PARIS — The Paris prosecutor’s office has launched an investigation into disinformation efforts targeting two prominent candidates in France’s upcoming presidential election, according to Agence France-Presse.

Edouard Philippe and Gabriel Attal, two former prime ministers who are high-profile contenders for the 2027 race, were reportedly the subject earlier this summer of fake news reports posted on social media aimed at undermining their campaigns.

Fabricated videos posted on X that used branding from leading French news platforms claimed Philippe, who suffers from alopecia, was diagnosed with a neurodegenerative disease, while fake reports on X and TikTok alleged Attal had Parkinson’s disease and was using drugs.

Attal denounced the reports as fake and filed a complaint. Philippe has refrained from publicly commenting on the posts, though his top allies have framed them as likely Russian interference.

Two networks that Western authorities say have links with Russia, Storm-1516 and Matriochka, were involved in the disinformation operations targeting Philippe and Attal, respectively, according to a French official with knowledge of the technical investigation led by Viginum, the French agency responsible for combating digital interference.

Storm-1516, which the French government says is tied to Russian military intelligence, was also involved in a similar disinformation operation targeting center-left MEP and likely presidential contender Raphaël Glucksmann. The prosecutor’s office announced the launch of a separate probe into that case earlier this month.

Viginum alerted the candidates and recommended that they not publicize these operations in order to avoid giving them visibility, according to the same official.

LONDON — Britain’s Liberal Democrats are holding fire against Andy Burnham — for now.

The centrist party has studiously avoided criticizing the new Labour prime minister during his first weeks in power, instead pushing the same “constructive opposition” approach followed during predecessor Keir Starmer’s early stint in Downing Street.

“I like what he’s doing,” says 2024-intake Lib Dem MP Martin Wrigley. “I like the way he’s going, focusing on things that matter.” The question is: how long can it last?

A person familiar with Lib Dem Leader Ed Davey’s thinking, granted anonymity because their job does not authorize them to speak publicly, says the party hopes Burnham removes the “performative hostility” from Westminster.

“That style of politics really suits the populist parties, both on the left and the right, and it isn’t the sort of politics that we as Liberal Democrats want to do,” they argued.

But while not rocking the boat has landed well with Lib Dem MPs, there is still a call for a distinctive identity for the party in a highly competitive political environment, with Labour enjoying a “Burnham bounce” in the opinion polls on the left, and Tory Leader Kemi Badenoch’s personal brand on the up.

Duty of care

Davey — whose party enjoyed its best-ever result at the 2024 election but remains only just in double digits in national polls — has already made one big play in the Burnham era: being helpful on reforming social care.

The creaking social care system in England is a policy challenge governments of all stripes have failed to meet — leaving families with drained finances and cash-strapped local authorities plugging the gaps.

The Lib Dem leader, who cares for his disabled son, attended a virtual cross-party meeting after Burnham, whose own father is in a care home with Alzheimer’s, called for an open conversation on a fix.

This proactive approach has so far landed well with Davey’s troops. “I don’t think we’re going to sink the process if we don’t get everything we want,” says Lib Dem Shadow Commons Leader Bobby Dean. “If we can get cross-party consensus on one element, then we should get on with that element straight away.” 

Indeed, Mike Storey, the Lib Dems’ co-deputy leader in the House of Lords, says the party will “cooperate fully on social care … and we’ll do it with no strings attached.” 

The person familiar with Davey’s thinking laid out the approach, saying “People are put off” by opposition parties that “decide to just immediately say ‘oh, they’re terrible. They’re breaking everything again’” when a new government arrives.

Tom Lubbock, co-founder of polling agency J.L. Partners, agrees a conciliatory approach makes sense for now as “you just look a bit mad if you just go in studs-up within the first couple of months.”

But there’s some angst about making sure the Lib Dems clearly separate themselves from Labour.

Party of the countryside 

It’s not the first time the Lib Dems have tried to play nice with a Labour prime minister.

But Davey’s party soon found ways to differentiate themselves from the increasingly unpopular Keir Starmer.

After Starmer’s government changed inheritance tax rules for farmers, the Lib Dems spied an opening — dubbing it the “family farm tax” and ramping up campaigning.

The party has an “extraordinary niche and an extraordinary opportunity” to pose as the “Countryside Alliance arm of the Labour Party,” argues Lubbock — in other words, a progressive rival to Labour that rural voters can still get behind.

Burnham’s focus on reviving urban areas may lend itself to this approach, with Lib Dem figures poised to exploit any perception “Avanti Andy” is shuttling between London and Manchester, another major city.

Adam Dance, who represents the rural constituency of Yeovil, warns Burnham “can’t be a prime minister just for Manchester and the biggest cities” and says “he needs to understand rural areas.” 

Northern MP Tom Gordon also challenges the prime minister’s claim to represent northern England, arguing this “does feel slightly performative.” He reckons voters “don’t hate him [Burnham] yet” as “he’s not had long enough to make any really unpopular decisions.”

Left vs. right blocs 

Much of the Lib Dems’ success under Davey has come from wooing disillusioned Conservatives, targeting Tory-held seats in the home counties — dubbed the “blue wall.”

But winning remaining Tory areas next time round could be harder if the Lib Dems appear too closely aligned with a Labour government. 

Lubbock argues the Lib Dems will do “much worse” if supporters of Nigel Farage’s Reform UK “get on the Conservative bandwagon” to help defeat Labour nationally. That would be a mirror of the way some Labour supporters tactically backed the Lib Dems in 2024 to oust the Tories.

Though the Tories are still stuck below 20 percent in most polls, there are signs of recovery. YouGov data last month put Badenoch’s net favorability score at the highest of any Conservative leader for more than five years. Her position is undeniably more stable than it was 12 months ago.

While Lib Dems are optimistic Badenoch’s moves to the right on net zero and human rights will push more One Nation, centrist Conservatives in their direction, their Tory rivals sound bullish.

Tory MP Gregory Stafford, who saw off a challenge by the Lib Dems to win Farnham and Bordon two years ago, doesn’t think there are more Tories left for the Lib Dems to poach.

“All I’m seeing is those people coming back, not the other way round,” says Stafford about voters who bid the Tories farewell in 2024. Despite his narrow win, he thinks some of the 6,000 Reform UK voters in his seat will return — thanks to Badenoch.

“They see demonstrably in Kemi a leader that both they like as a person, but also speaks their language and speaks to the policies that they’re concerned about,” he argues.

As such, the Lib Dems may settle for a stronger attack against the right.

“People just don’t feel listened to,” says the party’s Scotland spokesperson Susan Murray. “When they don’t feel listened to, they are open to populism.” She argues that both the Lib Dems and Labour are “not succeeding in getting that message [of hope and opportunities] across.” Dean adds, “There’s a massive demand out there for a liberal party to make a bold offer to the country and at the moment that space feels vacated.” 

It’s a perceived weakness Stafford, the Conservative MP, plans to leap on at the next election. “The real danger for the Liberal Democrats is that they are seen as a patsy party that might champion local issues locally, but actually have nothing to say distinctive on the national stage,” he argues.

Roz Savage, who entered the Commons for the Lib Dems in 2024, recognizes the outfit has a “PR challenge that people think of us as the nice party.” Instead, a “bigger story” is required about a future Lib Dem government, she says.

“When we talk to Lib Dem voters in focus groups, they don’t really have a clear vision for what the Lib Dem party should stand for,” says Merlin Strategy’s Head of Research, Julian Gallie. People often back them as a vote against other parties, the political analyst says.

MPs also want the Lib Dems to reach beyond their traditional strongholds and target historically Labour areas — including Newcastle and Hull. Both have Lib Dem-run city councils, but are the kind of areas in which Burnham will fancy he can improve Labour’s standing. Meral Hussein-Ece, the Lib Dems’ Lords equality spokesperson, says the party must also do more to understand “the diversity of this country, which I don’t think we’ve done very well so far.” 

Lib Dem conference in Brighton next month will give the party a chance to lay a marker for the expected general election in 2029. But MPs want more than set-piece events to present a distinctive vision. 

“We do have to do better at utilizing the likes of social media and capturing the attention all the time, not just when we get the spotlight shined on us,” argues Gordon, the Harrogate and Knaresborough MP.

The Lib Dems, he says, have to drive “conversation on our own terms, rather than always having to just respond.” 

The first thing I noticed when I gave up American technology was the silence.

My phone usually starts up before I get out of bed, buzzing every few minutes throughout the day with calls, messages, headlines, calendar reminders and social media alerts. It’s a constant pulse that averages nearly 200 iPhone notifications on weekends and twice as many Monday-to-Friday.

But on this warm mid-summer Sunday, my life was on an unlikely version of mute. After years of reporting on Europe’s push to wean itself off U.S. tech giants and cultivate homegrown alternatives, I had decided to test my own daily habit by cutting myself off from using any American technology for 72 hours.

No iPhone. No Mac. No Slack or Teams. No Google Search or Maps. No ChatGPT. No WhatsApp or Signal. No Facebook or Instagram feeds. No credit card payments.

I wondered if I would turn into a digital monk.

For three days, I set out to live and work in Brussels as if U.S. tech had suddenly become unavailable to me overnight. It was a purposefully fictional scenario rooted in a very real European anxiety: what happens if Washington weaponizes our continent’s Silicon Valley dependence and reaches for the tech “kill switch?”

Limited versions of that scenario have already surfaced. When U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration cut off French-born International Criminal Court judge Nicolas Guillou from U.S.-linked financial and technology services, he called it a form of “civil death.”

Meanwhile, U.S. export controls in June forced Anthropic to block foreign nationals from accessing two of its most advanced AI models, offering a glimpse of what government bans on access to cutting-edge technology can look like.

Such episodes feed into mounting fears that the Trump administration could use Europe’s overreliance on U.S. tech as leverage in trade fights or disputes over EU regulations. A Proton survey released earlier this month found that 74 percent of European business leaders worry such a cutoff could disrupt their operations.

In my own little experiment, the stakes were much lower. Yet I was about to find out that replacing American tools with those built here in Europe was going to make almost everything harder — and lonelier.

Trying to live without U.S. tech, I would find out, essentially amounts to trying to live without tech at all. That was partly because, like virtually all of my fellow Europeans, I had locked myself into those consumer choices.

Dumbphones and FOMO

The early symptoms of going cold turkey looked suspiciously like withdrawal.

On that first morning, with my iPhone shut off, I reached for a Nokia brick from Finland. The so-called dumbphone is the type of device now enjoying a second life among people detoxing from screen time and is also a favorite of drug dealers seeking to avoid getting busted by any tracking and data collection.

Several hours in, I realized there were no notifications on the Nokia. Nobody calls or texts anymore. Then came the shameful part: a sense of helplessness, followed by FOMO-fueled restlessness. The world had surely kept spinning at full speed, and I was missing it. For the next few days, I would still catch myself checking the phone compulsively like an addict.

“The phone aged you instantly,” my best friend joked later that day as we traded our now-standard FaceTime video calls for a regular one. It was unclear whether he meant the muffled audio or me struggling with a new-but-actually-old device, or both.

I did notice that I was pacing up and down my flat because my usually overstimulated brain apparently couldn’t handle focusing on a voice-only call.

One instant benefit from my dumbphone: no doomscrolling in bed.

It all took me back to my first cellphone at 13, when texting meant tapping the same tiny key several times for a single letter, every SMS cost money and abbreviations and emojis were not just stylistic choices but ways to squeeze more into a message.

I knew my social media life would be at risk in my experiment. European alternatives such as Mastodon have gained traction since Elon Musk turned Twitter into X. But who joins a social network when none of their friends are there?

That was fine. I was actually eager to disappear for a while, well aware of the anxiety social media induces in me and the insecurities created by constantly watching other people’s supposedly perfect lives.

Online shopping was out — but so too was paying by card in stores and restaurants. The payment networks I rely on are American: Visa and Mastercard dominate card payments across Europe, meaning that even a purchase made with a European bank card often still runs over U.S.-controlled rails.

It meant I had to buy everything using cash, which I hadn’t done regularly in ages. Fortunately, unlike in some other European countries, Belgian legislation requires merchants to accept banknotes. The hard part was finding some of those stores without the help of Google Maps, which I’d come to rely on almost as much as my credit cards.

The invisible grip

Swearing off Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney+ and YouTube was also part of the deal — already eliminating a sizable chunk of my leisure time. But it turned out I could barely watch anything at all, or even properly test European streaming platforms, because my television and tablet both ran on Google software.

Thankfully, an offline Nintendo Switch from Japan, good old books and the legendary Snake game kept me company.

These invisible dependencies run deep. Beyond the products we use every day, U.S. systems often serve as gateways to European companies trying to take on Big Tech.

Take Sweden’s Spotify or the Estonia-based rival to Uber, Bolt. Both still heavily rely on U.S.-controlled app stores, operating systems, payment networks and other digital infrastructure.

And then there is the cloud: the data centers and servers that host websites, process data and route traffic. The vast majority of that market is dominated by Amazon, Microsoft and Google, whose infrastructure supports large parts of Europe’s digital economy.

Many corners of Europe would go dark if those services were shut down, with its economy, public administration and communications infrastructure struggling to function normally.

Working outside the stack

On Monday morning, I walked into the office with the slightly misplaced confidence that I had prepared for everything. My efficiency at work, admittedly during a very quiet summer week, took less of a hit than I expected.

I was still working from the office. I used an open-source, Linux-powered computer. I communicated by email through a Switzerland-based Proton address, browsed the web using the Norwegian browser Vivaldi and French search engine Qwant, wrote everything in LibreOffice and even tried Mistral’s generative AI assistant. And there was always a good old notebook.

I felt productive. But the workflow around me was not. The tools themselves worked perfectly well once I accepted that breaking years of habits would take time. The disruption ultimately came from stunted collaboration: meetings, messages, shared documents and the constant stream of small exchanges that keep a newsroom moving.

“It was like you disappeared,” one colleague would tell me later.

European alternatives do exist in that space. The problem is, just like for social media, they only work properly when everyone else uses them too or when competing systems are interoperable — something the EU has long tried to legislate and enforce, often against resistance from large technology platforms.

For this little while, despite technically being able to continue working, I became an outsider within my own team. I had to skip our routine video meetings on Slack and Teams, while missing messages sent over WhatsApp and Signal.

In a trade, a city and an era built around instant messaging, sending a good old SMS felt almost prehistoric — a reminder of the longstanding complaints from the European telecom industry about losing messaging and calling revenues to U.S. tech firms.

Ultimately, this underscored one of the major pinch points in Europe’s push for greater tech independence: digital sovereignty is not an individual project. It only works if people, companies and institutions move together.

On their own, individual efforts are more likely to leave people feeling digitally isolated rather than digitally sovereign.

Relax and relapse

And yet, there was something blissful about these three days.

The initial anxiety slowly gave way to a kind of peace. Of course, that feeling may only reflect that the experiment was temporary and my digital life had not been erased.

The experience nevertheless highlighted how much I had taken these tools for granted. I have placed all my eggs in the same digital basket: my communication channels, the tools I use to authenticate myself and access the digital world, my polished digital self and years of accumulated knowledge, all stored inside one sprawling digital safe.

The concern is no longer simply whether that safe could be broken into from the outside. It is also whether somebody could lock it — or empty it — from within.

Now, as you might wonder how I’ll act on what I’ve learned, I am strangely reminded of Covid.

Many of us emerged from that temporary era of lockdowns and involuntary limits full of healthy new habits and grand ideas about how our lifestyles should change, only to return remarkably quickly to our old routines.

Sadly, the same thing happened here. My iPhone came straight back into my pocket. Messages began flowing through again. My bank card returned to its usual place. Within hours, I had fallen comfortably back into the U.S. technology stack.

As I switched my smartphone back on, my screen lit up with incoming texts inquiring whether my little experiment was over. After 72 hours of old-school SMS exchanges, two different friends were both clearly eager to return to reality, sending me the same final text: “Back to WhatsApp?”

A court in France on Friday shot down a bill seeking to ban access to social media for under-15s from September — a major blow to President Emmanuel Macron that raises fundamental questions about efforts to protect kids on the internet.

The Constitutional Council, which reviews the constitutionality of French legislation, said the restrictions in the bill disproportionately infringe on minors’ right to freedom of expression and communication.

Europe’s would-be first social media ban, which sought to prohibit access to anyone in France under the age of 15 from next month, had been a flagship policy of Macron’s second and final term.

The French president has also pushed restrictions to the top of the EU agenda, with an expected announcement of bloc-wide measures by European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen in September.

In a statement late Friday, the French presidential office said the government would not be giving up on the bill. It has set a new target date for spring 2027, which coincides with when Macron will leave office.

The statement said Macron “has instructed the Prime Minister to work, as quickly as possible, on a legally sound draft that takes into account” the court’s decision. The ruling hinted at what would make the age restriction align with fundamental rights: giving parents more flexibility.

Peter Craddock, a senior Brussels-based attorney advising social media firms, said the French court decision could have far-reaching implications.

“What they’re basically saying here is: ‘Listen, government, if you want to get this to succeed, you can’t just work on the basis of a general ban. There have to be limitations,” said Craddock, a partner at Keller & Heckman. “There have to be ways for people to say, ‘well, actually, in my case, my son, my daughter is of a certain degree of maturity and is able to use this properly.'”

The government bill had passed through the French legislative procedure after a lengthy back-and-forth earlier this summer. It was set to bring forward Europe’s first social media age restrictions, with Greece and Denmark planning to follow suit.

But Article 1 of the French bill essentially rendered it a blanket ban, without sufficiently distinguishing between the risks of each social media platform or the varying levels of vulnerability among minors themselves, said the court. The ban would also apply to online platforms that have not been proven to have risks to the health and safety of minors.

Craddock warned the court’s judgment may not bode well for other national bans or restrictions coming from the European Commission, since the decision is framed around fundamental rights, which are harmonized across the bloc.

“The reasoning is actually equally relevant internationally,  throughout the EU, because this fundamental freedom is not specific to France,” he said.

This article has been updated.

A news organization and free speech nonprofit sued President Donald Trump over his social media platform’s program that offers paid early access to his posts after the scheme went live at the beginning of August.

The lawsuit, filed Wednesday in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York by the left-leaning nonprofit newsroom The Intercept and the Freedom of the Press Foundation, alleges the practice “is extraordinary, corrupt, and unconstitutional.”

The plaintiffs also say the controversial $100,000-a-month program violates their First Amendment rights to access presidential statements “on equal terms with other members of the press and public.”

In announcing plans to introduce the program, Truth Social — whose parent company Trump founded in 2021 after being kicked off social media platforms and owns a plurality stake in — described the initiative as valuable for “organizations that place a premium on immediate, verified access to information.” But critics allege it amounts to insider trading on advanced access to the president’s market-moving words.

The service gives traders and other entities high-speed access to the president’s Truth Social account in addition to the nine other most-popular accounts on the platform, including Vice President JD Vance, White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt and Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

A spokesperson for Truth Social, which isn’t named as a defendant in the complaint but is referenced throughout it, said in a statement that “information from President Trump is disseminated by countless platforms and news outlets, many of which offer subscription APIs.”

“One of those channels is Truth Social, which was founded as an uncancellable haven for free speech after the President was unjustly deplatformed,” the statement continued. “Now, left-wing activists are trying to wrongfully weaponize the courts to censor him again and harm our shareholders.”

The White House did not respond to requests for comment.

The Intercept’s chief legal officer, David Bralow, in a statement said “nothing could be more antithetical to the free, independent press than the president charging for early access to his public announcement.”

Natalie Harp, an executive assistant to Trump who media reports suggest is responsible for authoring many of the president’s social media posts, is named as a defendant in the suit alongside deputy chief of staff Dan Scavino, the Executive Office of the President and the White House Office.

The subjects of the president’s Truth Social posts can range from squabbles with federal judges to hiring and firings within his administration and threats against foreign adversaries. They also provide a glimpse at the issues of the day that occupy Trump’s attention.

Such announcements have had the ability to sway markets, like when oil prices plunged after Trump posted that he was calling off an attack on Iran in April. He has also occasionally touted specific companies on the platform, causing their stock prices to rise.

The plaintiffs also express concerns that the program would give outlets willing to pay for the service an unfair advantage over other newsrooms and hinder efforts to catalog the president’s posts by scraping Truth Social.

The company said in an August earnings report that despite a $238 million loss in the second quarter of 2026, 10 customers had already registered for the service.

The program has caught the eyes of Democratic lawmakers on the Hill. Sens. Ruben Gallego (D-Ariz.) and Mark Warner (D-Va.) introduced a bill Tuesday seeking to ban social media companies from selling early access to government employees’ accounts and specifically invoked the Truth Social program.

The EU, Meta and TikTok on Monday agreed to create a dedicated channel with fact-checkers to flag disinformation linked to a surge of migrants arriving in Spanish territory, three people told POLITICO.

Thousands of migrants arrived in late July in Ceuta, a Spanish enclave in Morocco and the EU’s only land border with Africa. The influx was triggered by false narratives spreading online that told migrants they would be welcomed, according to fact-checking site Maldita.es.

The Commission met with representatives from TikTok and Meta on Friday and Monday to coordinate a response to disinformation online. They agreed to set up an “enhanced information exchange and cooperation mechanism for reducing the impact of disinformation on the Ceuta crisis,” said the three people with direct knowledge of the talks, who were granted anonymity to speak freely.

That will serve as a point of contact for platforms, fact-checkers and the Commission to quickly flag content so that it can be reviewed and taken down if necessary. The effort comes amid concerns that disinformation is promoting further crossings into the territory on Aug. 15, according to Maldita.es. Maldita.es and the European Fact-Checking Standards Network attended Monday’s meeting.

The Commission operates a rapid response system under its code of conduct on disinformation, often triggered around elections. The new mechanism on Ceuta would bring a closer group of stakeholders together, two of the people said.

Another meeting has been set for later this week, one of those people and the third person confirmed.

Meta and TikTok said they were already actively monitoring the situation in line with their policies and had set up dedicated teams to monitor and respond to content in real time.

The crisis has divided EU countries and has reignited Europe’s long-running debate on illegal migration. Italy has since been one of the harshest critics of Spain’s left-wing government and its migration policies, and has implemented border controls for travelers arriving from Spain.

Former EU commissioner Thierry Breton, who was a force behind the EU’s online content rules, on Monday said the bloc should launch a disinformation inquiry into the Ceuta crisis in an interview with Italian newspaper La Stampa.

LAS VEGAS — Weeks before they escaped a closed test and launched a cyberattack without any human prompting, some of OpenAI’s most advanced artificial intelligence agents secretly began sharing tips on how to cheat their way through an internal hacking evaluation, two of the AI company’s researchers said Wednesday.

“This is a pivotal moment both for our company as well as the AI industry as a whole,” Michael Dalton, one of the AI-maker’s researchers, said during a presentation at the Black Hat cybersecurity conference in Las Vegas, Nevada.

The latest disclosure provides greater detail on the timeline and methods used by two of OpenAI’s models before they slipped outside a controlled environment and onto the open internet, allowing the models to breach AI developer platform Hugging Face undetected. OpenAI admitted its models were responsible for the hack late last month, roughly a week after Hugging Face said an autonomous AI system broke into its network.

The revelation is likely to spur fresh scrutiny of the measures leading AI labs such as OpenAI and Anthropic are taking to monitor the behavior of their most cyber-capable technology — especially during evaluations where agents are prompted to demonstrate their hacking skills in what is meant to be a controlled setting.

On Tuesday, the U.K.’s AI Safety and Security Institute disclosed that Anthropic’s most powerful AI model created fake online personas and sought to trick a human coder into abetting a cyberattack during a recent hacking test gone wrong. After the Hugging Face disclosure last month, Anthropic conducted a review and found models it was testing had breached three organizations in separate incidents dating back to April.

Dalton and Eric Wallace, another OpenAI researcher, said Wednesday the AI giant recently learned that multiple agents it was testing simultaneously began communicating over an internal message board in early May. There, different models shared advice about how to accomplish difficult hacking challenges they were struggling to surmount, including workarounds that required internet access.

Two OpenAI models ultimately strung together a series of sophisticated techniques to gain access to the internet and worm their way inside Hugging Face in mid-July. OpenAI has said the models were focused on completing a hacking evaluation they were prompted to solve, and that correct answers could be found on the AI developer platform.

The OpenAI researchers told conference attendees that since early May, the models created a message board inside OpenAI’s Artifactory internal file system. Without the company’s knowledge, the models spent months independently exchanging information and techniques to help each other complete difficult tasks.

Wallace said that when models get stuck, they often “try to game or cheat the task in order to get their reward.”

“The beginning of this incident kind of traces back to this point where one agent realized it could communicate by uploading a note,” he added.

By late May, one model found a way to abuse Artifactory’s internet access to retrieve files from various websites — effectively giving the models indirect access to the internet. In June, the models were able to find and exploit a previously unknown zero-day vulnerability to gain administrative privileges on Artifactory, install remote software and expand their activity within the system.

These efforts eventually overloaded Artifactory, causing a system-wide outage in early July that alerted OpenAI’s engineers to the ploy. After investigating, the company revoked the model’s credentials, removed the message board and worked with Artifactory to fix any gaps before resuming training. But the models found another way to communicate inside Artifactory just days later and continued exchanging techniques to target additional vulnerabilities within OpenAI’s infrastructure and external systems, including Hugging Face.

In light of the incident, Dalton said OpenAI is “consciously slowing down research to enhance security and to upgrade the security principles and foundation of our environment, and dramatically scaling up the monitoring of our AI agents and improving our general security control environment across prevention, detection, and mitigation.”

At this month’s NATO summit in Ankara, allies announced billions of dollars in new arms deals and reaffirmed their commitment to spend more on defense. European governments have made the pledge, and the money is real: European defense spending has doubled since 2019, and by 2030, European NATO member countries are projected to spend in excess of €800 billion a year, up €300 billion from 2025, with equipment spending alone nearly doubling.

But committing money is the easy part. The harder question is whether Europe’s defense industry can turn it into equipment fast enough to matter. Europe’s largest defense manufacturers’ order books now average more than five years for production, and some are closer to nine. Money is flowing in faster than industry can turn it into equipment. But a purchase order is not equipment that can be deployed on the ground and the air.

European countries have long duplicated capabilities rather than pooling them.

The bottleneck sits in the defense industrial system. Deterrence relies on the chain from funding to contracts, then through production, deployment into services, then rapid innovation in the field. Europe’s next goal comes after the spending promise. The continent fields six times as many weapons platforms as the United States, because countries have long duplicated capabilities rather than pooling them. Production ends up split across many small runs that never reach an efficient scale. Ukraine, under pressure, has shown how fast a defense system can move, adapting tactics in weeks and building drone detection networks from consumer electronics. Europe needs to catch up and then accelerate.

Four moves would help Europe accelerate.

The first is multi-speed procurement. Software-led systems such as drones and targeting improve in rapid cycles throughout their deployment and need procurement that can keep up. Israel’s Iron Dome started out as far less capable than it is today and improved continuously in service. European defense ministries have already set up high-speed procurement units with dedicated teams and greater risk tolerance. These need to become mainstream, rather than the exception.

Collaboration in procurement, maintenance and training brings costs down and delivery forward.

The second is military collaboration to reduce fragmentation. Collaboration in procurement, maintenance and training brings costs down and delivery forward. The Tempest project, where the U.K., Italy and Japan are jointly building a next-generation fighter, demonstrates the model: shared development costs that no single country could carry alone. Recent bilateral maritime agreements, and Romania’s use of EU funding to buy European while expanding production at home, show the same logic spreading.

The third is industrial consolidation, which is already underway and needs to move faster. Companies are driving it themselves. Airbus, Leonardo and Thales have agreed to merge their space divisions into a single joint venture with roughly €6.5 billion in revenue and 25,000 employees, and European defense mergers and acquisitions rose 35 percent year over year in the first half of 2025. McKinsey analysis finds that consolidation across key supply chain segments could unlock around €9 billion in annual synergies, more than the current equipment budgets of 24 of Europe’s 30 NATO members. The deepest opportunity sits below the big primes, among the thousands of tier two, three and four suppliers that still duplicate one another’s work. Europe can speed this up by harmonizing requirements, reducing national carve-outs and letting industry do the combining. Consolidation is only half the task. Europe also needs to build sheer capacity — more shipyards, more assembly lines, more of the physical plants that turn orders into hardware — and the capital to fund it. In several categories, Europe simply lacks enough places to build.

Real deterrence means difficult choices, and a public that understands the importance and the cost of security.

The fourth is regulatory unlocking. Full scale-up demands skilled workers retrained, accredited and security cleared from other industries; production sites with preapproved permitting; and alignment of export controls across European allies. These regulatory unlocks now need the same energy and focus as the funding commitment debate. 

Real deterrence means difficult choices, and a public that understands the importance and the cost of security. That conversation is only beginning in much of Europe. It must include the potential for “gray zone” cyber strikes on hospitals, arson at industrial sites, drones disrupting ports, undersea data cables cut — these have all occurred, but many citizens do not yet recognize this as having malicious intent.

The opportunity in getting it right is significant. McKinsey and GLOBSEC estimates indicate that every euro of spending on European-manufactured equipment generates two euros of revenue across the European supply chain, and an additional €165 billion a year in equipment spending could create up to 1.2 million jobs. The coming years will reveal how effectively Europe is able to scale up to protect its territory and citizens, and how much of the promised investment becomes lasting deterrence and European jobs. Getting there depends on the whole ecosystem — governments, industry and investors — moving together. Increased spending is important. Spending it effectively matters more.

Jonathan Dimson is a senior partner in McKinsey’s London office. Mikael Robertson is a senior partner in the Stockholm office.

Leading artificial intelligence models from Anthropic and OpenAI created fake online personas and tried to deceive human coders into abetting a cyberattack during a recent safety evaluation, the U.K.’s AI Safety and Security Institute disclosed Tuesday.

It marks the latest case in which a powerful AI system has attempted a digital attack on an unwitting third party without direct prompting during such an evaluation — heightening concerns the powerful technology is advancing too fast for responsible oversight.

The disclosure is likely to ignite fresh calls in Washington and Silicon Valley for more rigorous regulation of the AI industry, particularly over frontier models with advanced capabilities to detect and launch cyberattacks. It comes just days after similar testing mishaps involving some of the same models from OpenAI and Anthropic sparked urgent calls for new AI safety regulation and a push within Silicon Valley to slow the rapid pace of AI development.

Like its U.S. counterpart, AISI routinely conducts security evaluations to better understand what dangers both new and soon-to-be-released AI models pose to public health and safety. But even the digital security body said the actions it uncovered by Anthropic’s Claude Mythos 5 and ChatGPT 5.6 — the latest publicly released model from either AI lab — were unlike anything it had seen before.

“This is the first time AISI has seen deception of this severity that was targeted at a real person, unprompted, in the real world,” AISI said in a 35-page technical report accompanying a blog post Tuesday.

AISI said the malicious activity began on July 25. The AI safety evaluator detected it and launched an investigation on July 28, when it spotted “unusual data transfers” stemming from a cyber evaluation it was conducting on Mythos 5 and ChatGPT 5.6.

Overall, AISI determined that Mythos 5 and ChatGPT 5.6 took “autonomous, unsanctioned action on the live internet, targeting real people and organizations” during 10 of the 122 evaluations the research body conducted and isolated for review. The majority of those actions, it said, involved Mythos 5 and arose during a “single, sustained line of activity.”

In the most alarming incident it uncovered, Mythos 5 attempted a supply chain attack — a sophisticated technique often deployed by North Korean and Russian cyber operatives, in which hackers bury malware inside legitimate code.

To do so, Anthropic’s model created “multiple fake identities” on developer platform GitHub and used them to send messages “pressuring” an open-source software engineer to unwittingly introduce a bugged update into code widely available on the popular site, AISI said. When that effort failed, the AI “edited its earlier activity to appear harmless” and “considered adopting a fresh identity to continue,” AISI added, a sign the model was intent on repeating the ruse.

As part of the same effort, Mythos 5 also sent direct messages over GitHub to software engineers that contained malware.

In another sign of deceitful behavior AISI uncovered in its investigation, multiple AI agents it was testing appeared to communicate with one another about how to convince real engineers using GitHub to trust them. “One agent left public messages on GitHub offering collaboration with other agents working on the same challenge,” AISI wrote.

AISI’s blog and technical assessment make no mention of whether the models also attempted to exploit previously unknown software bugs — called zero-days — during the evaluation.

Last month, OpenAI disclosed that GPT 5.6 and another of its models escaped onto the open internet during what was supposed to be a controlled test, and then hacked another company in a first-of-its-kind, autonomous breach.

In response, Anthropic launched an investigation into whether any of its models took illicit action during recent testing and discovered Mythos 5 and two other models had hacked three organizations during tests dating back to April.

In a statement, an Anthropic spokesperson said they are “grateful” to AISI for their leadership and that this review underscores the need for “a broader conversation about how to safely evaluate increasingly capable AI agents.”

The spokesperson added: “As we shared after disclosing our own incident last week, the field needs stronger, shared standards for how evaluation environments are built and secured. We look forward to partnering with the UK AISI to learn more about this incident as we conduct our own investigation.”

An OpenAI spokesperson referred POLITICO to a blog post about the incident that went up Tuesday evening. “We are committed to working across the industry to strengthen shared practices for conducting high-risk evaluations safely, including convening stakeholders such as national AI institutes, independent evaluators, other AI labs, and other groups in the coming weeks,” the blog read.

AISI stressed in its blog that the malicious activity it disclosed Tuesday took place under “deliberately permissive conditions” so they could assess the safety risks posed by the two models. This included granting the models access to the internet, unlike the earlier incidents detailed by Anthropic and OpenAI.

AISI also noted the models were intentionally stripped of internal guardrails that block malicious behavior. AISI was only able to disable those controls because of its role testing Mythos 5 and ChatGPT 5.6.

Still, AISI said the incidents highlighted the need for greater monitoring of model behavior during testing, and tighter controls over their access to the internet.

The Trump administration is finalizing a voluntary framework under which AI labs would submit powerful models they want to release to the public for federal safety testing. But it has not yet made the framework public, and it includes no provisions for models AI labs are developing internally.

The incidents last month from OpenAI and Anthropic both involved models not intended for public release.

Some cyber experts say recent incidents highlight deeper questions around AI development, such as who is liable when AI systems break federal hacking laws.

“If any of these were human-originated, they would lead to clear and vigorous prosecution. I think it’s time for a serious discussion about updates to existing computer security law,” said Marc Rogers, a hacker and prominent cybersecurity expert.

BRUSSELS — When French and German security chiefs announced plans last month to develop a “European sovereign digital backbone,” tech and defense industry insiders on both sides of the Atlantic knew what they really meant: Adieu Palantir.  

Across Europe, the hunt is on for alternatives to the U.S.-based data analytics company that a growing number of government officials believe is too deeply lodged in some of the most sensitive areas of government, from local policing and global intelligence to national defense and health systems. 

Yet it is precisely Palantir’s crucial functions in daily workflows, and its largely unmatched data expertise, that will make it extremely hard for Europe to cut it off in pursuit of greater digital sovereignty. 

“Let’s be honest, Palantir’s product is very good and addictive, it’s pretty much like the sugar in Coca-Cola,” said French digital sovereignty advocate, Philippe Latombe. “Palantir can treat massive amounts of data with great precision and with their experience, they had time to improve their algorithms with many clients and adapt them to many use cases.” 

Still, the drive to break free from Palantir is sweeping across the continent, from Madrid, where the government of Pedro Sánchez has instructed state-backed companies to block Palantir from future public procurement contracts, to France’s domestic intelligence services (DGSI) selecting French company ChapsVision over Palantir. In Britain, the next test may come in February 2027, when the new Labour government of Andy Burnham will face a choice of whether to cut off Palantir’s £330 million National Health Service Federated Data Platform contract. 

Last month’s decision by the French and German intelligence agencies to choose ChapsVision was a double-blow for Palantir’s leadership. CEO Alex Karp showed little patience for the sudden turn away from his company’s wares, declaring that he wasn’t worried about European competitors. “We have a model of what doesn’t work,” he quipped last week on Fox Business. “It’s called Europe.” 

Olivier Dellenbach, ChapsVision’s chief executive, told POLITICO that his company has benefited from what he calls a “visceral rejection of Palantir” in Europe.  

But he also cautioned that he did not want ChapsVision reduced to an anti-Palantir way out. Digital sovereignty, he argues, will remain an empty phrase unless governments turn it into industrial policy. “We need more public procurement,” Dellenbach said. 

Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, Romania, the Netherlands and Canada have already shown interest in the French Army’s Artemis AI, according to Patrick Moreau, one of the architects of the solution built by French aerospace and defense company Thales. 

“They all want to be able to choose a sovereign solution that is compatible with NATO standards,” he said. “Unlike Palantir’s black box.” 

But for now, even officials who want sovereign alternatives acknowledge that Europe’s replacement market remains fragmented and European companies are yet to match Palantir’s scale and track record.

Admiral Pierre Vandier, NATO’s supreme allied commander transformation, recently told POLITICO the alliance has no viable alternative to Palantir’s battlefield AI technology.  

Another NATO official, granted anonymity to speak frankly, said that Palantir’s system has an unmatched capacity to sift through mountains of satellite imagery to help identify a target, advise on the weapon to strike it, inform how much ammunition is required — and automatically put in an order to replenish the stock. 

“As far as I know, today there is no real competitor for Palantir,” Vandier said in May. 

Freedom or democracy? 

Co-founded by Karp and billionaire investor Peter Thiel, Palantir built its reputation inside the U.S. national security apparatus. Today, the company has a market capitalization of $330 billion.

Thiel has been one of Silicon Valley’s most prominent supporters of U.S. President Donald Trump, while the company’s work with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the Israeli military has come in for criticism from Amnesty International and others for alleged human rights violations. Adding to unease about Palantir’s ideology-driven business were recent revelations of Thiel’s secretive Dialog society, an invitation-only ideas club for the global elite, and Karp’s manifesto arguing that Palantir is the democratic West’s best hope to stay ahead of authoritarian rivals.

“Peter Thiel explains that the defense of freedom does not necessarily require democracy,” French member of Parliament Aurélien Saintoul, who wrote a report on foreign military dependencies, told POLITICO. “He is clearly putting technical means to serve his political project, and we are talking about technofascists here.” 

A Palantir spokesperson who declined to be named dismissed such accusations as “ludicrous,” noting that similar characterizations about the company have been made recently by the Russian foreign ministry.

“We know what side we’re on, and who we’re standing with,” the spokesman said, citing ongoing work to support the Ukrainian military. “Since our inception, protecting privacy and civil liberties has served as the foundation for how we conduct our work across both public and private sector institutions. Western politicians should think hard about who the real enemy is and not allow themselves to be ventriloquized by the Kremlin.”

Many of the company’s European critics maintain that the Palantir question is much more about tech sovereignty than political ideology. Extracting the company from some of the most delicate corners of European security structures would offer a blueprint for claiming more technological independence.

Instead, if governments in Europe cannot wean themselves off a company that provides software solutions, it would reveal how unrealistic hopes are to reduce dependence on U.S. technology giants that provide cloud infrastructure and hardware.

There is also the uncomfortable reality that at the same time that political leaders are calling for a break from Palantir, Europe’s biggest banks and asset managers have dramatically increased their investments in the U.S. company over the past year as it positions itself to profit from the AI gold rush, reports investigative outlet Follow the Money.

From crisis tool to critical infrastructure

Palantir’s European foothold was built long before the current boom in AI. A hallmark of its growth was that it never wasted a crisis to demonstrate its value for governments in need.  

In France, for instance, Palantir arrived in the aftermath of the November 2015 Paris terrorist attacks as security services scrambled to respond to a fervent public backlash on how they could have allowed such a tragedy to happen. The domestic intelligence agency signed a contract with the data analytics giant in 2016. 

A similar pattern played out in Germany, where Palantir’s first major deployment came in Frankfurt, in the central state of Hesse, where police purchased Palantir’s Gotham in 2017 and deployed it under the name hessenDATA. It proved to be a crucial tool for officers to turn sprawling information into leads to help solve crimes.

Germany remains deeply divided over whether to use Palantir’s software. At the national level, Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt has pushed to expand the use of Palantir and introduced legislation that could pave the way for broader federal use. But the move has run into opposition from coalition partners the Social Democrats, as well as senior security officials.

The same crisis-to-contract pattern appeared in the U.K. during the Covid-19 pandemic. Palantir’s relationship with the National Health Service (NHS) began when it was paid a nominal £1 fee to help aggregate data during the crisis, according to Palantir’s U.K. lead Louis Mosley. 

Europol, the EU’s police agency, used Palantir’s Gotham platform from 2016 to 2021 before ultimately dropping it. For one Europol official who was granted anonymity to discuss the matter freely, the problem with Palantir is less ideological than practical. Yes, the platform is expensive, raises sovereignty concerns and leaves clients dependent on Palantir for updates, the official said. But the more basic question is whether every agency needs the full Palantir machine. 

“[Palantir] is really good when you have massive amounts of data and want to connect everything,” they said. “But that is not the case for us. In many cases, the alternatives are close enough. If we used it, I’m not sure our efficiency would increase dramatically.” 

Part of Palantir’s approach in Europe is to hire former officials from the institutions it wants as customers. OpenDemocracy reported that Palantir hired four former officials from the U.K.’s Ministry of Defence before winning a £240 million MoD contract.

The influence drive 

Moreover, Palantir is now seeking new business on the continent in defense.

On Jul. 1, Palantir’s Maven Smart System — which was first used by the Pentagon — became fully operational at NATO, meaning it’s been given security clearance to operate on the classified network. According to a NATO statement, the platform links command-and-control systems across the Alliance. 

“I think this is a very important milestone for European defense,” said Palantir’s U.K. chief Louis Mosley. 

But Palantir’s grip on Europe does not stop at the doors of government or army barracks. It also runs through some of the continent’s industrial crown jewels. Airbus signed with Palantir in 2015, making Palantir’s Foundry the backbone of its aviation data platform. Automaker BMW, energy company British Petroleum and media publisher Axel Springer — POLITICO’s parent company — all use Foundry to improve their business productivity as well. 

Looking for alternatives 

Even if Europe manages to loosen Palantir’s grip, the company’s model built on top of the latest AI large-language systems appears to only be getting stronger. On Jun. 30, Amazon Web Services said it would invest $1 billion in a new “Forward Deployed Engineering” organization, embedding teams of engineers inside customer headquarters to build AI systems alongside them.  

Days later, Microsoft announced a $2.5 billion push to send 6,000 engineers and industry specialists into client organizations. Both initiatives echo Palantir’s pioneering model to not simply sell software but put engineers inside a buyer’s operation. 

Both the strength of its products and the sensitive areas where they’re applied, make Palantir Europe’s sovereign test case par excellence. If governments and companies can replace a software layer that helps turn data into decisions, they may have a blueprint for clawing back some digital sovereignty. If they cannot, the next generation of AI tools from U.S. tech giants may prove even harder to quit. 

“Europe’s public institutions cannot become dependent on software built by a small circle of U.S. tech billionaires with an obscure political worldview,” said German Green MEP Hannah Neumann, who sits on Parliament’s defense committee. “It would be like outsourcing part of the democratic state to a private intelligence service that answers neither to voters nor to parliament.”

David Pargamin contributed reporting from Paris.

Washington is again ratcheting up the pressure on the European Union with new tariff threats. Brussels’ response is strikingly different from a year ago: Don’t retaliate, don’t put on a show for Donald Trump, and don’t let him dictate the timetable.

Trump’s recent threat to “immediately initiate” a trade investigation over the European Commission’s $1 billion fine against Google came on top of new tariffs on the EU and dozens of other trading partners, and continuing pressure from Washington over drug pricing.

But rather than sounding alarms and scrambling to respond to this new phase of Trump’s global trade war, the EU has shown public restraint — a reaction that suggests that the 27-member bloc has become less susceptible to Trump’s pressure tactics.

This year, European capitals saw their united rejection of Trump’s Greenland ambitions fail to trigger a wider transatlantic rupture. His most sweeping tariffs were struck down by the Supreme Court, and their successors have drawn legal challenges. Now, with a chance that Trump’s grip on Washington loosens in the November midterm elections, Europeans are happy to play for time.

“It is a strategy of buying time through dialogue,” Bernd Lange, a German member of the European Parliament and chair of its Committee on International Trade, said in an interview. “The Commission’s approach is to move away from anything that could be seen as legally binding and focus instead on dialogue forums, consultation and areas where cooperation is possible.”

Last year, Brussels repeatedly bristled at Trump’s tariff threats, which at times reached as high as 50 percent, before agreeing to a trade truce at the U.S. president’s golf resort in Turnberry, Scotland. After months of delays that tested Washington’s patience, the EU fulfilled its side of the bargain by passing legislation in June to allow U.S. industrial and some agricultural goods to enter the bloc duty-free.

A USTR official, granted anonymity to share the administration’s thinking, credited the EU for implementing “key commitments,” in the Turnberry deal, “such as massive tariff reductions for U.S. exports, and has made concrete commitments on a number of other burdensome regulatory matters.”

“Any technical talks will be about implementing the remaining commitments, and the U.S. side anticipates this will move at pace,” the official added.

The White House did not respond to a request for comment.

The EU law, however, also includes guardrails should Trump threaten the bloc again.

It didn’t take long for him to do so.

While the 10 percent tariff the U.S. government rolled out July 23 does not violate the Turnberry agreement, which caps U.S. duties on most EU goods at 15 percent, Trump’s threats to investigate Europe’s digital restrictions in the wake of the Google fine would likely do so. The Office of the U.S. Trade Representative has yet to launch an official investigation, but the official there confirmed to POLITICO that the agency expected “to initiate the investigation soon”. That could allow the White House to layer on more tariffs on EU imports.

U.S. Trade Representative Jamieson Greer is also conducting a separate trade investigation into Germany’s pharmaceutical pricing and has suggested he could launch similar reviews of other European countries’ drug pricing practices as well.

Those investigations, however, will take months to resolve, if not longer.

“The second phase of the trade war touches a nerve in Europe: sovereignty. Whether it concerns taxation, health care systems or competition policy, these are areas the EU sees as core to its autonomy,” said Jeromin Zettelmeyer, a former International Monetary Fund and German government official who now heads Brussels-based think tank Bruegel.

“At the same time, Trump no longer appears as politically untouchable as he did at the start of his presidency. Weakening poll numbers ahead of the midterms, controversy over the Iran war and legal setbacks in the U.S. Supreme Court have exposed vulnerabilities,” Zettelmeyer said.

In the meantime, EU officials are keeping channels to Washington open. The thinking in Brussels is that every public confrontation plays to Trump’s preferred negotiating style, whereas slower legal and technical processes give the EU more room to manage disputes on its own terms.

Nor is German Chancellor Friedrich Merz in a rush to offer concessions to the Trump administration on drug pricing, according to a European official familiar with the issue who was granted anonymity to discuss the sensitive talks. Berlin expects the U.S. trade investigation to take at least a year, the person noted.

Brussels is in close touch with Berlin on the probe, which it believes could be a blueprint for other possible U.S. trade investigations into France and Italy’s pharmaceutical policies. Ditte Juul Jørgensen, head of the Commission’s trade department, recently met with German officials in Berlin to focus on a way forward on drug pricing.

The Commission has adopted a similar strategy on transatlantic disagreements on digital policy.

While the Trump administration has pressed for broader talks, including on the enforcement of the EU’s competition rules governing Big Tech platforms, Brussels has taken pains to keep the discussions at a technical level.

In early July, a group of officials from the European Commission’s trade and tech departments headed to Washington for what a Commission spokesperson described as “a dialogue on the dialogue.”

A senior Commission official said the meeting was about seeing where the two sides could “partner up,” with Brussels looking at holding a “high-level” meeting with Washington in the fall and a series of technical rounds in between.

“From the EU’s perspective, both sort of genetically as an organization and tactically, they would be happy if as many of the discussions as possible moved to the technical level in dialogue committees rather than have it be, like, Donald Trump and somebody going at it on Twitter or in competing press statements,” said Dmitry Grozoubinski, a former trade diplomat for the Australian government and the founder of ExplainTrade, an outlet based in Geneva.

The Commission responded with characteristic restraint after Trump threatened retaliation over the latest Google fine. After the U.S. president’s Truth Social post, Brussels emphasized it would seek “technical-level contact” between the EU and the U.S., said deputy chief spokesperson Olof Gill. A meeting at a higher, political level hasn’t yet been confirmed.

However, several people familiar with the matter confirmed they were expecting a reaction from the U.S., possibly in the form of a new 301 investigation.

“I have not heard anything yet on timing for the launch or scope of the Section 301 investigation,” said a U.S. tech industry representative, who was granted anonymity to discuss the conversations with administration officials. “But I believe this has been in the works for some time as a means of leverage in U.S. negotiations with the EU.”

Europe’s strategy depends on shifting disputes out of Trump’s preferred arena of public confrontation. But officials acknowledge that this bet rests on one unpredictable factor: Trump himself.

“We cannot let our guard down,” another Commission official said. “Trump may change course at any moment. His focus is on how markets react to his policies, not on how the EU behaves.”

Stefanie Bolzen reported from Washington and Camille Gijs reported from Brussels. Oliver Ward contributed to this report.