When Words Ruled and Results Vanished: The Hollow Year of 2025 by Javed Akbar

“A politician is a person who approaches every issue with an open mouth.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche

Leaders entered 2025 with thunder in their voices and renewal on their banners—at home, abroad, and in the fragile spaces in between. They promised closure, courage, and change. As the year now closes, what defines it is not achievement but absence. The unfulfilled. The abandoned. They were quietly shelved. The true story of 2025 is not what happened, but what never did.

We are trained to catalogue calamities—wars, floods, scandals, triumphs—as though history were merely a ledger of eruptions. But societies are more often undone by voids: the spaces where leadership should have stood and did not. This year, that void yawned wide.

Consider the United States. Donald Trump promised Americans they would “get tired of winning.” Instead, they have grown tired of watching promises evaporate. He pledged to end the war in Ukraine within 24 hours. The war grinds on. The only discernible “solution” appears to be one that coerces Ukraine into surrendering to Vladimir Putin’s demands. The world continues to wonder what binds Trump to Putin—kompromat*, admiration, or the gravitational pull of authoritarian power. The rumours read like pulp fiction; the geopolitical consequences are deadly serious.

Trump also boasted that he would end Israel’s devastating war. Not only did peace fail to materialise—he now claims he deserves a Nobel Prize for brokering what never occurred. On the ground, settlement expansion proceeds unchecked. Roughly 42 per cent of Palestinian land is now effectively under Israeli control, with settlers claiming new territory through force. Palestinian blood quietly flows; devastation

Grinds on, even as Trump’s much vaunted ceasefire exists only in rhetoric - announced, applauded, and abandoned while lives are lost beyond the cameras. The region edges closer to irreversible fragmentation while the language of peace dissolves into dust.

Trump insisted Iran’s nuclear capacity had been neutralised. Subsequent assessments showed the strike fell short of its stated aim. He celebrated having secured lasting peace between Thailand and Cambodia; this very week, shells began falling again. Promises, proclamations, declarations—noise without delivery.

This pattern, however, is not uniquely American. Across the democratic world, 2025 exposed a widening gap between electoral vows and governing resolve.

In Canada, the contradictions have been stark. Oil executives who once booed the prime minister now applaud him. Climate experts and business leaders alike are baffled by Mark Carney’s abrupt fossil-fuel pivot. Pushback against U.S. tariffs remains a work in progress. A transformative housing buildout is promised—but deferred into the long term, where political accountability goes to rest. Each item is explained as pragmatic, incremental, or complex. Collectively, they form a portrait of hesitation masquerading as strategy.

Back in Washington, Trump and his allies thundered about the “communist threat” posed by Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral run in New York. Then came the reversal. Mamdani was welcomed into the Oval Office, congratulated on his victory, praised for having “run an incredible race,” and assured he would “do a very good job.” When asked about previously calling Trump a fascist, Trump jokingly interjected, “That’s OK—you can just say yes… it’s easier.”

The moment was light, even affable. It was also revealing. What evaporated was not hostility but conviction. What vanished was not rhetoric but meaning. In the theatre of politics, yesterday’s existential threats become today’s photo opportunities. Principles are not defeated; they are simply set aside when inconvenient.

To be fair, this late pivot suggested something else too: that 2025 may yet close on a gentler note than it began. Civility flickered. Dialogue reappeared. But even this modest hope underscores the deeper indictment. We are now relieved not by progress, but by tone. We celebrate gestures because outcomes remain elusive.

And so, as we look back on 2025, we must widen our lens beyond the crises that did occur. The harsher judgment lies in what did not: wars not ended, reforms not enacted, climate promises not honoured, justice not upheld. History is not shaped only by explosions and elections, but by the choices leaders evade—and the futures they quietly forfeit.

Nietzsche warned us about open mouths. What 2025 exposed was something more corrosive: closed wills. When speech outruns substance, democracy does not collapse—it hollows out. And hollow systems, eventually, cannot bear the weight of the people they claim to serve. 

* Kompromat is a Russian term that literally means “compromising material”. It refers to information collected on a person – often politicians, public officials – that can be used to manipulate, control, or discredit them. Typically used to gain leverage over someone, force them to act in a certain way, or damage their reputation if they resist.

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Javed Akbar is a freelance writer with published works in the Toronto Star and across diverse digital platforms.

Mirror annexed by Robert Perez

Denmark should announce, with a straight face and a politely worded press release, that it intends to annex Alaska and New York State. Not because it wants them, not because it could ever enforce such a thing, but because sometimes the only way to respond to absurdity is to hold up a mirror so clean and bright that the reflection becomes impossible to ignore.

This would not be an act of aggression. It would be performance diplomacy. A carefully staged exercise in irony, designed to expose how casually the language of ownership, conquest, and entitlement is tossed around when powerful countries speak about smaller ones. If territory can be discussed like a real estate listing, then let’s lean all the way in and see how it feels when the logic is reversed.

Denmark could explain that Alaska has historical Nordic connections, that the climate is familiar, and that Copenhagen feels a deep cultural affinity with snow, fish, and long winter nights. It could note, with bureaucratic seriousness, that New York is an important financial hub and that Danish administrative efficiency would surely improve subway punctuality and urban cycling lanes. None of this would be more ridiculous than many real arguments that have been made about borders throughout history.

To really sell the point, Denmark should send a small convoy to Alaska. Nothing dramatic. A few hybrid vehicles, some officials in sensible coats, and perhaps a flag folded neatly in a drawer, just in case. They would arrive, hold a press conference, and calmly declare Denmark’s interest in “exploring options” regarding sovereignty. Smiles would be polite. The tone would be civil. The message would be unmistakable.

At the same time, a Danish minister should fly to New York. No grand speech at the United Nations, just a walk through Manhattan, meetings with local leaders, and a statement expressing Denmark’s belief that New Yorkers would benefit greatly from Scandinavian governance models. Universal healthcare would be mentioned. Paid parental leave would come up. The reaction would be swift and furious.

Outrage would erupt. Commentators would call it insane, offensive, and dangerous. Politicians would declare that borders are sacred and that sovereignty is not a joke. The idea that a foreign country could even joke about claiming American territory would be treated as an unthinkable provocation. And that, precisely, would be the point.

Because when the same logic flows in the opposite direction, it is often framed as bold thinking, tough negotiation, or strategic leverage. What is revealed by this hypothetical Danish stunt is not hypocrisy as a moral failure, but as a habit of power. When you are strong, absurd ideas are floated as tests. When you are weaker, they are experienced as threats.

This is why the convoy matters. This is why the minister matters. Not because Denmark would expect compliance, but because it would force a confrontation with language itself. Words like annex, claim, acquire, and own sound different depending on who says them. The exercise would strip those words of their camouflage and show them for what they are.

Such a gesture would not weaken international norms; it would underline them. By provoking discomfort rather than compliance, Denmark would remind audiences that power without restraint sounds ridiculous, even menacing. It would encourage journalists, voters, and leaders to question why some fantasies are laughed off while others are normalized. In that pause of reflection, diplomacy might regain a sense of humility, and public debate a sharper moral spine, for once, without shouting or flag waving theatrics.

Of course, critics would argue that this kind of satire risks inflaming tensions or trivializing serious geopolitical issues. But satire has always been a tool for revealing truths that polite discourse prefers to avoid. It is not meant to provide solutions. It is meant to sharpen discomfort until clarity appears.

Donald Trump, famously sensitive to perceived slights and challenges, would almost certainly react strongly. That reaction would be instructive. It would show how deeply personal and emotional the idea of territory becomes when applied inward rather than outward. The laughter would stop. The thought experiment would suddenly feel rude.

And perhaps, after the headlines fade, something useful would remain. A renewed awareness that countries are not objects to be traded, teased, or tested. That sovereignty is not a punchline when it belongs to someone else. Denmark would quietly withdraw its “claim,” having never intended to keep it.

The point would have been made. Sometimes, to defend seriousness, you must use absurdity with precision.

A not-so-random recognition by John Kato

Israel’s decision to recognize Somaliland as an independent state is less about Africa and more about Israel’s place in an increasingly fractured global order. It is a move that looks small on the map but loud in symbolism, a diplomatic act designed to send signals far beyond the Horn of Africa. Official explanations may gesture toward self-determination or pragmatic cooperation, but the real motives sit deeper, in geopolitics, insecurity, and a growing willingness to challenge long-standing international taboos.

At first glance Somaliland seems an unlikely focus. It is a relatively stable, self-governing region that has operated separately from Somalia since 1991, yet it has never received formal international recognition. For decades, the global consensus has been clear: Somalia’s territorial integrity must be preserved, even if the reality on the ground is messy. By breaking from that consensus, Israel is not merely recognizing Somaliland; it is questioning who gets to define legitimacy in a world where rules feel increasingly selective.

One motive is strategic geography. Somaliland sits along the Gulf of Aden, one of the world’s most critical maritime corridors. For Israel, which is deeply sensitive to threats along shipping lanes connecting Asia, Europe, and the Middle East, cultivating a friendly political entity in this region offers obvious advantages. Access, intelligence cooperation, and influence near the Red Sea all carry weight, especially as regional rivalries intensify and non-state threats proliferate.

Another layer is Israel’s ongoing diplomatic isolation in parts of the Global South. Many African and Middle Eastern countries have hardened their positions against Israel, particularly in light of recent conflicts. Recognizing Somaliland can be read as an attempt to create a new ally where none officially existed before, a calculated bet that a grateful, unrecognized state will offer unwavering support in international forums. It is diplomacy by asymmetry,  Israel offers recognition, Somaliland offers loyalty.

There is also a mirror effect at play. Israel itself is deeply entangled in debates over borders, recognition, and unilateral actions. By recognizing Somaliland, Israel implicitly normalizes the idea that de facto realities can outweigh inherited borders drawn by history or colonial compromise. This is not accidental. It reinforces an argument Israel has long made about its own contested territories: that permanence is created by control, governance, and time, not by international discomfort.

Yet this move is also performative. Israel is showing that it will no longer wait patiently for approval from multilateral institutions that it increasingly views as hostile or hypocritical. Recognition of Somaliland becomes a statement of defiance, a way of saying that international norms are negotiable, especially when they appear inconsistently applied. In this sense, the decision is less about Somaliland’s readiness for statehood and more about Israel’s frustration with the global system.

The backlash was predictable. African states fear the precedent such recognition sets, particularly on a continent where borders, however artificial, are treated as sacred to avoid endless fragmentation. Middle Eastern nations see another example of Israel acting unilaterally, reinforcing perceptions of exceptionalism. The European Union’s response, emphasizing Somalia’s territorial integrity, reflects anxiety about a rules-based order already under strain.

What Israel may be underestimating is the cost of symbolic victories. While the recognition may gain Israel a foothold in Somaliland, it risks deepening mistrust elsewhere. Countries that already suspect Israel of selectively invoking international law will see this as confirmation. It also complicates Israel’s relationships with partners who value stability over experimentation in fragile regions.

Ultimately, Israel’s recognition of Somaliland is a message wrapped in a map. It says that Israel is willing to redraw diplomatic lines when it suits its interests, even if it stands alone. It signals impatience with consensus and confidence in power politics. Whether this boldness translates into long-term gain or strategic overreach remains to be seen. For now, the move tells us less about Somaliland’s future and more about Israel’s evolving worldview: a state increasingly comfortable acting first, explaining later, and daring the world to catch up.

In that sense, the recognition is also a test balloon. Israel is watching who protests loudly, who stays silent, and who might quietly follow. It is measuring the elasticity of international outrage and the durability of old principles in a time of selective enforcement. Somaliland becomes the stage, but the audience is global. The real question is not whether Somaliland deserves recognition, but whether this act accelerates a world where recognition itself becomes just another tool of leverage, stripped of moral language and driven almost entirely by interest. That shift should worry everyone watching closely.

When gold starts screaming by Zakir Hall

Gold has hit a record high again, and like clockwork the old saying comes crawling out of the collective memory: when gold rises sharply, something ugly is brewing. Wars, collapses, panic, the slow rot of trust in systems we once believed were permanent. Gold does not rise because it suddenly became more useful. It rises because fear has found a price tag.

Markets love to dress these moments up as “uncertainty.” That word is far too polite. What gold is really reacting to is dread. Not the dramatic kind that comes with sirens and headlines, but the quiet, gnawing sense that the foundations are cracking. When people stop trusting paper promises, algorithms, and reassurances from smiling officials, they reach backward for something ancient, inert, and stubbornly real.

Gold is a vote of no confidence. It is capital opting out. It says, I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t believe inflation is temporary. I don’t believe debts will be honored without dilution. I don’t believe geopolitics will remain “contained.” When gold surges, it is not optimism at work. It is retreat.

We are told that this time is different. We are always told that. Wars are regional, markets are resilient, institutions are strong, and central banks have the tools. Yet the price of gold suggests that fewer people are buying that story. The metal is not impressed by press conferences or carefully calibrated language. It responds to pressure, not persuasion.

Look around and it is not hard to see why gold is screaming. Conflicts are no longer distant or predictable. They sprawl, mutate, and threaten supply chains, currencies, and energy flows. Financial systems are bloated with debt that can only be serviced if nothing goes wrong, ever. Governments promise stability while quietly preparing citizens for sacrifice. Trust, once lost, does not come back easily.

Gold thrives in moments when the future feels smaller. When people sense that tomorrow will offer fewer options than today, they hoard what cannot be printed. Gold does not grow economies, but it preserves memory. It remembers every collapse, every currency funeral, every empire that thought it had beaten gravity. That memory is what investors are buying.

There is also something deeply symbolic about gold’s rise in an age obsessed with speed and abstraction. We live in a world of digital wealth, instant transfers, and numbers floating on screens. Gold is heavy. It is slow. It does not care about narratives. Its resurgence feels like a rebuke to the fantasy that complexity alone can save us from consequence.

Critics argue that gold is a barbarous relic that modern economies have evolved beyond such primitive anchors. Perhaps. But evolution does not mean immunity. The more elaborate a system becomes, the more fragile it can be when trust evaporates. Gold benefits from this fragility. It sits quietly while confidence burns itself out.

This is not to say that every rise in gold predicts apocalypse. Fear can overshoot, just like greed. But sustained record highs are rarely meaningless. They reflect a broad, persistent unease that cannot be soothed by slogans or stimulus. Gold is not reacting to one event. It is reacting to accumulation: of risks, of debts, of unresolved conflicts, of promises stretched thin.

What makes this moment unsettling is how familiar it feels. History does not repeat perfectly, but it rhymes loudly. Periods of soaring gold prices often coincide with transitions, when old orders weaken and new ones have not yet stabilized. Those transitions are rarely gentle. They are marked by friction, miscalculation, and sudden shocks.

Gold is not telling us exactly what will break, or when. It is telling us that many people believe something will. That belief alone matters. Markets are social creatures, driven as much by psychology as by math. When enough participants start acting defensively, the system changes shape.

In the end, gold’s record high is less about metal and more about mood. It is a mirror held up to a world that feels overleveraged, overconfident, and underprepared. You do not buy gold because you expect prosperity. You buy it because you fear survival may soon matter more.

When gold starts screaming, it is worth listening. Not because it predicts doom with certainty, but because it reveals a truth we prefer to ignore, confidence is thinning and the horizon looks darker than we are willing to admit. Ignoring that signal may be comfortable for now, but history suggests comfort is often the most dangerous luxury societies indulge before reality intervenes.

fARTissimo #019 #cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

fARTissimo is what people do not see when they see a piece of expression
but what they project in what they think they see.

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Debt before ...what? by Marja Heikkinen

The European Union’s latest decision to pile another one hundred and six billion dollars of borrowed money onto Ukraine is not just a financial manoeuvre. It is a political statement, an economic gamble and a moral wager taken on behalf of millions of European citizens who were never meaningfully asked for their consent. This loan, sourced from private banks and layered on top of already staggering commitments, exposes a troubling truth, Europe is rapidly normalizing debt driven geopolitics while quietly hollowing out its own social foundations.

For years, EU leaders have spoken of solidarity, resilience, and shared sacrifice. Yet the sacrifices are becoming increasingly one sided. Health systems stretched beyond capacity, underfunded schools, aging infrastructure, and pensions constantly “reformed” downward are not abstract concerns. They are daily realities for citizens across the bloc. When governments claim there is no money for nurses, teachers, or dignified retirement, and then effortlessly unlock hundreds of billions for war related financing, something fundamental has gone wrong.

Borrowing itself is not inherently reckless. States borrow to invest, to stabilize, to protect their people during crises. But this borrowing spree is not primarily about protecting Europeans. It is about projecting power, signalling resolve, and maintaining geopolitical credibility at any cost. The cost, however, is not theoretical. It is paid through higher interest burdens, future austerity, inflationary pressures, and reduced fiscal space for decades to come.

What makes this moment particularly alarming is the growing role of private banks. By relying on them, the EU locks itself into market logic that prioritizes returns over social outcomes. Interest payments will not disappear; they will be serviced by taxpayers. When the next budget squeeze arrives, as it inevitably will, it will not be defence spending that is trimmed. It will be social programs, public investment, and support for the most vulnerable.

Member states are already feeling the strain. National governments are told to increase defence budgets, modernize armies, and stockpile weapons, often under tight fiscal rules that leave little room for anything else. Hospitals are merged or closed. Classrooms grow more crowded. Retirement ages creep upward while benefits stagnate. Economic growth remains fragile, yet leaders insist that this path is unavoidable, even virtuous.

There is also a deeper democratic deficit at play. Decisions of this magnitude are framed as technical necessities rather than political choices. Debate is discouraged, dissent labelled irresponsible or disloyal. Citizens are expected to accept that war financing is urgent and unquestionable, while social spending must always justify itself, line by line. This inversion of priorities reveals how far policymaking has drifted from everyday lived experience.

Support for Ukraine does not require blank checks or permanent militarization. It certainly does not require sacrificing the social contract that made Europe relatively stable and prosperous in the first place. True solidarity should include diplomatic creativity, accountability, and limits. Instead, we are witnessing an escalation of financial commitments that seem designed to continue indefinitely, regardless of outcomes.

History offers sobering lessons. Societies that overinvest in conflict while neglecting internal cohesion eventually pay a heavy price. Debt accumulates silently, then suddenly. Trust erodes. Extremism finds fertile ground among citizens who feel abandoned. When pensions fail, hospitals crumble, and young people see no future, no amount of military hardware can restore legitimacy.

Europe faces real security challenges, but security is not only measured in tanks and missiles. It is measured in healthy populations, educated citizens, functioning economies, and confidence in democratic institutions. By prioritizing borrowed billions for war over sustainable investment at home, EU leaders risk undermining the very resilience they claim to defend.

This loan is not just about Ukraine. It is about what kind of Europe is being built in the process. A Europe of permanent debt, permanent emergency, and permanent sacrifice for the many, or a Europe that remembers its obligations to its own people. The answer is being written now, not in speeches, but in balance sheets, budget cuts, and the quiet normalization of social decline. Citizens deserve honesty. They deserve leaders who admit that every euro borrowed for conflict is a euro not spent elsewhere. They deserve open debate about alternatives, timelines, and limits. Without that honesty, the EU risks trading its social foundations for a mirage of strength. Power built on debt and deprivation is not strength at all. It is fragility postponed, a bill deferred to future generations who will wonder why their welfare was negotiable, but war spending was sacred. And they will remember who signed the papers today.

Orders are not innocence by Virginia Robertson

ICE’s barbaric war against humanity did not appear out of thin air. It was cultivated, normalized, funded, and excused, first by political leadership and then by the quiet consent of millions who chose comfort over conscience. Donald Trump bears undeniable responsibility for unleashing and celebrating the machinery of cruelty that ICE became under his administration. He did not invent xenophobia, but he weaponized it, wrapped it in flags and slogans, and dared the nation to look away.

Yet stopping the analysis at Trump is a moral failure in itself. History does not reserve its harshest judgment only for demagogues, but for the ordinary people who made their crimes possible. ICE agents who cage children, deport parents to death, and terrorize communities cannot hide behind uniforms and memos. Nor can administrators, lawyers, data analysts, or contractors pretend they were merely cogs in a neutral system.

The excuse of following orders died in the ashes of the twentieth century, and the world agreed it would never be revived. Nuremberg was not about the past alone; it was a warning label for the future. When we say we were just doing our job, we are really saying we outsourced our humanity. That logic has always been the oxygen of atrocity.

Every form stamped, every bus driven, every database updated was a choice made by a person with agency. Systems do not brutalize people; people do, especially when they are paid, praised, and promoted for it. This is uncomfortable because it implicates neighbors, coworkers, and relatives, not just villains on television. It asks us to admit that evil often wears a badge, a spreadsheet, or a polite smile.

Responsibility also belongs to voters who rewarded cruelty with applause and called it strength. It belongs to media figures who laundered lies into talking points and to citizens who shrugged and changed the channel. Silence is not neutrality when the policy is suffering. Comfort is not innocence when others pay the price in chains and exile.

The moral accounting will not be settled by history books alone. It will be settled in personal reckonings, careers remembered with shame or pride, and nights haunted by what was done. Trump may have lit the match, but the fire needed many hands to keep feeding it. Authoritarianism is never a solo act; it is a choir of enablers.

The lesson is brutally simple and profoundly demanding. If a policy requires you to abandon empathy to perform it, the policy is the crime. No badge, paycheck, or president can absolve that. We are each responsible for the lines we refuse to cross, and history will notice when we step over them anyway.

Justice is not only about trials and verdicts; it is about moral clarity in the present tense. It is about refusing to participate, refusing to comply, and refusing to be impressed by power that feeds on fear. Those who truly want law and order should start with the law written on the conscience. Anything less is obedience masquerading as virtue.

ICE’s war did not just target migrants; it tested the moral spine of a nation. Too many failed that test, and failure does not disappear when administrations change. Accountability is not revenge; it is the minimum requirement for a society that claims to value human dignity. Without it, the same excuses will be recycled, the same orders issued, and the same horrors politely processed.

The world has already agreed on the principle. Crimes against humanity do not dissolve in bureaucracy, and guilt does not vanish in a chain of command. The only question left is who is willing to live as if that agreement still matters.

History is watching less like a judge with a gavel and more like a mirror that never blinks. What it reflects back will not be softened by excuses, uniforms, or faded campaign slogans. If we want to say never again and mean it, responsibility has to be personal, immediate, and unavoidable. Anything else is just another order waiting to be followed.

The future will judge not only the architects of cruelty but the clerks, officers, voters, and spectators who made it routine. There is still time to choose differently, but time does not excuse what has already been done. That reckoning will arrive quietly, personally, and without mercy, asking each of us who we were when it mattered most. And the answer will belong to no leader alone, but to every individual involved or silent. No exceptions remain.

#eBook: Arsène Lupin: The Mysterious Traveller by Maurice Leblanc

 

Arsène Lupin 4th adventure.
Arsène Lupin is a fictional gentleman thief and master of disguise created in 1905 by French writer Maurice Leblanc. The character was first introduced in a series of short stories serialized in the magazine Je sais tout. The first story, "The Arrest of Arsène Lupin", was published on 15 July 1905.

Arsène Lupin:
The Mysterious Traveller

Maurice Marie Émile Leblanc (11 December 1864 – 6 November 1941) was a French novelist and writer of short stories, known primarily as the creator of the fictional gentleman thief and detective Arsène Lupin, often described as a French counterpart to Arthur Conan Doyle's creation Sherlock Holmes.

Translated from the French By George Morehead

In Public Domain
First published 1905
Ovi eBook Publishing 2024

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Ephemera #144 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

Ephemera: a word with ancient Greek roots meaning:
‘something that is produced or created that
is never meant to last or be remembered’.

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Europe has become a continent of folly, corruption and dangerous delusions by Christos Mouzeviris

In the recent months we have seen worrying and sometimes outrageous developments taking place in Europe, regarding the war in Ukraine.

Europe refuses to accept that this war is unwinnable and insists on keep throwing billions into it, while the US under President Trump is showing signs of caution and efforts to end this conflict, perhaps to the detriment of Ukraine. European politicians deny as usual to listen to their citizens, which are now increasingly sceptical of this war's direction and outcome, plus fearful of further escalation to an generalized warfare between Europe (with or without the US) and Russia.

As always, European leaders, media and the EU leadership under Von der Leyen won't listen to anything else, but the continuation of the support and thus, the perpetuation of this conflict. One after the other, our leaders are using Russia as a boogeyman to explain to us the need of spending billions of our money for the continuation of this conflict. The NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, warned us that " Russia could attack Nato within five years", while British Chief of the Defence Staff Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard Knighton, claimed that "British families must be prepared to send their sons and daughters to war against Russia".

Yet, they were only two of Europeans that made such statements, others from across our continent also joined in to this farsical theatre, while USA is seemingly the only Western country willing to still negotiate with the Russians. However, it is dawning on Europe now, that "Europe will need to engage with Putin if US peace talks fail", as French President Emmanuel Macron admitted last week , during a press conference of a European Union leaders' summit, in Brussels, Belgium. Well, it better not be him again leading the negotiations, because it was Mr Macron who called Vladimir Putin three days before the Russian invasion which ended up in disaster, and every attempt of these two solving their differences ever since, failed to produced any results.

In contrast, Russia's President Vladimir Putin in a recent statement from Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan, branded fears that Moscow is planning to invade another European nation as ‘ridiculous’ and ‘complete nonsense’. To be honest, one minute Europeans mock Russia for failing to take Ukraine after three years of war, but now they are scaremongering us that they will attack the whole of Europe (and thus NATO), which will result to an all out war between Europe and Russia. Such an outcome and without the full commitment of USA, since under Trump it is doubtful if America will participate actively in this war, would be disastrous for our continent. The Americans most likely will wait it out and resolve on selling weaponry to an ever indebted Europe, and only when we are on our knees they will decide to step in, to make sure we are once more for ever relying on them for funds, weapons and "protection".

In their desperation to find resources and funds to continuing their support for Ukraine, EU leaders were engaging in weeks long debates and diplomatic activity, to use billions of euros in frozen Russian assets to help cover Ukraine’s war needs over the next two years. But Belgium pushed back and eventually managed to block such plan, arguing that the plan carries legal and financial risks that it fears it could end up shouldering alone. And it has every right to do so, as if things turn sour, Belgium would indeed be the country that payed the highest price.

Belgium worries that Euroclear – the Brussels-based financial clearing house that holds the bulk of the frozen Russian assets – could end up entangled in damaging litigation if Russia challenges the EU decision. Besides, it is not as if the EU would just grab and take Russian money from Belgium, but they would rather get a loan on these assets, to be used for supporting Ukraine. But who would end up paying, if Russia succeeded in challenging successfully such move? We, the European citizens would of course. The worse affected country would be Belgium, however the bill would be footed by tax payers money once again, to limit the total financial catastrophe of Belgium, a key EU member state.

Naturally, as we are well used in Europe, double standards came into play once again. Nobody called for sanctions against Belgium, for the country to "be kicked out of the EU", or for funds to be withheld from the Belgians, like they did with Hungary and Slovakia on numerous occasions; simply because they were safeguarding their own national interests. The two Visegrad nations, have jointly blocked the adoption of the European Union’s 18th sanctions package, aimed at further punishing Russia. The decision was a direct response to Brussels’ proposal to ban the import of cheap Russian oil and gas, a move that would severely harm the two nations' energy security and potentially double or triple utility costs for households.

Where is the difference to what these two were doing back then, from what is Belgium doing now? You cannot cut off ties with Russian energy products just like that, this takes years in preparation and a more step-by-step approach, however the EU wants its member states to achieve this in a few years, no matter how much this actually hurts Europe's own interests. Just as you cannot take a risk such a Belgium was asked to take, which could severly affect your economy.

Instead, what we got now is an agreement on a 90 billion loan to Ukraine, which will be placed on who? You've guessed it, each and one of us will have to to pay it off eventually. And do they ask us if we consent to this? Our economies are already suffering, but hey, according to our media the Russians are suffering more, so we got to beat them to it and keep going. They want to bring Ukraine in EU as soon as possible, even though we do not even know its final borders at this stage, and they blast Hungary for refusing and it is quite frankly, the most reasonable nation in EU right now. Ukraine was not ready to join the EU before the war, it is surely less ready to do so now.

Some countries however, like the United Kingdom found a new way to raise funds for this war; by forcing ex-Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich to release £2.5 billion for Ukraine. Britain aparently is giving the Russian "oligarch" a final chance to give Ukraine the funds, from the sale of top English soccer team Chelsea or face potential legal action. Abramovich has previously sought more flexibility and said he wants the money to go to all victims. He has 90 days to act under the terms of the government's new license.

In other words, either is Abramovich in favor of the invasion conducted by his own country against Ukraine or not, he will have to pay for it just because... he is Russian and rich! That level of desperation by the EU and European governments, indicate that it is Europe that is in fact in trouble and not America or Russia. The sense of emergency and illogical approaches, often illegal, always indicate who is acting out of need or fear.

And all that, while the US is brewing yet another conflict in Latin America, as if the American and European tax payers having to pay for one war is not bad enough; never mind the ever growing threat of an all-out war in our world, which comes closer to reality the more the Ukraine conflict lingers on.

Apparently the US has seized recently a second sanctioned vessel in international waters off the coast of Venezuela. The move comes after US President Donald Trump ordered a "blockade" of sanctioned oil tankers entering and leaving the country. Venezuela has previously accused Washington of seeking to steal its oil resources. In recent weeks, the US has been building up its military presence in the Caribbean Sea and has carried out deadly strikes on alleged Venezuelan drug-smuggling boats, killing around 100 people. The US has provided no public evidence that these vessels were carrying drugs, and the military has come under increasing scrutiny from Congress over the strikes.

Why are we getting a deja-vu feeling here? America lying or not being clear of his actions and military operations. Are they preparing another war or invasion? Most likely. US President Donald Trump stated recently that Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro's days "are numbered". Now imagine if Russia every made such statements. Imagine if any other nation across the globe, so blatantly made threats to overthrow another nation's leader, without the full support of that country's people. However Europe seems unbothered by such actions and are solely focusing on punishing Russia.

If we ever going to be taken seriously on global affairs, we cannot seem to be a US puppet. Not that we are not by this stage, but if we always turn a blind eye on one nation's actions, while we are outraged so much by another's that we are willing to shoot our own foot, in order to massage our self perceived higher sense of morality, can this really do us any favors in the long term? Our leaders seem to huff and puff about Russia's actions, but when America is being the bully they seem unbothered. Despite that in the recent years the American leadership under Trump, is constantly undermining and redefining the Trans-Atlantic relations and traditional alliance.

Not that we are not used to European and Western hypocricy; in a recent scandal in Italy, wealthy foreigners paid £80k to shoot civilians in besieged Sarajevo, Italian prosecutors claim. They are examining allegations that during the 1990s, far-right extremists and gun enthusiasts from Italy, the United States, Russia and other countries travelled to Bosnia and paid Serbian forces to let them fire at city residents as a form of “war tourism”.

Additionally,a British journalist has alleged that while travelling through conflict zones over the past two decades, he was offered the opportunity to shoot civilians, describing the practice as neither “dark tourism” nor adventurism, but “murder”. Andrew Drury, has spent years travelling through some of the world’s most dangerous regions, including Somalia, Afghanistan, Chechnya and Iraq.

So while the West is scolding others on human rights, while they punished Serbia for the massacres in Bosnia, as they tarnished the country's reputation for ever, wealthy Westerners participated in such attrocities and they will never be brought to justice for hunting humans like animals. Surely this was known in some political or journalistic circles in Europe and America long ago, but it was easier to use the human suffering that people known to them inflicted onto the people of these regions to promote their desirable agenda. Plus, surely this is still happening today in Ukraine and Palestine too- you do the maths. I am sure that many of the ills that are inflicted upon regions of this world throughout our modern history, are initiated, perpetuated, exploited by the wealthy of this planet, to the detriment of humanity's dignity and unity.

The hypocrisy, corruption and utter lunacy that prevails in our world is sickening and desperate at this stage. However this is only an indicator of a "dying beast", which clings to life by roaring the loudest at its end of days. This beast is the mighty Western hegemony that ruled this world for centuries. America may come out of this political, economic, moral and societal crisis we are going through, in a better state than Europe, as they managed to dominate our continent since WW2. But for Europe I am afraid, this could be a definitive moment and we are edging towards the point of no return.

Our leaders are blinded by power mongering, refusing to accept reality or listen to the needs of their citizens, desperate to keep face as they frolic their inflatable egos and sense of a higher morality and they will destroy Europe in the end. The question is now what will we, the citizens of Europe do to prevent this?

First Published in The Eblana European Democratic Movement

A small door back to Europe by Jemma Norman

When the Government announced that Britain will rejoin the EU’s Erasmus youth exchange programme in 2027, it did not arrive with fireworks or grand speeches. It slipped into the news cycle almost quietly, like an afterthought. And yet, with one administrative decision, Britain edged closer to Europe again; not economically, not constitutionally, but emotionally. For a country still haunted by the aftershocks of Brexit, that matters more than ministers may care to admit.

Erasmus was never just a scheme about studying abroad. It was a rite of passage. It was cheap flights, shared kitchens, broken languages, lifelong friendships, and the slow realisation that borders are thinner than politics suggests. For decades, British students returned from Barcelona, Kraków, and Bologna with accents half-changed and assumptions permanently shaken. Erasmus did not make people less British; it made them more confident in being so within a wider world.

Brexit tore that experience away with brutal efficiency. The replacement, the Turing Scheme, was framed as global and ambitious, but it missed the point. It treated exchange as a transaction rather than a relationship. Erasmus was reciprocal by design. It said: you come here, we go there, and in the process we learn to live with each other. Its absence was symbolic of a Britain choosing distance over participation, observation over belonging.

Rejoining Erasmus does not undo Brexit. It does not reopen the single market or soften customs checks. But symbols shape reality, especially in politics. This move quietly acknowledges that total separation was never sustainable, at least not in the realm of culture and youth. It suggests a recognition that isolation carries costs that cannot be measured in trade figures alone. The price was paid by young people who had no vote in 2016, yet bore the consequences.

What makes this decision striking is how little resistance it seems to have met. A few years ago, re-entering any EU programme would have sparked outrage, headlines about betrayal, and warnings of a slippery slope. Now, the mood has shifted. Fatigue has set in. The culture war energy has drained away, replaced by something more pragmatic, even weary. Britain is not “rejoining Europe,” but it is quietly reconnecting where it hurts least politically and helps most socially.

There is also something telling about the timing. 2027 is far enough away to feel safe, distant from the next election cycle, insulated from immediate backlash. It allows ministers to gesture towards openness without confronting the deeper contradictions of Brexit. Yet students do not think in election cycles. For them, Erasmus in 2027 means horizons reopening, choices expanding, and futures feeling less boxed in by a referendum they inherited.

Critics will argue this is cosmetic, a token gesture dressed up as progress. They are not entirely wrong. Erasmus alone will not fix Britain’s strained relationship with Europe, nor will it solve the deeper issues of mobility, labour shortages, or academic collaboration. But dismissing it entirely misses the psychological dimension. Politics is not only about structures; it is about stories. Erasmus tells a different story from the one Britain has been telling itself since 2016.

It says that cooperation is not weakness. That shared systems do not erase sovereignty. That young people benefit from openness in ways that spreadsheets cannot capture. It hints, gently, that Britain’s future does not have to be defined by permanent divergence. That bridges, once burned, can sometimes be rebuilt plank by plank.

For a generation raised on closed doors and narrowed expectations, this matters. Erasmus will not make Britain European again. But it reminds Britain that it never truly stopped being European in the first place. And sometimes, coming close again is how bigger journeys begin.