By ALEX PERRY in Paris Illustrations by Julius Maxim for POLITICO This article is also available in French When Patrick Pouyanné decided to spend billions on a giant natural gas field in a faraway warzone, he made the call alone, over a single dinner, with the head of a rival energy company. Pouyanné, the chairman and CEO of what was then called Total, was dining with Vicki Hollub, CEO of Houston-based Occidental Petroleum. It was late April 2019, and Hollub was in a David and Goliath battle with the American energy behemoth Chevron to buy Anadarko, like Occidental a mid-sized Texan oil and gas explorer. The American investor Warren Buffett was set to back Hollub with $10 billion, but it wasn’t enough. So Hollub flew to Paris to meet Pouyanné. Hollub’s proposal: Pouyanné would pitch in $8.8 billion in exchange for Anadarko’s four African gas fields, including a vast deep-sea reserve off northern Mozambique, an area in the grip of an Islamist insurgency. The Frenchman, who had previously approached Anadarko about the same assets, said yes in a matter of minutes. Advertisement “What are the strengths of Total?” Pouyanné explained to an Atlantic Council event in Washington a few weeks later. “LNG,” he went on, and the “Middle East and Africa,” regions where the company has operated since its origin in the colonial era. “So it’s just fitting exactly and perfectly.” Total, “a large corporation,” could be “so agile,” he said, because of the efficacy of his decision-making, and the clarity of his vision to shift from oil to lower-emission gas, extracted from lightly regulated foreign lands. In the end, “it [was] just a matter of sending an email to my colleague [Hollub],” he added. “This is the way to make good deals.” Six years later, it’s fair to ask if Pouyanné was a little hasty. On Nov. 17, a European human rights NGO filed a criminal complaint with the national counterterrorism prosecutor’s office in Paris accusing TotalEnergies of complicity in war crimes, torture and enforced disappearances, all in northern Mozambique. The allegations turn on a massacre, first reported by POLITICO last year, in which Mozambican soldiers crammed about 200 men into shipping containers at the gatehouse of a massive gas liquefaction plant TotalEnergies is building in the country, then killed most of them over the next three months. The complaint, submitted by the nonprofit European Centre for Constitutional and Human Rights (ECCHR), alleges that TotalEnergies became an accomplice in the “so-called ‘container massacre’” because it “directly financed and materially supported” the Mozambican soldiers who carried out the executions, which took place between June and September 2021. “TotalEnergies knew that the Mozambican armed forces had been accused of systematic human rights violations, yet continued to support them with the only objective to secure its facility,” said Clara Gonzales, co-director of the business and human rights program at ECCHR, a Berlin-based group specializing in international law that has spent the past year corroborating the atrocity. In response to the complaint, a company spokesperson in Paris said in a written statement: “TotalEnergies takes these allegations very seriously” and would “comply with the lawful investigation prerogatives of the French authorities.” Last year, in response to questions by POLITICO, the company — through its subsidiary Mozambique LNG — said it had no knowledge of the container killings, adding that its “extensive research” had “not identified any information nor evidence that would corroborate the allegations of severe abuses and torture.” This week, the spokesperson repeated that position. Advertisement Asked in May in the French National Assembly about the killings, Pouyanné dismissed “these false allegations” and demanded the company’s accusers “put their evidence on the table.” Questioned about the complaint on French television this week, he again rejected the allegations and described them as a “smear campaign” motivated by the fact that TotalEnergies produces fossil fuels. The war crimes complaint is based on POLITICO’s reporting and other open-source evidence. In the last year, the container killings have been confirmed by the French newspaper Le Monde and the British journalism nonprofit Source Material. The British Mozambique expert Professor Joseph Hanlon also said the atrocity was “well known locally,” and an investigation carried out by UK Export Finance (UKEF) — the British state lender, which is currently weighing delivery of a $1.15 billion loan to Total’s project — has heard evidence from its survivors.  The massacre was an apparent reprisal for a devastating attack three months earlier by ISIS-affiliated rebels on the nearby town of Palma, just south of the border with Tanzania, which killed 1,354 civilians, including 55 of Total’s workforce, according to a house-to-house survey carried out by POLITICO. Of those ISIS murdered, it beheaded 330. TotalEnergies has previously noted that Mozambique has yet to issue an official toll for the Palma massacre. In March, a French magistrate began investigating TotalEnergies for involuntary manslaughter over allegations that it abandoned its contractors to the onslaught.  After the jihadis left the area in late June, Mozambican commandos based at Total’s gas concession rounded up 500 villagers and accused them of backing the rebels. They separated men from women and children, raped several of the women, then forced the 180-250 men into two metal windowless shipping containers that formed a rudimentary fortified entrance to Total’s plant. There, the soldiers kept their prisoners in 30-degree-Celsius heat for three months. According to eleven survivors and two witnesses, some men suffocated. Fed handfuls of rice and bottle caps of water, others starved or died of thirst. The soldiers beat and tortured many of the rest. Finally, they began taking them away in groups and executing them. Only 26 men survived, saved when a Rwandan intervention force, deployed to fight ISIS, discovered the operation. A second house-to-house survey conducted by POLITICO later identified by name 97 of those killed or disappeared. Along with the new ECCHR complaint and the British inquiry, the killings are the subject of three other separate investigations: by the Mozambican Attorney General, the Mozambican National Human Rights Commission, and the Dutch government, which is probing $1.2 billion in Dutch state financing for TotalEnergies’ project. This week’s complaint was lodged with the offices of the French National Anti-Terrorism Prosecutor, whose remit includes war crimes. The prosecutor will decide whether to open a formal inquiry and appoint an investigating magistrate.  Should the case move ahead, TotalEnergies will face the prospect of a war crimes trial.  Such an eventuality would represent a spectacular fall from grace for a business that once held a central place in French national identity and a CEO whose hard-nosed resolve made him an icon of global business. Should a French court eventually find the company or its executives liable in the container killings, the penalties could include fines and, possibly, jail terms for anybody indicted. How did TotalEnergies get here? How did Patrick Pouyanné? ‘POUYANNÉ PETROLEUM’ Born in Normandy in 1963, the son of a provincial customs official and a post office worker, Pouyanné elevated himself to the French elite by winning selection to the École Polytechnique, the country’s foremost engineering university, and then the École des Mines, where France’s future captains of industry are made. Following a few years in politics as a minister’s aide, he joined the French state petroleum company Elf as an exploration manager in Angola in 1996. After moving to Qatar in 1999 as Elf merged with Total, Pouyanné ascended to the top job at Total in 2014 after his predecessor, Christophe de Margerie, was killed in a plane crash in Moscow. Pouyanné led by reason, and force of will. “To be number one in a group like Total … is to find yourself alone,” he said in 2020. “When I say ‘I don’t agree,’ sometimes the walls shake. I realize this.” A decade at the top has seen Pouyanné, 62, transform a company of 100,000 employees in 130 countries into a one-man show — “Pouyanné Petroleum,” as the industry quip goes. His frequent public appearances, and his unapologetically firm hand, have made him a celebrated figure in international business. “Patrick Pouyanné has done an extraordinary job leading TotalEnergies in a complex environment, delivering outstanding financial results and engaging the company in the energy transition quicker and stronger than its peers,” Jacques Aschenbroich, the company’s lead independent director, said in 2023. Advertisement Marc-Antoine Eyl-Mazzega, director of energy and climate at the French Institute of International Relations, agreed. “His involvement is his strength,” he said. “He’s able to take a decision quickly, in a much more agile and rapid way.” Still, Eyl-Mazzega said, “I’m not sure everyone is happy to work with him. You have to keep up the pace. There are often departures. He’s quite direct and frank.”  Among employees, Pouyanné’s lumbering frame and overbearing manner has earned him a nickname: The Bulldozer. The moniker isn’t always affectionate. A former Total executive who dealt regularly with him recalled him as unpleasantly aggressive, “banging fists on the table.” The effect, the executive said, has been to disempower the staff: “The structure of Total is trying to guess what Pouyanné wants to do. You can’t make any decisions unless it goes to the CEO.” In a statement to POLITICO, TotalEnergies called such depictions “misplaced and baseless.” ‘DON’T ASK US TO TAKE THE MORAL HIGH GROUND’ What’s not in dispute is how Pouyanné has used his authority to shape Total’s answer to the big 21st-century oil and gas puzzle: how to square demand for fossil fuels with simultaneous demands from politicians and climate campaigners to eliminate them. His response has been diversification, moving the company away from high-emission fuels towards becoming a broad-based, ethical energy supplier, centered on low-carbon gas, solar and wind, and pledging to reach net-zero emissions by 2050. The change was symbolized by Pouyanné’s renaming of the company TotalEnergies in 2021. A second, more unsung element of Pouyanné’s strategy has been moving much of his remaining fossil fuel operation beyond Western regulation.  Speaking to an audience at Chatham House in London in 2017, he said the catalyst for his move to favor reserves in poorer, less tightly policed parts of the planet was the penalties imposed on the British energy giant BP in the United States following the 2010 Deepwater Horizon blowout, in which 11 men died and an oil slick devastated the Gulf of Mexico coast. Pouyanné declared that the fines — between $62 billion and $142 billion, depending on the calculation used — represented an excessive “legal risk” to oil and gas development in the West. While other, more troubled territories came with their share of dangers, Pouyanné put the cost of failure of any project outside the West at a more manageable $2 to $3 billion, according to his Chatham House remarks. As a way of assessing risk, it was efficient. “Other players would spend a lot of money on consultancies and write 70 reports to conclude that a project is risky,” Eyl-Mazzega said. “Pouyanné, on the other hand, is prepared to take risks.” Asked by the French Senate in 2024 how he chose where to invest, however, Pouyanné admitted that his math was strictly about the bottom line. “Don’t ask us to take the moral high ground,” he said. ‘A COLLAPSE WILL NOT PUT TOTAL IN DANGER’ The first oil and gas prospectors arrived in northern Mozambique in 2006 as part of a Western effort to broaden supply beyond the Middle East. When Anadarko found gas 25 miles out to sea in 2010, the talk was of Mozambique as the new Qatar. At 2.6 million acres, or about a third of the size of Belgium, Rovuma Basin Area 1 was a monster, thought to hold 75 trillion cubic feet of gas, or 1 percent of all global reserves. An adjacent field, Area 4, quickly snapped up by ExxonMobil, was thought to hold even more. To cope with the volume of production, Anadarko’s Area 1 consortium drew up a plan for a $20 billion onshore liquefaction plant. Together with ExxonMobil’s field, the cost of developing Mozambique’s gas was estimated at $50 billion, which would make it the biggest private investment ever made in Africa. But in 2017, an ISIS insurgency emerged to threaten those ambitions.  By the time Pouyanné was preparing to buy Anadarko’s 26.5 percent share in Area 1 two years later, what had begun as a ragtag revolt against government corruption in the northern province of Cabo Delgado had become a full-scale Islamist rebellion.  Insurgents were taking ever more territory, displacing hundreds of thousands of people and regularly staging mass beheadings. Even under construction, the gas plant was a regular target. It was run by Europeans and Americans, intending to make money for companies thousands of miles away while displacing 2,733 villagers to build their concession and banning fishermen from waters around their drill sites. After several attacks on plant traffic to and from the facility, in February 2019, the militants killed two project workers in a village attack and dismembered a contract driver in the road.  A further risk had its origins in a ban on foreigners carrying guns. That made the plant reliant for security on the Mozambican army and police, both of which had a well-documented record of criminality and repression. Initially, Pouyanné seemed unconcerned. The gas field was outside international law, as Mozambique had not ratified the Rome Statute setting up the International Criminal Court. And Pouyanné appeared to see the pursuit of high-risk, high-reward projects almost as an obligation for a deep-pocketed corporation, telling the Atlantic Council in May 2019, soon after he agreed the Mozambique deal, that Total was so big, it didn’t need to care — at least, not in the way of other, lesser companies or countries. “We love risk, so we have decided to embark on the Mozambique story,” he said. “Even if there is a collapse, [it] will [not] put Total in danger.” Advertisement In September 2019, when Total’s purchase was formally completed, the company declared in a press release: “The Mozambique LNG project is largely derisked.” In one of several statements to POLITICO, TotalEnergies explained the term echoed the boss’s focus on “the project’s commercial and financial fundamentals. To infer this was a dismissal of security concerns amounts to a fundamental misunderstanding of the way the sector operates.” Still, for workers at the project, it was an arresting statement, given that a Mozambique LNG worker had recently been chopped to pieces. Around the same time, the project managers at Anadarko, many of whom were now working for Total, tried to warn their new CEO of the danger posed by the insurgency. It was when they met Pouyanné, however, that “things then all started to unwind,” said one. Pouyanné regaled the team who had worked on the Mozambique project for years with a speech “on how brilliant Total was, and how brilliantly Total was going to run this project,” a second executive added. Pouyanné added he had “a French hero” running the company’s security: Denis Favier who, as a police commander, led a team of police commandos as they stormed a hijacked plane on the tarmac at Marseille in 1994, and in 2015, as France’s most senior policeman, commanded the operation to hunt and kill the Islamist brothers who shot dead 12 staff at the Charlie Hebdo newspaper in Paris. “This is easy for him,” Pouyanné said. Asked about the transition from Anadarko to Total, the company maintained it was responsive to all concerns expressed by former Anadarko workers. “We are not aware of any such dismissal of security concerns by TotalEnergies or its senior management,” the company said. “It is incorrect to state that advice from the ground was not listened to.” Still, after meeting Pouyanné, the old Anadarko team called their Mozambique staff together to brief them on their new boss. “Well, holy shit,” one manager began, according to a person present. “We’ve got a problem.” ‘VERY VULNERABLE’ A third former Anadarko staffer who stayed on to work for Total said that on taking over, the company also put on hold a decision to move most contractors and staff from hotels and compounds in Palma to inside its fortified camp — a costly move that Anadarko was planning in response to deteriorating security. “This was a danger I had worked so hard to eliminate,” the staffer said. “Palma was very vulnerable. Almost nobody was supposed to be [there]. But Total wouldn’t listen to me.” Other measures, such as grouping traffic to and from the plant in convoys and flanking them with drones, also ended. One project contractor who regularly made the run through rebel territory described the difference between Anadarko and Total as “night and day.” Then in June 2020, the rebels captured Mocimboa da Praia, the regional hub, and killed at least eight subcontractors. In late December that year, they staged another advance that brought them to Total’s gates. At that, Pouyanné reversed course and assumed personal oversight of the security operation, the first Anadarko manager said. Despite no expertise in security, “[he] had to get into every little last possible detail.” The second executive concurred. “It went from, ‘I don’t care, we’ve got the best security people in the business to run this’ to ‘Oh my God, this is a disaster, let me micromanage it and control it,’” he said. The company was “not aware of any … criticism that Mr. Pouyanné lacks the necessary expertise,” TotalEnergies said, adding the CEO had “first-hand experience of emergency evacuation … [from] when Total had to evacuate its staff from Yemen in 2015.” The insurgents’ advance prompted Pouyanné to order the evacuation of all TotalEnergies staff. By contrast, many contractors and subcontractors, some of them behind schedule because of Covid, were told to keep working, according to email exchanges among contractors seen by POLITICO. “Mozambique LNG did not differentiate between its own employees, its contractors or subcontractors when giving these instructions,” the company said, but added that it was not responsible for the decisions of its contractors. Advertisement Then, in February 2021, Pouyanné flew to Maputo, the Mozambican capital, to negotiate a new security deal with then Mozambican President Filipe Nyusi. Afterward, the two men announced the creation of the Joint Task Force, a 1,000-man unit of soldiers and armed police to be stationed inside the compound.  The deal envisaged that the new force would protect a 25-kilometer radius around the gas plant, including Palma and several villages. In practice, by concentrating so many soldiers and police inside the wire, it left Palma comparatively exposed. “It is incorrect to allege that Palma was left poorly defended,” the company said. “However, it is a fact that these security forces were overwhelmed by the magnitude and violence of the terrorist attacks in March 2021.” TotalEnergies added it is not correct to say that “Mr. Pouyanné personally managed the security deal setting up the Joint Task Force.” ‘TRAIN WRECK’ By this time, the company’s own human rights advisers were warning that by helping to create the Joint Task Force — to which the company agreed to pay what it described as “hardship payments” via a third party, as well as to equip it and accommodate it on its compound — Pouyanné was effectively making TotalEnergies a party to the conflict, and implicating it in any human rights abuses the soldiers carried out. Just as worrying was TotalEnergies’ insistence — according to a plant security manager, and confirmed by minutes of a Total presentation on security released under a Dutch freedom of information request — that all major security decisions be handled by a 20-man security team 5,000 miles away in Paris. That centralization seemed to help explain how, when the Islamists finally descended on Palma on March 24, 2021, Total was among the last to know. One Western security contractor told POLITICO he had pulled his people out 10 days before the assault, based on intelligence he had on guns and young men being pre-positioned in town. In the days immediately preceding the attack, villagers around Palma warned friends and relatives in town that they had seen the Islamists advancing. WhatsApp messages seen by POLITICO indicate contractors reported the same advance to plant security on March 22 and March 23. Advertisement Nonetheless, at 9 a.m. on March 24, TotalEnergies in Paris announced that it was safe for its staff to return. Hours later, the Islamists attacked. “Neither Mozambique LNG nor TotalEnergies received any specific ‘advance warnings’ of an impending attack prior to March 24,” the company said. Faced with a three-pronged advance by several hundred militants, the plant security manager said TotalEnergies’ hierarchical management pyramid was unable to cope. Ground staff could not respond to evolving events, paralyzed by the need to seek approval for decisions from Paris. Total’s country office in Maputo was also in limbo, according to the security manager, neither able to follow what was happening in real-time, nor authorized to respond.  ‘WHO CAN HELP US?!’ Two decisions, taken as the attack unfolded, compounded the havoc wreaked by the Islamists. The first was Total’s refusal to supply aviation fuel to the Dyck Advisory Group (DAG), a small, South African private military contractor working with the Mozambican police. With the police and army overrun, DAG’s small helicopters represented the only functional military force in Palma and the only unit undertaking humanitarian rescues. But DAG’s choppers were limited by low supplies of jet fuel, forcing them to fly an hour away to refuel, and to ground their fleet intermittently. Total, as one of the world’s biggest makers of aviation fuel, with ample stocks at the gas plant, was in a position to help. But when DAG asked Total in Paris for assistance, it refused. “Word came down from the mountain,” DAG executive Max Dyck said, “and that was the way it was going to be.” Total has conceded that it refused fuel to DAG — out of concern for the rescuers’ human rights record, the company said — but made fuel available to the Mozambican security services. DAG later hired an independent lawyer to investigate its record, who exonerated the company. Advertisement A second problematic order was an edict, handed down by Pouyanné’s executives in Paris in the months before the massacre, according to the plant security manager, that should the rebels attack, gate security guards at the gas plant were to let no one in. It was an instruction that could only have been drawn up by someone ignorant of the area’s geography, the man said.  If the Islamists blocked the three roads in and out of Palma, as conventional tactics would prescribe, the only remaining ways out for the population of 60,000 would be by sea or air — both routes that went through TotalEnergies’s facility, with its port and airport. By barring the civilians’ way, the company would be exposing them. So it proved. TotalEnergies soon had 25,000 fleeing civilians at its gates, according to an internal company report obtained under a freedom of information request by an Italian NGO, Recommon. Among the crowd were hundreds of project subcontractors and workers. Witnesses described to POLITICO how families begged TotalEnergies’ guards to let them in. Mothers were passing their babies forward to be laid in front of the gates. But TotalEnergies in Paris refused to allow its guards on the ground to open up. On March 28, the fifth day of the attack, Paris authorized a ferry to evacuate 1,250 staff and workers from the gas plant, and make a single return trip to pick up 1,250 civilians, who had sneaked inside the perimeter. That still left tens of thousands stranded at its gates. On March 29, a TotalEnergies community relations manager in Paris made a panicked call to Caroline Brodeur, a contact at Oxfam America. “He’s like, ‘There’s this huge security situation in Mozambique!’” Brodeur said. “An escalation of violence! We will need to evacuate people! Who can help us? Which NGO can support us with logistics?’” Thirty minutes later, the man called back. “Wait,” he told Brodeur. “Don’t do anything.” TotalEnergies’ senior managers had overruled him, the man said. No outsiders were to be involved. “I think he was trying to do the right thing,” Brodeur said in an interview with POLITICO. “But after that, Total went silent.” Over the next two months, the jihadis killed hundreds of civilians in and around Palma and the gas plant before the Rwandan intervention force pushed them out. The second former Anadarko and Total executive said the rebels might have attacked Palma, whoever was in charge at the gas project. But Total’s distant, centralized management made a “train wreck … inevitable.” Advertisement TotalEnergies said its response to the attack “mitigated as much as was reasonably possible the consequences.” Confirming the phone call to Oxfam, it added: “There was no effort by whoever within TotalEnergies to shut any possibility for external assistance down.” The company was especially adamant that Pouyanné was not at fault.  “The allegation that Mr. Pouyanné’s management of TotalEnergies exacerbated the devastation caused by the attacks in Mozambique is entirely unsubstantiated,” it said. “Mr. Pouyanné takes the safety and security of the staff extremely seriously.” In his television appearance this week, Pouyanné defended the company’s performance. “We completely evacuated the site,” he said. “We were not present at that time.” He said he considered that TotalEnergies, whose security teams had helped “more than 2,000 civilians evacuate the area,” “had carried out heroic actions.” ‘AN ALMOST PERFECT DINNER PARTY’  TotalEnergies’ troubles in Mozambique have come amid a wider slump in the country’s fortunes and reputation. Years of climate protests outside the company’s annual general meetings in central Paris peaked in 2023 when police dispersed activists with batons and tear gas. For the last two years, TotalEnergies has retreated behind a line of security checks and riot police at its offices in Défense, in the western part of Paris. Though the company intended 2024, its centenary year, as a celebration, the company succeeded mostly in looking past its prime. When Pouyanné took over in 2014, Total was France’s biggest company, and 37th in the world. Today, it is France’s seventh largest and not even in the global top 100.  Several French media houses chose the occasion of TotalEnergies’ 100th birthday to declare open season on the company, portraying it as a serial offender on pollution, corruption, worker safety, and climate change. Pouyanné has also presided over a rift with the French establishment. Last year, when he suggested listing in New York to boost the stock, French President Emmanuel Macron berated him in public. Advertisement The division grew wider a few weeks later when the French Senate concluded a six-month inquiry into the company with a recommendation that the formerly state-owned enterprise be partly taken back into public ownership.  The company has faced five separate lawsuits, civil and criminal, claiming it is breaking French law on climate protection and corporate conduct.  In a sixth case, brought by environmentalists in Paris last month, a judge ordered TotalEnergies to remove advertising from its website claiming it was part of the solution to climate change. Given the company’s ongoing investments in fossil fuels, that was misleading, the judge said, decreeing that TotalEnergies take down its messaging and upload the court’s ruling instead. The Swedish activist Greta Thunberg has also led protests against TotalEnergies’ East Africa Crude Oil Pipeline. That project, intended to pump oil 1,000 miles from Uganda across Tanzania to the Indian Ocean, is similarly embroiled in accusations of human rights abuses, drawing criticism from the European Parliament plus 28 banks and 29 insurance companies who have refused to finance it. Pouyanné has also taken hits to his personal brand. A low point came in 2022 when he chose the moment his countrymen were recovering from Covid and struggling with soaring fuel prices to defend his salary of €5,944,129 a year. He was “tired” of the accusation that he had received a 52 percent rise, he wrote on Twitter. His pay, he added, had merely been restored to pre-pandemic levels.  Overnight, the CEO became the unacceptable face of French capitalism. “Pouyanné lives in another galaxy, far, far away,” said one TV host. Under a picture of the CEO, an MP from the leftist France Unbowed movement wrote: “A name, a face. The obstacle in the way of a nation.” So heated and widely held is the contempt that in 2023 the company produced a guide for its French employees on how to handle it. Titled “An Almost Perfect Dinner Party,” the booklet lays out arguments and data that staff might use to defend themselves at social occasions. “Have you ever been questioned, during a dinner with family or friends, about a controversy concerning the Company?” it asked. “Did you have the factual elements to answer your guests?” ‘FALSE ALLEGATIONS’ The war crimes case lodged this week against TotalEnergies was filed in France, despite the alleged crimes occurring in Mozambique, because, it argues, TotalEnergies’ nationality establishes jurisdiction.  The case represents a dramatic example of the extension of international justice — the prosecution in one country of crimes committed in another. A movement forged in Nuremberg and Tokyo in the wake of World War II, the principles of international justice have been used more recently by national and international courts to bring warlords and dictators to trial — and by national courts to prosecute citizens or companies implicated in abuses abroad where local justice systems are weak. U.S. courts have ordered ExxonMobil and banana giant Chiquita to stand trial for complicity in atrocities committed in the late 1990s and early 2000s by soldiers or militias paid to protect their premises in Indonesia and Colombia, respectively. Exxon settled a week before the case opened in 2023. A Florida court ordered Chiquita to pay $38 million to the families of eight murdered Colombian men in June 2024; Chiquita’s appeal was denied that October.  In Sweden, two executives from Lundin Oil are currently on trial for complicity in war crimes after Sudanese troops and government militias killed an estimated 12,000 people between 1999 and 2003 as they cleared the area around a company drill site. The executives deny the accusations against them. Advertisement ECCHR has initiated several international justice cases. Most notably, in 2016, it and another legal non-profit, Sherpa, filed a criminal complaint in Paris against the French cement maker Lafarge, accusing its Syrian plant of paying millions of dollars in protection money to ISIS. Earlier this month, Lafarge and eight executives went on trial in Paris, accused of funding terrorism and breaking international sanctions — charges they deny. The war crimes complaint against TotalEnergies cites internal documents, obtained under freedom of information requests in Italy and the Netherlands, that show staff at the site knew the soldiers routinely committed human rights abuses against civilians while working for the company.  There were “regular community allegations of JTF [Joint Task Force] human rights violations,” read one, including “physical violence, and arrests/disappearances.” The report also referred to “troops who were allegedly involved in a [human rights] case in August [2021].” These were deemed so serious that TotalEnergies suspended pay to all 1,000 Joint Task Force soldiers and the army expelled 200 from the region, according to the internal document. The ECCHR complaint accuses TotalEnergies and “X”, a designation leaving open the possibility for the names of unspecified company executives to be added. Among those named in the document’s 56 pages are Pouyanné and five other TotalEnergies executives and employees. Favier, the company’s security chief, is not among them. TotalEnergies declined to make any of its executives or security managers available for interviews. In April 2024, when Pouyanné was questioned about his company’s Mozambique operation by the French Senate, he stated that while the government was responsible for the security of Cabo Delgado, “I can ensure the security of whichever industrial premises on which I might operate.” Asked about the container executions before the National Assembly this May, Pouyanné reaffirmed his faith in the Mozambican state, saying: “I think we help these countries progress if we trust their institutions and don’t spend our time lecturing them.” Apparently forgetting how he helped negotiate a security deal to place Mozambican soldiers on Total’s premises, however, he then qualified this statement, saying: “I can confirm that TotalEnergies has nothing to do with the Mozambican army.” A company spokesperson clarified this week: “TotalEnergies is not involved in the operations, command or conduct of the Mozambican armed forces.” In addition to the war crimes complaint, TotalEnergies’ Mozambique operation is already the subject of a criminal investigation opened in March by French state prosecutors. The allegation against the company is that it committed involuntary manslaughter by failing to protect or rescue workers left in Palma when ISIS carried out its massacre. Though POLITICO’s previous reporting found that 55 project workers were killed, TotalEnergies — through its subsidiary, Mozambique LNG — initially claimed it lost no one. “All the employees of Mozambique LNG, its contractors and subcontractors were safely evacuated from the Mozambique LNG Project site,” Maxime Rabilloud, Mozambique LNG’s managing director, told POLITICO last year. Advertisement That assertion notwithstanding, the death of at least one British subcontractor, Philip Mawer, is the subject of a formal inquest in the U.K.  In December 2024, the company’s Paris press office adjusted its position on the Palma attack. “TotalEnergies has never denied the tragedy that occurred in Palma and has always acknowledged the tragic loss of civilian lives,” it told POLITICO. For the first time, it also admitted “a small number” of project workers had been stationed outside its secure compound during the attack and exposed to the bloodbath.  A resolution to the French manslaughter investigation will take years. A decision on whether to open a formal investigation into the new claims against TotalEnergies for complicity in war crimes, let alone to bring the case to trial, is not expected until 2026, at the earliest. Should anyone eventually be tried for involuntary manslaughter, a conviction would carry a penalty of three years in prison and a €45,000 fine in France, escalating to five years and €75,000 for “a manifestly deliberate violation of a particular obligation of prudence or safety.” For complicity in war crimes, the sentence is five years to life. ‘CAN YOU ACTUALLY LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR?’ The war crimes accusation adds new uncertainty to the 20-year effort to develop Mozambique’s gas fields. In the aftermath of the 2021 Palma massacre, TotalEnergies declared a state of “force majeure,” a legal measure suspending all contracted work due to exceptional events. The following four and a half years of shutdown have cost TotalEnergies $4.5 billion, in addition to the $3.9 billion that Pouyanné originally paid Anadarko for the Mozambique operation. Billions more in costs can be expected before the plant finally pumps gas, which Total now predicts will happen in 2029. The manslaughter case and the war crimes complaint have the potential to cause further holdups by triggering due diligence obligations from TotalEnergies’ lenders, preventing them from delivering loans of $14.9 billion — without which Pouyanné has said his star project will collapse. Total also faces a Friends of the Earth legal challenge to a $4.7 billion U.S. government loan to the project. A TotalEnergies spokesperson said this week that the project was able to “meet due diligence requirements by lenders.” Advertisement All this comes as the situation on the ground remains unstable. After a successful Rwandan counter-attack from 2021 to 2023, the insurgency has returned, with the Islamists staging raids across Cabo Delgado, including Palma and the regional hub of Mocimboa da Praia. The International Organization for Migration says 112,185 people fled the violence between September 22 and October 13. Among those killed in the last few months were two gas project workers — a caterer, murdered in Palma, and a security guard, beheaded in a village south of town. TotalEnergies has consistently said that neither recent legal developments nor the upsurge in ISIS attacks will affect its plans to formally reopen its Mozambique operation by the end of the year. “This new complaint has no connection with the advancement of the Mozambique LNG project,” a spokesperson said this week. Pouyanné himself has spent much of this year insisting the project is “back on track” and its financing in place. In October, in a move to restart the project, the company lifted the force majeure.  Still, in a letter seen by POLITICO, Pouyanné also wrote to Mozambican President Daniel Chapo asking for 10 more years on its drilling license and $4.5 billion from the country to cover its cost overruns.  Mozambique, whose 2024 GDP was $22.42 billion — around a tenth of TotalEnergies’ revenues for the year of $195.61 billion — has yet to respond. A final issue for TotalEnergies’ CEO is whether a formal accusation of war crimes will fuel opposition to his leadership among shareholders. At 2024’s annual general meeting, a fifth of stockholders rejected the company’s climate transition strategy as too slow, and a quarter declined to support Pouyanné for a fourth three-year term. In 2025, several institutional investors expressed their opposition to Pouyanné by voting against his remuneration. In the statement, the TotalEnergies spokesperson pointed to the 2023 comments by Aschenbroich, the independent board member: “The Board unanimously looks forward to his continued leadership and his strategic vision to continue TotalEnergies’ transition.” Yet, there seems little prospect that his popularity will improve, inside or outside the company. “Patrick Pouyanné is everyone’s best enemy,” says Olivier Gantois, president of the French oil and gas lobby group UFIP-EM, “the scapegoat we love to beat up on.” Recently, the 62-year-old Pouyanné has begun to sound uncharacteristically plaintive. At TotalEnergies’ 2022 shareholder meeting, he grumbled that the dissidents might not like CO2 emissions, “but they sure like dividends.” At last year’s, he complained that TotalEnergies was in an impossible position. “We are trying to find a balance between today’s life and tomorrow’s,” he said. “It’s not because TotalEnergies stops producing hydrocarbons that demand for them will disappear.” Advertisement TotalEnergies’ articles of association require Pouyanné to retire before he reaches 67, in 2030, around the time that TotalEnergies currently forecasts gas production to begin in Mozambique. Henri Thulliez, the lawyer who filed both criminal complaints against TotalEnergies in Paris, predicts Pouyanné’s successors will be less attached to the project — for the simple reason that Mozambique turned out to be bad business. “You invest billions in the project, and the project has been completely suspended for four years now,” Thulliez says. “All your funders are hesitating. You’re facing two potential litigations in France, maybe at some point elsewhere, too. You have to ask: what’s the point of all of this?” As for Pouyanné, two questions will haunt his final years at TotalEnergies, he suggests. First, “Can shareholders afford to keep you in your job?” Second, “Can you actually look at yourself in the mirror?” Aude Le Gentil and Alexandre Léchenet contributed to this report.

By ALEX PERRY in Paris Illustrations by Julius Maxim for POLITICO This article is also available in French When Patrick Pouyanné decided to spend billions on a giant natural gas field in a faraway warzone, he made the call alone, over a single dinner, with the head of a rival energy company. Pouyanné, the chairman and CEO of what was then called Total, was dining with Vicki Hollub, CEO of Houston-based Occidental Petroleum. It was late April 2019, and Hollub was in a David and Goliath battle with the American energy behemoth Chevron to buy Anadarko, like Occidental a mid-sized Texan oil and gas explorer. The American investor Warren Buffett was set to back Hollub with $10 billion, but it wasn’t enough. So Hollub flew to Paris to meet Pouyanné. Hollub’s proposal: Pouyanné would pitch in $8.8 billion in exchange for Anadarko’s four African gas fields, including a vast deep-sea reserve off northern Mozambique, an area in the grip of an Islamist insurgency. The Frenchman, who had previously approached Anadarko about the same assets, said yes in a matter of minutes. Advertisement “What are the strengths of Total?” Pouyanné explained to an Atlantic Council event in Washington a few weeks later. “LNG,” he went on, and the “Middle East and Africa,” regions where the company has operated since its origin in the colonial era. “So it’s just fitting exactly and perfectly.” Total, “a large corporation,” could be “so agile,” he said, because of the efficacy of his decision-making, and the clarity of his vision to shift from oil to lower-emission gas, extracted from lightly regulated foreign lands. In the end, “it [was] just a matter of sending an email to my colleague [Hollub],” he added. “This is the way to make good deals.” Six years later, it’s fair to ask if Pouyanné was a little hasty. On Nov. 17, a European human rights NGO filed a criminal complaint with the national counterterrorism prosecutor’s office in Paris accusing TotalEnergies of complicity in war crimes, torture and enforced disappearances, all in northern Mozambique. The allegations turn on a massacre, first reported by POLITICO last year, in which Mozambican soldiers crammed about 200 men into shipping containers at the gatehouse of a massive gas liquefaction plant TotalEnergies is building in the country, then killed most of them over the next three months. The complaint, submitted by the nonprofit European Centre for Constitutional and Human Rights (ECCHR), alleges that TotalEnergies became an accomplice in the “so-called ‘container massacre’” because it “directly financed and materially supported” the Mozambican soldiers who carried out the executions, which took place between June and September 2021. “TotalEnergies knew that the Mozambican armed forces had been accused of systematic human rights violations, yet continued to support them with the only objective to secure its facility,” said Clara Gonzales, co-director of the business and human rights program at ECCHR, a Berlin-based group specializing in international law that has spent the past year corroborating the atrocity. In response to the complaint, a company spokesperson in Paris said in a written statement: “TotalEnergies takes these allegations very seriously” and would “comply with the lawful investigation prerogatives of the French authorities.” Last year, in response to questions by POLITICO, the company — through its subsidiary Mozambique LNG — said it had no knowledge of the container killings, adding that its “extensive research” had “not identified any information nor evidence that would corroborate the allegations of severe abuses and torture.” This week, the spokesperson repeated that position. Advertisement Asked in May in the French National Assembly about the killings, Pouyanné dismissed “these false allegations” and demanded the company’s accusers “put their evidence on the table.” Questioned about the complaint on French television this week, he again rejected the allegations and described them as a “smear campaign” motivated by the fact that TotalEnergies produces fossil fuels. The war crimes complaint is based on POLITICO’s reporting and other open-source evidence. In the last year, the container killings have been confirmed by the French newspaper Le Monde and the British journalism nonprofit Source Material. The British Mozambique expert Professor Joseph Hanlon also said the atrocity was “well known locally,” and an investigation carried out by UK Export Finance (UKEF) — the British state lender, which is currently weighing delivery of a $1.15 billion loan to Total’s project — has heard evidence from its survivors.  The massacre was an apparent reprisal for a devastating attack three months earlier by ISIS-affiliated rebels on the nearby town of Palma, just south of the border with Tanzania, which killed 1,354 civilians, including 55 of Total’s workforce, according to a house-to-house survey carried out by POLITICO. Of those ISIS murdered, it beheaded 330. TotalEnergies has previously noted that Mozambique has yet to issue an official toll for the Palma massacre. In March, a French magistrate began investigating TotalEnergies for involuntary manslaughter over allegations that it abandoned its contractors to the onslaught.  After the jihadis left the area in late June, Mozambican commandos based at Total’s gas concession rounded up 500 villagers and accused them of backing the rebels. They separated men from women and children, raped several of the women, then forced the 180-250 men into two metal windowless shipping containers that formed a rudimentary fortified entrance to Total’s plant. There, the soldiers kept their prisoners in 30-degree-Celsius heat for three months. According to eleven survivors and two witnesses, some men suffocated. Fed handfuls of rice and bottle caps of water, others starved or died of thirst. The soldiers beat and tortured many of the rest. Finally, they began taking them away in groups and executing them. Only 26 men survived, saved when a Rwandan intervention force, deployed to fight ISIS, discovered the operation. A second house-to-house survey conducted by POLITICO later identified by name 97 of those killed or disappeared. Along with the new ECCHR complaint and the British inquiry, the killings are the subject of three other separate investigations: by the Mozambican Attorney General, the Mozambican National Human Rights Commission, and the Dutch government, which is probing $1.2 billion in Dutch state financing for TotalEnergies’ project. This week’s complaint was lodged with the offices of the French National Anti-Terrorism Prosecutor, whose remit includes war crimes. The prosecutor will decide whether to open a formal inquiry and appoint an investigating magistrate.  Should the case move ahead, TotalEnergies will face the prospect of a war crimes trial.  Such an eventuality would represent a spectacular fall from grace for a business that once held a central place in French national identity and a CEO whose hard-nosed resolve made him an icon of global business. Should a French court eventually find the company or its executives liable in the container killings, the penalties could include fines and, possibly, jail terms for anybody indicted. How did TotalEnergies get here? How did Patrick Pouyanné? ‘POUYANNÉ PETROLEUM’ Born in Normandy in 1963, the son of a provincial customs official and a post office worker, Pouyanné elevated himself to the French elite by winning selection to the École Polytechnique, the country’s foremost engineering university, and then the École des Mines, where France’s future captains of industry are made. Following a few years in politics as a minister’s aide, he joined the French state petroleum company Elf as an exploration manager in Angola in 1996. After moving to Qatar in 1999 as Elf merged with Total, Pouyanné ascended to the top job at Total in 2014 after his predecessor, Christophe de Margerie, was killed in a plane crash in Moscow. Pouyanné led by reason, and force of will. “To be number one in a group like Total … is to find yourself alone,” he said in 2020. “When I say ‘I don’t agree,’ sometimes the walls shake. I realize this.” A decade at the top has seen Pouyanné, 62, transform a company of 100,000 employees in 130 countries into a one-man show — “Pouyanné Petroleum,” as the industry quip goes. His frequent public appearances, and his unapologetically firm hand, have made him a celebrated figure in international business. “Patrick Pouyanné has done an extraordinary job leading TotalEnergies in a complex environment, delivering outstanding financial results and engaging the company in the energy transition quicker and stronger than its peers,” Jacques Aschenbroich, the company’s lead independent director, said in 2023. Advertisement Marc-Antoine Eyl-Mazzega, director of energy and climate at the French Institute of International Relations, agreed. “His involvement is his strength,” he said. “He’s able to take a decision quickly, in a much more agile and rapid way.” Still, Eyl-Mazzega said, “I’m not sure everyone is happy to work with him. You have to keep up the pace. There are often departures. He’s quite direct and frank.”  Among employees, Pouyanné’s lumbering frame and overbearing manner has earned him a nickname: The Bulldozer. The moniker isn’t always affectionate. A former Total executive who dealt regularly with him recalled him as unpleasantly aggressive, “banging fists on the table.” The effect, the executive said, has been to disempower the staff: “The structure of Total is trying to guess what Pouyanné wants to do. You can’t make any decisions unless it goes to the CEO.” In a statement to POLITICO, TotalEnergies called such depictions “misplaced and baseless.” ‘DON’T ASK US TO TAKE THE MORAL HIGH GROUND’ What’s not in dispute is how Pouyanné has used his authority to shape Total’s answer to the big 21st-century oil and gas puzzle: how to square demand for fossil fuels with simultaneous demands from politicians and climate campaigners to eliminate them. His response has been diversification, moving the company away from high-emission fuels towards becoming a broad-based, ethical energy supplier, centered on low-carbon gas, solar and wind, and pledging to reach net-zero emissions by 2050. The change was symbolized by Pouyanné’s renaming of the company TotalEnergies in 2021. A second, more unsung element of Pouyanné’s strategy has been moving much of his remaining fossil fuel operation beyond Western regulation.  Speaking to an audience at Chatham House in London in 2017, he said the catalyst for his move to favor reserves in poorer, less tightly policed parts of the planet was the penalties imposed on the British energy giant BP in the United States following the 2010 Deepwater Horizon blowout, in which 11 men died and an oil slick devastated the Gulf of Mexico coast. Pouyanné declared that the fines — between $62 billion and $142 billion, depending on the calculation used — represented an excessive “legal risk” to oil and gas development in the West. While other, more troubled territories came with their share of dangers, Pouyanné put the cost of failure of any project outside the West at a more manageable $2 to $3 billion, according to his Chatham House remarks. As a way of assessing risk, it was efficient. “Other players would spend a lot of money on consultancies and write 70 reports to conclude that a project is risky,” Eyl-Mazzega said. “Pouyanné, on the other hand, is prepared to take risks.” Asked by the French Senate in 2024 how he chose where to invest, however, Pouyanné admitted that his math was strictly about the bottom line. “Don’t ask us to take the moral high ground,” he said. ‘A COLLAPSE WILL NOT PUT TOTAL IN DANGER’ The first oil and gas prospectors arrived in northern Mozambique in 2006 as part of a Western effort to broaden supply beyond the Middle East. When Anadarko found gas 25 miles out to sea in 2010, the talk was of Mozambique as the new Qatar. At 2.6 million acres, or about a third of the size of Belgium, Rovuma Basin Area 1 was a monster, thought to hold 75 trillion cubic feet of gas, or 1 percent of all global reserves. An adjacent field, Area 4, quickly snapped up by ExxonMobil, was thought to hold even more. To cope with the volume of production, Anadarko’s Area 1 consortium drew up a plan for a $20 billion onshore liquefaction plant. Together with ExxonMobil’s field, the cost of developing Mozambique’s gas was estimated at $50 billion, which would make it the biggest private investment ever made in Africa. But in 2017, an ISIS insurgency emerged to threaten those ambitions.  By the time Pouyanné was preparing to buy Anadarko’s 26.5 percent share in Area 1 two years later, what had begun as a ragtag revolt against government corruption in the northern province of Cabo Delgado had become a full-scale Islamist rebellion.  Insurgents were taking ever more territory, displacing hundreds of thousands of people and regularly staging mass beheadings. Even under construction, the gas plant was a regular target. It was run by Europeans and Americans, intending to make money for companies thousands of miles away while displacing 2,733 villagers to build their concession and banning fishermen from waters around their drill sites. After several attacks on plant traffic to and from the facility, in February 2019, the militants killed two project workers in a village attack and dismembered a contract driver in the road.  A further risk had its origins in a ban on foreigners carrying guns. That made the plant reliant for security on the Mozambican army and police, both of which had a well-documented record of criminality and repression. Initially, Pouyanné seemed unconcerned. The gas field was outside international law, as Mozambique had not ratified the Rome Statute setting up the International Criminal Court. And Pouyanné appeared to see the pursuit of high-risk, high-reward projects almost as an obligation for a deep-pocketed corporation, telling the Atlantic Council in May 2019, soon after he agreed the Mozambique deal, that Total was so big, it didn’t need to care — at least, not in the way of other, lesser companies or countries. “We love risk, so we have decided to embark on the Mozambique story,” he said. “Even if there is a collapse, [it] will [not] put Total in danger.” Advertisement In September 2019, when Total’s purchase was formally completed, the company declared in a press release: “The Mozambique LNG project is largely derisked.” In one of several statements to POLITICO, TotalEnergies explained the term echoed the boss’s focus on “the project’s commercial and financial fundamentals. To infer this was a dismissal of security concerns amounts to a fundamental misunderstanding of the way the sector operates.” Still, for workers at the project, it was an arresting statement, given that a Mozambique LNG worker had recently been chopped to pieces. Around the same time, the project managers at Anadarko, many of whom were now working for Total, tried to warn their new CEO of the danger posed by the insurgency. It was when they met Pouyanné, however, that “things then all started to unwind,” said one. Pouyanné regaled the team who had worked on the Mozambique project for years with a speech “on how brilliant Total was, and how brilliantly Total was going to run this project,” a second executive added. Pouyanné added he had “a French hero” running the company’s security: Denis Favier who, as a police commander, led a team of police commandos as they stormed a hijacked plane on the tarmac at Marseille in 1994, and in 2015, as France’s most senior policeman, commanded the operation to hunt and kill the Islamist brothers who shot dead 12 staff at the Charlie Hebdo newspaper in Paris. “This is easy for him,” Pouyanné said. Asked about the transition from Anadarko to Total, the company maintained it was responsive to all concerns expressed by former Anadarko workers. “We are not aware of any such dismissal of security concerns by TotalEnergies or its senior management,” the company said. “It is incorrect to state that advice from the ground was not listened to.” Still, after meeting Pouyanné, the old Anadarko team called their Mozambique staff together to brief them on their new boss. “Well, holy shit,” one manager began, according to a person present. “We’ve got a problem.” ‘VERY VULNERABLE’ A third former Anadarko staffer who stayed on to work for Total said that on taking over, the company also put on hold a decision to move most contractors and staff from hotels and compounds in Palma to inside its fortified camp — a costly move that Anadarko was planning in response to deteriorating security. “This was a danger I had worked so hard to eliminate,” the staffer said. “Palma was very vulnerable. Almost nobody was supposed to be [there]. But Total wouldn’t listen to me.” Other measures, such as grouping traffic to and from the plant in convoys and flanking them with drones, also ended. One project contractor who regularly made the run through rebel territory described the difference between Anadarko and Total as “night and day.” Then in June 2020, the rebels captured Mocimboa da Praia, the regional hub, and killed at least eight subcontractors. In late December that year, they staged another advance that brought them to Total’s gates. At that, Pouyanné reversed course and assumed personal oversight of the security operation, the first Anadarko manager said. Despite no expertise in security, “[he] had to get into every little last possible detail.” The second executive concurred. “It went from, ‘I don’t care, we’ve got the best security people in the business to run this’ to ‘Oh my God, this is a disaster, let me micromanage it and control it,’” he said. The company was “not aware of any … criticism that Mr. Pouyanné lacks the necessary expertise,” TotalEnergies said, adding the CEO had “first-hand experience of emergency evacuation … [from] when Total had to evacuate its staff from Yemen in 2015.” The insurgents’ advance prompted Pouyanné to order the evacuation of all TotalEnergies staff. By contrast, many contractors and subcontractors, some of them behind schedule because of Covid, were told to keep working, according to email exchanges among contractors seen by POLITICO. “Mozambique LNG did not differentiate between its own employees, its contractors or subcontractors when giving these instructions,” the company said, but added that it was not responsible for the decisions of its contractors. Advertisement Then, in February 2021, Pouyanné flew to Maputo, the Mozambican capital, to negotiate a new security deal with then Mozambican President Filipe Nyusi. Afterward, the two men announced the creation of the Joint Task Force, a 1,000-man unit of soldiers and armed police to be stationed inside the compound.  The deal envisaged that the new force would protect a 25-kilometer radius around the gas plant, including Palma and several villages. In practice, by concentrating so many soldiers and police inside the wire, it left Palma comparatively exposed. “It is incorrect to allege that Palma was left poorly defended,” the company said. “However, it is a fact that these security forces were overwhelmed by the magnitude and violence of the terrorist attacks in March 2021.” TotalEnergies added it is not correct to say that “Mr. Pouyanné personally managed the security deal setting up the Joint Task Force.” ‘TRAIN WRECK’ By this time, the company’s own human rights advisers were warning that by helping to create the Joint Task Force — to which the company agreed to pay what it described as “hardship payments” via a third party, as well as to equip it and accommodate it on its compound — Pouyanné was effectively making TotalEnergies a party to the conflict, and implicating it in any human rights abuses the soldiers carried out. Just as worrying was TotalEnergies’ insistence — according to a plant security manager, and confirmed by minutes of a Total presentation on security released under a Dutch freedom of information request — that all major security decisions be handled by a 20-man security team 5,000 miles away in Paris. That centralization seemed to help explain how, when the Islamists finally descended on Palma on March 24, 2021, Total was among the last to know. One Western security contractor told POLITICO he had pulled his people out 10 days before the assault, based on intelligence he had on guns and young men being pre-positioned in town. In the days immediately preceding the attack, villagers around Palma warned friends and relatives in town that they had seen the Islamists advancing. WhatsApp messages seen by POLITICO indicate contractors reported the same advance to plant security on March 22 and March 23. Advertisement Nonetheless, at 9 a.m. on March 24, TotalEnergies in Paris announced that it was safe for its staff to return. Hours later, the Islamists attacked. “Neither Mozambique LNG nor TotalEnergies received any specific ‘advance warnings’ of an impending attack prior to March 24,” the company said. Faced with a three-pronged advance by several hundred militants, the plant security manager said TotalEnergies’ hierarchical management pyramid was unable to cope. Ground staff could not respond to evolving events, paralyzed by the need to seek approval for decisions from Paris. Total’s country office in Maputo was also in limbo, according to the security manager, neither able to follow what was happening in real-time, nor authorized to respond.  ‘WHO CAN HELP US?!’ Two decisions, taken as the attack unfolded, compounded the havoc wreaked by the Islamists. The first was Total’s refusal to supply aviation fuel to the Dyck Advisory Group (DAG), a small, South African private military contractor working with the Mozambican police. With the police and army overrun, DAG’s small helicopters represented the only functional military force in Palma and the only unit undertaking humanitarian rescues. But DAG’s choppers were limited by low supplies of jet fuel, forcing them to fly an hour away to refuel, and to ground their fleet intermittently. Total, as one of the world’s biggest makers of aviation fuel, with ample stocks at the gas plant, was in a position to help. But when DAG asked Total in Paris for assistance, it refused. “Word came down from the mountain,” DAG executive Max Dyck said, “and that was the way it was going to be.” Total has conceded that it refused fuel to DAG — out of concern for the rescuers’ human rights record, the company said — but made fuel available to the Mozambican security services. DAG later hired an independent lawyer to investigate its record, who exonerated the company. Advertisement A second problematic order was an edict, handed down by Pouyanné’s executives in Paris in the months before the massacre, according to the plant security manager, that should the rebels attack, gate security guards at the gas plant were to let no one in. It was an instruction that could only have been drawn up by someone ignorant of the area’s geography, the man said.  If the Islamists blocked the three roads in and out of Palma, as conventional tactics would prescribe, the only remaining ways out for the population of 60,000 would be by sea or air — both routes that went through TotalEnergies’s facility, with its port and airport. By barring the civilians’ way, the company would be exposing them. So it proved. TotalEnergies soon had 25,000 fleeing civilians at its gates, according to an internal company report obtained under a freedom of information request by an Italian NGO, Recommon. Among the crowd were hundreds of project subcontractors and workers. Witnesses described to POLITICO how families begged TotalEnergies’ guards to let them in. Mothers were passing their babies forward to be laid in front of the gates. But TotalEnergies in Paris refused to allow its guards on the ground to open up. On March 28, the fifth day of the attack, Paris authorized a ferry to evacuate 1,250 staff and workers from the gas plant, and make a single return trip to pick up 1,250 civilians, who had sneaked inside the perimeter. That still left tens of thousands stranded at its gates. On March 29, a TotalEnergies community relations manager in Paris made a panicked call to Caroline Brodeur, a contact at Oxfam America. “He’s like, ‘There’s this huge security situation in Mozambique!’” Brodeur said. “An escalation of violence! We will need to evacuate people! Who can help us? Which NGO can support us with logistics?’” Thirty minutes later, the man called back. “Wait,” he told Brodeur. “Don’t do anything.” TotalEnergies’ senior managers had overruled him, the man said. No outsiders were to be involved. “I think he was trying to do the right thing,” Brodeur said in an interview with POLITICO. “But after that, Total went silent.” Over the next two months, the jihadis killed hundreds of civilians in and around Palma and the gas plant before the Rwandan intervention force pushed them out. The second former Anadarko and Total executive said the rebels might have attacked Palma, whoever was in charge at the gas project. But Total’s distant, centralized management made a “train wreck … inevitable.” Advertisement TotalEnergies said its response to the attack “mitigated as much as was reasonably possible the consequences.” Confirming the phone call to Oxfam, it added: “There was no effort by whoever within TotalEnergies to shut any possibility for external assistance down.” The company was especially adamant that Pouyanné was not at fault.  “The allegation that Mr. Pouyanné’s management of TotalEnergies exacerbated the devastation caused by the attacks in Mozambique is entirely unsubstantiated,” it said. “Mr. Pouyanné takes the safety and security of the staff extremely seriously.” In his television appearance this week, Pouyanné defended the company’s performance. “We completely evacuated the site,” he said. “We were not present at that time.” He said he considered that TotalEnergies, whose security teams had helped “more than 2,000 civilians evacuate the area,” “had carried out heroic actions.” ‘AN ALMOST PERFECT DINNER PARTY’  TotalEnergies’ troubles in Mozambique have come amid a wider slump in the country’s fortunes and reputation. Years of climate protests outside the company’s annual general meetings in central Paris peaked in 2023 when police dispersed activists with batons and tear gas. For the last two years, TotalEnergies has retreated behind a line of security checks and riot police at its offices in Défense, in the western part of Paris. Though the company intended 2024, its centenary year, as a celebration, the company succeeded mostly in looking past its prime. When Pouyanné took over in 2014, Total was France’s biggest company, and 37th in the world. Today, it is France’s seventh largest and not even in the global top 100.  Several French media houses chose the occasion of TotalEnergies’ 100th birthday to declare open season on the company, portraying it as a serial offender on pollution, corruption, worker safety, and climate change. Pouyanné has also presided over a rift with the French establishment. Last year, when he suggested listing in New York to boost the stock, French President Emmanuel Macron berated him in public. Advertisement The division grew wider a few weeks later when the French Senate concluded a six-month inquiry into the company with a recommendation that the formerly state-owned enterprise be partly taken back into public ownership.  The company has faced five separate lawsuits, civil and criminal, claiming it is breaking French law on climate protection and corporate conduct.  In a sixth case, brought by environmentalists in Paris last month, a judge ordered TotalEnergies to remove advertising from its website claiming it was part of the solution to climate change. Given the company’s ongoing investments in fossil fuels, that was misleading, the judge said, decreeing that TotalEnergies take down its messaging and upload the court’s ruling instead. The Swedish activist Greta Thunberg has also led protests against TotalEnergies’ East Africa Crude Oil Pipeline. That project, intended to pump oil 1,000 miles from Uganda across Tanzania to the Indian Ocean, is similarly embroiled in accusations of human rights abuses, drawing criticism from the European Parliament plus 28 banks and 29 insurance companies who have refused to finance it. Pouyanné has also taken hits to his personal brand. A low point came in 2022 when he chose the moment his countrymen were recovering from Covid and struggling with soaring fuel prices to defend his salary of €5,944,129 a year. He was “tired” of the accusation that he had received a 52 percent rise, he wrote on Twitter. His pay, he added, had merely been restored to pre-pandemic levels.  Overnight, the CEO became the unacceptable face of French capitalism. “Pouyanné lives in another galaxy, far, far away,” said one TV host. Under a picture of the CEO, an MP from the leftist France Unbowed movement wrote: “A name, a face. The obstacle in the way of a nation.” So heated and widely held is the contempt that in 2023 the company produced a guide for its French employees on how to handle it. Titled “An Almost Perfect Dinner Party,” the booklet lays out arguments and data that staff might use to defend themselves at social occasions. “Have you ever been questioned, during a dinner with family or friends, about a controversy concerning the Company?” it asked. “Did you have the factual elements to answer your guests?” ‘FALSE ALLEGATIONS’ The war crimes case lodged this week against TotalEnergies was filed in France, despite the alleged crimes occurring in Mozambique, because, it argues, TotalEnergies’ nationality establishes jurisdiction.  The case represents a dramatic example of the extension of international justice — the prosecution in one country of crimes committed in another. A movement forged in Nuremberg and Tokyo in the wake of World War II, the principles of international justice have been used more recently by national and international courts to bring warlords and dictators to trial — and by national courts to prosecute citizens or companies implicated in abuses abroad where local justice systems are weak. U.S. courts have ordered ExxonMobil and banana giant Chiquita to stand trial for complicity in atrocities committed in the late 1990s and early 2000s by soldiers or militias paid to protect their premises in Indonesia and Colombia, respectively. Exxon settled a week before the case opened in 2023. A Florida court ordered Chiquita to pay $38 million to the families of eight murdered Colombian men in June 2024; Chiquita’s appeal was denied that October.  In Sweden, two executives from Lundin Oil are currently on trial for complicity in war crimes after Sudanese troops and government militias killed an estimated 12,000 people between 1999 and 2003 as they cleared the area around a company drill site. The executives deny the accusations against them. Advertisement ECCHR has initiated several international justice cases. Most notably, in 2016, it and another legal non-profit, Sherpa, filed a criminal complaint in Paris against the French cement maker Lafarge, accusing its Syrian plant of paying millions of dollars in protection money to ISIS. Earlier this month, Lafarge and eight executives went on trial in Paris, accused of funding terrorism and breaking international sanctions — charges they deny. The war crimes complaint against TotalEnergies cites internal documents, obtained under freedom of information requests in Italy and the Netherlands, that show staff at the site knew the soldiers routinely committed human rights abuses against civilians while working for the company.  There were “regular community allegations of JTF [Joint Task Force] human rights violations,” read one, including “physical violence, and arrests/disappearances.” The report also referred to “troops who were allegedly involved in a [human rights] case in August [2021].” These were deemed so serious that TotalEnergies suspended pay to all 1,000 Joint Task Force soldiers and the army expelled 200 from the region, according to the internal document. The ECCHR complaint accuses TotalEnergies and “X”, a designation leaving open the possibility for the names of unspecified company executives to be added. Among those named in the document’s 56 pages are Pouyanné and five other TotalEnergies executives and employees. Favier, the company’s security chief, is not among them. TotalEnergies declined to make any of its executives or security managers available for interviews. In April 2024, when Pouyanné was questioned about his company’s Mozambique operation by the French Senate, he stated that while the government was responsible for the security of Cabo Delgado, “I can ensure the security of whichever industrial premises on which I might operate.” Asked about the container executions before the National Assembly this May, Pouyanné reaffirmed his faith in the Mozambican state, saying: “I think we help these countries progress if we trust their institutions and don’t spend our time lecturing them.” Apparently forgetting how he helped negotiate a security deal to place Mozambican soldiers on Total’s premises, however, he then qualified this statement, saying: “I can confirm that TotalEnergies has nothing to do with the Mozambican army.” A company spokesperson clarified this week: “TotalEnergies is not involved in the operations, command or conduct of the Mozambican armed forces.” In addition to the war crimes complaint, TotalEnergies’ Mozambique operation is already the subject of a criminal investigation opened in March by French state prosecutors. The allegation against the company is that it committed involuntary manslaughter by failing to protect or rescue workers left in Palma when ISIS carried out its massacre. Though POLITICO’s previous reporting found that 55 project workers were killed, TotalEnergies — through its subsidiary, Mozambique LNG — initially claimed it lost no one. “All the employees of Mozambique LNG, its contractors and subcontractors were safely evacuated from the Mozambique LNG Project site,” Maxime Rabilloud, Mozambique LNG’s managing director, told POLITICO last year. Advertisement That assertion notwithstanding, the death of at least one British subcontractor, Philip Mawer, is the subject of a formal inquest in the U.K.  In December 2024, the company’s Paris press office adjusted its position on the Palma attack. “TotalEnergies has never denied the tragedy that occurred in Palma and has always acknowledged the tragic loss of civilian lives,” it told POLITICO. For the first time, it also admitted “a small number” of project workers had been stationed outside its secure compound during the attack and exposed to the bloodbath.  A resolution to the French manslaughter investigation will take years. A decision on whether to open a formal investigation into the new claims against TotalEnergies for complicity in war crimes, let alone to bring the case to trial, is not expected until 2026, at the earliest. Should anyone eventually be tried for involuntary manslaughter, a conviction would carry a penalty of three years in prison and a €45,000 fine in France, escalating to five years and €75,000 for “a manifestly deliberate violation of a particular obligation of prudence or safety.” For complicity in war crimes, the sentence is five years to life. ‘CAN YOU ACTUALLY LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR?’ The war crimes accusation adds new uncertainty to the 20-year effort to develop Mozambique’s gas fields. In the aftermath of the 2021 Palma massacre, TotalEnergies declared a state of “force majeure,” a legal measure suspending all contracted work due to exceptional events. The following four and a half years of shutdown have cost TotalEnergies $4.5 billion, in addition to the $3.9 billion that Pouyanné originally paid Anadarko for the Mozambique operation. Billions more in costs can be expected before the plant finally pumps gas, which Total now predicts will happen in 2029. The manslaughter case and the war crimes complaint have the potential to cause further holdups by triggering due diligence obligations from TotalEnergies’ lenders, preventing them from delivering loans of $14.9 billion — without which Pouyanné has said his star project will collapse. Total also faces a Friends of the Earth legal challenge to a $4.7 billion U.S. government loan to the project. A TotalEnergies spokesperson said this week that the project was able to “meet due diligence requirements by lenders.” Advertisement All this comes as the situation on the ground remains unstable. After a successful Rwandan counter-attack from 2021 to 2023, the insurgency has returned, with the Islamists staging raids across Cabo Delgado, including Palma and the regional hub of Mocimboa da Praia. The International Organization for Migration says 112,185 people fled the violence between September 22 and October 13. Among those killed in the last few months were two gas project workers — a caterer, murdered in Palma, and a security guard, beheaded in a village south of town. TotalEnergies has consistently said that neither recent legal developments nor the upsurge in ISIS attacks will affect its plans to formally reopen its Mozambique operation by the end of the year. “This new complaint has no connection with the advancement of the Mozambique LNG project,” a spokesperson said this week. Pouyanné himself has spent much of this year insisting the project is “back on track” and its financing in place. In October, in a move to restart the project, the company lifted the force majeure.  Still, in a letter seen by POLITICO, Pouyanné also wrote to Mozambican President Daniel Chapo asking for 10 more years on its drilling license and $4.5 billion from the country to cover its cost overruns.  Mozambique, whose 2024 GDP was $22.42 billion — around a tenth of TotalEnergies’ revenues for the year of $195.61 billion — has yet to respond. A final issue for TotalEnergies’ CEO is whether a formal accusation of war crimes will fuel opposition to his leadership among shareholders. At 2024’s annual general meeting, a fifth of stockholders rejected the company’s climate transition strategy as too slow, and a quarter declined to support Pouyanné for a fourth three-year term. In 2025, several institutional investors expressed their opposition to Pouyanné by voting against his remuneration. In the statement, the TotalEnergies spokesperson pointed to the 2023 comments by Aschenbroich, the independent board member: “The Board unanimously looks forward to his continued leadership and his strategic vision to continue TotalEnergies’ transition.” Yet, there seems little prospect that his popularity will improve, inside or outside the company. “Patrick Pouyanné is everyone’s best enemy,” says Olivier Gantois, president of the French oil and gas lobby group UFIP-EM, “the scapegoat we love to beat up on.” Recently, the 62-year-old Pouyanné has begun to sound uncharacteristically plaintive. At TotalEnergies’ 2022 shareholder meeting, he grumbled that the dissidents might not like CO2 emissions, “but they sure like dividends.” At last year’s, he complained that TotalEnergies was in an impossible position. “We are trying to find a balance between today’s life and tomorrow’s,” he said. “It’s not because TotalEnergies stops producing hydrocarbons that demand for them will disappear.” Advertisement TotalEnergies’ articles of association require Pouyanné to retire before he reaches 67, in 2030, around the time that TotalEnergies currently forecasts gas production to begin in Mozambique. Henri Thulliez, the lawyer who filed both criminal complaints against TotalEnergies in Paris, predicts Pouyanné’s successors will be less attached to the project — for the simple reason that Mozambique turned out to be bad business. “You invest billions in the project, and the project has been completely suspended for four years now,” Thulliez says. “All your funders are hesitating. You’re facing two potential litigations in France, maybe at some point elsewhere, too. You have to ask: what’s the point of all of this?” As for Pouyanné, two questions will haunt his final years at TotalEnergies, he suggests. First, “Can shareholders afford to keep you in your job?” Second, “Can you actually look at yourself in the mirror?” Aude Le Gentil and Alexandre Léchenet contributed to this report.

Gasoline prices are down at the pump across the country — and President Donald Trump wants America to know he’s responsible for it. “Every price is down. The biggest price is energy. We’re at almost $2 for gasoline,” Trump told reporters on Thursday, just days after Democrats romped to victory in Virginia and New Jersey in part over voter dissatisfaction with pocketbook issues. (Nationwide, gasoline price averages are approximately $3.08 per gallon, according to AAA.) And in late October, the White House celebrated what it called a four-year low for gas prices, chalking it up to Trump’s policies. Indeed, even as inflation rises, Americans are paying a few cents less at the pump than they were a year ago, according to AAA. And the national average gas price may well dip below $3 before the end of the year — a mark that former President Joe Biden failed to achieve for most of his presidency. “There is no disputing the fact that President Trump’s energy dominance agenda is the reason Americans are paying less at the gas pump,” White House spokesperson Taylor Rogers said in a statement. “President Trump has rolled back Biden’s burdensome regulations which has allowed oil and gas companies to ‘DRILL, BABY, DRILL’ to capitalize on the liquid gold under our feet.” U.S. oil companies’ output is indeed forecast to surpass 2024’s record this year — and is expected to continue growing through 2026. And James Blair, the former political director for Trump’s 2024 presidential campaign and the RNC, told POLITICO in an interview with “The Conversation,” airing today, that Americans can expect to continue to see gas prices fall. “We think a year from now, they’re going to continue to come down,” said Blair, who serves as White House deputy chief of staff. But industry analysts are mixed on how much credit Trump deserves for bringing down prices at the pump, which are largely driven by the global price of crude oil. “Any president’s ability to affect the price of crude oil is usually very limited,” said Bob McNally, who advised former President George W. Bush on energy policy and is now president of Rapidan Energy Group. When it comes to Trump’s claims, McNally said, “I would say he could claim an assist, not a total responsibility, for lower oil prices.” The price of crude has fallen by roughly 25 percent since Trump took office, mainly driven by OPEC+ countries boosting production in an already amply-supplied market. Cartel members agreed to another production hike on Sunday, though they said they would hold off on further increases planned for early next year. Other than a brief mention at his Davos speech in January, Trump has done little publicly to push OPEC to drive prices down, McNally noted. Trump also held off on major sanctions on oil-producing nations like Russia until last month, helping to avert price spikes. Amy Jaffe, a leading energy expert and professor at New York University, agreed that the White House typically doesn’t have much sway over oil prices, but argued that Trump’s efforts to solve global conflicts may make it the “exception.” “One of the things that had the price of oil high was geopolitical conflict, especially in the Middle East,” Jaffe said. “The fact that the Trump administration did manage to get a deescalation to that conflict … takes some of the geopolitical premium out of the price of oil. You have to give them credit for that.” Jason Bordoff, the director of the Center on Global Energy Policy at Columbia University, said Trump’s policies seeking to increase domestic energy production “have so far yielded modest, if any, results.” The biggest factor driving down prices, he said, was “the supply coming from other parts of the world, not the United States.” In the U.S. oil patch, the historic production levels helping to keep gas prices down may be in spite of some of Trump’s policies. Oil executives have cited Trump’s tariffs and the ensuing economic uncertainty in deciding to lay off workers and pull oil drilling rigs back — even as the administration opens new areas for leasing and deregulates the industry. “His ‘Drill, Baby, Drill’ policy — it’s not law, it does not compel oil companies to raise production,” said Patrick De Haan, head of petroleum analysis at GasBuddy. “In fact, with oil prices relatively low, they may end up doing the counter of that.” But even with some respite at the pump, Americans are increasingly getting pinched by a different type of energy costs: rising utility bills. Trump pledged on the campaign to halve Americans’ electric bills, but electricity prices are up 5.1 percent from a year earlier, according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data. The Trump administration worked to roll back wind and solar power, which provide the cheapest electricity in many states. It’s also pushed the construction of artificial intelligence data centers that are driving up utility bills in some parts of the country. Even Trump’s energy secretary recently acknowledged to POLITICO that rising electricity costs could be a political liability for Republicans in next year’s midterms. The governor’s races in Virginia and New Jersey this week showcased this point, as Democratic governor-elects Abigail Spanberger and Mikie Sherrill highlighted energy affordability throughout their campaigns. “Electricity is the new gasoline. It’s become highly political,” Jaffe said.

European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen delivered pointed remarks Wednesday to Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić about his country’s progress toward EU membership. “Now is the moment for Serbia to get concrete about joining our union,” said the Commission chief, during a press conference in Belgrade on her tour of the Western Balkans. “Therefore, we need to see progress, on the rule of law, the electoral framework and media freedom,” von der Leyen added. “I know these reforms are not easy,” she said. “They take patience and endurance. They must include all parts of society and the political spectrum. But they are worth the effort. Because they move you closer to your goal.” Von der Leyen also urged the Serbian president to join the EU in imposing sanctions against Russia. Belgrade has consistently refused to align with the bloc in sanctioning Russian energy and goods, especially since it is almost entirely dependent on Russian gas. “I commend you for reaching 61 percent of alignment with our foreign policy. But more is needed. We want to count on Serbia as a reliable partner,” said von der Leyen. Serbia applied for EU membership in 2009 and was subsequently granted candidate status in 2012, later opening accession negotiations with the EU in 2013. Since then, 22 of the 35 chapters of accession criteria have been opened — but only two have been provisionally closed. Leadership in the Western Balkan country has come under heavy criticism in recent years. Protests triggered by the collapse of the Novi Sad train station canopy in November last year turned into a wider revolt over corruption, accountability, and democratic backsliding, which was met with a violent response from police. The European Green Party criticized the Commission chief’s visit to Serbia, calling it “deeply regrettable that von der Leyen honors Vučić with an official visit without visible reservations, while his regime unlawfully detains students and opposition members and violently represses protesters,” its co-chair Vula Tsetsi said in a statement. The U.S. decided last week to sanction Serbia’s leading oil supplier, the Petroleum Industry of Serbia (NIS), because it is majority-owned by Russia’s Gazprom Neft. Vučić met with Russian President Vladimir Putin in Beijing during a regional security summit in September, reaffirming Serbia’s commitment to purchasing Russian gas and potentially increasing it. “Since the beginning of the Ukrainian crisis, Serbia has been in a very difficult situation and under great pressure, but … we will preserve our neutrality,” said Vučić, utilizing Kremlin terminology for its war on Kyiv.

LONDON — The U.K. government has quietly handed ministers new powers to reverse flagship climate promises and approve new drilling for fossil fuels.  Under new guidance drawn up in Whitehall, Energy Secretary Ed Miliband can give weight to the “wider benefits to the interests of the nation,” alongside environmental concerns, when deciding the future of controversial oil and gas fields.  Miliband has long insisted the U.K. must wean itself off high-polluting fossil fuels produced in oil and gas heartlands off the Scottish coast and embrace clean energy, like solar and wind power. But experts believe the new powers, buried in guidance published this summer by Miliband’s Department for Energy Security and Net Zero, provide a loophole to approve more drilling.  The document says that, when deciding whether to approve oil and gas licenses, “the secretary of state will usually consider, amongst other matters … the government’s overall energy and environmental objectives, and the potential economic and other advantages of the project proceeding.”  This hands Miliband the power to override objections and approve schemes, even if they breach environmental regulations, at a time when ministers are desperate to stimulate economic growth and get spiraling bills under control.  Donald Trump is also piling pressure on the government to change tack, describing North Sea oil as a “phenomenal” asset while speaking alongside Prime Minister Keir Starmer during his U.K. state visit last week. The U.S. president then raised the issue in his furious tirade at the U.N. on Tuesday, claiming to have repeatedly lobbied Starmer on the matter while he was in Britain. “I told it to him three days in a row. That’s all he heard: ‘North Sea oil, North Sea,’” he said. With looming decisions on whether to allow drilling on the vast Rosebank and Jackdaw fields in the North Sea, the new powers risk setting up a row between the energy secretary, green campaigners, and his own backbenchers.  NET ZERO SUM GAME Miliband’s political rhetoric hasn’t yet shifted an inch.    “Unless we get on to clean energy, we’ll continue to be subject to that roller coaster of fossil fuels,” he told the BBC this month. Political opponents like Nigel Farage, who wants to drain the North Sea of all remaining oil and gas, are spouting “nonsense and lies to pursue their ideological agenda,” Miliband said.   But some Labour MPs have noticed the guidance, and hope Miliband will now help out the drillers.   Gregor Poynton, Labour MP for Livingston, a constituency in Scotland’s central belt, said the powers were the right option given the U.K. is set “to rely on oil and gas for some time yet.”   Ed Miliband’s political rhetoric hasn’t yet shifted an inch.  | Pool photo by Justin Tallis via Getty Images Speaking before he was appointed as a Commons whip in September’s government reshuffle, Poynton told POLITICO: “That’s why I would encourage the secretary of state to use those powers carefully, including to approve projects like Rosebank and Jackdaw, because they support thousands of good jobs, particularly in Scotland and the north east, and they help ensure that what we do use is produced here to the highest environmental and safety standards.”   Miliband is also under pressure to approve projects from other figures on the left.   Green entrepreneur Dale Vince, who has donated over £5 million to Labour, says the government should “put its arms around the North Sea and support [oil and gas] operators with existing licences,” to ease the transition to clean energy. Greg Jackson, boss of the U.K.’s largest energy supplier Octopus Energy, and a green lobbyist who advises Labour ministers, says the government should back North Sea drillers in order to limit imports of gas from other countries. Domestic production “is cleaner and it reduces the backlash against climate policy. I’ve got no problem with it,” Jackson told The Telegraph at the start of this month.   Plenty in Labour’s ranks, though, would recoil from going soft on the mass-polluting oil and gas industry.    “The path to decarbonization, energy security and not being reliant on rogue states like Russia for our energy supply is dependent on a huge expansion of domestic renewables which will create jobs in the UK and exports as a world leader. Any other path is leaving us stuck in an early 20th century paradigm,” said Alex Sobel, Labour MP for Leeds Central and Headingley. “It is a simple truth that the North Sea basin is in terminal decline. … That is why this government are right to finally draw a line under new licensing and the illusion of endless new oil and gas,” veteran MP Barry Gardiner, a member of parliament’s Environmental Audit Committee, said this spring.  The Department for Energy Security and Net Zero declined to comment. ALL ABOUT THE BILLS Ministers know that voters, while broadly supporting Labour’s net-zero push, care much more about the state of the economy and sky-high energy bills.   Polling from Merlin Strategy, conducted last month, shows 58 percent of Brits say the government should reverse any climate decisions that have led to higher energy costs. Almost two in three think the government should prioritize reducing energy costs over protecting the environment.    “The key theme is people want lower energy costs as a priority,” said Julian Gallie, Merlin’s head of research.   However, Tessa Khan, director of green campaigners Uplift, argues that, given U.K. extractions are sold on the global market, there is no direct link between drilling and bills. “There is just no reality in which we can drill our way to energy security or energy affordability,” she said.    Donald Trump is also piling pressure on the government to change tack, describing North Sea oil as a “phenomenal” asset while speaking alongside Prime Minister Keir Starmer during his U.K. state visit last week. | Ian Forsyth/Getty Images The new powers are set out in DESNZ’s guidance on how to handle so-called scope three emissions — the pollution created by fossil fuels after they have been extracted and used elsewhere.  The High Court ruled earlier this year that scope three emissions must be considered in all future oil and gas developments.  The North Sea Transition Authority (NSTA) regulator insists there is no change from current arrangements. The Offshore Petroleum Regulator for Environment and Decommissioning (OPRED), the NSTA said, will assess the environmental impact of projects as before.   That involves a parallel process, where the NSTA assesses a project’s development plan while OPRED judges its environmental statement. The NSTA can’t sign off the development plan or grant drilling consent, though, until OPRED has completed its assessment. During the OPRED process, the environmental statement has to be signed off by DESNZ, effectively giving Miliband a mechanism to overrule the regulator’s recommendations.  That would give Miliband “in theory … lots of discretion to override regulator decision-making,” said Martin Copeland, chief financial officer at Serica Energy, one of the country’s largest oil and gas companies.    Paul de Leeuw, an energy expert at Aberdeen’s Robert Gordon University, called the guidance “pragmatic” and “timely,” adding it provides “the secretary of state with the powers to make a balanced and informed decision, reflecting a wide range of considerations.”  A second senior oil and gas industry figure — who has held talks with all major parties including the government and was granted anonymity to discuss sensitive lobbying — said they sensed “a split in government along the lines of environment and economic growth.”    There are fresh political pressures on Miliband just as these new powers take effect, the same person said.   “I think there has been winds of change blowing through Westminster in recent months. I think that’s due to a number of reasons. Obviously, the ‘Trump effect’ [backing aggressive fossil fuel drilling in the U.S.] is having a significant impact and it’s galvanizing the right. It’s galvanizing Reform and it’s galvanizing the Tories.”

Russia’s gasoline sales hit a two-year low on Tuesday as Ukrainian drone strikes and surging harvest-season demand intensify the country’s fuel shortage. Data from the St. Petersburg Exchange, reported by Kommersant on Wednesday, shows that sales of A-92 petrol dropped 21.7 percent to 15,600 metric tons on Tuesday, the lowest level since 2023. Sales of A-95 petrol fell 15.5 percent to 12,060 tons compared with the previous day, bringing total gasoline sales on the exchange down 19.1 percent to 27,700 tons. The sharp decline comes amid unscheduled shutdowns at several large Russian refineries, as Kyiv reportedly escalated its campaign against Russian oil and gas infrastructure. On Thursday, units of Ukraine’s Special Operations Forces announced they had targeted the Volgograd Refinery, located in southern Russia’s Volgograd Oblast. The refinery, the largest producer of petroleum products in Russia’s Southern Federal District, supplies fuel and lubricants to Russian military forces. During Monday night and the early hours of Tuesday morning, Ukrainian Special Operations Forces struck the Saratov oil refinery, further compounding the supply disruption. According to Kommersant, some refineries have declared force majeure and stopped shipping petrol, accelerating the depletion of local fuel stocks. Independent petrol station chains have been hit hardest, as suppliers prioritize deliveries to larger networks. Two independent chains, each operating about 20 stations, have already suspended retail sales and now sell petrol only under long-term contracts. The decline in sales is also linked to high demand from Russian farmers during the busy harvest season in September and October, Oleg Abelev, head of the analytical department of the Russian investment company Rikom-Trust, told Kommersant. Veronika Melkozerova contributed to this report.

COPENHAGEN — Connie Hedegaard remembers when climate was Europe’s great unifier. More than a decade ago, as the EU’s first climate commissioner, she helped turn carbon policy into a pillar of Brussels’ power and a point of pride for the bloc. But with southern Europe now burning and Brussels pivoting to a new mantra of security and competitiveness, she worries the tide is turning — with dire ramifications. “When people lose their homes or their families to extreme weather, they don’t just suffer loss, they also lose trust in decision-makers,” Hedegaard told POLITICO on the sidelines of an organic farming summit. “That mistrust is what feeds polarization.” And she didn’t mince words about the industry giants and other actors she says are responsible for stalling progress. “I remember when BP called itself ‘Beyond Petroleum,’” she said, citing the giant British oil firm. “Now they are backtracking. They should be ashamed of themselves.”  The warning by the Danish national, who led the European Commission’s newly established climate wing between 2010 and 2014, comes more than a year after far-right parties surged in the European election, capitalizing on voter anger over inflation and green rules.  Eight months into Ursula von der Leyen’s second term atop the Commission, her ambitious Green Deal climate and environmental agenda has become a political punching bag, with national governments pushing for looser targets and industry lobbying to slow the pace of change. But Hedegaard argued that treating the Green Deal as a burden in tough times is a dangerous miscalculation.  “For Europe, climate and security are interlinked. I think most people can see it when they look at our energy dependency and the need for transformation of our energy systems,” she said. “If policymakers fail to act, they risk fueling the very populism they claim to fear.” CLIMATE REALITY From last year’s “monster” floods in Spain to this summer’s fires in Cyprus and southern France, climate disasters have battered Europe with increased scale and frequency. In Scandinavia, July’s record-breaking heat left hospitals overwhelmed and even drove reindeer into cities in search of shade. The European Environment Agency estimates such disasters have already cost the continent nearly half a trillion euros over the past four decades. In Scandinavia, July’s record-breaking heat left hospitals overwhelmed and even drove reindeer into cities in search of shade. | Jouni Porsanger/Lehtikuva/AFP via Getty Images Hedegaard is no stranger to political battles. A former Danish minister and longtime center-right politician, she cut her teeth in Copenhagen before moving to Brussels in 2010. Remembered in EU corridors for her direct and conversational style, honed by an early career as a journalist, Hedegaard is blunt in her assessments. Her pointed attack on BP, for instance, comes after the company scaled back its renewable energy investments while raising annual spending on oil and gas — reversing the climate pledges the firm once trumpeted. BP did not respond to a request for comment. Hedegaard’s remarks also come as climate lawsuits mount around the world. Last month, the International Court of Justice ruled that governments can be held legally responsible for failing to act on climate change, a decision that could also embolden challenges against corporations. Since leaving Brussels, Hedegaard has taken on several roles in climate policy and sustainability, including chairing the European Climate Foundation. But her post-EU career has not been without controversy. In 2016, she joined Volkswagen’s new Sustainability Council, a move critics said risked greenwashing in the wake of the carmaker’s emission-cheating Dieselgate scandal. She defended the role as unpaid and aimed at pushing the company to clean up its act. For von der Leyen, Hedegaard has an unvarnished message: Don’t blink. “She has stood firm so far. She must continue to do that,” she said of the EU executive president. Hedegaard also warned that Europe can’t afford to stall while China pours billions into climate-friendly technology. “If Europe hesitates while others go full speed, we risk losing the industries of the future,” she said. A climate pact with Beijing last month was hailed as a diplomatic win, but underscored how cooperation is increasingly entangled with rivalry over who will dominate the supply chain. Closer to home, Hedegaard pointed to farming as one of the EU’s most immediate levers. She argued that the Common Agricultural Policy, which consumes around a third of the EU budget, could be used more forcefully to drive the green transition while cutting red tape for the smallest farmers. “It takes courage,” she said, “but agriculture is one of the sectors where we actually have the tools to act.” “This is not the time to hesitate or foot-drag,” she added. “It is time to deliver.”

Alliances sometimes begin by accident. Sometimes they end that way, too.  Especially when Donald Trump is involved. In the fall of 2013, Fred H. Hutchison was hanging around a mixer at the Lithuanian embassy, which sits inside the remaining tower of a partially demolished mansion a couple of miles north of the White House. After several decades as a gun-for-hire Washington, D.C., lobbyist, Hutchison had forgotten more of these events than most people ever go to. But this one he remembers. Partway through the evening, Hutchison heard a diplomat grumbling about the United States’ jealous grip on its enormous newly tapped reserves of shale gas. They got to talking.  The diplomat turned out to be the deputy head of the Lithuanian mission, Simonas Šatūnas. Lithuania was totally reliant on Russia for gas, he said. He wanted the Obama administration to share the love, he told Hutchison, and approve gas exports to Europe.  “I thought, ‘Well now, that sounds like a possible lobbying opportunity,’” Hutchison recalled when he met POLITICO in the business lounge of a London hotel in June. Encouraged by Šatūnas and his diplomatic connections, Hutchison set up a pressure group of around a dozen D.C. embassies — all from eastern and central Europe — that would work alongside the U.S. gas industry in service of one goal: bringing more U.S. liquefied natural gas (LNG) to Europe. These post-Soviet countries did not share the faith, widespread in other parts of the continent, that Vladimir Putin’s imperial impulses could be sedated by the multi-billion euro energy trade with the European Union.  They couldn’t have known it at the time, but the pair would soon be swept into a historic energy shift that would reshape the U.S. relationship with Europe, tilt Washington’s interests toward the EU’s eastern rim, and allow the continent to swap Russian for American gas after Moscow invaded Ukraine.  Donald Trump is now threatening that energy alliance — one he claims to champion, even forcing the EU this week to commit to a handshake agreement to import a logistically infeasible $750 billion worth of U.S. energy.  The widening fear on the EU’s eastern fringe is that Trump — despite recently sharpening his tone with Putin — will undermine this trade by offering the Russian president huge concessions and “enormous economic deals” to end his war, all while resurrecting the autocrat’s international standing in the aftermath. It’s the sledgehammer that could smash the West’s economic firewall around Russia — and take American energy with it, according to former and current diplomats from that part of Europe, as well as U.S. experts and industry figures. Already, oil and gas executives are cautioning the White House about this outcome, while also plotting in case their pleas are ignored. “The one thing that would derail the spectacular growth of the U.S. [LNG] industry is the reopening of flows from Russia. There’s no question about that,” said Geoffrey Pyatt, who was ambassador to Ukraine when Russia invaded Crimea in 2014 and led the State Department Bureau of Energy and Natural Resources under former President Joe Biden. Donald Trump is now threatening that energy alliance — one he claims to champion. | Pool Photo by Yuri Gripas via EPA The pipelines to Europe aren’t being switched back on. Yet. But U.S. sanctions on Russia are softening, and some Europeans are whispering about reviving Russian energy imports. American investors have even discussed a partnership with Russian officials to reopen gas flows to Germany. “Of course, we are concerned about the talk of a return to Russian energy, and the lack of clarity about the U.S.’s position,” said an official from an Eastern European country, who was not authorized to speak publicly. “But we are hopeful that we will win the argument that it would be a mistake to go back.” HOW THE U.S. ENERGIZED EUROPE It’s almost unthinkable in the age of Trump’s “American Energy Dominance” and the EU’s scramble to quit Russian gas that a desire for shiploads of U.S. gas was once unfashionable on both sides of the Atlantic. U.S. manufacturers wanted to keep the shale revolution’s rewards for themselves. While in Western Europe at least, Wandel durch Handel (the lofty German foreign policy assumption that troublesome neighbors like Putin would “change through trade”) was conveniently aligned with the roaring economic benefits of cheap Russian gas. “The Germans, the French, the Italians, the Austrians, everybody from Western Europe was content with the status quo,” said Hutchison in an Idaho farm-boy drawl. But countries like Lithuania, Poland and the Czech Republic “understood their vulnerability. And having been former Soviet satellites, understood the risk they faced.” Russian gas will always win on price, given the extra expenses for U.S. LNG: Compressing the gas into a liquid, loading it onto ships, hauling it across the Atlantic and then regasifying it for use on the continent. But countries like Lithuania were willing to pay a premium for energy from an ally because of their history and because “they had a front row seat to Russia’s actions” when it illegally annexed Ukraine’s Crimea in 2014, Pyatt said. Then the U.S. ambassador to Ukraine, Pyatt recalled that Polish Foreign Minister Radoslaw Sikorski desperately wanted to wriggle out of Russia’s grip. “That’s 100 percent of the explanation,” Pyatt said. “It’s the near neighbors who realize that Ukraine was the bulwark that was going to protect Eastern Europe from a revanchist Russian agenda that went far beyond Ukraine.” So it was easy for Hutchison to convince those countries to join the U.S. LNG push. In early 2014, he formed the organization LNG Allies as a public face for his embassy pressure group. He said the initial funding came from two trade bodies: the now-defunct America’s Natural Gas Alliance and the American Petroleum Institute (API). A spokesperson for API confirmed it had “previously” funded the group.  Hutchison said LNG Allies never received funding from foreign governments, though Croatia, Lithuania and the Czech Republic sat on the LNG Allies advisory board. A Foreign Agents Registration Act filing from 2014 said the group received foreign government support. Hutchison said that statement was “inaccurate” and was made in anticipation of funding that never came. The pressure from all sides bore out, and in 2016, the first LNG shipment left Cheniere Energy’s Sabine Pass terminal in Louisiana. Then the floodgates opened: From a standing start, the U.S. became the largest global gas exporter by 2023. LNG Allies pivoted and grew with the industry. It went from a clutch of embassies in Washington lobbying the U.S. government to a global industry association pushing U.S. energy exports around the world.  Hutchison hosts regular, intimate salons where American energy executives and European buyers broker new deals — invariably toasting them with brown liquor. He counts “several large natural gas producers” among his members. Though his shop, he added, was “in Washington terms, pretty small potatoes.”  U.S. government diplomacy has meantime shifted gear to all-out LNG expansionism. Successive American administrations have pressured EU countries to build out their ports’ capacity to take on more gas.  European governments experienced it as part charm offensive, part offer they couldn’t refuse. “They don’t pay for anything. That’s the funny thing,” said Bulgaria’s former environment minister, Julian Popov, describing a pattern he said he witnessed multiple times in his country and others. “First, the ambassador will go and have a quite American-style diplomatic conversation. You must do this. And this. And that’s it.”  Then, he said, senior administration officials would visit the country before, finally, the energy minister was invited for a tour of U.S. gas facilities.  “I’m not saying that they lock him up and beat him up. But they show him technologies. Tell him that this has to be done,” he said. “They put pressure on many different points.” Despite Joe Biden’s more climate-friendly rhetoric and eventual pause on building new LNG export facilities, the pressure to build more terminals never let up.  “That hasn’t changed at all,” said Popov. “‘Buy our LNG’ is their story.”  More and more LNG terminals are planned. Since 2015, LNG imports to Central and Eastern European countries have increased 12 times over, according to the Ember think tank. In the next five years, terminal capacity in the region will double, with more under discussion. The analysts warn that supply capacity could quickly outstrip demand, which is declining.  Hutchison, alongside the Atlantic Council and several European lobby groups, has played a supporting role. In 2018, the Center for Public Integrity reported that LNG Allies was working on a program with the U.S. Trade and Development Agency (USTDA) on an initiative to promote gas infrastructure development worldwide. Hutchison sees the return of Trump to the White House as an opportunity to step up the pace. Minutes of an April meeting of the LNG Allies “Embassy Working Group” — which ARIA, a climate investigations NGO, shared with POLITICO — said the USTDA initiative was going to be rebooted “with anticipated substantial U.S. support.” TRUMP GOES COURTING As anticipated, Trump’s lovebombing of Central and Eastern Europe recommenced in January.  It’s a part of the continent he has always found more open to him. Leaders there don’t carry around with them the faded global power pretensions of their French or German counterparts. By and large they run Europe’s fastest-growing economies, are generally open for business, and are less concerned about green issues. A few have overtly MAGA tendencies. One of the new administration’s core messages for Eastern Europe — alongside LNG boosterism — has been a plea to reject climate regulations from Brussels. One focus has been an EU regulation passed in 2024 that could lead to fines on gas importers that don’t reduce their methane pollution. The U.S. has pushed for various outs, in public and in private — including during trade talks currently taking place between the bloc and the White House. In April, on his first overseas trip, Energy Secretary Chris Wright landed in Warsaw, where he denounced Brussels’ “top-down diktats” on climate. He suggested to nations that still remember Communist rule that green policy may be a stalking horse for reestablishing “top-down control.”  Trump was offering an alternative, he said: “We warmly welcome you to join us on Team Energy Freedom and prosperity for citizens.” At the same time, Hutchison and LNG Allies were quietly pushing EU countries to soften the methane rule. At an April 3 meeting of the Embassy Working Group, which was set up by European diplomats and Hutchison, there was a discussion about “collaborative efforts” with European oil and gas industry groups to “address challenges” for U.S. companies complying with the EU’s methane regulation, according to minutes shared with POLITICO by ARIA.  Emails sent by the gas lobbyists to the EU delegation in Washington displayed LNG Allies’ new email signature, which riffed on Trump’s favorite energy maxim and the refrigeration required for shipping gas: “Chill, Baby, Chill!” “We haven’t been critical of the EU’s objective of regulating methane,” Hutchison said, but added the regulation was poorly designed. “It seemed to be developed without any factual understanding of how the gas system works in the United States.” In a June note, seven governments — Bulgaria, Czechia, Greece, Hungary, Romania, Slovakia and Slovenia — requested that the European Commission scale back the demands on companies to report their methane emissions.  Energy Secretary Chris Wright landed in Warsaw, where he denounced Brussels’ “top-down diktats” on climate. | Will Oliver/EPA “I would not be surprised if this paper had been drafted by the fossil fuel industry,” said Jutta Paulus, a member of the European Parliament from the Greens. Hutchison said he wasn’t behind it. But when POLITICO asked him if he saw the Central and Eastern European signatories as the fruit of a decade-long cultivation of the region, he said: “Sure, I think it is.” TRUMP REALITY CHECK If Trump wanted a poster child for unleashing American energy dominance, it doesn’t get much more compelling than Europe. After the EU’s eastern flank opened the door, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine united the continent in a U.S. energy embrace. Through its “projects of common interest” scheme, the EU has poured billions into building a gas pipeline network that connects many LNG terminals to Central and Eastern Europe.  On May 8, the EU’s ambassador to the U.S., Jovita Neliupšienė, bestowed on Hutchison the Transatlantic Bridge Award — a recognition from all EU countries of “his relentless effort to create a stronger EU-U.S. market for liquefied natural gas.” “I don’t see any daylight in general between the East and Western Europe any longer,” said Hutchison. He recalled the bonhomie of a tour of Texan facilities he took in March with the new EU Energy Commissioner Dan Jørgensen, who until last year was Denmark’s climate minister. And this past weekend, when Trump met European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen to finalize their trade deal, the U.S. leader’s “No. 1” priority was to convince Europe to “stop buying Russian energy” and “buy it from us” instead, said a U.S. official, granted anonymity to reveal details of the private discussion. “And they agreed,” the official added. “It is just such a complete change … and it’s a commitment to buy from America.” Trump even initially demanded that von der Leyen commit to $1 trillion in U.S. energy purchases during his term, the official said, before settling on $750 billion ($250 billion annually). But the numbers are non-binding, hyperbolic and unrealistic. To reach that figure, the U.S. would have to divert all its energy exports to the EU — and then somehow find 50 percent more in supplies. Meanwhile, the EU would have to essentially ditch its other foreign suppliers (including those providing cheaper energy) and more than triple its U.S. imports. And that’s assuming Europe has adequate infrastructure to receive all that U.S. fuel, which it does not. And that private companies would go along with the plan, which they can’t be compelled to honor.  Instead, insiders in Washington and Europe say it’s Trump himself who is jeopardizing the transatlantic love-in — including an LNG trade that was worth $20.3 billion in 2024 (according to trading platform Kpler) and that accounted for 53 percent of all U.S. LNG exports. Donald Trump even initially demanded that Ursula von der Leyen commit to $1 trillion in U.S. energy purchases during his term. | Jessica Lee/EPA Trump’s overall unreliability as a partner — his tariffs, his taste for bullying, his open disparagement of the EU — make Europeans wary of swapping reliance on one strongman for another.  Despite pressure from Trump, most EU buyers have refused to sign long-term contracts with U.S. companies, against a backdrop of declining gas demand on the continent and more supply coming online from alternative exporters like Norway and Qatar.  Italian firm ENI and Virginia-headquartered exporter Venture Global broke that streak in July, striking a 20-year deal to supply LNG to the EU. Analysts immediately criticized the arrangement for reflecting the political priorities of the Italian government rather than market realities. That came shortly after Venture signed a similar contract with German company Securing Energy for Europe. LNG Allies didn’t have direct involvement in the ENI deal, Hutchison said. But Douglas Hengel, a senior consultant for Hutchison’s LNG Allies, was once the No. 2 in the U.S. Embassy in Rome. He knows “the ENI folks,” Hutchison said, and “never misses a chance to pitch them.” On top of this, people who have talked to the administration on energy and on European matters told POLITICO that tension exists between two factions: White House officials wanting to prioritize a peace deal, and officials on the National Energy Dominance Council — like Wright, the energy secretary, and Interior Secretary Doug Burgum — who warn that a peace deal letting Russian gas into Europe would reverse recent U.S. LNG gains. For instance, a Trump-brokered peace deal could involve lifting U.S. sanctions on Russian LNG.  That “would be the Trump administration shoving Russian gas down the throats of the Europeans,” said one person familiar with the matter, granted anonymity to describe private discussions. “Europeans are saying a hard ‘no.’ They’re proud of what they’ve done in the past three years in getting off Russian gas.” The message from Brussels is that a Russian energy reset is a non-starter. The European Commission has even proposed phasing out Russian gas by 2028 — although Moscow-friendly Slovakia and Hungary are holding up the plan. Baltic nations — Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia — as well as Poland and the Nordic countries have been the strongest advocates for a long-term exit. Even though Trump might be sending conflicting signals, Eastern and Central Europeans are working to keep the doors wide open for American energy. Ignacy Niemczycki, a secretary of state and top adviser to Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, said the EU’s proposed Russian gas ban was thanks to “our pressure.”  “We are pushing for ending the reliance on Russia,” said Niemczycki. “If we can get cheap LNG from the U.S., that also helps.” But there is a sense that a return to the old ways might prove too tempting for the EU’s limping industrial powerhouses. In Germany, which is trying to revitalize its industrial base, some politicians have said they would welcome Russian gas — though Chancellor Friedrich Merz has ruled that out.  Not everyone in the U.S. is convinced Europe can stay unified with cheap Russian energy on the table. In Germany some politicians have said they would welcome Russian gas — though Chancellor Friedrich Merz has ruled that out. | Clemens Bilan/EPA Stateside oil and gas companies are scenario-planning for what will happen to markets — including Europe’s — if Trump or the EU removes Russian sanctions, said one oil and gas executive who was granted anonymity to discuss internal deliberations. The executive said they do not believe that easing restrictions on Russia is imminent, but are nonetheless weighing the possibility.  Washington is also wary of Trump’s engagement with Putin and the potential impact on homegrown industry. Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, a Trump ally, has floated legislation that would impose 500 percent tariffs on any country that buys Russian energy. But even Graham’s legislation underscores the difficulty of boxing out Moscow: It allows exemptions for countries that currently provide aid to Ukraine, meaning the EU.  Some fear Trump’s penchant for spectacle and hyperbole will lead him to a peace deal with Russia that weakens Ukraine and undermines U.S. exports.  Oil and gas industry officials have begun warning the White House that normalizing relations with Russia would contradict Trump’s energy and economic agenda that centers on shipping more fossil fuels overseas. They cautioned that Moscow would almost certainly expect Washington to lift sanctions on its energy industry, allowing cheaper Russian LNG to undercut the U.S.  For Hutchison, the prospect of a Trump-sanctioned reboot of the EU-Russia gas trade was akin to “an asteroid strike … something that is probably beyond our control.” While he said “it will be very difficult in Brussels and in Berlin and an awful lot of other capitals … to ever go back,” he acknowledged some Europeans will be tempted, and “because it’s a monopoly, [Russia] can always undercut the price of energy from anywhere else.” It will ultimately come down, he believes, to a discussion between a very small number of people around Trump about their priorities. “Should it get up to that highest level, I think you would both see Burgum and Wright being particularly vocal about what the negative implications would be,” Hutchison said, referencing Trump’s interior and energy secretaries.  That’s a dimmer picture than the optimism on display a little over a week after Trump’s inauguration, when Hutchison met with European diplomats at the Polish embassy in Washington. Behind Hutchison’s seat at the head of the table, a U.S. flag blazed from a widescreen television monitor. The screen displayed four words, written in bold typeface: “UNLEASH AMERICAN ENERGY DOMINANCE.”  Half a year on, Trump’s clashing foreign policy and energy agendas risk turning the picture into white noise. Karl Mathiesen reported from London. Zack Colman and Ben Lefebvre reported from Washington, D.C. Gabriel Gavin reported from Brussels and Warsaw. Hanne Cokelaere reported from Brussels. Ari Hawkins contributed reporting from Washington, D.C.