The West and the trap of its own narrative

There is one detail that matters more than a thousand solemn declarations: the Russian assets frozen in Europe. The figures most often cited range from roughly 180 to 195 billion Euro, held largely through Euroclear, with the legal and operational burden ultimately falling on Belgium. From this comes a paradox: Brussels and several European capitals are debating whether to use that hoard as collateral or as a funding source to sustain Ukraine, yet the very country that hosts the crucial financial infrastructure fears being left to shoulder a staggering bill should a peace agreement require restitution or trigger international litigation.
    The issue is not the exact number; it is the logic. If you spend today what may have to be returned tomorrow, you build a time bomb. And if tomorrow the balance of power – both on the ground and at the negotiating table – tilts in Moscow’s favour, who pays? The host state? The Union as a whole? Or, more realistically, Ukraine turned into a structural debtor, with a financial noose that begins to resemble a punitive post-war settlement: a devastated country, an economy already under strain, reconstruction that becomes militarisation, and a future purchased on instalments.

A lost opportunity
and the price of the “just war”

Within this reasoning, a recurring theme resurfaces: the idea that an early negotiating window might have produced a less punishing outcome for Kyiv. If that window was truly closed for political calculations and for the belief that Russia could be broken on the battlefield, then its weight today is crushing. Because every month of war shifts the balance – not only in territorial or military terms, but above all in political room for manoeuvre. If you build a public strategy around the promise of the enemy’s “total defeat,” you become hostage to that very promise. And when reality refuses to cooperate, instead of changing course, you raise the stakes.
    This is where the most dangerous dynamic kicks in: political sunk costs. Many Western leaders have staked reputation, consent, and credibility on the prospect of a weakened – if not fragmented – Russia, with an eye to a possible economic “reopening” of that vast space. A bet that, if it fails, leaves no graceful retreat. The narrative then stops describing the conflict and becomes the conflict: the war is no longer fought for measurable objectives, but to avoid admitting that the underlying wager was wrong.

The economic war hidden behind reconstruction –
when finance prepares the post-war

The debate over Russian assets is a chapter of economic warfare more than one of international law. The word “reconstruction” sounds reassuring, but it often means something very specific: military spending, weapons procurement, and defence-industrial supply chains. If those resources are “advanced” today and it later turns out they must be returned or offset, the result is not victory – it is debt. And in geopolitics, debt is a chain. If Kyiv were forced to account for colossal sums, its economic sovereignty would be squeesed for decades, and its fate would become negotiable by whoever holds the credit – or controls the financial taps.
    This is the scenario that worries the cautious: not a war that ends, but a war that changes shape – from the front line to the state budget.

Military strategy and the reality on the ground –
the distortion that fuels escalation

The discussion exposes a contradiction that repeats itself across Europe: on the one hand, Russia is portrayed as worn down, inept, economically fragile; on the other, it is presented as an imminent threat poised to expand across the rest of the continent. If a country is truly in ruins, how could it prepare within a few years for a direct confrontation with powers that possess large militaries, deep resources, and nuclear deterrence? The point is not to declare, in absolute terms, who is right or wrong, but to recognise the practical effect of this rhetoric: it justifies any decision, however risky, by turning prudence into “appeasement” and compromise into “betrayal.”
    And when politics convinces itself that war is the only path, the military objective tends to drift: no longer to defend, no longer to contain, but to “destroy” the other side’s capacity to fight. That formula carries an escalating human cost and a diplomatic horizon that recedes ever further.

The Baltic and radicalisation – Russian-speaking minorities,
fear, and lit fuses

Then there is the question of the Baltic states and their Russian-speaking minorities. If domestic rhetoric becomes discriminatory or punitive, it hands Moscow an additional argument: the protection of “its own” abroad. It is not automatic, but it is a risk. Moreover, the economic and demographic erosion of those societies – depopulation, polarisation, social fractures – feeds extremism. And extremism, in such a geopolitically sensitive corridor, is fuel.
    The paradox is straightforward: the more fear of Russia grows, the more policies are adopted that weaken internal cohesion and make the region unstable. And the more the region destabilises, the more that fear appears justified. A perfect – and perfectly self-destructive – loop.

The United States, Europe, and a change of tone –
from allies to customers: the risk of dependence

The argument also points to a shift in tone attributed to Washington: the idea of a Europe that must “manage on its own,” while the United States remains the arms supplier. In geo-economic terms, that would mean a transformation of the alliance: less sharing of burdens and risks, more of a commercial relationship. Europe pays, buys, borrows; the United States collects, innovates, and preserves its industrial and technological edge. If that truly is the trajectory, then European strategic autonomy would not be a project – it would be a necessity, but without the tools to make it happen quickly.

The crisis of European democracy – parties change, policies remain

The most bitter passage concerns domestic politics: unpopular governments, radical decisions, populations that seem resigned. It is the core of contemporary disillusionment: people vote, yet the fundamentals do not change. Party labels rotate, but the course remains the same – especially on the major issues of security and international alignment. And “anti-system” movements, once they enter institutions, tend to be normalised: they become part of the very machine they once promised to dismantle.
    At that point, propaganda is no longer merely communication: it becomes a blanket. It is used to hold together a building that is starting to creak, to cover contradictions, and to prevent the simplest question from being asked: “Where are we going, and what are the real costs?”

Conclusion – when the story we tell becomes truer than reality

The thread tying everything together is “the denial of reality” as a political reflex. Strategy is not adapted to facts; facts are adapted to strategy. And when a narrative is repeated long enough, it ultimately turns into a belief system – an internal, self-sufficient truth, impervious to refutation. This is how the West risks believing its own propaganda: not because it is foolish, but because it is trapped in a political and psychological investment that makes admitting error too costly.
    And yet, precisely for this reason, the question of Russian assets is revealing: it is where rhetoric collides with accounting. And accounting, unlike speeches, always sends the bill. •

* Giuseppe Gagliano is an Italian journalist, geopolitical expert, and philosopher specialising in economic espionage, conflict analysis, and strategic studies, who writes for various Italian and international media. He is president and founder of the Centro Studi Strategici Carlo De Cristoforis, Cestudec, in Como and also teaches at the University of Calabria and the Istituto Alti Studi Strategici e Politici, IASSP, in Milan. He has published numerous articles on economic warfare and the role of intelligence agencies in modern politics.