The effective collapse of the Future Combat Air System (FCAS) fighter jet programme is a major setback for European defence cooperation.

France, Germany and Spain have spent nearly a decade trying to develop what was intended to become Europe’s premier next-generation combat aircraft, only for the programme to succumb to disputes over leadership, the distribution of work and intellectual property.

Yet Europeans shouldn’t be surprised. The history of European combat aviation is littered with programmes that struggled under the weight of competing national ambitions. In this respect, FCAS looks less like an extraordinary failure than the latest chapter in a recurring story.

The more important question is not why FCAS has run into trouble, but rather what its collapse reveals about Europe’s ability to generate and sustain the military capabilities it will need in a more dangerous world.

Adversaries are now investing heavily in integrated and layered air defences encompassing long-range missiles, electronic warfare capabilities and increasingly sophisticated sensors. Maintaining the ability to penetrate defended airspace in future conflicts will require a step change in capability.

FCAS was conceived as a “sixth-generation” combat system – the latest leap in fighter jet technology – to overcome this contested air environment. At its centre would sit a new combat aircraft, supported by autonomous drones, advanced sensors, electronic warfare systems and a digital network linking everything together from the 2040s.

The challenge is that such programmes are becoming extraordinarily expensive to develop. By sharing costs, expertise and industrial capacity, European governments hope to achieve capabilities that would otherwise be beyond their reach.

Reality check

Despite the perceived commonalities, the FCAS nations – France and Germany in particular – had very different objectives.

For France, the project was never simply about replacing its Rafale fighter jet. Any successor aircraft would eventually have to support the airborne component of France’s nuclear deterrent, operate from its aircraft carrier, and preserve sovereign industrial capabilities – specifically the ability to independently design and build advanced combat aircraft. The insistence by France on design leadership for FCAS therefore reflected concerns about national autonomy, even if portrayed as industrial obstinacy.

Meanwhile Germany, represented by the aerospace giant Airbus, had little interest in financing a programme that was likely to concentrate Europe’s most valuable expertise, intellectual property and design authority in Dassault, the French aerospace company, for decades to come.

These tensions are hardly new. In the 1960s, Britain and France attempted to build the Anglo-French Variable Geometry aircraft. But France’s withdrawal in 1967, for similar reasons to FCAS, led to the project’s collapse.

Other joint European projects have succeeded. For instance, the Panavia Tornado. And in the 1980s, the Eurofighter consortium was developed. This time, despite France withdrawing (to produce the Rafale), the UK, Germany and Italy proceeded (with Spain later joining) with what would become the Eurofighter Typhoon.

Reliance on America

For decades, therefore, European collaborative programmes have been expected to do several things at once: deliver military capability and sustain national industries while strengthening diplomatic relationships or at least not upsetting them.

That may have been a manageable compromise when Europe’s security was underwritten by the United States and the threat from Russian appeared contained. It is far harder to justify when European governments are warning that the continent must rearm.

The challenge is compounded by the changing relationship between governments and industry. Unlike Airbus, which remains partly state-owned, Dassault is controlled by the family that bears its name.

This reflects a broader trend of European governments often exercising less influence over major defence firms than they did during the cold war, when state ownership and greater industrial competition gave them more leverage. This is to say nothing of the tech firms increasingly fundamental to military capability.

That matters because armed forces are built over decades, not electoral cycles. If European governments struggle to mobilise industry to meet their defence requirements, they may find themselves confronting capability gaps at precisely the moment they are trying to deter aggression.

Germany’s defence minister, Boris Pistorious, has already outlined three alternatives to FCAS. The first and simplest is to buy more F-35s from the US. But this would fall short of Germany’s requirements while also deepening dependence on the US – something European nations are keen to avoid.

The second option is to join another collaboration, most likely the UK-Italian-Japanese effort to build a sixth-generation fighter, called the Global Combat Air Programme (GCAP). Germany’s growing defence budget could provide the project with additional funding and a larger order book. But it would also raise questions about influence.

If Berlin rejected a subordinate role within FCAS, it is unlikely to accept one within GCAP. Existing partners may therefore conclude that the benefits of expansion are outweighed by the risks of delay to a programme targeting entry into service by 2035.

The third option is a German-led effort, being discussed through the proposed Team Gen 6 industrial grouping – an Airbus-led alliance of eight defence firms. This would solve industry concerns, preserve German design ambitions and might allow Berlin to build a coalition with other partners, such as Spain and Sweden.

But it could be prohibitively expensive, risky, and by further fragmenting Europe’s already crowded combat aircraft landscape, reduce the viability of all the existing programmes. France faces similarly difficult choices. It can pursue a national successor to Rafale, preserving control over industrial, nuclear and carrier requirements but accepting substantial costs. Or it could seek a revised collaborative framework.

In the meantime, both French president Emmanuel Macron and Germany’s chancellor Friedrich Merz have made clear that other opportunities for collaboration exist, such as the drones intended to support the FCAS fighter jet, or the main aircraft’s engine.

The experience of FCAS is not that Europe cannot cooperate. History shows otherwise, and GCAP may yet again demonstrate that a pragmatic coalition can succeed where a more politically ambitious partnership failed.

What FCAS does reveal, however, is a growing mismatch between Europe’s security environment, the way it continues to procure defence equipment and the costs involved. The recent resignation of Britain’s defence secretary, John Healey, amid disputes over defence funding, points to the same problem.

European governments increasingly agree on the threats they face, but remain “unwilling” to make the financial and political compromises required to address them. That should concern us all.

Arun Dawson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

A single dose of psilocybin eased symptoms of depression within days, with benefits lasting for more than three months compared to placebo, our new study has found.

The study, published in the journal JAMA Network Open involved 35 people with recurring depression. We randomly assigned participants to either receive psilocybin or a placebo. The placebo (vitamin B3) mimicked some physical effects of the psychedelic, such as temporary skin flushing.

Both groups also received psychological support before, during and after dosing.

Although several studies have explored psilocybin for depression, many have focused on people whose symptoms had not responded to other treatments (so-called “treatment-resistant depression”). We wanted to test whether the drug could also help people with more common forms of depression.

At just eight days, those who received psilocybin showed noticeable improvements in mood. And by the end of the six-week follow-up period, more than half of participants in the psilocybin group no longer met the criteria for depression. In the placebo group, only one person showed the same level of improvement.

The treatment was generally well tolerated, although two participants experienced anxiety that lasted for several weeks.

We followed participants for a full year to understand how long the benefits might last. The benefits in the psilocybin group lasted for just over three months on self-rated outcomes. After that, the gap between the two groups began to narrow as the placebo group also improved. This is not unusual. Depression often comes in waves, and symptoms can ease over time without treatment.

Just over a third of participants in both groups started antidepressant medication in the follow-up period, on average about four months after the start of the trial.

The problem of blinding

One major challenge was “blinding” – preventing participants from knowing whether they had received psilocybin or a placebo. Despite using identical capsules and an active placebo, almost all participants correctly guessed which treatment they had received, largely because psilocybin produces a distinctive and unmistakable altered state.

That matters because expectations can shape outcomes. For participants who received psilocybin, the strong effects on the dosing day may have amplified hopes that the treatment would help. For those who received a placebo and felt no such effects, expectations may instead have turned into disappointment. Neither response is neutral when people later report their mood and symptoms.

People generally feel somewhat better simply from taking part in a trial, even if they are in the placebo group. They receive attention, support and regular follow-up. But previous research suggests that people given a placebo in psilocybin studies often improve less than people given a placebo in traditional antidepressant trials. We saw a similar pattern.

If placebo groups in psilocybin trials do not improve in the usual way, the gap between psilocybin and placebo can become larger, making the drug’s effect look bigger than it really is.

Taken together, our findings add to evidence that psilocybin may offer a fast-acting and relatively long-lasting treatment for depression, including for people with more common forms of the condition, not only those with treatment-resistant depression. These are qualities that could make a real difference for patients.

At the same time, they underline a central challenge for the field: how to disentangle the drug’s biological effects from the powerful role of expectation and experience. Answering that question will be crucial for understanding where psilocybin fits into future mental health care.

The trial was funded by the Swedish Research Council and the Foundation Norrsken Mind.

Johan Lundberg receives funding from The Swedish Research Council, The Swedish Brain Foundation, The Swedish Cancer Society and Norrsken Mind. Dr Lundberg reported receiving a personal fee from Jansen Cilag outside the submitted work.