Defense is most often imagined in the starkest of terms: soldiers in uniform, barracks filled with conscripts, and stockpiles of weapons designed not just to deter, but to destroy. In the modern imagination, a “defended” nation is one surrounded by walls, backed by military treaties, and prepared to meet violence with greater violence. Yet this assumption is already an act of submission to the logic of empire, which insists that security can only be bought through the instruments of domination. For Liechtenstein — a small principality pressed between empires past and present — this framing is more than misleading; it is deadly. A state of 40,000 cannot hope to stand militarily against millions, and to attempt to do so would be not defense but suicide. Dependence on larger powers such as Switzerland or NATO is often presented as the “practical alternative.” But what is this, except the surrender of sovereignty disguised as protection? To be dependent on a protector is to place one’s freedom at the mercy of another’s interests. Dependence is not defense; it is simply domination outsourced.
If we reject this imperial logic, then we must ask: what would it mean to defend a people without reproducing the violence of militarism? The Marxist-anarchist answer begins with a refusal to separate defense from community. A people cannot be defended by standing armies or war machines divorced from their daily life; they can only be defended when defense itself is embedded in their collective will and capacity for resistance. In practical terms, this means that true defense is not a matter of possessing more advanced weapons than the aggressor, but of cultivating social bonds so strong that domination becomes impossible to maintain. This does not mean passive surrender in the face of aggression. On the contrary, it means organizing a population so thoroughly in mutual aid, political education, and collective coordination that the very fabric of life resists occupation. Armies can march in, but they cannot rule a people who refuse to cooperate with their rule.
History provides us with ample evidence of the futility of small nations trying to imitate empires. The collapse of Czechoslovakia before Nazi Germany, despite its army and defenses, reminds us that militarization does not guarantee freedom when power imbalances are overwhelming. Yet history also reveals the surprising strength of organized civil populations. The example of Denmark during the Second World War — where widespread civil resistance, non-cooperation, and collective protection of Jewish citizens limited the effectiveness of German occupation — demonstrates that defense can take forms beyond traditional military strength. In the twentieth century, movements from India’s independence struggle to the resistance of Indigenous peoples against colonial governments have shown that domination is never absolute when populations refuse to consent to their own subjugation. These lessons are not about romanticizing weakness, but about recognizing that smallness, when combined with organization and solidarity, can produce forms of resilience far more enduring than armies built for conquest.
For Liechtenstein, smallness is often portrayed as a vulnerability. In the logic of capitalist nation-states, having fewer people, fewer resources, and no military industry makes a country “defenseless.” But smallness can just as easily be turned into a weapon of survival. A nation of under 40,000 has the potential to coordinate rapidly, to educate all of its members, and to build networks of resilience that would be impossible in larger, more fragmented societies. Defense here would not mean military conscription or the establishment of barracks, but instead universal participation in civic preparedness: the knowledge of how to sustain one another during crises, how to resist political coercion, and how to create a life so interconnected that domination cannot take hold without unraveling the entire fabric of daily existence.
This broad understanding of defense extends beyond the battlefield. It asks how a community protects itself from economic warfare, from political intimidation, and from cultural erasure. In an age where sanctions and financial coercion are often as devastating as bombs, Liechtenstein must prepare to defend itself economically. Not by joining the neoliberal institutions that enforce global dependency, but by fostering economic self-sufficiency, communal control of resources, and solidarity-based trade with other peoples resisting imperial domination. Defense here is inseparable from autonomy: the ability to survive, not by begging protection from larger states, but by standing firmly on one’s own communal foundation.
Furthermore, defense must also be internationalist. A small nation can never survive alone against global empires, but it can survive as part of a web of solidarity that stretches beyond borders. This does not mean aligning with NATO or with Moscow, both of which demand submission to their spheres of influence. Instead, it means cultivating connections with movements, communities, and nations who also seek to resist domination. The survival of the Paris Commune, even in memory, was not secured by its cannons, but by the inspiration it provided to workers and revolutionaries across the world. A free Liechtenstein must aim for this kind of solidarity: the knowledge that its struggle is not isolated, and that if it is attacked, the moral and political cost of its repression will resonate across continents.
Ultimately, the Marxist-anarchist view insists that defense is not simply the absence of attack. It is the preservation of dignity, autonomy, and freedom against all attempts at domination. Weapons may be seized, walls may be torn down, and treaties may be broken, but solidarity cannot be disarmed. If the people of Liechtenstein commit themselves to defense through community, mutual aid, and international solidarity, then they will not only survive — they will demonstrate a model of defense far more powerful than tanks or missiles. They will show that it is possible, even in a world ruled by empires, to be secure without becoming an empire oneself.
This is the meaning of defense without domination. It is not a retreat into pacifism, nor a naïve hope that the world will leave the weak untouched. It is, rather, the most serious kind of realism: the recognition that domination cannot be resisted by mimicking it. A small people cannot win by playing the game of empire, but they can win by refusing to play — by cultivating a strength that empire cannot match, the strength of a free and organized community.