foreignpolicy--2020-09-24--‘We Have Nothing Here’: A Collapsing Lebanon Sparks an Exodus of Despair

‘ We Have Nothing Here ’ : A Collapsing Lebanon Sparks an Exodus of Despair TRIPOLI , Lebanon—On Sept. 7 , Mohammed Hosni and two close friends clambered into a rickety boat with dozens of other people near this port city , bound for Cyprus , an island outpost of the European Union just 100 miles away .
Each paid smugglers 5 million Lebanese pounds— $ 650—for the promise of a new life in Europe .
Some sold their homes ; others sold their personal belongings and jewelry .
None intended to return .
Hosni , 24 , had been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crisis .
He hadn ’ t had regular work in months .
He and his brother Ali took turns driving a cab , but they brought home only 50,000 pounds a day—worth $ 30 in October 2019 , but just $ 7 now .
None of his other five siblings have work , and his mother ’ s medicines have tripled in price .
“ We hoped he would get to Europe , get a job , and send money back to help all of us , ” Ali said .
Instead , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ body was pulled from the water south of Beirut .
Lebanon , long a destination for more than a million Palestinian and Syrian refugees , now seems poised to become an exporter of people , as the country ’ s economic meltdown and political paralysis—exacerbated by a deadly explosion in Beirut last month—have blown up any hopes for the future .
Hundreds of thousands fled the violence of the Lebanese civil war between 1975 and 1990 , but this time is different : They are fleeing despair .
The United Nations High Commissioner @ @ @ @ @ @ @ boats like Hosni ’ s leaving Lebanon just between Aug. 29 and Sept. 14—more than all of last year .
And it ’ s not just Lebanon ’ s most desperate ; the country ’ s best educated are looking for a way out , too , though they can afford to fly away rather than chance passage on a skiff .
The flight away from Lebanon is the culmination of a string of disasters long in the making , but which have only gotten worse in the last year .
The country @ @ @ @ @ @ @ last year , sending inflation soaring while salaries stayed put .
Food prices doubled and even tripled .
The middle class shrunk , while more than half the population is now under the poverty line .
Food security was an issue even before thousands of tons of ammonium nitrate exploded on Aug. 4 in Beirut ’ s port , wrecking the country ’ s grain gateway .
The explosion highlighted the negligence and incompetence of Lebanon ’ s government , which resigned in the wake of the deadly blast .
A French deadline @ @ @ @ @ @ @ make much-needed reforms came and went earlier this month .
Lebanon has been in talks with the International Monetary Fund for months to get some relief from its crushing debt burden , but sectarian leaders have bickered among themselves rather than tackle any serious reforms .
Even those worst affected by the blast , which left 300,000 people homeless , have pleaded with foreign states not to put aid money in the hands of the Lebanese government , fearing it will be siphoned off to corruption and mismanagement .
All that makes it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the country—even for those who should have a future .
For months , Hassan Kanj had been looking for ways to get abroad .
He had a job as an engineer in Beirut but didn ’ t see any future there .
He joined a WhatsApp group for Lebanese going to France , where they could swap logistical information , favors , and tips for leaving the country .
A week after Hosni boarded the boat in Tripoli , Kanj , also 24 , boarded a flight to France .
“ The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ master ’ s abroad , do the master ’ s , and start a life far from Lebanon , ” Kanj said from his new home .
For those like Hosni , the route to a new life is longer—and more perilous .
Few boats reach Europe , and many that do are immediately returned to Lebanon .
Cyprus and Lebanon have reached an agreement to try to interdict the flight of refugees at sea .
But the exodus doesn ’ t have a security solution , said Khaled Hannouf , a project @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a development organization .
“ More patrols , and more police … that ’ s not an efficient solution , ” he said .
Youth come to him asking for job training to give them skills to work abroad , not in Lebanon , he added .
Everyone wants out .
“ We need more action on the policy level , to solve the many social and economic problems in Lebanon .
The problem is not just in the sea.
” It was for Hosni , though .
A day after he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a 40-hour trip to Cyprus , it was clear his boat was lost at sea .
The boat ran out of fuel .
Soon there was no food or water left .
People filtered sea water through diapers .
There was no cellphone reception .
As people began dying , including two children , their bodies were left adrift in the Mediterranean ; surviving passengers tied a note to the body of one of the dead , hoping someone might locate them .
The boat was eventually rescued after eight days at sea @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tried to swim for help .
At least four others died , and more remain missing .
“ They understand the risks , and they are still willing to take those risks , ” said Lisa Abou Khaled of UNHCR .
Sometimes more than once .
Zeinab Kaak held the body of her 18-month-old son in her arms for three days after he died on that same boat .
Eventually , her husband convinced her to let him go in the water .
When she and the other survivors were brought back to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Beirut , she refused to get off the boat , clinging to the railing .
“ We have nothing here , ” she said , sitting in her father-in-law ’ s apartment in Tripoli this week , waiting for a DNA test to confirm that the small body pulled from the sea a few days earlier was in fact her son .
She said the family has long been trying to find a way to emigrate , but after the Aug. 4 blast , they became desperate .
“ Now we feel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” she said .
“ Didn ’ t the president say that people that don ’ t like this country should emigrate ?
” said Kaak ’ s sister , referring to comments by President Michel Aoun in November 2019 that if protesters don ’ t like the government , they could leave the country .
“ They tried to emigrate , but God didn ’ t help them , and they lost a son.
” Kaak doesn ’ t blame the smugglers for what happened but instead blames the government for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like us , ” she said of the smugglers , “ doing anything they can to get some money.
” The family is so desperate to leave the country , Kaak is quick to say she ’ d do it again .
Meanwhile , Hosni ’ s body was brought back to Tripoli almost two weeks after he ’ d left .
Friends and relatives met the ambulance in the street .
The next day , his brother Ali held what he called a wedding , not a funeral .
“ I held @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” said Ali , showing a video of the ceremony on his phone .
“ My brother wanted to leave Lebanon for a better place .
He wanted a place that would accept him .
God gave him that .
Now he ’ s in heaven .
”

TRIPOLI, Lebanon—On Sept. 7, Mohammed Hosni and two close friends clambered into a rickety boat with dozens of other people near this port city, bound for Cyprus, an island outpost of the European Union just 100 miles away. Each paid smugglers 5 million Lebanese pounds—$650—for the promise of a new life in Europe. Some sold their homes; others sold their personal belongings and jewelry. None intended to return.
TRIPOLI, Lebanon—On Sept. 7, Mohammed Hosni and two close friends clambered into a rickety boat with dozens of other people near this port city, bound for Cyprus, an island outpost of the European Union just 100 miles away. Each paid smugglers 5 million Lebanese pounds—$650—for the promise of a new life in Europe. Some sold their homes; others sold their personal belongings and jewelry. None intended to return.
Hosni, 24, had been hit hard by Lebanon’s economic crisis. He hadn’t had regular work in months. He and his brother Ali took turns driving a cab, but they brought home only 50,000 pounds a day—worth $30 in October 2019, but just $7 now. None of his other five siblings have work, and his mother’s medicines have tripled in price.
“We hoped he would get to Europe, get a job, and send money back to help all of us,” Ali said.
Instead, last week, Mohammed Hosni’s body was pulled from the water south of Beirut.
Lebanon, long a destination for more than a million Palestinian and Syrian refugees, now seems poised to become an exporter of people, as the country’s economic meltdown and political paralysis—exacerbated by a deadly explosion in Beirut last month—have blown up any hopes for the future. Hundreds of thousands fled the violence of the Lebanese civil war between 1975 and 1990, but this time is different: They are fleeing despair.
The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) counted 18 boats like Hosni’s leaving Lebanon just between Aug. 29 and Sept. 14—more than all of last year. And it’s not just Lebanon’s most desperate; the country’s best educated are looking for a way out, too, though they can afford to fly away rather than chance passage on a skiff.
The flight away from Lebanon is the culmination of a string of disasters long in the making, but which have only gotten worse in the last year. The country’s financial system began to collapse last year, sending inflation soaring while salaries stayed put. Food prices doubled and even tripled. The middle class shrunk, while more than half the population is now under the poverty line. Food security was an issue even before thousands of tons of ammonium nitrate exploded on Aug. 4 in Beirut’s port, wrecking the country’s grain gateway.
The explosion highlighted the negligence and incompetence of Lebanon’s government, which resigned in the wake of the deadly blast. A French deadline to form a new government that could make much-needed reforms came and went earlier this month. Lebanon has been in talks with the International Monetary Fund for months to get some relief from its crushing debt burden, but sectarian leaders have bickered among themselves rather than tackle any serious reforms. Even those worst affected by the blast, which left 300,000 people homeless, have pleaded with foreign states not to put aid money in the hands of the Lebanese government, fearing it will be siphoned off to corruption and mismanagement.
All that makes it difficult to see a path to recovery for the country—even for those who should have a future. For months, Hassan Kanj had been looking for ways to get abroad. He had a job as an engineer in Beirut but didn’t see any future there. He joined a WhatsApp group for Lebanese going to France, where they could swap logistical information, favors, and tips for leaving the country. A week after Hosni boarded the boat in Tripoli, Kanj, also 24, boarded a flight to France.
“The plan was—get accepted [for a] master’s abroad, do the master’s, and start a life far from Lebanon,” Kanj said from his new home.
For those like Hosni, the route to a new life is longer—and more perilous. Few boats reach Europe, and many that do are immediately returned to Lebanon. Cyprus and Lebanon have reached an agreement to try to interdict the flight of refugees at sea. But the exodus doesn’t have a security solution, said Khaled Hannouf, a project manager in Tripoli with the Safadi Foundation, a development organization.
“More patrols, and more police … that’s not an efficient solution,” he said. Youth come to him asking for job training to give them skills to work abroad, not in Lebanon, he added. Everyone wants out.
“We need more action on the policy level, to solve the many social and economic problems in Lebanon. The problem is not just in the sea.”
It was for Hosni, though. A day after he left shore for what should have been a 40-hour trip to Cyprus, it was clear his boat was lost at sea. The boat ran out of fuel. Soon there was no food or water left. People filtered sea water through diapers. There was no cellphone reception. As people began dying, including two children, their bodies were left adrift in the Mediterranean; surviving passengers tied a note to the body of one of the dead, hoping someone might locate them.
The boat was eventually rescued after eight days at sea, but Hosni had jumped off and tried to swim for help. At least four others died, and more remain missing.
“They understand the risks, and they are still willing to take those risks,” said Lisa Abou Khaled of UNHCR.
Sometimes more than once.
Zeinab Kaak held the body of her 18-month-old son in her arms for three days after he died on that same boat. Eventually, her husband convinced her to let him go in the water. When she and the other survivors were brought back to Lebanon, docking near the blasted-out port in Beirut, she refused to get off the boat, clinging to the railing.
“We have nothing here,” she said, sitting in her father-in-law’s apartment in Tripoli this week, waiting for a DNA test to confirm that the small body pulled from the sea a few days earlier was in fact her son. She said the family has long been trying to find a way to emigrate, but after the Aug. 4 blast, they became desperate. “Now we feel like there is no safety here,” she said.
“Didn’t the president say that people that don’t like this country should emigrate?” said Kaak’s sister, referring to comments by President Michel Aoun in November 2019 that if protesters don’t like the government, they could leave the country. “They tried to emigrate, but God didn’t help them, and they lost a son.”
Kaak doesn’t blame the smugglers for what happened but instead blames the government for the conditions it created. “They are like us,” she said of the smugglers, “doing anything they can to get some money.”
The family is so desperate to leave the country, Kaak is quick to say she’d do it again.
Meanwhile, Hosni’s body was brought back to Tripoli almost two weeks after he’d left. Friends and relatives met the ambulance in the street. The next day, his brother Ali held what he called a wedding, not a funeral.
“I held a wedding because I was happy,” said Ali, showing a video of the ceremony on his phone.
“My brother wanted to leave Lebanon for a better place. He wanted a place that would accept him. God gave him that. Now he’s in heaven.”


foreignpolicy--2020-09-24--North Korea Kills, Torches South Korean Civilian in Bizarre Maritime Incident

On Tuesday at the United Nations , South Korean President Moon Jae-in called for the world to usher in an era of peace by signing an end-of-war declaration for the two Koreas , still not formally at peace after the armistice that ended the Korean War in 1953 .
That same day , North Korea reportedly executed and incinerated a South Korean official who had mysteriously crossed the maritime demarcation line separating North from South—potentially crushing Moon ’ s hopes for “ positive changes to the world order.
” For Moon , an advocate of closer relations with North Korea—the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ already eroding public support for his campaign of rapprochement , forcing Moon to adopt a hard-line stance against the North , a completely new position for the man who for years has tried to engage with the North via joint economic ventures and rarely ever doles out harsh criticism of the de facto enemy .
“ Public opinion in South Korea is going to turn very negative .
It ’ s already negative , but it was very shocking what they did to the South Korean , ” said Go Myong-hyun , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Asan Institute for Policy Studies in Seoul .
This week ’ s killing follows the deliberate demolition by North Korea in mid-June of a liaison office that facilitated communications between the two nations , effectively severing communications .
The latest incident threatens Moon ’ s ability to continue with the Sunshine Policy .
“ You can tell that the government can sense that , that ’ s why they ’ re coming out and very strongly condemn what happened , ” Go said .
Moon called it a “ shocking ” incident @ @ @ @ @ @ @ condemned the “ brutality ” of the North , demanding an explanation and punishment for those responsible .
The incident remains shrouded in confusion .
The 47-year-old official from the Ministry of Oceans and Fisheries was aboard an inspection ship in the Yellow Sea , and he was reported missing on Monday after he didn ’ t show up for lunch .
He ’ d left his shoes behind but took a life jacket .
Officials of South Korea ’ s Joint Chiefs of Staff suggested that the official had sought to defect @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and colleagues were baffled by that notion , as he had never shown such interest .
The Coast Guard searched the vessel where he worked and found “ no indication of an attempt to defect , ” according to the Korea Times .
What is known is that , according to South Korean military logs , the official made contact with a North Korean patrol at 4:40 p.m. local time , and he was shot at 9:40 p.m. on instructions from a “ higher authority.
” Afterward , North Koreans poured gas on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the open sea .
The North is currently operating under “ shoot-to-kill ” orders as a way to keep the COVID-19 pandemic at bay ; the country claims to be coronavirus-free .
In July a North Korean who had defected to the South returned North , sparking fears that the defector would bring in the contagious virus .
The speed and brutality of the execution has outraged many South Koreans , including important lawmakers .
“ Even if you suspect them of being a spy , even if it is a prisoner caught @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be killed on the spot without a trial !
” Song Young-gil , a member of the ruling party and the Committee on Foreign Affairs , wrote in a Facebook post , in which he accused the North of “ murder.
” It ’ s not the first time a North Korean killing could endanger warming ties between the two countries .
In 2008 , North Korean troops shot and killed a South Korean civilian after she entered a restricted zone in the Mount Kumgang resort , located inside North Korea—a symbol of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ killing .
Some suspect that , as in 2008 , the latest incident could rattle , but not derail , the push for something resembling normalized relations .
“ [ The South Korean government ] is essentially asking the North Korean government to apologize .
It doesn ’ t have to be much , but if they just express a minimum of regret , the Blue House is going to take it as an apology and try to resume whatever they ’ re doing right now to engage North Korea , ” Go @ @

On Tuesday at the United Nations, South Korean President Moon Jae-in called for the world to usher in an era of peace by signing an end-of-war declaration for the two Koreas, still not formally at peace after the armistice that ended the Korean War in 1953.
On Tuesday at the United Nations, South Korean President Moon Jae-in called for the world to usher in an era of peace by signing an end-of-war declaration for the two Koreas, still not formally at peace after the armistice that ended the Korean War in 1953.
That same day, North Korea reportedly executed and incinerated a South Korean official who had mysteriously crossed the maritime demarcation line separating North from South—potentially crushing Moon’s hopes for “positive changes to the world order.”
For Moon, an advocate of closer relations with North Korea—the so-called Sunshine Policy—the killing threatens to weaken already eroding public support for his campaign of rapprochement, forcing Moon to adopt a hard-line stance against the North, a completely new position for the man who for years has tried to engage with the North via joint economic ventures and rarely ever doles out harsh criticism of the de facto enemy.
“Public opinion in South Korea is going to turn very negative. It’s already negative, but it was very shocking what they did to the South Korean,” said Go Myong-hyun, a research fellow focusing on North Korea at the Asan Institute for Policy Studies in Seoul.
This week’s killing follows the deliberate demolition by North Korea in mid-June of a liaison office that facilitated communications between the two nations, effectively severing communications. The latest incident threatens Moon’s ability to continue with the Sunshine Policy.
“You can tell that the government can sense that, that’s why they’re coming out and very strongly condemn what happened,” Go said.
Moon called it a “shocking” incident, while the South Korean Defense Ministry condemned the “brutality” of the North, demanding an explanation and punishment for those responsible.
The incident remains shrouded in confusion. The 47-year-old official from the Ministry of Oceans and Fisheries was aboard an inspection ship in the Yellow Sea, and he was reported missing on Monday after he didn’t show up for lunch. He’d left his shoes behind but took a life jacket.
Officials of South Korea’s Joint Chiefs of Staff suggested that the official had sought to defect. But the official’s family and colleagues were baffled by that notion, as he had never shown such interest. The Coast Guard searched the vessel where he worked and found “no indication of an attempt to defect,” according to the Korea Times.
What is known is that, according to South Korean military logs, the official made contact with a North Korean patrol at 4:40 p.m. local time, and he was shot at 9:40 p.m. on instructions from a “higher authority.” Afterward, North Koreans poured gas on his body and set it ablaze on the open sea.
The North is currently operating under “shoot-to-kill” orders as a way to keep the COVID-19 pandemic at bay; the country claims to be coronavirus-free. In July a North Korean who had defected to the South returned North, sparking fears that the defector would bring in the contagious virus.
The speed and brutality of the execution has outraged many South Koreans, including important lawmakers.
“Even if you suspect them of being a spy, even if it is a prisoner caught during war, they can’t be killed on the spot without a trial!” Song Young-gil, a member of the ruling party and the Committee on Foreign Affairs, wrote in a Facebook post, in which he accused the North of “murder.”
It’s not the first time a North Korean killing could endanger warming ties between the two countries. In 2008, North Korean troops shot and killed a South Korean civilian after she entered a restricted zone in the Mount Kumgang resort, located inside North Korea—a symbol of inter-Korean cooperation that was scrapped after the killing.
Some suspect that, as in 2008, the latest incident could rattle, but not derail, the push for something resembling normalized relations.
“[The South Korean government] is essentially asking the North Korean government to apologize. It doesn’t have to be much, but if they just express a minimum of regret, the Blue House is going to take it as an apology and try to resume whatever they’re doing right now to engage North Korea,” Go said.


foreignpolicy--2020-09-24--Feeling Abandoned by Kabul, Many Rural Afghans Flock to Join the Taliban

Feeling Abandoned by Kabul , Many Rural Afghans Flock to Join the Taliban MOMAND DARA , Afghanistan—Arman Omari grew up among guns , drugs , and airstrikes , with control of his village changing hands several times throughout his teenage years and with women largely absent from public life .
He learned to shoot before learning to write his name .
Sitting in an unfinished building in Momand Dara district in the eastern province of Nangarhar , not far from the village in Achin district where he grew up , Omari , 25 , explained that he didn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ way Afghanistan is currently run .
The gap between relatively well-off urban areas and rural areas like his—bereft of clinics , schools , or jobs—has only grown after nearly two decades of fitful efforts at governance from leaders in Kabul .
That ’ s why last month he made a fateful decision—like so many others , especially from rural Afghanistan .
“ I joined the Taliban because the government is corrupt , ” said Omari , a slender man with greasy , shoulder-length hair , a trimmed beard , and kohl-rimmed eyes .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the rich and one for the poor .
People like me have no opportunities , and I ’ m hoping this will change with an Islamic system in place , ” Omari said .
“ The government has failed us , so my hope is with the Taliban .
If they come to power , I want to be on their side.
” As Taliban militants and the Afghan government meet for a first round of direct negotiations in Qatar , aiming to work out a final peace deal and perhaps a power-sharing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to power , the Islamist group is gaining momentum and recruits—especially in rural areas like Omari ’ s .
Almost 20 years after U.S. and international troops first went into Afghanistan to root out the Taliban and vanquish al Qaeda , the Taliban are now stronger than ever , controlling dozens of Afghan districts , according to a report by the Council on Foreign Relations .
For many rural ( and less well-educated ) Afghans , Taliban indoctrination finds a receptive audience , greased by the fact that the Taliban use family , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ new members .
Decades-old promises of a better life under the national government have failed to materialize : Omari ’ s family is part of the 90 percent of Afghanistan that lives below the national poverty line of $ 2 per day , according to the Afghan Ministry of Economy .
Three-quarters of Afghans live in rural areas , where even basic services are in short supply ; the Ministry of Education this month revealed that 7,000 schools across the country don ’ t actually have buildings—including in Omari ’ s native Achin @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Taliban return to power will bring the excesses of the 1990s—a harsh , austere interpretation of Islam that imposed strict rules , summary justice , and the disappearance of women from public life—for many poor , desperate , rural Afghans who ’ ve seen little good come out of Kabul , the attitude is often : Why not give the Taliban a try ?
Omari ’ s hometown of Pekha is in Achin district , not far from where we met .
In some ways , the district , an area of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the border with Pakistan , is a microcosm of recent Afghan history .
After the 2001 U.S.-led invasion , the ruling Taliban were defeated .
But they came back eight years later , only to be driven out in turn by the arrival in 2015 of an even harsher Islamist militant group , the Islamic State .
In 2017 , the United States dropped the “ mother of all bombs ” here , aiming to destroy an Islamic State tunnel system .
Today , Achin still lies in rubble but is back @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Taliban sympathizers .
Growing up with six siblings in a simple mud brick house , Omari never attended school ; he learned both how to shoot and how to write his name from older friends .
Instead , he took care of the family ’ s cannabis fields .
After long days out in the hot sun tending to the plants , he spent his teenage evenings playing cricket and volleyball , only returning home long after the sun had set .
The majority of the final product from the family ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ onto the backs of donkeys and smuggled across the Pakistani border by relatives .
Even smuggling , for Omari , underscored the difference between the Taliban and a government in Kabul seen as irretrievably corrupt .
“ We pay taxes to the Taliban , especially when it comes to smuggling chars across the border , ” he said .
“ The difference is that the Taliban aren ’ t corrupt .
They take taxes , but they are not stealing from us.
” Married at 21 and now the father of a 3-year-old @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a better life for his children .
He didn ’ t know if his wife was in favor of the Taliban—a conversation the young couple never had—but assumed she would follow his lead .
“ It was only war for me—we didn ’ t even have a school .
At night I ’ d hear airstrikes .
I remember the Americans , the Taliban , Daesh , ” Omari said , using the Arabic acronym for the Islamic State .
“ My father gave me a gun to defend myself when I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ want to fight for a better life for my own family .
I want my children to go to school , not to carry guns .
Maybe as a Talib , this will be possible.
” Most , but not all , of the Taliban ’ s recruits come from rural backgrounds like Omari ’ s , said Andrew Watkins , the International Crisis Group ’ s senior Afghanistan analyst .
“ In large part , recruitment seems to stem from family and tight community connections.
” Different motivations spur them all .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ range from revenge against the government or foreign occupiers for killed relatives or comrades to limited alternative opportunities in some regions to recruiting pressure from the organization , ” Watkins said .
The Taliban are not only recruiting the rural poor and desperate .
In Omari ’ s native Nangarhar province , recruitment at university campuses has even been successful .
In May , a retired Afghan general in the country ’ s western Farah province defected to the Taliban—as have army soldiers over the past years .
“ People of various backgrounds @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , including youths and the offspring of the mujahideen , as well as those leaving the ranks of the Kabul administration [ the term the militants use for the Afghan government , which they don ’ t recognize ] , ” Taliban spokesperson Mohammad Naim said .
With peace talks getting underway , and the eventual prospect of some sort of power-sharing arrangement that could grant the Taliban a say in how parts of the country are run , there is a looming split between those yearning for better rule—and those who want @ @ @ @ @ @ @ analyst , who spoke under the condition of anonymity , said that as many as 10 percent of Taliban hard-liners could defect to groups such as the Islamic State if the Afghan government and the Taliban effectively merged .
For other Taliban fighters , such a merger would be welcome .
Sayed Biltun , a 21-year-old Taliban fighter recently released from a two-year prison sentence as part of a larger prisoner release on the government ’ s side ahead of the Doha talks , is hoping the merger might just work .
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ flocked back to the militants ’ ideology .
He said little would change for the worse in his village in Nangarhar ’ s Bati Kot district if the Taliban came back to power fully .
“ Rural life is far removed from the city , ” Biltun said .
“ All we ’ re hoping for is better services and more equality when it comes to service distribution.
” For Omari , the decision last month to join the Taliban was less about joining an insurgency and more about desperately searching for a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ four decades of war—even if a resurgent and increasingly aggressive Taliban right now is one of the biggest obstacles to progress in the peace talks .
Asked if he would leave the country if he had the chance , Omari took a deep breath and then nodded .
“ Of course I ’ d choose Europe—or even America—over this .
We ’ re desperate .
At the same time , I ’ d do anything to see this war end , to help my country .
I ’ d work in the fields @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rebuild houses .
Whatever it takes to bring us peace .
”

MOMAND DARA, Afghanistan—Arman Omari grew up among guns, drugs, and airstrikes, with control of his village changing hands several times throughout his teenage years and with women largely absent from public life. He learned to shoot before learning to write his name.
MOMAND DARA, Afghanistan—Arman Omari grew up among guns, drugs, and airstrikes, with control of his village changing hands several times throughout his teenage years and with women largely absent from public life. He learned to shoot before learning to write his name.
Sitting in an unfinished building in Momand Dara district in the eastern province of Nangarhar, not far from the village in Achin district where he grew up, Omari, 25, explained that he didn’t see a future for his family the way Afghanistan is currently run. The gap between relatively well-off urban areas and rural areas like his—bereft of clinics, schools, or jobs—has only grown after nearly two decades of fitful efforts at governance from leaders in Kabul.
That’s why last month he made a fateful decision—like so many others, especially from rural Afghanistan. “I joined the Taliban because the government is corrupt,” said Omari, a slender man with greasy, shoulder-length hair, a trimmed beard, and kohl-rimmed eyes.
“There are two overriding laws—one for the rich and one for the poor. People like me have no opportunities, and I’m hoping this will change with an Islamic system in place,” Omari said. “The government has failed us, so my hope is with the Taliban. If they come to power, I want to be on their side.”
As Taliban militants and the Afghan government meet for a first round of direct negotiations in Qatar, aiming to work out a final peace deal and perhaps a power-sharing arrangement that could see the Taliban return to power, the Islamist group is gaining momentum and recruits—especially in rural areas like Omari’s. Almost 20 years after U.S. and international troops first went into Afghanistan to root out the Taliban and vanquish al Qaeda, the Taliban are now stronger than ever, controlling dozens of Afghan districts, according to a report by the Council on Foreign Relations.
For many rural (and less well-educated) Afghans, Taliban indoctrination finds a receptive audience, greased by the fact that the Taliban use family, friends, and community connections to recruit new members. Decades-old promises of a better life under the national government have failed to materialize: Omari’s family is part of the 90 percent of Afghanistan that lives below the national poverty line of $2 per day, according to the Afghan Ministry of Economy. Three-quarters of Afghans live in rural areas, where even basic services are in short supply; the Ministry of Education this month revealed that 7,000 schools across the country don’t actually have buildings—including in Omari’s native Achin district.
While many Afghans fear that a Taliban return to power will bring the excesses of the 1990s—a harsh, austere interpretation of Islam that imposed strict rules, summary justice, and the disappearance of women from public life—for many poor, desperate, rural Afghans who’ve seen little good come out of Kabul, the attitude is often: Why not give the Taliban a try?
Villagers in Nangarhar's Momand Dara district on Sept. 19. The rural-urban divide in Afghanistan has caused widespread frustration with people in rural areas saying they lack access to services such as education and health care.
Omari’s hometown of Pekha is in Achin district, not far from where we met. In some ways, the district, an area of rocky peaks and open fields just north of the border with Pakistan, is a microcosm of recent Afghan history. After the 2001 U.S.-led invasion, the ruling Taliban were defeated. But they came back eight years later, only to be driven out in turn by the arrival in 2015 of an even harsher Islamist militant group, the Islamic State. In 2017, the United States dropped the “mother of all bombs” here, aiming to destroy an Islamic State tunnel system. Today, Achin still lies in rubble but is back to quasi-governmental control—and still home to many Taliban sympathizers.
Growing up with six siblings in a simple mud brick house, Omari never attended school; he learned both how to shoot and how to write his name from older friends. Instead, he took care of the family’s cannabis fields. After long days out in the hot sun tending to the plants, he spent his teenage evenings playing cricket and volleyball, only returning home long after the sun had set.
The majority of the final product from the family’s fields—hashish, or chars in Pashto—was packed onto the backs of donkeys and smuggled across the Pakistani border by relatives. Even smuggling, for Omari, underscored the difference between the Taliban and a government in Kabul seen as irretrievably corrupt.
“We pay taxes to the Taliban, especially when it comes to smuggling chars across the border,” he said. “The difference is that the Taliban aren’t corrupt. They take taxes, but they are not stealing from us.”
Married at 21 and now the father of a 3-year-old boy, Omari admitted that he hoped for a better life for his children. He didn’t know if his wife was in favor of the Taliban—a conversation the young couple never had—but assumed she would follow his lead.
“It was only war for me—we didn’t even have a school. At night I’d hear airstrikes. I remember the Americans, the Taliban, Daesh,” Omari said, using the Arabic acronym for the Islamic State. “My father gave me a gun to defend myself when I was a boy. Today, I want to fight for a better life for my own family. I want my children to go to school, not to carry guns. Maybe as a Talib, this will be possible.”
Most, but not all, of the Taliban’s recruits come from rural backgrounds like Omari’s, said Andrew Watkins, the International Crisis Group’s senior Afghanistan analyst. “In large part, recruitment seems to stem from family and tight community connections.” Different motivations spur them all.
“Individual motivations are extremely diverse and range from revenge against the government or foreign occupiers for killed relatives or comrades to limited alternative opportunities in some regions to recruiting pressure from the organization,” Watkins said.
The Taliban are not only recruiting the rural poor and desperate. In Omari’s native Nangarhar province, recruitment at university campuses has even been successful. In May, a retired Afghan general in the country’s western Farah province defected to the Taliban—as have army soldiers over the past years.
“People of various backgrounds join the Islamic Emirate’s ranks, including youths and the offspring of the mujahideen, as well as those leaving the ranks of the Kabul administration [the term the militants use for the Afghan government, which they don’t recognize],” Taliban spokesperson Mohammad Naim said.
With peace talks getting underway, and the eventual prospect of some sort of power-sharing arrangement that could grant the Taliban a say in how parts of the country are run, there is a looming split between those yearning for better rule—and those who want a hard-line resistance.
A Kabul-based security analyst, who spoke under the condition of anonymity, said that as many as 10 percent of Taliban hard-liners could defect to groups such as the Islamic State if the Afghan government and the Taliban effectively merged.
For other Taliban fighters, such a merger would be welcome.
Sayed Biltun, a 21-year-old Taliban fighter recently released from a two-year prison sentence as part of a larger prisoner release on the government’s side ahead of the Doha talks, is hoping the merger might just work. He is part of the post-Taliban generation who flocked back to the militants’ ideology. He said little would change for the worse in his village in Nangarhar’s Bati Kot district if the Taliban came back to power fully.
“Rural life is far removed from the city,” Biltun said. “All we’re hoping for is better services and more equality when it comes to service distribution.”
For Omari, the decision last month to join the Taliban was less about joining an insurgency and more about desperately searching for a future with some sort of peace after four decades of war—even if a resurgent and increasingly aggressive Taliban right now is one of the biggest obstacles to progress in the peace talks. Asked if he would leave the country if he had the chance, Omari took a deep breath and then nodded.
“Of course I’d choose Europe—or even America—over this. We’re desperate. At the same time, I’d do anything to see this war end, to help my country. I’d work in the fields to grow food. I’d rebuild houses. Whatever it takes to bring us peace.”


Why Europe Wins

Several months ago , when COVID-19 struck Europe , headlines portrayed overflowing hospitals in Italy , policy mistakes in Britain and Sweden , mismanaged senior care in Belgium , and misbehaving youth in Spanish discos .
Two months later—after European governments imposed lockdowns , mask-wearing , testing , and tracing—the incidence of new cases plummeted .
By July , vacationing Europeans were strolling through Piazza Navona in Rome , attending the opera in Salzburg , and dining in Paris .
Americans are not welcome to cross the Atlantic , however , because the United States has failed to match Europe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cases trended upward through the summer , leaving the average American 10 times more likely to contract the coronavirus than the average European .
Europe ’ s success is not coincidental .
Studies show that countries with higher income equality and sound expert-based government regulation—areas in which European countries excel—tend to combat disease better .
They are also desirable paces to live and do business : In a global poll , European countries grabbed seven of the top 10 spots on Forbes ’ s 2019 list of the nations with the best reputation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ success , whereas the United States barely cracked the top 40 .
The coronavirus pandemic is only one of many examples of a general tendency among journalists , analysts , diplomats , and politicians to underestimate Europe .
The coronavirus pandemic is only one of many examples of a general tendency among journalists , analysts , diplomats , and politicians to underestimate Europe .
For a generation , observers have bet against Europe ’ s future , arguing that it lacks the high growth , centralized political institutions , domestic legitimacy , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ effective global presence .
Many observers confidently predicted that the euro would collapse , enlargement from 15 to 28 members would fail , and voters would reject European ideals .
Yet the pundits were proved wrong : None of this came to pass .
Nowhere is Europe ’ s ability to confound the skeptics clearer than in foreign policy .
Over the past decade , Europeans have faced four epochal foreign-policy challenges involving the strongest great-power competitors and most powerful forces of globalization in today ’ s world .
In 2014 , Russia @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of migrants flooded across the Mediterranean , and the next year , amid rising populist Euroskepticism , the Brexit referendum threatened to dissolve the European Union .
And since 2016 , Donald Trump , first as a candidate and then as U.S. president , has challenged NATO and trans-Atlantic trade .
In each case , newspapers published lurid reportage and think tanks issued dire predictions of Europe ’ s imminent collapse while politicians in Washington , Beijing , and Moscow wrote Europe off as strategically irrelevant .
But in each case Europeans quietly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nonmilitary capabilities that they wield more effectively than anyone else in the world today : foreign aid , trade and employment agreements , the imposition of regulatory standards , the cultivation of international law and organization , firm but quiet diplomacy , and the promotion of democracy .
Europe ’ s distinctive pragmatic use of civilian power may be too dull , slow-moving , and technocratic to attract attention .
Yet in the end , it gets the job done more cost-effectively than other means employed by rival great powers .
European leaders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ led a Western effort to face Russia down in its own backyard .
Just six years later , the result is as favorable as is realistically possible .
Ukraine—minus the 7 percent of its territory occupied by Russia and its sympathizers—is now an independent country forging an ever closer relationship with the West .
The war in its eastern provinces is winding down : After more than 9,000 deaths by the end of 2015 , Ukrainian military and civilian fatalities have dropped to around 100 per year .
While Russia seems determined to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eastern provinces inch forward , achieving an effective cease-fire and prisoner exchange this year .
Meanwhile , Ukraine is enjoying robust economic growth .
Its democracy continues to consolidate : The election of Volodymyr Zelensky in early 2019 placed the country ’ s presidency in the hands of politicians far less tainted by corruption , oligarchy , or Russian ties .
In separate polling , nearly 80 percent of Ukrainians now have a favorable view of the EU , and almost two-thirds believe that further external cooperation should be directed at eventual membership @ @ @ @ @ @ @ themselves , who sustained high military casualties , their sacrifice would have been futile without massive Western backing .
Europe alone possesses the nonmilitary instruments needed to prevail against Russian President Vladimir Putin .
For decades , EU officials had been quietly helping the Ukrainian government integrate with the West by adapting its market legislation to EU standards—a process meant to culminate in an association agreement with the EU in 2014 .
Fearing that such an agreement would tie Ukraine to the West in perpetuity , Putin pressed then-Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have foreseen was that , in response , pro-Western protesters would occupy Kyiv ’ s Independence Square for three months , many waving EU flags—ultimately triggering a revolution that ended only when Yanukovych fled to Russia and a pro-Western president took office .
If the soft power of European values helped spark the revolution in Ukraine , Europe ’ s coordinated economic , political , and legal aid sustained it .
If the soft power of European values helped spark the revolution , Europe ’ s coordinated economic , political , and legal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ state aid has kept war-torn Ukraine solvent , providing about $ 20 billion since 2014 , compared with less than $ 2 billion in economic aid from the United States .
Europe supports about twice as much aid as the International Monetary Fund does as well .
An estimated 4 million Ukrainians work abroad , most of them in Europe , remitting back nearly $ 16 billion annually—10 percent of the country ’ s GDP—whereas only a few thousand go to the United States .
Under the EU association agreement , Ukraine has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ takes nearly $ 25 billion annually in Ukrainian exports , more than 20 times that which goes to the United States .
European governments have voted unanimously every six months to renew trade , investment , and travel sanctions on Russia despite Moscow ’ s punishing countersanctions .
They do so despite the fact that while the United States , Canada , Japan , and Australia all imposed common sanctions ( and faced countersanctions from Moscow ) , 90 percent of the costs fall on Europeans , who are the ones with a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ EU ’ s European Neighborhood Policy provides an extensive integrated program of economic , political , and legal reform , aimed at aligning Ukraine over the long term with the West .
The EU Commission wields competition law and infrastructure spending to limit the power of Gazprom , the Russian fossil fuel monopoly , and to ensure continued energy supplies to Ukraine .
Working through the Normandy Format , French and German leaders have led the diplomatic effort to defuse the military conflict—initiating , according to one study , eight times more high-level @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their U.S. counterparts .
To be sure , the United States does provide most of Ukraine ’ s military aid , yet such assistance totals just a 10th of EU civilian aid discussed above—and the Ukrainian government is constrained to spend it on U.S.-produced conventional arms , training , and medical supplies largely available on the open market .
The Trump administration ’ s much-heralded sale of lethal military equipment—Javelin anti-tank missiles—to Ukraine arrived only in 2018 , long after Russian forces had pulled back , unlikely to return .
And the United @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the missiles must be stored almost a thousand miles from the front and can not be used in combat .
In contrast to European aid , U.S. military assistance is more symbolic than real .
Yet Europe ’ s spectacularly swift and successful response demonstrates that mass migration can be controlled .
Since 2015 , the flow of irregular migrants has declined by 88 percent—from just over a million to about 123,000 in 2019—and has continued to trend downward this year .
Since fewer people brave the journey , fewer die at sea @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 1,319 dead and missing is lower than any year on record—though , of course , this calculation ignores the fate of those stuck in transit camps .
Europe ’ s spectacularly swift and successful response to the migration crisis demonstrates that mass migration can be controlled .
European governments achieved this goal by adopting tough but effective policies .
They constructed walls , fences , and high-tech sensing systems .
They criminalized the transport of migrants , even on commercial ferries or aircraft .
They removed EU policing and rescue boats from the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that assisted migrants ( and , allegedly , helped coordinate their movements ) by placing police on their vessels , impounding boats , and initiating prosecutions .
When European navies spotted migrant vessels in international waters , they towed them back to an uncertain fate in Africa or Asia .
Europe struck deals with transit countries such as Turkey , Libya , Morocco , Tunisia , and Egypt .
All have agreed to police their shores , house millions of potential migrants , and work with the EU ’ s border control agency @ @ @ @ @ @ @ receive foreign aid , trade concessions , visa-free travel , and border control equipment .
Further EU migration missions are now dotted through Chad , Mali , and the rest of Africa .
European idealists and migrant rights activists accuse European governments of hypocrisy : Are they not betraying the spirit of their ethical and international legal obligations to permit any refugee or migrant to seek international protection ?
Conditions in European detention areas are indeed often overcrowded and uncomfortable , as attested by the images that recently circulated from Greece ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are especially troubling .
This year , even before the pandemic , the United Nations suspended operations at its transit center in Tripoli , Libya , because it could not ensure safety .
Ramona Lenz of Medico International—a public health NGO funded in part by the German government—has criticized European governments for enlisting neighboring states to serve as the “ bouncers of Europe ” —and then averting their gaze as those states abuse the human rights of migrants .
Yet European governments have remained unsentimentally resolute .
Donald Tusk , then-president of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the European Council , declared when the policy was adopted : “ We may not agree on everything , but we agree on the main goal , which is stemming illegal migration to Europe.
” European governments chose this strategy because they are pragmatic .
Their citizens consider immigration the most important issue facing Europe , with majorities of up to 10 to 1 opposing more migrants , even before the 2015 wave .
Migration threatens the stability of Europe ’ s moderate political systems : No government would last long today @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dissimilar regions .
This would undermine other policies .
In Britain , for example , citizens listed migration as one of the most important political issues facing the country in every year from 2001 to 2016 , with a substantial majority of those polled wanting to reduce the number of migrants—a trend that eventually helped fuel the Brexit vote .
In the long term , European leaders view the reduction of uncontrolled migration , brutally if necessary , as the only way forward .
Yet there is a silver lining .
Doing so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more migrants on selective economic and humanitarian grounds .
Recent polls suggest that this may be correct : Public concern about migration is slowly declining .
Leading foreign-policy pundits argue that homegrown extremism in Europe , the United States , and elsewhere—and not rising great-power challengers—now poses the greatest threat to the post-Cold War liberal international order .
In Europe , many fear that extremist governments might win more EU exit referendums or join Trump and Putin in adopting protectionist and pro-Russia stances .
Yet this proved to be journalistic hype .
Rather @ @ @ @ @ @ @ leaders calmly drained their energy by dampening migration and terrorism and hanging tough in negotiations with Britain—to which they can now add the political benefit of managing the coronavirus pandemic well .
Today , European unity—in any case , a practical necessity for small and highly interdependent states—is more popular than at any time in recent history .
In fact , populists were never as powerful as headlines made them seem .
Consider the case of Marine Le Pen , who heads the French extreme-right National Rally party .
When she ran for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ across the globe proclaimed , as one New York Times article put it , that “ the next president of France will be Marine Le Pen ” and speculated what her administration would do once in office .
Yet her campaign was clearly hopeless from the start .
All of her potential rivals , polls showed , could defeat her by comfortable double-digit margins , and Emmanuel Macron eventually did so by winning twice as many votes .
Today , the National Rally holds just seven of 577 seats in the National Assembly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ France is no exception .
Outside of Britain , extreme Euroskepticism enjoys scant support .
Of 27 EU members ( plus Britain ) , 12 have no extreme-right or Euroskeptic party at all or none that scores above 10 percent in national elections .
In 10 more countries , including France and Germany , other parties consistently exclude extremists from government coalitions .
In three more—Latvia , Estonia , and Bulgaria—extremists participate only as minority coalition partners , which reduces their influence close to zero .
Only in Britain , Hungary , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ actually lead the government .
Of course , their extremism poses threats to the quality of democracy and rule of law , as in the United States , but their effect on foreign policy is slight .
Migration is the only EU issue on which policy has moved in a direction extremists favor—but this , as we have seen , is only because the position held by extremists happens to be that of large majorities of moderate voters in nearly every country .
Otherwise , Poland and Hungary , both of which are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and have exceptionally pro-EU populations , follow their neighbors on nearly every aspect of external policy , from sanctions on Russia to development aid to Africa—dissenting occasionally only on symbolic declarations .
That leaves Brexit as the only major Euroskeptic achievement of a populist party in recent years .
Yet Brexit is , at best , an exception that proves the rule .
That it happened at all reflects a perfect storm of astonishingly unlikely circumstances unrepeatable elsewhere .
Britain is the only European country where Euroskepticism attracts more than a tiny fringe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Brexit could happen only because a prime minister overruled his advisors to call an unnecessary referendum , which happened to fall at the only brief moment in the last five years when a majority of Britons opposed EU membership .
Brexit was later ratified by an election in which a 44 percent vote share gave Boris Johnson a comfortable majority : Without Britain ’ s electoral institutions , the most biased in Europe , a pro-EU majority would have ruled instead .
Today , Brexit remains stalled .
Britain is much smaller and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to gain access for nearly half of its exports , particularly of services like banking .
This allows Europe to take a tough stance in negotiations over the terms of the U.K. withdrawal .
British Brexiteers once hoped that Trump would bail them out with a quick trade agreement .
Yet U.S.-U.K. negotiations have gone nowhere after the United States badgered the British about agricultural imports and aircraft subsidies .
Trump embarrasses prime ministers on his visits , remains unpopular among the British public , and is struggling to be reelected .
Britain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ realities , combined with the more general lack of support for their Euroskeptic views , have led populists elsewhere to moderate their ideas rather than follow London ’ s lead .
Five years ago , 15 extreme-right parties , including Le Pen ’ s National Rally , advocated a Brexit-style withdrawal from the EU or the eurozone .
Today none do .
Even so , the most worrisome populist challenger in Europe , Matteo Salvini of the League party , is hemorrhaging popular support to the Brothers of Italy , a new and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of populist Euroskepticism seems to have crested .
Yet as president , Trump has been more bark than bite .
European defense spending has risen only marginally , with just the United Kingdom and a half-dozen Eastern European countries likely to exceed 2 percent anytime soon .
Nonetheless , within three months of entering office , the new president took credit for the problem being fixed and declared NATO “ not obsolete.
” Vice President Mike Pence , backed by cabinet officials , assured allies that Washington ’ s commitment remained “ unwavering.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ to approve plans in July to remove about 6,000 of more than 60,000 troops in Europe .
But commentators agree that this bit of pre-election theatrics is unlikely to result in real policy change , which would take years to execute and cost billions of dollars and would be strategically insignificant even if it did .
Longer term , Europe need not worry that the United States will leave NATO .
European countries remain America ’ s most trustworthy and capable allies .
U.S. Defense Department planners , important domestic constituencies , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ both defending Europe and deterring Russia .
Moreover , more than half of U.S. forces stationed in NATO countries are not there to defend Europe from Russia but to provide indispensable logistical support for the projection of U.S. power in the Mediterranean , Middle East , Africa , and Eurasia .
They man Air Force bases , transport hubs , headquarters , and hospitals in Germany , as well as the U.S. Navy ’ s 6th Fleet , based in Naples , Italy .
U.S. Africa Command , for example , is headquartered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the United States was unable to find an African country to host it .
Without NATO , every delivery of troops or materiel , evacuation of a wounded soldier , naval mission in the Mediterranean , rapid reaction action , multinational training exercise , heavy bombing mission , or trip to headquarters would require an extra 6,000-mile trip to or from the United States .
Trump also took aim at European economic interests , grabbing headlines by repeatedly threatening to impose tariffs on EU exports .
Pundits worried that trans-Atlantic disruption might upend @ @ @ @ @ @ @ administration has provoked only two small squabbles : In 2018 , Trump imposed tariffs on European steel and aluminum , and last year he blocked a bundle of goods in response to European subsidies to Airbus .
Neither was new .
All but one U.S. administration since that of Richard Nixon has placed special tariffs on steel—a large unionized industry concentrated in U.S. swing states .
And the World Trade Organization fully authorized the compensatory tariffs on Airbus products in October 2019 as part of a settlement of a 15-year dispute .
When @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with sanctions carefully targeted at voters in U.S. swing states .
Yet these two sets of tariffs targeted just $ 7.5 billion in European exports each—minuscule compared with the $ 300 billion in Chinese products hit by Trump tariffs .
As a result—until the COVID-19 crisis—trans-Atlantic exports and affiliate sales continued to increased more than 20 percent after 2016 , whereas U.S. trade with China declined significantly .
No trans-Atlantic trade war erupted because Trump did not dare provoke it .
The backlash would be fierce since U.S. and European firms are far @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other part of the world : 61 percent of total U.S. foreign direct investment ( FDI ) is in Europe , and 68 percent of FDI coming into the United States comes from Europe , so U.S. corporate interests are inseparably linked to Europe .
Even when EU and U.S. economic interests diverge , Trump must tread even more carefully than with China because the world ’ s largest trading bloc with a population of almost 500 million is a powerful adversary .
Trade authority is centralized in Brussels .
When Trump imposed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ carefully targeted at voters in U.S. swing states .
The EU plays offense as well .
Quietly taking advantage of Trump ’ s diffidence toward globalization , Europe concluded ambitious trade agreements with Japan , Mexico , and Canada , with Australia , Brazil , and other countries to follow .
Exploiting the threat of exclusion from the lucrative European market , the EU has become the world ’ s de facto regulatory authority—something the Columbia Law professor Anu Bradford calls the “ Brussels effect.
” Farmers in Nebraska , for instance , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ EU standards .
Europe recently imposed tough privacy standards on U.S. tech giants and is considering new digital taxes .
The Trump administration objected , but Europe did not back down .
Instead , it helped convince California to adopt similar regulations , which went into effect in January .
Europe ’ s pragmatism also often frustrates idealists .
European leaders , knowing that they can not solve all the world ’ s problems , pick their battles carefully .
They eschew precipitous actions and hopeless causes that in retrospect so often seem @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or ejecting Russia from Crimea .
Instead , they slowly advance , often for decades , workable solutions to problems such as European enlargement , Iranian nuclear weapons , or climate change , punctuated by setbacks .
In a case like Belarus today , it is perhaps overambitious to ask whether Europeans can topple the current authoritarian government tomorrow—but it seems reasonable to ask whether they can create incentives for its peaceful and positive evolution over the next decades .
And what they do serves Europe ’ s interests .
Boring though this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it works .
This has been shown not just by the examples above but in Europe ’ s recent decisions to provide 750 billion euros ( $ 826 billion ) in added financial firepower to stabilize the euro ; to craft a system to screen Chinese investment in Europe ; to switch to European-built 5G mobile networks ; to promote peace and development in the Western Balkans ; and now , without fear of a British veto , to coordinate tax policies .
In the wake of COVID-19 , many in the United @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can sustain farsighted , data-driven , expert-based policies .
Would-be Trumps and Putins question whether such policies are even desirable , preferring to appeal to national greatness .
The answer is in Europe : In the 21st century , such policies are not only sustainable but successful .
Europe is the future .
This story appears in the Fall 2020 print issue .

Several months ago, when COVID-19 struck Europe, headlines portrayed overflowing hospitals in Italy, policy mistakes in Britain and Sweden, mismanaged senior care in Belgium, and misbehaving youth in Spanish discos. Two months later—after European governments imposed lockdowns, mask-wearing, testing, and tracing—the incidence of new cases plummeted. By July, vacationing Europeans were strolling through Piazza Navona in Rome, attending the opera in Salzburg, and dining in Paris.
Several months ago, when COVID-19 struck Europe, headlines portrayed overflowing hospitals in Italy, policy mistakes in Britain and Sweden, mismanaged senior care in Belgium, and misbehaving youth in Spanish discos. Two months later—after European governments imposed lockdowns, mask-wearing, testing, and tracing—the incidence of new cases plummeted. By July, vacationing Europeans were strolling through Piazza Navona in Rome, attending the opera in Salzburg, and dining in Paris.
Americans are not welcome to cross the Atlantic, however, because the United States has failed to match Europe’s resilience. Instead, new cases trended upward through the summer, leaving the average American 10 times more likely to contract the coronavirus than the average European.
Europe’s success is not coincidental. Studies show that countries with higher income equality and sound expert-based government regulation—areas in which European countries excel—tend to combat disease better. They are also desirable paces to live and do business: In a global poll, European countries grabbed seven of the top 10 spots on Forbes’s 2019 list of the nations with the best reputation for social, economic, and political success, whereas the United States barely cracked the top 40.
The coronavirus pandemic is only one of many examples of a general tendency among journalists, analysts, diplomats, and politicians to underestimate Europe.
The coronavirus pandemic is only one of many examples of a general tendency among journalists, analysts, diplomats, and politicians to underestimate Europe. For a generation, observers have bet against Europe’s future, arguing that it lacks the high growth, centralized political institutions, domestic legitimacy, and hard military tools required to have an effective global presence. Many observers confidently predicted that the euro would collapse, enlargement from 15 to 28 members would fail, and voters would reject European ideals. Yet the pundits were proved wrong: None of this came to pass.
Nowhere is Europe’s ability to confound the skeptics clearer than in foreign policy. Over the past decade, Europeans have faced four epochal foreign-policy challenges involving the strongest great-power competitors and most powerful forces of globalization in today’s world. In 2014, Russia attacked Ukraine. In 2015, waves of migrants flooded across the Mediterranean, and the next year, amid rising populist Euroskepticism, the Brexit referendum threatened to dissolve the European Union. And since 2016, Donald Trump, first as a candidate and then as U.S. president, has challenged NATO and trans-Atlantic trade.
In each case, newspapers published lurid reportage and think tanks issued dire predictions of Europe’s imminent collapse while politicians in Washington, Beijing, and Moscow wrote Europe off as strategically irrelevant. But in each case Europeans quietly prevailed.
Europeans have succeeded by deploying nonmilitary capabilities that they wield more effectively than anyone else in the world today: foreign aid, trade and employment agreements, the imposition of regulatory standards, the cultivation of international law and organization, firm but quiet diplomacy, and the promotion of democracy. Europe’s distinctive pragmatic use of civilian power may be too dull, slow-moving, and technocratic to attract attention. Yet in the end, it gets the job done more cost-effectively than other means employed by rival great powers.
From left: Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte, German Chancellor Angela Merkel, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen, and French President Emmanuel Macron before the start of the first in-person EU summit of the pandemic on July 18.
In 2014, Russia attacked Ukraine, annexed Crimea, and covertly supported separatism in two of its eastern provinces—a flagrant violation of international law that posed the most serious security challenge to Europe in a generation. Since Russia enjoys unquestioned local military superiority and accords Ukraine greater historical, cultural, economic, and strategic importance than any other country, traditional realists such as Henry Kissinger and John Mearsheimer counseled Europe to let Ukraine go. Moscow, they warned, would respond ruthlessly, leading inevitably to a Western defeat.
European leaders ignored the naysayers and, instead, led a Western effort to face Russia down in its own backyard. Just six years later, the result is as favorable as is realistically possible. Ukraine—minus the 7 percent of its territory occupied by Russia and its sympathizers—is now an independent country forging an ever closer relationship with the West. The war in its eastern provinces is winding down: After more than 9,000 deaths by the end of 2015, Ukrainian military and civilian fatalities have dropped to around 100 per year. While Russia seems determined to stay in Crimea, negotiations over the eastern provinces inch forward, achieving an effective cease-fire and prisoner exchange this year.
Meanwhile, Ukraine is enjoying robust economic growth. Its democracy continues to consolidate: The election of Volodymyr Zelensky in early 2019 placed the country’s presidency in the hands of politicians far less tainted by corruption, oligarchy, or Russian ties. In separate polling, nearly 80 percent of Ukrainians now have a favorable view of the EU, and almost two-thirds believe that further external cooperation should be directed at eventual membership.
While primary credit lies with Ukrainians themselves, who sustained high military casualties, their sacrifice would have been futile without massive Western backing. Europe alone possesses the nonmilitary instruments needed to prevail against Russian President Vladimir Putin.
For decades, EU officials had been quietly helping the Ukrainian government integrate with the West by adapting its market legislation to EU standards—a process meant to culminate in an association agreement with the EU in 2014. Fearing that such an agreement would tie Ukraine to the West in perpetuity, Putin pressed then-Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych to reject it. What no one could have foreseen was that, in response, pro-Western protesters would occupy Kyiv’s Independence Square for three months, many waving EU flags—ultimately triggering a revolution that ended only when Yanukovych fled to Russia and a pro-Western president took office.
If the soft power of European values helped spark the revolution in Ukraine, Europe’s coordinated economic, political, and legal aid sustained it.
If the soft power of European values helped spark the revolution, Europe’s coordinated economic, political, and legal aid sustained it. EU and member state aid has kept war-torn Ukraine solvent, providing about $20 billion since 2014, compared with less than $2 billion in economic aid from the United States. Europe supports about twice as much aid as the International Monetary Fund does as well. An estimated 4 million Ukrainians work abroad, most of them in Europe, remitting back nearly $16 billion annually—10 percent of the country’s GDP—whereas only a few thousand go to the United States. Under the EU association agreement, Ukraine has expanded trade with Europe, which now takes nearly $25 billion annually in Ukrainian exports, more than 20 times that which goes to the United States.
European governments have voted unanimously every six months to renew trade, investment, and travel sanctions on Russia despite Moscow’s punishing countersanctions. They do so despite the fact that while the United States, Canada, Japan, and Australia all imposed common sanctions (and faced countersanctions from Moscow), 90 percent of the costs fall on Europeans, who are the ones with a traditional trading relationship with Russia.
The EU’s European Neighborhood Policy provides an extensive integrated program of economic, political, and legal reform, aimed at aligning Ukraine over the long term with the West. The EU Commission wields competition law and infrastructure spending to limit the power of Gazprom, the Russian fossil fuel monopoly, and to ensure continued energy supplies to Ukraine. Working through the Normandy Format, French and German leaders have led the diplomatic effort to defuse the military conflict—initiating, according to one study, eight times more high-level diplomatic communication with Russia and Ukraine than their U.S. counterparts.
To be sure, the United States does provide most of Ukraine’s military aid, yet such assistance totals just a 10th of EU civilian aid discussed above—and the Ukrainian government is constrained to spend it on U.S.-produced conventional arms, training, and medical supplies largely available on the open market. The Trump administration’s much-heralded sale of lethal military equipment—Javelin anti-tank missiles—to Ukraine arrived only in 2018, long after Russian forces had pulled back, unlikely to return. And the United States has imposed the explicit condition that the missiles must be stored almost a thousand miles from the front and cannot be used in combat. In contrast to European aid, U.S. military assistance is more symbolic than real.
In 2015, just over 1 million irregular migrants arrived in Europe—an influx higher than in any period since the immediate aftermath of World War II. Many were Syrian refugees seeking asylum. Hundreds of millions of people across the globe desire to migrate, and European countries remain some of the most desired destinations, leading many to view such waves of mass migration as inevitable and irresistible. Conservative pundits proclaimed “the death of Europe.”
Yet Europe’s spectacularly swift and successful response demonstrates that mass migration can be controlled. Since 2015, the flow of irregular migrants has declined by 88 percent—from just over a million to about 123,000 in 2019—and has continued to trend downward this year. Since fewer people brave the journey, fewer die at sea: Last year’s total of 1,319 dead and missing is lower than any year on record—though, of course, this calculation ignores the fate of those stuck in transit camps.
Europe’s spectacularly swift and successful response to the migration crisis demonstrates that mass migration can be controlled.
European governments achieved this goal by adopting tough but effective policies. They constructed walls, fences, and high-tech sensing systems. They criminalized the transport of migrants, even on commercial ferries or aircraft. They removed EU policing and rescue boats from the seas. They cracked down on NGOs that assisted migrants (and, allegedly, helped coordinate their movements) by placing police on their vessels, impounding boats, and initiating prosecutions. When European navies spotted migrant vessels in international waters, they towed them back to an uncertain fate in Africa or Asia.
Europe struck deals with transit countries such as Turkey, Libya, Morocco, Tunisia, and Egypt. All have agreed to police their shores, house millions of potential migrants, and work with the EU’s border control agency, Frontex. In exchange, they receive foreign aid, trade concessions, visa-free travel, and border control equipment. Further EU migration missions are now dotted through Chad, Mali, and the rest of Africa.
European idealists and migrant rights activists accuse European governments of hypocrisy: Are they not betraying the spirit of their ethical and international legal obligations to permit any refugee or migrant to seek international protection? Conditions in European detention areas are indeed often overcrowded and uncomfortable, as attested by the images that recently circulated from Greece’s burned-down Moria camp. Extra-European detention camps are especially troubling. This year, even before the pandemic, the United Nations suspended operations at its transit center in Tripoli, Libya, because it could not ensure safety. Ramona Lenz of Medico International—a public health NGO funded in part by the German government—has criticized European governments for enlisting neighboring states to serve as the “bouncers of Europe”—and then averting their gaze as those states abuse the human rights of migrants.
Yet European governments have remained unsentimentally resolute. Donald Tusk, then-president of the EU’s most important decision-making body, the European Council, declared when the policy was adopted: “We may not agree on everything, but we agree on the main goal, which is stemming illegal migration to Europe.”
European governments chose this strategy because they are pragmatic. Their citizens consider immigration the most important issue facing Europe, with majorities of up to 10 to 1 opposing more migrants, even before the 2015 wave. Migration threatens the stability of Europe’s moderate political systems: No government would last long today if it supported uncontrolled entry from culturally dissimilar regions. This would undermine other policies. In Britain, for example, citizens listed migration as one of the most important political issues facing the country in every year from 2001 to 2016, with a substantial majority of those polled wanting to reduce the number of migrants—a trend that eventually helped fuel the Brexit vote.
In the long term, European leaders view the reduction of uncontrolled migration, brutally if necessary, as the only way forward. Yet there is a silver lining. Doing so can create the political space to admit more migrants on selective economic and humanitarian grounds. Recent polls suggest that this may be correct: Public concern about migration is slowly declining.
Protesters hold a giant banner reading “we are the people” during a march organized by the right-wing populist Pro Chemnitz movement in Germany on Sept. 7, 2018. Germany is among European countries in which other parties exclude extremists from government coalitions.
Over the past two decades, extreme-right populist parties with anti-Muslim, anti-immigrant, anti-terrorist, and anti-Europe appeal have increased their vote shares across Europe. They now participate in government in six countries. In Britain, they spearheaded Brexit. And in the last two decades, scholars—and, it seems, journalists—have written more about extreme-right populist parties than all other European parties combined.
Leading foreign-policy pundits argue that homegrown extremism in Europe, the United States, and elsewhere—and not rising great-power challengers—now poses the greatest threat to the post-Cold War liberal international order. In Europe, many fear that extremist governments might win more EU exit referendums or join Trump and Putin in adopting protectionist and pro-Russia stances.
Yet this proved to be journalistic hype. Rather than panicking over populist threats, European leaders calmly drained their energy by dampening migration and terrorism and hanging tough in negotiations with Britain—to which they can now add the political benefit of managing the coronavirus pandemic well. Today, European unity—in any case, a practical necessity for small and highly interdependent states—is more popular than at any time in recent history.
In fact, populists were never as powerful as headlines made them seem. Consider the case of Marine Le Pen, who heads the French extreme-right National Rally party. When she ran for the French presidency in 2017, newspapers across the globe proclaimed, as one New York Times article put it, that “the next president of France will be Marine Le Pen” and speculated what her administration would do once in office. Yet her campaign was clearly hopeless from the start. All of her potential rivals, polls showed, could defeat her by comfortable double-digit margins, and Emmanuel Macron eventually did so by winning twice as many votes. Today, the National Rally holds just seven of 577 seats in the National Assembly.
Outside of Britain, extreme Euroskepticism enjoys scant support.
The impotence of the extreme-right in France is no exception. Outside of Britain, extreme Euroskepticism enjoys scant support. Of 27 EU members (plus Britain), 12 have no extreme-right or Euroskeptic party at all or none that scores above 10 percent in national elections. In 10 more countries, including France and Germany, other parties consistently exclude extremists from government coalitions. In three more—Latvia, Estonia, and Bulgaria—extremists participate only as minority coalition partners, which reduces their influence close to zero.
Only in Britain, Hungary, and Poland does an extreme-right or Euroskeptic party actually lead the government. Of course, their extremism poses threats to the quality of democracy and rule of law, as in the United States, but their effect on foreign policy is slight. Migration is the only EU issue on which policy has moved in a direction extremists favor—but this, as we have seen, is only because the position held by extremists happens to be that of large majorities of moderate voters in nearly every country. Otherwise, Poland and Hungary, both of which are among the biggest beneficiaries of EU policies and have exceptionally pro-EU populations, follow their neighbors on nearly every aspect of external policy, from sanctions on Russia to development aid to Africa—dissenting occasionally only on symbolic declarations. That leaves Brexit as the only major Euroskeptic achievement of a populist party in recent years.
Yet Brexit is, at best, an exception that proves the rule. That it happened at all reflects a perfect storm of astonishingly unlikely circumstances unrepeatable elsewhere. Britain is the only European country where Euroskepticism attracts more than a tiny fringe of the electorate. Even so, Brexit could happen only because a prime minister overruled his advisors to call an unnecessary referendum, which happened to fall at the only brief moment in the last five years when a majority of Britons opposed EU membership. Brexit was later ratified by an election in which a 44 percent vote share gave Boris Johnson a comfortable majority: Without Britain’s electoral institutions, the most biased in Europe, a pro-EU majority would have ruled instead.
Today, Brexit remains stalled. Britain is much smaller and dependent on Europe’s good will to gain access for nearly half of its exports, particularly of services like banking. This allows Europe to take a tough stance in negotiations over the terms of the U.K. withdrawal. British Brexiteers once hoped that Trump would bail them out with a quick trade agreement. Yet U.S.-U.K. negotiations have gone nowhere after the United States badgered the British about agricultural imports and aircraft subsidies. Trump embarrasses prime ministers on his visits, remains unpopular among the British public, and is struggling to be reelected. Britain is running out of options.
These realities, combined with the more general lack of support for their Euroskeptic views, have led populists elsewhere to moderate their ideas rather than follow London’s lead. Five years ago, 15 extreme-right parties, including Le Pen’s National Rally, advocated a Brexit-style withdrawal from the EU or the eurozone. Today none do. Even so, the most worrisome populist challenger in Europe, Matteo Salvini of the League party, is hemorrhaging popular support to the Brothers of Italy, a new and less Euroskeptic right-wing party. The wave of populist Euroskepticism seems to have crested.
In a photo provided by the German Government Press Office, German Chancellor Angela Merkel deliberates with U.S. President Donald Trump on the sidelines of the G-7 summit in Charlevoix, Canada, on June 9, 2018.
Among Europe’s major geopolitical assets is its close partnership with the United States, which has formed the bedrock of Western defense and economic policies for 75 years. In 2016, as a presidential candidate, Trump called all this into question, declaring NATO “obsolete” and threatening to withdraw if Europeans failed to meet their informal pledge to spend 2 percent of their GDPs on defense—a threat he has repeated often since. He seems obsessed with Europe’s bilateral trade surplus with the United States—especially that of Germany.
Yet as president, Trump has been more bark than bite. European defense spending has risen only marginally, with just the United Kingdom and a half-dozen Eastern European countries likely to exceed 2 percent anytime soon. Nonetheless, within three months of entering office, the new president took credit for the problem being fixed and declared NATO “not obsolete.” Vice President Mike Pence, backed by cabinet officials, assured allies that Washington’s commitment remained “unwavering.” The most Trump has done was to approve plans in July to remove about 6,000 of more than 60,000 troops in Europe. But commentators agree that this bit of pre-election theatrics is unlikely to result in real policy change, which would take years to execute and cost billions of dollars and would be strategically insignificant even if it did.
Longer term, Europe need not worry that the United States will leave NATO. European countries remain America’s most trustworthy and capable allies. U.S. Defense Department planners, important domestic constituencies, and an overwhelming bipartisan majority in Congress favor both defending Europe and deterring Russia. Moreover, more than half of U.S. forces stationed in NATO countries are not there to defend Europe from Russia but to provide indispensable logistical support for the projection of U.S. power in the Mediterranean, Middle East, Africa, and Eurasia. They man Air Force bases, transport hubs, headquarters, and hospitals in Germany, as well as the U.S. Navy’s 6th Fleet, based in Naples, Italy. U.S. Africa Command, for example, is headquartered in the German city of Stuttgart because the United States was unable to find an African country to host it. Without NATO, every delivery of troops or materiel, evacuation of a wounded soldier, naval mission in the Mediterranean, rapid reaction action, multinational training exercise, heavy bombing mission, or trip to headquarters would require an extra 6,000-mile trip to or from the United States.
Trump also took aim at European economic interests, grabbing headlines by repeatedly threatening to impose tariffs on EU exports. Pundits worried that trans-Atlantic disruption might upend the global trading system. Yet the administration has provoked only two small squabbles: In 2018, Trump imposed tariffs on European steel and aluminum, and last year he blocked a bundle of goods in response to European subsidies to Airbus. Neither was new. All but one U.S. administration since that of Richard Nixon has placed special tariffs on steel—a large unionized industry concentrated in U.S. swing states. And the World Trade Organization fully authorized the compensatory tariffs on Airbus products in October 2019 as part of a settlement of a 15-year dispute.
When Trump imposed tariffs, Europe swiftly retaliated with sanctions carefully targeted at voters in U.S. swing states.
Yet these two sets of tariffs targeted just $7.5 billion in European exports each—minuscule compared with the $300 billion in Chinese products hit by Trump tariffs. As a result—until the COVID-19 crisis—trans-Atlantic exports and affiliate sales continued to increased more than 20 percent after 2016, whereas U.S. trade with China declined significantly.
No trans-Atlantic trade war erupted because Trump did not dare provoke it. The backlash would be fierce since U.S. and European firms are far more heavily cross-invested than firms in any other part of the world: 61 percent of total U.S. foreign direct investment (FDI) is in Europe, and 68 percent of FDI coming into the United States comes from Europe, so U.S. corporate interests are inseparably linked to Europe. Even when EU and U.S. economic interests diverge, Trump must tread even more carefully than with China because the world’s largest trading bloc with a population of almost 500 million is a powerful adversary. Trade authority is centralized in Brussels. When Trump imposed tariffs, Europe swiftly retaliated with sanctions carefully targeted at voters in U.S. swing states.
The EU plays offense as well. Quietly taking advantage of Trump’s diffidence toward globalization, Europe concluded ambitious trade agreements with Japan, Mexico, and Canada, with Australia, Brazil, and other countries to follow. Exploiting the threat of exclusion from the lucrative European market, the EU has become the world’s de facto regulatory authority—something the Columbia Law professor Anu Bradford calls the “Brussels effect.” Farmers in Nebraska, for instance, grow pesticide-free products so that they meet EU standards. Europe recently imposed tough privacy standards on U.S. tech giants and is considering new digital taxes. The Trump administration objected, but Europe did not back down. Instead, it helped convince California to adopt similar regulations, which went into effect in January.
Journalists, pundits, and politicians overlook Europe’s record of success because it is, in a word, dull. Europe’s quiet and patient style of foreign policy lacks the flash and charisma of old-fashioned crisis diplomacy conducted in the shadow of coercive force. Unlike Trump’s America, Europe does not grab headlines by precipitously launching trade wars—or real ones. Unlike Putin’s Russia, it does not subvert elections and pollute the internet. Unlike Xi Jinping’s China, it does not incarcerate ethnic minorities or provoke military clashes along its borders. Old-school geopoliticians are baffled (and often bored) by decisions taken by Brussels-based institutions where it is difficult to tell who is in charge—or even, as Kissinger once quipped, whom to call.
Europe’s pragmatism also often frustrates idealists. European leaders, knowing that they cannot solve all the world’s problems, pick their battles carefully. They eschew precipitous actions and hopeless causes that in retrospect so often seem ill-judged, such as toppling Saddam Hussein or ejecting Russia from Crimea. Instead, they slowly advance, often for decades, workable solutions to problems such as European enlargement, Iranian nuclear weapons, or climate change, punctuated by setbacks. In a case like Belarus today, it is perhaps overambitious to ask whether Europeans can topple the current authoritarian government tomorrow—but it seems reasonable to ask whether they can create incentives for its peaceful and positive evolution over the next decades. And what they do serves Europe’s interests.
Boring though this incremental and technocratic policymaking may be, it works. This has been shown not just by the examples above but in Europe’s recent decisions to provide 750 billion euros ($826 billion) in added financial firepower to stabilize the euro; to craft a system to screen Chinese investment in Europe; to switch to European-built 5G mobile networks; to promote peace and development in the Western Balkans; and now, without fear of a British veto, to coordinate tax policies.
In the wake of COVID-19, many in the United States have asked themselves whether democratic countries can sustain farsighted, data-driven, expert-based policies. Would-be Trumps and Putins question whether such policies are even desirable, preferring to appeal to national greatness. The answer is in Europe: In the 21st century, such policies are not only sustainable but successful. Europe is the future.
This story appears in the Fall 2020 print issue.