MADRID — The Spanish government has won a significant victory in a long-running legal dispute with international investors over its decision more than a decade ago to scrap renewable energy subsidies.
This week, a Belgian court overturned a ruling that ordered the Spanish government to pay investors nearly €76 million.
It was a major win for Spain, which has been fighting attempts to freeze its assets around the world from clean energy investors who claim they are owed at least €2 billion in subsidies.
The dispute dates back to 2013, in the middle of the European debt crisis, when cash-strapped Spain, then under a new conservative government, decided to remove subsidies for renewable energy. Investors who had poured money into Spanish renewables said this was a breach, as they had invested on the understanding they would receive the subsidies.
The International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes ruled that Spain must pay the money, but the European Commission has told Spain doing so would constitute unlawful state aid.
The standoff has played out all over the world, with investors attempting to freeze Spanish assets in multiple jurisdictions. In June, U.S. investment fund Blasket Renewable Investments LLC issued subpoenas demanding documents from Adidas, Hilton Hotels, and other entities involved in Spain’s Football World Cup participation to help with its bid to freeze Spanish assets.
In the end, the team went back home with its assets intact, along with the World Cup.
Spain also has cases going on in courts in Australia, Germany and the U.S.
In 2023, a British court ordered an embargo on an international school in London owned by the Spanish state. The Belgian court’s original decision was one of the few examples where investors were successful, and the decision this week to overturn it will set a precedent for other challenges.
The case
Spain’s defense persuaded a Belgian court to lift an embargo imposed in 2025 on state-owned air-navigation company Enaire for €75.76 million, according to documents seen by POLITICO.
The case was also brought by Blasket, which bought the dispute from an investment fund called RREEF. The European Commission intervened in support of Spain.
RREEF, which was originally linked to Deutsche Bank, invested in Spanish wind and solar power under a 2007 regulatory framework that guaranteed subsidies for renewable energy. In 2013, amid the economic crisis, the government of then-Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy, of the conservative People’s Party, cut those subsidies to reduce electricity costs.
International investors turned to arbitration, arguing that the Energy Charter Treaty, an international agreement signed in the 1990s, guaranteed them fair and predictable treatment. The funds sought more than €10 billion in compensation, according to sources at Spain’s Environment Ministry.
The International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes, part of the World Bank, which handled most of the arbitration cases, ruled against Spain, though it reduced the amount sought in many cases. The total awards came to about €2 billion. In its 2019 ruling, the tribunal ordered Spain to pay RREEF €59.6 million, plus interest and costs.
Most of the claims, including RREEF’s, were sold to Blasket, which began seeking to enforce the awards. The funds have searched for Spanish assets that could be seized to satisfy the claims.
Spain says it cannot pay because the European Commission has determined that doing so would constitute unlawful state aid. The funds invested through companies based in Luxembourg, and the EU’s top court ruled that the Energy Charter Treaty did not apply to disputes between EU investors and EU member states; EU law governed instead.
In August 2026, the Commission opened infringement proceedings against Spain over a €23 million payment on an award involving a Japanese company, which was not based in the EU.
On June 17, 2025, Blasket secured a Belgian court order freezing €75.76 million belonging to Enaire, the state-owned company that manages air navigation in Spain. Enaire receives payments from Eurocontrol, the Brussels-based European organization that collects air-navigation charges from airlines and distributes the proceeds.
That arrangement made it possible to freeze Spanish public funds in Belgium. After a legal dispute, Spain deposited €75,759,538 on May 4, 2026.
The freeze was a high-profile win for investors pursuing Spain. They have secured other attachments in the United Kingdom and are engaged in ongoing U.S. court disputes over enforcement of the awards.
Spain appealed, and the European Commission intervened on its behalf. The Belgian state also argued that the attachment breached EU law. The Belgian court has now ruled in Spain’s favor, lifting the freeze and ordering Blasket to pay the legal costs.
That leaves Spain in a stronger position against international investors seeking to enforce the awards — at least within the EU.
When the sun goes down, the wind picks up in central New Mexico, whipping through arid canyons with a ghostly howl that for centuries, locals have likened to the wails of the folkloric ghost La Llorona.
A few hours east of Albuquerque, this June, those gusts began powering the largest wind farm this continent has ever seen, twirling over 900 colossal steel turbines. Each is as tall as the Statue of Liberty, scattered across a patch of desert roughly the size of Chicago. They plug into a 550-mile transmission line stitched across the Southwest and are now powering over one million homes — as far away as California.
The SunZia Wind and Transmission project is a rare 21st-century triumph of American infrastructure, an engineering marvel that generates more electricity than the Hoover Dam. When the turbines came online this spring, they immediately broke records for wind-generated power in California’s energy supply, where solar power may rule the day, but the winds of New Mexico increasingly fuel the night.
Key takeaways
SunZia, the largest clean energy megaproject in US history, finally came online this June, sending New Mexico wind power to customers in Arizona and California.
For over a decade and a half, the project was delayed by permitting issues, lawsuits, and above all, an energy market that wasn’t ready for the power it had to offer.
With the nation’s electricity demand skyrocketing, SunZia’s collaboration with conservationists may offer a blueprint for getting more megaprojects built.
After years of stagnant power growth, the US is absolutely starving for more electricity, with demand projected to rise by 25 percent by the end of this decade, and a staggering 78 percent by 2050. Enormous as this challenge might seem, it may ultimately be the catalyst the country needs to dramatically dial up its renewable energy infrastructure, so that the years to come are powered not by gas or coal, but by clean energy sources like the sun and the wind. By next summer, the project will have prevented about 9 million metric tons of carbon dioxide from entering the atmosphere, according to Pattern Energy, the project’s developer.
For decades, however, it seemed the project would remain little more than a spectral dream.
“It works!” This was the call Hunter Armistead, Pattern’s CEO, remembers getting from his head engineer when the turbines came online for the very first time. “We were creating power, and it was showing up 550 miles away in Phoenix, almost as if it was magic.” During the ribbon-cutting for the wind farm, some construction workers showed off massive new turbine tattoos. “It’s their pride that for the rest of their lives, they can drive by and tell their kid, ‘I did this,’” Armistead said.
But SunZia almost didn’t get built at all. It is not just the project’s scale that makes it remarkable, but the utter morass its developers slogged through to bring it online. The project spanned five presidential administrations, an ownership change, a major reroute, and a standoff with a US military base.
It also involved a series of lawsuits from local tribal communities and environmental advocates, some of which remain pending even as the turbines now finally whirl. Building any renewable megaproject requires vast amounts of space, and hyperspecific natural conditions, like a wind that blows at night or a reliably sun-soaked desert plain. Then getting that energy to major cities means traversing some of the most pristine, spectacular natural corridors this nation has left, and particularly in the Southwest, rubbing up against the sacred lands of local tribal communities.
The decades-long saga to settle some of these tensions has turned SunZia into a helpful lesson, and for many, deserved or not, it became the ultimate poster child for permitting reform. And for many years, the country’s need for power didn’t seem to call for such a wildly ambitious project anyway. But in the interim, as the world changed, SunZia changed too, becoming — at least in some places — a better and more collaborative project than it was when it began. And now, with a nation finally focused on building more clean energy megaprojects, it can offer a glimpse of what’s to come, even a blueprint of what could be.
The real reason(s) it took so long for SunZia to get built
When SunZia was first proposed in 2006, the same year Twitter went online, coal was still the most important electricity source in America, and the nation’s appetite for electricity had remained nearly flat year after year.
Sen. Martin Heinrich of New Mexico, for one, has cited SunZia as a key impetus for his co-sponsoring the Senate’s new plan for permitting reform. This would make it easier for the federal government to coordinate approval processes for interstate transmission lines, ensuring that they happen concurrently and preventing one state from dragging its heels.
The project had faced one particularly large and sticky permitting challenge: getting the power through the White Sands Missile Range. But this, and other challenges, were eventually resolved relatively quickly. And to David Hayes, who served as deputy secretary of the Department of the Interior during the Obama administration, this suggests that financing hamstrung the project even more than red tape.
“The facts are the facts, and they got their permit,” said Hayes — all the way back in 2015, not long after the Obama administration put SunZia on a “fast-track” to approval. “So we finally got the permit done. Hooray, right? And then nothing happens. Nothing happens.”
Part of that was the fact that the two states where SunZia wanted to build its transmission lines were not entirely on board. But it was also the sheer expense involved in building the project, especially given that the federal approval required burying parts of the transmission line near the missile range. Moreover, even if everything went perfectly with the project’s permitting process, it might have been impossible to build SunZia back then, said Armistead, because “we really didn’t have the market need for it.”
The US simply wasn’t as ravenous for new electricity as it is right now, and the importance of building out the future of energy was not enticing enough for investors on its own.
But, refusing to die a slow death of a thousand permitting blockades or financial setbacks, SunZia instead evolved. Pattern Energy, initially only in charge of developing the wind farm portion of the project, took over the transmission line project in 2022. Around that time, SunZia applied for a revised federal permit, one that would circumvent the missile range, and within less than two years — a relative sprint for federal bureaucracy — they had a new approval in hand. Then came $11 billion in financing from several global financial institutions, pension funds, and clean energy investors. Then, a few years of construction time later, the Americas’ biggest wind farm was finally switched on.
And more massive projects like this will be needed because nowadays, “there is no longer the excuse” of a market unready for high volumes of clean energy, Armistead told me. “It is game time, and we’re supposed to get this done.”
What America’s biggest clean energy project got right
One of the secrets to SunZia’s ultimate success in New Mexico was the project’s ability to strike compromises, even with some of its earliest critics. In some cases, a bunch of birds.
Right about now, the earliest migratory birds, like the crimson-capped sandhill crane, have begun arriving at their Southwestern wintering grounds, not far from some of SunZia’s newly operational high-voltage transmission lines.
This crane had nearly gone extinct before, driven in part by an explosion of new hydroelectric dams in the early 20th century, whose construction dried out local wetlands. SunZia’s initial route, which was planned across one of the most congested flyways in the country, threatened them again, birders feared, alongside other migratory species who might accidentally fly into the new power lines, a threat believed to kill millions of birds nationwide each year.
While SunZia’s original developer, the Southwestern Power Group, was largely unmoved by those concerns, said Sarah Rose, vice president of climate at the National Audubon Society, the nonprofit found an unusually receptive partner to compromise when Pattern Energy took over.
“They took their role as a project developer really seriously,” she said, “and I think they engaged with us with a lot of integrity and a lot of good faith.” Under a rerouting plan, original power lines were moved north, erected next to existing infrastructure, or affixed with visual warning systems or bird diverters. Not only did the changes make the bird advocates happy, but they were enough to help convince the New Mexico Public Regulation Commission, which had rejected SunZia’s permit application a few years earlier in part due to these concerns, to unanimously approve the project in 2022.
To be clear, not everybody believed Pattern always made the appropriate compromises, especially in Arizona, where SunZia’s route remained unchanged under the new management. Peter Else, a local environmentalist, has spent years fighting SunZia in court over its intrusion into the scenic San Pedro Valley, a region that is sacred to Indigenous communities such as the Tohono O’odham Nation and San Carlos Apache Tribe. To see it marred by more power lines through the landscape has been like “mourning a death,” Else said, “like an ecological homicide.”
He would have liked to see SunZia try to run the valley’s new power lines alongside existing ones, as it managed to do in parts of New Mexico, a process that Armistead told me would not have been possible because the Arizona portion of the line “was already put to bed,” and the original federal permit had found the valley to be “the least impactful and best route.” A lawsuit from the Tohono O’odham Nation and San Carlos Apache Tribe accusing SunZia and the Department of the Interior of failing to protect the valley remains pending.
Of course, climate change threatens many of these regions more than a single power line. In the two decades it took SunZia to begin pumping clean energy across state lines, waves of extreme heat have taken tens of thousands of American lives, and the entire Southwest has continued in a megadrought unseen in the past 1,200 years.
These are some of the very concerns that SunZia seeks, in part, to combat. And if we want to avoid even more heat deaths, extreme droughts, more flash floods, and more habitat destruction, then we probably will need a lot more facilities like it, some of which will require hard tradeoffs.
But they aren’t doomed always to. It may have taken SunZia over a decade to learn that lesson, but for future megaprojects, the blueprint may already be there. The nearby 280-mile high-voltage Southline Transmission Project spanning parts of Arizona and New Mexico is set to begin construction next year, and it’s been so intentional about minimizing its ecological and cultural impact that even Else praised it as a good idea. And this approach could pave the way for even more essential large-scale projects like it. “If more folks could come to the table looking for solutions as opposed to expecting conflict,” Rose said, “I think we would be able to move a lot more quickly.” Ideally, it won’t take another 20 years.
This story was supported by a grant from Arnold Ventures. Vox had full discretion over the content of this reporting.
LONDON — Labour swept to power with a big, expensive promise: to create a government-owned energy company, hand it billions to invest in British renewables, and watch it grow, eventually, to rival other state-owned energy giants.
Two years on from the foundation of Great British Energy, that isn’t what has happened.
Analysis from POLITICO shows billions of pounds from its budget have been redirected to schemes not included in GBE’s initial remit, stripping away some of the cash earmarked for costly, large-scale renewable energy projects like wind and solar. Those funds are being used instead for very different purposes, like planning new nuclear schemes and reviving Britain’s creaking electricity grid.
Set up by then Energy Secretary Ed Miliband, the government backed GBE with £8.3 billion of fresh funding. Its purpose at the time seemed clear. “Great British Energy will own, manage and operate clean power projects,” Miliband pledged, “and generate energy in its own right.”
Labour officials familiar with GBE plans told POLITICO in 2024 local projects would get around £3 billion of its total budget, while the rest would go on helping the company establish itself in the market, including by taking stakes in wind and solar projects.
Yet now experts can’t agree on what, exactly, GBE is for.
How to spend it
Miliband’s GBE pitch to the public was ambitious.
The company would allow Britain to become a bigger player in its own clean energy market in Labour’s dash to hit green goals, he said. Referencing huge state-owned companies in Denmark and France, he told Channel 4 News weeks after the election that GBE was “not going to become Ørsted or the generation arm of EDF overnight. But that is the long-term vision.”
Soon after GBE passed into law, though, former Chancellor Rachel Reeves reassigned £2.5 billion of its budget to help developers design small-scale nuclear power plants and prep sites where those mini-nukes will eventually go.
The government also scaled back its funding for those local, smaller-scale projects, which include getting solar panels onto school and hospital roofs. The mooted £3 billion for GBE’s Local Power Plan became just £1 billion when more details were announced this February.
GBE has set aside another £1 billion to build up clean energy supply chains.
And that’s all before Prime Minister Andy Burnham used Labour’s annual conference to pledge another whack of GBE’s budget to a totally new venture: Great British Grid.
Enter GB Grid
In a bid to put his own stamp on Miliband’s pet project, Burnham announced that the new unit would sit within GBE, using some of its budget to speed the build out of Britain’s creaking grid network.
GB Grid will invest alongside existing grid operators in a bid to cut costs, Energy Secretary Miatta Fahnbulleh said last week, at a time when the grid regularly struggles to handle the levels of power being generated by developers.
Energy experts are torn over whether GB Grid, in particular, is a smart pivot for the government — but acknowledge it is not the same thing Miliband promised to deliver.
“I think the focus has shifted, but I don’t think that should be seen as a problem,” said Joshua Emden, a senior research fellow at the Institute for Public Policy Research think tank.
GB Grid would have access to £4 billion of GBE funding, according to media reports published at the time of Burnham’s announcement, although officials from the Department of Energy Security and Net Zero insist they “don’t recognize” that figure.
It is still enough for Kemi Badenoch’s Conservatives to pile the pressure on ministers to explain why their plans have changed.
“Taking half the GB Energy budget and putting it into a venture that was only announced a few weeks ago leads to the obvious question of: What actually is GB Energy for? And does the GB Energy of today bear any resemblance to what the government envisaged in July 2024?” asked Shadow Energy Minister Harriet Cross.
Doubters and defenders
Some energy industry officials are doubtful that setting money aside for grid investment is the best use of public cash.
“If it does that last mile [of grid] to a data center, if it helps where there isn’t actually any program or plan, [then] fine. We’re not going to say: ‘No, don’t spend it on making the grid better,’” Dhara Vyas, chief executive of the industry group Energy UK, told a panel at Conservative Party Conference earlier this month.
But transmission operators — who run the network — are already spending tens of billions on the grid, she said. “The energy transition will be paid for by the private sector.”
GBE “made a slow start and has focused on low-impact activities, important though they are,” said Bill Esterson, a Labour MP and chair of parliament’s Energy Security and Net Zero Committee. Creating GB Grid, he argued, “suggests a shift in emphasis to build what the country needs where the network companies are not delivering.”
The pivot “makes sense as an efficient use of government money,” argued IPPR’s Emden, if there’s a choice between investing in power generation — where there’s competition between providers — and in the grid where private networks have a “total monopoly.”
GB Energy has “the foundations now to create something genuinely useful,” argued one government figure. “Politicians of all stripes should give it the space to get on with the job.”
A spokesperson for DESNZ said “securing new homegrown energy and building a grid fit for the 21st century work hand in hand. Great British Grid will bring public and private investment together, helping to build the infrastructure Britain needs.”
BRUSSELS — The European Union is beefing up its presence in the Arctic to catch up with neighboring powers carving new trade lanes and drilling for resources under the melting ice.
On Tuesday, the EU unveiled a new plan called Northern Neighborhood. It’s meant to prepare for rising military and commercial activity in the north driven by climate change, and calls for new transport, research and security infrastructure in the region.
“The Arctic is one place where the tectonic plates of geopolitics are colliding. And it’s not someone else’s frontier. It’s part of the European Union,” Commission President Ursula von der Leyen declared as she unveiled the strategy.
She pointed to Russia’s expanding military footprint and the race for emerging shipping routes and critical resources as forces reshaping Europe’s security and economic future.
Climate change is dramatically affecting the Arctic. Planet-warming emissions are making the ice melt faster, disrupting the region’s fragile ecosystems. But where the ice is disappearing, countries like China, Russia and even Canada see an opportunity.
The EU is now scrambling to update its existing policies on the Arctic — once largely focused on environmental protection — to give more importance to security, shipping and extracting resources.
The strategy calls for a rebranding of the EU’s existing partnerships with Norway, Iceland, Canada and the U.K., backed by regular summits to set joint priorities and launch projects.
Here are five things Brussels wants to change about its Arctic policy.
1. Defense and security
The strategy warns that Russia is rebuilding its military presence in the Arctic and that China has growing strategic ambitions in the region.
The EU plans to set up a pilot research project using satellite and maritime observation in 2027 and share ship-tracking data to help identify Russian shadow fleet vessels.
In the longer term, it wants EU countries to lead on a maritime security hub to pool intelligence on threats ranging from undersea cable sabotage to illegal fishing. It also calls for setting up an Arctic Cable Hub alongside NATO to monitor and protect subsea cables in the North Atlantic and the Arctic. The strategy lacks any information on funding for these projects, however.
Finnish MEP Mika Aaltola of the European People’s Party said the new focus on the Arctic is long overdue.
“Europe hasn’t been thinking about [the Arctic] enough,” Aaltola said. “Because of the ice melting and climate change, it’s becoming kind of the next great game. And if that happens, then what are the European positions when it comes to Russia, China and also the United States?”
2. Access to energy resources
The new policy sticks with EU promises not to drill for fossil fuels in the Arctic.
“The EU remains committed to ensuring that oil, coal and gas stay in the ground, including in Arctic regions,” it reads. Instead, Brussels promises to develop renewable energy projects in the region but drops an old commitment to convince the rest of the world to follow its lead.
“It is good that the Commission maintains its opposition to oil and gas drilling in the Arctic,” said Delara Burkhardt, a Socialist MEP, but not pressing for a global ban “weakens the EU’s ability to push for stronger international protection and leaves the door open for other countries to exploit one of the world’s most fragile ecosystems.”
The EU’s former Arctic policy — drafted in 2021 — committed the bloc to pursuing an international moratorium on Arctic oil and gas extraction.
Norway — which supplies a lot of energy to the EU — has made it clear it would still drill in the Arctic regardless of the bloc’s position.
3. Critical raw materials
The EU is under pressure to secure new supplies of critical raw materials to reduce its dependency on China.
The new strategy says it will continue working with Canada, Greenland, Norway and the United States to develop critical raw materials projects in the region, but insists it will do so while following the “highest social, environmental and governance standards,” and work to the “benefit of local communities in respect of Indigenous Peoples’ rights.”
Brussels has already labeled several critical raw materials projects, including the Sokli project in Finland and the Per Geijer rare earth deposit in northern Sweden, as “strategic” under EU law, which means they could benefit from faster permitting procedures.
But some of these projects face serious local resistance from local and indigenous communities, who say the mining plans threaten reindeer herding and protected ecological sites.
4. New trade routes
Melting ice is opening up new shipping routes in the far north, and the EU is worried that it could be sidelined from the region. But the strategy offers little on that front; its only action is a study on new shipping lanes.
The number of vessels operating in the area covered by the Polar Code — international regulations covering shipping in the Arctic and Antarctic — rose by 40% between 2013 and 2025, while the total distance sailed nearly doubled, said Michael Kingston, a special adviser on polar issues to the Arctic Council on marine protection.
Recent transits by Chinese and South Korean container ships using the Northern Sea Route running along Russia’s Arctic coast show the appeal of a route that is about 20 days faster than conventional routes, he added.
“Russia builds the infrastructure, China facilitates and funds some of it,” Aaltola said, calling it part of a “grand bargain” between the two.
He complained that the EU is left on the sidelines. “When it comes to the Arctic, there is a vacuum of interest, and there’s also a vacuum of resources and institutions participating.”
The route is still mostly seasonal for Russian oil and gas tankers, said Ksenia Vakhrusheva, project manager and Arctic project adviser at the environmental group Bellona. Ice, unpredictable weather, increased insurance costs and Moscow’s control over the route make it unlikely to become a mainstream commercial corridor anytime soon, she added.
Europe also has leverage as the final customer for Chinese shipments, Vakhrusheva said.
“If the EU sends a strong message to China that they do not want goods shipped via NSR, China won’t use this route for transit,” she said. “For NSR to become a valid transit route you need two sides,” she said, “a seller on one side and a buyer on the other.”
5. Environmental protection
The strategy is light on measures to shield the Arctic from the impact of global warming. However, it does warn that increased shipping in an “inherently harsh and poorly charted environment” raises the risk of “catastrophic accidents, severe marine pollution” and hybrid interference.
“Increased shipping in the Arctic both exploits this vulnerability and exacerbates it,” said Dave Walsh, an adviser at the Clean Arctic Alliance NGO, citing carbon emissions, wastewater discharge and noise as some of the impacts of more traffic.
Safety and the environment have not been a priority for Moscow, said Vakhrusheva, and a shortage of high ice-class ships combined with the need to sell oil and gas “to whoever is ready to buy it” raises the risks.
Protections such as a ban on heavy fuel oil are still negotiated at the International Maritime Organization, where the EU is a key player, she said, adding that such measures will push up the cost of Arctic shipping.
The strategy says Brussels will push at the IMO to turn measures to limit black carbon — soot emitted by ships that falls on snow and ice and accelerates melting — from voluntary guidelines into binding rules.
It also calls for expanding the definition of Arctic waters to everything north of 60 degrees latitude, replacing the current boundary, which excludes much of the waters around Iceland and Norway from special Arctic shipping rules.
It also promises to keep pressing for compliance with the Polar Code through tools such as an IMO regulation that involves national maritime authorities inspecting foreign-flagged ships in Arctic ports to verify compliance with international safety, environmental and crew-qualification standards.
The document includes non-binding commitments on biodiversity loss and plans to boost ocean and Arctic research programs. It also promises to launch an “initiative to promote local public and private investment in the Arctic around blue economy sectors.”
Certain obvious questions arise from Chinese President Xi Jinping’s visit to Washington this past week, a spectacle that one observer has described as “diplotainment” rather than actual diplomacy. Exactly how much did Donald Trump abase himself in service to a temporary and transactional friendship with the dictatorial leader of a nation that is, at least by conventional standards, America’s principal strategic enemy?
No one knows; I am tempted to surmise that Trump doesn’t know himself. The man who in sunnier times for his regime enjoyed calling himself “your favorite president” does not seem to be his own favorite president these days. Trump almost visibly glowed with delight when Xi praised the quality of service and attention to detail of his White House visit. “Everything is done to the highest order of perfection, and there is thought in every little detail,” the Chinese president said through a translator. “And it’s greatly appreciated.”
You could describe that as the meaningless courtesies of routine statecraft, but it also suggested a high-flying hotel guest offering his compliments to the concierge: The eggs this morning were entirely delicious. And the way your people turn down the sheets at night: exquisite!
If we could somehow remove ourselves from the anguish and destruction caused by Trump’s improvised policies (which resemble comic-book versions of Big Brother’s “Two Minutes Hate” from the film version of “1984”) and his aggressively stupid public persona, we might be able to perceive some pathos in his predicament. He cannot escape from a situation he believed he had created and felt he could control: He is the massively unpopular elected leader of a rapidly collapsing superpower, whose downward slide he promised to reverse but has only accelerated, perhaps to the point of terminal velocity.
Trump visibly and hungrily longs for things he cannot have: the alleged greatness of the mythological American past, rendered as white supremacist schlock inherited third hand from the more vigorous fascist movements of the last century; the enforced adulation and obligatory public spectacle of a totalitarian regime such as Xi’s China or Kim Jong-un’s North Korea; most of all, perhaps, his own youth as a brash Manhattan philanderer and unstoppable political renegade, when he didn’t fall asleep in public or stumble around awkwardly with an unexplained contraption under his clothing.
Trump visibly longs for things he cannot have: the alleged greatness of the American past, rendered as white supremacist schlock; the enforced adulation of a totalitarian regime; most of all, perhaps, his own youth as a brash Manhattan philanderer and unstoppable political renegade.
To consider such matters is not a distraction; it begins to point us toward the larger and more painful questions behind the Xi-Trump pseudo-summit. It surprised literally no one that the two leaders negotiated no new agreements on regulating A.I. (or “Super Intelligence,” in Trump’s self-parodying rebrand), the status of Taiwan, the sporadic trade war between the two nations or ending the war with Iran and restarting the global flow of Middle East oil. No mention was made of Trump’s vaporware claims last May that the Chinese had agreed to buy hundreds of Boeing aircraft and $10 billion worth of U.S. beef and soybeans, but Xi promised to send two pandas from China’s breeding facility to the Atlanta zoo. So much winning. It’s impossible to calculate.
In large part, the absolute nothingness of this summit reflects the fact that China is already winning across the board and Xi needed nothing from Trump beyond the legitimation provided by a diplotainment spectacle “to the highest order of perfection.” As China scholars Nicholas Bequelin and Yaqiu Wang write in a Foreign Policy analysis published before the summit, over the first 19 months of Trump’s second term, the geopolitical “balance of power has shifted in Beijing’s favor”:
China has weathered the trade war, narrowed the technology gap, tightened its leverage over critical supply chains, increased pressure on Taiwan, and deepened ties with Russia and much of the global south.
Contrary to more Sinophobic commentators, they argue that China’s ruthlessly pragmatic leadership is not interested in dominating the world, or at least not in the same way postwar America did. But it does have a long-term agenda, they write, which includes breaking the global dependence on U.S.-centric financial institutions, discrediting democracy and furthering a historical process Xi has described as “the rise of the East and the decline of the West.”
I don’t disagree with any of that, but the most important aspect of Bequelin and Wang’s analysis gets a little buried beneath a forest of impeccably organized policy details. Xi has no need to strike an overtly aggressive posture and can afford to cosplay friendship with Trump because “the West,” or at least its greatest military and economic power, is doing a terrific job of declining all on its own. To borrow the nostrum attributed to Napoleon, the Chinese president is smart enough not to interrupt an opponent while he’s making a mistake.
It may take generations — if there are any future generations — to measure the scale of America’s self-inflicted damage, which goes well beyond material issues into the realm of psychology or perhaps spirit. (If it’s pretentious to use the Hegelian term Geist, it still fits.) It remains astonishing, not to mention upsetting and enraging, that in the face of a global climate crisis that has already caused millions of deaths and is obvious to nearly everyone on the planet, the U.S. has deliberately chosen to double down on fossil fuels while “China is consolidating its worldwide dominance in batteries, solar, and EVs,” as Bequelin and Wang write.
Faced with America’s spectacular self-own, who can blame people in the Global South for suspecting that the tradeoff between “democracy” and “authoritarianism” was never as straightforward as they were led to believe?
Chinese solar panels and batteries, often offered at steeply discounted prices, are revolutionizing transit and energy issues in many poorer countries, beginning to break the expensive and damaging addiction to foreign oil. Meanwhile, the U.S. has largely abandoned or dismantled its foreign aid programs aimed at fostering economic development, public health and education, while doing its level best to destroy its own reputation as a multiracial secular republic rooted in the rule of law. Faced with America’s spectacular self-own (which didn’t start with Trump, to be clear), who can blame people in the Global South for beginning to suspect that the tradeoff between “democracy” and “authoritarianism” was never as straightforward as they were led to believe?
Despite the widespread anger and disillusionment of Trump’s second term — an encouraging trend, to be clear — it’s still too easy for Americans to duck the biggest and most glaring question of all: To paraphrase one of the greatest works of postmodern angst, how did we get here? It no longer feels remotely adequate (if it ever did) to suggest that angry, vicious people accidentally elected an angry, vicious president who is pursuing a self-destructive and nihilistic agenda, and that at some future date our national sanity and our “indispensable” role in world affairs will be reasserted.
We tried that, remember? It didn’t work. Perhaps, from some great historical remove, Joe Biden’s presidency will appear noble and tragic. But it was also doomed, trapped in a vision of the past every bit as delusional as the MAGA fantasy, and nearly as damaging. The Biden regime’s self-appointed mission of enforcing a “rules-based order” involved pretending that the world had not changed, that America was still widely beloved and admired, that our so-called republic had not bred and nurtured Donald Trump and that he did not embody its bottomless greed, its gleeful ignorance, its wounded and flatulent national pride.
And so we arrive at the final conundrum of the Trump-Xi summit, and our president’s stopped-clock tendency to stumble upon hard truths. In his inimitable ass-backward fashion, Trump has discerned that the “free world” has become a meaningless abstraction and liberal democracy is in a state of systemic failure. He is correct about that, at least to a point. But he can provide no answer beyond prostrating himself before dictators and building monuments to himself in imitation of their grandiosity. If China’s repressive techno-state makes a distinctly unappealing candidate to lead the world into the future, America can only offer competing versions of an imaginary past. Hey, at least we got those pandas.
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