Wednesday, 30 September 2026

There Is No Road From Manchester To Brussels


Andy Burnham has spent the best part of a decade telling the public that the devolution of power is key to a successful country. As mayor of Greater Manchester, he frequently argued against power remaining centralised in Westminster, and achieved meaningful success with the powers he managed to devolve. In his early days as prime minister, Burnham attempted to embed Manchesterism into his national policy, setting up Number 10 North to “oversee the biggest rebalancing of power our country has ever seen”, and looking to deliver growth by devolving power.

Now, it appears Burnham has carried out his first great U-turn, saying today that he is open to Britain going “all the way” and rejoining the European Union. But the question was settled just over a decade ago by referendum, and the public decisively voted to leave. While the precise deal the country has ended up with can be regarded as little other than a failure, in particular due to the Northern Ireland settlement and the remaining alignment to many EU regulations, Britain’s position outside that union should not be called into question.

Burnham knew this was the case as recently as May. Writing in The Times, he said that “our relentless focus now should be on domestic issues, and fixing our own underlying problems, rather than on re-running divisive arguments about rejoining the European Union.” He even went so far as to say that the traditional parties of government failed because they were “too bound into a model of globalisation”.

Speaking to the BBC at the time, Burnham said he “respect[s] the decision that was made at the referendum”, adding that it would “undermine everything I’ve said about strengthening democracy if we don’t respect that vote”.

How can these comments, and his desire for accelerated devolution, be squared with a wish to open the door to a full rejoining of the EU, whereby decision-making powers will be outsourced to Brussels, taking power even further away from the people he represents? How can he reconcile accepting governance from a foreign bureaucracy while embarking on a path of mass nationalisation of industry, utilities and public transport, which has the overt aim of giving the public more control over what impacts them? It simply does not fit into his vision for the future of Britain, and raises questions about why he has undertaken this volte-face.

This contradiction has not gone entirely unnoticed. Independent MP Adnan Hussain, who quit as a Labour Party member in 2020 following Keir Starmer’s leadership election success, said today that he was “struggling to square Manchesterism with a potential return to the EU”, as this takes power away from the people. Burnham’s entire brand rests on his perception of authenticity. He persuaded voters and the Labour Party that he was a different kind of politician and would not change his mind or let them down. This clear reversal in what he appears to believe breaks that promise.

The Prime Minister has been vocal about ensuring that certain things will be “off the table” under his premiership, such as a referendum on a united Ireland. He must not cave to the Europhile pressure groups that have seemingly convinced him to reopen the prospect of rejoining the EU, and should instead restate his earlier beliefs — that when the people voted for sovereignty to be based at home rather than Brussels, they were right, and that such a vote should be upheld.

Ed Miliband Is Not To Blame

For all his faults, Ed Miliband would still have been a better Prime Minister than anyone else who had held the position since 2010, never mind his own torturer of a brother, and Patrick Porter writes:

Ever since Edward Samuel Miliband became UK Foreign Secretary, his more hawkish critics have accused him of a single, cosmic act of folly and weakness. In August 2013, it is said, he helped bring Russia’s brutal imperial war in Ukraine, as well as the military adventurism of aggressors around the world. You’ll recall that as Leader of the Opposition, Miliband opposed and defeated the government’s proposal in the Commons to support airstrikes against Syria after its regime had carried out the Ghouta chemical weapons attack on civilians. That vote was momentous. It played a significant part in persuading then US president Barack Obama not to conduct air strikes. But according to Miliband’s detractors, it was more momentous still — it fatally signalled weakness to the west’s adversaries. Allegedly, as a display of general passivity it nerved Russia’s bloodstained president Vladimir Putin to move on Crimea and Ukraine.

This is an odd but common — and confidently asserted — charge. Without much evidence, it draws a line from one decision point over one conflict to the calculations of another state in another conflict. Like most half-baked lines of attack on historical decisions, it doesn’t really offer a persuasive counterfactual. Would bombing Syria in 2013 really have persuaded Moscow not to strike into Ukraine when it felt its vital interests were on the line? It’s a disproportionate claim to make without much to go on. It suggests our adversaries are easily deterrable even over matters they really care about. And it suggests a superficial account of international politics. It’s past time for a proper interrogation.

I’m no Miliband fan, for what it’s worth. I don’t care for his “net zero” climate policy. It’s an ineffectual response to climate change that has little hope of denting the problem,when other prudent choices are available. It objectively requires disarmament and helps deny something Britain desperately needs, cheap and abundant energy. The new Miliband-Burnham declaratory doctrine of universal altruism, that “we will always support the underdog” is fictitious and, because it is obviously untrue, foolish. It sets tests any prudent state is bound to flunk. People do notice that the same Miliband who asserts morality over Israel-Palestine also sits down to bargain with authoritarian regimes from Beijing to Tehran. I sympathise with Miliband’s sanctioning of theft and atrocity in the West Bank. I also sympathise with the general predicament any foreign secretary faces, that in a harsh world of compromise and trade-off, we can’t do good for everyone everywhere all the time, while that is no licence for nihilism. Double standards are woven into the nature of statecraft, alas. But at the very least we are still owed a grown-up explanation.

Rather, I offer only this — an attack on an unfounded line of criticism that won’t go away. The suggestion that the vote against bombing Syria was a decisively bad act that tipped the world into catastrophe is wildly wrong and downright silly. Consider what that claim is really suggesting: that Vladimir Putin’s aggression against Crimea, and against Ukraine’s southern and eastern parts, then against the whole country, would not have happened but for a light bombing sortie over the Middle East. Follow it further. Confronted in 2014 with the impasse over Ukraine’s choice of trade deals, between Russia and the EU, and mindful that the EU’s trade deal contained NATO-partnership clauses, and fearful of the loss of the port of Sebastopol, Moscow would still have stayed its hand if only Barack Obama had led a coalition to strike Syria the previous summer. The fact is, Russia against any version of the United States had the balance of resolve on its side, because its interests were directly implicated, and America’s were second-order. The difficulty of deterring Russia in that case was situational, not dispositional. Thinking for a few seconds more, the proposition gets stranger still: bombing a few targets in Syria to make a point about chemical weapons use would have somehow persuaded Putin that the west might intervene directly over Crimea. Risible? Yes. But that’s what the argument sounds like when we play it back.

Those who charge Miliband with emboldening Russian imperialism unwittingly trivialise the very adversary force they fear. Recall that the proposal, after Bashar al-Assad used nerve gas to slaughter civilians, was an airstrike carefully calibrated to be limited. In the words of then Secretary of State John Kerry, even though it was a moment akin to the Munich settlement with Adolf Hitler, the bombing was to be “unbelievably small” a “very limited, very targeted, very short-term effort” that would not take the United States to war. Well, if in a counterfactual universe, the House of Commons had voted for that discrete, commitment-shy measure, and it had gone ahead, would it have sounded like a great trumpet, broadcasting the west’s fierce moral and strategic will and bring dictators to heel? More likely — much more likely — that bombing would have looked like the performative theatre that it was. It would have displayed not resolution, but the limits of resolution, signalling a reluctance to get involved beyond one round of salvos. The difference between the world that emerged since — one of bloody conquest and atrocity — and a different, better world was hardly one act of pinprick violence.

Even if Obama’s United States had carpet-bombed Syria in 2013, that also would probably not have changed Putin’s calculations. Flattening a non-nuclear, relatively small state is not a commentary on whether one is willing to risk major war with a nuclear peer, not over a cause like Crimea that Russia cared about more than any other state. After all, larger, bloodier, more expansive interventions in the Middle East, ones that led to regime overthrow in Iraq and Libya, demonstrably did not deter other parties from committing atrocities or grabbing land. The Iraq war, initiated partly to project an image of western strength, was followed by Russia’s attack on Georgia in the summer of 2008. The downfall of Colonel Gaddafi did not have the effect of signalling western resolve and thereby deterring other parties from aggression. To the contrary. It outraged and scared Russia and China. It made them more determined to resist what they saw as a dangerously revisionist, order-violating west. They care about looking tough, too.

The argument that unloading on Syria from high altitude on one occasion would have changed global history optimistically imposes great expectations on acts of warfare. Such acts, history suggests, do not reliably exert desired second and third order effects on others. History’s ways are crooked and ironic. For one thing, launching hostilities can tie down those that initiate them, occupying their attention and resources and creating openings for others to move, in other theatres. Recall the Suez campaign of 1956, which provided the Soviet Union with cover and space to smash the uprising in Budapest. A serious, and more intensive attack on Assad’s Syria, to really underline international determination to oppose chemical weapons use, would likely have drawn Washington into a protracted conflict that could easily have extended into the period where the EU-Ukraine-Russia crisis exploded. The west was not willing to go to the wall, or risk doing so, over Crimea even though it had kept its powder dry over Syria, as Putin accurately predicted. America’s willingness to consider direct action over Crimea would have been even less, had it already been engaged in a prolonged coercive campaign over Syria.

The “Syria vote” attacks on Miliband stem from something deeper, a particular kind of moralism, a frustrated do-something-ism that has taken hold over some observers of world affairs, including bright ones. To suppose that things could have been better “but for” one marginal decision is to put wishes ahead of sober realism. It is also just a little self-important and narcissistic, turning international politics into a moral drama about Britain’s spine and steel.

Nothing is certain. Maybe it would have been better, despite everything, to attack Assad’s monstrous regime and try to set some kind of deterrent baseline against WMD atrocities. Reasonable people can disagree. It’s doubtful whether that would work or even be necessary. Saddam Hussein’s regime promiscuously used chemical weapons against Iran, indeed with the active involvement of Washington as a supplier of dual use materials, and this did not cause an epidemic of chemical weapons use. The world’s abhorrence of such matters may not rise or fall on the occasional use of force. But we should resist the more dramatic claims still at large, that the power which has proven itself willing to bleed extensively to dominate its “near abroad” would have been put off by a punitive exercise of force elsewhere against a weaker adversary. The threshold for exercising violence abroad should remain high, as Donald Trump’s absurd, wasteful, hubristic current adventure in the Gulf reminds us. And a quarter of the way into the 21st century, it is still the war hawks who have the most explaining to do.

Attlee’s Britain With Osborne’s Calculator?

Paul Knaggs writes:

Andy Burnham stood in Liverpool on Tuesday, a few miles from the docks where his grandfather drove a lorry for Tate & Lyle, and gave the most radical speech a Labour leader has delivered to conference in a generation. He named the wrong turns of the last forty years in five blunt words: “Deindustrialisation. Deregulation. Privatisation. Austerity. Brexit.” He promised to repeal what he called “Margaret Thatcher’s ideological ban on public ownership of water companies.” He announced a publicly owned Great British Grid, the biggest council house building programme since the post-war years, and an end to Right-to-Buy on the new homes built with public money. The hall rose, and it had reason to. For anyone who spent the last decade watching Labour treat public ownership as an embarrassing relative, it was a remarkable thing to hear.

Then he reached social care, and the speech turned on itself. Burnham’s case for a National Care Service is sincere and personal. He described his gran Kitty’s engagement ring being pulled from her finger and stolen in a care home, and her modest savings being taken to pay for care “not worthy of the name.” He spoke to the care workers who looked after his dad, “caring for other people’s parents on poverty pay,” and apologised on behalf of his profession. Nobody who heard it could doubt he means it. Then he told the country how he would pay for it: “It will be fully funded, and not through borrowing.” Earlier he had already committed himself: “I will stick to our fiscal rules to get borrowing and debt down.” Once those two doors are shut, the money has to come from somewhere, and Burnham found it in the pockets of the old. 

THE DEAL ON THE TABLE 

The triple lock raises the state pension each April by whichever is highest: inflation, average earnings growth, or 2.5 per cent. Burnham will keep it until the end of this Parliament, as Labour’s manifesto promised. From April 2030, if Labour wins again, the pension “will continue to rise every year at least by prices or 2.5%,” and “will hold its value relative to earnings over time.” The annual guarantee of keeping pace with wages goes. In its place is a phrase: “over time.” Over five years? Ten? Measured by whom, against which index, with what legal force? The speech doesn’t say. A pensioner deciding how to vote in 2029 is entitled to know, because “over time” is the gap through which their income will leak.

To be fair, Burnham did not dress this up. “I accept I may pay a political price,” he said, and spoke of ripping off the plaster. That is more honest than Thérèse Coffey’s suspension of the earnings link in 2021, announced as a one-off and sold as common sense. But candour about a bad trade doesn’t make it a good one. The trade buys remarkably little. Helen Miller, director of the Institute for Fiscal Studies, told Sky News the change would raise “relatively small amounts, in the hundreds of millions over the next parliament” and would not pay for universal social care, which she said would need “much more substantive tax rises”. Labour’s own projections are grander: £15 billion a year by the end of the 2030s and £50 billion a year by 2050. 

Those figures give the game away. The savings grow year after year for one reason only: the state pension falls further behind where it would otherwise have been. Every pound “saved” is a pound a pensioner does not receive. The IFS calculates that had the new system been in place since 2011, spending on the state pension would be about £9 billion lower today. That £9 billion isn’t an abstraction. It is the gas bill, the food shop and the bus fare of millions of people who have nothing else to live on. Every pound “saved” is a pound a pensioner does not receive.

A REPAIR, NOT A BONUS 

The triple lock is often described as a lavish gift to a pampered generation. The history says otherwise. In 1980 Margaret Thatcher’s government broke the link between the state pension and earnings. For three decades afterwards, the basic pension rose only with prices while wages pulled away, and its value fell to around a sixth of average earnings. In 2000, after a year of low inflation, Labour’s Treasury awarded pensioners a rise of 75p a week. Older readers still remember it, and not fondly. Labour’s own Pensions Act 2007, following Adair Turner’s Pensions Commission, promised to restore the earnings link. The coalition brought in the triple lock in 2011 partly to make up for lost ground. Fifteen years of catching up haven’t undone thirty years of falling behind, and Britain’s standing among its peers shows it.

The OECD’s most recent Pensions at a Glance, published last November, compares what a worker on average earnings with a full career can expect in retirement as a share of their take-home pay. Across the developed world, the net replacement rate from mandatory schemes averages 63.2 per cent. Britain’s figure is 54.2 per cent, and that already counts the workplace pensions of auto-enrolment. Strip those away and the picture worsens. The House of Commons Library finds that on the state pension alone, the UK provides a lower level of pension than most other advanced economies relative to average earnings, and that Britain devotes a smaller share of its GDP to state pensions and pensioner benefits than most of them too. 

So British pensioners are not the cosseted exception of the developed world. They sit well down its table. The earnings guarantee is the one mechanism that has been slowly lifting them, which is exactly why it matters. Remove the ratchet now and you are not trimming a luxury. You are reopening a wound that barely closed. The public seems to understand this. A poll conducted before the speech found 53 per cent supported keeping the triple lock and 13 per cent supported ending it. Sharon Graham of Unite called it the “wrong lever to pull at this point”. Nigel Farage, never one to miss a gift, accused the Prime Minister of “launching an offensive against our elderly”. When Burnham hands Reform its best attack line of the autumn, Labour should ask whether the Treasury’s rules are worth the price. 

WHO PAYS, AND WHO INHERITS 

There is a harder question beneath the arithmetic. Who gives something up, and who gains? Burnham’s care service will be free at the point of use, and it will protect “people’s homes and their savings.” For the poorest pensioners, there’s a genuine gain: no more care charges taken out of a state pension that barely covers the week. That deserves credit, and the Tribune gives it. But the largest prize, the protection of property and savings from care costs, goes to those who own property and have savings, and to their children who stand to inherit. The cost, a weaker pension formula for the rest of their lives, falls hardest on those who own neither: the retired cleaner, the former bus driver, the woman who spent twenty years caring for relatives and has a patchy contribution record to show for it. For them the state pension is not a supplement. It is the whole income. So the flat-rate pension of the asset-poor is quietly thinned to protect the estates of the asset-rich. A Labour government should not design a social contract that way.

THE MONEY QUESTION 

Why does it have to be this way? Because Burnham, having taken on the water companies, the energy market and Right-to-Buy, chose not to take on the one institution that shapes everything else: the Treasury’s view of money. Britain issues its own currency. It is not a household that must earn a pound before it can spend one, and it cannot run out of the money it creates. When the government spends, it puts pounds into the economy; when it taxes, it takes them out. The real questions are different ones. Is there enough labour, skill and physical capacity to do what we want? Will spending push up prices because those resources are already in use? 

The obvious objection deserves a straight answer. In September 2022 Liz Truss announced unfunded tax cuts, gilt yields spiked, pension funds nearly collapsed, and the Bank of England had to step in. Doesn’t that prove the markets rule? It proves something narrower. Truss poured unfunded tax cuts, mostly benefiting the wealthiest, into an economy where inflation was already above 10 per cent. She did so without any independent forecast, after sacking the Treasury’s most senior official, while pension funds were running leveraged bets on gilts that turned a sell-off into a crisis. The markets punished chaos and the wrong use of money at the wrong moment. They did not prove that a sovereign country cannot pay its carers. The same Bank of England bought £875 billion of government bonds through quantitative easing, much of it during a pandemic, without Britain going bankrupt. Money was found when the establishment decided it mattered. 

So we come to the real constraint on care, and it isn’t money. It’s people. Social care has tens of thousands of unfilled posts, because the work is skilled, exhausting and paid at or near the minimum wage. The limit on building a National Care Service is how many trained, fairly paid carers we can recruit and keep. The answer is to spend: on wages, on training, on sectoral pay bargaining that makes care a career rather than a stopgap. Burnham himself argued that better care will save the NHS money through fewer ambulance call-outs, fewer A&E admissions, and fewer people stuck in hospital beds. That is the language of investment. It shouldn’t depend on shaving pensions. Where spending does risk inflation, taxation has a role, and it should fall on unearned wealth and property gains, not on the flat-rate income of the poorest pensioners.

1945, AGAIN 

Burnham reached for history. “In 1945, we had the vision to win the peace,” he said, and later: “In 1945 we had the Beveridge Report. We need something similar now.” He is right to invoke it, and it condemns his financing. The Attlee government built the NHS in 1948 while carrying a national debt more than twice the size of the entire economy. There was no fiscal rule declaring the health service “fully funded and not through borrowing.” There was a country with its factories, its workers and a clear idea of what it wanted to build with them. The debt was dealt with through growth, full employment and time, not by taking from the old to care for the old. Burnham told the hall that the British Right “gave away” control in the first place, and he listed what they sold: “Homes. Water. Energy. Transport. Care.” Care was on the list. He wants to bring it back into the common wealth, and he should. But you cannot rebuild the common wealth while accepting the rulebook of those who sold it. You cannot rebuild the common wealth while accepting the rulebook of those who sold it.

WHAT LABOUR SHOULD DO

The fix doesn’t require abandoning the National Care Service. It requires honesty about where the money comes from. Keep the annual earnings guarantee on the state pension, or replace “over time” with a statutory commitment that is precise, measurable and enforceable. Treat the National Care Service as national infrastructure, like the grid Burnham intends to build, and fund it through the public purse as such. Pay and train carers properly, and let the savings to the NHS that Burnham himself predicts flow back into care. Where restraint is needed to manage inflation, ask it of concentrated wealth, not of people who have only the state pension. Burnham says his generation of politicians was “too cowardly to fix something as basic as the care we give to each other.” He is right, and he has more courage than most. But this deal doesn’t show courage. Courage would mean confronting the Treasury, not the pensioner. You cannot build Attlee’s Britain with Osborne’s calculator.

The Island Lacks Potency

My own chronic pain is no small part of why you will so often find me here at this sort of hour, so it is with nothing but sympathy that I bring you the stories told by Samuel Lovett:

For years Tanya Mitchell lived with agonising pain in her hips that left her struggling to walk and reliant on a heavy daily dose of ibuprofen. Today, however, the 84-year-old starts every morning with yoga and moves so quickly while walking through the fields of western Jersey, where she lives, that her husband struggles to keep up.

Her secret, she says, sits in a small glass dropper bottle on her bedside table: a half-millilitre syringe of prescribed medicinal cannabis oil, placed under her tongue every night before she goes to sleep. “I don’t have pain anymore,” said Mitchell, who has been taking the drug since January 2025. “I swear by it. It’s been life-changing.”

Mitchell is one of at least 4,300 residents on Jersey — equivalent to 4 per cent of its 104,500 population — who are prescribed medicinal cannabis. It is a figure that makes this tiny, affluent British crown dependency among the world’s most heavily prescribed populations for the drug. By comparison, just 0.1 per cent of the population in the UK have legal prescriptions.

In a decade, Jersey has moved from near-total prohibition to one of the most liberal cannabis regimes in the British Isles. Last year it came within one vote of decriminalising the drug. Today there are 20 prescribing clinicians and five private “cannabis clinics” across the island.

Demand for the drug, often used to treat insomnia, arthritis and chronic pain, is growing. Last year, the number of products prescribed by Jersey’s private “cannabis clinics” — which have been legally dispensing the drug since 2019 — increased by 35 per cent, from 53,477 in 2024 to 72,065 in 2025, according to official data. Prescriptions include gummies, vapes, oils, inhalers, patches and dried cannabis, and typically cost between £70 and £400 a month.

Patients in Jersey praise the medicinal benefits of cannabis, but the industry is now under increasing scrutiny. There has been a “significant increase” in people being taken to hospital for psychosis and mental illness after taking prescribed cannabis, according to Andy Weir, Jersey’s mental health lead. Some patients are presenting to the island’s psychiatric services “with a deterioration in their mood associated with prescribed cannabis use”, he added. Research has consistently found that heavy cannabis use is linked to higher psychosis risk, driven by exposure to tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), its main psychoactive component.

Within the past six months, 31 per cent of patients admitted to Jersey’s mental health unit (32 of 104) reported using cannabis, legally and illegally, Weir said. Last year the drug was a “contributing factor” in 22 per cent of admissions, the government said. Medicinal cannabis has also been privately prescribed in England since 2018, but the government has asked its drugs advisers to review the practice after a rise in psychosis cases.

An inquest is underway into the suspected suicide of an unnamed Jersey resident “where prescribed cannabis use [was] a concern”, according to Weir. A separate inquiry, which concluded in 2024, found that prescribed medicinal cannabis had “more likely than not” adversely affected the mental health of Rebecca Vibert, 46, who took her own life the year before. The police, meanwhile, say that some patients are “clinic-hopping” and purchasing multiple high-strength prescriptions, which they sell at a profit on the black market.

The island’s government is seeking to tighten regulations. Because each private clinic operates independently without standardised oversight, the thresholds for prescription vary and some clinics offer little to no long-term supervision once a prescription is issued. Under proposed controls that could be rolled out early next year, clinics will be required to consult in-person with patients every 90 days, review medical records before issuing a prescription and report adverse drug reactions, among other measures.

Tom Binet, Jersey’s health minister, hopes that these new rules will reverse the rising cases of psychosis. “Our medicines regulations aren’t where they should be,” he said. “We’re looking at everything to try and bring everything up to date.” The Sunday Times also discovered high street shops in St Helier, the island’s largest town, exploiting a legal loophole in Jersey’s cannabis rules to sell high strength recreational THC edibles, such as gummies, chocolates and baked goods and there are reports of minors attempting to buy them.

In the UK over-the-counter cannabis products can contain no more than 1mg of THC. In Jersey, however, edibles can contain THC up to 3 per cent of their cannabidiol (CBD) content, measured by weight. CBD is another compound found in cannabis but it does not generate a high.

This means that the more CBD in a product, the more THC it can legally contain. Manufacturers and retailers have exploited this by packing products with hundreds of milligrams of CBD, allowing them to increase the THC levels. The Sunday Times found examples of baked goods sold in St Helier that were 46 times stronger than the legal limit in the UK. Local clinicians said that these concentrations equal or exceed daily medical prescription doses.

The Jersey government said it was aware of children trying to buy these baked goods and was “actively looking” at changing the 3 per cent rule. “This has come about fairly recently,” said Binet. “[But] the minute this became known to us we put the wheels in motion to get it sorted as quick as we can. It is a concern.”

The relaxation of laws in Jersey has been partly driven by the government’s desire for its farmers to grow cannabis and “diversify [the] rural economy”. A 2022 report from the States Assembly, Jersey’s parliament, said that the government wanted to establish the island as a “world leader” in the medicinal cannabis industry, adding: “Cannabis cultivation presents a significant opportunity to generate additional fiscal receipts … and to increase productivity within the agricultural sector.”

Businesses are now permitted to grow and export cannabis in an agricultural capacity. Some 167 licences to export cannabis off the island were approved in 2025, compared with 87 in 2024 and 26 in 2023. But they have not yet been licensed to package and sell the plant as a drug within Jersey itself.

Max Jablonski, the general manager of Caprica, where futuristic operations are housed inside an old potato glasshouse in the middle of the island, said his company produces around 70kg of cannabis flower a month. This is exported exclusively to the UK, where it is processed and sold on. “We just want to create the best possible quality product for patients who need it,” he said.

The island’s embrace of cannabis has been welcomed by patients such as James Bedding, a quadriplegic who broke his neck when he was 15 years old after falling off St Helier’s Albert Pier. Now 44, he credits the drug with saving his life — after years of struggling with severe muscle spasms. He starts inhaling cannabis via a vape around 7.30am to relax his body and continues taking cannabis throughout the day to keep his spasms at bay. In total, he is prescribed 5g daily and uses strains of cannabis that contain between 21 per cent and 29 per cent THC. “Taking away the fear of breaking the law and getting a clean, consistent supply makes a huge difference,” he said.

But the rapid growth and limited oversight of Jersey’s private cannabis sector has come at a cost, critics argue. Due to the absence of a centralised database, which is set to be addressed by the government reforms, there is currently no way of tracking how many prescriptions a patient has. Dr Kirstie Ross, an emergency medicine doctor at Jersey General Hospital and the co-owner of Carpathia Clinic, which prescribes cannabis, said: “They can come to us and go to another clinic; we never know. It’s a shitshow.”

The island lacks potency and volume caps, meaning some clinics prescribe large amounts of high-strength cannabis to patients who don’t need it. A government audit from 2023 found that multiple patients had been given standalone prescriptions which contained more than a typical months’ supply of cannabis. Some clinics routinely issue allowances of up to 90 to 100 grams of cannabis flower per month, Ross said. A typical joint contains 0.5g of cannabis, the US Office of National Drug Control Policy estimates.

Sir Robin Murray, a professor of psychiatric research and member of the UK’s Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs, described Jersey’s approach to medicinal cannabis as “astonishing” and argued the primary purpose of the island’s clinics were “not really to investigate what’s wrong with you, but to dish out cannabis” for commercial profit. He added that the “cavalier” prescribing of cannabis was risking harm and endangering lives.

Police, too, are grappling with the changing landscape of drug use on the island. Chief Inspector Mark Haffey said the practice of “splitting” — when patients sell part of their prescribed cannabis — was a “real concern”. This has made it especially difficult for officers to distinguish between cannabis that is legal and illegal. “Officers now have to make more nuanced decisions, because some people are lawfully prescribed cannabis while others may be using that framework to disguise unlawful possession or supply,” said Haffey. “Medicinal cannabis has changed the environment we are policing.”

There is no such thing as “medicinal cannabis”. When we need aspirin, then we do not simply ingest bark. But there cannot be a “free” market in general, yet not in drugs, or prostitution, or pornography, or unrestricted alcohol, or unrestricted gambling. That is an important part of why there must not be a “free” market in general, which is a political choice, not a law of nature. Enacting and enforcing laws against drugs, prostitution and pornography, and regulating alcohol, tobacco and gambling, are clear examples of State intervention in, and regulation of, the economy. Radical change would be impossible if the workers, the youth and the poor were in a state of stupefaction, and that baleful situation, which has been contrived in the past, is being contrived again today.

We need a single category of illegal drug, including cannabis, with a crackdown on possession, including a mandatory sentence of two years for a first offence, three years for a second offence, four years for a third offence, and so on. I no longer believe in prison sentences that included the possibility of release in less than 12 months; in that case, then your crime was not bad enough to warrant imprisonment, which the possession of drugs is. We need to restore the specific criminal offence of allowing one’s premises to be used for illegal drug purposes. We need Peter Hitchens’s The War We Never Fought to be taught in schools.

And not only on this issue, we need the Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State for Justice to exercise his prerogative not to recommend Royal Assent to legislation originating in the Crown Dependencies, which would be free to become independent if they did not like that, as would any Crown Dependency or British Overseas Territory that did not like the legislation of the sovereign Parliament of the United Kingdom to close all tax havens under its jurisdiction.

Tuesday, 29 September 2026

In All Candour

Had my father lived, and I suppose even though he did not, then today would have been my parents’ golden wedding anniversary. So September 1976 was clearly quite a month. As a sovereign state with its own fiat currency, it is impossible for the United Kingdom to go bust, and although sterling was not yet quite free-floating, the same was true 50 years ago, when, moreover, the House of Commons and the Ministers accountable to it still rightly exercised the full panoply of fiscal and monetary powers to control any inflationary effect. But Denis Healey lied because he and Jim Callaghan had already been converted to the monetarism that was heavily promoted by Callaghan’s son-in-law, Peter Jay, who wrote the famous passage of his Labour Party conference speech. Only about half of the IMF loan of $3.9 billion was ever used, but its austerity conditions had been the point, and the balance was paid off on 4 May 1979,  the first day of Margaret Thatcher and Geoffrey Howe as the First and the Second Lords of the Treasury. Neil Warner says what this site has been saying throughout the 20 years of its existence:

When Britain’s Labour Party met for its annual conference in September 1976, the government headed by its leader, James Callaghan, was confronting a severe economic crisis. This included the combination of high inflation and unemployment (“stagflation”) and a currency crisis that would, by the end of the year, lead the government to arrange a loan from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). IMF assistance came with the requirement of steep budget cuts.

In this context, conference delegates passed ambitious resolutions that condemned cuts and called for nationalization of much of the financial sector as well as extensive controls over the movement of capital, imports, and company investment decisions.

James Callaghan refused to consider such measures. In a speech that historians have often seen as a harbinger of neoliberalism, he told the conference that “the cosy world we were told would go on for ever, where full employment would be guaranteed by a stroke of the Chancellor’s pen” was now gone for good:

We used to think you could spend your way out of a recession and increase employment by cutting taxes and boosting government spending. I tell you in all candour that that option no longer exists — and insofar as it ever did exist, it only worked on each occasion since the war by injecting a bigger dose of inflation.

While it does make sense to see this speech as a major moment in the history of economic policy, there is widespread misunderstanding about the reasons for its significance. Considering the speech on its fiftieth anniversary can help us to better understand the meaning of neoliberalism and its relationship to contemporary politics.

Callaghan and Thatcher

It is standard to divide Western capitalist policy regimes since 1945 into two eras, with the later 1970s as a hinge period. The first was an era of close government management of national economies, often called the “Keynesian” era. In the most popular practical application of Keynesianism, governments used their fiscal powers to manage aggregate demand and maintain full employment while preventing economies from “overheating.” The second era was the “neoliberal” one, in which such government interventions were viewed with much greater suspicion, and economic policies promoted the continuous expansion of market logics.

In most accounts of the transition between the two regimes, a key turning point is the 1979 election defeat of Callaghan’s Labour Party by Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Party, which then embarked upon a radical neoliberal program. Thatcher’s election was indeed a dramatic and historic moment, and there were very important differences between her approach and that of her Labour predecessors.

Most importantly, Callaghan’s policies were based on efforts to secure agreements with trade unions on wage restraint, whereas Thatcher’s agenda set out to crush the unions through mass unemployment and the exercise of state power. The differences between them ensured that the scale of privatization and deindustrialization in the UK during the 1980s would be exceptional when compared to its West European neighbors.

However, some neoliberal policies had already begun under the 1974–79 Labour governments. This included the prioritization of inflation control over keeping unemployment as low as possible as well as policies to boost profits at the expense of wages and some forms of financial deregulation.

Labour often justified these policies as pragmatic adaptations to the economic crisis and the demands of financial markets. But this did not place it outside the neoliberal mainstream. Indeed, such pragmatic justifications generally served as a more typical pathway for neoliberalism, especially in electoral democracies in the Global North, than the overtly ideological arguments associated with Thatcherism.

However, many interpretations of Callaghan’s speech still present neoliberalism as a quite specific ideological project. The speech’s own framing contributes to this, which could be connected to the fact that it was partly drafted by Callaghan’s son-in-law, the Times economics editor Peter Jay, whom he later appointed as British ambassador to Washington.

The most famous sections were effectively a summary of “monetarism,” the fashionable economic doctrine for which Jay had become a prominent enthusiast. Monetarists argued that inflation was a symptom of excessive increases to the supply of money in the economy as a result of various factors, including Keynesian fiscal policies. In their view, which Callaghan echoed in the speech, this simply increased inflation and the “natural rate of unemployment” that was needed to control inflation.

Monetarism would go on to provide a central economic argument for Thatcherism and neoliberal policies in general. Here, it was already being embraced by a Labour government.

Rethinking the Speech

However, there is often a tendency to exaggerate the nature of the doctrinal shift that the speech implied. For one thing, it did not announce a new policy direction. The government had begun spending cuts a year earlier and already implicitly prioritized control of inflation over unemployment.

The extent to which Callaghan and his government really believed in “monetarism” is also questionable. While they adopted some money supply targets and “rules” that monetarists advocated, they primarily saw agreement with the unions to restrain wages as the main way of reducing inflation. They also returned to some reflationary Keynesian policies, under better economic conditions, a year later.

The idea that governments previously thought they could guarantee full employment at the “stroke of the Chancellor’s pen” was also a caricature. There were long-established understandings that both international constraints and domestic inflation would create difficulties for the pursuit of this goal. This was considered to be especially true under conditions of “free collective bargaining” that British trade unions favored.

For this reason, Labour had come to power in 1974 having already agreed to a “Social Contract” with the union movement, which was then very powerful. Under the terms of this deal, the unions committed to wage restraint in exchange for government measures such as stricter price controls, higher social spending, and new union rights.

Since the beginning of the 1970s at least, the Labour left had also been proclaiming that there was a crisis of Keynesianism. The Labour right had embraced Keynesianism more fully than the party’s left tendency, which saw it as an approach that avoided reckoning with capital’s structural power and crisis tendencies.

For the left, the internationalization of capital and the experience of stagflation in the 1970s were reducing the room for Keynesian policies. They saw this as an opportunity to argue for wide-ranging extensions of state control through nationalizations and planning agreements.

In other words, Callaghan’s speech articulated a doctrine that he did not really believe in, and one that would never guide his government’s policies. Moreover, he presented this doctrine in the guise of a conversion from another set of beliefs that had never really existed. Even so, this was still an important moment in the development of neoliberalism.

Power and Principles

Neoliberalism was never a consistent economic doctrine. While the early Thatcher government also adopted monetarism as a convenient set of tools, it soon abandoned those tools after they proved ineffective, while continuing to pursue the more fundamental goals of privatization, deregulation, and undermining organized labor.

The economic policies of another quintessential neoliberal government, the Reagan administration, also departed from the monetarist template. Enabled by the international status of the US dollar, the practice of Reaganism involved “cutting taxes and boosting government spending” (on the military, in this case) in a way that Callaghan’s speech had declared passé.

The more consistent feature of neoliberalism was its orientation toward capital, particularly the international variety, at the expense of other social constituencies. We can therefore identify the greater significance of the speech not in the specifics of what Callaghan said but rather in why he said it.

He intended the speech to win over international financial markets, where monetarist ideas had become popular. According to Labour’s Chancellor Denis Healey, the government had to speak the language of “monetarist mumbo-jumbo” (as he called it) because it needed to secure the confidence of the markets. Callaghan also wanted to make a virtue of challenging the left-wing activists who predominated among conference delegates.

The Labour government had already used concern about the outlook of international markets to push for a renegotiation of the Social Contract, with stricter limits on wages. These increasingly severe wage restraints eventually led to a wave of strikes in the “Winter of Discontent” of 1978–79. This forced another reversal of government policies but destroyed Labour’s central claim that it would bring about greater economic stability through good relations with the unions.

The speech showed that Callaghan was becoming more responsive toward international financial markets than toward unions or party activists. There was still a fragile balance in the 1974–79 government, which switched between some of the most left-wing government policies of the past quarter-century and early forms of neoliberalism. But it was increasingly pulled in the latter direction as it faced waves of financial speculation. Meanwhile, social movements that had pushed it toward greater radicalism suffered from disunity, and the alternatives they put forward were vague.

End of an Era?

If we understand neoliberalism in these terms, it can also help us as we consider the relationship between neoliberalism and contemporary politics. In recent years, it has become difficult to tell whether and to what extent we are still in a “neoliberal” era, as we see ever more dramatic forms of state intervention.

This has included the resurrection of national industrial policies, the rise of trade barriers, and threats to the political independence of central banks, notably in the United States under Donald Trump. When we compare this cluster of developments to the emphasis of neoliberalism on markets and “rules” that are enforced by technocrats rather than politicians, they clearly mark an important shift.

However, the shift is less clear-cut when we consider the power configurations that were the more fundamental markers of the shift to neoliberalism. The “post-neoliberalism” of the Trump administration, for example, appears in this light more as an amplification of the tendencies that defined the shift from “Keynesianism” to neoliberalism, led by a fraction of capital that is particularly resistant to compromise with other social groups.

On the other hand, the new British government of Andy Burnham may express a stronger rhetorical rejection of Thatcherism than its New Labour predecessors. But the struggles Britain has faced in achieving economic growth, combined with the heightened vulnerability of its governments to pressure from bond markets, mean that the space for social democratic policies is currently more restricted than it was during the era of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown.

At the same time, the sort of countervailing forces that imposed concrete limits on neoliberalism fifty years ago, such as a strong union movement, are still much weaker than in the past. Until the Left can develop the institutional reforms and social movements that would be necessary to challenge neoliberal power configurations, the most important tendencies that Callaghan’s speech signaled back in 1976 will continue to manifest themselves.

Even so close to Christmas, there ought to be a national day of mourning on 15 December, the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of the neoliberal age in Britain, the Budget of 15 December 1976. That was delivered by Healey on behalf of Callaghan to the delight of Thatcher and Howe, who considered that the fox of their backbench and indeed frontbench critics had been shot. The only notable thing about the 1979 General Election was the sex of the new Prime Minister. Everything else had changed two and half years earlier, and has carried on under all three parties ever since. Andy Burnham is right about that, even if it is odd for a man with his record to say it.

As Defence Secretary, Healey had expelled the Chagossian people from the Chagos Islands, a wrong that was later compounded by David Miliband before apparently being completed by David Lammy and Richard Hermer. Having dismissed both Lammy and Hermer, Burnham should cancel the Labour Right’s three generations of betrayal and recognise that the Chagossians had the same right to self-determination as the Falkland Islanders, beginning with the right of return to exercise it. If Donald Trump did not like that, then too bad. There is only one British member of Trump’s so-called Board of Peace. The expulsion of Tony Blair from the Labour Party, and his removal from the Privy Council as an agent of a foreign and increasingly hostile power, would be quite the Clause IV moment. As would the righting of the wrong against the Chagossians. And as would the removal of the 1995 commitment to neoliberalism that Blair wrote into the Labour Party Constitution in place of Clause IV, leading Thatcher to call New Labour her own greatest achievement.

But Blair learned what Keir Starmer has, that you could follow the path of Healey from the Outer Left to the Hard Right, or you could be as posh as his great rival Tony Benn, but the Labour Party would not tolerate you forever if you were both, since no matter where you had started out, being both posh and Hard Right really did mean that you belonged in one of several other parties. In the 19 years between the resignation of Blair and the fall of Starmer, attention spans have shortened exponentially, and here we are. Today, the nearest thing to Healey’s original Communist Party of Great Britain, the Communist Party of Britain that advocated voting Labour under Blair and Starmer, having regurgitated without attribution the Workers Party’s critiques of the Labour and Green candidates and of their parties, advocates “principled abstention” at Holborn and St Pancras, followed by joining the CPB. No one would do that if George Galloway had won, so there is another good reason for him to do so.

Is Europe Ready For Russia?

Wolfgang Munchau makes a very interesting case:

They’re everywhere, those retired generals and grand officials who keep on briefing about Ukrainian advances and successes in the current conflict. Mark Rutte was at it only last week: “Putin is in a bad place,” he said. “He is not winning the war.” And yet, just the other day, Denmark warned Europe to prepare for an imminent Russian attack. It’s like they can’t wait for the great war to finally kick off. 

Certainly, Radoslaw Sikorski, the Polish foreign minister, is prepping for it. “I have stocks of rice, I have a hand pump at home, and I have also made preserves from fruit from my own garden,” he told the Polish magazine Fakt last week. 

It is easy to mock Sikorski and his jam. But he does have a point. In times of war, nobody cares about the percentage of GDP that their country is spending on defense: they care about food and water. Not that our military leaders and planners will listen, though; soldiers like to talk about battles and gear, not rice and jam. 

Tales of heroic battlefield victories are far more persuasive, after all, than those of supply chains. And yet, defeat often comes because of weakness elsewhere. A few years before Napoleon lost his famous battle at Waterloo, he had launched a disastrous attempt to invade Russia. Although the brutal winter contributed to his failure, Napoleon had struggled to keep his troops fed and healthy. Hunger and disease took a terrible toll. As much as the enemy, it was his supply chains that thwarted him.

Likewise, when the German high command unveiled its master plan to invade France in August 1914, the generals hadn’t factored in an unexpected heatwave. The right wing of the German army was to invade France from the north and encircle Paris. But the soldiers were marching in thick woolen uniforms and carrying heavy backpacks in 30-degree heat. As the men advanced, the supply lines fractured leaving the troops exhausted, hungry and weakened. 

Meanwhile the Allied naval blockade of 1914 triggered food shortages in Germany which escalated over the years into a full-blown humanitarian catastrophe. Germany and Austria did not lose the First World War on the battlefield alone, they also lost it in the warehouse and the kitchen. The people starved. 

The food situation was better during the Second World War, but this time the critical shortage was of oil. Back then, the US produced over 60% of the world’s oil and together, the Allied powers controlled most of the global oil supply. But the German generals were heavily reliant on machinery that used diesel and the chronic shortage of oil was why Hitler diverted his troops from the outskirts of Moscow to the south of Russia: to capture the oil fields in Azerbaijan and the Caucasus. En route, they became trapped in Stalingrad and suffered their worst defeat of the Second World War. 

The battlefield perspective of history, then, critically underestimates the importance of supply chains. The stories of Europe’s wars are understood much better in terms of logistics than in tales of battles.

And nothing has changed. One of the consequences of the Iran war is the fluctuating cost of crude oil. But that is only part of the story. As the Ukraine war has led to critical shortages of diesel and kerosene on global markets, the price of European diesel has gone through the roof. In a display of his classic short-termism, Donald Trump suggested that the US should stop supplying Europeans with diesel. He almost certainly did not think this through. If the US were to carry out his plan, Europe would suffer an immediate supply emergency. And we need only look at the vast number of diesel-powered lorries on European motorways to realize how critically reliant we are on the fuel. The economy would grind to a halt. It might be a smart idea if our leaders addressed that situation before heading into battle with the Russians. 

But it’s not just diesel. The other shortage is natural gas. Iranian attacks have taken out 17% of liquid natural gas (LNG) production in Qatar, the world’s second largest LNG producer after America. Russia is the fourth — but Europeans have imposed an import ban on their gas. That’s why Europe is currently assessing whether it has enough fuel to get through the winter. And remember, this is still peacetime.

On the other side of the ledger is Russia. It, too, suffered from a diesel shortage last spring after Ukrainian attacks on its energy infrastructure. But Moscow immediately increased production in the east and halted exports of diesel to stabilize the situation. By doing so, Putin reduced the globally available supply of diesel and contributed to the rise in prices.

Russia’s food supply is also secure. This year, it had a bumper crop of grains, the wheat crop is forecast to be one of the best on record and oilseed production is also better than usual. Is this the “bad position” Rutte was talking about? 

And let’s not forget those other vital commodities: good, old-fashioned money and debt. Russia is practically debt-free. It runs a small fiscal deficit because of the Ukraine war, but nothing compared with the crippling deficits of the US, France, and nowadays also Germany.

As a consequence, the West is vulnerable to a potentially crippling financial crisis. Last week, the interest rate on 10-year US Treasury bonds, the most important financial security on earth, rose to a 21-year high of 5.2%. Ordinary investors such as pension funds are dumping their US bond holdings because they are no longer secure following Joe Biden and Donald Trump outbidding each other in terms of fiscal irresponsibility.

All the while, the war in Ukraine drags on. And could get much worse this winter. The peace process is effectively dead; Putin gave up on it after Ukraine rejected his demand for the entirety of the Donbas region and is now determined to achieve his military goals by war alone. Ukraine is running short of interceptor missiles and so is more vulnerable to attacks on critical infrastructure. And there is no sign of Ukraine’s western supporters stepping up military supplies — if only because they need what they have for themselves. Exacerbating the situation in Europe are the attacks, possibly orchestrated by Russia, on western supply infrastructure for Ukraine within Germany and Poland.

So this is how the Ukraine war risks escalating. Consider if Russia shoots down a plane over Nato territory carrying supplies to Ukraine. If Nato were to retaliate with a strike on Russia, we would be at war. Over the past few months, my assessment of this scenario has shifted from small but non-trivial, to one with a significant probability.

We should be under no illusion about a war with Russia. We are absolutely not in a position to win. Whose bond markets are going to be blown up first? Who is going to run out of interceptor missiles first? Thanks to the much maligned Common Agricultural Policy, Europe is not going to run out of food. But on every other count — military, energy, finance — Europe is at a disadvantage. 

That’s not all. There is a relatively plausible scenario in which Ukraine and Iran merge into a single West Eurasian war — and become the ultimate proxy conflict between the US and China. The love-in between Trump and President Xi Jinping of China notwithstanding, the rivalry between the US and China is and will remain the dominant geopolitical story of our time.

Trump’s war against Iran and Putin’s war against Ukraine have demonstrated how difficult it is even for a larger power to impose its will on a smaller adversary. Putin may have the advantage over Ukraine, but his struggles there suggest that war against Nato wouldn’t produce a quick or decisive victory.

More likely, it would be the kind of war where, in the end, nobody would care who won and who lost. You might as well stock up with jam.

Hegemonic Logic


The Hypothesis 

Assuming there is some logic behind the US’s actions on all fronts, and that there is an overarching strategy, what would it be?

A dark but plausible hypothesis is that the American strategy now is to Ukrainify Europe, so that when Ukrainian men run out they can be replenished with Europeans. The point is not to copy every measure used in Ukraine. It is to reach the same result: a country so poor, so tightly controlled, and so sealed against Russia by propaganda that it can be spent as frontline material. In Ukraine that was done with IMF shock therapy, deindustrialisation and a long campaign that turned the country into an anti-Russian project. In Europe the tools are different — energy shock, the loss of cheap Russian inputs, fiscal strain, NATO rearmament and the same kind of information war. For it to work, unemployment and desperation must rise, and some form of attack from Russia must be provoked or fabricated.

That preparation does not stop at a conventional front. Followed far enough, the same trajectory leads into the nuclear domain: a Europe desperate enough to escalate, and a United States that can remain outside the consequences. In nuclear confrontations, as in chess, the aim is often not to play the game through to the end, but to place the opponent in zugzwang: a position where every available move makes the situation worse.

Ola Tunander, in “From U.S. Horizontal Escalation to Russian Escalation Dominance,” describes how the United States achieved escalation dominance in the late Cold War through superiority in attack submarines. By threatening the Soviet submarines that carried Moscow’s retaliatory nuclear missiles, Washington undermined the reliability of the Soviet second-strike capability — the ability to hit back after an American first strike. The central problem for Soviet leaders was Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD): the doctrine that neither side would launch a nuclear first strike because the other would still be able to destroy it in return. Once that second-strike capability was in doubt, the logic of MAD began to unravel and Soviet Union was forced to back down.

From the perspective of top Western military strategists, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the dissolution of the Warsaw Pact constituted a genuine military victory. The political class mostly interpreted 1991 as the end of an ideological struggle, but those who saw it as a military triumph never abandoned the assumption that the victor retains the right to dictate terms. Putin’s restoration of Russian sovereignty has therefore been experienced as a violation of that privilege.

Today the relationship has reversed. Russia has caught up on the submarine front and deployed hypersonic missiles — Avangard, Tsirkon, Kinzhal and Oreshnik — that travel at extreme speeds and manoeuvre in flight, rendering them extremely difficult for current US and NATO defences to intercept. Escalatory dominance has transferred to the Russian side. Any move that risks vertical escalation now carries greater uncertainty for Washington than for Moscow.

That is why a new strategy has been developed. Because the United States can no longer risk climbing the escalation ladder itself, it transfers the confrontation, with a degree of plausible deniability, onto a proxy: a nuclear-armed or nuclear-sharing Europe driven into acute desperation. Such desperation could arise after Russian hypersonic missiles have destroyed key European arms factories, after tens of thousands of European soldiers have been killed in Ukraine, and after Russian forces are approaching Kiev or even the Polish border.

At that point Europe itself becomes the party with the strongest immediate incentive to escalate, while the United States retains both distance and deniability. Europe lacks the conventional military resources to mount any decisive escalation of its own; assessments from NATO officials and European intelligence services indicate that serious conventional readiness against Russia is unlikely before the early-to-mid 2030s. In such conventional impotence, nuclear weapons risk appearing as the only available “quick fix.” The mantra that Putin’s nuclear threats are a “bluff” lowers the psychological barrier to escalation that could compel Moscow to use nuclear weapons in order to restore the credibility of its deterrent.

This logic is consistent with what Tunander has shown about the historical reality of the U.S. “nuclear umbrella.” It did not mean that the United States was prepared to strike Russian territory to save its NATO allies and thereby risk the destruction of American cities. U.S. tactical nuclear weapons were planned for use inside Europe, against forces on European soil, precisely to keep any nuclear exchange geographically limited. With no Warsaw Pact left as a convenient target set and with U.S. escalation dominance gone, the umbrella has effectively ceased to exist. In a serious confrontation the United States would have every incentive to delegate both the fighting and the nuclear risk to the Europeans.

The strategy aims to place Russia in a position where the only alternatives are strategic retreat or the destruction of Europe as a proxy — a destruction that would come at the price of the damage European nuclear weapons would inflict on Russian territory and forces, while the American homeland stays out of range. One could reasonably expect Russia to back down under such pressure. Yet the method multiplies the risk of nuclear war by mistake.

It also places Russia in a severe dilemma. Sergey Karaganov has for several years openly advocated a limited nuclear strike against European targets in order to restore the fear of nuclear weapons among European elites and populations, and thereby force them to abandon their support for the war. But any limited nuclear strike against Europe would itself lower the threshold for European nuclear use against Russia, or risk triggering an immediate counter-strike. Russia would therefore face a choice with no optimal outcome: either tolerate the gradual construction of a desperate, nuclear-armed European front, or act early and thereby risk the very escalation it seeks to prevent — but against an opponent that is still somewhat less potent than it would become if Russia refrained from striking.

The American calculation appears to be that this dilemma can be exploited. By gradually raising the level of pressure — keeping Russia inside the zone of zugzwang without crossing into open strategic nuclear exchange — the United States hopes to force Moscow to back down rather than accept the costs of a wider war. The more Europe is positioned as a disposable nuclear front, the sharper the dilemma becomes. The objective may be to compel the acknowledgement of defeat that many in the West still believe was owed after 1991. The practical effect is to place the entire European continent — and Russian decision-making — on a hair-trigger.

What follows is an examination of the motivation behind this very dangerous (and psychopathic) strategy and of the economic, political and military steps that appear designed to create precisely these conditions.

The Motive: Imperial Overreach 

What would drive a power to contemplate such a radical abandonment and betrayal of its own allies? The answer is an order that can no longer reproduce itself on the old terms and whose managers know the consequences of failure.

This is not a 'Grand Design' drawn up in a smoke-filled room by a handful of conspirators. Rather, it is the emergent result of following the path of least resistance within a compromised power network. As the Epstein files have demonstrated, a sociological milieu can maintain its secrets not through formal conspiracy, but through shared vulnerability and mutual self-interest. When careers, assets, and legal liabilities are all bound to the same system, the rational choice for each actor is to protect that system at all costs. The result is indistinguishable from a master plan, but far more difficult to refute.

For decades the Western core has lived off financialization and the systematic offshoring of production. Industrial capacity was relocated to low-wage countries while the metropolitan economies shifted toward rent extraction, asset inflation, and the recycling of global savings through the dollar system. The near-collapse of 2008 exposed how close this structure had come to the abyss. As Michael Hudson has shown in Killing the Host, the banks were rescued while the underlying debt overhead was left intact. Zero interest rates and successive rounds of Quantitative Easing did not restore productive capacity; they inflated still larger bubbles in stocks, bonds, and real estate. The Covid years repeated the pattern on a greater scale. The structural problems remain unresolved. What has been constructed is a more leveraged and fragile system.

Simultaneously the old instruments of external control have begun to fail. The classic Economic Hit Man model of debt, privatization, and political compliance no longer works against states that possess alternatives. Sanctions that were supposed to reduce Russia’s economy to “tatters” and turn the ruble into “rubble” achieved neither. Iran has likewise endured. China’s technological advance across the majority of critical domains has erased the assumption of permanent Western superiority. African and other Global South actors increasingly turn toward new partners. The long-standing capacity to keep weaker regions in permanent underdevelopment is slipping.

At the same time, the people at the top know they have blood on their hands — and that a real collapse of the system could finally bring them to account. Chinese Foreign Ministry spokespeople have stated the point with shocking directness. In August 2022 Zhao Lijian publicly circulated a meme that effectively accused the United States of having carried out the 9/11 attacks as a false-flag operation—an act of the highest criminal magnitude whose purpose was to mobilize domestic and international support for the series of wars and war crimes that followed.

Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman Wang Wenbin has likewise called for the international community to examine U.S. war crimes and hold those responsible to account, adding that justice may be delayed but will not be denied. The criminal record is extensive: fabricated atrocity stories used to manufacture consent for war (the Kuwait incubator testimony engineered by Hill & Knowlton, the Viagra-rape claims against Libya, the weapons-of-mass-destruction dossier on Iraq), a long series of regime-change operations, and formal legal mechanisms such as the American Service-Members’ Protection Act—popularly known as the Hague Invasion Act—designed to shield U.S. and allied personnel from the International Criminal Court. Under the principles established at Nuremberg, the planning and initiation of aggressive war constituted the supreme international crime. An elite that has operated for decades with near-total impunity understands what a genuine systemic collapse could mean for its own security. The fight for hegemony is existential for those who run the system. When no safer options remain, they will use any measure that still has even a slight chance of success.

Cannibalising the Vassals 

Europe’s security has long been expensive for the United States. For decades the two formed a single imperial apex: the historical core of the system remained culturally and institutionally European, while the military muscle and the financial command structure were progressively concentrated in the United States. For decades America played the part of the stronger partner that still deferred to European civilisation. The recent spectacle of NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte calling Trump “Daddy” shows how far that relationship has shifted — and in which direction the deference now flows.

That arrangement is now breaking down. More nationalist, less Europe-romanticising forces have taken control in Washington. The continent is no longer treated as a co-equal partner at the summit of the Rules Based Order, but as a resource to be drawn from: economically drained, politically subordinated, and militarily prepared as the theatre in which the costs of imperial decline will be paid. 

The US has invested heavily in ramping up its domestic energy production in order to survive the impending disruption — or total collapse — of energy exports from the Persian Gulf. They prepared for the current conflict they provoked, in line with the strategy outlined in the military-industrial think tank Brookings Institution’s 2009 document Which Path to Persia?. At the same time as they pretend to seek a resolution, they continually take new steps to escalate it, not least by using Israel as a tool.

Europe is now dependent on American energy. Whether through a full-scale war in the Gulf or through a prolonged closure of the Strait of Hormuz (and potentially the Red Sea as well), the effect for Europe would be the same. When the crisis deepens, the Americans will be in a position to say: “Sorry boys, but we need all the energy for ourselves now.” The resulting energy shock would accelerate the Ukrainification of Europe — and likely of Japan, the Philippines and South Korea as well — turning them into more desperate and controllable frontline assets against Russia’s eastern flank and against China.

One doesn’t need to be a genius to understand what the blowing up of Nord Stream has to do with this. Biden explicitly said they would blow up the pipeline if Russia attacked Ukraine, and Blinken and Nuland openly celebrated when it was done. Sweden, Denmark and Germany classified their investigations, citing national security and the confidentiality of preliminary inquiries. The practical effect was that the results never had to be shared with Russia — or any other interested party.

The United States has spent years doing precisely what a series of its own most experienced geostrategic observers warned would produce a Russian military intervention in Ukraine. In 2008, then-ambassador to Moscow William Burns (later CIA director) sent a cable whose subject line read “Nyet Means Nyet.” He wrote that Ukrainian entry into NATO was “the brightest of all redlines for the Russian elite (not just Putin)” and added that Russia was particularly worried the strong divisions inside Ukraine over NATO membership “could lead to a major split, involving violence or at worst, civil war. In that eventuality, Russia would have to decide whether to intervene – a decision Russia does not want to have to face.” A decade earlier George Kennan, the architect of containment, told the New York Times that NATO expansion was “the most fateful error of American policy in the entire post-cold-war era” and “the beginning of a new cold war.” Stephen Cohen and John Mearsheimer issued the same warning for years: push Ukraine toward NATO and the West would force Russia into a military response. The warnings were clear, repeated, and ignored. The policies continued.

Why European Elites Behave Against Their National Interests 

Almost all analysts in the alternative media are left bewildered by the spectacle of European politicians acting as if their countries have no self-interest. Russia is not merely a conventional military superpower — ranked second only to the United States in independent assessments such as the Global Firepower Index, and repeatedly described by NATO’s own Supreme Allied Commander, General Christopher Cavoli, as retaining formidable multi-domain capabilities largely unaffected by the war in Ukraine. It is also a nuclear power of the first order. Europe’s long-term security and economic survival depend on access to Russian energy and raw materials; this is something German industrialists and a number of more sober politicians have long understood. That Europe’s current leadership appears incapable of recognising this elementary reality is what continues to astonish observers outside the mainstream.

According to veteran war reporter Patrik Baab, both European and Ukrainian elites need the ongoing conflict to safeguard their own political survival and ambitions. Western European leaders who steered their countries into the war and its financial consequences cannot admit failure without losing power, and therefore escalate further. Some German elites, he adds, are also driven by a lingering desire for revenge over historical defeats such as Stalingrad. This is certainly an important part of the explanation. Yet it is difficult to believe that such self-destructive behaviour is not also the result of conscious American manipulation of European politics. The case for systematic U.S. influence over European decision-making is stronger than most polite discourse is prepared to acknowledge.

Colonel Lawrence Wilkerson (former Chief of Staff to Colin Powell) describes how the United States systematically engineered European political obedience and NATO expansion through orchestrated influence operations. After the Cold War, Washington decided that every European country — regardless of size, democratic credentials or popular will — should join NATO. For holdouts that preferred neutrality or whose populations opposed membership, the U.S. ran campaigns modelled on “color revolutions.” These involved packages of NGOs, quasi-governmental organizations, official agencies and high-profile visits by American senators and representatives, deliberately backing pro-NATO political minorities (“tyrannies of the minority”) rather than majority opinion. This successfully pulled countries such as Montenegro and Albania into the alliance.

Wilkerson adds that the CIA, USAID and related instruments were used to shape post-Cold War Europe itself — training and elevating compliant leaders while discarding those who did not fit the desired profile. He recalls how they continuously identified and selected the politicians “we need,” marking others off the list. The country teams and ambassadors on the ground carried out this work, sometimes guided by the State Department, sometimes by the CIA.

This pattern of influence is not new. As Colonel L. Fletcher Prouty – who for years coordinated military support for CIA clandestine operations – explained regarding the Military Assistance Program in his book The Secret Team: 

“The important thing about the Military Assistance Program is that it brought with it some new definitions of the role and responsibility of the armed forces of the nation. In the first instance, these definitions seemed quite correct and served to make the Military Assistance Program more meaningful to Americans. However, as the years passed and the MAP work became routine, and as these earlier doctrines became part of the ‘military language’ for both countries involved—the United States and the host country—they began to produce subtle changes in the role of the U.S. military. This led to a very sophisticated form of direct intervention in the internal affairs of the forty host countries, and in some cases, it resulted directly in the separation of that nation’s armed forces from its political control through practices that will be explained. In this sense the elaborate statements of mission of the mutual security programs are a refined cover story. The military assistance program becomes the means by which the [Secret Team] may, whenever it finds or suspects ‘communist-inspired subversive insurgency,’ increase its role in the armed forces and political organizations of the host country until the trouble becomes an outbreak of open hostility. Thus the ‘fireman’ becomes the man who sets fires rather than the one who puts them out.”

By “Secret Team” Prouty meant the informal network of senior CIA officers, military special operations personnel, and their allies in the executive branch and private sector that operated with limited oversight and used official programs such as military assistance as instruments of covert intervention. What he described for the Third World in the Cold War era has clear parallels in the post-Cold War European theater: the progressive integration of national armed forces into NATO structures, the continuous flow of military assistance and training, and the gradual separation of those forces from purely national political control – all under the cover of mutual security and “deterrence.” 

Brutal methods were used to keep politicians that Washington did not favor from power. From the Gladio stay-behind networks that embedded clandestine structures inside both NATO and neutral countries and, committed acts of terrorism that helped keep any real left or sovereign influence in check, through the unresolved or suspiciously timed killings of figures such as Aldo Moro, Olof Palme and Alfred Herrhausen—leaders who threatened the existing Atlantic order or sought more independent economic and security paths—the pattern is one of selective pressure and removal. Added to this are the confirmed NSA surveillance of Angela Merkel and other European leaders, and the quieter but persistent shaping of personnel through massive propaganda programs, and elite socialization programs such as the World Economic Forum’s Young Global Leaders, which have placed Atlanticist-aligned figures in key ministries, central banks and EU institutions across the continent. When these instruments are viewed together with the long record of U.S. opposition to genuine European neutrality the picture that emerges is a sustained effort to ensure that European political elites remain structurally obedient to Washington even when that demonstrably harms the material interests of their own populations.

The same pattern that prepared Ukraine for total mobilization is now being applied to Europe, only on a larger scale and with greater subtlety. In Ukraine the process was compressed: the destruction of industry in the Donbas, the severing of energy and trade links with Russia, the systematic impoverishment of large parts of the population, and the cultivation of a permanent state of existential threat. Parallel to the material devastation ran a comprehensive information and political purge. Opposition parties that favored any form of normalization with Russia were suspended and later banned. Russian-language media were restricted or eliminated. The population was sealed off from the adversary’s own narrative. Russians were systematically dehumanized so that the idea of negotiating with them, or even recognizing their humanity, became politically toxic. 

Europe is being subjected to a slower but structurally identical treatment. The destruction of Nord Stream, the forced decoupling from Russian energy and raw materials, the resulting deindustrialization (most visible in Germany’s chemical and automotive sectors), soaring energy prices, and the steady erosion of real wages are producing the same material conditions: rising unemployment, declining living standards, and a growing sense that the future has been cancelled. At the same time a massive propaganda campaign has rendered Russia and Russians non-human. Tabloid front pages (as documented in analyses of Swedish Expressen headlines) present a continuous stream of demonization. Russian athletes, including disabled competitors, Russian cultural figures, even Russian cats at exhibitions, have been subjected to collective punishment. Russian state media have been banned across the European Union so that citizens cannot hear the other side present its own case. Political parties or voices that call for negotiation or normalization are marginalized, investigated, or treated as security threats — the same logic that led Ukraine to ban eleven opposition parties in the first weeks of the Russian invasion. 

Those who challenge the narrative face concrete professional and personal consequences. Swiss intelligence veteran and analyst Jacques Baud, living in Brussels, was placed under EU sanctions in December 2025: his assets frozen and his travel restricted, without trial, for the crime of offering analyses that contradicted the official line. In Sweden, the international-relations scholar Frida Stranne was subjected to a sustained campaign of vilification that rendered her nearly untouchable in media and policy circles. In Norway, professor Glenn Diesen has faced years of systematic smears, media campaigns labelling him a Russian propagandist, pressure on his university to dismiss him, and repeated attempts to cancel his public appearances. The message is unambiguous: deviation from the approved framing is not a legitimate difference of opinion but a form of disloyalty.

Once enough Europeans experience the same combination of economic despair, information isolation, and manufactured external threat that Ukrainians faced, the political threshold for sending European men into the meat grinder will fall dramatically.

Nuclear War via Proxy 

Furthermore, this influence over European decision-making can be used to construct precisely the situation outlined earlier: a nuclear-armed Europe that can be positioned as the disposable front in a confrontation with Russia, while the United States retains both geographic distance and a measure of plausible deniability.

In the extreme version of this logic, European states — whether through American nuclear bombs that European pilots are trained to deliver under NATO’s nuclear-sharing arrangements, or through some form of national or shared European capability — become the parties that actually cross the nuclear threshold. A strike launched from Nordic or German territory toward St. Petersburg or Moscow would almost certainly trigger a Russian response against the countries that launched it. It would not, however, automatically compel Russia to strike the American homeland, since that would risk the mutual annihilation of what remains of industrial civilisation, including Russia itself. 

The calculation, therefore, is that Russia can be forced into a strategic retreat — or into a limited nuclear exchange confined to Europe — without the United States having to own the initiating threat. This would amount to the clearer acknowledgement of defeat that many in the Western security establishment still believe was owed after 1991. Only after that, the reasoning goes, could the United States turn its full attention to the larger contest with China.

Whether such a controlled outcome is actually achievable once the nuclear threshold is crossed is another question. The practical effect of the strategy, however, is to place the European continent on a hair-trigger while the American homeland remains, for the moment, a reserved rear area. 

Professor Ola Tunanders paints a somewhat similar scenario in his article How will the Ukraine War end?: 

Scenario C: “That the war continues with missile strikes that trigger an attack with nuclear weapons. The Russian conventionally armed Avangard and Oreshnik missiles will perhaps destroy European military bases and partly civilian infrastructure. The British and French may feel compelled to respond with the use of nuclear weapons. Russia will then also respond with nuclear weapons. British and American military structure in Europe will largely be destroyed. Hundreds of thousands of people will be dying. The Russian losses will also be large, while the U.S., like China, will seek to avoid entering the war. There will be a U.S.-European split and NATO may collapse. Military targets and infrastructure, not least in the UK, will be destroyed. Norway will be better off, but it depends on where the wind is coming from.” 

If one goes back and studies the Americans’ plans for nuclear war during the Cold War, this is not beyond the realm of the conceivable. It only depends on which forces hold power in the US, and I definitely think it looks like they are moving toward an increasingly extreme regime. American prosperity depends on being able to extract surplus value from the rest of the world. The dollar as reserve currency, technological superiority, brilliant propaganda, and the military have been the tools used to maintain the system. These tools are now losing their functionality, not least because of BRICS – yet they must maintain the system if they want to avoid economic and political collapse. The war is existential for all parties.

The Escalation Ladder 

Could the Americans be setting the stage for such an outcome? A lot of things that don’t appear to make sense do seem to add up if you suppose that is indeed the case. 

So, the answer appears to be yes. What we are witnessing is not a series of disconnected improvisations, but a carefully paced escalation ladder whose every “red line” has been moved forward once it became clear that Russia would not respond with the all-out retaliation previously invoked as the reason for restraint. 

In the opening months of the war, Western leaders spoke only of humanitarian aid and limited defensive equipment. Biden himself declared in March 2022 that providing fighter jets — let alone American pilots or crews — would mean “World War III.” That line was crossed. F-16s were delivered. Long-range Western systems (ATACMS, Storm Shadow and their equivalents) are now routinely fired from Ukrainian territory deep into Russia. Ukrainian drones have struck airbases housing nuclear-capable strategic bombers thousands of kilometers from the front, an operation of such logistical sophistication that claims of Western intelligence and technical support are difficult to dismiss. British military-intelligence networks have been documented planning and training covert Ukrainian partisan and sabotage units for attacks on Russian targets. Missiles and drones that land on Polish or Romanian soil are, as a first reflex, attributed to Russia — regardless of later technical findings. The destruction of Nord Stream was immediately framed as a Russian act. Parallel to this kinetic escalation runs a systematic cultural and sporting quarantine of everything Russian, completing the psychological preparation by rendering the adversary an absolute other. 

Each step was once declared unthinkable. Each step, once taken, became the new baseline. The political effect is cumulative: the European public and its leadership have been conditioned to accept as normal what would have been regarded as direct involvement only a few years earlier. 

Further rungs on the ladder are already visible. Open discussion of European troops on Ukrainian soil — framed as a post-ceasefire “reassurance force” — continues within the Coalition of the Willing, despite Russian statements that such forces would be treated as legitimate targets. Massive rearmament programmes, openly justified by the need to be ready for high-intensity conflict with Russia within a few years, create their own strategic logic: they give Moscow a rational incentive to strike European arms factories and logistics hubs preventively. A successful Russian strike of that kind would, in turn, supply European governments with the domestic political capital required to crush remaining opposition and accelerate direct involvement. On the Russian side, voices calling for limited nuclear use against European targets in order to instil fear are no longer confined to the fringe. 

This is the operational environment in which the United States can manage escalation. The costs — conventional attrition and, if the ladder continues, limited nuclear exchange — fall on the European theatre. The American homeland remains the protected sanctuary. The same logic that once calculated “acceptable losses” of hundreds of millions in a European nuclear exchange during the Cold War now finds its contemporary expression in the calibrated risks of proxy escalation. 

The Ukrainification of Europe is the stepwise transformation of the continent into the principal battlefield of a conflict whose strategic purpose is to exhaust two of America’s rivals while preserving the core of American power. 

Europe itself is opening the door to nuclear weapons in ways that would have been politically unthinkable only a few years ago. Ukrainian leaders, including President Zelenskyy, have repeatedly framed the choice as binary: either NATO membership with credible security guarantees or the restoration of a nuclear capability. Public opinion inside Ukraine has shifted accordingly; polls now show substantial support for nuclear weapons as a preferable alternative to uncertain Western commitments. In Germany the taboo has cracked. Generals, former foreign ministers and leading politicians have openly discussed the need for German tactical nuclear weapons or a European deterrent independent of the United States. While the government still rejects a national bomb, talks with France on “forward deterrence” — including possible temporary deployment of French nuclear-capable aircraft on allied soil — are under way. In Sweden the Defence Minister has stated that nuclear weapons could be accepted on Swedish territory in wartime, and the government has confirmed early discussions with France and Britain about nuclear cooperation. 

The Defence Cooperation Agreements signed by Sweden and Finland with the United States deliberately leave the door open: they contain no explicit peacetime ban that would prevent the introduction of American nuclear weapons under crisis or wartime conditions. Sweden has already participated in NATO’s Steadfast Noon nuclear exercise. Across the continent the conversation has moved from absolute rejection to contingency planning. The practical effect is to prepare European territory, European political consent and European delivery systems for a nuclear role — precisely the role required if the United States intends to confine any limited nuclear exchange to the European theatre and spare the American homeland from nuclear Armageddon for the time being. 

This reading gains further weight from the fact that Under Secretary of Defense for Policy Elbridge Colby is currently overseeing a classified nuclear strategy review that deliberately shifts emphasis toward shorter-range tactical nuclear weapons for regional conflicts with Russia or China. Rather than relying primarily on the threat of massive strategic retaliation, the review aims to expand the president’s “option space” with more credible, lower-yield systems that could be used against specific military targets without automatically triggering all-out nuclear war. Officials familiar with the work describe it as strengthening extended deterrence and escalation management under the nuclear shadow—precisely the kind of calibrated, theater-level capability that would make proxy nuclear signaling via European soil more plausible while still preserving the American homeland as a strategic rear. 

Defining victory 

In this light, the old Cold War calculations about “winning” a nuclear exchange take on renewed and chilling relevance. Those 1970s-era assessments, famously captured in the U.S. Air Force statement that America could lose two hundred million people and still field a surviving population larger than at the time of the Civil War were a cold, calculated assessments made to ensure that the ruling elite and core institutions of power could survive, even if vast numbers of ordinary people did not. 

The real metric of victory was the survival of command structures, succession protocols, hardened leadership bunkers, airborne command posts, and enough industrial and financial seed stock (currency reserves, key personnel cadres) to keep a functioning American state apparatus on top of the global system. 

Continuity of Government (COG) programs like Mount Weather, Raven Rock, the Greenbrier Congressional bunker, mobile command convoys, and pre-positioned successor support teams built to safeguard the presidency, the National Command Authority, the Federal Reserve’s ability to reissue currency, and the chain of command that allows the extraction of value to continue under post-apocalyptic conditions. The same logic that tolerated “acceptable losses” on a civilizational scale in the 1970s and 1980s now finds its echo in the calibrated risks of European proxy escalation. 

If Nordic, German or any other European soil becomes the launchpad for strikes that draw Russian retaliation, the continental United States, shielded by distance and the doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD), preserves its hold on power, its energy dominance, and its position to dictate terms to a shattered Europe and a bloodied Russia. 

The same forces that invested in American domestic energy independence, severed Europe’s direct energy lifeline to Russia, and maintained the option of proxy nuclear escalation understand that true strategic defeat for America would be the loss of its ability to set the terms of global extraction. A limited nuclear exchange confined largely to European and Russian soil, followed by American-led reconstruction on fire-sale terms, fits the pattern. 

Once Europe and Russia have exhausted each other in conventional attrition or a limited nuclear exchange, leaving the continent shattered, its industries available for pennies on the dollar, and its remaining populations desperate, the United States would finally be free to pivot decisively against its only true peer competitor: China. 

American military strategists have long argued that the real existential threat is not Moscow but Beijing. Official doctrine increasingly reflects this: the 2026 National Defense Strategy prioritizes homeland defense and deterring China in the Indo-Pacific. 

A bloodied Russia cannot effectively support China; and the United States, having extracted surplus value from the European collapse, hope to be able to confront Beijing from a position of relative strength, whether through economic strangulation, or a carefully calibrated Pacific conflict that again seeks to spare the American homeland from the fighting. The same logic that once calculated acceptable losses in a European nuclear exchange now underpins planning for the Indo-Pacific: victory is defined not by the survival of populations or even of formal allies, but by the continued ability of the American system to set the terms of global extraction against its principal rival. 

Cui Bono? 

Most people see only madness in the actions of America under neoconservative rule, but as Michael Parenti taught us:

“To say that George Bush’s policy isn’t working is a senseless comment. It’s not a politically defined comment. You have to ask: Working for whom? Cui bono?

When you think that those who rule you, who rule the wealth, who control the markets, and the labour, and the resources of society, and set the wages, and control the media market - when you think they are stupid, you are being stupid. You got that? OK!

If you know that and you don’t know anything else you know more than if you know everything else but you don’t know that. When the rulers appear to be blundering into disaster, ask cui bono!”

In the end, the most powerful motive behind this entire strategy may be the simplest and most personal. The networks that have driven the post-Cold War order know that a genuine systemic collapse would not merely end their geopolitical dominance — it would expose them. The accumulated record of illegal wars, false pretexts, economic predation, and the deliberate sacrifice of allies would become impossible to bury. Chinese officials have already begun to name these crimes in public; others will follow if the protective machinery of the system fails.

For those who have lived for decades above the law, the Ukrainification of Europe and the calculated risk of nuclear escalation are acts of self-preservation. Better to drive the continent into desperation and force a confrontation that keeps the system on life support than to face the day when the music stops and the accounts are finally opened.

The strategy may therefore be less about securing a lasting American hegemony than about postponing the moment when justice finally catches up with those who have treated other people’s countries as disposable assets.