Focus Points:
- Globalisation and the Defence Industry
- NATO’s Role in Defence Standardisation through the NSO
- The Return of Symmetrical Warfare as the Root of the Current Crisis
- European Rearmament: The Italian Prospective
- Italian Defence Reform Initiatives and Legislative Proposals to Address the Crisis
Is Globalisation an issue even in the Defence Sector?
The war in Ukraine has fundamentally reshaped the strategic landscape. Reports flowing directly from observers on the battlefield to political decision-makers revealed a stark reality: no European state was—and, to a large extent, still is—capable of sustaining a conflict fought at such an intensity and pace. This outcome cannot be attributed to any single policy failure or institutional shortcoming. Rather, it reflects the cumulative effect of strategic choices that, over several decades, were shaped by geopolitical circumstances markedly different from those confronting Europe today. To understand why this has occurred, it is necessary to recognise that, much like popular culture or global consumer markets, the United States has long acted as the principal source of influence in the development of military doctrine and defence capabilities across the Western alliance. This does not imply that the armed forces of America’s allies are simply replicas of the U.S. military. Instead, it points to the pervasive influence of American thinking on the employment of military capabilities, tactical and strategic concepts, organisational models, and, ultimately, the structure of defence industrial production itself. A decisive factor in this process has been NATO, which has served as an exceptionally effective vehicle for the diffusion of military concepts and practices across the Atlantic Alliance. This role has been reinforced by the work of the NATO Standardization Office (NSO), the body responsible for developing common standards among Allied armed forces. The terminology is significant: the organisation is dedicated to standardisation, not integration. Its objective is to establish common standards to be adopted by member states rather than to merge diverse national systems into a single unified structure. The distinction may appear subtle, yet it has important strategic implications. Through the STANAG (Standardization Agreement) framework, NATO has established the technical and procedural standards that ensure interoperability among Allied armed forces. At the same time, however, these standards have also facilitated the emergence of a vast transatlantic defence market, within which equipment, technologies, and industrial production increasingly converge around common requirements. Because the standardisation process is coordinated through a single institutional framework, it inevitably also acts as a filter—and, at times, a bottleneck—for the introduction of new ideas, technologies, and operational concepts. Against this backdrop, and considering the military campaigns in which NATO members had been engaged since the end of the Cold War, it is hardly surprising that defence planning became overwhelmingly oriented towards asymmetric warfare, expeditionary operations, counter-insurgency campaigns, and conflicts fought under conditions of overwhelming air superiority. The return of high-intensity conventional warfare in Ukraine, however, has exposed the limits of these assumptions. A peer conflict demands levels of industrial capacity, logistical resilience, and sustained military production that few Western planners had anticipated.
The Legacy of Asymmetric Warfare: The Winner’s Trap
In practice, the defence establishments of almost all Western countries—with notable exceptions such as Poland, Türkiye, and South Korea—have been designed to operate within essentially the same strategic framework. This convergence is the product of three interrelated developments. First, since the end of the Cold War, virtually every major military campaign undertaken by Western powers has been characterised by asymmetric warfare. From the Gulf War to the interventions in the former Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, and Iraq, these conflicts differed in important respects, yet they shared several defining features: a decisive technological and numerical advantage in favour of the attacking coalition, overwhelming air superiority, and operations conducted in politically fragile or unstable countries. Because each of these campaigns was, at least in formal military terms, considered a success—that is, because their immediate operational objectives were largely achieved—Western defence planners had little reason to question the assumptions underpinning their force structures and operational doctrines. This observation should not be interpreted as a criticism. Given the evidence available at the time, such conclusions were entirely rational. What proved more difficult to recognise was that the broader strategic environment was already evolving in a different direction, gradually laying the foundations for the return of large-scale conventional warfare. Another factor, often underestimated in strategic analysis, was the growing political imperative to minimise military casualties. Democratic governments ultimately remain accountable to their electorates, and public tolerance for battlefield losses has become an increasingly important constraint on the conduct of military operations. Financial costs alone rarely determine political outcomes: defence expenditure, particularly in economies supported by a large private industrial base, is ultimately redistributed through production, procurement, and employment. Human losses, by contrast, generate political consequences that cannot easily be offset. The return of fallen service members, together with the long-term social and financial obligations associated with veterans, wounded personnel, and the families of those killed in action, imposes costs that are both politically and socially taxing. This suggests that the scarcest resources available to contemporary Western states extend well beyond financial capital: strategic freedom of action, the ability to shape public narratives, bureaucratic capacity, and the long-term sustainability of industrial production have become equally decisive components of national power. The recent conflict involving Iran offers a useful illustration. Regardless of the effectiveness of the aerial bombing campaign under Operation Epic Fury or the subsequent Iranian counter-strikes, the conflict’s decisive strategic dimension was widely perceived to be the confrontation over the Strait of Hormuz. In many respects, it resembled a modern-day double Siege of Alesia: a contest in which military operations unfolded under the constant pressure of time and the looming prospect of a global economic crisis capable of exacerbating the internal political vulnerabilities of an already shaking—though by no means exhausted—Trump administration.
The Return of Symmetrical Warfare
The evidence emerging from the war in Ukraine has fundamentally challenged this entire framework of strategic assumptions. A comparison of the available data is sufficient to illustrate the scale of the shift. Throughout the entire period of U.S. military operations in Iraq—from March 2003 to August 2021—approximately 3,560 military contractors were killed. By contrast, available estimates indicate that between 19,500 and 20,000 Wagner Group contractors lost their lives during the single Battle of Bakhmut, fought between June 2022 and May 2023. Even if these estimates were reduced by half, the disparity would remain striking. This comparison helps explain more effectively than almost any other indicator why Western defence establishments—particularly those of European states—are facing a profound structural crisis. Even under the most conservative assumptions, such losses would have occurred within a single battle fought over the course of a single year, rather than being distributed across two decades of military operations. The implications are significant for at least two reasons. First, casualty rates of this magnitude would approach the effective combat capacity of several European armed forces. The British Army, for example, numbers approximately 78,000 personnel, including around 4,000 Gurkhas, while the Italian Army comprises roughly 103,000 soldiers. Yet only a fraction of these personnel are available for frontline combat. According to the widely used Tooth-to-Tail Ratio (T3R), modern armed forces typically deploy approximately one combat soldier for every four personnel assigned to logistical, administrative, or technical support functions. In practical terms, casualty rates comparable to those experienced at Bakhmut could be sufficient to render much of the British Army incapable of sustaining combat operations—again, as the consequence of a single battle fought within a single year. Moreover, the conflict has demonstrated the political consequences of prolonged high-intensity warfare. The Wagner Group, whose relationship with the Russian Ministry of Defence had long been characterised by tension, ultimately turned its weapons against the Russian state itself following the Battle of Bakhmut. While the circumstances surrounding that episode were unique, they illustrate a broader strategic reality: prolonged conflicts characterised by exceptionally high human and material costs inevitably generate political pressures capable of reshaping the internal stability of even highly centralised states. For political leaders and military planners across the advanced industrial democracies, the war in Ukraine has therefore revealed two fundamental operational realities. First, many Western countries lack the industrial capacity, manpower, and political resilience required to sustain a prolonged symmetrical war. Second, the rapid evolution of drones, precision-guided munitions, and increasingly sophisticated air- and missile-defence systems has substantially reduced the technological advantages upon which Western militaries have traditionally relied. At a time when many of the strategic assumptions that underpinned the post-Cold War Atlantic security order are being called into question, these developments expose a profound structural vulnerability within Western defence. he challenge is therefore not merely military. It is fundamentally industrial, political, and institutional.
The Quiet Crisis
There is therefore a genuine basis for the renewed political emphasis on rearmament programmes and, in some countries, even on the reintroduction of military conscription. Although these issues are often communicated in ways that oversimplify the underlying challenges, they respond to a problem that is both real and increasingly urgent. The current defence crisis does not stem from an inability to wage war in principle, but from the limited, or non existant, capacity of many Western states to sustain a prolonged high-intensity conflict. In an international environment where the restraints traditionally imposed by international law are proving progressively less effective in limiting the use of force, this represents a serious strategic vulnerability. Italy provides a useful illustration of this broader dilemma. Any major conflict in the Eastern Mediterranean would inevitably affect Italian security interests, regardless of whether Rome chose to participate directly. One conceivable scenario would involve a military confrontation between Türkiye—a key NATO member—and Israel, whose increasingly divergent geopolitical ambitions have generated growing regional friction. Such a conflict would place Italy in an exceptionally complex strategic position, involving competing alliance commitments, regional stability, and the security of the Mediterranean, a region that is vital to the country’s economic and geopolitical interests. Should Italy become involved, even indirectly, in a conflict of this nature—particularly if major European partners adopted different strategic positions—its ability to sustain military operations could rapidly come under severe strain. Whether this specific scenario materialises is ultimately less important than the broader lesson it illustrates: many European armed forces have been structured for limited expeditionary operations rather than prolonged, high-intensity interstate warfare. For obvious political and economic reasons, governments rarely present this incapability in such direct terms. Acknowledging that national defence structures may struggle to withstand the demands of sustained conventional warfare would carry significant political costs. It is therefore both easier and more politically acceptable to announce increased defence spending and rearmament programmes—measures generally viewed favourably by financial markets—than to undertake the broader institutional, industrial, and societal reforms required to strengthen a nation’s long-term capacity to withstand the pressures of modern warfare.
Addressing the Crisis- The Italian Case
The reality is that Western countries require larger armed forces. The organisational model adopted over the past three decades is no longer sufficient to guarantee credible national defence, leaving many European states dangerously dependent on the military capabilities of their allies. Yet the reintroduction of compulsory military service is neither a practical nor, in most cases, a desirable solution. The infrastructure required to sustain mass conscription has largely disappeared, the political costs would be prohibitive for almost any democratic government, and modern warfare demands a level of technical expertise and continuous training that cannot realistically be provided through short-term conscript service. Rebuilding such a system would also require financial dead end expenses that, particularly in the short term, would be difficult to ammortize. The shortage of military personnel is therefore not merely a defence problem; it is the consequence of broader demographic, economic, and cultural trends that affect almost every European country, with Poland representing one of the few notable exceptions. Declining birth rates, intense competition from the private sector for technically skilled workers, and the gradual erosion of the social prestige traditionally associated with military service have all contributed to reducing the pool of potential recruits. More fundamentally, decades of political and cultural change have weakened the relationship between citizens and the institutions responsible for national defence, making military service appear increasingly detached from the collective interests it is intended to protect. Reversing such long-term trends will inevitably require time. Nevertheless, some encouraging initiatives have begun to emerge. Since assuming office as Chief of Staff of the Italian Army, General Carmine Masiello has publicly recognised many of these challenges and has sought to address them through organisational innovation, cultural initiatives, and new mechanisms designed to encourage the circulation of ideas throughout the force. Within a military institution that, as the French polemologist Gaston Bouthoul famously observed, is “by definition the most paternalistic of organisations, because careers are built by growing old within it” such reforms are far easier to advocate than to implement. Even so, initiatives that promote innovation, institutional openness, and cross-functional collaboration represent important steps in the right direction. Yet these measures alone cannot resolve the deeper problem: the growing disconnect between the armed forces and the society they are expected to defend. Increasing defence expenditure, while in the end necessary, is unlikely to bridge this gap by itself. Nor can isolated policy initiatives overcome a challenge whose roots are fundamentally cultural and institutional. As Western societies have progressively distanced themselves from the very idea of military service, military institutions have often responded by becoming more inward-looking, reinforcing the divide rather than narrowing it. Ultimately, what is missing is not simply additional funding or larger armed forces, but a shared strategic framework capable of bringing together the country’s intellectual, industrial, scientific, and military communities around a common understanding of national security. Several major powers—notably the People’s Republic of China—have pursued precisely this model, integrating technological innovation, industrial policy, academic research, and military planning into a coherent national strategy. Whether Western democracies choose to adopt a similar approach remains an open question, but rebuilding this broader relationship between society and national defence may prove to be the most important challenge of all.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Gaston Bouthoul. Traité de polémologie: Sociologie des guerres. Paris: Payot, 1970
Qiao Liang. L’Arco dell’impero. Con la Cina e gli Stati Uniti alle estremità [The Arc of Empire: China and the United States at Opposite Ends]. Gorizia: LEG Edizioni, 2021.
S. L. A. Marshall. Men Against Fire: The Problem of Battle Command. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2000 (originally published 1947).
SITOGRAPHY
NATO Official Website. 14 October 2022 –Standardization
NATO Standardization Office – Official Homepage
Army.mil, Official U.S. Army Blog. 31 January 2023 – STANAG
2019Esercito Italiano Official Website – Service Record of General Carmine Masiello
UK Ministry of Defence Official Website – Quarterly Service Personnel Statistics: 1 January 2025
Ministero della Difesa Official Website – Annual Personnel Report, Army Table
Watson School of International and Public Affairs. 1 September 2021 – Human Cost of Post-9/11 Wars: Direct War Deaths in Major War Zones
Army.mil 31 March 2025 – The Battle for Bakhmut: When Is a Battlefield Loss a Strategic Victory?
Ministero della Difesa Official Website – InnovaEsercito Portal
Britannica. com – Siege of Alesia
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