For much of the past decade, Europe has sleepwalked into vulnerability. Our collective gaze has lingered on tanks, missiles and jets, while the quieter revolution in drone warfare has surged overhead.

Drones — once the preserve of hobbyists — have become the weapon of choice for adversaries unwilling to risk soldiers’ lives yet determined to inflict damage, sow confusion, or simply send a warning.

Now that these small, cheap, and hard-to-track machines are breaching our airspace with increasing regularity, the European Union can no longer pretend the threat is abstract. A “drone wall” is not just desirable — it is essential.

The idea, first floated by Lithuania and now gathering momentum after the recent Russian drone incursions into Polish airspace, is straightforward. Ring Europe’s vulnerable eastern flank with a layered network of sensors, jammers and anti-drone weapons, backed by intelligence-sharing and rapid-response units. In doing so, Europe would finally begin to plug the gaping hole in its security architecture: the near-total absence of dedicated defences against unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs). If the EU is serious about defending its territory and citizens, there is no time to waste.

Critics scoff that the term “wall” is a misnomer, evoking concrete and barbed wire. In reality, the wall would be digital and dynamic — less Maginot Line, more air traffic control for hostile intruders. Yet the symbolism matters. Just as NATO’s forward deployments on the eastern frontier deter conventional aggression, a visible and credible drone shield would signal that Europe will not tolerate the creeping normalisation of foreign drones flitting through its skies. Deterrence works only when it is tangible.

The alternative is to accept that our borders are permeable. Consider how low-cost quadcopters have shaped battlefields in Ukraine: spotting artillery targets, dropping grenades on trenches, even disabling tanks by striking exposed components. If Russia, Iran or their proxies can do this on the cheap in wartime, they can just as easily probe Europe’s defences in peacetime. Already, unexplained drones have flown over Romanian and Polish territory, occasionally crashing with explosives still onboard. We have been lucky so far that none caused mass casualties. Counting on luck is not a plausible strategy.

Nor can Europe rely indefinitely on American protection. Washington’s security guarantees, though still formidable, are clouded by domestic fatigue with foreign entanglements. Donald Trump has openly questioned NATO’s Article 5 obligations. The mood in Congress is shifting: American patience for underwriting Europe’s security is not infinite. Building our own drone defences would be a concrete step toward the strategic autonomy so many EU leaders claim to desire, yet rarely pursue.

Admittedly, the project will be costly and complex. Harmonising legal frameworks on when and how to neutralise drones, integrating command structures across borders, and ensuring hardware interoperability are formidable tasks. But cost is relative. The EU has pledged €6 billion for joint drone initiatives with Ukraine — a sensible down-payment when one considers the billions of euros in potential damage a single successful drone attack could inflict on a power plant, chemical depot, or crowded stadium. Compared with rebuilding destroyed infrastructure or grappling with mass casualties, prevention is cheap.

Civil liberties concerns are valid but surmountable. A drone wall does not mean blanket surveillance of civilians. The focus would be on airspace anomalies, not personal data, and clear legal firewalls can be built to prevent abuse. Europe has shown it can balance security with privacy before — in counterterrorism intelligence-sharing, for instance — and it can do so again here. The greater threat to our liberties would be doing nothing and then panicking with draconian measures after a major drone attack.

Some will argue that building a drone wall risks escalating tensions with Russia. But deterrence is not escalation; it is stability. A Europe that cannot defend its airspace invites miscalculation. A Europe that can defend it credibly makes mischief less likely. Even Moscow understands strength — and preys on weakness. History shows that aggression thrives when the cost is low and the response uncertain. A functioning drone wall would raise the cost and clarify the response.

The most compelling reason to act, however, is psychological. Europeans have grown accustomed to safety. For decades, we have assumed that major security crises happen elsewhere. Drones are a rude awakening. They render borders porous and defences porous, and they exploit our complacency. Constructing a drone wall would jolt Europe out of its strategic slumber. It would demonstrate to allies, adversaries and Europeans themselves that the continent can still rouse itself to meet danger head-on.

Europe has spent too long debating its security in abstract seminars while adversaries innovate in the real world. The drone wall is not a silver bullet, but it is a start — a concrete, visible, practical start. The longer we dither, the more emboldened our rivals will become, and the harder it will be to catch up. Building this wall will not just defend Europe’s skies. It will defend Europe’s credibility. And that, in an era of fast-moving threats and fading guarantees, may be its most valuable function of all.

Main Image: By CeeGee – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=82382275