A Hollow Triumph: How Israel Is Winning — and Condemning Itself to Rootlessness

The current war between Israel and Iran is following a predictable path, with the Iranian regime substantially weakened and Israel asserting itself as the dominant military power in the region—having practically decapitated not just Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Assad regime, but now also the top military brass of the Islamic Republic. But there is something hollow about this power. It depends on U.S. weapons and the militarisation of Israeli society. It prevents Israel/Palestine from evolving into a multi-ethnic democracy rooted in the region, thereby reinforcing its identity as a settler-colonial outpost in hostile territory.  For in this case rather than behaving like a middle eastern state with its long term security in mind, Israel is behaving like the 'zionist entity' which its adversaries condemn. But there is a logic to this. Until Israel accepts the prospect of transforming itself into a land of equal rights for all its inhabitants, it has no choice but to act like an entity rather than a state—one whose survival depends on scorching the earth around it.

Sure, I have no qualms about seeing one of the most brutal and oppressive regimes—which wages war against women, LGBTQ people, leftists and democrats—falling apart.  And while am appalled on how anti semitism is invoked  at any slight criticism of Israel, the Iranian regime is ideologically antisemetic. But talk of regime change is premature. In the short term, Israeli attacks may well inflame Iranian nationalism, although I’m not sure whether educated and younger Iranians, scarred by the brutality inflicted during recent protests, will rally behind the Ayatollahs.

And while nobody wants to see a nuclear-armed Iran, we should not forget that Israel—currently behaving like a rogue state—is itself a nuclear power. This could send the message that only nuclear weapons can provide Iran with deterrence against Israeli aggression, even though, when the dust settles, it is highly unlikely that Iran will retain any such capability. Moreover, there is no compelling evidence that Iran is any closer to producing nuclear weapons. This raises the question of whether Netanyahu is simply seizing a favourable geopolitical moment—marked by the near elimination of Iranian proxies in the region and by the erratic leadership of Trump, which has given him even more latitude than the Biden administration. It remains mind boggling why Trump has  green lighted an Israeli attack while negotiating with the Iranians.  This means that either Trump has been outwitted by Netanyahu or that he has been playing with the Iranians. 

Furthermore, despite verbal protests by Gulf states like the Saudis, a weakened Iran ultimately serves their interests. Things may get iffy if the war disrupts the global economy and oil prices wreak havoc. There could also be unintended consequences, with Russia—despite being one of Iran's few allies—benefiting from the windfall.

But the saddest thing is that this war has diverted attention from the use of starvation as a weapon in Gaza. For a brief time, even the UK and France began sounding critical of Israel. But that window has now closed, due to the threat Iran is perceived to pose to Israel (even though in this case Israel was clearly the aggressor). This simply shows how easily Western democracies can relegate and forget the lives of Palestinians.

Genocide, Blood libel, and the Misuse of Antisemitism

'Blood libel' depicted in this scene was based on a fabricated lie that Jewish people used the blood of Christians in religious rituals, especially in the preparation of Passover bread which served as a pretext for pogroms and persecutions.

The terror attack in New York targeting two Israeli diplomats must be condemned as an act of political violence that has no place in democratic societies. What follows should not be misconstrued as an apology or justification. But such acts occur within a context that needs to be understood.

It is not antisemitism that fuels these heinous acts of terror, but the genocide itself—which has also endangered the lives of Jewish people. The scenes from Gaza are stomach-churning. The impact on the mental health of people—not necessarily Arabs or Muslims—who feel helpless in the face of this horror cannot be underestimated.

Yes, the Holocaust and the fight against antisemitism should define our political struggles. That is precisely why Israel must be stopped. Using this case to criminalise opposition to genocide only rubs salt into a festering wound. What is antisemitic is to conflate Jewish identity with support for genocidal and apartheid policies—a conflation particularly common among elements of the right who support Israel. As a historian am also appalled by Netanyahu attribution of the terror attack to “blood libels against Israel”. Am offended because a heinous anti semitic crime whose victims deserve respect is being invoked to justify a clampdown on critics who are denouncing a real crime.

My fear is that the genocide is triggering both antisemitism (which remains alive and well, even among those who claim to hate Jews but support settlers and colonists) and other, harder-to-define forms of political violence. Genocide without a response can also distort our moral compass, creating a misguided imperative that, while not necessarily antisemitic, can still be deadly. Of course, latent and subtle antisemitism can also be at play, which is why the pro-Palestinian movement should confront this issue head-on, showing zero tolerance towards any sign of anti-Jewish hatred.

I say this because the term antisemitism is being misused—exploiting a heinous act committed by an individual with tenuous links to left-wing organisations—to criminalise an entire movement. Genocide is not a word to be taken lightly. Accepting that it is happening without responding to it creates a profound crisis, including serious mental health struggles for those watching these events unfold on their screens.

That is why, in the initial stages of this war, I was reluctant to use the term—fully aware of its gravity. Yet with 54,000 people massacred, clear signs that mass starvation is being used as a weapon, and an evident intent to displace an entire population, one cannot escape the conclusion that the State of Israel is committing a crime against humanity.

Over the past decades, wars and bombardments have been justified under the pretext of humanitarian intervention—not only in the face of genocide (as in Kosovo), but also to prevent it (as was the case in Libya). The contrast with the Western response to what is unfolding in Gaza is so stark, it is mentally disturbing.

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Voting for genocide?

Irrespective of the Israeli singer—who witnessed and lived through a horrific war crime—and the song itself (unremarkable, but not bad), it was disturbing that a significant number of Europeans voted for a song representing a state currently committing extensive crimes against humanity, including the use of starvation as a weapon of war and the killing of 54,000 people.

Just imagine if Russia had been allowed to participate while bombing Ukraine and was close to winning the contest. Thankfully, we were spared that embarrassment because Russia was excluded. Had that happened, some might have questioned the algorithms that made such a result possible.  

But perhaps this also shows that support for Israel goes deeper and extends beyond  European Union officials and national governments.  Still one also has to account for the nature of the vote which is  more indicative of a solid cohort of support in a context of 'diffuse alternatives'.  Furthermore people who wanted to make a political statement by supporting the Israeli entry were more likely to vote 20 times than others who were simply enjoying the night.  Moreover opinion polls in the United Kingdom which gave Israel 12- full points show that only 17% say that their sympathies lie with Israel in the current war in Gaza while 26% sympathise with the Palestinians.  

Still, the fact that a solid cohort continues to support Israel despite the genocide unfolding on our screens—in a context where one would have to be blind not to see it—is disturbing in itself. It partly reflects the rightward drift across Europe. Maybe Malta’s entry—which embodied the kitschy, queer, Euro-pop aesthetic—would have fared better a decade ago, when that vibe held more political currency.

So, should one read too much into a song contest? Maybe not. But it is the closest thing to a European fun night—a moment of collective attention. And for that reason alone, it matters.

The Aesthetics of Power: Lessons from Mujica and Francis for the Trumps of This World

"As soon as politicians start climbing up the ladder, they suddenly become kings. I don't know how it works, but what I do know is that republics came into being to ensure that no one is above anyone else... The pomp of office is like something left over from a feudal past: you need a palace, a red carpet, a lot of people behind you saying, 'Yes, sir.' I think all of that is awful."

José "Pepe" Mujica practised what he preached. He did not advocate self-mortification, nor did he glorify poverty—which he wanted to see abolished. But he understood the link between capitalism and consumerism, which ultimately impoverishes humanity and destroys nature.

He eschewed the presidential palace in favour of the farmhouse where he grew flowers. In 2022, he told Al Jazeera that opulence can “divorce” presidents from their people:

“I believe that politicians should live like the majority of their people, not like the privileged minority.”

In this regard, Mujica shared the same approach as Pope Francis, who, unlike his predecessors (and successor), eschewed living in the papal residence and opted to stay in a suite at the Vatican guesthouse.

Some would argue that as long as politicians bring about positive change, they are entitled to material wealth that reflects their status. There's a case to be made when one considers how public service wages compare to those offered by corporations. One can even argue that an underpaid public service becomes a breeding ground for corruption. For example, in Malta we have a situation where ministers are paid less than their underlings who run public authorities. Moreover, the defence of the common good also requires recruiting the best minds—often in a context where those minds can earn far more serving the same corporations that undermine the public good.

Still, there is a strong argument that political leaders are moral leaders who should lead by example—and that opulence itself is the perfect breeding ground for corruption and incestuous ties between politicians and the super-rich. No wonder some  politicians (including our own Joseph Muscat) are so attracted to the Gulf states. No wonder Trump feels so much at home being feted in the palaces of emirs and sheikhs.

When accepting public office, politicians have a civic and republican duty towards those who elected them—to serve, not to rule. In this sense, their lifestyle and wealth are matters of public interest. So yes, let's ensure they are paid enough to fulfil their duties—and I wouldn't expect them to live like Francis or Mujica (even if it’s a big plus when they choose to do so voluntarily). But any manifestation of opulence, and any business dealings while in office, should be scorned and rebuked. This has nothing to do with appearing smart, looking good, or enjoying life. What is disturbing are politicians who project power by flaunting a lifestyle that affirms their success to ordinary people—who are then expected to admire and adore them.

Why Trump loves the gulf states...and wants a peace without irritants

It seems Donald Trump enjoys visiting the Gulf states.

He probably feels at home accepting gifts and praise from ultra reactionary Arab monarchies—long hailed by the West as bastions of moderation, despite it being common knowledge that they sponsor all kinds of nefarious activities from corrupting FIFA to host the world cup to bribing MEPs.  Trump will take this to another level, simply because he has no qualms about human rights or corrupt lobbying.

He is even considering accepting a multimillion-dollar personal gift (a palatial jet) from Qatar, an opaque kingdom that embodies contradiction: pro-American, pro-Iranian, pro-Hamas, a promoter of free speech and yet deeply dictatorial.

But where does this leave US support for Bibi’s genocide?

Sure, Trump may simply sideline Bibi (at least for a short while), as he is doing by skipping the obligatory visit to Israel during his Arab tour.

Netanyahu may be perceived as an irritating nuisance to Trump’s transactional deals and appetite for corrupt gifts.  

What’s remarkable is that Trump can now attribute "good faith" to Hamas and the Houthis while harassing and criminalising pro-Gaza protesters in the US. Unlike Biden, he is less ideologically committed to Israel in the 'never again' tradition. Sure, that policy was misguided and contributed to a genocide, but it was also open to challenge on the grounds that “never again” should apply to all of humanity. Yet we mustn’t forget that part of Trump’s base takes that commitment to another level—a biblical one. Some even dream of the restoration of David’s kingdom, with one caveat: the conversion of the Jews at the end of days. The Republican right wing has an uncomfortable relationship with Jewish identity, often targeting liberal Jews as ungrateful.

Will anything good for the Palestinians come of this? At most, they may get an uneasy ceasefire. Bibi has already won his war and is now playing in extra time, working to finish the job through mass expulsions—a prospect legitimised by Trump’s dystopian idea of a real estate resort in Gaza.  It was this dark fantasy which gave Bibi the pretext to return to war after a brief lull which coincided with Trump's swearing in.

But Trump knows that such a horror spectacle would be intolerable for the Saudis and other Gulf states—not because they care about the Palestinians, but because it makes normalising ties with Israel and striking (corrupt) deals with the US far more difficult. This kind of approach to 'peace' makes another October 7 even more likely—a direct consequence of the Abraham Accords, which aimed to sideline Palestinians in the name of regional stability.

And where does this leave Israel?

Possibly, Bibi will have to dump his far-right allies—a move that could end his political career. But don’t count on that. Trump may be irritated by him but could ultimately prefer the autocrat he knows to the messiness of what remains of Israel’s partial parliamentary democracy.

Still, Israel will remain vulnerable as long as it continues to define itself as a settler, white, apartheid state. Unfortunately it is this aspect of Israeli identity which makes Israel attractive for the US and European far right while they still tap in to anti semitism when denouncing global liberal conspiracies. 

Let’s not forget that Trump never forgave Bibi for recognising Biden’s victory in 2020. What’s at stake for Trump is asserting who’s in charge—with the ultimate aim being a normalisation (which ignores the occupation), without too many irritants (for businesses and tech billionaires).

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Rethinking Work: A Workers’ Day Reflection on Time, Dignity, and Freedom

Imagine how the world would be transformed if most boring work were automated, and everyone were entitled to a decent basic income—one that guarantees a good life within a context of robust and accessible public services. People would regain control over their time and be free to cultivate their interests. They would no longer have to accept the first job offer that comes their way, and setting up a cooperative or a small business would become a real possibility for many. Lifelong education would become a reality—not one driven solely by the needs of capitalism.

Of course, this would not immediately lead to the democratisation of the means of production, but it would help pave the way. It would also blur the lines between worker, consumer, citizen, and owner. More people would be able to adopt and navigate these multiple identities at different phases of their lives.

Such a transformation would also help defuse anger and resentment, thereby consolidating liberal democratic institutions. Agonism would replace antagonism simply because people who enjoy life are less likely to hate and blame their unhappiness on others.  

Naturally, this raises the crucial question of how such a system could be financed. The state would still need to play a redistributive role, which means that wealth would still have to be created. However, this kind of revolution could itself unleash productive forces, knowledge, and creativity—ultimately increasing prosperity. Moreover, elements of socialism would coexist with consumer choice and the market economy—albeit one in which the state plays a central role in providing essential services such as healthcare, education, housing, public transport, and energy. This, in turn, would free people from the daily anxieties that dominate so many lives today.  That is one reason why I am averse to the emphasis on self-reliance advocated by some well meaning environmentalists. 

Of course, in the present context where many still struggle to make ends meet trade unions remain essential. In Malta’s current context—marked by high worker turnover and reliance on disposable migrant labour—making union membership mandatory makes sense. It would remove the risk of retribution for joining a union.  

But while trade unions are vital but can’t replace political action to reclaim time from work.  Yet political activism also competes with consumerism  for people’s limited free time.  Moreover capitalism creates beautiful distractions which keeps us glued to our screens. 

Lessons from Canada

Trump could be a toxic liability for other right-wing populists and a lifeline to liberal centrism. In Canada’s first-past-the-post system, social democratic (NDP) voters — and to some extent BQ voters — were vital in clinching seats for the Liberals and defeating a Conservative Party that looked too Trumpian.

Curiously, in this case, Trump’s annexationist threats triggered a wave of Canadian civic and civil patriotism that propelled Carney — a central banker — to power. This suggests that nationalism can cut both ways. In fact, reclaiming an inclusive patriotism is essential for a resurgence of the centre-left.

This was to be expected. When the stakes are so high, centre-left voters — who tend to be more educated and reflective — often look at the bigger picture and use their vote pragmatically. They also have a lot to lose, both materially and culturally. We often forget that the world is far from the dystopian reality painted by the far right. In some ways, we live in the best of times — even if the collective threats have never been more existential.

Still, let’s not forget that Trumpism is also fuelled by liberal detachment from the material aspirations of working-class voters — whether they are white working-class males fetishised by the rabid right, or struggling minority voters and students. In reality, no centre-left party in any advanced democracy can win unless it presents itself as a broad coalition of centrists and progressives. But neither can the political centre hold the fort of decency if it keeps ignoring left-wing voters and their demands.

The idea that a return to the roots will work magic does not hold — and it always raises the question: which and whose roots? But tilting the balance to the left is also key to an enduring alternative to right-wing populism. I am not a big fan of liberal centrism, which to some extent is to blame for the increased economic inequalities that fuel populism. But like many NDP voters, I would never risk throwing the baby (the edifice of a socially liberal society) out with the bathwater.

The lesson from Canada is this: people in liberal democracies like their way of life. They will fight back to defend it. What we can do as leftists is to be part of the global fightback while ensuring that everyone is included, that inequality is recognised as a threat to the democratic consensus, and that our prosperity does not endanger the planet. In short, the greater the number of people who can enjoy the good life, the higher the percentage of educated citizens, and the wider the safety nets, the less anger and the more civility there is.

The problematic aspect of this result is that the Liberals’ success has cannibalised NDP representation — increasing the risk of the Liberals continuing with their ‘business as usual’ attitude.

This raises questions about how leftists should position themselves in the polarity triggered by Trump’s election, in a way that keeps them not just part of the fightback, but also able to channel it in a progressive direction. Bernie Sanders’ and AOC’s anti-oligarchy movement is, in this sense, instructive — a movement that appeals to civic activism but also puts social and ecological justice at the centre of the political agenda.

The first Pope I loved

Pope Francis didn’t change Church doctrine—but he changed the tone, the focus, and the global conversation. As the world tilts rightward, his death raises the question: will the Church follow or will it respect his legacy? 

I lost my Catholic faith in my teens, resenting the Church’s over -riding obsession with controlling people’s sexuality and bodies. But over the past decade, I came to cherish Pope Francis as a moral compass in an increasingly hostile world. Pope Francis did not substantially change the Church’s official stance on issues like abortion and gender identity, two issues where I respectfully remain at odds with the official church. 

 But he changed its order of priorities, putting social inequality and the globalisation of indifference towards migrants and the poor at the top of his agenda, while side-lining divisive culture wars. That is why progressives including atheists and agnostics, felt at home in Pope Francis’ broad humanistic Church, while clerical conservatives and traditionalists resented him viscerally. 

I grew up under the shadow of John Paul II’s grandstanding papacy: that of a charismatic and conservative Pope whose priority was confronting—and ultimately contributing to the toppling of—totalitarian communism in Eastern Europe. In contrast, his rebuke of capitalist injustices was muted and directed only against its ‘excesses’, not its fundamental flaws. Moreover, in doing so, he marginalised those in his own Church—like liberation theologians—who were confronting capitalism and the violence of right-wing regimes, particularly in Latin America. And while priests were censured for standing with the poor or for advocating women’s rights, his papacy turned a blind eye to sexual predators within its ranks. 

This was followed by Pope Benedict’s denouncement of “the dictatorship of relativism”, which— in the absence of communism—was directed against LGBTQ people and aimed at stopping the tide of social liberalism. While he should be credited for understanding the gravity of the crimes committed by a system designed to protect sexual predators, this only amplified the contrast between a Church obsessed with controlling everyone else’s sexuality and the depravity of some of its own high-ranking members.

It was in this context that Pope Francis shifted the Church’s focus to a critique of capitalism’s inherent and deep flaws. “Let us not be afraid to say it: we want change, real change, structural change,” the Pope said while visiting Bolivia in 2015, decrying a system that “has imposed the mentality of profit at any price, with no concern for social exclusion or the destruction of nature”. “This system is by now intolerable: farm workers find it intolerable, workers find it intolerable, communities find it intolerable, peoples find it intolerable. The earth itself—our sister, Mother Earth, as Saint Francis would say—also finds it intolerable.”

From the start of his papacy, he positioned himself against an ascendant far right, condemning the “globalisation of indifference” during one of his first major speeches as Pope, delivered in Lampedusa in 2013. He also denounced the structural basis of oppression: “the culture of comfort, which makes us think only of ourselves, makes us insensitive to the cries of other people, makes us live in soap bubbles.” 

And following Donald Trump’s election, he wrote to U.S. bishops denouncing the programme of mass deportations: “The rightly formed conscience cannot fail to make a critical judgment and express its disagreement with any measure that tacitly or explicitly identifies the illegal status of some migrants with criminality.” Sure, his compassion and call for justice also raised expectations that he ultimately could not—and probably did not even want to—deliver. On abortion, he changed the rules, allowing all priests, and not just bishops or their delegates, to absolve women who had committed this ‘sin’. But while he still described the act as murder, he framed it more as a symptom of a “throwaway culture” than a condemnation of women. 

Neither did he rock the boat by challenging the male monopoly on the priesthood, and he backtracked on a highly symbolic proposal to allow priests to officiate blessings of same-sex unions—on the understanding that this was not equivalent to marriage. This tacit acceptance of inequality ultimately jarred with Pope Francis’ message of social justice. 

Yet one must recognise that, unlike others in his flock, he resolutely scorned the far right’s appropriation of Catholic traditional values. Nor did he condone the denial of the Eucharist to Catholic pro-choice leaders like Joe Biden. He even described Italian radical and pro-choice activists Emma Bonino as one of Italy’s one of "Italy’s forgotten greats" for her advocacy of human and migrant rights. Ironically, his last official meeting was with J.D. Vance, a Catholic traditionalist who stands on the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Now, his death presents the Church with a stark choice: a relapse into traditionalism in a world that has swung to the right, or a steadfast commitment to social justice and engagement with modernity. This makes the next conclave one of the most pivotal moments in Church history.

The return of the Zombies (they never actually left)

Italian Prime Minister Meloni told Trump that her goal is "to make the West great again", criticising "woke ideology" and championing the "war against illegal migration". This, apparently, was music to the ears of the US authoritarian strongman, who clearly shares the same values.

But what exactly does the term West mean? Interestingly, the term is defined here in two binary polarities: against the enemy within (woke ideology), and the external enemy—the immigrants from the Global South. In this sense, their ideological project is to restore the West to its "true" self: colonial, racist, and aggressive. It is the West cleansed of all the social progress achieved through protest and struggle since the end of the Second World War, including the revolutions of 1968.

Let’s not forget that the US, throughout history, has had no qualms about co-opting the far right to combat communism. This happened with murderous, large-scale intensity in Latin America. But it also happened in Italy, where secret services aligned with the US promoted the strategy of tension, aimed at provoking a right-wing coup to prevent the entry of the PCI into government. This included the planting of bombs in train stations by neo-fascists.

I’m not sure how far the transactional and insular Donald Trump is invested in this project—but some of his allies definitely are. More traditional Republicans, like Marco Rubio, also seem more comfortable operating in a Cold War dynamic.

Moreover, geopolitical and historical realities militate against an alliance of autocrats. Russia simply cannot appear to submit to US orders. In the coming days, it may be tempted to snatch a favourable deal, but this may be outweighed by other geopolitical considerations, including rivalry in the Arctic and the Middle East.

What Trump has managed to do is scare Europeans into investing more in their NATO commitments, without taking any concrete steps towards European unity. All this while reducing Ukraine to a colonial fiefdom, bound by a neo-colonial 'minerals' deal that looks more like protection money paid to a gangster. I do not blame Zelenskyy for accepting the deal while facing daily and brutal bombardments. But in the long term, this deal is bound to be fodder for Russia’s ability to destabilise Ukraine—simply because it strengthens the narrative that pro-Western politicians like Zelenskyy have sold their country to spite Russia. This is not like joining the EU or even NATO, as it does not come with security guarantees or democratic safeguards. It is just what the Italian mafia calls pizzo.

Of course, there is only one alternative to this: a United States of Europe founded on the values of the post-war struggles for democracy, social justice, and personal autonomy and freedom. A Europe that engages with the Global South, challenges the appeal of autocracy, and builds trust by finally taking a stance against the genocide in Gaza. Sure, this may look delusional and against the direction in which the wind is blowing. For let’s face it: electoral majorities are swinging in the opposite direction. This is also having a chilling effect on the institutions, the courts, and even the media. We are living in reactionary times. But let’s not forget—it looked that way in the 1920s and 1930s. It also looked that way in the 1820s and the 1870s. We are about to enter a long, dark winter—but one which will trigger resistance, and hopefully, another 1848.

To Rearm or Not to Rearm

I believe in European integration. I also understand the need for collective security and defence. I support arming Ukraine in its war against Russia.

But that does not mean I am enthusiastic about increased military spending—especially if it is done to salvage the broken relationship with Trump’s US.

Why should we align our defences with what is effectively a far-right regime, incompatible with so-called European values and openly speaking of annexing Greenland?

The only justification for increased spending would be to break away from the US—not to become further entangled in NATO.
Even in this regard, the priority should be rationalising and pooling resources to ensure that the EU is capable of enforcing its mutual defence clause and to continue supporting Ukraine.

Moreover, we cannot afford to divert funds from social and environmental priorities to fund rearmament.
This will only make Europe more vulnerable—to both external and internal enemies, and to existential threats like climate change.

In this sense, a rearmament agenda that diverts money from social spending and the well-being of citizens would be the final nail in the coffin for the European project we need now more than ever.
People will protest in the streets if further austerity is imposed to finance rearmament.

We should resist the false choice between a militarised continent bound together by hysteria, and a motley crew of weak nation-states increasingly vulnerable to internal and external threats.

Moreover, we need to ask: which values shape our Europe?
How can we say “never again” while condoning and abetting genocide in Palestine?
We also owe it to Jewish communities, whose identity should not be defined by the actions of the Israeli far right.

The greatest tragedy of our times is that Europe is shifting to the right at the very moment when necessity demands a greater unity of purpose.

Of course, we cannot be naïve. Putin poses a serious threat that should be constantly assessed—but not overplayed. 
This is not a time for hysteria, but for a balanced and effective approach.
Eliminating private profits in the defence sector through nationalisation could also help reduce costs.

In a time of monsters, the last thing we need are European leaders posing as warmongers.
There is something comical, clownish and unrealistic when EU officials project themselves as military hawks.
European power, by its nature, is a soft, transformative and insidious power—based on seductive appeal.
That is the power that threatens Putin: the possibility of a future in which Russia itself can be part of our community of values.

What we need are principled European leaders—those who set a vision, who stand up for values, and who invest in our collective well-being.  
That includes keeping us safe from external threats, but let’s not forget the many insecurities people face in daily life.

There is too much at stake.  The cost of failure has never been so high.  

Back to the Corn Laws: Trump’s Tariff Delusions and Class War

Apart from the optics of a US President presiding over a shit show in the Rose Garden—using auto workers as props and holding up a board based on a lie that conflates tariffs with trade deficits (including those of penguin-inhabited islands)—there was another disturbing aspect to Trump’s speech.

In addition to distorting American history by presenting the age of tariffs (and murderous robber barons) as a golden era, Trump hinted that ‘income tax’—a fiscal instrument designed to redistribute wealth—was somehow linked to the reduction of tariffs.

“In 1913, for reasons unknown to mankind, they established the income tax so that citizens, rather than foreign countries, would start paying the money necessary to run our government,” Trump said.

The suggestion was that reintroducing tariffs could pave the way for income tax cuts, which by their very nature would favour the wealthiest Americans. In this way, tariffs that impoverish the poor—both in the US where consumers will take the brunt and in poor countries crippled by the tariffs—would end up funding tax breaks for the rich. It’s like turning back the clock to pre-Corn Law repeal Britain in the 19th century, when tariffs protected the landed gentry while workers paid more for their daily bread. 

Of course, such an outrageous suggestion isn’t based on solid economic reasoning. For tariffs to achieve their stated purpose, they should not be revenue-generating tools. Their goal is to reduce imports in order to prop up domestic industries and safeguard jobs—even if it's hard to see how this works in a world where supply chains are so deeply interconnected. Tariffs may still serve a purpose in developing economies where the state actively drives industrialisation. But that is not the case in the US, where the state is being systematically dismantled.

Trump, however, is a demagogue who lives in a universe of his own truth. So it's no surprise that he defies economic logic, framing his policies as a populist insurrection against shadowy global forces.  This is like Liz Truss harakiri budget multiplied by a hundred.

Some might ask: isn’t what Trump is doing a sign of the end of the neoliberal order, long dominated by the dogmas of unshackled markets? The problem is that instead of advancing toward a new form of international trade governance grounded in social and environmental regulation including labour protections, we are regressing into the age of  hubris—where the poor (both in the US because of inflation and even in the poorest countries crippled by these tariffs)  end up paying more to bankroll the ideological fantasies of Trump and company.  The risk is that by defying economic rationality Trump may well end having no other option but to embark on on pillage and plunder to finance his delusions.   Trade wars may well just be the prelude for conquest.

Gaza: War Crimes, Complicity, and Paralysis

The bodies of 15 Palestinian paramedics and rescue workers, killed by Israeli forces and buried in a mass grave nine days ago in Gaza, were found with their hands or legs tied and gunshot wounds to the head and chest, according to eyewitnesses. The United Nations has called for an investigation into a crime reminiscent of past pogroms, war crimes, and genocides. Yet, there has been little indignation—not just in the United States, which shares direct responsibility after consenting to Netanyahu’s decision to resume the war, but also in Europe. The most shocking reality is that the war in Gaza has become business as usual. There is no discussion of sanctioning Israel, despite mounting evidence of war crimes, including domicide, forced displacement, and the use of starvation as a weapon.

Nothing can justify this level of complicity with Israeli war crimes. This is not a matter of proportionality. What we are witnessing is a far-right regime using Hamas’ war crime as a pretext for the elimination of an entire community—one that was already being oppressed long before October 7, 2023. EU leaders fail to call a spade a spade when they describe Israel’s response as merely disproportionate.  Because genocidal intent can never be seen as being proportional to anything else.  It is a crime.

However, it would be a disservice to the Palestinian cause not to acknowledge the other elephant in the room: the absence of a national leadership capable of standing up to Israel while negotiating on behalf of the Palestinian people. Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas has been entirely absent, unwilling to stand up for his people. Meanwhile, Hamas’ cult of death and martyrdom does a disservice to their cause. Last week’s protests in Gaza against both Israel and Hamas were significant—not just in their scale, but in the reactions (and silence) they provoked.

“We demonstrated today to declare that we do not want to die. Eventually, it is Israel that attacks and bombs, but Hamas also bears direct responsibility, as do all who define themselves as Arab and Palestinian leaders,” one protester said. Tragically, one of the protest leaders was reportedly kidnapped and murdered.

That said, the paralysis of Palestinian politics is the result of Israel’s long-standing ‘divide and rule’ strategy, including its covert co-option of Hamas to weaken Fatah and its left-wing partners. Meanwhile, militant secular Palestinian leaders like Marwan Barghouti—who could take the liberation struggle to the next stage—languish in Israeli prisons. The stark reality is that Israel prefers fighting a band of criminal fanatics, whose actions serve as a pretext for its aggression, rather than confronting a rational and determined Palestinian leadership—one that is willing to take up arms against oppression but does so judiciously, with the welfare of the population in mind.  

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Russia, Turkey and the Frontiers of Europe

According to the EU treaty, any European state that respects the values referred to in Article 2 and is committed to promoting them may apply to become a member of the Union. That is clearly not the case with present-day Russia and Turkey. While the former has never considered membership, the latter had applied to join.in 1987.  For various reasons, both nations have moved away from the values mentioned in Article 2, namely: "respect for human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights, including the rights of persons belonging to minorities." 

There are also countries that respect these values but are geographically outside Europe. These include Canada, Mexico, New Zealand, Brazil and South Africa.  I highlight this point because I often question whether Europe, as an idea based on values, should be limited by geographical frontiers. In this sense, commitment to democratic norms is the most defining aspect in a world of creeping authoritarianism where the USA is fast devolving in to a threat.  In fact keeping appearances has become one of the most pathetic aspects of EU and UK foreign policy.

But what if Russia and Turkey one day embrace the values enshrined in Article 2? Then there should be no reason why they could not join if they aspired to.  Of course, this exercise veers into useless speculation, although a post-Erdogan Turkey may be a less distant prospect than a "de-Putinised" Russia. And hopefully the European Union will not turn its back on the protest movement against Erdogan's attempt to criminalise the democratic and secular opposition.  But the EU is also partly to blame for Turkey's descent in to autocracy.  Instead of pressing for democratic reforms in return for membership, EU leaders like Sarkozy had excluded Turkey on cultural and ethnic grounds.  

But there can be no doubt that Russia and Turkey are an integral part of European history and culture, just as the UK, which decided to leave, remains so. Russia has not only been a part of Europe but has shaped its intellectual, political, and cultural fabric. Can one imagine Europe without Dostoyevsky, Bulgakov, Gogol, Herzen, Tolstoy, Bakunin, Lenin, Trotsky, and Pasternak? Moreover, an intellectual undercurrent throughout Russian history has looked towards revolutionary France for inspiration, to the extent that the band welcoming Lenin back to Russia from exile played La Marseillaise. Neither can one ignore the great contribution of the cosmopolitan Jewish diaspora: Rosa Luxemburg as born in Russian occupied Poland and moved to Germany to become one of the most prominent socialist leaders. The divide between east and west in eurpope is neither ethnic nor geographical. It is a product of history and political economy: mainly because serdom and fuedalism were abolished at an earlier stage in western europe. Even Gorbachev, the last President of the Soviet Union, constantly referred to the "common European home" in his book Perestroika.  And while there is currently a stronger pull towards authoritarianism and empire, partly as a reflection of the concentration of wealth in the hands of an oligarchy, I would not be surprised if the regime were to collapse like a deck of cards in the foreseeable future. My hunch is that it will happen like a bolt from the blue.  What is sure is that what  triggered the Russian invasion of Ukraine was the Euromaidan revolution which repositioned this country in the European community of democracies.

But even if Russia embarks on another path, would it be too big for Europe? And would this not make a political union untenable? Still excluding them on geographical or cultural grounds would amount to a blatant act of racism.  Still neither can we assume that a democratic Russia or Turkey would automatically want to join the EU even if I strongly believe that the strength of the European imaginary lies in its seductive appeal. The moment Europe loses its appeal, it will wither away and die. That is why an essential part of the European project should be the creation of a wider community of democracies—one that shares many characteristics with the European Union but offers greater flexibility to countries that, for now, may be too large to fit within the more restricted and necessarily more united EU. It is also vital that this parallel project includes democracies in the global south. For one of Europe's greatest failures, partly as a result of colonial legacy, was to reach out to countries like Brazil and South Africa. This is why Europe's weak response to war crimes, displacement and what increasingly looks as ethnic cleansing in Gaza was so disappointing. Sure I am the first to recognise that jewsishness is a central characteristic which defines European identity, but that should be even more reason to say 'Never again' irrespective of whether the crimes are committed by Hamas or Netanyahu's far right government. 

 The irony, however, is that while I muse about Europe, the risk is that the dream will be extinguished or turned into a nightmare. Just as Meloni and Abela are toying with changes to the European Convention on Human Rights, some may even be tempted to amend the treaties to accommodate far-right governments. Given the circumstances, it is increasingly becoming a choice between more Europe or no Europe at all.

Benigni’s European Imaginary and Its Contested Legacy

A few days ago, during a peak-time show on Rai, Italian actor/screenwriter Roberto Benigni hailed the "European dream" conjured by the "heroes of Ventotene"—Altiero Spinelli, Ernesto Rossi, and Eugenio Colorni—who drafted the 1941 Manifesto calling for a federal European Union based on democratic socialist, liberal, and republican values.

In these dark times, Benigni went on to exhort us to be proud to be European: "Europe is the smallest continent in the world that lit the fuse of all revolutions; it transformed the planet, it forged the greatest thoughts of humanity, inventing logic, reason, doubt," as well as "freedom, democracy, theatre, sport, modern chemistry, social conscience," among others, creating a "common heritage, an immense treasure in all fields."

Not surprisingly, Benigni’s call resonated with the liberal left but irked the post-fascist Giorgia Meloni, who retorted in parliament: "I don't know if this is your Europe, but it's certainly not mine."

This is a reminder that 'Europe' itself is an imaginary construct rooted in ideology and history. Of course, Benigni referred to the best of European traditions—harking back to Machiavelli and Spinoza, the idea of progress and justice unleashed by the 1789 and 1848 revolutions, and the heroic anti-fascist struggles, both during the war and in the upheavals of 1968. However, his eulogy overlooks the dark side of European history: feudalism, the Crusades, colonialism, anti-Semitism, and fascism—traditions that were never extinguished and are alive and kicking in the far right. In a way, he was offering comfort food for the disoriented—a celebration of what distinguishes us from the vulgarity and rudeness of Trump's America. But on another level, Benigni's exhortation is an invitation to reclaim that Europe of immense possibilities. This may well translate into a civic patriotism that offers hope in a time of despair.  

But like any ideology, the European 'imaginary' is rooted in a historical context. The European social model itself is a fragile historical incident, based on the realisation by elites on both sides of the Atlantic that the only way to prevent communist revolution in this patch of earth was through social democracy, with security needs outsourced to the USA. Of course, this was no clear-cut process, and there were instances—similar to what happened on a much larger scale in Latin America—where the US relied on reactionaries and even fascists to prevent communists from winning power through elections in countries like Italy. Still, by the end of the 20th century, Europe had become a beacon of rights and social liberalism, which explains its appeal to young and educated people in Eastern Europe. In fact, the Russian invasion of  Ukraine can by partly explained by Putin's Russia's fear of the European imaginary—a fear triggered by the Euromaidan uprising—that it could represent a different future not only for the former subjects of the Czarist and Stalinist empires but also for Russia itself.  In fact, Putin represents the rejection of a long-standing European Russian tradition shaped by advanced liberal and socialist ideas which emerged in the continent particularly in communities of exiled revolutionaries whose commitment transcended borders.

Yet this imaginary remains contested, as it risks being deformed and reshaped by an aggressive right wing  that may use this difficult historical moment to push forward a militaristic agenda, potentially making the continent even more dependent on the US. The right is already winning many cultural battles, including on migration, where Malta’s Labour PM is doing Meloni’s bidding in an attempt to reword the European Convention on Human Rights. Moreover, incrementalists like Meloni  may be even more dangerous—diluting European values from within instead of openly rejecting the EU project.  That is why the left should engage with the emerging civic movement for European unity rather than retreat into a 'holier-than-thou' puritanism and equidistance, which in the current circumstances borders on the myopic and the moronic.  But the left can save such a movement from its own pitfalls; by stressing the importance of social and economic reforms aimed at restoring a social model, eroded by two decades of austerity which left the continent vulnerable to the onslaught of the far right.

Neutral from the European Union?

Malta's active neutrality was conceived during the Cold War when Malta identified with the Non-Aligned Movement, an attempt by former colonies to affirm their independence from the two superpowers of the time: the United States and its allies, and the Soviet bloc. As conceived at the time, the constitutional clause precludes the use of Malta as a military base but does not preclude security guarantees. To this extent, in 1976, the Labour Party's electoral manifesto proposed that Malta enter into a four-nation guarantee for its security with Italy, France, Libya, and Algeria.

In 2004, Malta joined the European Union with two provisos: a protocol affirming that abortion remains a national prerogative and a declaration affirming Malta's constitutional neutrality. Over the next two decades, Maltese foreign policy was broadly aligned with that of the European Union, and like all member states, Malta is a signatory to the mutual defence clause in the Treaty of Lisbon, which states that "if a Member State is the victim of armed aggression on its territory, the other Member States shall have towards it an obligation of aid and assistance by all the means in their power, in accordance with Article 51 of the United Nations Charter." However, this is qualified by the proviso that it should "not prejudice the specific character of the security and defence policy of certain Member States." It remains unclear how this clause can be effectively enforced without NATO involvement. Malta remains one of three neutral countries in the European Union, alongside Austria and Ireland.

History did not stop in 2004. In fact, even then, history was unfolding when the US, with the support of the UK (then an EU member), invaded Iraq, splitting the EU into two camps: Italy, Spain, and Poland participated in the invasion, while France and Germany opposed it. While the former affirmed Atlanticist ties, the latter began asserting European autonomy. However, US defence commitments to its Western European allies were never questioned, especially following the election of Barack Obama to the White House. The first doubts began emerging during the Trump presidency, which raised questions about whether Europeans and Americans still shared a common set of values. But the election of Joe Biden and the Russian invasion of Ukraine reaffirmed the alliance. Finland and Sweden—two neutral social democracies—also opted to join NATO in response to this very real threat, a move endorsed by a wide spectrum of society in both countries.

What finally rocked the boat was the re-election of Donald Trump, JD Vance's ideological assault in a speech in Munich, and the humiliation of Zelensky in a meeting with Trump in the Oval Office. This triggered a contradictory response: on one hand, EU leaders speak of strategic autonomy, while on the other, they remain responsive to Trump's calls for EU member states to pay their NATO dues. Moreover there a also a risk that  increased military spending ends up increasing the EU's dependence on US arms exports at least in the short term.  This raises the question: Will increased military spending strengthen or weaken Europe's political autonomy? And how advisable is it to enhance military cooperation and spending in the absence of a federal structure of government that can subject defence structures to democratic scrutiny?  In short, can there be a defence union without a political union? Can one put the cart before the horse?

That said, with Russia and the USA actively seeking to weaken the EU, the writing is on the wall: Europe can only survive as an autonomous bloc if it affirms its political unity. And any political unity must be based on a common set of democratic values—values that are actively being challenged from within. This challenge raises the most pertinent question about the desirability of militarisation: what happens if this power falls into the hands of a victorious internal enemy? It is also worth noting that to defeat this internal enemy, the EU must boost its social and infrastructural spending. While Europe needs to defend itself from an aggressive neighbour, all will be in vain if Europe falls into the hands of authoritarians, some of whom are already dictating the tune of EU policy.  The risk is that this militaristic drift will end up undermining the very values we are supposed to be defending.  So while I welcome any relaxation of deficit rules,  a balancing act is needed between military and social needs.  Any debt break needs to include provisions for increased spending on climate change, infrastructure and social welfare.  For to win the ideological war democrats must have the tools to invest in welfare, health, education and general well being.   

And where does Malta fit into all this? Let's face it: Malta is no military power and is under no significant pressure to contribute to the EU's military needs. What I find troubling is the affirmation of our neutrality as a way of asserting independence not from NATO, the USA, or Russia, but from the EU itself, of which we are a member. Moreover, history will not wait for us. Europe faces a choice between democratic federalism and a relapse into aggressive nation-states, torn apart by external powers. What concerns me is not our military neutrality but the discourse in which it is sometimes framed—for example, the Prime Minister's failure to express solidarity with Ukraine following the humiliation of its leader in the Oval Office. In the end, we can remain militarily neutral, but we must also be clear about where we stand in the divide between autocracies and democracies. Yes, we should also call out the gross hypocrisy on Gaza, but the most effective way to do so is by joining other EU member states that have given full recognition to the state of Palestine.   In this sense we should be active participants in the conservation not just as a nation but also as EU citizens.  For ultimately the future of the EU depends on the emergence of a new polity of citizens whose concerns are not limited to the narrow interests of the individual nation states.  

Reflections in Unprecedented Times: From COVID to Trump

Five years after the pandemic, during which I revived this on-and-off personal blog, I intend to reinvent it as a space for analysis and reflections on global issues. Why? Mostly in the hope that, through reflection, I can resolve my own contradictions and conflicts. Also, to be read by people who, like me, are struggling to understand. My hope is that this will contribute to a wider discussion and debate, particularly among those on the left of the political spectrum.

I will offer no certainties. Moreover, I will challenge other people’s (and my own) certainties and fetishes. But I am also averse to dispassionate or neutral analysis. I will often try to detach myself to see things from different perspectives, but my optics are shaped by my history. Moreover, I believe in a free and equal society, and I consider fascism in its various forms an existential threat, as are climate change and the carving up of the world into spheres of influence or plunder.

This blog is, of course, triggered by the chaos unleashed by Trump’s election, which has cast a dark shadow not just on the USA—where democratic liberties, including the right to protest, are under threat—but also on the rest of the world, particularly Europe, Ukraine, and Palestine.

There are surely parallels between what happened five years ago and what is happening now. Both events were triggered by unprecedented developments that took time to fathom and that altered our actions and daily lives. Obviously, I am not a neutral observer—I come with baggage: that of a radical democrat and a European and global citizen. So, although I am Maltese and understand the reality I live in, I also view the world from an internationalist angle. And while I do not value European lives more than others, I gravitate toward an idea of ‘Europe’—an imagined community defined by a commitment to democratic values, albeit one to which I am both attached and critical. The best representation of this imagined community is the Manifesto di Ventotene, written during the Second World War by Altiero Spinelli and Ernesto Rossi. There is, however, a growing gap between the imagined community and the real one. Yet necessity can be the mother of invention, and a phoenix may well rise from the ashes and hubris of these times.

I am also generally averse to militarism and war-mongering. But I come from a political culture that reveres the World War II partisans who stood boldly and said: No Pasarán. To be in a position to do this, one must have the ability to hit back and march forward. My reflections will be full of doubts and uncertainties, along with the realization that any solution is temporary and imperfect. Even more so, they will begin with the recognition that all global state actors are flawed and potential villains. There are no knights in shining armour—only actors shaped by electorates in an age of misinformation produced on an industrial scale. They reflect the conflicting pressures of dominant elites, but also the influence of civil society and democratic struggles. While many imperfections can be tolerated in different circumstances, there are existential threats and viruses against which we need antibodies. This is a small contribution to collective sanity; which is the greatest antibody against the internal and external threats which are consuming us. 

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