The Brutal Arithmetic of Strategic Autonomy

By Publius (of the 21st Century)

The Munich Security Conference 2026 will be remembered not for what was said, but for what was not. Secretary of State Marco Rubio delivered a speech heavy on civilizational rhetoric but conspicuously silent on Article 5 guarantees, nuclear commitments, or European input into Ukraine negotiations. The message beneath the reassuring words was clear: Europe is on its own timeline now, whether it's ready or not.

Echoing a notion in a previous brief formulated here, Robert Kagan, when speaking to Christiane Amanpour on CNN days earlier, put it bluntly: Europe finds itself “caught between an aggressor and a predatory empire to its east, but also now a potentially predatory, but certainly hostile empire to its west.” This is not hyperbole. It is the new structural reality that European leaders must navigate.

The European Response: Divergent Paths, Common Imperative

The three major European speeches at Munich revealed both progress and paralysis. Chancellor Friedrich Merz delivered perhaps the clearest-eyed assessment, explicitly acknowledging that “a divide has opened up between Europe and the United States” and that “the battle of cultures of MAGA in the US is not ours.” More importantly, Merz grasps the fundamental connection between competitiveness and security: “In this new world, competitiveness policy is security policy, and security policy is competitiveness policy.” This represents a conceptual breakthrough for German strategic thinking.

Prime Minister Keir Starmer maintained Britain's traditional Atlantic orientation, emphasizing that “the US remains an indispensable power” while acknowledging the need for “radical renewal” rather than rupture. His speech threaded the needle between European integration and American partnership, offering British defense industrial capacity (25% of Europe's total) and nuclear cooperation with France as bridges rather than choosing sides.

President Emmanuel Macron was most assertive about European autonomy, declaring “No peace without the Europeans” and establishing a direct communication channel with Russia. His emphasis on “European preference” in defense procurement and his warning that “if this money is used just to have national solutions... we will waste our money” represents the most protectionist position among the three leaders.

Yet for all their differences, the three converged on essentials: Russia remains an existential threat even after any Ukraine settlement; Europe must achieve strategic autonomy; and the 5% GDP defense spending target is necessary but not sufficient. The Coalition of the Willing now finances 100% of Western military support to Ukraine. Europe has already replaced America as Ukraine's primary backer—a fact, not an aspiration.

The German Awakening and Its Limits

Merz's clarity on German security imperatives contrasts sharply with his population's preparedness. Recent Nordic military visitors to Berlin observed, as Der Spiegel reported, that Germany risks becoming “a danger and liability in its geographic position” because Germans instinctively “look the other way” when danger looms. Decades of ideological disarmament—the peace dividend taken as permanent entitlement—cannot be reversed by speeches alone.

Yet Germany grasps at least one asymmetric advantage: Ukrainian combat experience. German-Ukrainian drone co-production represents more than arms deals; it's recognition that Ukraine possesses what no Western military has—four years of high-intensity warfare against a peer adversary using AI-enabled autonomous systems. This knowledge transfer could prove more valuable than any American weapons system Europe might purchase.

The bitter irony is tactical: the longer Ukraine fights and decimates Russian capabilities, the more time Europe gains to prepare. Russia's “defensive industry on a sugar high” (Macron's phrase) cannot sustain current casualty rates indefinitely. European intelligence estimates suggest a 5-year window before Russian reconstitution. But this assumes Ukraine maintains resistance—and that Europe uses the time wisely.

The Macron Paradox: Autonomy Without Sharing

Macron's “European preference” and direct Russia channel position France as would-be leader of European strategic autonomy. Yet his vision contains a fatal contradiction: he demands European power but resists the burden-sharing that power requires.

France's nuclear deterrent remains under absolute national control. Macron offers “dialogue” with European partners about how Europe factors into French vital interests—but not shared command, not consultation requirements, not automatic extension of deterrence. Germany's Merz has begun nuclear talks with Macron “fully embedded in our nuclear sharing within NATO,” but what does “European nuclear deterrence” mean if France retains unilateral launch authority and Germany constitutionally cannot possess weapons?

Similarly, Macron's insistence on European defense industrial champions—FCAS, MGCS, ELSA—assumes other Europeans will wait 15 years for French-led programs to mature while Russia reconstitutes in 5. Poland's massive procurement of American, South Korean, and Turkish systems reveals the market's verdict: when facing existential threat, speed trumps sovereignty. France must either accelerate timelines or accept that European preference will remain rhetorical.

The British Dilemma: Bridge to Nowhere?

Starmer's positioning as “Atlantic bridge” only works if both banks hold. His offer of closer single-market alignment “in other sectors” in exchange for defense industrial integration is strategically sound—Britain controls 25% of European defense capacity and brings nuclear weapons plus Five Eyes intelligence access.

But the bridge strategy fails if America disengages before Europe achieves autonomy. Rubio's Article 5 silence suggests exactly this trajectory. Britain then becomes not a bridge but an island—outside the EU framework, dependent on an unreliable American guarantee, unable to access European defense financing mechanisms.

The UK must make a harder choice than Starmer's speech suggests: either full defense and economic integration with Europe (requiring painful political concessions on regulatory alignment) or continued Atlantic dependence on an America that may no longer extend its nuclear umbrella. The middle path—partnership without commitment—serves neither British nor European interests.

Kagan's Predators and the Eastern Europeans

Eastern Europeans understand predatory empires viscerally. Poland's procurement decisions—$160 billion on American, South Korean, and Turkish systems—reflect threat assessment, not industrial policy. When Macron criticizes buying non-European, Poles hear French industrial protectionism, not European solidarity.

This is where Kagan's framework illuminates European divisions. Eastern Europeans face an immediate predator (Russia) and a potentially predatory partner (America). Their solution: arm immediately with whatever works, maintain American forward presence as tripwire, build European capability as hedge. They cannot afford to wait for FCAS to mature in 2040 when Russia may attack in 2031.

Western Europeans, particularly France, face a different calculation. The predator is less immediate, the opportunity to build autonomous capability more attractive, the patience for 15-year industrial programs greater. But this temporal divergence threatens coalition coherence. If Eastern Europeans conclude that Western Europe prioritizes industrial policy over their security, they will deepen Atlantic ties regardless of American unreliability—because an uncertain American guarantee beats a certain French or German industrial program.

Five Imperatives for European Action

Europe's 5-year window requires concrete action, not more speeches. Five imperatives emerge from Munich's contradictions:

First: Operationalize the Coalition of the Willing. Europe already finances Ukraine's defense 100%. Formalize this into permanent European defense financing mechanism with transparent governance, clear burden-sharing, and decision-making that includes but does not require American participation. The €90 billion Ukraine loan with “European preference” in procurement creates the institutional foundation. Build on it.

Second: Accelerate nuclear cooperation—with burden-sharing. Merz-Macron bilateral talks must expand to include UK and evolve toward genuine shared deterrence. This requires French concession of some autonomy and German acceptance that “European nuclear deterrence” means French/British weapons defending Germany. If France will not share, and Germany will not possess, European nuclear deterrence remains slogan not strategy. Poland and Baltics will maintain dependence on American umbrella, undermining European autonomy.

Third: Resolve the defense industrial trilemma through hybrid procurement. Europe cannot simultaneously achieve speed, European champions, and efficiency. Solution: immediate needs (ammunition, drones, air defense) procured pragmatically from best available sources; long-term strategic capabilities (FCAS, MGCS, ELSA) maintained as European sovereignty investments with extended timelines accepted. This requires Paris to tolerate non-European procurement for urgent needs, and Eastern Europeans to support European programs for future requirements.

Fourth: Integrate Ukraine fully into European security architecture. Ukraine's military is Europe's most combat-experienced force, battle-testing AI-enabled autonomous systems against peer adversary. Ukrainian drone warfare expertise, being co-developed with Germany, represents asymmetric advantage over American systems optimized for counterinsurgency. Include Ukraine in European defense industrial base now, not after some theoretical EU accession. Extend security guarantees that make renewed Russian aggression suicidal. Honor the Budapest Memorandum promises through deed, not rhetoric.

Fifth: Force UK-EU defense-economic integration. Starmer's offer of closer single-market alignment in exchange for defense integration must be accepted—quickly. Britain outside EU but inside European defense makes no sense long-term. Europe needs UK's 25% of defense industrial base, nuclear weapons, intelligence capabilities. UK needs European market access and collective security. Political obstacles to regulatory alignment pale beside strategic imperative. If Britain will not integrate economically, it cannot integrate militarily. If Europe will not accommodate British sovereignty concerns, it forfeits 25% of its defense capacity.

The Brutal Arithmetic

Russia's reconstitution timeline is approximately 5 years. European strategic autonomy—genuine ability to deter Russian aggression without American guarantee—requires 10-15 years if starting from scratch. Europe is not starting from scratch; it has two nuclear powers, significant industrial base, and coalition that already finances Ukraine's defense. But it has barely half the time needed.

The mathematics are brutal but not impossible. Every month Ukraine fights is one more month Europe gains for preparation. Every delay in European integration is one month lost. The choice is not between American partnership and European autonomy—that choice was already made the moment Washington replaced alliance with hierarchy, masked by Rubio's civilizational rhetoric. The choice is between European autonomy achieved rapidly through painful compromise, or European subordination to whichever predator proves most aggressive.

Merz sees this clearly. Macron sees parts of it. Starmer tries to bridge it. But seeing clearly is not enough. The Nordic soldiers visiting Berlin identified Germany's danger: looking away when crisis looms. Europe's danger is broader: debating industrial policy while the window closes, negotiating burden-sharing while Russia rebuilds, protecting national sovereignty while losing collective security.

Munich 2026 revealed that Europe at least understands its predicament. The test is whether understanding translates to timely action before the 5-year window slams shut. The predators—east and west—are watching.

livi brought me to the hundezone with the kind of excitement she only feels when seeing snow again. the moment we arrived, she launched her tiny body in the air with this joyful sprint, running from one side to the other, glancing back as if she was inviting me into her game. so I followed. we played peekaboo between the trees, she had her white tail drawing little arcs of happiness in the air. my earphones playing “Volta” from Tim Bernardes, a song my best friend shared with me, as he always does, time to time. the epitome of our friendship. now she’s leaping around like a small, excited horse, because that’s who she is, a creature who turns everything into something else, like an alchemist, like a child who still remembers how to play with the world. she stares at me with those black marble ball eyes of hers as if telling me: see? you're still there. and then, in the reflection of a parked car, I catch a glimpse of myself, and right there, completely unexpectedly, 6 AM of an ordinary thursday, I notice that I’m smiling again.

/feb26

Wide awake at 2:00 am today; the long journey of overcoming jetlag begins. Hopefully I don't collapse mid workshop tomorrow. Three workshops back-to-back, no mercy for the lecturing artist flying in from across the globe.

I intentionally didn't pack much clothes, because I knew I already had a bunch stored in Houston. In raiding my storage unit for apparel, I discovered in horror the amount of completely unnecessary stuff I had stored in there (like, why on Earth would I store a wastebin?). There's plenty of very important stuff in there (So. Many. Books.), enough to warrant keeping the unit, but too much nonsense that gets in the way of finding the good stuff. I just might make it my mission to clear out everything I'm happy to discard while I'm here, time permitting. Definitely no time to list/sell anything, but as luck would have it, there's a Goodwill just across the street from the storage spot. Perfect.

Ramadan commences back in Cairo today. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy to be missing it.

#journal

Rabindranath, el joven halcón, sintió en su corazón la necesidad de volar, desde la suciedad del mundo ordinario, hasta las místicas fuentes de Cachemira, donde los buscadores de la verdad se establecieron para beber, sorbo a sorbo, el néctar de la sabiduría.

Su padre, el príncipe, y su abuelo el rey de Gandhar, no podían comprender que el joven halcón incumpliera sus deberes de casta, el estudio de los clásicos, la instrucción militar, cabalgar en las sillas doradas de sus espléndidos corceles, rechazando todo tipo de goces sensuales.

Pero la madre de Rabindranath ya había tenido visiones antes del parto. Vió a un halcón derrotar a un ejército de demonios. Así lo hizo constar el rey en los documentos oficiales.

Y llegó el día que el joven partió. Las cosas a veces suceden de un modo diferente al esperado. Al llegar a Cachemira, alquiló un auto que tenía el GPS dañado y se desvió por una carretera secundaria donde lo capturó la guerrilla. Con el tiempo, el comandante sintió aprecio por él y lo hizo su confidente. Pero las tropas regulares ganaron posiciones y al final Rabindranath cayó prisionero del ejército.

Observando el excelente linaje del joven, el oficial del ejército le dijo: -No has matado a nadie, así que puedes irte. -Quiero llegar a las fuentes de la sabiduría. -Imposible, el paso está tomado por tres grupos guerrilleros desde hace un año, apoyados por dos países vecinos que les proporcionan drones y cohetes. Ahí no entra ni una cobra. Nosotros mismos estamos en peligro. Te lo ruego, regresa a casa, salva tu vida que tu familia te estará esperando.

Resignado, Rabindranath emprendió el camino a casa y cuando el rey y la corte escucharon la historia, el mismísimo rey se levantó del trono, dió un paso adelante y agitando los brazos, le dijo:

-Ingrato, has dejado mal a tu madre. Eres un fracasado.

-Papá, yo no soy como tú. Tú eres el Yeti. -Hijo, cómo dices eso. Eres clavado a mí. -Mira papá. Naciste en el Himalaya, tienes el pelo y la barba blanca desde que tengo uso de razón, y además calzas el cuarenta y siete. Tú no sabes tratarme. -¿Que no se tratarte? Eso dice tu mamá. Anda, vete a vivir con ella a ver si el cromañón que está allí te trata como yo.

Ahí me dió donde me dolía, porque el cromañón tuerce la cara cuando me ve. Y mamá quiere que me haga militar, como el abuelo.

-Te verías tan bien de uniforme. -Mamá, que soy pacifista. -Meeentira.

Por eso, no me queda otro remedio que seguirle la corriente a mi papá y hacer las paces. Tampoco está mal. Cuando hacemos las paces, nos sentamos a ver televisión y pedimos pizzas.

No voy bien en el colegio porque los profesores me cogieron odio al sospechar que fui yo el del rap que decía la verdad sobre el colegio. La única que me comprende es Adrianita, pero su familia no me quiere, así que no puedo ir a su casa.

A Adri la veo poco porque llevo un año atrasado. Ella ya está en quinto.

Cuando llego a mi casa, me meto en el cuarto, me quedo viendo el cielo y las nubes que se deshacen. Eso me tranquiliza. El tiempo transcurre de otra manera. Me conecto a una fuerza que desconozco, me dejo llevar, y aunque no me suelto del todo, mi respiración se hace fina, mi cuerpo liviano, y noto un hilo de felicidad en mi corazón, como si mi vida se fuera completando. No sé por qué, siento a veces que esa felicidad sería del todo completa si en lugar de los edificios del fondo, estuviera una cordillera con sus picos nevados.

Y así, van volando los días, uno tras otro, como un sueño. Como si no fuera de aquí.

I am listening to Labyrinthus Stellarum, Vortex of the Worlds

An space black metal band, or something, irrelevant.

It’s atmospheric!

Anyway it sends me happy memories from when I was jogging this fall in areas where I lived in my late teenage years, so I am thinking about thinking about these memories I think, and they fill me with warmth, even though they weren’t precisely happy, but there is a sweetness to them even so.

(The jogging sent me into this familiar trance)

I sit now in front of my desk, having a recursive memory, that’s pretty cool.

Have you seen this movie ” inception”?, — it’s not quite like that.

And of what? Of what am I thinking? On the second layer? When I was young, wearing Manchester jacket, and sometimes smoking a Marlboro light through pierced lip, and of being very insecure, but with a tender kind heart mostly.

Mostly.

Yo no sé a qué viene Paul, el perfecto, si se jacta de que tiene amigos y oportunidades de negocios por todas partes.

Viene una o dos veces a la semana, según él a saludarme.

Pero qué hace un hombre así en un humilde taller de pintura. Yo no dejo un legado. Simplemente copio los mismos paisajes de San Francisco, el puente, el Skyline. También hago rostros famosos, pero eso se vende menos. Cada año los turistas son más jóvenes y no los conocen, ni les interesa. Lo que se vende es el puente. También hago el del Big Sur y algún muelle con barcos y gaviotas, para una galería de la zona.

Nada me hace sospechar que Paul me quiera envenenar para que se revalorice mi obra. El único cuadro mío que tiene se lo di cuando éramos adolescentes, una acuarela sobre papel inspirada en Turner. Él la aprecia, la tiene colgada en su estudio. Como un trofeo, quizás, para sentirse superior a mí, pues él triunfó y yo no. Así son los amigos después de los cuarenta.

Es bastante bruto; nos burlábamos de sus respuestas en los exámenes. Como no quería estudiar, la familia lo puso a trabajar en un centro comercial y allí fue ascendiendo, trabajando como burro. Me dijo en qué, pero no le entendí, es tan tonto que se enreda al explicar las cosas. Puede que ahora sea supervisor o gerente de algo. Aunque no se le entiende, tiene mucho cuento para enredar y enreda. A su cuñado, que tiene dinero, le dijo que estaba en un buen negocio y le mencionó una suma alta. El cuñado tragó saliva y le preguntó cómo entrar. Paul le dijo que el grupo estaba cerrado pero que le avisaría en la próxima. Entonces el cuñado lo miró, le dió un sorbo al trago y levantó un dedo. O sea, se lo merendó.

Cuando viene al medio día trae tacos y bebidas, buen atracón nos damos.

Pero todavía no sé a qué viene. ¿Será que le doy pena y me ve cara de hambre? ¿O porque aquí se ríe y no le cobro?

Arthur Harris had opinions. Not little ones. Big, stompy ones that came in, boots first, and kicked the doors off.

He was in his sixties, hair still hanging on, just about, like it had signed a short‑term contract. Thick glasses. Permanent can’t‑be‑arsed stubble. Face like he’d been asked to share his chips.

He lived in Lower Twaddle, North Midlands, the bit they never put on postcards. Two‑up, two‑down, straight on to the pavement, traffic close enough to nick a fag off. No garden. Arthur reckoned gardens were for people who liked plants more than people.

“Aye. Dead right, that is.”

The words just dropped in.

Arthur paused. Looked round the living room. Nobody.

“You talking to me, Arthur?”

“Who else am I talkin’ to, duck? Ghosts?”

“I’m just checking.”

“You the one writin’ this?”

“Er. Yes.”

“‘Hair hanging on’” He sniffed. “You saying I’m goin’ bald?”

“No. I’m saying your hair is… short.”

“Well say short then. Don’t be clever. Clever gets twatted.”

He picked at a bit of stubble, waiting.

“Well? Crack on then.”

Mrs Gabblethorpe had emailed him. Of course she had. Mrs Gabblethorpe emailed everyone. She was chair of the town committee, the residents’ association, the “Friends Of Something Or Other”, and probably the Moon. If you could have a meeting about it, she was in charge.

Arthur had sent an email first, about this new “shared space” idea down the High Street. Take away the kerbs. Mix cars, bikes, people. Let them “negotiate”.

“Negotiate me arse,” Arthur had muttered, typing with one finger and a lot of fury.

“Oi. Author.”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Make sure you put this bit in, right. Shared spaces are stupid. You’re asking for some pillock on a bike to wipe out half the town”.

“I’ll capture the gist, yes.”

“Don’t ‘gist’ me, pal. Just write it.”

He got dressed like he always did when he was off to start trouble but pretend he wasn’t. Black T‑shirt. Sleeveless jacket.

“Not a gilet. Say gilet and I’m walkin’ out this story.”

“Jacket. Got it.”

Work boots, laces double‑knotted, mud like a badge of honour. The sun was already belting down on Lower Twaddle, so he dragged on his baggy walking shorts, pockets like caves.

He stepped out. The street shimmered. Warm tarmac, cut grass, someone’s washing powder, bread baking somewhere round the corner.

“Hate that,” Arthur said.

“The bread?”

“Yeah. Smells like adverts. Don’t trust it.”

He cut through a jitty behind the shops, the little cut‑through where the bins lived and teenagers learned to smoke. Out onto the High Street. There it was: The Brew Stop. His café. His table. His view.

And Mrs Gabblethorpe. Already sat at his table. By the window. Like she’d paid rent.

“Oi. Writer lad.”

“Yes?”

“What’s she doin’ there already? I wanted to be there first. I’m supposed to make an entrance. You’ve ruined me entrance.”

“I thought it’d be funnier if you were already on the back foot.”

“What if I just don’t go in then, eh? Story over. Big dramatic fade to black.”

“You will go in, Arthur.”

He grunted, shoved the door. Bell jangled like it was panicking.

“Morning, love,” he called to Sarah behind the counter. “Usual, if you don’t mind.”

Usual meant a large cappuccino and that billionaire caramel slice that came with its own health warning. Chocolate thick enough to resurface the ring road.

“Morning, Arthur,” Sarah said. “Alright, Mrs Gabblethorpe?”

“Good morning, dear. I’ll have a fresh Earl Grey, if I may.”

Arthur’s head snapped round.

“Oh no. No chance. I’m not buyin’ her bloody tea.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” the voice said, patient. “Sarah’s got it.”

“I’ll put it on the loyalty card,” Sarah whispered. “Don’t tell my boss.”

Arthur dropped himself opposite Mrs Gabblethorpe and dug out his notebook. The cover said “Shopping List” but he’d scratched it out and written “Committee Crap” over the top. The first page just said “POINTLESS BOLLARDS” six times, in biro that had nearly gone through the paper.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s not prat about. Shared spaces down the High Street. No.”

He drew a big cross in the air.

“Just no.”

Mrs Gabblethorpe tried a smile. It didn’t suit her. Her face creased up like a dog’s backside under a Sunday hat.

“If I could just—”

“No, you’re alright. You had your chance. Now it’s me. You lot on these committees, I swear. Ask you to design a horse and we end up with a bloody camel. With handlebars.”

He went at the caramel slice, bit too big, crumbs everywhere. Every word came out with shrapnel.

“You can’t have flamin’ cyclists hurtling down the path—path, that’s what it is, not a racetrack—tight shorts, stupid helmets, scarin’ folk who are just tryin’ to walk to Greggs without gettin’ killed.”

“Arthur—”

“Old dears with their trolleys, little kids lickin’ ice creams, next minute, whoosh, Lycra up their backsides—”

“Arthur!”

“WHAT?”

The café stopped. Spoons froze. Milk frother hissed like it was gossiping.

Sarah stood by the machine, half‑smile, half‑wince.

“Council scrapped it last week,” she said. “The shared space thing. They voted against it. It’s not happening.”

Arthur stared.

“Not… happening?”

“No, duck. Mrs Gabblethorpe just wanted to tell you nice and calm, before you started a riot.”

Mrs Gabblethorpe lifted her cup. Tiny sip. Saucer back down. Like she was handling explosives.

Silence. Chair creak. Someone coughed. Outside, a bus wheezed past.

Arthur looked at his notebook. At his pen. At his caramel slice, now mostly air and crumbs.

He snorted.

“Still a bloody stupid idea, though.”

He took another bite, just in case someone tried to argue.

3月に有給をとったので、妻と車で舞鶴まで2泊3日の旅行に出かける予定だ。 そのための計画を立てようと思う。

旅行の計画を立てるために、まずは妻と相談することになるのだけれど、 その前にひとりで、ぼんやりと方向性を組み立てておきたい。 会議用のふんわりした資料を、頭の中に用意しておく必要がある。

今日は社内で、パソコンのモニターの右端に小さくメモ帳を立ち上げて、 思いついたことをぽつぽつと書き留めている。 とはいえ、2月は忙しい。上司が次々と仕事を振ってくる。 忙しいときって、美しい案なんてなかなか出てこないんだよなあ。

本当は、時間がたっぷりある場所で、たとえば自宅で、 最適な室温の中、冷蔵庫には好きな飲み物と食べ物を用意して、 自分の感性をたっぷり織り交ぜながら考えたい。 でもまあ、仕方がない。

せめてもの救いは、お気に入りのニットを着ていること。 今、視覚的に自分を支えてくれているのは、 この袖口から見える、自分の好きな色と質感だけだ。 忙しい人ほど、お気に入りの服を着るべきだと思う。 自分の目に映るものが、少しでも心地よければ、 その感覚が、無機質なオフィスの空間を少しだけ侵食する。

さて、途中で寄れる喫茶店はあるだろうか。 寒いのが分かった上で、軽くハイキングできるような緩やかな丘に行ってみるのはどうだろう。 海辺を、ただ目的もなく歩き続けるのもいい。 昔ふたりで行ったあのピザ屋に、また立ち寄るのも悪くない。

宿はオーシャンビューにするのか、 初めてvlogでも撮ってみようか、 ご飯は、どんな美味しいものを食べようか、

決めることは、いくらでもある。 でも実際にふたりで会議するときには、具体的なことは詰めないまま、 ふわふわと宙に浮かんだものを持っていく。 一度浮かんで、やがてゆっくり落ちていくような、 持っていく頃には、たぶん手からほとんどこぼれ落ちているような、そんなもの。

そんなことを考えていたら、上司がこっちに向かってきた。 「結構まとまってきた感じですか？」とこちらから質問して、ぼんやりやり過ごした。

Shorter post because I’m really tired and it’s kind of late. I spent a lot of time today interacting with friends. I did things like:

- playing games

- talked to someone while getting boba

- then also just called a friend later in the afternoon (near night)

It's nice to be able to do that and stuff like that and I'm hoping that I can continue to do that a little bit more consistently.

I also made a new friend and we made plans to work out on Thursdays, I think, for now, which is nice. Also with some co-workers we were talking about, “Oh I think we're going to go rock climbing soon and kind of do that.”

I very much kicked it into overdrive socializing, which is a good thing, and I don't know. I guess I just really hope that things work out.

If you’ve spent any time in evangelical churches, you’ve probably encountered wildly different readings of the Book of Revelation. Some people treat it like tomorrow’s newspaper. Others think it was entirely fulfilled in the first century. Still others throw up their hands and say it’s all symbolic. And if you grew up in a church with a prophecy chart on the wall, you might assume that the Left Behind version is the only game in town.

It isn’t. The church has been reading Revelation for two thousand years, and faithful Christians have landed in very different places. Confessional Reformed and Presbyterian churches have generally recognized this, welcoming amillennialists, postmillennialists, and historic premillennialists to their pulpits — while drawing the line at dispensationalism, not because of its millennial position per se, but because it functions as a theological system that reshapes how one reads the whole Bible in ways incompatible with covenant theology.

That kind of charitable firmness — holding convictions without unchurching brothers who disagree — is the spirit I want to model here. What follows is a survey of the four major interpretive approaches, a note on why dispensationalism raises deeper concerns, and a case for why I believe one view handles the text better than the others.

The Four Schools

Preterism — “Most of This Already Happened”

Preterists believe that the bulk of Revelation’s prophecies were fulfilled in the first century — particularly in the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70 and the fall of the Roman Empire. The beast, the tribulation, and the fall of Babylon all refer to events the original audience either experienced or was about to experience. Partial preterists (the orthodox kind) still affirm a future return of Christ and final judgment; they simply believe the dramatic middle chapters of Revelation are behind us.

What they get right: Preterism takes the original audience seriously. When John writes that these things “must soon take place” (Rev. 1:1), preterists let “soon” mean soon. That’s not nothing — it’s a genuine exegetical strength. Revelation was a letter to real churches, and those churches needed to understand it in their own lifetime.

Where it struggles: The cosmic scope of Revelation’s later chapters is hard to fit into first-century events. The fall of Jerusalem was catastrophic, but was it really the final defeat of death? The new heaven and new earth? The lake of fire? Partial preterism handles this by pushing chapters 20–22 into the future, but the seams can show. This view is most commonly paired with postmillennialism — the belief that the gospel will progressively triumph throughout history before Christ returns.

Historicism — “It’s a Map of Church History”

The historicist view reads Revelation as a prophetic timeline stretching from the apostolic age to the Second Coming, with each seal, trumpet, and bowl corresponding to a specific era or event in Western church history. This was the dominant Protestant view from the Reformation through the 19th century, and the Reformers loved it — because it let them identify the papacy as the Beast.

What they get right: Historicism affirms that Revelation speaks to every generation, not just the first or the last. It also gave the Reformers genuine courage, assuring them that God had foreseen the corruption of the church and was working through history to reform it.

Where it struggles: No two historicists can agree on which events correspond to which symbols. The system requires constant revision as history unfolds, and it’s hopelessly Eurocentric — as if God wrote Revelation exclusively for Western Christendom and forgot about the church in Africa, Asia, and South America. This view has largely fallen out of serious scholarly use and is maintained today primarily by Seventh-day Adventists.

Futurism — “The Best Is Yet to Come (and It’s Terrifying)”

Futurists believe that while chapters 1–3 address the first-century churches, the bulk of Revelation (chapters 4–22) describes events still in our future — a great tribulation, the rise of Antichrist, the return of Christ, and a literal thousand-year earthly kingdom. This is the most popular view in American evangelicalism, and it comes in two very different forms that need to be distinguished.

Historic premillennialism is the older and more restrained version. It teaches that Christ will return before a literal millennium, but it does not require a pretribulational rapture, does not sharply separate God’s plan for Israel from His plan for the Church, and reads Revelation with genuine sensitivity to its symbolic and literary character. This view has ancient roots — Papias, Justin Martyr, and Irenaeus all held something like it — and it has had able modern defenders such as George Eldon Ladd. Historic premillennialists can and do hold to covenant theology, and confessional Reformed churches have generally welcomed them to their pulpits.

Dispensational premillennialism is a different matter — not because of its millennial timing, but because of the theological system underneath it. Dispensationalism, as developed by John Nelson Darby in the 19th century and popularized through the Scofield Reference Bible, the Dallas Theological Seminary tradition, and the Left Behind series, builds on several commitments that create structural problems for how one reads the whole Bible.

What futurists get right: Futurism takes the spectacular, earth-shaking imagery of Revelation at something close to face value. If the judgments of the seals, trumpets, and bowls haven’t happened yet, you don’t have to strain to find historical fulfillments. It also preserves a vivid, urgent expectation of Christ’s return, which is genuinely biblical.

Where it struggles: If chapters 4–22 describe events thousands of years after the seven churches received John’s letter, what was the letter for? Why would John tell persecuted believers in Ephesus and Smyrna that events two millennia away “must soon take place”? The time indicators are a real problem for futurism. Additionally, the track record of futurist prediction-making (from Hal Lindsey to Y2K to countless failed Antichrist identifications) has done real damage to the credibility of this approach.

A Note on Dispensationalism

It’s worth pausing here to explain why dispensationalism raises concerns that go beyond the millennial question itself. The issue is not that dispensationalists are less sincere or less committed to Scripture — many are deeply devout believers. The issue is that dispensationalism introduces theological commitments that reshape how one reads the entire Bible, and several of those commitments are difficult to reconcile with what Scripture actually teaches.

The Israel/Church distinction. Dispensationalism maintains that God has two fundamentally distinct peoples — Israel and the Church — with two distinct programs running throughout history. The Church is a “parenthesis” or “mystery” inserted into God’s plan when Israel rejected the kingdom offer, and God’s promises to ethnic Israel remain to be fulfilled in a future millennial kingdom. But the New Testament consistently presents the Church as the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel, not an interruption of them. Paul calls Gentile believers “Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise” (Gal. 3:29). He describes the Church as being grafted into Israel’s olive tree (Rom. 11:17–24). Peter applies Old Testament Israel language directly to the Church: “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation” (1 Pet. 2:9). The wall of separation between Jew and Gentile has been broken down in Christ (Eph. 2:14–16), creating “one new man” — not two parallel programs.

The pretribulational rapture. Dispensationalism teaches that Christ will secretly return to rapture the Church before a seven-year tribulation, and then return again publicly at the end of the tribulation. This two-stage return has no clear support in the text of Revelation, no attestation in the history of interpretation before the 19th century, and depends on a reading of passages like 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18 that most exegetes — including historic premillennialists — find unpersuasive. The New Testament consistently presents the return of Christ as a single, visible, glorious event.

A hermeneutic that drives theology. Perhaps most fundamentally, dispensationalism operates with a hermeneutical principle — that Old Testament promises to Israel must be fulfilled “literally” to ethnic Israel in a future earthly kingdom — that functions as a grid placed over the entire Bible. When the New Testament authors interpret Old Testament prophecy in ways that don’t fit this grid (as they frequently do — see, for example, how Acts 2:16–21 handles Joel 2, or how Acts 15:15–17 handles Amos 9), the dispensational system has to explain away the New Testament’s own interpretation. That’s a significant problem. The New Testament should interpret the Old, not the other way around.

None of this means dispensationalists aren’t brothers and sisters in Christ. They are. But it does mean that dispensationalism as a system introduces interpretive commitments that pull in a different direction from the covenantal reading of Scripture that the Reformers recovered and that the Reformed confessions enshrine.

Idealism — “It’s About the Whole Story”

Idealists read Revelation not as a timeline of specific events — past, present, or future — but as a symbolic portrayal of the ongoing conflict between Christ and Satan, the Church and the world, that runs throughout the entire period between Christ’s first and second comings. The best versions of this view (sometimes called redemptive-historical idealism) don’t deny that the symbols had first-century referents or that there will be a real, future consummation. They simply insist that the primary purpose of the book is to reveal patterns and realities that are true in every age. This view is the natural home of amillennialism — the belief that the “thousand years” of Revelation 20 symbolizes the present reign of Christ from heaven over His church.

What they get right: Quite a lot, in my view — which is why I’ll say more below.

Why I Land Here

I’m convinced that the amillennial, redemptive-historical reading of Revelation is the most exegetically responsible position available. Here’s why.

It does justice to the genre. Revelation is apocalyptic literature, a genre that communicates through dense, layered symbolism drawn from the Old Testament. When John sees a lamb with seven eyes and seven horns, no one thinks he’s describing a literal animal. The entire book operates this way. An interpretive approach that honors the symbolic character of the genre — without evacuating it of real meaning — is simply reading the book the way it was written.

It respects the original audience and every audience since. Unlike futurism, which struggles to explain why first-century Christians would care about events millennia away, and unlike preterism, which can leave later generations with a museum piece, the idealist approach allows Revelation to function the way it appears designed to function: as a pastoral word to suffering saints in every age. The beast is Rome. The beast is also every totalitarian regime that demands ultimate allegiance. Both are true simultaneously.

It handles Revelation 20 with integrity. The amillennial reading of the millennium — that it represents Christ’s present reign and the binding of Satan at the cross — fits naturally with the rest of the New Testament’s teaching. Jesus said, “Now is the judgment of this world; now will the ruler of this world be cast out” (John 12:31). Paul declared that God “disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame” (Col. 2:15). The binding of Satan is not a future event; it’s a finished work that limits his power to deceive the nations during the church age, even as he continues to rage against the saints.

But the strongest exegetical case involves the phrase “the first resurrection” itself. Meredith G. Kline — one of the most brilliant Old Testament scholars in the Reformed tradition — demonstrated in a 1975 article that the word “first” (prōtos) in Revelation 20 does not merely mean “first in a sequence of the same kind.” In Revelation 21, the “first heaven and first earth” pass away and are replaced by something “new” — not a second version of the same thing, but a qualitatively different reality. “First” in Revelation marks what belongs to the present, passing age. “The first resurrection,” then, is not the first of two bodily risings; it is the believer’s entrance into life with Christ in the intermediate state — the souls living and reigning with Christ in heaven — which belongs to this present age and gives way to the consummate, bodily resurrection at Christ’s return. As Kline showed, this reading is confirmed by the interlocking of “first resurrection” and “second death” in the same passage: premillennialists rightly acknowledge that the “second death” is qualitatively different from the first (spiritual death, not merely a second physical dying), yet inconsistently insist that the “first resurrection” must be the same kind as the second.

This isn’t a clever trick of spiritualizing. It is careful attention to how John actually uses his own vocabulary — and it has been embraced and extended by scholars like G.K. Beale, Vern Poythress, Dennis Johnson, and Sam Storms.

It preserves genuine eschatological hope without speculation. Amillennialism does not deny the future return of Christ, the bodily resurrection, or the final judgment. It affirms all of these with full conviction. What it refuses to do is construct an elaborate prophetic calendar that Scripture doesn’t actually provide. Christ will return. The dead will be raised. Every knee will bow. We don’t need to know the geopolitical sequence of events leading up to that day — we need to be faithful until it arrives.

It reads the whole Bible as one story. The amillennial, covenantal reading of Revelation sees the book as the climax of the single story of redemption that begins in Genesis. There is one people of God, one covenant of grace, one King on the throne. Revelation doesn’t introduce a new program for ethnic Israel alongside the Church. It reveals the Bride of Christ — drawn from every nation, tribe, people, and tongue — as the fulfillment of everything God has been doing since He called Abraham.

A Word of Charity

Let me close with this: good and godly people disagree on these matters. I think the best Reformed and Presbyterian churches have modeled something worth imitating — welcoming amillennialists, postmillennialists, and historic premillennialists to their pulpits and elder boards, not because eschatology doesn’t matter, but because these are differences among people who confess the same Christ, submit to the same Scriptures, and affirm the same system of doctrine. As one denominational Q&A helpfully put it, “We are not a one-emphasis church. The whole Bible is our only rule of faith and life. And as to the ‘thousand years,’ they are mentioned only in the first seven verses of Revelation 20, though their implications reach into both the Old and New Testaments.”

Premillennialists, postmillennialists, and amillennialists all confess the Apostles’ Creed. They all affirm that Christ is risen, that He reigns, and that He will come again. The differences are real and worth discussing — but they are differences among family members reading the same Book under the authority of the same Lord.

I hold my amillennial convictions with confidence, but I hold them with open hands. The Lamb is on the throne regardless of which millennial view is correct. And on the last day, I suspect none of us will have gotten every detail right — but all of us who trusted in Christ will find that the ending is better than any of us imagined.

Soli Deo Gloria

Recentemente, o INSPER proibiu o uso de celulares em seus campi, e a FGV seguiu o mesmo caminho. Na realidade, não é uma proibição propriamente dita, já que são adultos — e não há lei que dite essa regra, nem federal, nem estadual — é uma forte recomendação que pode beneficiar os alunos em projetos internos das próprias universidades.

Entretanto, definir uma “política de forte recomendação do não uso” é proibir sem usar uma lei, segundo relatos de alunos ao podcast “O ASSUNTO”, do G1. (edição de 18/02/2026).

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Mas essa proibição traz algum benefício real ou apenas tenta controlar o incontrolável?Essa proibição já está em vigor no INSPER há pelo menos um ano, e os professores relatam que as notas e a qualidade do ensino já tem sido melhor.

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Podemos usar o exemplo de uma faculdade do Texas: uma política de incentivo ao uso direcionado apenas ao aprendizado. Quanto “melhor” for o uso — nos momentos corretos — os alunos ganham moedas (coins) para trocar por descontos em lojas no campus e outros benefícios. A diferença é que a política do incentivo não é mandatória — é voluntária.

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No Brasil, uma recente pesquisa divulgada pelo G1, demonstrou que os brasileiros usam o celular, em média, por 05h e 30min por dia. (com uma média de 4h apenas usando redes sociais!). Quando olhamos mais a fundo e separamos por faixa etária, vemos a disparidade entre os jovens: 70% destes passam entre 10h e 19h por dia usando o telefone. Deste tempo, em média 9h por dia é dedicado somente para redes sociais. 

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Devem ser realizadas políticas de incentivo ao uso correto do celular, especialmente pelo temido efeito contágio em sala: esse efeito é literal – quando um aluno começa a jogar, os outros têm vontade de jogar também, e quando percebe-se, a sala inteira está olhando para as telas. 

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Quando pensamos que os alunos já são adultos quando estão nas universidades, esse pensamento deve ser feito com ressalvas — lembre-se que os alunos oriundos das escolas, geralmente são adolescentes (com 17/18 anos), que entram na faculdade, geralmente, no ano seguinte (com 18/19 anos), ou seja, raramente ocorre grande evolução em tão pouco tempo.

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Porque não faz sentido restringir?

Os profissionais, especialmente aqueles do time dos cálculos (calculadoras de diferentes tipos) e da área da medicina (consultas de condutas médicas) e farmácia (consulta de interações medicamentosas) — usam o celular rotineiramente no mercado de trabalho.

Não faz sentido restringir, afinal também se faz o mesmo uso nas universidades.

Faz-se necessário desenvolver mecanismos de controle do uso dos celulares, voltados ao uso do brasileiro jovem, sem usar a “restrição mandatória”. Um exemplo já mencionado, é a política de incentivo (Universidade do Texas). 

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O celular não é o vilão.

O vilão é a incapacidade institucional de lidar com a complexidade dele.

Rio de Janeiro, 19 de fevereiro de 2026.

#test