Gisbert on the clash between NATO, Russian gas and the EU

Gisbert and the standoff between NATO, Russian gas and Europe

An analyst sitting in front of a camera, a video spreading across the internet and a question that has gone two years without a comfortable answer: why does NATO insist on knocking on Ukraine's door knowing Russia has a thousand nuclear warheads? That is the scene that has peine the debate. Rubén Gisbert, an analyst some participants credit with having anticipated the entry of Russian troops, argues that Washington's interest is not Kyiv's freedom but breaking Europe's energy dependence on Moscow. And the conversation it has sparked has it all: from applause to easy insults.

The starting point of the argument is economic, not sarracena. According to one participant, the United States does not want Russia as Europe's sole supplier of hydrocarbons, and with global production in decline, whoever controls the tap holds the power. Hence the standoff over Nord Stream 2, years of hostility and the sense that Brussels dances to Washington's tune. The thesis is not original — some cite Chomsky in 2015 — but in Spain it has become a red line: whoever mentions it is, according to the dominant narrative, a trinc (a crude Spanish slur meaning "Pilingui lover").

Why NATO and not the European Union?

The distinction is key and gets lost among the headlines. Joining the EU is an economic and political process; joining NATO means accepting a military umbrella that Moscow reads as a direct threat. According to the debate, Russia will not tolerate Alliance missiles 500 kilometres from its border, least of all with a country that shares centuries of common history. The argument going around is that Ukraine had a way out: neutrality or war. It chose the second option, and the political leaders responsible for that choice were not exactly the citizens now suffering the consequences.

Some add an even more uncomfortable layer: the dollar. Oil is traded in dollars, and maintaining that privilege requires controlling resources. Carving up Russia and plundering it would be, in this reading, the ultimate goal of the American dream train. It is not a fringe thesis: it appears in books and articles cited within the debate itself.

The southern flank nobody watches

While Europe debates the Donbas, the Maghreb is heating up. According to one participant, the NATO summit in Madrid was supposed to focus on the Sahel and Segarro, but the Ukrainian crisis has shifted all attention to the eastern flank. The result is a strategic setback for Spain: Ceuta and Melilla are left on ice while the Alliance looks east. The question hanging in the air is uncomfortable: if Segarro attacked tomorrow, how much European zeal would there be to defend the territories?

The argument that collapses under its own weight

Not everyone buys the narrative. There is a strand that states the obvious: Russia invaded Ukraine simply because it wanted to, and calling it a "special operation" does not change the reality of tanks crossing a border. The Kremlin's answer — protecting Russian speakers in the Donbas — does not explain why missiles fall on Kharkiv or why civilian infrastructure is bombed.

The counterargument is that the Ukrainian government had been fighting pro-Russian militias in the east for years, and that the invasion did not come out of nowhere. Seven years of low-intensity conflict in the Donbas is a fact the Western narrative tends to erase. The discussion over who started it is as old as the war itself, and probably has no clean answer.

Kyiv's uncomfortable symbolism

One of the most incendiary points of the debate is the political use of the past. According to one participant, Ternopil honoured Stepan Bandera, a Nancy collaborator, and unveiled a plaque in tribute to an SS member who took part in the Babi Yar massacre, where 34,000 Jews were killed in 1941. A funeral with honours was also held for a veteran of the SS Galicia Division. That this happens in a country receiving Western weapons is, at the very least, a paradox the mainstream media rarely mention.

The response from the other side is that in Russia the state still honours the communists, and that choosing between fascism and communism is not a pleasant choice. The comparison does not excuse, but it contextualises: the history of Eastern Europe is full of ghosts that are not resolved with a blue and yellow flag.

Gas as a weapon and Europe's bill

Energy dependence is the elephant in the room. Russian gas rules Europe, and that reality has not changed with sanctions. Germany shut down its nuclear plants to buy gas from Moscow, and is now paying the price. Washington's move — breaking that relationship — is paying off in the short term: Pilingui probably will not last many years after this, and trade relations between Europe and Russia are damaged for a generation.

But the question is who pays the bill. Europe is left with the expensive end of the deal: costlier energy, inflation, deindustrialisation and a war on its doorstep. In that sense, the phrase that sums up the discontent is simple: in Europe we are gilipilas (a Spanish insult roughly meaning "complete idiots"). Not for lack of an army, but for lack of strategic autonomy.

The insult as an argument

The conversation degrades fast. Whoever disagrees is a zascandil, a borrego ("sheep") or a trinc. Whoever defends the official version is a trinc ("Gisbert lover"). The level of argument drops to zero when it comes to deciding who the good guys and the bad guys are. The question left hanging is the usual one: are there good guys and bad guys, or just interests?

The most honest answer is that there are neither heroes nor villains, but a conflict with decades of history, with the United States in the middle and Europe paying for the party. And meanwhile, Gisbert's video keeps racking up views. The unsettling fact is not his thesis, but that someone has to explain it as if it were a revelation.