Europe doesn’t have an innovation problem, it just doesn’t excite the right people

A few of weeks ago DeepSeek was all over the tech news, and the memes were flowing. “The US gave us ChatGPT, China gave us DeepSeek, Europe gave us caps attached to plastic bottles.” “America invents, China scales, Europe regulates.” Cheeky jabs you’ve probably heard, and maybe even nodded to. They paint a neat picture, a global division of labour that makes Europe sound good at writing rules, and bad at making things happen.

They’re wrong. Or rather, they’re misleading. Europe doesn’t have an innovation problem; it has an excitement problem. At least, that’s how it looks from the perspective of a certain kind of tech enthusiast—the ones who worship at the altar of venture capital, get all fired up about the next big “unicorn”, and of course cannot stop talking about AI. To them, innovation means moonshots, disruption, and headlines that sound like the plot of a sci-fi novel. By that metric, Europe comes off as slow, bureaucratic, boring.

A big part of the misconception comes from a fundamental difference in how innovation is structured. In the US, the playbook is fairly linear: get VC funding, scale aggressively, worry about regulations—or consequences—later.

That model works brilliantly for apps, gadgets, or consumer tech. In fields like healthcare, materials science, biotech, energy or infrastructure—areas where Europe is strong—you can’t just blitz your way to success. These fields require deep expertise, rigorous testing, and (yes) regulation. A startup promising to “disrupt” aerospace manufacturing isn’t going to win much sympathy when a plane falls out of the sky.

This doesn’t mean Europe doesn’t take risks. It means those risks are calculated, long-term, and often deeply intertwined with public funding. And while that might not make for the sexiest pitch deck, it does create breakthroughs that matter. And while it’s true that Europe doesn’t have a Google, an Apple, or an Amazon—no European company has reached that level of platform dominance—maybe that’s not the best metric for success.

Instead, look at some examples of what Europe does have:

• ASML, the Dutch company that makes the world’s most advanced semiconductor lithography machines—without which no modern chip could be produced.
• ARM, the British chip design firm whose technology is in practically every smartphone.
• BioNTech, the German biotech firm that played a massive role in developing the first COVID-19 mRNA vaccine.
• SAP, the enterprise software giant that quietly powers a huge portion of global business operations.
• Siemens, a technology conglomerate focused on industry, infrastructure, transport, and healthcare.
• Destination Earth (DestinE), one of the several European Commission exciting projects—this one’s goal is to create a real-time digital twin of Earth for climate modelling and disaster prevention.

These aren’t consumer tech giants, but they’re essential. They shape industries rather than headlines. They may not have the Silicon Valley swagger, but their impact is undeniable.

At the heart of this debate there is a significant cultural divide. Silicon Valley measures success in unicorns, disruption, and market caps. European innovation is often slower, more deliberate, and rooted in collaboration between public and private sectors. That’s not a weakness—it’s a different philosophy.

If you define innovation as “which company IPOs the fastest,” then sure, Europe might seem behind. But if you define it as “which region is making fundamental advances in science, engineering, and sustainability,” then Europe is very much up there.

Maybe the real problem isn’t Europe’s innovation. Maybe it’s just that the world’s loudest tech voices are looking in the wrong place.