No Peace in the Vocabulary

What do you do with people who openly say they need the conflict to continue? Trump says he is fighting for peace. Putin says he has always been ready for peace. Only the leadership of Europe seems to have no word “peace” in its vocabulary.

It has taken less than four years for strange conversations to begin surfacing among European politicians of all ranks. Not long ago, the line was simple: “international isolation,” “the toughest sanctions,” “defeat on the battlefield,” “cancel Russia,” “collective responsibility,” “international tribunal,” “partition and reparations.”

A whole new generation of politicians, who in hindsight reached power by some very unusual routes, committed themselves to total confrontation with the Russian Federation. They were cheered on by Russia’s self-exiled opposition, who drafted sanctions lists, spoke of eternal Russian imperialism, and assured everyone that the “bear” had missiles left for three days at most. Three days passed. Then three more. And Russia is still where it is. Fully isolated. From Europe. The last European leader to visit Moscow was Austria’s chancellor Nehammer, and he was immediately punished for it. That was a long time ago.

Macron’s emotional oscillations about whether to call Putin or not have long since become a meme. So has Macron himself. For four years, the European Union under the leadership of former German defense minister Ursula von der Leyen has carefully ensured that no one even thinks about talking to the Russians. The Finns, the newest and most nervous members of NATO, shut down their entire border with the Leningrad and Murmansk regions  - 1,300 kilometers of it.

There is a certain logic to it. When the tone is set by figures like Strack-Zimmermann or Kaja Kallas, who demand Russia’s defeat every day, or by Chancellor Merz, who weekly discusses when German cruise missiles should be fired at Russia, there is indeed little to talk about. But inside Europe, something is starting to boil. We could ask what changed, but we already know. Another “three days” have passed, and the Russians still haven’t run out of missiles. Or even beer. Strikes on Russian territory have not triggered panic or mass unrest.

Then the occupant of the White House changed, and he has no interest in pulling Europe’s cart. He is busy driving his own. That made some of the quicker minds on the continent uncomfortable. Where once only retired generals cautiously suggested that things were not going as planned, now sitting politicians are beginning to say it out loud.

Italy’s prime minister Giorgia Meloni, often treated as a caricature by the Brussels crowd, turned out to be the most pragmatic. She did not quarrel with Trump, and she also came to a fresh realization: sooner or later, someone will have to talk to Putin. Someone simply had to say it aloud, and say it in a voice loud enough to be heard. Hungary and Slovakia have been saying the same thing for years, but they were dismissed as dissidents and ignored. Meloni is harder to silence. Suddenly, people in Europe are wondering how they might fulfill a historic mission and go to Moscow just to talk.

At one point, even the Finnish prime minister Stubb was floated as a possible envoy. But the Finns have already dismantled their rail links to St. Petersburg and Moscow, and Stubb himself began boasting about how his army would give the Russians a hard time. After that, who exactly is supposed to talk to him? Meanwhile, the situation grows worse by the day.

Another “three days” have passed, and Europe has begun to realize that its opinion about Russia, the Ukrainian conflict, and the rights agenda it has tried to export carries very little weight. Both the Russians and the Americans have started excluding Europe from real negotiations. And what do you do with people who openly say they need the conflict to continue? Trump says he is fighting for peace. Putin says he is always ready for peace. Only the European leadership seems unable to pronounce the word at all. That is the source of the panic. The turbulence is so strong that voices are now being heard which would have been unthinkable six months ago.

Oskar Lafontaine, the founder of Germany’s Left Party and a patriarch of German politics, has published a long essay accusing Europe of nurturing a permanent hatred of Russia as a state ideology. He is now being morally destroyed for one sentence: “Hatred expressed as Russophobia is just as reprehensible as anti-Semitism.” The mainstream press calls his article tasteless. He is, of course, branded a Putin agent. But the words have been spoken.

At the same time, it is becoming harder and harder for European leaders to justify their enormous spending on Ukraine  - meaning, in practice, on the war with Russia  - to their own taxpayers. Money is running short across the continent. Even a weakened opposition is gaining ground in the polls.

People are starting to ask: where did the money go? Governments are facing the real prospect of electoral defeat and collapsing coalitions, as in Germany. That is why we are beginning to see occasional flashes of realism in political speeches here and there. Czech prime minister Andrej Babiš is now talking about the need for Europe to restore dialogue with Russia. Who will be next does not really matter. The longer Russia holds its position, the more European leaders will say whatever they must in order to stay in power.