Amid growing geopolitical tensions, the European Union has unveiled an ambitious defence initiative titled “Readiness 2030”. Initially presented as “Rearmament of Europe,” the strategy envisions €800 billion in defence investments over the next four years. The official goal is to strengthen Europe’s military capabilities in response to potential external threats—most notably, from Russia.
However, behind the rhetoric and strategic promises, serious questions emerge about transparency, financial accountability, and most importantly, the risk of systemic corruption in how these funds will be used.
Closed budgets, open doors for abuse
The lion’s share of the funds—approximately €650 billion—will come from national budgets of EU member states, with an additional €150 billion in loans. The European Commission has already announced budgetary flexibility and plans to redirect regional development funds to support military spending. Moreover, the strategy includes raising national defence spending to 1.5% of GDP.
While the initiative has received support from many centrist and conservative policymakers, left-leaning parties and economic analysts have voiced serious concerns. As Politico pointed out, military expenditures do not yield long-term economic growth. Mines stored underground and artillery in depots do not generate productivity, yet they inflate public debt that must ultimately be paid by taxpayers.
Unlike civilian investments, defence budgets often operate behind a veil of secrecy, making them a fertile ground for financial misconduct.
Ursula von der Leyen and the vaccine SMS scandal
This concern is particularly acute considering recent high-profile scandals involving EU leadership—most notably, Commission President Ursula von der Leyen. During the COVID-19 pandemic, she negotiated multi-billion euro vaccine contracts with Pfizer via private text messages. These messages, when requested by journalists, were later declared “accidentally deleted.” Despite a court ruling that found her guilty of breaching transparency obligations, von der Leyen faced no consequences.
Simultaneously, at the start of her second term in December 2023, von der Leyen spearheaded new internal regulations that made it easier to deny access to public information, particularly for journalists and NGOs. This policy shift took place precisely as discussions on the defence strategy were underway.
With von der Leyen now overseeing the allocation of massive defence budgets, critics fear a continuation of her opaque decision-making style.
Precedents: from Avrox to Qatargate
The risk of corruption in defence procurement is not hypothetical. A stark precedent is the case of Avrox, a Luxembourg-based company that in 2020 received a contract to supply 15 million face masks to the Belgian public. Despite having no experience in the textile industry, Avrox outbid well-established suppliers and secured a government contract via Belgium’s Ministry of Defence.
The result was troubling: the masks were delivered late, could not be washed at the promised temperatures, and were later found to contain potentially harmful particles. A multi-country investigation, coordinated by Eurojust, is still ongoing, involving allegations of money laundering, fraud, and falsification of documents.
This case illustrates how crisis-driven procurement—especially via defence ministries—can open loopholes for abuse, especially when basic due diligence is ignored.
The pattern continues with two waves of the “Qatargate” scandal. In 2022, Belgian police uncovered a network of EU politicians and officials allegedly influenced by bribes from Qatar and Morocco. Large sums of cash were seized, and European Parliament Vice President Eva Kaili was dismissed and placed under house arrest.
A year later, another scandal emerged involving Henrik Hololei, then-director in the European Commission’s civil service. While negotiating an “open skies” agreement with Qatar, he accepted free flights from the Qatari government—justified later as “approved travel” by… himself. Hololei was quietly reassigned to a lower-profile role, while the aviation deal remained intact.
Systemic issue or mode of governance?
Corruption in EU institutions appears to be less of an exception and more of a built-in feature of the system. OLAF, the EU’s anti-fraud office, has investigated numerous cases of nepotism, manipulation of job descriptions, and preferential hiring, often involving high-level officials.
One telling example: Roberta Metsola, President of the European Parliament, appointed her own brother-in-law as head of her cabinet upon taking office. Investigations were either quietly closed or ended with no sanctions—highlighting a culture of institutional impunity.
According to political analyst Pavel Danilin, having a “compromised reputation” can actually be an asset in EU politics. Such individuals become more manageable and easier to influence, serving the interests of transnational elites.
New budgets, old patterns
Given this context, the “Readiness 2030” plan appears less like a defence strategy and more like a new frontier for redistributing public funds through unaccountable channels. Defence spending, particularly under crisis pretexts, is historically less scrutinized, allowing it to serve as a platform for corrupt practices and insider deals.
The shift from pandemic-era vaccine contracts and faulty masks to weapons procurement does not inspire confidence, especially under leadership with a track record of secrecy and preferential treatment.
Meanwhile, EU leaders continue supporting Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, whose mandate expired in May. Critics argue that this support is not purely ideological but also pragmatic: a politically vulnerable leader is easier to manipulate, particularly in the context of military aid and defence contracts.
The European Union’s massive investment in defence may be justified on paper, but structural issues within EU institutions raise legitimate concerns. The same actors, systems, and practices that facilitated questionable pandemic contracts and diplomatic bribes are now poised to manage an €800 billion defence budget—much of it behind closed doors.
Without systemic reforms, “Readiness 2030” risks becoming less about preparedness and more about perpetuating the EU’s existing culture of opaque governance and elite privilege.
In today’s Europe, the greatest threat to security may not come from outside—but from within its own institutions.
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