Laura Thornton is the senior director for democracy programs at the McCain Institute. She spent more than two decades in Asia and the former Soviet Union with the National Democratic Institute. Earlier this month, I spoke at a conference in Bucharest for Eastern Europe’s democracy activists and leaders. I was discussing foreign malign influence operations, particularly around elections, highlighting Russia’s hybrid war in Moldova, when a Hungarian participant pointed out that U.S. President Donald Trump had offered Hungary’s illiberal strongman Viktor Orbán a one-year reprieve for complying with U.S. sanctions for using Russian oil and gas. With Hungarian elections around the corner and this respite being a direct relief to Orbán’s economy, “Is that not election interference?” she asked. The next day, while at the Moldova Security Forum in Chișinău, a Polish government official expressed his deep concern about sharing intelligence with the current U.S. administration. While he had great respect for the embassy in Warsaw, he noted a lack of trust in some leaders in Washington and his worry that intelligence would get leaked, in the worst case to Russia — as had happened during Trump’s first term. My week came to an end at a two-day workshop for democracy activists, all who described the catastrophic impact that the U.S. Agency for International Development’s (USAID) elimination had on their work, whether that be protecting free and fair elections, combating disinformation campaigns or supporting independent media. “It’s not just about the money. It’s the loss of the U.S. as a democratic partner,” said one Georgian participant. Others then described how this withdrawal had been an extraordinary gift to Russia, China and other autocratic regimes, becoming a main focus of their disinformation campaigns. According to one Moldovan participant, “The U.S. has abandoned Moldova” was now a common Russian narrative, while Chinese messaging in the global south was also capitalizing on the end of USAID to paint Washington as an unreliable ally. Having spent a good deal of my career tracking malign foreign actors who undermine democracy around the world and coming up with strategies to defend against them, this was a rude reality check. I had to ask myself: “Wait, are we the bad guys?” It would be naive to suggest that the U.S. has always been a good faith actor, defending global democracy throughout its history. After all, America has meddled in many countries’ internal struggles, supporting leaders who didn’t have their people’s well-being or freedom in mind. But while it has fallen short in the past, there was always broad bipartisan agreement over what the U.S. should be: a reliable ally; a country that supports those less fortunate, stands up against tyranny worldwide and is a beacon of freedom for human rights defenders. America’s values and interests were viewed as intertwined — particularly the belief that a world with more free and open democracies would benefit the U.S. As the late Senator John McCain famously said: “Our interests are our values, and our values are our interests.” At the Moldova Security Forum in Chișinău, a Polish government official expressed his deep concern about sharing intelligence with the current U.S. administration. | Artur Widak/Getty Images I have proudly seen this born out in my work. I’ve lived in several countries that have had little to offer the U.S. with regards to trade, extractive industries or influence, and yet we supported their health, education and agriculture programs. We also stood up for defenders of democracy and freedom fighters around the world, with little material benefit to ourselves. I’ve worked with hundreds of foreign aid and NGO workers in my life, and I can say not one of them was in it for a “good trade deal” or to colonize resources. But today’s U.S. foreign policy has broken from this approach. It has abandoned the post-World War II consensus on allies and the value of defending freedom, instead revolving around transactions and deal-making, wielding tariffs to punish or reward, and defining allies based on financial benefit rather than shared democratic values. There are new ideological connections taking place as well — they’re just not the democratic alliances of the past. At the Munich Security Forum earlier this year, U.S. Vice President JD Vance chose to meet with the far-right Alternative for Germany party rather than then-Chancellor Olaf Scholz. The Conservative Political Action Committee has also served as a transatlantic bridge to connect far-right movements in Europe to those in the U.S., providing a platform to strongmen like Orbán. The recently released U.S. National Security Strategy explicitly embraces this pivot away from values toward more transactional alliances, as well as a fondness for “patriotic European parties” and a call to “resist” the region’s “current trajectory” — a clear reference to the illiberal, far-right movements in Europe. Meanwhile, according to Harvard University’s school of public health, USAID’s closure has tragically caused hundreds of thousands of deaths, while simultaneously kneecapping the work of those fighting for freedom, human rights and democracy. And according to Moldovan organizations I’ve spoken with, while the EU and others continue to assist them in their fight against Russia’s hybrid attacks ahead of this year’s September elections, the American withdrawal is de facto helping the Kremlin’s efforts. It should have come as no surprise to me that our partners are worried and wondering whose side the U.S. is really on. But I also believe that while a country’s foreign policy often reflects the priorities and values of that nation as a whole, Americans can still find a way to shift this perception. Alliances aren’t only built nation-to-nation — they can take place at the subnational level, creating bonds between democratic cities or states in the U.S. with like-minded local governments elsewhere. Just like Budapest doesn’t reflect its anti-democratic national leadership, we can find connections and share lessons learned. Moreover, partnerships can be forged at the civil society level too. Many American democracy and civic organizations, journalists and foundations firmly believe in a pro-democracy U.S. foreign policy, and they want to build communities with democratic actors globally. At a meeting in Prague last month, a former German government official banged their hand on the table, emphatically stating: “The transatlantic relationship is dead!” And I get it. I understand that the democratic world may well be tempted to cut the U.S. off as an ally and partner. But to them I’d like to say that it’s not our democracy organizations, funding organizations and broader government that abandoned them when national leadership changed. Relationships can take on many shapes, layers and connections, and on both sides of the Atlantic, those in support of democracy must now find new creative avenues of cooperation and support. I hope our friends don’t give up on us so easily.

Steven Everts is the director of the EU Institute for Security Studies The intense diplomatic maneuvering to shape an endgame to the war in Ukraine has revealed a troubling reality: Even when it comes to its own security, the EU struggles to be a central player. The ongoing negotiations over Ukraine’s future — a conflict European leaders routinely describe as “existential” — are proceeding with minimal input from the bloc. And while others set the tone and direction, Europe remains reactive: managing the fallout, limiting the damage and hoping to recuperate its influence. This marginalization isn’t the result of a single decision or down to one person — no matter how consequential U.S. President Donald Trump may be. Rather, it reflects a deeper vulnerability and an unsettling pattern. Anyone looking at Europe’s choices in recent months can see a psychology of weakness. It paints the picture of a continent lacking courage, unable to take decisive action even when it comes to its core interests and when policy alternatives are within reach. Europe is losing confidence, sinking into fatalism and justifying its passivity with the soothing thought that it has no real choice, as its cards are weak. Besides, in the long run, things will work out. Just wait for the U.S. midterms. But will they? And can Europe afford to wait? Ukraine certainly cannot. Simply commenting on others’ peace plan drafts in some form of “track-changes diplomacy” isn’t enough. Decisions are needed, and they’re needed now. Europe is a continent of rich countries with ample capabilities. But while its leaders insist Ukraine’s security and success are essential to Europe’s own security and survival, its actual military assistance to Kyiv has declined in recent months. On the financial end, Europe is flunking the test it set for itself. Ukraine requires approximately €70 billion annually — and yes, this is a large sum, but it amounts to only 0.35 percent of the EU’s GDP. This is within Europe’s collective capacity. Yet for months now, member countries have been unable to agree on the mechanisms for using frozen Russian assets or suitable alternatives that could keep Ukraine afloat. Instead, we’ve seen dithering and the triumph of small thinking. It’s also rather telling that the U.S. attempt to simply impose how these assets are to be used, with 50 percent of the profits going to Washington instead of Kyiv, is finally jolting Europe into action. Regrettably, Europe’s psychology of weakness is equally visible in the economic domain, as the EU-U.S. trade agreement struck this July was a classic case of how frailty can masquerade as “pragmatism.” Brussels had the tools to respond to Washington’s tariffs and coercive measures, including counter-tariffs and its anti-coercion instrument. But under pressure from member countries fearful of broader U.S. disengagement from European security and Ukraine, it chose not to use them. The result was a one-sided “deal” with a 15 percent unilateral tariff, which breaks the World Trade Organization’s rules and obliges Europe to make energy purchases and investments in the U.S. worth hundreds of billions of dollars. Even worse, the deal didn’t produce the stability advertised as its main benefit. Washington has since designated Europe’s energy transition measures and tech regulations as “trade barriers” and “taxes on U.S. companies,” signaling that further retaliatory steps may follow. Just last week, the U.S. upped the pressure once more, when its trade representatives met EU ministers and openly challenged existing EU rules on tech. Regrettably, Europe’s psychology of weakness is equally visible in the economic domain, as the EU-U.S. trade agreement struck this July was a classic case of how frailty can masquerade as “pragmatism.”. | Thierry Monasse/Getty Images More than on defense, the EU is meant to be an economic and regulatory superpower. But despite decades of leveraging its economic weight for political purposes, the EU is now adrift, faced with a widening transatlantic power play over trade and technology. Similar patterns of retreat mark the EU’s actions in other areas as well. As Russia escalates its hybrid warfare operations against the bloc’s critical infrastructure, Europe’s response remains hesitant. As China dramatically weaponizes its export controls on critical mineral exports, Europe continues to respond late and without clear coordination. And in the Middle East, despite being one of the leading donors to Gaza, Europe is peripheral in shaping any ceasefire and reconstruction plans. In crisis after crisis, Europe’s role is not only small but shrinking still. The question is, when will Europeans decide they’ve had enough of this weakness and irrelevance? This is, above all, a matter of psychology, of believing in one’s capabilities, including the capacity to say “no.” But this is only possible if Europe invests in its ability to take major decisions together — through joint political authority and financial resources. There is no way out of this without investing in a stronger EU. This basic argument has been made a hundred times before. But while insisting on “more political will” among member countries is, indeed, right, it’s also too simplistic. We have to acknowledge that building a stronger EU also means having to give somethings up. But in return we will gain something essential: The ability to stand firm in a world of Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping. This is both necessary and priceless.

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. “These are the times that try men’s souls,” wrote pamphleteer Thomas Paine in the dark days of December 1776, as America’s war to free itself of the British seemed doomed. In a bid to lift flagging spirits, he continued: “Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.” That victory was sorely in doubt for much of the war, but the revolutionaries persevered, and with French assistance — which has often been downplayed since — they triumphed after eight years of brutish conflict. Ukraine’s struggle has been longer. In effect, the country has been fighting to be free of Russia since 2014, and right now, these times are, indeed, trying Ukrainian souls. As it stands, there is scant grounds for optimism that, for all its heroism, Ukraine can turn things around. The country is unlikely to emerge from its most perilous winter of the war in a stronger position, better able to withstand what’s being foisted upon it. In fact, it could be in a much weaker state — on the battlefield, the home front, and in terms of its internal politics. Indeed, as it tries to navigate its way through America’s divisive “peace plan,” this might be the best Ukraine can hope for — or at least some variation that doesn’t entail withdrawing from the territory in eastern Ukraine it has managed to retain. On the battlefield, Ukraine’s forces are currently hard pressed and numerically disadvantaged. Or, as lawmaker Mariana Bezuhla recently argued: “Ukrainian commanders simply can’t keep up” and are “being jerked around within a framework set by the enemy.” Meanwhile, on the home front, pummeling Russian drone attacks and airstrikes are degrading the country’s power system and wrecking its natural gas infrastructure, which keeps 60 percent of Ukrainians warm during the frigid winter months. The country is also running out of money. It’s hard to see a Europe mired in debt providing the $250 billion Kyiv will need in cash and arms to sustain the fight for another four years — and that’s on top of the $140 billion reparations loan that might be offered if Belgium lifts its veto on using Russia’s immobilized assets held in Brussels. If all that weren’t enough, Ukraine is being roiled by a massive corruption scandal that appears to implicate Ukrainian presidential insiders, sapping the confidence of allies and Ukrainians alike. It’s also providing those in the administration of U.S. President Donald Trump and the MAGA movement with ammunition to argue that Washington should be done with Ukraine. And now, of course, Kyiv is having to cope with a contentious U.S. effort to end Russia’s war, which has been advanced in such a chaotic diplomatic process that it wouldn’t be out of place in an episode of “The West Wing.” At times, negotiations have descended into farce, with U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio forswearing the original peace plan one minute, saying it came from Russia and not a Trump administration proposal, only to swiftly backtrack. And earlier this week, a Reuters report suggested the 28-point plan was, in fact, modeled on a Russian proposal that Kremlin officials shared with their U.S. counterparts in mid-October. Meanwhile, on the home front, pummeling Russian drone attacks and airstrikes are degrading the country’s power system and wrecking its natural gas infrastructure. | Mykola Tys/EPA But for all the buffoonery — including reports that Special Envoy Steve Witkoff coached high-ranking Kremlin aide Yuri Ushakov on how Russian President Vladimir Putin should speak to Trump — a tweaked 19-point version of the “peace plan” may well be the best Ukraine can realistically expect, even though it heavily favors Russia. As this column has argued before, a Ukrainian triumph was always unlikely — that is if by triumph one means the restoration of the country’s 1991 borders and NATO membership. This isn’t through any fault of Ukraine, the David in the fight against Goliath, but rather that of Kyiv’s Western allies, who were never clear-sighted or practical in their thinking, let alone ready to do what was necessary to defeat Russia’s revanchism and vanquish a Putin regime heedless of the death toll of even its own troops. Despite their high-blown rhetoric, at no stage in the conflict have Ukraine’s allies agreed on any clear war aims. Some pressed for a debate, among them former Lithuanian foreign minister Gabrielius Landsbergis, who was worried about a mismatch between Western magniloquence and what the U.S. and Europe were actually prepared to do and give. “We talk about victory, and we talk about standing with Ukraine to the very end — but let’s also talk about this,” he told POLITICO in a 2023 interview. But that debate never happened because of fears it would disunite allies. Nonetheless, Western leaders continued to characterize the war as a contest between good and evil, with huge stakes for democracy. They cast it as a struggle not only for territory but between liberal and autocratic values, and as one with global consequences. But in that case, why be restrained in what you supply? Why hold back on long-range munitions and tanks? Why delay supplying F-16s? And why prevent Ukraine from using Western-supplied long-range missiles to strike deeper into Russia? Or, as Ukraine’s former top commander Gen. Valery Zaluzhny fumed in the Washington Post: “To save my people, why do I have to ask someone for permission what to do on enemy territory?” For former Ukrainian foreign minister Dmytro Kuleba, for all its talk of standing with Ukraine for as long as it takes, the West never really grasped the war’s importance or consequences: “You cannot win a war where Russia clearly knows what its strategic goal is in every detail; [where] Ukraine knows what its strategic goal is in every detail; but [where] the West, without whom Ukraine cannot win, does not know what it is fighting for,” he told POLITICO last year. “This is the real tragedy of this war.” At times, negotiations have descended into farce, with U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio forswearing the original peace plan one minute, saying it came from Russia and not a Trump administration proposal, only to swiftly backtrack. | Martial Trezzini/EPA The currently discussed 19-point plan is, of course, an improvement on the original 28-point plan — nonetheless, it is an ugly and shameful one. But this is what happens if you run down your military forces and arms production for decades, fail to draw enforceable red lines and don’t ask hard questions before making grand promises. For Ukraine, such a poor deal that leaves it with weak security guarantees, without 20 percent of its territory and prohibits it from joining NATO, will have great domestic consequences and carry the high likelihood of civil strife. It isn’t hard to see how the army and its veterans might react. Many of them will see it as a stab in the back, an enraging betrayal that needs to be punished. It will also mean rewarding Putin’s thuggishness and no real accountability for the bestial nature of his army’s atrocious behavior or the unlawful, detestable deportations from occupied parts of Ukraine to Russia. And it will, no doubt, embolden the axis of autocrats. The American Revolution had lasting global consequences — so, too, will this war.

THE WEST’S NEW ARMS RACE: SELLING PEACE TO BUY WAR Military spending is rising faster than at any time since the Cold War, but the retreat from diplomacy and foreign aid will come with a price. By TIM ROSS in London Illustrations by Nicolás Ortega for POLITICO In 1958, British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan observed that “jaw, jaw is better than war, war.” Talking, he meant, is preferable to fighting.  Macmillan knew the realities of both diplomacy and military action: He was seriously wounded as a soldier in World War I, and as prime minister, he had to grapple with the nuclear threats of the Cold War, including most critically the Cuban missile crisis. John F. Kennedy, the U.S. president during that near-catastrophic episode of atomic brinkmanship, also understood the value of diplomatic channels, as well as the brutality of conflict: He severely injured his back serving in the U.S. Navy in 1943. Andrew Mitchell, a former Cabinet minister in the British government, worries that the wisdom of leaders like Kennedy and Macmillan gained from war has faded from memory just when it is most needed.  Advertisement “The world has forgotten the lessons of the first World War, when millions of people were slaughtered and our grandfathers’ generation said we can’t allow this to happen again,” he said. One school of academic theory holds that era-defining wars recur roughly every 85 years, as generations lose sight of their forebears’ hard-won experience. That would mean we should expect another one anytime now. And yet, as Mitchell sees it, even as evidence mounts that the world is headed in the wrong direction, governments have lost sight of the value of “jaw-jaw.” The erosion of diplomatic instinct is showing up not just in rhetoric but in budgets. The industrialized West is rapidly scaling back investment in soft power — slashing foreign aid and shrinking diplomatic networks — even as it diverts resources to defense.  U.S. aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford, the world’s largest warship, makes its way into Oslo’s fjord in September. | Lise Åserud/NTB via AFP/Getty Images At no point since the end of the Cold War has military spending surged as fast as it did in 2024, when it rose 9.4 percent to reach the highest global total ever recorded by the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute. By contrast, a separate report from the Paris-based Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development found a 9 percent drop in official development assistance that same year among the world’s richest donors. The OECD forecast cuts of at least another 9 percent and potentially as much as 17 percent this year.  “For the first time in nearly 30 years, France, Germany, the United Kingdom, and the United States all cut their ODA in 2024,” the OECD said in its study. “If they proceed with announced cuts in 2025, it will be the first time in history that all four have cut ODA simultaneously for two consecutive years.”  Diplomatic corps are also shrinking, with U.S. President Donald Trump setting the tone by slashing jobs in the U.S. State Department.  Advertisement Global figures are hard to come by, and anyway go out of date quickly; one of the most extensive surveys is based on data from 2023. But authorities in the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the European Union’s headquarters are among those who have warned that their diplomatic staff face cuts.  Analysts fear that as industrialized economies turn their backs on aid and diplomacy to build up their armies, hostile and unreliable states like Russia, China and Turkey will step in to fill the gaps in these influence networks, turning once friendly nations in Africa and Asia against the West.  And that, they warn, risks making the world a far more dangerous place. If the geopolitical priorities of governments operate like a market, the trend is clear: Many leaders have decided it’s time to sell peace and buy war.  SELLING PEACE, BUYING WAR Military spending is climbing worldwide. The Chinese defense budget, second only to that of the U.S., grew 7 percent between 2023 and 2024, according to SIPRI. Russia’s military expenditure ballooned by 38 percent. Spurred in part by fears among European countries that Trump might abandon their alliance, NATO members agreed in June to a new target of spending 5 percent of gross domestic product on defense and security infrastructure by 2035. The U.S. president — cast in the role of “daddy” — was happy enough that his junior partners across the Atlantic would be paying their way.  In reality, the race to rearm pre-dates Trump’s return to the White House. The war in Ukraine made military buildup an urgent priority for anxious Northern and Eastern European states living in the shadow of President Vladimir Putin’s Russia. According to SIPRI, military spending in Europe rocketed 17 percent in 2024, reaching $693 billion — before Trump returned to office and demanded that NATO up its game. Since 2015, defense budgets in Europe have expanded by 83 percent. One argument for prioritizing defense over funding aid or diplomacy is that military muscle is a powerful deterrent against would-be attackers. As European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen put it when she announced her plan to rearm Europe in March: “This is the moment for peace through strength.” Some of von der Leyen’s critics argue that an arms race inevitably leads to war — but history does not bear that out, according to Greg Kennedy, professor of strategic foreign policy at King’s College London. “Arms don’t kill. Governments kill,” he said. “The problem is there are governments out there that are willing to use military power and to kill people to get their objective.”  Ideally a strong military would go hand in hand with so-called soft power in the form of robust diplomatic and foreign aid networks, Kennedy added. But if Europe has to choose, it should rebuild its depleted hard power first, he said. The risk to peace lies in how the West’s adversaries — like China — might respond to a new arms race.  Advertisement Few serious politicians in Europe, the U.K. or the U.S. dispute the need for military investment in today’s era of instability and conflict. The question, when government budgets are squeezed, is how to pay for it.  Here, again, Trump’s second term has set the tone. Within days of taking office, the U.S. president froze billions of dollars in foreign aid. And in February he announced he would be cutting 90 percent of the U.S. Agency for International Development’s contracts. The move — billed as part of Trump’s war on “woke” — devastated humanitarian nongovernmental organizations, many of which relied on American funding to carry out work in some of the poorest parts of the world. According to one estimate, Trump’s aid cuts alone could cause 14 million premature deaths over the next five years, one-third of them children. That’s a decision that Trump’s critics say won’t be forgotten in places like sub-Saharan Africa, even before cuts from other major donors like Germany and the U.K. take effect. Diplomatic corps are also shrinking, with U.S. President Donald Trump setting the tone by slashing jobs in the U.S. State Department. | Anna Moneymaker/Getty Images In London, British leader Keir Starmer and his team had prepared for the whirlwind of Trump’s return by devising a strategy aimed at appealing to the American leader’s self-interest, rather than values they weren’t sure he shared.  As Starmer got ready to visit the White House, he and his team came up with a plan to flatter Trump with the unprecedented honor of a second state visit to the U.K. Looking to head off a sharp break between the U.S. and Ukraine, Starmer also sought to show the U.K. was taking Trump seriously on the need for Europe (including Britain) to pay for its own defenses.  On the eve of his trip to Washington in February, Starmer announced he would raise defense spending — as Trump had demanded allies must — and that he would pay for it in part by cutting the U.K.’s budget for foreign aid from 0.5 percent of gross national income to 0.3 percent.  For a center-left leader like Starmer, whose Labour predecessors Gordon Brown and Tony Blair had championed the moral obligation to spend big on foreign development, it was a wrenching shift of gear.  Advertisement “That is not an announcement that I am happy to make,” he explained. “However, the realities of our dangerous new era mean that the defense and national security of our country must always come first.” The U.S. government welcomed Starmer’s move as “a strong step from an enduring partner.” But Starmer returned home to political revolt. His international aid minister Anneliese Dodds quit, warning Starmer his decision would “remove food and health care from desperate people — deeply harming the U.K.’s reputation.”  She lamented that Britain appeared to be “following in President Trump’s slipstream of cuts to USAID.”  EASY TARGETS  In the months that followed, other major European governments made similar calculations, some citing the U.K. as a sign that times had changed. For cash-poor governments in the era of Trumpian nationalism, foreign aid is an easy target for savings. The U.K. was once a world leader in foreign aid and a beacon for humanitarian agencies, enshrining in law its commitment to spend 0.7 percent of gross national income on ODA, according to Mitchell, the former Cabinet minister responsible for the policy. “But now Britain is being cited in Germany as, ‘Well, the Brits are cutting their development money, we can do the same.’”  In Sweden, the defense budget is due to rise by 18 percent between 2025 and 2026, in what the government hailed as a “historic” investment plan. “The prevailing security situation is more serious than it has been in several decades,” Sweden’s ministry of defense said, “and Russia constitutes a multi-dimensional threat.”  But Sweden’s international development cooperation budget, which was worth around €4.5 billion last year, will fall to €4 billion by 2026.  In debt-ridden France, plans were announced earlier this year to slash the ODA budget by around one-third, though its spending decisions have been derailed by a spiraling political crisis that has so far prevented it from passing a budget. Money for defense was due to rise dramatically, despite the overall squeeze on France’s public finances.  In Finland, which shares an 800-mile border with Putin’s Russia, the development budget also fell, while defense spending escaped cuts.  The country’s Development Minister Ville Tavio, from the far-right populist Finns Party, says the cuts provided a chance to rethink aid altogether. Instead of funding humanitarian programs, he wants to give private businesses opportunities to invest to create jobs in poorer countries. That, he believes, will help prevent young people from heading to Europe as illegal migrants.  Advertisement “If they don’t have jobs, the countries will become unstable, and the young people will radicalize. Some of them will start trying to get to Europe,” he said. “It’s a complete win-win if we can help the developing countries to industrialize and create those jobs they need.” Not all countries are cutting back. Ireland plans to increase its ODA budget, while Denmark has pledged to keep spending 0.7 percent of its gross national income on foreign aid even as it boosts investment in defense. But Ireland has enjoyed enviable economic growth in recent years and Denmark will pay for its spending priorities by raising the retirement age to 70. In any case, these are not giant economies that can sustain Europe’s reputation as a soft power superpower on their own.  STAFF CUTS The retreat from foreign aid is only part of a broader withdrawal from diplomacy itself. Some wealthy Western nations have trimmed their diplomatic corps, even closing embassies and bureaus.  Again, Trump’s America provides the most dramatic example. In July, the U.S. State Department fired more than 1,300 employees, among them foreign service officers and civil servants. In the eyes of European officials watching from afar, Trump’s administration just doesn’t seem to care about nurturing established relations with the rest of the world.  According to the American Foreign Service Association’s ambassador tracker, 85 out of 195 American ambassador roles were vacant as of Oct. 23. Part of this reflects confirmation delays in the U.S. Senate, but nine months in office, the administration had not even nominated candidates for more than 60 of the empty posts.  The result is a system stretched to the breaking point, with some of the most senior officials doing more than one job. Marco Rubio, the secretary of state, is still doubling up as Trump’s national security adviser (and he’s also been tapped to head the national archives). With key posts left open, Trump has turned to loyalists. Instead of drawing on America’s once-deep pool of diplomatic expertise, the president sent his friend Steve Witkoff, a lawyer and real estate investor, to negotiate personally with Putin and to act as his envoy to the Middle East.  In Brussels, EU officials have been aghast at Witkoff’s lack of understanding of the complexities of the Russia-Ukraine war. One senior European official who requested anonymity to speak candidly about diplomatic matters said they have zero confidence that Witkoff can even relay messages between Moscow and Washington reliably and accurately.  That’s partly why European leaders are so keen to speak directly to Trump, as often and with as many of them present as they can, the senior European official said. And while Washington’s diplomatic corps is hollowed out in plain sight, other governments in the West follow Trump’s lead, only more quietly. Advertisement British diplomats face staff cuts of 15 percent to 25 percent. The Netherlands is reducing its foreign missions budget by 10 percent (while boosting defense) and plans to close at least five embassies and consulates, with more likely to follow.  Even the EU’s flagship foreign department — the European External Action Service, led by the former Prime Minister of Estonia Kaja Kallas, a Russia hawk — is reducing its network of overseas offices. The changes, which POLITICO revealed in May, are expected to result in 10 EU delegations being downsized and 100 to 150 local staff losing their jobs.  “European diplomacy is taking a back seat to priorities such as border control and defense, which are getting increased budget allocations,” one EU official said. The person insisted the EU is not “cutting diplomacy” — but “the resources are going elsewhere.” Privately, diplomats and other officials in Europe confess they are deeply concerned by the trend of reducing diplomatic capacity while military budgets soar.  “We should all be worried about this,” one said.  JAW-JAW OR WAR-WAR? Mitchell, the former British Cabinet minister, warned that the accelerating shift from aid to arms risks ending in catastrophe. “At a time when you really need the international system … you’ve got the massive resurgence of narrow nationalism, in a way that some people argue you haven’t really seen since before 1914,” he said.  Mitchell, who was the U.K.’s international development minister until his Conservative Party lost power last year, said cutting aid to pay for defense was “a terrible, terrible mistake.” He argued that soft power is much cheaper, and often more effective, than hard power on its own. “Development is so often the other side of the coin to defense,” Mitchell said. It helps prevent wars, end fighting and rebuild nations afterward.  At no point since the end of the Cold War has military spending surged as fast as it did in 2024. | Federico Gambarini/picture alliance via Getty Images Many ambassadors, officials, diplomats and analysts interviewed for this article agree. The pragmatic purpose of diplomatic networks and development programs is to build alliances that can be relied on in times of trouble. “Any soldier will tell you that responding to international crises or international threats, isn’t just about military responses,” said Kim Darroch, who served as British ambassador to the U.S. and as the U.K.’s national security adviser. “It’s about diplomacy as well, and it’s about having an integrated strategy that takes in both your international strategy and your military response, as needed.” Hadja Lahbib, the European commissioner responsible for the EU’s vast humanitarian aid program, argues it’s a “totally” false economy to cut aid to finance military budgets. “We have now 300 million people depending on humanitarian aid. We have more and more war,” she told POLITICO.  The whole multilateral aid system is “shaking” as a result of political attacks and funding cuts, she said. The danger is that if it fails, it will trigger fresh instability and mass migration. “The link is quite vicious but if we are not helping people where they are, they are going to move — it’s obvious — to find a way to survive,” Lahbib said. “Desperate people are more [willing] to be violent because they just want to save their lives, to save their family.” Advertisement Countries that cut their outreach programs also face paying a political price for the long term. When a wealthy government closes its embassy or reduces aid to a country needing help, that relationship suffers, potentially permanently, according to Cyprien Fabre, a policy specialist who studies peace and instability at the OECD.  “Countries remember who stayed and who left,” he said.  Vacating the field clears space for rivals to come in. Turkey increased its diplomatic presence in Africa from 12 embassies in 2002 to 44 in 2022, Fabre said. Russia and China are also taking advantage as Europe retreats from the continent. “The global bellicose narrative sees big guns and big red buttons as the only features of power,” Fabre said.  Politicians tend to see the “soft” in “soft power,” he added. “You realize it’s not soft when you lose it.”  Nicholas Vinocur contributed to this report.

Ban Ki-moon is the eighth secretary-general of the U.N. and the co-chair of the Ban Ki-moon Centre for Global Citizens. Ana Toni is the CEO of COP30. As world leaders gather in Belém, Brazil for this year’s United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP30), we are standing at a global tipping point. 2024 broke temperature records, as the world temporarily surpassed the 1.5 degrees Celsius target for the first time. And now, we’re on track to cross it permanently within just five years. This means adaptation action has never been more vital for our survival. From the year 2000 to 2019, climate change already cost the world’s most vulnerable countries an estimated $525 billion. This burden only continues to rise, putting lives at risk and undoing hard-won development gains, with global annual damages likely to land somewhere between $19 trillion and $59 trillion in 2050. Even more sobering, the world economy is already locked into a 19 percent loss of income by 2050 due to climate change, no matter how successful today’s mitigation efforts are. This makes one thing clear: The consequence of inaction is far greater than the consequence of action. The world must stop seeing adaptation as a cost to bear but as an investment that strengthens economies and builds healthier, more secure communities. Every dollar invested in adaptation can generate more than 10 times that in benefits through avoided losses, as well as induced economic, social and environmental benefits. Every dollar invested in agricultural research and development generates similar returns for smallholder farmers, vulnerable communities and ecosystems too. This remains true even if climate-related disasters don’t occur. Effective adaptation does more than save lives — it makes the economic case for resilience. And if we really want to tackle the crises of today’s world, we need to put people — especially those most vulnerable — at the center of all our conversations and efforts. Those least responsible for climate change are the ones our financing must reach. Here, locally led adaptation provides a path forward, focusing on giving communities agency over their futures, addressing structural inequalities and enhancing local capacities. Today, more than 2 billion people depend on smallholder farms for their livelihoods, but as little as 1.7 percent of climate finance reaches Indigenous communities and locally operated farms. Small-scale agri-food systems, which are essential to many in developing countries, receive a mere 0.8 percent of international climate finance. This is deeply unjust. These are the people and systems most threatened by climate impacts — and they’re often the best-placed ones to deliver locally effective and regionally adaptive solutions. To that end, appropriate investments in global networks like the Consultative Group on International Agricultural Research (CGIAR) could accelerate and scale technologies that can be adopted by these local systems. These tools could then be used to improve resilience and increase productivity in low- and middle-income countries, while also reducing inequalities and advancing gender equity and social inclusion. The world economy is already locked into a 19 percent loss of income by 2050 due to climate change. | Albert Llop/Getty Images Scaling such efforts will be crucial in moving toward systemic climate solutions. Our ambition is to move from negotiation to implementation to protect lives, safeguard assets and advance equity. But it’s important to remember that adaptation is distinct — it is inherently local; shaped by geography, communities and governance systems. Meeting this challenge will require more than just pledges. It will necessitate high-quality public and private adaptation finance that is accessible to vulnerable countries and communities. That’s why governments around the world — especially those in high-income countries — must design institutional arrangements and policies that raise additional public funds, incentivize markets and embed resilience into every investment decision. The decade since the Paris Agreement laid the foundations for a world at peace with the planet. And with COP30 now taking place in the heart of the Amazon, we must make adaptation a global priority and see resilience as the investment agenda of the 21st century. At its core, climate finance should be driving development pathways that put people first. In Belém, leaders must now close the adaptation finance gap and ensure funding reaches those on the front lines. They need to back investable national resilience strategies, replicate successful initiatives and put resilience at the center of financial decision-making. COP30 needs to be transformative and lead to markets that reward resilience, communities that are better protected and economies built on firmer, more climate-resilient foundations. Let this be the moment we finally move from awareness to alignment, and from ambition to action. Our collective survival depends on it. Question is, will our leaders have the political will to seize it?

Belgium’s former Prime Minister Alexander De Croo is set to become the next head of the United Nations Development Programme. De Croo, of the Flemish liberal Open VLD party, will succeed current UNDP Administrator Achim Steiner and will also serve as undersecretary-general, working closely with U.N. chief António Guterres. According to reports, De Croo’s nomination followed weeks of deliberations after the selection panel failed to reach a consensus, prompting Guterres to make the final call. The U.N. General Assembly is expected to confirm the appointment in the coming days, a step widely seen as a formality. “It’s a great appointment, it’s also a great honor for Belgium,” Peter Piot, until now the first and only Belgian to have served as a U.N. undersecretary-general, told De Morgen. “UNDP is the most important organization of the U.N. when it comes to general development. There has really been a huge competition for that position, countries are lobbying very hard for it,” he added. The UNDP administrator is the third-highest position in the U.N. hierarchy after the secretary-general and deputy secretary-general. It is also the highest post outside the U.N. Secretariat and serves as vice chair of the United Nations Sustainable Development Group, which coordinates all U.N. agencies operating in the field. De Croo’s move means he will resign his seat in the Belgian parliament, where he was elected last year, according to Flemish public broadcaster VRT. He will be replaced by Sandro Di Nunzio, currently deputy mayor of Lochristi in East Flanders. In Brakel, where De Croo serves as mayor, Marleen Gyselinck will step in as acting mayor.

Jamie Dettmer is opinion editor and a foreign affairs columnist at POLITICO Europe. Ukrainian officials are displaying a newfound confidence — and it’s all thanks to U.S. President Donald Trump. Despite Russia’s pummeling airstrikes targeting the country’s energy system, the conviction that the end may finally be in sight is slowly spreading in Kyiv. Hopes in the capital are that by spring or summer, Russian President Vladimir Putin will be serious about negotiating, with talks of an end to the war sometime next year. In a recent closed-door parliamentary session with lawmakers from his Servant of the People party, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy hazarded Russia’s current heave in the country’s east may well be its final big land offensive in the conflict, according to those in attendance. Of course, the country will still have to endure another harsh winter, but Zelenskyy told them he expects there will be a real possibility of a truce — although, he noted, it won’t be easy. For that to happen, Russia needs to be hit with more economic and military pressure, so Putin understands the only logical outcome is to negotiate, and that prolonging the conflict will lead to no other advantages for him and will just bleed Russia. Thankfully, fresh off successfully brokering a ceasefire in Gaza, Trump seems determined to bring the war in Ukraine to a halt and add another notch in his belt to brandish at the Nobel Peace Prize judges. This is what a high-level Ukrainian delegation, including Zelenskyy’s powerful Chief of Staff Andriy Yermak and Prime Minister Yulia Svyrydenko, has been discussing with U.S. counterparts in Washington this week: How to leverage Putin into stopping his war, and how to help Ukraine endure Russia’s airstrikes this winter. And with Zelenskyy set to be in the White House on Friday for yet another face-to-face meeting with Trump, this time, they feel the tide might be turning in their favor. In his hour-long address in the Knesset on Monday, the U.S. president made clear his intention is to focus his efforts on ending the war between Ukraine and Russia: “It would be great if we could make a peace deal with [Iran] … First, we have to get Russia done,” he told Israeli lawmakers. For the man who once blamed Zelenskyy for the conflict, it seems this is now Putin’s war. Last month, Trump actually dubbed Russia the “aggressor.” It is this kind of talk that’s firing up Kyiv, and Zelenskyy didn’t miss a beat in responding: “We are working so that the day of peace comes for Ukraine as well. Russian aggression remains the last global source of destabilization, and if a ceasefire and peace have been achieved for the Middle East, the leadership and determination of global actors can certainly work for us, too,” he posted on social media. But Ukraine’s cautious confidence predates Trump’s Knesset speech. Slowly but surely, Trump and Zelenskyy have become aligned — more than anyone could have forecast back in February after their tempestuous Oval Office brawl, which was widely seen as an ambush. “You’re not in a good position. You don’t have the cards right now,” Trump had bellowed at Zelenskyy. Nor did things look good in August, when Trump greeted Putin on the tarmac of a Cold War-era air force base outside Anchorage, Alaska, for a summit that had Ukrainian and European leaders on the edge of their seats. They, along with the rest of the world, watched as Trump applauded the Russian ruler, had an animated but clearly friendly conversation on the red carpet, and invited a smirking Putin into the U.S. president’s official car to share a ride to the summit venue. To be sure, Putin had much to smile about: He had managed to secure the summit meeting despite being a wanted man for war crimes and was greeted on U.S. soil as a friend — not the leader of a pariah state that had invaded a sovereign European nation — all without agreeing to any major concessions or a ceasefire beforehand. He left Anchorage without committing to a truce either, despite Trump saying his Russian counterpart was keen to save thousands of lives during their joint press conference. With Zelenskyy set to be in the White House on Friday for yet another face-to-face meeting with Trump, this time, they feel the tide might be turning in their favor. | Photo by the Office of the President of Ukraine via Getty Images Since then, Putin hasn’t shown any solicitude for human life, and the continued strikes on civilian targets in Ukraine have contributed greatly to where Trump is now, explained one Republican foreign-policy insider, talking to POLITICO on condition of anonymity in order to speak freely. “Trump needed time to understand who Putin really is.” Plus, the media coverage calling the Alaska summit a “Putin triumph” infuriated Trump, the insider said. The Russian president, who appears convinced he just has to wait out the West, overplayed his hand by giving Trump nothing in Anchorage — or since, for that matter. Meanwhile, European leaders who Trump likes have continued their efforts to repair the damage the Oval Office bust-up wrought. The Republican insider lists British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, Finnish President Alexander Stubb and NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte as key players here, as well as Starmer’s National Security Adviser Jonathan Powell. He also said a winning card in the lobbying was Britain’s King Charles “telling Trump that Ukraine is great, and that has really changed Trump’s view of Ukraine.” But the insider also credits Zelenskyy for working hard on his relationship with Trump, and being careful with his language. “You have to understand that since the war began, Zelenskyy and Yermak had been used to being treated as rock stars, as global celebrities, and then Trump enters and says: ‘there’s only room for one diva here — me.’ That’s why we had the Oval Office blow-up,” he said. And proof of that has come in the form of increasingly friendly meetings with Trump, the most cordial of which took place on the sidelines of the United Nations General Assembly last month, with Trump praising the Ukrainian leader as a “brave man.” “We have great respect for the fight that Ukraine is putting up,” he said. “It’s pretty amazing, actually.” In his hour-long address in the Knesset on Monday, the U.S. president made clear his intention is to focus his efforts on ending the war between Ukraine and Russia. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images It was after that meeting that Trump surprised even Zelenskyy himself with the head-spinning comment that Ukraine might be able to reclaim all the territory it has lost to Russia. It also surprised some of Trump’s aides — after all, the U.S. had made clear Ukraine would have to give up land in return for peace only the previous month. There have been other factors shaping Trump’s shift too, and according to another Republican foreign policy adviser who asked to remain anonymous to freely discuss sensitive matters, these include China hosting Putin and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un last month. “Please give my warmest regards to Vladimir Putin, and Kim Jong Un, as you conspire against the United States of America,” Trump scathingly posted on his Truth Social platform. “The best way to get back at Putin is to praise Zelenskyy — that’s how Trump sees it,” the adviser said. And going even further, ramp up U.S. support for Ukraine. To that end, Washington has recently increased its intelligence-sharing with Ukrainian forces to assist in long-range attacks on energy targets deep inside Russia, bringing the consequences of the war home to ordinary citizens. Meanwhile, talk of supplying Ukraine with Tomahawk Cruise missiles is meant to scare the Kremlin — although the risk of escalation will likely deter Trump from going that far. Overall, the cards have certainly started to flutter into Zelenskyy’s hands. Ukrainian officials and their supporters in the U.S. hope they’ll continue to do so — although they concede that with Trump, nothing can be taken for granted. How will he respond if Putin remains obdurate, as signs are that he will? Still, for all his unpredictability, they’re happier with this Trump than the one in February.

Ivo Daalder, former U.S. ambassador to NATO, is a senior fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center and host of the weekly podcast “World Review with Ivo Daalder.” He writes POLITICO’s From Across the Pond column. Russia is at war with Europe. It has been waging an overt war in Ukraine for over a decade now, and with increasing ferocity since its full-scale invasion in 2022. But the fighting in Ukraine is only part of Russia’s wider war against Europe as a whole. This month’s drone incursions on Poland and Romania and flying into Estonian airspace underscore Moscow’s broader intent: dividing Europe and the U.S., weakening public support for strong military action and ending the continent’s support for Ukraine. But until now, Europe hadn’t taken this threat seriously. It preferred to view Russia’s escalating operations — the assassinations, cyberattacks, sabotage of critical infrastructure, disinformation campaigns and more — as falling into a gray zone below the level of armed conflict. And its chosen response was to improve resilience while, at times publicly, condemning Russia for its actions. Essentially, Europe imposed no cost on Moscow for its covert agitation against the continent — and that’s a mistake. This failure is behind the significant escalation in the Kremlin’s attacks on Europe over the past three years. As a new report by the International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) underscores, the number of such attacks grew while the full-scale war got underway, and the reason is clear: Russia was stymied by Ukraine’s stubborn defense on the battlefield and the support it has received from Europe and the U.S. “Russia simply does not have the wherewithal to fully subjugate Ukraine by force,” Britain’s MI6 chief Richard Moore noted the other day. “Yes, they are winding forward on the battlefield, but at a snail’s pace and horrendous cost, and Putin’s army is still far short of its original invasion objectives,” he added. “Bluntly, Putin has bitten off more than he can chew.” The only way Moscow can now achieve its objectives is by weakening Europe’s support for Ukraine and exploiting divisions within and among NATO nations. This is what its covert war against Europe aims to do. The IISS report details just how many of Russia’s attacks on European infrastructure consist of facilities linked to the war in Ukraine. As the country’s military faltered in 2023, the number of attacks on Europe nearly quadrupled, and they increasingly targeted “bases, production facilities and those facilities involved in transporting military aid to Ukraine.” Then, in the first half of this year, the attacks declined significantly, likely reflecting Moscow’s assessment that U.S. President Donald Trump’s return to office would weaken support for Ukraine. And, indeed, it did — Washington ended its military and economic assistance to Ukraine and sought a diplomatic conclusion to the war that accepts many of Moscow’s conditions. But even as the U.S. shifted course, Europe’s commitment to Ukraine has remained steadfast — and even increased: Key European countries are now seriously discussing the deployment of a significant security force in Ukraine once fighting ends; European governments, led by Germany, are sending large amounts of weapons to Ukraine — including some bought from the U.S.; financial support for the country’s economy and rapidly expanding defense industry is growing; additional sanctions are in the offing; and the EU is seriously considering seizing Russia’s frozen assets. Faced with such staunch commitment, Putin is now pushing even harder. It’s probably no accident this all started after the Russian leader’s Alaska meeting with Trump, where he assessed the U.S. was unlikely to resist further escalation from Moscow. And clearly, escalation there has been: Since that meeting, Russia’s bombing of Ukraine has intensified— including the largest drone and missile attack of the war, which came in early September. And even as his military efforts inside Ukraine grew increasingly brazen, Putin decided to test Europe and NATO. Another action is to make clear that any further Russian incursion into European airspace, territory or maritime domain will lead to military action designed to destroy or disable the violating system in question. | Federico Gambarini/Picture Alliance via Getty Images First, Russia sent 19 drones across the Polish border on Sept. 10, followed by another drone crossing the Romanian border a few days later. Then, last week, three Russian MiG-31 warplanes crossed into Estonian airspace and loitered for 12 minutes (Though used as an interceptor, the MiG-31 is capable of carrying and launching the Kinzhal hypersonic missile that Russia has repeatedly used against Ukraine). In all three instances, European forces met the military test of effectively neutralizing the threat, including shooting down some of the drones headed toward an air base in Poland. But NATO countries failed the political test. The U.S. response to the repeated violations has been notably tepid, with Trump and other officials suggesting the drone attack on Poland might have been a mistake. The president also made clear that he’s “not gonna defend anybody.” NATO, for its part, convened twice for Article 4 consultations — first at the behest of Poland and then Estonia. It also announced a beefed-up military presence along the Eastern flank. But still, Putin has paid no price — and until he does, Russia will continue escalating, aiming to weaken European support for Ukraine and divide the alliance. What, then, could and should Europe do? One idea, supported by Polish Foreign Minister Radosław Sikorski, is to extend NATO’s defenses by intercepting drones and missiles over Ukrainian territory. This could be done with European fighters and air defense systems operating from European airspace or territory, or over the skies of Ukraine. It would be a defensive measure that directly contributes to Ukraine’s defense as well. Another action is to make clear that any further Russian incursion into European airspace, territory or maritime domain will lead to military action designed to destroy or disable the violating system in question. This, too, would constitute a defensive measure — one that would reduce the likelihood of Russia continuing to breach European territory. Finally, Europe should provide Ukraine with the capacity to strike critical logistical nodes and war-supporting facilities in Russia. Kyiv has produced long-range drones and is now finalizing the development of ballistic missiles that have already struck Russian energy and other facilities. The continent could help in that effort with more sophisticated weapons and support. Europe is at war with Russia, whether it likes it or not. It’s high time to recognize this reality and act accordingly.

A coalition of human rights NGOs is urging the European Commission to halt cooperation with Libya after it attacked a migrant rescue ship, accusing Brussels of funding forces that “enabled and legitimised abuses.” In a letter obtained by POLITICO and due to be sent to Migration Commissioner Magnus Brunner and Mediterranean Commissioner Dubravka Šuica on Wednesday — and copied to Commission President Ursula von der Leyen, European Council President António Costa and European Parliament President Roberta Metsola — the organizations condemn the Aug. 24 assault on the rescue vessel Ocean Viking by the Libyan Coast Guard. The Ocean Viking, operated by the French NGO SOS Méditerranée, was fired on by a Libyan patrol boat financed by EU funds via Italy’s SIBMMIL program. More than 30 crew members and 87 rescued migrants were on board when hundreds of shots were fired without warning in international waters, according to the NGO. “While the European Commission stated that Libyan authorities are investigating the incident, weeks after the attack, there is no indication that cooperation, or technical and financial assistance, has been suspended during the course of this investigation,” the letter says. The signatories — including Amnesty International, ActionAid, SOS Méditerranée, Emergency, Médecins Sans Frontières, Mediterranea Saving Humans, and Refugees in Libya — argue the assault exposes nearly a decade of failed EU policy.  “Eight years of EU support has not improved these actors’ human rights records, but enabled and legitimised abuses,” they warned, adding that “human lives must not be disregarded in the name of border control.” The NGOs accuse the Commission of turning a blind eye “despite overwhelming evidence” of human rights violations by Libyan authorities; and of mismanaging its own programs by refusing to show the public the safety checks it conducts to ensure EU-funded projects do not harm people. They demand that Brussels restores “the rule of law at its maritime border; suspend cooperation with Libya without further delay; urge Italy to terminate its 2017 Memorandum of Understanding with Libya; and urge other Member States to refrain from similar agreements.” The appeal lands as Libya’s internal turmoil complicates European diplomacy. The country remains split between rival governments in Tripoli and Benghazi, backed by rival powers such as Russia and Turkey. Moscow has expanded its presence with arms deliveries and plans for a naval base in Tobruk, while Ankara has struck maritime deals that Greece deems illegal. On July 8, an EU mission led by Brunner to Benghazi was abruptly expelled, roiling relations with the eastern Benghazi government. Brunner said Brussels had to keep talking with Benghazi strongman Khalifa Haftar as a necessary step to prevent Russian President Vladimir Putin from further weaponizing migration. French MEP Mounir Satouri, from the left-wing Greens/European Free Alliance, who also chairs the Committee on Human Rights (DROI) in the European Parliament, described the EU’s cooperation with Libya as a “slap in the face to those of us who takes European values seriously.” “Europe cannot continue to fuel human rights violations based solely on its obsession with migration,” he said in a statement Tuesday.

ANTWERP — U.S. homeland security chief Kristi Noem arrived at the port of Antwerp on Wednesday to pledge American support toward smashing narco gangs, as drug-fueled violence plagues Belgium. U.S. President Donald Trump is taking drastic international action to target cartels — including a controversial strike that blew up an alleged Venezuelan drug boat — and designated them as foreign terrorist organizations immediately after taking office. “Ports here, like this one, are a crime target for foreign terrorist organizations,” Noem said during a press conference following a meeting with Belgian Prime Minister Bart De Wever. “The U.S. understands that we need to be aggressive in fighting these organizations and we want to partner with you in an even greater way to do so into the future.” The port of Antwerp is one of Europe’s main gateways for illicit drug shipments, and Noem and De Wever were on site to discuss boosting cooperation between Belgium and the U.S. in the fight against narcotics trafficking. Noem, a longtime conservative ally of Trump, noted that the collaborative action will involve sharing data and security information, and dealing with shipping companies. Talking to media ahead of the meeting, De Wever said the U.S. side requested the meeting, and he saw it “as a sign of appreciation for years of [his] global lobbying.” “I think Europe should focus a lot more on European cooperation on one hand, and on cooperation with our friends in the United States in order to crush the business model of organized crime. We must do this because drug criminals know no borders at all,” said De Wever, a Flemish nationalist who spent more than ten years as mayor of Antwerp before becoming Belgian prime minister. Both the U.S. and Belgium have faced an epidemic of drug trafficking and narcotics-related violence, and authorities have struggled to get to grips with the problem. The Belgian port city of Antwerp, which in the first quarter of 2025 overtook Rotterdam in container output, has witnessed a stark increase in drug-related shootings and explosions amid the surging drug traffic. Belgian authorities seized a record 121 metric tons of cocaine at the port in 2023, according to customs statistics released by police. Drug violence has gripped Brussels too, culminating in about 60 shootings this year alone. The government is currently mulling deploying soldiers on the streets by the end of the year to deter criminals. Across the Atlantic, the U.S. has been struggling with fentanyl, a synthetic drug estimated to be 50 times stronger than heroin. Former U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken warned in 2023 that Europe will soon have to deal with the same problem. According to estimates from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly 80,000 people died from drug overdoses in 2024, a significant decrease from the 110,000 deaths recorded the previous year. “There’s a plague of fentanyl traffic that is spreading around the world,” said Noem, adding that “we need to stop it and work together so that we have the ability to use our experience in America to help Europe.” She then switched out of her high heels to go inside a shipping container to inspect Belgium’s new drug-scanning technology, before accompanying De Wever on a helicopter tour around the port.