Bulgaria’s failing infrastructure turns it into a risk for NATO’s security

The war in Ukraine has forced Europe to take decisions that until recently seemed unthinkable: supplying weapons to an active war zone, planning for long-term military confrontation, and designing defence strategies measured not in decades but in days. This shift has brought to the fore a question long overlooked: to what extent does the real, physical infrastructure of the eastern flank allow such plans to be translated into action? In Bulgaria’s case, the answer runs through roads, tunnels and transport corridors that are no longer merely an economic or regional issue, but a component of NATO’s collective security.

The war in Ukraine has pushed the boundaries of what is politically acceptable in Europe, turning military decisions from an option of last resort into routine policy. Arms deliveries have become standard practice, the European Union has begun to think about its security in the context of a real war, and NATO has returned to planning measured in days and hours. Inevitably, this has also changed how Europe understands security – not as an abstract principle, but as a matter of readiness, infrastructure and time.

Official NATO documents articulate this shift unambiguously. In its assessment of the eastern flank, the Alliance states that “the security environment in the Euro-Atlantic area has fundamentally changed” and that Russia’s actions “have demonstrated its willingness to use military force to achieve political goals, requiring NATO to strengthen its deterrence and defence posture, particularly on the eastern flank of the Alliance.” The same document emphasises that NATO’s response focuses on “readiness, forward presence and the ability to rapidly reinforce Allies in case of a crisis,” which requires “not only military capabilities, but also resilient infrastructure and reliable lines of movement within national territories.”

This framework raises an uncomfortable question, rarely asked outside expert circles: what happens when allied forces need not only to arrive in Bulgaria, but to move quickly within the country – from its northern and southern borders to the Black Sea? What does Bulgarian territory look like when viewed not as a tourist map or an economic corridor, but as a space for military logistics?

North and South: the Balkan Range as a “point of failure”

The Balkan Range continues to be a physical and logistical barrier dividing Bulgaria into two halves, connected by only a handful of difficult mountain passes. In peacetime, this means slower travel and seasonal disruption. In the context of military mobility, however, it creates reliance on routes that can easily be closed by weather conditions, accidents, or deliberate interference.

Precisely such internal “bottlenecks” lie at the heart of the report Roads to Readiness: Military Mobility Infrastructure on NATO’s Eastern Flank, prepared by the international think tank GLOBSEC. The report notes that “military mobility is not limited to crossing borders,” but depends equally on “the ability to move forces rapidly within national territories, where mountains, bridges, tunnels and missing corridors often create the most serious obstacles.” According to the authors, if these internal constraints are not addressed, “NATO’s reinforcement timelines of five to seven days risk becoming unattainable,” since “infrastructure gaps within states can be just as disruptive as political or administrative barriers between them.”

Against this backdrop, the long-delayed tunnel project beneath Mount Shipka in central Bulgaria ceases to be merely a regional issue or a chronically postponed infrastructure debate. It becomes a strategic question. The tunnel would provide a year-round, predictable link between northern and southern Bulgaria, bypassing the most vulnerable sections of mountainous terrain – precisely the predictability that military mobility depends on.

This connection between infrastructure and defence has been repeatedly underlined by Bulgaria’s Chief of Defence, Admiral Emil Eftimov. In public statements, he has stressed that “infrastructure is no longer a secondary element of defence, but a core capability,” because “without reliable roads, bridges and tunnels, any planning remains theoretical.” According to him, “the speed of deployment depends directly on the condition and predictability of national transport networks,” meaning that infrastructure must be “treated as part of defence planning, not as a separate civilian issue.”

When corruption becomes a strategic risk

Geography, however, is only one side of the problem. The other is governance – specifically, how infrastructure projects in Bulgaria are planned, financed and executed. In this sense, the Hemus motorway, intended to link Sofia with the Black Sea city of Varna, is illustrative not only as a transport project, but as an example of how strategic infrastructure can become a chronic source of risk.

In May 2021, Bulgaria’s caretaker government ordered inspections of major infrastructure projects, including the Hemus motorway. For the first time, it was officially disclosed that large advance payments had been made through so-called in-house contracting via the state-owned company Avtomagistrali EAD, despite the absence of actual construction on the relevant sections. Hundreds of millions of leva were transferred to subcontractors without completed works, and part of the funds were withdrawn in cash without accountability. These facts were publicly announced by the Ministry of Finance, while the Interior Ministry and the prosecutor’s office launched investigations whose results have yet to be made public.

In wartime conditions, such a governance model has consequences far beyond purely economic losses. The GLOBSEC report is unequivocal that failures in military mobility often stem not only from missing infrastructure, but from “weak governance, fragmented responsibility and a lack of predictability in project delivery.” One of the report’s authors, former Slovak defence minister Martin Sklenár, emphasises that “the reliability of institutions is no less important than the physical condition of infrastructure,” because “when governments cannot ensure that strategic projects are completed on time and to the required standard, this directly affects collective defence planning.”

The Black Sea coast and the cost of a single day’s delay

The Black Sea region adds a third layer of vulnerability. Varna and Burgas are Bulgaria’s two largest ports and key nodes for logistics and force deployment, yet there is neither a motorway nor a high-speed rail connection between them, despite the fact that they are only about 120 kilometres apart. Movement along the coast remains slow and dependent on a road network not designed for the mass and rapid deployment of military units.

In Roads to Readiness, the Black Sea segment of NATO’s eastern flank is described as particularly sensitive due to the combination of maritime threats and limited land-based alternatives. The report highlights regional initiatives involving Romania, Bulgaria and Greece aimed at linking the Black Sea and the Aegean through reliable corridors, but notes that the Bulgarian section remains the least developed.

Here, the question “what does one day of delay cost?” takes on a concrete meaning. Official EU documents do not translate delays into euros, but treat them as a direct security risk. In a November 2025 resolution, the European Parliament states that “despite progress made, moving military equipment across the EU can still take more than a month,” which it describes as “unacceptable in a security environment where rapid reaction is essential.” The same document calls on the Union to ensure that troops can cross internal borders “within three days in peacetime and within 24 hours in a crisis,” since “military mobility is essential to enable the movement of allied forces in peace, crisis or war.”

Infrastructure as a political resource

In this sense, Bulgaria’s roads are no longer just infrastructure. They are part of Europe’s defence architecture. Bulgaria is not a weak link in NATO because of its geography or the size of its armed forces, but because for decades infrastructure has been treated as a political resource rather than a strategic asset.

This is not a moral judgement, but an analytical conclusion based on documents and expert assessments. That is why the questions surrounding the Shipka tunnel, the management of the Hemus motorway, or the absence of a Varna–Burgas motorway are neither regional nor partisan. They are a test of whether Bulgaria can be a reliable element of Europe’s and NATO’s collective security – or whether it will remain the place where well-designed strategies collide with the slow reality of poor governance. In times of war, such delays never remain without consequences.

This article is part of the Bulgaria International Journalism Fellowship (BIJF), and implemented by AUBG’s Center for Information, Democracy, and Citizenship (CIDC).

Caption: The never-ending construction of the Hemus motorway, intended to link Sofia with the Black Sea city of Varna, is illustrative not only as a transport project, but as an example of how strategic infrastructure can become a chronic source of risk. Photo by Tsvetelina Belutova, Dnevnik, EUalive partner