Sanctions are the kind of thing that sound tough and clean from far away. You “target revenues,” you “limit propaganda,” you “send a message.” And then real life shows up: oil still finds buyers, money still moves, and the people with the most power usually feel it last. So when I see the EU rolling out new sanctions on Russia over attacks on Ukraine—aimed at energy revenue and propaganda—I don’t automatically cheer or roll my eyes. I ask the uncomfortable question: is this pressure that changes decisions, or pressure that mostly helps politicians look busy?

Based on what’s been shared publicly, the EU is tightening the screws again. The targets matter. Energy revenue is not some side hustle for Russia; it’s the bloodstream that pays for a lot of what the state wants to do. Propaganda isn’t just annoying content; it’s part of how a war gets sold, justified, and kept running. If you believe this war is partly sustained by money and narrative, then those are logical places to hit.

But logical doesn’t always mean effective.

The first problem is the one nobody likes to say out loud: sanctioning energy is hard because the world still runs on energy. If you cut off one pipe, another route opens. If one buyer stops, someone else shows up at the right price. If the goal is to shrink revenue, you’re fighting a market that is designed to route around obstacles. The EU can make it more expensive, more awkward, more risky. That matters. But “more difficult” isn’t the same as “stopped.”

And the second problem is incentives. Governments don’t like admitting this, but sanctions can become a ritual. Announce a new package. Claim it’s strong. Wait for the next headline. Meanwhile, the war continues, and civilians in Ukraine keep paying the real price. The danger is that sanctions become a substitute for harder choices. Not because leaders are evil—because they’re human, and publics like actions that feel clean.

That said, I don’t think sanctions are pointless. I think they’re slow. And the EU choosing to keep tightening pressure is a statement: this isn’t going back to normal. For businesses and banks and middlemen, that kind of long-term signal changes behavior. Not overnight, but steadily. People who can choose safer money usually do. People who can avoid risk usually do. That’s how pressure builds—not with a single dramatic punch, but with a thousand doors quietly closing.

The propaganda angle is where I’m more conflicted.

On one hand, targeting state media and influence networks makes sense. A war doesn’t just run on tanks. It runs on stories—stories that make brutality feel justified, stories that blur who started what, stories that make people tired enough to look away. If you cut the reach of those stories in Europe, you reduce their impact.

On the other hand, there’s a line here that democracies step over more easily than they admit. Once you start deciding what counts as propaganda, you’re also building tools that can be used later, in a different mood, with a different target. Maybe you trust today’s leaders. Fine. But systems last longer than leaders. A lot of “temporary” wartime measures end up becoming normal.

Now, let’s talk stakes in human terms.

Imagine you’re a small factory in Europe. Energy costs are already a daily stress. If sanctions tighten supply or raise prices, you’re the one making the call: layoffs or survival. You might support Ukraine completely and still resent what the policy does to your town. That resentment is political fuel. If leaders ignore it, they’re basically donating votes to whoever promises a cheap, simple fix—even if that “fix” means looking away from Ukraine.

Or imagine you’re in Ukraine, living with air raids and ruined buildings, watching another sanctions announcement scroll by. You might think: good, keep going. Or you might think: where is the part that stops the missiles? Sanctions can feel like the world is doing something while you’re living the consequences of not enough.

And imagine you’re in Russia, not in the inner circle, just living your life. If sanctions bite, you might blame your government. Or you might blame the West. Both are plausible. Pressure does not automatically turn into political change. Sometimes it hardens people. Sometimes it makes dissent more dangerous. Sometimes it gives the state a ready-made enemy story.

This is why I can’t stand the lazy version of sanctions talk—either “they never work” or “they’re the peaceful solution.” They can work, but only if you’re honest about time, loopholes, and costs. And only if you’re willing to keep them tight even when it’s boring, even when it’s economically painful, even when there’s no victory photo.

The EU is betting that tightening energy revenue and limiting propaganda will weaken Russia’s ability to sustain attacks on Ukraine. I think that bet is reasonable. I also think the EU is playing a long game with a public that gets impatient and an economy that hates friction. If this turns into symbolism—big announcements, small enforcement—then it’s worse than doing nothing, because it teaches everyone that “pressure” is just theater.

So here’s what I’m left wondering, and I don’t think there’s an easy answer: how much real economic pain is Europe willing to accept, for as long as it takes, to make sanctions something more than a statement?