In the United States, right‑wing politics becomes visible through explicit government decisions. Germany reveals a different pattern: for years, the welfare state has tightened migration policy from within—without a right‑wing government in power. It no longer functions as a protective system but as a mechanism of filtering and exclusion.
Iran’s centrifuges spin not out of ambition but out of fear. This fear grows from decades of isolation and sanctions and from the memory of governments that collapsed when they had no protection. The world sees uranium. Iran sees survival.
For the United States, national borders seem to matter little when political influence, economic interests, or geopolitical strategies are at stake. For the people pushed into migration by these very interventions, however, borders become inescapably real—first at the frontier, then inside the country itself. Because no international authority exists to regulate or restrain such cross‑border interventions, the world order that emerges is one in which states act freely while individuals bear the consequences.
The Iran–USA–Europe confrontation exposes a simple truth: the supposed equality of states exists only on paper, and migration becomes its consequence. In recent days, several major outlets have reported a sharp rise in US military activity in the region. The BBC notes that a US carrier strike group has moved close to Iranian waters, raising fears of a direct clash. Iran faces intense pressure from a nationwide protest movement, while Washington keeps its intentions deliberately unclear—a combination that unsettles the entire region.
President Donald Trump expresses frustration with the Department of Homeland Security’s handling of federal operations in Minnesota after federal agents kill Alex Pretti. Journalist Aaron Parnas reports this on Substack, and several U.S. media outlets also confirm that Trump sends former ICE Director Tom Homan to Minnesota to oversee operations on the ground as criticism rises and nationwide protests grow.
When Pankaj Mishra appeared on the German television program Precht in March 2023, he argued that Germany must free itself from its “sleepwalking obedience” to the United States and assume an independent role as a mediator between global power centers. Richard David Precht did not fundamentally disagree, but he emphasized that Germany remains culturally, politically, and, in terms of security, firmly anchored in the West.
The United States first attempted to purchase Greenland—a territory of immense strategic value in the Arctic. The European Union rejected the idea. Washington responded by raising tariffs, prompting the EU to suspend trade agreements on 22 January. The economic escalation between Brussels and Washington reached a new peak.
Only hours later, Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner appeared in Albania, where they revived a major development project that had been dormant since 2025. The timing, so close to the EU’s decisions, is striking and raises questions about strategic coordination.
Europe overlooks regions it cannot afford to ignore. India once slipped out of Europe’s strategic field of vision—until Europe understood the cost. The Western Balkans now risk becoming the next blind spot. While Europe shifts its economic focus toward Asia, other global actors expand their influence in the Western Balkans and reshape the political balance in a region that remains essential for Europe’s stability.
Today’s geopolitical tensions make this clearer than ever. First, Donald Trump’s negotiations with Russia over a potential withdrawal from Ukraine failed. Shortly afterward, he called for a stronger U.S. military presence in Greenland.
A Russian withdrawal is solely within Russia’s control—the U.S. cannot enforce it. Greenland, by contrast, falls under Washington’s strategic initiative. This asymmetry exposes the structural problem of the international order.
Trump acted on behalf of the United States, placing Europe in a dilemma that did not arise from his personality but from the architecture of the system itself. Suddenly, European allies faced not only Russia but also uncertainty about U.S. reliability, even though both sides are NATO partners. Europe must deter Russia, maintain its partnership with the U.S., and simultaneously strengthen its own security sovereignty. From a single conflict, multiple pressures emerge—not caused by Russia alone, but by the structure of the system itself.
The grand promise Donald Trump made during his election campaign with “Make America Great Again” now echoes through recent global developments. Moreover, many countries facing political or economic turmoil project onto this campaign slogan a hope for justice or even a new international order. Yet when a state controls the levers on which others depend—data flows, resource routes, and global narratives—it gains a form of power that goes far beyond symbolism. Consequently, “great again” becomes not a promise of moral renewal but a claim to power that inevitably comes at the expense of others. In this logic, “great” simply means power.
Since 2013, the government of Edi Rama has steered Albania into a structural decline. Thirteen years should be enough to stabilize an economy, strengthen institutions, and deliver visible development. Instead, the country moves downward with the predictability of an aircraft on autopilot. Citizens sit in the back of the cabin, unable to influence the direction, reassured only by a democracy that imitates legitimacy but produces no progress.
In September 2025, SPAK confirmed in a written response to The Injustice Chronicle—following my inquiry—that the Bluenergy case had moved to the High Court (Gjykata e Lartë), where the defendants’ appeal remained pending. A second request for information in December 2025 remained unanswered. By 12 January 2026, SPAK and the Albanian media had provided no further updates.
Does Donald Trump’s decision to bring Nicolás Maduro before a U.S. court reveal how colonialism operates today? Theoretically, yes. If we take the meaning of the word “colonial” seriously, the abduction of a Venezuelan president and his transfer into a foreign legal system fulfills a central mechanism: an external actor decides who is allowed to govern.
While the United States turns away migrants at its own southern border, it simultaneously projects military power into another country and claims the right to shape that nation’s political future.
The imbalance is intentional, woven into the very framework of intervention. In Libya, the 2011 bombing campaign was justified as a path to “democracy” but instead led to years of institutional collapse and mass displacement—consequences that continue to reverberate across European politics.
Since the first wave of departures in the summer of 1990, Albania has entered an unstoppable process of demographic emptying. That wave was not an isolated episode, but the moment it became clear that the country was not opening—it was being abandoned. A society that longed for freedom found it not in its new institutions but in the borders it had to cross in order to escape. Since then, Albania has remained an uprooted country, one that built a political façade and called it democracy simply because it had many governments and many parties.
