On Tuesday, a federal jury in San Francisco found former Twitter employee Ahmad Abouammo guilty for spying on behalf of Saudi Arabia.
While overseeing media partnerships in the Middle East and North Africa for Twitter between 2013 and 2015, a Saudi official — referred to in the criminal complaint simply as “Foreign Official-1” — recruited Abouammo to covertly divulge personal information of Saudi dissidents. Now, Abouammo is facing 10 to 20 years in prison for wire fraud, money laundering, falsifying records, and acting as an unregistered agent of a foreign government.
Two other Saudi citizens — Ali Alzabarah and Ahmed Almutairi — allegedly contributed to the scheme, but fled the country after being charged with acting as unregistered agents for Saudi Arabia. Alzabarah, also a former Twitter employee, accessed the personal information of an estimated 6,000 Twitter accounts across six months in 2015, according to the FBI.
But while much of the focus has been on Abouammo and his accomplices, the buck didn’t stop with them. “Foreign Official-1,” the real engineer behind the operation, has a name: Bader al-Asaker, a top adviser to Saudi Crown Prince and de facto leader Mohamed bin Salman. Al-Asaker's identity was revealed in 2019 not long after the charges were brought.
Abouammo and Alzabarah allegedly targeted accounts at the explicit direction of al-Asaker, who funneled them hundreds of thousands of dollars in return. During the trial, prosecutors described how Abouammo met with al-Asaker in London, only to fly back to San Francisco with a brand new $40,000 luxury watch, “That luxury watch was not free. It came with strings attached,” argued Assistant U.S. Attorney Eric Cheng.
According to the FBI’s criminal complaint, al-Asaker acted on behalf of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to cultivate “employees of Twitter in an effort to obtain private user information that it could not obtain elsewhere.” U.S. Attorney Colin Sampson described al-Asaker’s directions as a “shopping list of Twitter users that he wanted an insider to keep track of.”
Abdullah Alaoudh, the Research Director for Saudi Arabia and the UAE at Democracy for the Arab World Now, told Responsible Statecraft that the real mastermind — al-Asaker — has gone completely unscathed, presenting a contradiction in U.S. foreign policy. “It is weird that we have sanctions against Saoud al-Qahtani for the murder of Khashoggi, but not against Bader al-Asaker for infiltrating Twitter and doing this operation in US soil.”
In fact, al-Asaker is still in plain view and active on Twitter with over two million followers, even after the FBI tied him to the illegal activities of Twitter's now-former employees.
The full damage posed by al-Asaker and his accomplices is unknown since only a handful of the identities of the 6,000 accounts accessed are even public knowledge. Human rights activist Ali al-Ahmed claims that he was targetted by the spies, causing his sources in Saudi Arabia to be “killed, tortured, or dissapeared.”Quincy Institute Research Fellow Ben Freeman noted in January that “Continuing to only punish the pawns, not the malign foreign actors directing them, will lead to continued attacks on democracy in America.” Indeed, focusing attention on smaller actors tackles the symptom of the problem without addressing the underlying root causes — like carelessly weeding a garden.
Moreover, this incomplete strategy may not even work in the short-term. Two of the pawns in the Twitter spy scandal, Alzabarah and Almutairi, and are now believed to be in Saudi Arabia. According to a declassified intelligence bulletin, the FBI has determined that Saudi government officials “almost certainly assist US-based Saudi citizens in fleeing the United States to avoid legal issues, undermining the US judicial process.”
The scandal, and involvement of a top Saudi official, begs deeper questions about the U.S. relationship with Saudi Arabia that will surely go unanswered. With President Biden fistbumping al-Asaker’s boss on a state visit last month, the United States is likely to simply wash its hands of the scandal and move on; as it’s apparently much easier to focus on the pawns.
Nick Cleveland-Stout is a Junior Research Fellow in the Democratizing Foreign Policy program at the Quincy Institute. Previously, Nick conducted research on U.S.-Brazil relations as a 2023 Fulbright fellow at the Federal University of Santa Catarina.
Ahmad Abouammo, a former Twitter Inc employee accused of spying for Saudi Arabia, leaves Santa Rita jail after being freed pending trial, in Dublin, California, U.S. November 21, 2019. REUTERS/Kate Munsch||
Top Image Credit: Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy, European Council President Antonio Costa and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen attend a European Union leaders special summit to discuss Ukraine and European defence, in Brussels, Belgium March 6, 2025. REUTERS/Stephanie Lecocq
The Trump administration's decision to first host direct talks with Russia in February has left Ukraine and its European backers wondering how long they will be left on the sidelines. Brussels, particularly, is trying to put on a unified front to promote its interests in Ukraine’s future.
But a flurry of statements and summits over the last few weeks shows that the EU, and Europe more generally, may be less “unified” on the subject than they had initially hoped to convey.
The inconclusive summit in London last week, which took place after the recent Trump-Zelensky spat in the White House, was followed by an emergency meeting of the EU in Brussels. Prior to that conclave, European leaders did their best to up the stakes. French President Emmanuel Macron darkly warned about the Russian threat not only to Ukraine, but also to France and Europe, in a dramatic TV address to the nation.
Meanwhile, Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk vowed to win an arms race against Russia and predicted its “defeat,” much like the one suffered by the Soviet Union at the end of the Cold War. Other European leaders issued like-minded statements.
Despite this rhetorical escalation, however, the summit in Brussels exposed the cracks in the European facade of unity. Indeed, the bloc failed to agree on a common position due to Hungary’s veto. That did not come as a surprise, as Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban has long advocated for a negotiated end to the war in Ukraine. He has forged close ties with President Donald Trump on this issue and on others.
Emboldened by the new U.S. position, Orban called on EU Council President Antonio Costa, the former prime minister of Portugal, to launch EU diplomatic talks with Moscow. Orban shared his conviction with Costa that “the EU — following the example of the U.S. — should enter into direct discussions with Russia on a ceasefire and a sustainable peace in Ukraine.”
Just days before the summit, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio met with his Hungarian counterpart Peter Szijjarto to emphasize the two countries’ “commitment to ending the war in Ukraine.” That is a meaningful step for Rubio who, just days earlier, canceled a scheduled meeting with Kaja Kallas, the EU High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, at the last minute. An unbridled Russia hawk, Kallas has repeatedly riled Trump administration officials with accusations of “appeasement” of Putin.
Speaking to the Washington Examiner after the meeting with Rubio, Szijjarto made it clear that on Ukraine, Budapest sees eye to eye with Washington, not Brussels.
Another noted representative of the European “anti-war party,” Slovak Prime Minister Robert Fico similarly decried the European Commission President Ursula Von der Leyen’s “peace through strength” strategy as “unrealistic,” positing that it serves “as a justification for continuing the war in Ukraine.” Echoing Trump’s line, Fico proposed to include “the necessity of an immediate ceasefire, regardless of the moment a final peace agreement is reached” in the summit’s decisions.
Even in more hawkish European countries, like France, there are influential dissenting voices. Right-wing opposition leader Marine Le Pen, a leading candidate to succeed Macron in 2027, dismissed the idea of sending French troops as peacekeepers to Ukraine, promoted by the president, as “sheer madness.”
Meanwhile, Henry Guaino, national security adviser to former conservative president Nicholas Sarkozy (2007-2012), called Macron to task for deliberately inflaming tensions with Russia for years, which he said led to the self-fulfilling prophecy of Russia now indeed becoming a threat. Former defense minister Hervé Morin, another high-ranking security official of the Sarkozy era, hammered Macron for over-dramatic rhetoric and fearmongering. Morin bluntly warned that peace will not be achieved by provoking Putin through media statements.
The lengths to which the European elites are prepared to go to snuff out alternative voices have been demonstrated in Romania. Indeed, Romania’s constitutional court annulled the first round results of its presidential elections on flimsy grounds: although the first round found anti-war candidate Călin Georgescu in the lead, he would subsequently be banned from the race altogether. The outgoing president, the staunchly Atlanticist Klaus Iohannis, implied that Georgescu’s success was a result of “Russian influence campaign,” a convenient bogeyman to disqualify popular challengers to the status-quo.
In the end, however, none of this seems to be helping to forge a robust, unified European position. The Brussels summit’s final document, signed by 26 member states (Slovakia was finally mollified into joining it after a reference to its gas dispute with Ukraine was added) — which, due to Budapest’s veto, cannot be considered the bloc’s official position— makes only oblique references to the new realities created by Trump’s initiatives.
It only acknowledges the “new momentum for negotiations that should lead to comprehensive, just and lasting peace.” Otherwise, the statement merely repeats that any ceasefire “can only take place as part of the process leading to a comprehensive peace agreement” and that “any such agreement needs to be accompanied by robust and credible security guarantees for Ukraine.”
But the document is devoid of details as to how exactly the European powers plan to implement these policies. The British-French plan to send European peacemakers to Ukraine was met with a distinct lack of enthusiasm by other major countries, notably Germany, Italy and even Poland. Their leaders correctly assessed that, in the absence of a U.S. backstop and Russia’s agreement to such a deployment — and Moscow has categorically ruled it out — the “peacekeepers” would in fact become combatants against Russia.
Moreover, Britain may be weighing the relative importance of Ukraine against its other, arguably more salient, priorities, such as a new trade deal with the U.S. Peter Mandelson, influential British ambassador in Washington and close confidant to UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer, has said that the only chance to end the war is to narrow differences with the Trump administration, which insists on an immediate and indefinite ceasefire. That may leave Macron isolated in Europe.
It seems that the only thing the majority of European leaders could agree on is that Ukrainians should continue fighting. Lithuanian President Gintanas Nausėda said the quiet part out loud by arguing that Ukraine is winning “precious time” for Europe until it rearms and is ready to confront Russia.
The question is whether Kyiv will succumb to European encouragement to continue an unwinnable war when its representatives meet with the high-level U.S. team in Saudi Arabia on Wednesday, or judge that further antagonizing Washington is not in Ukraine’s interests.
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Top Photo: Military trainer giving training to military soldier at boot camp. Shutterstock
Despite positive recruitment reports from Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, the Army is struggling with high attrition rates. Nearly 25% of recruits have failed to complete their contracts since 2022.
The Army reported in September that it exceeded its FY2024 recruitment goals. It even witnessed a backlog of new recruits waiting for training, as around 11,000 were placed in the delayed entry program. The question seems to be, can they keep them? The numbers aren’t promising.
Army data reviewed by Military.com suggests that, since 2022, nearly 25% of recruits have left the military before completing their initial contracts. The quality of recruits is one of several factors contributing to high attrition rates. According to service data, the military placed 25% of all enlistees in at least one of the Future Soldier Preparatory Courses, a series of trainings designed to assist recruits who do not meet academic or health standards set by the Pentagon. Of those who attend these courses, 25% do not complete their first contract. Those who did not attend the course still had a 20% attrition rate.
The number of eligible recruits in the country has also shrunk dramatically. According to a senior Army official, only 8% of the population is eligible for “clean enlistment” with no waivers, much lower than the 23% found in a 2020 DOD study. To combat this, the Army more than doubled the number of medical, academic, and criminal waivers granted to recruits in 2024 compared to 2022. More than 400 felony waivers were included in the 2024 waivers, up from 98 in 2022.
Not only did the Army reduce its recruitment goal to 55,000 from 65,000 in 2023, but the previous recruitment gains are muddled by the high attrition rates.
Hegseth previously mentioned the need to strengthen the military’s standards. President Trump signed an executive order in January to end the Department of Defense's Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs but has not addressed slipping academic or health standards within the recruitment pool.
The military has been suffering from a credibility problem overall. A survey from 2022 found that only 48% of the public “expressed a great deal of trust and confidence” in the military. Of the respondents, 47% said that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were reasons for their lack of confidence. Some have blamed the post-9/11 wars and growing mistrust in government institutions for lagging recruitment over the last several years. In addition, broader access to secondary education and job training have offered other options to kids who, in years past, would see the military as the only ticket to school and work after high school.
But that doesn’t explain the crisis of attrition, which appears to be a much more complicated issue.
“I don't know what an acceptable attrition rate is, but we have to meet people where they are," stated a senior Army official. "The quality of new soldiers is an enormous problem we're paying for. But that's just where the country is."
When asked about the quality of recruits, service spokesperson Madison Bonzo said, “U.S. Army Recruiting Command remains committed to recruiting young men and women into our Army that are ready and qualified to join the most lethal fighting force in the world to ensure our nation's security."
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Top image credit: Romanian far-right presidential candidate Calin Georgescu greets his supporters as he arrives at a rally celebrating the Unification Day, in Bucharest, Romania, January 24, 2025. Inquam Photos/George Calin via REUTERS
It’s been often warned that democracy dies in darkness, yet Romanian democracy is dying not just in broad daylight but with support from broad swathes of the transatlantic establishment.
The Sunday decision by Romania’s Central Electoral Bureau to block Călin Georgescu, a right populist and nationalist who emerged from obscurity to become Romania’s frontrunner for the presidency, was far from unexpected, but remains deeply concerning in its implications both for Romania’s constitutional order and U.S.-EU relations.
Georgescu’s trouble began with a December 2024 decision by Romania’s constitutional court to annul his victory in the first election round on allegations (without adequate evidence) of Russian TikTok interference, followed by recurring police raids against his supporters and his arrest several weeks ago on the basis of equally murky criminal charges, which include “incitement to actions against the constitutional order,” the “communication of false information” and involvement in the establishment of an organization “with a fascist, racist or xenophobic character.”
This culminated with the court decision on Sunday to block his candidacy without adequate explanation.
As previously explained in these pages, the allegations that led to the initial annulment are so substantively weak so as to make it astonishing that a court would even contemplate overturning a democratic election on these grounds. The Central Electoral Bureau’s published explanation largely recapitulates the court’s position, justifying this drastic intervention into the democratic process on the somewhat ironic grounds that Georgescu, victor of the first round and frontrunner by a wide margin, failed to uphold his “very obligation to defend democracy.” This is not democracy but “democratism” — an official ideology that like Soviet Communism, has no necessary connection to actual practice.
One cannot but reasonably infer from this deliberate sequence of events — the poorly explained and constantly evolving allegations of criminal conduct, invections of foreign meddling without so much as even circumstantial proof, relentless attempts by law enforcement to target his supporters and allies, and the government’s miraculously well-timed discovery of a nominally unrelated far-right, pro-Russian putsch — that a united Romanian establishment is grimly determined to prevent Georgescu, who has maintained a commanding lead in virtually every poll conducted since December of last year, from standing in the presidential election.
It is likewise difficult for even the most fervid epistemological optimist to ignore that all of this is happening under the noses of EU leaders who've so far refrained from raising even the mildest procedural or substantive objections. The contrast with the EU’s approach to Viktor Orban’s far milder infringements of democracy is stark.
To the degree that EU organs have weighed in, it was to unreservedly lend support to the Romanian government’s actions. The European Court of Human Rights tossed Georgescu's bid to overturn the annulment of the first election round. Former Commissioner for Internal Market of the European Union Thierry Breton cryptically said in an interview that the EU is prepared to do in Germany’s February federal elections what it did in Romania, feeding the impression — one which Brussels has certainly not taken steps to dispel — that the EU has become a witting observer, if not a partner, in Georgescu’s political defenestration.
Romania’s roiling constitutional crisis is a perfect simulacrum of a larger dispute over the shared democratic values purportedly at the heart of the transatlantic alliance. Scores of Western and European capitals have indulged the proclivity, kicked into high gear after the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, of gatekeeping access to democratic politics in the name of defending democracy from malign external influence and radical domestic actors.
The Trump administration has sharply criticized this approach, with Vice President JD Vance expostulating in Munich that Romania’s election was annulled “based on the flimsy suspicions of an intelligence agency and enormous pressure from its continental neighbors.” If Vance’s speech was, as it appears, a gauntlet thrown down before European and Romanian authorities, then the decision to block Georgescu from running makes clear that the European stakeholders in question have no intention of changing course even when directly pressed by the White House to do so.
It remains to be seen how far the administration will push this issue, whether in the form of closed door consultations with Romanian or EU officials, public expressions of concern for the state of Romanian democracy, or even punitive measures against Bucharest.
There are two conclusions that can be drawn at this early stage. The Georgescu affair will cast a further pall on EU-U.S. relations in the short to medium term, as it will be taken by key figures in the administration as a reification of their concerns and suspicions toward Europe. The policy and philosophical rift that emerged principally over competing visions for seeking peace in Ukraine will continue to widen and harden in ways that will make a future mending of fences more difficult to achieve.
The costs of this estrangement will be more keenly felt by Europe, which is geopolitically, economically, and militarily much more dependent on the United States than the other way around.
In the longer term, such episodes serve to gradually build the American case for retrenchment away from Europe. American transatlanticism and the security relations that underpinned it were sustained after 1991 not by concrete U.S. national interests but by a combination of U.S. global ambition and the perception of a special relationship built on a unique ideological affinity between the two poles. That genie is now out of the bottle in ways that cannot be reversed.
The U.S. has and will continue to hold vital interests in Europe, but they will be articulated a great deal more narrowly and pragmatically than under previous administrations. Transatlanticism, as it has existed for the past three decades, cannot be saved, nor should we try to. The pacing goal on both sides of the Atlantic should be to renegotiate a framework for cooperation based not on abstract values, over which there is clearly growing disagreement, but on concrete economic and defense interests.
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