BRUSSELS — In the 10 years since the Brussels terror attacks, the EU has tightened its security strategy but the internet is opening up new threats, according to the bloc’s counterterrorism coordinator.  Daesh is “mutating jihadism,” Bartjan Wegter told POLITICO in an interview on the eve of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks in Brussels, which pushed the bloc to bolster border protection and step up collaboration and information-sharing. The group has “calculated that it’s much more effective to radicalize people who are already inside the EU through online environments rather than to organize orchestrated attacks from outside our borders,” he said.  “And they’re very good at it.” Ten years ago, two terrorists from Daesh (also known as the so-called Islamic State) blew themselves up at Brussels Airport. Another explosion tore through a metro car at Maelbeek station, in the heart of Brussels’ EU district. Thirty-two people were killed, and hundreds more injured.  The attacks came just months after terrorists killed 130 people in attacks on a concert hall, a stadium, restaurants and bars in Paris, exposing gaps in information-sharing in the bloc’s free-travel area. The terrorists had moved between countries, planning the attacks in one and carrying them out in another, said Wegter, who is Dutch. “That’s where our vulnerabilities were.” Today, violent jihadism remains a threat and new large-scale attacks can’t be excluded. But the probability is “much, much lower today than it was 10 years ago,” said Wegter. In the aftermath of the attacks, the bloc changed its security strategy with a focus on prevention and a “security reflex” across every policy field, according to Wegter. It’s also stepping up police and judicial collaboration through Europol and Eurojust, and it’s putting in place databases — including the Schengen Information System — so countries could alert each other about high-risk individuals, as well as an entry/exit system to monitor who enters and leaves the free-travel area. But the bloc is facing a new type of threat, as security officials see a gradual increase in attempted terrorist attacks by lone actors. A lot of that is being cultivated online and increasingly, younger people are involved. “We’ve seen cases of children 12 years old. And, the radicalization process [is] also happening faster,” Wegter said. “Sometimes we’re talking about weeks or months.” In 2024, a third of all arrests connected to potential terror threats were of people aged between 12 and 20 years old, and France recorded a tripling of the number of minors radicalized between 2023 and 2024, said Wegter.  “Just put yourself in the shoes of law enforcement … You’re dealing with young people who spend most of their time online … Who may not have a criminal record. Who, if they are plotting attacks, may not be using registered weapons. It’s very hard to prevent.” Violent jihadism is just one of the threats EU security officials worry are being cultivated online. Wegter said there is also an emerging trend of a violent right-wing extremist narrative online — and to a lesser extent, violent left-wing extremism. There’s also what he called “nihilistic extremist violence,” a new phenomenon that can feature elements of different ideologies or a drive to overthrow the system, but which is fundamentally minors seeking an identity through violence. “What we see online, some of these images are so horrible that even law enforcement needs psychological support to see this kind of stuff,” said Wegter. Law enforcement’s ability to get access to encrypted data and information on people under investigation is crucial, he stressed, and he drew parallels with the steps the EU took to secure the Schengen free movement 10 years ago. “If you want to preserve the good things of the internet, we also need to make sure that we have … some key mechanisms to safeguard the internet also.”

‘ALL I COULD DO WAS JUST WAIT AND PRAY’: AN ORAL HISTORY OF THE BRUSSELS BOMBINGS 10 years ago, terror attacks shook the Belgian capital. Here’s how the day and its aftermath unfolded, in the words of those who lived it. By SONJA RIJNEN and SEBASTIAN STARCEVIC Illustration by Patrik Svensson for POLITICO On March 22, 2016, just before 8 a.m. on an ordinary weekday morning, two explosions ripped through the departure hall of the main international airport in Brussels. The nail-packed bombs shredded flesh and blew off limbs as flaming tiles rained down from the ceiling. About an hour later, across town, a third detonation took out a train carriage at a metro station in the city’s European Quarter. Tensions and security measures in Brussels had been escalating since coordinated Islamist terrorist attacks had killed more than 130 people in Paris four months earlier, including 90 at a rock concert in the Bataclan theater.  Advertisement Belgian officials had warned of possible strikes just days before, after raids in Brussels led to the capture of key suspects linked to the deadly assaults in neighboring France. A decade on, POLITICO spoke with politicians, emergency service officials, journalists, survivors and their families about that fateful morning, reconstructing a timeline of the Brussels bombings and the painful days that followed. *The following interviews were conducted in English, French and Dutch. They have been translated, edited and condensed for clarity. AT ZAVENTEM AIRPORT At 7:58 a.m., two suicide bombers detonated explosives, nine seconds apart, in the crowded departure hall. Karen Northshield, American-Belgian athlete and survivor: I was at the Brussels international airport to fly out to the U.S., like a lot of other people that day. The moment I was hit by the first bomb, literally all hell broke loose. I’m swept off my feet, I’m on my back, fatally injured and just waiting, hoping, praying somebody will come and see me. Tara Palmeri, journalist and former POLITICO reporter: I think I just got a Twitter alert. I was still in bed, hadn’t properly woken up for work yet, and I saw the news of the terror attack. I got in an Uber and asked them to get me as close to the airport as possible. They dropped me off on the highway, and I started walking. When I got there, it was chaos. People were running. It was like a crime scene. Karen Northshield: I was lying on the floor for the longest time. I’m losing my breath. I’m losing every ounce of strength I have in me. There’s blood gushing out of my leg. And I’m thinking: “How did this happen?” There were other survivors that were severely injured. They were waiting for help. There was a lot of noise and crying and yelling and screaming. Of course, it was chaos. Tara Palmeri: I just remember the sound of the sirens. It reminded me of a World War II movie. In my head, I remember feeling like I was in the middle of a war. Karen Northshield: When a life-or-death situation happens, the body can do amazing things. I was able to hoist myself up onto an airport cart. At a certain moment, I looked off to the side and saw somebody running back in. He was a couple meters away from me, looking to see if there were any more bodies to save. I’m thinking: “This is my only chance. It’s now or never.” I do everything I can to gain just enough strength to show him I’m alive, so I wave my hand, and he understands. He comes running to me, pushes me out and wheels me on one of the carts out to the sidewalk, then he disappears. A plume of smoke rises over Brussels airport after the terrorist attack on March 22, 2016 in Brussels, Belgium. | Sylvain Lefevre/Getty Images Tara Palmeri: I remember there was this wonderful woman who taught yoga at the gym. She was an American girl [Karen], and she lost, like, half her body. Karen Northshield: It took about an hour before the ambulance finally arrived [at the airport]. I was doing everything I could to stay awake and remain conscious and remain alive. But that hour just felt like hell. I was literally dying, and all I could do was just wait and pray that God would come rescue me. When the ambulance finally arrived, I think my subconscious mind said: “Okay, you’re good. Now you can let them take care of the rest.” AT THE MAELBEEK METRO STATION At 9 a.m., another suicide bomber detonated inside a subway car at Maelbeek Station. Christelle Giovanetti, survivor: On March 22, 2016, I left for work. I didn’t usually take the metro, but once every two months I had a meeting in the city center, which fell on that day. The metro started moving, and as soon as the first car entered the tunnel, the explosion happened. I was sitting in that first car — it was in the second one that the suicide bomber blew himself up. There was a big ball of fire and the sound of a really loud explosion. I was thrown up and then crashed back into my seat. Advertisement Silvia Sciorilli Borrelli, journalist and former POLITICO reporter: I was based in London and had started at POLITICO just a few months prior, so I was on a trip to Brussels. Because I had woken up late, I decided I was going to take the metro from Maelbeek. I was on the phone with my dad because he’d heard on the radio about the bombs that went off at the airport, and he called to check I was OK. While I was talking to him, I heard these loud bangs, and it was the bomb going off at the metro station right below where I was standing, right where I was about to go. Christelle Giovanetti: I remember being in the dark because I was already partially in the subway tunnel. I remember touching my legs and wondering what was on me — it was debris and dust. It felt like I had swallowed dust and had things in my mouth. There was a man next to me who kept praying. Then, there was some movement, there was some noise, and people started switching on their phones, so everything came back to life a bit. The driver came from his cabin and helped us take out a window for an emergency exit. We let people out, women and children first. I was one of the last ones out. Silvia Sciorilli Borrelli: Obviously, when it happened, it was surreal because I’d never been anywhere where bombs were going off. It’s just one of those very strange situations where you realize you’re in the middle of something that will become big news, but in the moment, you don’t really realize it’s happening. I remember just telling my dad I was going to get off the phone. Christelle Giovanetti: I think I was a bit in shock, so instead of leaving like everyone else, I stood stuck on the platform. There were things on the ground, human pieces. I was very taken aback. There was a young woman who was with me who told me not to look. I looked anyway. Policemen stand guard at the entrance of a security perimeter set near the Maelbeek metro station, on March 22, 2016. | Emmanuel Dunand/AFP via Getty Images I wanted to go into the second train car, but it wasn’t possible. All the people who had died were there. I saw a lot of horrors. I pulled one woman out of the rubble who was stuck and was barely responding. Tine Gregoor, physician and volunteer first responder: My partner and I were by chance in the car in the European Quarter, and I saw on Twitter there had been a second attack in the area. I thought there probably wasn’t a doctor there yet, so I walked to the site. I said: “Je suis medicin” (“I am a doctor”). At some point, I met someone, I think from the fire department, who took me to a first-aid station. The most critically injured were brought there. Christelle Giovanetti: The first police arrived on the opposite platform. There was no light in the station, so we couldn’t see each other well. The officer yelled at me to evacuate, and I shouted back that there were survivors. He replied that I should get out. So, I stepped over a lot of things, and I went up the escalator. I couldn’t even see a meter in front of me because of the smoke. At the top, there were already firemen and ambulances.  Lack of equipment was a problem for everyone. I had respiratory problems because I inhaled a lot of gas from the bomb, but I couldn’t get a mask because they didn’t have enough of them, and they were obviously given to someone who was no longer breathing.  Silvia Sciorilli Borrelli: Basically, the Thon Hotel (on Rue de la Loi) turned into triage, and from the hotel gym — I think it was on the first floor — you could see law enforcement arriving, and people being taken out of the metro station on stretchers, both the injured and the deceased. Tine Gregoor: People just kept coming. Tables were moved to the side, and at one point there were 11 seriously injured people just in that room, which was actually quite small. They were all lying side by side, each one in worse condition than the other. It was very intense. They all had life-threatening injuries. Anyone that could still walk was sent to another room. Christelle Giovanetti: We were triaged based on our injuries and then sent to a hospital. In the beginning, I was surrounded by passersby, people who had taken care of me and other victims. We became very close because we’d all come out of something terrible. One of the people who was on the metro with me and with whom I had spent all morning at the Thon came looking for me. It was good to see him, even though we hadn’t known each other just the day before. He took care of me, went to get me water and charged my phone. Advertisement Tine Gregoor: I was taking care of injuries that were like war injuries. At one point I had a scalp in my hands. The victims couldn’t hear anything, and they were covered in black stuff. I had to improvise a lot because we had very little material. We also had to triage and decide who we thought had the highest chance of survival. There were many people with broken bones, almost all of them had severe burns and some had brain injuries too. You could see their heads were swollen. After an hour, the most seriously injured were taken to the hospital. In the chaos, I’d lost my handbag and keys. I was a bit dazed. I remember a nurse asking me if I was OK, and I said yes. You just had to flip a switch and keep going. FIRST RESPONSE Authorities raced to secure EU institutions, clear the metro and identify victims, while families desperately awaited news. In total, 32 people were killed and more than 340 were injured. Philippe Vansteenkiste, director of V-Europe and special adviser on Victims of Terrorism to the European Commission: On the morning of March 22, I was driving my kids to school. The day before, my wife had told me to stop listening to the news with the kids in the car because it’s not always pleasant, so I’d switched on music that day. When I arrived at the school, I heard that a bomb had exploded at the airport. My sister worked at the airport. Then, I got a call from my mother saying my sister wasn’t answering her phone. She usually did a morning shift that ended at 6 a.m. But someone had called in sick that day, and my sister decided to stay until 8 a.m. At around 8:45 a.m., I suddenly had a very weird feeling I’d never had before. It was like my sister passed by to say goodbye. I jumped in the car and decided to drive straight to my parents. Christian Decobecq, former head of Disaster Victim Identification (DVI), Belgian federal police: I received a call from one of my colleagues who told me there had been an explosion at Zaventem. We’d been fearing attacks — especially after France — and the federal police were on alert. Special police forces stand guard outside the Council Chamber of Brussels on March 24, 2016 during investigations into the Paris and Brussels terror attacks. | Kenzo Tribouillard/AFP via Getty Images The DVI was only a team of seven, but we had a pool of 80 in case of major disasters. I started putting together teams on my whiteboard — teams for recovering bodies, autopsies, speaking to families for identification, and logistics and coordination, etc. We heard about the second explosion in Maelbeek while I was writing the names. So, I drew a line on my whiteboard and assigned a second team. Alexander De Croo, former prime minister of Belgium: At that point, I was deputy prime minister, and my competencies were digital and telecom. The first thing was that the telecom network was crashing. I remember that, without consulting anyone, I sent a tweet asking people to please use IP-based messaging such as WhatsApp instead of calling and sending texts. It’s been my most retweeted post of my whole life. It helped a lot in reducing the tension on the telecom network. Jean-Luca Cocci, head of Dispatching Unit, European Parliament: Once we had more or less understood what had happened, first at the airport and then in the Maelbeek metro, we knew this was something we’d never experienced before. This wasn’t attacks in France or Germany — it was next door. It was the EU’s backyard. The first thing that collapsed was the mobile network because of congestion, so I launched one of the first WhatsApp groups. We needed to immediately inform everybody we could with the means that we had. Tom Michiels, former technical director, Brussels Metro Business Unit: Initially, getting information was almost impossible because communication [was cut off]. But I realized quite quickly that we would need to go on-site. It became apparent we would need a team on standby to clean up the train. We went to Maelbeek, but we were not allowed down. We were there for hours on standby. Advertisement Christian Decobecq: The first thing the DVI does is go on-site and recover the bodies. Once the bodies have been collected, we transport them, and postmortem activities are carried out in collaboration with forensic experts. When I realized it was terrorism, one of the first things that went through my head was: “Do not make mistakes.” The French had told me they made a mistake with two young girls. They didn’t follow the Interpol standards and made a comparison based on visible identification and an ID card. The two girls looked alike, and they gave the news to the wrong family. I thought to myself: “Christian, you must not do that. We will follow the procedures, and that may take some time.” Jean-Luca Cocci: The EU institutions took the decision to keep people at home and let them stay there until we had certainty from the Belgian authorities that no other explosions or attacks were ongoing. We had many requests coming one after the other: What about my kids in school? Should we join them? Should I leave Parliament and go home? It was hard to give instructions because information was coming in from everywhere. So, block by block, step by step, we tried to answer all the questions. Alexander De Croo: Brussels had very strict rules about how much power cell towers could have because of concerns that they might impact our health. We decided to tell telecom networks to double their power to get network stability. By late afternoon, I think we had our first Security Council meeting with government and the heads of security agencies. I think the first major discussions were about if we could have the military in the streets to secure some high-risk areas. It was a tense discussion. It’s still a difficult discussion these days. Dimitri Defre, emergency preparedness coordinator, University Hospital Leuven: That first day was the most dramatic in terms of the medical aspect. But alongside that, we also had the forensic part of things. We were quickly designated the hospital in charge of analyzing all the physical remains of the victims and perpetrators from the airport.  There were a lot of moving parts. We had to improvise because our morgue was not big enough for the extra bodies alongside the usual flow. A ambulance man pushes a stretcher with a body bag outside the Maalbeek metro station. | Philippe Huguen/AFP via Getty Images Philippe Vansteenkiste: We couldn’t find [my sister]. It was a very, very intense and difficult day. No one understood exactly what was going on, and as time goes by, you just get more and more desperate. Then, as evening approaches, suddenly all the helplines are closed because their office hours are over. You start to feel so much frustration because you need help, and it’s just not coming. Tom Michiels: Around 11 p.m., we were allowed down [to the metro]. The police had done their investigation, so we worked for a few hours. We saw quite a scene — the train was folded open like a sardine box. The roof had been blown open and a piece was stuck to the ceiling. We were thinking: “What can we do to get this train back to a depot?” We realized relatively quickly that we needed more equipment, so around 3 or 4 a.m., we made the necessary contact. Our team went to sleep for 3 hours before getting back to work. There were 12 to 15 of us working on the train. There was a bit of urgency to clean up for political reasons. To get the metro running as fast as possible, to show: “Look, we won’t let ourselves get destroyed.” Over four days, we only slept six hours.  Christian Decobecq: There are standards we follow: The bodies must be identified via scientific methods — that is to say, teeth, DNA or fingerprints. Only based on this can we make a positive identification. It takes time, of course. We started this the first day. The DVI also meets with relatives for an interview to establish what the persons looked like. What were they wearing? Do they wear jewelry? Do they have any tattoos or scars? What’s the address of their doctor and dentist? We also asked if they had traveled abroad. If they’d been to America, then maybe we could find their fingerprints.  Philippe Vansteenkiste: We kept searching for [my sister], on and on. On Thursday afternoon, we finally got a call that we should come to the DVI. I went with my mother, and they asked for a description of my sister. It took an hour-and-a-half. Finally, a step was being taken. Advertisement Then, on Friday morning, a policeman called me, thinking I had already received the news that my sister had been killed — I hadn’t. So, it had happened on Tuesday, and I got the news that she had passed away on Friday, a bit by mistake. It took four days. I understand the DVI cannot make errors, but she had a uniform. She had a badge. It can’t be that families have to wait for such a long time. Christian Decobecq: I know that for the bereaved, one minute feels like a century, but we have to be absolutely sure. We can’t make mistakes. At one point, all the families were gathered at a Red Cross center, and I explained as much as I could. There was one family, where the wife came to me and said: “Sir, sir, please give my husband back.” I’ve never forgotten that. THE AFTERMATH  In the ensuing days, political leaders rushed to show resolve and solidarity. But as Belgium struggled to comprehend how the attacks were able to take place, many began demanding answers. Philippe Close, mayor of Brussels: In 2016, I was deputy mayor and a member of the Brussels Parliament. We were aware the risk existed. But in democracies, we think it’s impossible because we live in peace, that it’s unimaginable that people would attack their own country. We know that intelligence services do their utmost to control and arrest terrorist cells, but this last group decided to act, I think because they knew they were recognized by the services. Was the city prepared? For an attack, no. To help the injured people, yes. There was a lot of solidarity. We are one of the most multicultural cities in the world, and it’s important that a large part of the population want to defend that, also after the attack. A Belgian serviceman stands guard at the Maalbeek metro station on its re-opening day on April 25, 2016 in Brussels, after being closed since the 22 March attacks. | John Thys/AFP via Getty Images Alexander De Croo: I found the prime minister [Charles Michel] handled it well. In general, the government did well. But when terrorist attacks happen, one way or another, it is a failure to prevent that. It was a case of really working together with security services and also making some legal reforms to give police and legal institutions more leverage to act against these terrorists. Tara Palmeri: I remember there was a lot of debate about the right to move freely within the EU and how countries like Belgium just aren’t able to protect their citizens the way they can in the U.S. There was a huge sense that they should have done more to protect their citizens. One of the top priorities of a state is to provide security to its people. They weren’t able to do that. Philippe Close: I remember we decided not to freeze the city. It’s a very difficult decision. The advice is to close everything. We didn’t decide that. If we decided to do that, when would we reopen? The population is made more afraid by the measures than the risks. As a politician, you need to pay attention to the balance between the risk and also the values you want to defend, and that our city needs to continue to live. If you don’t defend that, they win. Advertisement Silvia Sciorilli Borrelli: On the evening of the attacks, the day after and the days following, there was an incredible silence at the airport, the train station and around the city in general. It was suddenly extremely empty and quiet. Because it wasn’t very long after the Paris attacks, it was a moment in time in Europe where everyone kind of had a sense of being in potential danger and wanting to avoid situations that could put them in harm’s way. So, everyone was a bit wary of just carrying on with their regular lives. Christelle Giovanetti: The week that followed was really complicated because I felt like there was an attack going on inside my head. I had hearing problems, felt withdrawn in my suffering, and even though the people around me were really present, I couldn’t find what would help me. A woman reacts during a minute of silence held at a makeshift memorial in front of Brussel’s Stock Exchange on Place de la Bourse (Beursplein) on March 24, 2016. | Philippe Huguen/AFP via Getty Images A week after, the police organized a discussion group among victims. It was the first time I met other victims since the attack, and that really helped me. It was the starting point for my recovery. Sitting down with other people who have been through the same thing really helped. In the end, I got four days of sick leave and then went back to work. Karen Northshield: I ended up in the hospital for 79 days — 79 days nonstop in terms of terror, in terms of agony, in terms of suffering. My body, my skin, my cells, my bones, everything was fully in flames. I had zero chance of survival, my heart had stopped so many times, I went into septic shock so many times. Everything I had built up until then, all my hopes, all my dreams just vanished into thin air. Françoise Schepmans, member of the Brussels Parliament and former mayor of Molenbeek: I understand the anger that people felt at that time because it was a period of fear and uncertainty for residents. They were deeply worried. Advertisement Silvia Sciorilli Borrelli: There was a general sense of wariness of the people around you, which I think was the worst part, really. I have always thought of Brussels as an inclusive city where different people mingle, and there’s just a melting pot of people from different walks of life. Suddenly those people or those communities were singled out. Alexander De Croo: This was the first major terrorist attack in 40 years. It opened many people’s eyes to the fact that no one is shielded from this. I think it’s a major trauma in Belgian society. I think that we’ve always been a very stable and peaceful society. People from the security forces [used to] say that we don’t really have a culture of security — and that’s true. But that’s also the type of society we had. Politicians in general were very accessible and had no security forces, parliament and ministries essentially had open doors. That had to change quite a bit. It really changed the way we look at how we have to secure our society. Philippe Close: Our police departments need to study these terrorist actions more. For example, what happens in the Middle East is always a risk for Brussels — and we know it. We need to invest in intelligence. We also need to detect radicalism. A large part of people become [radicalized] on social networks. I think there’s a real responsibility from Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and all of them, to manage what we can put on social networks more. Françoise Schepmans: A lot has changed in the last 10 years. People were afraid back then. Today, we are better prepared, better coordinated and better equipped to prevent and respond to threats. We have stronger tools, clearer procedures and more experience in protecting our society. Unfortunately, in today’s world, we have to be aware that anything can happen. That’s why we must stay vigilant and prepared. But at the same time, we cannot live in fear. We have to stay hopeful, united and trust that our institutions and our society are stronger than they were before. Advertisement

LONDON — Two men have been charged Wednesday evening with spying on locations and individuals linked to the Jewish community on behalf of Iran. Nematollah Shahsavani, a 40-year-old dual British and Iranian national, and Alireza Farasati, a 22-year-old Iranian national, were charged under the National Security Act with engaging in conduct likely to assist a foreign intelligence service between July 9 and Aug. 15 last year. The Crown Prosecution Service confirmed the charges related to Iran. The Metropolitan Police’s Deputy Assistant Commissioner Vicki Evans described the charges as “extremely serious” after counter terror Police investigated alleged surveillance of places and people in London’s Jewish community. “We fully recognise that the public — and in particular the Jewish community — will be concerned,” Evans said. “I hope this investigation reassures them that we will not hesitate to take action if we identify there may be a threat to their safety, and will be relentless in our pursuit of those who may be responsible.” The men were originally arrested and detained on March 6 while two other men arrested on the same day were released without charge. The head of the Crown Prosecution Service’s Special Crime and Counter Terrorism Division Frank Ferguson said “the charge relates to carrying out activities in the U.K. such as gathering information and undertaking reconnaissance of targets.” Shahsavani and Farasati will appear at Westminster Magistrates’ Court Thursday March 19.

Anton, a 44-year-old Russian soldier who heads a workshop responsible for repairing and supplying drones, was at his kitchen table when he learned last month that Elon Musk’s SpaceX had cut off access to Starlink terminals used by Russian forces. He scrambled for alternatives, but none offered unlimited internet, data plans were restrictive, and coverage did not extend to the areas of Ukraine where his unit operated. It’s not only American tech executives who are narrowing communications options for Russians. Days later, Russian authorities began slowing down access nationwide to the messaging app Telegram, the service that frontline troops use to coordinate directly with one another and bypass slower chains of command. “All military work goes through Telegram — all communication,” Anton, whose name has been changed because he fears government reprisal, told POLITICO in voice messages sent via the app. “That would be like shooting the entire Russian army in the head.” Telegram would be joining a home screen’s worth of apps that have become useless to Russians. Kremlin policymakers have already blocked or limited access to WhatsApp, along with parent company Meta’s Facebook and Instagram, Microsoft’s LinkedIn, Google’s YouTube, Apple’s FaceTime, Snapchat and X, which like SpaceX is owned by Musk. Encrypted messaging apps Signal and Discord, as well as Japanese-owned Viber, have been inaccessible since 2024. Last month, President Vladimir Putin signed a law requiring telecom operators to block cellular and fixed internet access at the request of the Federal Security Service. Shortly after it took effect on March 3, Moscow residents reported widespread problems with mobile internet, calls and text messages across all major operators for several days, with outages affecting mobile service and Wi-Fi even inside the State Duma. Those decisions have left Russians increasingly cut off from both the outside world and one another, complicating battlefield coordination and disrupting online communities that organize volunteer aid, fundraising and discussion of the war effort. Deepening digital isolation could turn Russia into something akin to “a large, nuclear-armed North Korea and a junior partner to China,” according to Alexander Gabuev, the Berlin-based director of the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center. In April, the Kremlin is expected to escalate its campaign against Telegram — already one of Russia’s most popular messaging platforms, but now in the absence of other social-media options, a central hub for news, business and entertainment. It may block the platform altogether. That is likely to fuel an escalating struggle between state censorship and the tools people use to evade it, with Russia’s place in the world hanging in the balance. “It’s turned into a war,” said Mikhail Klimarev, executive director of the internet Protection Society, a digital rights group that monitors Russia’s censorship infrastructure. “A guerrilla war. They hunt down the VPNs they can see, they block them — and the ‘partisans’ run, build new bunkers, and come back.” THE APP THAT RUNS THE WAR On Feb. 4, SpaceX tightened the authentication system that Starlink terminals use to connect to its satellite network, introducing stricter verification for registered devices. The change effectively blocked many terminals operated by Russian units relying on unauthorized connections, cutting Starlink traffic inside Ukraine by roughly 75 percent, according to internet traffic analysis by Doug Madory, an analyst at the U.S. network monitoring firm Kentik. The move threw Russian operations into disarray, allowing Ukraine to make battlefield gains. Russia has turned to a workaround widely used before satellite internet was an option: laying fiber-optic lines, from rear areas toward frontline battlefield positions. Until then, Starlink terminals had allowed drone operators to stream live video through platforms such as Discord, which is officially blocked in Russia but still sometimes used by the Russian military via VPNs, to commanders at multiple levels. A battalion commander could watch an assault unfold in real time and issue corrections — “enemy ahead” or “turn left” — via radio or Telegram. What once required layers of approval could now happen in minutes. Satellite-connected messaging apps became the fastest way to transmit coordinates, imagery and targeting data. But on Feb. 10, Roskomnadzor, the Russian communications regulator, began slowing down Telegram for users across Russia, citing alleged violations of Russian law. Russian news outlet RBC reported, citing two sources, that authorities plan to shut down Telegram in early April — though not on the front line. In mid-February, Digital Development Minister Maksut Shadayev said the government did not yet intend to restrict Telegram at the front but hoped servicemen would gradually transition to other platforms. Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov said this week the company could avoid a full ban by complying with Russian legislation and maintaining what he described as “flexible contact” with authorities. Roskomnadzor has accused Telegram of failing to protect personal data, combat fraud and prevent its use by terrorists and criminals. Similar accusations have been directed at other foreign tech platforms. In 2022, a Russian court designated Meta an “extremist organization” after the company said it would temporarily allow posts calling for violence against Russian soldiers in the context of the Ukraine war — a decision authorities used to justify blocking Facebook and Instagram in Russia and increasing pressure on the company’s other services, including WhatsApp. Telegram founder Pavel Durov, a Russian-born entrepreneur now based in the United Arab Emirates, says the throttiling is being used as a pretext to push Russians toward a government-controlled messaging app designed for surveillance and political censorship. That app is MAX, which was launched in March 2025 and has been compared to China’s WeChat in its ambition to anchor a domestic digital ecosystem. Authorities are increasingly steering Russians toward MAX through employers, neighborhood chats and the government services portal Gosuslugi — where citizens retrieve documents, pay fines and book appointments — as well as through banks and retailers. The app’s developer, VK, reports rapid user growth, though those figures are difficult to independently verify. “They didn’t just leave people to fend for themselves — you could say they led them by the hand through that adaptation by offering alternatives,” said Levada Center pollster Denis Volkov, who has studied Russian attitudes toward technology use. The strategy, he said, has been to provide a Russian or state-backed alternative for the majority, while stopping short of fully criminalizing workarounds for more technologically savvy users who do not want to switch. Elena, a 38-year-old Yekaterinburg resident whose surname has been withheld because she fears government reprisal, said her daughter’s primary school moved official communication from WhatsApp to MAX without consulting parents. She keeps MAX installed on a separate tablet that remains mostly in a drawer — a version of what some Russians call a “MAXophone,” gadgets solely for that app, without any other data being left on those phones for the (very real) fear the government could access it. “It works badly. Messages are delayed. Notifications don’t come,” she said. “I don’t trust it … And this whole situation just makes people angry.” THE VPN ARMS RACE Unlike China’s centralized “Great Firewall,” which filters traffic at the country’s digital borders, Russia’s system operates internally. Internet providers are required to route traffic through state-installed deep packet inspection equipment capable of controlling and analyzing data flows in real time. “It’s not one wall,” Klimarev said. “It’s thousands of fences. You climb one, then there’s another.” The architecture allows authorities to slow services without formally banning them — a tactic used against YouTube before its web address was removed from government-run domain-name servers last month. Russian law explicitly provides government authority for blocking websites on grounds such as extremism, terrorism, illegal content or violations of data regulations, but it does not clearly define throttling — slowing traffic rather than blocking it outright — as a formal enforcement mechanism. “The slowdown isn’t described anywhere in legislation,” Klimarev said. “It’s pressure without procedure.” In September, Russia banned advertising for virtual private network services that citizens use to bypass government-imposed restrictions on certain apps or sites. By Klimarev’s estimate, roughly half of Russian internet users now know what a VPN is, and millions pay for one. Polling last year by the Levada Center, Russia’s only major independent pollster, suggests regular use is lower, finding about one-quarter of Russians said they have used VPN services. Russian courts can treat the use of anonymization tools as an aggravating factor in certain crimes — steps that signal growing pressure on circumvention technologies without formally outlawing them. In February, the Federal Antimonopoly Service opened what appears to be the first case against a media outlet for promoting a VPN after the regional publication Serditaya Chuvashiya advertised such a service on its Telegram channel. Surveys in recent years have shown that many Russians, particularly older citizens, support tighter internet regulation, often citing fraud, extremism and online safety. That sentiment gives authorities political space to tighten controls even when the restrictions are unpopular among more technologically savvy users. Even so, the slowdown of Telegram drew criticism from unlikely quarters, including Sergei Mironov, a longtime Kremlin ally and leader of the Just Russia party. In a statement posted on his Telegram channel on Feb. 11, he blasted the regulators behind the move as “idiots,” accusing them of undermining soldiers at the front. He said troops rely on the app to communicate with relatives and organize fundraising for the war effort, warning that restricting it could cost lives. While praising the state-backed messaging app MAX, he argued that Russians should be free to choose which platforms they use. Pro-war Telegram channels frame the government’s blocking techniques as sabotage of the war effort. Ivan Philippov, who tracks Russia’s influential military bloggers, said the reaction inside that ecosystem to news about Telegram has been visceral “rage.” Unlike Starlink, whose cutoff could be blamed on a foreign company, restrictions on Telegram are viewed as self-inflicted. Bloggers accuse regulators of undermining the war effort. Telegram is used not only for battlefield coordination but also for volunteer fundraising networks that provide basic logistics the state does not reliably cover — from transport vehicles and fuel to body armor, trench materials and even evacuation equipment. Telegram serves as the primary hub for donations and reporting back to supporters. “If you break Telegram inside Russia, you break fundraising,” Philippov said. “And without fundraising, a lot of units simply don’t function.” Few in that community trust MAX, citing technical flaws and privacy concerns. Because MAX operates under Russian data-retention laws and is integrated with state services, many assume their communications would be accessible to authorities. Philippov said the app’s prominent defenders are largely figures tied to state media or the presidential administration. “Among independent military bloggers, I haven’t seen a single person who supports it,” he said. Small groups of activists attempted to organize rallies in at least 11 Russian cities, including Moscow, Irkutsk and Novosibirsk, in defense of Telegram. Authorities rejected or obstructed most of the proposed demonstrations — in some cases citing pandemic-era restrictions, weather conditions or vague security concerns — and in several cases revoked previously issued permits. In Novosibirsk, police detained around 15 people ahead of a planned rally. Although a small number of protests were formally approved, no large-scale demonstrations ultimately took place. THE POWER TO PULL THE PLUG The new law signed last month allows Russia’s Federal Security Service to order telecom operators to block cellular and fixed internet access. Peskov, the Kremlin spokesman, said subsequent shutdowns of service in Moscow were linked to security measures aimed at protecting critical infrastructure and countering drone threats, adding that such limitations would remain in place “for as long as necessary.” In practice, the disruptions rarely amount to a total communications blackout. Most target mobile internet rather than all services, while voice calls and SMS often continue to function. Some domestic websites and apps — including government portals or banking services — may remain accessible through “whitelists,” meaning authorities allow certain services to keep operating even while broader internet access is restricted. The restrictions are typically localized and temporary, affecting specific regions or parts of cities rather than the entire country. Internet disruptions have increasingly become a tool of control beyond individual platforms. Research by the independent outlet Meduza and the monitoring project Na Svyazi has documented dozens of regional internet shutdowns and mobile network restrictions across Russia, with disruptions occurring regularly since May 2025. The communications shutdown, and uncertainty around where it will go next, is affecting life for citizens of all kinds, from the elderly struggling to contact family members abroad to tech-savvy users who juggle SIM cards and secondary phones to stay connected. Demand has risen for dated communication devices — including walkie-talkies, pagers and landline phones — along with paper maps as mobile networks become less reliable, according to retailers interviewed by RBC. “It feels like we’re isolating ourselves,” said Dmitry, 35, who splits his time between Moscow and Dubai and whose surname has been withheld to protect his identity under fear of governmental reprisal. “Like building a sovereign grave.” Those who track Russian public opinion say the pattern is consistent: irritation followed by adaptation. When Instagram and YouTube were blocked or slowed in recent years, their audiences shrank rapidly as users migrated to alternative services rather than mobilizing against the restrictions. For now, Russia’s digital tightening resembles managed escalation rather than total isolation. Officials deny plans for a full shutdown, and even critics say a complete severing would cripple banking, logistics and foreign trade. “It’s possible,” Klimarev said. “But if they do that, the internet won’t be the main problem anymore.”

A French soldier was killed and several others were wounded in an attack on a counterterrorism training exercise in northern Iraq, French President Emmanuel Macron said early Friday. “Chief Warrant Officer Arnaud Frion of the 7th Chasseurs Alpins Battalion in Varces died for France during an attack in the Erbil region of Iraq,” Macron posted on X, confirming the first French fatality of the Middle East war that began with the U.S.-Israeli strikes on Iran last month. The French president called the attack “unacceptable,” adding that the soldiers were in Iraq as part of an ongoing effort against the Islamic State. “Their presence in Iraq is part of the strict framework of the fight against terrorism,” Macron said. “The war in Iran cannot justify such attacks.” The French military command had earlier said that six soldiers involved in providing counterterrorism training in Iraq had been wounded in a drone strike in Kurdistan’s Erbil region and taken for medical treatment. It did not provide details of the drone’s origins. An Italian base in Erbil was targeted by a drone strike Thursday but no casualties were reported as a result of that attack.

Across the country, after the U.S. unleashed strikes in Iran last weekend, veterans anxiously held their breath. They said they’ve seen this story before — and it didn’t turn out well. The military campaign, which plunged the region into chaos, triggered a profound wave of déjà vu for post-9/11 veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. And while the nearly dozen veterans who spoke to POLITICO recognize the brutalities of the repressive Iranian regime, they said they have little appetite for another war in the Middle East. Most said they are wary of President Donald Trump’s goals in Iran — on Friday, he demanded “unconditional surrender” from the region — and how many soldiers will be sacrificed in that pursuit. They said they are angry that Congress rebuffed efforts to halt the war. And they’re particularly frustrated by an administration that’s been steadily whittling down veteran support systems. “There is a sense from the government [that] they’re kind of using us as pawns,” said Brandon Waithe, a former Air Force master sergeant who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. “They want to send us to war, but they don’t want to pay for the results of it.” More than anything, the veterans said, they’re worried the U.S. hasn’t learned from its past military mistakes. In 2001, the U.S. launched a widespread military campaign in Iraq and Afghanistan, designed to eliminate terrorist threats after the Sept. 11 attacks — wars that dragged on for decades. Over 7,000 soldiers died, some at the hands of Iranian-funded weapons and insurgent groups. Troops withdrew from Afghanistan in 2021; the Taliban retook control soon after. In its wake, the U.S. left behind years of “civil war, mass death and metastasizing terrorism,” said Phil Klay, a U.S. Marine Corps veteran who served in Iraq. The post-9/11 soldiers said they’re still grappling with what they see as the futility of their efforts in those wars. According to Jason Dempsey, a former infantry officer who deployed in both Iraq and Afghanistan, this generation of veterans is more cautious about military force compared with soldiers from the Vietnam War era. “There’s a much greater sense of melancholy and disappointment at this latest iteration of what we’re doing [now],” Dempsey said. Maggie Seymour, who served in the Marines in Iraq, Afghanistan and Kuwait from 2007 to 2016, said her immediate reaction when U.S. fighter jets attacked Iran was: “Are you fucking kidding me?” “People are killed,” added Keegan Evans, who was a Marine Corps helicopter pilot in Iraq. “Sons, daughters, brothers, fathers, the whole list, they don’t come home. And the very legitimate question: What is it for?” “You served in Iraq, you want our country to have learned a certain set of lessons about military force,” Klay said. “A certain kind of caution when it comes to this.” From their perspective, U.S.-backed regime change is rarely successful, and certainly not via airstrike. Diplomacy, they argue, matters more than “chest-pumping” lethality. The aftershocks of combat last far beyond a news cycle. Immediate, tactical wins don’t guarantee success in an enduring war. Military operations must have a long-term plan. “This makes the Iraq War planning look like grand strategy,” said Chris Purdy, an army combat engineer who deployed to Iraq in 2011. The U.S. has “rushed into things like a bunch of five-year-olds playing soccer,” said Evans. “This operation is thinking without acting, which is arguably what we did in any number of wars,” said Seymour. “You could cite any number of examples that didn’t work out.” The veteran community isn’t a monolith — indeed, Trump’s Cabinet contains high-ranking officials who served in Iraq and Afghanistan, including Vice President JD Vance and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. (Trump acknowledged this week that Vance was “maybe less enthusiastic” at the start of the war with Iran.) But for some veterans, the sobering reminder is reflecting on “how poorly conceived and executed those 20 years of war were,” Dempsey said. ”And today, to see the U.S. “doubling down” on the worst of those wars, is “immensely depressing.” “We signed up [in 2001] because we thought we were doing this great, amazing thing,” said Jackie Schneider, a Hoover Institution fellow and Air Force veteran who served in South Korea and Japan. “And the results of that are complicated and unclear. Did we ever accomplish what we set out for?” That’s an answer that veterans don’t have an answer for, Schneider said. And that’s “devastating for this generation,” she added. The Department of Defense did not respond to requests for comment. So far, Trump’s second presidency has been defined by a rapid succession of military actions. He bombed Iranian nuclear facilities last June. In January, he decapitated the Venezuelan government with the swift arrest of President Nicolás Maduro. But when it comes to Iran, Trump’s endgame is unclear. His administration has touted ever-changing arguments for striking Iran: regime change, nuclear capabilities, a hidden ballistic missile program. Meanwhile, on Sunday, Abbas Araghchi, Iran’s foreign minister, dismissed Trump’s demand for surrender, telling “Meet the Press” that Iran “will keep fighting for the sake of our people.” Already, more than 1,000 people have been killed in Iran; seven American soldiers have died in action. Veterans worry the body count will continue to escalate. “Risking your life,” Dempsey said, “getting grievously injured or killed; a friend or family member gets grievously injured or killed; for a [reason] that the president can’t even articulate? “People will [ask],” he continued, “Is my life to be used for one man’s whim?” In the past few days, Cynthia Kao, a former U.S. Air Force reservist who served in Afghanistan, has fielded dozens of phone calls within her veterans network. The anxiety is palpable, she said. A few reservists told her they fear they will be treated as “cannon fodder.” “I am not afraid to die for my country,” is something Kao has heard from her peers. “What I am afraid to do, is die for somebody who’s got their own agenda.”

LONDON — A U.K. minister hit out Tuesday at a planned march associated with the Iranian regime due to take place in London this weekend. The annual Al Quds Day rally, which has taken place since 1979, is scheduled for Sunday. Courts Minister Sarah Sackman told Times Radio: “I’m clear that hate on marches like the Al Quds march has no place in British society. The authorities and the police should take the enforcement action needed against these marches.” Sackman said a decision about whether the march could happen would be made by Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood and the police. “I don’t want to see marches and the views expressed in this go ahead,” Sackman said. “The decision’s not for me, but I’ve made my views very clear.” Sackman later told LBC that marchers “shouldn’t be on the streets of London calling for hate and hostility against this country. That’s thoroughly anti-British.” Organized by the Islamic Human Rights Commission (IHRC), the march is named after the Arabic word for Jerusalem and part of a wider international event expressing support for a Palestinian state and opposition to Israel. A cross-party group of 90 politicians has called for Mahmood to ban the march, claiming it would legitimize Tehran’s agenda and send an “unmistakably troubling message” given the targeting of dissidents. In a letter to Met Police Commissioner Mark Rowley dated Sunday IHRC Chair Massoud Shadjareh hit back at what he described as “exaggerated and patently false claims” that the march supports terrorism and antisemitism. The demonstration has “always been good‑natured and peaceful,” Shadjareh added.

An explosion that rocked the U.S. embassy in Oslo early on Sunday morning could have been terrorism, police in the Norwegian capital have said. The blast occurred at 1 a.m. local time outside the embassy’s consular section, causing no injuries and only minor damage. “One of the hypotheses is that it is an act of terrorism,” Frode Larsen, head of the Oslo police investigation and intelligence unit, told public broadcaster NRK. Some U.S. politicians shared that assessment. House Intelligence Committee Chairman Rick Crawford (R-Ark.) said the explosion “may have been a terrorist attack.” “We need to be very diligent about not only our security here at home, but obviously targets around the world where there are U.S. assets including embassies and so on,” he told Fox News. Since the start of the U.S.-Israeli war with Iran on Feb. 28, Washington has closed its embassies in Saudi Arabia, Lebanon and Kuwait and placed others on high alert. An Iranian drone struck a parking lot near the U.S. embassy in Dubai last week, while drone fire hit the U.S. embassy in Riyadh. “We’ve been very fortunate, obviously, but our embassies and our diplomatic facilities are under direct attack from a terroristic regime,” U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio said at the time of the Dubai attack. Separately, at least 10 people were killed and many more injured when U.S. marines opened fire on protesters who attempted to storm the U.S. consulate in Karachi, Pakistan on March 1, shortly after the U.S. and Israel began striking Iran and assassinated Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. While police in Oslo have identified no suspects and no motive in the explosion of the embassy there, Prime Minister Jonas Gahr Støre described it as a “very serious and completely unacceptable” event. Sen. Tim Kaine, (D-Va.), who sits on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, said Sunday that he’s been “in dialogue with State Department personnel around the world” regarding escalated security at U.S. embassies and consulates. “Other embassies or consulates have had protests that were merging toward violence or at least frightening to our diplomats,” he said during an interview with CBS. Norwegian police didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment.

Ukraine on Friday accused Hungary of detaining seven employees of the state-owned Oschadbank and seizing millions in cash and gold. Ukrainian Foreign Minister Andrii Sybiha said the seven Ukrainians were transporting funds between Austria and Ukraine as part of a routine banking operation when Hungarian authorities stopped the convoy in Budapest. “In fact, we are talking about Hungary taking hostages and stealing money,” Sybiha wrote on X. “If this is the ‘force’ announced earlier today by Mr. Orbán, then it is the force of a criminal gang. This is state terrorism and racketeering.” Kyiv has sent a diplomatic note demanding the immediate release of the employees and said it will ask the European Union to provide a legal assessment of Hungary’s actions. In an update later Friday, Sybiha said Ukrainian consuls have not been granted access to the seven detainees. “The Hungarian side has not provided any explanation,” he wrote. “We demand their immediate release and prepare next actions, including at the EU level.” Oschadbank said two armored vehicles were detained during a regular transfer between Austria’s Raiffeisen Bank and the Ukrainian state lender. The shipment included $40 million, €35 million and 9 kilograms of gold, the bank said. GPS data shows the vehicles are located in central Budapest near a Hungarian security facility, according to Oschadbank. The whereabouts of the seven employees remain unknown. Officials familiar with the situation, granted anonymity to speak freely, told POLITICO the vehicles were located on the grounds of Hungary’s anti-terrorism center in Budapest. The incident comes amid a rapidly escalating dispute between Kyiv and Budapest over oil flows through the Druzhba pipeline, which supplies Russian crude to Hungary and Slovakia and has been disrupted after a January drone attack damaged infrastructure in Ukraine. Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán has accused Kyiv of blocking oil supplies and vowed Thursday to “break the Ukrainian oil blockade by force.” Speaking on a radio show Friday morning, Orbán warned: “We will also stop things that are important to Ukraine passing through Hungary.” Hungary’s Interior Ministry did not respond to a request for comment. Veronika Melkozerova contributed to this report.

LONDON — The Iranian regime is warning it will attack European cities in any country that joins Donald Trump’s military operation and governments across the region are stepping up security in response. So far, Iranian drones have already targeted Cyprus, with one striking a British Royal Air Force base on the island, and others shot down before they could hit. That prompted the U.K., France and Greece to send jets, warships and helicopters to Cyprus to protect the country from further drone attacks. But with the British, French and German leaders saying they are ready to launch defensive military action in the Middle East, Tehran threatened to retaliate against these countries with attacks on European soil. “It would be an act of war. Any such act against Iran would be regarded as complicity with the aggressors. It would be regarded as an act of war against Iran,” Esmail Baghaei, Iran’s foreign ministry spokesperson, told Iranian state media. Mark Rutte, the former Dutch Prime Minister who now leads NATO, warned on Tuesday that Tehran posed a threat that reached deep into Europe. “Let’s be absolutely clear-eyed to what’s happening here,” Rutte said. “Iran is close to getting its hands on a nuclear capability and on a ballistic missile capability, which is posing a threat not only to the region — the Middle East, including posing an existential threat to Israel — it is also posing a huge threat to us here in Europe.” Iran is “an exporter of chaos” responsible over decades for terrorist plots and assassination attempts, including against people living on European soil, he said.  Here, POLITICO sets out what Iran is capable of, and where European countries may be at greatest risk.  MISSILES AIMED AT ATHENS AND EVEN BERLIN According to reports, Iran has been developing an intercontinental ballistic missile with a range of 10,000 kilometers, which would put European and even American territory potentially within range, said Antonio Giustozzi from the Royal United Services Institute think tank in London. It is not clear whether, under constant attack, Tehran would be able to manufacture and deploy an experimental missile like this, he said.  “Realistically, the further away you fire them, the less precise they will be,” Giustozzi told POLITICO. “Let’s say they had four or five long-range missiles. There may be some value to target something in Europe just to create some excitement and scare public opinion from intervening.”  Iran’s ballistic missile arsenal is known to include several medium-range systems that stretch to roughly 2,000 kilometers, according to the Center for Strategic and International Studies’ Missile Threat database. The solid-fueled Sejjil and Khorramshahr missiles are both assessed to have about that range, which would extend to parts of southeastern Europe from Iranian territory, including areas of Greece, Bulgaria and Romania, depending on the launch location. Romania has a U.S. missile shield site at Deveselu in the southern part of the country which was built to intercept potential missile attacks from Iran. This week, military security was stepped up at the site, according to Romania’s defense minister.  Tehran has long described 2,000 kilometers as a self-imposed ceiling for its ballistic missile program — a limit that keeps most of Europe outside of the envelope while preserving regional reach.  Defence Express, a Kyiv-based defense consultancy group, said the Khorramshahr missile may be capable of hitting targets 3,000 kilometers away if it was fitted with a lighter warhead, potentially bringing Berlin and Rome within range. However, the number of such long-range missiles in Iran’s arsenal is unlikely to be large.  ‘SHAHED’ DRONES AND TOYS PACKED WITH EXPLOSIVES  Iran has invested heavily in drone development and production, and these uncrewed projectiles may be its best flexible weapon. Iran’s “Shahed” drones have been deployed by Russian forces since the early days of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. These one-way attack drones have a range claimed to be as much as 2,500 kilometers.  To reach targets inside European territory they would need to fly at low altitude across countries such as Turkey and Jordan, though Cyprus has already found out it is within range. Analysts believe the drone that hit U.K.’s RAF Akrotiri air base in Cyprus was likely a shahed-type, and may have been fired from Lebanon by Hezbollah, Iran’s proxy.  But Giustozzi said commercially available drones — even toys — could be used to cause havoc inside Europe. Iran is known to have a network of sleeper agents operating across many countries in Europe, he said, who use criminal groups to carry out attacks.  They could be tasked with a coordinated effort to fly drones over civilian airports, forcing flights to be halted and causing chaos to air traffic across Europe, he said. This would be cheap and easy to do. More ambitious attacks could include striking military targets with drones loaded with explosives. A residential building and cars are damaged by a Shahed drone attack in Kharkiv, Ukraine, last month. The drones have been deployed by Russian forces since the early days of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. | Pavlo Pakhomenko/NurPhoto via Getty Images But such risk may be low, Giustozzi said, as Iran may not have been able to smuggle bomb making components into European countries as this has not been its primary mode of operation in the region in recent years.  HIT SQUADS AND TERRORISTS  Tehran’s recent focus has been on intimidating and targeting people and groups who are critical of the regime, particularly among the large Iranian diaspora dispersed widely across European countries, according to analysts.  According to an intelligence summary from one Western government, Iran has a long record of plots to assassinate and attack targets inside Europe. Its state-sponsored terrorism involves a mix of direct operations by Iranian forces and, according to the intelligence summary, a growing reliance on organized criminal gangs to maintain “plausible deniability.”  In the past decade, incidents have included the arrest of Iranian diplomat Assadollah Assadi for providing explosives to a couple tasked with bombing a large rally of the National Council of Resistance of Iran (NCRI). Assadi was sentenced to 20 years in prison.  After massive cyberattacks against state infrastructure, the Albanian government formally severed all ties with Iran in 2022. Four years earlier, Albania expelled the Iranian ambassador and several diplomats for plotting a truck bomb attack against an Iranian dissident camp. The Dutch government accused Iran of involvement in the targeted killing of two dissidents, in 2015 and 2017.  Suspected Iranian-backed assassination plots and other attacks have also been reported in Belgium, Cyprus, France, Germany, Sweden, and the U.K., among other countries in Europe.  CYBER ATTACKS  The threat to Europeans from Iran is not just physical, with the regime long being regarded as a capable actor in cyber warfare.   Experts and officials warned Iran could launch fresh cyber operations against Europe in the wake of the war started by the U.S. and Israel, either by targeting governments directly or by hitting critical infrastructure operators.  “We have to monitor now the situation very carefully when it comes to our cyber security and especially our critical infrastructure,” European Commission Executive Vice President Henna Virkkunen told POLITICO. “We know that the online dimension is also very important, the recruiting channel and especially the propaganda is also spread very much online.” Iran is typically seen as one of the big four cyber adversaries to the West — alongside Russia, China and North Korea. So far, however, there is little evidence to suggest it’s actively targeting Europe. In fact, Iran’s cyber activity has largely stopped since the U.S. bombing began, according to one senior European cybersecurity official, granted anonymity to discuss ongoing assessments.  If and when European countries make their support for U.S. and Israeli activities more explicit, that will likely draw them into the firing line, cyber industry officials said. “Europe should definitely expect that exactly what happened in the Gulf could happen and should happen in Europe,” said Gil Messing, chief of staff at Israeli cyber firm Check Point. EU Commissioner Henna Virkkunen spoke of the need to monitor cyber security and especially critical infrastructure. | Thierry Monasse/Getty Images Messing said his firm is already seeing evidence of cyberattacks in Cyprus, the only EU country that Iran has targeted with physical attacks so far. There’s no evidence of attacks in other European countries but it’s likely coming down the tracks, he said. And if attacks do take place, Iran’s capabilities, though lessened in recent years, remain significant, experts said. Iran’s security and intelligence services have cyber units comprising hundreds of people, with tens of millions of dollars of funding, Messing said. “If the regime lasts,” the senior official quoted above said, “they will be back.” Victor Goury-Laffont, Laura Kayali, Antoaneta Roussi, Joshua Berlinger and Sebastian Starcevic contributed reporting.