On June 8, 2026, in its original form, the most ambitious defense program Europe has ever attempted died. The chancellor, Friedrich Merz, told President Emmanuel Macron, on the margins of the EU-Western Balkans summit in Montenegro, that Germany and France would not jointly build the sixth‑generation fighter meant to succeed the Eurofighter and the Rafale from 2040 onward. With that hallway conversation, a project valued at roughly €100 billion, born in 2017 from the impulse of Macron and Angela Merkel, and which Spain joined in 2019 with a third of the industrial share, came to an end.
In this case, the most interesting reaction came from Madrid. The minister of Defense, Margarita Robles, called the cancellation an “undoubted failure” and, above all, pinpointed the cause: “Industrial interests have placed industry ahead of Europe’s security and defense,” she said. In a single sentence, Robles captured what must not be forgotten: the Future Combat Air System (FCAS, or NGWS in its technical designation) did not fail because of a technological problem. It collapsed because national industrial interests weighed more than the continent’s collective defense.
An Industrial Divorce, Not a Technological One
It is important to emphasize this, because the narrative of technical failure is tempting and false. The tech demonstrator advanced, the architecture of the “system of systems” was defined, and the pillars — a manned fighter, escort drones, and a networked combat cloud — had industrial owners assigned. Yet what never got resolved were the industrial ambitions of certain companies.
“FCAS has fallen because the national industrial interest weighed more than the continent’s collective defense”
Dassault, the Rafale manufacturer and bearer of the French savoir-faire in combat aircraft, demanded the design leadership of the Next Generation Fighter and resisted transferring its intellectual property; it even claimed up to 80% of the fighter’s workload, far from the political and contractual division of “one third per country.” Airbus, in its German and Spanish segments, faced the risk of financing a program without real control and being relegated to secondary roles. On top of the clash between national champions, there was a divergence of requirements. In this case, France needed a fighter capable of carrying nuclear weapons and operating from aircraft carriers, because its deterrence and expeditionary autonomy depend on it, whereas Spain and Germany did not. Both nations proposed two variants to reconcile these needs, and Paris rejected them.
The result is a manual of what not to do in European defense cooperation. A program endorsed at the highest political level, but without governance able to arbitrate disputes among ministries, agencies and companies. It was, therefore, a project where every disagreement escalated, with decisions obeying the political convenience of the moment and, above all, with an inverted order of precedence, in which the industrial division preceded the agreement on the program’s exact purpose. The overarching lesson repeats in every European fiasco: strategy must lead to industry, not the other way around. If the order is reversed, it suffices for one partner to conclude that the other’s military needs are not theirs for the entire edifice to collapse.
What Europe Loses
Meanwhile, reducing the NGWS to a single fighter would be a misreading of its purpose. The program was, above all, the proving ground for trilateral cooperation and for Europe’s aspiration to be a producer of security, moving beyond the role of a mere consumer. Its failure inflicts, therefore, a reputational damage that fuels the narrative that Europe cannot deliver high‑end capabilities and will remain dependent on U.S. systems. Consequently, every government that doubts European delivery will have another argument to buy on the market, and the F‑35 already equips a long list of European allies, fracturing the continent into two fighter clubs.
“This was a program endorsed at the highest political level, but without governance capable of arbitrating disputes among ministries, agencies and companies”
The current moment worsens this blow. The rupture arrives just as transatlantic pressure pushes the Union to reduce its dependence on Washington, and as Brussels has deployed instruments (such as the European Defence Fund, the EDIP industry program, or the SAFE loans) to encourage joint development and procurement. The message FCAS sends to that effort is that European money can multiply without changing old vices. Meanwhile, the rival program GCAP (the United Kingdom, Italy and Japan) continues toward 2035/2040, reminding us that fragmentation is not only a problem among Madrid, Paris and Berlin, but the structural condition of a Europe that still keeps 178 different weapon systems against the 30 of the United States.
Spain: From Full Commitment to a Redefinition
For Spain, the setback is particularly hard, because no partner had leaned into it as much. Madrid had ruled out purchasing the F‑35 precisely to focus its bet on the Eurofighter and FCAS, turning the program into a national choice about technological sovereignty. In the web of companies involved, Indra coordinated the national participation and led the sensors pillar, while the Spanish subsidiary of Airbus contributed its aeronautical know‑how and the SATNUS consortium (GMV, Sener Aeroespacial and Tecnobit) steered the accompanying drones developments. ITP Aero also participated in propulsion. In play was not only the industrial return but also access to stealth technologies, electronic warfare, AI applied to collaborative combat, and highly skilled jobs.
“Madrid rejected the purchase of the F-35 precisely to focus its bet on the Eurofighter and on FCAS”
That explains Robles’s tough stance, which targets the industry for putting economic interests ahead of Europe’s. In the same breath, her critique points to a paradox: the very industry blamed for the failure is the one now positioning itself for the next round.
The Definition Phase: The Germany–Spain Axis
FCAS has not died completely. The trinational program can agree to continue jointly developing the battle cloud, the digital nervous system that links aircraft, drones and sensors in a network and which its governments describe as the “core” of the program. Preserving that sovereign digital backbone would, in fact, be the most valuable asset of the wreck and a natural candidate to become a European project of common interest.
But the most significant move is another. After the rupture, Berlin offered to maintain cooperation with Spain, and both countries have moved from words to the agenda. On June 15 Robles and her counterpart, Boris Pistorius, discussed the FCAS future by videoconference and on Thursday the 18th they will meet in person in Brussels, on the margins of the Defense Ministers Council, to “explore pathways for a future sixth‑generation fighter.” The industry has already moved ahead: Indra, Airbus and ITP Aero signed on June 11 a declaration to lead the reconfiguration of the system with their German partners, and from SEPI there is a pledge to do “the possible” to ensure the fiasco does not undermine the autonomy of European defense. The options on the table are two: a new Spain–Germany-led program, possibly headed by Airbus, to which Saab, the Gripen manufacturer, could join; or entry into GCAP, which Spain and Germany might study as a Plan B.
“After the rupture, Berlin offered to maintain cooperation with Spain, and both countries have moved from words to the agenda”
The risk is obvious. A Germany–Spain axis with Airbus at the helm could be an opportunity to get things right for once, with shared requirements agreed before the distribution, a governance framework with credible arbitration, and a solid anchor in European frameworks; or it could reproduce exactly the same logic that just sank FCAS/NGWS, but with a different constellation of national champions that excludes parts of the domestic industry. The aerospace industrial strategy Germany unveiled at the Berlin show, which requires Airbus to co‑lead any future German combat program, is not reassuring on that front: it continues to speak the language of national industrial leadership before the needs of common operational requirements.
A Lesson Europe Cannot Afford to Waste
Despite everything, the collapse of FCAS does not prove European cooperation is doomed. Its value was substantial and symbolic, but European defense does not depend on a single program, and the real danger is not the crash itself but the temptation to respond with more renationalization: that each country saves its share — France with its own fighter, Germany and Spain with theirs — just as defense budgets rise and the opportunity to converge capabilities is greater than ever.
“As long as European defense programs are designed to split work among national champions rather than to meet a common military need, they will keep stalling”
The condition to seize that opportunity is to internalize the lesson that the minister Robles articulated without intending to: If defense programs are designed to split work among national champions rather than to meet a shared military need, they will continue to stall in IP, leadership and jobs. The definitional phase opening between Madrid and Berlin will be the first test of whether Europe has learned anything. If the new program arises from a real convergence of requirements and governance capable of enforcing discipline on the industry, FCAS will have at least served as a vaccine. If it is born again from distribution before strategy, we will not have buried a fighter: we will have confirmed that Europe still does not know how to defend itself.
