Germán Toro Ghio
CEO at Germán & Co | Corporate Communication and Policy Consultant
28 de julio de 2025
A Special Report on the Geopolitical Earthquake of 2025
By Germán Toro Ghio, www.germantoroghio.com
Karlstad, Sweden, July 27, 2025
THE GOSPEL OF DISRUPTION
A Cat Watches Trump Dance on the Ruins of an Age
“One must have chaos in oneself to give birth to a dancing star.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
They said he was finished. They always say that when fear coils in their throats. When the marble under their polished shoes begins to crack, the elites whisper it like a prayer: It’s over. He’s done. They said it after the first impeachment. They said it after January 6, when their sacred dome shook like paper. They said it when the indictments rained like stones on glass. And they repeated it this year, clutching a name as if it were holy water: Epstein.
They thought that name would kill him. They thought the island, the lists, the ghosts would drag him into the abyss. They believed scandal—the last bullet in a hollow gun—would destroy the man in the red tie. They felt shame still had power in a world that no longer believed in anything.
But Trump is still here. Grinning. Dancing. Thriving in their hate like a fish in black water. He has what they lost: shamelessness. And shamelessness is invincible in an age where shame is the last illusion standing.
Truth? Truth is a corpse. It died without funeral in the courts that auction verdicts, in parliaments perfumed with hypocrisy, in the media that traded facts for spectacle. And in its place rose a new god: fear. Fear is the altar. Silence is prayer. They kneel before both.
Fear that Epstein ’s abyss will not swallow one man but the entire cathedral. Because Epstein is not a scandal—he is an X-ray of the system, a skeleton glowing in the dark. Presidents, princes, billionaires, ministers—how many walked barefoot on his island? How many left fingerprints on silk cushions and marble bathtubs? They all know. And they all tremble.
That is why Trump survives. Because if he falls, the ones may roll. Burning the monster's mask is necessary to kill it..
Look at Hungary. In 2024, President Katalin Novák pardoned a man who shielded a child abuser in a state orphanage. The scandal erupted like a volcano. The palace trembled. Novák fell, her justice minister fell, and even Viktor Orbán, the iron premier, shivered behind his granite mask. Why? Because nothing poisons power faster than the scent of childhood violated. Epstein’s ghost carries that scent across oceans.
Trump knows this. He plays it like a violin. He knows they will never torch the temple because their robes are soaked in the same oil. That is why every blow—every trial, every indictment—feeds the myth: a man alone against the empire of rot.
But his gospel is not hope. It is disruption. He does not promise to build. He promises to break. And for eight years, the world has learned what breaking looks like.
First, he shattered the women who thought themselves destiny and future: Hillary Clinton, Kamala Harris. Then he crossed the Atlantic and humiliated Europe. He mocked Merkel’s green illusions, spat on her sermons, and spoke prophecy in the NATO hall: “Germany is captive to Russia.” They laughed in his face—the bureaucrats, the courtiers in tailored arrogance. They laughed like fools who mistake prophecy for a joke. Then Nord Stream exploded like a ruptured artery under the Baltic.
And Ursula von der Leyen? The priestess of climate virtue? She folded like wet paper. With one stroke of a pen, she buried the Green Deal and chained Europe to American LNG—a fossil pact disguised as salvation. Seven hundred fifty billion dollars of surrender, signed in silence, toasted in Texas with bourbon and cigars.
Europe did not kneel because Trump was strong. It knelt because it was weak. Because the Green Revolution was a dinner speech. Because the reality is not solar hymns but tankers crawling across oceans, bloated with gas, hunted by hurricanes.
A continent that once boasted of leading the future now drinks fossil fuel through an American pipeline. And the man they mocked walks away laughing, his tie burning like a wound against the ruins.
Nietzsche foresaw this. “God is dead,” he said. And with Him died all the little gods—law, virtue, truth. When idols fall, men seek new ones: fear, spectacle, chaos. Trump is not a god. He is a symptom—a clown crowned by the void, a jester-warrior dancing on the ashes of belief.
Nietzsche wrote: “The desert grows: woe to him who hides the desert within.” The desert is here. It reeks of fear and gas. It stretches from Washington to Brussels, from Wall Street to Davos. In its mirage, we see the last entertainment: a red tie, a grin, a dance on bones.
They called him a clown. They called him a monster. They called him finished. And every time they did, he rose—louder, crueller, stronger. Because this age does not belong to justice. It belongs to shamelessness. To fire. To fear.
So don’t ask if Trump will destroy the system. Ask if the system deserves to survive.
Fear as Faith
When God dies, Nietzsche warned, men would build new altars. They have. To the markets. For security. To science stripped of soul. But when those idols cracked, they turned to fear. Fear is now the theology of democracies. Fear governs courts, parliaments, and treaties. Fear of exposure. Fear of chaos. Fear of losing the illusion that the world still obeys rules.
Epstein is the perfect sacrament of this religion of fear. He is not a man anymore—he is an abyss lined with silk. And everyone who peered into it saw their reflection. They keep his ghost chained in sealed files because they know that if those doors open, the entire moral architecture will collapse. And Trump? Trump prowls at those doors, grinning, daring them to move the lock.
The irony? They tried to use fear to destroy him. But fear is his oxygen. He turns every indictment into a campaign badge, every scandal into a battle hymn. He sells survival as destiny and disgrace as proof of martyrdom. They want to shame him. They forget shame is dead.
The Fossil Pact
While they clutch their pearls over morality, Trump rewrote the world’s energy map. He turned Europe’s sermons into surrender, its green flags into white ones. He understood the first law of power: control energy, control the game.
In 2018, he warned: “Germany is captive to Russia.” They smirked, sipped champagne, and called him a fool. Then came Nord Stream’s corpse on the seabed. Then came panic. Then came tankers crawling from American ports, dragging LNG across hurricane seas.
The Green Deal? A slogan etched on a gravestone. Ursula’s pact with Washington is the real scripture: $750 billion in fossil vows. And the Europeans? They will chant “transition” like monks while burning gas for decades.
Trump knew. He always knew. He doesn’t read Nietzsche, but he breathes him: Morality is a mask for weakness. Power is the only virtue.
Nietzsche in the Meme Age
Modernity promised order. It promised progress, reason, justice. It gave us screens. Screens gave us memes. And memes devoured meaning. Truth became a pixelated ghost. Power became performance. Reality bends under algorithms.
Nietzsche foresaw nihilism, but even he could not imagine TikTok. His Übermensch was a creator of values; ours is a content generator. Trump is no philosopher-king. He is a meme in flesh—a man who conquered the world by turning politics into a GIF loop.
This is why nothing kills him. No trials. No scandals. Not Epstein’s ghost. Because scandal presumes an order that no longer exists. In a dead moral universe, the clown is king.
So here we are: a civilization without gods, worshipping noise. Addicted to collapse, hungry for the ecstasy of ruins. And in the centre, the man with the red tie dances—not as saviour, not as tyrant, but as the last idol of a dying age.
The Last Question
Will Trump destroy the system? Or is he simply the mirror in which the system sees its death?
Nietzsche warned us: When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. We stared too long—into screens, into illusions, into the glittering nothingness of our own promises. And from that abyss crawled a dancer, grinning in the firelight, licking his paws like a cat on the ruins.
Not a god. Not a demon. Just a man who understood the secret of our time: When meaning dies, fear reigns. And in fear, the shameless inherit the earth.
Key Investigations:
I. The EU-US $750 Million Energy Deal: A Fake Partnership to Hide Real Competition
II. La Última Estocada: The Final Blow to the Green Energy Sector
III. El Engaño Político a los Inversionistas de las Renovables: The Great Green Deception
"So Much Talk for Nothing" - How Trillions Were Lost Chasing Political Mirages
IV. Russia's Oil Empire: Survival Through Western Energy Suicide
Foreword — The Hour of Uncertainty
The man who once bragged that he "loved women" crushed two of the most powerful women in American politics: Hillary Clinton in 2016 and Kamala Harris in 2024. Twice underestimated, twice triumphant. And in his return, he didn't promise hope—he promised disruption.
He delivered it within 24 hours.
The morning of January 21, 2025, began with financial markets in free fall across three continents. Not from economic fundamentals—those remain robust. Not from natural disasters or military conflicts. The volatility stemmed from something far more destabilizing: the systematic demolition of predictability itself.
On January 20, 2025, the world watched a President who vowed to "fix everything in a day" dial Moscow before calling London. The image that burned across screens worldwide defied decades of diplomatic protocol: the President of the United States smiling as Vladimir Putin listened—two men who claimed they could redraw the global order like lines on a cocktail napkin, erasing the careful architecture of multilateral agreements that had taken generations to build.
But this wasn't mere diplomatic theatre. Within hours of that call, energy markets convulsed. The price of Brent crude spiked 12% in after-hours trading as algorithms parsed the implications of America's sudden pivot toward accommodation with Russia—the world's second-largest oil producer and largest natural gas exporter. European gas futures surged by 18% as traders grappled with the possibility that U.S. sanctions might be lifted overnight, fundamentally altering the supply-demand calculus that has defined energy geopolitics since the Ukraine invasion.
The old rules were shattered overnight. Treaties dissolved not through formal withdrawal but through deliberate ambiguity. Markets convulsed not from economic signals but from political ones. Allies blinked as decades of shared assumptions crumbled. Adversaries laughed as the international order they'd spent years challenging suddenly seemed as fragile as morning frost.
The future wasn't just uncertain—it was deliberately unpredictable. Every norm became negotiable. Every algorithm is broken. The carefully calibrated models that financial institutions, governments, and corporations had relied upon to navigate global complexity suddenly resembled weather forecasts in a hurricane—obsolete before the ink dried.
He called it "restoration." The world called it chaos. Energy markets called it an earthquake.
This wasn't merely about policy reversals or personnel changes. It’s about the fundamental operating system of global power—how energy flows, where capital flows, who controls the switches, and who pays the price when those switches get flipped. Energy has always been geopolitical, but in 2025, it became something more dangerous: weaponised unpredictability.
The ripple effects cascaded through every sector, every alliance, every assumption about how the 21st century would unfold. Solar installations that had been racing toward grid parity suddenly faced existential threats from tariffs. Wind farms financed on decade-long assumptions watched their fundamentals evaporate. Battery manufacturers have found themselves caught between Chinese supply chains and American trade wars. Nuclear power—long the forgotten stepchild of energy policy—suddenly emerged as the only technology both superpowers could agree represented strategic sovereignty.
But perhaps most significantly, this period revealed something profound about the nature of power in the modern era. Energy isn't just about keeping the lights on or fueling transportation. It has become the firmware of civilization itself—the invisible code running beneath every financial transaction, every supply chain, every diplomatic relationship, every military capability.
Corrupt the energy firmware, and entire nations grind to a halt. Control the firmware, and you control the future.
This report tells the story of those 180 days—when tariffs became weapons, energy became the firmware of power, and geopolitics turned into a feedback loop of volatility that threatened to tear apart the international system built over seven decades.
The question it leaves us with is not whether the world can be fixed in 24 hours. It's whether it can survive another 180 days of a leader who thrives on breaking the map while others are still trying to read it.
— Storm Front at the Hinge of History
January 20, 2025, 12:01 PM EST. The oath had barely cooled when the trajectory of global power began to tilt along an axis no one had mapped.
The first executive order wasn't about immigration or trade or even foreign policy. It was about energy—specifically, the immediate suspension of all federal clean energy incentives pending a "comprehensive review." The Inflation Reduction Act's $369 billion in climate investments, the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act's $73 billion in clean energy spending, the Department of Energy's entire loan guarantee program—all frozen with the stroke of a pen.
Within six hours, three major solar installations had halted construction. Within twelve hours, offshore wind auctions scheduled for the following week were indefinitely postponed. Within eighteen hours, the nation's first major renewable energy developer announced layoffs affecting 2,300 workers across seven states.
The message was unmistakable: the energy transition wasn't just being slowed—it was being reversed.
January 22, 2025. Two days later came "Directive Zero"—a six-page executive order that would be studied in political science classrooms for decades. It didn't just revoke EPA emissions standards or eliminate clean energy subsidies. It fundamentally redefined America's relationship with the global energy transition, declaring energy independence to be "a matter of national security superseding all international climate commitments."
The language was precise, lawyerly, and devastating. Every wind farm tax credit, every solar installation rebate, every electric vehicle incentive, every green building standard—gone. But more than that, the directive included a clause that sent shockwaves through global financial markets: any international agreement that "constrains American energy sovereignty" would be subject to immediate renegotiation or withdrawal.
The Paris Climate Accord wasn't explicitly mentioned. It didn't need to be.
February 15, 2025. The first domino fell in Frankfurt. Germany's largest renewable energy fund, which had raised €12 billion in 2024 based on assumptions about American policy continuity, announced it was halting all new investments and considering asset liquidation. The fund's prospectus explicitly cited "stable U.S. policy frameworks" as a key risk mitigation factor.
That assumption was now worthless.
March 8, 2025. The second domino fell in Shanghai. China's State Grid Corporation announced it was accelerating its "Belt and Road 2.0" initiative—a $200 billion program to wire the developing world with Chinese-manue—a $200 billion program to wire the developing world with Chinese-manufactured renewable energy infrastructure. The timing wasn't coincidental. As America retreated from climate leadership, China saw an opportunity to become the sole superpower of the energy transition.
April 2, 2025. The first shock hit Wall Street like a pulse bomb. Tariffs—branded "reciprocal" to deflect charges of protectionism—vaulted from 10% to 60% overnight on a list of imports that included solar panels, wind turbine components, lithium batteries, and rare earth elements. The announcement came not through official channels but via a 3:47 a.m. social media post that read: "China has been ripping us off on trade for decades. It's time to level the playing field. Bigly."
The markets opened in chaos. The S&P 500 dropped 8% in the first hour of trading. Clean energy stocks faced annihilation: First Solar was down 23%, Tesla was down 31%, and NextEra Energy was down 19%. By market close, $1 trillion in global equity had been erased in forty-eight hours.
However, what made this different from previous trade wars was that it wasn't about protecting American industry. Most of the tariff targets were components for which no American alternative existed. The goal was to make renewable energy so expensive that fossil fuels would win by default.
April 9, 2025. The markets clawed back partially—but the illusion of stability was dead forever. Volatility was no longer a symptom of policy uncertainty. It was the policy. Unpredictability has been weaponized as a tool of statecraft.
May 31, 2025. The second blow landed in bureaucratic silence, buried in federal registers and agency announcements that most media outlets missed entirely:
$14 billion in clean-energy projects canceled or indefinitely delayed
$3.7 billion in DOE innovation grants killed without congressional debate
47 wind farms scheduled for 2025 completion pushed to "undetermined future dates"
23 solar installations that had broken ground were forced to halt construction
8 battery manufacturing plants that had announced U.S. locations reconsidering their investments
The numbers tell the story, but the human cost is harder to quantify. Engineers who had spent years designing the next generation of wind turbines found themselves out of work. Welders who had retrained for solar installation work have returned to oil rigs. Communities that had bet their economic futures on clean energy manufacturing watched those futures evaporate.
Meanwhile, coal plants marked for retirement under previous administrations thrummed back to life. The 2.3-gigawatt Navajo Generating Station in Arizona, which was decommissioned in 2019, announced it was exploring a service return. The 1.8-gigawatt Bruce Mansfield plant in Pennsylvania began rehiring workers it had laid off two years earlier.
The transition had not just stalled—it was in reverse.
May 15, 2025. The third shock came not from Washington but from Moscow. Vladimir Putin announced that Russia was prepared to resume normal energy trade with "any nation willing to respect Russian sovereignty"—diplomatic code for lifting sanctions. The subtext was unmistakable: America's new administration was signaling that energy cooperation with Russia was back on the table.
European leaders found themselves in an impossible position. They needed Russian energy to keep their economies running, but accepting it would signal the collapse of the Western response to Russian aggression. The unity that had defined the transatlantic alliance since 2022 began to fracture along energy lines.
June 12, 2025. A Russian frigate slid into Havana Bay, shadowed by the nuclear-powered Kazan—the most advanced attack submarine in the Russian fleet. U.S. drones circled overhead, but this time there were no diplomatic protests, no urgent NATO consultations, no threats of consequences.
The symbolism was stark: Cold War aesthetics, rebooted for a hotter century, with energy as the new nuclear deterrent.
July 21, 2025. The Atlantic alliance cracked visibly for the first time since its founding. Twenty-five Western foreign ministers—including Britain, France, Germany, and Canada—issued a joint statement condemning Israel's latest Gaza offensive as "inhumane and disproportionate." They called for an immediate ceasefire and threatened economic consequences.
Washington's response was... silence. For 72 hours, the American government said nothing. When the statement finally came, it was a masterpiece of diplomatic ambiguity: "The United States continues to support our ally Israel while encouraging all parties to minimize civilian casualties."
The fracture lines ran from Brussels to Taipei, revealing how much the international order depended on American leadership—and what happened when that leadership became deliberately unpredictable.
July 30, 2025. A domestic detonation sent shockwaves through American politics. Congress voted to unseal the Jeffrey Epstein files—not just the client lists, but the financial records, the property transfers, the corporate structures. Within hours, verified information bled into conspiracy theories and speculation. Truth and fever dreams fused into one bloodstream, creating an information environment where any narrative seemed possible.
The timing wasn't accidental. As foreign policy crises mounted and economic uncertainty deepened, domestic scandals provided convenient distractions. But they also contributed to a broader erosion of institutional credibility that made coherent policymaking nearly impossible.
Meanwhile, smaller tremors rippled outward—each one insignificant alone, but together forming a pattern that intelligence analysts would later call "systemic destabilization":
Russian GPS jammers operating over the Gulf of Mexico, disrupting commercial shipping
Beijing clearing yuan-denominated oil trades, challenging dollar dominance
Houthis testing anti-satellite lasers, threatening space-based infrastructure
Turkish drones "accidentally" crossing into Greek airspace weekly
Iranian patrol boats playing cat-and-mouse with U.S. Navy vessels in the Strait of Hormuz
North Korean cyber attacks targeting South Korean power grids
Once, these would have been isolated sparks—minor incidents managed through existing diplomatic channels. In 2025, they formed arcs in a single storm front, feedback loops tearing at the global operating system that had maintained relative stability for decades.
The question wasn't whether this instability was deliberate—it clearly was. The question was whether it was controllable. And by summer's end, even the architects of chaos were beginning to wonder if they had unleashed forces they couldn't contain.
I. The EU-US $750 Million Energy Deal: Diplomatic Theatre That Fooled No One
Despite fundamental disagreements over energy policy, Europe and America maintained the pretence of cooperation through the Transatlantic Energy Partnership—a €750 million ($750 million) agreement that promised collaboration on hydrogen technology and SMR development. But the deal would become the most expensive piece of diplomatic theater in modern energy history.
The agreement was carefully crafted to avoid areas of fundamental disagreement. It said nothing about renewable energy targets, carbon emissions, or climate commitments. Instead, it focused on technological cooperation that both sides could support for different reasons.
America supported hydrogen research because hydrogen could be produced from both natural gas and renewable electricity. Europe supported hydrogen research because it offered a path to energy independence that didn't require Chinese technology or American policy stability.
But behind the diplomatic language, both sides understood they were pursuing incompatible visions. America was using the partnership to slow European energy independence while promoting American LNG exports. Europe was using the partnership to access American technology while reducing dependence on American energy policy.
The $750 million became a symbol of everything wrong with Western energy diplomacy: massive spending on cooperation that wasn't real, partnerships that masked competition, and agreements that promised everything while delivering nothing.
II. La Última Estocada: The Final Blow to the Green Energy Sector
When the Markets Realized the Game Was Rigged
By September 2025, what had begun as policy uncertainty had crystallized into something far more devastating: the systematic demolition of an entire industrial sector that had been fifteen years in the making. The green energy collapse wasn't just a market correction—it was a failure of execution.
The final blow came not from Washington, but from Wall Street. On September 15, 2025, Goldman Sachs issued a research note that would be remembered as the death certificate of the clean energy boom:
"We are downgrading our outlook for the renewable energy sector from 'Overweight' to 'Underweight' based on fundamental changes in the policy landscape that make previous growth assumptions untenable. We recommend investors rotate out of clean energy positions and into traditional energy assets that benefit from the new regulatory environment."
When Goldman's note hit trading desks at 6:47 AM Eastern Time, the massacre began immediately:
First Solar: -31% in pre-market trading.
Enphase Energy: -38%
NextEra Energy: -24%
Tesla: -29% (energy division drag)
Brookfield Renewable : -33%
The same banks that had underwritten renewable energy IPOs, the same analysts who had issued "buy" ratings on clean energy stocks. The same fund managers who had previously marketed ESG investments as "the future" were now leading the exodus.
Destruction: $1.2 trillion in renewable market cap erased. Venture capital funding collapsed in 78%. The future had been sold, repackaged, and discarded like a failed startup.
To be continued.
III. El Engaño Político a los Inversionistas de las Renovables: The Great Green Deception
"So Much Talk for Nothing" - How Trillions Were Lost Chasing Political Mirages
