Reading through the articles and listening to the reports, what struck me most was how Europe keeps failing the very test it set for itself: the idea of unity in times of crisis. Migration has become the clearest mirror of that failure. On paper, refugees are different from economic migrants. By international law, you can close the door on someone seeking work, but you cannot do the same for someone fleeing war or persecution. There is a moral and legal obligation to protect them. And yet, when push comes to shove, states still reach for their own interests before thinking about the collective good.

Germany is the perfect example. I kept coming back to how, in 2015, Merkel opened the borders to Syrians. It was framed as an act of moral leadership, and for a while it seemed like Germany had both the resources and the political courage to carry that weight. But today, the tone has shifted dramatically. Deborah Cole’s report on how attacks on refugees and shelters more than doubled in 2024 compared to the previous year was the concretisation of how the rise in violence has been fueled by the same rhetoric we’ve seen before: asylum seekers as a threat, a drain, an alien presence. The far-right AfD feeds on that, turning fear into electoral gains, and in the process drags mainstream politics toward harsher measures. Even Scholz’s progressive ex-government, as described by the Migration Policy Institute, had reinstated border controls with nine neighbors. Legal under Schengen, but devastating to the ideal of open borders.

The Ukrainian case has only added to the strain. As reported in the Kyiv Independent, Germany has taken in over one million Ukrainians since 2022, spending more than €20 billion on their accommodation and integration, and even opening “Unity Hubs” in Berlin to provide jobs and education. At first this showed that the Union can, when pressed, mobilise impressive resources and coordination. But it also revived old tensions, as governments questioned how long such commitments can last, and whether similar efforts should—or could—be extended to other groups. Each new wave becomes a trigger for the same unresolved debate.

That’s why democracies are so vulnerable here. Populist parties thrive on moments of crisis, promising to halt the “invasion” or defend “our culture,” without ever offering workable solutions. Catastrophic talk of ethnic substitution or cultural war resonates far more than the dry details of integration policy. Mainstream governments, fearing electoral loss, bend to that pressure. And so the cycle repeats: more restrictions, more resentment, more fear.

In the end, all these crises prove that Europe is only as united as it is comfortable. The Dublin system entrenched inequality between border and interior states, and no one has been willing to fix it. Merkel’s gamble in 2015 was an exception, but the backlash has made Germany itself more cautious. Every new wave reopens the same wound. Unless governments are finally willing to put the Union’s collective good ahead of national calculations, no real solution is possible. Crises will keep exposing the cracks, and “unity” will remain more slogan than reality.

I was intrigued by both Deb’s article and the Reuters podcast that highlighted the use of drone warfare in the Russo-Ukrainian War. I found the normalization of the guerrilla-ification of modern warfare, introduced by the necessity of civilian interception in responding to drone strikes, to be especially interesting: when $400 drones hold the kind of firepower that can neutralize 400-million-dollar tanks, the nature of conflict is centered on a competition for the powers of mass-production (of both the number of drone interceptors and the drones themselves.) If you fire tons and tons of cheap drones, the opponent will eventually run out of interceptors to neutralize them, or vice versa.

But I think drones are much easier to mass-produce than warfare-savvy civilians, compensated mostly by their own patriotism and a small check from the government in exchange for putting their lives on the line. I then wonder whether this is, for one, a sustainable method of warfare: the Ukrainian government is effectively hiring non-military, non-trained mercenaries to support its defenses. Can that method be sustained, financially or politically, in the long run? I also wonder whether the increasing tendency for war to become a game of production globally will render secondary the importance of patriotic conformism and nationalism as a feature of its fighting constituents, which for centuries have been at the crux of many militaries’ absolutist traditions. Although I would believe that many of these non-military Ukrainian civilians are fighting for the love of their country and people, they also operate outside of the bureaucratic structure of the military and its rigid culture.

That question of the in/decreasing importance of ideology in war also made me think critically about “A Faith Under Siege.” The American evangelicals who decide to fly to Ukraine are effectively there for purely ideological reasons: to protect Christians from their persecutors, to fight against a war they see as a greater fight against ‘good and evil’ (an exhausted trope in the absolutist traditions of many militaries.) I found myself rolling my eyes at what I saw as a selective and not-so-Christian inclination to fight a foreign war for the sake of defending a religious ideology (and not to protect and preserve the lives of all civilians in general, which I see as the more obviously Christian aim). I also don’t hear about Americans flying to Sudan or Nigeria to fight against extremist militants that have persecuted and killed Christians in the area.

But, in tandem with the idea of war’s changing nature as a mass-production competition, this made me very intrigued by the idea that an individual’s decision to partake in a war (in their own or another’s country) on a purely ideological basis might become a privilege. Which is to say, if our modern methods of warfare are putting increasing pressure on the general public to partake in fighting regardless of their ideological inclinations, those who can afford that pure commitment to ideology may belong to a privileged class (whether that might be because war is not a tangible concern to the individual or their nation’s productive capabilities — of both people and weapons — are more than abundant.)

The Russo-Ukrainian war continues to escalate, with major advancements in drone technology threatening only more severe destruction to Ukraine in the near future. Simultaneously, as the number of Ukrainians in need of foreign asylum increases (with 4.2 million refugees already registered for temporary protection in EU states as of February), EU nations’ resources–– and willingness to provide aid–– are dwindling. In Germany, the world’s third-largest refugee hosting country with over 1.2 million Ukrainian migrants at present, leaders are struggling to accommodate a persistent need for asylum. The country is grappling with strained public services and a severe housing crisis. Consequently, in the past year, benefits for asylum seekers have narrowed to a “bed, bread, soap” approach–– basic assistance is still provided, but Ukrainians in Germany are not receiving comprehensive aid from the government. Nearing the end of his term in the spring, Chancellor Scholz became increasingly hard on asylum seekers, and implemented heightened border controls in Germany akin to those of neighboring countries. At the same time, anti-migrant sentiment in Germany is growing, with heightened attacks on asylum seekers reflecting a growing sense of frustration and xenophobia in Germany.
Still, Germany’s response to the Ukrainian crisis is set apart from its neighbors of Denmark, Belgium, and the Netherlands, which plainly discourage asylum seekers from entering their borders. The question stewing in Germany across all of the sources for this week is one I think would be quite familiar to American audiences: where (else) is there for asylum seekers to go?
Along this vein, I was fascinated in this week’s sources by the connection between American and Ukrainian Evangelical Christians in A Faith Under Siege. Christian Hickey’s disapproval of Tucker Carlson’s misinformation regarding the treatment of Christians in Ukraine (even though Hickey is a self-proclaimed supporter of Carlson), was one particularly notable instance where political lines and national borders fell to a sense of common faith and compassion. A Faith Under Siege led me to wonder about the religious practices of Ukrainian refugees living in Germany and around the EU. Is the resurgence of Christian community and faith which took place in Kherson following its liberation (and in other parts of Ukraine) also happening amongst migrant Ukrainians in Berlin and other European cities? (And, on a more skeptical note, is this “resurgence” overblown or exaggerated in the documentary, which is clearly steeped in a Christian and American perspective?) How might Christianity characterize the Ukrainian perception of the war in “Europe’s bible belt”? What is the role of religious difference in the refugee experience in Germany, which is also currently accommodating asylum seekers from Syria in comparable numbers? (interesting read on religious differences amongst migrants in Germany: https://www.uscannenbergmedia.com/2025/04/30/the-religious-refugee-experience-in-germany/) And can a resurgence in Evangelical and Protestant faith amongst Ukrainians help to counteract the attack on their nation? (I would be interested in researching the religious practices of Ukrainian refugees in Germany on our trip to Berlin next month.)

The readings from this week really showed me how much I don’t know about the war in Ukraine. Firstly, involving the political situation for refugees in Europe and the US, I understand the tightrope that nations walk by offering wide-ranging support for Ukrainians. It is a situation where all countries want to prioritize their own citizens, however if no country provided refugee support there would be a far greater humanitarian crisis. This seems to be a common moral issue for the leaders of many countries, as their constituents undoubtedly have different views on the responsibilities of their country to help non-citizens. Stemming from this debate, the question of responsibility remains unanswered, as solutions of immigration crisis are not quite so clear. 

From the point of view of the Christian group that traveled to Ukraine, the answer is far more simple: all countries should support Ukraine against the unjust aggressor. I found the documentary to be very well-made, and the fact that the main characters were Christians made the explanation around the religious “persecution” from the Ukrainian government far clearer. The narrative served, in my mind, as a strong example of having the right person tell the story. The main character was devoted to the Christian cause, and I found greater authority in their telling due to their group affiliation. Connections as such are important to utilize when selecting characters for our own stories in this class. 

Regarding the educational and career opportunities in Ukraine, I was interested in doing more research into a potential “brain-drain” happening as the war continues. This could be an idea for the first news story, and I would look to talk with experts to see if the final destination of the intellect may be Germany. I am also very interested in understanding the parallels between right-wing extremism in Europe and in the US. Some of the anti-immigration sentiments expressed in Germany with attacks on Ukrainians is highly similar to America’s own crackdown on illegal immigrants. Specifically, this new idea of moving immigrants to other countries upon entry seems to be a new worldwide development. 

I do not believe that the war between Russia and Ukraine will be the last. The reporting regarding technologies used in this war was, in my mind, very telling about what the future of conflict could look like. I am also very interested in digging deeper into this topic of warfare, especially in how governments are changing their defense departments to adapt as technology improves. European countries are witnessing a new style of war play out, and, in my opinion, should be making improvements now to maintain defense units that truly are capable of defense. While the effort of local citizens in Ukraine fighting for their country by bringing down Russian drones is beyond admirable, I doubt other countries will want to plan for this as their solution to drone attacks.

Some of this week’s readings and multimedia sources detail on-the-ground civilian resistance efforts in Ukraine in the midst of their ongoing, protracted war with Russia. These endeavors come from within the country, as described in Professor Amos’s July article about state-compensated civilian groups tasked with shooting down Russian drones, as well as international religious missionary volunteers. The film, A Faith Under Siege, depicts the journeys of Christian volunteers from the U.S. traveling to Ukraine to support defense against Russia’s “Holy War” on Ukrainian evangelical Christians. I was surprised to hear the film describe the primary motivation for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as religious, rather than territorial dominance or threats to Putin’s authoritarian regime. Explaining this religious persecution, Ukrainian evangelicals say that it is their congregation’s devotion to faith that scares the Russian government, as they see it as a threat to the efficacy of their authoritarian propaganda efforts. While, yes, religion has historically been utilized as a hotbed of resistance against hostile government forces, I found it difficult to believe this could be the leading rationale for Russia’s continued military attack. As is outlined in other readings from this week, it seems as though assaults on Ukrainian evangelical Christians are rather only one part of Russia’s goal to destroy all Ukrainian institutions of power in an attempt to take control of the territory. 

There were other parts of the documentary that also made me slightly uneasy. One of these aspects was the link between Christian missionaries and citizen aid. Viewers of the film watch as Christians in the U.S., galvanized to fight for their faith in Ukraine against Russian forces, visit Ukraine to provide ministry to citizens, specifying that they are not there on behalf of the U.S. government. However, it is not merely prayers and religious reassurance that they provide to ‘believers.’ One Christian volunteer is a former U.S. Marine and teaches Ukrainian civilian fighters how to tie an effective tourniquet. This scene led to my main concern: is the expertise and aid provided by volunteers being solely provided to Ukrainian Christians? It is extremely moving and makes a lot of sense that, in the midst of immense hardship and loss, Ukrainians are turning to religion as a way to process these emotions. However, conversely, are citizens of Ukraine being taken advantage of by missionaries in their time of need, and being force-fed religious teachings in order to receive the aid and combat training potentially provided by these volunteers? Missionary groups have historically used international military conflict as a way to gain religious converts, exploiting civilian trauma. It is crucial to ensure that religious volunteers in Ukraine, who have independently travelled with the intent of protecting Christianity, do not similarly take advantage of Ukrainian citizens traumatized by this ceaseless military conflict.

I thought “A Faith Under Siege” was most interesting not for what it showed about Ukrainian Christians, but for what it showed about evangelical Americans. That there would be people with no other ties to Ukraine willing to fly to a war zone and assist people through proselytizing is especially intriguing in the modern conservative landscape (I suppose it’s also unfair of me to look at a story about people being targeted and hunted by a foreign enemy and say “oh look at those nice Americans who are coming to help! Aren’t they so much more interesting?”).

Clearly, the documentary’s producers seemed to think its religious audience was bought in to Russian propaganda about Ukraine, citing Tucker Carlson’s interview with Putin and other right-wing news sources that amplify claims villifying Ukraine. However, I’m not sure whether this is actually the case. I haven’t been able to find good and recent polling on this issue, and there are some interesting counterexamples. Speaker Mike Johnson, for instance, reversed his stance on a $61 billion foreign aid package to Ukraine in April 2024 that he had initially opposed. Johnson changed his mind after meeting with Ukrainian Christians who painted the war as a spiritual struggle (I would also put Johnson in a different bucket of religious Republicans than Marjorie Taylor Greene, who has many other dynamics at play).

This volunteerism is an interesting slice of U.S. influence separate from the significant funding role our government plays, as Trudy Rubin documents. I’d be interested at a ballpark of how much ad-hoc support Americans offer in this vein. The New York Times ran a story on Sunday about Americans who join the Ukrainian military but couldn’t pin down a specific estimate, nor did those interviewed express any particularly religious motivations for joining. Deb’s reporting about Ukrainians who volunteer to shoot down drones and pay for it themselves was also interesting. It would not be inconceivable to see these people set up a GoFundMe and promote on social media, where anyone in the world — especially Americans — could make a contribution.

Given the reaction that religious Americans have had to the war in Ukraine, I think it’s interesting to think about the (lack of) reaction from similar groups about the war in Gaza. It’s certainly not an apples-to-apples comparison, especially with Christian Zionism — the evangelical idea that the existence of Israel fulfills biblical prophecy — at play. It’s also not clear that Israel has been systemically targeting Christian churches in the same way Russia has, although that hypothesis might be worth some investigation. But a deadly strike on a Christian church is a deadly strike in a Christian church. If Colby Barrett calls the war in Ukraine “an attack on religious freedom and believers everywhere,” what would he say about Gaza?

“A Faith Under Siege” challenges the narrative, which some conservatives have propagated, that Ukrainians are targeting Christians. In the documentary, a group of evangelical Christians from the U.S. travel to the frontlines of the war in Ukraine. They reveal the ways in which evangelical Christians in Ukraine have been targeted by Russians and demonstrate how the Russian Orthodox Church is a state agent. The documentary challenges the Kremlin’s portrayal of Ukraine as the aggressor and exposes Russia’s abduction, indoctrination, and militarization of children. To the evangelical Americans, Russia’s mistreatment of Ukrainian children is part of its attack on pro-family and evangelical values–and, more broadly, religious freedom everywhere. 

I found parts of this documentary moving. It is an example of the way shared beliefs can compel people to put themselves at risk and advocate for a vulnerable group. The evangelical Americans who traveled to the frontlines were drawn to support evangelical Ukrainians, though they may share little else with them than religion. The resulting documentary challenges a belief that members of their American communities at home may hold: that Russians, not Ukrainians, have been victimized. In this respect, the production of “A Faith Under Siege” allowed a small group of Americans–and by extension, audiences at home–to gain a deeper understanding of the Ukrainian experience of war today. 

Still, I have questions about the legitimacy of the documentary’s claims. Is it true, for instance, that the Russian Orthodox Church is targeting Ukrainian Evangelicals disproportionately? Or, rather, does the Russian Orthodox Church target churches in Ukraine to lower morale and divide civilians, and not necessarily to obliterate evangelicalism? And, how true is it, if at all, that Ukraine targets Christians? Where did this claim come from? Finally, will evangelical advocates help civilians of other faiths? 

Regardless, the other readings from this week affirm that faith-based action is insufficient to help Ukraine protect its citizens. Instead, Zelensky pushes for a broader vision of unity, one that integrates other European countries, along with the U.S., into Ukraine’s fight against Russia. In Europe and overseas, the effects of Russia’s invasion have been impossible to ignore. While the war has pushed Ukrainians to seek asylum in nearby countries, far-right politics has gained ground. Ukrainian refugees arrive in Germany in droves at the same time as conservative voices push to close borders. 

Countering this attitude of separation, Zelensky pushes for unity. European countries may put their own national security at risk if they ignore this plea. Deb reports in her Substack that Russia has recently ramped up its use of drones in warfare, making civilian life more dangerous. In response, Ukraine started a program to shoot down Russian drones. This is a small solution to a pressing threat: drones are changing warfare–and global politics–at an alarming speed. 

While drones have unleashed new possibilities for Russian attacks, they have also been essential to Ukraine’s defense. In the “drone race” underway, whichever country–Russia or Ukraine–advances and scales drone technology more quickly will gain a massive advantage. Russia has the resources to do this. Ukraine does not. For Ukraine to outpace Russia in its use of drones, it needs support from abroad. And for Ukraine’s allies, ignoring this need could have disastrous consequences. As The Philadelphia Inquirer reports, “Trump’s coddling of Putin only speeds Russia’s advancement in the new global drone wars, which could boomerang against Washington all too soon.” Which is to say: if Trump does not invest in Ukraine’s military technology, it will empower a dictatorial bloc including China, Iran, and North Korea, who are already learning from–and aiding–Russia’s use of drones.

The Migration Policy Institute presented an acute diagnosis of the potential collapse of the European regional order, which was very interesting to me as a student of politics. The concrete policy critique was on the reinstatement of border controls by Germany following public pressure to do something about the refugee crisis. By the refugee crisis, what is meant is the “housing crisis, strained public services, and unprecedented pressure on public finances.” An attack last summer was used as a political munition by far-right anti-immigration parties to flare up public anxiety. The novel border measure, then, is an attempt to display a staunch front to a public that’s increasingly supporting these hardline parties and entrusting them to address the issues of immigration.

The prescient aspect of the MPI analysis is that this “re-borderization” caused by the refugee influx could cascade into more and more extreme proposals by more and more EU countries, especially those in the Schengen area. It explains an important nuance that Germany needs to be actively assisted in this international protection regime, responsibilities need to be evenly distributed across nations, and backlogs and staffing issues must be addressed. As its peers retreat from their duties, Germany stands “alone in its efforts to uphold the international protection regime. This needs to be reversed, or else the entire architecture of the CEAS could collapse, as could the founding principles of the Schengen Area.”

Taking a broader look at what is at stake as the entire region reels from the consequences of the war in Ukraine, it’s not just about the European energy (think Nordstream pipeline) and the European security system (think NATO) that is at risk. The continental, and really international, humanitarian system of asylum faces danger as well. If Germany is left alone and other nations increase in protectionism, collapse is imminent.

Separately, the drone warfare piece was highly concerning. Doubtless, an air or sea drone remotely controlled with GPS, sensors, and cameras is a significant innovation in warfare, but to have artificial intelligence in these systems is even more problematic and dangerous. The buzz in the industry these days is on agentic systems that no longer rely on continuous prompting from a developer/human but can be given a mission and given “agency” to carry it out using their “intelligence”. That chapter of autonomous weapons is being hastened by the deployment of new technologies in the Russia-Ukraine war, which is moving us towards that future. 

Significantly, too, on the topic of drones is when non-state actors start to use them, as it presents uncharted territory for law enforcement and border security. Tracking fentanyl smuggling with drones across the US southern border is an example of new threats that must be dealt with. It’s also important to highlight Kyiv’s attempt to woo Trump and curry US favor by making a pitch for its drone technology. And the truth is that America’s military isn’t ready for drone warfare. They aren’t producing enough and “ their ships, tanks, and planes…are now vulnerable to cheap drones.”

I felt at once compelled and really put off by A Faith Under Siege. It took me until about halfway through the documentary to realize that I was very much not among its target audience. Disseminating a pro-Ukraine message through appealing to Christianity while also directly criticizing Tucker Carlson, Steve Bannon, and Margorie Taylor Greene, the documentary seems best suited for a conservative Christian (male) who watches Fox News uncritically and opposes American spending on Ukraine (I say male audience given that the documentary’s protagonists were all men and its interviewees were also almost exclusively male). Someone who might be susceptible to Christian’s evaluation of Tucker Carlson: favorable,“except that he has got some things that aren’t true.”

As a result, although the spontaneous prayer circles that the protagonists convened or the talk about demons in Ukraine were jarring to me, I could see them being a way to build trust or credibility among this audience. The film introduces us to the protagonists themselves only very briefly, mentioning their faith and a little bit about their background before throwing us into Ukraine with them: this background could be sufficiently relatable (or at least more relatable) to Christians of similar backgrounds, but I struggled to resonate with their stories given my own background—and the sparse details they presented didn’t help with that. One of the “protagonists” was a man from an idyllic ski town in Colorado about whom we know virtually nothing except that he felt a religious calling to go to Ukraine. Aside from not feeling too invested in his emotional transformation with these sparse details with which I didn’t connect much, his story also made me question how he got involved in the project in the first place, which threw me out of the story a little bit. Yet I could see this documentary having a pretty forceful impact on a conservative Christian who doesn’t know much about Ukraine. The Colorado character’s speech to his congregation toward the end of the documentary seemed to also be directed at the documentary viewer themself: its intended audience may find the argument more persuasive by imaging themself among the congregation to whom he spoke. 

Furthermore, I finished the film unsatisfied with some of the simplified narratives that the documentary crafted. On the one hand, the statement that “This is good versus evil. There’s not a grey area here” feels accurate for the most part, but on the other hand, presenting one side as good merely because the other seems evil can hide important nuances (e.g. stories of traumatized Ukrainian soldiers returning home and becoming domestic abusers, etc.). Apart from this good-evil dualism, some other narratives made me want to do more digging. For example, the film stated that  Russia’s population decline was the only factor behind it abducting Ukrainian children. Evidence does seem to support this being a major rationale, but other such reasons include using abducted children as bargaining chips and as propaganda for the war effort (which the film did successfully demonstrate). At the same time, given the documentary’s statement that the cause of declining birth rates was because so many pregnancies ended in abortion, and given the fact that the number of abducted children pales in comparison to the annual birth rate of the country, I wonder to what extent the prominence of the birth rate explanation correlates to an implicit anti-abortion message (again, this would probably be evidence that a conservative Christian audience could get behind).