Imaginary Deals and the Temporal Moment
Pyrrhic Hollowness when Theatre Ignores Material Capacity
My contrarian essay yesterday looking at the key elements of the U.S.-EU “trade and investment” deal provoked some pushback. That’s understandable when the first blush response is to see the agreement as evidence of European capitulation. “Europe got nothing, Trump got everything” as von der Leyen (VDL) “capitulated”. My argument implied that this framing missed some important elements of the so-called agreement that actually delivered to the Brussels elite what they singularly craved, without giving up much in substance. And yes, the rest of Europe - conceived more broadly - was abandoned.
The pushback came in a couple of forms.
Some reactions rejected the possibility that VDL could have sufficient cunning or strategic nous to think through and pull off such a move.
Others couldn’t imagine that the EU didn’t capitulate, period, giving up pretences of European autonomy / sovereignty and jettisoning Europe’s economic interests (particularly in terms of commitments to purchase high cost American LNG and make massive investments in the U.S.).
This essay takes these reactions as a starting point for further analysis, and I must thank the various readers for their comments and reactions - even, and perhaps more so, those that pushed back the hardest. This essay proceeds in three parts.
Firstly, it explores these two dimensions in a little more detail.
Secondly, it explores the EU commitment to spend $750 billion on U.S. defence supplies. In doing so, I hope to bring some further nuance to the argument and suggest that VDL’s hopes of ensnaring the U.S. are likely to come into conflict with American industrial limitations and its military ambitions elsewhere.
Lastly, it introduces another aspect of a number of recent deals, namely the notional commitment of others to purchase more Boeing aircraft. While commitments to purchase Boeing aircraft did not come up in the EU discussions, they have been central features of “deals” reached elsewhere. Yet, the Boeing situation confirms that in fact these “deal” are largely political theatre, designed to deliver headline grabbing “big numbers”
In doing so, the argument is that most of these so-called purchase and investment commitments are, in fact, unlikely to materialise any time soon (or at all) but - in the case of Boeing at the very least - contributes to the realisation of financialisation objectives rather than productionist outcomes. The pyrrhic hollowness of the trade-investment deal resonates across the Atlantic. It speaks of the priority of theatre over material substance. But materiality will assert itself, as it inevitably must. Monetised promises mean nothing if industrial systems cannot deliver.
The disjunction between Brussels’ framing of European interests and those of the EU’s members states and citizens begins to come into sharp relief. One is left to wonder whether we are arriving at a “temporal moment” in which the status quo can be sufficiently shaken for an alternative European path to emerge. If not, under present leadership, it is consigned to be what I have previously described as the ‘fag end’ of a transatlantic empire.
More on the EU “Deal”
The first question raised in the pushback is whether VDL is up to scheming such an approach? The short answer is “who can know for sure”.
That it is possible that the effects of the “deal” are as I described in the original piece does not presuppose it as premeditated or intentional. It could simply be a function of happenstance. That said, the “game” involved isn’t particularly complicated. If von der Leyen’s overriding imperative was to mitigate the risk of the U.S. abandoning Europe’s defence, then “conceding” on all “non-essential” elements is neither tricky nor difficult to conceive. Indeed, and ironically, just as Trump has used tariffs as a non-trade policy lever, von der Leyen also used the concession of tariffs on EU goods into the U.S. as a counterweight to measures that incentivise the U.S. to commit to Europe’s security.
She didn’t have a strong hand, but played what she had to achieve one single goal: to mitigate the risk that the U.S. would abandon Europe’s security priorities as she - and those in the Brussels du-umverate would see things. I am talking about both the European Commission and NATO in this case. Representatives of these two bodies have been working tirelessly to drag the U.S. deep into European wars and to make it hard for America to extricate itself. To a qualified extent (the qualification is something I discuss below), she succeeded - by design or by accident.
In any case, if VDL wasn’t cunning, the next critique of VDL is that she fully subordinated Europe to American interests. This presupposes that the other elements of the deal are materially meaningful. If they were, the label of “unequal treaty” would carry weight. If, however, the other elements of the “deal” are hollow, then the allegation of capitulation in these most recent discussions may on the face of things ring true, but shouldn’t be confused with the materiality of their effects and what this implies.
On tariffs
The tariff question sees the U.S. levying 15% in products imported from the EU and the EU having zero tariffs on imported American goods. To criticise this presumes that the relevant benchmark is tariff equivalence. This is to concede Trump’s reciprocity frame as the one that matters, but on questions of trade bilateral relative pricing can only be meaningfully understood by reference to both the respective structures of each economy in question and the wider production-trading regime involving other parties. A general increase in tariffs on goods being imported into America of similar rates does not fundamentally shift the relative pricing differences in any meaningful way.
Let’s start again with the basics. Tariffs raise costs for U.S. businesses and consumers, not foreign producers. When a 15% tariff is applied to European goods, the burden falls on American firms, who either absorb the loss in their margins or pass it on to higher prices. To a smaller extent, some exporters may also absorb some of the burden by reducing their costs, but this is not the general experience.
More importantly, tariffs only influence trade patterns if they shift relative competitiveness. This simply isn’t happening here. If the U.S. imposes a 15% tariff on EU goods, and similar tariffs on imports from other countries, the relative position of Europe doesn’t change. European firms are not being singled out. Rather, they are being folded into a universal matrix of American protectionism. In this context, tariffs become background noise, not directional signals. Everyone is hit equally, so no one is strategically disadvantaged. In fact, Europe may even gain in relative terms by being treated no worse than competitors.
Worse still (from Washington’s perspective), exchange rates could adjust. If U.S. tariffs reduce EU export revenues or external demand, the euro is likely to weaken against the dollar, offsetting the tariff impact entirely. A 15% tariff might simply be countered by a 10% currency depreciation, leaving effective prices unchanged in dollar terms. The overnight EU-US rate has shown a depreciation in the Euro. Let’s see if this remains in place for any meaningful period.
Now let’s consider the core justification behind tariffs, namely the idea that they’ll incentivise companies to relocate production back to the United States. This theory depends on a simple equation: the tariff-induced cost penalty must be greater than the cost disadvantage of operating inside the U.S.. But that equation is unlikely to hold at the emerging tariff levels of 15-20%. In most sectors, particularly manufacturing, the cost disadvantage of operating within the U.S. compared to offshore production hubs can easily exceed 30–40%, once you account for wages, land costs, compliance, and regulatory overhead. A 15% tariff does not close that gap.
In effect, what we have is a mismatch between the scale of penalty and the scale of incentive. The tariff is high enough to disrupt supply chains and hurt profit margins, but not high enough to make reshoring economically viable.
And even if the numbers worked, the policy risk premium of investing in the U.S. has risen sharply. The perception that American trade and industrial policy is erratic, politically motivated, and short-lived is now deeply embedded. For many firms, the logical response is not to relocate to the U.S., but to diversify away from it entirely. At a minimum, firms may simply seek to sit out the next few years and see if things settle down after Trump.
The result is a tariff regime that achieves none of its stated goals. It does not make U.S. industry more competitive. It does not induce reshoring. It does not shift trade flows in a strategic way. Rather, it increases domestic costs, eroding purchasing power. It creates uncertainty in global supply chains to the extent that they are exposed to the vagaries of America policy-making, which goes to undermining America’s credibility as a stable economic partner.
All that said and done, the effect of a flat tariff rate will vary from sector to sector, and product line to product line. This is the inevitable consequence of blunt instruments like this being applied to highly variable environments. Unsurprisingly, therefore, some EU sectors have responded vocally against the tariff deal with the most obvious being the Federation of German Industries. Paradoxically American autoworkers and automakers have criticised the tariff deal they have reached with Japan. Messy swings and roundabouts are likely, which is a far cry from “tariff reciprocity” as the meaningful economic benchmark.
On LNG
If the tariff question results in patchy effects, the LNG promises are demonstrably unrealistic and hollow.
Firstly, we can note that EU gas demand has declined ~18 % since 2021, reducing overall imports. The REPowerEU initiative aims to eliminate Russian gas (pipeline + LNG) by 2027. Against that context, as of 2024, the United States is the single largest supplier of LNG to the EU, followed by Russia, Qatar, and Algeria. The U.S. accounted for about 45–50 % of EU LNG imports. This is followed by Russia (15-18%), Qatar (~11%) with Algeria, Nigeria and Norway contributing smaller shares. The U.S. share rose to ~50.7% in Q1 2025 with Russia supplying ~17% and Qatar ~10.8%. In volume terms, this translates to the following:
U.S. ~50-56bcm;
Russia ~7-20bcm;
Qatar ~11-12bcm; and
Others ~20-25bcm.
To estimate dollar values against these volumes, typical LNG prices in 2024 ranged between €30–40 per MWh (≈ $32–43 / MWh). With 112 bcm ≈ 112 billion m³ ≈ 84 million tonnes (approx conversion), and MWh equivalent, we arrive at the following:
1 m³ ≈ 10.55 kWh translating to 112 bcm ≈ 1,181 TWh resulting in 1,181 billion kWh / 1 MWh = ~1,181 TWh; and
At $40/MWh translating to roughly $47 billion total in 2024.
Alternatively industry estimates also align: EU‐spent €6.3 billion on Russian LNG alone through Nov 2024 (~21 bcm). We therefore arrive at the following financial equivalent estimates for each of the principal suppliers of LNG to Europe:
Total LNG imports: ~112 bcm resulting in ≈ $45–50 billion in 2024;
From U.S. (45–50 %): ~50 bcm resulting in ≈ $20–25 billion;
From Russia (15–18 %): ~17–20 bcm resulting in ≈ $6–8 billion;
From Qatar (~11 %): ~12 bcm resulting in ≈ $4–5 billion; and
Others (20–25 %): ~22–28 bcm resulting in ≈ $10–12 billion.
The U.S.–EU energy trade “deal” include ambitious targets (e.g. $250 billion/year energy purchases). However, like myself, others - as reported in Reuters - have questioned the feasibility given current capacity. The $250 billion annual U.S.-EU energy trade goal is fundamentally undeliverable, for both structural supply-side and hard demand-side reasons.
On the supply side, that is U.S. LNG capacity, there are real constraints throughout the entire supply chain. Let’s start with constraints in cost competitive feedstock. U.S. LNG exports depend on natural gas from shale fields (mainly Permian and Haynesville). Domestic gas production has plateaued or slowed in growth due to investor pressure for capital discipline and regulatory headwinds. There is no meaningful surplus that could underpin a doubling or tripling of LNG exports, despite some additional capacity being added (Golden Pass, Plaquemines, and Corpus Christi Stage III). There are also liquefaction and loading bottlenecks. U.S. liquefaction capacity is maxed out. As of 2024, operational capacity is about 14 billion cubic feet/day (Bcf/d) (≈ 145–150 bcm/year). Planned expansions (e.g., Golden Pass and Plaquemines) won’t come online at scale until 2026–2028, and even then they won't reach the volumes implied by $250B/year. Add to this, we have shipping constraints. LNG requires specialised cryogenic tankers (Q-Flex, Q-Max, etc.), and there’s already a global shortage of LNG carriers. Charter rates are high, and the build-out pipeline is backlogged. Even if U.S. supply was available, not enough tankers exist to move it to Europe. Lastly, there are constraints in both the U.S. and EU in terms of terminal infrastructure. Many EU regasification terminals are operating near capacity. New floating regasification units (FSRUs) help but cannot absorb hundreds of additional bcm overnight.
Turning to the demand side, there are also material constraints. As noted, since 2021, EU gas demand is down ~18%. This has been due to industrial contraction, energy efficiency gains and substitution by renewables. LNG imports declined by 22 bcm in 2024 alone. We also have storage saturation. European gas storage is seasonally full by autumn. Additional LNG purchases would either go unused or depress market prices further, making it commercially unviable. Price sensitivity of European markets also raises serious doubts as to whether the EU market can absorb the putative extra American supplies. At ~$10–12/MMBtu, EU buyers cannot afford to lock in large volumes long-term without demand certainty. Industrial buyers are hesitant to sign long-term contracts. Uncertainty around decarbonisation policies and fear of stranded assets buttress the availability of cheaper alternatives such as pipeline gas from Norway and renewables, all contribute to dampened enthusiasm for long-term contracts. Last but not least, the existing EU energy policy aims to phase out gas, including LNG, by the mid-2030s. Committing to large LNG volumes from the U.S. contradicts net-zero and energy independence goals, again creating uncertainty in the market for corporate decision-making.
The suggestion that von der Leyen would not have been aware of the realities of the LNG market seem somewhat fanciful. That she has subsequently claimed the U.S. offers the cheapest and best LNG (when it is demonstrably more expensive than Russian gas) may suggest that she is out of her league on these matters. Perhaps. More charitably one could adopt a Trump-inspired defence: she’s just being hyperbolic for effect. Either way, it matters little whether or not she knows the state of LNG exports from the U.S. or the realities of sector / supply chain constraints. As I discussed in the original piece the issue isn’t about purchase intentions; it’s about physical capacity. That’s not sufficient to meet the targeted expenditure amounts unless there’s a significant price rise.
On Investment
As for the “investment” issue, much like the so-called deal with Japan, there’s little meaningful detail that could actually assist in making sense of the commitment. Just as is the case with Japan, the EU garners substantial USD by way of its trade surplus with the U.S., which animates Trump's consternations. These dollars need to be recycled, and are. Much of this goes into U.S. bonds.
If the so-called investment “deal” was to shift EU-held dollars into other American assets, there is scant detail on how this is to take place, let alone how it could be enforced. The vacuity of VDL’s “pledge” is confirmed by reports that the EU has admitted that it cannot guarantee the delivery of the $600B because this is to come from the private sector. Insofar as it being a sweetener to Trump, it’s entirely chimeric.
A Comment on Interests
Now, does any of this make von de Leyen any more or less of an American vassal? My argument is that none of it is contrary to this fundamental configuration, although perhaps the notion of a subimperial power - as introduced by Clinton Fernandes to describe Australia’s relationship to the U.S. - is more apt. Either way, whatever the label, the proposition that Brussels’ views European interests as fundamentally aligned with satisfying American interests so as to keep the U.S. committed to Europe on questions of security is not inconsistent with the parallel argument advanced above and in the original piece that VDL didn’t end up giving much away that was of material (as opposed to theatric / symbolic) significance.
Aside from the observation about the EU’s subimperial status above, we can make two further observations. First, if the interests of those in charge in Brussels was principally framed by risks of the U.S. abandoning Europe’s security, then the calculus was simple - all else can and must be subordinated to preserving American entanglement in European security matters. Capitulation to the U.S. on matters deemed secondary resulted in von der Leyen securing the one thing she was interested in. That this one “thing” may be contrary to other European interests does not invalidate that fact von der Leyen got what she wanted.
Of course this brings into sharp relief the nature of “European interests”, how these are framed and refracted through the various specific priorities of member states. So, while Brussels - by way of von der Leyen - may well have prioritised securing US commitment to European security issues via assorted promises, not all member states will see things this way. Indeed, both France’s Prime Minister and the Federation of German Industries have both spoken out against the deal. There is evident and palpable anger in some European quarters at what is seen as a betrayal of European interests by VDL.
Buying from the U.S. MIC
Promising to increase orders from the U.S. military industrial complex was a prominent feature of the “deal”. This appealed to everything known about Trump, and unsurprisingly it worked. My original argument is that this commitment effectively locks the U.S. into Europe’s security interests for a long time to come; if anything, the reflection below suggests that this lock-in is arguably open to question due to the capacity limits associated with the American military industrial system.
Von der Leyen promised that Europe would place $750 billion in new net orders with American defence firms in the coming years. No timeframes were provided.
The problem with the promise? It’s a mirage. The U.S. defence-industrial base is already running at high capacity. Forward orders - primarily for the U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) - have already made heavy claims on future output. If NATO and the EU now pile in with massive new orders, they will effectively crowd out American strategic ambitions in the Indo-Pacific. A production system designed for incremental procurement simply cannot scale at the pace or volume being imagined. The result is a looming collision between ostensible global demand and industrial reality.
Let’s start with the facts. The top six U.S. defence contractors - Lockheed Martin, RTX (Raytheon), Northrop Grumman, General Dynamics, Boeing and L3Harris - collectively generate over $270 billion in annual revenue (2024), the majority of which comes from U.S. government contracts. Lockheed Martin, the largest of them all, had revenue of around $71 billion in 2024, with roughly 65% of that tied directly to the Pentagon, and about 26% from exports, mostly to allies through Foreign Military Sales.
These firms are not idle. Most are already fully booked years in advance. Lockheed’s backlog exceeds $150 billion, and others have similar multi-year queues. Whether it’s fighter jets, precision missiles, air defence systems, or submarines, the production lines are at full capacity. In many cases, lead times range from 18 months to five years, and that’s without any new global surge in demand.
Now enter the new European promise. Facing the twin shocks of Russia’s war in Ukraine and the erosion of faith in long-term American guarantees, EU and NATO countries are racing to modernise and expand their arsenals. Yet most lack a domestic defence industry robust enough to deliver at speed. The answer? Buy American. Germany is already buying F-35s. Poland is buying HIMARS and Abrams tanks. The Baltics want more Javelins. The UK is increasing orders of U.S.-made air defence. This is just the beginning.
In the lead up to the Trump-VDL meeting the Europeans had agreed to create militarisation funds that would finance domestic industrial expansion. As the UK is not formally in the EU, the UK was told they’d be charged a fee to participate in supplying to the projected expansion in European requirements. All this was a bit of theatre. European industrial capacity could never meet ambition. But it did create atmospherics that made Washington take notice. The idea that the EU or its members may expand defence spending but the U.S. miss out was not going to go down well inside the Beltway.
In any case, the offer to purchase an additional $750 billion of defence kit from the U.S. assuaged Trump and any residual concerns Washington may have had of “missing out”. If European ambitions translate into $750 billion in new orders from U.S. firms over the next decade, they will come on top of existing U.S. procurement, which itself is expanding amid rising tensions with China. That means Europe’s orders will directly compete with America’s Indo-Pacific strategy.
The Pentagon’s own pivot to Asia rests heavily on its ability to forward-deploy advanced systems - fighters, submarines, hypersonics, long-range fires - in the name of deterring China. But those systems are built by the very same firms now being asked to supply Europe at scale. Unlike wartime economies of the 1940s, today’s defence production is high-tech, tightly regulated and difficult to scale. The U.S. no longer has thousands of idle factories that can be converted overnight. Nor does it have a surplus of skilled labour, rare materials or integrated supply chains.
Even a hypothetical $750 billion influx in new orders from NATO allies, would face multi-year production bottlenecks. These are not commercial goods that can be rushed. Weapons platforms involve complex engineering, rigorous quality control, long testing cycles, and in many cases, export controls or security restrictions that slow down integration into foreign militaries. Many critical subsystems - avionics, propulsion, guidance - come from thinly spread subcontractors who are themselves operating at the edge.
Moreover, U.S. defence contractors are not incentivised to ramp up sharply. As publicly traded companies, they prefer stable, predictable margins to volatile, surge-based demand. Surge demand generated shortages that drive up prices but leaves volume throughout largely unaltered. Unless governments are willing to fully underwrite the risks of unused capacity, the private sector will not invest billions in speculative expansion. Nor is it likely that the Pentagon will allow its key suppliers to prioritise European orders over U.S. requirements. This is precisely the debate taking place over whether the U.S. can afford to deliver submarines to Australia given production limits.
This brings us to a strategic dilemma: America cannot arm Europe and Asia simultaneously at the scale being envisioned. Something has to give.
If the United States continues to expand its own procurement while also committing to serve as Europe’s primary arsenal, it risks diluting its strategic focus and undermining deterrence in the Indo-Pacific. Conversely, if U.S. firms prioritise European orders for near-term revenue, it could leave America exposed in the very theatre where it claims the future of global order will be decided.
Material reality has the last say. The constraints evident in the U.S. military industrial system aren’t alone. They are also evident in another key component of other trade deals that have been struck in recent weeks - namely the commitment by various countries to purchase more Boeing aircraft.
On Boeing
Trump’s recent announcements - touting headline-grabbing airplane “orders” from Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Indonesia and Japan - have been presented as triumphs of deal-making prowess. These notional commitments, reportedly involving over 350 Boeing aircraft, are framed as wins for American manufacturing, jobs and diplomacy.
But peel away the showmanship and what’s revealed is not a manufacturing resurgence but the financialisation of industrial promise. These deals, largely in the form of non-binding Memoranda of Understanding (MOUs), are unlikely to be delivered within Trump’s time in office, or even in the years immediately following. Boeing’s current backlog of nearly 5,000 aircraft would already take more than a decade to clear at full capacity.
So what’s the point?
These “deals” are not about delivery. They’re about valuation. They are about narrative assets - future-oriented financial constructs that can be leveraged today to bolster a company’s liquidity, creditworthiness, or political capital. And in the meantime the headlines make excellent political theatre.
The backlog - even when not contractually enforceable - becomes a financial tool, enabling the company to raise debt, structure financing, or issue asset-backed securities based on the implied promise of future revenue.
From Orders to Instruments
Boeing, like many large industrial firms, doesn't book these MOUs as revenue or balance sheet assets. But that doesn’t mean they’re meaningless in financial terms. They play a subtle but powerful role in Boeing’s financial architecture.
Backlogs, once sufficiently “firm,” often serve as economic justification for financing arrangements. Structured debt can be built off expected future revenue. Customer pre-payments can be booked as liabilities offsetting current cash, while production activities convert narrative promises into assets like inventory and receivables. Even where contracts don’t proceed, the mere presence of a politically endorsed deal can grease the wheels of finance.
This is not unlike the ill-fated operations of Greensill Capital, which provided financing against anticipated - but unrealised - future sales. The difference is scale and endorsement. Where Greensill’s financing model collapsed under the weight of bad assumptions, the Trump-Boeing MOUs are buoyed by the legitimacy of political theatre and the systemic support of financial markets hungry for yield.
Capitalism in the Age of Anticipation
What Trump has facilitated is not industrial renewal but a textbook case of financialised accumulation. In this regime, real economic production becomes secondary to the circulation of financial claims over expected - and often speculative - future income streams. The state plays a crucial enabling role. It is not merely deregulating, but constructing the scaffolding of financial markets by turning political spectacle into usable financial collateral.
This is what makes the Trump-Boeing “deals” so revealing. They are empty of near-term industrial content but rich in financial utility. The MOUs do not commit Boeing to delivery timelines, nor do they represent enforceable contracts that trigger revenue recognition. But they may still be used to structure debt, reassure creditors, support stock prices and provide Boeing with liquidity precisely because financial capitalism no longer demands tangible outcomes. It demands credible narratives.
The case of Boeing is not just about one company or one former president. It’s about the ongoing mutation of capitalism itself, where manufacturing giants are evaluated less on what they build and more on how they monetise their future. The real economy becomes a stage for symbolic production, while financial instruments feed on speculation. Trump’s Boeing deals are not fake. They are arguably worse: financially real but materially hollow. They typify a system in which industrial promises are weaponised for balance sheet engineering, and political figures play the role of dealmakers not to deliver outcomes, but to create the appearance of activity that can be priced and traded.
If Boeing ever delivers those 350 planes, it will be a miracle of production. But as it stands, the true delivery is already happening, not on tarmacs or assembly lines, but in the structured finance departments of investment banks and the speculative algorithms of global capital.
The Pyrrhic Hollowness of Imaginary Deals
What ultimately ties these threads together? The EU’s defence spending pledge, the investment promises that can’t be enforced, Trump’s theatrical Boeing “orders,” and the Brussels elite’s maneuvering and offers to buy American LNG despite material constraints; it is the increasing divergence between political spectacle and material reality. The whole series of Trump deals look increasingly hollow. They are replete with big numbers but are short on details. They are detached from the constraints of real systems and often involve strategic opportunity costs that are contrary to other American priorities. They are pyrrhic victories in many cases.
From von der Leyen’s point of view, the logic is clear: she played a limited hand and got what she most wanted; that is, continued American security commitment to Europe. In her calculus, conceding on secondary matters such as high tariffs on EU exports, zero tariffs on U.S. goods, a non-deliverable investment offer, a reality defying LNG commitment and a symbolic $750 billion in future military orders was a tactical price worth paying to bind the U.S. to Europe’s defence architecture.
But this strategy, if there was one, is built on fragile foundations. If there was no strategy, and it was all happenstance, then more fool the Americans. The assumption that these promises will convert into real-world leverage ignores the structural limitations of the U.S. defence-industrial base. American contractors are already stretched, their production pipelines claimed for years ahead, their incentives tied more to backlog growth than actual delivery.
Worse, von der Leyen’s political gambit has exposed the fragility of European consensus. The strong reactions from France’s Prime Minister and the Federation of German Industries underscore how thin Brussels’ mandate really is. While von der Leyen may have secured American attention, she has deepened fractures within the EU by subordinating economic and strategic interests of key member states to a centralised and highly contestable vision.
The LNG offer only amplifies the unreality. Brussels more than likely knows the U.S. cannot deliver the gas volumes promised at competitive prices. The idea that U.S. LNG is “cheaper and better” is pure theatre. In practice, Europe will continue to buy gas from a wide array of suppliers, including, quietly, from Russia. The deal’s energy dimensions are thus symbolic, not structural.
Meanwhile, Trump’s touted “wins” - massive defence exports and hundreds of Boeing aircraft sales - are no more real. The aircraft orders are mostly unenforceable MOUs, unlikely to materialise within the decade. They serve instead as narrative assets, tools for valuation, finance and political messaging. And the promised defence orders from Europe? They may never reach American factories in meaningful quantities. Even if they do, they will stress a system already on the brink. In this sense, Trump’s victories are pyrrhic too. He gains headlines but sits atop a defence sector that cannot deliver, a strategic landscape that’s increasingly incoherent, and an industrial base straining under the weight of its own symbolic inflation. The whole affair exposes the shambles, not just of transatlantic coordination, but of the hollowed-out capacity of American production and the dysfunction of financialised policy-making.
Across both sides of the Atlantic, and elsewhere, these deals reflect a troubling reality: we are mistaking announcements for achievement, backlog for capability, and narrative for security. The true delivery in this cycle isn’t weapons, gas or planes. No, instead, it’s headlines, financial leverage and political illusions. These illusions may be profitable in the short term. But they are brittle. And when the time comes for delivery - not of promises, but of capability - they may not hold.
Will this “deal”, which has provoked angry reactions across various parts of Europe, result in meaningful political action and change? If Brussels’ priorities - its framing of the European interest - are at odds with those of its member states and their citizens at large, then perhaps - just perhaps - we are reaching what Walter Benjamin calls a “temporal rupture”, a moment in which the masses overcome their insouciance and numbed seriality, and find a way to punch through.
It’s a question for both sides of the Atlantic.