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EU leaders to speak no evil of Israel, as Nobel prize recalls Gaza ‘genocide’

EU leaders will mouth hollow criticism of West Bank settlers at next week’s summit, while staying mute on Israel’s genocide in Gaza – in sharp contrast to the 2026 Nobel peace prize.

The EU “strongly condemns the continued and growing settler violence against Palestinian civilians and calls for accountability”, they aim to say in a declaration in Brussels on Thursday (15 October), according to a draft seen by EUobserver on Friday.

And they are to warn of “legal, economic, and reputational consequences for [Israeli] businesses participating” in building a settlement in the E1 area of the West Bank, which would destroy the two-state solution by chopping the region in half.

It remains to be seen if Slovenia’s pro-Israeli prime minister, Janez Janša, will sign up, after he ranted on X in August that he would veto this type of thing.

But even if Janša agreed, it would still amount to EU impunity for settlers, as there was no mention of banning settler imports or even blacklisting more settler extremists.

“The EU keeps condemning illegal settlements that it trades with, financing the very occupation and abuses it claims to oppose. How does that make any sense?,” said Claudio Francavilla from Human Rights Watch.

The summit draft also voiced “grave concern over developments in Gaza”, where “protection of civilians must be ensured”, and urged Israel to let in more aid.

Israel has killed some 1,450 people in Gaza since an October 2025 ceasefire.

It has killed over 74,000 Palestinians and displaced 1.8 million people in Gaza since 2023, but the EU leaders’ passive-tense language did not blame Israel for civilian deaths or mention Gaza “accountability”.

And that will put our 27 prime ministers and presidents at odds this Thursday with Europe’s moral compass, international law, and public opinion.

The Norwegian Nobel Committee gave the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize on Friday to Navi Pillay, a South African judge, who had chaired a UN commission that found Israel guilty of “genocide” in Gaza and worked for the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague, which has indicted Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu for war crimes.

She was “a bigot … propagating blood libels,” he said on X.

Israeli foreign minister Gideon Sa’ar said: “[Nazi propaganda chief] Joseph Goebbels is probably applauding in hell.”

And US president Donald Trump joined their Nobel-bashing by imposing sanctions on the ICC.

But three other Nobel laureates, from Colombia, DR Congo, and Liberia were among global VIPs who also wrote to the European Commission on Friday urging trade sanctions on Israel, in a sign of wider revulsion.

And “if the EU was serious about fulfilling its obligations under international law, or indeed in terms of its own stated values and policies, it would go much, much further [in terms of sanctions],” said H. A. Hellyer, from the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI) think-tank in London.

Palestine solidarity marches in Berlin, London, Rome, and Warsaw on Saturday showed that ordinary Europeans wanted their elected politicians to take action.

Some 83 percent of Germans and 88 percent of Italians now disapproved of Netanyahu, said the Pew Research Centre in June.

Protesters with Palestinian flags pass by a counter protest with Israeli flags at a rally in Berlin on 7 October 2026 (Source: EPA/CLEMENS BILAN)

Blood and rubble

The latest EU summit draft pledged support for Palestinian elections.

“The European Union stands ready to support the electoral process, including by the deployment of an EU Election Observation Mission,” it said.

But EU words were being buried in blood and rubble faster than the summit statements could be updated.

The Palestinian vote would have to be postponed until at least late 2027 due to the “security and economic conditions” created by Israel in the West Bank, the Palestinian Authority warned France, also on Friday.

Meanwhile, the EU summit will fall two weeks before Israeli elections on 27 October and the leaders’ empty words might be tactical – so as not to throw meat to far-right Israeli zealots in a rabid atmosphere.

But Europe’s quietism is also due to Germany and Italy’s internal politics and its psychopathological mix of World War 2-guilt, raging far-right populism, and transatlantic realpolitik.

“I don’t think this [the draft EU summit text on the Middle East] is a strategy, so much as a statement of the lowest common denominator in EU foreign policy,” RUSI’s Hellyer said.

And going back to the Nazi slurs against the 2026 Nobel, Israeli author Gideon Levy said in the Haaretz daily on Saturday: “No, Sa’ar … If Goebbels has a reason to applaud, it is upon seeing what has happened to the country that arose from the ashes of the Holocaust.”

“Goebbels is applauding perpetrators of genocide around the world, particularly the one in Gaza,” said Levy.

So long as Berlin and Rome don’t realign their compasses, Europe’s silent blessing for Palestinian erasure will feed Israeli hardliners’ schizoid and delusional sense of self-righteousness.

“As long as Israel is not willing to … admit, at least partially, to its crimes, it will never change,” Levy said.

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Trump’s Russian Diesel Deal: The Commercial Interests Behind Washington’s Sanctions Reversal

Donald Trump has presented his agreement with Vladimir Putin as a means of reducing American fuel prices. Yet the Treasury authorisation extends far beyond the announced diesel shipments, opening opportunities for international trade in Russian petroleum products as American investors negotiate the acquisition of Lukoil’s overseas assets.

President Donald Trump’s decision to reopen trade in Russian diesel has implications extending well beyond American fuel prices. The agreement, announced ahead of November’s congressional elections, coincides with negotiations over Russian energy assets and mounting American pressure on Ukraine to suspend attacks against Moscow’s oil infrastructure.

The US Treasury’s General Licence 135, issued on 9 October, authorises transactions involving Russian-origin diesel until 7 April 2027. Unlike Trump’s public announcement, which referred to specific quantities destined for the American market, the licence establishes no corresponding volume ceiling or restriction confining authorised trade to the United States.

Its provisions permit American businesses to participate in eligible international transactions involving Russian diesel, including associated financial and commercial services. Existing sanctions remain formally in force, but an important category of Russian petroleum trade has been reopened.

The arrangement potentially benefits not only Russian producers but also American commodity traders, financial institutions and intermediaries capable of purchasing Russian fuel and distributing it internationally.

Sanctions relief without removing sanctions

The legal mechanism offers Washington considerable flexibility. Rather than formally abandoning restrictions imposed over Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the administration can authorise selected transactions while maintaining the broader sanctions framework.

Congress’s Lindsey O. Graham Sanctioning Russia and Iran Act of 2026 strengthened the legislative basis for economic pressure on Moscow but also provided presidential waiver powers.

General Licence 135 was issued under existing Treasury sanctions authorities, rather than necessarily through those waiver provisions. Nevertheless, the combined framework leaves the administration substantial discretion over the practical application of economic restrictions.

Washington can consequently maintain its declared sanctions policy while selectively restoring commercial relations with Russia. European governments, which have maintained extensive restrictions on Russian energy, have little influence over such unilateral American exemptions.

The Lukoil connection

The timing becomes more revealing when considered alongside negotiations over Lukoil’s international assets.

American investors have been exploring the acquisition of the Russian company’s overseas operations, including oilfields, refineries, storage facilities and retail distribution networks. The portfolio has been valued at approximately $20–22 billion.

Among the prospective investors is billionaire Todd Boehly, while discussions concerning Russian-American economic cooperation have involved Trump’s representatives Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner.

An American-controlled acquisition of Lukoil’s international network could complement the commercial opportunities created by the diesel authorisation.

Russian petroleum products could potentially be purchased and marketed through American-controlled businesses, allowing Russian suppliers to retain export revenues while intermediaries earn profits from financing, distribution and resale.

No evidence establishes that General Licence 135 was specifically designed for the prospective Lukoil purchasers, or that Trump personally holds an interest in the proposed transactions. Nevertheless, the parallel negotiations suggest the possibility of an emerging commercial arrangement under which American intermediaries assume a greater role in Russian energy exports.

Ukraine and the conflict of interests

The consequences for Ukraine could be considerable.

Kyiv has expanded attacks against Russian refineries, fuel depots and petroleum infrastructure, seeking to reduce Moscow’s export earnings and disrupt supplies supporting its armed forces.

Trump has repeatedly criticised these strikes, linking them to higher international fuel prices. His administration now has an additional commercial reason to seek their suspension.

On 11 October, Trump announced an energy ceasefire between Russia and Ukraine, although President Volodymyr Zelenskyy indicated that Kyiv had not agreed to such an arrangement.

Ukraine has maintained that any suspension of attacks against Russian energy facilities must be matched by an end to Moscow’s strikes on Ukrainian power infrastructure.

An agreement protecting Russian refineries without equivalent Russian concessions would preserve an important source of Kremlin revenue while depriving Kyiv of military and economic leverage.

A separate accommodation with Moscow?

The immediate political advantage for Trump is apparent. Rising diesel prices have become a concern ahead of the 3 November midterm elections, particularly among farmers and transport businesses. Additional Russian supplies offer the administration an opportunity to demonstrate action on domestic fuel costs.

Yet the six-month Treasury authorisation extends considerably beyond the election, suggesting commercial objectives that cannot be explained exclusively by short-term electoral considerations.

The emerging pattern is one of bilateral economic engagement with Moscow proceeding independently of a settlement in Ukraine. Russian energy trade is being selectively reopened, American investors are pursuing Russian-owned assets, and Washington is seeking restrictions on Ukrainian operations against the infrastructure underpinning those commercial interests.

For European governments, this threatens the cohesion of the sanctions regime. Brussels may continue restricting Russian energy revenues while Washington authorises transactions that restore access to international markets.

The larger prospect is a system in which Russia retains export earnings, American intermediaries acquire profitable commercial positions, and sanctions become instruments of bilateral negotiation rather than coordinated Western pressure.

Trump’s diesel agreement may therefore represent the opening stage of a wider economic accommodation with Putin, negotiated while Russia continues its war against Ukraine and without any corresponding Russian commitment to withdraw from occupied territory.

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Washington and Moscow Target the ICC: Different Motives, a Common Beneficiary

Russia’s demands for the extradition of International Criminal Court judges and Washington’s sweeping sanctions against the institution have converged within days. The two governments have different grievances, but the consequences of their actions increasingly overlap, raising questions about the political relationship between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin and the future of international criminal justice.

Russia and the United States have intensified their campaigns against the International Criminal Court (ICC) almost simultaneously, exposing an increasingly consequential convergence between the policies of Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump.

On 8 October, Moscow demanded the extradition of ICC President Tomoko Akane and eight other current and former officials. The following day, Washington announced sanctions against the court as an institution, extending earlier measures against individual judges and prosecutors.

The timing raises an obvious question: are these independent campaigns arising from different disputes with international justice, or do they reflect a broader political understanding between Washington and Moscow?

There is no publicly established evidence of a coordinated operation or an agreement between Trump and Putin to undermine the ICC. Nevertheless, the strategic consequences of their respective actions are remarkably similar. Both weaken an institution pursuing criminal proceedings against political leaders whom the two governments seek to protect.

Different grievances, overlapping interests

Russia’s hostility towards the ICC is directly connected to the arrest warrant issued against Putin in March 2023 over the alleged unlawful deportation and transfer of Ukrainian children from occupied territories.

The court subsequently issued warrants against senior Russian military commanders, including Sergei Shoigu and Valery Gerasimov, over alleged crimes involving attacks on Ukrainian civilian infrastructure.

Moscow’s response has been to pursue ICC personnel through its own criminal justice system. The latest extradition demands follow convictions handed down in absentia by a Russian court in December 2025.

Washington’s confrontation with the ICC has a different immediate origin. The Trump administration objects to the court’s jurisdiction over American nationals and Israeli officials, particularly following the arrest warrants issued against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former defence minister Yoav Gallant.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio has presented the American campaign as a defence of US sovereignty. Yet the sanctions announced on 9 October are not confined to the Israeli proceedings or any investigation involving American personnel.

They target the institution itself, potentially disrupting financial transactions and commercial relationships essential to its operation. This distinction matters because a court-wide restriction necessarily affects investigations beyond those cited by Washington. That includes Ukraine.

The Anchorage question

The political context cannot be separated from the relationship between Trump and Putin, including their meeting in Anchorage, Alaska, in August 2025.

The summit formed part of Trump’s efforts to negotiate directly with Moscow over the war in Ukraine. The American president has repeatedly treated relations with Putin as a question of diplomatic bargaining, seeking arrangements that might produce an agreement where conventional Western pressure has failed.

Against this background, suggestions that pressure on the ICC might form part of a wider accommodation with Moscow warrant scrutiny. However, the proposition that Trump specifically offered Putin assistance in neutralising the court during their Anchorage discussions remains unsubstantiated. There is no verified public account establishing such a commitment.

A more defensible conclusion is that Washington’s independently declared campaign against the ICC also advances an important Russian interest. For Putin, the benefit is clear. Measures designed to restrict the court’s financial and administrative capacity could complicate investigations into Russian conduct, irrespective of the American administration’s stated intentions.

The relationship therefore need not involve explicit coordination to produce politically significant results.

Why sanctions against the institution matter

The escalation from targeting individual prosecutors to sanctioning the entire ICC represents a substantial change. Previous American measures imposed personal and financial restrictions on selected officials. The latest approach threatens the broader infrastructure upon which international criminal proceedings depend.

The court requires banking facilities, secure communications, technology services and commercial suppliers. American sanctions can reach beyond US territory because of the international financial system’s dependence on dollar transactions and American service providers.

The ICC had already anticipated this vulnerability. According to details disclosed in September, the institution has pursued alternatives to American software and financial services to reduce its exposure.

Nevertheless, operational continuity and investigative effectiveness are not necessarily the same thing. The court may remain formally functional while facing additional costs, delays and restrictions affecting prosecutors, investigators and international cooperation.

For Ukraine, this is particularly significant. The ICC holds and evaluates evidence connected to alleged Russian war crimes, including the deportation of children and attacks on civilian infrastructure. Its proceedings preserve a judicial process independent of whatever diplomatic settlement Washington and Moscow might eventually negotiate.

Weakening that capacity would not invalidate existing warrants or automatically destroy evidence, but it could make the pursuit of accountability more difficult.

Europe’s response and its limitations

The European Union now faces a dispute with Washington over an institution that European governments have spent decades supporting.

On 9 October, eight governments issued a joint statement, reaffirming their support for the ICC and rejecting the American sanctions. The signatories included Germany, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Britain, Japan and Canada.

The European Commission also indicated that the EU was prepared to take measures necessary to preserve the court’s operations. Such assurances are politically important, but they do not automatically resolve the practical consequences of American restrictions.

European financial institutions and technology suppliers must consider their own exposure to US sanctions. Sustaining the court may require alternative payment arrangements, commercial protections and potentially further European regulatory intervention.

The EU has discussed extending its blocking statute to shield European operators from the effects of American sanctions. Whether that mechanism can provide sufficient protection remains uncertain.

The dispute also extends beyond the ICC’s current investigations. Ukraine and the Council of Europe are developing a separate Special Tribunal for the Crime of Aggression, designed to address jurisdictional limitations preventing the ICC from prosecuting Russia’s leadership for the decision to launch the invasion.

The two institutions have distinct legal mandates, although cooperation between them is envisaged. Undermining the ICC would not automatically prevent the special tribunal from operating, but it would weaken an important part of the wider international accountability framework.

A convergence with consequences for Ukraine

Washington and Moscow have not adopted identical positions towards the ICC. Russia seeks to discredit and punish the officials responsible for pursuing Putin. The Trump administration is attempting to restrict the court’s authority and operational capacity, principally in response to proceedings involving Americans and Israelis.

Yet their actions converge at precisely the point where the ICC’s independence becomes politically inconvenient. The distinction between motive and consequence is essential. It would be premature to describe the American sanctions as evidence of a secret bargain struck in Anchorage. It would be equally mistaken to overlook the assistance these measures could provide to Moscow.

The broader concern is that the United States, traditionally central to Western efforts to hold Russia accountable for its invasion of Ukraine, is now applying pressure to one of the principal institutions carrying out that work.

For European governments, the immediate question is no longer simply whether they support the International Criminal Court. It is whether they are prepared to protect its practical independence when the political and financial pressure comes not only from Russia, but also from Washington.

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Why Hamas believed the status quo was more dangerous than its 7 October gamble

Three years into Israel's genocide in Gaza, the consequences of a decision driven by siege, settlement expansion and assaults on Al-Aqsa are still unfolding

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EU trade chief Šefčovič has no cards to play on China ‘ultimatum’ trip

Persuading China that its €1bn daily trade surplus with the EU is not sustainable was always going to be a hard sell for EU trade commissioner Maroš Šefčovič.  

And the early signs are that Šefčovič’s two days of talks with Chinese commerce secretary Wang Wentao, which conclude on Friday (9 October), are not going to deliver the breakthrough demanded by EU leaders when they gather for a summit in Brussels next week. 

“The message around the table was clear: the need to improve access to the Chinese market, while boosting our economic security,” Šefčovič posted on X ahead of the first day of talks. 

But rhetoric aside, three months after the EU Commission set up a series of ‘work streams’ with Chinese officials, with a mandate to address the multi-layered EU-Sino trade dispute, it is hard to see much tangible progress. 

Hours before Šefčovič arrived, Beijing rejected an EU demand for so-called “voluntary export restrictions” on its electric vehicles (EVs). 

In August, data published by Schmidt Automotive Research found that 14 percent of EV sales across Europe this year were Chinese-made, up from 9.4 percent last year. 

That is despite the EU imposing additional tariffs of between 17 and 36 percent on Chinese EVs in October 2024. 

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After 50 EU summits, leaders are still copy‑pasting failed migration ‘solutions’

EU leaders meeting next week in Brussels for the usual post-summer European Council are rehashing conclusions on migration, echoing almost word-for-word statements since at least 2015.

“The European Council has developed a strategy aimed at stemming the unprecedented migratory flows Europe is facing,” they announced in December 2015, following a summit.

“It is indispensable to regain control over the external borders,” they also said, noting the perceived threat to the EU’s internal border-free Schengen zone.

And they voiced fear over the low number of deportations, insisting on “concrete measures to ensure the actual return and readmission of people not authorised to stay.”

Eeleven years later and the 15 October summit in Brussels next week is now asking almost the same thing, including to what extent previous conclusions on migration have been implemented.

Although draft conclusions can change, and likely will, the current wording essentially repeats the same demands spanning over 50 EU summits since at least 2015, when over a million Syrians entered Europe to seek protection.

Out of the 52 published conclusions since 2015, over half dealt with migration in some shape or form. The latest draft dated 5 October and seen by EUobserver is among those.

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Sánchez’s Housing Gamble: Why Spain’s Snap Election Is Riskier Than It Looks

Pedro Sánchez has turned a parliamentary defeat over housing into a general election on 29th November.

The calculation is clear: force Spain’s political argument onto territory more favourable to the left before migration, corruption allegations and parliamentary paralysis return to the foreground. But the polls suggest that the gamble could still deliver power to the centre-right People’s Party and Vox.

Pedro Sánchez’s decision to dissolve Spain’s parliament nine months ahead of schedule is more than an admission that his minority government had reached the limits of what it could achieve in the Congress of Deputies. It is an attempt to choose the terms on which his government will be judged.

The immediate trigger was the defeat of two emergency housing decrees after the conservative People’s Party (PP), Vox and Catalan separatist Junts voted against them. Housing had already moved rapidly to the centre of Spanish politics following the eviction of 87-year-old Maricarmen Abascal from the Madrid flat where she had lived for 71 years, followed by large demonstrations across the country. EU Today has previously reported on both the housing protests across Spain and Sánchez’s subsequent decision to call the election.

The prime minister is now attempting to convert legislative weakness into electoral advantage.

In his announcement on 5 October, Sánchez presented the election as a choice between a broader progressive majority capable of advancing social legislation and an opposition that had obstructed measures on housing and other domestic priorities. The government reinforced that strategy a day later by approving revised versions of the two housing decrees, containing 21 measures including tax incentives, assistance for first-time buyers and measures intended to increase supply. They will require validation by the Diputación Permanente, the standing parliamentary body that remains after dissolution.

The political calculation is straightforward. Housing offers Sánchez an issue on which anger is directed not only at government but at landlords, property investors, regional authorities and political parties opposing stronger regulation. The eviction of Abascal gave that argument a human symbol and transformed a long-running affordability problem into an immediate political confrontation.

That does not mean the strategy will work.

Most polling continues to place the PSOE behind the PP. Surveys put the Socialists at roughly 28 per cent, while Vox has risen to around 18 per cent. A PP-Vox combination is currently the only bloc consistently projected to command an outright parliamentary majority. One Sigma Dos survey published after the election announcement projected the two parties winning 203 of the Congress’s 350 seats.

Sánchez therefore appears to be playing less for immediate dominance than for mobilisation.

His problem before the housing protests was not simply the strength of the right. The broader left had become fragmented, while the government was being damaged by disputes over migration, particularly following the crisis in Ceuta, as well as corruption investigations involving figures associated with the PSOE. At the same time, Junts had become an increasingly unreliable parliamentary partner, leaving the government unable to guarantee major legislation or a new budget.

Housing changes the subject.

It allows Sánchez to argue that the central question is not whether his coalition has governed smoothly, but whether voters want a parliament prepared to intervene more aggressively in the housing market. The PP, however, is contesting precisely that framing. Alberto Núñez Feijóo argues that the housing shortage is itself a product of Sánchez’s eight years in government and has promised to raise annual construction towards 200,000 homes while reducing taxes.

The election may therefore develop into a dispute over responsibility rather than diagnosis. Both sides accept that housing has become a major national problem; they differ sharply over whether regulation or additional supply should dominate the response.

There is also a wider European dimension. Housing affordability is increasingly politically disruptive across the EU, including in major cities where construction has failed to keep pace with household formation, migration and demand for short-term accommodation. EU Today has examined similar pressures in Berlin’s housing market. Spain could now provide a test of whether housing can become powerful enough as an electoral issue to reverse the wider European movement towards the right.

For Ukraine, however, the consequences are likely to be less dramatic than Spain’s domestic political contest might suggest.

Sánchez committed €1 billion in bilateral military support to Ukraine for 2026, with Spain putting its cumulative bilateral military assistance since Russia’s full-scale invasion at almost €4 billion. Madrid has also trained more than 9,000 Ukrainian military personnel.

Spain is also home to a considerably larger Ukrainian community than the roughly 300,000 figure frequently cited. Government data showed 353,009 Ukrainian nationals holding valid residence documentation at the end of June, including 262,782 under temporary protection.

A PP-led government would alter Madrid’s domestic priorities and potentially its approach to defence spending and migration, particularly if Vox were required to sustain a parliamentary majority. Yet there is little basis at present for assuming that a change of government would produce a reversal of Spain’s fundamental position on Russia’s invasion or membership of the European and Atlantic security structures supporting Ukraine.

The more immediate question is whether Sánchez can make housing important enough to overcome the electoral arithmetic confronting him.

Calling the election has allowed him to escape a parliament in which his legislative coalition was steadily disintegrating and to enter a campaign around an issue capable of mobilising his electorate. It has not changed the fact that the PP and Vox begin that campaign with the stronger numbers.

Sánchez has chosen the battlefield. On 29th November, Spain will decide whether that was enough.

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Spain’s 54-day sprint to the polls: can Sánchez’s housing gamble stop the far-right from entering into government?

After years without being able to pass a budget, a coalition that wavered over every major proposal, the Ceuta crisis, a string of corruption cases and people taking to the streets over the housing crisis, Spanish prime minister Pedro Sánchez has called snap elections for 29 November — just as a rightwing victory appears increasingly unstoppable.

Monday’s (5 October) move is barely a surprise. Sánchez’s gambles have proven effective in the past to keep his grasp on power. 

Even before the summer, an early election wasn’t considered a far-fetched possibility. Sources in Sánchez’s centre-left Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party (PSOE) and its allies linked it to the budget vote anytime from October onwards, with some analysts pointing to November 2026 as a politically attractive date.

Spain now faces a 54-day sprint to the polls, the shortest window the law allows, with Sánchez betting that the housing issue can turn the campaign in his favour.

But why now?

The eviction of an 87-year-old woman from her rental home after 70 years on 23 September prompted people across the country to take to the streets against Spain’s ongoing housing crisis.

And last Friday, the Spanish lower house in parliament rejected two new housing decree-laws. It was the centre-right People’s Party (PP), far-right Vox, Catalan pro-independence party Junts and Navarrese regional party UPN who voted them down, exposing once again how fragile Sánchez’s parliamentary coalition is.

But with parliament dissolved, a political manoeuvre could now see similar housing decrees approved anyway – helping Sánchez make the housing crisis his main election motto.

Housing bet

In Spain, when parliament is dissolved ahead of an election, responsibility for ratifying government-approved laws passes to a smaller standing committee of 69 lawmakers, known as the Diputación Permanente [Permanent Deputation], which continues to operate until the new parliament is sworn in.

The maths in that body favours Sánchez. His socialist party and the left-wing and regional parties that backed the original housing decrees hold 35 seats, against 34 for the opposition.

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As genocide drags on, “Zionism is racism” becomes official policy in one UK party – Daily Update

The Israeli war machine never sleeps. Neither does the Israeli propaganda machine. Here is your daily accurate and concise summary of Palestine, Israel, and Palestine-adjacent news.

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Ukraine’s EU Reform Record: Why Progress Slows Where Political Power Is at Stake

Ukraine’s record on reform during Russia’s war is stronger than much recent criticism suggests. By September, Kyiv had completed 84 of 95 milestones due under the Ukraine Plan. Yet progress on a smaller group of rule-of-law commitments has been strikingly weaker. The difference between the two tells Brussels much about where Ukraine’s European transformation is encountering resistance.

Ukraine’s reform record currently produces two figures that appear difficult to reconcile.

Under the Ukraine Plan, Kyiv had completed 84 of the 95 milestones due by late September — around 88 per cent. The result was strong enough for EU governments to approve another payment of almost €3 billion under the Ukraine Facility.

Three months earlier, however, a coalition of Ukrainian organisations monitoring ten rule-of-law and anti-corruption commitments agreed with Brussels had awarded progress just 15 points out of 100.

Neither figure is wrong. They measure different programmes.

The first covers a broad reform and investment agenda extending from the judiciary and financial markets to energy, agriculture, transport, human capital and the business environment. The second examines a deliberately narrow collection of reforms concerning prosecutors, criminal investigations, anti-corruption agencies and judicial governance.

Put together, they raise a more useful question than whether Ukraine is “reforming” or “not reforming”.

Why has a country capable of delivering most of a demanding EU programme during a major war found this particular group of reforms so much harder to complete?

Russia’s aggression provides part of the answer. Ukraine has been attempting an institutional transformation while mobilising its population, financing its armed forces, repairing infrastructure and keeping a functioning state under repeated Russian missile and drone attacks. No previous EU candidate has operated under comparable conditions.

But the ten reforms where progress has been weakest have something else in common. Most concern institutions that can investigate senior officials, prosecute corruption, scrutinise appointments or otherwise place limits on the exercise of political authority.

That is what makes the comparison important.

A strong overall record

The wider reform record should not be understated.

When the European Commission released €2.9 billion to Ukraine on 2 October, it specifically credited Kyiv with implementing reforms covering the judiciary, financial markets, human capital, the business environment, energy, transport, agriculture and the green transition.

Total EU support provided under the Ukraine Plan has now exceeded €32 billion. More than €17 billion in further budget support remains potentially available during 2026, provided Ukraine fulfils the corresponding conditions.

The money is particularly important because the Ukrainian state is directing such a large share of its own resources towards defence. European financing helps keep the civilian state operating while Ukraine fights Russia.

The Ukraine Facility has therefore become more than an aid mechanism. It gives Brussels a means of measuring reform against specific commitments and releasing money when they are met.

That system has generally worked.

It also makes the areas where progress is weaker much easier to identify.

The 15/100 assessment published in June concerned ten priorities agreed in December 2025 between Enlargement Commissioner Marta Kos and then deputy prime minister Taras Kachka. The score came from Ukrainian civil society, not the European Commission, and cannot legitimately be presented as Ukraine’s overall EU reform score.

It had nevertheless risen only six points from an assessment of nine out of 100 in April.

Among the unfinished commitments were changes to criminal procedure affecting high-level corruption cases, stronger guarantees for the independence and effectiveness of NABU and SAPO, reform of the State Bureau of Investigation, new arrangements surrounding the Prosecutor General, competitive recruitment within the prosecution service and further changes to judicial governance.

These are among the most difficult reforms Ukraine has undertaken since 2014 because they concern who has the authority to investigate whom.

The July 2025 episode changed the argument

The events surrounding NABU and SAPO in July 2025 remain central to understanding why Brussels is paying such close attention.

Ukraine had spent years building a specialised anti-corruption system intended to make investigations of senior political figures less vulnerable to interference from the conventional prosecutorial hierarchy.

NABU conducts investigations. SAPO provides specialised prosecution. The High Anti-Corruption Court hears the cases.

The system has never been free from political controversy, nor has its performance been beyond criticism. But its independence became an important part of Ukraine’s relationship with the EU and other international partners.

Then, in July 2025, parliament passed legislation placing NABU and SAPO under substantially greater authority of the politically appointed Prosecutor General. Zelenskyy signed it.

The decision produced an unusually sharp reaction inside Ukraine. Demonstrators took to the streets despite martial law, while European partners made clear that the legislation threatened reforms regarded as fundamental to the country’s European integration.

As EU Today reported during the crisis, the dispute went far beyond the technical division of powers between prosecutors and investigators.

Kyiv reversed course within days. Parliament restored the independence of the two bodies.

The reversal demonstrated that Ukraine’s political system still contained powerful corrective forces. Civil society mobilised, public opposition was visible and international pressure had an effect.

Yet the episode also established that the independence of institutions created specifically to investigate high-level corruption could still become the subject of direct political intervention.

That changed the context in which subsequent reform commitments are being judged.

The European Commission’s 2025 report on Ukraine recorded both sides of the episode. It acknowledged the restoration of NABU and SAPO independence, while warning that undue pressure on anti-corruption agencies remained a concern.

The Commission also identified practical weaknesses. NABU still required better access to timely and impartial forensic examinations, while SAPO needed stronger powers in cases involving members of parliament.

This is why simply retaining NABU and SAPO is no longer sufficient evidence that this part of the reform process is secure. Brussels is looking at whether they can operate when investigations become politically difficult.

Follow the institutions

The same issue appears elsewhere.

Ukraine agreed to review the procedure for appointing and dismissing the Prosecutor General, drawing on European standards and the Venice Commission. It also committed itself to transparent and competitive recruitment for senior positions throughout the prosecution service.

The significance is obvious. The Prosecutor General occupies a pivotal position in the Ukrainian criminal-justice system. The method by which that office is filled — and the circumstances in which its occupant can be removed — affect the credibility of every politically sensitive prosecution beneath it.

Progress has been slow.

There is a similar problem with the State Bureau of Investigation, which handles cases involving senior officials and law-enforcement personnel. Kyiv agreed to an independent assessment of the bureau followed by reform of its legal and institutional framework.

Again, the issue is not administrative tidiness. An agency responsible for investigating state officials has little value as a check on government if its own leadership or investigative decisions are susceptible to political influence.

Criminal procedure provides another example.

Ukraine committed itself to changing provisions under which corruption proceedings can eventually be closed because deadlines for pre-trial investigations have expired, as well as addressing limitation periods for corruption offences.

Draft legislation has appeared. Bills No. 15333 and 15334 were registered in parliament, and NABU and the Ministry of Justice have worked on amendments.

But the process has taken months.

For a simple criminal case, procedural deadlines may appear an obscure legal question. Top-level corruption investigations are different. They can involve offshore structures, large quantities of financial evidence, foreign jurisdictions and prolonged litigation. If the clock eventually disposes of a case that investigators and prosecutors cannot bring to judgment quickly enough, the anti-corruption architecture fails at the point where it is supposed to produce results.

The same pattern is visible in judicial reform and the new Anti-Corruption Strategy for 2026–2030. Work is taking place, legislation is being prepared and institutions are consulting one another. Some changes have been completed.

Others remain somewhere between agreement and implementation.

This is precisely the stage of accession at which that distinction begins to count.

When Ukraine and Moldova moved further into the EU accession process, the significance of the Fundamentals cluster was that progress would increasingly depend on the functioning of institutions rather than declarations of political intent.

Ukraine has no shortage of declarations of European intent. What the Commission needs to establish is whether the machinery beneath them works.

The limits of the wartime argument

Any assessment that ignores Russia’s war would be unserious.

Full-scale aggression has inevitably changed the Ukrainian state. Decisions that might take months in peacetime sometimes have to be taken within days. Military information cannot be handled according to ordinary transparency rules. Elections cannot proceed under normal conditions. The executive carries responsibilities that no Ukrainian government faced before 2022.

Reform is also competing for administrative capacity with mobilisation, defence procurement, reconstruction, energy emergencies and the daily consequences of Russian attacks.

This has to be taken into account when Brussels sets timetables and assesses progress.

It is less convincing when applied indiscriminately.

Competitive recruitment of prosecutors does not interfere with the defence of Ukraine. Neither does an independent procedure for selecting the Prosecutor General. NABU’s ability to investigate senior officials does not prevent the armed forces from conducting operations, while closing procedural loopholes in corruption cases has no obvious adverse effect on wartime decision-making.

There is therefore a boundary between powers required to fight Russia and powers that are simply easier for government to retain during wartime.

Finding that boundary is becoming one of the more difficult questions in Ukraine’s relationship with the EU.

This does not support the sweeping claim that every important Ukrainian institution has been placed under political control. The evidence does not justify it.

It does show why Brussels is concentrating increasingly on institutional independence.

The problem with wartime centralisation is rarely that it begins without justification. Governments fighting wars need authority. The longer an emergency lasts, however, the more important it becomes to distinguish measures required by national security from arrangements that have become politically convenient.

Ukraine has now lived under full-scale war for more than four years. Institutions created for the post-war European state are being shaped while the wartime state still exists.

That makes the current reform period unusually consequential.

Conditionality becomes Brussels’ leverage

The EU has one powerful instrument with which to influence the outcome: money.

The Commission is already using it.

The almost €3 billion approved in September followed the completion of agreed Ukraine Plan milestones. The next payments depend on further commitments being met.

As EU Today reported when the Ukraine Plan was amended, additional financing has come with additional rule-of-law and anti-corruption requirements.

There is a limit to how far Brussels can push this. Ukraine is fighting a Russian war of aggression that also poses a direct security threat to Europe. Destabilising the Ukrainian budget in order to demonstrate the rigour of EU conditionality would make little strategic sense.

Kyiv is well aware of that.

But Brussels cannot simply waive the conditions either. Doing so would weaken reformers inside Ukraine, reduce EU influence over the accession process and make it more difficult to explain enormous long-term transfers to European taxpayers.

The result is already visible: continued financial support accompanied by increasingly detailed scrutiny of how reforms are implemented.

That approach is likely to become tougher as accession advances.

There is another reason for it.

Ukraine will eventually have to manage reconstruction on a scale Europe has not seen for decades. European governments, international financial institutions and private investors will be asked to commit hundreds of billions of euros. Confidence in prosecutors, courts, public procurement and anti-corruption agencies will affect how much money arrives and on what terms.

Strong institutions are therefore not a concession Ukraine makes to Brussels in exchange for membership.

They are part of the infrastructure required for Ukraine’s recovery.

The same applies to the war itself. Corruption in defence procurement, reconstruction or public administration gives Russia opportunities to damage confidence in the Ukrainian state and strain relations between Kyiv and its partners. Moscow has every interest in amplifying genuine scandals alongside fabricated ones.

The most effective answer is not tighter political management of damaging information. It is institutions capable of investigating misconduct credibly.

That is also why the role of Ukrainian civil society deserves attention.

The organisations producing critical assessments of Kyiv’s reforms are operating in a country under attack. Many have supported Ukraine’s European integration for years. Their reports can be disputed and their scoring methodologies examined, but criticism of government performance is not evidence of disloyalty.

The ability to produce such criticism is itself one of the features separating the Ukrainian political system from the authoritarian model Russia represents.

Ukraine’s reform record consequently looks neither like the failure portrayed by some critics nor the uninterrupted success sometimes presented by its defenders.

The broader record is impressive. Completing 84 of 95 Ukraine Plan milestones while fighting a major war is not a trivial achievement, and the EU would not have continued releasing billions of euros if the reform programme existed only on paper.

The difficulty appears further down, where institutional reform begins to affect the ability of political authorities to influence prosecutors, investigators and judicial appointments.

The NABU-SAPO confrontation made that problem impossible to ignore. The subsequent reversal showed that Ukraine also possesses the political and civic capacity to correct course.

What happens next will matter more than either episode.

Bills that have remained in parliament will have to become law. Reviews of the SBI and prosecution service will have to produce institutional changes. Competitive appointment procedures will have to work when the preferred candidate of those in power does not win. Anti-corruption bodies will have to be allowed to pursue cases when their targets are politically connected.

These are less visible achievements than opening accession negotiations or announcing another EU funding package.

They are also much closer to what EU membership ultimately requires.

Russia has forced Ukraine to build an exceptionally powerful wartime state. European integration requires Kyiv to ensure that some of that power can eventually be constrained by institutions that do not depend on whoever occupies the presidential administration.

The figures that currently look contradictory — 84 out of 95 and 15 out of 100 — are therefore telling different parts of the same story.

Ukraine has shown that it can reform during the war.

The harder test is whether it can complete reforms precisely where doing so reduces political discretion.

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Orbánism without Orbán? Why Magyar picked a fight with Kyiv over the ‘Carpathian Eight’

Some expected a change in Hungary’s pro-Russian foreign policy after Viktor Orbán’s fall. But they failed to take into account the domestic political pressures on Hungary’s prime minister Péter Magyar.

An unexpected source of tension in Ukrainian-Hungarian relations came at a meeting of the newly formed ‘Carpathian Eight’ (C8) in late September. At the meeting in Kyiv, PM Magyar was embroiled in a sharp exchange with Ukrainian foreign minister Andrii Sybiha, who criticised Budapest for not taking part.

Magyar responded to Sybiha by claiming that Hungary had been included in the C8 without his consent.

“To claim that a sovereign country is a member of an international cooperation (Carpathian Integration) without prior consultation or consent of the country concerned is completely unacceptable,” Magyar said on social media.

This comes after Hungary-Ukraine relations began to improve rapidly following the formation of the Tisza government in May.

Under Orbán’s government, relations had fallen to a historic low, raising the prospect of escalation. In June, Magyar announced that he had reached an agreement with Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky on settling the rights of the Hungarian minority in Transcarpathia, hailing it as a historic deal.

Ukraine’s Deputy PM Vsevolod Chentsov informed me that legislation on minority education rights will be submitted to Parliament. I welcome this step after weeks of 🇭🇺🇺🇦 expert consultations. Thank you to all Hungarian and Ukrainian colleagues for their constructive work. Looking…

— Anita Orban (@_OrbanAnita) October 2, 2026

Since June, however, Hungary has repeatedly blocked Ukraine’s EU accession negotiations, arguing that progress on settling the rights of Hungarians in Transcarpathia has fallen short of expectations.

Orbán’s Fidesz party previously used the same argument to block Ukraine’s integration efforts.

Three months after the so-called historic agreement, Ukraine’s foreign minister Sybiha wrote that although Orbán had lost the election, Orbánism (a policy based on isolation and obstruction) prevailed in Hungary.

“Orbanism has done no good, neither to Hungary nor to the broader region, in the past — and it will not do anyone any good moving forward,” said Sybiha on social media.

Domestic Hungarian politics can explain the dispute.

MOL, an oil company, signed a memorandum with Ukraine’s Naftogaz at the C8 meeting on the possible establishment of Ukrainian oil storage facilities in Hungary.

The deal was criticised by Fidesz politicians, and Magyar’s government strongly distanced itself from the deal, too. Fidesz may have contributed to Magyar entering the dispute over C8 participation so very forcefully.

What is the Carpathian Eight?

In August, Zelensky announced the creation of the C8 to bring together countries from the wider Carpathian border region. The Ukrainian president said its members would focus primarily on the economy, security, the environment and investment.

Ukraine described it as a project intended to strengthen cross-border cooperation even with countries that do not provide it with military aid. Alongside Ukraine were to be Romania, Serbia, Poland, Slovakia, Czechia, Austria and Hungary.

Michal Lebduška, an analyst at the Association for International Affairs in Prague (AMO), said that it was one of many regional initiatives. While he did not believe it would trigger “major cooperation”, it could nevertheless be important.

The inaugural summit of the newly formed C8 was held last month (18 September) in Bukovel, in the Ivano-Frankivsk region, around 160 km from both the Slovak and Hungarian borders. Zelensky called it “an important beginning” and thanked the countries of the Carpathian region for being among Kyiv’s most reliable allies.

From Ukraine’s perspective, however, the meeting had mixed results. On the one hand, several leaders travelled to Bukovel in person, lending the gathering greater diplomatic weight. Polish PM Donald Tusk, Romanian president Nicușor Dan and Serbian president Aleksandar Vučić all attended in person.

On the other hand, the remaining countries sent lower-ranking representatives. Slovakia’s PM Robert Fico had initially indicated that he would attend, and was originally due to meet Tusk. At the last minute, however, he announced that he could not attend the summit due to sudden illness.

Slovakia was ultimately represented by Marek Eštok, state secretary at the foreign ministry.

Andrej Babiš’s Czech government all but completely ignored the initiative. As Respekt magazine wrote, Babiš declined the opportunity to visit Ukraine and did not send any representative to Bukovel.

So Czechia was represented at the summit only by opposition deputy Senate president Jiří Drahoš.

And Austria was ultimately represented by Christine Schwarz-Fuchs, president of the Federal Council.

Hungary sent Ádám Ceglédi, the acting chargé d’affaires at the Hungarian embassy in Kyiv, as the Hungarian foreign ministry confirmed to Telex.

Ukraine expected stronger support

“There are many different forms of cooperation in this region: the Visegrád Four, the Slavkov format and the Central European Initiative. Ukraine is interested in improving its relations with some countries,” Péter Techet, a foreign-policy analyst and researcher at the Institute for Danube Region and Central Europe in Vienna, said.

According to the analyst, Ukraine may have hoped that Orbán’s fall would bring a clear shift in Hungary’s Ukraine policy. Anita Orbán, as foreign minister, has confirmed this by pursuing a foreign policy moving away from Russia.

However, Ukrainians did not take Magyar’s domestic political interests into account.

Magyar panders to anti-Ukraine crowd

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France’s School Protests Show a Generation Losing Patience

France has seen plenty of street protests. What is striking about the latest unrest is not that French students have discovered the barricade, but that a dispute over school conditions has spread with extraordinary speed, drawing hundreds of schools into a confrontation between teenagers, teachers, police and the government.

About 400 schools and other educational establishments were expected to remain closed on Friday, while more than 560 schools were reported to have experienced protests or disruption. The movement, which began in the Paris region, has spread across the country. What started as complaints about overcrowded classrooms, teacher shortages and dilapidated buildings has now included fires, property damage, clashes with police and thousands of arrests.

There is a temptation, particularly in Paris, to treat every eruption of street anger as another instalment in France’s long tradition of protest politics. But there is something more revealing here. These are not principally pensioners defending their retirement age or trade unionists protecting established privileges. Many of the demonstrators are teenagers complaining that the institutions preparing them for adulthood are failing to provide the basics.

That complaint is not entirely without evidence. France’s education system has faced persistent staffing difficulties. During the 2024-25 school year, almost 10 per cent of teaching hours in public secondary schools went untaught, according to education ministry data cited by Time. Roughly 7.5 per cent of those lost hours resulted from difficulties finding replacement teachers.

The students’ demands consequently deserve to be distinguished from the violence that has accompanied some of the demonstrations. A teenager asking why there are 35 pupils in a classroom is making a fundamentally different argument from someone setting fire to a school entrance.

That distinction is becoming increasingly important as the authorities attempt to regain control. Education Minister Édouard Geffray has said the original grievances were legitimate but argued that violent groups have taken the movement hostage. The government has also alleged that politicians from the hard-left La France Insoumise helped initiate or politicise the protests. LFI figures have rejected that accusation.

The evidence therefore needs to be treated with care. France clearly has genuine educational grievances, but it is also clear that organised political actors are seeking to influence the atmosphere around the demonstrations. Those two propositions are not mutually exclusive.

Nor is the police response a simple story of heroes and villains. Riot police have been deployed amid reports of fires, attacks and damage, but students and rights organisations have accused officers of excessive force. More than 300 police officers, gendarmes and firefighters were reported injured on Thursday, while scores of students and education staff have also been injured.

This creates precisely the sort of vicious circle that governments find difficult to escape. Violence demands a security response; a heavy security response can generate further anger; that anger can then be used as evidence that the original security response was necessary.

The danger for the government is that the school gates become another national political battlefield.

France is already wrestling with severe fiscal pressures. The proposed 2027 budget has become politically contentious, while the education ministry is simultaneously facing demands for greater investment. Reuters reported that the planned education-budget increase is only 1.7 per cent, below the rate of inflation, while debt-servicing costs are expected to become the largest item in the national budget.

That makes the students’ complaints politically awkward. Governments can promise more teachers, better buildings and improved facilities. Delivering them costs money. And money is precisely what the French state increasingly lacks.

The approaching presidential election adds another layer. President Emmanuel Macron cannot seek a third consecutive term, and parties on both the left and right are already positioning themselves around the unrest. A movement involving large numbers of teenagers therefore risks becoming a proxy battle for France’s much wider argument about the direction of the country.

The immediate priority is consequently straightforward: keep pupils and staff safe, protect schools from damage, preserve the right to peaceful protest and establish whether the educational grievances can be addressed within the financial constraints facing the state.

France has considerable experience of protest. It has less experience of resolving the underlying problems once protest becomes the political system’s principal language.

The teenagers now filling French streets are demanding to know whether their country is investing in their future. The government’s answer cannot ultimately be delivered through tear gas or barricades. Nor can it be financed by promises detached from France’s deteriorating public finances.

That is the uncomfortable equation confronting Paris: a generation demanding better schools, a state struggling to pay for them, and a protest movement increasingly escaping the boundaries of the classroom.

Paris Attack: Europe Must Not Allow Ideological Violence to Become the New Normal

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