Georgios Samaras is an assistant professor of public policy at the School for Government, King’s College London. I’ve spent more than a year examining the media’s habit of using substitute labels instead of calling the far right what it is — and this practice is now everywhere. Newsrooms cycle through a growing list of alternative descriptors, usually in search of language that feels safer or less likely to trigger backlash: hard right, alt-right, new right, religious right, national conservative, traditionalist… The list keeps growing. This would matter less if any of these terms added clarity, but most do not. They’re vague, they aren’t grounded in political science research, and they blur ideology rather than naming it, only to leave readers with softer language that hides what these actors truly stand for. And there are grave consequences to this mainstreaming. Of course, none of this is new. Scholars of far-right mainstreaming, such as Katy Brown and Aurelien Mondon, have shown how buzzwords — especially “populism” — helped produce this kind of journalistic ambiguity. The far right understood this dynamic long ago and has been exploiting it with discipline. Many of these actors now routinely deem being described as “far right” as defamation, treating accurate political description as if it were a form of vilification. Instead, these parties— from Reform UK and France’s National Rally to Brothers of Italy and Alternative for Germany — are selling a self-proclaimed conservative vision that is wrapped in the language of common sense. Paired with promises of order and national renewal, this is the standard trick for presenting racist politics as natural, and smuggling some of the darkest ideas of the 1930s back into public life under the cover of murky policy language. Let’s take, for example, the concept of “remigration.” In political science, remigration refers to the forced removal of minorities, especially those of African and South Asian descent, through coercion, exclusion and mass displacement — it’s ethnic cleansing dressed up in bureaucratic language. But today this term is appearing across Western media with far too little scrutiny, often treated as just another hardline immigration policy in the far-right playbook. We can observe the same pattern being applied to the “great replacement” conspiracy theory, which which purports that political and cultural elites are deliberately engineering demographic change by encouraging immigration and higher birth rates among non-white, non-Christian populations to displace white Christian Europeans. Claims that whole cities are being “lost” to Islam, “no-go zones” and “two-tier policing” myths; distortions around grooming scandals; and blatant lies about crime statistics are turning the conversation around migration into a permanent moral panic. While the effects of this are visible all across Europe, Britain’s Reform UK presents one of the clearest cases — not least because the party has been at the front of the line when it comes to legal threats and public pressure against media outlets for using established terms to describe its ideology. Alas, much of the media has also handed Reform UK an absurd amount of airtime. This party, with just eight members of parliament, is routinely given a platform to push extreme ideas with a free pass, while its figures pose as a government-in-waiting more than three years ahead of the U.K.’s next general election. This is exactly how someone like Reform UK policy head Zia Yusuf has become such a central figure. Not even an MP, Yusuf has been laying out his far-right vision in plain sight, getting it amplified nonstop. He has threatened mass deportations on a staggering scale — floating figures approaching 300,000 people a day — called for an end to “Indefinite Leave to Remain” when it comes to Brexit, and proposed an enforcement agency akin to the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement to carry it out. He has also boasted that Reform UK wouldn’t just leave the European Convention of Human Rights, but “derogate from every international agreement” standing in the way of its deportation agenda. But while these slogans play well on X and rack up thousands of likes, the second a journalist pushes back and calls this ideology what it is, the whole act falls apart — as when BBC presenter Victoria Derbyshire pressed Yusuf to name even one protected characteristic his party wanted to remove from the Equality Act, and he couldn’t name a single one. The ecosystem now has a global engine it would be naïve not to name — U.S. President Donald Trump. | Olivier Douliery/AFP via Getty Images This interview showed exactly how little substance sits behind the political performance — and the vital importance of proper scrutiny. The problem is that moments like this are growing increasingly rare. The BBC’s reporting style, for example, is all too often shaped by internal guidelines and a collapsing vision of performative neutrality. This was clearly demonstrated in coverage of the death of 23-year-old Quentin Deranque in France two weeks ago, with a report that described Deranque as a “far-right feminist” — a phrase that invents a political category no serious politics course anywhere in the world would recognize. Far-right politics and feminism come from fundamentally different traditions and pursue fundamentally different aims. But this isn’t a one-off example. These aren’t isolated editorial lapses. They reflect a political climate that rewards euphemism and intimidation. And that ecosystem now has a global engine it would be naïve not to name — U.S. President Donald Trump. Last year I wrote in POLITICO that Trump wants to poison global political culture. What we’ve seen since is an effort to export a style that thrives on bullying journalists and steadily lowering standards, including those of political language. It’s a lesson that travels fast. His European counterparts are catching up. They now understand that these practices can pressure media organizations into softening their language and normalizing their presence. And with far-right parties topping the polls across so much of Europe, we’ve already passed the mainstreaming stage. Every uncritical mention of far-right rhetoric is an editorial decision with political consequences. Every headline, every clip, every click adds weight. This is how the line gets crossed. And how some media are no longer just covering the far right but helping it speak.

Zoja Surroi is political advisor to the prime minister of Kosovo. Prime Minister Albin Kurti’s second majority win in Kosovo shows it’s possible to inspire through governance. To understand how he won his second mandate, one has to understand why he won his first — and that is the desire for change. To correct a political course before it becomes irreversible and to move toward something better. At the time, I was filled with such hope, watching the results from the Harvard Kennedy School library, yet to join his cabinet. For decades, Kosovo — like much of the Balkans — had succumbed to the cliches of the region: Corruption was treated as inevitable, stability was prioritized over accountability, and the implicit assumption was that it was naïve to expect more from a post-conflict Balkan state than just free trade. But this felt genuinely new. It seemed Kurti was in politics for the right reasons — and he had the past to prove it. A former political prisoner under Serbian rule, he spent years in opposition as one of the only credible voices speaking for true independence in Kosovo. And the promise he represented was different: prosperity, modernity, non-corruption. The kind of politics that increases turnout and pulls back those who had disengaged. Kosovo had declared independence, but it had never quite received a fresh start — until then. Kosovo became an independent country in the 21st century. Its political identity has never been about settling for the crumbs of the 20th. And Kurti avoided the fate of many first-term reformers because he delivered. Fulfilling the promises you’ve set out for the people that count on you the most isn’t just the right thing to do — it’s also good politics. That mandate wasn’t built on spectacle or shiny mega-projects. It focused on the unglamorous work of governance: building a non-corrupt government, expanding social protection, making public higher education free and strengthening government institutions. These things don’t go viral, but they’re felt: Kosovo’s standing in international transparency indices has markedly improved. The World Bank removed Kosovo from its list of fragile and conflict-affected situations, and projected it as the fastest-growing economy in its region. In Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index, Kosovo rose 28 places during Kurti’s tenure. However, governing isn’t just about domestic reform, and Serbia remains the main external complication. As Kosovo reached its adulthood as a state this month, continued denial of its sovereignty looks increasingly anachronistic — and yet, it persists. And while Kosovo remains firmly pro-EU, Serbia has leaned in the opposite direction, deepening ties with Russia and tightening internal political control. This dynamic has real consequences: Belgrade’s influence over Kosovo’s Serb minority — roughly 4 percent of the population, one-third of which is concentrated around the north border — has worked against integration in the country. Political pluralism has been constrained, with one party effectively monopolizing the political field. And the dangers of this became brutally clear with the armed attack in Banjska in September of 2023. To that end, Kurti’s most ambitious — and controversial — policy has been his effort to close institutional vacuums in the north by extending the reach of Kosovo’s administrative authority. To some international partners, this appeared hasty, and the EU responded with punitive measures it has now lifted. But for many Kosovars, it was long overdue. Indeed, it’s difficult to convince a Kosovar that the threat Serbia represents is overstated. This is where Kurti’s victory takes on broader meaning. Whether in Kosovo or elsewhere, politics requires the courage to move beyond the center. It rewards those who stand for something — consistently and over time. Kosovo today exceeds many of the expectations once placed upon it. Its success is also the success of the U.S. and the EU, both of which helped shape its post-war institutions and remain deeply popular among its citizens. The question now isn’t if Kosovo belongs in the European project — it’s about Europe’s willingness to uphold its own values.

Timing is key. Europe must prove that Europe can act, not just react. Enrico Letta is a former prime minister of Italy and now president of the Institut Jacques Delors. He is also Dean of the IE School of Politics, Economics, and Global Affairs at IE University. In a world reshaped by Trump and by the accelerating logic of geopolitical competition, Europe needs an answer that is both realistic and ambitious. The strongest response the EU can offer is to complete the single market. For decades, it has been Europe’s strongest asset, the backbone of our prosperity, and increasingly the cornerstone of our sovereignty. And yet, in the areas that matter most, we still do not have one market. We have the sum of 27 national markets. This fragmentation is not a technical flaw. It is a political and strategic weakness. We pay for it in higher costs, weaker investment, slower innovation, and reduced capacity to act in the world. Europe’s problem is not diagnosis. The problem is speed, ownership and political commitment. This is why we need a bold political commitment to strengthen and complete the single market. We need an agreement that creates a fast track for the steps required to complete it, endorsed by the presidents of the EU institutions. It should have a name that matches its ambition: the One Market Act. In 1992, Europe moved from a common market to a single market. Now we need the next step: one market. This is not about treaty change. The actions we need are already possible under the existing framework. We can act immediately. The tools are there; what Europe needs is execution. The One Market Act should focus on a limited package of true game-changers. Not dozens of files. A small number of priorities, chosen because they reinforce each other and strike at the heart of fragmentation. Three priorities are sectoral. The first is financial services. Europe’s public budgets are constrained, but Europe holds vast private savings. A true savings and investments union is how we can channel capital into European companies, strengthen our industrial base, and support the international role of the euro. The second is energy. Without stronger interconnections, Europe will remain exposed to bottlenecks, volatility and avoidable costs. Completing the energy union is not only a climate priority. It is a competitiveness and security priority. The third is connectivity. Europe cannot claim technological sovereignty while its telecom sector remains weak and fragmented. This requires swift delivery on the Digital Networks Act, and the political courage to enable investment and consolidation at continental scale. But a modern single market also depends on horizontal enablers. The Fifth Freedom is essential: the free flow of knowledge, data, research and skills. Without it, Europe will keep paying the strategic cost of non-innovation. The same logic applies to the 28th regime. Europe does not lack ideas and talent. It lacks a framework that allows companies to scale across borders with simplicity. A truly European company regime would keep investment and ambition in Europe. Finally, the single market will only remain politically sustainable if it protects the freedom to stay. Mobility must remain a choice, not an obligation. A stronger market must go hand in hand with cohesion, essential services, SMEs and a robust social dimension. This cannot become another long-term strategy. Europe needs a final deadline, 2028, and intermediate milestones in 2026 and 2027. Timing is key. Europe must prove that Europe can act, not just react.We need the One Market Act.

Andrew Puzder is U.S. Ambassador to the EU and Matthew Whitaker is U.S. Ambassador to NATO. The NATO transatlantic alliance has been the foundation of European and American security for decades. Today, as the world faces complex and unprecedented security challenges, the United States and Europe must work together to sustain and strengthen this partnership. Limiting U.S. defense industry participation in European procurement programs threatens that partnership and weakens our mutual security. To their credit, NATO allies have responded to President Donald Trump’s call for increased defense investment, with commitments to raise defense spending to 5 percent of GDP. But for the most part those commitments are as yet unfulfilled, meaning the U.S. still bears a disproportionate share of Europe’s security costs and provides technical and defense production capabilities our NATO allies lack. As the war in Ukraine rages on, U.S. production lines must operate at capacity to supply munitions other nations cannot, such as U.S. air defense systems and their interceptor missiles and F-16 ammunition and spare parts. This is particularly true as the U.S. strives to meet its own defense production needs as well as those of our allies across the world. For the U.S. to continue supplying the armaments Ukraine and NATO member countries need requires orders sufficient to justify their production and the resources to pay for them. With that in mind, the United States has expressed concerns about how EU defense initiatives like Security Action for Europe (SAFE) and the European Defense Industry Program (EDIP) restrict market access for American companies. Such exclusionary measures undermine our collective defense by limiting competition, stifling innovation and depriving these companies of the orders they need to maintain production at the levels required to meet our allies’ needs. EDIP and SAFE mandate the EU maintain control over the design, configuration, and future modification of defense systems. And these requirements threaten intellectual property rights, constrain supply chains, and impede transatlantic interoperability. Additionally, these programs impose a 35 percent cap on U.S. industrial participation, limiting the possibility of U.S.-EU joint defense ventures. EU policymakers considering the future of defense cooperation face a clear choice. | Armend Nimani/AFP via Getty Images Looking ahead, we are especially concerned about the Commission’s plan to incorporate “European preference” in the Defense Procurement Directive in 2026. Revisions to the Directive are critical because they will directly impact how EU countries spend their national money on defense procurements. Our view is that EU countries should have the full sovereign autonomy to make decisions about defense procurements — including where to make purchases — without the EU imposing additional eligibility criteria similar to those present in SAFE and EDIP. Similarly, if the goal of the European Commission’s proposed €90 billion loan to Ukraine is for Ukraine to defeat Russia, the EU should allow Ukraine to purchase what it needs as quickly as possible. Otherwise, the loan appears to serve more as an economic development initiative that favors certain EU countries’ defense industries. Let us be clear: We welcome member countries’ efforts to ramp up their defense budgets and the EU utilizing financial levers to encourage more defense spending. But not at the cost of decades of cooperation by fragmenting the defense market and reducing the effectiveness of joint efforts. The economic implications are significant. U.S. defense companies are not merely suppliers; they’re partners who have invested in European economies, created tens of thousands of good-paying European jobs, and provided the advanced technology that strengthens NATO. Our transatlantic defense industry is most effective when nations are free from protectionist policies and able to choose equipment and capabilities best suited to their needs. Joint ventures and transatlantic supply chains have enabled collaboration on next-generation technologies including missile and cyber defense. By leveraging the expertise and resources of American industry, Europe can share the burden of defense investment and ensure access to the best possible equipment. The U.S. has consistently welcomed European investment and competition in our own defense market, including through Reciprocal Defense Procurement Agreements (RDPAs) with 19 of 27 EU countries. Reciprocal openness is essential to maintain trust and ensure both sides benefit from shared investments. Restrictive measures stand in direct contrast to member countries’ commitments under these agreements and undermine access to our long shared, transatlantic defense industrial base. The stakes are high. A prosperous, secure Europe is in the best interests of both the EU and the United States. European defense capability strengthens NATO and enables both sides to meet global challenges more effectively.  Creating barriers for U.S. industry will slow Europe’s rearming efforts and undermine both NATO readiness and interoperability by severing access to integrated transatlantic supply chains. EU policymakers considering the future of defense cooperation face a clear choice — pursue policies that restrict market access and fragment the defense sector, or foster an environment of openness, competition, and innovation. The latter approach supports our collective security, readiness, resilience, and cost-effective investment, benefiting taxpayers, workers, and service members on both sides of the Atlantic.

Mikhail Khodorkovsky is the founder of the New Eurasian Strategies Centre and co-founder of the Russian Antiwar Committee. The Russia-China partnership has no limits — if you believe the two countries’ leaders, that is. Reality, however, isn’t quite so cozy. An uncomfortable marriage of convenience, theirs is a relationship limited by opposing goals: President Vladimir Putin’s Russia wants to tear down what remains of the post-Cold War international order and refashion it in the Kremlin’s own image. Whereas China’s contrasting gradualist approach to creating a Sino-centric global system requires preserving stability, predictability and the semblance of a rules-based order. Putin’s in a hurry because he has a limited window of opportunity to play to his strengths by exploiting the divisions among what he calls the “Collective West.” However, his weaknesses are clearly visible: U.S. intervention in Venezuela, the Kremlin’s reluctance to defend Iran and the Assad regime’s fall in Syria in late 2024  are all part of a pattern — that of an overstretched, weakened Russia that’s becoming less reliable and less trusted among its allies in the global south. And while U.S. President Donald Trump sometimes frames Russia and China as a collective threat to the U.S. — when it comes to the rationale behind his Greenland policy, for example — Washington’s actually much more interested in shaping global dynamics with Beijing than with Moscow. The 2025 meeting between Trump and Chinese President Xi Jinping in Seoul made clear that the Trump administration now sees value in separating the “Russia question” from the “China question,” and in building a pragmatic relationship of economic cooperation and Machtpolitik with Beijing. And though many experts dismiss this possibility out of hand, the Kremlin is worried by it — for good reason. For Russia, the implications of a U.S.-China rapprochement — even if based on convenience rather than conviction — are profound. Such a shift would relegate Putin’s Russia to the status of a secondary player on the international stage and sharply weaken its leverage — not least in Ukraine. The Russian leader’s dependence on Chinese supplies for machinery, equipment and the transit of goods essential to sustain his war has reached unprecedented levels. Without China, Putin’s war machine would have likely ground to a halt in 12 months or even less. Pool photo by Evgenia Novozhenina/AFP via Getty Images That’s why Moscow’s reaction to the Trump-Xi meeting was predictably bellicose, with Kremlin-friendly television channels trumpeting the fact that Russia’s new nuclear-capable missiles could plunge the world into ecological disaster or wipe out millions of people in a heartbeat — a sure sign Putin was rattled. True, the China-Russia relationship has strengthened significantly since 2022, and China has done little to rein in Putin’s aggression so far. Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi also reportedly told EU High Representative Kaja Kallas that his country didn’t want to see Russia defeated in Ukraine, as the U.S. would then concentrate its attention on Beijing. But the maintenance of the Moscow-Beijing partnership rests on the assumption that both countries have more to gain in challenging and resisting the U.S. together. And that’s now in question. It was Washington’s miscalculation to initially believe it could peel Moscow away from Beijing by offering concessions and engage China from a position of strength. But that strategy has changed, with Trump characterizing his most recent meeting with Xi as a “12 out of 10,” and enthusiastically accepting an invitation to visit China in April. The U.S. leader’s pragmatic approach is certainly closer to Xi’s style, which opens the door for Beijing to achieve its goals regarding trade and hegemony in its own immediate neighborhood. Moreover, neither is inclined to provoke military conflict with the other. Trump, for his part, has vowed to curtail America’s “endless wars” — even if he bombed Iran and threatened several neighboring countries. And while Xi has his eye on Taiwan, he has every reason to avoid war with the U.S. because of the risks to the Chinese economy. This is in stark contrast to Putin, who is locked into the logic of war in order to preserve power. His absolutist approach to diplomacy couldn’t be more different to Trump. Every time the U.S. pushed for a ceasefire in Ukraine to enable negotiations, the Kremlin reiterated its maximalist goals and stepped up its air attacks instead. At least Trump appears to have realized he can’t force Putin to the negotiating table with existing sanctions or limited military pressure. However many “constructive” phone calls they have, there’s no deal to be struck. At the same time, talk of Trump walking away from Ukraine has mostly died down in Washington. The U.S. leader remains committed to achieving a peace settlement, and appears to understand that Beijing’s leverage over Moscow now offers the best prospect of achieving this. The question is whether the “no limits” partnership with Putin still offers greater benefits for Beijing, or if China’s current interests lie in a pragmatic détente with Washington and Europe. With Europe eyeing the U.S. administration warily, China now has an opportunity to cement a long-term accommodation with the old continent. And that gives Europe potential leverage to persuade China to distance itself from an unpredictable “ally” and curtail the Kremlin’s neo-imperial aggression. After all, Beijing has no interest in Putin’s continued destabilization of Europe.

Frank H. McCourt Jr. is an American business executive and civic entrepreneur. He is the founder of the Project Liberty, a global initiative aiming to restore agency in the digital age by giving people ownership and control of their personal data. At the height of the Cold War, a man named Ewald-Heinrich von Kleist-Schmenzin convened the West’s leading security experts in Munich. As a World War II resistance fighter and member of the Stauffenberg circle, which had attempted to overthrow Hitler, his goal was simple: preventing World War III. And he dedicated the rest of his life to fostering open dialogue, sharing defense strategies and deescalating tensions. Tomorrow, as global leaders gather at the annual Munich Security Conference once again, the threats they face are no less profound than they were some 60 years ago — though many of them are far less visible. Yes, wars are raging across continents, alliances are being tested, and tensions are escalating across borders and oceans. However, I would wager that if von Kleist-Schmenzin were alive today, he would agree that the most consequential struggle of our time may not be unfolding on traditional battlefields at all. Instead, it’s unfolding in the digital realm, where control over personal data — over our digital personhood — is the central source of power and influence in the modern world. When the World Wide Web was born, we were promised an era of democratic participation — a digital town square for a new millennium. What we have instead is something far darker: Predatory algorithms shredding civil society, warping truth and pitting neighbor against neighbor, while a handful of the world’s richest companies know more about us than any intelligence agency ever could. Deep down, we all feel the absolute grip of the Internet on society. We feel it at the national level, as polarization and misinformation continue to fray our social fabric, upend elections and disrupt the world order. We feel it at our kitchen tables, as artificial intelligence bots and polarizing voices prey on the mental and social health of our children. This crisis is no accident. It’s the world Big Tech has deliberately built. From the moment Facebook introduced the “like” button, the Internet began its descent from a boundless repository of knowledge into a system optimized for rage, addiction and profit—one that rewards division and disregards truth. The business model is quite straightforward: Algorithms are engineered to capture our attention and exploit it, rather than inform or connect us. And by the metric of stock price, this model has been wildly successful. Big Tech companies have amassed trillions of dollars in record time. And they’ve done so by accumulating the most valuable resource in human history — our personal data. Acquiring it through a surveillance apparatus that would make the Stasi blush. Now, with the rise of AI, these same companies are selling us a new story — that of a brave new chapter for the Internet that is exponentially more powerful and ostensibly benevolent. Yet, the underlying logic remains the same. These systems are still designed to extract more data, exert more control, deepen manipulation, all at an even more unprecedented scale. The threat has particularly escalated with the emergence of the “agentic web,” where autonomous AI systems are no longer confined to interpreting information but are empowered to act on it – often with minimal oversight and inadequate alignment safeguards. OpenClaw — an open-source autonomous AI assistant — reflects this rapid shift from consumption to delegation perfectly: Individuals are handing over sweeping permissions, enabling agents to interact and operate freely with other agents in real time, dramatically amplifying exposure to real-world harm, coordinated manipulation from bad actors and with even less human control. And yet, those who raise concerns about this concentration of power and these security risks are quickly dismissed as anti-progress, or accused of ceding the future of AI to China. If Ewald-Heinrich von Kleist-Schmenzin were alive today, he would agree that the most consequential struggle of our time may not be unfolding on traditional battlefields at all. | Rainer Jensen/DPA/AFP via Getty Images Let’s be clear: We won’t beat China by becoming China. Autocratic algorithms, centralized power and mass surveillance are fundamentally incompatible with democracy. And were von Kleist-Schmenzin to look at today’s AI frameworks, he’d likely recognize them as far closer to the east of the Berlin Wall than the west. To reverse that reality, we must build alternative systems that respect individual rights, return ownership and control of personal data to individuals, and align with democratic principles. The technologies shaping our lives need to be optimized to protect citizens, not endanger them. Here’s the good news: This technology is already being built. Around the world, leading technologists, universities, companies and governments are working to establish a new paradigm for AI — open-source, transparent systems governed by the public sector and civil society. My organization, Project Liberty, is part of this effort, grounded in a simple belief: We can, and must, build AI technology that’s in harmony with fundamental democratic values. Such upgraded AI architecture is designed for human flourishing. It will give people a voice in how these platforms operate, real choices over how their data is used, and a stake in the economic value they create online. It will be paired with policy and governance frameworks that safeguard democracy, freedom and trust. As the world’s leaders gather in Munich, I call on them to help build a better foundation for AI that embeds Western values and protects future generations. Let them consider the world von Kleist-Schmenzin sought to save, and join us on the front lines of democracy’s new battleground.

Lucas Guttenberg is the director of the Europe program at Bertelsmann Stiftung. Nils Redeker is acting co-director of the Jacques Delors Centre. Sander Tordoir is chief economist at the Centre for European Reform. Europe’s economy needs more growth — and fast. Without it, the continent risks eroding its economic foundations, destabilizing its political systems and being left without the strength to resist foreign coercion. And yet, despite inviting former Italian prime ministers Mario Draghi and Enrico Letta to discuss their blueprints to revive the bloc’s dynamism, member countries have cherry-picked from the pair’s recommendations and remain firmly focused on the wrong diagnosis. Europe, the current consensus goes, has smothered itself in unnecessary regulation, and growth will return once red tape is cut. The policy response that naturally follows is deregulation rebranded as “simplification,” with a rollback of the Green Deal at its core. This is then combined with promises that new trade agreements will lift growth, and ritual invocations of the need to deepen the internal market. But this agenda is bound to disappoint. Of course, cutting unnecessary red tape is always sensible. However, this truism does little to solve Europe’s current malaise. According to the latest Economic Outlook from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, the regulatory burden on European business has risen only modestly over the past 15 years. There has been no explosion of red tape that could plausibly account for the widening growth gap with the U.S. And even the European Commission estimates that the cost savings from its regulatory simplifications — the so-called omnibuses — will amount to just €12 billion per year, or around 0.07 percent of EU GDP. That isn’t a growth strategy, it’s a rounding error. New free trade agreements (FTAs) won’t provide a quick fix either. The EU already has FTAs with 76 countries — far more than either the U.S. or China. Moreover, a recent Bertelsmann Stiftung study showed that even concluding pending deals and simultaneously deepening all existing ones would lift EU’s GDP by only 0.6 percent over five years. From Mercosur to India, there’s a strong geopolitical imperative to pursue agreements, and in the long run they can, indeed, help secure access to both supply and future growth markets. But as a short-term growth strategy, the numbers simply don’t add up. The same illusion shapes the debate on deepening the single market. Listening to national politicians, one might think it’s an orchard of low-hanging fruit just waiting to be turned into jars of growth marmalade, which past generations simply missed. But the remaining gaps — in services, capital markets, company law and energy — are all politically sensitive, technically complex and protected by powerful vested interests. The push for a Europe-wide corporate structure — a “28th regime” — is a telling admission: Rather than pursue genuine cross-border regulatory harmonization, policymakers are trying to sidestep national rules and hope no one notices. But while this might help some young firms scale up, a market integration agenda at this level of ambition won’t move the macroeconomic needle. From Mercosur to India, there’s a strong geopolitical imperative to pursue agreements, and in the long run they can, indeed, help secure access to both supply and future growth markets. | Sajjad Hussain/AFP via Getty Images A credible growth strategy must start with a more honest evaluation: Europe’s economic weakness doesn’t originate in Brussels, it reflects a fundamental shift in the global economy. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine delivered a massive energy price shock to our fossil-fuel-dependent continent. At the same time, China’s state-driven overcapacity is striking at the core of Europe’s industrial base, with Chinese firms now outcompeting European companies in sectors that were once crown jewels. Meanwhile, the U.S. — long Europe’s most important economic partner — is retreating behind protectionism while wielding coercive threats. With no large market willing to absorb Europe’s output, cutting EU reporting requirements won’t fix the underlying problem. The continent’s old growth model, built on external demand, no longer works in this new world. And the question EU leaders should be asking is whether they have a plan that matches the scale of this shift. Here is what that could look like: First, as Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney argued at Davos, economic strength starts at home — and “home” means national capitals. Poland, Spain and the Netherlands are growing solidly, while Germany is stagnating, and France and Italy are continuing to underperform. What is seen as a European failure is actually a national one, as many of the most binding growth constraints — rigid labor markets, demographic pressure on welfare systems and fossilized bureaucracies — firmly remain in national hands. And that is where they must be fixed. It’s time to stop hiding behind Brussels. Next, Europe needs a trade policy that meets the moment. Product-by-product trade defense can’t keep pace with the scale and speed of China’s export surge, which is threatening to kill some of Europe’s most profitable and innovative sectors. The EU must move beyond microscopic remedies toward broader horizontal instruments that protect its industrial base without triggering blunt retaliation. First, as Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney argued at Davos, economic strength starts at home — and “home” means national capitals. | Harun Ozalp/Anadolu via Getty Images This is difficult, and it will come with costs that capitals will have to be ready to bear. But without it, Europe’s core industries will remain under acute threat of disappearing. Moreover, trade defense must be paired with a rigorous industrial policy. The Green Deal remains the most plausible growth strategy for a hydrocarbon-poor continent with a highly educated workforce. But it needs clarity, prioritization and sufficient funding in the next EU budget at the expense of traditional spending. “Made in Europe” preferences can make sense — but only if they’re applied with discipline. Europe must be ruthless in defining the industries it can compete in and be prepared to abandon the rest. That was the Draghi report’s core argument. And it boggles the mind that the continent is still debating European preferences in areas like solar panels, which were lost a decade ago. Finally, deepening the single market in earnest isn’t a technocratic tweak but a federalizing choice. It means going for full harmonization in areas that are crucial for growth. It means taking power away from national regimes that serve domestic interests. Any serious reform will create losers, and they will scream. That isn’t a bug — it’s how you know the reform matters. In areas like capital markets supervision or the regulation of services, leaders now have to show they’re willing to act regardless. And unanimity is no alibi: The rules allow for qualified majorities. EU leaders must learn to build them — and to live with losing votes. EU leaders face a clear choice tomorrow: They can pursue a growth agenda that won’t deliver, reinforcing the false narrative that the EU shackles national economies and giving the Euroskeptic extreme right a free electoral boost. Or they can confront reality and make the hard choices a bold agenda calls for. The answer should be obvious.

Donald Macintyre is a freelance journalist.  He is a former political editor and chief political commentator  for the Independent newspaper and the author of “Mandelson: And the Making of New Labour.” It’s become commonplace in London to say the scandal surrounding former ambassador to Washington Peter Mandelson, which is so profoundly threatening Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s leadership, is the worst since the 1963 Profumo affair — when the then-Secretary of State for War was found to be sharing a lover with a Soviet spy. And the situation’s escalated even further, now that Scottish Labour leader Anas Sawar has called for Starmer to go. Indeed, there are striking similarities between the two cases: In 1963, the already-weakened premiership of Harold Macmillan was damaged to the extent that some of his own MPs were calling for him to go — just as is the case with Starmer. And much like Profumo had lied about his fatal association, Starmer said Mandelson did the same when it came to the depth of his relationship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. When the exact circumstances of Mandelson’s appointment as ambassador — and what seems to be the perfunctory vetting process he went through — come to light, other parallels may surface as well. Namely, the question of whether Starmer personally looked Mandelson in the eye and demanded to know the truth in a face-to-face meeting rather than leaving that to others, like his now-departed Chief of Staff Morgan McSweeney and the intelligence services — something Macmillan was widely criticized for not doing in 1963. The main difference between these two scandals, however, is that Profumo lied not only to his colleagues but to Parliament. When former Prime Minister Gordon Brown burst into the current dismal saga, he demonstrated what a principled Labour big beast really looks like, effectively serving notice that Starmer is on borrowed time to fulfill his mission to clean up politics. And one of Brown’s pertinent suggestions is especially on target: charging a Commons select committee with holding pre-appointment hearings, including with senior diplomats. The former prime minister persuasively argued that had this overdue reform been in place, Mandelson would never have gone to Washington in the first place. For one, an American-style parliamentary interrogation would have been far more adversarial than the vetting Mandelson actually faced. And had Mandelson somehow persuaded MPs not to veto his appointment in that scenario, he would only have been able to do so by lying to them — which, ironically, might have given Starmer some cover. For if Mandelson was prepared to lie to Parliament, which is still a radioactive offense in British political life, surely he would lie to anybody. This makes an irresistible case for Brown’s proposed reforms. But even if Starmer presses ahead with them at the speed the former prime minister desires, it will hardly be enough to let him off the hook any more than the resignations of McSweeney or No. 10’s Director of Communications Tim Allan have — especially now that Sarwar is the first senior figure calling on Starmer to go. And the prime minister still has to confront the question why, holding as he does the job where the buck is supposed to stop, he went ahead with the Washington appointment when he already knew Mandelson had consorted with a sex trafficker? As it unfolds, the scandal has two separate aspects: Mandelson’s Washington appointment and his leaks to Epstein when he was Brown’s de fact deputy between 2008 and 2010. On the first count, Mandelson’s leaks to the disgraced global financier — not to mention his remarkable suggestion, which we now know was acted on, that JP Morgan “threaten” Chancellor Alistair Darling over bankers’ bonuses — are indefensible, even if Epstein hadn’t been a serial sex offender. To that end, then-Permanent Secretary to the Treasury Nick Macpherson’s recent statement — that there were suspicions investment banks had an inside track but the extent of it is “rather breathtaking” — is a classic civil service understatement. Mandelson had enough Cabinet-level experience to know his communications with Epstein violated all protocols of government. Or, as one of Mandelson’s fellow peers put it, suggesting he was a “chancer” like  former Prime Minister Boris Johnson: “Boris probably doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong. Mandelson probably did but suppressed his knowledge far more than any of us realized.” There was every sign of cynicism as well as closeness in the McSweeney -Mandelson relationship. To take just one example, McSweeney may not have invented the idea of Starmer campaigning for the leadership on a left-wing ticket in 2020 he knew he would never implement, but he certainly signed off on it. Once Starmer got into government, all this changed, of course. It’s now widely accepted that even though McSweeney’s general-election-winning strategy may have been as brilliant as Starmer repeatedly said it was, the prime minister’s whole operation — which McSweeney was very much a part of — was far less prepared to govern than his Labour predecessors Brown or Tony Blair. Hence the baker’s dozen of embarrassing U-turns, and the all-too-widespread public confusion as to what Starmer truly stands for. But there’s something else: Like his mentor Mandelson, McSweeney’s instincts were to steer the government to the right on so many policy issues. Whether that be on immigration — with the distinctly dubious strategy of trying to stave off the threat from the right-wing populist Reform UK party by being more like it — or the disastrously half-baked scheme to cut welfare benefits for the disabled without a comprehensive (and undoubtedly necessary) welfare reform plan. This is part of the reason behind the parliamentary Labour Party’s current unrest, especially as it was accompanied by the control-freakery of disciplining dissident MPs. However, none of this explains how Starmer  — with, admittedly, next to no experience of party politics compared to his two predecessors — subcontracted the Washington embassy decision to McSweeney (and the vetters), as he appears to have done on so many other issues. I was even told by two well-informed sources, who were granted anonymity to speak freely, that National Security Adviser Jonathan Powell had warned Starmer the Mandelson appointment was potentially dangerous. But clearly it was McSweeney’s advice that prevailed. As the Cabinet rallied around Starmer in the face of Sarwar’s intervention, and after  an impassioned rallying call to his MPs last night, Starmer has  survived the immediate crisis. But the reprieve may only be temporary. With  a crucial by-election less than three weeks away — and local, Scottish and Welsh elections in May — Starmer can only hope the well-justified  fear of some MPs that the party would be torn apart by a leadership contest will see him through for now. As  former Labour Minister Dame Margaret Hodge said yesterday, the government is in a “heck of a lot of trouble.” And without a truly major reset, that’s going to be true as far ahead as anyone can see.   

Dalibor Rohac is a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute in Washington DC. As we approach the 10th anniversary of the Brexit referendum, the time has come to rebuild ties between the U.K. and the EU. In the words of European Parliament President Roberta Metsola, “in a world that has changed so profoundly,” the two parties must “exorcize the ghosts of the past.” They must work together on trade, defense, research and the many other matters disrupted by the U.K.’s withdrawal. But while letting bygones be bygones is certainly the right approach for the EU, the U.K. needs to have an explicit reckoning with the abysmal failure the Brexit project has been — both for the sake of improving its European policies but, more importantly, for the sake of getting its domestic politics on firm footing. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney recently received a lot of acclaim for citing Czech playwright and former President Václav Havel’s “The Power of the Powerless” in his speech at the World Economic Forum, inviting the world’s nations and businesses to stop living in the lie of the rules-based international order. And that lesson applies here too: For the U.K. to finally move on, it must choose not to live in lies — especially the ones that fueled Brexit. And yet, both of the U.K.’s main political parties, Labour and the Conservatives, are treating Brexit as a sacred cow rather than grappling with the enormity of its failure. The Conservative leadership that oversaw the U.K.’s shambolic withdrawal from start to finish, and purged any internal dissenters in the process, are now owning its dismal results. The current Labour government, meanwhile, is taking baby steps to reintegrate the U.K. into the eminently valuable parts of Europe’s architecture, like the Erasmus program. Mark Carney recently received a lot of acclaim for citing Czech playwright and former President Václav Havel’s “The Power of the Powerless” in his speech at the World Economic Forum, inviting the world’s nations and businesses to stop living in the lie of the rules-based international order. | Fabrice Coffrini/AFP via Getty Images However, both groups are too afraid to explain why Brexit was a colossal mistake. And it leaves them vulnerable to the populist Reform UK party’s claim that the real error was opting for a departure that wasn’t sharp enough. It’s true that on all the fronts that motivated the vote in 2016, Brexit has failed to deliver: Britain’s departure was followed by a dramatic rise in immigration, reaching over 900,000 net in 2023. There’s no indication that extricating the U.K. from the EU’s regulations has injected the country with any economic dynamism. Since 2020, the British economy has grown more slowly than both the eurozone and the EU as a whole. And with a debt-to-GDP ratio over 100 percent, its fiscal outlook is just as depressing, if not more so, than its highly indebted European neighbors. Part of this is because during their time in power after the referendum, the Conservatives wasted precious political bandwidth on tertiary Brexit-related fights, like the Irish “backstop” protocol or the status of EU law in the British legal system. That was time that could have been used to undertake deep structural reforms, which would make the U.K. a more competitive economy. And of course, EU membership never prevented the U.K. from changing its zoning laws, cutting taxes, improving secondary education or pursuing any number of other supply-side reforms in the first place. To be fair, though, not everything was a lie. There were also some elementary miscalculations. The Brexit project of pursuing deep economic ties with rapidly growing economies in Asia and America did make some sense — in a predictable rules-based global trade system, that is. But that’s not the world we find ourselves in today. One would be hard pressed to find a worse time to embark upon a free-trade global Britain, turning its back on Europe to seize exciting opportunities overseas. The U.S. has gone from having paralyzed the World Trade Organization under both presidents Donald Trump and Joe Biden to extracting extravagant concessions and “remuneration” — as the former puts it — from partners under duress. And instead of a coveted free-trade deal that would solidify the “special relationship,” the U.K. was pressed to accept 10-percent base tariffs just to access the U.S. market. All the while, rather than leveraging fast economic growth in Asia, the U.K. has been confronted with an increasingly predatory China, and a global rush to secure and onshore supply chains. Of course, the U.K. continues to play a constructive role in European security — especially when it comes to aiding Ukraine — but its absence from the bloc also makes it harder for British companies to take part in the defense build-up currently underway. For example, the U.K. stayed out of the first iteration of the EU’s loan scheme, Security Action for Europe, and it may need to pay to participate in the second. Metsola is right — Europeans have every reason to seek a closer relationship with the U.K. But the real obstacle to closer ties lies on the other side of the English Channel. It’s a chorus of deafeningly loud voices shouting that the real Brexit, like Communism, was never tried, on the one hand, and the pusillanimity of those who understand Brexit was a failure but won’t openly say so for fear of political reaction on the other. And as the U.K.’s political establishment — including its current government — continues to follow Reform UK’s factually inaccurate bad-faith framing, they’ll simply empower its far-right leader Nigel Farage and his followers. Paradoxically, while support for Reform UK is now surging, the modest popular majority that delivered the Brexit result almost 10 years ago is now gone — in the case of older voters, quite literally so. Instead of treating Brexit as axiomatic, Britain’s political elites must refuse to continue living in the lie fabricated by its advocates. The point here isn’t necessarily to get mainstream political leaders to advocate for the U.K.’s return to the EU — that’s a story for another day. It’s simply to acknowledge the reality of how much this political gamble made the U.K. a lesser country. And until that moment comes, one must fear Britain’s relationship with Brussels will continue to be precarious, and its national politics dangerously unhinged.

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.