In politics, we are used to describing uncomfortable realities in the language of interests, cynicism, or calculation. It is much harder to speak about stupidity, because it does not fit neatly into categories of guilt or bad faith. In practice, it does not mean a lack of intelligence. It means a breakdown between words and consequences, a belief that one can make declarations without bearing responsibility for what actually follows from them.
This way of operating can be highly effective from a communications perspective. It allows complex realities to be reduced to a few catchy slogans and creates an illusion of agency where, in fact, there is none. The problem begins when this style of communication starts to shape not only public debate, but also the way systems are designed and managed, systems that by their very nature do not submit to the logic of shortcuts.
Energy is one of the areas where the gap between declaration and reality becomes particularly painful. Political promises about “regaining control over resources,” “energy sovereignty in a single move,” or “cheap fuel overnight” are not, in fact, energy policy proposals. They are
demonstrations of intent, often detached from the basic conditions of implementation: infrastructure, contracts, regulation and, above all, time.
The energy system does not respond to the strength of a message or the temperature of a debate. It responds to grid capacity, available generation, storage volumes, the stability of legal frameworks, and the real possibility of changing supply directions. It is not interested in what sounds good in a public speech. It is interested in whether the balance closes and whether voltage remains within acceptable limits.
In this sense, stupidity in energy is rarely spectacular. It does not appear in a single sentence or a single mistake. It accumulates gradually in investment decisions, delays, poorly set priorities, and projects carried out not where they are most needed, but where they are easiest to sell politically. Its consequences emerge with a delay, often beyond the electoral cycle, in the form of system overloads, capacity shortages, or costs that no narrative can conceal.
This is why the question of whether energy decisions are rational in declarative terms matters less and less. What matters far more is whether the system is resilient to irrationality. Whether individual mistakes or simplifications can trigger an uncontrolled chain reaction. Whether political pressure translates directly into technical risk. Whether communication chaos turns into physical failure.
A useful point of reference remains the response of parts of Europe to the gas crisis after 2022. System resilience did not come from rhetoric or declared unity, but from decisions taken much earlier: building interconnectors, LNG terminals, expanding storage, and creating real options to change supply routes. The system absorbed the shock not because it was well described, but because it had been consistently designed in advance.
In this context, energy resilience does not mean that decisions are always right. It means that wrong decisions do not automatically lead to systemic collapse. That the system can correct them, limit their impact, and continue to function despite them. That political mistakes do not instantly turn into technical crises.
The most serious threat, therefore, is not stupidity in politics itself, but designing energy systems as if that stupidity did not exist. As if the world were orderly, decisions coherent, and short-term political pressure marginal.
In reality, the world looks different. That is precisely why energy systems must be designed for real conditions, with all their unpredictability, pressure, and tendency toward simplification.
The systems that will survive the coming decades will not be those that respond best to rational decisions.
They will be the ones that can function despite stupidity.