Ivo Daalder, a former U.S. ambassador to NATO, is a senior fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center and host of the weekly podcast “World Review with Ivo Daalder.” He writes POLITICO’s From Across the Pond column. Like many, I used to believe that former U.S. President George W. Bush’s decision to invade Iraq in 2003 was the biggest strategic mistake America had made, at least since the Vietnam War. That is, until now. U.S. President Donald Trump’s decision to join Israel in a war against Iran is a far bigger strategic error, and one with far bigger strategic consequences. The reasons for this are many, ranging from the immediate impact on the region and the global economy to the longer-term upshots for Russia and China, as well as the repercussions for U.S. alliances and America’s global standing. That much is already clear — and we’re only three weeks in. Let’s start with the similarities: Much like the Iraq War, the war against Iran began based on the presumption that the regime in power would swiftly fall and that a new, more moderate and less antagonistic one would take its place. In both instances, the idea was to remove the greatest destabilizing threat in the Middle East — Saddam Hussein’s regime in the initial case, the theocratic dictatorship in Tehran in the latter — through the swift and decisive use of military force. But while Bush understood that defeating a regime required ground forces, it seems Trump simply hoped that airpower alone would suffice. As a result, Hussein’s regime fell swiftly — though Bush did vastly underestimate what would be required to rebuild a stable, let alone a democratic, Iraq in its place. But the Iranian government, as U.S. intelligence officials themselves have testified, “appears to be intact” despite Israel killing many of its key political and security leaders through targeted strikes. Focusing on the region at large, Bush’s misjudgment eventually contributed to a large-scale insurgency, which strengthened Iran’s influence in Iraq and the wider Middle East. In contrast, Trump’s miscalculation has left in place a regime that, aside from assuring its own survival, is now singularly focused on inflicting as much damage on the U.S. and its allies as it possibly can. Iranian drones and missiles have already attacked Israel and the Gulf states, targeted critical energy production facilities and effectively closed the Strait of Hormuz, which hosts one-fifth of the world’s oil and gas export transits. The Salalah oil storage fire in Oman is pictured on March 13, 2026. | Gallo Images/Orbital Horizon/Copernicus Sentinel Data 2026 Less than a month in, the world is now witnessing the largest oil and gas disruption in history. And as the fighting escalates to include gas and oil production infrastructure, the global economic consequences will be felt by every single country for months, if not years, to come — even if the conflict were to end soon. The damage that has already been inflicted on the global economy is far greater than the economic consequences of the Iraq War in its entirety. But that’s not all. Geopolitically, the U.S.-Israel war with Iran will also have far greater reverberations than the war in Iraq ever did. For one, the Bush administration spent a lot of time and effort trying to get allies on board to participate in and support the war. It didn’t fully succeed in this, as key allies like Germany and France continued opposing the war. But it tried. Trump, by contrast, didn’t even try to get America’s most important allies on board. Not only that, he even failed to inform them of his decision. And yet, when Iran responded predictably by closing the Strait of Hormuz, the U.S. president then demanded allies send their navies to escort tankers — despite the U.S. Navy so far refusing to do so. And while it’s true that Iraq left many U.S. allies — even those that joined the war, like the U.K. — deeply scarred, Iran has convinced U.S. allies they can no longer rely on the U.S., and that Washington is now a real threat to their economic security. That, too, will have a lasting impact well beyond anything the war in Iraq did. Finally, the fact remains that when Bush decided to invade Iraq, Russia and China were still minor global powers. Russian President Vladimir Putin was only just starting his effort to stabilize the economy and rebuild Russia’s military power, while China had just joined the World Trade Organization and was still a decade or more away from becoming an economic superpower. In other words, America’s blunder in Iraq occurred at a time when the strategic consequences for the global balance of power were still manageable. Trump’s Iran debacle is occurring at a time when China is effectively competing with the U.S. for global power and influence, and Russia is engaged in the largest military action in Europe since the end of World War II. A woman sifts through the rubble in her house in Tehran, Iran on March 15, 2026 after it was damaged by missile attacks two days before. | Majid Saeedi/Getty Images Both stand to benefit greatly. Russia is the short-term winner here. Oil prices are rising, generating more than $150 million per day in extra income for Moscow to feed its war machine. The U.S. is relaxing its sanctions against Russia in a vain attempt to stall prices from ballooning at the pump. All the while, Ukraine is being left to contend with Russia’s missile and drone attacks without the advanced defensive weaponry that’s now being used to protect Israel and the Gulf instead. China, meanwhile, is watching as the U.S. diverts its military forces from the Indo-Pacific to the Middle East, where they will likely remain for months, if not years. These forces include a carrier strike group, a Terminal High Altitude Area Defense anti-missile system from Korea, and a Marine Expeditionary Force from Japan. And while a disruption in oil and gas supply will be a short-term problem for Beijing too, China’s rapid transition to renewables and close alignment with energy-rich Russia will leave it well placed to confidently confront the future. Bush and Trump both came to office determined to avoid the mistaken wars of their predecessors. Nevertheless, they both embarked on military adventures fed by a hubristic belief in American power. But while the U.S. was strong enough — and its adversaries still weak enough — to recoup much of the damage inflicted by Bush’s war, the war unfolding in Iran today will leave behind an America that will have lost much of its global power, standing and influence, destined to confront rising adversaries all on its own.

Mujtaba Rahman is the head of Eurasia Group’s Europe practice. He posts at @Mij_Europe. France’s municipal elections were never meant to be a dress rehearsal for its next presidential race. And yet, the first round of voting on March 15 was exactly that, offering a revealing and deeply paradoxical snapshot of a politically fractured country. At first glance, the results seemed to confirm the prevailing narrative: That Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Rally (RN) remains the dominant force in French politics, with national opinion polls giving the party a commanding 19-point lead ahead of the 2027 presidential elections. But the reality beneath these headlines is more complicated — and perhaps more fragile. First, the RN’s first-round performance was uneven at best. It did make some advances: It remains competitive in Marseille, leads in Toulon, and most importantly is poised to capture Nice, France’s fifth-largest city, in the second round this coming Sunday. However, analysts have pointed out that the city’s mayoral candidate Eric Ciotti — a former president of the center-right Republicans — only recently joined the RN and made a point of distancing himself from the far-right party throughout his campaign. Furthermore, these gains fell short of both the party’s and pollsters’ expectations. In fact, in most of France’s major urban centers like Paris, Lyon, Toulouse, Nantes, Montpellier, Strasbourg and Bordeaux, the RN scored less than 8 percent. The party’s struggles in these big cities suggest that for all its national appeal, it still encounters resistance when voters are asked to entrust it with an actual mandate to govern. French voters may flirt with the far right in theory, but in practice many remain cautious. The most surprising development, meanwhile, was the performance of Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s hard-left France Unbowed movement, which exceeded expectations across the country. The party captured Saint-Denis, is likely to win Roubaix, and gave a strong performance in cities like Toulouse and Lille. It appears this surge was driven, at least in part, by geopolitical developments — specifically the war in Iran. Based on impressions on the ground, heightened anti-war sentiment seems to have mobilized both the Muslim and young hard-left voters who form the party’s base. The implications of this are significant: Many had written Mélenchon off after a series of scandals and a dip in national polling. But these successes suggest he may yet play an important role in shaping the presidential elections — again — making it difficult for a more moderate left candidate to emerge and possibly even reaching the final run-off alongside the far right. Meanwhile, France’s traditional parties — the center-left Socialists and center-right Republicans — continue to display an unexpected resilience at the local level, despite being nationally sidelined since 2017. Together they dominated a majority of towns, including many of the country’s largest cities, remaining deeply embedded in municipal politics. By contrast, French President Emmanuel Macron’s centrist movement remains conspicuously weak, having failed to establish a meaningful municipal base after nearly a decade in power. It’s an absence that helps explain the lack of a clear anti-incumbent wave, as voters had limited opportunities to express dissatisfaction with the government at the local ballot box given the relatively few centrist mayors they could unseat. Finally, amid this fragmented field, the one figure that stands out is former Prime Minister Édouard Philippe. Philippe’s strong showing in Le Havre — where he secured 43 percent of the vote in the first round — comfortably positions him for reelection. And out of the large pack of candidates trailing behind the far right in the presidential polls, he now looks to be the strongest (though marginally) and most experienced contender. Philippe had previously said he would abandon his national ambitions if he lost the mayoral race, but a good win on Sunday could easily relaunch his flagging national campaign. The second round of municipal elections will, of course, be crucial. A strong showing by the RN — particularly if the party is able to capture Marseille and Toulon — could restore its momentum and reinforce its performance at the national level. But in such an uncertain environment, next year’s race is far from decided. And what the first round of municipal results really reveal isn’t so much a country marching in one direction as one pulled in several at once, searching — perhaps uneasily — for a new political equilibrium.

Mujtaba Rahman is the head of Eurasia Group’s Europe practice. He posts at @Mij_Europe. Next week’s French municipal elections may be local in scope, but their implications are unmistakably national — and European. When French voters head to the polls to elect roughly 35,000 mayors across their villages, towns and major cities, they will offer up the clearest indication yet of the country’s political mood ahead of next year’s presidential election, which could both fundamentally reshape France and destabilize the EU. Municipal contests rarely predict presidential outcomes, as local personalities, alliances and grievances often blur the national picture. But with early polling for next year’s race already giving the far-right National Rally party (RN) a commanding advantage, the local vote carries unusual significance. The question is no longer whether the far right can compete nationally, but whether the political forces that once stopped it — the “Republican Front” — still exist. Several mayoral races in particular will serve as early stress tests for France’s fragmented political center. The port city of Le Havre, for example, will likely prove especially consequential. Incumbent Mayor and former Prime Minister Edouard Philippe remains one of the most credible mainstream figures capable of challenging the far right next year, and current polling suggests he could attract around 16 percent of the national vote — enough to emerge as a unifying candidate if the country’s divided center were to consolidate behind him. A Le Havre defeat, however, would destroy Philippe’s presidential prospects before they even materialize. And the most recent polls suggest he could lose to a moderate-left coalition led by unionist Jean-Paul Lecoq in the second round despite leading in the first. Then, further south, the three Mediterranean cities of Nice, Marseille and Toulon will reveal whether the RN is able to translate its national momentum into actual governing power in some major urban centers. And while Toulon has elected a far-right mayor before, victories in Marseille or Nice would mark an unprecedented breakthrough. Nice, one of the country’s most conservative large cities, will perhaps be the most telling battleground, with incumbent Mayor Christian Estrosi from President Emmanuel Macron’s centrist alliance facing off against Eric Ciotti, the former head of the Republicans who broke away to align with RN. It’s a race that will offer a preview of next year’s central problem: Will moderate conservative voters ultimately hold the line against the far right, or drift toward it in a presidential runoff? The most recent polls show Estrosi is expected to lose, which is a troubling sign for the country’s moderates. If affluent traditionally Republican voters are willing to accept local alliances with the RN, it’s possible that resistance to a far-right presidency could weaken dramatically. Finally, Marseille presents a different but equally important test, as Socialist Mayor Benoit Payan is facing RN candidate Franck Allisio in what looks to be a neck-and-neck first round. Here, again, the decisive factor will be tactical voting — whether centrists, conservatives and left-wing voters will unite behind a moderate candidate to block the far right. Such alliances once formed the backbone of France’s so-called Republican Front, the informal coalition that delivered Macron victory over far-right leader Marine Le Pen in both 2017 and 2022. So an RN victory in Marseille would amount to a political earthquake — not only because of the city’s size but because it would suggest this defensive alliance is collapsing. Paris, by contrast, may offer fewer national clues. The capital remains resistant to the far right, though nationalist voters there are increasingly favoring firebrand Éric Zemmour’s Reconquest movement over the RN. And the main contest is pitting Socialist Deputy Mayor Emmanuel Gregoire against center-right Culture Minister Rachida Dati, reflecting intra-mainstream competition rather than ideological realignment. The most recent polls show Estrosi is expected to lose, which is a troubling sign for the country’s moderates. | Valery Hache/AFP via Getty Images In short, the deeper story lies beyond the headline cities. France’s traditional governing parties — the Socialists on the center left and the Republicans on the center right — remain entrenched in local governments despite their ongoing near-collapse at the national level since 2017. Unusually low turnout during 2020’s pandemic-disrupted municipal elections helped preserve this local dominance as well. But poor results in the coming weeks could finally shatter hopes of a revival. Even Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s hard-left French Unbowed is campaigning aggressively, less with the goal of winning town halls and more to weaken Socialist rivals and ensure there’s no moderate left figure capable of challenging him in the presidential race. Meanwhile, the RN is running candidates in more municipal races than ever before. Even without capturing major cities, incremental gains across smaller towns — particularly in the country’s south and northwest — would deepen its governing experience and normalize its presence at the local level. Ultimately, these elections will hinge on second-round voting patterns. For decades, French democracy has relied on the willingness of voters to unite across ideological divides to block extremist outcomes. Whether that instinct remains in 2027 is perhaps the defining question of next year’s race. And while the municipal results won’t decide France’s presidency, they may tell us something more important: if the coalition that once kept the far right from power is merely weakened, or already gone.

Elisabeth Braw is a senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, author of the award-winning “Goodbye Globalization” and a regular columnist for POLITICO. Her new book, The Undersea War, is out later this year.   Since the U.S. and Israel attacked Iran on Feb. 28, the Strait of Hormuz — the narrow and crucial passage at the mouth of the Persian Gulf — has become extremely dangerous to pass. “Sanctioned tanker laden with flammable gas runs Hormuz gauntlet,” read one shipping headline just last week. And as the number of ships weighing whether to attempt this voyage grows, the escalating situation will have painful implications for global shipping as well as the world’s economies — and Europe won’t be immune. The ship in question was the Danuta I, a recently sanctioned LPG carrier likely “laden with Iranian LPG,” Lloyd’s List, a maritime news service, reported. Perhaps the ship’s owners felt they could take the risk precisely because the ship was transporting Iranian petroleum gas, and Iran — situated on one side of the strait, with Oman on the other — is the actor most likely to attack any ships sailing through. Indeed, the government in Tehran has vowed to attack any ship trying to transit the strait, through which some 20 percent of the world’s oil and natural gas passes on its way from the Persian Gulf to global markets. Large volumes of aluminum and fertilizer pass through the strait as well. Or rather, those are the transit volumes under ordinary circumstances. As of Feb. 28, conditions in the Strait of Hormuz have been decidedly extraordinary. “Right now, ships waiting to transit both on the inside and outside of the Hormuz are awaiting developments and not transiting,” said Svein Ringbakken, CEO of maritime war-risk insurer DNK. “Shipowners take the Iranian threats that ships will be attacked seriously and factor these into their risk assessments.” Even when covered by war-risk insurance (yes, it’s available in wars, including this one), shipowners are highly cautious when it comes to active war zones like the strait. “They’re primarily concerned about ensuring the safety of their crews. To await developments is natural in an early phase of the conflict with major combat operations ongoing,” Ringbakken explained. Only a few ships have been able and willing to transit the strait since clashes began, and like the Danuta I, most of them were shadow vessels transporting Iranian oil. Even if ships in the Gulf only continue to be hit by occasional drone and missile strikes, they, their crews and their cargoes will suffer. | Gallo Images/Orbital Horizon/Copernicus Sentinel Data 2025 The obvious question now is how long the conflict will last. Five days in, nine ships had already been hit or directly targeted in the strait or surrounding waters, with three crew members killed. And while U.S. President Donald Trump has said the war may last up to four to five weeks, wars famously deliver no certainty. Furthermore, because shipping is global by its very nature, Europe will be affected as well. A Swedish-owned tanker, the Stena Imperative, which was transporting oil for the U.S. military, is among the vessels that have been struck. Meanwhile, many more ships waiting north and south of the strait are either owned or flagged in Europe, or are carrying cargo bound for the continent — mostly oil and gas, and possibly aluminum and urea, a nitrogen fertilizer crucial to global agriculture and thus food security. Fortunately, the EU and the U.K. import most of their aluminum and urea from other countries, but they do import significant amounts of diesel, gasoline, oil, jet fuel and kerosene from the Gulf states. Also, while many of the ships idling at the strait’s southern entrance (southeastern, to be precise) will likely leave if the war lasts longer than, say, the end of this week, it’s a different story for the several thousand ships still inside the Persian Gulf. They’re trapped there, and the dangers in the strait mean most don’t dare transit it to reach their next destinations — let alone get back to the Gulf to collect more. War insurance would cover damage to the ship and cargo, but no war insurance can bring lives back. “A prolonged suspension of ship transits, particularly oil and gas tankers, could have a profound effect on energy prices,” Ringbakken pointed out. Indeed, on March 6, Qatar’s Minister of State for Energy Affairs Saad Sherida al-Kaabi told the Financial Times that the war in the Middle East could “bring down the economies of the world.” All Gulf energy exporters would declare force majeure and shut down production within days, he said. Iran has already demonstrated that it’s willing to retaliate against U.S. and Israeli attacks by striking Gulf countries. If the war continues, it may well decide to launch a campaign against selected vessels in the Gulf. To be sure, targeting merchant vessels violates international law — but Iran has never been a stickler for international rules, and it’s unlikely to fully commit to them now, especially after Trump recently told journalists he doesn’t “need international law,” and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth openly dismissed “stupid rules of engagement” when speaking about the war against Iran. Imagine constant assaults on ships in the Persian Gulf — ships that represent virtually every country on the planet and are laden with cargo bound for worldwide destinations. If that comes to pass, European leaders wouldn’t be the only ones pleading with Trump to end the war. In fact, the whole world would join Qatar’s energy minister in sending distress signals. (Such strikes would also result in devastating oil spills.) Even if ships in the Gulf only continue to be hit by occasional drone and missile strikes, they, their crews and their cargoes will suffer. So would the economy — including America’s. While Trump may not care about international law, he does care about the stock market — and a large chunk of the world’s stock markets depend on the Strait of Hormuz. Let’s hope he heeds that call.

Ivo Daalder, a former U.S. ambassador to NATO, is a senior fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center and host of the weekly podcast “World Review with Ivo Daalder.” He writes POLITICO’s From Across the Pond column. Last December, U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth laid out the current administration’s National Defense Strategy, arguing that President Donald Trump was the true heir to former President Ronald Reagan’s strategy of peace through strength. A key part of that strategy, Hegseth maintained, was the Weinberger Doctrine, which determined the principles for when and how the U.S. was to use military force. He then claimed that last June’s Operation Midnight Hammer against Iran had been “a textbook example” of that doctrine, its strikes “obliterating the Iranian nuclear program.” But what about the current war against Iran? Does Operation Epic Fury also hold up against Weinberger’s tenets? Hegseth would surely have a tough time making that case — and for Trump, this could finally mean trouble. In a November 1984 speech, then-Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger outlined six principles for military engagement that were, in many ways, drawn from lessons learned during that year’s disastrous Lebanon expedition and the failures in Vietnam a decade before. Unsurprisingly, Trump’s Iran war fails to meet virtually every single one. First, Weinberger said, force should only be used if a vital national interest is at stake. And while Iran may be governed by an odious regime that has accumulated a vast arsenal of ballistic missiles, pursued a nuclear program and exported terrorism overseas, the U.S. has lived with this very regime for almost half a century. Moreover, Tehran is weaker today than it has been in decades. Its economy is in shambles, its proxies have been decimated by Israel, and its allies in Syria have been ousted. The list doesn’t end there: Its nuclear program was buried deep underground after last year’s Israeli-U.S. bombing campaign; its missile stockpiles are dwindling; its production facilities are damaged; its air force can’t fly; its army can’t move beyond its borders; and its navy is little more than a coastal fleet. So while the end of the Iranian regime would be a good thing, it’s hard to make the case that, weakened as it was by war, sanctions and mismanagement, Tehran posed enough of a threat to vital U.S. national interests to justify a preventive war. Next come Weinberger’s second, third and fourth principles — that before deciding to use force, the U.S. needs to have clearly defined objectives, be wholeheartedly committed to achieving them, and deploy sufficient force to make sure it does. In the case of Iran, there are problems with all three. For one, Trump and his aides have cited many different objectives: deposing the regime, ensuring Iran never has nuclear weapons, destroying the country’s missile capabilities, vanquishing its navy, ending support for its proxies and terrorism, exacting revenge for past attacks killing Americans, as well as ensuring Iran can never project force beyond its borders. All these constitute a tall order, to say the least. Regime change, for one, is hard to achieve from the air, and yet it seems Washington has no intention of deploying ground troops to depose Iran’s regime, maintain order and assist a new one in taking over. And though airpower can do a lot to degrade and destroy the country’s nuclear program, missile capability and military in the short run, those are a means to an end. What political objective would be served by effectively disarming Iran? What would constitute success for the U.S.? And how much force would be needed to achieve it? On this, the administration and the president have been silent. A key part of that strategy, Pete Hegseth maintained, was the Weinberger Doctrine, which determined the principles for when and how the U.S. was to use military force. | Kevin Dietsch/Getty Images Finally, we have Weinberger’s last two principles, which are the most exacting but also the most important in a democracy: First among them is having a “reasonable assurance” of public and congressional support for the contemplated action. Here, the administration hasn’t even tried. In his State of the Union address just days before ordering the start of the war, Trump devoted only three of his 108 minutes to Iran. He emphasized that Iran needed to say the “secret words” that it would not get nuclear weapons — words it has uttered for decades — and never made the case to the public for war to achieve this or any other objective. Also, in contrast to his two Republican predecessors who similarly embarked on wars in the Middle East in the past 30 years — George W. Bush and George H.W. Bush — Trump didn’t seek congressional support either. Rather, he has ignored Congress completely, despite its constitutional role to declare war. Then comes the sixth and most obvious Weinberger principle: War should be a last resort. And what’s unfolding now is anything but. Twice the U.S. engaged in direct and indirect talks with Iran over its nuclear program, and twice Trump decided to go to war rather than see whether a deal was possible. Moreover, the U.S. negotiating team consisted of two entrepreneurs close to the president — his son-in-law Jared Kushner and Special Envoy Steve Witkoff — both of whom know little about the intricacies of nuclear weapons and programs. For example, just days before the talks, Witkoff told Fox News that Iran was “a week away” from making “industrial-grade bomb-making material” — except, in reality, Iran was in no position to enrich any of its uranium since the material was buried deep underground, and there’s no evidence that it even had operable enrichment centrifuges. Witkoff also claimed that Iran had suggested it had sufficient nuclear material to make 11 bombs, and that this fact had been hidden from inspectors. But the International Atomic Energy Agency, which is responsible for verifying nuclear activities, was well aware of exactly how much uranium Iran had enriched after Trump ripped up the last nuclear deal in 2018. The truth is, Iran was nowhere near getting a nuclear weapon. It wouldn’t have the capacity to build a long-range missile that could hit the U.S. for many years. It had no intention of striking U.S. forces in the Middle East first. And there were other ways to address these long-term threats. Moreover, the U.S. negotiating team consisted of two entrepreneurs close to the president — his son-in-law Jared Kushner and Special Envoy Steve Witkoff — both of whom know little about the intricacies of nuclear weapons and programs. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images Trump’s decision to go to war wasn’t a last resort — it was a dangerous gamble that force could achieve what diplomacy could not, and it was wholly inconsistent with the Weinberger Doctrine that Hegseth touted as the administration’s guide. Of course, like all gambles, this all might just pay off. But it’s far more likely to end badly, with a new Iranian regime that’s even more determined to exact revenge, using terror and other means to strike back. If so, the cost for Trump will be significant. Just as Bush paid a heavy toll for his Iraq misadventure, and Trump’s predecessor Joe Biden paid dearly for the chaotic withdrawal from Afghanistan, there will be a steep political price for this unnecessary and dangerous wager come November.

Elisabeth Braw is a senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, the author of the award-winning “Goodbye Globalization” and a regular columnist for POLITICO. Her new book, Undersea War, is out later this year. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney delivered a thoughtful and stirring speech at the recent World Economic Forum in Davos, speaking of “a rupture in the world order, the end of a pleasant fiction and the beginning of a harsh reality, where geopolitics, where the large, main power, geopolitics, is submitted to no limits, no constraints.” Though he didn’t mention the U.S. by name, it was clear Washington’s recent behavior had driven him to this conclusion. The speech didn’t please U.S. President Donald Trump, who went on to call Carney ungrateful and threatened to impose 100-percent tariffs on Canada if it struck a trade deal with China — even though Washington itself has been conducting a series of trade talks with Beijing. Trump appears willing to harm America’s allies in ways that once seemed inconceivable, and threats — as we’ve learned — are his way, with many of them are directed at allies. The threat against Canada, for example, came just days after Trump reminded luminaries at the World Economic Forum in Davos that he was very serious about annexing Greenland. And that was after he’d threatened new U.S. tariffs against European nations voicing support for Denmark. Tariffs for European friends are, of course, already a reality. In late January, the U.S. president told an interviewer he imposed 39 percent tariffs on Switzerland after its president “rubbed me the wrong way.” All of this is why we need to start looking somewhere we haven’t had to before: at the bottom of the ocean, at undersea cables — more specifically, at the U.S. firms owning undersea cables. Google & Co. aren’t just tech giants, they’re now cable giants too. And if the White House were to instruct them to disconnect the nations it wanted to hurt, those countries would find themselves in very serious trouble. The speech didn’t please U.S. President Donald Trump, who went on to call Mark Carney ungrateful and threatened to impose 100-percent tariffs on Canada if it struck a trade deal with China. | Fabrice Coffrini/AFP via Getty Images Back in the 1850s, when undersea telegraph cables were first invented, they were owned by a small number of pioneering private companies. Because the prospect of international telegraph traffic was enormously appealing, a couple of them managed to attract government backing for their more audacious undertakings. Later on, as cable traffic developed and grew, it mostly became the domain of state-owned postal services, since they were also in charge of telegraph services. And when undersea telephone cables arrived in the mid-20th century, they were mostly helmed by government-owned telephone companies. Nowadays, we have several hundred data cables on the seabed because that’s how the Internet travels. For decades, telephone companies around the world teamed up to buy and operate them. More recently, however, tech companies, television providers and a whole host of other companies solely in the business of owning and operating subsea cables have also joined in. Since undersea cables are expensive and — for the most part — connect two or more countries, such international consortia make sense. Unsurprisingly, some of these consortium participants are American. But these days, some of the most powerful cables being installed have only one kind of owner: a U.S. tech giant. Amazon, Google, Meta and Microsoft already co-own numerous subsea cables with other firms, but now they’re striking out on their own: Google, the leader of the pack, already operates a cable connecting South Carolina with Bermuda and Portugal, and it’s about to add more, including the only cable connecting Florida and Europe. Amazon will be the sole owner of a new cable connecting Ireland and the U.S., and Meta is working on Waterworth — a massive 50,000-kilometer cable circling the globe. These wealthy firms indisputably have the money, and their assumption that AI will further accelerate data use is also beyond argument. The tricky part is the state of the world. Back in the 1850s, when undersea telegraph cables were first invented, they were owned by a small number of pioneering private companies. | The Print Collector/Print Collector/Getty Images Subsea cables functioned swimmingly during the harmonious post-Cold War years because nations were eager to get along and increase prosperity. In the past three years, however, we’ve received regular and dramatic reminders that people, perhaps at the behest of a hostile state, can damage these cables. That’s why we need to worry about the prospect of a new geopolitical risk on the seabed — the risk that a country may decide to harm other nations by exploiting the cables’ ownership. China and the U.S. already lean on their cable owners not to connect any upcoming cables with the respective other country. And while many Western nations have grown wary of close ties with China, Trump’s recent conduct suggests they should be concerned about data-cable dependence on the U.S. as well. U.S. cable owners are in the business of business, not geopolitics. But if the U.S. president, perhaps enraged by the comments of a European leader, were to tell tech giants to block the continent from the cables they own or co-own, would they really defy his instructions? Based on their behavior leading up to Trump’s second inauguration — where the CEOs of Amazon, Meta and Google stood behind him at the ceremony — it’s safe to say the answer is a likely “no.” European banks and officials are already thinking along such lines when it comes to the dominance of U.S. payment cards like Visa. They have, according to the Financial Times, “become increasingly concerned that US payment companies’ power could be weaponised in the event of a serious breakdown in relations.” Indeed, on Feb. 19,  Britain’s banking bosses will meet to discuss a U.K. alternative. It would be privately owned and backed by the government, the Guardian reports. On the seabed, we also need to prepare accordingly. That includes helping European companies form alliances that can compete with the Silicon Valley hegemons-in-waiting.

Ivo Daalder, a former U.S. ambassador to NATO, is a senior fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center and host of the weekly podcast “World Review with Ivo Daalder.” He writes POLITICO’s From Across the Pond column These days, Europe and America don’t agree on much. But when it comes to the rules-based order, European and American leaders are in agreement: That order is gone. But is it really gone? The American-led order — Pax Americana — died with the re-election of Donald Trump in November 2024. It was clear that Trump 2.0 would continue and accelerate America’s abdication of the global leadership role Washington had first assumed in the early 1940s.  That, however, is not the same as declaring the end of the rules-based order. And, yet, that is what a succession of leaders, starting with Mark Carney’s much-heralded address in Davos last month, have now proclaimed. “The old order is not coming back,” Carney admonished his audience. “Stop invoking rules-based international order as though it still functions as advertised.”  Carney is hardly alone in declaring the end of the rules-based order. In his speech to the Munich Security Conference, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz similarly declared “that the international order, which is based on rights and rules, is on the verge of being destroyed. I fear we need to put it even more bluntly: this order — imperfect even at its best — no longer exists.” America’s erstwhile allies weren’t the only ones to bemoan the end of the rules-based order. America’s chief diplomat in Munich this past weekend, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, also picked up a shovel to bury it. “The postwar global order is not just obsolete; it is now a weapon being used against us,” Rubio asserted. “We can no longer place the so-called global order above the vital interests of our people and our nations.” The meetings in Davos and Munich of world leaders have no doubt underscored the reality of a United States vacating its traditional role as the leader of the free world, the main provider of public goods, and the principal champion of a world based on strong security alliances, open trade and the defense of democracy and human rights.  Through tariff policies, threats to invade allied countries, unilateral use of force in Venezuela and elsewhere, Trump’s America has returned to acting like the imperial powers of the late 1800s and early 1900s. Indeed, Rubio seemed to bemoan the fact that this era had ended. “For five centuries, before the end of the Second World War, the West had been expanding — its missionaries, its pilgrims, its soldiers, its explorers pouring out from its shores to cross oceans, settle new continents, build vast empires extending out across the globe.” If this is what the United States seeks to offer the world as the new global order — a return to imperialism, empire building, exploitation of national resources, the imposition of Christendom — than surely the rest of the world can be forgiven for saying: No, thanks! Nor did Rubio’s nostalgic appeal to Western civilization as the basis of transatlantic unity go over well. “We are part of one civilization — Western civilization,” Rubio declared. “We are bound to one another by the deepest bonds that nations could share, forged by centuries of shared history, Christian faith, culture, heritage, language, ancestry and the sacrifices our forefathers made together.” “The postwar global order is not just obsolete; it is now a weapon being used against us,” Rubio asserted. “We can no longer place the so-called global order above the vital interests of our people and our nations.” | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images But for most Europeans — indeed, for most Americans — these are hardly the features that set the West apart. Missing from the list were such essential Western values as democracy, human rights and the rule of law. As America celebrates its 250th year of independence, it is remarkable that its chief diplomat seems to have forgotten what made America different — the idea, inscribed in the Declaration of Independence, that: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Trump’s America is offering the world something patently unacceptable to all but the most diehard realists, who put their faith in power and its naked pursuit. It is not a world others will want to live in. But that doesn’t mean that the rules-based order is over. Yes, its major powers, led by Russia, China and the U.S., are no longer willing to live by the rules painstakingly developed over the past 80 years. But the rest of the world surely does — not least those middle powers, like Canada, the EU, Japan, Australia, India, Brazil and others Carney called to action. On the security front, America’s NATO allies are reaffirming the importance of their security alliances and bolstering spending on new and necessary capabilities. They are supporting Ukraine in ensuring it will be part of Europe, thus depriving Russia of the principal aim of its war of aggression.  New trading regimes are being negotiated among all the middle powers, to reduce the dependence of their economies on the predatory trade and supply-side policies of China and the U.S. Existing and new rules can govern trade among the 40 countries that belong to the EU, the revised Trans-Pacific Partnership, India and others. Together, these countries account for nearly 40 percent of global GDP — far outstripping the U.S. and China.  And there’s nothing to prevent the middle powers from upholding basic human rights, supporting democracy and the international institutions that have evolved over the years to deliver goods and services and protection to those in need. The U.S. may have abandoned its role in leading the rules-based system. But there is every reason to hope that those middle powers that have benefitted greatly from that system take up the leadership mantle instead.

John Kampfner is a British author, broadcaster and commentator. His new book, “Braver New World,” will be published in April. He is a regular POLITICO columnist. “The old order is unraveling at breathtaking pace,” said German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, speaking to the great and good at Davos as they frantically assessed the multitude of storms whipped up by U.S. President Donald Trump. The world has entered a new era built on brute force, and “it’s not a cozy place,” he declared. As far as appearances go, the speech was pretty good, delivered in the near-impeccable English of a man who spent many years with U.S. financial institutions. Yet Merz was still overshadowed by Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, whose own speech about the West’s “rupture” was hailed as epoch-making. Not to be outdone, a few weeks later Merz insisted to the Munich Security Conference’s organizers that he wanted to break with convention and give the opening address. With everyone fearing a repeat of U.S. Vice President JD Vance’s menace the year before, the chancellor took it upon himself to try and galvanize. His message: The world order is over; European complacency is over; but at the same time, Europe won’t apologize for its values. It was a speech that stiffened the sinews for what was to come. Make no mistake, Merz doesn’t have the charisma of other leaders. But as Germany approaches the first anniversary of the elections that ushered out the anemic Social Democrat-led government of Olaf Scholz, it may well be that in this new chancellor, the country has found the leader Europe needs for these darkened, hardened times. Merz is no Carney — but the two may have more in common than they realize. A former central banker, Carney certainly looks the part of the leader he’s become, but that wasn’t always the case. In early 2025, staring into an abyss, Canada’s Liberals decided to dump then-Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. Then, just weeks after taking over, Carney called a general election and, against the odds, defeated populist conservative Pierre Poilievre.  The person he really had to thank, however, was the incoming president south of the border who, after just a few months in office, had already vowed to absorb Canada as the 51st U.S. state. These are trying times for those who refuse to kowtow to Trump, but for Carney, they appear to be paying dividends — his approval ratings are now at their highest since he took office in March 2025. So, might the same happen to fellow centrist and ally Merz?  Unfortunately, there are a lot of things working against the German leader. For one, his party’s polling ratings remain doggedly low. The first poll of 2026 showed the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) extending its overall lead to 27 percent of the vote, while Merz’s Christian Democratic Union (CDU) came in at 24 percent. The chancellor’s personal popularity remains in the doldrums as well, as only 23 percent satisfied with him, and even among CDU supporters, only just over half approve of their own leader. Then, there is the fact that steadfastness in dealing with Trump’s vagaries — not to mention Russian President Vladimir Putin’s and Chinese President Xi Jinping’s — doesn’t necessarily insulate one from disenchantment back home. Something British Prime Minister Keir Starmer and French President Emmanuel Macron are finding out to their cost. For sure, Merz faces headwinds: Economic growth is forecast at around 1 percent in 2026 — which is better than the anaemic 0.2 percent of 2025 but still a far cry from the powerhouse of old. Consumer spending remains stubbornly low, and insolvencies are at their highest in a decade. In a letter to his party at the start of the year, Merz wrote that the economy was in a “very critical state.” The coalition, he said, would “have to concentrate on making the right political and legal decisions to drastically improve the economic conditions,” and that labor costs, energy costs, bureaucratic hurdles and tax burdens are all too high. “We will need to work on this together,” he concluded. But his coalition is struggling to do so, turning the much-vaunted “Autumn of Reforms” into a damp squib. Yet Merz was still overshadowed by Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, whose own speech about the West’s “rupture” was hailed as epoch-making. | Andrej Ivanov/AFP via Getty Images Moreover, many of the changes Merz would like to introduce — his latest bugbears are part-time work and Germans’ propensity to call in sick — are fiercely opposed by his coalition partners, the Social Democrats (SPD), which continue to cling to the welfarist view of yesteryear. In any case, Germany’s problems go even deeper: Putin’s invasion of Ukraine exposed an overreliance on Russian gas, which has proven rather expensive to move away from. Trump’s tariffs compromised Germany’s export-driven model. And now China’s overtaking Germany in several sectors it once provided a willing market for — notably cars. One thing working in Merz’s favor, however, is that compared to the far more embattled Starmer and Macron, he at least has money to spend. Of course, it’s not all perfect: Statistics for 2025 show the government’s been struggling to implement its plans to inject half-a-trillion euros into infrastructure over the long term, and there’s considerable concern over how this money will be spent. The Council of Economic Experts, which provides independent advice to ministers, has warned the government is at risk of “squandering” its investment, as it’s been using too much of the new funds to pay for pensions and social spending. But that’s a nice problem to have compared to others in Europe.  Finally, one date in the diary is filling Merz — and the leaders of Germany’s other mainstream parties — with trepidation: Sept. 6, when voters in the eastern state of Saxony Anhalt cast their ballots. One of the quirks of German politics is that the country’s in a permanent state of electioneering, with several regional elections per year. And ahead of the Saxony Anhalt vote, the AfD is currently at around 39 percent, with the CDU trailing at 26 percent, followed by the Left Party at11 percent, and the once-mighty SPD hitting rock bottom at 8 percent. One thing working in Merz’s favor, however, is that compared to the far more embattled Starmer and Macron, he at least has money to spend. | Pool photo by Stefan Rousseau/Getty Images If the eventual results broadly reflect current predictions, one of two options will come to pass: Either the CDU will be forced to cobble together an unwieldy coalition with parties it has almost nothing in common with, or the AfD will secure an outright majority, and in so doing, control its first regional parliament and get a seat in the Bundesrat upper house. This would, in turn, rekindle the fraught debate over the “firewall” — i.e. the main parties’ refusal to include the AfD from government at any level. Still, these elections are seven months away, and seven months in MAGA mayhem is a long time. Trump’s threats to take over Greenland even caused far-right parties across Europe disquiet, impelling some to criticize him, and nonetheless discomfiting those who didn’t. So, might voters begin to tire of all the disruption as the economy slowly cranks into gear? That’s his hope. It’s a distant one, but there’s a chance that what helped Carney could help him too.

Mujtaba Rahman is the head of Eurasia Group’s Europe practice. He posts at @Mij_Europe. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer has only four months to save his premiership. After the U.K. parliament’s return from Christmas recess, Starmer marked his first 18 months in Downing Street with a speech touting his Labour party’s efforts to ease the cost-of-living crisis. But behind the scenes, anxiety is growing that voters won’t feel any meaningful relief before the decisive regional and local elections on May 7, which could seal the prime minister’s political fate. And the outlook is bleak: After placing third in the Welsh Parliament elections behind Plaid Cymru and far-right leader Nigel Farage’s Reform UK, failing to unseat the Scottish National Party in Scotland, and bleeding support to both the Greens and Reform UK in English council contests, Labour risks humiliation across the U.K. And national polling only underscores the danger, with Reform UK now averaging close to 30 percent, and Labour languishing in the teens alongside the Greens and the Conservatives. Still, Starmer’s advisers privately argue that “less bad than expected” results might be enough to save him. But many Labour MPs expect a leadership challenge regardless, as it would require only 81 out of 404 MPs to initiate one — and Starmer is hardly popular with the wider party. Then there’s the unfolding scandal over Labour stalwart and former U.K. ambassador to the U.S. Peter Mandelson. Mandelson was appointed by Starmer before being removed from his position in September once the extent of his friendship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein became clear. Under mounting pressure, Starmer has been strong in his criticism and push for transparency — but that may not be enough, as Mandelson’s now under investigation for misconduct while in public office. A challenge may not come immediately, or even right after polling day in May. But the sense that Starmer’s authority is waning is unmistakable. For one, the prime minister is already preparing his defense. A King’s speech designed to reset the agenda ,outlining proposals on special education needs and digital ID, is now penciled in for mid-May. A cabinet reshuffle may follow, and some in Labour believe Starmer might even sacrifice his chancellor if he thinks it would placate restive backbenchers. He’s also expected to recall former Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner to the cabinet, hoping her return could blunt any leadership ambitions. Labour’s traditions may offer Starmer only limited protection.While the party prides itself on avoiding the “regicide” that’s plagued the rival Conservatives, this instinct will weaken if electoral defeat looms. Labour MPs may dread a destabilizing leadership contest, but many have already concluded Starmer won’t lead them into the next general election. And privately, some ministers believe it’s no longer a question of if the prime minister falls, but when. Their concerns are understandable: Energized by new leadership, the Greens are siphoning some progressive voters, while Reform UK is eroding Labour’s traditional working-class base. Meanwhile, the Conservatives have stabilized enough under Kemi Badenoch’s leadership to reduce the likelihood of another revolt — a development that leaves Starmer more exposed. So, if a contest is triggered, he’s unlikely to survive it. Party members — roughly 250,000-strong — tend to favor the soft left. And that dynamic would advantage Rayner, should she stand. Last week’s events in Greater Manchester only further crystallized this perception of Starmer’s weakness. His decision to block Mayor Andy Burnham from contesting a parliamentary by-election was a lose-lose proposition: Either deny Burnham a Westminster platform and risk a party backlash, or enable a future leadership challenger. And Starmer chose the former, provoking fury while reinforcing the perception that he’s defensive and frail. Then came news of Mandelson. Starmer was elected on the promise of ending the chaos of government sleaze, and this saga will only foment questions about his judgement when appointing Mandelson ambassador. And the prime minister may well end up having to sacrifice his beloved advisor Morgan McSweeney, who lobbied for Mandelson to be picked for the plum Washington post. Labour MPs may dread a destabilizing leadership contest, but many have already concluded Starmer won’t lead them into the next general election. | Lukas Coch/EPA Meanwhile, foreign policy — the one area where Starmer’s performance has proven more assured — is offering Number 10 no relief either. U.S. President Donald Trump’s return to the White House has distracted him from and sometimes undermined his domestic agenda, particularly in the case of tariffs. And the latest crisis over Greenland was no exception. Managing relations with the U.S. under Trump has forced Starmer into awkward contortions, attempting to respond to provocations while trying to preserve his strategy of staying close to both Washington and Brussels, where his government is trying to reset relations. As it stands, the debate inside Labour over whether to pivot toward the EU is intensifying, and there’s now growing support within the party for a customs union with the bloc. But Starmer’s preference for incremental sector-by-sector alignment risks satisfying no one, viewed in Brussels as cherry-picking and at home as timid. Even loyalists concede a damaging story has taken hold: A prime minister unable to impose a vision or discipline, haunted by his early decisions, buffeted by U-turns and trapped by his own party. Starmer wanted to avoid a Tory-style drama. Instead, he’s now heading one of Labour’s own — slower, quieter but no less brutal. And four months isn’t long to change the narrative, especially when so many in his own party have already turned the page.

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. Another round of U.S.-brokered Ukraine talks commence today in Abu Dhabi. The overall outlook remains no less bleak for Ukraine, as it inches toward the fourth anniversary of Russia’s war. Yet there are signs that what comes out of this week’s face-to-face negotiations may finally answer a key question: Is Russian President Vladimir Putin serious? On the eve of the planned two-day talks, Russia resumed its large-scale air assault on Ukraine’s battered infrastructure after a brief weekend hiatus. Striking cities including Kyiv, Dnipro, Kharkiv, Sumy and Odesa overnight with 450 drones and 71 missiles, including ballistic, Russia hit the country’s energy grid and residential houses as temperatures dropped below -20 degrees Celsius. “Putin must be deprived of illusions that he can achieve anything by his bombing, terror, and aggression,” pleaded Ukraine’s frustrated Minister of Foreign Affairs Andrii Sybiha. “Neither anticipated diplomatic efforts in Abu Dhabi this week nor his promises to the United States kept him from continuing terror against ordinary people in the harshest winter.” According to U.S. President Donald Trump, those promises included refraining from targeting Kyiv and other major cities for a whole week during a period of “extraordinary cold.” But no sooner had Trump spoken than Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov warned the break would only last a weekend. That’s hardly an auspicious launchpad to negotiations, and has many Ukrainian politicians arguing that Russia is merely going through the motions to ensure it doesn’t end up on the wrong side of an unpredictable U.S. leader — albeit one who seems inordinately patient with Putin, and much less so with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Not that Ukrainians had put much store in a week-long “energy ceasefire” to begin with. A vicious war has taught them to expect the worst. “Unfortunately, everything is entirely predictable,” posted Zelenskyy adviser Mykhailo Podolyak on Tuesday. “This is what a Russian ‘ceasefire’ looks like: during a brief thaw, stockpile enough missiles and then strike at night when temperatures drop to minus 24 Celsius or lower, targeting civilians. Russia sees no reason whatsoever to stop the war, halt genocidal practices, or engage in diplomacy. Only large-scale freezing tactics.” It’s difficult to quibble with his pessimism. Putin’s Kremlin has a long track record of using peace talks to delay, obfuscate, exhaust opponents and continue with war. It’s part of a playbook the Russian leader and his lugubrious Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov have used time and again in Ukraine, and for years in Syria. Nonetheless, according to some Ukrainian and U.S. sources familiar with the conduct of the talks, there are indications that the current negotiations may be more promising than widely credited. They say both sides are actually being more “constructive” — which, admittedly, is an adjective that has often been misused. “Before, these negotiations were like pulling teeth without anesthetic,” said a Republican foreign policy expert who has counseled Kyiv. Granted anonymity in order to speak freely, he said: “Before, I felt like screaming whenever I had to see another readout that said the discussions were ‘constructive.’ But now, I think they are constructive in some ways. I’m noticing the Russians are taking these talks more seriously.” It’s part of a playbook the Russian leader and his lugubrious Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov have used time and again in Ukraine, and for years in Syria. | Maxim Shipenkov/EPA Some of this, he said, owes to the skill of those now leading the Ukrainian team after the departure of Zelenskyy’s powerful former chief of staff, Andriy Yermak. Among the smartest and most able are: Yermak’s replacement as head of the Office of the President and former chief of the Main Intelligence Directorate Kyrylo Budanov; Secretary of the National Security and Defense Council Rustem Umerov; and Davyd Arakhamia, who heads the parliamentary faction of Zelenskyy’s ruling Servant of the People party. “I am noticing since Davyd got involved … there’s been a noticeable improvement with the Russian negotiators. I think that’s because they respect them — especially Davyd — and because they see them as people who are living in reality and are prepared to compromise,” the expert explained. “I’m cautiously optimistic that we have a reasonable chance to end this conflict in the spring.” A former senior Ukrainian official who was also granted anonymity to speak to POLITICO was less optimistic, but even he concurred there’s been a shift in the mood music and a change in tone from Russia at the negotiating table. Describing the head of the Russian delegation, chief of the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces Igor Kostyukov, and Military Intelligence officer Alexander Zorin as practical men, he said neither were prone to giving long lectures on the conflict’s “root causes” — unlike Lavrov and Putin. “The Russian intelligence officers have been workmanlike, digging into practical details,” noted the former official, whom Zelenskyy’s office still consults. He hazards that the change may have to do with the Kremlin’s reading that Europe is getting more serious about continent-wide defense, ramping up weapons production and trying to become less dependent on the U.S. for its overall security. “Putin must be deprived of illusions that he can achieve anything by his bombing, terror, and aggression,” pleaded Ukraine’s frustrated Minister of Foreign Affairs Andrii Sybiha. | Olivier Matthys/EPA “A peace deal, an end of the war, could take a lot of the momentum out of this — European leaders would have a much tougher time selling to their voters the sacrifices that will be needed to shift to higher defense spending,” he said. Of course, Russia’s shift in tone may be another attempt to string Trump along. “Putin has almost nothing to show for the massive costs of the war. Accepting a negotiated settlement now, where he cannot claim a clear ‘win’ for Russia and for the Russian people, would be a big problem domestically,” argued retired Australian general Mick Ryan. Whatever the reasons, what emerges from Abu Dhabi in the coming days will likely tell us if Putin finally means business.