

This is striking next to what other powers built during the same window. Russia consolidated a budget reprieve. China positioned itself as the indispensable broker, with Iran’s foreign ministry visit cementing the trajectory toward the Trump-Xi summit.

The United States went furthest. On 27 April, Wood Mackenzie’s Ed Crooks reported that the Trump administration had signed a series of executive memorandums under the Defense Production Act of 1950, directing emergency mobilisation of US oil, gas, coal, and grid capacity, with the Department of Energy’s Office of Energy Dominance Financing authorised to back loans up to $250 billion through September 2028 (Wood Mackenzie).

Whether these instruments produce durable capacity or remain primarily signalling depends on financing and permitting execution. Venezuela, with sanctions eased after the post-Maduro transition, has lifted oil production from 900,000 to 1.1 million barrels per day. Chevron, Repsol, Eni, Shell, BP, and Maurel & Prom have entered or expanded operations under new general licenses.

Mexico’s President Sheinbaum has named unconventional gas development a strategic priority. The Western Hemisphere is rallying around regional energy security as a strategic project. Not all of these shifts originated in the Hormuz crisis. Trump’s energy-emergency declaration predates it; the Venezuelan reopening followed the January post-Maduro transition. The conflict accelerated and consolidated trajectories already underway.

The 2022 contrast still holds, and is now mirrored across the Atlantic. By 24 April 2022, sixty days into the post-invasion shock, the European Commission had announced REPowerEU, launched the EU Energy Platform, drafted the storage targets regulation, adopted five sanctions packages, and brokered LNG diversification agreements with Qatar, the United States, Norway, and Algeria.

Most were imperfect, each was architectural. The US in 2026 is building durable instruments under the DPA. Europe in 2026 is not. The Henry Hub gas price is around $2.50 per million BTU. The TTF price is around $15. European industry is paying six times more for gas than US industry, and the gap has widened during the conflict.

Druzhba Reopened, Hungarian Window Opened

The Druzhba reopening was ad hoc trilateral bargaining, conducted at the cost of depleted strategic stocks, blocked sanctions packages, blocked Ukraine financing, and a Slovak high-treason investigation against the Prime Minister. The pipeline is open. Slovakia’s strategic reserves remain below the IEA-mandated 90-day minimum. The Slovak police investigation into Robert Fico continues.

On 9 May, Fico travelled to Moscow as the only EU leader present for Russia’s Victory Day commemorations, after several Baltic states denied his aircraft passage through their airspace (Manila Times / AFP). He met Putin in the Kremlin on the same day Péter Magyar was sworn in as Prime Minister of Hungary in Budapest.

The political claim accompanying the reopening, that Slovakia is now restored to access to cheap Russian oil, does not survive contact with the data. Slovak retail diesel averaged €1.78 per litre in early May, roughly seven cents above the Czech Republic and sixteen cents above Poland; only Austria, among Slovakia’s neighbours, has higher prices (STVR).

Russian Urals crude itself reached $116.05 per barrel in early April, its highest level since 2013, with the discount to Brent narrowing from around $28 per barrel in February to roughly $15–17 by April per Reuters tracking of Primorsk-loading cargoes (bne IntelliNews, Reuters via Baird Maritime).

Russian oil delivered through Druzhba is not cheap. The Druzhba dispute served Fico’s government as a grievance instrument inside EU politics. The political utility of the dispute exceeded the economic advantage of the oil itself.

The architectural lesson is intact. The Adria pipeline transit-fee dispute, with JANAF fees three to five times higher than Druzhba’s and MOL’s complaint to DG Competition still pending, is the case in miniature. Physical capacity exists; pre-governed access conditions do not. A pipeline that exists but becomes politically or commercially punitive during crisis is not a full security asset. Diversification is not merely physical redundancy; it is governance redundancy. The asset is pre-negotiated access conditions that remain politically and commercially viable during crisis.

Magyar’s victory removes the Hungarian-Slovak veto coalition that has blocked EU-wide structural moves on Russian energy since 2022. Slovakia under Fico is now politically isolated within the bloc. The window for joint procurement upgrades, automatic storage triggers, and pre-priced crisis instruments is genuinely open, for the first time since 2022 that the institutional politics may permit them. The window will not stay open indefinitely.

Architecture, Not Activity

The architectural alternative starts from a single principle. Remove political-cycle dependency from the response itself. Three priorities follow.

First, an Automatic AggregateEU Crisis Window. Defined market conditions, such as TTF settlement above a threshold or storage levels below a threshold, would trigger AggregateEU at scale automatically, with strategic-reserve drawdown rights for member states below the 90-day minimum activated in parallel.

Second, pre-contracted crisis-corridor capacity. LNG suppliers and interconnector operators would sign forward instruments locking in crisis-response volumes at predetermined prices, removing the negotiation lag that consumes the first three to four weeks of any shock. The Adria fee dispute would have been resolved in advance.

Third, emergency permitting with sunset clauses. Permit acceleration and emergency procurement procedures activate automatically at threshold conditions and expire automatically when conditions normalise. Activation and deactivation become procedural rather than political.

The Hungarian transition makes the Brussels-wide path viable for the first time since 2022. The legal authority for pre-authorised triggers already exists, under Article 122 TFEU for emergency energy measures and Article 20 TEU for enhanced cooperation among willing member states. Triggers need not be supranational fiat; they can be pre-agreed opt-in protocols with national override safeguards.

Where the Brussels-wide path does not suffice, regional and commercial routes remain available: a Visegrad+ storage-trigger pact, commercial frameworks signed by national TSOs and refiners directly with suppliers. Institutional capacity should be built at the widest level politically available. The political window will not stay open indefinitely.

The Cleanup Question

There is a strong case for European diplomatic engagement in stabilising the Gulf. Europe is the largest external victim of the spillover and is paying the highest political cost in Russia’s war financing. Engagement, however, has to come with a clear principle attached.

The strikes of 28 February were a strategic decision taken in Washington and Jerusalem. Europe was not consulted. Stabilisation does not require retrospective alignment with the original decision.

The 36-country safe-passage statement assembled by France and the UK is the right register: diplomatic, multilateral, condition-imposing. The HMS Dragon prepositioning, ahead of a potential UK–French-led multinational escort mission, fits the same logic — a coalition of capable European states acting through national capacity rather than EU institutional vehicles.

The wrong register would be open-ended military commitment or political cover that retroactively normalises the February strikes. The historical record should remain clear about who launched the strikes and who is paying the costs. European participation in any post-conflict settlement should preserve that record.

Europe should help where helping advances European interests. Europe should not contribute to a narrative of shared responsibility for a decision Europe did not make.

This is also the right register for engagement with the Trump administration on the broader question. The US has mobilised its emergency production tools under the DPA in response to a crisis whose origins lie in the February strikes. If Europe is to help clean this mess, it does so on its own terms, with its own institutional capacity, and with full preservation of European judgement on the original decision.

The Argument the Series Has Been Making

The first ICE brief in this series closed with the line that no diversification within hydrocarbons eliminates geopolitical exposure, only shifts its geography. The second confirmed it. The third adds a more uncomfortable conclusion. Resilience depends on governance redundancy and institutional speed as much as on supply diversity.

As IEA Executive Director Fatih Birol warned in April, the conflict has permanently changed global energy markets (The Guardian). Russia profited. China brokered. The United States mobilised. Europe waited.

The political window for institutional moves opened with the Hungarian election. It is open now. Europe did not fail because prices stayed high. It failed because prices fell before institutions changed.

Institute for Central Europe — Policy Mini Brief | April 2026

Executive Summary

On 30 March 2026, the European Commission adopted the first work programme under the European Defence Industry Programme (EDIP), launching a €1.5 billion envelope for 2026–2027. EDIP matters not because of its size, which is modest against actual European procurement volumes, but because it puts in place the institutional architecture Europe would need if it chose to prepare for industrial-scale war.

The architecture exists on paper. The first calls have only just opened. Most actions will not deliver before 2028, and some not before 2033. The instruments depend on uptake by twenty-seven capitals, including some that have repeatedly blocked Ukraine-related defence measures. The structural perimeter excludes the United Kingdom and Turkey, two of the most capable defence-industrial bases on the continent. The governance gap of the title is the gap between what Brussels has built and what the war on Europe’s eastern flank actually requires.

EDIP and SAFE: Building, Not Buying

The Council gave final approval on 8 December 2025, and EDIP was established by Regulation (EU) 2025/2643 of 16 December 2025 (EUR-Lex, European Commission). It creates EU-level rules for joint procurement and industrial prioritisation in crises, backed by security-of-supply guarantees.

Earlier instruments handled research (the European Defence Fund, EDF) or short-term ammunition gaps (the Act in Support of Ammunition Production, ASAP, and the European Defence Industry Reinforcement through common Procurement Act, EDIRPA). EDIP is the first standing EU framework of this kind, focused on security of supply and industrial mobilisation.

In a declared supply emergency, the Commission can propose accelerated permitting and priority access to inputs, alongside coordination measures to sustain production. The legal logic invites comparison with the gas storage and solidarity regulations adopted after Russia’s gas coercion, applied now to shells, interceptors, and armoured vehicles.

EDIP and SAFE are not twin instruments. SAFE (Security Action for Europe) is a €150 billion loan facility through which the Commission borrows on capital markets and lends to member states for the purchase of defence equipment (Council of the EU, European Commission).

EDIP is a €1.5 billion grant programme that co-finances industrial capacity expansion, joint procurement bonuses, ammunition qualification, and the governance machinery the wider procurement ecosystem will need. SAFE primarily finances buying; EDIP primarily finances building, and entrenches the European-content logic that the wider readiness package is meant to enforce. Of EDIP’s €1.5 billion, €296 million funds a dedicated Ukraine Support Instrument (USI). Member-state requests under SAFE have reportedly drawn interest beyond the facility’s available budget, though formally approved national plans cover a smaller subset.

The work programme adopted on 30 March, Commission Implementing Decision C(2026) 2174, shows EDIP doing something the governance framing alone does not capture (European Commission). Over €700 million, roughly half the total budget, is earmarked for industrial reinforcement actions (IRA): direct co-financing of production capacity in energetic components, key electronics, and defence platforms.

The programme makes propellant powder lines, explosive filling plants, gallium nitride (GaN) semiconductor capacity, printed circuit board (PCB) production, and guided-munition assembly eligible for direct EU money. As of April 2026, no IRA grants have yet been awarded. This is what EDIP is set up to fund, not what it has funded.

The strategic logic, if it works as intended, targets what defence-industry accounting calls non-recurrent costs: tooling, qualification, and the infrastructure that makes production lines possible. A member state pays for the shells; EDIP can pay for the machine that makes them. The work programme itself uses the broader language of “capacity expansion,” so the non-recurrent framing is editorial, not statutory.

The de-risking logic still holds: if EU money pays the upfront industrial bill, private capital and national procurement become more willing to commit to volume.

What the Money Buys

The work programme distributes funds across four instruments.

Common procurement actions (€240 million, two calls) incentivise member states to buy together. The 2026 call covers counter-drone systems and ammunition; the 2027 call expands into air and missile defence, ground and naval platforms, and C5ISR (command, control, communications, computers, cyber, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance).

Grants are capped at €20 million per project, structured as bonuses on top of national spending: 15% of procurement value, plus up to 10% for including Ukraine or Moldova as recipients, for cross-border supply chain participation, or for operating through a Structure for European Armament Programme (SEAP). The incentives supplement national spending; they do not replace it.

Industrial reinforcement actions (over €700 million, the largest category) fund capacity expansion directly. The 2026 IRA call targets energetic components only: propellant powders, explosives (TNT, RDX, HMX, PETN), propulsion systems, warheads, electronic fuzes, and filling plants. This is the direct institutional response to the 2022–2023 ammunition bottleneck that left European arsenals unable to sustain Ukraine’s consumption rate.

The 2027 IRA call shifts to key electronic components — guidance electronics, sensors, GaN and gallium arsenide (GaAs) semiconductors, lithium-ion polymer batteries — and to platform-level production: artillery, armoured vehicles, aircraft, radars, naval platforms, firearms.

The eligible activities include concepts with no precedent in EU defence policy: defence industrial readiness pools (reserved capacity activatable in crisis), manufacturing-as-a-service (MaaS), and physical and cyber protection of production sites. Individual actions are expected to run three to five years, with a hard completion deadline of 31 December 2033. EDIP is built for medium-term resilience, not near-term crisis plugging.

A €100 million guarantee supports the Fund Accelerating Defence Supply Chains Transformation (FAST), targeting a €1 billion Defence Equity Facility managed by the European Investment Fund. This is the most ambitious EU attempt so far to channel private growth-stage equity into defence small and medium enterprises (SMEs) across the supply chain.

Finally, €50 million funds the Joint Ammunition Qualification project, run by the European Defence Agency (EDA): a pilot to harmonise 155mm ammunition certification across participating member states. Without mutual recognition of ammunition certificates, joint procurement remains administratively fragmented.

Ukraine: A Co-Production Pilot

The €296 million Ukraine Support Instrument is EDIP’s most operationally striking element, and the easiest to oversell. Two dedicated IRA calls fund what is best described as a co-production pilot. The 2026 USI call (€180 million) targets missiles, ammunition, and bombs, including joint EU-Ukrainian filling plants and scale-up of Ukrainian systems.

The 2027 USI call (€80 million) targets unmanned systems and counter-unmanned aerial systems (counter-UAS) production: swarming and first-person view (FPV) drones, electronic-warfare-resilient unmanned platforms including fibre-optic controlled variants, and counter-drone electronic warfare. Both calls fund actions at 100% of eligible costs, double the ceiling under the Programme proper.

A €35.3 million direct award to Ukraine’s Innovation Development Fund, operating through its Brave1 defence innovation branch, bypasses competitive procedures entirely (Centre for Eastern Studies). Brave1 has distributed roughly €80 million in grants to 2,300 beneficiaries since 2023. Under EDIP, it will fund over 170 small grants (up to €200,000 each) across air defence, drones, missiles, electronic warfare, and directed-energy weapons.

Intellectual property arrangements between Ukrainian firms, the Ukrainian state, and EU funders remain unresolved and will determine how much of this innovation actually scales into European production.

The integration logic is bidirectional in design: Ukrainian battlefield innovation in drones and electronic warfare, European manufacturing depth and capital. At scale, €296 million is roughly 1.5% of Ukraine’s annual defence budget, and the Brave1 award is comparable to what Brave1 already distributes in a normal year. This is more than aid and less than integration. It is a serious pilot, but a pilot.

The European Preference Problem and Its Limits

EDIP’s eligibility rules cap components originating outside the EU and associated countries (currently Norway) at 35% of the end product. Contractors must hold design authority in the EU or an associated country, with executive management based there. Companies controlled by non-associated third countries face additional screening.

The framing of this as a tension with Polish procurement is partly a strawman. EDIP is not the natural fit for Poland’s flagship purchases (K2 tanks, F-35s, Apaches, HIMARS), which are SAFE-financed national acquisitions where speed and existing national plans matter more than EDIP bonus eligibility.

Poland’s EDIP-relevant interest sits in ammunition, air defence subsystems, and drone production, where European content is high and the bonuses bite. The same logic applies to the Baltic states.

The real tension lies elsewhere. Europeanisation is plausible for ammunition, ground systems, and parts of the drone and electronics stack. It is much less plausible for top-end airpower, integrated missile defence, and certain battle-network layers where hard dependency constraints persist.

Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) data show that 64% of European NATO weapons imports between 2020 and 2024 came from the United States. Reversing that pattern within EDIP’s eligibility window is not realistic for high-end systems and was probably never the point.

The design authority requirement has a rationale that the brief should name plainly. Operational sovereignty under stress depends on whether you can sustain, modify, and qualify the systems you field without external permission. A weapon you cannot service in a crisis is a weapon you do not really own.

What “Europe” Leaves Out

A brief titled “Europe’s Defence Industrial Awakening” should be honest about who is not in the room. The United Kingdom (BAE Systems, Rolls-Royce, Thales UK, Babcock) is not currently associated for EDIP purposes. EDIP is built around an “associated countries” architecture that today extends to Norway and, in specific components, to Ukraine.

No EDIP-specific association framework appears to have been concluded post-Brexit, despite the broader UK-EU Security and Defence Partnership of May 2025 (UK Government). By revenue, capability, and integration with US supply chains, the UK defence-industrial base is among the most consequential on the continent.

Its absence is arguably the largest structural gap in EDIP’s “European” framing. Turkey, the second-largest NATO army by personnel and a rising producer of drones, armoured vehicles, and ammunition, is also not associated. Whatever EDIP becomes, it will be smaller than the actual European defence-industrial base.

The United States is the other absent actor. EDIP is being implemented under a US administration that has made European strategic-autonomy rhetoric a target of complaint and used tariff instruments aggressively across other sectors. Washington has not yet openly attacked EDIP’s preference rules.

Given recent US trade behaviour, a transatlantic political risk around EDIP’s content logic is plausible enough to belong in any honest external assessment, even though the regulation itself does not address it.

The Structural Bet

EDIP is too small to transform European defence procurement on its own. EDIRPA, its predecessor, is reported by the Commission to have leveraged about €11 billion in common procurement on the back of €300 million in EU grants. The figure should be read with care. Much of that €11 billion reflects national spending that was already planned and routed through the instrument to capture the bonus, not spending caused by the EU contribution.

The real bet is institutional. The SEAP mechanism, permanent multinational procurement structures established by Commission implementing act, is designed to outlast any single funding cycle. The European Defence Projects of Common Interest (EDPCI) framework creates a vehicle for decade-long capability programmes that span multiple Multiannual Financial Frameworks (MFFs), with a first deployment roadmap due by end-2027 and a full roadmap by end-2029.

The Defence Security of Supply Board, the European Military Sales Catalogue, and the Defence Talent Platform form the scaffolding of an EU-level governance layer for defence industry. The structures exist on paper; their political uptake does not yet.

That uptake question is not symmetric across the 27. Hungary has repeatedly blocked or watered down EU Ukraine-related defence measures; its participation in Ukraine-linked actions cannot be assumed. Slovakia’s current government has at times aligned with the Hungarian position on Ukraine-related files, though its record on broader EU defence measures is more mixed.

EDIP remains an EU instrument with bloc-wide rules, but its practical effect in the first years will be set by the willing capitals more than by the 27 collectively.

Money does not automatically produce explosives, qualified technicians, or safety-certified production lines. Between call publication and certified output sit explosives-safety permitting, environmental compliance, site hardening, qualification and certification cycles for energetics and electronics, grid access for new lines, insurance availability, and a skilled-workforce gap that European industry bodies (the AeroSpace, Security and Defence Industries Association of Europe, ASD) put at more than 250,000 additional engineers and technicians over the next five years.

Subcontractor bottlenecks reach further down: critical sub-tier inputs from precision chemicals and resins to rare-earth magnets remain heavily concentrated in suppliers outside the EU, often in China. The work programme acknowledges these absorptive constraints in its eligibility text, but acknowledgement is not resolution. The scarce factors are chemistry, labour, permitting, certification, and the parts of the supply chain Brussels does not yet have a tool to fix.

None of this operates in a NATO vacuum. Capability targets, munitions demand signals, and operational requirements remain shaped by NATO planning, US enablers, and national force structures. EDIP’s realistic role is as an industrial allocator inside the EU pillar of a wider allied framework, not as Europe’s sole quartermaster.

Conclusion

Three shifts will determine whether EDIP matters: moving from national shopping lists to binding joint procurement under EDIP and SAFE; providing credible multi-year demand signals that give factories a reason to scale; and bringing the United Kingdom, and ideally Turkey, into a workable association arrangement.

The downside scenario writes itself. IRA calls undersubscribed because consortia cannot form fast enough. SEAPs announced and never fully constituted. EDPCI roadmaps delivered on time but covering nothing the participating states are willing to commit to.

Hungary and Slovakia opting out of Ukraine-linked actions. Polish and German national programmes proceeding in parallel to EDIP, not through it. None of these outcomes would invalidate EDIP individually. All of them together would reduce it to an interesting institutional artefact.

EDIP has built the institutional architecture. The work programme has laid out the industrial priorities. The money, by EU standards, is real. What Brussels cannot legislate is the variable that decides whether any of this matters: whether the willing capitals choose to treat the next five years as the years in which the European factory floor is finally built.

A sustained spike in European gas and oil prices; a dangerous starting position in EU gas storage; macroeconomic damage to the eurozone’s fragile recovery; and a dual supply squeeze on Central Europe from the Druzhba pipeline disruption.

Four weeks later, every one of these has materialised. Several have been exceeded.

What We Said, What Happened

The Strait of Hormuz has been effectively closed for 29 days. Maritime traffic is down approximately 90 percent (CBS). Roughly 150 vessels have transited since the war began. That is one normal day’s traffic (Al Jazeera).

The Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) runs what amounts to a checkpoint: ships submit cargo manifests and crew lists, receive a clearance code, and are escorted through under supervision. Lloyd’s List Intelligence reported on 23 March that at least two vessels paid approximately $2 million each for passage. Iranian lawmakers are drafting legislation to make the fees permanent (CNN).

Iran did not close the strait with a navy. It closed it with a drone, an insurance premium, and a registration form.

The March 4 ICE brief projected TTF gas prices sustained above 50–60 EUR/MWh under its baseline scenario. As of 28 March, TTF stands at approximately €54.5/MWh, with the 52-week high at €69.35. March-to-date gains exceed 70 percent, the strongest monthly move since September 2021 (S&P Global).

Goldman Sachs has revised its Q2 forecast upward twice, now projecting €72/MWh in the base case, €89 in an adverse scenario, and above €100 if Hormuz flows remain depressed beyond ten weeks (Euronews).

On oil, the brief cited JPMorgan’s warning that Brent could breach $100. Brent crossed that threshold on 8 March, peaked at $119.50, and closed on 27 March around $105–112. The physical Dubai crude price hit $126. Goldman Sachs estimates a $14–18 per barrel geopolitical risk premium in current futures. The EIA forecasts Brent above $95 for the next two months (EIA STEO).

EU gas storage stood at 28.4 percent as of 24 March (Kyos/AGSI+). The Netherlands is at 6.0 percent, less than a third of last year’s level. Germany sits at 22.3 percent, France at 22.1 percent.

The ECB responded exactly as the brief predicted. On 19 March, the Governing Council held rates unchanged, revised 2026 headline inflation to 2.6 percent from 1.9 percent in December, and cut GDP growth to 0.9 percent (ECB). The OECD followed with a global growth downgrade to 2.9 percent (CNN).

On 11 March, the IEA announced a coordinated release of 400 million barrels from strategic reserves, the largest in its 52-year history (CNBC, Euronews). The 400 million barrels cover roughly 20 days of normal Hormuz flows. KPMG’s Angie Gildea: “There is simply no substitute for restoring access through the Strait of Hormuz” (NPR). Macquarie was blunter: crude will “continue to trade like a meme stock until the solution is peace” (Axios).

What We Underestimated

Three developments exceeded the assessment’s scope.

First, Iran’s monetisation of the blockade. The brief described Hormuz closure as a wartime measure. What has emerged is something different — a selective-access regime that sorts the world’s shipping into friendly and hostile categories, extracts payment for passage, and is being legislated into permanence.

China, Russia, India, Pakistan, and Malaysia have been granted transit. Western-linked vessels are excluded. US Secretary of State Marco Rubio called the tolling “illegal, unacceptable, dangerous” (CNN). Tehran has added a new ceasefire demand: recognition of Iranian sovereignty over the strait (NPR).

If this hardens into a negotiating position, the strait ceases to be an open international waterway and becomes a contested sovereign asset.

Second, the speed of Gulf-wide infrastructure targeting. Bahrain’s Bapco refinery was struck. A fuel storage tank at Oman’s Duqm port was damaged. Kuwait International Airport was hit on 25 March, closing all commercial traffic. QatarEnergy reported “extensive damage” at Ras Laffan (Newland Chase). Qatar’s energy minister said normal LNG deliveries would take “weeks to months” to resume (S&P Global). That was before the latest damage reports.

Third, cascading effects beyond energy. The UN negotiated a humanitarian corridor through Hormuz on 27 March to address fertiliser supply disruption during the spring planting season. RWE warned of delays to North Sea offshore wind projects because components manufactured in UAE fabrication yards are trapped behind the blockade. The green transition and the hydrocarbon crisis share supply chains.

The Real Crisis and the Manufactured One

There are two energy crises in Europe right now. One is real. The other is politically useful.

The real crisis originates in the Strait of Hormuz. Europe diversified away from Russian pipeline gas after 2022 and moved toward LNG. Qatar, the United States, Australia. That diversification worked. But it shifted Europe’s exposure from a supplier risk to a transit risk.

Qatar’s force majeure removed roughly one-fifth of global LNG export capacity. Asian buyers are now competing for Atlantic basin cargoes that would otherwise flow to Europe. The 2022 dynamic returns: fewer molecules, more bidders, spiralling prices. And Europe enters this competition with storage at its lowest seasonal level in years.

The second crisis — the Druzhba pipeline dispute — is not an energy emergency. It is a political instrument.

Though Slovakia and Hungary would gladly use Russian oil delivered by pipeline, the European Commission’s Oil Coordination Group confirmed on 26 February that there is “no immediate risk” to the EU’s security of supply (European Commission DG Energy). Both Hungary and Slovakia have begun releasing strategic reserves.

Non-Russian crude is flowing via Croatia’s Adria pipeline (JANAF), which has sufficient annual capacity to cover both countries’ needs (Euronews). MOL Group confirmed seaborne crude shipments began arriving at Omišalj in early March (MOL Group).

Slovakia released 250,000 tonnes from state reserves to the Slovnaft refinery against a bank guarantee, at the oil’s recorded book value, well below current market prices. Hungary released reserves equivalent to three months of domestic consumption. Slovakia’s emergency stocks have since dropped below the IEA-mandated 90-day minimum.

Both governments are drawing down stockpiles meant for genuine emergencies to cushion MOL’s refineries from the full cost of rerouting supplies.

The real issue is price, not supply. Adria transit fees are reportedly three to five times higher than Druzhba’s, according to a joint Hungarian-Slovak submission to the EU Council. MOL filed a complaint with DG Competition, accusing JANAF of abusing its dominant position.

Slovnaft’s refinery is configured for Russian Urals-grade crude, and alternative blends require processing adjustments. MOL is making the transition. The refinery expects full loading from April. But the technical friction is being used as a political stalling tactic, not reported as an engineering timeline.

Switching supply routes is neither free nor instant. But it is feasible, it is happening, and it does not justify blocking sanctions on the country that bombed the pipeline. Croatia’s economy minister: “No EU country has any technical justification to stay tied to Russian oil.”

Yet Fico and Orbán have parlayed this price differential into a series of vetoes and retaliatory measures. They blocked the EU’s 20th Russia sanctions package and the €90 billion Ukraine aid loan. Slovakia suspended emergency electricity exports to Ukraine during winter, at a time when Ukraine’s grid was under sustained Russian bombardment.

Orbán threatened on 25 March to suspend gas supplies to Ukraine until Druzhba oil resumes. Slovak police have opened a high-treason investigation into Fico over the emergency electricity cut-off, following what has been described as the largest criminal complaint in Slovak history (Kyiv Independent).

Druzhba is not the problem right now. It serves as an excuse. The pipeline dispute gives Budapest and Bratislava a grievance framework to block sanctions enforcement and obstruct Ukraine aid disbursement. Whether by design or by incentive, the effect is the same.

If this were only a Budapest-Bratislava problem, the EU could manage it. It is not. Belgian Prime Minister Bart De Wever told francophone media in mid-March that the EU should “normalise relations with Russia” and “regain access to cheap energy.” EU Energy Commissioner Dan Jorgensen rebuked this directly: the EU will “not import one molecule” of Russian energy in future (Belga News Agency).

But De Wever said out loud what seven EU governments have been doing quietly. According to a Reuters analysis of CREA data, France increased the value of its Russian energy imports by 40 percent in 2025. The Netherlands by 72 percent. Belgium, Croatia, Romania, Portugal, and Hungary all raised their imports. In January 2026, 23 of 25 Yamal LNG cargoes went to European ports (Kyiv Independent). The EU postponed its planned 15 April proposal for a permanent Russian oil ban (Euronews).

The Iran crisis did not cause this fracture. It made it harder to deny.

What Comes Next

The brief’s original scenario of a short conflict with Hormuz reopening within two to three weeks is expired.

A negotiated partial reopening remains the most likely near-term outcome. Trump has extended his deadline for Iran to reopen Hormuz to 6 April. A 15-point US ceasefire proposal has been transmitted via Pakistan (NPR). If something like this holds, Hormuz traffic might recover to 30 or 40 percent of pre-war levels. TTF would settle in the 45–55 EUR/MWh range. Brent would drift toward $85–95.

A prolonged standoff with selective access is equally plausible. Iran formalises the toll regime. Western shipping remains excluded. Goldman Sachs projects a summer TTF average above €89/MWh in this case. SEB analyst Ole Hvalbye told Montel News that prices could reach €115–155/MWh under a three-month disruption. The November 90-percent storage target becomes unreachable.

Escalation to sustained Gulf-wide infrastructure targeting remains a tail risk, but the tail is getting fatter. The US has struck military facilities on Iran’s Kharg Island, which handles 90 percent of Iranian crude exports. Oil-trade sites were spared, but Trump has warned they could be next. If QatarEnergy’s infrastructure damage proves long-term, a temporary disruption becomes a structural deficit.

The Argument That Writes Itself

On 4 March, this brief closed with a sentence: “This crisis is the strongest argument yet for accelerating clean-energy deployment as a hard security imperative.”

One month of evidence has made that sentence harder to argue with and easier to ignore. Europe replaced a supplier dependency with a transit dependency and discovered that every barrel transits somewhere, and every transit route is someone’s leverage.

The Hormuz closure demonstrated that asymmetric tools can achieve what carrier groups cannot: cheap drones, insurance repricing, commercial self-deterrence. The Druzhba dispute demonstrated that even a manufactured crisis can fracture EU solidarity if member states lack the political will to use available alternatives.

No diversification within hydrocarbons eliminates geopolitical exposure. It only shifts its geography.

Executive Summary

Russia has demonstrated across four winters that centralised district heating infrastructure is a high-yield strategic target — through repeated kinetic and cyber strikes.

On 29 December 2025, this threat reached EU territory. A coordinated cyberattack attributed to an FSB-linked actor targeted a Polish CHP plant serving nearly half a million customers. The plant survived because it had endpoint detection software. Most European municipal heating operators do not.

The NIS2 and CER Directives classify district heating as critically important. But the regulatory perimeter does not match operational reality: most municipal suppliers in Central and Eastern Europe fall below NIS2’s size threshold, transposition is incomplete, and no tested crisis doctrine exists at the municipal level where heat is delivered.

Ukraine has built an operational resilience model under fire — decentralised cogeneration, rapid-deployment modular capacity, municipal emergency doctrine — that is directly transferable. On 3 March 2026, Ukraine’s National Security and Defense Council formally approved regional energy resilience plans institutionalising this model nationwide. The institutional frameworks for knowledge transfer exist. The transfer pace does not match the threat.

The Threat Demonstrated

The targeting of Ukraine’s heating infrastructure has followed a discernible operational logic since 2022. Russia systematically struck nodes where thermal energy is generated and networks through which it is distributed — concentrating on assets whose destruction produces cascading civilian impact.

The IEA’s October 2025 pre-winter assessment quantified cumulative damage: 18 CHP plants, 800+ boiler houses, and 354 kilometres of heating pipes attacked by end of 2024 (IEA). The UN Human Rights Monitoring Mission assessed these operations as “widespread and systematic” (UN).

The 2025–2026 heating season brought further escalation: near-daily strikes across seventeen regions in January 2026, with Kyiv’s Darnytsia CHP plant hit repeatedly, each strike severing heat to approximately 6,000 residential buildings. Indoor temperatures of 8–9°C were recorded in affected districts while ambient temperatures reached minus 19 (Kyiv Independent).

On 13 March, Energy Minister Denys Shmyhal told the Verkhovna Rada that Russia had damaged more than 9 GW of generation capacity since the start of the heating season — making this, in his words, “the most difficult winter in Ukraine’s history” (Ministry of Energy of Ukraine).

The cyber dimension compounds the kinetic one. In January 2024, attackers deployed FrostyGoop — ICS-specific malware communicating via Modbus TCP — against Lvivteploenergo, a municipal heating company in Lviv. The malware manipulated temperature controllers to feed cold water into apartment buildings, cutting heat to 600+ residential blocks for 48 hours.

Dragos identified it as the first confirmed Modbus exploitation achieving real-world heating disruption — and found internet-exposed Modbus controllers in Lithuania and Romania, confirming the attack surface extends beyond Ukraine (Dragos).

Centralised district heating — a single plant serving thousands of apartments through shared pipes — is high-value, difficult to defend, and slow to repair. A successful strike in January can kill.

Adversaries Crossed into EU Territory

On 29 December 2025, Poland’s national CSIRT documented a coordinated destructive operation targeting a large CHP plant supplying heat to nearly half a million customers, more than 30 wind and photovoltaic installations, and a manufacturing company. The objective was purely destructive — CERT Polska compared it to deliberate arson (CERT Polska).

The forensic timeline revealed patient, long-term preparation. Investigators traced initial network penetration to March 2025 — nine months before the attack was triggered. The actor mapped industrial control systems, captured screenshots of operational interfaces, harvested credentials, and ultimately deployed a bespoke wiper malware (designated DynoWiper by ESET) through the plant’s own software update mechanism (Balkan Insight).

CERT Polska attributed the operation, with high confidence, to the activity cluster tracked as Static Tundra (Cisco) / Berserk Bear (CrowdStrike) / Ghost Blizzard (Microsoft) — an FSB-linked group historically associated with espionage, not sabotage.

The report explicitly noted this was “the first publicly described destructive activity attributed to this activity cluster” — marking a qualitative escalation in which an intelligence-collection actor pivoted to operational disruption.

The implication is significant: the same actor infrastructure previously used to conduct long-term reconnaissance of Western energy networks has now demonstrated the intent and capability to destroy them.

The CHP plant survived because its endpoint detection and response (EDR) software identified and blocked the wiper before execution. The US Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency subsequently issued an advisory noting that the attackers had exploited internet-facing FortiGate devices lacking multi-factor authentication and OT control devices running default passwords — a vulnerability profile that is endemic across municipal heating utilities in Central and Eastern Europe and beyond (CISA).

The Protection Gap

The EU’s legislative architecture formally recognises district heating’s criticality. The NIS2 Directive lists it as a sector of high criticality; qualifying operators face mandatory cybersecurity risk management and incident reporting. The CER Directive adds physical resilience requirements (NIS2, CER).

In practice, this perimeter misses the operational centre of gravity. Central and Eastern Europe’s district heating is dominated by small municipal operators — many serving populations of tens of thousands through Soviet-era infrastructure.

A substantial share fall below NIS2’s size cap, are not subject to its obligations, and have no pathway to the cybersecurity baselines it mandates. Even among qualifying operators, transposition is incomplete — multiple member states missed the October 2024 deadline to enact the required national legislation.

Many municipal heating operators are perpetually underfunded, running ageing SCADA and industrial control systems with limited network segmentation, no dedicated IT security staff, and incident response plans that have never been tested under realistic conditions. The Polish incident is instructive in both directions: the one operator that invested in EDR survived; the vulnerability profile that enabled nine months of undetected reconnaissance is shared by the majority of its counterparts across the region.

The 2026 Munich Security Report frames this in strategic terms: cyberattacks rank as the top G7 security risk, with Russian operations “increasingly blending cyber and kinetic tactics” against energy infrastructure (Munich Security Report). The Preparedness Union Strategy sets out 30 key actions — none operationalise heating-specific resilience at the municipal level.

Ukraine’s Operational Model

Under sustained bombardment, Ukrainian heating operators developed a resilience model that no peacetime planning exercise could have produced. Its core elements are:

Decentralised generation. Municipal cogeneration units capable of producing both electricity and heat independently of the national grid. By November 2025, the Ukrainian district heating sector was operating 182 cogeneration units (83 at full capacity, combined output 147 MW) and 239 block-modular boilers (~635 MW), forming autonomous “energy islands” around hospitals, water utilities, and residential heating networks (New Eastern Europe).

Compressed deployment cycles. Modular units installed and commissioned in days — a tempo European procurement measures in months or years.

Rapid repair doctrine. Pre-positioned spare parts, emergency communication systems, and standing repair crews trained to restore service under ongoing threat.

Municipal-level decision authority. Operational autonomy at city and utility level to act without waiting for national coordination — essential when centralised command is disrupted.

This model has now been formally institutionalised. On 3 March 2026, President Zelenskyy chaired a meeting of the National Security and Defense Council at which comprehensive energy resilience plans for all of Ukraine’s regions and cities were approved.

Deputy Prime Minister Oleksii Kuleba confirmed that the plans were developed together with local communities and are explicitly aimed at ensuring that “settlements decentralise their water and heat supply systems and are as resilient and adaptable as possible to enemy attacks” (President of Ukraine). What began as improvised wartime adaptation is now codified national doctrine — and a directly exportable framework.

The IEA’s lessons-learned framework identifies these capabilities as among the most transferable pillars of Ukraine’s energy resilience. European institutions have taken note — but the knowledge has not reached the municipal operators who would implement it (IEA).

Four Steps Before Next Winter

The EU has identified district heating as critical, documented the hybrid threat, and begun developing preparedness frameworks. The challenge is that the municipal utilities delivering heat remain outside the effective reach of these frameworks.

Recent analysis has examined Russia’s infrastructure campaign from the perspective of air defence provision (RUSI), European energy market spillovers (Atlantic Council, October 2025), and Ukraine’s broader infrastructure resilience as a transferable model (Atlantic Council, December 2025). None has addressed the specific dimension this brief focuses on: the sub-threshold operators, the cyber-specific exposure, and the gap between directive-level classification and operational readiness where heat is actually delivered.

The challenge is not diagnosis. The challenge is that the municipal utilities delivering heat remain outside the effective reach of the frameworks designed to protect them.

1. Extend the Preparedness Union Strategy’s minimum criteria explicitly to district heating operators below the NIS2 size threshold. Baseline requirements for cybersecurity hygiene and physical crisis preparedness should apply to any operator serving a defined population threshold, regardless of firm size.
2. Mandate operationally tested crisis protocols for municipal heat suppliers. Member states should require heat suppliers above a defined capacity to conduct annual crisis exercises coordinated with civil protection agencies and municipal authorities — modelled on NATO readiness exercises but adapted for civilian critical infrastructure.
3. Establish a structured Ukraine–EU knowledge transfer programme through the Energy Community Secretariat and the emerging energy Ramstein format. Ukraine has proposed a new ministerial-level coordination architecture — the “energy Ramstein” — with the first meeting scheduled in Brussels in mid-March, and plans to attract over €5 billion from international partners for next-season preparation (Ministry of Energy of Ukraine).

The Energy Community Secretariat’s Ukraine Energy Support Fund, which has already signed memoranda on district heating coordination, provides the sub-ministerial delivery channel. Together, these two frameworks should deliver systematic operational training — rapid repair doctrine, modular deployment protocols, emergency communication — to municipal operators in Poland, Slovakia, Romania, and the Baltics (Energy Community).

4. Commission an honest assessment of municipal heating cyber exposure. ENISA, in coordination with national CSIRTs, should survey OT security posture across European district heating operators — including Modbus-enabled controllers exposed to the internet, default-credential prevalence, and EDR deployment rates. The Polish incident demonstrated that one operator with EDR survived; the CISA advisory demonstrated that the vulnerability profile is widespread. Without baseline data, remediation cannot be calibrated.

Conclusion

Russia has spent four winters demonstrating that centralised district heating is a strategically productive target — and as of December 2025, has extended that campaign to EU territory. The EU has built the legislative framework but has not closed the gap between directives and the operational reality of hundreds of underfunded municipal utilities.

Ukraine’s operators built a resilience model that works. And as of 3 March 2026, that model is formal national doctrine, not improvised adaptation. The channels to transfer that knowledge exist and are becoming more structured by the week. The question is whether Europe activates them at the pace the threat demands.

The findings highlight a persistent divide between Western and Central Europe, while also showing that the perceived importance of migration does not always correspond to the actual number of migrants in a country. By mapping these trends, the study offers insight into how public attitudes continue to shape migration debates and policymaking across Europe.

Read the analysis

What were the most rewarding aspects of your collaboration with ICE during your mobility, and how did this experience contribute to the ACRONYM project’s goals?

François:

I think the most rewarding aspect of my mobility with ICE was the capacity to write pieces together. We just finished an article summarizing the perspectives of priests in Slovakia and comparing them with findings gathered in France, Belgium, and Italy. Clearly, those working sessions were necessary so that we could compile our views, share insights, and ultimately produce a paper together.

Anneliese:

I particularly appreciated having the time and space to work through our ideas together and strengthen our final outputs. Since the visit took place toward the end of the ACRONYM project, it allowed us to revisit key findings, clarify shared concepts, and ensure coherence across our outputs. The mobility directly supported ACRONYM’s core objective of fostering cross-national and interdisciplinary dialogue on migration. By working closely together in Bratislava, we were able to strengthen the comparative dimension of the project and ensure that our final results reflect a genuinely collaborative perspective. It was a true team effort, combining expertise and identifying new research avenues that extend beyond the project’s original framework. Being in the same space made these exchanges more fluid and allowed for a creative momentum that is often difficult to replicate online.

Were there any innovative ideas or challenges that stood out during this process?

François:

What I find particularly innovative about our research is the focus on priests. Religious actors are clearly influential in shaping perceptions and representations of migration, yet the role of the Church remains something of a blind spot in migration studies. With the project — and of especially through the mobility — we managed to unpack what is still a blind spot in migration studies. This is also why it is so important to spend time together because the perspectives and religious practices differ. In order to understand the influence of the Church in Slovakia, and the importance of religious practice for people, you need to spend time in the local context.

Anneliese:

One particularly stimulating aspect was further exploring how migration narratives are embedded in specific contexts. Comparing perspectives across countries revealed both shared patterns and important divergences, which enriched our analytical framework. A key challenge was integrating these different viewpoints into coherent joint outputs. However, this process ultimately strengthened the robustness of our research, highlighting the value of sustained cross-border collaboration in addressing complex migration debates.

In your opinion, what has been the most significant outcome of your mobility for the ACRONYM project?

François:

In general, I think the most significant outcome has been it is the ability to understand migration perspectives from another country and to compare them with the way they are viewed in your own country. That is a very rewarding aspect, and clearly one of the key purposes of the ACRONYM project. At the end of the day, the goal of the project was to understand why perceptions of migration differ between Western Europe and Central and Eastern Europe. I think we did fulfil that objective.

Anneliese:

For me, the most important outcome has been the reinforcement of a sustainable research partnership. The mobility did not simply contribute to final outputs; it consolidated a mode of collaboration that extends beyond the project itself. It allowed us to leave ACRONYM not only with completed publications, but with a clearer shared research agenda for the future.

What do you see as the most important contribution of the joint publications within the ACRONYM team?

François:

The joint publications are, in my view, one of the project’s strongest contributions and the ability to compare different perspectives. It is important that these comparative publications are produced by researchers from different countries who work together on the same projects. That makes the comparison, in my view, even more salient and more pertinent.

Anneliese:

The joint publications demonstrate the strength of genuinely collaborative research. Rather than presenting parallel national case studies, they integrate perspectives and develop shared analytical arguments. This approach enhances credibility and depth, while also making the findings more accessible to audiences beyond academia. By modelling cross-border scholarly cooperation, the publications reflect the very ethos of ACRONYM and contribute to broader conversations on migration in Europe.

A lighter question: What surprised you most about Bratislava, or what was your favourite aspect of your stay?

François:

I must admit — I was very impressed (and jealous!) of the ICE offices. In Liège, we have offices in the middle of the forest — we don’t have a view or a beautiful terrace. The beautiful terrace at ICE deserves to be used much more often!

Anneliese:

What surprised me most was rediscovering in Bratislava an atmosphere that felt strangely familiar. My first encounter with Slovakia dates back to 2013, just after I had submitted my PhD manuscript, when I was invited to give a talk at a conference organised by the Alliance Française in Banská Bystrica. Returning more than ten years later, I was struck by finding the same warmth in the welcome and the same ease in conversations and exchanges. Beyond the scientific work itself, it was a reminder that European collaborations are also built on human connections, shared memories, and a certain continuity in encounters over time.

Five years on, the region is no longer starting from zero. Countries have gained early experience, begun testing new concepts, and are slowly adopting lessons from Ukraine’s defence innovation. Yet the fundamentals remain unchanged: Europe’s missile‑defence readiness is still far behind the threat timeline.

In this mini-brief, Miro Sedlák shows how the Iran war has exposed the scale and urgency of the challenge — and why Central Europe cannot afford another slow cycle of analysis without acceleration.”

What the Iran War Reveals About Europe’s Air Defence Gap

Europe diagnosed the problem correctly — but prescribed a three-year treatment for a condition that can become acute overnight.

Institute for Central Europe — Policy Mini Brief | 8 March 2026

Executive Summary

The US-Israeli war on Iran (Operation Epic Fury, launched 28 February 2026) has consumed hundreds of high-value air defence interceptors in under a week, with at least one Gulf ally already requesting emergency resupply.

Production of replacement missiles will take over a year at current capacity. European NATO allies — especially Central European states on the eastern flank — depend on the same constrained US production pipeline for their own deterrence.

Europe has correctly identified Ukraine’s battle-proven counter-drone model as the solution to the cost asymmetry between cheap attack drones and expensive interceptors, and has launched multiple institutional initiatives to adopt it.

But implementation timelines stretch to 2027–2030 — while the Iran war has just demonstrated that magazine depth crises unfold in 96 hours. The timeline is the vulnerability.

The Interceptor Crisis in Real Time

On 28 February 2026, the United States and Israel launched Operation Epic Fury — a joint campaign targeting Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, missile production, naval forces, and proxy networks. Within 36 hours, Tehran retaliated with hundreds of ballistic missiles and one-way attack drones targeting not only Israel but also US military installations and civilian infrastructure across Bahrain, Kuwait, Qatar, the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Iraq.

As Sinem Cengiz of Qatar University’s Gulf Studies Center noted, for the first time in history all Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states were targeted by the same actor within 24 hours — “their long-standing nightmare scenario” (Breaking Defense).

A week into the conflict, the defence economics has been already unsustainable. Iran’s Shahed-136 drones cost approximately $20,000 each. Each Patriot PAC-3 interceptor used to shoot them down costs between $3.7 and $4 million (Japan Times). At least one Gulf ally has requested emergency interceptor resupply from Washington after its stockpiles ran critically low within 96 hours of fighting (CNN).

The Pentagon acknowledged in a closed-door congressional briefing on 4 March that Shahed drones represent a major challenge and that US air defences will not be able to intercept them all (The War Zone, CNN).

The production math is punishing. Lockheed Martin produced 620 PAC-3 MSE missiles in all of 2025. An estimated 800 or more interceptors may have been expended in the first days of this war alone, according to Defence Express calculations — potentially requiring over 15 months of uninterrupted production to replace at current capacity. THAAD interceptors, critical against Iran’s most capable ballistic missiles, are in even shorter supply. Planned production increases to 2,000 PAC-3 missiles per year remain years from realisation (Defense Express/United24, Defense Security Monitor).

Iran’s strategy is deliberate. By launching mixed salvos — cheap drones as screening assets alongside ballistic missiles as the lethal punch — Tehran collapses the defender’s ability to match the right interceptor to the right threat. In compressed engagement windows, sensor uncertainty and saturation make reliable discrimination between a $20,000 Shahed and a cruise missile operationally difficult, and the consequences of a single leak through the defensive layer are catastrophic enough that expensive interceptors get burned regardless.

Retired Lt. Gen. Dan Karbler, former commander of US Space and Missile Defense Command, acknowledged that short-range air defence assets are needed precisely to avoid expending scarce Patriot missiles on drones (ABC News).

The resulting cost-exchange ratio — running from 14:1 to more than 100:1 in the attacker’s favour — is not a battlefield anomaly. It is a strategy of systemic attrition aimed at the adversary’s industrial base (Washington Times).

Europe’s Exposure

The Iran war is unfolding in the Middle East, but its consequences cascade directly into European security. Every Patriot round fired over Abu Dhabi is one fewer round available for NATO’s eastern flank. Every THAAD interceptor consumed in the Gulf degrades the stockpile that was meant to underwrite extended deterrence from the Baltic to the Black Sea.

The US defence industrial base does not maintain separate production lines for separate theatres — it runs a single, constrained pipeline that now faces competing demands from an active war, ongoing Houthi interdiction operations, and the standing requirements of European and Indo-Pacific deterrence (Defense Security Monitor).

European NATO allies enter this moment from a position of pre-existing weakness. Stockpiles have been significantly drawn down by donations to Ukraine since 2022. Replenishment has been slow.

On 17 February — eleven days before the Iran war began — German Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul stated bluntly that Berlin has exhausted its own air defence missile stocks: “We simply don’t have any left” (Euromaidan Press).

National procurement timelines remain measured in years (CNBC). If Europe’s largest economy and defence spender has already emptied its reserves before the Iran war even started, the position of smaller Central European states is self-evidently worse.

Central European states — Slovakia, the Baltic states, Romania, Poland — are the most exposed: closest to the Russian threat, thinnest in organic air defence capacity, and most dependent on US-sourced systems and munitions that are now being consumed at wartime rates in a theatre 3,000 kilometres away.

The war has already demonstrated that the threat is not geographically contained. On 4 March, NATO air and missile defence assets in the eastern Mediterranean intercepted an Iranian ballistic missile heading toward Turkish airspace — the first time the alliance has defended a member state from an Iranian projectile since the conflict began (Bloomberg, France 24).

Earlier, on 2 March, a Shahed-type drone struck RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus — a British sovereign base on EU member territory — in what Cypriot officials confirmed was a Hezbollah attack launched from Lebanon, not from Iran directly (TIME, Middle East Eye). Two additional drones heading toward the base were intercepted the same day. Azerbaijan reported Iranian drone strikes injuring civilians (CNBC). NATO’s Aegis Ashore sites in Romania and Poland — systems originally developed with an Iranian ballistic missile threat in mind — are now on full alert (Stars and Stripes).

The proxy dimension makes the threat harder, not easier, to defend against. Destroying Iranian launchers does not neutralise a dispersed network of militia launch sites across the Levant.

Analysis of the Akrotiri wreckage revealed a Russian-made Kometa-M anti-jamming GNSS receiver — identical to components found in Russian drones and missiles used against Ukraine — indicating that Iran’s drone fleet now carries electronic countermeasures that render simple GPS jamming ineffective (Ukrainska Pravda, United24).

The Kometa-M finding also confirms an operational reality Central European defence planners cannot ignore. The same Russian-Iranian technology chain that targets Ukraine and the Gulf can reach European territory through proxy networks — and Moscow’s calculus on its own western flank may shift as it observes US interceptor stockpiles being consumed thousands of kilometres away.

None of this is wrong. But all of it is too slow.

Europe has correctly identified both the problem and the direction of the solution. Ukraine’s four-year experience of defending against massed Russian drone attacks produced a body of operational knowledge that is directly transferable: low-cost FPV interceptor drones that destroy drones at a fraction of the cost of a missile; decentralised mobile teams combining electronic warfare with kinetic intercept; compressed innovation cycles that adapt to new threats in weeks rather than years.

European states are already adopting Ukrainian-proven systems and tactics in counter-drone warfare, electronic warfare integration, and long-range strike methods (Jamestown Foundation).

A caveat: the Kometa-M finding at Akrotiri confirms that even “cheap” drones now carry frequency-agile anti-jamming systems, meaning that effective counter-drone defence will require more sophisticated electronic warfare capabilities than basic GPS jamming alone. Far from weakening the case for learning from Ukraine, this makes it more urgent: Kyiv has been adapting its EW tactics to Russian countermeasures in real time for four years.

European institutions have recognised this. On 11 February, the European Commission published its Action Plan on Drone and Counter-Drone Security, explicitly referencing a Drone Alliance with Ukraine (European Commission).

On 20 February, the E5 nations — France, Poland, Germany, the United Kingdom, and Italy — announced a joint programme to produce low-cost air defence systems and autonomous drones using Ukrainian expertise (AP/PBS). The European Drone Defence Initiative, the Eastern Flank Watch, and the European Air Shield are all moving through institutional channels (European Policy Centre). The analytical logic is sound: build a cheap lower layer to handle drone threats so that expensive conventional interceptors — Patriot, SAMP/T, IRIS-T SLM — are preserved for the ballistic and cruise missile threats that only they can defeat.

The European Drone Defence Initiative targets first operational capabilities by end of 2026 and full functionality in 2027. The broader Defence Readiness Roadmap stretches to 2030. The E5 programme has pledged to cover the investments (Dronelife, AP/PBS).

These timelines were designed under the assumption that Europe would have years of uninterrupted time window to implement its adaptation. The Iran war has just demonstrated that magazine depth crises unfold in four days. That is not a planning assumption, it is already an observed and confirmed fact. The European implementation timeline and the threat timeline are mismatched by orders of magnitude.

The September 2025 incursion of Russian Gerbera one-way attack drones into Polish airspace already illustrated the cost asymmetry: multi-million-dollar Patriot missiles and F-35s were used to intercept drones worth no more than $10,000 each (European Leadership Network). That incident was a warning. The Iran war is the proof.

Closing the Gap

The challenge is not conceptual. Europe knows what needs to be built. The challenge is tempo — and tempo cannot be solved by committee. Three immediate steps would narrow the gap between strategy and operational reality.

First, accelerate procurement of fielded Ukrainian counter-drone systems and solutions through emergency acquisition pathways, bypassing standard EU and national procurement cycles. Ukraine is already exporting operational knowledge to Gulf states at British invitation. Central European allies should be first in line, not last. Poland’s existing bilateral drone cooperation with Ukraine provides a template. Slovakia, Romania, and the Baltic states should replicate it immediately.

Second, reframe European counter-drone investment as interceptor conservation, not as a separate capability track. A $4 million interceptor is justified when it prevents a $4 billion catastrophe. But the calculus collapses when finite stocks are depleted on threats that could have been neutralised at a fraction of the cost. Every euro spent on a system that can destroy a $20,000 drone without expending a $4 million missile is a saving that keeps scarce conventional interceptors available for the threats only they can defeat. This reframing matters for political buy-in: it ties cheap drone defence directly to the credibility of NATO’s conventional deterrence posture.

Third, treat the Iran war as the stress test it is and publish honest assessments of national magazine depth. European allies have avoided transparent accounting of interceptor stockpiles for understandable reasons of operational security. But the political urgency required to override procurement inertia depends on democratic publics and parliaments understanding the scale of the gap. If a Gulf states can exhaust their interceptor supply in four days of fighting, European leaders must answer how long their own stocks would last under comparable conditions — and what they intend to do about it before 2027.

Conclusion

The Iran war did not create Europe’s air defence vulnerability. It revealed it on an accelerated timeline. Europe diagnosed the problem correctly, identified Ukraine’s experience as the most relevant operational model, and launched institutional initiatives that point in the right direction. But the pace of implementation assumed the time.

That assumption is now empirically proved incorrect. The interceptor stockpiles that European security depends upon are being consumed in real time in a theatre Europe does not control and cannot resupply.

The cheap, adaptive counter-drone layer that would mitigate this dependency exists as a proven concept but not yet as a fielded European capability. The timeline is the vulnerability. The question is no longer what to build, but whether Europe can build it before it needs it.

He presents a concise mini‑brief, The Iran Conflict and European Energy Security: Short‑ and Mid‑Term Implications (4 March 2026). The piece lays out how the escalation is affecting Europe’s energy outlook in the days and weeks ahead, and what policymakers should watch as the situation evolves. It also highlights the Central European angle and makes a clear strategic point: accelerating clean‑energy deployment is not only a climate objective—it is now a hard security imperative.

The Iran Conflict and European Energy Security: Short- and Mid-Term Implications

This crisis is the strongest argument yet for accelerating clean-energy deployment as a hard security imperative.

Institute for Central Europe — Mini-Brief | 4 March 2026

Situation Overview

The US-Israeli strikes on Iran launched on 28 February 2026 have triggered a cascading energy-security crisis with direct consequences for Europe. Tehran’s retaliatory missile and drone salvos have struck Gulf energy infrastructure, disrupted shipping through the Strait of Hormuz. This forced QatarEnergy — operator of the world’s largest single-site LNG export complex — to halt operations at both Ras Laffan and Mesaieed industrial complexes and declare force majeure on contracted cargoes (Bloomberg, CNBC).

Saudi Aramco’s 550,000 bpd Ras Tanura refinery — one of the largest in the Middle East — underwent a precautionary shutdown after debris from intercepted drones caused a fire on March 2; the facility was struck again on March 4 by a drone (no significant damage reported), establishing a pattern of repeated targeting of Gulf energy infrastructure (Bloomberg, Reuters/Zawya).

The Strait of Hormuz has moved from severe disruption to effective closure. On 2 March, a senior IRGC official formally declared the strait closed and threatened to fire on any vessel attempting transit. By 4 March, the IRGC Navy claimed “complete control” of the waterway. Traffic dropped from approximately 70% initially to near-zero by March 1–2; at least five tankers have been struck and two crew killed.

Approximately 3,200 ships — roughly 4% of global tonnage — are idle in the Gulf, with another 500 waiting outside (Clarksons Research). One tanker (Pola) made a rare dark transit with AIS switched off. Major container lines including Maersk and Hapag-Lloyd suspended all Hormuz transits.

Iran does not need to maintain a formal blockade: insurance repricing, electronic interference, and demonstrated willingness to attack vessels create commercial paralysis through self-deterrence (Euronews, Al Jazeera). Roughly 20 million bpd of oil — a fifth of global consumption — and about one-fifth of global LNG trade transit the Strait (Bruegel).

Short-Term Impacts (Days to Weeks)

Natural gas is the more acute vulnerability. European benchmark gas prices (Dutch TTF) surged from the low 30s to intraday highs above 63 EUR/MWh — the 52-week range high — though settlement has oscillated between 50–60 EUR/MWh amid extreme volatility.

Goldman Sachs revised its April 2026 forecast to 55 EUR/MWh from 36; Goldman further estimated a month-long Hormuz closure could push European gas prices up 130% from pre-crisis levels (Bloomberg). The QatarEnergy halt is among the most significant unplanned LNG outages in the industry’s history, temporarily removing roughly one-fifth of global LNG export capacity.

Europe enters this crisis in a weaker position than in previous years. EU gas storage stood at approximately 30% of capacity at end-February 2026, well below last year’s levels (roughly 40% at the same point in 2025) (Euronews). German inventories were at ~20.5%, France similarly low. If the Qatari outage persists beyond 30 days, the EU may be forced to trigger the Gas Demand Reduction Plan far earlier than anticipated.

Although Qatar’s direct share in European LNG imports is 12–14%, the indirect impact is far greater: over 80% of Qatari LNG normally goes to Asia, and disruption forces Asian buyers onto global spot markets, intensifying competition for remaining cargoes from the US and Australia. This mirrors the 2022 dynamic: fewer molecules, more buyers, spiralling prices.

On oil, Brent rose to approximately $82/barrel (+6–13% depending on session), with JPMorgan warning a multi-week Hormuz squeeze could push prices above $100 (CNBC). OPEC+’s decision on 1 March to add 206,000 bpd from April is symbolic rather than material: if Hormuz is constrained, production targets offer limited relief — logistics, not quotas, determine deliverable supply (France 24).

OPEC+ spare capacity is concentrated in Saudi Arabia and the UAE (~2.5 million bpd combined per IEA), and both face the same transit risks.

Mid-Term Outlook (Weeks to Months)

If the conflict remains limited and Hormuz reopens, a gradual price correction is plausible but not guaranteed. Damage to Qatari LNG infrastructure will require assessment and repair on an uncertain timeline. Saudi Arabia has begun rerouting some crude exports to Red Sea ports to avoid Hormuz, but this offers partial relief at best.

A significant policy signal emerged on 4 March: Norway’s Energy Minister Terje Aasland stated that the Iran crisis could reopen the EU debate over banning Russian gas imports — an implicit acknowledgment that the EU’s phased ban (spot LNG already restricted in early 2026, pipeline gas scheduled for late 2027) may be unsustainable under current conditions (Reuters via Zawya). The EU itself, however, told member states it sees “no immediate effect” on gas supply security — a position at odds with a 75% weekly price spike.

The macroeconomic impact compounds Europe’s fragile recovery. As ING economists warned, the Iran conflict could not have come at a worse time: the eurozone had just emerged from stagnation, and its recovery was already undermined by US tariff uncertainty — meaning Europe now faces an energy shock on top of a trade shock (NL Times).

A sustained $15/barrel oil increase could add roughly half a percentage point to European inflation over 12 months, depending on pass-through dynamics. The ECB, due to publish new projections on 19 March, will likely revise its energy assumptions sharply upward from its December baseline of 29.6 EUR/MWh for gas and $62.5 for crude (Reuters).

China is reportedly pressuring Tehran to keep Hormuz open (Bloomberg) — though Beijing may simultaneously seek discounted Iranian crude via the “dark fleet,” dampening its incentive for full de-escalation. The IEA has signalled readiness to coordinate a strategic petroleum reserves release, noting member states hold over 1.2 billion barrels of emergency stocks (Bloomberg).

Escalation Scenarios (as of 4 March)

The appointment of Mojtaba Khamenei as Iran’s new Supreme Leader — reportedly under IRGC pressure — and Tehran’s explicit refusal to negotiate with the United States significantly alter the probability distribution across scenarios. A short conflict lasting two to three weeks, with Hormuz reopening, now appears less plausible: the new leadership signals continuity of confrontation, not de-escalation.

Were it to occur, prices would correct toward 40–50 EUR/MWh and the refill season would be compressed but not derailed. A protracted standoff of four to eight weeks — now the baseline scenario — would sustain prices above 50–60 EUR/MWh, likely triggering EU demand-reduction measures, a coordinated IEA reserve release, and the EU Gas Coordination Group (which convened on 4 March) moving to crisis-response mode.

A regionalization scenario — with direct attacks on Gulf production infrastructure across multiple states — would constitute a systemic shock comparable to 2022, pushing Brent above $100. The repeated drone strikes on Ras Tanura (March 2 and 4) and Iran’s demonstrated willingness to strike Qatari LNG facilities suggest that energy infrastructure has already become an explicit instrument of escalation.

Policy Implications for Central Europe

For Central Europe, the Iran crisis arrives on top of an already acute supply disruption. The Druzhba pipeline — the sole conduit for Russian crude to Slovakia and Hungary — has been offline since a Russian drone strike damaged infrastructure near the Brody oil hub on 27 January 2026. Successive restart deadlines have been missed, including the latest on 4 March.

Slovakia declared a national energy emergency; Hungary blocked a EUR 90 billion EU loan to Ukraine until flows resume. Both governments accuse Kyiv of deliberately prolonging the outage, while Ukraine says the pipeline was extensively damaged and repair under ongoing Russian bombardment is dangerous.

The European Commission and EU Council President Costa personally requested inspection access during their 24 February Kyiv visit but were denied on security grounds. On 4 March, Putin met Hungarian Foreign Minister Szijjártó specifically to discuss the Druzhba standoff, with the Kremlin describing Ukraine’s actions as “blackmail.”

Fico-Zelenskyy talks are proposed for March 6 or 9, though prospects remain uncertain (Financial Times, Kyiv Independent, EUobserver).

Slovakia and Hungary thus face a dual supply squeeze unique in the EU: pipeline crude from Russia cut since January, global energy markets convulsed by Hormuz since February. Slovak Deputy Foreign Minister Marek Eštok stated after the extraordinary EU foreign ministers meeting that the combination of Hormuz closure and Druzhba disruption “would directly threaten Slovakia’s energy security” — an official confirmation of the dual-squeeze dynamic (STVR).

Slovakia’s Slovnaft refinery is configured almost exclusively for Russian crude; the alternative Adria pipeline via Croatia remains limited in capacity and politically contested. The Druzhba standoff has already fractured EU solidarity — blocking the 20th Russia sanctions package and the Ukraine aid loan — and the Iran crisis risks deepening this rift by raising the political cost of energy insecurity in Budapest and Bratislava.

This is the first energy crisis of the post-Russia era that originates outside Europe — and it is maritime and system-wide rather than supplier-specific. Post-2022 diversification toward LNG (Swinoujscie, Krk, German FSRUs) reduced dependence on Russia but did not eliminate geopolitical exposure.

If Qatari LNG contracts trigger force majeure and Asian buyers outbid European utilities for spot cargoes, Central European LNG infrastructure risks significant underutilization by late spring. Bruegel has outlined contingency recommendations including coordinated monitoring of LNG cargo diversions to Asia, EU-wide demand reduction, and coordinated storage refill (Bruegel).

For Central European governments, immediate priorities are: resolving the Druzhba impasse through credible international inspection; pre-authorizing demand curtailment playbooks; coordinating LNG procurement against intra-EU bidding wars; and addressing interconnector bottlenecks limiting regasified LNG flows into landlocked markets.

No diversification of hydrocarbon suppliers eliminates geopolitical risk — it merely shifts its geography. This crisis is the strongest argument yet for accelerating clean-energy deployment as a hard security imperative.

By Beáta Sobotová

Across Europe, public concern about climate change remains consistently high. According to Eurobarometer surveys, a large majority of citizens consider climate change a serious problem and support environmental protection. Yet large scale behavioral change remains limited, and public support for ambitious climate policies often fluctuates or becomes politically contested.

This gap between concern and action is persistent. It cannot be fully explained by lack of knowledge, economic constraints, or technological limitations.

Understanding it requires us to look at the psychological barriers that inhibit climate action and at the ways in which these barriers can be amplified in polarized information environments. If democratic societies want to strengthen resilience against climate disinformation, they must understand not only what people believe, but what prevents them from acting on those beliefs.

The Green Gap: When Values Do Not Translate into Action

Many individuals endorse pro environmental values. They recognize the seriousness of climate change and express moral concern. However, decades of research in environmental psychology show that attitudes alone are weak predictors of behavior.

This discrepancy is often described as the intention behavior gap or the green gap. Meta analyses and integrative models, including the Theory of Planned Behavior (Ajzen, 1991) and the Value Belief Norm theory (Stern et al., 1999), demonstrate that behavior is shaped by perceived norms, perceived control, identity processes, and contextual constraints.

Within this broader framework, psychological barriers play a crucial mediating role. Research shows that such barriers can interrupt the link between environmental values and actual pro environmental behavior. They function as cognitive and motivational filters that allow individuals to disengage, rationalize, postpone, or minimize action.

One of the most influential conceptualizations comes from Robert Gifford, who introduced the notion of the “Dragons of Inaction,” a set of psychological barriers that limit climate mitigation and adaptation despite awareness of the problem (Gifford, 2011; Gifford, 2013). These barriers help explain why widespread concern does not automatically translate into consistent behavioral or political engagement.

The Architecture of Psychological Barriers

Empirical research identifies several recurring psychological mechanisms that constrain climate action.

A central barrier is the perception that change is unnecessary. Individuals may acknowledge climate change but minimize its urgency or personal relevance. This does not necessarily take the form of outright denial. It can operate subtly as a belief that incremental adjustments are sufficient.

Fatalism represents another powerful barrier. When people believe that it is already too late, or that individual actions are insignificant compared to global processes, disengagement becomes psychologically coherent. Fatalism is consistently associated with lower pro environmental behavior and weaker climate policy support.

Technosalvation reflects the belief that future technological innovation will solve climate change without requiring substantial lifestyle or systemic change. While technological optimism is not inherently problematic, it can reduce perceived responsibility for present action.

Ignorance and uncertainty also play a role. Many individuals report lacking clarity about which actions are most effective. Uncertainty about impact weakens motivation and increases the likelihood of inaction.

Tokenism and compensatory beliefs create a sense that small actions are sufficient. When individuals perceive limited efforts as adequate, they may morally license themselves to maintain environmentally detrimental behaviors.

Finally, identity tensions and ideological polarization shape engagement. Political ideology strongly predicts climate skepticism and resistance to environmental policy, particularly in polarized contexts (Hornsey et al., 2016; Hornsey et al., 2018). Identity protective cognition reinforces preexisting worldviews and reduces openness to behavior change.

These barriers interact. They cluster, reinforce one another, and are embedded in broader social narratives.

When Disinformation Activates Psychological Barriers

Climate disinformation rarely succeeds by persuading the majority that climate change is a hoax. Its effectiveness lies elsewhere.

Disinformation works by activating and amplifying existing psychological barriers.

Messages that emphasize scientific uncertainty reinforce beliefs that change is unnecessary. Narratives portraying climate action as economically destructive intensify goal conflicts. Stories suggesting inevitable collapse strengthen fatalism. Overstated technological promises encourage technosalvation. Polarized framing activates identity-based resistance.

In this sense, disinformation does not need to replace beliefs. It only needs to lower motivation.

Research on pluralistic ignorance shows that individuals often underestimate the degree to which others share their concern about climate change (Geiger and Swim, 2016). When public discourse appears polarized or dismissive, individuals may withdraw from visible engagement even if privately concerned. This climate of silence further weakens collective action.

In fragmented media ecosystems characterized by declining institutional trust, these psychological dynamics become especially consequential. Climate disinformation exploits not only informational vulnerabilities but also motivational and identity-based processes.

Understanding this psychological infrastructure is therefore essential for designing effective counter strategies.

Evidence on Interventions: What We Know So Far

Experimental research has tested interventions designed to reduce psychological barriers and promote pro environmental engagement.

Awareness and empowerment strategies that combine educational information with self-efficacy enhancement can reduce belief-based barriers and increase perceived behavioral control. Social norm interventions that make visible the widespread support for climate action can shift perceived norms and reduce the discrepancy between personal and perceived collective concern (van der Linden et al., 2015; Sparkman and Walton, 2017).

However, the effects of single exposure interventions are typically modest and often short lived. Meta analyses of pro environmental behavior interventions confirm that durable change usually requires sustained engagement, feedback, and contextual support (Nisa et al., 2019; van Valkengoed et al., 2022).

Increased self-efficacy does not automatically translate into sustained behavior when structural barriers, identity conflicts, or economic constraints remain strong. Norm based interventions are more effective when aligned with salient identity groups and core values.

These findings underscore a central lesson for policymakers: information alone is insufficient. Behavior change requires alignment between motivation, identity, opportunity structures, and supportive social norms.

Policy Implications: Integrating Behavioral Science into Climate Governance

The implications for public policy are significant.

First, climate communication strategies should be grounded in behavioral science. Public campaigns that focus exclusively on disseminating scientific facts may overlook the psychological barriers that filter and reinterpret those facts. Policy design should explicitly address fatalism, perceived inefficacy, and identity-based resistance.

Second, countering climate disinformation requires more than reactive fact checking. It requires proactive strategies that strengthen environmental self-efficacy, increase visibility of shared concern, and reduce pluralistic ignorance. Communication should highlight dynamic norms and demonstrate that climate engagement is growing across diverse social groups.

Third, climate policy should account for socioeconomic disparities. Research shows that perceived behavioral control and access to resources vary significantly across income groups. Policies that reduce structural barriers, such as access to affordable renewable energy or sustainable transport, can enhance both equity and engagement.

Fourth, democratic institutions should integrate behavioral insights into participatory processes. Citizens’ assemblies, deliberative forums, and community-based initiatives can reduce fatalism by strengthening perceived collective efficacy and shared identity.

Finally, European level initiatives addressing climate disinformation should adopt interdisciplinary approaches that connect media studies, psychology, political science, and public policy. Effective responses must target not only informational content but also the motivational architecture that makes societies vulnerable to manipulative narratives.

From Individual Behavior to Democratic Resilience

Climate inaction is not only an environmental problem. It is also a democratic one.

Psychological barriers influence not only private behaviors but also civic participation and support for climate policy. When fatalism or technosalvation dominate, citizens may withdraw from democratic processes related to climate governance. When polarization intensifies, climate policy becomes an identity marker rather than a shared societal challenge.

Strengthening democratic resilience in the climate domain therefore requires building psychological resilience. Citizens who feel informed, efficacious, and socially supported are less vulnerable to narratives that promote disengagement.

Bridging the green gap requires a systemic perspective that integrates individual psychology with institutional design and media ecosystems. It requires recognizing that behavior change unfolds within social, economic, and political contexts.

Conclusion

The climate crisis is often framed as a battle over facts. Yet the deeper challenge lies in the psychological barriers that prevent people from acting on what they already know.

Recognizing and addressing these barriers is not only a matter of environmental effectiveness. It is a matter of democratic stability. When societies understand the motivational architecture of inaction, they are better equipped to design policies and communication strategies that are resilient to manipulation.

Climate governance in the twenty first century must therefore be psychologically informed, socially inclusive, and institutionally robust. Only then can public concern translate into durable action.

References

Ajzen, I. (1991). The theory of planned behavior. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 50(2), 179 to 211.

Geiger, N., and Swim, J. K. (2016). Climate of silence: Pluralistic ignorance as a barrier to climate change discussion. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 47, 79 to 90.

Gifford, R. (2011). The dragons of inaction: Psychological barriers that limit climate change mitigation and adaptation. American Psychologist, 66(4), 290 to 302.

Gifford, R. (2013). Dragons, mules, and honeybees: Barriers, carriers, and unwitting enablers of climate change action. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, 69(4), 41 to 48.

Hornsey, M. J., Harris, E. A., Bain, P. G., and Fielding, K. S. (2016). Meta analyses of the determinants and outcomes of belief in climate change. Nature Climate Change, 6, 622 to 626.

Hornsey, M. J., Harris, E. A., and Fielding, K. S. (2018). Relationships among conspiratorial beliefs, conservatism and climate scepticism across nations. Nature Climate Change, 8, 614 to 620.

Nisa, C. F., Bélanger, J. J., Schumpe, B. M., and Faller, D. G. (2019). Meta analysis of randomised controlled trials testing behavioural interventions to promote household action on climate change. Nature Communications, 10, 4545.

Sparkman, G., and Walton, G. M. (2017). Dynamic norms promote sustainable behavior, even if it is counternormative. Psychological Science, 28(11), 1663 to 1674.

Stern, P. C., Dietz, T., Abel, T., Guagnano, G. A., and Kalof, L. (1999). A value belief norm theory of support for social movements: The case of environmentalism. Human Ecology Review, 6(2), 81 to 97.

van der Linden, S., Maibach, E., and Leiserowitz, A. (2015). Improving public engagement with climate change: Five best practice insights from psychological science. Perspectives on Psychological Science, 10(6), 758 to 763.

van Valkengoed, A. M., Abrahamse, W., and Steg, L. (2022). To select effective interventions for pro environmental behaviour change, we need to consider determinants of behaviour. Nature Human Behaviour, 6(11), 1482 to 1492.

Drawing on comparative Eurobarometer data, focus groups across five countries, a survey among priests and religious leaders in Slovakia and policy dialogues in Bratislava and Paris, the paper shows how migration debates are shaped by moral frameworks, selective empathy, and trust dynamics. It highlights the role of trusted intermediaries, including journalists, educators, and religious actors, in shaping how policies are understood and accepted.

The paper outlines five conditions for advancing cooperation in Europe: recognising different moral starting points, addressing “imagined migration,” managing selective solidarity, rebuilding trust through credible intermediaries and strengthening interpretive capacity.

Read the policy paper

The activities can be used as a structured learning pathway or adapted individually to courses in migration studies, political science, sociology, international relations, law, media studies, and related disciplines. Together, they encourage students to critically reflect on migration narratives, policy frameworks, and lived experiences, helping translate academic research into practical teaching tools.

The Educational Package is intended to support educators, students, and training professionals in developing informed, nuanced, and interdisciplinary discussions on migration and asylum.

Feel free to explore, download, and use these materials in your teaching and learning activities.

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Looking back, which activities or moments did you enjoy the most within your role as Rotating Chair, and why?

Without a doubt, the Summer Schools (I took part in Bratislava and Corsica). There is a specific kind of pedagogical magic that happens when you bring together bright, motivated students from every corner of the globe to discuss complex migration topics. The summer school in Corsica, in particular, stands out as a core memory. It wasn’t just the unforgettable landscape; it was the atmosphere of extreme openness. Our discussions reached a level of critical depth that you rarely find in a standard classroom. We moved beyond theory into the personal (scholars, practitioners, and students) shared lived experiences and stories that stayed with us. According to the feedback we received, many left not just with new knowledge, but with lifelong professional and personal bonds.

In your opinion, what has been the most significant outcome of the ACRONYM project?

The “C” in ACRONYM stands for Cooperation, and I believe the project lived up to that name in a way that was truly transformative. The most significant outcome wasn’t a single paper or report, although these were also relevant, but the unprecedented network we built. We managed to build true cooperation. We brought senior scholars in the field together with junior researchers; we bridged the gap between the Global North and South by putting together students coming from all around the globe. Perhaps most uniquely, we facilitated a dialogue between faith and science, bringing priests and academics, practitioners, and politicians, to the same table. Seeing these people find common ground on migration is a rare achievement, and it is something the entire Team should be immensely proud of.

Now that the project has ended, what do you see as its most promising legacies for future research and teaching?

I believe we have opened a door to a heavily understudied frontier: the role of religious institutions in shaping public perception of migration. Through ACRONYM, we have gathered a massive, high-quality dataset that will serve as a foundation for excellent research in the years to come. Beyond the data, our policy dialogues and conferences have sparked a new wave of interest on the interconnection between faith and migration. We’ve demonstrated that migration governance isn’t just about border counts: it’s about narratives, ethics, and community perception. The legacy of this project is the new generation of researchers we’ve inspired to look at migration through this multi-dimensional lens, in particular, the role of religious institutions in shaping migration.

What parts of this project would you most like to see carried forward into future collaborations or initiatives?

Definitely the collaborative spirit of the project. I want to see that specific model of intellectual community carried forward. We shouldn’t let the connections between these scholars, practitioners, and students go cold. My hope is that the ACRONYM network evolves into a permanent ecosystem of exchange, where the research doesn’t just sit in a journal but continues to be refined by those working on the front lines of migration and asylum every day. This was also one of the goals of the project and I hope it is carried forward through the Migration Hub, a sustained community of experts, researchers, academics, and policymakers working in the field of migration and asylum, serving as a platform for sharing knowledge, research, and other related initiatives.

Lastly, if you had to describe your ACRONYM experience in just one word, what would it be, and why?

Connection. In a field that is often characterized by division, whether political, geographical, or ideological, this project was a bridge. It connected data to human stories, faith to policy, and a diverse group of strangers to a common purpose. It reminded us that at the heart of migration governance, there are always human beings trying to find a way to communicate and to navigate the complex migratory landscape.

The working session focused on reviewing the project’s key achievements, consolidating research findings, and identifying the final steps ahead — including publications, policy-oriented outputs, and dissemination activities. It also marked the conclusion of Anneliese Depoux’s long-term mobility in Bratislava, during which she contributed extensively to collaborative research and exchange across the project.

Beyond the meeting room, the team took time to enjoy Bratislava’s Christmas markets, sharing informal conversations and celebrating the collective work accomplished so far. This final gathering of the year captured the spirit of the ACRONYM project: rigorous research, close collaboration, and the value of human connection across borders.

The world in accelerated geopolitical change

At the beginning of the discussion, Katarína notes that the pace of geopolitical change is unprecedented: “Over the past five to six years, the world has changed more than during the three decades following the fall of the Iron Curtain,” she says. Today’s international politics is marked by the return of war to the European continent, the forceful assertion of spheres of influence, and the emergence of a multipolar order that resembles a competition among powers rather than a balanced multipolar system. At the same time, the so-called weaponization of interdependencies is increasing. What was once meant to bring prosperity and stability — energy, raw materials, semiconductors, and critical technologies — is now often being used as a tool of pressure.

Underestimated hybrid threats and the erosion of trust

Katarína recalls that already during the annexation of Crimea, the West failed to respond adequately to Russia’s hybrid operations: “The biggest mistake was that we underestimated hybrid warfare,” she warns. Disinformation and long-term influence operations have weakened trust in institutions, media, and democratic processes in many countries. This is why, according to her, peace can no longer be taken for granted and must be actively protected.

A stronger Europe as part of collective security

One of the key topics of the interview is the development of European defence. Katarína stresses that this should be seen as a complement to NATO, not an alternative: “If Europe becomes more capable of defending itself, it will also strengthen the North Atlantic Alliance.” She also points to years of underinvestment in defence research and innovation. Dual-use technologies, which can be applied for both civilian and defence purposes, will be crucial in the future. Slovakia, she argues, has significant but largely untapped potential in this area: “We have a long history and strong industrial foundations in the defence sector, yet we barely talk about innovation in defence,” she adds.

Why the Institute for Central Europe (ICE) was established

The interview also addresses the reasons behind the creation of ICE. Katarína describes a growing gap between political debate and academic research — two worlds that should cooperate rather than bypass one another. “Political debate has drifted away from expertise and research, and academia often hesitates to enter the public space. ICE was established to reconnect these two worlds,” she explains.

ICE is built on close cooperation with universities, researchers, and expert institutions in Slovakia and abroad. Our work focuses on areas such as:

• defence and security,
• technological innovation,
• migration,
• green transformation,
• European policies and legislation.

Central Europe and the future of regional cooperation

Another topic of the discussion is the state of the Visegrad Group. Katarína acknowledges that political cohesion weakened after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, yet she argues that regional cooperation still makes sense. “I would not want to dismiss the V4 altogether. There are still areas where it can be useful, from infrastructure to innovation. Smaller states achieve greater results when they cooperate,” she says. At the same time, ICE seeks to bring a Central European perspective into debates in Western Europe, where the region is often discussed through stereotypes or without sufficient understanding of its specific context.

Regional transformation as a shared task

In the final part of the interview, Katarína addresses issues that affect the entire region: migration, energy, and the green transition. She emphasizes that Central Europe needs not criticism, but constructive solutions and the involvement of partners, from businesses to universities.

“There is much more that unites us than divides us. If we can build on that, our region can become one of the leaders of the green transition,” she concludes.

Listen to or watch the full interview here (in Slovak):
https://hnonline.sk/tv/podcasty/slovensko-a-svet-ocami-diplomatov/96249213-csefalvayova-ruska-agresia-prekresluje-silociary-v-europe-svet-reagoval-na-obsadenie-krymu-slabo#google_vignette

The episode is also available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and YouTube:
https://youtu.be/AQRfSVwtXK8?si=3VjYaQMFdU7MVNL9

The dialogue took place against a backdrop of growing political polarisation, disinformation, and public anxiety around migration. Its aim was to create a protected space for frank exchange, grounded in empirical research and lived pastoral experience, and to explore how faith-based actors can contribute to more coherent, human-centred approaches to migration governance.

Migration beyond emergency thinking

A central point of convergence throughout the dialogue was the recognition that migration is not an episodic crisis but a structural and enduring feature of contemporary global life. Participants stressed that both public debate and ecclesial responses remain too often reactive and emergency-driven, despite the Church’s long-standing theological and pastoral tradition rooted in dignity, solidarity, and hospitality.

Theologian Fr. Aldo Skoda, Director of the Scalabrini International Migration Institute, emphasized that migration should be understood as a “sign of the times”, challenging the Church to rethink core dimensions of Christian anthropology, ecclesiology, and mission. He highlighted how dominant public categories and narratives often dehumanize migrants and distort integration processes, calling for a renewed theological and pastoral imagination centred on encounter, communion, and responsibility.

ACRONYM research as a foundation for dialogue

The exchanges strongly resonated with findings from ACRONYM research, including surveys, interviews, and focus groups conducted with priests and lay Catholics across Slovakia, France, Belgium, and Italy. Empirical results were repeatedly confirmed, nuanced, and deepened by clergy’s lived experiences shared during the dialogue.

Participants identified a persistent gap between ethical consensus at the level of Church teaching and the fragility of implementation in pastoral and institutional practice. Structural constraints — legal uncertainty, administrative complexity, limited resources, and political pressure — were cited as major obstacles, often leaving clergy to navigate deep moral dilemmas with insufficient institutional support.

Education, interdisciplinarity, and institutional support

Across interventions, education emerged as one of the most urgent priorities. Participants pointed to insufficient formation on migration, interculturality, and disinformation in seminaries, diocesan structures, and continuing pastoral training. This deficit was directly linked to vulnerability to polarising narratives and fear-based framings that dominate public discourse.

The dialogue also underlined the importance of interdisciplinary approaches, bringing theology into closer dialogue with social sciences, legal expertise, and empirical research. Participants agreed that durable responses to migration require integrated frameworks and long-term strategies rather than isolated initiatives.

A crisis of narrative coherence

Rather than a crisis of numbers, migration was repeatedly described as a crisis of narrative and moral coherence. Political rhetoric, sensationalist media, and disinformation shape public perceptions, while Church actors often feel ill-equipped to respond strategically. Participants stressed the need not only to correct misinformation but to cultivate alternative narratives centred on dignity, encounter, and shared responsibility.

The presence of senior representatives of the French Bishops’ Conference was widely interpreted as a hopeful sign that the concerns raised may inform higher-level ecclesial reflection and future institutional action.

Looking ahead

By organising this Policy Dialogue, ACRONYM strengthened its role as a bridge between research, theology, and policy-relevant discussion. The exchange clarified concrete directions for future work, including strengthened education and training, closer interdisciplinary collaboration, improved institutional support for clergy, and sustained efforts to reshape public narratives on migration.

The Paris dialogue reaffirmed that migration is not only a policy issue, but a profound moral test—one that will continue to shape both the Church’s public voice and its credibility in contemporary European societies.

Yet Atomico also captures something that Europe still has difficulty acknowledging. The continent struggles to convert this strength into economic transformation. Many of Europe’s most promising companies grow to a point and then stall, often for reasons that have little to do with technology itself. Late-stage capital remains limited, scaling across borders is more complicated than it should be and public institutions are often slow to adopt or test new tools. Europe invests a modest fraction of its GDP into venture capital, far below what is needed to sustain global leaders. The result is a pattern that has become familiar. Europe generates extraordinary talent and impressive ideas, but these assets do not consistently become sources of industrial or economic power.

This gap is precisely where dual-use innovation becomes important. The term often evokes narrow discussions about defence or security, but in practice it describes how modern technologies genuinely function. Artificial intelligence improves factory floors and also supports crisis response. Robotics enable logistics networks and also support remote operations. Secure communications, advanced sensors and next generation materials strengthen entire industries while also contributing to national resilience. These technologies do not belong exclusively to any single sector, and their relevance grows when different communities are willing to adopt them.

Europe begins this moment in a stronger position than it might realise. Its universities are still among the world’s leaders in robotics, photonics, materials science and AI. The engineering and scientific talent is deep and diverse. Many founders across the continent already build with an international mindset and are comfortable working on complex technologies that require years of development. The challenge, as Atomico shows with clarity, lies not in imagination but in scale. Europe reaches the prototype stage with confidence, then faces an abrupt narrowing of opportunity. Funding becomes scarce, procurement processes slow down innovation and cross-border regulations interfere at precisely the moment when companies need speed.

The recent United Kingdom Parliamentary assessment of defence readiness reveals what this structural weakness looks like in practice. Although the report focuses on military preparedness, the deeper message concerns industrial capacity. Even a country with a long-standing defence industry struggles to produce the surge capabilities, advanced manufacturing and technological integration that modern security environments require. This problem is broader than defence. It reflects the difficulty of converting scientific excellence into industrial strength, a difficulty that Europe faces across multiple sectors.

Dual-use innovation offers one of the most realistic ways to bridge this gap. It links research communities, startups and industrial partners with markets that already exist. A company working on autonomy, secure data fusion or advanced sensing does not operate in isolation. Civilian sectors need these technologies for productivity and resilience, while public institutions need them for safety, efficiency and strategic preparedness. This duality shortens the path from idea to adoption. It gives companies a more predictable early market and creates a stronger incentive for investors to remain engaged. It also anchors innovation in Europe, because the relevant customers are here.

To make use of this opportunity, however, Europe needs a clearer strategy. The first element is capital. Deep-tech companies cannot grow without substantial and sustained investment, especially in the later stages. Europe’s financial system still does not provide this at the necessary scale. If institutional investors had a greater role in supporting strategic technologies, more European companies could grow into global leaders without relocating elsewhere.

Public procurement is the second area where change is essential. Governments and public agencies are some of Europe’s largest buyers, yet they rarely act early enough to shape markets or accelerate innovation. If public institutions worked more closely with developers of promising dual-use technologies, they could reduce risk for private investors and strengthen entire industrial ecosystems. Adoption, not just funding, is one of the most powerful forms of support a government can offer.

The third area is the ease of scaling across borders. A young company that wishes to expand within Europe still faces a surprisingly uneven regulatory landscape. Differences in certification, procurement rules and approval processes slow growth at the very moment when momentum is essential. A more coherent European environment would allow technologies to move more freely, build supply chains more efficiently and reach customers who may not otherwise engage with innovation.

None of these steps require Europe to become something it is not. It already holds the scientific, technical and industrial foundations needed for leadership. What Europe lacks is the connective tissue that lets ideas grow into outcomes. Dual-use innovation can provide that link. It connects talent to industry, creativity to demand and research to production. It gives Europe a strategy that is both pragmatic and forward-looking, capable of strengthening its economy as well as its security.

The Atomico report shows the potential. The UK assessment shows the stakes. Dual-use technologies show the path. Europe can choose whether it becomes a continent where talent and ideas find their full expression, or one where they continue to shine briefly before moving elsewhere. If Europe chooses well, it will gain not only greater resilience, but also an economic base worthy of its talent and ambition.

The session, titled “What direction for Europe between climate ambition and geopolitical tensions?” explored how European governments and companies are adapting to a more unstable world. Katarína contributed the perspective of Central and Eastern Europe, a region whose climate debate is strongly shaped by its recent history and ongoing transformation.

Key insights from the CEE perspective:

• Three transitions in three decades: from authoritarianism to democracy, from a planned to a market economy, and now toward a low-carbon model.
• Understanding backlash: for many citizens, the European Green Deal is perceived as yet another externally imposed burden after years of socially difficult transformations.
• Untapped potential: the region’s industrial base, engineering talent, and innovation capacity position CEE as a possible driver of Europe’s green transformation.
• Innovation as the turning point: technological, industrial, and social innovation can turn laggards into leaders.
• The role of companies: major investors operating in CEE must communicate their climate goals, progress, and responsibilities more clearly — this visibility can help shape public opinion and support a just, fair transition.

ICE congratulates the organizers for launching a dynamic new platform that connects climate ambition, industrial strategy, and geopolitics. We are proud to contribute to this important conversation and look forward to future editions of WARM Paris.

Exploring Migration Narratives and Policy Responses

The first day opened with welcoming remarks from Anneliese Depoux, Laëtitia Atlani-Duault (Université Paris Cité), and Katarína Cséfalvayová (Institute for Central Europe).

This was followed by a keynote from Hélène Thiollet (Sciences Po CERI) who examined migration narratives and media representations, and how they influence public opinion and policy responses. Her talk received insightful responses from Marieke Huysentruyt (HEC Paris), who emphasized the power of language in shaping perceptions and relationships between newcomers and natives; and Fatemeh Jailani (former Deputy CEO of SINGA, Board Member of the European Migration Forum, and Founding Member of Starting New: The EU Newcomer Entrepreneurship Policy Coalition), who underlined the importance of fostering genuine encounters between newcomers and host communities to move beyond misleading representations, and build mutual understanding.

The following roundtable, From Crisis Framing to Policy Responses, moderated by François Gemenne (Université de Liège), brought together Katarína Cséfalvayová, Clarissa Tabosa (Comenius University), and Hélène Thiollet to reflect on the lessons learned from the two European Commission funded projects – MAGYC and ACRONYM; notably on how to move beyond crisis-driven discourses toward more rights-based approaches.

Day Two: Media Ethics, Public Perceptions, and Field Experiences

Day two began with a presentation of the Charte de Marseille from Tania Racho and Sedera Ranaivoarinosy (Désinfox-Migration). Signed by several French media organisations, the Charter outlines eleven principles promoting ethical and accurate journalism when covering migration.

A second roundtable entitled “Migrations, Perceptions and Social Cohesion,” moderated by Charles Autheman (International consultant; HEC Paris and Sciences Po), brought together Speranța Dumitru (Université Paris Cité – CEPED), Mouhoud El-Mouhoub (Université Paris Sciences et Lettres), and Marion Cosperec (More in Common France). The speakers drew on historical, economic, and social insights to challenge long-standing misconceptions, and discussed how public perceptions of migration in Europe can be interpreted across the five key dimensions: contribution, compassion, control, cohesion, and competence.

The closing discussion, Perceptions of Immigration and Field Experiences, chaired by Anneliese Depoux, explored faith-based perspectives on migration with contributions from Katarína Cséfalvayová, Névyne Zeineldin, Marcela Villalobos, and Alexis Leproux, shedding light on how religious communities engage with migrants and refugees across Western and Eastern Europe.

Paper Presentations by Emerging and Established Scholars

Throughout the conference, early-career and established researchers presented papers across two thematic streams — Governance and Narratives.

Topics ranged from EU migration governance and externalization to the politics of representation, climate-induced mobility, and diaspora-led reframing of migration discourses. Presenters examined how definitions, media portrayals, and policy frameworks shape lived experiences and social responses. Participants appreciated the opportunity to share their research and gather insights from peers on their work.

An Evening at the Museum: “From Exile to Commitment”

A highlight of the programme was the evening public event at the National Museum of the History of Immigration (Palais de la Porte Dorée), attended by more than 180 participants.

Moderated by François Gemenne and Anneliese Depoux, the roundtable “From Exile to Commitment: Acting, Creating, Welcoming” featured Benoît Hamon (Singa), Virginie Troit (Fondation Croix-Rouge française), Jorge Orta (artist, Migrations & Climate exhibition), and Dina Ionesco (UNHCR).

The conversation underscored the transformative power of art, policy, and activism on public opinion shaping migration and the integration of newcomers. The evening also included private guided tours of the Migrations & Climate exhibition, followed by a networking gathering with speakers, conference participants, and the Parisian public.

Looking Ahead

While the conference marked the formal closing event of the ACRONYM Project, the discussions clearly expressed a shared ambition to deepen cooperation between academia, civil society, and policymakers. Over the next two months, the ACRONYM team will finalise its remaining research outputs and publications — continuing our commitment to advancing more inclusive, evidence-based, and human-centered approaches to migration.

Modern conflicts demonstrate that inexpensive and widely accessible drones are fundamentally reshaping the nature of military threats. European countries therefore need a new, realistic defense strategy built on innovation, cooperation, and efficient use of resources, grounded in a clear understanding of evolving threat environments. Drones, once primarily a tool for reconnaissance or industrial purposes, have become weapon systems that profoundly influence the course of modern conflicts.

Affordable Sovereignty: A Realistic Air-Defense and Counter-Drone Strategy for Europe’s Small and Mid-Size Nations

Joint Analytical Report

1. The Evolving Threat

The character of modern integrated national air defense has been irrevocably altered in recent years through technological revolutions in AI and hardware miniaturization. The proliferation of low-cost, precise, and autonomous Unmanned Aerial Systems (UAS) and new aerial threats have fundamentally broken the economic model of traditional air defense. The war in Ukraine serves as a brutal, daily proof-of-concept: mass and price, not just technological sophistication, now define aerial lethality. Russia’s forces, for example, launched approximately 5,500 one-way attack (OWA) UAS against Ukraine in September 2025 alone. In response, Ukrainian forces reported hitting 66,500 enemy targets in the same month, with 39,200 of those hits attributed to kamikaze drones. Additionally, the issue of simplicity of operation, low costs and attribution challenges means that not only state actors, but also terrorist groups and small insurgent organizations now possess a strategic hostile capability which can disrupt national security.

In September and early October 2025, Europe faced a sudden and coordinated escalation: a wave of Unmanned Aerial System (UAS) incursions, widely attributed to Russia, targeted critical infrastructure across at least ten nations. These incidents exposed fundamental defense gaps and triggered an urgent political response centered on the pan-European “Drone Wall” initiative. The actions were a deliberate act of hybrid warfare designed to test NATO resolve, sow public discord, and probe vulnerabilities. Attacks included swarms of Gerbera (Shahed-style) drones entering Polish airspace, military reconnaissance drones flying over Munich Airport — forcing its closure and diverting dozens of flights — and suspected Russian fighter jets violating Estonian airspace, as well as incidents over Denmark and Romania. This wave confirmed that Europe’s security is now indivisible from the drone threat.

The contemporary broad airborne threat matrix facing European defense planners has expanded well beyond low-slow-small UAS, encompassing a dangerous variety of complex modern airborne threats that collectively saturate defensive systems:

• Strike Drones and Loitering Munitions (LMs): This category includes mass-produced FPV drones and LMs (e.g., Russian Lancet variants), which directly attack forces and impose disproportionate costs on the defender, enabling adversaries to erode Western precision strike advantage through “precise mass.”
• Ballistic Missiles and Rockets: The threat includes sophisticated, long-range ballistic missiles and shorter-range rockets. The strategic danger is demonstrated by the Houthi campaign in the Red Sea, where U.S. naval forces faced heterogeneous salvos including anti-ship ballistic missiles. In response, the Navy was forced to fire high-end interceptors like the SM-2s, SM-6s, and ESSMs, consuming over a billion dollars in interceptors and leaving stockpiles “dangerously low.”
• Cruise Missiles and Gliding Munitions: This threat is defined by speed, range, and terrain-following profiles. Cruise missiles (like the US Tomahawk) and converted armaments, such as long-range gliding bombs (like Russian FAB-500T with Universal Planning and Correction Modules), extend strike ranges well beyond 100 km.
• The Hybrid Swarm Challenge: The overall complexity is amplified by the adversary’s ability to launch complex heterogeneous salvos pairing low-cost drones alongside cruise and ballistic missiles. This tactic exploits the limits of traditional air defense systems.

For European nations, the key takeaway is one of urgency. This is not a future-war concept; it is a present-day reality that renders unprotected assets, borders, and infrastructure indefensible.

However, in the face of such a complex and seemingly overwhelming threat, what actions should be undertaken? Some countries, confronted with this formidable challenge, find themselves immobilized and unable to make decisions, owing to the belief that a comprehensive solution necessitates highly expensive models akin to those of the United States and Israel. But is this assumption valid? This article aims to assess current threats and explore incremental measures to optimize protection per Euro spent from the outset.

2. European Vulnerabilities

The recent, repeated, and deliberate airspace violations by suspected Russian drones over NATO members — including Poland, Denmark, Romania, and Estonia — are a strategic shock. These incursions, described by Danish officials as “hybrid attacks,” have exposed profound vulnerabilities that are particularly acute for small and mid-size European nations.

• The Cost-per-Kill Imbalance: This is the central, unsustainable gap. NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte and other officials have stated publicly that using million-dollar missiles to defeat drones worth a few thousand dollars is economically unviable.
• A “One-Size-Fits-All” Mindset: The threat is not monolithic, yet many defense planners are still searching for a single “silver bullet.” The C-UAS requirements for a mobile military force (on-the-move, low size, weight, and power) are fundamentally different from those for a fixed military base (layered, high-power) or a civilian airport (low-collateral, legally constrained). Europe currently lacks distinct, mature solutions for all of these protection areas.
• Foundational and C2 Deficiencies (The Core Gap): The core vulnerability is systemic fragmentation. Current C2 networks for counter-drone defenses are siloed, often relying on manual processes for target identification and engagement. This sequential, manual process is too slow and will fail against larger attacks or sophisticated swarms.
• Insufficient Training and Outdated Doctrine: Counter-drone defense cannot be siloed to dedicated air defense units; every unit must possess drone self-protection capability. The speed of the modern threat demands faster training and a culture of rapid learning and adaptation. Currently, there is a lack of widespread, standardized joint training and doctrine (TTPs) across European forces. NATO acknowledged that it is playing catch-up to tap Ukraine’s expertise. Without this expertise, even the best equipment, like the US Army’s prototypes, failed to perform as expected in a real battle environment due to a lack of realistic testing.
• Legal and Regulatory Paralysis: A critical vulnerability exists in the domestic sphere. Most European legal frameworks are not designed for this threat. In Germany, constitutional law rooted in its post-WWII history largely bars the military (Bundeswehr) from acting in domestic airspace, creating a “drone defense gap.” Similarly, reports from Belgium indicate that defense manufacturer Thales has detected drones over its “top-secret” munitions plants but is not legally permitted to jam or engage them.
• Insufficient Capacity: Even where effective systems exist, the challenge is scale. A U.S. Army official, commenting on Ukraine, noted that their core difficulty is not a lack of technology but a lack of capacity — not enough systems to cover a vast front. This reality dictates that nations must develop resilient defenses that incorporate passive protection to limit damage when interceptors are exhausted.

3. Global Counter-Drone Responses

While Europe grapples with these gaps, other global actors are implementing lessons that can inform a realistic European strategy.

• United States (The High-End Model): The U.S. is pursuing a capital-intensive, high-technology path. This is defined by massive contracts for advanced kinetic interceptors, such as the $5.04 billion, 10-year contract for Raytheon’s Coyote missile system and a $95.9 million award to AeroVironment for its new Freedom Eagle-1 interceptor. The Defense Innovation Unit (DIU) is also prototyping next-generation interceptors like the Anduril Roadrunner.
  • Lesson for Europe: While the specific platforms may be too costly to procure at scale, the U.S. model of creating a joint architecture (formerly JCO, now JIATF 401) to test, integrate, and field competing solutions is a critical doctrinal lesson.
• Israel (The Integrated, High-End, Combat-Proven Model): Israel operates the world’s most battle-tested, multi-layered C-UAS architecture, having faced thousands of drones, loitering munition and Ballistic missile attacks from Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas, and the Houthis. Its model is not a single product but an integrated “system of systems” that provides a layered shield. This includes modular air defense systems like Israel Aerospace Industries’ (IAI) Barak MX, which fuses advanced GaN AESA radars with multiple interceptors (ranging from 35km to 150km) and “soft kill” electronic attack options.
  • Lesson for Europe: The Israeli model proves the effectiveness of integrating diverse, overlapping sensors and effectors (lasers, missiles, nets, EW) into a single C2 architecture.
• Ukraine (The Agile Model): Ukraine has become the world’s foremost C-UAS innovator through battlefield necessity. It is industrialising low-cost, domestically produced solutions, from FPV “Sting” interceptor drones to co-production partnerships with NATO members (e.g., UK manufacturing 1,000 Ukrainian Octopus-100 interceptors; Netherlands funding joint drone production).
  • Lesson for Europe: Ukraine proves that an agile, distributed, and low-cost industrial base can effectively counter a numerically superior foe. Critically, Ukraine is now exporting this doctrine, formally training Danish forces in its C-UAS tactics. Ukraine can be an excellent source of doctrine, training, threat assessment, and new technologies, which would need modification to operate within NATO context.
• Asia (China, South Korea, Japan; Industrial-Scale R&D): Asian nations focus on mastering both offensive volume and next-generation domestic defense.
  • China is aggressively building a huge fleet of kamikaze drones, ordering one million for delivery by 2026, and plans a multilayered naval defense (“Digital Great Wall”) using AI, satellites, HPM, and hypersonic missiles.
  • South Korea is integrating AI-based layered drone defense onto new combat vehicles like the K-NIFV and collaborating on manufacturing key US-designed UAS systems (e.g., GA-ASI Gray Eagle STOL).
  • Japan is rapidly developing vehicle-mounted high-power laser systems specifically to shoot down small drones.
  • Lesson for Europe: Sovereign defense capability requires a deliberate, industrial-scale investment in both R&D and production capacity to maintain a competitive edge.

4. Strategic Options for Small and Mid-Size European Nations

For smaller European nations with limited budgets and manpower, the U.S. procurement model is unattainable. A strategy of “affordable mass” and smart integration, drawing lessons from Ukraine and India, is the most viable path forward. This begins with adopting a bifurcated procurement model to distinguish between long-lead, foundational elements, and rapid, disposable hardware. This bifurcation model separates long-lead, foundational systems from rapidly produced and employed systems. The threat evolves faster than traditional defense acquisition cycles; a nation’s procurement doctrine must evolve with it.

• The Foundational Track (Long-Lead Strategic Procurement): A small country must think “top-down” and first establish a national C-UAS architecture. This is the “full map” into which future “puzzle pieces” will fit. This track includes the high-cost, long-lead items that cannot be bought in a crisis: integrated C2 software, long-range detection sensors (radars), resilient datalinks, and robust training and doctrine pipelines. A nation should start here. Procuring interceptors without this C2 and sensor backbone is operationally futile, resulting in a collection of disconnected systems that cannot share targeting data or deconflict from friendly assets, thus lowering their effectivity.
• The Rapid Track (Fast Acquisition of Effectors): Once the foundational C2 architecture is in place, nations can pursue a flexible, “plug-and-play” approach for effectors. This track is designed for low-cost interceptors, VSHORAD systems, man-portable jammers, and modular EW kits. These are the assets that may become obsolete in 18-36 months and must be treated as consumable and rapidly replaceable. The C2 architecture must be permanent; the effectors must be adaptable.

Based on this model, the following actions are practical within a 12-24 month horizon:

1. Action 1: Prioritise the Foundational Layer (Detection & C2): The most immediate priority is to see the threat. This involves procuring and networking active and passive, long-range RF detection systems and multi-mission radars to create a unified National Air Situational picture. This must be fused into a common C2 platform, whether developed nationally (like India’s SAKSHAM) or adopted from an ally (like the UK’s SAPIENT standard).

2. Action 2: Deploy Layered, Area-Specific Defenses (The “Rapid Track”): A “one-size-fits-all” effector is a myth. Using the foundational C2/sensor grid, nations must rapidly procure and deploy distinct, cost-effective solutions tailored to the unique requirements of each protection area.
   • Military Mobile Forces (Maneuver Protection): The primary challenge here is protecting moving columns (armor, infantry) from FPVs and loitering munitions. Solutions must be vehicle-integrated, rugged, and capable of “on-the-move” operation. Examples include:
     • Vehicle-mounted EW jammers
     • Mobile kinetic systems with 30mm airburst cannons
     • Robotic platforms with integrated directed energy (these are not operational yet and will be practically available in 3-5 years).
   • Military Fixed Sites (Base & Logistics Defense): This area can accommodate larger, more complex systems. The goal is to create a robust, multi-layered “dome” over static, high-value asset. Examples include:
     • Low-cost guided rockets
     • High-Energy Laser (HEL) in the future
     • Dedicated kinetic interceptors.
   • Critical Infrastructure & Civilian Population (Homeland Security): This is the most complex legal and operational environment. Solutions must prioritize low collateral damage, operating in dense urban areas or near civilian air traffic. Examples include:
     • GPS-denied, autonomous net-capture interceptors for urban environments. These are crucial for scenarios like the recent drone incursions at airports in Copenhagen, Munich, and across Denmark.
     • This area also requires the most urgent legal and regulatory reform to deconflict military/police responses with civilian aviation authorities (FAA, EASA) and constitutional law (like in Germany).

3. Action 3: Foster Local Industrial Capacity Through Dual-Use Innovation: The long-term economic and security solution rests in bolstering the local industrial base to guarantee supply chain resilience and economies of scale.
   • Create Innovation Hubs for Dual-Use Technologies: Establish regional or national innovation hubs dedicated to dual-use technologies (military and civilian applications). These hubs should focus, among others, on developing platforms, such as small UAS and related components, that are both militarily viable and have large commercial potential to achieve economies of scale.
   • Targeted Grants and Loans: Use grants and loans to incentivize local companies — a broad base of small and medium enterprises (SMEs) — to develop solutions for pre-defined, mapped national capability gaps (e.g., low-SWaP EW, autonomous targeting algorithms, long-range COTS sensor networks). This mirrors government support to innovation ecosystems seen in Ukraine and the US DIU model.
   • Leverage Joint Funding and Agile Procurement: No small nation should fund this alone. The “Drone Wall” initiative provides the political and financial framework.
     • Form joint procurement bodies, like the Nordic agreement for UAS (Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark), to pool orders for C-UAS systems, increase buying power, and lower unit costs.
     • Actively leverage the European Defence Fund (EDF) and PESCO projects dedicated to C-UAS, and mandate interoperability through common standards.
     • Immediately partner with Ukraine. Send national units to joint C-UAS exercises (like “Wings of Defense” with Denmark) to import battle-proven tactics, techniques, and procedures (TTPs) directly from the front line.
     • Establish a national “Urgent Operational Requirement” (UOR) pathway to bypass bureaucracy and field proven, COTS, or ally-developed systems in months, not years.

5. Outlook: Building Resilience in the Drone and Missile Era

The recent drone incursions over Europe were not an anomaly; they are the new normal. For small and mid-size nations, defending against unmanned systems is no longer a niche, specialist capability. It is a baseline, non-negotiable requirement for national security, as fundamental as equipping soldiers with rifles or securing maritime borders. The objective cannot be an impenetrable, static “wall.” Rather, the goal must be a resilient, adaptive, and economically sustainable layered defense network. This can only be achieved by accepting the bifurcation of procurement: investing patiently in the “top-down” foundational architecture (C2, sensors, training) while simultaneously creating agile, rapid pathways to acquire the consumable, “fast-track” effectors needed to win the attritional fight – though fostering locally focused innovation hubs an adopting globally advanced technologies and systems.

European sovereignty in the 21st century will depend both on the number of high-end fighter jets a nation possesses and on its ability to control the low altitude “air littoral” above its own critical infrastructure. Resilience will be achieved by combining existing low-cost assets, funding innovative and affordable interceptors through joint European initiatives, and — most critically — fostering innovation, and adopting the legal, doctrinal, and procurement agility to field these solutions faster than the threat evolves.

The report is based on information available at the time of writing. The Pleronix Intelligence team strives to ensure accuracy and reliability; however, data and assessments are subject to change over time.

For ICE, this cooperation represents a significant step in strengthening our analytical capabilities. It provides access to a comprehensive international information database, ensures dual verification of analytical outputs, and creates a direct link to the latest global trends in our monitored domains.

Pleronix is an AI-driven organization that leverages advanced artificial intelligence technologies to deliver deep analytical insights and predictive modeling. Its team of senior defense and strategy professionals combines strategic foresight with in-depth technical and operational evaluation capabilities. Among its core competencies are the design and execution of strategic and operational war-gaming simulations, which are used by military planners worldwide to assess and plan procurement priorities —including systems, capabilities, and quantities — based on realistic, data-driven operational scenarios.

We are confident that this partnership will lead to further enhancement of the quality and depth of our analyses — particularly in areas where technological innovation intersects with civilian and military applications. This collaboration reflects our continued commitment to delivering insights that help decision-makers navigate an increasingly complex and interconnected world.

Far from being peripheral players, CEE countries possess the industrial base, technical talent, and access to EU funding that could position them at the forefront of the green transition. The key lies in reframing climate policy as a pathway to economic modernisation and technological leadership, rather than treating it as a regulatory burden.

The brief sets out seven actionable recommendations for turning this potential into progress, from strengthening innovation ecosystems to enhancing regional cooperation and aligning EU instruments with national reform strategies.

If CEE countries connect climate ambition with their industrial strengths, they will not only accelerate their own transformation — they will help shape Europe’s clean future.

Read the policy brief