If Europe needed a symbol of its belated awakening to the new age of great-power competition, it could do worse than the news that Airbus, Thales and Leonardo — the continent’s aerospace titans — are preparing to fuse their satellite operations into a single joint venture, provisionally dubbed “Project Bromo”.

According to executives at Airbus Defence & Space, a framework agreement on Project Bromo could be signed by the end of 2025. For an industry long accused of fragmentation, duplication, and parochial bickering, this would be nothing short of revolutionary.

The ambition is unmistakable. Europe, bruised by its dependence on American rockets, Asian supply chains and patchwork national budgets, wants a heavyweight space and communications player to compete on equal terms with Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Northrop Grumman and even the muscular newcomers like Elon Musk’s SpaceX. The logic is straightforward: space has become the backbone of both modern warfare and the digital economy. Whoever controls the satellites controls not just the skies, but the flows of data, trade and surveillance that underpin twenty-first century power.

A fragmented empire of the sky

Europe’s satellite sector today resembles a collection of medieval fiefdoms. France’s Thales Alenia Space builds sophisticated communications and observation platforms. Italy’s Leonardo brings niche expertise in optics and space electronics. Airbus Defence & Space, spread across Germany, France, Spain and the UK, supplies everything from launch structures to satellite buses. Each jealously guards its own contracts and national subsidies. Each is hampered by the stop-start funding that characterises EU industrial policy.

This fragmentation might have been tolerable in an earlier era when satellites were bespoke, slow-moving projects commissioned largely for civilian use. But the world has moved on. The Ukraine war has demonstrated how decisive real-time satellite imagery and communications are for military operations. SpaceX’s Starlink constellation has made Europe’s capabilities look antique by comparison. China, meanwhile, is pouring state subsidies into a swarm of dual-use satellites that blur the line between civilian and military. The Americans are building vast networks of low-orbit satellites that can be replaced at speed if attacked.

Europe, by contrast, still builds satellites like cathedral clocks — magnificent, costly, and years in the making. The result is a dangerous strategic gap. Even Brussels now concedes that Europe lacks secure, resilient satellite communications for its armed forces and has limited launch capacity. “Project Bromo” is the answer being whispered in the corridors of Paris, Rome and Berlin: a single European space champion with the scale, financing and political backing to match the global giants.

Industrial logic and political arithmetic

From a business standpoint, the industrial logic is sound. Consolidation would reduce duplication, pool research budgets, and create economies of scale. Airbus, Thales and Leonardo have each struggled to maintain profitability in their space divisions, which are capital-intensive and subject to wild swings in government demand. Combining their satellite operations could create a firm with the heft to invest in the new frontier of mass-produced low-earth orbit (LEO) satellites, where the future lies.

It would also offer a united front in export markets. At present, European firms often undercut each other when bidding for contracts in the Middle East, Asia and Africa, driving down margins. A single entity could avoid such cannibalism and wield far greater leverage with suppliers. Analysts estimate that together, Airbus, Thales and Leonardo could command a market share approaching that of Lockheed Martin in satellites — something no European firm could dream of alone.

Yet the political arithmetic may prove trickier than the engineering. Europe has been down this road before. The creation of Airbus itself half a century ago was a triumph of Franco-German political will, but also a saga of turf wars, national quotas and endless wrangling over headquarters, language and supply chains. Similar spats dogged the consolidation of Europe’s defence industry in the 1990s. Project Bromo will inevitably ignite the same instincts: Paris will want control; Rome will demand guarantees of Italian jobs; Berlin will insist on a rotating CEO. The risk is that what should be a nimble commercial player is shackled by the compromises of political horse-trading.

The Brussels factor

Then there is the question of Brussels. The European Commission has declared space a “strategic autonomy” priority, which sounds encouraging. But anyone who has watched its industrial interventions knows that “support” often means regulatory entanglement and bureaucratic inertia. EU competition law could yet slow or scupper the merger, especially if rival firms cry foul. There will be arguments about state aid, procurement rules, and whether a giant Airbus-Thales-Leonardo satellite conglomerate would distort the market.

Moreover, the Commission’s instinct is always to demand “European” governance structures, often at the expense of commercial agility. That tendency already hobbled the Galileo satellite navigation system, which arrived years late and far over budget. If Project Bromo is to succeed, it will require something alien to the Brussels machine: speed, risk-taking and a tolerance for failure. None of these are qualities for which EU institutions are famed.

Strategic necessity and the shadow of war

Yet for all the bureaucratic hurdles, the strategic imperative is hard to ignore. The war in Ukraine has made Europe acutely conscious of its vulnerabilities. Without American satellites, Ukrainian forces would be effectively blind. The conflict has also shown how quickly satellites can be jammed, spoofed or destroyed — and how vital it is to have redundant systems ready to replace them. The United States has been quietly urging its European allies to shoulder more of the burden in space, both to relieve pressure on American assets and to create a more resilient NATO architecture.

Europe’s dependence on U.S. space infrastructure is no longer just embarrassing; it is a security liability. If Washington were to pivot attention to the Indo-Pacific or if a future U.S. administration grew more isolationist, Europe could find itself dangerously exposed. A unified European satellite champion would at least begin to plug that gap.

Risks of monopolistic complacency

Still, even if the political stars align, success is not guaranteed. Mergers on this scale can breed complacency and bloat. A monopoly player may become sluggish and risk-averse, especially if shielded from competition by cosy government contracts. The fear is that Project Bromo could become another Euro-bureaucratic giant: too big to fail, too slow to innovate, and prone to squandering billions on prestige projects.

There is also the danger of cultural clash. Airbus’s corporate culture is Franco-Germanic, hierarchical and process-heavy. Thales, though also French, is more engineering-driven and cautious. Leonardo is Italian, entrepreneurial and politically enmeshed in Rome’s defence establishment. Integrating these into a coherent, agile company will be a managerial Everest. History suggests it will take years before any synergies materialise — years Europe may not have if geopolitical tensions continue to mount.

The balance between ambition and realism

For all that, the case for trying is persuasive. Europe has spent decades bemoaning its lack of “strategic autonomy” while relying on American technology and Asian supply chains. The global satellite market is entering a transformative phase, driven by miniaturisation, AI, and the fusion of military and commercial applications. If Europe does not act now, it risks permanent relegation to the second division.

Project Bromo offers a rare chance to break the cycle of fragmentation. If it succeeds, it could anchor a broader consolidation of Europe’s defence-industrial base, and even serve as a model for other sectors where Europe lags. But success will require ruthless clarity of purpose, not the woolly compromises that so often characterise EU grand projects.

A moment of decision

The coming months will therefore be decisive. Airbus, Thales and Leonardo must not allow Project Bromo to be smothered in bureaucracy or diluted by national ego. They must persuade Brussels to grant them the freedom to act like a commercial company rather than a public utility. And Europe’s governments must decide whether they truly want a space champion, or merely the appearance of one.

For if Europe cannot unite even in the heavens, it will have little hope of defending its interests on Earth.