Following the Brexit vote in 2016 the defence relationship between the UK and the EU has since been relatively unfettered. This strength can largely be attributed to the increasing coordination through NATO institutions and the establishment of the Coalition of the Willing, creating functional cooperation without deepening policy integration between the UK and the EU. Yet this relationship has clear limits. As EU defence policy focuses inward on industry and procurement, the effects of Brexit now have immediate impacts on European capacity building.

To read the full policy brief, click the download button below.

The post SAFE is not so Safe: The Limits of UK–EU Defence Cooperation appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

Introduction

On January 5th, 2026, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy announced the appointment of former Canadian Deputy Prime Minister and Member of Parliament, Chrystia Freeland, as Economic Advisor to the Office of the President of Ukraine. In a post on X, Zelenskyy stated, “Ukraine needs to strengthen its internal resilience – both for the sake of Ukraine’s recovery if diplomacy delivers results as swiftly as possible, and to reinforce our defence if, because of delays by our partners, it takes longer to bring this war to an end.” In the following days, Freeland confirmed she accepted President Zelenskyy’s appointment and that she would be resigning as a Member of Parliament, taking effect as of January 9th, 2026.

Freeland’s appointment as voluntary Economic Advisor to the Office of the President of Ukraine is being made against the larger and developing backdrop of ongoing diplomatic negotiations between the Russian Federation, Ukraine, and the United States (US) to come to an agreed upon pathway to peace. This negotiation process continues to be arduous for Ukraine. It also comes alongside a deepening of foreign diplomatic relations between Canada and Ukraine under the Mark Carney government; this, coming on the back of Prime Minister Carney’s historical , where he stressed the end of the rules-based international order and hinted at the decline of American hegemony – a speech that have held to ultimately represent the beginning of a multipolar era in world politics.

In the coming months, the Eastern European and Transatlantic Network (EETN) will publish a series analyzing key developments shaping the war; these include prospective pathways to peace, ongoing diplomatic negotiations and tensions, and the shifting security and economic governance landscape in Ukraine. Freeland is an integral node among an emerging and vital network aimed at supporting Ukraine and its future as the anniversary of the full-scale invasion nears and passes. This series aims to make clear that Russia is not only engaged in a war of attrition so as to try to reclaim its great power status, but that Ukraine is increasingly prepared to respond to this war of attrition with strategies and methods of asymmetric and hybrid warfare. Ukraine is prepared to make the strategic, economic, and relational moves necessary to better guarantee its future, as well as its success on the battlefield and in diplomatic negotiations.

This first brief of the series reflects on Freeland’s appointment and builds upon an argument first offered by Ukrainian scholar Valeriia Gusieva, where she suggested that cultural resilience is a foundational pillar to security. I extend her argument here by suggesting that cultural resilience and situated experience are also crucial to sustaining a coherent and effective attritional war strategy – Freeland’s appointment, in this case, should be understood light through the lens of political habituation.

Chrystia Freeland: A Ukrainian-Canadian MP and Soviet War Crimes Researcher

Chrystia Freeland was born in Peace River, Alberta in 1968 to a Ukrainian mother and Canadian father. Though she formally entered Canadian federal politics in 2013, she is perhaps most known through her association with former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and his government. Under Trudeau, Freeland was appointed to serve as Minister of International Trade in Trudeau’s cabinet. In this position, she was a key negotiator in the hard-fought Canada-United States-Mexico Agreement (CUSMA) (which replaced the North American Free Trade Agreement, or NAFTA, in 2020), as well as the Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement (CETA) with the European Union (EU) that was signed in 2016.

While it is fair to assume that many Western audiences are familiar with the whiplash antics of American President Donald Trump, who often combines “,” less well known are the tensions that characterized the negotiation process of CETA. As researchers , CETA encountered historical diplomatic tensions throughout its negotiation process: “This challenge becomes evident at various stages in the trade policy process, but it is most pronounced in the ratification of bilateral agreements, which require approval in all member states.”

On paper, arriving at CETA was through the bilateral process of negotiation between Canada and the EU; in reality, however, Freeland was situated in a much more difficult negotiating position. Because the subsequent ratification of CETA would require the approval of all EU member states, such a negotiating process proved to be a lesson for both Freeland and the European Commission, who was charged with ensuring the twenty-eight member states were in alignment. Indeed, as scholar Joris Larik , the alleged crisis of CETA negotiations soon became a “cautionary tale” about the “cumbersome and vulnerable EU treaty-making procedures, where internal politics and technical legal discussions detracted from the merits (or demerits) of the actual agreement.”

This became most visible through the tensions experienced with the Wallonia Parliament in Belgium, an autonomous regional government with veto power over EU trade deals. In late 2016, the Walloon government publicly rejected CETA, in part because of their worry that the trade deal would “.” Walloon regional minister-president, Paul Magnette, told reporters the following: “I don’t consider this as a funeral, I don’t consider this as a veto without any conditions. I consider this as a request to reopen negotiations so that European leaders could hear the legitimate demands which have been forcefully expressed by an organized, transparent civil society.” As Larik however, this crisis led to “profound internal reflections on EU trade policy, causing even a shift in the EU’s practice in concluding trade agreements.

It was largely in response to these tensions and apparent deadlock within Wallonia that Freeland made the public decision to walk out on CETA negotiations with our European allies. Following her decision, Freeland with Canadian journalists candidly: “It’s become evident for me, for Canada, that the European Union isn’t capable now to have an international treaty even with a country that has very European values like Canada. And even with a country so nice, with a lot of patience like Canada.” At the time, the move was taken by some in Canadian media as an “” response; Conservative critics in the House of Commons Freeland’s walk out as a “meltdown,” alleging she required “adult supervision” – language that carried clear sexist and gendered connotations. Still others this walk out is exactly what the negotiation process needed, as it eventually led to the signing of the trade agreement.

Reflecting on her CETA negotiation experience in 2026, Freeland the following about negotiating with European allies, which is worth quoting at-length here:

“You can sort of have two kinds of negotiations. Some negotiations start with a kind of win-win premise where the two parties come together wanting a deal, wanting to be friends, seeing each other as long-term partners, and they’ll disagree about stuff, but the negotiation is really about everyone working hard together to find the best possible landing zone. I would say Canada’s negotiations with the EU about our trade deal with Europe, CETA, were conducted in that way, and they were hard, right? … Our final slightly melodramatic moments in Namur, in Wallonia, you know, proceeded by moments in Vienna, in Germany, in the European Parliament. I mean, it was a long slog and there were lots of obstacles and there was some drama, but it was clear there was goodwill on all sides.”

In this interview, Freeland goes on to characterize how Trump falls into an alternative negotiation camp compared to that which characterized CETA; she the idea that the American President abides by the logic of a zero-sum game: “…when you are dealing with a party that has that kind of a view [zero-sum game logic] and that kind of an attitude, then I think you have to be very clear in your own mind about red lines. And you have to be very prepared to say, thus far and no further, we’re not gonna capitulate our approach.”

Freeland later went on to become Canada’s Minister of Finance in 2020, where she was responsible for introducing four federal budgets, including federal aid measures related to Canada’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic. She was the first woman to serve in this role, a fact that would later be considered by the as crucial in the decay of her relationship with Trudeau prior to his own resignation in late-2025.

Beyond her political career, Freeland’s academic and journalistic works span two decades and have drawn the ire of the Kremlin. While pursuing graduate studies in Russian history and literature at Harvard, where she was responsible for documenting and translating archival and investigative materials related to the – an unmarked, mass burial site used by the NKVD (the secret police of the Soviet Union) to dispose of executed dissidents and prisoners. It remains one of the largest mass burial sites in Ukraine, even Russia’s current invasion. Her research played a decisive role in debunking the Stalin-era myth that the executions were exclusively carried out by the Nazis during World War Two. This research eventually attracted the attention of the KGB – the main security agency of the Soviet Union – who then assigned Freeland the codename “Frida,” closely surveilling and building a case against her throughout the course of her study.

As a Canadian with Ukrainian heritage, Freeland has been among the most outspoken advocates for sustained Canadian support to Ukraine. In response, she is one of thirteen Canadian officials barred from entering Russia under retaliatory sanctions imposed by Vladimir Putin himself in 2014 and has been the target of various . Freeland has also faced public attacks from American President Donald Trump, who on several occasions has described her in disparaging terms, including “,” a “,” a “,” and an overall “.” From a feminist perspective, Freeland’s experience navigating such attacks underscores her familiarity with the gendered power dynamics employed by – an experience that may indeed prove to be a strategic asset in a war whose social construction and conduct are themselves . While much of international politics Freeland nonetheless works against the masculine grain in a pursuit of fair and just agreements and futures.

Contextualizing the Habituation of Freeland and Concluding Remarks

As this series continues to examine changes within President Zelenskyy’s inner circle in response to both Ukrainian domestic pressures and Russia’s growing attritional war strategy, I suggest that Freeland’s appointment as a voluntary Economic Advisor to Ukraine signals an awareness within Ukrainian leadership and its closest allies that responding to Russia’s attritional warfare in 2026 cannot be confined to military operations alone. No longer are we in an era where hard power capabilities are the only measure of a nation’s strength; the personal and personnel also matter.

Freeland will be an important figure to watch, particularly as it relates to dialogue between Ukrainian feminists and the pro-democracy movement – not because Freeland herself has expressed a desire to pursue a feminist agenda in Ukraine’s economic reconstruction, but because her presence reflects the often-implicit reality that gendered political experience shapes how the dynamics of endurance, credibility, and trust are produced and sustained in wartime economies. In a war of attrition, where authority is continuously reaffirmed under conditions of prolonged uncertainty, reputational attack, and economic strain, such situated experience becomes strategically relevant, I suggest, as a form of habituation to sustained delegitimization.

The notion of habituation draws from a long philosophical tradition – mostly commonly, Aristotelian ethics, where habituation (hexis) was used to refer to repeated exposure and practice from durable dispositions rather than momentary or instantaneous reaction. In contemporary political thought, philosophers and scholars inspired by phenomenologists such as Maurice Merleau-Ponty have upon this idea to explain how subjects develop capacities for political action through ongoing relational strain. In feminist ethics, habituation helps to explain how – often oppressed – actors learn to endure, navigate, and act within conditions of prolonged vulnerability, scrutiny, and marginalization over time. It moves beyond experience; it is an engaged and embodied vision and practice.

In an attritional war where legitimacy is not necessarily secured through fast-paced or singular victories but continually reproduced across various political, economic, and social structures, as well as through relations of alliance management and public trust, this mode of habituation takes on strategic significance. Indeed, for President Zelenskyy, it works in his favour to cultivate and incorporate actors habituated to sustained delegitimization because it acts as a shock absorber to the , partner unreliability in a so-called newly-founded “” world, and economic fatigue increasingly characterizing this phase of the war and ongoing occupation. The hope is that these hybrid shocks are absorbed by such a habituation without suffering from significant strategic drifts that may carry over into the battlefield.

, nations and militaries perceived to possess greater status and capabilities – that is, the greater of two powers – engage in warfare by attrition. Those familiar with Russia and the former Soviet Union’s historical record of aggression, occupation, interference, and war across Eastern Europe will also recognize this mode of warfare, perhaps all too familiarly. The Baltics, the Balkans, Poland, Chechnya, Georgia – they all know this playbook. The Russian Federation continues to seek what it perceives as its rightful seat at the table of great-power politics; even those of us who reject John J. Mearsheimer’s structuralist projections onto Eastern Europe as lying within a fixed Russian “sphere of influence” cannot ignore such an imperial desire percolating within the Russian state since the unipolar moment.

In attritional war, time is a previous resource. As Sun Tzu , prolonged conflict could be of great risk to either warring side, on account of exhausting the state apparatus, undermining domestic order and morale, and eroding strategic advantage; for him, military strategy was a subtle and complex technique whose success depended on minimizing the temporal risks and costs of war. While Sun Tzu viewed attritional war as a strategic failure, the work of military theorist and general requires us to remember that wars of attrition often emerge as a political condition over time, shaped by friction, uncertainty, and an overall inability to achieve decisive political outcomes. What Ukraine demonstrates to the international community, this series aims to show, is that Russia’s apparent great power strategy grounded in attrition – like empire itself – can burn out.

It is by sources close to both Freeland and Prime Minister Carney that Freeland received Zelenskyy’s offer on December 22nd, 2025; by December 24th, she had shared with the Prime Minister her intentions to leave Canadian parliament to join the Ukrainian team. In responding to the Kremlin’s continued war of attrition, concerns beyond immediate hard power capabilities, military strategy, and command structures must be addressed. Freeland possesses a unique form of habituation to sustain delegitimation; her appointment may indeed be an important shock absorber to Russia’s ongoing disinformation campaigns, American partner unreliability, and the economic fatigue increasingly characterizing this war.

At the level of a broader wartime strategy, I suggest this capacity can also function as a form of resilience; it signals to communities, civil society, international partners, and adversaries alike that broader Ukraine’s leadership is prepared to govern through a liminal phase of uncertain futurity rather than govern toward a rapid endpoint. This is a strategy in stark contrast to Putin’s assumption that a “quick military operation” could sweep Ukraine in 2022, or that , once elected, could end the war in Ukraine in the first 24-hours of his second term. In this sense, it is important to emphasize that habituation is not merely an individual trait or disposition, but also a culturally sedimented capacity that is experienced transnationally and relationally. As Gusieva has argued, cultural resilience constitutes a foundational pillar of security; indeed, classical realist how such resilience at times is what pushes a nation beyond survival towards victory. I extend this logic here by suggesting that such cultural resilience is forged through repeated exposure to, and embeddedness within, enduring imperial projects and traditionalist military practices – in this case, namely, Russia’s ongoing attempts to reclaim imperial-great power status, legitimate its occupations, and sustain attritional warfare alongside its hybrid threats towards Europe.

In Ukraine, cultural habituation operates as resilience, but it is neither neutral nor abstract; rather, its experience is deeply racialized, ethnicized, and gendered. It is racialized and ethnicized through the persistent positioning of the nation as materially peripheral to Europe while cast as subordinate to Russia’s so-called historical sphere of influence; it is gendered through the paternalizing narratives directed at Ukraine and other Eastern European states aspiring to EU membership, as well as in the recurring trope of Ukraine as the “little brother” to a masculinized “Mother Russia.” More specifically, we see this reproduced through the hegemonically masculine practices embodied by state actors in political negotiations of economic and security matters; these behaviours continue to structure much of how political negotiation, listening, and diplomatic exchange take place. Freeland, in this respect, is a node within a broader relational structure of habituation and diplomatic practice in wartime Ukraine – one whose own political endurance aligns with, and stands to reinforce, Ukraine’s culturally embedded capacity to govern through attrition.

Please stay tuned for the next installment of this series, which will analyze Ukraine’s 2025 energy scandal and subsequent political moves undertaken President Zelenskyy following a state investigation that exposed high-level embezzlement within the nation’s energy sector.

The post Habituation in War: The Appointment of Chrystia Freeland as a Node in Ukraine’s Attritional War Strategy appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

With Hungary set to have its , Prime Minister Viktor Orbán is facing arguably the first serious challenge to his almost 16-year rule. The Respect and Freedom party – commonly referred to as the Tisza party – is led by Péter Magyar and has emerged as a viable alternative to the Orbán regime. Campaigning on an anti-corruption platform, Tisza has been able to resonate with a domestic population that is increasingly frustrated with Orban’s Fidesz party.

Internationally, Orbán has soured relations with historical allies over opposing aid to Ukraine, bouts of rising illiberalism, as well as recurring appeals to right-wing populism. Importantly, he is a figure charged with largely leading throughout Europe – a loosely coordinated but growing, transnational populist movement that combines social and cultural conservatism with anti-liberal, anti-globalist politics. Domestically, frustration within Hungary has risen over the inability to revive the economy from inflation and instability. This is reflected in the polls, where Fidesz has fallen to Tisza, 37% to 49%, respectively. The outcome of this election will have serious long-term implications on Hungary’s future political trajectory and offers the nation an opportunity to pivot away from an illiberal-populist trajectory. In turn, the election may also influence the dynamics of the European Union (EU), which has long suffered from Hungary’s divisive role as a wedge to political consensus.

Who is Tisza?

, Tisza is a centre-right party that has been growing in popularity. Tisza has focused its campaign largely on anti-corruption, promising initiatives such as strengthening judicial independence. This is a powerful message for Hungarians who have continued to face economic struggle while the ruling party has benefited from state resources.

Tisza also openly positions itself as anti-Orbán, criticizing the leader for nepotism and allegedly funding an oligarchy. They have been able to convert some loyal Fidesz supporters but much of their support stems from luring voters from various opposition bases. Magyar himself was at one point , working as public administrator. He later resigned following a scandal where Hungary’s former President, , pardoned the former the deputy director of the Kossuth Zsuzsa’s Children’s Home in Bicske, who had been . After his resignation, Magyar as corrupt and authoritarian and has since continued to consolidate opposition.

Magyar has promised to on democratic issues related to the rule of law and human rights – two points the EU has increasingly been pressing in applying political pressure to the Orbán regime. The ongoing dispute has caused vital EU assets to be frozen and being able to access them could provide a necessary economic boost; however, the two parties would still have competing interests, as . Part of their appeal has been that they are neither pro-EU or anti-EU, but rather opt to prioritize the interests of Hungary and the V4 countries (Czech Republic, Poland, Hungary, Slovakia). This indicates that Tisza’s approach may still be rooted in right-wing and nationalist values shared amongst their neighbours. These risks inciting further tension with the EU, who have been critical of these values on the basis that they work against collective action and Western liberal democracy.

Differing ideologies and rhetorics can continue to fracture relations between Brussels and Eastern Europe. Regarding Russia and China, Magyar seeks to establish what he calls “.” This would prioritize mutual strategic interests and values rather than personal ties. Tisza has also highlighted the need to ; however, this is unlikely to revolutionize the Hungarian-Russian relationship, as the former remains reliant on Russia’s crude oil and gas. Magyar has stated openness to renegotiating projects like the and remains wary of Chinese foreign direct investment.

How likely is a Tisza win?

While polls are indicating a strong lead, the real battleground will be during the election period. Fidesz is notorious for influencing elections by using state resources to create an uneven political playground. Orbán himself has been known to use tactics such as . In addition, opponents are strongly disadvantaged in their ability to campaign. Fidesz’s makes it easy to push smear campaigns and pro-Fidesz content, while the opposition has less platforms to use. To secure Parliament, Tisza will have to navigate a severely rigged, competitive, political environment. The challenge for the Fidesz party will be to determine how far they may interfere with elections, risking potential backlash from the population. Currently, Orbán has already launched a campaign against Tisza, .

What impact would a Tisza win have?

A change in government will improve Hungary’s domestic situation in the long-term, but in the short-term, and internationally, the results will be mixed. on corruption can help undermine the increasingly powerful oligarchy and reduce clientelism. The party has also promised to , which could improve rule of law in the country. Additionally, the possibility of EU funds can be vital for improving the economy and social infrastructure, should it be utilized effectively; however, many of these benefits will take time to materialize. Many members within Orbán’s government will still have the rest of their terms to serve. This could prevent the necessary cultural change within constitutional institutions that needs to take place for democracy to recuperate after corruption, further slowing the (re)adoption of democratic values, including proper checks and balances. Dismantling the oligarchy will also take time and consistent effort from both the top and the bottom. Therefore, while Tisza is likely to pivot away from democratic backsliding, this will be a slow process.

While Tisza aims to restore democratic values such as rule of law, voting rights, and judicial independence, it has yet to be determined if they will do the same for so-called “liberal” values. Tisza has shied away from taking a stance on controversial issues, including Hungary’s LGBTQIA+ community and migration policies. This leaves uncertainty around whether they are willing to tackle social issues.

The popularity of both Tisza and Fidesz means Parliament may be run by right-wing parties come spring. Left-wing parties such as Democratic Coalition and Mi Hazanak . Under Orbán, , supporting the formation of a coalition of socially conservative, anti-EU, populist leaders. This includes prominent figures such as in Slovakia and in the Czech Republic. This coalition includes strong and persistent Euroskeptics that have stalled key EU decisions and leveraged recurring attacks against Brussels. While a Tisza government would not eliminate opposing standpoints, pursuing institutional compromises and negotiations instead of veto politics could ease internal hostilities. However, if Tisza elects to continue strengthening the right-wing flank, right-wing populism may become even more embedded into Europe’s institutional and political infrastructure. This could exacerbate polarization and division among communities, further destabilizing Europe’s political climate at a time when the world is already increasingly experiencing shifts in polarity and great power contestation.

Conclusion

The parliamentary elections in April 2026 have opened the opportunity for a change in governance for Hungary. This has the potential to strengthen democratic institutions, rule of law, and civil freedoms; however, Tisza will have to navigate a hostile electoral environment and consolidate a base strong enough to outweigh external interference. If they win, Hungary will be at a crossroads. Their decisions on social issues, the Russia-Ukraine war, and ties with the EU will help determine the nature of Hungary’s democracy moving forward.

The post Electing a New Future: The stakes and implications of Hungary’s Parliamentary election appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

After a contentious summit – one that saw European Union (EU) members divided on the future of funding to Ukraine as the war nears its fourth year – the EU has created a plan to secure an . This plan depends on using cash from secured capital markets, deviating from the to use frozen Russian assets. The summit comes at a time where and . While the EU’s major goal of securing a funding package was achieved, internal fractures are increasingly felt and spreading, with the discussion inflaming verbal attacks and disagreements between Hungary, Slovakia, and other EU members.

Risky or revolutionary?

The EU’s final iteration of its funding package comes as a much safer development from the Commission’s initial Reparations Loan. That initial package would have secured funding from since the start of the full-scale invasion. Days before the summit, the EU agreed to , which primarily belong to the Russian Central Bank, held through Euroclear. The Commission maintained there was no breach of ethics on account of the agreement not affecting the Russian Central Bank’s intellectual property and Euroclear would be bound to repay it. Despite this, the plan elicited heated controversy among EU members.

Strong opposition largely stems from Euroclear and Belgium – where the financial company is based. Euroclear’s concerns pertain to the international trust in the euro and the company itself; it also expressed concern that it may be undermined by what they deemed a “.” Belgium fears Russian retaliation through international courts. The and promised if the plan were to go ahead. Retaliation from Russia could also include various hybrid strategies such as cyberattacks, sabotage of critical infrastructure, or even drone incursions. Hungary and Slovakia have also opposed the plan. The two countries have become increasingly critical of EU sanctions against Russia due to their own political and energy connections and dependencies on the country. Both nations to indefinitely freeze Russian assets, eliminating their veto power. Prime Ministers and slammed the plan on social media, implying it betrays important normative and legal architecture of the European Union.

Ultimately, the Reparations Loan in its original form was not passed, with members saying it was “too complex” and politically risky to go through with now. The primary concern was that Belgium needed . This brought mixed reactions and the guarantees could not be met. The EU’s main strategic goal to avoid escalation with Russia also made this move too risky, with the threat of financial and legal repercussions too costly.

What’s next for Ukraine?

The loan will be based on , requiring Ukraine to pay it back once they begin receiving reparations after the war has ended. The current plan eases the burden for some struggling with financing Ukraine directly, while also not affecting the obligations of countries like . This guarantee also paved the way for these countries to support the loan, making the decision smoother. The loan will be used to support Ukraine’s financial needs, particularly for investing in Ukrainian defence technology and industry. The country has identified a need for additional funding beyond its current IMF program, calling for up to .

What does this say about the EU?

One thing that has become abundantly clear during the summit is the increasing fractures between members of the European Union regarding the war in Ukraine. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine and its continued influence throughout Eastern Europe is beginning to sow real discord within the EU, proving to be an increasingly complex issue as the war rolls on. Currently, the EU has made several moves that mitigate the ability for countries that sympathize with Russia to disrupt aid to Ukraine; however, the new plan also gives a noteworthy “out” to these countries by allowing them not to contribute. Disagreements over the war are also combined with strong anti-bureaucratic and anti-EU rhetoric from leaders, who operate from a populist and, at times, illiberal base of governance. The EU will need to be vigilant and cautious about the influence and relationship to Russia that current member states have. The destabilization and weakening of the EU will be strategically advantageous to Russia, divisions that have already begun to exploit.

What will be interesting to see is how funding will evolve as time goes on. The EU . Will later developments prompt this risky move? Additionally, what will the reaction of Moscow be in these current conditions? It will be important to follow developments as they relate to renewed funding, as this could (re)invigorate either party and change future strategies and funding scenarios. Whether this will result in strategic pressures with positive outcomes or a further destabilization of the European continent, has yet to be seen.

The post EU Frozen Asset Plan appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

Prior to 2022, Europe’s defence posture relied heavily on NATO deterrence and the United States’ (US) security guarantee, underscoring the absence of a fully realized shared strategic vision within the European Union (EU). Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, coupled with growing , exposed the risks of this reliance and accelerated the EU’s push for greater strategic autonomy. For the first time, the EU financed the through the European Peace Facility and under the 2023–25 European Defence Industrial Programme. Defence spending soared across the continent, and what had long been an aspirational concept of strategic autonomy became an urgent necessity, even if its full realization remains a long-term project.

Yet, as Russia’s war in Ukraine exceeds its third year, the EU faces a lingering challenge: the rise of far-right governments in many of its member states. While strategic autonomy is still top of mind for EU leaders, materialized through the introduction of , several members states are increasingly pursuing nationalist defence agendas. As a result, the EU finds itself caught between advancing the architecture of collective defence while simultaneously contending with leaders who instrumentalize this same mechanism for domestic political gain. This tension has direct implications for Europe’s credibility as a security actor. It complicates efforts to align defence procurement, weakens the consistency of sanctions and aid policies, and risks eroding the transatlantic trust which Europe still depends on for deterrence.

The Far-Right Populist and Defence

The far right’s influence on European defence policy does not manifest through outright obstruction but through . Rather than rejecting Brussels’ new defence architecture, nationalist leaders have learned to operate within it, appropriating both its funding mechanism and its language to advance sovereignty-based agendas. These actors recognize that participating in EU-funded defence initiatives confers both material and symbolic rewards: access to industrial contracts, regional investment, and the legitimacy that comes from being seen as a responsible European partner. What distinguishes them is not withdrawal, but the ability to convert cooperation into a narrative of national strength. In doing so, they hollow out the collective rationale of defence integration, turning what should be a shared European project into a vehicle for domestic legitimacy.

Hungary illustrates this pattern most overtly. Under Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, the Hungarian government while remaining ambivalent toward the collective logic underpinning the Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP). In 2017, Budapest initiated the , a €13 billion modernization effort aimed at creating domestic supply chains for arms and munitions. German firms such as , establishing joint ventures that anchor Hungary’s defence industry within the European market while strengthening Orban’s narrative of rebuilding the Hungarian military. The , co-financed through EU cohesion funds and national investment subsidies, is emblematic of this dual logic: it deepens Hungary’s integration in the EU defence economy even as Orban portrays it as proof of national self-reliance.

Yet while leveraging these partnerships, Hungary remains one of the least aligned member states when it comes to the that underpin the EU’s CSDP overall goal. Budapest consistently resists the forms of coordination that give CSDP substance, shared threat assessments, deeper PESCO commitments, and capability-pooling arrangements that would bind national planning to collective European priorities. At the same time, Budapest has sought access to funding under the EU’s new support for Ammunition and Firearms Expansion loan instrument, , while opposing proposals to link disbursements to rule-of-law compliance. Orban repeatedly frames defence modernization as integral to protecting Hungary’s national identity, emphasizing that . Hungary supports EU investment when it serves its industrial base, such as the Security Action for Europe and European Defence Industry Reinforcement through Common Procurement schemes, that would make these mechanisms genuinely European. Orban’s model thus envisions a Europe of self-reliant states loosely connected through markets and contracts, not through . The result is a form of instrumental integration, wherein Hungary contributes materially to Europe’s rearmament while eroding the institutional cohesion that collective security demands.

The EU’s Response

The dual challenge of Russian aggression and internal fragmentation has forced EU leaders to harden both its defence and governance instruments. The EU’s post-2022 defence agenda has expanded at a pace unseen since the bloc’s creation. The Readiness 2030 initiative, announced in 2025, seeks to mobilize over and establish new fiscal flexibility for member states to allocate up to 1.5 percent of GDP to defence without breaching budget-deficit rules. A is intended to finance joint procurement of military products, while the European Defence Industrial Strategy lays the groundwork for a with harmonized rules to enable faster and larger-scale production.

At the same time, recognizing Russia’s active hybrid warfare strategy and the role illiberal and populist actors play in it, the EU has coupled defence integration with measures to safeguard its democratic infrastructure. The now empowers Brussels to audit social-media platforms and penalize those that facilitate foreign influence operations. The EU has also invested in counter-hybrid capabilities, from cyber-resilience frameworks to a proposed along its eastern frontier, reflecting the growing convergence of internal and external security.

Conclusion – A Contested Path Forward

Europe’s defence awakening has built the structure of strategic autonomy but not its political foundation. The EU now commands funding instruments, industrial incentives, and procurement schemes approaching a true defence union, yet its legitimacy in this area still remains fragile. Without a mandate rooted in democratic accountability and public debate, these mechanisms risk becoming a technocratic enterprise that populists can exploit for their domestic gain. Leaders such as Viktor Orbán have learned to navigate this gap, appropriating the language and benefits of European rearmament to validate nationalist narratives while obstructing collective decision-making.

Yet public sentiment offers an opening. .The task for Brussels is to transform this diffuse approval into a clear mandate, linking defence to agency, accountability, and shared purpose. Strategic autonomy will only endure if it becomes political as well as industrial, anchored in legitimacy, communication, and leadership that make Europe not just rearmed, but united.

Policy Recommendations: From Technocracy to Political Cohesion

To combine Europe’s strategic autonomy and close the legitimacy gap that populist actors exploit, the EU must move beyond institutional design to political consolidation. The following measures outline how Brussels can align its defence ambitions with democratic cohesion.

Mobilize public consent through strategic communication and civic engagement – The EU should institutionalize structured citizen dialogue on security and defence, modelled on the Conference on the Future of Europe, to engage Europeans in shaping the Union’s strategic priorities.

Form a European Strategic Communication Taskforce for Defence – The EU should establish a Strategic Communication Taskforce for Defence to counter the populist narratives that reframe collective defence as a threat to sovereignty or a national achievement. Housed within the European External Action Service and building on existing StratCom capabilities, the taskforce would coordinate messaging across member states, highlight the local benefits of EU-funded defence projects, and proactively counter disinformation about European rearmament.

Strengthen role of European Defence Commissioner and unify procurement authority – The establishment of a Defence and Space Commissioner marks progress, but the portfolio currently lacks the political weight and institutional tools needed to meaningfully coordinate EU defence initatives. With responbilities dispersed between the European External Action Service, the Directorate-General for Defence Industry and Space, and the European Defence Agency, strengthening the Commissioner’s mandate, particularly in unified procurement and capability planning, would reduce fragmentation and advance Europe’s strategic sovereignty.

The post Europe’s Fragmented Shield: Populism and the Politics of EU Defence Integration appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

When Albania’s Prime Minister Edi Rama joked that his new artificial intelligence (AI) “minister,” Diella (Albanian for Sun), was “pregnant with 83 children” (a metaphor for 83 digital assistants that will serve members of parliament), he turned an . The move to incorporate AI into governance itself is considered by many to be amusing, unsettling, and even revealing, as it shows how easily AI can be warped into a spectacle while subtly re-wiring how decisions about money and power are made. Diella is also the world’s first AI system formally appointed as Minister of State for Artificial Intelligence, with responsibility for.

From Virtual Assistant to Cabinet-Level Minister

as a virtual assistant on the , intended to assist Albanian citizens in accessing documents and other online public services. Nine months later, in September 2025, following a decree that authorized a virtual minister, Rama had elevated Diella to the rank of Minister of State for Artificial Intelligence, .

Such an unorthodox move has garnered plenty of international coverage, as many have framed it as both an anti-corruption experiment and a form of political branding, describing Diella as a digital assistant dressed in traditional clothing, now tasked with making public tenders free of corruption. However, some have also pointed out that procurement in Albania has long been dominated by political elites and oligarch-like figures, making .

A Spectacle?

Writer/researcher : essentially shifting political responsibility to digital actors and presenting them as being pure, incorruptible, and tireless, standing in for distrusted political elites. Perhaps accidental, this comes across as not a neutral design choice. Presenting the system as a woman in traditional costume frames digitalization as care and service rather than control, pulling on gendered stereotypes while also making it difficult to contest the new political innovation without appearing as “anti-modern” or “anti-progress.” The “” metaphor pushes this further, casting Diella as a digital mother of dozens of subordinate systems that will monitor and help with parliamentary work. It infantilizes MPs as being dependent on an algorithm, and suggests that political conflict within parliament can be processed by a neutral machine rather than by openly accountable representatives.

The move to incorporate AI into governance sits at the intersection of EU accession politics and digital dependency, as Diella is likely based on OpenAI models hosted on Microsoft Azure, which is precisely the kind of . Hypothetically speaking, if Albania were to obtain EU membership and Diella were to operate within the EU, it would be flagged as a high-risk system under the new , where stringent requirements are imposed on the usage of AI in public services and resource allocation. Such frameworks do not yet bind Albania; however, it is clearly experimenting in exactly the domain in which the Act targets, that being algorithmic governance, where constitutional accountability is thin.

Canada’s “Sovereign AI” Moment

Canada is moving quickly in a similar direction by embedding AI into state structures, but with a different approach. The announces $925.6 million over five years for “large-scale sovereign public AI infrastructure,” including a Sovereign Canadian Cloud to support research and public-sector AI use. The federal government is implementing AI and .

Canada already has a formal governance “toolkit” or framework for implementing public-sector AI. The government’s and its official guidelines require “algorithmic impact assessments,” the formal documentation of the systems used, and alternative mechanisms for performing similar functions when automated decisions may potentially affect rights and interests. Moreover, the further defines sovereignty as the ability to manage and protect government data, systems, and infrastructure independently in a globally interconnected environment.

However, Canadian experts warn that infrastructure and branding risks could outpace efforts to control them. As noted by , Canada’s dependence on American companies is one of the most significant risks and complications facing Canadian digital sovereignty, particularly given the dominance of US providers in digital and cloud services.

Put side by side, Albania and Canada reveal the same underlying question: who actually controls AI in the state, and under what rules? Diella is clearly an extreme case of AI as spectacle: an AI minister is “pregnant” with assistants, purity, and efficiency in a system still wrestling with corruption and weak checks. Whereas Canada’s “sovereign AI” push is more technocratic, but it faces its own temptation to treat big AI spending and a branded cloud as proof of control, even while key infrastructure and AI models remain under foreign corporate jurisdictions.

The core lesson for Canada is not to mock Diella, but to avoid a more subtle version of the same trap. As AI becomes more integrated into sectors that the federal government may deem appropriate, the real test will be whether such systems are contestable or even grounded in enforceable law, rather than merely marketed as innovative or sovereign, as it is easy to get caught up in the media storm and publicity such reforms seem to command. Canada’s task should be to ensure that its “sovereign AI” remains democratic, even when there is no digital “minister” on the screen.

The post Democracy Meets AI appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

On September 30, 2025, to intervene in Nexperia’s operations, a semiconductor-focused Chinese-owned company. The government had cited “” and the risk that vital technological capabilities could be shifted out of Europe, and it gave itself the power to reverse or even block decisions deemed harmful to both Dutch and European economic security.

Nexperia, as a company, is not a glamorous AI-chip producer as the media tends to focus on, but rather a supplier of “legacy” semiconductors used in both cars and other consumer electronics, which was formerly part of Philips’ semiconductor operations and was . However, . The response from Beijing was swift. In early October, China’s Commerce Ministry . It halted exports of Nexperia chips from China, turning the regulatory move into a global supply chain incident. Nexperia, for its part, warned its customers that it would no longer be able to guarantee the quality or authenticity of any chips produced in China after October 13, .

Suppliers and automakers alike suddenly discovered how exposed they were to the “boring” part of the chip world. The European Automobile Manufacturers’ Association and could force production lines to halt. The ripple effects of supply chain issues caused by the Dutch regulatory provision were felt even in North America, and had either sought other suppliers or exemptions from the control measures imposed by China.

By mid-November, after talks involving partners such as the United States, China decided to ease its export ban on Nexperia, and the , citing steps taken by Beijing to restore chip flows to Europe. The immediate crisis seems to have been managed for the time being. However, the events of the last three months have exposed apparent limitations in the resilience of Europe’s semiconductor industry.

On Paper: Ambitious. In Reality: Dependent

The is intended to double the European share of the global semiconductor market to 20% by 2030, strengthen and resilient supply chains, and minimize Europe’s dependency on foreign suppliers. However, the that this target is unlikely to be met, and that the EU market share is currently only projected to be 11.7% in 2030.

Interestingly, identified semiconductors as one of the four “critical technology areas” that require risk assessments by its member states, other critical areas included biotech, quantum, and AI technologies. However, the Nexperia case reveals that Europe’s most glaring deficiencies are not only at the bleeding edge of semiconductor design, but also that the assembly, testing, and production of older-generation chips have been, for the most part, offshored to China. This is consistent with broader statistics on digital dependence. For example, the relayed estimations that the EU relies on non-EU suppliers for more than 80% of its digital products, services, and infrastructure, and that China supplies approximately 71% of the EU’s gallium and 45% of its germanium, both of which are irreplaceable materials needed for semiconductor production. In other words, Europe is attempting to establish some degree of technological sovereignty on a foundation that is deeply entangled with Chinese output, especially in the least glamorous parts of the value chain.

Lessons

The EU now centres discussions on “” from China to manage interdependence and to diversify rather than simply sever ties with China altogether. The Nexperia case offers a sneak peek at what this could mean in practice.

First, it would require regulatory teeth, such as the willingness to use emergency security tools, including the , and EU-level export control and investment screening, to keep critical capabilities anchored in Europe when market incentives may point elsewhere. Second, it demands a redesign of the supply chain. Ensuring that 70% of a critical supplier’s output is not hostage to policy decisions made by China means not only investing in high-end chips, but also in the often-forgotten parts of the industry, such as test facilities, packaging plants, and the raw materials they rely on. The Nexperia saga serves as a great case study in the potential costs of ignoring such links. Third, de-risking not only implies reshoring but also friend-shoring. , launched in 2022, aims to make Canada a global “supplier of choice” for critical minerals and the clean technologies they enable, such as semiconductors. The recent builds upon this strategy by committing new funding to raw mineral extraction and export. Canada and the EU already have a from 2021, which commits both sides to integrating Canada-EU raw materials value chains and reducing strategic dependencies on other supplier countries. For Europe, treating that partnership more as a core pillar of its long-term semiconductor security strategy would be a meaningful act of de-risking.

The Nexperia crisis is a preview. As Europe tightens export controls and pushes its Chips Act forward, similar flashpoints are likely, mainly around similar firms and technologies. The question is whether European policymakers are prepared and willing to pay both the financial and political costs of reducing dependencies and taking proactive measures rather than simply reacting when a single chip company suddenly becomes the chokepoint of global production.

The post Chip Dependency Comes Due appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

Drone warfare is one of the defining features of Russia’s war against Ukraine. The war has seen the constant introduction of new technology and tactics, and in turn, new countermeasures to respond to these developments.

The post Russian Drone Warfare: Destruction, Development, Defence, and Deterrence appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

Since 2022, Russia has intensified its hybrid warfare against Western states, exposing persistent vulnerabilities in NATO and EU responses. Despite new sanctions, evolving doctrines, and enhanced operational tools, key challenges remain — including legal uncertainty, attribution difficulties, fragmented coordination, and a continued imbalance between military spending and resilience investment. Rapidly evolving disinformation and systemic pressure on critical infrastructure further strain Europe’s adaptive capacity. This policy brief calls for a unified NATO-EU doctrine addressing all domains of hybrid warfare, a strategic shift toward strengthening societal and infrastructure resilience, and the implementation of clear emergency protocols to ensure a more coordinated and effective response to this growing threat.

The post Transatlantic Security Institutions and Hybrid Threats: Adaptation, Gaps, and Policy Imperatives appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.

In a post on X (formerly known as Twitter), current German Chancellor Friedrich Merz stated the following: “.” Just a few short weeks later, in a posted on YouTube with Hungary’s news outlet, former German Chancellor Angela Merkel spoke about her experience in June 2021 when she and French President Emmanuel Macron had floated the idea of the EU holding direct talks with Vladimir Putin in an effort to calm re-ignited tensions with Ukraine. However, at that time, COVID-19 was given as the reason for preventing more frequent dialogue with Russia, which Merkel felt was crucial to ensuring that the be upheld.

In this new interview, Merkel revealed that it was in fact the Baltic states and Poland who were against such initiatives, and then claimed that “” Clearly, such a statement aims to manipulate memory for strategic purposes by placing significant blame on the Baltic states and Poland in the lead-up to the war, while also suggesting that Merkel herself had been serving as a peace-making actor, playing no role in empowering Russia to take such aggressive actions.

The reaction to Merkel’s comments was near instant. For example, Estonian foreign minister Margus Tsahkna responded that Merkel was “” and that instead of strongly responding to Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014, or its war in Georgia, . Another example of the outrage initiated by Merkel’s comments was captured by Poland’s Minister for Regional Policy, Katarzyna Pełczyńska-Nałęcz (former Polish Ambassador to Russia), who stated that being blamed for starting a war because they “.”

Why say it, and why say it there?

In short, Merkel argues about process in order to justify and defend her legacy and relations with Russia during her time as Chancellor, which focused on fostering “” – including sanctions, Minsk diplomacy, and energy interdependence as a ‘bridge’ with strategic intentions. This political approach is . Merkel’s casting of 2021 as a sort of missed off-ramp shifts focus from Berlin’s (and Merkel’s) long-term bet on engagement with Russia to an Eastern European veto that indirectly led to the war in Ukraine in the first place. Similarly, this mimics the theme that ‘,’ which politicians such as US President Donald Trump tend to employ as a discursive strategy. Legally and morally, the aggressor is Russia. What Merkel’s storytelling does is recast the focus on the intra-EU process of who blocked talks, rather than on the actor who chose invasion over dialogue. This narrative also directly undermines EU unity against Russia’s aggression, .

The venue of this interview further amplifies the political impact on EU unity. The that operates within a highly polarized media ecosystem, which placed . Additionally, alongside being the second lowest among EU member states in this index, recent reports indicate that Prime Minister Victor Orbán and his allies have consolidated control over around 80% of the press media in Hungary.The �ʲ����پ���á�� is hardly a mouthpiece for Budapest, but it is undoubtedly interesting that such an interview would come from the EU member state most often associated with strategic ambiguity in its relations with Moscow. It is worth noting, however, that during the same interview, when asked whether Orbán was a Trojan horse for Putin into the EU, Merkel simply stated that this propagated idea was “.” As placed in Hungary’s polarized media space, the Merkel clip conveys intra-EU blame, further testing cohesion by muddying the EU’s message to Moscow.

For the Baltics and Poland, the was both a threat and signal test. As the Lithuanian President Gitanas Nauseda warned, engaging in dialogue with Putin without tangible changes in Russian behaviour would send “” that the EU was placating Russia’s actions. Hosting summits without leverage and making agreements without cost or constraints creates an opportunity for Russia to further normalize coercion and potentially foster coalition-splitting rather than deterring it. Viewed in this light, the disapproval in 2021 from Poland and the Baltics was not obstructionism but rather a and a fear for potentially being the next target of Russia’s aggression.

An inconvenient backdrop

There is a reason Eastern Europe balks at Merkel’s ‘if only we had talked more’ sentiments. For three decades, Germany’s policy towards Russia combined binding and deterrence through sanctions and Minsk diplomacy, alongside a dense web of commercial, energy, and even security-based ties. , or the , where a German prime military contractor supplying high-end training systems to a Russian arms centre was . Only after the annexation of Crimea did Berlin entirely revoke the license. The cancellation showed that routine cooperation between Germany and Russia had been institutionalized even after Russia’s invasion of Georgia in 2008.

The EU’s own briefings on Nord Stream 2 noted that it , which led to debates and arguments from Poland, for example, , as well as broader concerns that Russia was using such initiatives to . Angela Merkel had reiterated to partners, and more specifically to Kyiv, that , despite being seemingly immune to the suggestion that Russia would, in fact, use energy as a tool to achieve its political interests in Europe.

Schröder, the useful contrast

Former German Chancellor Gerhard Schröder, Merkel’s predecessor, moved straight into Russian energy after his time leading Germany, first chairing (the European-Russian pipeline company), then later joining the board of Rosneft (a state-owned Russian oil company), from which he under mounting political pressure. Additionally, Schröder had flirted with a ; however, , which was later stripped of a taxpayer-funded office by the Bundestag, prompting him to navigate the German court system to regain his office. However, the courts upheld his loss of privileges.

Merkel, by contrast, has not taken any corporate posts from Russian-based firms. However, her entanglement with Moscow is apparent through her narrative in the interview which re-allocates the burden of the war within the EU. This reframing serves two distinct purposes: The first is directly shifting any accountability for the complex situation Europe currently finds itself in with Russia, and the second, more indirectly, serves Russian hybrid tactics that seek to and as the .

What now?

Merkel’s interview works less as revisionism and more as a redistribution of memory, agency, and what she believes that EU unity should have resulted in during that time. It invites a tempting but counterfactual narrative that is ultimately counterproductive: that one more conversation might have ‘saved the day’ if only the Easterners had not blocked it. The empirical record – from Mulino to Nord Stream – suggests the opposite. That being said, diplomacy only works when backed by credible costs; absent that, it enables coercion. The lesson Europe should take is that the Baltics and Poland were cautious, given their historical understanding of Russia as a political actor, but were not outright fearful of dialogue with Moscow. If Europe shifts its focus to who blocked what talks and actions, it risks falling into the very divisions and tensions that Moscow seeks to foster.

The post Does the Mask Still Fit? Merkel’s Legacy-Protective Reframing of the Russo-Ukrainian War appeared first on Eastern European and Transatlantic Network.