Capitalism begins from a simple assumption: resources can be owned. Land can belong to an individual. A factory can belong to a corporation. Software can belong to a company. Data can become an asset. Knowledge can be enclosed behind intellectual property. Anarchist politics begins by asking a different question: What if some things should belong to everyone? A commons is a resource collectively governed by the people who depend upon it. Its participants establish rules for access, maintenance and use rather than simply handing control to an owner or distant authority. The commons offers an alternative to both private ownership and centralised state control. This idea can be applied far beyond traditional common land. Housing can also become a commons. Community land trusts and cooperative housing models separate land from speculative ownership and allow residents to collectively govern their homes. The objective is not to make housing free of responsibility. Residents still maintain buildings, pay costs and establish rules. The difference is that housing becomes a collectively governed social resource rather than primarily an investment asset. Urban infrastructure could follow the same logic. Community energy systems, shared workshops, local transport networks and neighbourhood gardens can all operate through collective management. Publicly funded research could produce technologies available for collective use rather than being enclosed behind permanent commercial ownership. Digital knowledge can also become a commons. Open-source software already demonstrates how large communities can build sophisticated technological systems without conventional corporate ownership. Contributors cooperate across borders, improve shared infrastructure and make their work available to others. Digital technology could also make some forms of commons governance easier. Transparent records, open-source tools, and distributed decision-making systems can help communities coordinate across geographical boundaries. NASA image on Unsplash The same principle could extend to artificial intelligence. Instead of allowing advanced computational resources and models to become concentrated entirely within a few corporations, communities could develop open AI infrastructure governed through transparent rules. But technology cannot replace political participation, since a commons is not simply a database or a platform, not just an economic arrangement, but a political relationship. People who use a commons participate in governing it. This is unlike the relationship between citizen and institution. Instead of receiving services passively from either corporations or governments, people are active participants in maintaining commons and governing shared systems. There are obvious challenges. Commons can be badly managed. Communities can exclude outsiders. Participation can become dominated by particularly powerful members. Rules can become complicated. These problems do not invalidate the concept, but demonstrate that collective ownership requires institutions. Anarchism means no rulers, not having no rules. It means creating rules without permanently concentrating power in a ruling authority. The deeper significance of the commons is that it challenges the assumption that every useful resource must have a conventional owner. Some things can be collectively governed because people depend upon them together. The future of radical politics may therefore involve expanding the territory between private property and state ownership. More land can become community-governed. More knowledge can become openly accessible. More technology can become collectively controlled. More infrastructure can become locally governed. The commons offers a simple but radical proposition: Not everything valuable needs an owner. Some things can belong to everyone precisely because no individual owns them. The post The politics of the commons appeared first on Freedom Press.

Domènec Ruiz Devesa is a senior researcher at Barcelona Centre for International Affairs and a former member of the European Parliament. Emiliano Alessandri is an affiliated researcher at Austrian Institute for International Affairs. When NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte told the European Parliament the continent can’t defend itself without the U.S., and that those who think otherwise should “keep dreaming,” he did more than just describe Europe’s military dependence — he turned that dependence into a political doctrine. He also positioned himself not so much as the head of an alliance of would-be equals but as the spokesperson of Europe’s strategic resignation. Rutte’s view of European defense follows a familiar but increasingly untenable logic: Nuclear deterrence equals U.S. protection; U.S. protection equals European security; therefore, European strategic sovereignty is an illusion. But this chain of reasoning is far more fragile than it sounds. First of all, even though Europe’s overall strategic stability does depend on nuclear deterrence, most real-world security challenges in the Euro-Atlantic space — from hybrid operations to limited conventional scenarios — have and will continue to develop well below the nuclear threshold. This is something NATO’s own deterrence posture recognizes. And overstating the nuclear dimension risks overlooking the decisive importance of conventional mass, resilience, logistics, high-quality intelligence, air defense and industrial depth — areas where Europe is weak by political choice. Moreover, the nuclear debate in Europe isn’t binary. The continent isn’t condemned to choose between total dependence on the U.S. umbrella and total vulnerability. A serious discussion regarding the role of the French and British deterrents within a European framework — politically complex, yes, but strategically conceivable — is no longer taboo. And by pointing at the prohibitively high cost of developing a European nuclear force from scratch, Rutte’s sweeping dismissal of Europe’s strategic agency in the nuclear field sidesteps this evolution instead of engaging with it. Plus, the NATO chief is being too hasty in his dismissal of the increasingly accepted notion of a “European pillar” within NATO. Sure, the EU added value is, at present, best exemplified in the creation of a more integrated and dynamic European defense market, which the European Commission is actively fostering. But Rutte is underestimating existing European military capabilities. European countries already collectively field advanced air forces, world-class submarines, significant naval power, cutting-edge missile and air-defense systems, cyber expertise, space assets and one of the largest defense-industrial bases in the world. And when it comes to the defense of Ukraine, European allies — including France — have significantly expanded their intelligence contributions. The problem, therefore, isn’t so much scarcity but national and industrial fragmentation, coupled with the risk of technological stagnation and insufficient investment in key enablers like munitions production, military mobility, intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance, satellites, air-to-air refueling and integrated command structures. As demonstrated by satellite projects like the EU’s Governmental Satellite Communications and IRIS² Satellite Constellation, these are areas that can be improved in the space of months and years rather than decades. But telling Europeans that sovereignty is a fantasy can easily kill the political momentum needed to fix them. Regardless of what one may think of Trump and his disruptive politics, the direction of travel in U.S. foreign policy is unmistakable. | Mandel Ngan/AFP via Getty Images Finally, Rutte’s message is oddly out of sync with Washington too. U.S. presidents have long demanded Europe take far greater responsibility for its own defense, and in his second term, U.S. President Donald Trump has taken this message to new heights, from burden-sharing to burden-shifting. But to simultaneously tell Europe it must take care of itself, provided it continues purchasing U.S.-manufactured weapons, and that it can never truly succeed isn’t strategic clarity, it’s cognitive dissonance. Europe can no longer ignore political reality. Regardless of what one may think of Trump and his disruptive politics, the direction of travel in U.S. foreign policy is unmistakable: Europe is no longer a priority. The center of U.S. strategic gravity now lies in the Indo-Pacific, and U.S. dominance in the Western hemisphere ranks higher than Europe’s defense. In this mutated context, placing all of Europe’s security eggs in the U.S. basket isn’t sensible. However, none of this means Europe abandoning NATO or actively severing transatlantic ties. Rather, it means recognizing that alliances between equals are stronger than those built on dependence. A Europe that can militarily, industrially and politically rely on itself makes a more credible and valuable ally. And the 80-year transatlantic alliance will only endure if the U.S. and Europe strike a new bargain. So, as transatlantic allies grapple with a less straightforward alignment of interests and values, Rutte needs to be promoting a more balanced NATO with a strong European pillar — not undermining it.

Yanmei Xie is senior associate fellow at the Mercator Institute for China Studies. After Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney spoke at Davos last week, a whole continent contracted leadership envy. Calling the rules-based order — which Washington proselytized for decades before stomping on — a mirage, Carney gave his country’s neighboring hegemonic bully a rhetorical middle finger, and Europeans promptly swooned. But before the bloc’s politicians rush to emulate him, it may be worth cooling the Carney fever. Appearing both steely and smooth in his Davos speech, Carney warned middle powers that “when we only negotiate bilaterally with a hegemon, we negotiate from weakness.” Perhaps this was in reference to the crass daily coercion Canada has been enduring from the U.S. administration. But perhaps he was talking about the subtler asymmetry he experienced just days before in Beijing. In contrast to his defiance in Switzerland, Carney was ingratiating during his China visit. He signed Canada up for a “new strategic partnership” in preparation for an emerging “new world order,” and lauded Chinese leader Xi Jinping as a fellow defender of multilateralism. The visit also produced a cars-for-canola deal, which will see Canada slash tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles from 100 percent to 6.1 percent, and lift the import cap to 49,000 cars per year. In return, China will cut duties on Canadian canola seeds from 84 percent to 15 percent. In time, Ottawa also expects Beijing will reduce tariffs on Canadian lobsters, crabs and peas later this year and purchase more Canadian oil and perhaps gas, too. The agreement to launch a Ministerial Energy Dialogue will surely pave the way for eventual deals. These productive exchanges eventually moved Carney to declare Beijing a “more predictable” trade partner than Washington. And who can blame him? He was simply stating the obvious — after all, China isn’t threatening Canada with annexation. But one is tempted to wonder if he would have needed to flatter quite so much in China if his country still possessed some of the world’s leading technologies. The truth is, Canada’s oil and gas industry probably shouldn’t really be holding its breath. Chinese officials typically offer serious consideration rather than outright rejection out of politeness — just ask Russia, which has spent decades in dialogue with Beijing over a pipeline meant to replace Europe as a natural gas market. The cars-for-canola deal also carries a certain irony: Canada is importing the very technology that makes fossil fuels obsolete. China is electrifying at dizzying speed, with the International Energy Agency projecting its oil consumption will peak as early as next year thanks to “extraordinary” electric vehicle sales. That means Beijing probably isn’t desperate for new foreign suppliers of hydrocarbons, and the ministerial dialogue will likely drag on inconclusively — albeit courteously — well into the future. This state of Sino-Canadian trade can be seen as classic comparative advantage at work: China is good at making things, and Canada has abundant primary commodities. But in the not-so-distant past, it was Canadian companies that were selling nuclear reactors, telecom equipment, aircraft and bullet trains to China. Yet today, many of these once globe-spanning Canadian high-tech manufacturers have either exited the scene or lead a much-reduced existence. Somewhere in this trading history lies a cautionary tale for Europe. Deindustrialization can have its own self-reinforcing momentum. As a country’s economic composition changes, so does its political economy. When producers of goods disappear, so does their political influence. And the center of lobbying gravity shifts toward downstream users and consumers who prefer readily available imports. Europe’s indigenous solar manufacturers have been driven to near extinction by much cheaper Chinese products | STR/AFP via Getty Images Europe already has its own version of this story: Its indigenous solar manufacturers have been driven to near extinction by much cheaper Chinese products over the span of two decades. Currently, its solar industry is dominated by installers and operators who favor cheap imports and oppose trade defense. Simply put, Carney’s cars-for-canola deal is a salve for Canadian consumers and commodity producers, but it’s also industrial policy in reverse. In overly simplified terms, industrial policy is about encouraging exports of finished products over raw materials and discouraging the opposite in order to build domestic value-added capacity and productivity. But while Canada can, perhaps, make do without industry — as Carney put it in Davos, his ambition is to run “an energy superpower” — Europe doesn’t have that option. Agri-food and extractive sectors aren’t enough to stand up the continent’s economy — even with the likes of tourism and luxury goods thrown in. China currently exports more than twice as much to the EU than it imports. In container terms, the imbalance widens to 4-to-1. Meanwhile, Goldman Sachs estimates Chinese exports will shave 0.2 percentage point or more of GDP growth in Germany, Spain and Italy each year through 2029. And according to the European Central Bank, cars, chemicals, electric equipment and machinery — sectors that form Europe’s industrial backbone — face the most severe job losses from China trade shock. Europe shares Canada’s plight in dealing with the U.S., which currently isn’t just an unreliable trade partner but also an ally turned imperialist. This is why Carney’s speech resonates. But U.S. protectionism has only made China’s mercantilism a more acute challenge for Europe, as the U.S. resists the bloc’s exports and Chinese goods keep pouring into Europe in greater quantities at lower prices. European leaders would be mistaken to look for trade relief in China as Carney does, and bargain away the continent’s industrial capacity in the process. Whether it’s to resist an expansionist Russia or an imperial U.S., Europe still needs to hold on to its manufacturing base.

One month into nationwide protests, the Iranian people are still making history — at the cost of their lives. The free world can no longer credibly claim uncertainty about events on the ground, nor can they claim neutrality in the face of what has occurred. Iranians aren’t asking others to speak for them but to empower them to finish what they’ve started. And the urgency for international action has only intensified. This week, the European debate finally shifted. Italy formally joined calls to condemn the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), and with that decision, the EU’s political landscape narrowed. France and Spain are now the only two member countries preventing the bloc from collectively designating the IRGC as a terrorist organization. The question for Brussels is no longer whether the conditions for this are met — it’s whether the bloc will act once they are. For decades, the Iranian people have been subject to systematic violence by their own state. This isn’t law enforcement. It’s a unilateral war against a civilian population, marked by extrajudicial executions, forced disappearances, confessions, torture, mass censorship and the deliberate use of deprivation as a tool of repression. On one side stands a totalitarian state; on the other, unarmed citizens. As videos and eyewitness testimonies continue to emerge despite severe communications blackouts, the scale of the violence is no longer in doubt. Supported by investigative reporting, sources inside Iran warn that more than 36,500 people may have been killed by regime forces since protests began on Dec. 28. Leading human rights organizations have verified thousands of deaths, cautioning that all available figures are almost certainly undercounts due to access restrictions and internet shutdowns. The scale, organization and intent of this repression meets the legal threshold for crimes against humanity as defined under the 1998 Rome Statute that founded the International Criminal Court. And under the U.N.’s Responsibility to Protect (R2P) — a principle seeking to ensure populations are protected from mass atrocity crimes, which the EU has formally endorsed — this threshold triggers obligation. At this point, inaction ceases to be restraint and becomes moral, political and legal failure. The risks here are immediate. Thousands of detained protesters face the imminent threat of execution. Senior Iranian judicial authorities have warned that continued protest, particularly if citing alleged foreign support, constitutes moharebeh, or “waging war on God” — a charge that carries the death penalty and has historically been used to justify mass executions after unrest. Arbitrary detention and the absence of due process place detainees in clear and foreseeable danger, heightening the international community’s obligations. The Iranian people are bravely tackling the challenge placed before them, demonstrating agency, cohesion and resolve. Under the pillars of R2P, responsibility now shifts outward — first to assist and, where necessary, to take collective action when a state itself is the perpetrator of atrocity crimes. Six actions directly follow from these obligations: First, civilians must be protected by degrading the regime’s capacity to commit atrocities. This requires formally designating the IRGC as a terrorist organization given its central role in systematic violence against civilians both inside and outside of Iran. This is in line with European legal standards. Italy has moved on it. Now France and Spain must follow, so the EU can act as one. France and Spain are now the only two member countries preventing the bloc from collectively designating the IRGC as a terrorist organization. | Abedin Taherkenareh/EPA Second, the bloc must impose coordinated and sustained economic measures consistent with the R2P. This includes globally freezing regime assets under EU sanctions frameworks, as well as identifying, seizing and dismantling the shadow fleet of “ghost tankers” that finance repression and evade sanctions. The third obligation is guaranteeing the right to information. Iran’s digital blackout constitutes a grave violation of freedoms protected under the European Convention on Human Rights. Free, secure and continuous internet access needs to be ensured through the large-scale deployment of satellite connectivity and secure communication technologies. Defensive cyber measures should prevent arbitrary shutdowns of civilian networks. Fourth, the EU must move to end state impunity through legal accountability. This means expelling regime representatives implicated in the repression of citizens from European capitals, and initiating legal proceedings against those responsible for crimes against humanity under universal jurisdiction — a principle already recognized by several EU member countries. Fifth, the bloc must demand the immediate and unconditional release of all political prisoners, who were detained in clear violation of Iran’s international human rights obligations. Finally, Europe must issue a clear ultimatum, demanding that independent nongovernmental humanitarian and human rights organizations be granted immediate, unrestricted and time-bound access on the ground inside Iran. If this access isn’t granted within a defined time frame, it must withdraw diplomatic recognition from the Islamic Republic of Iran. Nonrecognition is a lawful response to a regime that has forfeited its legitimacy by systematically attacking its own population. It would also signal unambiguous support for the Iranian people’s right to representative and accountable government. Supporting Iranians is neither charity nor interference. Rather, it is realizing the legal and political commitments the EU has already made. The regime in Tehran has practiced state-sponsored terror, exported violence, destabilized the region and fueled nuclear threats for 47 years. Ending this trajectory isn’t ideological. It’s a matter of European and global security. For the EU, there’s no remaining procedural excuse. The evidence is overwhelming. The legal framework is settled. France and Spain are now all that stand between the bloc and collective action against the IRGC. What’s at stake isn’t diplomacy but Europe’s credibility — and whether it will enforce the principles it invokes when they’re tested by history. Nazenin Ansari Journalist, managing editor of Kayhan-London (Persian) and Kayhan-Life (English) Nazanin Boniadi Human rights activist, actress, board director of Abdorrahman Boroumand Center for Human Rights in Iran, 2023 Sydney Peace Prize Laureate Ladan Boroumand Human rights activist, historian, co-founder of Abdorrahman Boroumand Center for Human Rights in Iran Shirin Ebadi Lawyer, 2003 Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Shéhérazade Semsar-de Boisséson Entrepreneur, former CEO of POLITICO Europe, chair of the board at Abdorrahman Boroumand Center for Human Rights in Iran

Dora Meredith is the director of ODI Europe. John Clarke is a former senior trade negotiator for the European Commission and former head of the EU Delegation to the WTO and the U.N. He is a fellow at Maastricht University and the Royal Asiatic Society, and a trade adviser for FIPRA public affairs. The EU rarely gets second chances in geopolitics. Yet last week, the European Parliament chose to throw one away. By voting to refer the long-awaited trade agreement with the Mercosur bloc to the Court of Justice of the EU for a legal opinion — a process that may take up two years — lawmakers dealt a serious blow to Europe’s credibility at a moment when speed and reliability matter more than ever. After more than two decades of negotiations, this deal was meant to signal that Europe could still act decisively in a world of intensifying geopolitical competition. As European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen argued this month, it was the ultimate test of Europe’s continued relevance on the world stage. Oblivious to this, the Parliament’s decision reinforces the perception that the bloc is unable to follow through, even when an agreement is finally within reach. It is, by any reasonable measure, a strategic own goal. The consequences of this go well beyond trade. Mercosur governments spent years negotiating this free trade agreement (FTA) in good faith, navigating Europe’s hesitation, shifting demands and inconsistent political signals. Understandably, they are now interpreting the referral to the court as a political move. For partners already hedging their bets in an increasingly contested global landscape, it reinforces doubts over whether Europe can be relied on. Meanwhile, for Europe, the true damage is to a deeper truth it all too often obscures: That its real power comes from the ability to make such agreements and then implement them seriously, consistently and at scale. The EU–Mercosur agreement isn’t just another trade deal. It was designed as a framework for long-term economic, political and strategic partnership with a region where Europe’s influence has been steadily eroding. It offers comprehensive market access in goods and services, clearer investment rules, access to critical materials, structured political dialogue and a cooperation-based approach to managing disputes. Taken together, it is meant to anchor Europe more firmly in South America at a time when others, most notably China, have moved faster and with fewer constraints. And while that level of ambition hasn’t disappeared with the Parliament’s vote, it has been put at serious risk. Over the years, much of the criticism surrounding the Mercosur deal has focused on sustainability. Indeed, if eventually passed, this will be the litmus test for whether the EU can translate its values into influence. And to that end, the deal makes a wide set of previously voluntary commitments legally binding, including the implementation of the Paris climate targets and adherence to international conventions on labor rights, human rights, biodiversity and environmental protection. However, it does so through dialogue-based enforcement rather than automatic withdrawal in the face of noncompliance — an approach that reflects the political realities in both Brussels and the Mercosur countries. This has disappointed those calling for tougher regulation, but it highlights an uncomfortable truth: Europe’s leverage over sustainability outcomes doesn’t come from pretending it can coerce partners into compliance but from sustained engagement and cooperation. That was a red line for Mercosur governments, and without it there would be no agreement at all. The deal’s novel “rebalancing mechanism” sits within this logic, as it allows Mercosur countries to suspend concessions if future unforeseen EU regulations effectively negate promised market access. Critics fear this provision could be used to challenge future EU sustainability measures, but Mercosur countries see it as a safeguard against possible unilateral EU action, as exemplified by the Deforestation Regulation. Moreover, in practice, such mechanisms are rarely used. Plus, its inclusion was the price of securing an additional sustainability protocol. Most crucially, though, none of this will resolve itself through legal delay. On the contrary, postponement weakens Europe’s ability to shape outcomes on the ground. Research from Brazil’s leading climate institutes shows that ambitious international engagement strengthens domestic pro‑environment coalitions by increasing transparency, resources and political leverage. Absence, by contrast, creates space for actors with far lower standards. South American and EU leaders join hands following the signing of the now-delayed Mercosur agreement, Jan. 17, 2026., Paraguay. | Daniel Duarte/AFP via Getty Images The same logic applies to the deal’s economic dimension. The Commission rightly highlights the headline figures: Billions of euros in tariff savings, expanded market access, secure access to critical minerals and growing trade. According to a recent study by the European Centre for International Political Economy, each month of delay represents €3 billion in foregone exports. But these numbers matter less than what lies beneath them: Europe will be gaining all this while offering limited concessions in sensitive agricultural sectors; and Mercosur countries will be gaining access to the world’s largest single market — but only if they can meet demanding regulatory and environmental standards that could strain domestic capacity. Again, the real power lies in the deal’s implementation. If managed well, such pressures can drive investment, modernize standards and reduce dependence on raw commodity exports as Latin American think tanks have argued. This transition is precisely what the EU’s €1.8 billion Global Gateway investment package was designed to support. And delaying the agreement delays that as well. The Parliament’s decision isn’t just a procedural setback — it damages Europe’s greatest strength at a time when hesitation carries real cost. It also creates an immediate institutional dilemma for the Commission. Despite the judicial stay, the Commission is legally free to apply the agreement provisionally, but this is a difficult call: Apply it and enter a firestorm of criticism about avoiding democratic controls that will backfire the day the Parliament finally gets to vote on the agreement; or accept a two-year delay and postpone the deal’s economic benefits possibly indefinitely — Mercosur countries aren’t going to hold out forever. If it is going to recover, over the coming months Europe has to do everything possible to demonstrate both to its Mercosur partners and the wider world that this delay doesn’t amount to disengagement. This means sustained political dialogue, credible commitments on investment and cooperation — including the rollout of the Global Gateway — as well as a clear plan for the deal’s implementation the moment this legal process concludes. Two years is an eternity in today’s geopolitical climate. If Europe allows this moment to pass without course correction, others won’t wait. The deal might be imperfect, but irrelevance is far worse a fate. Europe must be much bolder in communicating that reality — to the world and, perhaps more urgently, to its own public.

Ed Miliband is the U.K. energy secretary and Dan Jørgensen is the EU commissioner for energy. The world has entered an era of greater uncertainty and instability than at any other point in either of our lifetimes, and energy is now central to this volatile age we find ourselves in. In recent years, both Britain and Europe have paid a heavy price for our exposure to the roller coaster of international fossil fuel markets. Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine in 2022 sent global gas prices soaring — driving up bills for families and businesses across the continent and leading to the worst cost-of-living crisis our countries have faced in a generation. Even as Europe rapidly cut its dependence on Russian gas and is now swiftly moving toward a complete phaseout, exposure to fossil fuels remains the Achilles’ heel of our energy systems. The reality is that relying so heavily on fossil fuels — whether from Russia or elsewhere — can’t give us the energy security and prosperity we need. It leaves us incredibly vulnerable to international market volatility and pressure from external actors. Like European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen said: “As our energy dependency on fossil fuels goes down, our energy security goes up.” This is why Britain and the EU are committed to building Europe’s resources of homegrown clean power, looking to increase our energy security, create well-paid jobs, bring down bills and boost our industrial competitiveness, all while tackling the climate crisis to protect future generations. Today, nine European countries, alongside representatives from NATO and the European Commission, are meeting in Hamburg for the third North Sea Summit to act on this shared understanding. Together, we can seize the North Sea’s vast potential as a clean energy powerhouse — harness its natural resources, skilled workforce and highly developed energy industries to lead the world in offshore wind, hydrogen and carbon capture technologies.   Three years ago in Ostend, our countries united behind a pioneering goal to deliver 300 gigawatts of offshore wind in the North Sea by 2050. Today in Hamburg, we will double down on those commitments and pledge to jointly deliver shared offshore wind projects. With around $360 billion invested in clean energy in the EU just last year, and wind and solar overtaking fossil-fuel-generated power for the first time, this is an historic pact that builds on the clean power momentum we’re seeing all across Europe. And this unprecedented fleet of projects will harness the abundant energy waiting right on our doorstep, so that we can deliver cheap and secure power to homes and businesses, cut infrastructure costs and meet rising electricity demand. Everything we’re seeing points to a clean energy economy that is booming. Indeed, earlier this month Britain held the most successful offshore wind auction in European history, delivering enough clean energy to power 12 million homes — a significant vote of confidence in Britain and Europe’s drive to regain control of our energy supplies. We believe there is huge value in working together, with our neighbors and allies, to build this future — a future that delivers on shared energy infrastructure, builds strong and resilient supply chains, and includes talks on the U.K.’s participation in the European electricity market. Strengthening such partnerships can help unlock investment, reduce our collective exposure to fossil fuels and bring down energy costs for our citizens. This speaks to a wider truth: An uncertain age makes cooperating on the basis of our shared interests and values more important — not less. By accelerating our drive to clean energy, today’s summit will be fundamental in delivering the energy security and prosperity Europe desperately needs.

THE CONFLICTS IN UKRAINE AND GAZA HAVE BEEN HIGHLY TECHNOLOGICAL, PUSHING SURVEILLANCE TO NEW HEIGHTS. ~ Nikita Ivansky ~ As the first bullets fly and shells explode, we begin to learn the names of the war machines and the companies that manufacture them. We learn which weapons are the most lethal and cause the most harm. However, during this learning process, the other side of the war often slips from our sight. The smaller companies, which work with information, are overlooked. From processing your personal data to AI that assists with bomb strikes, invasive technologies have a hard time passing through civil society in times of peace. However, when violence erupts, and we all look to the sky, hoping for no more drone strikes in our neighbourhood, we are happy about the eyes looking in all directions, trying to find an enemy. The conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza have been among the most technologically advanced on this planet. But outside the traditional scope of war – where tanks and firearms kill and destroy – these technological wars push surveillance to new heights. Four months after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine began, Palantir Technologies CEO Alex Karp personally visited the country to offer his services to the Zelensky government. For free. Most activists following the surveillance sector are familiar with Palantir, a data-mining giant that law enforcement in many countries dream about. In Ukraine, the company has found a zone outside of regulations where it can test its software on the live data of millions of people. According to Time magazine, “Palantir’s software uses AI to analyse satellite imagery, open-source data, drone footage, and reports from the ground to present commanders with military options. It is responsible for most of the targeting in Ukraine.” And not only targeting. Time also noted that Palantir was working with half a dozen ministries in the country, including the ministry of finance and education. Palantir itself doesn’t produce the data. It doesn’t manage surveillance satellites or street-level CCTV cameras – those are handled by different companies. Palantir accumulates and processes data, assisting humans in decision-making. In a country like Ukraine, Palantir can operate with little oversight. While Ukrainian society struggles against the Russian invasion, help is accepted from any direction. The Palantir CEO understands this, as does most of the Western military-industrial complex. Another role in processing data for the war was given to controversial American face-recognition technology (FRT) company Clearview AI. Officially its software is used to identify the bodies of combatants, and possible spies crossing into Ukraine. Police forces also use it to identify war criminals and those responsible for kidnapping Ukrainian children – a very wide scope of operations. A Ukrainian digital security laboratory commented on Clearview AI’s usage in the country: “Initially developed for law enforcement purposes, Clearview’s technology matches the images against the database of publicly stored images scraped from websites, including social media platforms. Notably, despite not having unified legislation on the usage of such data, Ukraine still resorts to digital measures without legal framework and safeguards … arbitrary usage of FRTs by authorities may negatively influence citizen’s privacy, by continuing to be applied even when the emergency ceases to exist.” While Clearview AI faces legal challenges in the US and EU, Ukraine provides space for its work without any serious challenges. From personal conversations, only some Ukrainian anti-authoritarian activist circles were aware of the facial recognition systems in their cities. This is mostly due to the fact that groups which would usually fight against a surveillance state are currently occupied with resisting the Russian invasion, while State repression is still very low compared to the rest of the region. Both Palantir and Clearview AI are companies built around the extreme-right tech movement mobilised by billionaire fascist Peter Thiel. It is hard to imagine the role of these companies, as well as many smaller ones trying to enforce strong government control, fading away in the event of a ceasefire or peace agreement. The infrastructure is in place, and the State’s security forces have seen its effectiveness. It is more likely that Thiel’s allies will continue to assist certain government branches. In a country with a growing far-right movement, this could pose a serious threat not only to anarchists but also to moderate leftists and liberals. While we know little about surveillance processes in Russia, even before the invasion, Putin’s regime tried to create a network to control any opposition activity. It was used in 2022 to detain or force into exile many political opponents. In recent days, control, especially in occupied territories, has reached a new level, fuelled by a fear of saboteurs. With the global ecological crisis only getting worse and the possibility of a full-scale war across Europe, we are looking at a very dire future of rapid surveillance expansion and automated data processing. Algorithms will make decisions about repressions against certain parts of society. This will certainly be a challenging future, but we must fight to stop fascism today, as tomorrow will be too late. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This article first appeared in the Winter 2025/26 issue of Freedom Journal Image: Funeral of David Chichkan in August, by @polidavydenko.   The post Ukraine: Big Brother in a warzone appeared first on Freedom News.

THEIR NATIONALISM IS A NARROW AND CLOSED “ORDER”—OUR HOMELAND IS THE WORLD ~ PM ~ We have been surrounded by nationalist rhetoric for far too long, but there are periods, particularly when the economy or political power declines, when nationalism is presented as a given (the bourgeoisie needs it). This is aided by bourgeois media outlets, funded by economic powers, which are surprisingly close to tyrannical thinking. As for public media, they follow the editorial line set by these other outlets. But nationalism kills. It kills intelligence, it kills solidarity, it kills critical thinking. It also kills in real life… Nationalism thrives on interclassism, on the idea that we are united in the nation, against “the others.” No internal economic, political, or social struggles, because otherwise we would be anti-nation, against unity, therefore against order, therefore against the State. On the other hand, they have no problem with external conflicts with other nations that these nationalist pretenders would like to dominate with the help of hysterical populations. Nationalism, which is the replacement (or accompaniment) of God/King by the nation, is an absolutist ideology. It is no wonder that reactionary theists/royalists/monarchists (and I include Leninists in this) seized upon it during the 19th and 20th centuries. Nor is it surprising that later, left-wing Bolsheviks and right-wing fascists did the same. Is it surprising that centrist liberals also use it? No, it’s their offspring. When the economy falters, they need this nationalist ideological support to ensure “order, order, order.” They are prepared to continue institutional violence without restraint. Can we conceive of things without a nation? Yes and no. The etymology of “nation” comes from “to be born,” so if you are born somewhere on Earth, you belong to that somewhere (whose borders are merely decisions made by states). It would seem that one must pledge allegiance to this somewhere. But the key question is whether you are confined to a communitarian, identity-based, essentialist “somewhere,” or whether you are open to this somewhere and, indeed, to the world as an Earthling. For example, it’s not the same thing to say that I am “French,” or “Breton,” or “from Finistère,” or “from the land.” We, anarchists, are “from the land” before belonging to a local community… We can defend the dignity of a local culture/community while being critical of harmful/naive aspects of that culture/community, even if it is mythical. Because it’s not just one’s birthplace that matters; the social question is paramount. We are indeed in support of the oppressed/exploited, not the oppressors/exploiters. This doesn’t preclude a critical view of both the oppressed/exploited and the oppressors/exploiters. For private landowners, wherever they may be, are despicable, as is the acceptance of these relations of domination by the oppressed/exploited. The abolition of classes and social hierarchy is a prerequisite for unconditional support. This is what nationalists (just like theists or capitalists) fear: that the population will be divided on social issues and take part in their social emancipation. However, obviously, just as we are all born somewhere, that’s a fact… we also have basic needs (food, shelter, entertainment, etc.) that require a social response. For example, when you have little or nothing to eat, the nation isn’t the answer to this social question; it’s “why do others have enough to eat and I don’t?” or “why do others have a well-paid job and I have very little, even though I also contribute to a useful production need?” This raises the question of private property, a source of social injustice for several hundred years. Nationalists, on capitalist steroids, will individualize the problem and say that in the face of the work society, everyone has their chance, that where there is a will there is a way, that there would be equality of opportunity and that if not there is charity… vast swindle of this hierarchical society which does not want life to be livable for everyone, that only certain privileged people can access exceptional comfort, and that others are on the contrary in exceptional discomfort. For the moment, it is the nation that makes up the collection of believers useful to capitalism; it could become a divine entity again in certain regions, and perhaps later it will be nature? In all this spectacular mess, it matters little what ideological tool is used so that the private property of capitalism remains sacrosanct. Nationalists out! Private landlords out!  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Machine translation The post Nationalism Kills appeared first on Freedom News.

Mario Monti is a former prime minister of Italy and EU commissioner. Sylvie Goulard is vice president of the Institute for European Policymaking at Bocconi University and a former member of the European Parliament. In just the last few days, U.S. President Donald Trump has reiterated his determination to take over Greenland, announced a 10 percent tariff on NATO allies who disagree with his will and threatened a 200 percent tariff on French wine because French President Emmanuel Macron refused a seat on his “Board of Peace” meant to oversee Gaza’s reconstruction. But for once, the EU isn’t chasing behind events. Indeed, the Anti-Coercion Instrument (ACI) that the EU may use in response to Trump’s repeated threats over Greenland is ready. Introduced in 2023 with the support of all 27 member countries, the ACI — although nicknamed the “bazooka” — is a framework for negotiation in situations where a third country seeks to pressure the EU or a member country into a particular choice by applying — or threatening to apply — measures affecting trade or investment. It enables the EU to deter coercion and, if necessary, respond to it. Before any action is implemented, the EU will first engage in consultations with the coercing third country — in this case, the U.S. And at any rate, whatever steps the bloc may eventually introduce will be compatible with international law. So, nothing as abrupt, unpredictable and arbitrary as some decisions the current U.S. administration has taken in relation to Europe. It is unlikely that when crafting this instrument, EU legislators had such a variety of coercion cases in mind — or that they would come from the American president. It is worth noting, however, that Trump’s actions and threats meet all five of the conditions set out in the ACI to determine if economic coercion is taking place. And having for once been prescient in endowing itself with a policy instrument in line with the times, it would be irresponsible and cowardly if the EU were to give up just because the coercion at hand is heavy and, unexpectedly, comes from the most powerful third country in the world — whether friend or foe, only history will tell. In line with the ACI, the countermeasures the EU may decide to take after consultations could involve tariffs — including suspending the ratification of last July’s trade agreement — restrictions on trade in services and certain aspects of intellectual property rights, or restrictions on foreign direct investment and public procurement. In view of the potential impact of current U.S. financial policy, it would also make sense for the bloc’s financial institutions to review their resilience with respect to  developments that might intervene in the U.S. financial landscape as a result of current economic policies and the relaxation of supervisory rules. The fact of the matter is, if the EU sidesteps the ACI and genuflects, Trump will feel encouraged to be even more disrespectful toward Europe than he already is. | Jacek Boczarski/Anadolu via Getty Images The regulation has another interesting feature: It can create links between the EU and other countries affected by the same or similar coercion. The idea being that when a dominant power tends to follow the principle of divide et impera, it may be wise for its designated prey, both within and outside the EU, to seek a coordinated response. The fact of the matter is, if the EU sidesteps the ACI and genuflects, Trump will feel encouraged to be even more disrespectful toward Europe than he already is; the EU will lose all credibility as a moderate but forceful player in a world of autocrats; and European citizens will be even more disillusioned with European institutions unwilling to protect them and their dignity. It could also make them more likely to seek protection from nationalist parties and governments — those that may well be against triggering the ACI in the first place, devout as they are to Trump’s hostility toward the EU. Many in Europe are, indeed, adopting an attitude of subordinate acceptance when it comes to Trump’s wishes, either because of ideological affinities or because they feel more comfortable being close to those in power — as political theorist Etienne de La Boétie stated in the 16th century, servitude is generally based on the “voluntary” acceptance of domination. Then there are those who are ready to align with Trump invoking Realpolitik — a group that seems to have forgotten that 80 years of peace since World War II provide a clear reading of reality in which peace and prosperity are better safeguarded through cooperation than the use of force. History’s judgement on that is clear. Finally, there are also EU leaders who, when siding with the U.S. over European interests, are driven by the intention of preserving the West’s or NATO’s unity. But while this may be a laudable intention, they’re falling blind to the fact that, in the last year, most of the breaches of this unity have come from the American side. To be sure, much of Europe’s reluctance to engage with Trump in a less subordinate manner has a lot to do with the continent’s weakness in defense and security. The U.S. is right in asking Europe to bear a higher proportion of that burden, and Europe does need to step up its preparedness. But the readiness of many to accept virtually any demand, or coercion, because the U.S. may otherwise withdraw its security umbrella from Ukraine or EU countries is no longer convincing. Much is made of the NATO Treaty’s Article 5 providing a collective security guarantee. However, the credibility of this guarantee relies on shared values and mutual respect. And with Trump constantly displaying his adversarial and contemptuous feelings toward Europe — seemingly more aligned with Russian President Vladimir Putin — how much can the continent really count on the U.S. umbrella in case of Russian intervention? What price should the EU be ready to pay, in terms of foregone sovereignty, to hold onto a guarantee that may no longer exist? Moreover, a Europe less acquiescent to Trump’s requests would be a strong signal to the many Americans who still believe in rule of law and the multilateral order. When Alexis de Tocqueville traveled to the U.S. in the 1830s to study the young democracy, he was impressed by the strength of its civil society and institutions — at the same time, he feared “the tyranny of the majority.” And one might wonder whether a system where the winner of an election can govern with no respect for the country’s institutions, violating the independence of its judicial system and central bank, is still a model of democracy. After World War II, the U.S. contributed generously to the relaunch of the European economy. It also massively influenced new democratic institutions in Germany and the nascent European Community. Maybe now it’s Europe’s turn to give something back and defend these values — and that means taking action. This is, after all, what the ACI was meant for.

Zachary Paikin is a research fellow in the Grand Strategy program at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft. It’s been more than six years since the EU’s former High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy Josep Borrell declared the bloc must learn to speak the “language of power.” And yet, Europe’s response to today’s tectonic geopolitical shifts suggests little in the way of learning. The bloc’s reaction to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine was to pursue a normative approach, which eschewed any possibility of identifying a mutually acceptable off-ramp or compromise with Moscow. The inevitable result was an increase in Europe’s security dependence on the U.S., deepening its vulnerability to great-power predations in a fast-changing world. And since U.S. President Donald Trump’s return to the White House, Europe has only compounded this initial strategic misstep. The bloc has shredded what remains of its normative power before building up its instruments of hard power, leaving it even more strategically isolated. Today, few are convinced Ukraine’s right to pursue NATO membership is a sacred part of the “rules-based international order” — especially when Europe is ready to play fast and loose with international law in its response to strikes on Venezuela or Iran. It’s hard to argue that Greenland’s future should be for Greenlanders and Danes to decide when the same standard isn’t applied to the people of Gaza. But in failing to grasp what lies behind Trump’s push for peace in Ukraine, Europe risks missing an opportunity to develop the diplomatic nimbleness and hard-power capabilities necessary to navigate a post-unipolar world. After three decades of the liberal West wrongly assuming its preferred norms and principles could unilaterally shape the contours of the world order, Trump is moving to reset the terms of great-power relations. In the cases of Venezuela and Greenland, for example, he wants to rewrite the rules of what is acceptable in America’s backyard. However, it would be wrong to conclude this vision presages a world of spheres of influence. Rather, the U.S. is compelled to maximize room for maneuver in its relations with other great powers, given that Washington and its allies can no longer set the terms of international order alone. And this requires taking steps to avoid pushing Moscow and Beijing too close together — even if Russia retains incentives to maintain stable ties with a rising China. In other words, the U.S. needs to reset its relationship with Russia. This doesn’t require legitimizing spheres of influence and, therefore, doesn’t necessarily clash with European sensibilities. But it’s a task that remains impossible without Moscow and Washington resolving their differences over Ukraine. If Russia concludes that a negotiated settlement in Ukraine has become impossible, the fighting will continue — no matter what. Perhaps until mutual exhaustion, or perhaps the conflict escalates in ways that severely threaten Europe’s security. In either case, political conditions will no longer support a U.S.-Russia reset. This is why Trump has, despite repeated obstacles, remained determined to pursue peace in Ukraine. But Europe’s response to Trump’s Ukraine initiative has largely missed the forest for the trees. All too often, the bloc has sought to insert poison pills into negotiations, transgressing Russia’s red lines — like with the Coalition of the Willing’s proposal to deploy a deterrence force on Ukrainian soil. Perhaps this is because, after decades of telling Russia it has no say over the security orientation of a state on its border, a deal that cements a compromise on this issue is too difficult to contemplate. Or perhaps, more cynically, it’s about buying time to build up Europe’s military capabilities and push back the day when Ukraine’s reconstruction bill comes due. A sinkhole is caused by a Russian guided aerial bomb in a neighborhood of Sumy. | Francisco Richart Barbeira/NurPhoto via Getty Images But failing to entertain the compromises necessary for peace would be a major missed opportunity for Europe. A compromise settlement would still allow Kyiv to eventually join the EU and pursue meaningful security, intelligence and defense-industrial cooperation with the West. Despite its many blemishes, the Trump administration’s National Security Strategy is clear in its desire for European countries to stand on their own two feet as the continent’s leading security providers. And an end to the war would advance this goal by making America’s auxiliary role in ensuring Ukraine’s security explicit. Fortunately, we saw some encouraging signs from the latest Coalition of the Willing summit held in Paris earlier this month. The coalition’s latest proposal for a multinational force makes no explicit provision for the deployment of combat troops on Ukrainian soil, and U.K. Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s remarks merely called for undefined “military hubs.” This points to the possibility of an agreement on security guarantees that’s acceptable to Moscow being within reach. Having already shredded its normative credibility, there’s little reason for Europe to pursue a policy course that risks consolidating its status as a strategic sideshow. At the mercy of an increasingly predatory U.S., we are fast approaching the moment where the risks of a “bad peace” in Ukraine are outweighed by the risks of failing to seize the opportunity that such a peace offers Europe to emerge as a more strategically agile hard-power actor. So long as the war continues, the EU’s dependence on the U.S. will persist, and a European “language of power” will prove elusive.