Echoes of Empire: Israel, Settler Colonialism, and the Future Legitimacy of Hamas

To argue that Israel is merely the latest in a series of colonial powers, one must first place its establishment and policies in a broader historical context. The creation of Israel in 1948 fits within the broader framework of Western colonialism, where European powers imposed their influence and control over territories in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. The Balfour Declaration of 1917, in which Britain promised to facilitate the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine, was a significant milestone in this regard. For Palestinians and their supporters, Israel represents an extension of Western imperialism, where the interests of European powers and their settler populations took precedence over the rights of indigenous people.

Israel’s actions, such as the construction of settlements in the West Bank and its long-standing blockade of Gaza, are frequently seen as modern expressions of settler colonialism. In these policies, parallels can be drawn with historical colonial practices where indigenous populations were displaced and marginalized. The ongoing expansion of Israeli territory, particularly following the 1967 Six-Day War, reinforces this perspective. Many Palestinians and their allies view Israel’s occupation and annexation of land as a form of Western-backed colonial domination, perpetuated by powerful allies like the United States.

In this context, groups like Hamas are positioned as resistance movements, much like anti-colonial forces that have fought against imperial domination in other regions. Hamas, founded in 1987 during the First Intifada, perceives itself as a defender of Palestinian rights and sovereignty. While currently labeled as a terrorist organization by Israel, the United States, and the European Union, this status might be reconsidered in the future, much as other revolutionary movements once designated as terrorists have been recontextualized.

A strong comparison can be made between Hamas and the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) in the 1970s and 1980s. Both organizations were born out of frustration with the perceived domination and occupation of their homelands by foreign powers. In Northern Ireland, the PIRA emerged in response to the British government’s involvement and control over the region, which many Irish nationalists considered a form of colonialism. Similarly, Hamas sees Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories as an affront to their national sovereignty.

Both groups relied heavily on armed struggle, including acts of violence that targeted both military and civilian entities, in their efforts to achieve political aims. Just as Hamas has launched rocket attacks on Israeli cities and employed suicide bombers, the PIRA carried out bombings, assassinations, and ambushes targeting British soldiers, government officials, and civilians in Northern Ireland and England. The PIRA justified its actions as part of a broader fight for Irish independence and reunification, while Hamas views its military actions as part of a resistance against Israeli occupation and for the establishment of an independent Palestinian state.

Furthermore, both organizations have been characterized by their dual roles as political and militant entities. The PIRA worked closely with Sinn Féin, its political wing, to gain support for its cause, while Hamas operates both a military wing and provides social services through its political wing. In the case of the PIRA, after years of violence, the Good Friday Agreement of 1998 allowed for a political resolution to the conflict in Northern Ireland. The PIRA agreed to lay down its arms, and Sinn Féin transitioned into a legitimate political party, representing the interests of Irish nationalists in a peaceful political process.

Hamas, too, has maintained a significant role in Palestinian governance, particularly after its electoral victory in Gaza in 2006. While the group has not laid down its arms or accepted a negotiated settlement with Israel, it continues to wield significant political power. As with the PIRA, the eventual resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict could result in a reappraisal of Hamas’s role, with the possibility of its evolution into a fully political organization recognized by the international community.

While many argue that Hamas’s violent methods and hardline stance make it an obstacle to peace, others contend that it represents a legitimate expression of Palestinian resistance to Israeli occupation. In this narrative, just as the PIRA was ultimately seen as a key player in the peace process in Northern Ireland, Hamas may one day be regarded as a crucial political actor that fought for Palestinian freedom, even if its methods were controversial.

By framing Israel as the latest in a line of colonial powers and drawing comparisons between Hamas and movements like the PIRA, one can argue that Hamas, over time, may be viewed through a different lens. Like the PIRA, which was once seen solely as a terrorist organization, but later recognized as part of a legitimate political process, Hamas might also be reinterpreted as a political organization that fought for the freedom and self-determination of the Palestinian people. Such a shift in perception may only come with a lasting resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but historical precedent suggests that it is not an impossible outcome.

Preclearance, NEXUS, and Nonsense: The Ambassador Who Cried ‘Play Nice’

Diplomacy, as the textbooks remind us, is supposed to be the fine art of saying nothing offensive in as many words as possible while drinking bad coffee in conference rooms. But nobody seems to have given that manual to Pete Hoekstra, the newly minted U.S. Ambassador to Canada, who has decided to trade in understatement for a megaphone. In the span of a few short months, Hoekstra has managed to scold Canadians for not being sufficiently pro-American, accuse us of harboring “anti-American” slogans, and downplay Canada’s concerns about border overreach. If he’s aiming for “charm offensive,” he has nailed the second half of the phrase.

This is, of course, not the first time Canada and the U.S. have had words. We’ve bickered over softwood lumber, dairy tariffs, steel quotas, pipelines, and, once upon a time, acid rain. But usually ambassadors play the role of polite go-between, smoothing over disputes while the real political firestorms rage between ministers and presidents. Hoekstra seems to have missed the memo: his preferred strategy is less smooth diplomacy, more bull in a China shop – minus the bull’s natural grace.

His latest theme? Canadians just aren’t playing nice. We apparently spend too much time with “elbows up,” as if the entire country were auditioning for beer league hockey. He’s miffed that Canada has dared to issue travel advisories about U.S. border searches, insisting those reports are “isolated events.” Never mind that Canadian travelers actually experienced them. It’s a bit like telling someone who just got splashed by a passing truck that rain isn’t real.

Nowhere is this attitude more obvious than in the discussions around U.S. preclearance, the system where American border officers operate inside Canadian airports, inspecting passengers before they even board a plane to the United States. For travelers, preclearance is handy: you arrive stateside as a domestic passenger, skip long immigration lines, and make your connections. For the U.S., it’s even better: it lets them enforce their rules on foreign soil, keeping anyone they don’t like from ever boarding. For Canada, it’s…..complicated. Preclearance represents cooperation, yes, but also a certain loss of sovereignty. Not surprisingly, Ottawa sometimes drags its heels on expansion.

To Hoekstra, though, Canada’s reluctance to roll out the red carpet for more American officers in our airports amounts to ingratitude. The U.S. gives us this wonderful gift, he implies, and we respond with suspicion. It’s the diplomatic equivalent of scolding a dinner guest for not raving loudly enough about the casserole. The irony is rich: when Canada recently announced its first landpreclearance operation in the U.S., with Canadian officers screening travelers at a New York border crossing, nobody in Ottawa suggested that Americans were being unfriendly. Apparently only Canadians can be accused of bad manners.

And then there’s NEXUS, the trusted traveler program that makes cross-border trips bearable for frequent fliers. Here, too, Canada and the U.S. cooperate closely, with Canadians now able to use Global Entry kiosks thanks to their NEXUS membership. But you wouldn’t know it from the ambassador’s rhetoric. He talks as if the U.S. is single-handedly shouldering the burden of efficiency while Canada stubbornly blocks progress. The reality is that both sides benefit and both sides foot the bill. Preclearance doesn’t spring fully formed from Washington; Canadian airports build the facilities, Canadian taxpayers share the costs, and Canadian sovereignty bends to make it possible.

So why the sharp elbows from Hoekstra? Partly it’s style, he has never been known as a shrinking violet. But partly it reflects a broader U.S. strategy of leaning harder on Canada. The two countries are already sparring at the World Trade Organization over tariffs that Ottawa calls “unjustified.” Washington wants more Canadian concessions on energy, environment, and defense spending. Ambassadors don’t freelance in these circumstances; they set the tone their bosses in the White House prefer. If that tone is loud, impatient, and dismissive of Canadian sensitivities, then Hoekstra is performing to spec.

Still, it’s worth noting how Canadians are responding. While most don’t object to preclearance itself, after all, we enjoy shorter lines at airports, there is resistance to being lectured about it. Canadians pride themselves on being cooperative partners, not subordinate provinces. When the ambassador claims Canada isn’t “playing nice,” many hear it as “you’re not agreeing quickly enough with U.S. demands.” The fact that Canada has invested in NEXUS expansions, shared intelligence, and even put its own officers on U.S. soil underlines the absurdity of the accusation.

In the end, Hoekstra’s style may generate headlines, but it risks eroding goodwill. Diplomacy works best when it feels like a partnership of equals, not a schoolteacher scolding a roomful of students. Canadians are famously polite, but we’re also famously stubborn when pushed. If the ambassador thinks a little tough talk will get Canada to open every airport door to U.S. preclearance, he may be in for a long wait.

Until then, travelers will keep swiping their NEXUS cards, lining up at preclearance facilities, and quietly rolling their eyes at the spectacle. After all, Canadians know that living next to the United States is a bit like living next to an elephant. When it shifts, you feel it. When it trumpets, you really feel it. And when the ambassador starts lecturing you about your manners, sometimes the most diplomatic response is the Canadian classic: a polite smile, a quiet mutter, and an elbow gently nudged back into his ribs.

Pete Hegseth’s Quantico Meeting: Dissent, Risk, and Resistance

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s decision to convene hundreds of senior military leaders at Marine Corps Base Quantico on September 30, 2025, has generated a remarkable amount of debate inside the Pentagon and across Washington. The meeting, which included the presence of President Trump and was framed as a morale-building rally, combined populist language with concrete policy shifts. It emphasized a return to what Hegseth called a “warrior ethos,” a reduction in the number of four-star commands, and a strategic redirection of defense resources toward homeland security over foreign commitments. While the spectacle of so many generals and admirals gathered in one place caught the public eye, the real story lies in the competing interpretations of what the meeting signified, and how valid the dissent from senior officers truly is.

At its core, the criticism of Hegseth falls into two broad categories. The first category consists of genuine policy and operational concerns. These objections focus on the risks that arise when a new strategy is imposed quickly and without the depth of consultation that military leaders expect. The United States has spent decades building a global presence through NATO, alliances in Asia, and security partnerships in Africa. If those priorities are suddenly reduced or redirected, adversaries may perceive weakness and act opportunistically. The suggestion that homeland defense should take precedence over overseas commitments alarms many planners, who argue that credible deterrence abroad is what ultimately keeps the homeland safe. Just as concerning is the physical risk created by concentrating so many senior leaders in one place. In the age of terrorism and cyber conflict, the idea of creating a single point of failure for military leadership is regarded by many as reckless. These criticisms may reflect institutional conservatism, but they also have clear strategic validity.

The second category of dissent is tied more closely to career prospects, budgets, and organizational prestige. Cuts to four-star commands, for example, reduce opportunities for senior officers to rise to the top. The reallocation of funds away from long-standing overseas headquarters threatens programs that have sustained careers, institutional identities, and congressional ties for decades. Even the cultural objection to Hegseth’s “warrior ethos” rhetoric can be read partly as discomfort with his outsider tone and partisan style. Military leaders accustomed to more technocratic language may find his populist approach off-putting, regardless of whether it improves or harms operational effectiveness. These complaints do not necessarily mean that the officers raising them are wrong, but they reveal how intertwined personal advancement and policy debate can be within the senior ranks.

Where the picture becomes most complicated is in the middle ground, where career concerns and operational risks overlap. Morale and cohesion, for example, are partly about career security but also affect how well units function under stress. Similarly, questions of alliance credibility have both strategic weight and institutional implications, since overseas commands are often the most prestigious assignments available. Resistance to Hegseth’s agenda is therefore not neatly divisible into “valid” and “self-interested” camps. Instead, each issue carries elements of both, and part of the task for civilian leaders is to distinguish which objections point to genuine threats to U.S. security and which reflect the understandable resistance of an entrenched bureaucracy to change.

Taken together, the dissent underscores a deeper tension in American civil-military relations. Civilian control requires that appointed leaders set strategy, even when the uniformed services disagree. Yet history also shows that ignoring the professional judgment of senior officers can lead to miscalculations with high costs. Hegseth’s critics argue that he lacks the operational grounding to make decisions of such magnitude, pointing to his background in politics and media rather than command experience. Supporters counter that his outsider perspective allows him to break through bureaucratic inertia and push reforms that insiders would never accept. Both views contain truth, and the outcome will likely hinge on whether Hegseth can translate his rhetoric into workable policy while maintaining the confidence of enough of the officer corps to keep the system running smoothly.

If we weigh the dissent carefully, perhaps half of it points to genuinely significant strategic risks. The dangers of over-focusing on homeland defense, of weakening alliances, and of creating leadership vulnerabilities are all concerns that would trouble any responsible planner. Roughly another third of the pushback reflects predictable resistance from senior officers whose career trajectories and command prerogatives are being cut short. The remainder, perhaps the most interesting portion, lies in the overlap between institutional interest and national strategy. Issues like morale, cohesion, and alliance credibility matter both for the personal interests of officers and for the effectiveness of the force as a whole.

To clarify the distinction, here is a risk-versus-resistance map that separates concerns into those that are primarily policy/operational risks (valid dissent) and those that are largely career/budget resistance (self-interest). Some issues occupy a middle ground, blending both.

ConcernDescriptionImportance
Strategic de-prioritization of China, Europe, AfricaReducing focus on alliances may embolden adversariesHigh
Homeland defense emphasisOver-focus on domestic security may leave overseas contingencies underpreparedMedium-High
Concentration of leaders in one locationCreates a single point of failure for leadership continuityHigh
Rapid strategy changesAbrupt shifts risk operational gapsMedium
Expertise gapPolitical appointee-led decisions may lack operational groundingMedium
Reduction of four-star positionsCuts limit career progression and prestigeMedium-High
Budget reallocationsFunding shifts threaten existing programsMedium
Cultural pushbackResistance to “warrior ethos” rhetoricLow-Medium
Media restrictionsPress control raises concern about accountabilityMedium
Morale and cohesionImpacts operational effectiveness but also career dynamicsMedium-High
Alliance credibilityAffects U.S. global standing, but objections partly tied to overseas commandsHigh

The Quantico meeting, then, should not be read simply as a populist stunt or a bureaucratic clash. It is a moment when the future of U.S. defense policy is being tested in real time. Hegseth has chosen to frame his reforms in the language of ethos and toughness, signaling a shift toward domestic focus and leaner leadership structures. The officer corps is responding with a blend of genuine strategic caution and predictable institutional resistance. Observers must separate the noise of career frustration from the signal of authentic national security risk. Whether Hegseth can achieve that balance will shape not only his tenure as defense secretary but also the long-term posture of the United States in an increasingly unstable world.

From Dystopian Fiction to Political Reality: Britain’s Digital ID Proposal

As a teenager in the late 1970s, I watched a BBC drama that left a mark on me for life. The series was called 1990. It imagined a Britain in economic decline where civil liberties had been sacrificed to bureaucracy. Citizens carried Union cards; identity documents that decided whether they could work, travel, or even buy food. Lose the card and you became a “non-person.” Edward Woodward played the defiant journalist Jim Kyle, trying to expose the regime, while Barbara Kellerman embodied the cold efficiency of the state machine.

Back then it felt like dystopian fantasy, a warning not a forecast. Yet today, watching the UK government push forward with a mandatory digital ID scheme, I feel as if the fiction of my youth is edging into fact.

The plan sounds simple enough: a free digital credential stored on smartphones, initially required to prove the right to work. But let’s be honest, once the infrastructure exists, expansion is inevitable. Why stop at work checks? Why not use it for renting property, opening bank accounts, accessing healthcare, or even voting? Every new use will be presented as common sense. Before long, showing your digital ID could become as routine, and as coercive, as carrying the Union card in 1990.

Privacy is the first casualty. This credential will include biometric data and residency status, and it will be verified through state-certified providers. In theory it’s secure. In practice, Britain’s record on data protection is chequered, from NHS leaks to Home Office blunders. Biometric data isn’t like a password, you can’t change your face if it’s compromised. A single breach could haunt people for life.

Exclusion is the next. Ministers claim alternatives will exist for those without smartphones, but experience tells us such alternatives are clunky and marginal. Millions in Britain don’t have passports, reliable internet, or the latest phone. Elderly people, the poor, disabled citizens, these groups risk being pushed further to the margins. In 1990, the state declared dissidents “non-people.” In 2025, exclusion could come from something as mundane as a failed app update.

The democratic deficit is just as troubling. Voters already rejected ID cards once, when Labour’s 2006 scheme collapsed under public resistance. For today’s government to revive the idea, in digital clothing, without wide public debate or strong parliamentary scrutiny, is a profound act of political amnesia. We were told only a few years ago there would be no national ID. Yet here it comes, rebranded and repackaged as “modernisation.”

And then there’s the problem of function creep. In 1990, the Union card didn’t begin as an instrument of oppression; it became one because officials found it too useful to resist. The same danger lurks today. A card designed for immigration control could end up regulating everyday life. It could be tied to financial services, travel, or even access to political spaces. Convenience is the Trojan horse of coercion.

The government argues this will tackle illegal working and make life easier for businesses. Perhaps it will. But at what cost? We will have built the very infrastructure that past generations fought to reject: a system where your ability to live, work and move depends on a state-issued credential. The show I watched as a teenager was meant to remind us what happens when people forget to guard their freedoms.

This isn’t just a technical fix. It’s a fundamental shift in the relationship between citizen and state. Once the power to define your identity sits in a centralised digital credential, you no longer own it, the government does. That should chill anyone who values freedom in Britain.

We need to pause, debate, and if necessary, reject this plan before the future we feared on screen becomes the present we inhabit.

The Ghosts at Wounded Knee and the Politics of Honour

On December 29, 1890, near Wounded Knee Creek in what is now southwestern South Dakota, the U.S. Army’s 7th Cavalry surrounded a band of Lakota people led by Chief Spotted Elk, also known as Big Foot. What began as an effort to disarm a frightened group seeking refuge ended in slaughter. Eyewitness testimony, contemporary reports, and later historical study make clear that more than a hundred Lakota were killed outright, and estimates of the dead range commonly between 150 and 300, with many of the victims women and children. The column of Hotchkiss rapid-fire artillery on the ridge above the camp turned what might have been a chaotic surrender into an indiscriminate killing field. The event has been characterized by historians and by survivors’ accounts as a massacre, not a conventional military engagement.  

Within months, the army rewarded participants. Between March 1891 and 1897 the military issued a disproportionate number of Medals of Honor for actions tied to the Wounded Knee operation. Nineteen medals were awarded specifically for Wounded Knee, and 31 for the broader 1890 campaign. Modern historians have long questioned the propriety of these awards. They point out the disproportion when compared with other actions, the context of civilian slaughter, and the fact that late nineteenth century standards for the medal differed dramatically from today’s criteria. Those facts do not erase the moral question at the heart of this controversy. The medals were given for killing civilians during what many contemporaries already described as a tragic, shameful episode.  

For more than a century Native American leaders, scholars, and advocates have demanded that these honours be rescinded. They argue that keeping official military decorations for actions that amounted to the killing of noncombatants perpetuates a sanitized narrative of conquest and erases the suffering of the Lakota people. The push to revisit the medals intensified in 2024 when Congress and the Defense Department initiated reviews of honours awarded during Indian wars. Those reviews are not about rewriting history, they are about whether the United States wishes to continue officially celebrating actions that modern standards and moral judgment deem unconscionable.  

Into that fraught moral and historical space stepped Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth with a blunt, public proclamation on September 26, 2025. He announced that the soldiers who received Medals of Honor for Wounded Knee will keep them and said the soldiers “deserve those medals.” The decision was presented as a closure to the controversy and as a defense of martial valor. But treating the medals as a neutral technicality betrays two failures. First, it ignores the weight of historical evidence and eyewitness testimony that Wounded Knee was, by any honest reading, a massacre that included large numbers of noncombatant deaths. Second, it substitutes a crude politics of honour for a sober assessment of what military decorations are meant to signify. Medals of Honor are supposed to commemorate extraordinary gallantry consistent with the laws of war. When the conduct being commemorated is the killing of women and children in a one-sided action, the moral legitimacy of the award is rightly in doubt.  

Hegseth’s statement also displays a troubling detachment from the consequences of symbolic government acts. Official honours are not only personal rewards; they are public memory makers. Keeping these medals intact, while dismissing Native American calls for redress, sends a message about whose losses count in the American story. It is one thing to argue that you cannot retroactively apply modern sensibilities to historical actors. It is another to claim that the government should continue to sanctify actions widely recognized at the time as morally ambiguous or wrong. The choice to uphold the medals is not neutral. It privileges a narrative of conquest and martial glory over truth, accountability, and reconciliation. Contemporary Native leaders and organizations denounced the Pentagon’s decision, noting how it wounds descendants and undermines efforts at national healing.  

A final point. Government honours are mutable instruments of civic character. The United States has in many other instances chosen to correct honors that later ethical standards rendered inappropriate. To choose not to correct here is to place precedent over conscience. Furthermore, Hegseth’s framing, that the decision preserves the dignity of soldiers, rings hollow when the dignity of the victims is excluded from the calculus. Respect for soldiers and respect for victims are not mutually exclusive. A mature republic can acknowledge the bravery of individuals without perpetuating institutional honours that legitimize immoral collective actions.

Wounded Knee is not merely an historical footnote. It is a continuing wound in the national memory. How a nation treats its darkest episodes tells us as much about its present character as its triumphs do. Preserving medals awarded for conduct rooted in massacre is not an act of courage. It is an abdication of moral leadership and a refusal to allow public honours to reflect justice. Hegseth’s September 26, 2025 statement helps explain why calls for truth and reconciliation remain necessary. Those calls do not demand erasure of history. They demand honesty and a willingness to let national symbols reflect a fuller, truer account of what happened at Wounded Knee.  

Sources:
Hegseth decision reporting and reactions. Associated Press. Hegseth says Wounded Knee soldiers will keep their Medals of Honor.
Contemporary reporting and Native response. Reuters. Native Americans condemn Pentagon move to preserve Wounded Knee medals.
Contextual and historical overview. Britannica. Wounded Knee Massacre.
Primary accounts and museum histories. National Library of Medicine / Native Voices timeline and National Park Service battlefield materials.
Medal of Honor lists and army records. U.S. Army Medal of Honor listings for Indian Wars and Wounded Knee citations.  

The Promise and Peril of the H-1B Visa

When I first arrived in Silicon Valley in 1991, I did so on an H-1B visa. The program was brand new at the time, created to ensure that highly skilled professionals could move quickly into positions where American companies faced genuine gaps in expertise. My own case reflected that original vision perfectly. The U.S. firm that acquired my UK employer needed continuity and leadership in managing the transition of products and markets. I was the senior person left standing after the American parent stripped away the British management team, and my experience as product manager made me indispensable.

The process worked with remarkable speed, and the offer was more than fair. A $75,000 salary in 1991, equivalent to nearly $180,000 today, was a clear acknowledgment of the skills and responsibilities I brought with me. The system was designed to secure talent, not to undercut wages, and for me it delivered exactly what was promised: a career-defining opportunity and a way for an American company to gain the expertise it needed to thrive.

But what worked so well for me in 1991 has, over the decades, drifted far from that original intent. The H-1B program was meant to bring the best and brightest from abroad to fill roles that were difficult to source domestically. Instead, it has increasingly become a pipeline for large outsourcing firms that import entry-level workers at far lower wages than their American counterparts. Where the original standard was senior-level knowledge and proven skill, many visas now go to contractors whose roles could often be filled within the domestic labor pool.

This misuse creates what one former U.S. immigration official has called a “split personality disorder” for the program. Roughly half the visas still go to companies that genuinely need high-level specialists and can offer long-term careers, but the other half are captured by consulting firms whose business model depends on renting out lower-cost workers. That shift undermines both American workers, who see wages suppressed, and skilled foreign professionals, who are often treated as interchangeable resources rather than valued contributors.

The lottery system has further distorted the program. Once a simple way to fairly distribute a limited number of visas, it has been gamed by firms flooding the system with multiple applications. The recent drop in lottery bids, after the government cracked down on such practices, revealed just how much abuse had taken hold.

If the H-1B visa is to remain credible, it needs to return to its original purpose: rewarding specialized knowledge, proven expertise, and long-term commitment. Proposals to allocate visas based on wage levels rather than random chance would be a step in the right direction. They would align the system once again with its founding principle: bringing in the kind of high-value, hard-to-replace professionals that the U.S. economy truly needs.

My own journey in 1991 demonstrates the potential of the H-1B program when it is used as intended. It was a bridge for talent, a tool for competitiveness, and a life-changing opportunity. But unless it is reformed, the program risks being remembered not for what it enabled, but for how it was exploited.

🛡️ NATO & Allied Countries Shifting Away from U.S. Defense Equipment

Several NATO and allied countries have recently rejected or are reconsidering U.S.-made military equipment in favor of European or domestic alternatives. This trend reflects a broader shift toward defense autonomy, industrial sovereignty, and reduced reliance on U.S. service contracts.

🇩🇰 Denmark

  • Air Defense: Opted for the Franco-Italian SAMP/T NG long-range system over the U.S.-made Patriot missile system, citing high costs and long delivery times. Denmark is also considering European alternatives like NASAMS, IRIS-T, and VL MICA for medium-range needs.
  • Arctic Exercises: Led the “Arctic Light 2025” military exercise in Greenland without U.S. participation, emphasizing regional leadership and reducing reliance on U.S. forces.

🇪🇸 Spain

  • Fighter Aircraft: Rejected U.S. F-35 proposals in favor of European options like the Eurofighter Typhoon and the Future Combat Air System (FCAS), aiming to bolster European defense autonomy and reduce dependence on U.S. military technology.

🇵🇹 Portugal

  • Fighter Aircraft: Reconsidered plans to replace aging F-16s with U.S.-made F-35s, exploring European alternatives to enhance operational control and reduce long-term dependency on foreign suppliers.

🇩🇪 Germany

  • Air Defense: Prioritized domestic production and local sustainment for tanks, artillery, and aircraft, including the Leopard 2 tank upgrades and Eurofighter Typhoon programs, to maintain control over maintenance and modernization capacities.

🇳🇱 Netherlands

  • Naval Platforms: Emphasized European suppliers for submarines and frigates, negotiating co-production and local sustainment agreements to reduce reliance on U.S. shipyards.

🇳🇴 Norway

  • Fighter Jets & Patrol Aircraft: Pushed for domestic assembly lines and local maintenance hubs, limiting dependence on American contractors for lifecycle support.

🇮🇹 Italy

  • Naval & Aerospace Systems: Invested in domestic shipbuilding and aerospace industries, including the FREMM frigate and domestic drone programs, while seeking interoperability standards that avoid long-term U.S. service dependencies.

🇨🇦 Canada

  • Submarine Procurement: Rejected U.S. proposals for new submarines, opting instead for bids from Germany and South Korea to gain autonomy over maintenance, lifecycle upgrades, and operational decision-making.
  • Fighter Aircraft: Evaluating Swedish fighter jets with plans for domestic assembly and maintenance, aiming to reduce reliance on U.S. contractors.

🇫🇮 Finland

  • Military Cooperation: Despite broader U.S. plans to scale back military operations in parts of NATO’s eastern flank, Finland maintains that its military cooperation with the United States is not being reduced. Finnish Defence Minister Antti Hakkanen affirmed that the U.S. remains committed to deepening bilateral defense efforts.

🇫🇷 France & 🇮🇹 Italy

  • NATO Arms Deal: Opted out of a new NATO-led initiative to finance the delivery of U.S. weapons to Ukraine, signaling a preference for European solutions and a move towards greater defense autonomy.

🔄 Broader Trends Influencing These Shifts

  • Cost & Delivery Timelines: U.S. defense systems like the Patriot missile system often face long production backlogs and higher costs, prompting NATO allies to seek more timely and cost-effective European alternatives.
  • Industrial Sovereignty: Countries are increasingly prioritizing local or regional production and maintenance capabilities to maintain control over their military assets and reduce dependence on foreign suppliers.
  • Political Tensions: Diplomatic strains, such as disagreements over Arctic territories and defense spending, have influenced countries like Denmark to reconsider their reliance on U.S. defense equipment.
  • Strategic Autonomy: The desire for greater control over defense decisions and capabilities is driving NATO allies to explore European solutions that align with their national interests and security priorities.

Allies Reclaiming Autonomy: The Growing Shift Away from U.S.-Made Military Equipment

Across NATO and allied nations, governments are increasingly rejecting U.S. defense options or cancelling long-term contracts, favoring domestic or European alternatives that offer control over manufacturing, maintenance, and upgrades.

For decades, the United States has dominated the global defense market, especially among NATO allies. Its model, sell advanced platforms, then tie buyers into decades of maintenance, upgrades, and proprietary service, has been remarkably profitable and politically influential. But that model is under pressure. Increasingly, U.S. allies are saying no: rejecting American options, cancelling planned contracts, or shifting to alternatives that offer greater operational and industrial autonomy.

Spain provides a recent example. While the country had previously considered U.S.-made platforms to modernize its air force, Madrid has turned toward European options such as the Eurofighter Typhoon and the Future Combat Air System. Officials cited cost, supply chain control, and the desire to retain domestic and European industrial participation as key drivers. Similar reasoning is guiding Portugal, which has reconsidered its replacement programs for aging aircraft, leaning toward European-built fighters rather than committing to U.S.-supplied F-35s.

Denmark illustrates the trend in air defense. In its largest-ever defense procurement, the Danish government opted for the Franco-Italian SAMP-T NG long-range system over the U.S.-made Patriot, citing both cost and delivery time. Denmark is also reviewing medium-range options from European manufacturers, emphasizing local or regional production and maintenance. This choice reflects the dual desire to strengthen European defense capabilities while reducing reliance on U.S.-based service contracts.

Other NATO members are making comparable moves. Switzerland, historically neutral, has expressed reservations about joining long-term U.S. programs, including the F-35, instead evaluating European alternatives that allow for national control over lifecycle management. Norway has similarly emphasized local assembly and domestic sustainment for fighter and patrol aircraft. The Netherlands, Belgium, and Greece have all shown interest in European or domestic solutions for naval, air, and missile systems, explicitly seeking contracts that do not lock them into decades-long U.S. maintenance agreements.

These choices reflect a broader strategic and economic calculation. U.S.-made systems, while technologically advanced, often require buyers to accept a near-perpetual dependency on American contractors for upgrades, parts, and service. Allies are increasingly reluctant to cede that control, recognizing that operational autonomy and local industrial development are critical to national security. European manufacturers, by contrast, are offering co-production, local assembly, and technology transfer that allow countries to maintain both sovereignty and economic benefit from defense programs.

The implications for the U.S. defense industry are substantial. Losing planned contracts or having allies cancel or decline U.S.-made systems threatens billions in revenue, particularly from the lucrative long-term service and maintenance components. Strategically, it reduces Washington’s leverage: allies that control their own equipment are less subject to subtle influence through supply and upgrade dependencies. Over time, the cumulative effect could reshape the defense-industrial landscape in Europe and beyond, challenging the assumption that U.S.-supplied hardware will dominate allied inventories.

Canada, with its submarine program and proposed Swedish fighter deal, stands as the most prominent example, but it is hardly alone. Across Europe and NATO, governments are asking whether reliance on U.S. contractors for decades-long service agreements is compatible with modern defense priorities. The answer increasingly appears to be “no.” Allies want control over manufacturing, maintenance, and upgrades, and they are willing to bypass traditional U.S. options to achieve it.

In short, the U.S. model of “buy once, pay forever” is losing favor. NATO members and other allies are embracing autonomy, local industrial participation, and diversified procurement, signaling a shift that could reverberate across global defense markets for decades. The message is clear: even America’s closest partners are no longer content to surrender operational control and economic benefit for decades-long contracts that primarily serve U.S. industry.

Canada and Mexico Forge Strategic Partnership: Implications for North America

On September 18, 2025, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney and Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum signed a comprehensive strategic partnership in Mexico City. This agreement, covering 2025–2028, aims to deepen economic, security, and environmental collaboration between Canada and Mexico, explicitly anticipating the 2026 review of the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA). While the immediate bilateral effects are evident, the agreement also carries broader implications for the three major North American economies: Canada, Mexico, and the United States.

Scope and Focus of the Agreement
At its core, the agreement establishes a four-year bilateral action plan encompassing four pillars: prosperity, mobility and social inclusion, security, and environmental sustainability. Economically, it focuses on expanding trade and investment in infrastructure, energy, agriculture, and health, while jointly developing critical infrastructure such as ports, rail links, and energy corridors. In security, it aims to strengthen border control and combat transnational crime. The environmental and sustainability component is particularly notable, signaling both countries’ intent to collaborate on climate mitigation and resource management.

Strategic Context
The timing of this agreement is significant. Earlier in 2025, both Canada and Mexico faced tariffs and trade frictions with the United States, creating a strategic impetus to solidify bilateral cooperation. This partnership may serve as a hedge against future unilateral U.S. trade measures and positions both nations more strongly for upcoming negotiations surrounding the USMCA review in 2026. By consolidating economic, security, and environmental frameworks bilaterally, Canada and Mexico signal that they can act decisively and collaboratively independent of U.S. alignment, while still committing to trilateral engagement.

Implications for Canada
For Canada, the agreement represents a proactive diversification of trade and investment partnerships within North America. Beyond the U.S., Mexico is an increasingly significant market for Canadian goods and services, particularly in energy and infrastructure. By reinforcing bilateral economic ties, Canada gains leverage in upcoming USMCA discussions and reduces its vulnerability to unilateral U.S. trade policy shifts. Moreover, collaboration on climate and sustainability initiatives positions Canada as a leader in cross-border environmental governance, complementing its domestic commitments.

Implications for Mexico
For Mexico, the agreement strengthens its economic and geopolitical options. Mexico has historically balanced trade and diplomatic relationships with the United States while seeking alternative partners. Formalizing a strategic partnership with Canada enhances Mexico’s negotiating position with the U.S., particularly as the USMCA review approaches. Joint infrastructure projects and investment commitments also promise to accelerate Mexico’s industrial and energy development, potentially boosting domestic employment and technology transfer.

Implications for the United States
For the United States, the Canada-Mexico agreement presents both opportunities and challenges. On one hand, stronger integration between Canada and Mexico may facilitate smoother trilateral cooperation, reducing friction in cross-border commerce and security. On the other hand, it could limit U.S. leverage in bilateral negotiations with either country if Canada and Mexico present unified positions during the USMCA review. The U.S. may need to consider the strategic consequences of any unilateral trade actions in light of this growing North American solidarity.

The Canada-Mexico strategic partnership represents a calculated, forward-looking approach to regional stability and prosperity. While the agreement strengthens bilateral ties, it also reshapes the dynamics of North American relations, providing both Canada and Mexico with enhanced economic and strategic agency. For the United States, it signals a more integrated northern and southern neighbor bloc, emphasizing the importance of collaborative rather than confrontational engagement. As the 2026 USMCA review approaches, all three nations will likely navigate a more complex and interdependent landscape, where trilateral cooperation becomes not only beneficial but essential.

Sources:
• Reuters. Canada and Mexico committed to shared partnership with US, Carney says. September 18, 2025. link
• Politico. Mexico and Canada make nice ahead of high-stakes trade talks. September 18, 2025. link
• Global News. Carney, Sheinbaum sign strategic partnership to boost trade, security, environment. September 18, 2025. link

Losing the Diplomatic High Ground: America’s Isolation on Palestine

The international recognition of Palestine by Canada, Australia, and now the United Kingdom represents more than a symbolic act. It is a tectonic shift in global diplomacy that leaves Israel increasingly isolated. But perhaps the greater casualty is the United States, which finds its credibility and diplomatic standing downgraded by clinging to unconditional support for Israel in defiance of its closest allies. For Washington, the erosion of moral and strategic authority is becoming harder to disguise.

For decades, American foreign policy has rested on two pillars: an unwavering defense of Israel and a claim to universal principles of democracy, human rights, and international law. These pillars are now in conflict. As humanitarian conditions in Gaza dominate global headlines and images of suffering circulate daily, the United States insists that Israel’s military actions fall within the bounds of self-defense. Yet its closest allies no longer accept that narrative. By moving to recognize Palestine, Canada, Australia, and the U.K. are declaring that the humanitarian and political costs of Israel’s occupation and military campaigns can no longer be justified. In doing so, they implicitly rebuke Washington’s stance and downgrade America’s claim to moral leadership.

The credibility gap is stark. In London, Ottawa, and Canberra, leaders framed recognition of Palestine as a step toward justice, peace, and accountability. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer emphasized that recognition was both a matter of principle and of practical necessity for a two-state solution. Canadian and Australian leaders voiced similar reasoning, pointing to the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza and the futility of endless deferrals of Palestinian statehood. In Washington, by contrast, the Biden administration maintains that recognition should only come after negotiations, a formula that has effectively stalled for three decades while Israeli settlement expansion continued unchecked. To many observers abroad, the U.S. position now looks like obstruction rather than leadership.

The diplomatic costs of this divergence are real. In forums such as the United Nations and the G20, the United States will find itself increasingly out of step not only with traditional critics in the Global South but with its own allies in the Anglosphere. Where once Washington could count on Canada or the U.K. to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in defense of Israel, it now risks looking like the last holdout defending a morally untenable status quo. That weakens American leverage on other issues, from rallying support for Ukraine against Russia to building coalitions in the Indo-Pacific to counter China. Allies may privately question why they should follow Washington’s lead on those fronts if the U.S. refuses to apply its professed values consistently.

At home, the contradictions are becoming sharper. Public opinion in the United States has shifted markedly, especially among younger Americans, who are far more sympathetic to Palestinians than their parents’ generation. Within the Democratic Party, calls for conditioning military aid to Israel or pressing harder for humanitarian access in Gaza are growing louder. Recognition moves by allies give these voices new legitimacy. If Canada and the U.K., two of Washington’s closest partners, can recognize Palestine, progressives ask, why can’t the U.S.? This deepens the political fault lines at home, with Republicans portraying recognition as rewarding terrorism while Democrats remain divided.

The broader danger is that the United States undermines its own strategic role as a credible broker in the Middle East. For decades, Washington has claimed to be the only power capable of mediating peace, precisely because of its unique leverage over Israel. But if the U.S. remains the only major Western democracy refusing to accept Palestinian statehood, it risks forfeiting that position. The European Union, or even a coalition of Arab states working with global partners, could step into the vacuum. Meanwhile, China and Russia eagerly exploit the perception of American hypocrisy, casting themselves as champions of Palestinian rights to gain influence across the Arab world and the wider Global South.

Washington still has choices. It can double down on its current course, shielding Israel diplomatically and vetoing recognition measures in international bodies. That would preserve its role as Israel’s protector but at the cost of deepening isolation and accelerating its decline in moral authority. Alternatively, it can begin to align more closely with its allies, signaling openness to Palestinian statehood while maintaining Israel’s security. Such a shift would not be politically easy, but it would restore some credibility and help rebuild American leadership. A third path lies in leveraging its support for Israel to demand concessions: humanitarian access, restraint in settlements, genuine negotiation. This would require a level of assertiveness toward the Netanyahu government that Washington has so far lacked.

The choice matters because America’s global position is at stake. Recognition of Palestine by Canada, Australia, and the U.K. is not just a rebuke of Israel, it is a rebuke of Washington’s failure to adapt to changing realities. The longer the United States clings to its lonely defense of Israel’s current policies, the more it downgrades its own diplomatic standing. Superpowers do not stay superpowers by ignoring their allies, and moral leadership cannot be maintained when it is visibly contradicted by one’s closest friends.

The United States once held the diplomatic high ground by presenting itself as both Israel’s ally and a defender of universal values. That balance has been lost. If Washington does not recalibrate soon, it risks becoming a diminished power: a superpower in name, but isolated, distrusted, and out of step with the very countries that once formed the backbone of its alliances. Recognition of Palestine is a turning point — not only for Israel and the Palestinians, but for America’s place in the world.

References
• Associated Press. “UK recognizes Palestinian state, joining Australia and Canada.” AP News. September 2025. Link
• Associated Press. “Canada joins push to recognize Palestinian statehood.” AP News. August 2025. Link
The Australian. “Australia, UK and Canada join to recognise Palestine.” The Australian. August 2025. Link
• Angus Reid Institute. “Most Canadians believe Israel is committing genocide in Gaza.” Angus Reid. September 2025. Link
• Times of Israel. “Israel mulling halt to security ties with UK if it recognizes Palestine.” Times of Israel. August 2025. Link
• World Policy Hub. “A historic shift: Why Europe is moving toward recognizing the state of Palestine.” World Policy Hub. August 2025. Link