Reflection

On Freedom: A Vision for Our Times

Timothy Snyder.

In a world grappling with political upheaval and the erosion of democratic norms, Yale historian Timothy Snyder offers a compelling redefinition of freedom. In his 2023 talk in Kyiv, titled Freedom as a Value and a Task, Snyder challenges conventional notions of liberty and presents a framework that resonates deeply with contemporary struggles for democracy.

From 'Freedom From' to 'Freedom To'

Snyder critiques the prevalent Western concept of negative freedom—defined as the absence of constraints—and advocates for a shift towards positive freedom, which emphasizes the capacity to act and make meaningful choices. He argues that true freedom is not merely about being left alone but about having the agency to shape one's life and society. This perspective is particularly poignant in the context of Ukraine's resistance against authoritarian aggression, where the fight is not just for survival but for the right to determine one's future.

The Five Pillars of Freedom

In his book On Freedom, Snyder outlines five essential dimensions of freedom:

  1. Sovereignty: The ability of individuals and nations to self-govern without external domination.

  2. Unpredictability: The openness to new experiences and the capacity for innovation and change.

  3. Mobility: The freedom to move and the access to opportunities beyond one's immediate environment.

  4. Factuality: A commitment to truth and the rejection of misinformation, which is vital for informed decision-making.

  5. Solidarity: The recognition that individual freedom is interconnected with the freedom of others, fostering a sense of collective responsibility.

These pillars underscore that freedom is not an isolated endeavor but a communal one, requiring mutual support and shared values.

Freedom in Practice: Lessons from Ukraine

Snyder's engagement with Ukraine offers a real-world illustration of his theories. He observes that Ukrainians' pursuit of freedom is not abstract but grounded in daily acts of resilience and solidarity. Their struggle exemplifies how freedom involves active participation in democratic processes and the defense of human rights against oppressive forces.

Reclaiming Freedom in the Modern World

Snyder warns that the misinterpretation of freedom as mere individualism can lead to societal fragmentation and vulnerability to authoritarianism. He calls for a reinvigoration of democratic institutions and a recommitment to the collective aspects of freedom, such as education, healthcare, and civic engagement. By doing so, societies can build resilience against the forces that threaten liberty.

Further Reading

  • Timothy Snyder: Freedom as a Value and a Task – Watch the full talk delivered in Kyiv: YouTube link

  • Timothy Snyder, On Freedom

  • Timothy Snyder, On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century

  • Timothy Snyder, The Road to Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America

  • Timothy Snyder, Bloodlands: Europe Between Hitler and Stalin

Rethinking Migration and Citizenship in the 21st Century

An impression of the statue of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing.

In a time when migration policy dominates political debates across Europe, philosopher and political theorist Lea Ypi stands out as a compelling voice calling for a radical rethinking of what citizenship means—and for whom it serves. In her public lecture “Migration and Citizenship in the Twenty-First Century,” delivered in May 2025 at the historic Judenplatz in Vienna, Ypi challenged not just governments and institutions, but all of Europe, to examine its conscience.

Who is Lea Ypi?

Lea Ypi is an Albanian-British political theorist and professor at the London School of Economics. Born in Tirana, Albania in 1979, she came of age during the collapse of the communist regime and the tumultuous transition to liberal democracy. These formative experiences shaped her personal and philosophical outlook, which she explores in her internationally acclaimed memoir Free: Coming of Age at the End of History, a finalist for the 2021 Baillie Gifford Prize and winner of the Royal Society of Literature’s Ondaatje Prize.

Ypi’s academic work covers political theory, Enlightenment thought, Kant, Marxism, and contemporary questions of justice, freedom, and migration. Her voice is not only academic but deeply personal. When she speaks of borders, identity, and the struggle for belonging, it is from both a theoretical vantage point and lived experience.

A Statue, a Story, a Statement

Ypi opened her speech not with statistics or policy recommendations, but with a symbol: a statue of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, the Enlightenment thinker, whose figure stands in Judenplatz with an open hand and a gentle gaze. Lessing’s Nathan the Wise, a plea for interreligious understanding set during the Crusades, provides the moral and philosophical lens through which Ypi reflects on the migration crisis.

In the play, Nathan—himself a displaced Jew living under Muslim rule—resists all narrow labels and asks simply: “Isn’t it enough to be human?” For Ypi, this is the heart of the matter: the tendency to divide migrants into categories like "deserving" and "undeserving," "legal" and "illegal," "good" and "bad"—is a betrayal not just of humanism, but of Europe’s own Enlightenment ideals.

Beyond Good Migrants

Ypi tells the story of a childhood friend’s father in 1990s Albania—“Ben the Lame,” a dockworker turned smuggler, who helped people escape to Italy after the fall of the communist regime. Once celebrated as a facilitator of freedom, he died at sea and was later mourned by families who saw him as someone who enabled survival and dignity. “He wasn’t Nathan,” Ypi reflects. “He wasn’t a good migrant. He was a bad one.”

This dichotomy—between acceptable and unacceptable migrants—is at the heart of Ypi’s critique. She challenges the notion that migration is primarily a cultural problem. Rather, it is the consequence of global injustice: wars funded by the same Western states that deny asylum, economic collapse induced by neoliberal reforms, and health inequalities exacerbated by vaccine patents.

The Myth of Free Movement

Western nations have long preached the virtues of “freedom,” including the right to move. During the Cold War, dissidents who fled East Germany or the Soviet bloc were welcomed as heroic symbols of liberty. But when similar people—fleeing post-communist instability or Western-sponsored conflicts—arrive today, they are met with fences, patrols, and suspicion.

As Ypi argues: “Just when former socialist states stopped shooting their citizens at the border, capitalist states started patrolling the seas.” The uniforms changed, the logic of exclusion remained.

Capitalism, Class, and Commodification of Citizenship

One of Ypi’s most searing observations is how citizenship has become a commodity. The very rich can buy their way into almost any country through investor visas and golden passports. At the same time, the poor—those without the right education, income, or "cultural fit"—face impossible hurdles.

This two-tiered system, she argues, turns democracy into oligarchy: a regime where money buys belonging. “When citizenship is bought and sold, it ceases to be a tool for emancipation and becomes one of exclusion,” she says. It is not migration that undermines democracy, but the marketization of political membership.

What’s Really at Stake

For Ypi, the real crisis is not one of borders or integration, but of democratic failure:

  • A failure of representation, where politicians respond more to donors and polls than to public interest;

  • A failure of social justice, where inequality continues to rise;

  • A failure of international solidarity, where global institutions fail the vulnerable.

Migration becomes a scapegoat for these deeper problems. “The migrant did not bring this crisis,” Ypi warns. “The migrant merely reveals it.”

A Call for Enlightenment—Not Nostalgia

In closing, Ypi returns to the Enlightenment, not as a Eurocentric relic, but as a critical, universalist project—one that urges us to think beyond borders, beyond identity, beyond obedience. “Obedience always requires ignorance,” she says. “And we are becoming used to not thinking.”

True cosmopolitanism, in Ypi’s view, isn’t about charity or humanitarianism. It’s about political transformation: building societies in which no one is forced to migrate because of war, hunger, or exclusion.

Her message is clear: Europe’s future cannot be built on walls, nor on nostalgia for greatness. It must be built on justice, equality, and critical thinking—on the courage, as Lessing once wrote, “to think for yourself.”

Further Reading:

Reimagining the Common Good: Lessons from the Convivencia and the Crisis of Liberalism

Christian and Moor playing chess, from The Book of Games of Alfonso X, c. 1285.

In Why Liberalism Failed, Patrick Deneen argues that the liberal project, grounded in radical individualism and the disembedding of human beings from tradition, has not failed because it fell short, but because it succeeded on its own terms—producing alienation, social fragmentation, and a loss of shared moral purpose. At first glance, this critique seems rooted in the tensions of the modern West. Yet we find a compelling historical counterpoint in an earlier age: the Golden Age of Córdoba and the broader phenomenon of Convivencia—the relative coexistence of Muslims, Jews, and Christians in medieval Spain. Juxtaposing these two case studies reveals that the health of a political order depends not only on individual liberty or centralized power but on a robust culture of the common good, nourished by shared tradition, moral formation, and civic integration. In looking to the past, we may find the seeds for renewal in the future.

Tradition as a Source of Cultural Flourishing

In Deneen’s telling, one of liberalism’s defining failures is its hostility to tradition. Liberalism seeks to liberate the individual from inherited norms—religion, family, custom, and place. But this liberation often results in an unmoored society, where identity becomes fragile and meaning elusive. In contrast, the cultural efflorescence of Córdoba during the 10th and 11th centuries rested on deeply rooted religious traditions. Muslim rulers, most notably Abd al-Rahman III and al-Hakam II, governed in accordance with Islamic principles while also patronizing philosophy, science, poetry, and architecture. Far from stifling creativity, tradition provided a moral and intellectual foundation that allowed diverse communities to flourish.

This medieval culture welcomed different faiths and cultures, but it still held firm to a common understanding of right and wrong. The Convivencia was not a utopia, but it did involve a negotiated space where religious differences coexisted within a shared cultural frame. Jewish and Christian thinkers such as Maimonides and Ibn Hazm could operate within this world because their traditions were not forcibly erased, but situated within a larger civic ecology. This speaks to a key insight missing in modern liberalism: a shared framework does not require uniformity. It requires mutual respect grounded in moral formation.

The Fragility of Freedom Without Virtue

Deneen emphasizes that liberalism has detached freedom from virtue. Once, liberty meant self-governance rooted in discipline, reason, and the common good. Liberalism redefined it as the right to do as one pleases, constrained only by minimal law. This “freedom from” eventually undermines social trust, as civic responsibility gives way to private consumption and rights-claims.

In Córdoba, by contrast, freedom was culturally and spiritually embedded. A Jew in 10th-century Andalusia was not “free” in the liberal sense, but was often able to flourish—economically, intellectually, and spiritually—within the protections of Islamic law. Muslim rulers saw themselves as stewards, not engineers of human nature. They recognized that freedom divorced from religious and philosophical virtue would dissolve into chaos.

What modern liberal societies often lack, and what Córdoba retained for a time, is a shared understanding that freedom is the fruit of virtue and order, not its enemy.

Community and Place in Civic Life

Liberalism tends to reduce community to a voluntary association of autonomous individuals. In practice, this means that the local, the familial, and the civic are eroded by globalized markets and centralized bureaucracies. Deneen is especially critical of how both market and state expand at the expense of local self-rule and moral formation.

In medieval Córdoba, however, identity was deeply tied to community, city, and craft. Learning was conducted in mosques and private homes. Artisans, scholars, and merchants all operated within a web of relational trust, embedded in their religious and neighborhood communities. Jews, for instance, preserved their own courts and educational institutions while contributing to the broader culture through translation, science, and philosophy. This rootedness gave meaning to life beyond the transactional.

The modern liberal order’s mobility and abstraction offer choices—but often at the expense of belonging and interdependence. The lesson from Córdoba is that diversity can thrive when situated in concrete practices of hospitality, shared learning, and civic responsibility—not when reduced to atomized tolerance.

The Common Good as a Civic Ideal

Finally, both Deneen and the legacy of Convivencia suggest that any enduring political order must be animated by a vision of the common good. For Córdoba, this meant an embrace of wisdom, virtue, and divine order across religious lines. For Deneen, recovering this ideal requires rejecting the liberal assumption that society is just a marketplace of preferences. Instead, politics must be reoriented around human flourishing in community.

This doesn’t necessitate theocracy or uniformity. But it does require a substantive notion of the good life—something liberalism often avoids in favor of neutrality. Córdoba's experience demonstrates that civic peace and cultural greatness are most possible when pluralism is guided by shared purpose, not endless individual autonomy.

Conclusion: Toward a Post-Liberal Imagination

Why Liberalism Failed warns us that the liberal order, for all its triumphs, may be hollowing out the very conditions that sustain human dignity and social coherence. The Golden Age of Córdoba offers a counter-narrative—imperfect, but instructive—where tradition, virtue, and plurality were integrated into a living civic order.

From these two visions—one a critique of modernity, the other a glimpse into a flourishing past—we can begin to imagine a new politics: one that balances freedom with virtue, honors tradition without tyranny, and pursues the common good over mere individual preference. Perhaps, in that synthesis, lies the hope for a more human future.

Further Reading:

  1. Deneen, Patrick J. Why Liberalism Failed. Yale University Press, 2018.
    – The central critique of liberalism explored in the essay.

  2. Menocal, María Rosa. The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews, and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain. Little, Brown, 2002.
    – A well-known, accessible account of Convivencia and the cultural flourishing of medieval Córdoba.

  3. Fletcher, Richard. Moorish Spain. University of California Press, 1992.
    – A balanced historical account of Muslim rule in Spain, including the complexities of religious coexistence.

  4. Constable, Olivia Remie. Medieval Iberia: Readings from Christian, Muslim, and Jewish Sources. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997.
    – A compilation of primary sources giving voice to the different religious communities in al-Andalus.

  5. MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory. University of Notre Dame Press, 1981.
    – An important influence on Deneen, arguing that modern moral discourse has become incoherent due to the loss of classical and religious frameworks.

  6. Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Harvard University Press, 2007.
    – Explores how modern societies have redefined meaning and the self in the wake of religious tradition.

Biodiversity Day 2025: Why It Matters to What We Eat, Who We Are, and Whether We Survive

We are losing the fabric of life that sustains us — and most people barely notice. Biodiversity isn’t just about saving the bees or protecting a handful of rare animals. It’s about the intricate web of life — thousands of species, from soil microbes to insects to birds — working together in delicate balance. When that balance is disturbed, ecosystems begin to break down. And when ecosystems collapse, so do the systems we rely on for food, clean water, a stable climate, and good health. Our survival doesn’t depend on a few visible species — it depends on the whole living system. Biodiversity isn’t a luxury. It is the living infrastructure that keeps everything else standing.

Today, on International Day for Biological Diversity, we ask: What does biodiversity loss look like here in the Netherlands? How does our food system contribute to — and suffer from — the crisis? And why is this not only an ecological issue, but also a cultural one?

Biodiversity and Survival: Why It Matters

Biodiversity underpins everything humans depend on: pollination, clean air, nutrient cycles, disease control, and climate regulation. Forests absorb carbon. Wetlands purify water. Soil fungi help plants access nutrients. Insects control pests. All of these services depend on complex interactions between thousands of species.

When we lose biodiversity, we don’t just lose individual species. We lose the stability and resilience of entire ecosystems. A forest with fewer insects loses birds. A sea with fewer plankton starves its fish. A field without worms loses fertility. This degradation often happens quietly — until a tipping point is reached, and the system suddenly crashes.

What’s at stake, ultimately, is not just nature. It’s food security, public health, economic stability, and our ability to survive.

Our Food System: Both Cause and Casualty

In the Netherlands, the largest single driver of biodiversity loss is agriculture — especially industrial livestock farming. With nearly 4 million cows, 12 million pigs, and over 100 million chickens, our country produces enormous volumes of manure, more than the land and water can absorb.

This leads to:

  • Nitrogen overload, damaging plant life and degrading soil

  • Water pollution, harming aquatic species and drinking water quality

  • Loss of habitat, as monocultures and fields replace diverse landscapes

  • Decline in pollinators and beneficial insects, due to pesticides and habitat loss

Yet biodiversity is also essential for agriculture. Without healthy soils, diverse microbes, natural pest control, and pollinators, farming becomes fragile and heavily dependent on synthetic inputs. The result is a dangerous feedback loop: the more industrialized our farming becomes, the more we destroy the biodiversity that makes agriculture possible.

Breaking that cycle means reducing our dependence on livestock and intensive monoculture — and rethinking what ends up on our plates.

From Culture to Cultivation: How Nature Shapes Identity

Biodiversity is not only ecological. It is cultural.

Traditional foods, stories, medicines, and practices often emerge from a specific place — and the species found there. Dutch cuisine once relied heavily on regional grains, herbs, wild plants, and foraged ingredients. Local proverbs, festivals, and rituals were linked to seasons and landscapes. Lose the meadow, and the song about it disappears. Lose the eel, and so goes the smoked delicacy passed down for generations.

As biodiversity declines, so too does this cultural richness. Our relationship with nature becomes more abstract, less rooted in place. A handful of supermarket crops replace centuries of local food knowledge. Cultural diversity shrinks alongside biological diversity.

But there’s a flip side: restoring biodiversity can help restore culture. Reviving regional crops, preserving historic landscapes, or protecting pollinators doesn’t just help ecosystems — it reconnects people with their heritage, with land, and with each other.

What Needs to Happen

The 2025 Statusrapport Nederlandse Biodiversiteit from Naturalis makes one thing clear: we have the knowledge and tools to reverse biodiversity loss — but only if we act now and decisively. Key actions include:

  1. Enforce environmental laws and targets, especially around nitrogen, land use, and water quality.

  2. Transition to nature-inclusive agriculture, including fewer livestock and more regenerative methods.

  3. Integrate biodiversity into climate, housing, and economic policy, not as a side issue but as a central pillar.

  4. Invest in science and monitoring, including DNA-based soil analysis and AI-powered species recognition.

  5. Support public participation, from citizen science to community nature restoration.

  6. Shift dietary habits, reducing meat and dairy consumption to ease pressure on ecosystems.

This is not just a technical challenge — it’s a cultural one. Change won’t come from policy alone. It requires a shift in values, in consumption, and in the stories we tell about land, food, and ourselves.

What You Can Do

  • Eat less meat. Choose more local, seasonal, plant-based foods.

  • Support farmers and cooperatives who prioritize soil health and biodiversity.

  • Join a citizen science project — or simply learn the names of the plants and insects around you.

  • Advocate for policies that link nature, farming, climate, and health.

  • Start conversations — at the kitchen table, at work, or at school — about how we can live well within the limits of nature.

Further Reading

  • Naturalis Biodiversity Center (2025), Statusrapport Nederlandse Biodiversiteit 2025. Leiden, The Netherlands. DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.15350844

The Mating Mind in a Liquid World

On Attraction, Identity, and the Dance of Display

What do peacocks and poets have in common? According to evolutionary psychologist Geoffrey Miller, quite a lot. In The Mating Mind (2000), Miller proposes that many human traits—like creativity, humor, music, and even morality—evolved not just for survival, but for sexual selection. Much like a peacock’s tail, these traits may serve as signals of fitness, or genetic quality, designed to attract mates.

But how does this theory hold up in today’s fast-moving, unstable, and hyper-connected world—what sociologist Zygmunt Bauman calls liquid modernity? In a culture where identities shift, norms are fluid, and platforms for self-display multiply by the minute, the human desire to attract and impress others takes on new forms—and new anxieties.

This essay explores how the evolutionary logic of The Mating Mind operates within the cultural conditions of liquid culture, and what it means for how we present ourselves, choose partners, and construct meaning in our lives.

The Mating Mind: Attraction Through Display

Miller’s theory builds on Darwin’s idea of sexual selection—the process by which traits evolve because they are attractive to potential mates, not necessarily because they offer a survival advantage. For example, a bird’s complex song or a dancer’s graceful moves may signal underlying fitness.

Miller suggests that many of the traits we think of as uniquely human—language, art, kindness, philosophical thinking—may have evolved as courtship displays. These traits are expensive to develop and hard to fake, making them reliable indicators of intelligence and social ability.

In this view, much of human behavior can be seen as a form of mating performance: we signal our worth through wit, taste, creativity, and cultural capital. It’s not just about reproduction—it’s about being chosen.

Liquid Modernity: The Unstable Stage

Zygmunt Bauman, writing from a sociological perspective, paints a very different picture—but one that surprisingly complements Miller’s evolutionary lens. In Liquid Modernity (2000), Bauman describes modern life as fluid, unstable, and individualistic. Traditional roles, communities, and values have broken down. In their place, we’re left with a world where people must constantly reinvent themselves—socially, emotionally, and even romantically.

Where The Mating Mind sees courtship as a natural process shaped by evolutionary forces, Liquid Modernity shows us how that process is now happening on an unstable stage. The scripts have changed. The audience is global. And the performance never really ends.

Where They Meet: Display in a Liquid World

In many ways, modern culture supercharges the dynamics Miller describes. Social media platforms are digital arenas for self-display. Profiles, selfies, tweets, bios, and likes all become part of a carefully curated mating (and social) signal. Online dating apps like Tinder and Hinge reduce attraction to images and short texts—speeding up the display-and-selection process to an evolutionary blur.

But Bauman’s insights add a crucial twist: in liquid culture, the self is no longer fixed. We are constantly urged to rebrand, update, and improve ourselves—not only for employers or friends, but for potential romantic partners. The pressure to be attractive now extends far beyond physical looks: we must be interesting, woke, witty, emotionally intelligent, and Instagrammable.

Miller's evolutionary signals have not vanished—they’ve simply multiplied and fragmented, delivered through apps, memes, playlists, bios, and TikToks.

The Costs of Liquid Attraction

Bauman warns that in liquid society, relationships can become fragile and consumer-like. People are treated less like long-term partners and more like options to be tried and discarded. Love, once tied to community and ritual, becomes another space for choice, performance, and uncertainty.

This affects how we use our “mating minds.” If our displays are constantly shifting to keep up with trends, how do we know who we really are—or what kind of love we truly want? If the self becomes a performance, is there still an authentic core behind the show?

Conclusion: Between Biology and Culture

Geoffrey Miller and Zygmunt Bauman come from very different disciplines—evolutionary psychology and sociology—but together, they offer a powerful way to think about human connection today.

Miller reminds us that the drive to attract and impress is deep, ancient, and creative. Bauman shows us that in a world where everything flows, that drive becomes harder to satisfy, and more anxious to maintain.

We still seek to be seen, chosen, admired—but in a liquid world, that search is increasingly unstable. Understanding both the biology and the culture behind our desires may help us navigate the tension between display and depth, freedom and connection, and ultimately, between performance and presence.

Further Reading:

  • Geoffrey Miller – The Mating Mind: How Sexual Choice Shaped the Evolution of Human Nature (2000)

  • Zygmunt Bauman – Liquid Modernity (2000)

  • Eva Illouz – Consuming the Romantic Utopia (1997)

  • Sherry Turkle – Alone Together (2011)

  • Byung-Chul Han – The Agony of Eros (2012)

Trump’s ‘Commercial Diplomacy’ and the Remaking of U.S. Foreign Policy

President Donald Trump and Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.

President Donald Trump’s recent whirlwind tour of the Middle East has grabbed headlines—not for saber-rattling or ideological speeches—but for something far more transactional: a staggering $2 trillion in business deals. From Saudi Arabia to Qatar, the United Arab Emirates to Pakistan, Trump’s second-term foreign policy is rewriting the rules. At the center of this transformation stands a bold concept: commercial diplomacy.

In a widely shared LinkedIn article, tech entrepreneur and investor Karl Mehta hails this shift as a “new era” in U.S. foreign policy—one that ditches decades of doctrine-driven alliances in favor of open markets, investment partnerships, and economic pragmatism. While Trump’s critics see recklessness and a disregard for human rights and long-standing allies, Mehta sees strategy: a dealmaker’s vision of peace and prosperity through commerce.

The Pivot to Business

What is commercial diplomacy? At its core, it’s using diplomatic influence not to spread democracy or contain threats, but to unlock trade opportunities, foster innovation, and secure investment. Trump’s version is unapologetically opportunistic. Instead of drawing red lines, he draws up contracts.

Consider the numbers:

  • $600 billion pledged by Saudi Arabia, including massive investments in U.S. defense, AI, and energy.

  • $243 billion in deals with Qatar, featuring Boeing aircraft and defense systems.

  • $14.5 billion from the UAE for aircraft and data centers.

These are not mere memoranda of understanding—they're strategic bets on a world where America’s power is measured in partnerships and product lines, not only in military bases or moral posturing.

Rewriting the Rules: Syria, Pakistan, and China

Trump’s deal-making extends far beyond the Gulf. In a surprise move, he lifted all U.S. sanctions on Syria, opening the door for American investment in reconstruction projects. This move was reportedly brokered with Saudi backing—a clear signal that economic inclusion trumps past hostilities.

Similarly, Pakistan, long criticized for harboring terrorist groups, is now being offered a zero-tariff trade deal. It's a decision that many foreign policy veterans find shocking—especially given the potential to alienate India, America’s democratic partner and economic powerhouse.

And then there's China. Despite ongoing tensions, Trump finalized a new trade pact aimed at reducing tariffs and expanding market access. For Mehta, this underscores a core belief of commercial diplomacy: competition doesn't preclude cooperation.

From Diplomats to Dealmakers

Perhaps the most symbolic shift is in who’s leading U.S. foreign relations. Trump’s foreign policy team features not career diplomats but Wall Street and real estate magnates—people like Howard Lutnick and Steven Witkoff. These figures speak the language of leverage and liquidity, not protocol or public service.

This, Mehta argues, is the point: in a world driven by capital flows and digital infrastructure, business minds may be better equipped than bureaucrats to navigate geopolitical complexity.

A Double-Edged Strategy

Yet for all the optimism, the risks are real.

Critics, including writers in The New York Post and The Guardian, warn that Trump’s policies could alienate traditional allies like Israel, who now fear being sidelined in favor of deals with Iran or the Houthis in Yemen. Others caution that prioritizing commerce over democratic values might empower authoritarian regimes and erode America's moral authority.

Moreover, there’s the question of sustainability. Are these deals built to last, or will they unravel with the next administration—or the next diplomatic crisis?

The Verdict: A World in Transaction

Whether one sees Trump’s commercial diplomacy as visionary or volatile, it undeniably marks a rupture with the past. Karl Mehta calls it “the engine driving America’s engagement with the world.” And for now, at least, the world appears eager to buy in.

In a global order shaken by war, pandemics, and economic upheaval, Trump is betting that dollars and data centers will succeed where doctrines have failed. The question is whether this business-first foreign policy can build a stable and just global future—or whether it will leave the United States richer but more isolated.

Why So Many Evangelicals Embraced Trump

It surprised many: a movement known for preaching morality and humility threw its weight behind a man famous for neither. But the strong support Donald Trump received from American evangelicals wasn’t a fluke or a betrayal of faith—it revealed how much the meaning of that faith had already changed.

Over recent decades, a significant part of evangelical culture shifted from focusing on personal virtue to defending group identity. As American culture became more diverse and secular, many white evangelicals began to feel sidelined. They no longer saw themselves as moral leaders, but as a misunderstood, even persecuted minority. This loss of status bred resentment and fear.

Trump didn’t share their theology—but he spoke to their sense of threat. He promised to fight for them, to “Make America Great Again,” which many heard as restoring their place in the cultural mainstream. He didn’t need to be Christ-like. He just needed to be loyal to their side.

In this new mindset, traditional virtues like kindness or humility became less important than toughness and loyalty. Supporting Trump became a signal—not of shared values, but of shared enemies. Faith, for many, became less about living like Jesus and more about winning a culture war.

This shift didn’t happen overnight. It was the result of years of mixing faith with politics, fear with identity. Trump didn’t cause the change. He exposed it.

Further Reading

  • Kristin Kobes DuMez – Jesus and John Wayne

  • David French – essays on faith and politics

  • Tara Isabella Burton – Self-Made

  • Alain de Botton – Status Anxiety

  • Nancy LeTourneau – “The Status Anxiety of White Evangelicals”

Is American Democracy Dying Faster Than We Think?

For many in Europe, the United States has long stood as a symbol of liberal democracy — a nation of checks and balances, independent courts, and robust public debate. But leading democracy scholars Staffan Lindberg and Michael Miller are now warning that this image no longer reflects reality. According to them, the U.S. is undergoing one of the most rapid shifts toward authoritarianism in modern democratic history.

Lindberg, who directs a global democracy research programme, notes that in countries like Hungary or Turkey, the erosion of democracy happened step by step, often over the course of a decade. In the U.S., the dismantling of democratic norms appears to be unfolding in months. Political allies convicted of violent acts are being pardoned, watchdog institutions are being dismantled, and judges are increasingly being bypassed or ignored. These are not minor deviations, Lindberg argues, but fundamental attacks on the core of democratic governance.

One of the most concerning shifts is cultural rather than institutional: the spread of fear. In Washington, CEOs, university presidents, and civil servants have begun to censor themselves — not by law, but through intimidation and self-preservation. This, Lindberg warns, is precisely how democratic systems collapse — not with a coup, but with quiet acquiescence.

Michael Miller adds a crucial point: just because elections continue does not mean democracy remains intact. In many countries classified as “electoral autocracies,” the ritual of voting persists, but media, courts, and public discourse are hollowed out. Increasingly, the U.S. is showing the same patterns — including political retaliation against critics, manipulation of legal institutions, and the shrinking of the public space for dissent.

For European observers, the message is twofold. First, the decline of democracy can happen anywhere — even in the most established republics. Second, if institutions like the judiciary and parliament fail to act as counterweights, the transition toward authoritarianism can become normalized. What is most urgently needed now, both in the U.S. and globally, is the courage to defend democratic principles — not in theory, but in practice.

From Europe, the question is no longer whether American democracy is in crisis. It is how — and whether — it can recover.

Further Reading

  • Democracy Report 2025 – Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) Institute

  • Why Democracies Develop and Decline – by Staffan I. Lindberg and others

  • “In a real sense, US democracy has died” – The Guardian, February 2025

  • “People Are Going Silent” – The New York Times, March 2025

  • “The Democracy Threat Index and January 6” – Protect Democracy

Culture in the Age of Fluidity

Zygmunt Bauman.

What does it mean to be a culture lover today? In the past, it might have meant being deeply engaged with art, literature, music, or theatre—spending years exploring the same authors, attending classical performances, or discussing big ideas in small salons. It was about depth, commitment, and being part of something bigger than yourself.

But today, in what sociologist Zygmunt Bauman called the era of liquid modernity, things may well have changed.

From Tradition to Trend

In the world of “solid modernity,” culture was stable and guided by shared traditions. To love culture meant joining a kind of intellectual community, whether through reading, studying, or creating. People built long-term relationships with ideas, art forms, and cultural institutions.

Now, culture flows fast. With endless access to music, film, books, and visual content, people often dip into culture rather than dive deep. We swipe, scroll, and sample. Loving culture today often means following what’s new, curating playlists, or sharing favorite clips online. It’s no longer just about learning—it’s also about self-expression and identity.

From Community to Personal Brand

In this fluid world, culture is less of a shared experience and more of a personal playlist. Social media encourages us to present our taste as part of our brand. A love of culture becomes something to display—on a profile, in a bio, or through what we post—rather than something we grow into slowly.

This shift brings both freedom and fragmentation. On the one hand, more people have access to art, ideas, and creativity than ever before. On the other, we’re often doing it alone—each of us tuned into our own algorithm-driven bubble, with fewer shared cultural spaces that bring us together.

A New Way of Loving Culture?

Still, being a culture lover today doesn’t have to mean just following trends. In fact, in a world that moves this fast, choosing to slow down—to read a long novel, sit with a difficult painting, or attend a live performance—can be a quiet act of resistance. It can be a way of reconnecting with yourself and others, of seeking meaning in a time when everything is in motion.

Culture in the age of fluidity asks something new of us: not to go back in time, but to find depth within the flow, and to rebuild spaces where ideas and emotions can be shared—not just streamed.

Putin’s People

Why Catherine Belton’s Revelations Matter More Than Ever in 2025

In the years since Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, the world has grappled with a stark realization: the conflict wasn’t an aberration — it was the culmination of a decades-long strategy. That strategy is the subject of Putin’s People, a groundbreaking 2020 book by British investigative journalist Catherine Belton. Five years later, its insights are not only relevant — they’re essential.

At first glance, Putin’s People tells the story of Vladimir Putin’s rise to power. But it is much more than a biography. It is a chilling exposé of how a network of ex-KGB operatives — the siloviki — used the chaos of the Soviet Union’s collapse to reconstitute a state rooted not in democratic ideals but in secrecy, surveillance, and power for its own sake.

From the Shadows of the KGB to the Heart of the Kremlin

Belton, a former Moscow correspondent for the Financial Times, draws on deep research and insider interviews to trace Putin’s career from a mid-level intelligence officer in Dresden to the undisputed ruler of Russia. She paints a picture of a man — and a system — forged in the twilight years of the Soviet Union, who never accepted the West's version of post-Cold War peace.

Instead of embracing liberal democracy, Putin and his KGB-linked allies embarked on a methodical campaign to take back control of Russia’s political and economic systems. Their tools were not tanks or ideology, but gas pipelines, state-run banks, and offshore shell companies.

As Belton shows, they didn't just rebuild power inside Russia — they exported it. Through “strategic corruption,” Kremlin-linked oligarchs and state enterprises funneled billions through Western financial systems, quietly gaining influence in European capitals, American boardrooms, and even in politics.

Undermining Democracy with Its Own Tools

The genius — and danger — of this strategy lies in its subtlety. Belton describes how the Kremlin used Western openness against itself: investing in real estate, funding political campaigns, laundering money through elite law firms and banks. The goal? To weaken democratic institutions from the inside, all while maintaining plausible deniability.

These revelations are no longer abstract warnings. They’ve come to life in headlines: suspicious campaign donations, energy blackmail, cyberattacks, and a global disinformation war. In many ways, Belton wrote the playbook before the world realized it was playing the game.

The full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 did not contradict her thesis — it confirmed it. It was not a deviation from Putin’s long game, but the next logical step. It revealed the raw force behind the polished economic and diplomatic fronts Belton had described. And it left democracies scrambling to confront a threat they had long underestimated.

The West’s Late Awakening — and Ongoing Vulnerability

Now, in 2025, much has changed — but much hasn’t. Sanctions have tightened, alliances have been tested, and Russia’s internal stability has grown shakier. Yet the networks of influence Belton mapped out have not disappeared. If anything, they have adapted.

In a year when artificial intelligence, energy transitions, and cyber-vulnerabilities dominate global discussions, the threats Belton identified have morphed rather than diminished. The Kremlin’s methods — financial subterfuge, elite co-optation, and media manipulation — are still being deployed, just on new terrain.

As Western democracies struggle with polarization and a rising tide of authoritarianism globally, Putin’s People serves as both a warning and a guide. It shows how easily democratic systems can be compromised when vigilance fades — and how the fight for democracy increasingly requires financial transparency, media literacy, and resilient institutions.

A Book That Predicted the Future

What makes Putin’s People stand out is not just the detail of its reporting, but its foresight. Belton did not merely describe a corrupt regime; she exposed a geopolitical strategy that has shaped the world we live in today.

Her work was so provocative that it triggered lawsuits from some of the Russian billionaires it named — a sign, perhaps, that it hit uncomfortably close to the truth.

If there is a lesson in Belton’s book for 2025, it’s this: the threats to democracy often wear suits, speak fluent English, and arrive bearing investments, not weapons. But they are no less real. Understanding how these systems of control were built — and how they continue to operate — is the first step in dismantling them.

For anyone seeking to understand the architecture of modern authoritarianism, and how it challenges the liberal world order, Putin’s People is no longer just a vital read. It’s essential.

Machines That Don’t Listen

Eric Schmidt’s Stark AI Warning

In 2026, we may witness the beginning of the end of human dominance—not in science fiction, but in the real world, according to former Google CEO Eric Schmidt. Speaking at the Special Competitive Studies Project, Schmidt issued a clear and chilling warning: artificial intelligence, now capable of recursive self-improvement, is accelerating faster than our institutions, laws, and collective understanding can keep pace with.

While many still debate whether AI is overhyped or underwhelming, Schmidt asserts that we are underestimating what’s really at stake. He refers to the emergence of Artificial Super Intelligence (ASI)—a point where computers no longer just assist humans but become more intelligent than all of us combined. "They're learning how to plan. And they don’t have to listen to us anymore," Schmidt states flatly. That isn’t the premise of a sci-fi thriller. It’s a glimpse into a very near future.

A World Written by Machines

One of Schmidt's more startling claims is that within a year, AI could be writing nearly all of the code that powers our digital infrastructure. Programming—once a human-driven craft—is quickly being outsourced to machines. AI isn't just helping developers anymore; it's replacing them. Systems like OpenAI’s GPT-4.1, Anthropic’s Claude MCP, and Google’s A2A are spearheading the rise of “AI agents”—systems that learn, remember, and act on complex tasks independently.

Schmidt envisions a world where these agents don't just write code, but also manage real-world tasks autonomously: purchasing property, designing homes, hiring contractors, managing logistics, even suing underperforming workers. It's both amusing and alarming: the automation of everything.

We May Be Out of Work—But Will We Be Out of Purpose?

The inevitable question arises: what happens to human labor? Will AI replace everyone? Schmidt is cautiously optimistic, referencing past technological revolutions that created more jobs than they destroyed. But even he admits: this time might be different.

Unlike the mechanical looms of the 18th century, ASI doesn't merely replace physical effort—it replaces cognition. When AI becomes better than humans at programming, science, law, architecture, and art, it's no longer a question of displacement, but of relevance. Can humanity redefine its role in a world where machines are the creators?

AI in the Lab: From Drug Discovery to Immortality?

Perhaps the most compelling—and terrifying—possibility is AI’s fusion with biotechnology. Schmidt references a project he’s invested in: an AI system trained in chemistry, connected to a robotic lab. This system generates drug candidates overnight and tests them in real-time, drastically accelerating discovery. The goal? Identify all human “druggable targets” within two years.

If successful, such systems could unlock treatments for countless diseases, possibly extending human life to the point of longevity escape velocity—a term referring to the idea that for every year we live, AI-enabled medicine adds more than a year to our lifespan.

But this also raises a deeper philosophical issue: what happens when AI understands biology better than any human scientist? Schmidt foresees a future where we use AI systems daily, even though no human fully understands how they work. Trust replaces comprehension. Use replaces knowledge.

The Race With China—and the Risk of Conflict

AI isn't just transforming society; it's shifting global power. China is taking AI more seriously than any other technological endeavor in its history. The U.S. response has been to restrict access to advanced chips and consider bans on Chinese-developed AI models like DeepSeek.

But in a world where open-source AI proliferates, and the pace of progress is dictated by whoever scales fastest, tensions could escalate dramatically. Schmidt even poses the unthinkable: would the U.S. ever consider bombing a foreign data center to prevent AI dominance? The line between cyber competition and kinetic conflict grows thinner by the day.

What Now?

The takeaway from Eric Schmidt’s warning isn’t just that AI is advancing—it’s that we, as societies, are not prepared. Not legally, not culturally, and not morally. The arrival of ASI isn’t just a technological milestone. It’s a civilizational turning point.

We must begin thinking seriously about AI governance, ethics, and global coordination. Because if the smartest “person” in the room is no longer human, who sets the rules?

Further Reading:

AI Helps — But At What Mental Cost?

Brain versus chatbot.

Artificial intelligence (AI) is becoming a regular part of our everyday lives — from virtual assistants that answer our questions to apps that help us write, calculate, or plan. For students and professionals alike, AI offers an amazing range of tools to help us work faster and smarter. But as we rely more on these technologies, an important question comes up: are we still thinking for ourselves?

Two recent studies shed light on this question, and the results are eye-opening. They suggest that while AI can be incredibly useful, over-reliance on these tools might be weakening our ability to think critically — a skill we desperately need now more than ever.

AI as a Thinking Shortcut

Let’s be honest: why struggle with a hard question when ChatGPT or Google can give you the answer in seconds? That’s the core of what researchers call cognitive offloading — letting machines do the mental heavy lifting for us. It’s like using a calculator for every math problem or relying on GPS instead of learning directions.

In a study led by Michael Gerlich (2025), 666 people of different ages and education levels were surveyed to see how their use of AI tools related to their critical thinking skills. The result? The more people used AI to solve problems or find information, the worse they scored on critical thinking tests — especially younger users. People who relied on AI the most also showed the least confidence in their ability to analyze or evaluate information on their own.

AI Dialogue Systems: Helpful or Harmful?

Another study, this one by Chunpeng Zhai and his team (2024), took a deep dive into how AI chatbots — the kind used to help students write essays, answer questions, or generate ideas — are affecting learning and thinking. Their review of 14 major research papers found that students who rely heavily on these tools are less likely to think deeply, ask questions, or check whether the AI’s answers are even accurate.

And here's the problem: AI doesn’t always get it right. It can make things up ("AI hallucinations"), show bias, or present information in a way that looks polished but is actually wrong. But because it sounds convincing, many people accept the output without double-checking — and that can lead to real misunderstandings or even academic dishonesty.

Why Critical Thinking Still Matters

Critical thinking is more than just knowing facts. It’s about asking, “Is this true?” or “What’s the evidence?” or “Could there be another explanation?” In a world flooded with information — much of it generated by machines — we need these skills to separate truth from fiction, to make smart decisions, and to be informed citizens.

But when we get used to AI doing the thinking for us, we risk losing those mental muscles. Just like we get physically weaker when we stop exercising, we get mentally lazier when we stop challenging our own thoughts. AI might give us fast answers, but it’s our job to know which answers to trust.

What Does This Mean for the Future of Society?

Here’s where things get serious. As AI keeps getting better — more accurate, more persuasive, more human-like — it will become even easier to trust it blindly. Why bother learning how to write a good argument or analyze a news article when a chatbot can do it for you?

The risk is that we slowly become a society of passive consumers of machine-generated content, losing touch with the skills that built our modern world: reasoning, questioning, problem-solving. If we don’t actively work to preserve and teach those abilities, especially to younger generations, we could face a future where a small group of people controls the technology — and the rest of us are simply following instructions without really understanding the “why” behind them.

That kind of imbalance would not only widen the gap between the tech-savvy and the tech-dependent but could also weaken democracy, education, and innovation — all of which rely on active, independent thinkers.

So, What Can We Do?

It’s not about banning AI or pretending it doesn’t exist. AI is here to stay, and it can be a fantastic tool. The real challenge is learning to use it without losing ourselves in the process.

Educators, parents, and even designers of AI tools need to ask: how can we encourage users to think more, not less? Can we build AI systems that support learning instead of replacing it? And can schools focus more on teaching students how to think — not just what to think?

If we get this right, AI can be a powerful partner in learning and creativity. But if we get it wrong, we risk turning one of the greatest inventions of our time into a crutch that quietly robs us of our most important human skill: the ability to think critically.

References

  • Gerlich, M. (2025). AI Tools in Society: Impacts on Cognitive Offloading and the Future of Critical Thinking. Societies, 15(6). https://doi.org/10.3390/soc15010006

  • Zhai, C., Wibowo, S., & Li, L. D. (2024). The effects of over-reliance on AI dialogue systems on students' cognitive abilities: a systematic review. Smart Learning Environments, 11(28). https://doi.org/10.1186/s40561-024-00316-7

Living in a World without anchors

On Zygmunt Bauman’s Concept of Liquid Modernity

Zygmunt Bauman (1925 - 2017).

In the last decades of the 20th century, Polish-British sociologist Zygmunt Bauman introduced a powerful metaphor to capture the essence of our contemporary world: liquid modernity. Building on a lifetime of sociological reflection, Bauman argued that the structures, institutions, and identities that once provided stability in people’s lives have become fluid, transient, and uncertain. In contrast to the “solid” modernity of earlier times—characterized by stable jobs, long-term relationships, and firm social roles—liquid modernity is a state of constant change and reinvention, where individuals are left to navigate shifting terrain without clear guidance or support. This essay explores Bauman’s concept in depth, examining its implications for identity, culture, relationships, and ethics in the 21st century.

From Solid to Liquid: A Shift in Modern Life

Bauman's central idea is that society has moved from a "solid" to a "liquid" phase of modernity. In solid modernity, which emerged with the Enlightenment and industrialization, institutions such as the nation-state, the family, the church, and the workplace provided continuity and coherence. People had defined roles, life paths were more predictable, and societal norms offered a sense of direction.

In liquid modernity, by contrast, nothing is fixed. Institutions no longer offer long-term security. Traditional life paths have dissolved into a multiplicity of choices, and identities must be constantly reassembled. This new condition reflects the flexibility demanded by global capitalism, the erosion of social safety nets, and the explosion of digital technologies. Liquids, Bauman reminds us, do not retain a stable form—they flow, spill, adapt to containers, and are quick to evaporate. The same is now true of the social world.

The Burden of Individualization

A key consequence of liquid modernity is the rise of individualization. While the rhetoric of freedom and personal choice is often celebrated, Bauman is keen to point out the darker side of this shift. Where once people were "made" by society—through family, class, or religion—now they are expected to "make themselves." Identity becomes a do-it-yourself project, endlessly open to revision. The individual becomes responsible not only for their own success but also for their failures, which are increasingly seen not as structural but personal shortcomings.

This pressure to remain flexible, to constantly adapt, and to be "marketable" in every sphere of life creates a deep sense of insecurity. Rather than liberating people, individualization can produce feelings of anxiety, isolation, and inadequacy. Bauman writes of a society in which everyone must swim, but the water is constantly shifting—those who cannot keep up are simply left to drown.

Culture, Consumption, and the Short Shelf-Life of Meaning

In liquid modernity, culture also undergoes a dramatic transformation. Instead of being a space for deep moral reflection, collective memory, or shared purpose, culture becomes something to consume. People pick and choose cultural elements—music, fashion, ideologies—like items off a supermarket shelf. The result is a culture of short-termism and disposability, where novelty is prized over continuity and depth.

Bauman sees consumerism not only as an economic activity but as a cultural logic. Identities, lifestyles, even relationships are increasingly commodified. In such a context, people relate to one another as consumers do to products: easily discarded when no longer satisfying or relevant. This fluid approach to culture strips it of its traditional role as a source of moral orientation and social cohesion.

Liquid Relationships and the Fear of Commitment

One of the most poignant aspects of Bauman’s liquid modernity is his critique of contemporary relationships. In a world where permanence is suspect and flexibility is a virtue, even love is affected. Bauman describes “liquid love” as relationships without deep roots—maintained only so long as they are gratifying and easily abandoned when they become inconvenient. The fear of commitment stems not only from selfishness but from an acute awareness of life's uncertainty: in liquid modernity, everything may soon change, so why build something lasting?

This impermanence contributes to a culture of loneliness and fragmentation. People seek connection but are often unwilling to engage in the vulnerability and investment that true intimacy requires. Digital technologies and social media, while expanding the possibilities for connection, often reinforce superficial or transactional bonds.

Ethics in an Unstable World

Bauman does not simply lament the condition of liquid modernity. He also challenges his readers to think ethically within it. While traditional sources of moral authority have weakened, Bauman believes this creates a new space for ethical responsibility. Without fixed norms or institutions to dictate behavior, individuals must become more attentive to the needs and dignity of others.

However, this is no easy task in a world where speed, competition, and self-interest dominate. Bauman calls for a renewal of solidarity, empathy, and social imagination—qualities that can help rehumanize relationships and rebuild forms of community, however fluid they may be.

Conclusion: Living in the Liquid

Zygmunt Bauman’s concept of liquid modernity offers a powerful lens through which to understand the dilemmas of contemporary life. His metaphor captures the instability, freedom, and anxiety of a world where nothing is guaranteed, and everything is in motion. While he acknowledges the liberating aspects of fluidity—more personal choice, less rigid tradition—he warns that without new forms of ethical responsibility and collective care, liquid modernity risks producing fragmented, anxious, and isolated individuals.

Bauman does not offer easy solutions, but he invites us to reflect: how can we live meaningfully in a world without anchors? And how might we rebuild trust, community, and moral depth in the midst of constant change? These questions remain as urgent today as when he first posed them.

Belgian Refugees in the Netherlands During the Great War

Belgium refugees in Amsterdam (20-10-1914).

When Germany invaded Belgium in August 1914, violating its neutrality, widespread violence and destruction drove over 1.5 million Belgians—around 20% of the population—to flee. The largest share, about 1 million, escaped to the neutral Netherlands, whose population at the time was only 6.1 million. Other refugees found shelter in France (300,000), the United Kingdom (250,000), and smaller groups in Switzerland, Luxembourg, and elsewhere in Europe.

Although many Belgians returned home after the initial chaos, roughly 100,000 to 120,000 remained in the Netherlands for the duration of World War I. Their sudden arrival overwhelmed Dutch towns, prompting the creation of large refugee camps in places like Gouda and Ede. Initially welcomed with sympathy and solidarity, the refugees soon posed logistical, economic, and social challenges.

Not all were housed in camps—some lived with Dutch families or in urban centers, where Belgian artists, lace-makers, and intellectuals contributed to cultural life. Over time, however, resentment grew due to resource shortages and labor market concerns. The Dutch government imposed restrictions to maintain neutrality and manage tensions, including the internment of Belgian soldiers and limitations on civilian movement and employment.

Despite these difficulties, the presence of the refugees fostered some lasting connections. A small number remained after the war, integrating into Dutch society. The episode stands as one of Europe’s first modern refugee crises—an extraordinary moment when a small neutral country took in a population equal to one-sixth its own.

This chapter of history remains a powerful reminder of the human cost of war and the resilience of both refugees and host societies.

Without Cultural Identity, What Are We Fighting For?

Inspired by the article “What we need is a cultural deal for Europe” on Euronews (June 11, 2024) — What we need is a cultural deal for Europe

In a world facing war, disinformation, climate collapse, and growing authoritarianism, Europe finds itself defending democracy, freedom, and peace. But if we ask people to stand up for these ideals, we also need to ask: what holds us together? What are we actually fighting for?

The answer, increasingly, is culture — the shared stories, values, traditions, and creativity that give meaning to our lives. Without a cultural identity, freedom becomes an empty word. Democracy becomes a technical process. Europe becomes just a market. That’s why thinkers, artists, and institutions across the continent are calling for a Cultural Deal for Europe.

Culture Is Not Decoration — It's Foundation

Culture isn’t a luxury for peaceful times. It’s the core of how we understand ourselves and others — and how we build resilience in times of crisis. Whether it’s literature that questions power, theatre that opens dialogue, or local traditions that connect generations, culture shapes identity. And without identity, there’s no solidarity — only fear and fragmentation.

Right now, with war raging near Europe’s borders, with the rise of nationalism and conspiracy thinking, we need shared narratives that bind rather than break. Culture can do that — if we choose to support it.

The Danger of Cultural Neglect

Neglecting culture means risking a society that is easily manipulated, divided, and disoriented. A society where young people lose the ability to think critically. Where empathy gives way to suspicion. Where people no longer know their history — or care about their future.

This is not abstract. This is about whether future generations will feel they are part of something worth protecting.

A Cultural Deal: A Real Response to Real Threats

A Cultural Deal for Europe means putting culture at the heart of European policy. It means:

  • Funding access to culture and cultural education in every region, rural or urban.

  • Giving artists, thinkers, and creators a seat at the table when shaping public policy.

  • Using culture to promote inclusion, dialogue, and democratic values.

  • Making cultural cooperation part of Europe's international strategy, not an afterthought.

This isn’t just about saving the arts. It’s about safeguarding the soul of Europe.

What Are We Fighting For?

We’re fighting for a Europe where people are free — not only to vote, but to imagine, create, and belong. A Europe that isn’t just defined by treaties, but by ideas, languages, music, memory, and meaning.

If we do not have a cultural identity, what are we fighting for? A Cultural Deal for Europe is not a side issue. It’s an urgent call to defend what truly matters — and to invest in the stories that make freedom worth having.

From Reich to Rustbelt: Historical Lessons for a Fading Superpower

A Digest of an Interview with Richard D. Wolff on Robinson Erhardt’s Podcast

In Robinson Erhardt’s Podcast economist and historian Richard D. Wolff dissects in a provocative and densely manner, the current trajectory of the United States through the lens of economic history, geopolitics, and class struggle. Drawing parallels between the decline of empires past—especially Germany’s fall in the early 20th century—and the contemporary U.S. under the influence of Donald Trump, Wolff explores how economic desperation, class betrayal, and cultural denial fuel authoritarianism. His critique is not primarily of Trump as an individual, but of the conditions that elevate such figures, and the societal inability—or unwillingness—to recognize systemic collapse.

The Irrelevance of the Individual and the Power of Historical Forces

Wolff is unequivocal: Trump is not Hitler. But this distinction only underscores the larger point—focusing on individuals obscures the real issue, which is systemic decay. Trump, in Wolff’s analysis, is not a historical cause, but a symptom. He is the end link in a long chain of structural failings, representing a desperate response to economic and social pressures, not a mastermind reshaping them.

Rather than demonizing Trump, Wolff insists that attention be paid to the forces that produced him: neoliberalism’s failure to deliver for the working class, the hollowing out of industrial labor, decades of wage stagnation, and a political system more invested in spectacle than substance. These same dynamics produced the rise of fascism in Germany during the 1930s.

Economic Despair and the Working Class Parallel

Wolff repeatedly returns to a core historical analogy: the betrayal and disillusionment of the German working class following World War I and during the Great Depression—and its eerie resonance with the current U.S. working class. In both cases, a formerly prosperous and stable middle class experienced rapid economic deterioration and turned to nationalist rhetoric and scapegoating to fill the vacuum left by collapsing confidence.

Wolff points to tariffs, isolationist bluster, and aggressive foreign posturing—such as Trump’s absurd claims to “take back the Panama Canal” or “take Greenland from Denmark”—as classic symptoms of imperial decline. These rhetorical spasms are not policy, but theater, masking the reality that the empire is failing and the elites have no strategy for managing that failure.

Declining Empire and Historical Amnesia

A key theme in Wolff’s analysis is the cultural denial of decline. Unlike Germany in the 1930s, where debate about national failure was raw and public, the American establishment—Democratic and Republican alike—has refused to engage with the notion of decline. Politicians campaign on American exceptionalism even as infrastructure decays, wages stagnate, and geopolitical dominance slips.

This denial, Wolff argues, makes the fall more dangerous. Rather than adapting to a multipolar world—with China, India, and the BRICS rising—the U.S. clings to Cold War strategies, imposes ineffectual sanctions, and alienates its allies. Sanctions on Russia, tariffs on Canada and Mexico, and economic nationalism are cast as strength, but they further isolate the U.S., driving other nations toward alternative coalitions.

Corporatism and the Role of Elon Musk

In a striking aside, Wolff reflects on Elon Musk’s growing role in U.S. politics—not as an elected official but as a plutocrat shaping state functions. Musk, who publicly supports Trump and funds right-wing agendas, becomes a new kind of power broker, emblematic of what Wolff sees as the fusion of corporate wealth and state power.

Musk’s chainsaw-wielding performance as he fires federal employees is more than political theater; it’s symbolic of capitalism’s last gasp—stripping the state to feed corporate greed, a neoliberal perversion of efficiency. This, for Wolff, is a grotesque echo of the late feudal lords clinging to wealth and spectacle as their system crumbled.

Conclusion: From Crisis to Choice

Richard Wolff’s view is a powerful, unsparing diagnosis of the American condition. It calls on citizens to look past the sensationalism of Trump and ask deeper questions about empire, economics, and democracy. Will the U.S. follow the tragic path of 1930s Germany—collapsing into authoritarianism and war—or will it find a new path through mass mobilization, economic reform, and honest reckoning with its global role?

The lesson of history, Wolff suggests, is not inevitability—but choice.

Are Universities Too ‘Woke’?

A Reflection on Alain-Laurent Verbeke’s Interview on Dutch Television (Buitenhof)

In a recent Buitenhof interview, professor Alain-Laurent Verbeke—legal scholar at KU Leuven and Harvard—spoke about the growing tension between academic freedom and political pressure, especially in the U.S. The central question: are universities too ‘woke’? And is Trump’s aggressive response a warning or a threat?

This issue touches on academic independence, ideological diversity, and the ability of institutions to hold space for dissenting voices.

Trump's Fourfold Attack on Harvard

According to Verbeke, the Trump administration’s demands on Harvard can be grouped into four areas:

  1. Antisemitism as a Cover
    While framed as a crackdown on antisemitism, the real aim is to silence pro-Palestinian activism by labeling it radical left-wing ideology.

  2. Governance and Student Protest
    Trump wants universities to limit student influence and crack down on protests, effectively muting critical voices.

  3. Admissions and Hiring
    The push for "merit-based" criteria seeks to dismantle diversity policies, under the guise of fairness and objectivity.

  4. ‘Viewpoint Diversity’
    Promoted not to broaden discussion, but to replace progressive ideas with conservative ones—viewpoint diversity becomes ideological takeover.

Universities Under Political Pressure

Verbeke warns that this is not about dialogue—it’s about control. Trump negotiates with power, not principles. He uses threats of defunding, as seen with Columbia University, to force compliance. This mirrors tactics in authoritarian regimes like Hungary or Russia, where education is restructured to serve state ideology.

Are Universities Innocent?

Not entirely. Verbeke admits universities helped create the problem. In prioritizing social justice, many have marginalized conservative views, leading to a climate where students fear speaking out.

He recalls Harvard students telling him, “I can talk to you safely,” indicating widespread self-censorship. Universities, meant to be havens for free thinking, are increasingly shaped by ideological conformity and cancel culture.

A Double Wake-Up Call

Verbeke offers a dual warning: authoritarian overreach must be resisted, but universities must also restore their commitment to intellectual openness. Without a diversity of views, the academy risks becoming a place of silence rather than exploration.

This isn’t just an American problem. European universities, too, lean toward ideological uniformity while facing growing populist criticism. The challenge is to defend both inclusion and critical debate.

Conclusion

The debate around ‘wokeness’ isn’t a simple left-vs-right issue. It’s about how we preserve academic integrity in polarized times. Universities must stand up to political pressure—but also reflect on whether they’ve stifled healthy disagreement. Truth, as Harvard’s motto Veritas reminds us, requires dialogue, not dogma.

Wall Street Can’t Price Madness

Something is cracking beneath the surface of global finance—and it's not just inflation or a dip in the Dow. In an extraordinary conversation between economist Paul Krugman and researcher Nathan Tankus, a picture emerges of a financial system not only stretched thin by erratic policy and regulation, but one that could be pushed over the edge by the whims of a single man.

At the center of this crisis is Donald Trump—not merely as a policymaker, but as a source of volatility in its purest form. The erratic policy swings, from tariffs to fiscal seizures, are not just unsettling markets—they’re breaking the machinery of modern finance. This is not hyperbole. When the U.S. Treasury system itself starts to malfunction, when, for example, cities like New York find their accounts unexpectedly debited by federal agencies, when markets seize up because no one knows if payments are final, we are entering truly uncharted territory.

The Threat Beneath the Surface

Tankus calls it the "Trump-Musk payments crisis," a slow-burning threat where the U.S. government undermines the very idea of payment finality—the notion that once money is transferred, the transaction is done. In a world of digital finance, if this basic trust collapses, so does everything that depends on it: salaries, taxes, government aid, bond markets, and more.

The underlying story is even more alarming. As Krugman and Tankus explain, after the 2008 financial crisis, global regulators (through frameworks like Basel III) created stricter capital requirements for banks. These regulations limited how easily financial institutions could adjust their balance sheets to absorb market shocks. Instead, hedge funds—less regulated, more fragile—stepped in to play the role of “residual buyer,” especially in the U.S. Treasury market.

But these hedge funds aren’t built for crisis response. They're fair-weather participants. When markets get too volatile—say, after a tweet or tariff threat from Trump—they withdraw. The result? Liquidity vanishes. Interest rates spike. And the whole financial system starts to wobble.

Volatility Has a Name

Tankus highlights a disturbing reality: in 2025, Donald Trump is volatility. Markets no longer react to macroeconomic fundamentals, but to his press conferences, his moods, his threats. This isn't just destabilizing; it’s dangerous. When policy becomes unpredictable on an hourly basis, business investment grinds to a halt. Financial firms can’t hedge. And the complex network of trades, swaps, and derivatives that hold the global economy together starts to come undone.

And yet, as Krugman notes, Wall Street’s "conventional wisdom processors" are still in denial. Traders don’t fully grasp—or don’t want to believe—how deep the dysfunction goes. They grasp at any signal of temporary calm and treat it as resolution. It’s a form of magical thinking, the kind that led to disasters like Long-Term Capital Management in the 1990s and the 2008 collapse.

This time, the stakes may be even higher.

Who Saves Us?

The Federal Reserve has stepped in before. In March 2020, amid COVID panic, it bought trillions in assets to stabilize markets. But this time, the instability is political, not economic. As Tankus puts it, the Fed can’t "make the volatility of Donald Trump go away." Worse, doing so would drag them into overt political conflict. So they wait, hoping things don’t fall apart too quickly.

But waiting may not be an option. The financial system now relies on entities—like hedge funds—that flee at the first sign of trouble. Tankus compares them to "shadow dealers," who aren’t required to stick around in bad times, unlike licensed market makers. This fragile setup means that a few bad days—just a few—could trigger a cascade of defaults and asset fire sales.

And when you look deeper, you see just how vast the exposure is: $113 trillion in foreign exchange swaps depend on dollar liquidity. Many rely on the U.S. acting as a global backstop. What happens when trust in the dollar—already shaken by arbitrary federal seizures and payment freezes—erodes?

A System Designed to Break

None of this is inevitable. But it is the product of a system that rewards short-term gain and punishes preparation. We’ve outsourced critical market stability to actors who aren’t built for it. We’ve allowed politics to infect the plumbing of our fiscal and monetary systems. And we’ve ignored the growing risk of treating money like code—reversible, manipulatable, fragile.

The conventional view is that “the market” will figure things out. But as Tankus warns, markets only wake up after the damage is done. We cannot afford another Lehman moment—especially not one caused by a leader who governs by tantrum.

What’s needed now is not just technical fixes. It’s a deep reconsideration of how we build financial systems in a world where volatility can have a Twitter handle.

Europe’s Silence as Gaza Burns

Demonstration for Palestina in New Zealand, Photo by Mark McGuire (CC BY 3.0 NZ)

As the war in Gaza grinds through its second year, with over 50,000 Palestinians reportedly killed and much of the strip reduced to rubble, one question echoes louder than the sounds of missiles: Where is Europe?

The conflict, triggered by Hamas’s brutal October 7, 2023 assault on Israel, has evolved into one of the deadliest and most destructive wars of the 21st century. Israel’s military response—framed as an existential fight to destroy Hamas—has devastated Gaza’s civilian population and infrastructure. Hospitals have been flattened, aid convoys blocked, and nearly the entire population displaced.

Yes, Hamas bears responsibility for initiating a horrific attack. But what followed has gone far beyond a war on a militant group. It is now a humanitarian collapse playing out in slow motion, with no end in sight.

And yet, Europe remains largely on the sidelines—divided, hesitant, and unwilling to act.

The reasons are complex. Germany, burdened by historical guilt, defends Israel’s right to self-defense almost without qualification. France calls for humanitarian pauses, but stops short of condemning the scale of Israel’s response. Other countries prefer silence, paralyzed by fear of domestic unrest or political fallout.

Meanwhile, thousands of European citizens march, calling for a ceasefire. Their governments issue statements but do little to stop arms exports or pressure allies. Aid is pledged but blocked at the border. Diplomacy is outsourced to Washington or buried under other priorities—Ukraine, energy, elections.

This war did not begin in 2023. It is the latest, bloodiest eruption of a long-neglected conflict rooted in occupation, blockade, and political failure on all sides. But today, European inaction is not neutral. It is a choice—one that carries moral and political consequences.

If Europe wants to be taken seriously as a defender of international law, human rights, and peace, it must act like it. That means holding all parties accountable, supporting serious diplomacy, and helping to end the unbearable suffering of civilians—before Gaza becomes a permanent symbol of the world’s indifference.

Rethinking China: Charting a Smarter Course for America - Thomas Friedman’s Vision

In a wide-ranging conversation on The Ezra Klein Show, journalist and columnist Thomas Friedman presents a compelling critique of America's current stance toward China. His argument is not a defense of China’s authoritarianism or human rights record, but a plea for the United States to adopt a rational, forward-looking strategy based on reality rather than fear, ideology, or outdated assumptions.

Friedman is deeply concerned with what he calls the “Washington consensus” on China — a bipartisan posture of automatic hostility that leaves no room for nuance or engagement. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, he notes, the aperture through which Americans view China has narrowed dramatically. Personal, business, and academic exchanges have collapsed, while rhetoric in Washington has hardened. In such a climate, understanding China has become nearly impossible, and policymaking has grown reactive and shortsighted.

Rather than clinging to a Cold War-era mentality or seeing China solely as a thief of Western ideas, Friedman urges Americans to recognize China’s genuine innovation and industrial might. Drawing from his travels, he describes an ecosystem of high-tech factories, AI-driven design labs, and state-backed R&D campuses like Huawei’s, where rapid iteration and scale are possible in ways largely unseen in the West. He illustrates this with China's dominance in electric vehicles, batteries, solar panels, and robotics — all parts of what he calls the new "industrial ecosystem" of the 21st century.

Yet America, he warns, is fighting the wrong war. Tariffs, political posturing, and cultural battles — exemplified by Trump-era tactics — fail to build the capabilities the U.S. needs to compete. Friedman mocks these approaches as unserious, arguing that the right question isn’t how to weaken China, but how to strengthen America. That means investing in research, building supply chains, leveraging alliances, and fostering domestic innovation — not isolationism.

Friedman also views the relationship through a planetary lens. He identifies three global existential challenges — AI governance, climate change, and geopolitical instability — which require collaboration between the U.S. and China, the only two powers capable of steering outcomes. In his view, “interdependence is no longer a choice; it is our condition.”

Ultimately, Friedman’s message is clear: America must stop projecting ideology and start dealing with the world as it is. Instead of fearing China's rise, the U.S. should treat it as a mirror — a reminder of what seriousness, strategic focus, and investment in the future actually look like. Whether Washington listens or doubles down on its current path may well define the century.