Complicity in Plain Sight: Europe’s Moral Credibility Laid Bare by Javed Akbar

“A civilization that uses its principles for trickery and deceit is a dying civilization.”
Expecting otherwise, however, is to ask a leopard to change its spots.
(The emphasis, though, is mine)
-    Attributed to Aimé Césaire¹

The Donald Trump horror show continues—not merely as political theatre in Washington, but as a governing ethos that normalizes impunity, erodes accountability, and emboldens allies to act without consequence. Its most dangerous expression now extends beyond Gaza to the unprovoked US–Zionist war on Iran, a reckless escalation that has further shredded the already fragile fabric of international law.

What began as a rupture in norms has hardened into policy: a system in which US abuse of power and an Israeli government’s genocidal zeal for destruction are not restrained, but effectively enabled by Western institutions—none more so than the European Union.

By refusing to suspend even part of the EU–Israel Association Agreement, the European Union has, in effect, shielded the Israeli state despite mounting allegations of war crimes and genocide. Rather than invoking the very mechanisms designed to uphold international law—sanctions, trade restrictions, or even symbolic censure—it has chosen to preserve normal relations, signalling continuity over accountability. This is not neutrality; it is calibrated protection. Principles are proclaimed with solemnity, yet withheld in practice—revealing not a failure of capacity, but a failure of will.

The contrast with Europe’s response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is stark. Then came swift, coordinated sanctions—decisive, unambiguous, and morally framed. Now, in the face of Gaza’s devastation, the European Union has neither sanctioned Israel nor imposed trade restrictions, nor even offered symbolic gestures of censure. This is not mere inconsistency; it is selective enforcement— duplicity and deception, where principles are invoked as instruments rather than upheld as commitments. International law invoked with urgency against adversaries, yet diluted, deferred, or quietly discarded when allies stand accused.

Jerusalem Patriarch Cardinal Pierbattista Pizzaballa so aptly declared; “In Gaza, our brothers are plunged into extreme tribulation, They have lived for years under the bombs, without water, without food, without medicine. And now they live in rubble.” ²

And how did Europe respond  to an unprovoked US – Zionist regime's attack on Iran – and to the bombing of a primary school in Minab that reportedly killed 170 children, an act that would constitute a grave war crime. With silence, or at best, evasive restraint – an unsettling reflection of a moral hierarchy in which power dictates whose lives matter and whose suffering is deemed tolerable.  

Italy’s posture under Giorgia Meloni illustrates this duplicity. The much-publicized suspension of a defense memorandum with Israel proved largely cosmetic—no contracts canceled, no arms halted, no meaningful reduction in cooperation. Symbolism substituted for substance, calibrated to ease domestic pressure while preserving the status quo.

Germany’s role is pivotal. Its unwavering support for Israel, rooted in historical responsibility, has hardened into unconditional political cover. Calls to suspend the agreement are dismissed as “inappropriate,” replaced with appeals for “critical dialogue,” even as arms exports continue and Berlin blocks collective EU action. Responsibility has been reinterpreted as immunity—transforming moral obligation into a strategic shield.

Nowhere is this moral inversion clearer than in the EU’s broader regional posture. While escalating sanctions on Iran and echoing Washington’s priorities, Europe avoids meaningful pressure on Israel. The asymmetry is unmistakable: accountability is geopolitical, not universal. Grand designs flourish while civilians remain displaced, infrastructure shattered, and aid insufficient. This is the convergence of US abuse of power and an Israeli government’s enthusiasm for genocide—enabled, excused, and effectively underwritten by those who claim to defend international law.

Europe now stands at odds with its own narrative. It cannot invoke international law selectively and expect legitimacy. It cannot punish one violation while subsidizing another. The question is no longer whether Europe understands what is unfolding in Gaza; it is whether it possesses the will to act against it.

If principles are only applied when convenient, they are not principles at all—they are instruments of power. And when power is exercised without conscience, it ceases to be order and becomes something far more dangerous: a sanctioned injustice that history will record not as failure, but as willing complicity in the face of human suffering.

---

¹Aimé Césaire is a Francophone poet, author, and politician. Césaire's work is    deeply rooted in post-colonialism and critiques European colonialism. His quote    highlights the dangers of hypocrisy and moral decay in societies that claim to    uphold certain values but fail to practice them.

² In a sweeping pastoral letter on Saturday (Apr 25, 2026), addressing the war in     Gaza and the wider crisis in the Holy Land, Jerusalem Patriarch Cardinal     Pierbattista Pizzaballa wrote: “Jerusalem does not belong to anyone     exclusively, not spoils, (of war) but a gift, a heritage of humanity.

---

Javed Akbar is a freelance writer whose opinion columns have appeared in Toronto Star and numerous digital platforms. He can be reached at: mjavedakbar@gmail.com

Accountability deferred by Marja Heikkinen

There is a certain kind of political fatigue that sets in when standards appear optional, when the rules seem to bend not according to principle, but proximity to power. In today’s United States, that fatigue is no longer subtle. It hums beneath headlines, pulses through partisan debates, and shapes a growing sense that accountability is less a cornerstone of democracy than a selectively enforced ideal.

At the center of this unease stands Donald Trump, a figure whose political resilience has redefined what consequences in public life actually look like. Over the years, allegations of sexual misconduct, ethical breaches, and his documented association with Jeffrey Epstein have formed a cloud that, for many observers, would have ended another political career several times over. Yet Trump remains not only relevant but dominant within his political sphere. That reality forces an uncomfortable question, if accountability does not apply at the top, does it meaningfully apply anywhere?

This is not merely about one individual. It is about precedent. Democracies depend less on written laws than on shared expectations, norms that guide behaviour when enforcement falters. When those norms erode, the system does not collapse overnight. Instead, it warps. The public begins to internalize a different standard, that power shields, that loyalty outweighs evidence, that survival is victory enough.

Consider the recurring spectacle of congressional controversies, where figures like Eric Swalwell become lightning rods for scrutiny, calls for resignation, or political theater. Whether those calls are justified or opportunistic often depends on who is making them. But the broader pattern is unmistakable. Accountability has become a partisan instrument rather than a universal expectation. One side demands it fiercely until it becomes inconvenient. The other dismisses it entirely until it becomes useful.

In that environment, resignation itself begins to feel symbolic rather than substantive. A lawmaker stepping down no longer signals a system working as intended. Instead, it can feel like a minor correction within a much larger imbalance, one where consequences are unevenly distributed, often landing hardest on those with the least political insulation.

The danger here is not just hypocrisy. It is normalization. When voters see high-profile figures weather scandals that would have once been disqualifying, expectations shift. The threshold for outrage rises. What was once shocking becomes routine; what was once disqualifying becomes survivable. Over time, the very idea of accountability loses its clarity. It becomes negotiable, then optional, and eventually irrelevant.

None of this suggests that American democracy is uniquely broken. Every political system wrestles with the tension between power and principle. But the visibility of these contradictions in the United States, long a country that has framed itself as a model of democratic norms, makes the current moment particularly stark.

The real question is not whether one politician resigns or another survives scandal. It is whether the public still believes that accountability exists as a consistent force at all. Because once that belief fades, cynicism fills the vacuum. And cynicism, unlike outrage, does not demand change. It expects failure.

If accountability is to mean anything, it cannot depend on party, personality, or polling. It must be predictable, even when inconvenient. Otherwise, it ceases to function as a principle and becomes just another talking point, invoked loudly, applied selectively and ultimately trusted by no one.

When policy collides identity by Paula Bartlett

Caitlyn Jenner, long a vocal backer of Donald Trump, now finds herself entangled in the real-world consequences of a policy aligned with his administration’s approach to gender identity. The reported issue, her passport gender marker reverting to her sex assigned at birth, might seem bureaucratic on the surface, but it cuts into something far deeper, the uneasy intersection of politics, identity and personal reality.

For years, debates about gender markers on official documents have been framed as abstract culture war issues. They’ve been discussed in legislative halls and cable news panels as if they exist in a vacuum, detached from the lived experiences of individuals. But moments like this expose the truth, policies are not theoretical. They reach into people’s lives, sometimes in ways that are inconvenient, sometimes in ways that are deeply disruptive.

Jenner’s situation underscores a contradiction that has simmered beneath the surface of political discourse for some time. Supporting a political ideology often means accepting broad policy directions but those policies don’t come with personalized exemptions. When rules are written in sweeping terms, such as requiring identification to reflect sex at birth, they don’t pause to consider personal histories, transitions, or individual journeys. They apply universally, and that universality can produce unexpected outcomes, even for allies.

There’s also a deeper question here about the nature of political alignment. Jenner’s support for Trump has often been framed as prioritizing certain values, economic policy, governance style, or broader conservative principles, over others, including issues directly affecting transgender individuals. That’s a legitimate political choice; people are rarely single-issue voters. But when a policy directly impacts one’s own identity, it forces a reckoning. It asks whether abstract agreement still holds when faced with concrete consequences.

What makes this moment particularly striking is not just the policy itself, but the reaction it provokes. Some observers respond with schadenfreude, seeing it as poetic justice. Others view it as a cautionary tale about the dangers of policies that fail to account for human complexity. But reducing it to either reaction misses the larger point. This isn’t just about one person’s passport, it’s about how governments define identity and whether those definitions can or should be rigid.

Documentation has always been a powerful tool of the state. A passport is more than a travel document; it’s a declaration of who you are in the eyes of your government. Changing that declaration isn’t a trivial matter, especially when it conflicts with how someone has lived and been recognized for years. It creates friction not just at borders but in daily life, from banking to employment to personal dignity.

In the end, Jenner’s appeal for help highlights something fundamental, policies don’t exist in isolation from the people they affect. When they collide with lived experience, they reveal their strengths, their flaws, and their unintended consequences. Whether one agrees with the policy or not, this situation serves as a reminder that identity is not easily reduced to a checkbox and attempts to do so will inevitably run into the messy, complicated reality of human lives.

Trekking Chat #007 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

They trek across surreal cartoon streets, armed with quirky sarcasm
and boundless humor. They map uncharted valleys, befriend bizarre creatures
and find the real adventure in their square frames.

For more Trekking Chat, HERE!
For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!

---

The conspiracies theories came home by Timothy Davies

There is a certain symmetry to political life that rarely announces itself in real time. It creeps in quietly before revealing its full shape. And in the case of Donald Trump that symmetry now feels less like coincidence and more like inevitability.

For years, Trump did not merely flirt with conspiracy theories he weaponized them. They were not side notes to his rise; they were foundational. From questioning the legitimacy of institutions to amplifying fringe narratives that cast shadowy forces as puppet masters of American life, he built a political identity rooted in suspicion. The message was clear, nothing is as it seems and only he could see through the fog.

It worked. Conspiracies, once relegated to the margins, became dinner-table conversation. Distrust became a political currency. The more implausible the claim, the more attention it drew and in politics attention is power.

But conspiracies have a peculiar quality, they do not remain loyal to the person who unleashes them.

What we are witnessing now is not just political opposition or even legal scrutiny. It is something more ironic. The same ecosystem of suspicion, the same instinct to question motives and invent hidden plots, has turned inward. Trump, who once thrived on casting himself as the exposer of secret schemes, now finds himself cast as the target of them.

This is not to say that every accusation or critique against him is conspiratorial. Far from it. But the rhetorical environment he helped cultivate, where distrust is reflexive and narratives are shaped by belief rather than evidence, has created a space where anything can be framed as a plot, including against him.

There is a lesson here about political fire. It warms those who control it, until it doesn’t.

The broader consequence is not personal to Trump alone. It is institutional. When conspiracy thinking becomes normalized, it erodes the shared reality necessary for a functioning democracy. Facts become negotiable. Motives are always suspect. Every outcome is pre-interpreted through a lens of manipulation. In that world, no one escapes unscathed, not even those who once seemed to benefit most from it.

Trump’s current predicament, then, is less a twist of fate than a predictable outcome. He helped dismantle the boundaries between skepticism and cynicism, between inquiry and accusation. Now, operating within that same blurred landscape, he faces the very dynamics he once encouraged.

There is also a deeper irony. Conspiracy politics promises control, it tells supporters that chaos can be explained, that hidden hands can be exposed. But in reality, it produces the opposite: a loss of control. Once unleashed, it cannot be neatly directed. It spreads, adapts and ultimately consumes its own creators.

This moment does not require sympathy, nor does it demand condemnation. It requires clarity. The tools politicians use matter. The narratives they elevate have consequences beyond immediate victories.

Trump’s political career may one day be studied as a case of strategic brilliance or reckless disruption, depending on one’s perspective. But this chapter adds something more enduring, a cautionary tale.

Because in politics, as in life, the stories we tell to gain power have a way of rewriting us in the end.

A diplomat for dialogue meets a wall of noise by Robert Perez

There is something quietly remarkable almost stubbornly hopeful, about President Cyril Ramaphosa’s decision to appoint Roelf Meyer as South Africa’s ambassador to the United States. It is not merely a bureaucratic replacement after last year’s diplomatic rupture; it is a statement, carefully chosen and steeped in history. Meyer is not just another envoy. He is a man who once helped dismantle a system built on exclusion and fear. Sending him to Washington is, in essence, an appeal to reason, memory and the possibility that even entrenched divides can yield to negotiation.

That is precisely why the choice feels so out of sync with the political reality he is about to confront. Meyer’s legacy is inseparable from South Africa’s transition out of apartheid. As a chief negotiator for the National Party, he sat across the table from adversaries who had every reason to distrust him, and yet he helped forge a path toward a democratic future. It required patience, humility and a willingness to listen, qualities that are increasingly scarce in today’s global political theater and especially so in the America shaped by Donald Trump.

Ramaphosa’s move carries symbolic weight. It suggests that South Africa still believes in the power of dialogue, that it sees diplomacy not as a zero-sum contest but as an exercise in bridge-building. It also signals an awareness of how strained relations have become. The expulsion of the previous ambassador, following his remarks about Trump’s rhetoric of “white victimhood,” was not just a diplomatic spat; it was a reflection of deeper tensions about race, history and the narratives nations tell themselves.

And here is where the symbolism begins to collide with reality. The Washington Meyer is walking into is not one that rewards nuance. It is a capital where political incentives often favor confrontation over compromise, where carefully calibrated messages are drowned out by the din of outrage cycles and ideological echo chambers. Trump’s political brand thrives on precisely the kind of grievance-driven narratives that Meyer spent his career trying to transcend. The language of reconciliation does not easily penetrate an environment that profits from division.

There is also a cultural gap that cannot be ignored. South Africa’s post-apartheid story, for all its imperfections, is rooted in a collective reckoning with history. It is a story that acknowledges pain while insisting on coexistence. In contrast, much of the discourse in Trump-era America resists such introspection, often reframing systemic critique as personal attack. In that context, Meyer’s moral authority may not translate into influence; it may simply be dismissed as irrelevant or, worse, suspect.

This does not mean Ramaphosa’s decision is misguided. On the contrary, it may be one of the few moves available to a country seeking to reassert its voice on the global stage without abandoning its principles. If diplomacy is, at its core, an expression of national identity, then sending Meyer is an affirmation of what South Africa aspires to be: a nation that believes in dialogue even when dialogue seems futile.

But it would be naïve to expect immediate results. Meyer is unlikely to find a receptive audience among those who view international relations through the narrow lens of transactional gain or cultural defensiveness. His presence will not suddenly soften hardened attitudes or dismantle the stereotypes that continue to shape perceptions of Africa in parts of the American political landscape.

What he can do, however, is bear witness. He can represent an alternative model of leadership, one that values negotiation over spectacle, substance over slogans. In a political climate saturated with noise that alone is a form of resistance.

Whether anyone is listening is another question entirely.

The deal of flattery by Edoardo Moretti

A war-scarred region, battered by years of artillery and grief, offering to rename itself “Donnyland” in a bid to secure political favor. It sounds like satire, until it doesn’t. Because beneath the absurdity lies a revealing truth about modern power: flattery, once a subtle diplomatic tool, is now being wielded as a blunt instrument in global politics.

The reported gesture from Ukraine, whether earnest, exaggerated, or purely strategic, underscores a shift in how nations navigate influence in an era shaped by personality-driven leadership. It is no longer enough to appeal to shared values, treaties, or long-standing alliances. Instead, leaders and those seeking their support, are increasingly playing to ego, branding, and spectacle.

This is not entirely new. History is rich with examples of rulers who demanded praise and tribute as proof of loyalty. But what feels different now is the brazenness. The hypothetical “Donnyland” proposal doesn’t just flatter; it advertises its flattery. It assumes, perhaps correctly, that symbolic gestures aimed at personal vanity can carry as much weight as policy arguments.

For Ukraine, a country fighting for its sovereignty against Russian aggression, the stakes could not be higher. The idea of carving out a demilitarized zone in Donbas, one that Russia could never annex, would be a strategic lifeline. If attaching a name, even one loaded with political connotations, could help secure that outcome, some might argue it’s a small price to pay.

But at what cost does diplomacy become performance? The danger of such tactics is not merely that they cheapen political discourse. It’s that they risk redefining the terms of engagement altogether. When flattery becomes currency, those unwilling or unable to participate in the game are left at a disadvantage. Policy risks being shaped not by merit or necessity, but by who can deliver the most appealing narrative to the most influential audience.

There is also a deeper, more troubling implication. If global actors believe that appealing to personal ego is the most effective path to securing support, it suggests a lack of confidence in the stability of institutions themselves. Alliances become transactional. Commitments feel conditional. And the line between diplomacy and manipulation blurs.

Of course, one could argue that this is simply realism in action. Nations have always acted in their own interests, and if flattery works, why not use it? Yet there is a difference between pragmatic negotiation and the normalization of political theater as a primary tool of statecraft.

The “Donnyland” idea, whether real or rhetorical, captures this tension perfectly. It is both clever and unsettling, a symbol of ingenuity born from desperation, but also a reflection of how far the global conversation has drifted from substance to spectacle.

In the end, the question is not whether such tactics are effective. They often are. The question is what they leave behind. If international relations increasingly revolve around personal branding and public flattery, the risk is that serious issues, war, peace, sovereignty, become props in a larger performance.

And for places like Donbas, where the consequences are measured in lives rather than headlines, that is a gamble the world can ill afford.

Carpond #012 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

A cacophony of singalongs, stifled yawns,
and surprisingly insightful debates
on the existential dread of a four wheeler vacuum

For more Carpond, HERE!
For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!

---

Navigating an Unpredictable Future: Global Architecture, Energy, Security by Adnan Shihab-Eldin, former OPEC Secretary General

Distinguished colleagues, ladies and gentlemen,
Good day, and thank you for joining our GAFG Energy Series, timely and important, event at this critical juncture.

We meet at a moment when geopolitical tensions in the Gulf—particularly the ongoing conflict involving Iran—are once again intersecting with global energy markets, economic stability, and the trajectory of the energy transition. But beyond the immediate crisis, what we are witnessing reflects a deeper structural shift.

As I emphasized in my lecture earlier this year, we are entering an era of fragmentation—of geopolitics, trade, and increasingly of energy systems.

This is no longer a temporary deviation; it is becoming a defining feature of the global landscape. Today’s developments in the Gulf are a clear manifestation of that shift.

The global energy system is now both highly interconnected and structurally vulnerable. Around 20% of globally traded oil passes through the Strait of Hormuz, alongside a substantial share of LNG exports. This creates a critical chokepoint. Recent events show that even partial disruptions—on the order of 20 to 50 percent—can have disproportionate effects on prices, logistics, and economic activity.

At the peak of recent tensions, up to 10–12 million barrels per day of oil—roughly one-fifth of global trade—was at risk, alongside significant LNG flows. Refining and product supply chains were also affected, amplifying the shock across the system. This is not a localized disturbance; it is a global stress test.

Against this backdrop, I will frame our discussion around three scenarios, and within each, briefly assess implications not only for  the GCC and MENA region, but also for Asia, Europe, Africa, and the United States.

Scenario 1: Ceasefire Holds – Agreement Within Weeks

In the first scenario, the ceasefire broadly holds, leading to an agreement within weeks.

Energy markets would stabilize, with prices easing as risk premiums decline and flows through Hormuz normalize.

The IMF estimates that a 10% increase in oil prices reduces global GDP growth by about 0.15 percentage points. A reversal of recent price spikes would therefore support global recovery.

Regional implications:

* Asia:            As the largest importer of Gulf oil and LNG, Asia benefits the most. Countries such as China, India, Japan, and South Korea would see lower import costs and improved energy security, easing inflationary pressures.

* Europe:       Having reduced dependence on Russian gas, Europe remains sensitive to LNG markets. Stabilization would relieve pressure on gas prices and storage strategies, supporting industrial recovery.

* Africa:         Many African economies—particularly importers—would benefit from lower fuel costs and reduced fiscal strain, though export-oriented producers would see more limited gains.

* United States:       As a net energy exporter, the U.S. is less directly exposed. Lower global prices may slightly reduce upstream revenues but would support domestic inflation control and consumer spending.

For the GCC, growth remains stable—likely 2.5–3.5% (IMF estimates)—with continued export revenues.

From a climate perspective, lower prices may soften urgency, but the experience reinforces long-term diversification.

Scenario 2: Intermittent Escalation – Agreement in Months

The second scenario involves on-and-off escalation, with intermittent disruptions over several months.

Here, fragmentation becomes operational and visible in markets:

* Oil prices become volatile, potentially in the $85–110 range,

* LNG markets tighten,

* Shipping and insurance costs rise significantly.

The IMF suggests that such volatility could reduce global growth by0.3–0.5 percentage points, particularly affecting emerging economies.

Regional implications:

* Asia:            The most exposed region. LNG-dependent economies face price spikes, supply uncertainty, and industrial cost pressures. This could slow growth in major economies such as China and India and strain smaller importers like Pakistan or Bangladesh.

* Europe:       Continued reliance on LNG makes Europe vulnerable. Price volatility could undermine industrial competitiveness and complicate energy transition policies, especially if governments revert to security-driven measures.

* Africa:         Import-dependent countries face rising energy costs andfiscal pressure, while producers may benefit from higher prices—but with limited capacity to scale output quickly. Net effect is uneven and often negative.

* United States:       The U.S. benefits partially as an LNG and oil exporter, capturing higher prices. However, global instability feeds back into financial markets, trade, and inflation expectations, limiting the net gain.

For the GCC:Higher prices support revenues, but uncertainty affects logistics, investment, and non-oil sectors.

From a climate perspective:High prices accelerate renewables and efficiency, but energy security concerns may reinforce continued fossil fuel dependence.

This reflects fragmentation: diverging regional responses to the same shock.

Scenario 3: No Agreement – Prolonged Volatility Through Year-End

The third scenario is the most severe: no agreement, sustained tensions, and a structurally constrained Strait of Hormuz. Even partial disruption would significantly affect global supply.

* Oil prices could remain above $100 per barrel,

* LNG markets could face severe shortages,

* Global trade flows would be disrupted.

Such underlying analysis suggests that the broader economic impact could approach $1.5 trillion in trade and output effects.

The IMF and World Bank warn of stagflation risks:

* Global growth reduced by 0.5–1 percentage point,

* Inflation elevated,

* Financial volatility increased.

Regional implications:

* Asia:            The most severely affected region. High dependence on Gulf energy means sharp increases in import bills, industrial slowdown, and macroeconomic stress. This could significantly dampen global growth.

* Europe:       Faces renewed energy crisis dynamics, with high gas prices, industrial contraction risks, and increased fiscal burden from energy subsidies.

* Africa:         Highly vulnerable. Many economies would face severe balance-of-payments pressures, inflation spikes, and social risks linked to energy and food costs.

* United States:       More insulated in supply terms, but not immune:Benefits from high export prices, but faces inflationary pressure, tighter financial conditions, andglobal economic slowdown, which feeds back into U.S. growth.

For the GCC:* Revenues may increase initially, but overall economic impact becomes more complex and potentially negative due to trade disruption, capital outflows, and infrastructure risk.

From a climate perspective:* This scenario may accelerate long-term diversification, but in the short term, increases reliance on high-emission fuels, as security dominates policy priorities.

Concluding Reflections

Across all three scenarios, one central conclusion emerges:                                     We are no longer operating within a stable, globalized energy system—but within a fragmented, security-driven one.

This has several implications:                                         

1. Energy security and energy transition are now inseparable—they must be addressed together.

2. The Gulf remains central to global energy supply—but its role is increasingly defined by risk, resilience, and diversification.

3. Regional impacts are highly uneven:

* Asia bears the greatest direct exposure,

* Europe faces structural vulnerability in gas markets,

* Africa faces disproportionate economic stress,

* While the US is relatively more resilient but still globally exposed.

4. For producing countries, strategy must evolve:

* From efficiency to resilience,

* From transactional trade to integrated partnerships,

* And from stable assumptions to planning under persistent uncertainty.

Finally, fragmentation must be internalized—not as a temporary disruption, but as a structural condition shaping global energy, economic, and climate outcomes.

Let me conclude by emphasizing that uncertainty remains high, and much will depend on developments in the coming weeks and months.But what is already clear is that the implications of this conflict will extend far beyond the region—reshaping global energy markets, economic trajectories, and climate pathways for years to come.

Particular thanks to GAFG and prof. Anis H. Bajrektarevic, as well as the consortium of partners for keeping the momentum.

Thank you, and I look forward to the discussion.

---

Adnan Shihab-Eldin, former OPEC Secretary General. A Kuwaiti physicist, energy economist, and academic. Currently a Senior Visiting Research Fellow at the Oxford Institute for Energy Studies and a founding board member of the Kearney Energy Transition Institute. He also serves as the GAFG Steering Board Chair.

The loud authoritarian and the quiet corrupt by Thanos Kalamidas

Power in the European Union does not always follow size, wealth or even formal influence. Sometimes it follows posture. Sometimes it follows noise. And sometimes, paradoxically, it hides behind obedience.

Viktor Orbán built his political identity on confrontation. He positioned himself as the dissenter-in-chief, the man willing to challenge Brussels openly, repeatedly and unapologetically. Coming from a relatively small and economically modest country, he understood early that visibility, not compliance, was his leverage. By clashing with EU institutions on migration, judiciary independence and media freedom, he forced the Union to pay attention. You cannot ignore someone who constantly disrupts the room.

That strategy worked. It gave him outsized influence and turned Hungary into a symbol, both for supporters who admire defiance and for critics who warn of democratic backsliding. More importantly, it triggered scrutiny. Investigations, funding freezes, rule-of-law mechanisms, these were not spontaneous acts of institutional vigilance. They were reactions to sustained, visible provocation.

Contrast this with Kyriakos Mitsotakis. Leading another small, financially constrained country, he has adopted the opposite strategy, alignment. Where Orbán resisted, Mitsotakis reassures. Where one provoked, the other complies. The tone is technocratic, cooperative and outwardly reformist. It is the language Brussels prefers to hear.

And that is precisely the point. In a system like the EU, perception matters as much as policy. A government that frames itself as cooperative and pro-European benefits from a kind of institutional goodwill. It is assumed to be “on track,” to be progressing, to be part of the solution rather than the problem. That assumption can become a shield, subtle but effective.

Because scrutiny is not evenly distributed. It is drawn to friction. Orbán generated friction by design; Mitsotakis minimizes it. One invited conflict; the other dissolves it before it surfaces. The result is not necessarily a difference in governance quality but a difference in visibility.

This creates an uncomfortable question, is the EU better at reacting to loud challenges than identifying quiet erosion?

When authoritarian tendencies or corruption are wrapped in open defiance, they become impossible to ignore. When they are embedded within a narrative of compliance and cooperation, they risk being overlooked or deprioritized. It is easier to confront a rebel than to question a partner.

This is not to equate the two leaders directly, nor to claim identical trajectories. It is to highlight a structural asymmetry. The Union’s mechanisms often depend on political will, and political will is influenced by optics. A government that appears aligned with European values is granted more trust upfront. Whether that trust is always warranted is another matter.

There is also a deeper irony. Orbán’s confrontational style, while damaging in many respects, has at least clarified the boundaries of acceptable behaviour within the EU. It has forced institutions to define red lines, to articulate principles, to act, however slowly, when those principles are challenged.

The quieter approach does the opposite. It blurs the lines. It operates within the system rather than against it, making it harder to distinguish between genuine reform and performative compliance. It is governance by presentation, where the image of alignment can overshadow the substance of policy.

For the EU, this presents a dilemma. If it only reacts to the loudest violations, it risks missing the more subtle ones. If it relies too heavily on political alignment as a proxy for democratic health, it may reward form over function.

Ultimately, the contrast between these two approaches is not just about Hungary and Greece. It is about how power works in a union built on both rules and relationships. Noise gets attention. Silence gets latitude.

And sometimes, the greater challenge is not the leader who shouts but the one who knows exactly when not to.

Reform who and what? By Yash Irwin

There is something almost theatrical about the branding of Reform UK, a name that promises renewal, reinvention, perhaps even a clean break from the habits that have worn thin in British politics. Yet scratch beneath the surface and what emerges feels less like reform and more like a repackaging of familiar populist tropes, sharpened not by new ideas but by old instincts.

At the center of it all stands Nigel Farage, a figure who has long mastered the art of channelling frustration into political energy. His appeal has never depended on detailed policy frameworks or coherent long-term strategies. Instead, it thrives on mood: discontent, distrust, and a sense that the system is rigged against “ordinary people.” That formula hasn’t changed. What has changed, perhaps, is the context, yet Reform UK appears uninterested in adapting to it in any meaningful way.

The absence of Boris Johnson might suggest a shift away from the personality-driven chaos that defined recent Conservative politics. But that vacuum is quickly filled by figures like Suella Braverman and Nadhim Zahawi, whose political identities are hardly rooted in reformist thinking. Their presence signals continuity rather than change—a migration of tone and ideology rather than a departure from it.

Reform, in the true sense, requires more than dissatisfaction. It demands imagination, the willingness to confront complexity, and the discipline to propose solutions that extend beyond slogans. Yet what Reform UK offers instead is a familiar narrative: Britain is broken, elites are to blame, and salvation lies in reclaiming control, however vaguely defined that may be. It is a story that resonates emotionally but rarely survives scrutiny.

The reliance on cultural grievance and anti-establishment rhetoric may win attention, but it does little to address the structural challenges facing the country. Economic stagnation, public service strain, and geopolitical uncertainty are not problems that yield to rhetorical force alone. They require detailed thinking, compromise, and a recognition that governing is inherently more difficult than campaigning.

There is also a deeper contradiction at play. A party that claims to stand outside the political establishment increasingly draws from the very figures that have shaped it. This creates a tension that is hard to ignore. Can a movement genuinely claim to represent change when its leading voices are so closely tied to the systems they critique? Or does it simply recycle disillusionment into another form of political inertia?

Populism, at its core, is not inherently illegitimate. It can serve as a corrective, a way of forcing uncomfortable truths into public debate. But when it becomes an end in itself, when outrage replaces substance, it risks becoming hollow. Reform UK seems caught in that cycle, amplifying grievances without offering a credible path forward.

What is perhaps most striking is the missed opportunity. In a political landscape marked by fatigue and fragmentation, there is genuine space for a movement that offers thoughtful, pragmatic reform. One that acknowledges the frustrations of voters but refuses to reduce them to slogans. One that builds rather than merely criticizes.

Instead, Reform UK appears content to inhabit a space it already knows well. It speaks loudly, confidently, and often effectively to those who feel unheard. But volume is not vision, and confidence is not clarity. Without a willingness to move beyond its established playbook, the party risks becoming exactly what its name suggests it opposes: another static fixture in a political system crying out for genuine change.

In the end, reform is not a label, it is a process. And for all its rhetoric, Reform UK has yet to show that it is truly interested in undertaking it.