The simplest test for recognizing a collective pathology is to ask each of its members whether they would choose on their own to do what the group is doing.
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A pipe and an ocean
A gas pipeline is a pipe. It connects a gas field to a consumer, crosses a few borders, and, once built, transports energy at a very low cost per unit. A supply chain that starts at Russian gas fields, goes through an American contract, crosses the Atlantic on a LNG tanker, and arrives at a European regasification terminal does the same thing but with more steps, more markups, and more friction. No engineer, no accountant, no student of economic geography would choose the second option if they could choose the first. And yet that is where Europe seems headed: according to recent reports, Russian energy could return to European markets with an American stamp on it and a higher price tag attached.
I argue that this situation cannot be explained by Washington’s cunning—which certainly exists—nor by Brussels’ weakness—which certainly exists as well. It stems from a cognitive distortion shared by governments, institutions, and much of the public, which has rendered a geographical truism invisible. I call it the pathology of the absurd: the state in which a system continues to follow its own internal rules even as they produce an outcome that none of its individual components, taken on its own, would ever have wanted. The technical term for this mechanism is collective bias—that is, an error in judgment that does not stem from the stupidity of individuals but from the way a group convinces, rewards, and punishes itself.
How to lose a war without fighting it
A methodological clarification before proceeding. No official documents have been released yet (a treaty, an MoU, nothing public); what has been documented is scant and carries almost symbolic weight. Trump announced that Russia will supply the U.S. and global markets with over 300,000 metric tons of diesel immediately, another 500,000 in November, and one million shortly thereafter. Converted to barrels, that’s about 5.9 million in total—one-fifth of global consumption in a single day—and just over a week’s worth of Russian exports at last year’s rate. As a market transaction, it is insignificant, but as a political signal, it is quite the opposite.
Because politically speaking, the implications are much deeper. Moscow has lifted the ban on diesel exports that had been in place since July. Trump stated that the time has come for Ukraine to have a new president and proclaimed an “energy truce” effective immediately. According to an account by a U.S. official, the peace plan being developed by the White House and several European capitals would freeze the front along the current line of control and provide security guarantees comparable to NATO’s Article 5, a reconstruction mechanism entrusted to the World Bank and BlackRock, and a pipeline to bring Russian gas and oil back to Europe, with profits split between Moscow and Kyiv. Washington, meanwhile, is reported to have suggested suspending intelligence sharing and the PURL mechanism if Kyiv continues to strike Russian refineries.
Zelensky stated that the announcement of the truce was news to him and that Kyiv was awaiting details. Lavrov rejected the idea of a pause; Peskov spoke of ongoing contacts. If we leave it to the “theologians of journalism” to debate whether the chicken or the egg came first, we can focus on what lies behind the facts—namely, that Russian energy will return to Europe through a framework negotiated by Washington, which is a likely prospect in the medium term, with moderate confidence regarding the trajectory and low confidence regarding the details. And, it must be said, anyone reading these pages as the chronicle of a fait accompli is misreading them.
By “energy war,” we mean the contest over who sets the price, the route, and the rules governing a continent’s energy flows. In this contest, Europe set out in 2022 convinced it was fighting a moral battle; it cut off supplies from Russia, presenting the decision first as a necessary sacrifice, then as a strategic victory. The assessment after four years tells a different story: Europe has lost its cheapest and closest supply source, has rebuilt its dependence elsewhere, and the United States—which in the meantime had become the continent’s main supplier of liquefied natural gas—has gained both influence and profit margins as a result. When the European Parliament decides that, as of January 1, 2027, even the last remaining shares of Russian energy will be phased out of the Union’s energy mix, the circle will be complete, and the phase-out will be total—just as the other side of the Atlantic prepares to do business with Moscow.
In the tradition of classical geopolitics, this issue has an age-old name. Europe is the western peninsula of the vast Eurasian continent, and its natural logic of supply is continental: pipelines, long-term contracts, and interdependence with those to the east. The Atlantic logic is maritime, consisting of ships, terminals, and spot prices. Mackinder and Spykman, though by different paths, had understood that whoever separates the two systems profits from both sides of the divide. One need not adopt the entire theoretical framework of the Eurasianist school to recognize that geography does not negotiate here, and that for four years European institutions have acted as if it could.
The intermediary model
According to the model that has emerged so far, the United States would acquire Russian energy assets—starting with Lukoil’s foreign division—through an initial payment and a share of the profits, and could purchase, on competitive terms, the hydrocarbons that Europe no longer buys, in order to resell them to Europeans at full price. Washington’s interest is explicit and evident even in the most cautious sources. Trump faces midterm elections, an energy crisis triggered by the aggression against Iran, rising diesel prices, and low approval ratings. On the other hand, the American consumer has no reason to distinguish between Russian diesel and any other diesel.
What matters is the role assigned to Europe. Officials from the United Kingdom, France, and Germany were present at the talks in Florida. Their task is to ensure post-war security, finance reconstruction through instruments designed elsewhere, and, in the long term, open their own energy markets to a Russia that has, in the meantime, forged a direct relationship with Washington. They are the guarantors and the clients; they do not appear among the beneficiaries of the profits. When the diesel agreement was announced, the Europeans expressed irritation yet remained at the table—which is a good summary of where they stand.
And there is also a strange, biting irony in all of this: Nord Stream—which Washington did not want built and which was sabotaged—would be reactivated under a draft U.S. agreement, and the gas flows that Europe lost as a result of that sabotage would once again pass through U.S. intermediaries. If the pipeline were reactivated, Europe would pay to get back what it already had, at a price set by those who neither produce nor consume it. Pure madness.
Why it’s a pathology, not a mistake
We are facing a collective cognitive bias that has evolved to the point of becoming pathological. And it is not a simple “error in judgment,” since an error is corrected when it is discovered, whereas a pathology persists because it is sustained by the very structures that should be curing it. I identify four such structures, each of which is rational when viewed from within.
The first is moralization. Sanctions began as a tool and have become an identity. Anyone who today proposed reopening direct channels with Moscow would be seen as a traitor, not as an accountant. The accounting objection, however well-founded, has no place in the debate. The second is sunk costs: after years of sacrifices imposed on citizens and businesses, admitting that the plan was flawed costs more—in political terms—than continuing to pay the consequences. The third is the delegation of rationality. If Washington is the one to reopen the channel, no European government will have to admit it was wrong. The premium that Europe would pay to the intermediary is, in essence, the price of not having to admit the mistake. It is a bill that leaders present to their constituents under the heading of “security.”
The fourth is the institutional asymmetry between those who decide and those who pay. A parliamentary vote on sanctions generates immediate visibility for those who cast it, while the cost is spread across millions of utility bills and thousands of industrial plants, faceless and without a specific date. In such a system, the most convenient choice for any decision-maker is almost always the loudest one. There’s no need to hypothesize about a hidden agenda or secret plan to explain the outcome. Washington’s interest is stated openly and perfectly clear; Europe’s blindness is structural. These are two phenomena of different natures that have ended up interlocking.
The most serious criticism of this interpretation comes from countries bordering Russia. For Warsaw, Riga, or Vilnius, dependence on Moscow’s energy is not a matter of price but of exposure. The year 2022 demonstrated that an energy supply can be cut off, and the extra cost paid to diversify sources is an insurance premium like any other—or at least that is what the EU has tried to convince the countries of Northern Europe, spinning the fairy tale of a better world that would soon arrive, achieved through military victory alongside Kyiv. A fascinating fairy tale, to be sure, but one that holds up only to a certain extent. Insurance makes sense when the premium is limited and when the insurer does not profit from the occurrence of the loss. Here, the insurer is also the main beneficiary of the rift between Europe and Russia, as evidenced by the very fact that it is about to mend that rift when it suits its interests. Furthermore, dependence on the United States is a form of dependence like any other. The threats to suspend intelligence sharing and the PURL mechanism with Kyiv—if confirmed—show that Washington makes its available supplies contingent on its current political objectives.
Anyone who thinks that using energy as leverage applies only to Moscow has a selective memory. If Europe were to re-enter the Russian market through American intermediation, it would compound its vulnerabilities: it would be dependent on Russian energy and on the American infrastructure that delivers it. In other words, this objection justifies diversification, but it does not justify the decision to never negotiate on its own.
Scenarios and indicators
We can discern three plausible developments, with a 6- to 12-month timeframe—assuming we manage to get through this winter.
The first is the consolidation of U.S. mediation: sanctions eased in phases, Russian assets acquired by U.S. and Gulf operators, and energy flows returning to Europe under contracts that Europe did not draft. This is the most optimistic scenario, though with only moderate confidence. The second is the failure of the agreement, with Moscow refusing a ceasefire, Kyiv continuing to strike refineries, and Washington shifting its focus elsewhere; Europe would be left with high prices and no supply channels. This is a possible outcome, roughly equally likely. The third is a direct overture from Brussels or certain capitals toward Moscow—highly unlikely in the short term, for the political and psychological reasons already outlined.
Four indicators will help determine which of these scenarios unfolds: the text of any agreement setting the sanctions timeline; the name of the party holding the contracts for Lukoil’s international assets; the status of Nord Stream, if and when it is included in an official draft; The outcome of the U.S. midterm elections, which weigh on the entire situation more than Brussels cares to admit.
Added to these is a factor of uncertainty regarding the U.S. counterpart: the energy agreement does not resolve the structural weaknesses of the U.S. economy, ranging from public debt to rising interest rates to debt-financed artificial intelligence companies. A partner with such finances—and such a packed political calendar—is a mediator who offers little guarantee of longevity.
The simplest test for recognizing a collective pathology is to ask each of its members whether they would choose on their own to do what the group is doing. No European government official responsible for energy policy, if questioned in private, would say that buying Russian energy in Washington is the best solution. They would, it seems, provided that others are the ones making the decision.
The true price of a pipeline is the cost of the pipeline itself.
Everything else that is added—and that Europe would pay—reflects the cost of a choice that has never been made openly.
So far, no one has asked that question on the floor of the chamber.
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