Today, the Czech Republic faces more than just external security threats. It faces a much more serious problem: the gradual, silent, and administratively legalized loss of control over its own digital nerve centers. Digital sovereignty is not weakened by enemy attacks, but by the decisions of its own state—without political pressure, without strategic debate, and often without a basic understanding of the security implications.

A state that does not control its data, digital infrastructure, and key technologies is not a sovereign state in the full sense of the word. It is an administrator of foreign systems, an operator of foreign platforms, and a hostage to foreign legal regimes. In such an environment, talk of strategic autonomy, defense capabilities, or crisis management is largely illusory.

Digital non-sovereignty poses a fundamental security risk precisely because it is invisible and long-term. It does not take the form of an attack, but rather "optimization," "outsourcing," and "modernization." Key state data is transferred outside its jurisdiction, decision-making processes are based on closed algorithms, and critical systems function as black boxes that the state cannot see into and over which it has no real control. In times of crisis, it becomes apparent that the speed, availability, and reliability of these systems are not in the hands of the state, but in the hands of external actors.

From a security perspective, this situation is unacceptable. Dependence on foreign cloud and software solutions creates a new type of vulnerability that can be exploited for political, economic, and strategic pressure. All it takes is a change in legislation in a foreign country, a decision by corporate management, or geopolitical escalation, and the state can lose access to key digital functions. This is not a hypothetical scenario, but a logical consequence of transferring control outside of one's own responsibility.

From a military and defense perspective, digital non-sovereignty is a fatal failure. An army that relies on infrastructure that is not fully under state control loses its ability to guarantee continuity of command and control. Today, digital systems form the backbone of logistics, intelligence, communication, and coordination with allies. If these systems are dependent on foreign technologies and foreign will, the defense of the state becomes conditional and potentially vulnerable to blackmail.

Hybrid conflicts clearly show that the digital space is the primary battlefield. Attacks on data centers, population registries, communication nodes, and information systems are not a supplement to kinetic operations, but a prerequisite for them. A state that enters such a conflict without digital sovereignty is weakened even before the first clash. In such a situation, one cannot speak of balanced deterrence, but of a structural disadvantage.

Particularly worrying is the fact that digital non-sovereignty is often justified by economic arguments. Cost, convenience, and speed of implementation have taken precedence over security. This is a strategic mistake. No state would entrust the protection of its airspace to a private foreign company without the possibility of intervention. Yet something similar is tolerated in the digital space, which is no less critical to the functioning of the state today.

Relying on alliance ties to resolve this weakness is a dangerous illusion. Allies can help, but they cannot replace a state's own ability to control its digital environment. A state that is unable to guarantee the basic functionality of its systems becomes a security risk for its partners as well. Digital non-sovereignty thus undermines not only national defense, but also credibility within NATO and the EU.

Digital sovereignty is not a question of the future, but of the present. Every additional decision that deepens technological dependence without security guarantees is a step toward limiting the political freedom of the state. These limitations will not manifest themselves immediately, but they will become apparent when pressure is applied—and by then, there will be no room for correction.

The Czech Republic faces an unpleasant reality: either it begins to understand digital sovereignty as a fundamental element of national defense, or it resigns itself to the role of a digitally subordinate actor. It is not a question of whether the state can afford it. It is a question of whether it can afford not to.

Digital sovereignty is not an abstract concept. It is the line between a state that makes decisions and a state that merely reacts to the decisions of others. And the Czech Republic is dangerously crossing that line.