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The advice of President Donald Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio to the European Union to adopt a white nationalist domestic and foreign policy and attempt to initiate a new round of colonialism is monstrous, both morally and in practical terms.
Under President Donald J. Trump, the United States has now become an engine for the promulgation of white nationalism. Not since the 1930s has such an ideology, which exalts those ethnic groups it codes as “white,” while denigrating all others, underpinned the domestic and foreign policies of a major world power.
Typically (for our moment), Trump’s recent National Security Strategy (NSS) depicted Europe as in distinct “civilizational decline” because of the European Union’s commitment to multiracial democracy and international humanitarian law. These days, thanks to its racial policies, the Trump team even finds a way to inject racial hatred into dry economic statistics, complaining that “Continental Europe has been losing share of global GDP [gross domestic product]—down from 25% in 1990 to 14% today.”
As it happens, though, on a per-person basis, Europeans are more than twice as wealthy today in real terms as they were 36 years ago. The dictum once cited by Mark Twain that there are “lies, damned lies, and statistics” is exemplified in Trump’s National Security Strategy. In 1991, just two years before the European Union (EU) was first formed, the per-capita GDP there was $15,470 (in today’s dollars). In 2024, that figure was $43,305. What changed since then wasn’t that Europe began decaying, but that the well-being of the people in the global South, in what Trump dismisses as “shithole countries,” has actually also improved significantly, whether he likes it or not, changing Europe’s share of global GDP.
In his National Security Strategy, Trump admits, however, that Europe’s supposed economic degradation doesn’t bother him nearly as much as another issue: “This economic decline is eclipsed by the real and more stark prospect of civilizational erasure,” thanks to Europe’s migration policies. In short, Trump’s government has now adopted a modernized version of the Nazi Great Replacement ideology, slamming “migration policies that are transforming the [European] continent and creating strife,” along with “cratering birthrates, and loss of national identities and self-confidence.”
The only thing that outstrips Trump’s Islamophobia is his horror of Black people.
Trump claims that he’s no longer sure Europeans will even remain European. He supposedly worries that, two decades from now, the continent will be unrecognizable and EU countries no longer capable of being Washington’s “reliable allies.” That barb is, of course, clearly aimed at Muslim immigrants to Europe, even though they are a distinct minority of those arriving there. In an interview about his NSS, Trump snidely remarked, “If you take a look at London, you have a mayor named Khan.” And he then went on to exclaim in horror that immigrants aren’t just coming from the Middle East, “they’re coming in from the Congo, tremendous numbers of people coming from the Congo.” In other words, the only thing that outstrips Trump’s Islamophobia is his horror of Black people.
Of course, he’s completely misinformed about immigration to Europe, which means his NSS is as well. As a start, the largest influx of people into the EU in recent few years has been 4.3 million Ukrainians. The major sources of immigration to Germany in 2024 were Ukraine, Romania, Turkey, Syria, and India. For Spain, it was Colombia, Morocco, Venezuela, Peru, and Argentina. As for Europe’s future reliability, Trump has already said that he “can’t trust” Denmark, no matter that its population is solidly Lutheran and predominantly blond, because that country won’t give him Greenland. And since the president has expressed a willingness to break up the NATO alliance, if necessary, to add 57,000 Greenlanders to his feudal domains, his doubting of European dependability should be considered richly ironic.
The underpinnings of Trump’s reasoning can (or at least should) be described as Nazi in style. After all, he’s assuming that the immigrants he loathes are inherently incapable of becoming Europeans and will make those countries intrinsically untrustworthy as allies of the United States. Of the EU countries, he recently asserted that “they’ll change their ideology, obviously, because the people coming in have a totally different ideology.” Yet British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak, born in Southampton to an immigrant Indian-East African family of Hindu faith, was widely viewed as having restored British-US diplomatic relations after years of strain.
In reality, studies show that socioeconomic status, not national origin, best predicts how immigrants will vote. In Germany, the better-off Russian Germans, who far outnumber largely working-class Turkish Germans, tend to vote for right-of-center parties. Both groups, however, seem happy to participate in European politics in accordance with local norms. If, for Trump, the term “immigrants” in this context is a dog whistle for Muslims, it might be noted that 9 of the 22 countries, including Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Pakistan, that have been formally designated by Trump as “major non-NATO allies” are Muslim majority.
His foreign policy reasoning in that NSS eerily mirrors the crackpot logic of Adolf Hitler, who saw France as an enemy of Germany’s because it had allegedly fallen irretrievably under non-Aryan Jewish influence, and who held out hope in the 1920s and early 1930s that Aryan elements would prevail over Jewish ones in Britain, a country he preferred as a strategic partner because of the Germanic ancestry of part of its population. In Trump’s NSS, immigrant Europeans from Africa and the Middle East play the role that Jews did in Hitler’s thinking—that is, non-Aryan underminers of national integrity. Hitler’s conspiratorial racism was, of course, all too grimly insane, and so, too, is that of Trump’s NSS.
Central to the NSS is the Great Replacement. The idea, though not the phrase, goes back to 1900 when the French nationalist parliamentarian and novelist Maurice Barrès wrote, “Today, new French have slipped in among us… who want to impose on us their ways of feeling.” He warned of Jewish, Italian, and other immigrants. “The name of France might well survive,” he commented, but “the special character of our country would nevertheless be destroyed.” Amid a political crisis over the wrongful conviction of Captain Alfred Dreyfus (of Jewish and Alsatian heritage) for supposed espionage for the German embassy, Barrès denounced the famed French novelist Émile Zola, a supporter of Dreyfus, as “not French” but a rootless cosmopolitan from a Venetian background.
Fifty years later, the French Nazi René Binet (1913-1957) coined the phrase “Great Replacement.” An ex-Communist, he had served as a Nazi collaborator during World War II in the Waffen Grenadier Brigade of the Charlemagne paramilitary Protection Squadron (Schutzstaffel or SS). After the war, in his 1950 book Theory of Racism, he wrote in dismay about how Western Europe had been invaded by “Mongols and Negroes”—that is, by the Soviets and the Americans. He lamented that Jewish-dominated capital also supposedly controlled Europe (it didn’t, of course) and falsely alleged that Jewish CEOs were bringing in immigrants in a deliberate attempt to replace civilized white Europeans.
Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez had it right when he said that Spain faces a choice between “being an open and prosperous country or a closed and poor one.”
Sadly enough, Binet’s ideas have been revived in this century by French thinkers and politicians. Renaud Camus published his 21st century version of the theory in 2010, entitling his book The Great Replacement. Such falsehoods were echoed in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017, when American Nazis chanted, “Jews will not replace us” (and President Trump called the assembled protesters, as well as those who opposed them, “very fine people”). Camus came around to supporting like-minded politicians in the far-right French National Rally (formerly the National Front) party, led by Marine Le Pen, who also became a Trump ally. When a French court convicted her of embezzlement in 2025 and excluded her from politics for five years, Trump denounced the verdict and launched the slogan, “Free Marine Le Pen.” Holding Le Pen, a far-right racist politician, accountable to the rule of law is part of what Trump was complaining about in his NSS when he cited European “censorship of free speech and suppression of political opposition.”
Marine Le Pen’s father, Jean-Marie Le Pen, had been a paratrooper in the ruthless Algerian War (1954-1962) that killed between half a million and a million Algerians in a bid to keep that country under French colonial domination. The elder Le Pen came to lead the newly founded National Front in 1972 and was surrounded by far-right figures who had collaborated with the Nazis. While the party reinvented itself under Marine Le Pen in 2017 as the National Rally and has moved slightly toward the center, many of its supporters harbor neo-Nazi ideas about racial purity, now typically aimed at Arab and Amazigh Muslims.
The central concerns of that National Security Strategy now animate the Trump administration’s foreign policy. At the annual Munich Security Conference in early February, for instance, Secretary of State Marco Rubio took up what the Victorian jingoist writer Rudyard Kipling once termed the White Man’s Burden, crowing that “for five centuries, before the end of the Second World War, the West had been expanding.” He neglected to mention all the massacres, destruction, and looting that European colonialists perpetrated over those centuries. Belgium’s King Leopold II alone, for instance, instituted policies in the Congo from 1885 to 1908 that may have killed as many as 10 million people. That bloody episode inspired Joseph Conrad’s novel The Heart of Darkness, in the final sentence of which the protagonist utters, “The horror! The horror!“
After the end of World War II in 1945, Rubio lamented, a Europe in ruins contracted. “Half of it,” he added, “lived behind an Iron Curtain and the rest looked like it would soon follow.” He mourned that “the great Western empires had entered into terminal decline, accelerated by godless communist revolutions and by anti-colonial uprisings that would transform the world and drape the red hammer and sickle across vast swaths of the map in the years to come.”
He also displayed a striking mixture of white nationalism and colonial nostalgia—and with it, an ignorance of the history of decolonization, which neither occurred only after 1945, nor was in the main communist led. After all, the United States launched its anti-colonial struggle in 1776. Most of Latin America was liberated from the Spanish Empire in the early 19th century by Simón Bolívar and other fighters who would have been characterized at the time as liberals. As for the post-World War II liberation movements, most leaders of former colonialized countries, including India, Kenya, Malaysia, Morocco, Pakistan, Senegal, and Sudan, among other places, tilted either to capitalism or to social democracy.
Marco Rubio’s mixing of white nationalism and colonial nostalgia is, of course, nothing new. A return of German colonies in Africa, lost in World War I to Britain and France, was among the Nazi regime’s most insistent demands in the late 1930s, and dreams of a new version of German imperialism in Africa were part of what was meant by the Third Reich.
Rubio has depicted decolonization as a failure of the European will to power. Most historians, on the other hand, point to the way their colonies mobilized for independence. Political scientists point to two crucial kinds of mobilization. The first was “social mobilization,” which involved urbanization, industrialization, and increased literacy. By 1945, ever more Asians and Africans were no longer illiterates living in small, disconnected villages. As for political mobilization, parties, chambers of commerce, and labor unions put millions of the previously colonized in the streets. New social classes of entrepreneurs, professionals, and workers demanded the right to control their own destinies.
And in the wake of World War II, attitudes were changing even among the colonial powers. The British public, for instance, could no longer be persuaded to spend money in an attempt to quell an India where the Congress Party of Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru had brought millions into the streets demanding independence. And while the Netherlands did fight viciously to roll back Indonesia’s declaration of independence in 1945 (despite having itself been occupied by Germany during World War II), after four years of massacres, it was forced out. The impoverished French had no choice but to give up most of their African possessions, but in a sanguinary failure attempted to keep their colonies in Algeria and Vietnam by military force. American President Dwight D. Eisenhower, a wiser man than Rubio, twisted French President Charles De Gaulle’s arm to get him out of Algeria lest the revolutionaries there turn to Moscow and Communism.
Given that history, the advice of President Donald Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio to the European Union to adopt a white nationalist domestic and foreign policy and attempt to initiate a new round of European colonialism in the global South is monstrous indeed, both morally and in practical terms. Without immigration today, Europe would soon face Japan’s dilemma of rapid population loss, along with the loss of international economic and political power.
Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez had it right when he said that Spain faces a choice between “being an open and prosperous country or a closed and poor one.” As for the white nationalist pronatalist dream of keeping women barefoot and pregnant in accordance with the old German slogan, Kinder, Küche, Kirche (children, kitchen, church), it’s a chimera given the electoral power of women in today’s Europe (and the United States).
In reality, the European Union’s project of multicultural democracy has yielded enormous prosperity, while expanding and deepening human rights.
Meanwhile, Donald Trump’s cruel, heavily ICED anti-immigrant campaign has already hurt the American economy and Europeans would be deeply unwise to emulate it in any way, including colonially. The neoconservative project of rehabilitating American colonialism crashed and burned in this country’s disastrous 21st-century wars in Afghanistan and Iraq (and won’t be aided by the present assault on Iran either) for reasons similar to those that made European colonialism impossible in the post-World War II period.
In reality, the European Union’s project of multicultural democracy has yielded enormous prosperity, while expanding and deepening human rights. Trump’s white nationalism, on the other hand, is a formula for division, poverty, and mass violence, as was demonstrated in the 1930s and 1940s when a form of that ideology was last tried in Europe.
And count on this: Trump and crew are going to give the phrase “the white man’s burden” a grim new meaning.
President Sánchez’s voice has been the bravest in Europe. His peace communication and action have the potential to disarm the authoritarian brutality of war as events in Iran and the Middle East grip the hearts and minds of the peoples of the world.
In a move that has sent shockwaves from Washington to Tel Aviv, passing through Berlin and Ankara, Spanish President Pedro Sánchez has positioned Spain as the primary European holdout against the escalating military conflict in Iran. Invoking the ghost of protests against the 2003 Iraq War, Sánchez’s government has blocked the United States from using Spanish military bases at Rota and Morón de la Frontera to bomb Iran—a decision that has triggered threats of a trade embargo from US President Donald Trump.
Sánchez has provided a three-fold argument against the war: that it is contrary to international law, unethical, and catastrophic for the world. He is simultaneously presenting himself as a courageous politician whose principles transcend any fear of US retaliation and a pragmatist who wishes to avoid the negative consequences of the war, from economic disaster to Islamist terrorism.
No a la Guerra captures this narrative in a way that resonates strongly not only in the minds of Spaniards but across the world. Sánchez has satisfied an international demand to speak out against Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and put peace on the agenda. His government has broken a spiral of silence. Can it stir support to stop the war?
Sánchez’s predecessor, José Maria Aznar, dragged Spain into the illegal and catastrophic Iraq War against the will of its people. That remains strongly embedded in the Spanish collective consciousness. The right-wing Partido Popular (PP) knows it lost the subsequent election because “weapons of mass destruction” did not exist, innocent people were killed en masse, there were jihadist terrorist attacks in Madrid as retaliation, and the party lied, blaming the domestic terrorist group ETA. Today’s No a la Guerra is a slap to the face of the PP and the far-right party Vox, which both support the US-Israeli war.
In opposing the Iranian war, the Spanish government is part of a wider movement that can unsettle the sense of helplessness that often grips Europe during Middle East conflicts.
While 80-90% of the Spanish population opposed the invasion of Iraq, almost 70% rejects the current war; 53% of the public supports the government’s stance on military bases. Just 23% supports the war. The right-wing opposition, and Podemos on the left, accuse Sánchez of hypocrisy for sending the frigate Cristóbal Colón to the United Kingdom’s military base in Cyprus. Per Britain’s claims for mobilizing forces and matériel, the Spanish government has responded that this is merely for protection rather than offensive purposes, in accordance with NATO’s doctrine of collective defense. Of course, such doctrines may be invoked quite differently should Iran attack US forces stationed in Europe.
Spain’s government must navigate the tension of geopolitical power relations while avoiding any mismatch between its discourse and practice, per the slaughter in Gaza. Some on the left also maintain that it is impossible to oppose the war effectively without sanctioning Israel and leaving NATO.
The right labels Sánchez as posturing ahead of a potential snap election. Yet the PP leader Alberto Núñez Feijóo has offered babbling, erratic responses that are themselves framed almost entirely through the lens of domestic partisan politics.
Feijóo also argues that Sánchez has abandoned Spain’s allies, jeopardizing the national interest. But the PP’s alignment with pro-war interests represents a regression to an outdated colonialist mindset of total servility. Much like during Aznar’s era, the PP is willing to kneel to US interests, sacrificing national sovereignty to serve as a submissive junior partner in a foreign military campaign. Sanchez’s performance is approved by 42% of the population; 19% support the opposition’s reaction.
The country’s main business association has expressed deep concern about the possibility of the US severing trade relations with Spain and placed responsibility on the Spanish government, urging it to ameliorate the situation.
The European Commission, Italy, France, Portugal, Austria, Ireland, Malta, Turkey, and China have expressed solidarity with Spain in the face of Trump’s threats. However, France and Portugal, together with Germany, the UK, Greece, and Australia have adopted bellicose positions, and Canada is wavering. The President of the European Commission Ursula von der Leyen has justified the attack on Iran and stated that the European Union must be prepared to “project power” as it can no longer rely on the “rules-based” system to protect the continent’s interests, while the President of the European Council Antonio Costa and the Vice-President of the European Commission Teresa Ribera have spoken up for international law.
Within Latin America, Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, Venezuela, and Chile have advocated for adherence to international law and diplomatic resolution; conversely, Argentina has signaled explicit support for the US and Israeli governments.
Israel accuses Spain of failing to fulfill its obligations per NATO, while Trump, as ever the class bully, threatens to punish it. While remaining submissive to Trump, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz has reminded him that he cannot unilaterally block trade with Spain because it shares most-favored nation status with all European Union members. NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte justifies the offensive against Iran at the same time as he defends Spain’s contribution to the organization.
Positions may change as the war evolves. Sánchez needs to go further and mobilize international opposition to the war. He must show it is possible and beneficial (including in electoral terms) to stand up to bullying. That will mean developing new alliances and favoring European strategic autonomy and sovereignty. Should the war go badly for US interests, Sánchez’s blend of ethical resistance and enlightened self-interest could encourage other leaders to join him.
For now, Spain is holding up a mirror to other European countries, challenging them to reflect on their diminished sovereignty. Merz looks weak by contrast when he claims that international law does not apply to Iran.
The US National Security Strategy frames the EU as an enemy to be destroyed, while DC and techno-authoritarians promote the far right. Positive coverage of the Spanish government’s stand in the international press can encourage European governments and citizens to confront Trump and Netanyahu. Significant majorities in Spain, Germany, Italy, and Britain oppose military intervention. It is about time democratic leaders understand the US not as an ally but an irresponsible actor seeking to weaponize Europe in its own interest. Iran’s democratic opposition needs peaceful conditions, as opposed to bombs. And the violence that the regime uses to deter dissent and seek internal cohesion against the external enemy. The country’s democratization must be accompanied by democratization and pacification across the globe, especially the United States.

In opposing the Iranian war, the Spanish government is part of a wider movement that can unsettle the sense of helplessness that often grips Europe during Middle East conflicts. Per 2003’s invasion of Iraq, grassroots popular culture is playing a key role in expressing peaceful solidarity.
A Turkish news anchor moved audiences by thanking Spain—in Spanish—for being “on the right side of history” and “representing the common consciousness of humanity,” while a video of Turkish football fans passionately singing the pasodoble España Cañí has become viral; a surreal display of cultural support. Other viral videos feature a skilled Palestinian skater holding a Spanish flag and a Japanese influencer advocating for Spanish products in response to Trump’s threat.
Peace has a chance should the US people rise decidedly against the war. Spain has paved the way for citizens around the world.
Peace and democracy require symbolic triumphs that bring binding affects to the people and joy to the collective political body. Believing that “yes, we can” is a necessary step to the realization of objectives. As Susan Sarandon said in cinema’s recent Goya Awards, “Silence is very dangerous.” When Sánchez broke the silence of world leaders, the possibility of resistance turning viral emerged: “In a place where you feel repression and censorship, to see Spain come forward with such a strong voice and moral clarity is so important to us, the United States; it makes you feel less alone and that there is hope.”
The US and Israel seem to be losing the battle of international public opinion, but that’s not enough: Authoritarian leaders such as Trump and Netanyahu act through force more than consensus in the international arena. Nevertheless, they rely on their own voters. Although 93% of Israeli Jews and 26% of Israeli Arabs support the war, as of early March, 44% of US citizens support the war and 56% oppose it. Despite Trump’s electoral promise of “no war,” only 15% of his supporters oppose the attacks on Iran, but support for Trump and the war are based on a cult of personality and spectacular demonstrations of force and victory in short wars with few national casualties. Some notable isolationist and antisemitic conservatives have already broken with him over Iran.
Although the figures vary depending on the survey, support for the strikes is far lower than that at the beginnings of previous wars. As ever, support for military action may wane as the economic and human costs of war increase. International-relations mavens are unified in their skepticism. While current opposition remains insufficient to halt the conflict, it highlights a decline in President Trump’s support that could prove decisive in the November midterm elections. However, given the catastrophic consequences of the war, an electoral shift may come too late. Because of the illegal nature of the strikes and the bypassing of congressional approval, it may be time to pursue impeachment based on executive overreach and the violation of international law, albeit with no prospect of conviction.
The role of peace communication is to engage with Trump’s supporters: listening to them, empathizing where possible, sharing information, and showing how they are negatively affected by the war.
Peace has a chance should the US people rise decidedly against the war. Spain has paved the way for citizens around the world. But peace communication should not merely be refusal; it should mobilize diplomacy, internationalism, and interculturality. Peace communication must encourage others to agree, not push them away, and do so in the name of mutual transformation. That depends on a shared will, creativity, and care for humanity.
The EU talks a good game, but rhetoric alone is not enough. The ratification delay is a golden opportunity for reflection and to strengthen standards.
Gestation crates are metal cages, typically no bigger than 7 feet by 2 feet, used to contain female pigs—known as sows—for most of their breeding lives. The crates are so small that their inhabitants cannot walk or even turn around. Natural behaviors such as rummaging, fetching food, nesting, and grazing are all denied to them.
Without question they are among the cruelest fixtures in the meat industry. Many countries in the Western world, including the European Union, have either banned or significantly restricted their use. The European Commission plans to phase them out entirely by 2027. A recent landmark piece of legislation, however, threatens to undo this critical progress.
The EU-Mercosur (Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay) Agreement, signed to great fanfare on January 17, 2026, has been heralded as both historic and ambitious. Less discussed, however, is what the agreement could mean for animal welfare protections in both hemispheres.
The EU may be home to some of the highest animal welfare standards of any government in the world, but the same cannot be said for Mercosur, where millions of sows are still confined to gestation crates for long periods of time.
Unless safeguards are put in place, this trade agreement risks reversing the EU's progress on deforestation altogether.
Sinergia Animal, the international animal protection organisation whose Brazilian operations I lead, publishes a yearly report called Pigs in Focus, which ranks major Brazilian producers on their animal welfare standards. Despite being the country’s fourth-largest pork processor and a major dairy company, Frimesa has still not committed to ban crates for sows. Farrowing cages and battery cages for chickens remain widespread too. We have been negotiating with them for years, and despite their competitors making meaningful progress, they are still dragging their heels on making even basic improvements.
The problem does not stop with Frimesa. Minerva Foods, one of the leading meat producers in South America and a major supplier of pork products globally, continues to cause immense suffering. Ear notching, teeth clipping, and tail docking, as well as the routine misuse of antimicrobials, are all common. Again, while commitments to phase out these techniques have been made, our research exposes the use of excessively long deadlines that serve to prolong animal suffering.
These are not exceptional, isolated cases. They represent a wider system across Mercosur countries—one that may end up supplying significantly more of the meat consumed in the EU.
This raises serious questions about the EU’s commitment to animal welfare standards, which is why the European Parliament’s decision in late January to request a legal opinion from the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) on the agreement’s conformity with the EU treaties, thereby halting the ratification process, is a welcome one.
The review could take up to two years, which gives EU policymakers more than enough time to revisit the issue of animal welfare and mitigate against the new incentive structures now in place for Mercosur producers.
It would, however, be a mistake to assume that greater attention should be paid to animal welfare protections alone. After all, lower standards mean higher yields. In Argentina and Uruguay, 89% and 88% of eggs come from hens kept in battery or enriched cages. In Brazil the figure is 95%. In the EU, by comparison, 38% of hens are still kept in cages—something seen as too high but will nonetheless put European producers at a significant competitive disadvantage.
An increase in demand for meat will also magnify pressure on vital ecosystems. As demand for land and animal feed goes up, so too will the rate of deforestation. The resultant loss of habitat will accelerate biodiversity decline, threatening ecosystems that are a key natural defense against climate change.
These developments cannot be divorced from the geopolitics of the climate crisis. With the US having reneged on its international climate commitments, the pressure is on the EU to at least partially fill the leadership void. So far they are failing, with initiatives such as the Deforestation Regulation and electric vehicle mandate either abandoned or reduced in ambition. Unless safeguards are put in place, this trade agreement risks reversing the EU's progress on deforestation altogether.
So what can the EU do? At a minimum, Brussels must demand that meat produced under unacceptably low standards is not imported to the EU. However, equally important is that Mercosur countries are still able to benefit economically from the agreement by retaining access to the EU market. This means pushing for Mercosur countries to eliminate battery cages and sow stalls, ban mutilations without pain relief, enrich spaces, and meaningfully improve handling standards.
The EU talks a good game, but rhetoric alone is not enough. The ratification delay is a golden opportunity for reflection and to strengthen standards. Political leaders have been right to label the agreement as historic, but unless robust protections are put in place, it may well be remembered for all the wrong reasons.