There’s an old joke about the bartender who keeps serving drinks to the town bully while simultaneously promising the townsfolk he’ll one day donate the bully’s tab to repair the damage. That’s how alliances work sometimes, noble intentions serving as IOUs while the windows remain broken. Lately in Brussels, there’s been a variation on this theme involving Belgian waffles, Russian rubles, and the dusty machinery of international finance.

Imagine a vault in Brussels containing over 100 billion euros in frozen Russian assets, money seized after Moscow’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Now imagine that vault lying within a financial institution called Euroclear, which functions like a global safety deposit box trusted by nations worldwide. Finally, picture Belgium—that unassuming guardian of the vault—politely declining to let Ukraine borrow against these seized funds despite overwhelming European pressure. What emerges is less a geopolitical thriller than an absurdist comedy where the maintenance of perfect neutrality becomes its own form of complicity.

The recent European Council summit revealed this paradox in technicolor. Leaders arrived ready to approve a 140 billion euro loan package for Ukraine, collateralized by those frozen Russian funds. For Kyiv, battered but still fighting, this lifeline represented oxygen. For Europe, it symbolized resolve. Yet by lunchtime, the deal had crumbled like a poorly baked speculoos cookie. Belgium’s new Prime Minister Bart De Wever, whose party campaigned on fiscal prudence, invoked national sovereignty and financial risk to block the proposal. The summit’s final document was quietly edited to remove mention of the asset plan, a surgical strike performed with Belgian precision.

Context helps explain why this matters beyond banking semantics. Euroclear isn’t some generic intermediary, it’s the world’s largest securities settlement system, processing quadrillions annually. Belgium hosts it not by coincidence but because neutrality remains central to its postwar identity. Yet that principle, which once insulated Brussels from Cold War pressures, now risks insulating Putin from financial consequences. While Belgium rightly notes that seizing sovereign assets sets complex legal precedents, the consequences of inaction are stark: Ukraine faces artillery shortages while Europe debates liability clauses.

Meanwhile, Euroclear has already earned nearly 4 billion euros this year merely holding these Russian funds, a detail that sharpens the absurdity. A system designed for passive facilitation profits from geopolitical calamity while Ukraine’s soldiers ration ammunition. There’s no villainy here, just the quiet hum of bureaucracy converting crisis into coupon payments. This isn’t malevolence, it’s institutional inertia wearing the guise of prudence.

Financial experts will rightly note the procedural hazards. The legal concept of sovereign immunity shields state assets from confiscation, a principle preventing reciprocal seizures of Western holdings abroad. Enthusiastic asset transfers could destabilize Euroclear by undermining its reputation as an apolitical custodian. These are substantive concerns worthy of thoughtful debate. Yet what elevates this from technical quarrel to strategic failure is timing: Ukraine burns through 100 million euros daily resisting an invasion that threatens Europe’s entire eastern flank. To argue about risk distribution now resembles refusing to lend your neighbor a fire hose because they might damage the nozzle.

Equally troubling is how this hesitation breathes oxygen into alternative narratives. While Europe stammers about liability waivers, parallel efforts to mediate the conflict gain sudden traction. One needn’t disparage peace overtures to recognize that negotiations from positions of desperation rarely produce equitable terms. Diplomacy flourishes when both sides feel calibrated pressure, not when one faces artillery superiority while their patrons debate bond yields.

Solutions exist if creativity matches the urgency. European institutions could collectively guarantee any Belgian losses from legal challenges, transforming risk into a shared burden. Alternatively, the EU might issue bonds backed by future Russian reparations—an approach resembling postwar Marshall Plan financing. What remains indefensible is the status quo: essential funds sit inert while bureaucrats refine indemnification clauses. Every day of delay amplifies the human cost in Kharkiv and Kherson.

Perhaps De Wever’s stance isn’t purely financial. His Flemish nationalist party historically advocated warmer relations with Moscow, reflecting business ties and Ukraine skepticism. Yet even subdued motives matter less than the cascade effect. Europe has fiercely debated ammunition shipments, fighter jets, and NATO accession, but without stable funding, these become symbolic gestures. Without consistent fiscal support, battlefield gains become ephemeral. Without financial resolve, military aid resembles applause without encore.

Optimism persists for reasons beyond headlines. The same mechanisms that built Europe’s postwar recovery—the Coal and Steel Community, the Marshall Plan, the Maastricht Treaty—emerged from smarter leaders confronting graver threats with fewer resources. Today’s Brussels disagreements reflect not terminal division but democracy’s messy tempo. Behind closed doors, technical work continues on structuring the loan package to satisfy Belgian concerns about legal recourse. This suggests hope isn’t naive, it’s strategic.

Moreover, Belgium’s stance could unintentionally serve European interests by forcing stronger collective guarantees. If resolving this impasse produces enduring frameworks for sharing fiscal burdens during crises, the ordeal becomes productive. Those future mechanisms matter because threats won’t end with Ukraine. Authoritarian regimes worldwide will study how democracies respond when tested.

History offers perspective. In 1950, Belgium’s Paul Henri Spaak played an outsized role creating NATO and the European Economic Community, recognizing that small nations thrive within robust alliances. Spaak understood national sovereignty gains strength from pooled sovereignty. Today’s challenges demand similar vision. Governing isn’t merely avoiding risk, but wisely choosing which risks to embrace.

Belgium retains every right to protect its fiscal stability. Yet leadership involves distinguishing genuine hazards from comfortable hesitations. Ukraine’s struggle against authoritarian aggression represents the former. Euroclear’s legal worries represent the latter. One wonders what another Belgian, the artist Magritte, would make of this predicament. Perhaps he’d paint a vault overflowing with gold coins labeled ‘This is not assistance.’ Sometimes problems feel insoluble because we impose false constraints between pragmatism and principle. True solutions emerge when we grasp they’re the same thing.