Even superpowers depend on global supply chains. The real prize? Setting the rules others follow.
A structural and widespread phenomenon
Over the past decade, the concept of “technological sovereignty” has evolved similarly to other significant geopolitical terms: initially tied to specific sectors—reflecting some nations’ efforts to maintain strategically independent industrial capabilities, from nuclear deterrence to computing supply networks—it has now broadened to cover the full range of dual-use digital technologies. By 2025–2026, this idea has become a central pillar of industrial policy for many countries, including the United States, China, South Korea, India, Gulf states, and key regional alliances. Academic perspectives vary between viewing sovereignty as independent technological capability versus a network built on dependable external partnerships. Yet, no nation fully embraces either approach exclusively: even major powers like the United States and China operate within semiconductor ecosystems that spread crucial expertise across American design, Taiwanese manufacturing, Japanese materials, Asian packaging, and Dutch machinery—neither exerts full control over the entire chain.
This inherent ambiguity reflects a structural reality rather than a theoretical gap. Using Schmitt’s framework, each actor aims to become a Grossraum—a territorial order with its own technological governance—but rarely possesses either the fully integrated industrial infrastructure or the political unity to enforce such governance beyond its borders. Consequently, sovereignty is inevitably relative and negotiated. Its effectiveness hinges less on mere resource volumes and more on the ability to leverage interdependence as a bargaining advantage rather than suffer it as a limitation—the so-called “sovereignty through indispensability,” distinct from full production self-reliance.
The intensity of technological reliance differs by bloc but remains similar in kind. China, despite investing heavily to boost self-sufficiency, has fallen short of its own targets: the 2016 National Plan for Integrated Circuits sought 70% microchip independence by 2025 but missed it by about 37 points; a March 2026 plan revised the goal to 80% by 2030, starting from 41%. Beijing has also committed roughly $295 billion over five years to develop a domestic AI data center network, mandating at least 80% of technologies—such as accelerators—be sourced from local providers like Huawei. Meanwhile, India’s India Semiconductor Mission has greenlit thirteen initiatives, including its inaugural front-end manufacturing facility by Tata Electronics alongside Dutch firm ASML, plus a $730 million National Quantum Mission targeting quantum computing leadership by 2031.
On the AI front, South Korea exemplifies a unique route toward “autonomy” that differs from China’s push for self-sufficiency or mere reliance: with $6.8 billion in public funding in 2026, contracts to acquire 260,000 latest-generation Nvidia GPUs, and over $540 billion from large corporations like Samsung, Hyundai, SK, and LG for data centers, chips, and AI development—this approach embraces U.S. technology but reintegrates it within national platforms. Gulf nations, led by Saudi Arabia and the UAE, have instead prioritized access to computing capacity rather than production. Authorized by the U.S. to procure advanced GPUs, they are becoming regional computing hubs; Abu Dhabi complements this with new sovereign wealth funds aimed at technology and defense sectors. Here, heavy foreign supplier dependency—for products, services, and key digital infrastructure—such as the Western bloc’s over 80% dependence, involving an annual expenditure near 264 billion euros, is less an outlier than a consistent trait of this era, intensified by the rapid AI race worldwide.
The case of semiconductors
The semiconductor industry clearly illustrates the variety of strategies related to technological sovereignty. Numerous state and regional initiatives—in the U.S., Europe, South Korea, Japan, and China—have set ambitious market share or self-reliance goals, often falling well short. One leading Western program aimed to double market share by 2030, a goal independent analysts regard as “highly unlikely,” projecting outcomes at less than half the target. China contrasts Western tax incentive methods with direct government equity stakes and a state-driven industrial strategy under its 15th Five-Year Plan, striving for advanced 7- and 5-nanometer process technologies while localizing machinery, materials, and design tools. A 2025 event revealed vulnerabilities even among the strongest supply chain links: U.S. pressure on the Netherlands to limit ASML exports—holding a monopoly on extreme ultraviolet lithography—led to a freeze on a Chinese semiconductor company’s operations, to which Beijing retaliated by restricting parts exports to Western carmakers, highlighting how interdependence quickly transforms into mutual leverage.
Medium-sized players are testing mixed models in this arena. India enhances its position via selective technology partnerships—the Tata-ASML collaboration at Dholera exemplifies this—rather than pursuing wholly domestic chains. Meanwhile, Gulf states have chosen to build influence through preferential computing infrastructure access and bilateral partnerships, such as the growing UAE-India cooperation on technology, energy, and defense. As per the Bruegel analysis mentioned earlier, the shared goal across these trajectories isn’t full self-sufficiency—which is unrealistic in such a globally specialized and interdependent sector, even among superpowers—but control over crucial technological segments that render an actor indispensable within the global supply network.
Sovereignty through indispensability: the constraints of technological alliances
The primary challenge facing any technological sovereignty effort is not only quantitative but fundamentally geopolitical. In December 2025, the United States initiated “Pax Silica,” a program aimed at synchronizing strategic AI supply chains—including semiconductors, critical minerals, computing resources, and energy—among allied nations, seeking to curb China’s access to key technologies. By June 2026, several European and Asian countries formalized participation. This highlights a persistent paradox in technology alliances: participants intend to lessen critical dependencies, yet they do so by entering an order centered and led by a dominant hegemon within a geographic scope set by the leadership. This imbalance becomes clearer with the MATCH Act, under consideration in the U.S. Congress in 2026, proposing alignment of allied export controls with U.S. standards for semiconductor equipment, backed by threats of unilateral measures if gaps persist.
A striking example of this structural fragility occurred in June 2026 when a U.S. directive, citing cybersecurity concerns, forced the shutdown of Anthropic’s Fable 5 and Mythos 5 AI models for all international users, disrupting healthcare systems, government bodies, and intelligence agencies in multiple countries relying on these technologies. This episode reveals the “kill switch” scenario referenced in several national strategic documents: the possibility that a foreign government could unilaterally sever access to essential civilian or military infrastructure, irrespective of data or server location. Unsurprisingly, while many nations participate in U.S.-led multilateral efforts, they are simultaneously establishing tiered digital sovereignty policies for public procurement—excluding foreign firms from sensitive industries like defense and healthcare—to safeguard critical infrastructure. This creates a form of sovereignty—aptly described metaphorically in journalism as “subscription-based”—rather than fully autonomous.
internal Fragmentation: a problem common to all composite actors
Beyond external dependencies, major technological blocs also wrestle with internal coordination issues. This challenge is not limited to large supranational bodies with numerous members: even expanded arrangements like BRICS—which have grown in influence through new members in sectors like energy and logistics—face fragmentation. Diverse priorities complicate cooperation: India and China have differing trade goals, while Saudi Arabia and Iran hold separate national interests despite sharing the forum—making technological and industrial alignment harder exactly when scale becomes crucial for global competition. Lacking unified leadership, nations often pursue parallel rather than coordinated paths: numerous governments deploy AI assistants designed internally; others commission domestic security data analytics; some build cloud systems labeled “sovereign” for healthcare and legal data—efforts replicated worldwide with minor distinctions.
On the regulatory level, the same tension between safeguarding digital rights and fostering innovation pervades various institutional frameworks: internal fragmentation owing to numerous sector-specific laws and hundreds of regulators across jurisdictions leads to increased compliance burdens and reduces the accessible market size for emerging tech companies—especially detrimental at a moment when scale and market integration are key competitive advantages for mature ecosystems.
Technological sovereignty remains relative; every nation—including the two leading tech powers—depends on others to some extent, with economic interdependence entrenched and likely to deepen as political factors limit cooperation [2]. What has shifted recently is the degree to which this reliance is strategically leveraged: from U.S. restrictions on advanced chip exports to the unilateral shutdown of AI model access, from Chinese countermeasures affecting automotive parts to new U.S.-led technology alliance frameworks, interdependence increasingly serves as a geopolitical tool rather than a neutral market element—impacting both major and mid-level players in different ways.
No country seems positioned to achieve full technological independence anytime soon: even those with vast resources—China’s industrial base and America’s financial and technological strengths—remain reliant on crucial global supply nodes they cannot completely control, such as the Dutch dominance in EUV lithography and Asian material suppliers. Thus, the core challenge for any state involved in this contest is not the unrealistic binary between total autonomy and complete dependence, but rather the capacity to turn indispensability into shared normative authority: to participate in shaping global technology standards even without industrial supremacy. Within this limited yet meaningful space lies the opportunity for each regional pole—be it Western, Asian, Middle Eastern, or Eurasian—to maintain autonomy in an increasingly multipolar world order rather than serve solely as a battleground for others’ technological rivalries.
About the Author
