In the increasingly complex world of European commerce, changing a company name can sometimes be more than just a branding decision. For some, it’s a lifeline. For others, a means of escape. And in certain cases, it raises sharp questions about transparency, public trust and regulatory oversight.
Across the European Union, the practice of corporate rebirth through name changes, asset transfers or fresh legal entities has become a subtle but consequential strategy. In some instances, it is used to outrun financial liabilities, reputational damage or sanctions — often while preserving the core business, the same executives, and even identical product lines. The result: a new face for an old operation,
harder to trace, and often harder to hold accountable.
A legal grey zone — or an administrative blind spot?
European commercial law allows the creation of new legal entities, even after bankruptcy, as long as the procedures are respected. This flexibility supports entrepreneurship and helps restart economic activity. But when the new company is essentially the same as the one it replaces — minus the debt or disciplinary baggage — regulators face a serious challenge.
Take, for example, the case of ANGATEC in France. The company emerged in 2021, shortly after the liquidation of TECDRON, which had manufactured firefighting robots. Despite the new name, much remained the same: the robot (renamed but technically identical), the promotional materials, and the executive team. TECDRON had previously been disqualified from a major public procurement contract by the Paris Fire Brigade for submitting misleading technical data. Yet its new avatar, ANGATEC, was soon back on the trade fair circuit, pitching the same machine under a new name. The French case illustrates a broader issue that crosses borders.
In a matter of days, Tecdron turned into Angatec
Italy, Germany, and the ghost firms of construction
In Italy, the construction and subcontracting sectors are fertile ground for what officials have dubbed “aziende fantasma” — ghost firms that vanish in the wake of scandals, unpaid debts or labour violations, only to reappear weeks later under a different S.R.L. number. The 2023 investigation by Il Sole 24 Ore into southern Italian roadworks highlighted a chain of companies, each registered to the same address in Naples, cycling through names while maintaining contracts and avoiding fines.
Germany, often seen as stricter, is not immune either. In Berlin, a digital marketing agency accused in 2020 of mass billing fraud under COVID-19 subsidies filed for insolvency, then relaunched six months later under a new GmbH name, retaining the same client base and key personnel. Because the legal entity had changed, German federal prosecutors were limited in what they could pursue. Critics say the system, while robust on paper, can’t easily catch companies playing legal musical chairs.
Disparate regulatory frameworks
Part of the issue lies in the fragmented nature of business oversight across the EU. Corporate registries are national, not pan-European. While tools like the EU’s Business Registers Interconnection System (BRIS) aim to unify data, cross-border verification remains inconsistent. A company struck off in Romania may be reborn in Hungary within days, without any automatic red flag.
Public procurement rules vary too. While the EU’s directives call for exclusions of companies guilty of fraud or misrepresentation, enforcement relies on national declarations. A supplier barred in Spain for collusion could theoretically bid in Slovakia unless authorities proactively check the entity’s past — a check made more difficult when names and numbers change.
The consequences for public trust and fair competition
The opacity enabled by these practices has tangible consequences. When companies can wipe the slate clean without disclosing continuity, competitors are disadvantaged and public institutions may unknowingly sign contracts with firms previously deemed unreliable.
The European Anti-Fraud Office (OLAF) has raised concerns, especially in sectors benefiting from EU funds, such as green tech, construction, and digital education. In its 2022 report, OLAF noted several cases where the same beneficial owners operated successive companies that each went bankrupt shortly after receiving public subsidies.
What can be done?
Some countries are beginning to push back. Denmark has implemented tighter controls on new company registrations, cross-referencing board members with previous entities. Belgium now requires declarations of past directorships in public tender forms. And France, in high-risk sectors like vocational training, has developed algorithms to detect re-emergent patterns among applicants for state funding.
But experts argue that a more harmonised EU-wide approach is necessary. One proposal under discussion in Brussels is to establish a shared due diligence platform for all public procurement, linked to a centralised record of directors and company lineages. Another is to require declarations of continuity — not just legal ownership, but functional and operational resemblance.
The fine line between reinvention and deception
It’s important to acknowledge that not all name changes or relaunches are suspect. Entrepreneurs deserve a second chance, and failure is part of the innovation cycle. But when name changes are used to evade accountability, to reenter markets under false pretenses, or to bypass restrictions, they compromise the integrity of the entire economic system.
As Europe doubles down on transparency, digitalisation and cross-border commerce, the hidden practice of corporate rebirth under a new name is likely to come under greater scrutiny. For now, regulators and journalists alike must follow not just the money, but the signatures, the invoices, and sometimes — the ghost of a logo past.
