The point being of today’s article is…

…that the collapse of Europe’s automobile industry is unavoidable, and the reason reaches far deeper than technology or global competition. It exposes a continent whose political design — built to prevent war — now makes meaningful innovation impossible. Defense spending, American protection, and fear of Russia temporarily mask this weakness, but if Russia collapses in the coming years, Europe will lose the last external force that unites it. Unless a crisis forces reinvention, Europe will slowly become what I wrote about earlier: a beautiful, historical place to enjoy life, preserved more as a memory than as a driver of the future.

The Situation at Hand

Arjen Lubach’s segment last week made something visible that has been happening for years: Europe is no longer competing in the global automobile market. We are losing. No — we have already lost. What was once our industrial backbone is now dissolving in slow motion.

Europe shaped the 20th-century car. Germany built the engineering DNA. France and Italy gave it elegance. Scandinavia added safety. The supply chains stretched across the continent like an industrial nervous system. And then, in just one technological generation, this entire structure lost its relevance.

China built an EV empire by combining batteries, software, and manufacturing into one coordinated strategy. The United States focused on AI, autonomy, and software-defined mobility. Europe perfected its regulations while letting go of its industrial ambition.

The collapse of the car industry is only the symptom. The deeper disease is that Europe can no longer create new industrial giants. We can only manage, regulate, and preserve what once was.

The real question is: why?

The Core Dilemma

Europe’s political architecture was designed after two world wars with one mission: prevent Europeans from fighting each other ever again. This system succeeded magnificently. Seventy years of peace is no small achievement.

But the hidden cost is now becoming painfully visible.

Because to prevent war, Europe built a system that slows everything down. It rewards compromise over decisiveness, consensus over initiative, committees over experimentation. Every bold idea must survive dozens of political realities and institutional constraints. Nothing moves unless everyone agrees, which means nothing ever moves at the speed required to shape the future.

This was fine in a slower, more predictable world. It is fatal in a world driven by exponential technologies.

And here is the uncomfortable truth:

The radical change Europe needs is impossible within the system Europe built.

A political machine designed to prevent internal conflict cannot suddenly transform into a machine built for innovation and speed.

This is why defense spending feels like a relief. It gives the illusion of industrial momentum. It temporarily fills the gap left by automotive decline. It gives Europe a sense of urgency — but it is not a foundation. Defense is a response to fear, not a strategy for prosperity.

And behind that fear lies the real unifying force: Russia.

The Synthesis

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine did something Europe had forgotten how to do. It forced us to act. It made us coordinate more quickly than we had in decades. It pushed us to invest, to upgrade, to think strategically. The Russian threat became a psychological glue, a reason to focus and unify.

But Russia is a declining power. It is demographically collapsing, economically shrinking, and militarily exhausted. Many analysts believe it may fracture or turn inward in the coming years.

This creates a paradox.

Europe’s unity is currently strengthened by the existence of a threatening Russia.

But Russia itself may not survive long enough to keep Europe unified.

And then what?

If Russia collapses, Europe loses the one external pressure that forces urgency.

If America retreats, we lose the protection that allowed us to be slow.

If our industries fall, we lose the economic engine that once defined us.

We are left with a system that cannot reform itself from within.

No bold industrial project will ever be agreed upon by 27 countries with different needs and political realities. No breakthrough will emerge from institutions built to manage equilibrium rather than create momentum. And without conflict — internal or external — the system stays exactly as it is.

That means Europe’s default future is not reinvention. It is transformation through slow decline.

Europe becomes what history always hinted it might be:

A peaceful, beautiful, culturally rich continent.

A place to enjoy life, not to build it.

A living museum of human civilisation, where people travel to experience depth, meaning, beauty, and the art of being human.

Not a future-shaping force — but a future-enjoying one.

Closing Note

The fall of the European car industry is the first shock that shows us the limits of our system. Defense spending fills the gap only briefly. American protection hides our weakness. Fear of Russia gives us temporary cohesion. But if Russia collapses, and America steps back, and our industries continue to fall, Europe must confront a truth it has avoided for decades: that the peace architecture we built has become our innovation trap.

Unless we face a crisis large enough to break the system — a crisis Europe itself was designed to avoid — we will not reinvent ourselves. The world will move faster than we can agree, and the continent that once shaped global history will become the place where global citizens come to rest, reflect, and enjoy the richness of human life.

There is beauty in that future.

But it is not a future we choose.

It is the future that happens when a system cannot change itself.

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