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The labor movement is divided over how to deal with AI

4 August 2026 at 19:42
Members and supporters of SAG-AFTRA picket in front of Netflix on Sunset Boulevard, as negotiations continue between the actor's guild and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) continue in Los Angeles, CA, Tuesday, Nov. 7, 2023. Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

This article was originally published by Truthout on Aug. 03, 2026. It is shared here under a  Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0) license.

Artificial intelligence (AI) has permeated our workplaces, where many employers have sought to boost productivity, cut labor costs, and eliminate jobs via the technology. A 2025 Pew Research Center poll found that 1 in 5 workers now use AI in their jobs.

Organized labor’s response to the AI has been fraught. Where some see an inevitable shift that simply needs to be regulated and could potentially even create jobs, others see a dangerous trend that will result in further job losses along with a variety of other problems.

The tension is succinctly summarized by a recent Politico headline: “Voters fear AI. Unions want the jobs.”

The ongoing debate over data centers encapsulates this tension. Across the country, community members have spearheaded efforts to block their construction over concerns about water depletion, higher utility bills, noise, and air pollution.

In March, Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vermont) and Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-New York) introduced the Artificial Intelligence (AI) Data Center Moratorium Act, which would institute a pause on data center construction until federal safeguards can be established. “We need serious public debate and democratic oversight over this enormously consequential issue,” said Sanders in a statement on the bill. “The time for action is now.”

The legislative effort is backed by multiple unions including National Nurses United (NNU), the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), and the Association of Flight Attendants. “The unchecked explosion of AI data centers is a public health crisis, an environmental crisis, and a workers’ rights crisis,” declared NNU co-president Jamie Brown at a press conference announcing the bill.

However, there are also many unions that oppose any moratorium on data centers, particularly building trade unions that believe such construction can stimulate economic growth for struggling communities and provide members with work.

“We need the guardrails on AI, we just don’t think that a moratorium is the way to get there,” AFL-CIO President Liz Shuler told Punchbowl News in June.

The International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) is even calling on members to contact their congressional representatives and make social media posts connected to the issue. “I’m a proud IBEW member and I oppose any bans on data center construction since these bans would eliminate good-paying union jobs,” reads suggested text for a social media post.

In June, Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer appeared at the groundbreaking ceremony for Oracle and OpenAI’s planned 1.4-gigawatt data center in the state’s Saline Township. Alongside OpenAI CEO Sam Altman, Whitmer told the assembled crowd that the state was setting an example for “the rest of the world” by ensuring the “responsible adoption” of AI.

The project was opposed by many residents and local lawmakers. Rep. Rashida Tlaib (D-Michigan) called it “disgusting” and said she was “disappointed” with Whitmer, while Democratic State Rep. Dylan Wegela of Garden City said it was a “complete betrayal of the working class” and that the governor had sold out “Michigan to big tech billionaires.”

However, the data center was backed by North America’s Building Trades Unions (NABTU), and its president, Sean McGarvey, was present at the groundbreaking. “America’s ability to lead in the next era of innovation depends, in part, on America’s ability to build, and our members are proud to be helping make that future possible,” he told the crowd.

Speaking to Politico in June, Senator Sanders’s chief political adviser, Faiz Shakir, said that the data center jobs heralded by certain unions won’t necessarily establish lasting occupations.

“It’s fine to say that [data centers will] be built with good-paying union jobs now — and I hope that that’s the case — but what we’re also looking for on behalf of the working class of America is long-term sustainability of jobs,” he said. “It doesn’t help a lot in our view if you have a short-term infusion of good, union paying jobs at the cost of the decimation of many, many long-term jobs.”

Support for AI within organized labor is receiving a boost from AI companies themselves. Last year, the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) announced that it would create an AI training hub in New York City via $23 million from Microsoft, OpenAI, and Anthropic.

“The industry funding is part of a drive by U.S. tech companies to reshape education with generative A.I. chatbots,” noted The New York Times. “These tools, like OpenAI’s ChatGPT and Microsoft’s Copilot, can produce humanlike essays, research summaries and class quizzes.”

AFT President Randi Weingarten said the academy was inspired by the work of other unions, like the United Brotherhood of Carpenters, and that the idea for the National Academy for AI Instruction sprang from a partnership established between Microsoft and the AFL-CIO in 2023.

“AI holds tremendous promise but huge challenges — and it’s our job as educators to make sure AI serves our students and society, not the other way around,” declared Weingarten. “The direct connection between a teacher and their kids can never be replaced by new technologies, but if we learn how to harness it, set commonsense guardrails and put teachers in the driver’s seat, teaching and learning can be enhanced.”

The way Weingarten is selling the hub is seemingly at odds with that of Roy Bahat, who first proposed the idea. In a LinkedIn post made shortly after the announcement, Bahat, who heads the venture capital firm Bloomberg Beta, essentially admits that the center can serve as a test case for applying AI more broadly — or, as Nolan Higdon put it in Truthdig: “Teachers are guinea pigs in Big Tech’s broader project to reengineer labor, one profession at a time.”

“If we can figure out how teachers should teach with and about AI, we can affect the lives of millions of educators, and millions and millions of young people,” explains Bahat in the post. “And if we can figure out how to train teachers on using AI, maybe we can figure it out for other occupations.”

The training hub, and union leadership’s wider connections to AI, have sparked criticism from labor activists and rank-and-file members.

“Using AI compliments, intensifies, and accelerates privatization of the public sector, and that’s in addition to any harm that it’s doing to work.”

“Using AI compliments, intensifies, and accelerates privatization of the public sector, and that’s in addition to any harm that it’s doing to work,” author and teacher union activist Lois Weiner told Truthout. “The labor movement should be contesting the idea that the imposition of AI is inevitable. That’s the labor movement’s responsibility.”

“What makes this so disturbing is that it raises fully the problem of union democracy,” she added. “These decisions were made without informed debate with union members. They have a moral responsibility to community and the kids we serve to have a voice.”

Trevor Griffey, a labor historian, lecturer at UCLA and UC Irvine, and vice president of legislation for AFT Local 1474, told Truthout that, since the collaboration was established, the AFT national has focused too much on trying to help teachers adapt to AI, and too little on organizing worker power in school districts. He believes unions should go on the offensive and push for deeper reforms, as AI is already having a dramatic impact. He points out that groups like the California Federation of Labor Unions are trying to bring together statewide unions in California to lobby on a range of bills targeting the dangers of Big Tech.

“The question is less where unions stand on AI or other forms of technology, and more how they organize to resist the unsafe and unethical use of automation at work,” he told Truthout. “Unions need to invest in strategic research and organizing to support workers most likely to be negatively impacted by employers’ adoption of AI-powered technology — both at work, and in building political power sufficient to prevent the unethical and unsafe use of new technology. Beyond just regulating AI, unions should push for full employment and/or universal income policies to mitigate the disruptions to people’s lives that AI-related layoffs are already having.”

These sentiments were echoed by Vishal Reddy, a union negotiator for nursing home workers and the executive director of WorkFour.

“Unions at the local, international, and federation levels need to put real money and organizing capacity into figuring out which affirmative AI-related demands — four-day workweek, UBI [universal basic income], AI dividends, and so on — actually resonate with a wide swath of workers,” he told Truthout. “Just like in bargaining, we want to know which affirmative policy would be most deeply and widely felt, so we can prioritize it in the fights ahead, including May Day 2028.”

“That means cross-union convenings, issue campaigns, commissioned polling and research, and real resourcing behind the bargaining fights where these policies are already surfacing,” Reddy added. “For example, if a fight over a 32-hour workweek is on the table somewhere, that’s exactly where the labor movement should be throwing its weight.”

21 MILIARDI IN ARMI | LEVANTE

4 August 2026 at 18:39

‼Il governo prepara per settembre una variazione di bilancio di dimensioni paragonabili a una legge di bilancio. La quota maggiore va alla spesa militare, coperta con nuovo debito: SAFE o titoli di Stato. Il resto è una partita di giro sulle accise che non produce un euro di risorse nuove. Nel frattempo il risiko bancario consegna a un gruppo con azionariato dominato dai grandi fondi il secondo polo bancario europeo, e la politica estera fabbrica un avversario simbolico a costo zero: la Spagna. Tre movimenti, una sola logica. 🎙Ne discutiamo a Levante, martedì 4 agosto, con Alessandro Volpi e Francesco Dall’Aglio. Conduce Margherita Furlan. 🔻 IN QUESTA PUNTATA 💣 Le due guerre aperte e la crisi di Ceuta: oltre cinquantamila ingressi nell’esclave, la sospensione di Schengen decisa dall’Italia verso un altro Paese fondatore, il Consiglio Affari Interni straordinario. Chi guadagna dallo scontro fra Roma e Madrid, e qual è la posta reale sullo Stretto di Gibilterra. 📊 Lo scostamento di settembre: 0,9 per cento del prodotto alla difesa, finanziato interamente a debito; 0,6 per cento di partita di giro sulle accise mobili. Che cosa significa coprire spesa militare con emissioni nuove, e perché il riarmo è oggi l’unica spesa pubblica che l’Europa considera legittimo finanziare a debito. 🏦 Il credito passa di mano: dopo il ritiro di Banco Bpm resta sul tavolo l’Opas di Intesa Sanpaolo su Mps da 30,6 miliardi. Il premio vero non è la rete del Monte: è Mediobanca e la sua quota in Generali. La stessa geometria azionaria già vista in Unicredit e nell’Opas Poste-Tim. 🏥 La favola della spesa pubblica: chi invoca la motosega alla Milei dimentica che l’istruzione è scesa dal 4,5 al 3,9 per cento del prodotto e la sanità dal 7 al 6,3. E che il servizio sanitario nazionale è finanziato in larga parte da imposte indirette, cioè senza alcuna progressività. 🗽 Il perimetro del dicibile: la politica statunitense dei visti, le revoche a chi scrive articoli di opinione, i dinieghi motivati con la sicurezza nazionale. Quando la critica a uno Stato terzo diventa criterio di ammissione a un Paese. 📚 I LIBRI DEGLI OSPITI ALESSANDRO VOLPI La guerra della finanza. Trump e la fine del capitalismo globale, Laterza, 2025 I padroni del mondo. Come i fondi finanziari stanno distruggendo il mercato e la democrazia, Laterza, 2024 Nelle mani dei fondi, Altreconomia, 2024 L’America secondo Trump. Prospettive economiche e scenari globali, Edizioni La Vela, 2024 FRANCESCO DALL’AGLIO Oppenheimer, Putin e altre storie sulla bomba, ad est dell’equatore, 2023 (curato con Carlo Ziviello) 🎯 SOSTIENI CASA DEL SOLE TV Casa del Sole TV è un progetto di giornalismo indipendente autofinanziato, senza editori, senza partiti, senza padrini politici. Per donazioni: IBAN: IT63P0326822300052392596590 Intestato a: La Casa del Sole Edizioni Causale: Donazione Casa del Sole TV Membership YouTube: 👉    / @casadelsoletvchannel   — Analista Multipolare €5/mese — Inviato della Verità €15/mese — Architetto del Futuro €25/mese 📖 I LIBRI DI MARGHERITA FURLAN BRICS Scacco Matto (disponibile in italiano, inglese, russo), La Casa del Sole Edizioni 🌐 SEGUI CASA DEL SOLE TV YouTube: @CasadelSoleTVChannel #guerra #finanza #ceuta #news #geopolitics

L'articolo 21 MILIARDI IN ARMI | LEVANTE proviene da Casa del Sole TV.

U.S-Iran War: Freak Mid-Air Crash Survivor KC-135 Stratotanker Flies Back Home with Donor Tail

4 August 2026 at 13:55

One of the two US Air Force’s KC-135R Stratotankers that collided mid-air earlier this year during hostilities with Iran is now flying with a replacement vertical stabilizer sourced from another aircraft.

During the height of the clash between the US and Iran, two USAF KC-135 refuellers collided mid-air in friendly airspace in Iraq in a freak accident on March 12, 2026. 

One of these tankers, call sign Zeus 95, was unable to recover from the impact and crashed close to Turaibil on the border between Iraq and Jordan. Meanwhile, the other aircraft managed to steer away and land safely at Ben Gurion Airport in Israel—the hub of USAF’s aerial refueling capability during the conflict—despite sustaining damage to its vertical stabilizer, or tail, as previously reported by the EurAsian Times.

“U.S. Central Command is aware of the loss of a U.S. KC-135 refueling aircraft. The incident occurred in friendly airspace during Operation Epic Fury, and rescue efforts are ongoing. Two aircraft were involved in the incident. One of the aircraft went down in western Iraq, and the second landed safely. This was not due to hostile fire or friendly fire,” the US Central Command (CENTCOM) said in a statement on the day of the tragic accident.

As it turns out, the surviving KC-135 has been repaired by cannibalizing the vertical stabilizer from another aircraft of the type. It was spotted at RAF Mildenhall, UK, during its transit from Israel to the continental US, featuring two distinct serial numbers: although the fuselage itself carried 63-8017, the original serial number, the tail bore 63-8002, as seen in photos shared by UK-based aviation photographer Havoc Aviation.

The U.S. Air Force KC-135 "Stratotanker" that survived the fatal midair collision with another KC-135 over Iraq in March is now en route towards the United Kingdom, likely beginning its return to the United States.

Based on the extensive structural damage sustained in the… pic.twitter.com/1aHcRvPXhg

— OSINTdefender (@sentdefender) August 2, 2026

According to reports, the donor aircraft had previously served with the 22nd Air Refueling Wing and was last noted at the KC-135 depot at Tinker AFB, Oklahoma, where it appears to have entered retirement or storage. The repair work was apparently carried out at Israel’s Ben Gurion Airport, which recently made headlines for refusing to accommodate additional USAF tankers amid overcrowding.

Further maintenance is expected upon the aircraft’s arrival in the US, including a repaint to apply the correct markings, if the donor vertical stabilizer is permanently retained.
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USAF’s KC-135 63-8017 arrived at RAF Mildenhall featuring a different tail number (Image Courtesy: Havoc Aviation)

This repair approach—using a donor component from another airframe—is an established practice for returning heavily damaged aircraft to service.

Earlier, the USAF successfully reassembled two damaged F-35 stealth fighters into one Frankenbird. One of the F-35s was damaged in a catastrophic engine fire at Eglin Air Force Base in 2014, whereas the other was damaged in a nose-gear collapse at Hill Air Force Base in Utah in 2020. The team developed specialized tooling, supports, and other equipment to assemble and connect the aircraft components, as you can read about here.

Similarly, the B-2 Spirit of Georgia, whose wing composite was severely damaged after it suffered a landing-gear collapse at Whiteman AFB in 2021, was later repaired by equipping it with an 8×4-foot donor composite skin panel from Test Article 0998.

Nevertheless, the KC-135 with two different numbers at RAF Mildenhall remains a unique sighting, particularly as the mid-air crash occurred during intense combat and killed six crew members.

Iran’s proxies in Iraq claimed responsibility for the attack as soon as the crash was announced by official channels. 

“In defense of our country’s sovereignty and its airspace violated by the aircraft of the occupation forces, the mujahideen of the Islamic Resistance in Iraq targeted, with appropriate weaponry during the past twenty-four hours, a second aircraft of the KC-135 type belonging to the American occupation in western Iraq. Its crew managed to escape with it after it was hit, and it made an emergency landing at one of the enemy’s airports,” the Islamic Resistance in Iraq (IRI), an umbrella group of Iran-backed Iraqi militias, said in a statement at the time. 

The claim was unsurprisingly amplified by Iranian state media and others, though CENTCOM immediately refuted it. 

USAF Has Lost Many KC-135 Tankers 

The KC-135, introduced nearly 70 years ago, remains the most numerous aerial-refueling aircraft in US service and the backbone of the tanker force. It enables long-range operations by fighters, bombers, and other aircraft of the Air Force, Navy, Marine Corps, and allied nations.

Ben Gurion Airport became a major forward operating location for both KC-135s and newer KC-46 Pegasus tankers before and during Operation Epic Fury. The concentration of refueling and cargo aircraft there grew substantially as the conflict continued past the April ceasefire, at one point reaching 70–75 aircraft and prompting Israeli authorities to press for a drawdown to protect commercial airline operations.

However, for the one KC-135 that the USAF managed to restore, it has lost many others during its high-tempo war with Tehran.

Following the fatal accident on March 12, media sources on March 14 stated that an Iranian missile and drone attack had destroyed five KC-135s while they were on the ground at Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi Arabia. The refuellers were parked in the open on the apron, making them “sitting ducks” for Iranian missiles and drones, because the base, which is roughly 600 kilometers from Iran, lacked shelters for large planes like the KC-135.

Due to a lack of clear information from CENTCOM, the extent of damage to each tanker remains unknown. 

In fact, the latest arrival of the KC-135 at RAF Mildenhall was the third of a damaged tanker at the British facility, according to reports.

The Mildenhall transit of 63-8017 marks at least the third appearance of a battle-damaged KC-135 at the British base.

On April 12, 2026, KC-135R 59-1444 arrived covered in temporary battle-damage-repair patches before continuing to the Oklahoma City Air Logistics Complex at Tinker AFB. On May 23, 2026, Alaska Air National Guard KC-135R 63-8028 of the 168th Wing arrived with shrapnel repairs on its tail and flaps and without its refueling boom.

The substantial damage to the USAF’s KC-135 aircraft in the Middle East has spurred discussion about the attrition and pressure on the aging tanker fleet during high-tempo operations. As of now, parts cannibalized from boneyard-decommissioned aircraft are essential to the KC-135 fleet.

 

 

The post U.S-Iran War: Freak Mid-Air Crash Survivor KC-135 Stratotanker Flies Back Home with Donor Tail appeared first on EURASIAN TIMES.

If Marine Le Pen wins: A European guide to a far-right France

Summary

  • Marine Le Pen’s candidacy for president means Europeans should brace for the possibility of a France wholly different to the one they know.
  • A Rassemblement National government would be hostile to the EU and a disruptive partner on numerous issues facing Europe; including on Russia, enlargement, climate and migration.
  • The party is divided over whether and how to work with other right-wing parties in France; and how to position the country within Europe and the Western alliance.
  • Le Pen is likely to work in a “duo” with party leader, Jordan Bardella, but there are notable differences between their outlooks. Europeans should pay attention to these.
  • European political leaders would struggle to influence a Le Pen-led government, but nor should they expect a unified European far-right to emerge. They would be wise to begin their preparations now.

Note: This policy brief is a second edition of an earlier paper published on June 9th 2026. It updates the prior analysis in light of Marine Le Pen’s confirmation that she will run for the French presidency.

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The restoration of a matriarch

In the early hours of November 2nd 1976, a bomb exploded outside the Paris home of the far-right leader Jean-Marie Le Pen and his family. The perpetrators were never found. His youngest daughter, Marine, 8 years old at the time of the attack, later seethed that the family was not shown “the slightest sign of solidarity or compassion” by the French authorities. Today, as Marine Le Pen launches into her fourth—and most competitive—bid for France’s presidency, that quote reveals something of the woman who might soon occupy the Elysée Palace. If she wins, European policymakers will need to understand this self-defined outsider and how her family’s and party’s long years in the political wilderness shape her domestic and international agenda.

That insurgent self-perception may seem odd now. After all, the National Rally (Rassemblement National, RN) is far ahead in polling for the first round of the election, is accepted by an increasing share of French polite society, and is close to some of the country’s most powerful economic elites. But it still explains why the rest of Europe should brace for the possibility of a French president who sees herself as a rebel against the country’s and the EU’s established norms and institutions. As this paper will argue, a Le Pen presidency of France would be a significantly more formidable challenge to European orthodoxies than Giorgia Meloni is in Italy or Viktor Orban was in Hungary.

*

Only one thing is certain about the result of France’s presidential election next year: President Emmanuel Macron’s decade in power will come to an end. Who replaces him is an open question, with any number of conceivable outcomes. The exact field of candidates is not yet clear, not even in Macron’s centrist camp, where two former prime ministers—Édouard Philippe and Gabriel Attal—are vying for primacy. French presidential election campaigns are often volatile; both those in 2017 and 2022 saw major shifts over the half-year before polling day. But current polling suggests that the RN party candidate is on track to win the first round, on April 18th 2027, and to enjoy good prospects in the second, due on May 2nd.

Voting intention in first and second rounds of presidential election:
Voting intention in first and second rounds of presidential election:

The RN went through months of speculation over who would represent it at the presidential election. In March 2025, Marine Le Pen was convicted of embezzling European parliamentary funds and received a five-year ban on standing for election. Over recent months, Jordan Bardella, the RN’s untested young leader and Le Pen’s protégé, was talked about as the party’s best hope.

On July 7th 2026, however, the Court of Appeal reduced Le Pen’s ineligibility penalty, which enabled her to run. It also required her to serve a year of house arrest with an electronic ankle tag. That evening, Le Pen announced that she would seek the presidency and would appeal to the Court of Cassation. The penalty is suspended until France’s highest court rules on the case, which could take place as late as April 2027.

Her candidacy has significant implications for the rest of Europe. Le Pen is an experienced campaigner and an established (though also divisive) figure in France. Her bid for the presidency is perhaps more likely to survive the heat of the campaign than a Bardella run would have. The fact that she is the candidate probably increases the chances of the French far-right coming to power for the first time since Marshal Pétain, the puppet leader of Vichy France.

Le Pen is marked by the RN’s long years in the wilderness. She believes in radical solutions. As president, she would likely be a confrontational and abrasive force in Europe.

To reiterate, the outcome of the election remains wide open. But the scale of the potential rupture of a Le Pen win means policymakers elsewhere in Europe must both understand the RN and prepare for that eventuality. To that end, the authors of this paper have extensively researched the party’s Europe and foreign policies. The following study is based on in-depth interviews with an array of senior RN figures and external experts as well as analysis of the party’s speeches, legislative proposals, voting records and electoral programmes. The result is a series of five theses about what a Le Pen win next year would mean for Europe.

Understanding an RN presidency

Point 1: Marine Le Pen’s candidacy reaffirms her primacy inside the RN, although her duo with Bardella will endure

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Marine Le Pen’s decision to run for president despite her upheld conviction—and in contradiction of her own prior statements—is a reminder of her centrality to the RN. She is still the party’s dominant leader. The decision also dispelled the illusion that Bardella constitutes a real alternative to her leadership. It showed that today’s RN is still Marine Le Pen’s inheritance and achievement.

The party was founded as the National Front (FN) in 1972 by Jean-Marie Le Pen, along with French former members of the Waffen-SS and other nostalgists for colonial French Algeria. It drew together different threads of the far-right. For decades most French citizens considered it beyond the pale. When Jean-Marie Le Pen narrowly made it into the second round of the 2002 presidential election, it shocked both France and Europe. He was roundly defeated by 82% to 18% by then-president Jacques Chirac.

Taking the reins of the party from her father in 2011, however, Marine Le Pen pursued a strategy of “dédiabolisation” (“detoxification”). This saw her expel Jean-Marie from the party in 2015 over his racist and anti-Semitic comments. After her resounding defeat to Macron in 2017 she intensified the process, renaming the party and dropping its commitment to “Frexit” (leaving the EU).

In 2019, she appointed a fresh-faced young activist from a deprived Paris suburb to lead the RN’s campaign for the European Parliament election. Jordan Bardella delivered the party’s first ever first-placed result in a national election and was rewarded with the RN presidency in 2021. He would play a central role in the party’s 2022 presidential campaign—a much closer contest—and in its triumphant win in the 2024 European vote. Le Pen further empowered Bardella when she announced he would be her choice for prime minister. When it looked like she might be banned from running, Bardella became her natural replacement as a presidential hopeful.

Nevertheless, despite Bardella’s rapid rise and growing public profile, the RN remains firmly in Le Pen’s hands. For nearly half a century, the promotion of family members, such as Marine Le Pen’s niece Marion Maréchal, and significant turnover among the lower levels of the party has kept power within the Le Pen clan. Many of the party’s cadres remain more loyal to her than to Bardella, and were determined that she should run rather than him.

Now that the party is back behind its leader, Le Pen will continue to highlight the duo she forms with Bardella—as she did on prime-time television when she launched her campaign. She once again promised to make him prime minister if she becomes president. Running a “ticket” for the French presidency is unprecedented and anathema to the function. But it has a distinct advantage: broadening her voter coalition while keeping the party together.

Le Pen’s own political base has two main parts. First, an anti-elite and disaffected working- and middle-class electorate in the northern post-industrial Pas-de-Calais region that she has represented since 1998 (as a councillor, MEP and in the National Assembly), And, second, a chain of strongholds along the Mediterranean coast, which adhere to long-term RN positions hostile to immigration and taxes.

By contrast, Bardella appears more economically liberal and temperamentally closer to other parts of the French right, including the conservative flank of the Republicans (LR, the rump centre-right force) and culturally reactionary forces like Éric Zemmour’s far-right Reconquest. He is also more engaged with the wider European right, especially Meloni in Italy. Within the RN itself this aligns him more with a more bourgeois and younger new electorate.

Over the last year, Bardella had even started to sand down some of the party’s most abrasive ideas. Where Le Pen cleaves to some of the party’s old Putin-friendly instincts on Russia, he has spoken in defence of Ukraine’s sovereignty. He also broke from Le Pen on pensions reform, suggesting dropping the fixed retirement age and moving to a more contributory system. Where Le Pen went to Budapest to help out an embattled Orban, he struck a friendly tone towards Germany and even met with the country’s ambassador in Paris. All this created expectations in Brussels and other EU capitals that a President Bardella might be closer to the bloc’s economic orthodoxies and more open, at least, to compromises.

Le Pen’s candidacy firmly relegates him to a subordinate position within the party. Gone, too, is the spectre of a somewhat more conciliatory RN presence in the Elysée Palace if the party wins power next year. “Bardellism cannot exist, as it is ultimately Marinism”, Jean-Philippe Tanguy, a senior RN figure, has said. The reassertion of Le Pen’s primacy within the RN thus makes the party both more likely to take power and more likely to disrupt the rest of the EU and its foreign policies if it does.

Point 2: An RN presidency would be a rupture in French and European politics

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France is a highly centralised state, and its president wields executive power more akin to an American president than to counterparts in its European neighbours. The country also remains a pivotal power in Europe as one of its two nuclear-armed countries and half of the Franco-German motor that long drove the European project.

News of an RN win would therefore send shockwaves around the continent, stunning the mainstream. It would also lift the spirits of much of Europe’s radical right after a difficult 2026 in which its pre-eminent governing leader, Orban, lost power and its links with Trump turned out to be liabilities. After all, the RN has been unapologetic in its support for fellow “patriots” across Europe. Le Pen campaigned for Orban, and Bardella has engaged closely with Meloni and her government in Italy and Nigel Farage’s Reform in the UK.

Farther afield, the RN has been increasingly welcomed by fellow nationalists like Israel’s Likud government, which hosted Bardella and other far-right leaders in 2025. The Trump administration has professed its own commitment to supporting “patriotic parties” and would react favourably to an RN win. This is despite Bardella’s and Le Pen’s efforts to cool their party’s earlier enthusiasm for the US president.

The RN would revel in the sense of rupture. In private, party leaders compare their potential accession to power to left-winger François Mitterrand’s historic victory in 1981—which they see as the only true political change France has undergone in the last 50 years.

*

Thus empowered, the RN would want to enact its programme. Although foreign and defence policy may not be its top policy priority, “fixing” France’s relationship with the EU is bound to be one.

In its 2019 and 2024 European election campaign manifesto, the RN suggested transforming the European Commission into a mere secretariat of the EU, leaving legislative initiative only to the European Council. The party decries attempts to expand qualified majority voting, refuses any new transfers of competencies on foreign and defence policy to the commission—and seeks European allies in that endeavour.

The RN is vehemently against EU common taxation and borrowing. Both Le Pen and Bardella have proposed slashing the French contribution to the EU budget (by “between €2bn and 3bn”, as Bardella suggested, equivalent to 9-14% of the French payment in 2024). RN MPs have already put forward several amendments to the budgetary laws to that effect. In July, Bardella has even advocated reducing the contribution by half. In place of European joint spending, the party wants the creation of a sovereign wealth fund to back “sovereign industries” in defence, technology and energy.

The party’s antipathy towards NATO means it plans to prioritise national-level defence instead. The RN has committed to maintaining current defence spending, but argues this should support France’s own military-industrial infrastructure first and foremost. Even if it has paused an earlier plan to leave NATO’s integrated command, at least for “as long as the war [in Ukraine] goes on”, Le Pen revived the idea as recently as May 2026.

The strictly national principle applies to energy too. The RN has promised to lower French energy costs, notably by breaking from EU-wide electricity pricing (which often depends on gas prices less relevant to France’s nuclear-heavy energy system) and thus allegedly reducing the French retail price. And, despite claiming to be concerned about the consequences of climate change, the RN is relentless in its opposition to the European Green Deal and its insistence that French nuclear energy should exempt the country from EU climate strictures.

Overall, if Le Pen were to become president, the RN’s highly disruptive European agenda would inevitably put France on a path to confrontation with European partners and institutions. As the fight against the EU is both a symbolic and a policy priority for the RN, other European leaders may have to find a way to negotiate on some of the demands—that for a budget rebate, for example—in order to prevent French vetoes.

Point 3: The RN’s inexperience and lack of interest in foreign policy would make France an erratic partner, especially in a crisis

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Europe’s best hope, in the event of a Le Pen presidency, may reside in the fact that foreign policy would not be the top priority for the RN in power.

First, the RN’s foreign policies often remain vague or only partially formed. Despite its long-standing presence in the French political landscape, the party has no national governing experience and only in 2022 won a significant share of seats in the National Assembly. With little network among the French diplomatic establishment, RN leaders have rarely engaged closely with foreign policy debates. The party prefers to hide behind references to General de Gaulle’s pro-independence foreign policy to justify criticisms of the EU or NATO without being too specific.

According to RN insiders, the party’s foreign policy decisions emanate from private discussions between Le Pen and Bardella, with the occasional counsel of the advisory group Les Horaces. If she attains power in 2027, Le Pen may seek to attract more experienced figures from the traditional right (from LR or UDR) or from the military to lead on top foreign policy positions.

Second, the RN is clearly prepared to change its tone on international topics when political expediency dictates. RN figures privately insist that foreign policy cannot win it elections, but can lose it ones. They blame Le Pen’s defeat in April 2022 on her failure convincingly to pivot away from Russia after its full-scale invasion of Ukraine two months earlier.

The party abandoned Frexit after the UK’s Brexit turned out to be a disaster. It curbed its old openness to strongmen such as Putin (repaying a contentious loan to a Russian bank in 2023) and Syria’s Bashar al-Assad. In recent years, it attempted to erase its anti-Semitic past by adopting a strongly pro-Israel line. Since February 2022, the party has walked a tightrope: paying lip service to Ukraine’s right to self-defence while criticising sanctions against Russia as costly to French consumers and opposing some military aid to Kyiv as escalatory. Having greeted Trump’s re-election in 2024, the party has become a nimble critic as his erratic foreign policies have made alignment with him a political liability.

It is safe to assume, then, that, even with Le Pen as candidate, the party will tend towards orthodox language on most foreign policy ahead of the election. It has a vested interest in a campaign that focuses on topics such as immigration, crime and purchasing power (where the party is most confident), rather than one that debates France’s role in Europe or global geopolitics (where it is more uncertain and, in some cases, divided).

And even if the party wins power, the domestic agenda will likely come first. This can be summarised as: countering cultural and industrial decline by pursuing “national preference”. In policy terms it would include harsher law-and-order measures (especially on migration and crime), trade protectionism and efforts to reverse green policies in the hope of revitalising industry, and prioritising French nationals over foreigners in accessing welfare or public services. European partners should reckon on an RN presidency being most intransigent on EU matters related to those domestic priorities—and possibly being more open to negotiation in other areas.

In sum, however, they should expect a Le Pen foreign policy that is unclear, evolving or even contradictory. Under her leadership, France would take few initiatives and rather behave as a blocker. For example, it is hard to imagine an RN president responding decisively to a security crisis on Europe’s eastern flank. If under pressure from EU member states to be tougher on Russia, she would likely seek concessions and negotiations rather than further action.

If it does anything proactively, such a presidency would concentrate on disentangling France from EU policies that contradict its domestic goals. At best, the RN’s lack of interest and inexperience may be an opportunity for other European governments to shape some of the outcomes, as long as they keep their expectations low.

Point 4: How broad and how European? The strategic debates running through the RN

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Today’s RN is infused by two strategic debates that would shape Le Pen’s tenure as president.

Movement or coalition?

The first has to do with the RN’s political identity: the party is struggling to determine whether it seeks to forge an union des droites (union of the right) or whether its outsider populist status remains its core identity.

In the long years the FN and the RN spent on the political margins, the Le Pens’ “neither left, nor right” approach appealed to disillusioned voters who rejected all forms of politics. It acknowledged the cordon sanitaire between the mainstream right and their parties. Even back in the FN days, Jean-Marie Le Pen crushed several internal attempts to unite the right. Marine Le Pen remains firmly opposed to any such efforts today.

But the RN’s proximity to power is challenging its outsider identity. Proponents of a union of the right are multiplying. One is Eric Ciotti, the mayor of Nice and former president of LR, who decided to join forces with the RN ahead of the 2024 snap legislative election. This created a major clash with his party and ended with the foundation of a new outfit (the Union of the Right for the Republic, UDR). The union of the right has also been promoted by Maréchal. She quit the RN in 2021 for Zemmour’s Reconquest, though has since drawn back towards her aunt’s party.

If she is elected, it is unclear how Le Pen will position herself towards other right-of-centre French parties. Her instinct seems to be that working with them would dilute the RN and prevent it from conducting truly disruptive policies. Given her aversion to compromise and her long years of ostracism by the mainstream political class, Le Pen would struggle to extend a hand to others to form a majority in the National Assembly.

She may, however, continue using Bardella as a useful bridge to other parties of the right, at both national and European levels. In an interview with Le Figaro after Le Pen’s official launch of her presidential bid, he insisted that, as prime minister, he would seek to gather the right-wing electorate back to his party in order to build a “solid majority”.

It is reasonable to expect that, if Le Pen allows Bardella to forge these links at home, she will let him do so abroad too. If so, Bardella would continue building alliances with the European right spanning conservatives and various families of the radical right, likely with immigration as a focal point. The RN has already demonstrated its ability to build coalitions with other far-right parties and the European People’s Party to advance tougher migration legislation in the European Parliament. It would likely continue to do so if elected. Bardella has indicated that he would share this agenda with leaders such as Meloni and German chancellor Friedrich Merz and seek to work with them.

Rival futures

The second faultline within the RN today is between rival conceptions of national sovereignty, a point that came across especially strongly in the authors’ interviews with senior party figures. Le Pen and the “old guard” around her have long held the view that France must resist Anglo-American hegemony and EU technocracy alike. They treat Washington and Brussels as equal threats to French autonomy.

Yet a new generation around Bardella—having come of age against the backdrop of the 2015 terror attacks in Paris and the Russian full-scale invasion of Ukraine—has adopted an identity-based sense of Europeanness. It acknowledges the need for European cooperation against common threats, as long as this cooperation is “chosen”. It is inclined to invoke a shared Western and European cultural affinity.

For example, on Russia and Ukraine, Le Pen and the old guard have continued to blame NATO’s enlargement for “provoking” Russia. This fits their antipathy to Washington and Brussels. Their old ideological affinities with Moscow as a counterweight to American hegemony allow them to imagine a future in which Russia might even be a partner in a multipolar order once the war ends. But Bardella has admitted the “naivety” of Europeans in the face of the Russian challenge. Despite a less-than-keenly pro-Ukrainian voting record in the European Parliament, he has also spoken in favour of Ukrainian national sovereignty and against Russian imperialism.

These debates will continue within the RN—especially because Le Pen has been unwilling to sweep aside Bardella’s “union of the right” and rhetorically “pro-Ukraine” positions. For as long as she wants the electoral breadth he brings, the tension will persist.

Point 5: The likeliest outcome of an RN presidency would be a more isolated France in a weaker EU

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The disruptive nature of RN policies towards Europe means France’s relationship with European partners would deteriorate over time.

At first, the RN would likely seek to reassure the financial markets and its international partners. Victory for the party may be accompanied by protests and strikes, and the new government would face economic limitations like France’s high levels of debt. In this context, Le Pen may want to project stability. Nevertheless, the RN has promised to engage on a number of priorities that will put it at odds with other European governments—including those led by the right—as well as EU institutions.

Opting out of the EU-wide electricity pricing could push up prices for other member states; quitting the migration pact would put greater pressure on others; curbing the French contribution to the EU budget would force others to pay more and possibly trigger an infringement procedure. More generally, Paris governing in a spirit of French exceptionalism would roil Europe’s collective efforts on common challenges.

Enlargement could prove an especially inflammatory topic. Plenty of European governments have concerns about bringing Western Balkans countries, Moldova and especially Ukraine into the EU. But if the RN wins the French presidency, it will be the most outspokenly opposed government among major European states. It has warned that enlargement would ruin French agriculture and suppress French wages; intensify the EU budgetary demands on France; and further centralise power within the EU at the cost of individual states. The accession of Ukraine, with its vast agricultural industry, particularly alarms the RN.

The long-term result of these trends would likely be some degree of French isolation. The party’s policies and instincts would set Le Pen up for conflict with the European Commission—but also with other national governments, including right-wing counterparts. Although others in the EU might conceivably come around to RN doubts about enlargement, the insistence on French national priority will alienate even ideologically sympathetic forces elsewhere.

Tensions could emerge with other far-right leaders, such as Meloni, over issues like migration. Despite broad ideological alignment on reducing migration, the RN prioritises national sovereignty over the management of borders and migration flows. By contrast, Brothers of Italy has advocated greater EU coordination and burden-sharing. As a result, a cohesive far-right alliance at the EU level should not be taken for granted. If these conflicts escalate, an “empty chair” moment, where France simply withdraws from EU meetings as it did under de Gaulle in 1965, is not unthinkable.

At a time when nationalist parties are rising in other major EU states, including Germany, an RN presidency could encourage unilateralism there too. The result could be doubly paradoxical: a lonelier right-wing France in a more right-wing Europe, and a more nationalist France more exposed to the interference of external powers like China, Russia and the US.

How the rest of Europe can move into “brace position”

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As the rest of Europe faces up to the possibility of President Le Pen, the risk is that leaders and other policymakers bunch around one of two poles: complacency (the over-confident belief that she could simply be “handled” like any other challenging leader); and panic (the fatalistic assumption that an RN-led France would automatically mean the beginning of the end of the European project). Of the two courses, the first—the assumption of business as usual—currently looks like the greater risk. But neither is advisable.

This paper has shown that an RN win is a real possibility and would herald great disruption for the EU and its place in the world. It has argued that a Le Pen presidency would see itself ultimately as a radical insurgency against the French and European establishment. But it has also explored some of the complexities and shed some light on how the rest of Europe should think about them. In particular, leaders elsewhere on the continent should:

Abandon all precedents when thinking about an RN-led France

As president, Le Pen would be as fundamentally rooted in French traditions and peculiarities as equivalent leaders are in those of their countries. Trump’s America is simply too different to be closely relevant to France, despite the executive power both presidents wield. Orban’s Hungary does not fit either, with its distinctive tale of state capture and subordination to kleptocratic interests. Meloni’s Italy, meanwhile, is a complex story of creeping authoritarianism at home but emollience internationally. A Le Pen presidency would bear passing resemblances to each, but be sui generis.

Seek to understand the party and its instincts

Le Pen is a familiar figure, but her party has never held national power before and has evolved over time. Knowing how it ticks will be essential. This should lead decision-makers to engage with the party now, including by pursuing carefully calibrated efforts to meet with its senior figures to assess their true intentions. The decision of the German government to make contact with Bardella, for example, was the right one—though Europeans should be wary about reading Le Pen’s positions and instincts via Bardella and his circle.

Brace for a wider, but not necessarily more unified, European right

An RN win would be significant for Europe’s far-right. But ECFR’s research points firmly away from the idea of a coherent and durable European “union of the far-right” of any sort. The radical right has an emphatic sense of momentum, but that is not the same thing as a common project. Indeed, dismantling European integration is likely to generate conflicts over budgets and policies on issues like borders, energy, industry and defence—even between governments of similarly nationalist ideological hues.

Manage expectations when seeking to work with an RN-led France

Even in today’s more plural Europe, France is too big and too important to be circumvented entirely in a world of predators. Perhaps there would even be some limited common ground (most likely to be around defence, geoeconomics and building strategic autonomy). There could even be the possibility to mould a party that is still uncertain about its exact foreign policy agenda. But, especially under Le Pen rather than Bardella, this would still be a significantly less predictable, less collegiate and less European France than the one partners have known under Macron.

Prepare to deploy all the arts of European and international politics

An RN-led presidency would be complicated and disruptive. It would call for real diplomatic skill and political leadership in the EU and the rest of Europe, especially in powerful states like Germany, Italy, Poland, Spain and, outside the bloc, Britain. In some cases, the task at hand might be to moderate France and bind it into groups of other states on matters of common and agreed interest. In others, it would be to build coalitions of the willing where France was reluctant to join. This would be a good time to deepen relationships between Brussels, Berlin, Rome, Warsaw, Madrid and London, as well as other capitals.

The other futures

Europeans prepare for the possibility of Le Pen as president of France, they should keep in mind that an array of outcomes is still possible. There is also a significant chance of a moderate candidate making it to the second round and rallying the republican front once again against the RN. And in today’s volatile and fragmented French politics, there is even the possibility of a far-right against far-left runoff. But polls are polls, and probabilities are probabilities. This paper is a response to one major possibility among several—and an urgent call to France’s European partners to be ready.

About the authors

Célia Belin is a senior policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations and head of its Paris office.

Jeremy Cliffe is editorial director and senior fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations. He co-heads the New Politics Project within the European Power programme.

Camille Lons is a policy fellow and deputy head of the Paris office at the European Council on Foreign Relations.

Constance Victor is the Paris office coordinator at the European Council on Foreign Relations.

Acknowledgments

We would like to start by thanking ECFR colleagues, including Piotr Buras, Teresa Coratella, Agathe Demarais, Janka Oertel, Nicu Popescu, Jana Puglierin, Marta Prochwicz Jazowska, Herman Quarles, Jeremy Shapiro, Vessela Tcherneva and Pawel Zerka who gave thoughtful comments on various drafts. We would also like to thank Zineb Bouziane for her thorough research support in the earlier stages of this project.  

We are grateful to experts such as Catherine Fieschi, Jacob Ross and Victor Mallet for engaging with us and offering constructive feedback. We also would like to acknowledge the politicians, journalists and thinkers we interviewed over the course of this research; while we respect their anonymity, we thank each of them for their time and insights.

The task of editing the two editions of this paper fell to Kim Butson and Adam Harrison and we are grateful for their time and dedication in bringing it to completion. Thanks also go to Chris Eichberger for offering beautiful visuals to complement our work.

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Japan Vows Major Military Build-Up as Threats from China, North Korea and Russia Surge – Defense Chief

4 August 2026 at 07:07

Japan must reinforce and transform its defense capabilities with a stronger “sense of urgency and crisis” than ever before, Defense Minister Shinjiro Koizumi said Tuesday, as Tokyo released its annual white paper that once again flags risks from China, North Korea and Russia.

In the preface to the 598-page Defense of Japan report, Koizumi wrote that the security environment surrounding the country is now the most severe and complex since the end of World War II.

He pointed to the rapid military build-ups by Beijing and Pyongyang, their expanding cooperation with Moscow, and the new forms of warfare demonstrated by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, warning that a serious crisis capable of shaking the postwar order cannot be ruled out in East Asia.

Japan is already accelerating its military modernization. Defense spending has been pushed higher, with the budget for the current fiscal year exceeding 9 trillion yen for the first time, while Tokyo deepens security partnerships across the Indo-Pacific.

Missile launchers are being stationed on remote southwestern islands closer to potential flashpoints, the Self-Defence Forces are moving to field longer-range “counterstrike” weapons that could hit targets beyond Japanese territory, and rules restricting arms exports have been loosened to allow greater transfers of equipment and technology to like-minded partners.

In the Indo-Pacific, “not only are China and North Korea further strengthening their military capabilities, China-Russia and Russia-North Korea are also reinforcing their cooperation,” he also added.

The new white paper said China was “intensifying its activities” in the region around Japan, “extending beyond the so-called first island chain to the second island chain”.

It listed a series of incidents in 2025, including activities by Chinese aircraft carriers and the “unusual close approach” by Chinese aircraft to Japanese planes in two incidents in June and July.

Japanese jets scrambled 595 times in the year to March 31, 2026, including 366 sorties against Chinese aircraft and 214 for Russian planes. This compares to 704 the previous year and was the fewest since at least 2021.

Japan decided in April to lift its self-imposed ban on weapons exports, but the white paper highlighted issues in the country’s production base that could jeopardize procurement and innovation.

Koizumi also said that he and US counterpart Pete Hegseth had “exchanged candid views” on the “unwavering” US-Japan alliance, while also increasing security cooperation with the Philippines, Australia and South Korea to realize a “Free and Open Indo-Pacific”.

“As the security environment becomes increasingly and rapidly severe, what is required now is to strengthen resilience against crises all across the entire Indo-Pacific region,” Koizumi said.

“In order to do so, Japan will build and expand multilayered networks among allies and like-minded countries, and enhance interconnectivity with like-minded countries and others in every area.”

Meanwhile, China has repeatedly voiced concern at what it sees as a return to “new militarism” by Tokyo.

After World War II, Japan adopted a pacifist constitution in 1947, with Article 9 renouncing war as a sovereign right and prohibiting the maintenance of military forces, seeking a peaceful global order.

“Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as a means of settling international disputes. In order to accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized,” reads Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution.

Japan, the only victim of a nuclear attack in history, also adopted the “Three Non-Nuclear Principles” of non-possession, non-production, and non-introduction of atomic weapons. Even though all five victors of the Second World War built their nuclear weapons.

Japan relinquished wars of aggression, militaristic societies, and the production of nuclear weapons. In the post-war era, Tokyo directed the nationalistic impulses of its country toward becoming an economic powerhouse and technology leader.

Japan became the world’s second-largest economy in 1990 after the disintegration of the Soviet Union.

China’s military muscle-flexing in the South China Sea, North Korea’s missile proliferation, and Japan’s strained ties with Russia, especially after the Ukraine invasion, are forcing Japan to shed its post-war inhibitions and adopt a more assertive defense role.

Former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe played a critical role in Japan’s transformation. Abe had raised the prospect of the country hosting US nuclear weapons facilities on Japanese soil, boosted defense spending, and called for a strong foreign and security policy.

Under Abe, Japan passed legislation allowing the Japan Self-Defense Forces to engage in overseas combat missions. Essentially, this bill allows Japan’s armed forces to help defend its allies, like America, even if Japan itself isn’t under attack. The Japanese Constitution, following the devastation from the war, previously limited Japan’s forces to self-defense within its borders.

In December 2024, Japan approved a 9.4% increase in defense spending for FY2025. This marked another record figure for the 11th year in a row for Japan’s national defense budget. Japan, which has historically spent less than 1% of its GDP on defense, has also promised to raise it to 2% of its GDP by 2027.

This defense spending hike was part of the Defense Buildup Program, which outlines US$273 billion in defense spending over the five-year period through FY2027.

Japan is also building alliances with China’s competitors. It has developed and promoted military ties with several countries in and beyond the Indo-Pacific region. It has strengthened security cooperation with Australia and India—both members of Quad alongside Japan and the USA—through high-level dialogues, joint military exercises, intelligence sharing, and mutual access to each other’s military facilities.

In December 2022, Japan announced a joint program with Italy and the United Kingdom to develop a new sixth-generation combat aircraft—the Global Combat Air Program (GCAP).

Japan is developing two hypersonic weapon concepts: the Hypersonic Cruise Missile (HCM) and the Hyper Velocity Gliding Projectile (HVGP), as well as long-range missiles.

Japan’s Ministry of Defense (MOD) also conducted flight tests for its island defense hypersonic glide vehicle (HGV). Four test launches were conducted at a site in California, with one launch in August 2024, two in November 2024, and one in January 2025.

Japan’s new 10kW-class high-power laser electronic warfare (EW) vehicle recently entered service to counter aerial and missile threats, including hostile unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) and low-altitude missile systems.

Meanwhile, Tokyo announced on July 30 that it had test-fired a Tomahawk land-attack cruise missile from one of its warships, the Aegis guided-missile destroyer JS Chokai (DDG-176), for the first time.

Additionally, Tokyo fielded the Type 25 Hyper Velocity Gliding Projectile, its first indigenous hypersonic boost-glide weapon, following successful California flight tests and domestic deployment drills that included loading launchers onto ships and aircraft.

In late July, an F-2 fighter conducted the first captive-carry flights of the air-launched Improved Type 12 (Type 25) long-range missile at Gifu Air Base, validating integration ahead of planned service in 2027.

Separately, a 100 kW-class shipboard laser system began sea trials aboard the test ship Asuka in late 2025, targeting drones and projectiles. Japan also conducted its first anti-ship missile live-fire on domestic soil in June 2025, firing a Type 88 from Hokkaido.

These developments highlight Tokyo’s push for stand-off strike and layered defenses amid regional tensions.

Mail us at: editor (at) eurasiantimes.com

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World Map: To Each Their Own?

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Bespalov, A.S., 2026. World Map: To Each Their Own? Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 224–228. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-224-228

 

For fifteen years until its collapse, the Soviet Union regularly published a popular science series titled Looking at the Political Map of the World. Issued monthly, these brochures examined current events in specific countries or regions and offered historical context. They served as an excellent companion to the world map itself, which, amid ongoing decolonization, was updated almost annually. Attention was also paid to long-established countries, both near and far. Soviet citizens had many opportunities to deepen their knowledge of political geography.

This legacy of basic geographic knowledge—shared with other European countries[1]—may be why stories of cartographic blunders in U.S. media[2] remain so popular in post-Soviet Russia.

But there is one thing that even a strong geographical culture does not resolve. The political map of the world has never been universally accepted: a map depicts the globe, but also the official viewpoint—even the political philosophy—of its country of origin. Perhaps the most basic manifestation of this is map-centering. Western and Russian maps are typically centered along the prime meridian, though in post-war Soviet and contemporary Russian cartography, the Moscow meridian has been used. Maps published in the United States sometimes center the axis on America, splitting Eurasia in two, while Chinese maps are generally centered on the Pacific Ocean.

But the depiction of national borders carries even greater political resonance.

While map-centering offers different perspectives on geographic reality, drawn borders often bear no relation to it.

The first post-war generation of West German schoolchildren grew up with maps showing Germany within its 1937 borders, with the GDR labeled a “Soviet occupation zone” and East Prussia as being “currently under Soviet/Polish administration.” During the Cold War, American maps noted that the United States did not recognize the incorporation of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania into the USSR, yet still depicted the Baltic republics as part of the Soviet Union. For eighty years, Indian maps have shown the entire former princely state of Jammu and Kashmir as part of India, while Pakistani maps claim it as their own. Incidentally, Soviet maps were much closer to reality on the Kashmir issue, as they showed the 1949 demarcation line. Yet Korea remained formally unified on Soviet maps until the establishment of diplomatic relations between Moscow and Seoul in 1990. Countries that do not recognize Israel depict it as Palestine. The list goes on.

The first decade of the 21st century saw a qualitative leap in cartography, as it was revolutionized by the Internet. In 2005, Google Maps set a new standard for mass geographic media. It combined three key components: vector maps (borders, names, roads, points of interest), satellite imagery, and interactive features (route planning and, later, the ability to correct and add data). In showing national borders, Google initially took a technological approach, prioritizing functionality and navigational accuracy. But by the end of the decade, its product had gained such widespread popularity and authority that it began to influence military and political realities.

In October 2010, a Nicaraguan detachment landed on Costa Rica’s Calero Island and began dredging the San Juan River—acting, according to the Nicaraguan commander, based on Google Maps. The ensuing diplomatic conflict was later dubbed by the media “The First Google Maps War,”[3] but, fortunately did not escalate into real war, and was resolved in court in Costa Rica’s favor. After this and several other incidents, Google, a U.S.-based company, changed its approach to depicting borders. Recognizing their explosive nature and facing the demands of national laws, Google abandoned the idea of a ‘single map for everyone’ and adopted a localization strategy. In disputed cases, Google Maps now shows different borders (depending on the user’s location) or uses dotted lines. The same applies to place names: in 2025, Google quickly reacted to President Trump’s executive order, renaming the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America—for U.S. users.[4]

This localization policy has proven an elegant solution, allowing the company to largely avoid conflicts with the authorities of countries where it operates, although this does not always prevent scandals. Russia’s Yandex took a similar approach, displaying international borders in accordance with national legislation—until the summer of 2022. At that point, regulatory and sanctions risks drove Yandex to remove state and administrative borders, officially presented as a “shift in focus to natural features.”[5] Other Russian online map services—2GIS and VK Maps—have followed Yandex’s example, though the latter still shows administrative borders.

While American companies have adopted a localized approach to borders, and Russian ones hedge by displaying none at all, Asian companies strictly adhere to their own governments’ policies. South Korea’s Naver Maps, for instance, not only indicates the Liancourt Rocks (claimed by Japan) as South Korean territory but, driven by patriotic considerations,[6] provides unique content, such as underwater photos. However, Naver, like its competitor Kakao Maps, lacks global coverage.

The same cannot be said for the Chinese map service Baidu, which presents all users worldwide with a ten‑dash line in the South China Sea and with China’s claimed border with India. Moreover, Baidu’s map not only fails to reflect the results of the 2005 demarcation of the Russian‑Chinese border, but also draws the Russian‑Japanese maritime border north of Iturup Island, labeling the Southern Kuril Islands as “Russian‑occupied” (俄占). Apparently, the borders are depicted as they were defined by the cartographical agency in 1989, and an update is dependent upon demarcation with other states.[7]

This argument appears to satisfy Russia: China has repeatedly stated that all border disputes with Russia have been resolved, and that discrepancies between maps and reality are a technical, not political issue.

But at least Chinese users can see some version (even an outdated one) of their country’s border. Demand for the same is clearly present in Russia, and online maps’ importance casts doubt on Russian companies’ attempt to ‘stay out of politics.’ Users have already developed their own solutions, adding custom map layers on top of Yandex, whether for military analysis[8] or genealogy.[9] It would be a step in the right direction to provide Russian online maps with a standard toggleable ‘borders’ layer, with a choice of historical period.

This article is an edited version of the paper written for the Valdai Discussion Club, https://valdaiclub.com/a/highlights/political-map-of-the-world-to-each-their-own/

The Wars of Our Time

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Trenin, D.V., 2026. The Wars of Our Time. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 10–27. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-10-27

 

It is said that generals always prepare for the previous war. This does not mean that the military is incapable of preparing for the future; while inertia is indeed as common among soldiers as it is among civilians, the price is much higher. Rather, it means that war’s technological and political character changes constantly—and cardinally, with every world war—even as it remains fundamentally the armed imposition of one’s will on the enemy.

Today we are witnessing a transition from mainly mechanized to increasingly digital warfare. The military is usually first to employ scientific and technological advances. Various digital technologies, artificial intelligence (AI) and its databases, robotics, cyberwarfare, and space weapons will increasingly define war, radically modifying tactics and strategy.

This new character of war signifies the end of 500-year-long Western dominance and 40-year-long U.S. hegemony. A new world order, often called multipolar, is nearing. It will feature powers of various sizes and civilizations, with various understandings of world order. But before considering how to harmonize these different understandings, we should remember that the transition to it will involve fierce struggle. In the 20th century, the emergence of a new world order triggered two world wars. A third one was avoided because the two main belligerents recognized mutually assured nuclear destruction.

In the mid-2010s, the world entered a new stage of transition, functionally analogous to a world war. To avoid confusing analogies and numbering, this can be termed a new world war with 21st-century features. This war is already underway, consisting of multiple lengthy and intermittent wars, which will produce intermediate results and eventually a final balance. These wars are being fought openly in Eastern Europe and in the adjacent seas, in the Middle East, and (as special operations) in Latin America. But the biggest conflict is brewing in East Asia and the Western Pacific. The stakes in the new world war are so high that it will likely be lengthy, and be fought brutally and resolutely, affecting the entire world. We have entered an era of long wars.

 

Digital War

In the age of information systems, crucial battlefield importance is logically held by the real-time integration of reconnaissance, detection, targeting, and fire. This is most strikingly exemplified in the ‘drone revolution’ that has upended warfare. This phenomenon has been thoroughly analyzed by General of the Army Yuri Baluyevsky and Director of the Center for Analysis of Strategies and Technologies Ruslan Pukhov (Baluyevsky and Pukhov, 2026).

Essentially, a wide belt of total destruction, extending 20-30 km from the front line—where any platform and even individual soldier will be certainly destroyed by FPV drones—has eliminated the crucial principle of force concentration to break through the enemy lines. On the contrary, dispersing forces has become the rule. War of maneuver with tank breakthroughs has given way to infiltration of the enemy’s position by two or three soldiers. The ‘front’ is actually a gray zone, where the opponents often hold points behind each other’s lines, jutting into one another. The siege of a small fortress city may last months.

Modern warfare now encompasses everything from hand-to-hand trench combat to piloting systems far from the battlefield. Swarms of drones with a range of 100-300 km turn the enemy’s operational rear into an area of constant danger. The almost complete transparency of the entire theater of war, obscured only by the weather, makes it almost impossible to use another important principle—surprise. The ‘fog of war’ has almost dissipated, except for the real fog that sometimes hides troops’ movement from the all-seeing eye of the reconnaissance drones.

Moreover, drones with hundred- and even thousand-kilometer ranges can hit targets deep behind enemy lines that once could be reached only by long-range missiles. Ukrainian UAVs from the Baltic Sea reach the Ural Mountains, and Iranian UAVs reach British bases in Cyprus.

The possibility of accurately hitting critical targets deep in the rear has blurred the old boundaries between tactics, operations, and strategy.

The drone revolution has largely devalued traditional combat platforms. Tanks designed to break through the front line and conduct direct fire are now useful mainly as self-propelled artillery systems, and have themselves become targets for long-range attacks. Artillery guns, especially those using precision-guided munitions, remain in service, but are less cost-effective. Instead of aerial dogfights, air defense systems face off against ballistic and cruise missiles. Warships are struck by sea drones. Air defense systems, designed to shoot down enemy planes, are forced to use expensive interceptors against relatively cheap drones. The importance of electronic warfare, space communications, and surveillance has increased tremendously.

 

Regionalization of Local Conflicts

Technological advances have made the theater of war practically boundless. Today, one should speak not of a conflict in Ukraine, but of a conflict in Eastern Europe. Kiev is an instrument of NATO countries’ common policy. Russia conducts strikes across all of Ukrainian territory, and Kiev against dozens of Russian regions, using Baltic and Finnish territory. The Kiev regime carries out acts of sabotage and terrorism deep inside Russia, with the help, support, and control of Britain and other NATO countries. Ships carrying Russian oil and LNG face piracy in the Black, Baltic, and Mediterranean Seas. In Operation Cobweb, Ukrainian drones attacked Siberian airfields. Similarly, Israel attacked Iranian targets during the Twelve-Day War. The “quiet” cyberwar goes on non-stop. This creates the obvious and real risk of pushing the Ukraine conflict towards a regional war between NATO and Russia.

In the Middle East, conflict has expanded from the local level—Israel and its neighbors (Lebanon, Syria, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, and earlier Egypt)—to the regional level—Iran, Yemen, Iraq, Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and even Turkiye and Cyprus. The Persian Gulf, and the Red and Arabian Seas, have become warzones. An American submarine sank an Iranian frigate 2,000 miles away from Iran, off the coast of Sri Lanka.

In response to the U.S.-Israeli aggression, Iran blocked the Strait of Hormuz for the first time ever, and its allies in Yemen may close the Bab el-Mandeb. Tehran launched missiles at the American military base on Diego Garcia 4,000 km away. Despite Israel’s dense air defenses, almost all of its territory—more or less effectively protected during previous wars—has been struck by missiles and UAVs. 2026 essentially saw much of the Middle East being drawn into a regional war between Israel and the U.S. against Iran and its allies.

Thus, the technological revolution has changed war dramatically. Improved intelligence capabilities and military technology have increased the accuracy of strikes enormously, with distance from the front line no longer playing a decisive role; the theater of war has expanded significantly, covering not only the territory of the belligerents (other than the U.S.), but also targets outside them. Moreover, there is an increasingly clear connection between certain conflicts, particularly in Ukraine and Iran. 

The latest novelty is that some decisions (e.g., choice of targets) and their execution can now be delegated to AI and autonomous systems.

According to media reports, the operation to capture Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro and his wife was prepared with the help of AI (Wall Street Journal, 2026). AI was also reportedly used to select targets in Iran (Gustafson and Kosslyn, 2026).

However, many elements of traditional war remain relevant. Wars have not become bloodless computer games: hundreds of thousands of people are fighting on both sides of the front line, including in close combat in the trenches with the use of cold steel, with losses in the tens or hundreds of thousands. The difference between the front and rear has blurred significantly, but has not disappeared: war and peace have learned to exist side by side. And not all modern military conflicts are as fast-moving as the U.S.’s Operations Desert Storm (1991) and Shock and Awe (2002) in Iraq, NATO’s bombing of Yugoslavia (1999), or Russia’s five-day war to impose peace on Georgia (2008). The Ukraine conflict is of particular importance in this regard.

 

A War of Attrition

After a brief period of maneuver, the war in Ukraine turned into a war of attrition. There are no large-scale offensives or frontline breakthroughs into operational depth. The main method of warfare, along with the grueling offensive on the ground (grinding down the enemy), is constant pressure to exhaust the enemy’s front line and, increasingly, rear. The Russian army’s main task is not so much seizing territory (although Russian troops have held the initiative and gradually pushed forward since 2024) as bringing the enemy to collapse by eliminating his manpower and materiel and by destroying or crippling his military-industrial infrastructure, energy systems, logistics routes, control centers, etc. The goal is to drain the Kiev regime’s resources, disorganize its rear, and convince its Western sponsors that the Ukrainian ‘asset’ is worthless.

The enemy also opted for a strategy of exhaustion, trying to “inflict a strategic defeat on Russia”—first by undermining its economy and finances, and then by preventing Russia from winning the war. Since 2014, the collective West has imposed an unprecedented 30,000 sanctions on Russia and seized the half of its foreign exchange reserves that were kept in Western jurisdictions. Sanctions are an economic war of attrition, especially in a globalized economy.

Priority in the war of attrition is given to the energy sector.

As part of the ‘infrastructure war,’ in the first months of the Special Military Operation, the enemy blew up the Nord Stream gas pipeline in the Baltic Sea. Later, the Ukrainians blew up onshore gas and oil pipelines (including Druzhba) connecting Russia with European countries. According to Russian intelligence, Kiev also plans to destroy the Black Sea’s Blue Stream and Turkish Stream gas pipelines.

Nuclear power facilities have no immunity against strikes, either. The Zaporozhye NPP, controlled by Russian troops, is constantly shelled by Ukraine. Other Russian nuclear power plants, especially in Kursk and Smolensk, have also been struck by Ukrainian forces. In turn, Russian forces have attacked electrical substations transmitting electricity from Ukrainian nuclear power plants to consumers—harming the Ukrainian rear, but not creating any risk of radioactive contamination.

In 2025, the U.S. and Israel attacked Iran to destroy its nuclear program, damaging several sites’ infrastructure but leaving the Bushehr nuclear power plant untouched. Yet its grounds were struck in 2026, to which Tehran responded with an attack on the Israeli Nuclear Research Center near Dimona.

While Western countries set price ceilings on Russian oil and piratically seized tankers, Ukrainian aerial and sea drones attacked Russian oil refineries, marine export terminals, oil tankers, and LNG carriers. The goal was stated openly: to reduce Russia’s energy exports and thus its budget revenue.

The situation is similar in the Middle East conflict. With the same aim in mind, Western countries imposed price ceilings on Iranian oil, sanctions against its buyers and against ships carrying Iranian oil and petroleum products, and illegally stopped and arrested such vessels. In response to the U.S.-Israeli aggression in 2026, Iran attacked oil refineries, LNG plants, and other energy infrastructure in the Gulf states with U.S. military bases, and also took control of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz. In the Red Sea, the Iran-allied Houthis have threatened to attack Israel- and U.S.-linked ships, endangering transit through the Bab el-Mandeb and Suez Canal. The infrastructure war in the Middle East has also spread to digital facilities, such as data centers in Bahrain and other Gulf countries.

In the asymmetric war between the U.S./Israel and Iran, Tehran leaned heavily on economic weapons. By closing the Strait of Hormuz and attacking the energy facilities of Gulf states hosting U.S. military bases, Tehran sought to impose economic pressure on the U.S. and its allies, making them back down.

Another version of the war of attrition is unfolding in Latin America. The U.S. imposed a blockade on Cuba after the Cuban Revolution in the early 1960s, expanding it in 2026 to oil imports from third countries, basically leaving the country without fuel and electricity. The U.S. President announced that these actions seek to replace Cuba’s government and political course with pro-American ones. Similarly, the U.S. blocked Venezuelan oil exports to force a change in policy.

A war of attrition thus becomes primarily a test of the resilience of the belligerents’ political systems and societies. Russia and Iran have so far passed this test; Venezuela has at present given up; Cuba is holding out for now; and China is drawing lessons.

 

The War of Annihilation—Massive and Individualized

Not all modern wars are wars of attrition. Israel’s response to Hamas’s massive terrorist attack on civilians was intended to completely eliminate the threat from this Palestinian group. Israeli strikes killed more than 70,000 Palestinians in Gaza in 2023-2025, condemned by many throughout the world as genocide. More than 3,500 Iranian civilians were killed during the 40-day U.S.-Israeli aggression against Iran in the spring of 2026.

However, mass killing of the enemy’s civilian population is certainly not new. World War II involved numerous cases of deliberate extermination of civilians not only by the Nazis, their allies, and the Japanese, but also by U.S. and British carpet bombings of German and Japanese cities, and by the U.S. atomic bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Israel is also known for assassinations. Since 2023, the Israeli intelligence agencies have killed many senior figures of Hezbollah and Hamas in Lebanon, Gaza, and beyond, including Tehran. Even before Israel’s first attack on Iran in 2025, a number of high-ranking Iranian military advisers were slain by Israel in Syria.

At the beginning of the Twelve-Day War against Iran in June 2025, Israeli agents liquidated dozens of high-ranking Iranian civil and military officials, as well as nuclear physicists. The incumbent Iranian President was also among the targets.

At the outbreak of the new aggression in 2026, Israeli missile strikes killed 49 Iranian top officials, including Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei—not an already-deposed leader like Saddam Hussein or Muammar Gaddafi, or a terrorist like bin Laden, but the recognized chief executive of a UN member state. And it came less than two months after the Americans forcibly seized the legitimate head of another state—Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro.

The action against Venezuela repeated—on a new technological level—the 1990 operation against Panamanian President Manuel Noriega, who was also captured and sent to an American prison. U.S. intelligence agencies have developed targeted killing, particularly during the post-9/11 War on Terror. President Barack Obama personally gave many orders to eliminate—usually with drones—individuals designated by the U.S. as terrorists. In 2020, President Donald Trump ordered the assassination of the commander of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), Qasem Soleimani.

The Ukrainian security services also use terrorist methods in the ongoing war. In 2024-2026, they attacked four senior Russian generals in Moscow and executed or attempted the assassination of several prominent Russian public figures, journalists, philosophers, and writers. At the end of 2025, Ukrainian UAVs carried out a massive attack on the Russian President’s residence in Valdai, in which NATO intelligence services were apparently involved per evidence cited by Russian officials (RG, 2025).

Israel, the U.S., and NATO-supported Ukraine have broken with the understanding, which dates to well before the Cold War, that political and military leaders generally enjoy unspoken immunity during hostilities. Notably, according to Naftali Bennett, Israel’s Prime Minister at the time, President Putin guaranteed Vladimir Zelensky’s safety in April 2022 (RBC, 2023). Yet eliminating an enemy commander on the battlefield has often been a desirable goal, and killing the opposing political leader was considered one of the shortest ways to win the war or at least avoid defeat.

Deliberate attacks on civilians and civilian infrastructure have been practiced not only by Israel and the U.S., but also by Ukraine since the outbreak of the crisis in 2014.

Both the targeted destruction of the enemy’s leaders and the massive killing of its population underline war’s nature in the 21st century.

21st-century wars are multifaceted and multidimensional. Even in the past, the physical battlefield—the theater of operations—was never the only dimension of military conflict, but now the other dimensions have grown so much as to cardinally change things. Economy and finance; technology and resources; information and psychology; cyberspace and outer space—the list of battlefields is far from complete.

 

The Nature of War

Statesmen and their advisers sometimes also prepare for the previous war, which often makes for a shocking exposure to the new reality, especially for those who were convinced of peace’s inevitability and deterrence’s absolute reliability. But wars have permeated all of human history, and an era of new—qualitatively different—major wars has now begun after eighty years of peace between the great powers.

The Cold War proceeded, under the nuclear sword of Damocles, through local wars on the periphery of the superpowers’ global confrontation. The end of the bipolar confrontation was immediately followed by an approximately 10-year period of interethnic conflicts in disintegrating or failed states. Those conflicts were accompanied by external interference and peacekeeping operations, as well as by military interventions (in the Balkans and Middle East) to establish a new unipolar (U.S.-centric) world order. Terrorist attacks in New York and Washington in 2001 ushered in a period of counter-terrorist operations and the invasions of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya, with the aim of reconstructing them along Western lines. But by the middle of the 2010s, contradictions between the great powers had resurfaced again. The ‘unipolar moment’ had ended.

Modern wars reflect the crisis of the post-Cold-War U.S.-centric world order and of the West’s lengthy global dominance. By provoking wars (in Ukraine) and initiating them (in the Middle East), the U.S. has launched a counteroffensive against its opponents (Russia, Iran) and competitors (China, BRICS, the EU, and the Arab Gulf states). The Trump administration’s goal is to force a new (illiberal) model of global hegemony upon the world. But unlike the previous (globalist) hegemony, this one does not rest on ideological dominance, political leadership, or norms. Rather, it implies the supremacy of U.S. power beyond the framework of a political order.

In their current wars, the Americans are exploiting their allies more than cooperating with them, activating them on the geopolitical ‘front line’ in Europe (Kiev and NATO), in the Middle East (the Gulf states), and in Asia (Taiwan, the Philippines, Japan, South Korea). The U.S.’s long-term ‘protection’ of these countries is now driving them into collision with their larger neighbors, threatening their devastation or even destruction.

Notably, unlike in the Cold War, the other side—Russia, Belarus, China, Iran, and the DPRK—is not yet inclined to create a military alliance to concertedly respond to the U.S.; Moscow, Beijing, and Tehran are ready to fight only for their own interests. The only military alliances are Russia–Belarus and Russia–DPRK. India has taken a decidedly neutral position, developing strategic partnerships with the U.S., Russia, France, and other EU countries, as well as with Britain, and Japan. The Collective Security Treaty Organization’s members, other than Belarus, also remain neutral.

 Since 1945, wars have not been declared. Even diplomatic relations are often maintained (embassies are simply evacuated), and martial law is eschewed (to preserve peacetime conditions for civilians as much as possible). It is especially ominous that diplomatic negotiations are not just conducted in parallel with undiminished military operations, but have been used by Washington and Tel Aviv as cover for new attacks. During the Cold War, attacks were feared under the guise of military exercises, but in 2025 and 2026 they began under the guise of peace talks.

War and peace coexist in the same place and at the same time. The parties simultaneously fight and trade with each other. Gas and oil pipelines, running from Russia to the EU through Ukraine, kept operating long after February 2022. The U.S. President almost simultaneously announced his intention to bomb Iran “back to the stone ages” and to lift sanctions on Iranian oil exports (to mitigate the war’s damage to world energy markets).

In general, the space of peace is shrinking, while that of war is expanding.

 

Nuclear Weapons

This growing relativity of peace signals the approach of a direct conflict between the leading powers. Nuclear deterrence has been critically weakened at the strategic level. States now pursue objectives that would have been unthinkable during the Cold War: in the case of the West’s proxy war against Russia in Ukraine, the objective is the strategic defeat of a nuclear superpower (Russia) in its most sensitive strategic region. In the case of Iran, the objective is not only the complete elimination of its nuclear program, but also its missile-disarmament, subversion, and dismemberment.

Deterrence is weakening mostly because of the disappearance of the salutary fear that kept the Cold War cold and warded off a nuclear apocalypse. The leaders of European states—from large (Germany) to small (Estonia)—now make dangerous provocations, as if they did not care about the consequences for their own countries and people, should Moscow respond to such provocations.[1] This indicates European politicians’ mental derangement and, even more so, their ‘post-national syndrome:’ the elites have no homeland.[2]

The paradoxical reaction of people in European countries is also quite interesting. Influenced by their government and media propaganda, they simultaneously hallucinate non-existent threats (a Russian invasion of NATO countries) and remain blind to the very real possibility of their leaders’ actions pushing Moscow to use force against NATO.

As a result, strategic stability—in its broad geostrategic meaning, rather than in the narrow and obsolete sense of disincentive for nuclear attack—has been seriously undermined. In 2025 alone, the nuclear-armed U.S., UK, and France waged a protracted proxy war against nuclear-armed Russia in Ukraine;[3] nuclear-armed India and Pakistan briefly clashed directly; and nuclear-armed Israel and the U.S. attacked a ‘near-nuclear’ Iran. The DPRK did not enter into conflict with the U.S., but sent its troops to help Russia liberate the part of Kursk Oblast that had been occupied by Ukraine with the West’s support. Only one nuclear power out of nine—China—remained in a state of relative peace, a more ‘regular’ confrontation with the U.S.

All of these wars were/are fought under the threat of nuclear weapons. Their use—as the previous fear diminishes—becomes more likely. But the view in the 1960s-1980s that any nuclear use would inevitably lead to mankind’s destruction[4] is being supplanted by the view that a general nuclear war is impossible (as no one would initiate it), yet the consequences of a limited nuclear war would not be disastrous.

This has boosted the popularity of nuclear weapons as a means of preventing an attack. Possession of nuclear weapons is considered the only real safeguard against external aggression, as clearly evidenced by the U.S.’s diverging policies towards nuclear-armed North Korea, non-nuclear Iran, and Iraq and Libya, which voluntarily abandoned their nuclear programs. In 2026, following the U.S.-Israeli attack, Iran’s parliament raised the issue of withdrawal from the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT).

Renewed interest in nuclear weapons has also been bolstered by the Trump administration’s de facto refusal to provide nuclear guarantees to U.S. allies. Europe is discussing ‘extended deterrence’ based on France’s nuclear forces or, as they say in Germany, some kind of ‘European nuclear capabilities.’ Poland, Greece and Estonia have declared their readiness to deploy allied nuclear weapons on their soil; Sweden is holding consultations with the UK on a nuclear umbrella that supposedly can protect it.

But it cannot. Britain needs U.S. permission to use nuclear weapons. France’s arsenal is under its own control, but is unlikely to be used except in defense of its own vital interests. In the 21st century, there is probably no country that would sacrifice itself for an ally. The only instance of truly reliable extended nuclear deterrence is Russia’s guarantee to Minsk. But Russia and Belarus are a Union State, not only a military alliance.

In Asia, the situation is also changing, though not so noticeably. Japan has not made any statements yet, but according to some experts, the country could create a nuclear weapon very quickly (Report, 2023). In South Korea, which also has a venerable civilian nuclear program and missile capabilities, some top officials have in the past stressed the necessity to develop nuclear weapons, but so far Seoul has settled for an agreement with the U.S. on a nuclear consultative mechanism. Among U.S. clients, the idea of obtaining nuclear weapons is popular in Taiwan and Ukraine, but China and Russia strongly oppose it and are ready to prevent it.

In the Islamic world, Saudi Arabia, a large and wealthy regional power, and Pakistan, the only Muslim state with nuclear weapons, seem to be forming an alliance. The Middle East may see further nuclear proliferation. Israel became a nuclear power at the turn of the 1970s. Iran, which under Khamenei sought only the capability to produce nuclear weapons, is now contemplating secession from the NPT given U.S.-Israeli aggression. Other possible candidates for the nuclear club include Saudi Arabia and Turkiye.

So, nuclear non-proliferation, one of the final remaining pillars of the former bipolar world order, is collapsing along with nuclear arms control, which formally ended with the expiration of the extended Russian-American START-3 Treaty in February 2026.

The multipolar world is becoming an increasingly multipolar nuclear world, in which nuclear war is no longer unthinkable.

 

Coalitions

During the Cold War, World War III was envisioned as a clash between the two opposing blocs. But when the Soviet-American confrontation ended, there remained only one permanent military alliance: NATO, led by the U.S. Since then, the alliance has doubled its members and fought in the Balkans, Afghanistan, and Libya. However, the 2003 campaign in Iraq involved the ‘Coalition of the Willing.’ The Ukraine conflict, too, initially spurred the creation of an informal coalition of about 50 states, whose representatives regularly met at Rammstein Air Force Base in Germany to plan and coordinate military support for Kiev.

In contrast, not only did Russia’s bloc (the Warsaw Treaty Organization) collapse, but all of its members—along with several former Soviet republics—joined NATO or at least cooperate with it closely. Ukraine has become a belligerent Anti-Russia. Even the members of Russia’s Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) have largely assumed neutrality regarding the Ukraine conflict.

A new and positive factor for Russia, compared to the Cold War period, is the development of partnerships with major countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Moscow’s leading partners in BRICS and the SCO—primarily China and India—cooperate with Russia, but are careful to ensure that this does not harm their extensive and close relationships with the U.S. and Europe. Belarus and North Korea have become Russia’s only real allies in its showdown with the West. 

However, Donald Trump’s return to the White House has deprived NATO countries of the illusion of guaranteed U.S. military assistance in the event of a conflict. To avoid a direct military clash with Russia, the U.S. is shifting responsibility for Europe’s security onto European countries. The U.S. is acting similarly in its construction of an anti-Chinese coalition out of its Asian allies.

Some of the ongoing wars are asymmetric (two-level), with temporary and loose coalitions replacing permanent and rigid alliances.

While Russia is directly fighting against Ukraine, this is actually a broader war with the Western coalition, even as Russia strengthens its military integration with Belarus within the Union State and receives real military support from the DPRK. In the Middle East, Israel is trying alone to destroy Hamas in Gaza, pro-Iranian Hezbollah in Lebanon, and the Houthis in Yemen, but has managed to harness the power of its U.S. ally against Iran. Military tensions between China and Taiwan are growing in East Asia; but, again, this is only the first level of the broader conflict: China versus the U.S. and its Asian allies (Taiwan, Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines).

 

What Kind of Wars Should Russia Prepare for?

Modern wars reflect a crisis of world order. The rise or revival of new regional or global centers of power has inevitably prompted the former hegemons to contain their growth and strengthen their own position.

The military threats to Russia are diverse, but their general nature is obvious for the foreseeable future: to weaken and, if possible, destroy Russia. The most serious risk is a military clash with NATO in Eastern Europe, the Baltic, or the Arctic. For the first time since World War II, Europe is becoming the main threat to Russia. If Ukraine survives as a separate state, it may provoke a European war and take an active part in it. The threat of Transnistria unfreezing appears quite real. Germany, Poland, the UK, the Baltic and Scandinavian countries, Finland, and possibly Romania may also actively oppose Russia. The U.S. will keep to the rear, but will extensively support the Europeans. The risk of direct war with a European coalition, unthinkable until just recently, should be neither ignored nor downplayed.

Russia’s opponents will also seek to open new fronts against it, exploiting disagreements with its southern neighbors, but Western attempts to draw Georgia into war against Russia were stymied by Tbilisi’s firm focus on its national interests. Nevertheless, Georgia’s relapse into Saakashvili-like gambles could be possible under a different government. Armenia is ‘peacefully’ drifting away from Russia towards the West, but bilateral tensions are noticeably growing and may eventually lead to provocations against Russia’s base in Gyumri. European countries, especially Britain, will also spin intrigues against Russia in Central Asia.  

Objectively, Russian and Turkish interests run up against one another in the Caucasus, Black Sea, and Central Asia, but the two countries’ relations are fairly stable. A military conflict is avoidable, and pragmatic cooperation is possible. Russia will need special attention, tact, and understanding of Turkish motives.

In Asia, Russia risks being drawn into a confrontation between China and the U.S. (and its allies). Politically, Moscow will naturally side with Beijing and provide it with economic and military-technical support if the West imposes a blockade. Yet Moscow need not directly involve itself in the conflict—China is a strong military power with an increasing nuclear capability.

Beijing’s position on the conflict in Ukraine can serve as a guideline for Russia. Russia will have to provide direct military assistance to North Korea in the event of a conflict on the Korean Peninsula, but the likelihood of an attack by the U.S. and its allies on the nuclear-armed DPRK is extremely low. Even less likely, though not impossible, is a direct military clash between Russia and Japan. The greatest danger to Russia and the whole world would come from a military conflict in East Asia among the U.S., China, Japan, and the two Koreas. This could easily draw Russia in, too, but many will seek to avoid such an apocalyptic scenario.

The struggle for a new world order is likely to be long. We must be prepared for an intense and technologically complex confrontation.

The foreign policy doctrine of Russia, as a civilization-state, logically implies not only protecting the country and its interests, but also ensuring the rights and interests of Russians living abroad. Russia is also the guardian and guarantor of the geopolitical balance in Northern and Central Eurasia. Russia’s military might thus guarantees its own existence and forms the cornerstone of stability throughout much of the planet’s largest continent. As the struggle for the new world order intensifies, our country’s position and strategy will be crucial for determining it.

The United States: From the Unipolar Moment to Relative Hegemony

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Iserov, A.A., 2026. The United States: From the Unipolar Moment to Relative Hegemony. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 106–115. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-106-115

 

The current discussion of ‘American decline’ masks the economic, demographic, and military reality beyond the U.S.’s real position in the world. In the fall of 1990, Charles Krauthammer declared the coming of the American unipolar moment, unique in human history, since there was no visible strong opposition to U.S. ascendancy then. Krauthammer thought the unipolar moment would last for “one decade, perhaps, rather than, say, three or four” (Krauthammer, 1990, p. 26). Twelve years later, he bluntly stated that even thirty or forty years of domination, which seemed bold in 1990, was a modest statement if the U.S. remained strong in its commitment to sustaining hegemony: “The unipolar moment has become the unipolar era” (Krauthammer, 2002, p. 17).

Exactly at the time when the U.S. reached the peak of its global power, scholars and journalists launched a discussion of American decline.[1] The U.S. was perceived as a global empire and thus subject to the Anglo-American, or to a broader European, traditional interpretation going back to Polybius (ca. 200–ca. 118 BC), Ibn-Khaldun (1332–1406),[2] and Edward Gibbon (1737–1794). Note that we refer here to the concept of gradual systemic decline, not sudden collapse. History shows that forecasts of the latter sort are rarely successful; moreover, even when they are, the reasons provided for the collapse are usually wrong. For example, the overwhelming majority of experts did not believe in the USSR’s possible dissolution, but those who predicted it, did it on the wrong premises: the Soviet Union collapsed neither as a result of the war with China, nor after the revolt of the demographically growing Muslim Central Asian republics (their loyalty to the Soviet Union remained the strongest and in 1991 was in fact stronger than in the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic) (see Amalrik, 1978, 1980; Carrère d’Encausse, 1978).

This article presents a brief analysis of long-term trends that characterize relative strength of national entities.

Let us compare the data for the U.S. for 1990 and now.

In 1990, the U.S. had a population of 248.7 million, which made 4.67% of the global population (one may recall that on the eve of the disastrous decades that followed the beginning of WWI this figure for the Russian Empire was at ca. 8%). In 2024, the U.S. population (341.2 million) accounted for 4.16% of the world population, i.e., decreased but not dramatically. For an economically developed nation with a declining religious commitment, the absolute population growth, even though achieved through immigration, is a remarkable indicator.

There seems to be no strong evidence that recent immigrants would not follow the path of their predecessors and would not get dissolved in the melting pot.

The Latino community is the fastest growing and currently accounts for 14.7% of American eligible voters. According to exit polls, in the 2024 presidential election, 42% of Latinos voted for Donald Trump, despite his anti-immigration and anti-Latin American rhetoric.[3]

In 1990, the IMF estimated the U.S. nominal GDP at 26.3% of the global economy (the European Economic Community then accounted for 27.4%; China, only 1.8%). The 2024 estimate is the same: 26.3%, up from 21.1% in 2011, but down from 31.3% in 2001 and 2002. The European Union’s nominal GDP, following its expansion and later BREXIT, fell almost 1.6-fold to 17.3%; and that of Japan was only 3.8% (down from even 17.8% in 1994 and 1995). Interestingly, while Japan’s ‘lost decade’ (and then decades) became an important subject for academic discussions, the global media hardly seemed to pay attention to the Fall of Japan. The evident dramatic change is, of course, China’s growth, whose 16.9% almost equals that of the EU countries.

De-dollarization is most visible in commodity markets (J.P. Morgan, 2025), even despite Washington’s dollar weaponization policy. But even amid the current instability, global transactions remain largely dollarized, providing an inherent benefit to the U.S. economy (Eichengreen, 2010), though significantly alleviating the already large national debt: its public share exceeded $31 trillion in February 2026).[4] This debt (sustainable, as experts testify contrary to the popular belief) might slow the U.S.’s economic growth but would not undermine its economy. In the long term, it will probably require a ‘robust fiscal stabilization’ (Auerbach and Yagan, 2024; see also: Bernstein, Shaw, and Posthumus, 2025; Lichtenberg, 2026).

One should bear in mind that the long-term forecasts projecting the financial situation to 2100 and beyond, though certainly useful for policy planning, might prove fundamentally wrong as completely new factors may emerge. Remember that modern sophisticated math methods failed to forecast the 2008–2009 economic crisis. And nobody could foresee the spectacular and almost global birth rate decline in 1966 or 1976, at the time of heated discussions about the world’s overpopulation.

While in 2000 the gap between U.S. investments abroad and foreign investments in the U.S. constituted ca. $1.6 trillion, in 2023 this figure rose to nearly 20 trillion (almost 72% of the GDP!), and this growth was most spectacular in the recent years of rising global instability, since the COVID-19 pandemics. The main investors are currently Great Britain, Japan, and the EU countries (Medzhidova, 2024). This huge money flow might compensate for both the growing U.S. debt and certain underperformance (which should not be overestimated though) of the industrial sector (Grigoryev, 2024).

Today it is too early to say what the long-term results of Trump’s second administration’s reforms, foremost the tariff regulation, would be. Will Trump succeed in reviving U.S. industries by tax cuts, protectionism, and the weakening dollar?

Will he contain protectionism-driven inflation? In the first half of 2025, U.S. current account deficit was 4.6% of GDP, lower than at its 2006 peak of 6.2%, though 1.9% higher than the 2013–2024 average (Eichengreen, 2026; IMF eLibrary, 2025). In the third quarter of 2025, U.S. annualized economic growth was 4.3%—faster than in the previous two years and well above the forecasts, while imports fell, despite government spending growing faster than business investment (The Economist, 2026). In January 2026, IMF expected the 2026 growth to reach 1.8% in advanced economies and 2.4% (0.3% higher than the October 2025 forecast) in the U.S. (IMF World Economic Outlook, 2026).

Back in 1987, Paul Kennedy predicted that the “natural” share in the global wealth that America ought to possess was perhaps 16% or 18% (Kennedy, 1987, p. 533), but this forecast would still take a long time to become real. According to IMF estimates, China surpassed the U.S. in 2016 by purchasing power parity (PPP) GDP, with the U.S. share in the global PPP GDP in 2024 reaching only 14.9%—lower than Paul Kennedy’s forecast.[5] Nevertheless, comparing nations’ PPP GDP makes sense when one measures respective living standards (and hence PPP GDP per capita is a more telling indicator), but the national weight in the global economy is measured by the actual exchange rates, thus, nominal GDP reflects the respective positions better (Frankel, 2014).

According to the World Bank estimates, the U.S. GDP share of research and development rose from 2.45% in 1996 to 3.59% in 2022,[6] which is in relative figures lower than in just three countries—Israel (6.02% in 2022), Liechtenstein (5.87% in 2019), and South Korea (5.21% in 2022), but certainly much higher in absolute figures in comparison with competitors, above all China (2.56% in 2022; in 2022, the U.S. spent 2.18-fold more in nominal dollars but just 1.12-fold more in IMF PPP dollars). Nevertheless, we are currently witnessing spectacular successes of Chinese science which has been surpassing America’s by the number of scientific publications since 2017, and seems to have taken over the leadership in the quality of research, above all in electrical and electronic engineering, materials science, physics, and chemistry.[7]

Still, just like in the 20th century when the U.S. profited intellectually from the Old World’s distress (up until to the collapse of the Soviet Union and the European Socialist system), the academic immigration (brain gain) is greatly benefiting the U.S., despite Trump’s fighting against the universities and toughening of the migration legislation. There are four times more foreign students studying in the U.S. than American students abroad, and by 2022, the founders of 25% of U.S. billion-dollar startups had immigrated to the U.S. as college students (Lodge, 2025).

According to the SIPRI estimates, in 2023, the U.S. spent 3.4% of its GDP on defense expenditures—down from 5.4% in 1990 but still a spectacular 37% of the global amount—3.09 times more than China which allocates only 1.7% of its GDP for defense. The U.S. armed forces are the third-largest worldwide, with 1.358 million men and women in active service, a bit less than in the much more populous India (1.476 million).[8] Back in 1985, the U.S. armed forces of 2.152 million deployed ca. 520,000 military and civilian personnel abroad (24%), and in the spring of 2025, this figure slightly exceeded 243,000 (18%—lower but still a very significant share).[9] U.S. military bases still encompass the globe, and U.S. Navy ships ply the seas as forty years ago, able to quickly employ force (as in Operation Absolute Resolve during the capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife).

There is reasonable criticism that the huge military costs are not very effective, that the military-industrial complex lobbies expensive weapons instead of more useful mass and simple arms (Lachmann, 2020). One may claim that since China spends less, it has managed to overcome the U.S. in this critical field of strategic competition, and that the U.S. military budget and military planning in general are not living up to contemporary challenges. Recent American military interventions in Afghanistan (2001–2021) and in Iraq (2003–2021) were lengthy and failed to achieve their goals. In a tragic twist at the peak of Colin Powell’s political career, he had to abandon his own doctrine suggesting short and decisive military operations with clear and achievable goals and an effective exit strategy (Powell, 1992). However, although these wars ended in a protracted nightmare for the local populations and further aggravated the complicated situation in the Middle East, the unaccomplished goals were not vital for U.S. security, and the American casualties were much smaller than those in the Vietnam disaster. The current war against Iran might follow the same pattern, even though it demonstrates the danger of being a U.S. ally in the Middle East.

In a certain way, the U.S. still enjoys limited (if we recall the 9/11 attacks) ‘free security.’[10] Apart from the U.S. and China, only a few nations in the world can boast to have relative information and communication sovereignty, including autonomous messengers and payment systems. The current military conflict between Russia and Ukraine vividly demonstrates the importance of large armies and military technologies borne out by effective use of FPV drones and Starlink, a U.S.-made satellite Internet system. While not committing their soldiers to the field operations but supporting the Ukrainian Armed Forces with its high-tech weapons and equipment, the U.S. is closely studying the ongoing military transformation.

Thus, the statistics and the recent international developments testify to the U.S.’s remarkable resilience.

The ‘unipolar era’ is over but there is no clear evidence of American decline. In fact, it is the spectacular rise of China which allows us to declare the end of the American unipolar domination.

China is challenging the strengths of the American economy, but has not yet surpassed it in information technologies, including AI; materials science; life science technologies (biotech), including medical research; pharmaceutics; genetics; and mass agriculture. The global finances are still revolving around New York. The costs of the Ukraine conflict, huge by European standards, are easily bearable by the American budget, and the fighting does not engage American soldiers. Moreover, the Trump administration has successfully forced its European allies to pay for the Ukrainian weapons supplies. The U.S. successfully controls the EU and even its large East Asian allies, like Japan and South Korea, to secure positions for struggle with China, in whatever form. Russia feels the strength and the grip of this control, but also the limits of U.S. hegemony. The last but not the least is the domination of American culture which continues growing: the English language now influences even the grammar, syntax, and phonetics of such long-established languages with rich literary and scholarly tradition as Russian: 49.6% of websites are English-language,[11] and the volume of English-language content on the Internet is probably larger. Generative AI systems, including even China’s DeepSeek, are trained using primarily English-language content.

Drawing analogies, the U.S.’s present position in the world should be compared not with the Soviet Union’s in the late 1980s or even with the Russian Federation’s in the early 1990s, but with that of Great Britain at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. Remaining powerful, it ceded its first place in the global economy to the U.S., and on the eve of WWI it was surpassed also by Germany. Today, the U.S. is still stronger than Great Britain was in 1913. So, the best term to describe the U.S.’s current global position is relative hegemony.

Digital Sovereigns and Vassals

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Diskin, Ye.I., 2026. Digital Sovereigns and Vassals. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 142–167. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-142-167

 

In 2025, President Vladimir Putin stated that Russia had achieved full digital sovereignty, claiming that only three countries in the world were truly digitally sovereign: the U.S., China, and Russia (Kommersant, 2025). Earlier, in September 2025, First Deputy Head of the Presidential Administration Sergei Kiriyenko also noted that the number of fully digitally sovereign countries was significantly smaller than the number of nuclear-armed states (Interfax, 2025). By claiming digital sovereignty, these ‘securitization moves’ (Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde, 1998, p. 29) also imply the need to protect that sovereignty, permitting the state to take extraordinary measures for that purpose, given society’s recognition of the state’s responsibility for security.

Yet the present measures and level of control are apparently insufficient to counter external threats: foreign countries’ development of Direct-to-Cell technologies, extraterritorial pressure on digital platforms, and coercive exploitation of control over infrastructure all threaten digital sovereignty,[1] and can be countered only with foreign policy instruments.

The official statement regarding “cyber superpowers”[2] raises two major questions: 1) To what extent can control over digital technologies influence the structure of international relations? and 2) What does the status of a ‘digital superpower’ really mean, if defined formally? This article employs and develops Dmitry Anikin’s concept of multiple sovereignty (2025), while also utilizing structural realism, constructivism, securitization theory, and international regimes theory. This should unveil the nature and development of digital conflicts and outline the foreign policy decisions demanded by those conflicts.

To what extent do the ongoing political, economic, and technological conflicts,[3] between the leading digital powers, indicate the insufficiency of state instruments of control over the digital environment? What theoretical and practical factors demand the issue’s transfer into the foreign policy domain?

This study compares four country cases (the U.S., the EU, China, and Russia) featuring those factors. It also analyzes regulation of the digital sphere. Russia’s 2023 Foreign Policy Concept defines its foreign policy priorities but does not sufficiently address protection of the country’s interests in the digital sphere, as demanded by other countries’ intensive development and use of digital technologies. Keeping digital technological development solely within the realm of domestic policy may hinder Russia’s efforts to build a fair multipolar world, as its main geopolitical rivals (above all the U.S.) maintain a threatening lead in digital technologies.

This article posits that Russia’s official claim of “full digital sovereignty”—merely discursive and stated in normative acts only implicitly—disregards threats emerging at the intersection of technology and social relations on the meso and macro levels. Foreign policy instruments are needed to parry such threats.

 

Sovereignty and the Digital Dimension

Understanding digital sovereignty requires understanding the main approaches to defining state sovereignty. Stephen Krasner identifies four types of sovereignty: domestic sovereignty, interdependence sovereignty, international legal sovereignty, and Westphalian sovereignty (Krasner, 1999, pp. 3-5). It is interdependence sovereignty, i.e., a state’s ability to control cross-border flows, that has come under the greatest pressure amid the digital transformation, since digital flows are inherently transboundary and difficult to control.

Scholarship on digital sovereignty is developing rapidly: Stefano Fratini et al. (2024) have systematized four competing models of its understanding; and Julia Pohle and Mauro Santaniello (2024) have recorded a shift in the discussion from descriptive to normative approaches. Digital sovereignty is being operationalized and becoming part of practical state policy rather than only an academic subject. This article continues in the same vein, suggesting consideration of digital sovereignty not as a state’s static characteristic, but as a process whose dynamics are determined by the interaction of domestic and foreign policy instruments.

John Agnew (1994) warned of the ‘territorial trap’: automatic equation of state sovereignty with territorial control. Cyberspace is the most vivid example of a mismatch between jurisdiction over digital platforms and territorial borders, and attempts to restore territorial control by blocking digital resources create serious risks (discussed below). John J. Ruggie described an ‘unbundling of territoriality’ in which political power and social interaction cease to be rigidly tied to physical borders, and states have to deal with forces and factors that cannot be reduced to ‘territorial solutions’ (Ruggie, 1993, pp. 149-151, 171-172). Ruggie suggested not a ‘disappearance of sovereignty,’ but the emergence of ‘multiperspective institutional forms’ in which authority is separated from exclusive territoriality (Ibid, p. 172). Digital sovereignty is a clear example of ‘unbundling’: the state seeks to restore control of an environment that cannot be reduced to physical space, and hence it is forced to create new, extraterritorial regulatory instruments (i.e., establish jurisdiction based on the number of users operating in the state’s territory). This approach has been adopted in the EU, Russia, the UK, and other countries.

 

Digital Securitization of Sovereignty

Securitization legitimizes extraordinary measures beyond the usual political process (Buzan, Wæver and de Wilde, 1998). Securitization targets various aspects of state sovereignty, and securitizing actors are heads of state and senior officials. Specific speech acts range from Putin’s statements about “three fully digitally sovereign countries,” to Macron’s remarks about the inadmissibility of “digital vassalage” (Le Monde, 2025a), to the Trump administration’s announcement that foreign regulation of American digital platforms threatens U.S. sovereignty (USDS, 2025).

All four digital powers securitize their digital sovereignty, but with varying reference objects, reflecting their varying normative approaches and strategic interests. The U.S. securitizes the freedom of its platforms from foreign regulation, i.e., defines control over the global digital infrastructure as an element of sovereignty. The EU securitizes technological independence and the integrity of users’ information. China securitizes ideological stability, declaring foreign platforms a source of destabilization. Russia securitizes the integrity of the national communication space. The fruits of securitization—legitimized extraordinary measures—thus also differ: e.g., blocking, personal sanctions against foreign officials, forced division of companies, and creation of alternative technological ecosystems.

 

Geoeconomics and ‘Weaponized Interdependence’

Edward Luttwak (1990) introduced ‘geoeconomics’ into scientific use to denote a shift from military-political to economic rivalry between states, even as the underlying logic of conflict remained in place. Digital platforms are the most effective tools of geoeconomic competition: they generate huge financial flows, control the global information space, and provide access to data increasingly viewed as a strategic resource. Robert Blackwill and Jennifer Harris (2016) proposed the concept of economic statecraft. By handling huge financial flows and exercising monopoly control over access to infrastructure (operating systems, application stores, cloud services), platforms become tools of control, while remaining objects of state regulation. It is the economic importance of platforms that makes them one of the central elements of geoeconomic competition in the modern world.

The concept of ‘weaponized interdependence’ proposed by Henry Farrell and Abraham Newman (2019) describes the mechanism by which global network structures—financial, informational, and infrastructural—asymmetrically advantage states that control these networks’ chokepoints. The U.S., through its technology companies, controls the global Internet infrastructure, search engines, mobile device operating systems, cloud services, and digital payment systems. It has thereby amassed an unprecedented arsenal of tools to employ the ‘panopticon effect’ (monitoring of transnational flows) and the ‘chokepoint effect’ (disconnection of other actors from networks). However, this power operates within a ‘regime complex’ (Nye, 2014, p. 7), and awareness of the threat has propelled others to seek digital sovereignty by sometimes radical means (see the next section).

The states challenging U.S. digital hegemony long sought to avoid direct confrontation, relying on domestic regulation such as legal restrictions, data localization requirements, and access-blocking. But the mounting pressure is forcing them to turn to foreign policy.

Susan Strange’s ‘power structures’—environments in which other actors must act (Strange, 1994, pp. 34, 165)—seem applicable to the role of multinational digital corporations such as Apple, Google (Alphabet), Microsoft, X, Telegram, or Palantir. These corporations largely determine the architecture of digital interaction, content moderation rules, information dissemination algorithms, and data processing standards (de Bustos and Izquierdo-Castillo, 2019). Strange predicted “the retreat of the state” in the face of market forces (Strange, 1996, p. 141), but the opposite has occurred: states seek to establish control over the digital environment, which was initially formed outside of state regulation, using the entire arsenal of domestic and foreign policy instruments.

Securitization, geoeconomic competition, and control over key nodes are subject to regulation. Joseph Nye Jr. described global cyberspace governance as a ‘regime complex,’ a set of overlapping and often conflicting regimes regulating various aspects of the digital environment (Nye, 2014). This explains why states cannot achieve digital sovereignty alone, using only domestic policy: such efforts inevitably affect other states’ regimes. This is true of the U.S.’s power projection as well. The normative and functional confrontation between respective regimes, or ‘regime interdependence,’ calls for foreign policy instruments.

 

The Constructivist Dimension

According to the constructivist approach (see Wendt, 1999, p. 4; Katzenstein, 1996, p. 6), conflicts over digital sovereignty unfold not only in the material, but also in the normative[4] and discursive realms. Every actor constructs his own normative position, appealing to different values. The U.S. refers to freedom of speech and of entrepreneurship; the EU seeks to protect personal data and “counter disinformation and hatred” (EU Code, 2016); China upholds “cyber sovereignty” as an element of public administration; Russia prioritizes the “protection of the national information space from external interference.” The clash of these narratives creates a situation where all parties appeal to sovereignty but construe it differently. This indirectly bears out the thesis of Julia Pohle and Torsten Thiel (2020), that digital sovereignty is not so much a regulatory or organizational tool, but a discursive instrument of political argumentation, which is filled with different normative content dependent on the actor’s position and interests.

 

Digital Sovereignty and Conflicts Related to Its Protection

The Trump administration’s unrestrained and unilateral behavior is forcing the U.S.’s traditional allies—such as the EU, the UK, and even Canada—to speak of the “end of the rules-based order,” to discuss enhancing “strategic autonomy” (Carney, 2026), and to reconsider their attitudes to the 20-year-long dominance of American digital platforms, which all actors now see as tools of control and coercion. Escaping ‘surveillance and strangulation’ is becoming an urgent task. However, its implementation is encountering numerous legal and technological difficulties, primarily the need to build relationships with the technology giants, which operate as transnational actors despite being registered in specific jurisdictions (mainly in the U.S.) (de Bustos and Izquierdo-Castillo, 2019). These corporations are unprecedentedly important to the global technological infrastructure (Diskin, 2025a), and interaction with them requires both political will and certain national technological capabilities.

 

The EU AND the U.S.: Regulatory Sovereignty vs. Structural Dependence

On 18 November 2025, Berlin hosted a special EU summit on digital sovereignty, where French President Emmanuel Macron said: “We do not want to be digital vassals of the U.S. or China” (Le Monde, 2025a). In fact, Macron defined dependence on foreign platforms as an existential threat, which can be treated as an attempt at securitization. However, statements alone are not enough to escape strangulation and the panopticon, and accrued dependence cannot be overcome overnight, especially absent the political will and resources for a major leap forward. Miguel De Bruycker, Managing Director General of the Centre of Cybersecurity for Belgium, maintains that “Europe has lost the Internet,” and the EU’s attempts to restrict leading American digital platforms are irrelevant; the bloc needs its own competitive products (RBC, 2026a). “Instead of putting that focus on how we can stop the U.S. ‘hyperscalers,’ maybe we put our energy in…building up something by ourselves?” (The Brussels Times, 2026).

Nevertheless, the EU’s recent measures have noticeably affected its relations with U.S. tech corporations, which are estimated to have lost $97.6 billion from European regulations and special taxation (Schramm, 2025). When the EU uses ‘economic statecraft,’ such as regulatory pressure on foreign actors (Baldwin, 2020, pp. 28-29), the U.S. responds with ‘digital mercantilism’ (Wheeler, 2025), i.e., Luttwak’s geoeconomics.

The EU has established a legal system covering almost all areas of digitalization: the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), the Digital Markets Act (DMA), and the complementary Digital Services Act (DSA).[5]

Extraterritorial application of European norms has the ‘Brussels effect’ (Bradford, p. 25): global corporations align their practices with EU norms even beyond the EU’s borders. Establishing jurisdiction over foreign platforms based on the number of users in the EU is essentially an attempt to escape the ‘territorial trap’: the state asserts control not over the territory hosting servers with user data, but over the audience physically located within the state’s borders.

But, while this mechanism is effective in pressuring industry, it is reaching the limit of impact on U.S. behavior, as borne out by Macron’s words about the inadmissibility of digital vassalage and by the adoption of the Declaration for European Digital Sovereignty (Declaration, 2025).

The EU has realized, albeit quite late, that digital sovereignty cannot be achieved solely by improving regulatory mechanisms, and that it needs its own digital platforms, cloud data services, AI, and other technological infrastructure.

According to a report to the European Parliament, 80 percent of digital products, services, infrastructure, and intellectual property used in the EU have been created outside it (Report, 2025). In fact, the EU does not have major messengers, social networks, or marketplaces. Its most successful social network is France’s BeReal with 40 million monthly users (Silberling, 2025), which pales even compared to Russia’s VK, with 92 million monthly users (VK, 2025). Thus, any online discourse significant to the EU will be conducted overwhelmingly on platforms created outside its borders, within the U.S.’s panopticon. Also, Apple and Google, as the owners of mobile operating systems,[6] have structural power (in Strange’s terminology) over all digital market participants: any national application, messenger, or service operates only insofar as it has access to their ecosystems.[7] In other words, dependence on the U.S. in this field is just as great as it is in the field of armaments, even though the European Commission has its own executive vice-president for tech sovereignty (Henna Virkkunen). Nevertheless, the Europeans remain committed to determining their own regulatory frameworks and are even planning to ban digital platforms close to Trump if he moves to seize Greenland (Gutteridge and Barnes, 2026).

The EU’s public statements, regulatory measures, and fines against American companies have frustrated many officials in the U.S., not only in the Trump administration but also in some think tanks, in particular the right-libertarian Cato Institute (Inserra, 2025). The incumbent American administration’s actions clearly show that the digital track is one of its priorities. U.S. sanctions against European Commissioner Thierry Breton, and against four NGO functionaries associated with the EU’s digital policy, strongly signify a transformation of U.S.-EU relations in this area. The U.S. Secretary of State has emphasized the inadmissibility of violating U.S. sovereignty in cyberspace (Rubio, 2025). This is a manifestation of ‘weaponized interdependence’ (Farrell and Newman, 2019): the U.S. uses control over key global digital infrastructure nodes to coerce partners and uses sanctions to retain that control.

The explicit clash of narratives is an important point: the sanctioned heads of the Centre for Countering Digital Hate, the Global Disinformation Index, and Hate Aid play a major role in the implementation of the EU policy of “countering disinformation” (Diskin, 2025b, pp. 417-419). The White House has blasted their activities as “radical activism of the global censorship-industrial complex” (Rubio, 2025). This narrative is also supported by Telegram founder Pavel Durov, who has accused Macron and Breton of building a “digital Gulag” (Durov, 2025). This is essentially a clash of two incompatible narratives and regulatory orders: the U.S.’s freedom of speech, legitimizing personal sanctions, versus the EU’s fight against hatred and disinformation (EU Code, 2016), which has been ratified by EU Parliament laws (Le Monde, 2025b) and which legitimizes fines and regulatory directives.

Note that this study aims to identify the parties’ points of conflict, narratives, and tools, not to adjudge their correctness.

 

China and the U.S.: TikTok and Geoeconomic Coercion

China has long pursued digital autonomy, having built a system of control over its internal information space.

But prioritization of the manufacturing sector, and the sustainment of domestic demand for it, has shifted government and corporate attention to the development of online shopping. China has the world’s largest online shopping market (Xinhua, 2026) and is rapidly conquering those of other countries (Haleem, 2026).

Meanwhile, Chinese social networks such as Weibo, QQ, Xiaohongshu, and Bilibili are virtually nonexistent outside of China, due to regulatory costs and cultural and language barriers. A major exception is TikTok, with a global audience of 1.59 billion users as of the beginning of 2025 (Statista, 2025).

The conflict over TikTok, the international “mirror” of China’s Douyin platform, is particularly significant. Of the platform’s 1.59 billion users, 135 million are in the U.S.. Trump threatened to block TikTok even during his first term (AP News, 2020), but his order was blocked by a district court[8] and overturned by the Biden administration. After returning to the White House in 2025, Trump forced TikTok to split its U.S. branch into an independent legal entity under U.S. control. Such a forced separation should be considered an instrument of state policy.

It seems that Beijing made concessions on TikTok because it needed to maintain access to the U.S. digital advertising and consumer content market.

But it is unlikely to do the same regarding marketplaces, as they have strategic economic importance to China, providing it with economic leverage (Drezner, 2021) and other benefits described by Farrell and Newman (2019).

Control over the external information space is still of secondary importance for China, but pressure on Chinese companies abroad (e.g., TikTok) is forcing Beijing to make foreign policy decisions. The isolation of its internal information space has not eliminated the need for foreign policy tools.

 

Russia: Technological Autarky and the Dilemma of Control

Long before the EU did, Russia faced the issue of dependence on foreign digital platforms, and began developing its own replacements.

Unlike in the EU, Russian platforms’ market share was quite significant even before the mass blocking of foreign resources. In 2022-2023, the search engine Yandex controlled 49% of the market, versus Google’s 47%, notwithstanding the far greater resources and unrestricted status of the latter (AdIndex, 2023; Blunt, 2025). VKontakte remains the flagship Russian social network (VK, 2022). Russian marketplaces accounted for 62% of e-commerce in 2021 (Bakharev, 2022). Putin’s description of digital sovereignty, as a pool of national competitive platforms, is therefore accurate.

But digital sovereignty should also be understood as requiring emancipation from the aforementioned ‘strangulating control’ and ‘panopticon effect,’ which continue to plague Russia and Russians’ communication with one another.

Russia remains in an unprecedentedly intense conflict with the U.S. and the EU over control of Russia’s own cyberspace. Western countries censor Russian official resources and state-owned media by blocking them on their platforms and in EU jurisdictions in 2022-2023 (AiF, 2022; TASS, 2024), a process that began long before the Special Military Operation (TASS, 2019). The normalization of Russia’s relations with U.S. tech giants remains conceivable, but this would likely require a comprehensive peace process,[9] and it is unclear what to do with a company that has been designated as extremist, or with fines that have exceeded the entire global money supply (e.g., for not complying with court orders to restore Russian TV channels on YouTube (Zvezda, Channel One, VGTRK, NTV, RT, and others)(RBC, 2024).

There has emerged a tendency towards ‘technological autarchy.’[10] LinkedIn, Telegram, Twitter (X), Facebook, Instagram,[11] YouTube, Signal, Discord, Viber, WhatsApp, Roblox, FaceTime, and Snapchat have all been slowed or blocked in Russia since 2016. Government officials affirm that the current approach is the right way to enforce legislation (Gorelkin, 2025), but there have been no significant signs of foreign platforms’ behavior changing since February 2022. Even when the authorities indicated success in negotiations with Roblox, with a (mainly child) audience in Russia of 18 million (Lantsov, 2025), the service remained blocked as of May 2026 (RIA, 2026a). This provoked discontent: the head of the Safe Internet League, Yekaterina Mizulina, received 63,000 complaints from children and their parents about Roblox alone, which she forwarded to the Roskomnadzor agency (Mizulina, 2025). Many more are concerned by Telegram’s blocking (Gudoshnikov, 2026).

This exposes the growing gap between the securitization of sovereignty and the effectiveness of extraordinary measures taken to ensure it: with the threat to sovereignty defined as existential, emergency measures (blocking) are formally legitimized, but uncontrollable side effects—emigration of specialists, growing discontent, and technological lag—limit that legitimation and create new security threats. Thus, measures to strengthen security in one area (communication) impair security in other areas (technological development, social stability). Alternative tools, including in foreign policy, must be considered. The current approach is increasingly ineffective and even counterproductive, leading to paradoxical results, like the purchase of VPNs by some regional administrations (Okhotnikova, 2026).

 

The Exhaustion of Tools for State Control

The most intense conflicts over digital sovereignty illustrate that domestic policy tools, alone, are increasingly incapable of resolving such disputes. For the EU, such tools have proven to be too weak, failing to facilitate the emergence of its own platforms. For Russia, such tools have been counterproductive: blocking has uncontrollable side effects. For China, such tools have proven sufficient to protect its domestic market, but unable to protect its companies abroad. And, for the U.S., such tools cannot overcome the increasing resistance to its extraterritorial imposition of norms. In fact, all four parties are in an intense conflict—between West and East, and also between the U.S. (under Trump) and the EU.

Regarding Russia in particular, comparison with the U.S. is telling. The U.S.’s mandatory division of TikTok was legitimized as an emergency measure to protect 135 million Americans from the control of a foreign power. TikTok was already operating under U.S. jurisdiction,[12] but now it will be managed by U.S. investors, giving the U.S. real control (Khushboo and Han, 2025). Russia blocked Meta platforms (Instagram and Facebook) for similar reasons,[13] but with diametrically opposite results: while the U.S. acquired control over TikTok within its borders, Russia lost access to audiences beyond its borders, as there is no Russian alternative with similar global reach.[14] Telegram’s blocking also raised a wave of criticism among military bloggers, officials, and entrepreneurs (RBC, 2026a). The asymmetry of results is explained by the difference in negotiating power: the U.S. controls key infrastructure nodes, which allows it to impose its conditions, while Russia can only isolate itself.

For Russia, this is a major conflict, whose outcome will greatly affect Russia’s digital market and technologies. In the worst case, serious political instability may be generated if successive bans on foreign services eliminate the ability to project national content and narratives, deprive Russians of personal digital communication with the outside world, and exclude them from the global digital agenda and discourse. This risk has not yet been adequately reflected in strategic documents.

Russia’s current digital foreign policy is defined in Para 30 of the Foreign Policy Concept, which declares the goal of the “safe and stable functioning and development of the Internet, based on the equal participation of states in its governance and…preventing the establishment of foreign control over [the Internet’s] national segments.” This is vague and somewhat outdated. It repeats the logic of Federal Law 90-FZ of 1 May 2019 (known as the Sovereign Runet Law) (Zhukov and Shugunov, 2020), but the risk of Russia being cut off from the global Internet is less than it was in 2019, thanks to technical measures taken since then.

The Foundations of the State Policy of the Russian Federation in the Field of International Information Security considers many threats, mainly criminal ones (Presidential Decree, 2021). But the document was written so as to motivate certain UN convention that was indeed passed in December 2024 (Convention, 2024), and has little relevance beyond that.

The threats facing Russia are not limited to crime or an externally imposed Internet cutoff. One of the greatest threats is that escalating internal blocking could partly disconnect the Russian and foreign segments of the Internet. Moreover, even a complete disconnection would have limited utility, given almost nondisruptable Direct-to-Cell technology. The January 2026 unrest in Iran, fueled by Starlink’s provision of ‘pirate’ Internet, shows the U.S.’s ability to overcome blocking in any state—even the UK (GB News, 2026).

Meanwhile the Americans are upgrading their capabilities: Starlink is actively developing the Direct-to-Cell space communication technology, which does not require any terminals or satellite dishes—an LTE-enabled smartphone gets connected directly to a satellite (Starlink, 2025). The last smartphones lacking LTE support were sold more than 15 years ago, and LTE occupies 96-97% of Russia’s mobile network (Kotov, 2024). Suppressing such access would require either jamming all LTE/5G[15] cellular bands, or manually examining all mobile devices, which seems impossible (3side, 2025). Starlink’s Direct-to-Cell technology is essentially a new ‘weapon of interdependence’ that significantly enhances the ‘panopticon’ and creates a fundamentally new mechanism for ‘penetration.’ Although Russia is developing its own satellite communication systems, it still lacks comparable capabilities (RBC, 2026b).

Starlink’s Direct-to-Cell technology vividly illustrates the ‘unbundling of territoriality’: the state loses control as access ceases to be routed solely through ground infrastructure.

In Russia’s reincorporated regions, a response is needed to Starlink’s plans to activate Direct-to-Cell in what it considers to be Ukrainian territory (Reuters, 2025). The subject must be included in any negotiations on Ukraine. In December 2025, Russia called an informal meeting of the UN Security Council, demanding that satellite communication services respect the sovereignty of other states (Vedomosti, 2026). This was an attempt to work out basic principles for the international regulation of satellite communications, but its success will require broad international support along with pressure on SpaceX.

 

Possibilities for Institutionalization

The above-described conflicts over digital sovereignty cannot be resolved by the U.S., the EU, Russia, or China by solely domestic means.

The aforementioned ‘regime complex’ determines which institutional forms are available to foreign policy (Nye, 2014). Forming an integrated regime is hampered by contradictions between the (Russia- and China-supported) multilateral model of Internet governance, and the (U.S.- and to a lesser extent EU-supported) multistakeholder model, which entails the participation of all stakeholders, including non-state actors (see: Mueller, 2010; Zinovieva and Shitkov, 2024). The evolution of the regime complex, currently halfway between complete fragmentation and a single coherent legal structure, may be the most likely scenario (Nye, 2014, p. 16). But the current trajectory is clearly towards fragmentation, partly due to states’ reliance on domestic political instruments to ensure digital sovereignty (RBC, 2026c).

Our theoretical analysis suggests several foreign policy options for the Foreign Ministry, the Security Council, expert groups, and negotiation platforms.

First, in negotiations with the U.S., Russia should raise the issue of U.S. digital platforms’ future operation in Russia. The U.S. may raise this issue itself, but its negotiating position should be understood in advance. Russia’s blocking of foreign platforms limits the benefits, derived by the U.S. from its technological advantage, and emphasizing U.S. companies’ losses may strengthen Russia’s negotiating position.

Second, Russia should strengthen practical cooperation with BRICS+ and the SCO, and internationally discuss threats to Internet governance and the risks of pursuing digital sovereignty through blocking alone. Russia and China could promote their digital platforms as alternatives to American ones, provide them to BRICS+ countries, and exchange experience and competencies. The purpose is to form an alternative (regional, not universal) regime complex that ensures a minimum level of cooperation and harmonization of standards.

Third, when attempts are made on foreign platforms to discredit Russian culture, language, and history, or to persecute Russian users, such attempts must be opposed. But this is possible only through effective international cooperation on digital regulation, a task that has not yet been properly articulated. Foreign digital platforms may be influenced through administrative pressure in reputationally sensitive areas, prosecution for campaigns that violate Russians’ rights, and mass lawsuits by affected users in foreign courts. Other measures should include cooperation with BRICS+ and SCO members in digital regulation, public campaigns to disclose illegal activities of individuals and organizations affiliated with foreign platforms, and the pursuit of modifications to international law by promoting joint legal positions in relevant intergovernmental organizations.

Fourth, the areas of legal cooperation should be expanded: the CIS, SCO, and BRICS+ platforms should be employed to pursue amendment of the UN Convention against Cybercrime, so that it includes provisions on mutual assistance in prosecuting information warfare, terrorist propaganda, and the incitement of interethnic and interreligious hatred.

Finally, a permanent BRICS+/SCO mechanism for cyberspace governance should be created. It may serve as the prototype for a new international regime. Internet access beyond the state’s control threatens not only Russia: the aforementioned forays against the UK and Iran (Times of India, 2026) may indicate that the U.S. is preparing such campaigns against any country seen as threatening American digital platforms.

 

*  *  *

The above analysis yields several general conclusions.

First. Conflicts over digital sovereignty between the leading digital powers—the U.S., EU, China, and Russia—are not isolated episodes, but the products of a structural shift in international relations. Theories of securitization (Buzan, Wæver, and de Wilde, 1998), geoeconomics (Luttwak, 1990; Blackwill and Harris, 2016), of interdependence-weaponization (Farrell and Newman, 2019), and of international regimes (Krasner, 1983; NYE, 2014) reveal the patterns underlying these conflicts and predict their development.

Second. All four considered great powers are approaching the limits of their tools’ effectiveness, and now face insufficiency (the EU), counterproductivity (Russia), ‘defensive’ ineffectiveness abroad (China), and ‘offensive’ ineffectiveness abroad (the U.S.). No actor can rely solely on domestic policy tools, and all must adopt some foreign policy instruments.

Third. Russia’s current strategic documents—the Foreign Policy Concept and The Foundations of State Policy in the Field of International Information Security—do not fully reflect the described dynamics. Their focus on countering cybercrime, and on external disconnection of the Runet, needs to be significantly expanded to account for new technologies like Starlink’s Direct-to-Cell.

Fourth. Digital issues should be institutionalized as an independent area of Russia’s foreign policy. Priorities should be defined in strategic documents, negotiating positions should be formulated, and mechanisms for international cooperation (bilateral and within BRICS+ and the SCO) should be developed.

The global Internet’s increasing fragmentation—contrary to the integration that prevailed at the beginning of the 21st century—is dragging the contours of digital space out of alignment with national development. To avoid becoming one of the losers in this process, Russia must transition from reactive domestic policy to a proactive foreign policy strategy.

This article is a product of the HSE-BR-2025-001 research project within the HSE Basic Research Program.

A Military Stress Test for BRICS

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Toloraya, G.D., 2026. A Military Stress Test for BRICS. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 186–192. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-186-192

 

The unprovoked U.S.-Israeli aggression against Iran, which has undermined the foundations of international law and the established world order, is the first serious stress test for the newly expanded BRICS. The organization’s 2024–2025 enlargement (Iran, the United Arab Emirates, Egypt, Ethiopia, and Indonesia) has been widely recognized as a historic success in building a platform for the World Majority, but has also shown that BRICS institutions are unprepared for conflict situations. The war has placed Iran and the UAE on opposite sides, while BRICS as a whole has no unified position.

BRICS members were divided in voting on anti-Iranian UN Resolution 2817. Russia and China abstained, while India and the UAE coauthored the resolution. Brazil adopted a moderate stance, although it condemned the strikes on Iran, as did South Africa. Egypt, conversely, condemned strikes against “brotherly Arab nations.” Ethiopia expressed concern primarily over its own energy security. BRICS consultations in New Delhi (24 April 2026) could not produce a joint statement, and instead ended with a brief summary from the Chairman acknowledging an internal split. The BRICS Foreign Ministers’ meeting (the organization’s second-most-important annual gathering), held in mid-May in New Delhi, also failed to overcome these divisions, ending with a non-consensus Chairman’s Statement noting disagreement, on a number of points, of certain (publicly known) members.[1]

In effect, three camps have emerged within BRICS. The ‘sovereign-legal’ group (Russia, China, Brazil, and South Africa) condemns the U.S.-Israeli attack. The ‘regional-strategic’ group (India, Egypt, and Ethiopia) is primarily concerned with its own security and energy supplies. Iran, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia (as a ‘half-member’) are themselves parties to the conflict.

There are also other smoldering conflicts, e.g., between Egypt and Ethiopia over the Nile.

This situation is unprecedented: previous clashes, e.g., between China and India, were kept contained, unable to interfere with long-term BRICS projects.

This has prompted a degree of schadenfreude in the West. As a Singaporean-based expert notes, BRICS is able to agree more on reformist language than on “a common posture when conflict threatens to impact concrete national interests.” (Hussein, 2026) The core principles of BRICS—consensus, respect for sovereignty, and pragmatism—function in peacetime, but paralyze decision-making during disorder and confrontation. A fundamental flaw has been exposed in the “minimalist institutionalism” of which BRICS has been so proud—for it grants rights and benefits without obligations, flexibility without diktat, which is precisely what attracts so many new applicants and aspiring members.

A secondary consequence of the war for BRICS has been an energy and financial split: disruptions in energy markets benefit some members (including Russia), but are detrimental to the majority. Furthermore, the tightening sanctions against Iran and its supporters have forced BRICS members to choose between risking secondary sanctions or distancing themselves from Tehran. These frictions notwithstanding, the war may accelerate de-dollarization and promote the creation of independent payment and settlement systems within BRICS—one of its key objectives.

 

Possible Trajectories for BRICS

In Russia, some experts insist on BRICS’s development based on the ‘lowest common denominator,’ while others argue that BRICS must become a fully-fledged institution of global governance, or the world will become increasingly chaotic, many World Majority countries will become less stable and secure, and BRICS itself will lose its attractiveness and influence (Karaganov et al., 2026).

In some Russian publications, the baseline scenario is one of ambition and reform, in which BRICS becomes a “central institution of the World Majority,” capable of filling the vacuum in global governance (Karaganov et al., 2026). Achieving this demands progress in seven areas: financial settlements (the prototype Mariana system); disaster response (BRICS Rescue); a new climate agenda (BRICS Nature); an analogue to the IEA (BRICS Power); food security (BRICS Feed); dialogue on military AI; and normative and educational cooperation. Further expansion of the agenda is probably undesirable.

However, although these issues are well-chosen and merit vigorous effort, the war may badly injure BRICS’s developing organism.

Hastily expanded on the eve of a global storm, BRICS and its new partners have encountered challenges of a magnitude that they cannot ignore. Nor can they discount more pessimistic scenarios.

The first of those is BRICS’s fragmentation (‘G20-ization’): degradation into yet another geopolitically lightweight forum containing several opposing factions. Political and security issues would be displaced by economic, climate, trade, and humanitarian ones, as in the early stages of BRICS’s formation. Two wings could emerge within BRICS—a pro-Western one and an “irreconcilable” one.

The second option is BRICS’s ‘Sinicization,’ discussed in the West. If Russia weakens, or India and others become more dependent upon the West given deepening geopolitical rifts, then collapse may threaten BRICS, and China may be compelled to become arbiter and security guarantor, offering technological and diplomatic support to BRICS members. The influence of Russia and other members would then decline, BRICS would become an instrument of Chinese foreign policy, and some members might withdraw or maintain only a formal association.

A more realistic scenario is a ‘two-speed BRICS,’ comprising an anti-Western core (China, Russia, and Iran) and an opportunistically hedging periphery (India, Brazil, the UAE, South Africa, Egypt, and Ethiopia). This would entail differing directions and levels of integration: the core would deepen geopolitical, security, and even military cooperation, while the periphery would participate only in economic and humanitarian projects. Developments such as India’s ‘Special Strategic Partnership’ with Israel (February 2026), and the UAE’s withdrawal from OPEC, point in this direction.

Naturally, any of these scenarios would also affect the BRICS partner countries, which would also choose varying models and factions.

 

How Can the Situation Be Remedied?

The Gulf crisis may be a moment of truth, not a death sentence. The U.S.’s behavior under Donald Trump—including aggression against Iran and Venezuela, threats against Cuba, tariff wars, and pressure on South Africa to leave BRICS—may temporarily paralyze BRICS, but it also incentivizes BRICS consolidation. Yet BRICS should not and cannot become an anti-Western bloc, as this would diminish its attractiveness for many World Majority countries that do not wish to choose between the U.S. and China.

BRICS now faces a choice: to remain a talk-shop and gradually lose relevance or evolve into a conflict-response mechanism. If the bloc fails to propose an alternative security model (not necessarily a military alliance, but a diplomatic platform for conflict prevention), then its less influential members and partners will seek guarantees directly from the U.S. or China. BRICS would then become a declarative club, while real influence would shift to bilateral alliances—especially if the West, driven to prolong its dominance and exploitation, overcomes its internal contradictions as it did in the past.

Thus, in order to remain relevant, BRICS must establish permanent structures for mediation, monitoring, and coordination of security issues. This should be done together with deeper financial and payment integration (central banks’ digital currencies and BRICS Pay may gain momentum precisely as a means of insulating against dollar-based sanctions). The energy dimension may also play a role: the UAE’s withdrawal from OPEC could trigger a domino effect and a restructuring of the global energy market. BRICS, encompassing both energy producers and consumers, could become a new platform for coordination in this sphere. AI and cybersecurity, developed independently of the West, may likewise serve as instruments of consolidation.

 

A Bureaucratic Remedy

BRICS must be based on ‘soft institutionalization,’ seeking not a unified alliance, but a flexible multi-level structure.

For years, I have argued for BRICS’s urgent evolutionary institutionalization, beginning with the creation of bureaucratic mechanisms for coordination, monitoring, and preservation of institutional memory (Toloraya and Nikonov, 2013; Toloraya, 2015; Toloraya and Chukov, 2016).

Previously, ‘minimalist institutionalism’ provided flexibility and lowered the barrier to entry for new members. But the enduring rejection of bureaucracy is now causing a lack of continuity. Each chair country shapes the agenda according to its own priorities; previous decisions often remain unimplemented; and what institutional memory there is depends on the enthusiasm of individual states (namely Russia). With the addition of four/five members plus partners, the problem has become critical. New members are unfamiliar with the history of the BRICS agenda, and some lack the bureaucratic resources needed to manage chairmanships involving hundreds of events (Karaganov et al, 2026).

How could ‘soft institutionalization’ be realized? Proposals for a secretariat, divided between members, are detached from the reality of international organizations’ bureaucratic functioning. A BRICS Secretary-General, with few meaningful powers and a geographically dispersed staff, would be little more than a façade.

There is no need to reinvent the wheel. A compact secretariat is needed, composed of one D-2 (per UN classification) official from each member, plus one D-1 or P-5 official from each partner. Some administrators (P-2 to P-4) would also be needed, with national quotas (like budgetary contributions) determined by a formula based on population size and GDP per capita. There should also be a technical staff recruited without quotas (G1–G7). The head of the secretariat would be appointed for a one-year term from the chair country and would, inter alia, be responsible for liaison with the chair’s government. The budget for 50–60 staff can be easily estimated.

A physical headquarters would be most effective, preferably located in a relatively neutral setting. Potential examples include Macau or Goa, which are distant from national capitals and (thanks to Portuguese) feature two BRICS languages. Of course, the secretariat may also have branches in national capitals, staffed, inter alia, by locals, if the host country is willing to finance them.

The technical secretariat would perform a limited set of functions, including:

  • monitor the implementation of decisions, maintain documentation, and prepare reports and recommendations for leaders and governments;
  • in cooperation with the chair country, prepare meeting agendas and the accompanying briefing and analytical materials;
  • coordinate the work of the various sectoral tracks;
  • maintain contacts with global and regional international organizations;
  • organize training and capacity-building for partners, new members, and the ‘Friends of BRICS Club.’

This would still leave BRICS far short of a classical international organization with binding obligations and supranational bodies, and its members should not fear the emergence of diktat like in the EU. But such a mechanism may be sufficient for BRICS to pass the stress test of the current crisis, develop its own governance system, establish a crisis-response mechanism, pursue a common strategy—and even aspire to the role of global arbiter.

This article is an edited version of the paper written for the Valdai Discussion Club, https://valdaiclub.com/a/highlights/military-stress-test-the-war-on-iran-and-brics/

The CSTO Parliamentary Assembly in Search of Normative Consensus

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Vykhodets, R.S. and Lyapkina, T.F., 2026. The CSTO Parliamentary Assembly in Search of Normative Consensus. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 168–185. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-168-185

 

The Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO), founded on 15 May 1992, and an international organization since 14 May 2002, remains the only viable mechanism for ensuring collective security in the post-Soviet space.

On 16 November 2006, the Council of the Interparliamentary Assembly of CIS and CSTO States established the CSTO Parliamentary Assembly (CSTO Parliamentary Assembly, 2006). The CSTO PA focuses on interparliamentary cooperation to harmonize CSTO members’ legislation and to address regional and international security issues. Formally, the CSTO PA exists within the framework of the CIS Interparliamentary Assembly and has been governed for almost 20 years by the “Temporary Regulations on the CSTO PA” (CSTO Parliamentary Assembly, 2007). This creates a number of procedural and institutional difficulties (Khlopko, 2025) and reduces the status of the PA’s decisions.

The CSTO PA’s key area of activity is model legislation—the development and adoption of consensus strategies, concepts, laws, and recommendations covering a wide range of collective security issues. Despite the participating countries’ diverging visions of the CSTO’s strategic security priorities, model legislation plays a key role in harmonizing national legislation and establishing a unified regulatory framework for collective security (Pospelov, 2021).

The CSTO PA’s lawmaking plans are drawn up for a five-year period and stated in the Program adopted at the end of the year preceding the next five-year period. Under the 2021-2025 Program, 35 model laws were adopted, addressing a fairly wide range of collective security issues. The focus was on military security, counterterrorism, migration policy, harmonization of national criminal legislation, joint peacekeeping capabilities, and emergency prevention and response (Bondurovsky and Pospelov, 2024; Vykhodets and Tyumentsev, 2025).

In 2024-2025, the member states’ experts worked out proposals for the CSTO PA Program for 2026-2030. Its draft was first presented on 27 March 2025 at a meeting of the Expert Advisory Board under the CSTO PA Council (CSTO Parliamentary Assembly, 2025a; CSTO Parliamentary Assembly, 2025b). The final Program for 2026-2030 was adopted by the PA in Moscow on 8 December 2025 (CSTO Parliamentary Assembly, 2025c).

This article analyzes model legislation initiatives included in the final version of the 2026-2030 Program, as compared with the initial draft proposals. This may illustrate the involved states’ national and international security priorities, as well as the opaque process by which their differences are resolved (Zhdanova et al., 2022).

The analysis is based mainly on unpublished materials of the closed meetings of the CSTO PA Council’s Expert Advisory Board (27 March and 6 October 2025) and on the final version of the CSTO PA Activity Program for 2026-2030.

 

The CSTO Parliamentary Assembly Program for 2026-2030: Priorities

Although model legislation has no direct binding effect, it serves as a guideline for harmonizing national legislation according to common political and regulatory principles. In this sense, all member states, when adopting a model legislative act (MLA), assume certain obligations to implement its provisions at the national level.

The final CSTO PA Program for Converging and Harmonizing the National Legislation of the CSTO States in 2026-2030 includes 45 MLAs, down from 93 in the March 2025 draft, which are thematically categorized in Fig. 1.

Fig. 1.

The topics of the MLAs included in the draft (gray) and final (black) versions
of the 2026-2030 CSTO PA Program[1]

In the final Program, more than half (24 out of 45) initiatives fall into three categories: information security, information and methodological support, and military and military-technical cooperation. The draft’s largest section was collective information security containing about a quarter of all information-related MLAs reflecting the conceptual expansion of international conflicts caused by the rapid development of information and communication technologies.

Global digitalization has added two new domains of international conflict to the four classical ones (land, sea, air, space): informational-technological and informational-psychological, as reflected in the draft Program. However, the final Program contains initiatives only related to the first domain (information-technological). These include the MLA “On Countering Cyberbullying,” plus recommendations for personal data protection, cybersecurity incident-response, and a common approach to building national cybersecurity systems.

The informational-psychological security initiatives were excluded from the final Program. These contained:

  • a proposal to develop a CSTO Information, Psychological, and Cognitive Security Concept;
  • the model law “On Neutralizing the Influence of Destructive Ideologies on Young People”;
  • recommendations for:

–    combating the production and dissemination of deliberately false socially significant information, countering destructive information campaigns aimed at encouraging children and young people to commit illegal acts,

–    preserving and strengthening traditional spiritual and moral values and principles, cultural and historical memory.

The final 2026-2030 Program also excludes all of the draft’s proposals pertaining to:

  • education and training (e.g., “Recommendations for the Development and Implementation of Media Literacy Programs;” and “Recommendations for the Formation of Common Educational Standards in the Discipline of ‘National Security’”);
  • anti-corruption measures (e.g., a draft “CSTO Anti-Corruption Strategy”);
  • peacekeeping (e.g., “Recommendations for the Training and Use of the National Peacekeeping Contingents Assigned to the CSTO Collective Peacekeeping Forces”);
  • intelligence activities (e.g., the MLA “On Intelligence Activities”).

The section “Electoral Sovereignty” was also significantly reduced, despite the growing threats to electoral processes. Purposeful attempts to destructively influence them, manipulate public opinion during elections and referendums, and discredit government agencies and politicians may undermine socio-political stability, lead to violent change of power, and challenge the constitutional foundations of a state. Hybrid wars and color revolutions beget electoral extremism: activities during election campaigns that encroach on the electoral rights of citizens, the constitutional order, and the security of the state (Borisov, 2024a).

Russia proposed four initiatives regarding CSTO members’ electoral sovereignty, including the model law “On Ensuring and Protecting Electoral Sovereignty” (Borisov, 2024b). However, the final document combines all of them into a compromise MLA, which amends the previously approved “Recommendations for Improving Legislation on the Protection of Electoral Processes and Sovereignty in the CSTO Member States.” Specifically, the MLA would amend the section on countering destructive informational influence on internal affairs and electoral sovereignty.

Compared to informational-psychological security and electoral sovereignty, information and methodological support and military security apparently enjoy greater agreement within the CSTO PA, and thus entered the final Program with few alterations.

Regarding information and methodological support, the CSTO PA plans to adopt, by 2030, several glossaries in various areas of national and international security, as well as recommendations for improving the information, analytical, and methodological support for strategic planning; for improving the organizational, legal, and methodological foundations of the CSTO’s information and analytical activities; etc.

Regarding military and military-technical cooperation, the CSTO PA will focus on the use of reconnaissance equipment, unmanned aerial vehicles, and electronic warfare systems by military contingents of one CSTO member on the territory of another; on the international air transport of military and other personnel; and on mine action.

A number of proposals on the joint development and use of AI for security deserve special attention. AI has a growing influence on national and international security, primarily in the information sphere (Bazarkina and Pashentsev, 2020; Pashentsev, 2023). Its rapid development poses completely new risks. UN experts note that its widespread use would remove humans from decision-making. “While humans make assumptions (e.g., of best- or worst-case scenarios), AI introduces a degree of inflexibility that may prove to be impractical or, at worst, catastrophic in conflict” (Puscas, 2023b, р. 46).

The need for cooperation on AI to ensure collective security began to feature prominently on the CSTO PA’s agenda after its Council’s 3 June 2024 meeting in Almaty, which adopted the “Statement on the Development of Artificial Intelligence Technologies” (CSTO, 2024). To date, all CSTO member states have formulated and adopted norms reflecting their strategic vision for security in AI technology development. Some countries (Kazakhstan, Russia, Tajikistan) have approved national AI strategies; Kyrgyzstan is in the final stage of this process; and Armenia and Belarus have included AI in broader national legislation on digital transformation and innovative development.

To date, only one AI-related MLA has been adopted: “Recommendations for the CSTO Member States on Developing General Principles for the Development of National Legislation on Creating Artificial Intelligence and Robotics to Ensure National Security.”

The critical importance of AI for national security should prompt greater lawmaking activity by the CSTO PA in that area.

On Russian-Belarusian initiative, the 2026-2030 Program includes proposals for drafting a “Concept for the Development and Application of AI Security Technologies” and “Recommendations for the Development of Common Approaches to the Creation, Implementation, Maintenance, and Continuous Improvement of AI Management Systems in Computer Security.”

The section on harmonizing CSTO members’ legislation on miscellaneous security issues, only one-third of which entered the final Program, includes draft MLAs pertaining to biological and financial security and military-economic cooperation, and also suggests developing a model CSTO Weapons Code.

Analysis of which sections (other than ‘miscellaneous security’) contain the most MLAs, compared to previous Programs, reveals high continuity of priorities.

Table 1.

Most common subject of MLAs, by Five-Year Program

 

Information security, information and methodological support, and military and military-technical cooperation are the top three topics in each program, remaining the key areas of CSTO cooperation.

 

Initiatives: Diversity and Consensus

Russia submitted the largest number of initiatives included in the final 2026-2030 Program—more than half of the total—followed by Belarus, Kyrgyzstan, CSTO structural bodies, and Kazakhstan. Armenia, which suspended its membership in the CSTO in 2023, did not submit any initiatives. Although some Tajik researchers recognize the CSTO’s significant role in ensuring security in Central Asia amid modern challenges and threats (Rakhimov et al., 2025), Tajikistan made no legislative proposals for the 2026-2030 Program.

Pursuant to the “Regulation on the Drafting and Adoption of Model Legislative Acts, Recommendations, and Other Legal Acts of the CSTO Parliamentary Assembly,” legislative initiatives may be submitted by national parliaments, CSTO PA delegations, and CSTO statutory and structural bodies. However, in reality, a wide range of academic, research, and expert organizations have traditionally been involved in this process. They make proposals, work on the wording, provide argumentation, and often emerge as the final authors of the concepts and texts of enacted MLAs.

Fig. 2.

Countries’ initiatives included in the draft (gray) and final (black) versions
of the 2026-2030 CSTO PA Program[2]

 

The following Russian organizations are tasked with developing the MLAs proposed in the 2026-2030 Program:

 

Table 2. 

Russian organizations tasked with developing the MLAs
of the 2026-2030 CSTO PA Activity Program[3]

 

The topics of Russian initiatives are presented in Fig. 3.

 

Fig. 3.

Topics of Russia’s initiatives included in the draft (gray)
and final (black) Programs

 

Russia’s top priority is information security: about a quarter of all Russian initiatives addressed it. These covered informational-technical issues (personal data protection, biometric identification, information protection and cybersecurity, etc.), as well as informational-psychological security (countering the production and dissemination of deliberately false socially significant information, destructive information campaigns, historical education, preservation of collective historical memory, strengthening traditional spiritual and cultural values, etc.).

However, as noted above, the final Program included no informational-psychological security initiatives, which made a significant number of Russian MLA proposals in the draft. Russian initiatives on ‘electoral sovereignty’ were also almost entirely cut out, while initiatives on ‘combating extremism and terrorism,’ and on ‘miscellaneous security issues,’ were significantly reduced. Russian initiatives on ‘military and military-technical cooperation’ were thus the most successful.

Belarus submitted 11 initiatives for 2026-2030, about a quarter of the total. The Belarusian organizations empowered to develop MLAs are listed in Table 3.

 

Table 3. 

Belarusian organizations tasked with developing the MLAs
of the 2026-2030 CSTO PA Activity Program

 

The topics of Belarusian initiatives are presented in Fig. 4.

 

Fig. 4. 

Topics of Belarus’s initiatives included in the draft (gray) and final (black) Programs.

 

The adopted 2026-2030 Program almost fully reflects Belarus’s priorities. Like Russia, Belarus gave the highest priority to information security. However, it focused mainly on technical aspects of the issue, with only one (rejected) initiative pertaining to informational-psychological security.

Another Belarusian priority, which survived almost intact into the final 2026-2030 Program, concerns ‘supporting information.’

Belarus proposed unifying various terms and concepts; and improving organizational, legal, and methodological principles of information and analytical activities.

Kyrgyzstan also submitted 11 initiatives to the draft Program, seven of which were included in the final document. Their potential developers are the Kyrgyz State Technical University and the Osh State University, each of which contributed one MLA. The Kyrgyz National University and the Yeltsin Kyrgyz-Russian Slavic University were responsible for drafting two and three MLAs, respectively. The topics of Kyrgyzstan’s initiatives are presented in Fig. 5.

 

Fig. 5.

Topics of Kyrgyzstan’s initiatives included in the draft (gray) and final (black) Programs

 

Regarding information and methodological support, Kyrgyzstan seeks to unify security-related concepts and terms, and to catalogue the challenges, threats, and risks in the CSTO space.

Regarding civil defense and emergency situations, Kyrgyzstan’s proposals include joint emergency situations forecasting; prevention of and response to natural and man-made transborder emergencies; and devising common principles for providing emergency humanitarian aid.

Regarding social and humanitarian security, Kyrgyzstan proposed “Recommendations for Developing Common Principles of the CSTO Member States on Provision, Receipt, Storage, and Distribution of Humanitarian Aid in Areas of Military Conflict, and for Conducting Special Military and Counter-Terrorism Operations.”

Kyrgyzstan’s only informational-psychological security initiative called for neutralizing the influence of destructive ideologies on young people. However, during preliminary discussions, this initiative was declined, and replaced with “Amendments to the Previously Adopted Recommendations for Harmonizing Legislation of the CSTO Member States to Ensure Internal Stability and Counter Technologies of External Destructive Influence…” which we have placed in the section on countering external influence.

Finally, Kazakhstan submitted only two initiatives: 1) countering drug trafficking; and 2) countering Internet fraud. The Management Academy of Kazakhstan’s Ministry of Internal Affairs is listed as a potential developer of both initiatives, which were included in the final document unaltered.

 

Analysis

The initial draft 2026-2030 Program underwent significant changes and was basically halved during discussion and approval in 2025. This did not come as a surprise, since some member states, primarily Kazakhstan, had clearly stated their critical position even during the initial discussion. Kazakhstan made the largest number of critical comments on the draft, and suggested changing or dropping (as was in fact done) 42 of the 93 proposed MLAs.

Most criticized were proposals on informational-psychological security (all of which Kazakhstan suggested discarding), media literacy, and countering external influence.

Kazakhstan’s critical position at the CSTO PA appears to be a continuation of its post-independence multi-vector foreign policy (Ivanov and Petrenko, 2025). Its political elites evidently believe that deep engagement with the normative-ideological spheres of regional integration organizations may restrict its ability to cooperate with other international actors.

Leaving aside Armenia and Tajikistan (which did not make any proposals), the adopted Program reflects the priorities of all CSTO member states except Russia. Not only were most of Russia’s proposals excluded from the final document, but those exclusions contained all of Russia’s initiatives pertaining to the crucial sphere of informational-psychological security, which was prioritized in Russia’s 2023 Foreign Policy Concept and which forms a major part of Russia’s foreign policy goal of upholding traditional spiritual and moral values, promoting normality, and countering the distortion of history.

The exclusion of Russia’s initiatives, which were meant to significantly expand the conceptual boundaries of collective security, exposes substantial disagreement on this matter, especially with Kazakhstan.

The Kazakhstani insistence, on reducing security to traditional military issues, has already fallen significantly behind modern challenges and threats.

A vivid example is Russia’s initiative concerning media literacy programs.

Throughout the CSTO PA’s history, questions of education and training have not been adequately addressed in model legislation, even though many of today’s national and collective security challenges cannot be effectively solved without proper education programs. Amid ongoing global digitalization, media and information technologies are increasingly often used to exert destructive influence on the populations, mutating values and sentiment and inciting socio-political destabilization. According to the latest data, active Internet users make up about 85% of the CSTO’s population, and active users of (mostly foreign) social networks exceed 65% of the population (Datareportal, 2025). Furthermore, modern recommendation algorithms and generative AI have significant potential to manipulate public opinion (Goldstein, 2021) and threaten new forms of digital colonialism in countries that lack such technologies (Sytnik, 2025).

Given the huge volume of information and the speed of its creation, distribution, and consumption, special measures by law enforcement are no longer sufficient. Systemic efforts are needed to develop the public’s ability to critically analyze information.

Yet some CSTO member states are implementing Western-funded media literacy programs, like “Texherdim” in Kyrgyzstan, operating since 2023 and funded by the EU (and USAID, until it was dismantled) (Institut Media Polisi, 2023). In Tajikistan, media literacy programs are implemented under the MediaCAMP Project, which is promoted by Internews, a U.S.-linked NGO funded for many years by USAID (Gaisina, 2021). Such external influence contradicts CSTO states’ national interests and collective security objectives.

Development of unified approaches to media literacy programs thus appears highly relevant. To this end, Russia proposed working out “Recommendations for the Legal Regulation of the Development and Implementation of Media Literacy Programs” in 2026-2030. Unfortunately, it was rejected by Kazakhstan as allegedly unrelated to collective security.

The exclusion of whole sets of modern challenges and threats from the CSTO’s political agenda undoubtedly limits the latter’s effectiveness and status (at least in the view of Russia until 2030).

 

*  *  *

The above analysis of the final CSTO PA Activity Program for 2026-2030 and its comparison with the draft permit several general conclusions:

  1. The CSTO’s members have differing interests in the PA. Russia, Belarus, and Kyrgyzstan consider it critical for pursuing their foreign policy objectives and promoting their vision of regional and international security. Tajikistan is a passive participant, Kazakhstan is in active opposition, and Armenia has de facto suspended its work in the CSTO PA.
  2. Cooperation in the CSTO PA is being tested by centrifugal forces generated by sanctions, by members’ orientation towards different external centers of economic and technological power (the U.S. and China), and by differences in civilizational identity and development priorities.
  3. The CSTO’s members have clearly different conceptual approaches to collective security. While Russia and Belarus consistently advocate for expanding the CSTO’s conception of security to include the spiritual, moral, informational, psychological, and cognitive spheres, and seek to engage civil society on these issues, other states, primarily Kazakhstan, tend to narrow the concept of security to the traditional spheres of the military and law enforcement.
  4. Informational-technical security, civil defense and emergencies, and miscellaneous security issues are the CSTO PA’s common priorities until 2030.
  5. In order to strengthen cooperation within the CSTO, its agenda must be expanded, and conceptual disagreements over collective security must be overcome.

 

This article is part of the Saint-Petersburg State University’s research project #116471555.

Trumpism: From Rules-Based Global Liberal Order to National-Capitalist Regimes?

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Lane, D., 2026. Trumpism: From Rules-Based Global Liberal Order to National-Capitalist Regimes? Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 82–105. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-82-105

 

The rise of Donald Trump to power is not merely the triumph of a single political figure but the culmination of a broader political movement shaped by influential individuals such as J.D. Vance, high-profile sponsors like Elon Musk, conservative think tanks (notably the Heritage Foundation), and mass media outlets such as Fox News. Since the 1980s, these actors have laid the intellectual and policy foundations for what has evolved into Trumpism, a distinctive political outlook shaping a new form of American capitalism. It is a doctrine, a set of motivational imperatives stressing the primacy of American interests (NSS, 2025, p. 8). However, commentators who stress Trump’s divisive leadership style and personal authoritarianism miss the big picture. Trumpism is a major departure from the consensus of the international liberal rules-based system. It could be a catalyst for a new post-Yalta world order legitimating leading regional hegemonic roles for China, the European Union, Russia, and the United States.

Remarkably, the logic underlying American policy—the Trumpist doctrine—is distinct from Trump’s own often impulsive and inconsistent actions. It is anchored in the November 2025 National Security Initiative which outlines protection of American national capitalist interests through state administrative action and strong economic, political, and social borders around the U.S.

The Trumpist doctrine represents a decisive break from the universal Western ‘law-based’ values.

It pursues interests through a pragmatic, transactional approach to politics predicated on the advancement of U.S. national economic interests. It combines elements of neoliberalism and mercantilism, embraces a populist and anti-elitist rhetoric, and fosters strong loyalty to the charismatic leader. It is embedded in traditional American cultural norms and Christian religious beliefs. Trumpism may be best understood as a rejective response to liberal internationalism, promoting in its place traditional American national capitalist material interests.

 

Social Forces Underlying the Trumpist Doctrine

Trump seeks to reverse the economic consequences of globalization (the free movement of capital, people, goods and services) and to recalibrate America’s role as a world power. The shift to globalization and progressive values were social developments which may be traced back to the 1960s. In the advanced capitalist states, concurrent with globalization and growing affluence, the decline of the industrial manual workforce and the rise of the tertiary sector led to an intergenerational shift from materialist to post-materialist values. The social structure gradually bifurcated between the manual production industries and the non-manual service and public sector. The new, younger, university educated social strata brought liberal cosmopolitan cultural values, whereas older people retained more materialist and traditional outlooks. Divisions also emerged within, and between, the political party elites. The adoption of progressive values of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) resulted in some established elites losing their status and power: they were nudged sideways by the rising classes of higher-educated women and previously marginalized men favored by DEI policies. This facilitated a turnover of governing elites and the insertion of upwardly mobile individuals in state and civil society organizations.

By the 1990s, the Democratic Party had become the party of the progressive idealist liberals (Norris and Inglehart, 2019). The aim of their policies was to improve the well-being of those who have suffered—and often continue to experience—systemic discrimination: notably women, ethnic minorities, and LGBTQ+ people. Many of these progressive policies were concurrently supported by the Republican Party, but were successfully challenged by a faction led by Donald Trump. While not denying the reality of past and present discrimination, they contended that such policies unfairly disadvantage individuals from other social groups, such as working-class men and people of Asiatic background. This faction also appealed to conservatives in a religious sense as it promoted traditional Christian values with regard to the role of marriage of males with females, and it opposed abortion and homosexuality. The doctrine which arose supports—and seeks to strengthen—American capitalism and, in doing so, to sustain for the Republican leadership the backing of financial sponsors—the corporate rich and the rising entrepreneurial high-tech tycoons.

In addition to cultural values, the economic costs of deindustrialization played a major part in the revolt against the failure of American governments to meet the needs of the losers. They fueled a populist national backlash, which also has parallels in Europe. In his first presidency in 2016, Trump’s inaugural speech set the tone: “For too long, a small group in our nation’s capital has reaped the rewards of government while the people have borne the cost. Washington flourished, but the people did not share in its wealth. Politicians prospered, but the jobs left and the factories closed. The establishment protected itself, but not the citizens of our country. … This was not a socialist appeal to the working class, but the exposure of entitled domestic elites embedded in the ‘deep state’—those who, in enforcing DEI, had imperiled the American population.”

The paradox lies in Trump’s dual approach: mobilizing populist support among the working and middle classes while consistently protecting corporate capital. The paradox becomes clear if we consider that his critique is focused on capitalist globalization. Capitalism as a form of economy is not an enemy. The doctrine opposes the form of globalization taken by capitalism, which sustains the rich, while concurrently advocating a national basis of capitalism which is proposed to benefit the underprivileged. Globalization, free trade, and an open economy lead to instability (Rodrik, 2021). It impoverishes the national bourgeoisie and destroys the industries and jobs that earlier sustained the American working class. Neoliberal globalization has displaced the national base of businesses, and benefited transnational corporations and elites. Economic dislocation and social identity combine to predispose people to nationally-based populist politics (see Rodrik, 2021, Fig. 1).

 

Breaking Away From Global Political Elites

Trump breaks with global political elites by emphasizing social divisions within the U.S. and by championing those who have lost. He identifies with the grievances of people who have suffered under globalization with phrases like: “America gained, but the wrong people [Wall St., the Washington DC establishment] gained.” His joking, coarse but popular dialogue, resonates with lower- and middle-class voters who are mobilized against what they consider to be corrupt oligarchic elites and welfare-sapping immigrants (Mudde, 2004; Ostiguy, 2017). Unlike more reserved and restrained mainstream politicians, Trump, despite his millionaire status, acts like ‘one of us.’ Trumpist critique of capitalist globalization overlaps with that of many supporters of traditional socialism, wherein Trump’s electoral support lies. It diverges, however, in one crucial respect.

Rather than resolving the contradictions of capitalism through socialism and realignment of class relations, the political project proposes changes in trade policy reestablishing national industries. The populist vision is to make America a great national capitalist country again.

This framework of supply-side politics is paralleled in Europe with challenges from populist parties to the transnational order and the European Union. There is a deficit in the supply of any political socialist challenge.

In the spring of 2017, the media exploded over the news about Trump’s intention to ignore WTO rules that ‘violate’ U.S. sovereignty: “American citizens are subject only to laws and regulations made by the U.S. government—not rulings made by foreign governments or international bodies” (Sputnik International, 2017). This explicit reassertion of sovereignty placed Trump in direct opposition to the liberal internationalism that had shaped U.S. foreign policy since 1945. Previous American political leaderships had justified international commitments, alliances, and institutions, such as NATO, the World Trade Organization (WTO), and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), on the grounds that such global commitments served both U.S. interests and the stability of the international order. Trumpism rejects this consensus. As John Ikenberry points out, “Trade, alliances, international law, multilateralism, environmental protection, torture, and human rights—on all of these core issues, Trump has made assertions that, if acted on, would bring to an end the United States’ role as guarantor of the liberal world order” (Ikenberry, 2017). The Trumpist doctrine contends that America’s global commitments burden the U.S. while empowering competitors. Thus, the domestic political agenda (reindustrialization, border control, and the restoration of ‘American greatness’) carries clear foreign policy implications.

 

The Changing Balance in the World System

Correlated with these political changes, the U.S. has declined both domestically and abroad. Fig. 1 provides a materialist basis to the divisions which have appeared in the international order. It traces the proportion of world gross national product of major national economies (the U.S., China, Russia, Germany, and Great Britain) between 1980 and 2024. In 2016, China surpassed the U.S. in gross national product (measured by purchasing power parity); all the major European economies and the U.S. have suffered a continuous decline in their market share. The relative economic decline of the European countries explains their political weaknesses and the shift of the U.S.’s perception of threats away from Europe to China.

The U.S. had been at the fore in the formation of the WTO, IMF, and the World Bank—organizations which, having adopted policies of global free trade, facilitated globalization. Free trade without borders has weakened the U.S. economy. The 2016 Presidential Report on Trade Agreements Program stated: “While the current global trading system has been great for China,… it has not generated the same results for the United States” (Annual Report, 2016). By 2016, the cumulative trade deficit of the U.S. since 2000 had come to $8.6 trillion, almost equal to the $8.3 trillion balance of payments deficit (Roach, 2017). Free movement of merchandise generally had been adopted by the U.S.: before Trump’s second presidency, U.S. import tariffs averaged only 2.5%. U.S. exports, however, were subject to much higher tariffs. In 2023, for example, the average tariff on American imported merchandise for India was 9% and for China 7% (data cited by Financial Times, 15/16 February 2025). In 2024, the U.S. goods’ trade deficit was $1,211.7 billion—a record high (U.S. Bureau of Economic Analysis, 2024). In 2024, as a consequence of China’s positive trade balance with the U.S., China held some $780 billion of U.S. Treasury securities. Trump’s major objective is to reduce the accumulated U.S. trade deficit. In 2025, during his first six months in office, he promised, then imposed, significant tariffs on imports. These were aimed at foreign competitors, especially China, and intended to support American manufacturing companies and to bring back production to the U.S.

 

Transnational Fault Lines

Trump’s sovereignty doctrine is not merely domestic rhetoric but a foundational principle of the strategy’s international outlook. It redefines the U.S.’s role in world politics by moving towards a model of competitive transactional interest-driven nationalism. A move from liberal moral values to economic interests. Running in parallel to the balance of global economic power lies a political fault line between two rival projects. On one side stands liberal globalization, built on corporate capitalism and coordinated by transnational economic bodies (IMF, WTO and World Bank). On the other side, state-directed national capitalism prevails, with forms of collective ownership and state control. This model, most prominently championed by China, could challenge Western hegemony. Before Trump, “American foreign policy elites convinced themselves that permanent American domination of the entire world was in [America’s] best interests” (NSS, 2025, p. 1).

Trump ended this policy to focus on the core, vital national interests: “[A]ll nations are entitled… to a ‘separate and equal station’ with respect to one another” (Ibid, pp. 5, 9). Trumpism does not mean that the U.S. will not intervene in the affairs of other states, but that it will do so if they threaten U.S. interests. It implies a calculation of when intervention can serve U.S. interests (see below my analysis of the 2026 Israel-U.S. military action in Iran).

Trumpism maintains a liberal national economic pathway. It proposes an international capitalist political economy predicated on sovereign nation-states. The U.S. has asserted its national authority by breaking agreements and production networks brokered by transnational organizations. This is not merely a strategy for consolidating domestic support and conservative values, but an effort to offer the West itself an alternative form of capitalist internationalism. One which defines a viable route to “making America great again.” Trumpism has not abandoned the pursuit of American hegemony, it remains in a ‘territorial sphere’—as a regional, rather than a global, hegemon.

Trumpism seeks to advance it through the change of political elites. Previous governing elites, who “placed hugely misguided and destructive bets on globalization …” and “undermined… the character of our nation” (NSS, 2025, pp. 1, 2) must be replaced. The goal is a form of economic federalism with international competition taking place between economic territories, regulated by tariffs and treaties. Exerting political power should take place through ‘commercial diplomacy’ (NSS, 2025, p. 16), including economic sanctions and negotiated ‘deals.’ “Deals are my art form… I like making deals, preferably big deals” (Trump, 1987, p. 1). If bargaining fails, American direct military intervention can (and does) occur. The U.S. must remain, militarily, supreme. Bargaining does not imply conceding or collaborating with those who challenge American power.

Trumpism opposes ideological liberal rules-based commitments, and relies instead on the cost-benefit balance, i.e., transactional calculations.

“We must abandon the failed policy of nation-building and regime change…” (cited by Politico, 2016). His appraisal of the NATO/Ukraine–Russia conflict illustrates this logic: Western sanctions on Russia entailed lost American business opportunities and financial burdens on the U.S. budget. Support of the Ukrainian war effort does not benefit American taxpayers. Even longstanding alliances, such as NATO, are subjected to transactional, cost-benefit scrutiny. Trump has recognized that there is no military threat of Russian invasion to the EU, and so the strategy of NATO as defense of Europe no longer has any rational foundation for U.S. support. The proposed enlargement to include Georgia and Ukraine was a folly. But economically, Trumpism follows the liberal national capitalist path as a route to making America great again.

 

Oppositional Currents

Trump’s political strategy has drawn criticism across the political spectrum. Domestically, when it is thought to threaten the power of the military-industrial-security complex and the U.S.’s transnational values, Trump has been challenged by interests embedded in the ‘deep state’: namely, the Pentagon, the CIA, the FBI, the National Security Council, the military-industrial corporations, and the think tanks which identify and reveal potential threats to Western values and interests. The liberal intelligentsia (media, university, liberal policy institutions) propose the Western-sponsored democratic form of moral conviction (the rule of international law and territorial political integrity).[1]

The Trump administration has been confronted by opposition from within the Republican Party. However, while criticizing U.S. over-funding of NATO and wasteful commitment to foreign wars, Trump’s policy has put the U.S. military first. Government support for the development of high-tech military weapons is a priority. In his 2025 budget proposals, the Pentagon received a record financial endowment, benefiting American military suppliers, including U.S. corporations, their employees and shareholders. The military–industrial complex continues to function as a pillar in support of U.S. strategy. This is not an aberration: it sustains American politicians, corporations, communities, and workers dependent on defense contracts. Such spending is in effect a form of Keynesian militarism which legitimates state spending to make work and employment. Moreover, it renders the complex immune to political dismantling. While Trumpism questions previous formal alliances and promotes a deal-making foreign policy, the structural components of American hegemony remain. NATO continues to expand on American terms—designed to shift costs away from, and military contracts back to, the U.S.

Trumpism’s underlying premise is that the U.S. must be “the world’s strongest, richest, most powerful and successful country for decades to come…”, “even greater than it ever has been” (NSS, 2025, p. 7). Imperialism as a territorial relationship between dominant and exploited states continues in a negotiated fashion. But here lies Trumpism’s missing link: the U.S. strategy is described solely in terms of Trump’s “deal-making ability” and “unconventional diplomacy” (Ibid, p. 8). Trumpism’s weakness is embedded in the tactics of deals, which can resolve issues (“stop the fighting”) but do not address underlying structures and historical precedents. Negotiators can make proposals to end the fighting, but not to constitute conditions for lasting peace.

Trump has changed the confrontational ideological logic of the liberal international order: economic interests now replace philosophical values.

He is skeptical about foreign democracy promotion; he contends that military involvement in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, and Syria did not benefit the U.S., but imposed unwarranted costs. He also adopted a similar view with respect to American military involvement in the NATO/Ukraine conflict with Russia. Trump and his circle have exposed the fabricated NATO threat-inflation of “Russian expansionism.” While in 2025 various Western experts and politicians predicted an imminent Russian attack within a decade (Saradzhyan, 2025), the U.S. intelligence community’s Annual Threat Assessment of 2026 mentioned a possible “escalatory spiral” in an ongoing conflict (such as Ukraine), but no looming war with NATO (Saradzhyan, 2026).

 China, which he believes presents an economic threat, can be disarmed without any military action, through a tough tariff and trade policy predicated on agreements which do not damage American interests. China must be forced to rebalance its “enormous excess capacity” economy towards domestic household consumption, not exports (NSS, 2025). Moreover, the international political system must be dependent on the U.S. attaining “the world’s strongest economy and military world-beating innovation [and] unrivalled soft power” (Ibid). Trump regards the international system as a mechanism which may be structured to meet American political demands. That said, Trump has recognized that the U.S. is not, and cannot be, a world hegemon and the costs of war with rising states far outweigh the benefits. Here is a major change in the U.S. strategy. The doctrine recognizes that the use of military force against China is not a rational policy. China is accepted as a regional hegemon.

U.S. foreign policy under Trump is shaped largely by domestic priorities. One key objective is to end the costly “never-ending American wars.” This does not mean the end of an American presence abroad or the use of military force. The previous military intervention policy is replaced by economic transactions; tariffs, trade leverage, and targeted sanctions have become the principal tool for advancing American interests. But when the Trump administration fails in bargaining, it can resort to armed force. And here is another fault. While not Trump’s intention, the increase in U.S. military potential poses a security threat to other states and, consequently, leads to a cumulative increase in their military spending. A more effective approach would be to involve rival states in deliberations and an all-round reduction in defense spending. The proposed restrictions on foreign firms operating in the Western Hemisphere do not limit American business firms from expansion into other areas and markets. And the subsidiaries of American firms located outside the U.S. are regarded as American assets which, if necessary, are defended by the U.S. military. So, the quest for economic expansion through markets continues to cause wars. A type of economic federalism, formed by states in their spheres of interest coordinated by transnational organizations, such as a renewed IMF, a transformed WTO, and the World Bank could resolve some of these forms of conflict, but are not proposed under Trumpism.

 

Objectives and Ambiguities

Trump’s policies are a reaction, rather than a theoretically grounded alternative, to globalized neoliberal capitalism. The doctrine opposes globalization but promotes market competition, insists on a diminished role for state administration, but promises increased state support for economic renewal and investment. Trumpism is a catalyst which has dismantled the liberal global order. It articulates a new form of American national capitalism combined with cultural conservatism. The assertive leadership style and transactional approach in defending U.S. economic interests benefit the dominant American capitalist class. The doctrine acknowledges that political institutions and players have their own priorities: some promote wars legitimated by political, even religious, values. The “respect” for other religions, cultures, and political systems promised in this framework is embedded in the American regional hegemony that demands reciprocal acceptance of American interests.

As a political leader, Trump is confronted by contradictory structural factors constituted by his diverse, and sometimes incompatible, coalitions of political support, which constrain his powers. While his social class alignment lies with the national bourgeoisie, whose interests underpin what ‘Makes America Great Again,’ his electoral base rests on the traditional American lower white collar and manual working classes, including past and present military personnel. Moreover, his sponsors include the rising high-tech tycoons, who also have transnational investments. American business interests benefit from lower taxes and more advantageous economic playing fields. But Trump’s protectionist trade policies, particularly in the short term, threaten to harm national retailers and producers reliant on foreign affiliates and imported goods. American companies offshoring production are penalized by tariffs on their products made abroad when they are imported. His working-class electoral base is confronted by rising merchandise prices. In 2025, tax changes made the poor in the bottom income decile $1,600 (p.a.) worse off, but the rich in the top decile $12,000 (p.a.) better off (U.S. Congressional Budget Office, 2025). Electoral politics have one major disadvantage for political leaders—they must stand regularly for election. Success is dependent not only on votes but huge financial support.

In the international economic sphere, transnational economic coordinating institutions (the IMF and the World Bank) have not been significantly weakened, though the Trump administration stipulates that their focus should be on economic issues of development, rather than climate change or DEI issues. The WTO has been considerably undermined: its rules have been ignored, its trade conflict resolution role made unworkable, and U.S. financial contributions were suspended for 2024 and 2025. Trump’s domestic political agenda has strengthened U.S. borders by restricting imports through protectionist policies and imposing draconian measures to stop and reverse immigration. The objectives of this policy, laid out in the 2025 National Security Strategy, is “to protect the American people, American assets overseas and American allies” and maintain U.S. hegemony, but without imposing on other nations “democratic or other social change that differs widely from their traditions and histories.” The world political units remain nation states and the balance of power must be such that no nation can “become so dominant that it could threaten our [American] interests” (Ibid). This is a vision of the U.S. as a regional, not a world, hegemon.

The critique of China not only engages with its trade surplus with the U.S., but also highlights the strategic challenge posed by its high-tech industries and military capability, which are viewed as national security threats to the U.S. The doctrine’s regional agenda is complicated by the fact that the American capitalist class has significant global interests: a substantial proportion of American assets are held abroad, and a large portion of its income is derived from capital investments in foreign economies.

Economic imperialism in its territorial form remains. Any challenge to, or seizure of, American assets would undoubtedly lead to the deployment of military force.

Attaining a world of peace is a major strategic objective—not just a bargaining chip. The 2025 U.S. National Security Strategy defines President Trump as the “President of Peace.” War is “bad for American interests.” He is the only major Western statesman who has sought to end the Russian/Ukraine war. He proposes “peace through strength,” adopting the war monger’s traditional policy of military deterrence “to enable us to achieve peace’ (italics in the original text).” “We do not seek war… but as President I will never hesitate to defend the safety of the American people” (NSS, 2025).

While one must credit Trump for his initiatives for peace, the militarization of NATO countries has increased, and the U.S.’s relations with Canada, Mexico, and the EU have deteriorated. In this framework, increased tariffs, trade leverage, and targeted financial sanctions have become the principal tool for advancing U.S. interests, taking the place of military intervention. Transactional policies favor the stronger party at the expense of the weaker, generating instability and conflict.

This military-security-intelligence buildup actively threatens rival nations, inadvertently provoking irrational, preemptive strikes. No adversary has yet been identified which would justify NATO member-states contributing 5% of their GDPs to meet Trump’s ‘new global standard’ of defense expenditure. Logically and politically, to achieve world peace, security involves agreements on a multi-national basis, not unilateral rearmament of the U.S. and its allies. An alternative framework, absent in the Trumpist doctrine and NATO practice, would involve rival states’ deliberation to reduce threats through reductions in military spending.

 

Federative Capitalism

Economic neoliberalism denies any collective national interest superior to the sum of the interactions of individuals and institutions. Neoliberalism is based on catallaxies: an economic order brought about by the mutual adjustment of micro economies through market mechanisms. International coordinating institutions determine and enforce rules to enable the spontaneous adjustments required by catallaxies (i.e., mutual resolution of economic exchanges between actors, see Lane, 2023, p. 25). Trumpism rejects this approach and suggests that national economic interests should be aggregated by governments whose policies are economically superior to any international market-determined set of priorities. Trump’s economic doctrine then entails a re-nation-ization of international capitalism. The U.S. government must set the correct economic and political framework for American capitalism to succeed. Trumpism’s economic nationalism operates through protected national markets. The state upholds private property rights to facilitate market exchange and, through tariffs, protects the American economy. Economic and financial sanctions are used to weaken U.S. opponents. States, or groups of states, bargain one with another, to set the terms of exchange. “We stand for the sovereign rights of nations against the sovereignty-sapping incursions of the most intrusive transnational organizations, and for reforming those institutions so that they assist rather than hinder individual sovereignty and further American interests” (NSS, 2025). Private enterprise, driven by individual initiative and profit seeking (not collective public welfare), is maintained as the preferred mechanism for delivering goods and services.

Hence Trumpism is opposed to globalized neoliberalism, which liberates trade and migration, but not to economic liberalism within domestic markets.

This framework promotes a form of international federative capitalism, similar to Karl Kautsky’s ‘ultra capitalism,’[2] in which economically interdependent corporations divide markets between themselves. The Trumpist doctrine is ‘federative’ because state units have territorial boundaries determined politically. Under national political capitalism, states (not economic corporations as proposed by Kautsky) exercise their economic sovereignty in regional spheres of interests. The 2025 U.S. National Security Strategy defines the Western Hemisphere as “America’s key geography.” The Monroe Doctrine, which kept the European powers out of the Americas, will have a Trump Corollary: “We will deny non-Hemispheric competitors the ability to position forces or other threatening capabilities, or to own or control strategically vital assets, in our Hemisphere” (NSS, 2025). The “non-Hemispheric competitors” are not defined, but clearly China has a significant presence as a trading partner and investor in both North and South America.

This transactional system, by way of reciprocity, recognizes the sovereignty of other regions with their own civilizations, thus facilitating the coexistence of different state formations (NSS, 2025, p. 9). They include “governing systems and societies” which differ from the competitive electoral democracies of the West. In a climate of national capitalism, the U.S. administration has moved positively in policy towards Russia and China. In the 2017 version of the Security Policy Document, there were many negative references to both China and Russia. They were defined as “revisionist,” and their policies were “antithetical to U.S. values.” Russia’s growing military power was recognized as a military “threat.” The “Russian invasion” of Georgia and Ukraine was defined as a “violation of their sovereignty.” Russia is seen as “subversive” and intent on “intimidating its neighbors.” However, the 2025 Strategy does not mention Russia as a hostile or authoritarian state. Moreover, the emphasis is shifted to a “rebalancing” of America’s relationship with China, “prioritizing reciprocity and fairness to restore American economic independence.” The objective is to maintain “a genuinely mutually advantageous economic relationship with Beijing” (NSS, 2025, p. 20). The message is clear: national corporations should produce for their own territory. There is a basis here for a polycentric political world. A major claim, within this framework, is that “the affairs of other countries are our concern only if their activities directly threaten our interests” (Ibid, p. 1).

What constitutes a “threat,” however, remains politically constructed through ideological frameworks set by political and media elites.

Trump has to reconcile his political objectives with day-to-day political decisions which, to a considerable extent, are shaped by interests over which he has no control (such as stock market evaluations, world price movements, foreign perceived threats, and domestic and foreign political and economic actors who oppose this political model). In his actions, to placate challengers, Trump vacillates and compromises. “Threats to our interests” is open to many interpretations. In the first year of Trump’s second presidency, the Department of War carried out air strikes against targets in Nigeria, Venezuela, Somalia, Yemen, and Iran. Russia and China represent contending regional powers, materially and ideologically strong enough to resist American power. However, unlike under previous U.S. administrations, under this doctrine, they need not pose a direct threat to the U.S. But only if America remains economically and militarily superior, and foreign powers do not compete on a widely defined “American territory.” The 2025 National Security Strategy does not impose comparable limits on U.S. activity abroad; on the contrary, “strategic acquisition and investment opportunities” for American corporations overseas will be actively monitored and supported by the U.S. government.

 

Military Intervention in Iran and ‘Transactional Peace’

The U.S.-Israeli military operation against Iran in 2026 raises important issues with regard to the Trumpist doctrine. The 2025 National Security Strategy notes the U.S.’s commitment to Israel and the necessity to “maintain our ability to take focused, decisive action to defend U.S. interests, strongly backing Israel’s efforts to defend itself” (NSS, 2025, p. 20).  A transactional content remains—the benefits of supporting Israel against the costs of attacking Iran. But the 2025 National Security Strategy also presents President Trump as a “President of Peace” who rejects regime change and unnecessary foreign wars.

The U.S-Israeli attack on Iran sits uneasily within this framework. Iran posed no immediate military threat to the U.S.’s territorial security. Unlike China, Iran is not a strategic competitor capable of challenging American global power. The intervention therefore cannot be explained by the doctrine’s stated objective to protect the American homeland or restore American economic strength. A more convincing explanation lies in the tension between doctrinal principles and wider political concerns. As noted above, Israel occupies a strategic position in American foreign policy and has provided a firm anchor for the U.S. in the turbulent Middle East. Important sections of the Republican coalition (evangelical Christians, pro-Israel advocacy organizations, defense and military interests and influential financial donors, as well as prominent personal associates of the President) are predisposed to support Israel’s territorial interests. Hence the doctrine is overcome by interests, as they are powerful enough.

The military operation also reveals an important duality within the doctrine. It rejects liberal interventionism and democracy promotion, but not coercion. Military force remains effective when economic pressure, political threats, economic sanctions, and administrative bargaining fail to achieve the desired outcomes. Bargaining occurs under the cover of overwhelming American military power. Buoyed by the previous success of regime change in Venezuela, Trump miscalculated in Iran. The Trump administration grossly underestimated the ability of the Iranian regime to defend itself.

Economic and military interventions and the decapitation of Iran’s political leadership were ineffective. Consequently, the U.S. was trapped in a military action the doctrine was supposed to prevent.

The Iranian military intervention illustrates both the strengths and limitations of the doctrine. It demonstrates the U.S. administration’s intent to avoid large-scale democracy promotion and nation-building projects, and the recognition of previous failures when the U.S. put boots on the ground. At the same time, it reveals how the political leadership can be pushed into military foreign commitments when subjected to strong domestic political pressures, and to perceptions of a strategic geographical advantage facilitated by supposed enemy weaknesses. The result is a tension between presentation of the President as a peacemaker and the readiness to employ force when the expected benefits outweigh the costs. One other lesson is that American power can be successfully challenged, not only by major states, but also by middle ones.

The recognition of geographical ‘spheres of economic interests’ (a regionalization of capitalism) would provide a basis for political security—rather than reliance on political and military interventions to secure compliant democracies—albeit with the U.S. remaining an unspoken primus inter pares. Such an intermediary stage of the ‘spheres of influence’ is one way to defuse the possibility of war between the American regional hegemon and a rising state—China—with its own sphere of hegemony. In this context, Trumpism continues American imperialist policy but its direction changes.

Russia and China no longer need be considered political adversaries which must be defeated. They remain trading competitors, mutual customers, and providers, but subject to mutual agreements.

President Trump’s assertive leadership and transactional approach in defending U.S. economic interests align with the priorities of the dominant American capitalist classes. Within this framework, the decline of the U.S. as a hegemonic global super-state is acknowledged, and the belief in the “permanent American domination of the entire world” (NSS, 2025) is renounced. The objective is to seek a rebalancing of the U.S.’s place in the world economy. Russia is a potential candidate member for the G7; China remains a threat which can be contained. A non-interventionist foreign policy and respect for different civilizations and forms of government replace democracy promotion abroad.

Can the doctrine lead to a new post-Yalta settlement, to a more stable transactional peaceful international order? In conclusion, I outline potential future outcomes.

 

Future Outcomes

The future trajectory of U.S. policy, shaped by shifting alignments within the American ruling elites and the moving balances between domestic interests and transnational forces, makes the outcome particularly uncertain. In a climate of transition to national capitalism, one scenario could lead to a multipolar federated economic world system, in which corporations exercise power in defined territorial overlapping areas. Economic coordination would have to be subject to rules regulating the transnational economic and political order, which have to be invented. The Trumpist doctrine could be augmented to allow the world economies to be coordinated at a macro level by international economic bodies (IMF, WTO, World Bank). The character of these spheres is yet to be defined: possibly, the U.S./Anglosphere/Latin America Hemisphere, Europe, BRICS, Eurasia and China, and the Pacific. A reconfigured international framework—a new post-Yalta international federative order—recognizing civilizational diversity and state sovereignty might then emerge, organized around major compatible regional areas. To succeed, such a framework would have to be supported by the political elites of other countries.

Whether it could survive resistance from entrenched opponents within the U.S. (the ‘deep state’ and neo-conservative challengers in the Republican Party) is dependent on the outcomes of three decisive sets of issues.

First, domestical. Can Trump’s trade and investment policies genuinely restore American industry and employment to ensure the continuing electoral support of the working classes and raise profits to secure continued political sponsorship from corporate capital?

Second, international. Can transactional foreign policy secure a lasting peace? Can it resolve NATO’s problematic functions, and secure settlements in Europe, the Middle East, and China’s near-seas?

Third. Can the formation of ‘spheres of influence’ navigate peacefully the Thucydides trap—the political consequences of a U.S. ‘pivot to China’?

Success on these fronts would vindicate the Trumpist doctrine as a historical turning point offering a national-capitalist alternative to liberal globalization—a reconfiguration of the Western interventionist international order to federative political territorial divisions. Such a framework could offer a foundation for global leaders to adopt forms of inter-civilizational coexistence, providing a bridge to the current concepts of multipolarity. In this sense, Donald Trump’s presidency is what Christopher Caldwell has termed a ‘world-historical catalyst’ (Caldwell, 2026).

However, Trump’s own vision of market bargaining to promote national greatness, together with the aggressive defense of America, remains flawed. His assumptions create conditions for conflict leading to war, not peace. Trump’s argument rests on the view that economic and financial pressures (backed by force) make the costs of war between major rivals too great for it to constitute a rational political proposition. The problem here is that the picture of costs and benefits is unclear and, most importantly, they are unevenly distributed. To political and military elites initiating conflicts, war comes at a much lower cost than to the soldiers doing the fighting on the ground, or to the civilians being bombed.

Bilateral bargaining between countries, advanced by this nationalist agenda, engenders conflicts and does not lead to equal shares in growth and prosperity. The U.S.’s prosperity and the drive by its elites to achieve American national advantage are at the cost of other countries. An asymmetrical relationship continues. Even at the level of the national economy, market transactions create uncertainty: competition leads to bankruptcy; profits curb demand and, consequently, lead to unemployment. In sum, the competitive economic system engenders economic instability (booms and slumps), social class inequality, and imbalances between the economies of trading countries. All these factors are destabilizing and could lead to war, which, often on some pretext, is declared by politicians, the heads of states.

The Trumpist doctrine, like the liberal international order, endorses the imperialist dimension. The effects of unequal transactions, sanctions, and military action abroad continue in support of American political interests. An unresolved tension is found in the doctrine itself—between the promotion of peace and concurrently preparation for war. And there is a difference between Trumpism as the underlying doctrine and Trump’s actual behavior. The doctrine of all political leaders is circumscribed. All American presidents are open to pressures from financial supporters, policy advisers, and foreign allies.

The U.S. military attack on Iran in 2026 highlights Trump’s dependence on advisers, the strength of the Israeli lobby, and Israel’s strategic position in the Middle East.

Trump has a personal impulsive streak which leads to hasty actions: piracy on the high seas, physical decapitation of political opponents, and regime change. Such actions precipitate escalation, rather than compromise, and threaten the very existence of the Trumpist doctrine.

An underlying weakness of Trumpism is its transactional nature, which fails to address how the international system must be structured to sustain the peaceful equilibrium required for global economic growth and widespread prosperity. Even if transnational capitalism were to be divided into spheres of interest and to adopt Trump’s transactional approach, war could still break out if some political players detected foreign military “threats” to their own security. To create conditions for peace, the structures and processes of the world economic system need considerable improvements. Without world economic stability, peace is unlikely, and stability can only be achieved under economic conditions of full employment, stable currencies, and widespread prosperity. The world economic mechanism requires regulation in a coherent way. Keynes’s solution, to which he turned after the Second World War, was a form of managed international interdependence (Keynes, 1919, 1994), The Bretton Woods institutions (the IMF and the World Bank) were set up to stabilize currencies and to manage economic inequalities in the world economic order. These institutions could be developed to improve the coordination of transnational capitalism and thus contribute to global economic stability.

A law-based international order gains legitimacy and authority over sovereign states only if it is genuinely democratic and free from the control of a dominant committee of capitalist powers. A major shift in the economic objectives and scope of the Bretton Woods organizations is also required. The WTO and the World Bank should undertake to equalize economic development between and within countries. Monetary policy and controls over the transnational movements of capital could be coordinated by a transformed International Monetary Fund. What we need is a transnational economic mechanism for promoting equally distributed prosperity. Xi Jinping’s concept of A Global Community of Shared Future (MFA China, 2023) could be translated into a full-employment economy, universal basic income, an equilibrium balance of payments, recognition of state sovereignty, and respect for different forms of governance.

Such a positive framework currently appears speculative, but it could provide a basis for global leaders to begin to translate their aspirations into international and inter-civilizational coexistence.

Measuring U.S. Decline

1 July 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Royce, D.P., 2026. Measuring U.S. Decline. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 116–140. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-116-140

 

The dominant narrative of the Russian government—and within Russian analysis—alleges fading U.S. hegemony, and ‘Western’ decline relative to other centers of power. However, one sometimes detects an element of uncertainty in these claims, often in the form of distinctions between a truly stagnant and decadent EU versus an ill-governed yet still vital U.S.

Indeed, from the outside, it can seem that everything that really matters ends up going right for the U.S. It sparked the 2007-2008 financial crisis, yet (unlike many European states) recovered rather swiftly. The U.S.’s wars in the Mideast ended with decidedly mixed results, yet the U.S. remains the world’s dominant military power. The U.S.’s political system is generally accepted as fairly dysfunctional, yet the country seems to nevertheless continue developing. Unlike Europe, Russia, and China, the U.S. has a growing and fairly balanced demographic pyramid. Despite the U.S.’s persistent budgetary and trade deficits, the Dollar and U.S. Treasury bonds remain in-demand the world over. Now, as much as outside observers might resent Trump, they have to acknowledge that he is decisively wielding the U.S.’s still-unrivaled power.

This article seeks to correct such misconceptions. It considers the two foundations of state power—demographics and economics—as well as the political system, which determines a state’s ability to preserve and grow those foundations.[1] The article finds that: (1) Contrary to top-level and nominal statistics, the U.S. is economically stagnant and, in some ways, rapidly declining. (2) Contrary to perceptions that are 20 years out of date, the U.S.’s demographic situation is no better than Western Europe’s or Russia’s, and is likely to worsen further still. (3) The U.S.’s political system is catastrophically broken due to certain foundational and probably unchangeable characteristics, and is thus probably incapable of fixing either the economic or demographic problems.

Given the constraints of this article, all three sections are unavoidably limited in depth. Furthermore, the political sphere does not lend itself as easily to quantitative summary, and thus the evidence presented in Section 3 is more scattered and less comprehensive than would be ideal. Nevertheless, this article should at least provide a stable basis for overall perceptions of the U.S., and from which more detailed analyses can depart.

 

  1. ECONOMIC DECLINE

First, the U.S.’s recent and future economic trajectory is much worse than indicated by popular but superficial indicators. Real production and prosperity are essentially stagnant, and the government will enter a fiscal crisis within the next 30 years.

 

1.1. Real Production

A country’s general power is almost always measured as its Gross Domestic Product. And in that respect, the U.S. appears quite successful over the last several decades, on an absolute and even per capita basis.

With that said, even by this metric, the U.S.’s GDP (at purchasing power parity[2]) has been falling rapidly compared to China’s, and is now significantly smaller than China’s:

US’s real GDP as percent of China’s

Moreover, many euphemistically termed ‘postindustrial’ economies feature large sectors that may be useful, but do not themselves provide end-use goods or services of inherent value, and instead exist for the purpose of facilitating the production, distribution, and/or ownership of resources, goods, and/or services. Such ‘auxiliary’ sectors include trade, finance, insurance, real estate, legal services, accounting, and consulting.

Conversely, the Primary Macro-Sector (agriculture), the Secondary Macro-Sector (industry), and the Information & Communications Sector—collectively I+II+Info—can be considered the foundation of an economy (for instance, the Manufacturing Sector produces the equipment and medications needed by the Healthcare Services Sector), and are particularly important for national power/security (agriculture for food security, mining for energy security, manufacturing for the military, information for reliable communications and digital sovereignty and cybersecurity, etc.).

And if the foundational I+II+Info aggregate is considered independently, the superficially healthy U.S. economy turns out to rest atop a quite narrow and stagnant foundation. I+II+Info is only 24% of GDP. While every country’s I+II+Info aggregate will be smaller than its overall GDP, the discrepancy in the U.S.’s case is particularly large. Russia’s I+II+Info, for instance, is 40% of GDP. As a result, while U.S. GDP per capita is 229% of Russia’s, U.S. I+II+Info per capita is only 134% of Russia’s. Furthermore, U.S. I+II+Info per capita is nearly stagnant, growing by only 22% in 1997-2024 (an annual average of 0.75%), compared to 51% for GDP per capita (1.55% annually).

 

GDP per capita and I+II+Info value-added per capita of the U.S. (and of Russia (data not including the Reincorporated Territories) for comparison), in constant 2017 USD[3]

 

The situation is even worse for manufacturing in particular. Its per capita output (not just value-added) grew at an overall annual rate of 2.65% in 1960-2000, but then stagnated in 2001-2007, and has been declining by 1.1% annually since 2008.

 

U.S. manufacturing output per capita, 2007 level = 100,[4] actual (black) and trend (gray)

 

1.2. Wages

Unsurprisingly, roughly stagnant output in the core economy has resulted in roughly stagnant wages for Americans.

This becomes clear if the calculation utilizes:

(1) Median income. Due to the U.S.’s pronounced income inequality, proportionately small (but absolutely large) increases in the top levels of income can outweigh proportionately large (but absolutely small) decreases at the lowest levels of income, causing the total population’s average income to rise—even as actual wellbeing is unchanged for the wealthy few (who do not actually have any need or even use for the additional money) and substantially reduced for the poorer many (who very much do need the money).

(2) Non-luxury-goods inflation. The price of luxury goods has increased at a lower rate over the last couple decades, thereby reducing measured inflation, and increasing calculated real wages, relative to the real situation facing the majority of Americans. The Ludwig Institute’s True Living Cost measure excludes luxury goods, and also more accurately represents average Americans’ housing and medical costs.[5]

 

Median pay of full-time workers in the U.S., 1980 level = 100, adjusted for inflation according to official CPI[6] (dark line) and ‘True Living Cost’[7] (light line)

 

1.3. Government Debt

Finally, even as production and wages have stagnated, U.S. government debt has grown rapidly over the last 20 years and appears almost certain to continue doing so, even faster, in the future. This is widely recognized, but the scale and immediacy of the problem are rarely acknowledged concretely.

The most recent long-term projection by the Congressional Budget Office (CBO)[8] expects USG debt to rise from 99 percentage points of GDP (ppGDP) to 175 ppGDP over the next 30 years (2025-2056), at which point it will equal the 175 ppGDP that triggered Greece’s crisis in 2011.[9]

Moreover, the situation is, in fact, significantly worse than projected by the CBO, for at least three reasons.

First, the CBO’s projection assumes tariff revenue that is initially about 1 ppGDP higher than average tariff revenue was in 2011-2024 (0.25 ppGDP), although this excess declines to 0.4 ppGDP by 2056. Yet (as the projection itself notes) these “values do not account for effects of the Supreme Court’s February 20, 2026, ruling on tariffs,” which struck most of them down. Perhaps even more importantly, whatever survives has been imposed only by presidential fiat, without any legislative basis, and will likely be mostly or entirely repealed as soon as a Democrat (or even a different Republican) takes office. As a result, by 2056, debt will be about 19 ppGDP higher than projected. (Not counting the cost of interest on the extra debt.)

Second, the projection assumes no recessions—and none of the revenue losses, bailouts, stimulus measures, etc., that accompany them. Accordingly, the projected primary deficit looks implausibly flat:

 

Annual U.S. federal primary surplus/deficit as % GDP, actual in 1950-2025 (dark)
and projected in 2026-2056 (light)[10]

 

In reality, the steady growth of debt during periods of economic expansion will be augmented by surges of debt during periods of recession. In recent U.S. history, recessions have occured roughly once every ten years: 1980, 1990, 2001, 2008, and 2020. Of the last three, that of 2001 overlaps too much with unrelated tax cuts and wars for its effects to be easily identifiable, while the recessions of 2008 and 2020 increased federal debt (relative to pre-recession projections) by 39.5 ppGDP[11] after five years, and by 17.7 ppGDP[12] after just one year,[13] respectively. 

 

Third and finally, the CBO’s projection assumes implausibly low real interest rates: 2.0-2.1% (for 10-year Treasuries) through 2056.[14] In the most abstract sense, that level is very close to the minimum, since real interest rates cannot go much below 0%, yet conversely have no hard upper limit. 2.0-2.1% is also close to the historical minimum, as rates were similar in 2023-2025 and 2001-2007, and significantly higher before that; they were lower only in the unusual and potentially unique period of 2008-2022. Most importantly, it is very unlikely that rates will remain constant at 2.0-2.1% as the Treasury has to offload ever more bonds on the market and the debt: GDP ratio becomes ever more worrying. In fact, static interest rates under such conditions are almost a violation of economic theory. Empirically, nine studies of the U.S. find that the interest rate on government debt increases by 3.3-5.8 points (an average finding of 4.3) for every 100 ppGDP of debt (Salmon, 2025).[15] Another study of 31 countries found an even higher average of 5.3 points of additional interest for every 100 ppGDP of debt (Kumar and Baldacci, 2010).

As shown below, even under the most optimistic parameters—recessions with each increasing debt by just 10 ppGDP (compared to 39.5 and 17.7 in the two most recent cases) and interest rates rising by just 1 point for every 100 ppGDP of debt (whereas studies suggest a rate somewhere between 3.3 and 5.8 points, with 4.3 being the most likely)—the above three factors raise USG debt to 302 ppGDP by 2056. And if these parameters are adjusted even slightly from their maximally optimistic levels, the results rapidly become even more disastrous. E.g., in a more neutral (but still far from pessimistic) scenario—with recessions each ‘costing’ 20 ppGDP and interest rates increasing by 2 points for every 100 ppGDP—debt reaches 528 ppGDP by 2056.

 

U.S. Federal debt as % of GDP: actual,[16] projected by the CBO,[17] and likely to actually occur given optimistic and more neutral considerations[18]

 

By 2056, merely servicing the debt will consume most of the U.S.’s revenue (non-borrowed income)—rather than the 37% projected by the CBO, compared to 18.5% in 2025, and 8.7% as recently as 2021. If collapse has not already occurred, it will do so at this point, as the USG comes to resemble a pyramid scheme more than a government, its operations less a matter of taxing an economy and running a country, and more a matter of finding a way to borrow from Peter in order to pay Paul. In fact, collapse will probably occur earlier than that. Pyramid schemes only work if their internal finances are secret, and a University of Pennsylvania study therefore projects collapse when debt reaches 175-200% of GDP, as it becomes clear where things are heading (Gokhale and Smetters, 2023).

It would be impossible for this article to delve into the likely details of the eventual collapse, but the damage to the U.S.—and to other economies, insofar as they are linked to that of the U.S.—will obviously be quite severe.[19] Probably worse than the Great Depression. In that case, the banks collapsed, but the government eventually intervened to stabilize and revive the economy. Whereas in the coming crisis, the government will be the source of the financial system’s collapse, and will be in no position to help.

While collapse is still avoidable, the magnitude of the measures necessary to avoid it increases with every year. And the U.S. has for several decades been moving in the wrong direction.

Tax rates (especially for the wealthy) have been falling since 2001. ‘Entitlement reform’ has not been heard from since Obama’s presidency. Trump’s chaotic personnel cuts are likely to do more harm than good, and suggest a fundamental misunderstanding of where the USG is spending its money. (Transfers to individuals and states, interest payments, and the military, respectively, accounted for 61.1%,[20] 14.1%,[21] and 12.2%[22] of federal spending in FY2024, i.e., 87.4% in total.) The U.S. seems to be incapable of not fighting extraordinarily expensive (and in the most recent case, inflationary) wars in the Mideast. In short, there are no grounds for expecting the U.S. to avert its looming fiscal crisis. The political system’s dysfunction (see below) and domination by the upper class make the necessary action almost impossible. And the feasibility of that action shrinks—while the painful consequences of it grow—with every passing year.

 

  1. DEMOGRAPHIC DECLINE

Economic stagnation—and, probably even more importantly, cultural changes—are, in turn, crippling the U.S.’s fertility. Contrary to common perception, the U.S.’s demographic situation is no better than Europe’s, and will likely worsen still further within the next few decades.

This problem is by no means unique to the U.S., but widespread perceptions, that the U.S. is uniquely exempt from the problem, have been generated by the country’s 1989-2009 reprieve from it, and by immigration (as in northwestern Europe) temporarily propping up the country’s overall population despite its declining fundamental vitality.

In reality, the U.S.’s demographic situation is now no better than Europe’s, with the total fertility rate plunging from replacement level (2.12) in 2007 to 1.58 by 2025: 

 

U.S. total fertility rate[23]

 

Moreover, the U.S.’s continued economic stagnation/decline and the accelerating cultural drift towards Cosmopolitanism-Liberalism, are likely to make things even worse in the future.

Surveys, regarding the presence and/or desirability of children amongst childbearing-age Americans (most importantly, American women), reveal sharply negative recent trends.

If American women are divided into five separate five-year age blocks starting with 39-35 and ending with 19-15, then the proportion of those who neither have children, nor intend to ever have children, increased dramatically between 2002 and 2022-2023, and acquired a steep generational slope:

 

Percent of U.S. women in each age group, that neither have children
nor intend to ever have children, in 2002 and 2022[24]

 

Accordingly, the U.S.’s fertility rate will almost certainly not stabilize at its current level of 1.58. It is, at present, still largely determined by women who were, in 2022, between the ages of 25 and 40—less fertile than their 2002 predecessors, but much more possessed/desirous of children than 2022’s 15-24-year-olds. As the fertility rate comes to be completely determined by the 2022 survey’s younger age blocks, and by women even younger than them, the fertility rate will plummet well below 1.58—even if trends in desired fertility freeze where they were in 2022, rather than continuing on their present trajectory. It is impossible to predict just how bad things will eventually get.

What is clear is that immigration cannot fix a problem of this size. In simplified but basically correct terms, at a TFR of 1.58, each generation will be one-quarter smaller than the previous. Insofar as immigration occurs at a level sufficient to maintain the overall population, it will almost completely displace the native population in the span of just a few generations:

Within a hypothetical population, share of each generation comprised of the native population and its descendants (dark-shaded) and the immigrant population and its descendants (light-shaded), if the entire locally-born population (including immigrant-descendants) shrinks by 25% with each generation and immigrants are imported to make up the loss. (Insofar as the immigrants and their descendants remain above the 1.58 level, fewer additional immigrants will be needed, but the native population’s share will decline just as quickly.)

This would essentially amount to swapping out the original country for a new one, albeit within the same shell of state institutions. Leaving aside the completely unpredictable political, social, and economic consequences of such a project, undertaking it has proven to be simply politically impossible. Intentionally or not, Biden embarked on such a project when the U.S.’s net immigration rate increased to 0.50% (relative to the U.S.’s total population) in 2022, 0.67% in 2023, and 0.80% in 2024.[25] The latter level, sustained over the approximately 30-year span of a generation, would indeed amount to about a quarter of the population, as foreseen in the simplified model.[26] But the backlash cost Biden the election, returning the presidency to Trump, who launched an unprecedentedly harsh immigration crackdown.

 

  1. POLITICAL DECLINE

Finally, the U.S. is unlikely to fix its economic or demographic problems, and will also face mounting troubles in other spheres (namely foreign affairs and domestic legitimacy), as its political system has almost completely broken.

Unlike the U.S.’s demographic problems, those of its political system are widely recognized. This section undergirds those general impressions with some concrete indicators of the decline and provides a theory of its fundamental cause: polarization inevitably generated by the system’s basic (and essentially unchangeable) design.

 

3.1. Congress

Of the three branches of government, the legislative branch is the most obviously and deeply broken.

Its partisan polarization has been growing for 50-60 years now, to the point that the country’s two political parties are now unable to cooperate on almost anything of substance.

An ever-larger share of votes in the House and Senate are split along party lines. (Most Democrats vote one way, and most Republicans vote the other way.)

Average of the percent of House votes, and percent of Senate votes, that are split along party lines (Reynolds and Maehr, 2024).

Note that the above figures significantly understate the actual level of division. First, they include some nonsubstantive votes (e.g., naming a post office)—although ‘voice’ (i.e., non-rollcall, unanimous) votes are indeed excluded. And second, the greater the partisan division, the more frequently votes will never even be held in the first place, as the legislation would be killed by the Senate filibuster anyway.

Since 2011, both parties (starting with the Republicans) have been willing to use the filibuster to block any unwanted legislation, meaning that everything requires an almost-always-unattainable 60/100 votes in the Senate unless it is the federal budget or it can be fit into an exclusively fiscal, filibuster-proof ‘budget reconciliation’ bill, of which there cannot be more than one on average per year.

Thus, in the 15 years from 2011 through 2025, significant laws have been passed at a rate of barely more than one every other year:

  • 2013.01.02  Bush tax cuts partially made permanent
  • 2015.06.02  PATRIOT act renewed
  • 2017.12.22  Trump tax cuts (through reconciliation)
  • 2018.05.24  partial repeal of Dodd-Frank banking reform
  • 2020.03.27  first Coronavirus stimulus
  • 2021.03.11  second Coronavirus stimulus (through reconciliation)
  • 2021.11.15  Bipartisan Infrastructure Law
  • 2022.08.16  Inflation Reduction Act: drug price control, corporate tax increase, tax enforcement, and clean energy subsidies (through reconciliation)
  • 2025.09.04  One Big Beautiful Bill: Trump tax cuts made permanent, healthcare subsidies reduced, IRA partly reversed (through reconciliation)

The budget has become especially troublesome. It has not been passed on time since 1994 (for FY1995), and since then a large part of almost every year has been covered by one or more ad hoc continuing resolutions.

 

Percent of fiscal year covered by a regular budget (darkest), by continuing resolutions (lighter), or by nothing (partial government shutdown) (lightest). 2026 refers only to the first half of the fiscal year, October 2025–March 2026, and does not treat the Department of Homeland Security’s funding lapse as a partial shutdown of the government[27]

Besides evincing Congress’s dysfunction, the practice of government-by-continuing-resolution has direct negative consequences, as agencies are forced into short-term, uncertain, inefficient, and/or Sisyphean stopgap measures, and must continue operating on extrapolations of prior budgets that do not always reflect new requirements.[28]

 

3.2. The Presidency

With Congress almost entirely paralyzed, presidents have tried to fill the vacuum, governing (literally) by executive order. However, this is frequently unconstitutional, as presidents arrogate powers that are properly those of the legislative branch: from waging war (against e.g., Libya,[29] Syria,[30] Iran,[31] Venezuela, and Iran again (Royce, 2026)) to controlling expenditures.[32]

Moreover, this practice is ineffective on anything but the shortest timeframe, as a president’s executive orders, and other measures without a legislative foundation, can usually be eliminated by the next president as easily as they were enacted in the first place. Many of Obama’s measures were reversed by Trump,[33] Trump’s by Biden,[34] and Biden’s by Trump.[35]

Of particular importance for other countries, the Senate has become largely unable or unwilling to ratify treaties, meaning that the U.S. no longer signs treaties. Instead, presidents issue dubiously constitutional ‘executive agreements’ (e.g., the Paris climate agreement)[36] or ‘nonbinding agreements’ (e.g., the Iran nuclear deal)[37] that are withdrawn[38] (and then unwithdrawn,[39] and then rewithdrawn[40]) by subsequent presidents as easily as they were issued in the first place.

The end result is a great deal more action from presidents than from Congress, but action of a chaotic, oscillating, short-sighted, and ultimately directionless nature.

 

3.3. The U.S. System’s Inevitable Polarization

This crisis is caused by partisan polarization. Compromise and cooperation are almost nonexistent. The parties block each other’s agendas whenever possible and, upon gaining power, reverse anything that the other side did somehow manage to push through. This not only prevents the government from governing effectively, but also deprives it and the political system of popular legitimacy.

Yet this partisan polarization is essentially unavoidable, and thus likely to persist indefinitely.

The original sin of the U.S. political system is its naïve, idealistic, or at least obsolete rejection of party politics, and its associated adoption of a majoritarian (first-past-the-post) district system, rather than a proportional party-list system. Rather than averting the emergence of political parties, as intended by the Founders, the majoritarian system guarantees a rigid partisan duopoly evenly splitting the electorate. (This is also why Russia would benefit from returning to its 2011-2016 electoral system or, even better, from adopting Germany’s, which provides parties with proportional representation and voters with directly elected district representatives. Russia’s current half-proportional system is still much better than total majoritarianism, but it does theoretically incentivize the non-United-Russia parties to merge around some ideological point roughly opposite to UR, in order to more effectively pursue the majoritarian half of Duma seats.)

And a two-party system has several baneful effects when compared to a multi-party system.

First, it prevents cooperation between the parties. In zero-sum political competition, multi-party systems allow pairs or groups of parties to cooperatively advance their agendas at the expense of others. In a two-party system this is impossible, and we indeed observe only the occasional exceptional instance of cooperation between Democrats and Republicans, when budgets must be passed and debt ceilings raised in order to avoid immense joint negative-sum harm. For the most part, each party refuses cooperation with the other and instead counts on winning total power. A large amount of political action is thereby rendered impossible.

Second, a two-party system leads to whipsawing policy. Multi-party systems tend to produce fairly stable policy trajectories, as small shifts in the electorate’s preferences will yield proportionately small shifts in political power, and some parties often pass from one coalition to the next. But, in majoritarian two-party systems, small shifts in the electorate partially or completely change control of the government. Rather than a continuous pursuit of some average or compromise between both parties, the U.S. government whipsaws between total pursuit of the Democrats’ agenda (and nullification of the Republicans’) and total pursuit of the Republicans’ agenda (and nullification of the Democrats’), even though each party’s support never strays far from 50%.

Third and finally, a two-party system bifurcates and radicalizes society[41]:

The end result is the sharp and deep division of politics, and then of culture and society as a whole, into two opposing peaks instead of a normal distribution.

This is obvious to anyone actually living in the U.S., but it can be quantitatively traced in polls that depict a rapidly deepening bifurcation in just the last few years:

 

Percent of Republican/Democrat respondents saying that Democrats/Republicans are...[42]

Additionally, in 1958, 28% of Americans (including 33% of Democrats and 25% of Republicans) preferred that their child marry ‘within the party’, but by 2016 this had risen to 55% (60% of Democrats, 63% of Republicans).[43] In reality, only 4.5% of marriages were cross-party in 2017, falling to 3.6% by 2020.[44]

In sum, the U.S.’s bifurcation is inevitable, advancing, and spilling beyond politics (which it has fully broken) into the culture and society at large.

 

  1. CONCLUSION

The problems described in this article and their associated phenomena—deindustrialization, trade deficits, budgetary deficits, cultural liberalization/degradation, demographic decline, political deadlock, weakening democracy, rising oligarchy and despotism, sociopolitical polarization, etc.—all warrant, and in many cases have elsewhere received, greater attention than they can be given here. But this article has hopefully been sufficient to clearly outline many of them.

In particular, the U.S.’s demographic trajectory is no better than its peers’ (or moderately better than China’s), its political system and society are quickly (and probably inevitably and irreversibly) ripping apart, and its economic situation is far worse than recognized, industrially stagnant and hurtling towards a fiscal crisis within 30 years. The U.S., already behind China by some metrics of power, will thus decline, relative to most other great powers, for the foreseeable future.

Of course, it will still retain one of the world’s largest economies and—at least for the short- and medium-term—one of the world’s most powerful militaries. It will remain a great power—but one whose state is too dysfunctional and illegitimate to make use of stagnant but superficially-still-numerous resources, and whose elite is occupied more with internecine struggle than with domestic development.

My own view of U.S. behavior holds that it is produced by the U.S.’s deep ideological identity, not by rational realpolitik that could account for material factors like the limits of one’s own resources (Royce, 2025). Accordingly, the U.S.’s (attempted) behavior may not actually change all that much as it declines. But the consequences of that behavior will certainly change, as the material resources available to support it—and the political system’s ability to effectively nurture, mobilize, and wield them—diminish.

A New World War: The Road to Victory

1 July 2026 at 06:55

Karaganov, S.A., 2026. A New World War: The Road to Victory. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(3), pp. 66–80. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-3-66-80

 

The present cascade of overlapping and contradictory events is bewildering and makes it hard to understand what is really going on. In this essay, I dare give my interpretation of recent history, relying on my own experience and knowledge, which over the past 35 years have allowed me to avoid serious errors in estimates and forecasts. These sometimes came a bit late, but more often were years or even decades ahead of the expert community’s.

I dare say a new world war is in full swing. Its origins lie back in 1917, when Soviet Russia broke out of the capitalist system. It was attacked first by interventionists, then by fascist Germany and almost all of Europe—to no avail. The second round began in the 1950s, when the Soviet people, notwithstanding enormous hardships, created an atomic bomb to ensure their sovereignty and security, and achieved nuclear parity. Without realizing it at the time, we thereby dismantled European/Western military superiority, the foundation of its colonialism and ideological domination, which for five centuries had allowed it to rob the rest of the world and suppress what had once been the world’s most advanced civilizations.

From the mid‑1950s onwards, the West suffered one military defeat after another. Humanity embarked on a path of national liberation and began nationalizing the resources that had been seized by Western countries and corporations. The global balance of power began to shift towards the non-West.

At the same time, the world order’s contradictions began to deepen. Inequality started to grow rapidly. The new generations of Westerners realized that they would live worse than their predecessors, including because of reduced ability to exploit and plunder the rest of the world.

In the 1970s and 1980s, the prevailing mood in the West was despondency. It tried to unite in order to survive. In the mid-1970s, the U.S.-Europe-Japan Trilateral Commission was set up. In an effort to restore supremacy, the Reagan administration increased military spending and launched the “Star Wars” myth. Trying to show that they can still win, the Americans invaded the tiny and defenseless island state of Grenada, but did not convince anyone.

And then the West got lucky. The USSR collapsed under the pressure of ideological erosion, inefficient socialist agriculture, constant shortages of food and other necessities, monstrous defense expenditures, a huge but inefficient army, subsidies to allied countries, and the foolishness and indecision of Gorbachev.

The global capitalist system, which had been in crisis, was flooded with adrenaline and glucose: legions of hungry consumers and cheap workers. History seemed to have turned back, but the euphoria did not last. Giddy with victory, the West made several gross geostrategic mistakes, and then Russia began to revive, primarily by restoring its military might.

Confrontation also intensified. Obama proclaimed an ‘America First’ policy to revive U.S. power. His administration increased military spending and anti-Russian propaganda. Russia tried to stop this new attempt at revanche by reincorporating Crimea, at which point the real hysteria began. But Moscow did not follow up on this success, as it still hoped to come to agreement. It danced around the Minsk Process, failing to see how the Ukrainian army and people were being prepared for war with Russia. New waves of sanctions followed, and an economic war was unleashed during Trump’s first term in office. Russia, a familiar enemy, became the primary target of the attempted revanche. The Trumpists, however, pretended that they were ready to negotiate if we gave up China. Then they were distracted by COVID, likely a weapon for the new war that turned against the West itself.

We hesitated to respond to the West’s offensive. When we finally did, in 2022, we made several mistakes. We underestimated the West’s desire to crush Russia (the source of the West’s impending historic failure), so as to then deal with China and again suppress the World Majority that had been liberated by the USSR/Russia. We underestimated the Ukrainian regime’s readiness for war and the degree of Ukrainians’ brainwashing. We still hoped that they were “our people,” although such people were few—and with time ever fewer—west of the Dnieper. A bigger mistake was to start fighting the Kiev regime while ignoring the fact that Russia’s main opponent and threat was the collective West—especially the European elites, who sought to distract from their failures and to take revenge for their 20th-century defeats, especially the one suffered by Hitler, under whose banners the overwhelming majority of Europeans had marched. However, our key mistake was to only partially utilize our most important weapon: nuclear deterrence, for which we paid with malnutrition and even famine in the 1940s and 1950s.

The Americans long worked to incite this war, especially since the early 2000s, honing Ukraine as the tip of their spear.

We have ended up in a war, called the ‘Special Military Operation,’ whose rules we have essentially accepted as imposed upon us: a war of attrition with an economically and demographically superior enemy. It has become trench warfare with 21st-century technology.

Nevertheless, in 2023 and 2024, we did strengthen nuclear deterrence, making clear that we had reinforced structure and deployment, and updating our nuclear doctrine. The U.S. had no intention of fighting for Europe, especially if there was a risk of nuclear escalation and a thus a threat to U.S. territory. It therefore began to withdraw, even under Biden, to avoid a direct clash, while continuing to profit from the war at the Europeans’ expense. Trump, despite his plaintive cries for peace, has actually done the same, cashing in on the war while avoiding direct confrontation with Russia.

This war has so far been waged openly on two fronts. The Americans provoked a war in Europe and then, predictably, set the Middle East on fire—this time under the pretext of destroying Iran’s nuclear potential. There is no longer any talk of expanding the “zone of democracy.” The rationale is quite obvious—to spread the Middle Eastern conflict to South and Southeast Asia, and to North Africa. The predictable (and planned) interruption of fuel and fertilizer supplies will inevitably lead to a decline in food production. Other regions will also be destabilized. Meanwhile, the U.S. is purging its “near abroad”—the coup in Venezuela, the blockade of Cuba.

While we may sympathize with Trump’s human decency, he is contemptuous of international norms. Some still (understandably) hope to “negotiate,” but with whom? Him? Those who will replace him? (Though dialogue with a great nuclear power truly is necessary.)

Besides the desire for revanche, there are even deeper reasons for the unfolding world war. One is the exhaustion of modern (now digitalized) global capitalism, which has lost its ethical foundations.

It depends on ever-growing consumption, which undermines the foundation of human life, causing environmental pollution and climate change. Unbridled consumption, amplified by a focus on liberalism/individualism, is becoming an increasingly obvious threat to humans as thinking beings who consider themselves to have been created in the image of God and who strive to serve others. No clear answers to these two threats have been found so far. Or no one wants to find them. The absence of these answers is the deepest cause of the modern world system’s crisis.

Washington remains committed to its long-standing strategic goal: preventing the rebirth of Greater Eurasia, especially now that it would be under the leadership of Russia and China (not only Tsarist/Soviet Russia, as the Anglo-Saxons had feared).

The goal is to destabilize Europe and the Middle East, then other regions of Eurasia and Africa, and finally—with luck, or our stupidity/weakness—to crush Russia, so as to then deal with China and again suppress the World Majority.

The U.S. has dropped all pretensions to civility, legality, order, and law. It captures and kills the leaders of countries that resist it, and abets aggression and even genocide committed by its vassals. Look at what has been done to the Palestinians in Gaza.

Having met no strong resistance, the U.S. has ignited a world war without restraint—though left the escape routes open. While speaking of the “spirit of Anchorage,” Washington wants to prolong the confrontation in Europe, continue draining Russia, and cut China’s supply routes.

U.S. strategy and policy provoke disgust and may trigger a global conflagration. The U.S. is now rushing to regain military superiority by boosting its already gigantic military budget by half—an increase unprecedented since the Second World War.

Trump’s policy is, in fact, even rational in its own way, despite all the twists and turns that disguise it. It will remain very dangerous until the Americans meet strong resistance. Russia has so far refrained from providing that, even pretending that it wants to negotiate. Or did it actually want to? Any hopes for an agreement are comedic or worse, given the U.S.’s general course and internal situation. Who should we negotiate with, and about what? How can a country waging an economic war against us help Russia’s economic development?

The Special Military Operation has driven many traitors out of the country, and undermined the positions of domestic compradors[1]* and their servants. But we have not yet understood the essence of the struggle. It is not about taking towns in Ukraine, but about who will win the historical battle: the West, or we and the World Majority? Or will modern—yet imperfect and even (especially in the West) degrading—human civilization perish in the flames of an all-out thermonuclear war?

With (most) Europeans, things are simpler and even worse. Their elites have degenerated morally and intellectually, abandoning almost everything good about Europe. Failing everywhere, they have opted for war hysteria, created an artificial enemy for themselves, and are even preparing for war. One can scoff at their attempts to create a militarized European Reich, as the German General Staff planned at the beginning of the 20th century, and then the Nazis in the 1930s and 1940s. They will not succeed. Yet they do have a lot of money and a large population, including immigrants, poor Eastern Europeans, and Ukrainian refugees. So, the European hyena pack is dangerous and becoming even more so. Europe’s current elite is returning the subcontinent to its nasty but habitual role as the main source of all the worst in human history: endless wars (including two world wars unleashed in one generation), colonialism, racism, serial genocides, and anti-human ideologies.

This “elite” must be toppled, if possible without harming the innocent. But these “innocents” once chose Hitler, Mussolini, and the like, and now they obey the scum in Brussels and Berlin that is pressing the continent towards a great war and suicide. But this race into the abyss is also dragging in others, and will drag us in if we do not change our approach to the war that the West has forced upon us and is imposing on the whole world. The West’s decline should not lead to the demise of human civilization, let alone of our country.

Europe’s conventional and nuclear buildup must be stopped. Macron and his ilk should be disarmed. When he declares a readiness to extend “expanded deterrence”—nuclear guarantees—to other countries, the French people should know that he is lying through his teeth. Since the mid-1950s, even the U.S. never really intended to launch nuclear retaliation for Europe’s sake. And if Macron is not lying, then the French people should recall their revolutionary tradition and guillotine him as a traitor ready to sacrifice Paris or Lyon for Berlin or Poznan.

But in any case, we should keep our powder dry: if the European elite’s degradation persists, Macron may be followed by people even more mindless than him.

Russia should quickly build up its operational and strategic nuclear capabilities so that France and Britain know that if they try to use nuclear weapons against Russia, or transfer them to someone else, they will simply be wiped off the face of the Earth. God forbid, of course.

I will repeat what I have said in other articles: given the European elite’s rapid degradation, its nuclear weapons should be taken away sooner or later. When Britain and France acquired nuclear weapons, they were still headed by responsible and reasonable people. There are no such people there anymore. For everyone’s sake, monkeys should not have grenades.

 

What Is to Be Done?

We must understand and accept the immutable fact that we have been forced into a global historical struggle that directly threatens to destroy our country—and, in the medium term, all of humanity.

The answer is obvious: the militarization, and concentration on defense, of our political and economic thinking. Not a mindless rush into an unlimited arms race like that pursued by the USSR. But our entire ideological, economic, and domestic policy should be geared towards not only our survival, but also towards winning the world war imposed on all humankind.

The life and development of each person, and of humanity as a whole, are determined by state of mind (ideology), strength (military capabilities), and (to a lesser extent) welfare (the economy, which is necessary, but whose rightful place is to serve and bolster the spirit and strength of the country and people).

In the near future, Russia should be governed not so much by civilians as by the military, which is already happening, considering the senior roles held by people from the security services. This process needs to be sped up.

Our Chinese friends, despite their caution and desire to delay the clash—something that has occasionally caused annoyance and even suspicion in our country—have already begun preparing for a major war, if only to prevent it. They are building up strategic reserves, adopting mobilization plans, and replacing people in the[2] leadership.1 We hardly see such work in our country, except for several national programs that are useful but not aimed directly at preparing for war or winning it. For example, what is being done to strengthen civil defense? Again, we are the primary target in the unleashed world war; China is the second. The West will deal with China after it has weakened or subverted us. And for that, the West is setting the world around Russia and China on fire.

We must finally part ways, albeit a century and a half late, with Europhilia and Westernizing thought. In the current and future circumstances, such thought and behavior are terribly outdated, signifying mental inferiority and moral impurity. The ‘Epstein elite’ is not for us. The West will be a source not only of military threats and hostility, but also of moral infection and anti-humanity.

This does not mean denying all the good and lofty things brought by Peter the Great’s injection of European culture. Nor should we completely shut ourselves off from people in the West—not all are moral degenerates and liars.

There are still decent people there, though ever fewer due to propaganda that surpasses even that of Goebbels in its totality. We should not dismiss all Western countries. The sprouts of normality have not yet been fully stamped out in the U.S., as inhuman, ugly, and disgusting as its current policy may be. Such sprouts can still be found in Southern and Central Europe, which eventually may join Greater Eurasia as a healthy part of humanity. We should not be like the Western elites, who are whipping up total Russophobia, preparing their societies for war, and driving them into an intellectual and moral impasse. When (the sooner the better) we have to destroy old—especially northwestern, Calvinist—Europe, we must not throw the baby out with the bathwater. We should keep the best European practices and even cultivate them. But we must finally understand that we are not originally a European, but a great Eurasian civilization-state.

The external origins of our historical spiritual culture came from the south—from resplendent Byzantium, Palestine, and the Muslim and Buddhist worlds. And our main external political origins lie in the Great Mongol Empire. It is high time we understood ourselves and lived our own way, as destined by history and geography—to see the world from the center and north of Eurasia, not from its western offshoot.

A difficult but pressing issue is restoring our best traits: faith and striving for the supreme spirit and for love. European civilization expelled God. We were particularly affected by this when the European communist ideology, godless and atheistic, was imposed upon us. But most importantly, without faith and hope for the best in oneself, without realizing oneself as part of history and of one’s country and its culture, a person is not a human being, but an inferior animal, as modern Western civilization is pushing him to become.

Sick and tired of communist uniformity, society and part of the ruling elite shun the word ‘ideology.’ It also seems that some of the elite does not want an ideology because it certainly will not be liberal or Western. But great countries cannot be created without a single spiritual core and ideological platform, and perish if they lose them. History is a graveyard of powers that lost their cores. Twice, we almost perished, having lost faith in God, the Tsar, and the Fatherland by the beginning of the 20th century, and having lost faith in communism by the end of it.

There is no need for an ideology to be termed as such, or for it to be binding. A Russian citizen should have the freedom of opinion and choice—as long as he does not harm others. Russia’s Idea-Dream[3]2 should be mandatory only for those who seek public recognition or the right to govern. But it should be instilled from childhood, as the idea of service to the family, society, the country, and God. (Faith in Him cannot be imposed, but should be encouraged. Faith in God, whatever He may be called, is the best human trait in man.)

We must finally get rid of the delusion of economism, whether Marxist or liberal. Terming the person an ‘economic animal,’ and claiming the absolute priority of his economic interest, indeed reduce him to the level of an animal.

We should develop and implement a new economic model—a post-capitalist one, based on initiative and personal interest, but developing the best in man, preserving nature, and uniting the two in what outstanding Russian thinkers called the “noosphere.” The economy, including business, should serve man and the Earth, not suppress them, as under modern capitalism, which has lost its ethical roots.

China has come closest to this model. But we should not copy its experience, though it may be useful. There are many elements in our own Imperial and especially Soviet experience that should be modified and revived. In a world of intensifying geopolitical and geoeconomic struggle, in a world that has been forced into a world war, it is impossible to survive, let alone win, without long-term planning and strict administration.

We need not only a forward-looking ideological platform—a Idea-Dream—but also a series of comprehensive macro-projects designed to ignite the country with creative energy.

The first among them is the ‘Siberization of Russia’—the transfer of the center of ideological, economic, and political development to Russian Asia, i.e., Siberia. The future is there. We should wind up our Western voyage as soon as possible, as the only things still awaiting us there are threats and the miasma of decay.

Since Europe is returning to its authentic self, as the source of wars and other troubles, the military advancement and an eastward shift are also necessary for military and strategic reasons.

The movement towards Siberia is a movement “towards ourselves,” towards what is real and best in our national character, towards the non-Western future. We need to immediately start searching for where to establish a third capital in Siberia, and to transfer some capital functions to Siberia’s cities.

 

Foreign and Defense Policy Need Serious Modernization

First. We need to understand that the deep contradictions in the current global economic system, which is undermining the very essence of man, endanger the entire human civilization. Continuing our half-measures in Ukraine threatens to exhaust our country and undermine the incipient revival of its power and spirit.

Second. In the “spirit of Alaska,” we may discuss a truce. But we must understand that, fundamentally, long-term peace and development—for our country and for all humankind—are impossible without suppressing the West’s Europe-led pursuit of revanche. To this end, we should destroy the Kiev regime, and liberate the southern and eastern regions of the quasi-state of Ukraine, which Russia needs for security reasons. Our brave soldiers and field commanders can and should keep advancing. But we must understand that a world war cannot be won through modernized trench warfare. That is a path to defeat, or at least to the loss of hundreds of thousands more of our best men, whom we need to fight and win in the approaching historical era, which will be extremely dangerous and difficult even without the clash in Ukraine.

Third. It is impossible to victoriously end the current struggle in Ukraine, let alone prevent its escalation to a global thermonuclear war, without qualitatively increasing reliance on nuclear deterrence. To do this, we must stop blabbering about “arms limitation,” although agreements on joint management of nuclear deterrence and strategic stability are useful and even necessary. We must accelerate the production of missiles and other medium-range and strategic delivery systems to deter the West from trying to regain superiority. Our opponents must know that superiority and impunity are unattainable.

Nuclear weapons, in optimal numbers and with the right doctrine of use, while saving conventional military spending, make non-nuclear superiority unachievable. Our Burevestniks, Oreshniks, and other hypersonic delivery vehicles should convince them that their hopes for victory are futile and even suicidal. A new generation of weapons must be prepared to disabuse the Americans of their fantasies about regaining superiority and imposing their will by force.

Increasing our nuclear arsenal’s flexibility should remind everyone that it is impossible to defeat a nuclear-armed great power through a non-nuclear arms race or conventional or even drone war. But we must avoid the senselessly expensive and dangerous idiocy of the American and Soviet nuclear buildups of the 1960s. Potential adversaries need to know that an arms race is pointless and even suicidal. Dialogue, at least with the Americans, should be conducted on this matter.

Drone, biological, and even cognitive-digital wars need to be prevented by increasing reliance on weapons that can destroy any instigators of such wars. For the time being, only nuclear weapons can do that, provided we are ready to use them and have restored the fear of them.

Yet, to curb Washington, which has lost all sense of boundaries, we should amend our military doctrine to state our real readiness to strike U.S. and European overseas assets if the West continues its present course towards unleashing a world war.

The West is much more dependent on foreign assets, bases, and vulnerable logistics and communications than we are. The enemy should recognize his vulnerability and understand that we know about it.

We should make use of Iran’s experience defending itself from the current U.S.-Israel aggression. Tehran hit the enemies’ weak points; they felt the pain and retreated. Changes in military doctrine and structure, increasing asymmetric strike capability will enhance deterrence and have a civilizing effect on the opponent, who has lost his mind and is jumping or is about to jump into insane gambles.

We should revise the priority targets for preemptive strikes (first with conventional weapons and then, if absolutely necessary, with nuclear ones). These should include communication, control, and logistics centers, military bases, and—crucially—the places (especially in Europe) where the elite is concentrated. The elite should be deprived of its sense of impunity, and know that, if war is continued against Russia—let alone escalated, horizontally or vertically—fatal blows will be launched against it and those close to it. To strengthen this deterrent, we should accelerate the creation and testing of conventional and nuclear weapons that are capable of penetrating great depths. Unhinged leaders, especially in Europe, should know that they cannot sit things out in bunkers or on some islands. Our Defense Ministry recently published a list of European enterprises producing weapons for the Kiev regime; this is just a small step but in the right direction.

Now the Western elite pretends that Russia is threatening it, but in reality it is not afraid, certain as it is that Russia will never punish them with nuclear weapons. We need to instill primal fear in them. Maybe then they will back off, or their Deep State masters will expel them. Maybe societies will rise up. Strengthening Russia’s nuclear credibility is also necessary to awaken European societies from their ‘strategic parasitism’—the belief that there will be no war and that everything will work out for the best. We must return a sense of self-preservation to those who have forgotten their past wars and crimes.

Clearly, such a policy is absolutely necessary towards Germany. A country that has started two world wars and is guilty of serial genocides has no right to the “strongest army in Europe,” much less weapons of mass destruction. If it tries to obtain them, it will be destroyed along with them, so that no threat to peace ever comes from German territory again. The German burghers should be made to understand this.

Fourth. To strengthen the threat, we should amend our nuclear doctrine and specify that in the event of aggression (or continued aggression) by one or multiple states whose economic, demographic, and technological potential exceeds ours, Russian command will have the right and obligation to use nuclear weapons. We should start, of course, with a series of nuclear tests. (I do not understand why we are waiting for the Americans to begin. Are we again trying to please them?) This should be followed by conventional attacks on logistics hubs, control centers, and symbolic targets. If the adversary continues its policy or fights back, we should respond with a series of grouped nuclear strikes, exceeding tactical weapons’ yield, on military bases and key industrial facilities. If the enemy does not capitulate, we must be prepared to go to the next level. This should be avoided if possible, but avoidance requires that the maddened ‘elite’ either flees before the threat of physical destruction, or is removed from power.

Reliance on nuclear deterrence is necessary to block the road to drone warfare. Our response must be crushing. If, for example, missiles or drones fly out of Ukraine or neighboring countries after a peace agreement or capitulation, those who stand behind the drone operators should know that retaliation—even nuclear—will reach them. Knowing this, they will themselves hunt for possible provocateurs.

Fifth. Besides changes in doctrine and force structure, it is worth advising the Supreme Commander-in-Chief to immediately appoint a Commander for the European Theater of Military Operations. This position should be given to a combat general with the right and duty to use nuclear weapons (following tests and conventional warning strikes) if necessary. This person (and his staff, which should consist mainly of combat veterans) should possess and demonstrate full readiness to take such action. Russia urgently needs new heroes like Kutuzov or Paskevich. The Supreme Commander-in-Chief should retain strategic control over military operations, if necessary.

Sixth. It is high time we abandoned the idiotic view, which benefits primarily the Americans, that there can be no winners in a nuclear war, and that the use of nuclear weapons will inevitably escalate to the global level. This view is at odds with elementary logic and specific military plans. God forbid that nuclear weapons be used: innocents will die, and the myth of their use inevitably leading to global Armageddon (a myth that has saved humanity) will collapse. Nevertheless, a nuclear war—God forbid—can be (easily) won, especially against a crowded and morally weak Europe.

The use of nuclear weapons is a great sin. But the de facto refusal to use them is an unforgivable, deadly, and criminal sin, because it paves the way for the expansion and escalation of the world war unleashed by the West. If it is not stopped, it will most definitely lead to the destruction of humanity, including our own country. Vladimir Putin’s question “And what is the point of a world without Russia?” remains relevant.

Seventh. Alongside the long overdue upgrading of our nuclear forces, and particularly the nuclear doctrine, several parallel steps are urgently needed. Together with China, we should help Iran endure and win. We should invite Middle Eastern countries, including even Israel (which has undermined its legitimacy), to create a regional security system with guarantees from Russia, China, and possibly India and Pakistan. These powers, unlike the U.S. and its satraps, are wholeheartedly interested in Eurasian stability.

Eighth. Finally, given the generally great danger posed by the next couple of decades, which will see many wars and Western attempts at revanche, a temporary (e.g., ten years with possible extension) defensive alliance with China should be considered. This would be useful for stopping the revanchists, and also for letting brotherly China know that it does not need to catch up with the U.S. and Russia in strategic nuclear capabilities. China has advantages in other areas, and if its nuclear capabilities match Russia’s, this may generate fears and suspicions among future Russian leaders, which neither the Russian nor Chinese people need.

Naturally, there are many other steps that I have not mentioned but that must be thoroughly considered and taken to prevent the spread of the new world war and its escalation to the global thermonuclear level. But the greatly- and immediately-needed steps proposed here would probably be enough to win the war that is bleeding our country dry, push back the revanchists, and (most importantly) halt the slide towards global catastrophe. This is an urgent world-historical task. If we do not complete it, our descendants (if any survive) and God Almighty will never forgive us for our cowardice and mental laziness.

Russia was given twenty years without a war, but now is entering decades of historically-imposed conflicts. We need to win them, saving ourselves and humanity.

Again, while blocking the West’s revanchism and the world war’s escalation to a global catastrophe, we must not forget about the root causes of this crisis of the world system, the greatest in human history. These causes include modern capitalism’s exhaustion, and its threat to the existence of Homo Sapiens, a threat intensified by ‘omni-informationalization’ and other features of modern civilization. But more on that in other articles.

Other articles will touch on the contours of the international system to be pursued through victory and avoidance of escalation to global thermonuclear catastrophe.

But the main point now is to understand the magnitude of the unprecedented challenges, collect ourselves, focus, and play decisively to win. If we succeed, we will prosper as a great country and once again save humanity.

A New Reserve Currency for the Global South

22 April 2026 at 05:01

Is it possible to create a new reserve currency as an alternative to the U.S. dollar? The topic is controversial. Some believe that it is not, others think that it is even undesirable. I am one of the few who believe that it is not only desirable and possible, but perhaps indispensable.

I first wrote about the need for a new reserve currency in August 2023[1], and since then has elaborated the idea in detail[2]. In this article, I will outline some of its main points. As an innovative alternative, it certainly needs improvement and is open to criticism.

In modern history, the role of international currencies has usually been played by national currencies, and only few were specially designed to serve this function (issued and managed by a national central bank, or by a regional bank, like the euro). Since the issuing country’s objectives do not usually coincide with others’, the international currency can rarely serve the interests of other nations.

Today, we need to create a new international currency that would not perform national functions. Before discussing its characteristics, let me show why there are no efficient ready-made alternatives.

 

Discarding Options

The options now available are either inconvenient or unlikely.

One would be to continue living in a world dominated globally by the U.S. dollar (and, regionally, by the euro). However, the U.S. dollar system is inefficient, unreliable, and even dangerous. It has become an instrument of blackmail and sanctions. The precariousness of the monetary, fiscal, and financial foundations of the U.S. economy is becoming increasingly clear. This does not suit the emerging economies of the Global South.

Can the U.S. dollar be replaced, at least partly, by some other national or regional currency of the Global North? This scenario is not feasible on a large scale. The euro, compromised as an instrument of sanctions, suffers from the same problems as the U.S. dollar. Europe’s economic situation is even more problematic than that of the U.S.

The Japanese yen has similar problems: the Japanese economy is not doing well and does not inspire confidence. Besides, the yen has never played a major international role. Other national currencies of the Global North are either too small (e.g., the Swiss franc, the Canadian or Australian dollar) or suffer from the country’s economic weakness (the British pound sterling).

As for gold, it can replace the U.S. dollar only partially, as a reserve asset for central banks and other economic agents. However, its high price volatility, caused by the widespread nervousness about the U.S. dollar, makes this option unreliable.

There are two preconditions for the renminbi’s internationalization: free convertibility and China’s willingness to allow a large exchange rate appreciation. The Chinese government is hesitant on both—and rightly so. In the Chinese case, free convertibility would essentially mean removing capital controls—a central element of China’s economic policy in recent decades that has greatly contributed to its stability. The renminbi’s external appreciation would threaten the competitiveness of exports, one of the main factors of the Chinese economy’s dynamism. Moreover, in recent years China has seen deflation in wholesale prices and close-to-zero inflation in consumer prices, so a sharp rise of the renminbi may put the economy in a deflationary trap and at associated risk of recession.

There also remains the question of whether other countries of the Global South would want the renminbi, just another national currency, to replace the U.S. dollar and the People’s Bank of China, another national central bank, to replace the U.S. Federal Reserve. With China issuing an international reserve asset on a large scale, the rest of the world would continue to experience, albeit perhaps in a milder way, the same problems it now has with the U.S. dollar.

In any case (and there are more possible options), creation of a new reserve currency faces challenges—geopolitical (fundamentally, the U.S.’s resistance) and technical (building a trustworthy monetary institutional and operational structure is no easy task). But we need to address this task, not least because we cannot rule out a major financial crisis of the Western capital markets in the coming years, e.g., associated with artificial intelligence and technology companies. If this happens, the decline of the U.S. economy and dollar, will accelerate. Everyone will be scrambling for a solution. So, we’d better look for it today.

 

A Possible Path

Theoretically, one way would be to back the new currency with gold, as suggested by Russian economists. However, they have so far not solved the main problem this alternative entails: how to ensure a new currency’s stability while supporting it with an eminently unstable asset. If there is a solution, it is beyond my knowledge.

It seems more appropriate to back the new currency in the way I briefly discuss below.

The first question to address is who would create the new currency. In the current international circumstances, there seems to be only one possibility—a group of 15 to 20 Global South countries, including BRICS members and other middle-income countries. Yet none of them can accomplish this mission reliably by delegating the issuance of a new reserve currency to an existing financial institution.

Thus, a new international financial institution—an issuing bank—must be established with the sole and exclusive function of issuing the new currency and putting it in circulation. This bank would not replace national central banks, and its currency would circulate in parallel with the national currencies of the sponsoring countries and other national and regional currencies. Its operations would include international transactions only, excluding domestic ones. Contrary to what is often suggested, it cannot be a euro-type currency, i.e., a single currency issued by a single central bank which replaced national currencies (Deutsche Mark, French franc, Italian lira, etc.).

There are other questions, too. How can we ensure the success of a new international currency? What would make it widely used? The essential thing is to ensure confidence, and this depends on how the new monetary arrangement will be constructed institutionally.

The way that seems most viable to me should be based, among other things, on five legal guarantees: 1) the currency’s stability in terms of value; 2) its non-use as an instrument of sanctions or pressure; 3) operational autonomy of the issuing bank; 4) maximum limit for its issuance; and 5) backing by a basket of the sponsoring countries’ government bonds.

Let me briefly describe these five points.

First, the currency should be based on a weighted basket of the participating countries’ currencies, with its fluctuations following the changes in these currencies. Since all currencies in the basket would be floating or flexible, the new currency would also be a floating currency. The weights in the basket would be determined by the share of each country’s PPP GDP in the total GDP of the sponsor group.

The new reserve currency’s exchange rate is expected to be relatively stable since China accounts for at least 40-45% of the total (depending on the exact composition of the group). The renminbi’s relative weight in the basket would provide certain stability, given the stability of the Chinese currency. Another endogenous factor of its stability is that the basket would be formed by currencies of both exporters and importers of commodities, i.e., countries standing at the opposite sides of the commodity price cycle. These factors could be further reinforced by establishing a weighted, geometrically and symmetrically trimmed, average. Currencies with large fluctuations, beyond pre-established limits, would be temporarily excluded from the basket.

Second, the participating countries would make an explicit commitment to non-use of sanctions. This would contrast with the insecurity caused the abusive use of the U.S. dollar and the euro for punishment and blackmail. This legal guarantee would be reinforced by the issuing bank’s operational autonomy.

Third, to ensure the bank’s operational autonomy and avoid political interference and diplomatic maneuvering by its founders, its president and vice-presidents should be granted long terms (e.g., five years). This kind of guaranteed autonomy, typical of international financial organizations, does not fully protect the bank from interference, but it has its advantages.

The institution’s management could be overseen by and accountable to the Board of Governors and on the Board of Directors designated by the sponsoring countries. The oversight and accountability should be implemented through normal institutional channels, not through the president and vice presidents’ individual pressure.

Fourth, a limit should be set to the amount of the new currency circulated by the bank as a safeguard against excessive issuance. The new international currency would thus have a constraint that the U.S. dollar does not have. Yet this ceiling is secondary to the most important instrument—back-up of the new currency.

Fifth, therefore, is the importance of defining a proper procedure for creating a basket of national bonds of the founding countries and those that will join later. The issuing bank would issue the new reserve currency (NRC) and new reserve bonds (NRB), whose interest rates would be attractive as they would reflect the interest rates on the bonds of the participating nations, all of which are higher than the rates on the bonds in the U.S. dollars and euros. The NRC would be fully convertible into NRBs. The high weight of the Chinese currency, issued by a country with a solid economy, would raise confidence in the NRC’s backing and help stabilize the new currency’s average exchange rate.

 

The West’s Reaction

The proposal has its vulnerabilities, discussed in detail in [2]. Here let me just note the most significant one: the initiative may provoke negative reactions from the West, which can resort to threats and sanctions. This risk is real: today the declining West is more violent than ever before.

Yet we must decide now whether we are going to live indefinitely with the Western increasingly dysfunctional monetary system used as a geopolitical tool, or we will gather economic, political, and intellectual efforts to get out of this trap.

The next few years will tell whether Global South countries are up to this challenge.

The Nuclear Component of the Union State

1 April 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Trenin, D.V. and Rusakovich, A.V., 2026. The Nuclear Component of the Union State. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(2), pp. 128–140. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-2-128-140

 

Military alliances of the 21st century differ significantly from those of the 20th. Today, only NATO remains as a hegemon-led bloc. But it is going through a partial decoupling, caused less by a European quest for greater independence and more by a major shift in U.S. foreign policy priorities. As the European Economic Community, the EU economically underpinned the Atlantic bloc. But after the Cold War, it failed to become an independent geopolitical player, a ‘United States of Europe.’ Today, it seeks agency on a military-ideological basis, using the image of Russia as an external enemy, but with highly questionable results.

Associations that emerged in the former Soviet space—the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO), and the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU)—are fairly loose (in truth, incohesive) structures. Unlike Western institutions, they lack bloc discipline and a common ideology. Nevertheless, they perform certain useful functions. The CIS is primarily a historical association with a humanitarian profile; the EAEU is an advanced form of customs union; and the CSTO (the only military organization of the three) is a platform for political consultations and security cooperation, but not a traditional military alliance.

The Cold War was largely fought on the periphery of the world system, while its center was dominated by the stasis of iron curtains, frozen fronts, and impregnable walls. But the 21st century, at least since the mid-2010s, has become an era of great-power competition, dynamism, and sharp turnabouts. The Western alliances still exist, but in practice they rely upon small groups of ‘activists’ that are ready and able to participate in military conflicts. And Washington, when seeking states to pit against its adversaries, turns mostly to those with which it is not even in formal bilateral or multilateral alliance: Ukraine (against Russia), Israel (against Iran), Taiwan (against China). A supportive echelon is drawn from selected allies in Europe and Asia: Germany, Japan, Poland, Australia, and others.

Outside the Western world, the largest powers—China, Russia, and India—eschew blocs, preferring more flexible forms of ‘unlimited’ (but also nonbinding) strategic partnership. China, India, and other BRICS and SCO countries are essentially maintaining a benevolent neutrality towards Russia in the context of the war in Ukraine. The CSTO’s members, formally considered allies by Russia, hold a similar position.

Major non-Western states (especially Russia and China) are often suspected by their neighbors—with or without justification—of seeking regional hegemony. These suspicions can prompt the neighbors to turn to more distant powers, especially the U.S., whose provision of ‘global security,’ as an offshore balancer, underpins its hegemony (i.e., ‘global leadership’).

Russia’s security is seriously threatened by Western use of its neighbors to pressure and (in the case of Ukraine) weaken it. This threat has not yet been fully eliminated. Yet Russia also has two neighbors with whom it has formed full-spectrum military alliances that truly strengthen its security: Belarus and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK).

With the DPRK, Russia has a classic bilateral alliance that envisions military assistance if one of the parties finds itself at war with a third state. Historically, this alliance dates to the Red Army’s liberation of northern Korea at the end of World War II, and to Soviet aid to Pyongyang during the Korean War. From the very beginning of the Special Military Operation (SMO) in Ukraine, Pyongyang supported Moscow, sending troops in 2024-2025 to help repel the Ukrainian invasion of Kursk Oblast. Under 2024’s Treaty on Comprehensive Strategic Partnership, Russia has similar obligations to the DPRK and provides various assistance to it.

The Russian-Belarusian alliance, on the contrary, is something unique: it is realized within the sui generis Union State, and it features a nuclear dimension.

These characteristics warrant special consideration.

 

The Union State

The Union State, formalized in 1999 by a treaty signed eight years to the day after the Belovezhya Accords, was conceived as a close-knit confederation of Russia and Belarus, and also as a political model and legal framework for reintegrating other former Soviet republics. The agreement provided for a single economic space, a single currency, and a common parliament and cabinet. But this did not happen, and Russian-Belarusian relations developed along interstate lines. That which was meant to be unified instead became common, joint, or coordinated. The Union State never acquired international legal agency, instead becoming a union of states.

It is, nevertheless, an exceptional phenomenon in the post-Soviet space. Belarus quickly (from 1994) managed to reject the ultranationalist path that was chosen by many other republics, the path of building an independent state defined in opposition to Russia. Belarus did not discard the rich historical heritage that it shares with Russia but did establish its own state ideology, as well as a national identity that coexists with—neither opposing nor dissolving into—the Russian one.

Modern Belarusian statehood has developed and crystallized within the framework of friendly and increasingly close relations with Russia. Politically, as Moscow’s closest partner, Minsk is very sensitive regarding its sovereignty. Economically, it benefits enormously from the common market with Russia. Despite the huge differences in size, population, and economic and military capabilities, Belarus and Russia exemplify equal and mutually beneficial relations between neighbors.

Belarus, positioning itself as a European country, strives to maintain contact with the West wherever possible, notwithstanding long-term European and American sanctions. (In 2025, the U.S. lifted sanctions on Belaruskali and Belavia—although the practical effect for Belavia is limited by the continuation of EU sanctions—and the Belarusian government released and deported several groups of people convicted of crimes against the state.) For many years, the Minsk Dialogue facilitated such contacts. After the Maidan in Kiev, the Russian Spring in Crimea, and the start of civil war in the Donbass, Minsk hosted negotiations between the belligerents, leading to the Minsk Accords on a ceasefire and political settlement.

After an attempted Western-backed color revolution in Belarus in 2020, Minsk amended (but did not eliminate) the multi-vector nature of its foreign policy, and now seeks additional partners to the East. Since 2024, Belarus has been a full member of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO). China is its second most important strategic partner after Russia. Minsk is also developing ties with the Arab monarchies and Iran. Since 2023, Minsk has hosted annual international conferences on Eurasian security. In 2024, the foreign ministers of Russia and Belarus, Sergei Lavrov and Maxim Ryzhenkov, jointly proposed a set of ideas for a Eurasian Security Charter.

Belarus is not directly involved in the SMO, but Russian troops did operate from its territory at the beginning. Minsk does not officially recognize territorial changes in the former Soviet space, be they in Abkhazia, South Ossetia, Crimea, Donbass, or Novorossiya. Although, in 2022, Belarus voted against the UNGA resolution condemning the referendums on incorporating the Donetsk, Lugansk, Zaporozhye, and Kherson regions into Russia. Belarus performs some intermediary functions via Ukraine’s embassy in Minsk: in 2022, it hosted the first rounds of direct Russian-Ukrainian negotiations. POW exchanges between Russia and Ukraine also take place mainly on the Belarusian-Ukrainian border.

NATO’s proxy war against Russia in Ukraine has important implications for Belarus as Russia’s ally.

Poland is rapidly militarizing and it hosts a U.S. brigade; a German Bundeswehr brigade is stationed in neighboring Lithuania; officials and others in NATO countries are making threats against Russia’s Kaliningrad region. All this requires Russia and Belarus to strengthen their military alliance.

 

More Than a Military Alliance

Belarus lies astride Central-Eastern Europe’s main geostrategic axis between Berlin and Moscow. Numerous Russian-Polish wars, Charles XII’s campaign, Napoleon’s invasion, and both World Wars proved Belarus to be Russia’s most important line of defense.

This is equally true today, as Belarus is bordered by NATO members Poland, Lithuania, and Latvia to the north and west, and by Ukraine to the south. For its part, Russia serves as Belarus’s political and military ally, its most important economic partner, its strategic rear, and the guarantor of its sovereignty and independent development.

Belarus and Russia form a united line of defense. The indivisibility of their common security space means that Russia considers any attack on Belarus to also be an attack on Russia. Indeed, Moscow would be directly threatened by any invasion of Belarus and by any Western political aggression that forces ‘regime change’ upon Belarus. Hence President Putin sent Russian security forces to Belarus’s border during its political crisis in 2020: pro-Western forces’ rise to power in Minsk was absolutely unacceptable for Moscow.

The Belarusian-Russian military alliance has a solid foundation: a shared civilization; linguistic similarity; the ubiquitous use in Belarus of the Russian language (which Belarusians consider their own); similar though not identical cultures and worldviews; common traditions and Orthodox faith for majorities in both countries. For two hundred years (1793-1991), Belarusians and Russians lived in one state. Importantly, Belarus’s western regions, incorporated in 1939, were never a stronghold of nationalism like those of Ukraine are.

Memory of the Great Patriotic War is deeply embedded in the consciousness of both Russians and Belarusians. The Museum of the Great Patriotic War in Minsk and the war memorial in Khatyn tell of Belarus’s enormous loss of life: a third of its population. The Red Army’s liberation of Minsk on 3 July 1944 has been celebrated since 1996 as Independence Day. This distinguishes Belarus from all other former Soviet republics, where the main state holiday celebrates the proclamation of independence (de facto from Russia).

Belarusians value peace above all. But they understand that their sovereignty, independence, and security can only be guaranteed by friendly, allied, and equal relations with Russia.

Anything else would inevitably turn Belarus into a target for Western interference and an arena for the West’s struggle against Russia, as in the clear and tragic cases of Georgia and Ukraine.

The Russian and Belarusian economies are closely interconnected: since Soviet times, Belarus has been the ‘assembly shop’ of the machine-building industry. The Belarusian and Russian military-industrial complexes are well-integrated. For example, the Minsk Wheeled Tractor Plant supplies Russia with the special chassis for the launchers of its Topol-M and Yars ICBMs, Iskander short-range ballistic missiles, Bastion and Bal coastal missiles, Uragan rockets, S-400 anti-air missiles, etc.

The strategic cultures of Russia and Belarus have common roots. The USSR’s Belarusian Military District, one of the most powerful in the Soviet military, formed the basis of the Belarusian Armed Forces. The defense policy and military thought of Russia and Belarus are based on a similar vision and common principles. The Union State’s first military doctrine was adopted in 2001, and the most recent in 2021.

Communication between Russian and Belarusian leaders is exceptionally frequent and trusting. Top officials of the Defense Ministry, Foreign Ministry, and security agencies meet regularly. A regional group of forces has been active since the 1990s. The two countries regularly hold joint exercises, of which the largest and best known is Zapad.

The Russian-Belarusian military alliance is entirely defensive in nature. Since independence, Belarus has strictly limited its army’s foreign deployment. Its 1992 military doctrine provided for deployment only within UN peacekeeping operations. When ratifying the CIS Charter in January 1994, Belarus added stipulations that its forces could be deployed to other members’ territory, and other members’ forces deployed to its territory, only with the approval of the Belarusian parliament.

This provision was later reconceptualized. Belarus’s Constitution, after amendment approved by a referendum on 27 February 2022, states that “the Republic of Belarus precludes military aggression from its territory against other states” (Constitution, 2022, Art. 18). Current Belarusian legislation (Law on the Armed Forces) prescribes procedures for the armed forces’ participation in collective security operations and international peacekeeping. In January 2022, a Belarusian military contingent took part in the CSTO’s peacekeeping operation in Kazakhstan.

Initially, there were no Russian military bases in independent Belarus. In 1992, the Belarusian Military District, in its entirety, transformed into the Belarusian Armed Forces. Russia retained only strategic nuclear weapons (soon removed from Belarus), the Vileyka naval communications center, and the Volga early warning station in Baranovichi. Russian proposals for an air base in Belarus, made in the later 2010s, were rejected.

But the military-political situation’s sharp deterioration in the early 2020s, due to the Ukraine crisis, prompted Belarus and Russia to strengthen their joint defense, including through its endowment with an expressly nuclear dimension.

 

The Alliance’s Nuclear Dimension

Belarus is a non-nuclear state party to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). Belarus’s aspirations to become a nuclear-weapons-free zone and a neutral state were formalized constitutionally in August 1991. At the time of the Soviet Union’s breakup, Belarus hosted strategic nuclear forces totaling about 180 formations, units, and institutions with a combined strength of about 40,000 personnel and 1,120 nuclear warheads (Maltsev, 2003, p. 80).

Under the Agreement on Joint Measures on Nuclear Weapons, signed on 21 December 1991 in Almaty, Belarus, Kazakhstan, and Ukraine pledged to join the NPT as non-nuclear states and to transfer Soviet tactical nuclear weapons to Russia. In May 1992, Belarus became a party to the Soviet-American Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START I) by signing its ‘Lisbon Protocol.’ Since 1992, Belarus also participated in the 1987 Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty. In July 1993, Minsk joined the NPT as a non-nuclear state. In November 1996, the last RS-12M Topol ICBM was removed from Belarus to Russia. In the 1990s, Belarus promoted a nuclear-weapons-free zone in Central and Eastern Europe.

The situation changed after the outbreak of the Ukraine crisis. Back in late 2021, Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko said he was considering stationing Russian nuclear weapons in the country in response to possible actions by NATO, specifically the deployment of U.S. nuclear weapons in Poland. He repeated this warning shortly before the start of the SMO. The 27 February 2022 referendum removed the Constitution’s provisions for Belarus’s neutral and nuclear-weapons-free status.

Russia has been prompted to strengthen its nuclear deterrence by the further escalation of the military confrontation in Ukraine, by NATO’s plans to turn Poland into a leading military force, by the return of U.S. tactical nuclear weapons to the UK after a 20-year hiatus, by French statements about possibly extending their nuclear umbrella to Poland, and by discussions (including in Germany) of “European nuclear deterrence” based on the French and British arsenals.

As part of this deterrence, Russia deployed non-strategic nuclear weapons (NSNWs) in Belarus, as announced by President Putin in March 2023. According to official data, by the beginning of 2024, two Russian Iskander-M battalions—with a 480 km range, reaching almost all of the Baltics, Poland, and Ukraine—had been deployed. Russia also helped convert Belarusian Su-25 aircraft to carry the (nuclear-warhead-capable) Kinzhal hypersonic missiles.

This was Russia’s first foreign deployment of nuclear weapons since the USSR’s collapse. But it differs from Soviet deployments in Eastern Europe and (in 1962) Cuba in that Belarus participates in nuclear planning and has nuclear delivery vehicles (though their use still requires Russian approval). In May 2023, the Russian and Belarusian defense ministers, Sergei Shoigu and Victor Khrenin, signed the documents regulating the deployment.

This situation resembles that of NATO, which presents itself as a nuclear alliance. However, the Union State is much more than a military alliance of individual states.

The security of the Union State as a whole, and of Belarus in particular, is more important to Russia than Atlantic solidarity and distant European states are to the U.S. Russian and Belarusian security is inextricably linked not only by treaties, but physically and organically.

By the middle of 2023, facilities for the maintenance and secure storage of nuclear weapons had been built in Belarus, and the first weapons arrived shortly thereafter. In 2024, the Belarusian military was trained in the use of NSNWs. In 2025, Belarus selected and prepared sites for stationing Russia’s intermediate-range nuclear-warhead-capable Oreshnik missile. Yet Belarusian officials emphasized that these measures were purely defensive (Belta, 2026). Two S-400 battalions were also stationed in Belarus in response to NATO’s actions (RBK, 2023; RIA Novosti, 2023).

In sum, Russia’s deployment of NSNWs in Belarus is one of its most important steps, since the start of the SMO, to reinforce its nuclear deterrence.

In the middle of 2024, the Russian General Staff supervised an exercise involving Iskander missiles and Kinzhal-armed Su-25s to practice the use of NSNWs. The Belarusian military joined in at the second and third stages of the drills to practice joint planning and the coordinated use of nuclear weapons.

 

Doctrinal Innovations

Shortcomings in Russia’s concept of nuclear deterrence, which became obvious during the conflict in Ukraine, prompted President Putin in November 2024 to amend the nuclear doctrine. In the “Fundamentals of State Policy of the Russian Federation on Nuclear Deterrence,” Moscow for the first time declared its determination to defend Belarus with nuclear weapons if necessary (Fundamentals, 2024, Art. 18). The new doctrine provides for nuclear weapons’ use not only in response to an adversary’s use of nuclear weapons or other WMDs, but also in the event of conventional aggression against the Union State that critically threatens its members.

The indivisibility of Russian and Belarusian security has also been declared in the “Security Concept of the Union State” (December 2024) and the Treaty on Security Guarantees Within the Framework of the Union State (active since March 2025). The latter calls for the parties’ enhanced joint protection of sovereignty, independence, and constitutional order—referencing foreign-backed pro-Western forces’ thwarted color revolution in Belarus in 2020.

Article 6 of the Treaty terms nuclear weapons an important factor in preventing military conflicts, including nuclear ones, “as well as a means of deterrence, the use of which is an extreme and forced measure.” The Treaty replicates the Russian nuclear doctrine’s nuclear guarantees to Belarus, thereby creating a legal basis for the deployment of Russian military bases and NSNWs in Belarus. In addition, by stipulating that Russian nuclear weapons deployed to Belarus will be used by agreement between the parties, the Treaty provides for Belarusian participation in Russian nuclear planning and the general implementation of Moscow’s nuclear policy.

Thus, doctrinal amendments and bilateral treaties have legalized the practice (effective since 2023) of deploying Russian nuclear weapons in Belarus. Close cooperation with Belarus has, for the first time in the post-Soviet period, extended Russia’s nuclear deterrence to another state—doctrinally, legally, and operationally. This also constitutes a major shift in Russia’s geopolitical and nuclear deterrence.

Any military aggression against Belarus will inevitably lead to Russia’s military response, which under certain conditions may involve nuclear weapons. Belarus can rely on Russian nuclear protection with more confidence than Western allies can count on U.S. nuclear protection, which is not even mentioned in their treaties of alliance.

 

Nuclear Energy

The Russian-Belarusian alliance’s nuclear dimension also includes cooperation in nuclear power. One of Russia’s largest investment projects in Belarus has been the construction of the “Belarus” nuclear power plant in Ostrovets, Grodno Oblast. Today, nuclear energy supports Belarusian energy security and technological-industrial development. Yet the road to this point was not easy.

From the late 1960s to the early 1980s, the Soviet government considered various plans for a nuclear power plant in Belarus, but did not implement them for various reasons. The 1986 Chernobyl accident, which did the greatest damage to Belarus’s southern regions, sharply worsened Belarusian attitudes toward nuclear energy, freezing nuclear plant plans for decades.

It was not until the mid-2000s that Minsk, driven by the Belarusian economy’s demand for energy and by the situation on the international energy market, decided to build a nuclear power plant with Russian help. In 2007, President Lukashenko signed a decree greenlighting the project. The relevant intergovernmental agreement was signed in March 2011. Russia provided Belarus with a $10 billion loan to finance the construction.

The nuclear power plant was designed and built by Russia’s Rosatom, which chose a standard Generation III+ reactor for the project. Its two units became commercially operational in mid-2021 and late 2023. With a total capacity of 2,400 megawatts, they can meet about 40% of the country’s electricity needs, making Belarus a world leader in nuclear energy’s share of electricity generation.

The nuclear sector has supported economic growth and technological development. In September 2025, Belarus decided to build a second nuclear power plant with Russia’s support and assistance. Thus, the Union State is strengthening its nuclear dimension, not only militarily but also in terms of civilian energy.

 

*  *  *

Nuclear cooperation between Russia and Belarus attests to their deepening integration. Russia’s nuclear guarantees reinforce not only the Union State’s military alliance but the Union State itself. The parties’ security becomes truly unified, foreign policy planning and implementation are coordinated, and economic cooperation proceeds within an increasingly unified economic space.

By coalescing, the Union State is becoming more than a union of states. This places higher demands on Russians and Belarusians, requiring deeper mutual understanding, the harmonization of national interests, the development of common positions, and the implementation of agreed plans. For the outside world, this alliance of differently sized neighbors contributes to a new equality-based order, which may be particularly valuable for Eurasia’s security architecture.

The deployment of Russian nuclear weapons in Belarus is not just a response to the escalating Ukraine crisis. It is the first implementation of Russia’s expanded deterrence, and grants a nuclear dimension to the Union State, increasing the cohesion of its common security space.

Significantly, the Union State’s transformation into a nuclear alliance is a step towards international agency.

Moscow and Minsk need the closer and deeper coordination of foreign and defense policy, given the military and political instability in Western Eurasia, and especially given the Ukraine crisis, which is unlikely to end after an agreement is signed and ceasefire implemented. Ukraine will long trouble Russian and Belarusian security as a source of instability and threats. As previous forms of allied relations become increasingly irrelevant in the new international reality, Belarusian-Russian integration can serve as a unique model of close and flexible interaction that does not compromise sovereignty.

This research was supported by the RF Ministry of Science and Higher Education, Agreement #075-15-2025-680 as of 21 August 2025.

The New Great Wall: The Logic of China’s Foreign Policy Behavior

1 April 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Kashin, V.B., Smirnova, V.A., and Yankova, A.D., 2026. The New Great Wall: The Logic of China’s Foreign Policy Behavior. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(2), pp. 79–95. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-2-79-95

 

In the early 2020s, China commenced a series of mobilization measures that, in consistency and scale, have no precedent since the early 1970s, and in some ways since the Soviet Union’s preparations for World War II. In Chinese literature, they are explicitly compared with major mobilization programs undertaken when China was preparing for a war with the USSR in the 1960s and 1970s, specifically with Third Front Construction.[1]

These measures are not noticeable but are an important component of the general trend towards total securitization of all aspects of Chinese policy (even, e.g., culture and ecology) per Xi Jinping’s Holistic Security Concept.[2]

The measures’ extreme cost indicates that, although the Chinese leadership advances optimistic conceptions like the Community of Common Destiny for Mankind and a “universally beneficial, inclusive economic globalization,” the leadership actually adheres to an extremely bleak outlook for the world in the 21st century. It is preparing—at the very least—for a severe military and political crisis, including the disruption of all normal economic ties and a slide to the brink of war. At worst, it is preparing for even more nightmarish scenarios.

This worldview likely yields China’s paradoxical behavior in the international arena, where clear claims to superpower status and visions of global scope are accompanied by passivity—essentially cowardice—in the face of unilateral U.S. actions.

If preparing for the apocalypse, such behavior is entirely reasonable. If the world is ruled by force, one must prepare for the worst and avoid risks until completely ready for the main battle. According to this logic, Nicolas Maduro’s fate, and even the Islamic Republic’s survival in Iran, are not important enough to disrupt preparations for the decisive conflict.

Such conclusions are prompted by various documented actions of the Chinese government, including:

  • a program for relocating strategic industry inland to create a ‘strategic hinterland’ there;
  • major civil defense and urban infrastructure resilience projects, including on the basis of lessons from Russia’s Special Military Operation;
  • measures to strengthen the resilience of the national energy system;
  • improvement of national legislation to clarify the terms of military service and provide timely support for families of fallen soldiers and law enforcement officers;
  • the urgent build-up of food and raw material reserves.

Notably, these mobilization measures differ from buildup of the military itself, in that they bring few political dividends outside a full-scale war.

Building up the armed forces brings tangible foreign policy benefits but does not necessarily indicate a willingness to actually fight. Things like new aircraft carriers, fighters, and missiles can impress both foreign and domestic audiences, expand the country’s options for protecting its international interests, and permit impressive local military operations.

Mobilization programs, on the contrary, are useful only during major wars or disasters. They are expensive and tend to irritate or even scare people in peacetime. Mobilization readiness can strengthen strategic stability, but strategic offensive weapons are more important for that.

Therefore, mobilization policy is the most reliable indicator of a state’s strategic plans and intentions.

China’s measures do not necessarily indicate an intention to initiate a large-scale military conflict, but they certainly indicate that the Chinese leadership considers such a conflict very likely and perhaps unavoidable, sometime in the late 2020s or early 2030s. It would seem that the scenarios under consideration range from severe sanctions and naval blockade to a major war with missile strikes on Chinese cities.

Preparations for such an extreme scenario seem central to China’s planning of military—as well as foreign and domestic—policy. And these preparations are taking place alongside an accelerated buildup of strategic nuclear forces and hardened command posts.

Simultaneously, in 2023, China conducted purges of its armed forces, foreign policy staff, and mobilization structures: the Ministry of Emergency Management, the State Grain Reserve Bureau, the China Grain Reserves Corporation (now China Grain Reserves Group), etc.

Some of these moves followed inspections of the inventory and condition of mobilization infrastructure. For instance, senior officials of the Chinese Grain Reserves Corporation were prosecuted.

The army’s reshuffle may be similar to the major purges carried out by the great powers before World War II. A classic example is the major purge of the U.S. Army in September 1939,[3] undertaken by President Franklin Roosevelt and Army Chief of Staff George Marshall to bring the top army command in line with the needs of a major war. However, comparisons to Stalin’s Great Purge of 1937-1938 would clearly be an exaggeration: as far as is known, the vast majority of Chinese party disciplinary inquiries never reach court, ending with expulsion from the party, dismissal from the service, demotion, or other soft measures.

 

Relocation of Production Facilities: a Strategic Hinterland, Industrial Backup Bases, and Support Zones

The term ‘strategic hinterland’ (战略腹地)[4] was brought into official use by President Xi Jinping during an inspection trip to Sichuan Province in July 2023. Xi noted that the province is a “strategic hinterland,” as it has a “unique and important position in national development and in the Great Western Development Strategy.” This status imposes a whole range of obligations on the province, such as ensuring production, supply-chain, energy, and food security (Xinhua, 2023a). The Sichuan and Chongqing regions have essentially been tasked with building a national strategic reserve of resources and industry.

Xi also termed the Guangxi region a ‘strategic hinterland’ during an inspection trip there in December 2023, emphasizing its role in supporting the development of the Guangdong–Hong-Kong–Macao Greater Bay Area (Xinhua, 2023b). So, a ‘strategic hinterland’ is a territory that acts as a ‘rear area’ and resource base for a large industrial-technological macroregion, and, more broadly, for the whole country.

Speaking at the Central Economic Work Conference in December 2023, Xi stressed the need “to improve the distribution of major productive forces and strengthen the construction of the national strategic hinterland” (Xinhua, 2023c) linking this to the regional coordination agenda. This task was fixed in a March 2024 report on the work of the government, which called for updating plans for the functional zoning of the country (Xinhua, 2024a).

In subsequent documents, ‘strategic hinterland’ was linked more tightly to industrial security. The Third Plenary Session of the CCP’s 20th Central Committee, held on 18 July 2024, adopted the resolution “On Further Comprehensive Deepening of Reform and Chinese Modernization,” which for the first time mentioned the need to “build a national strategic hinterland and backup capacity for key industries” (Xinhua, 2024b). This phrase, which has become a fixed expression, meant enhancing the security of production and distribution chains, creating a risk-assessment and -prevention system, transferring key industry deep inside the country to ensure its resilience, and developing national resource reserves. Key industries include integrated circuits, medical equipment, industrial equipment and machine tools, basic and industrial software, and advanced materials (Ibid).

The Third Plenary Session’s resolution also spurred discussion in the Chinese academic community about the meaning of ‘strategic hinterland.’ Interestingly, it focused on comparisons with the Third Line construction program of the 1960s-1970s—a large-scale inland relocation of defense and other industries.

The modern strategy is seen as departing from the solely defensive Third Line, in that it seeks to integrate security with high-quality development. Reserves should be “living” and serve as centers of growth for “new quality productive forces.” In peacetime, they are to generate innovations and fully participate in market competition.

Nevertheless, despite the emphasis on economic efficiency, the academic discussion of the ‘strategic hinterland’ clearly reveals its role as a rear area in the military sense. Sichuan is described as a “deep strategic rear area for national security” (国家战略安全大后方).[5]

Plans for developing the strategic hinterland envision: First, enhancing key production lines’ ability to quickly switch from peacetime to emergency operation (平急转换) (Qingping and Rui, 2024). Second, developing strategic corridors—including the Yangtze Golden Waterway, the New Land-Sea Trade Corridor, and routes to Central Asia and Europe—so as to integrate China’s interior regions into national and trans-Eurasian transport networks (Shuwei, Xiumin, and Jincheng, 2024). Third, creating energy and resource reserves in the strategic hinterland, including infrastructure for storing and processing coal, oil, natural gas, lithium, and rare earth metals (Jianxun and Danning, 2024).

In addition to the strategic hinterland (Sichuan and Chongqing regions), Chinese mobilization plans mention the creation of ‘industrial backup bases,’ most often in reference to Guizhou Province, where energy resources, minerals, big data, and key equipment are to be stored. Reports on the work of the provincial government describe Guizhou as a “nationally-significant reserve industrial base” (全国重要的产业备份基地) (NPCCS, 2025).

The 15th Five-Year Plan extended the list of reserve bases and the ‘support areas’ that are intended to ensure the operation of industry in the strategic core. There are signs of competition between Chinese regions, including the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region and Heilongjiang Province (both bordering Russia) (Proposals, 2025; Report, 2025)—for participation in such programs.

Thus, only the wealthiest coastal provinces of Eastern China are excluded from the programs, although some local leaders seek a role in them anyway. For instance, in 2024, the Chairman of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference of Huai’an (in the coastal Jiangsu Province) suggested including the city plans for building a “national strategic hinterland” (The Paper, 2025).

 

Improving the Material Reserves Management System

One of the Chinese government’s key priorities is to reorganize and streamline the strategic reserves management system. Several laws have been adopted to this end. The National Food Security Law entered into force on 1 June 2024, the Energy Law on 1 January 2025, and the Mineral Resources Law on 1 July 2025.

Based on the conclusions drawn by the country’s leadership amid the COVID-19 pandemic, the emergency response system was reorganized during the 14th Five-Year Plan period (PRCSC, 2022a). The key goal was to form a stable multi-level management model, under which central authorities are responsible for strategic planning, interregional coordination, and operation of the unified digital platform, while regions are in charge of operationally deploying resources and implementing plans on the ground. This work involves creating professional emergency rescue teams, establishing standard command posts, and unifying response measures depending on the type and level of emergency.

As part of the emergency supply system’s reform, a network of backup storage facilities has been created, with five tiers: national/central, provincial, city, county, and township (Notice, 2023). Government reserves are supplemented by private ones, as companies store reserves in their own warehouses, commit to providing capacity for emergency production, and conclude advance contracts for supply in an emergency.

On 7 January 2026, China’s National Development and Reform Commission published a draft Law on the Security of State Reserves (Draft, 2026.) Currently, there is no single basic and comprehensive law to regulate the management of all types of reserves. Work on the new law began in 2023. Its key goal is to increase the state reserves’ capability to ensure national security. The draft law has nine sections and 60 articles that regulate the planning, receipt, storage, and use of material reserves, as well as the management of associated infrastructure. It also defines state reserves as resources stored for the needs of national development and security: grain, other key agricultural products, agricultural inputs, energy resources, minerals, critical equipment and components, and emergency supplies. It also states that the reserve system consists not only of the stockpiles of materials, but also of the capacity to rapidly increase their extraction/production in an emergency.

 

Accelerated Technological Development of the Mobilization System

Chinese provinces and cities are implementing accelerated infrastructure development programs for mobilization of the economy and ‘people’s air defense’[6] on a modern technological basis.

Some Chinese articles on infrastructure resilience enhancement refer directly to Russia’s Special Military Operation. They call for improving civil defense and warning systems, for increasing integrated urban security (shelters, evacuation routes, etc.) (Importance…, 2022), and for ‘hardening’ critical economic facilities (On Protection…, 2022). One of the few publicly available documents on the development of people’s air defense is Chongqing’s plan for the 14th five-year period. It envisages a four-level protection system: ‘protection of the core’ (preservation of critical government functions and administration), ‘protection of life’ (shelters and life support for the population, integrated with medical care and evacuation), ‘protection of capabilities’ (preservation of the economic and military-industrial base), and ‘protection of operation’ (continuous operation of critical infrastructure) (Plan, 2021).

The new civil defense system’s most important feature is the creation of flexible control systems capable of instantly converting civilian infrastructure to military or emergency needs.

Such programs have already been implemented in several Chinese provinces. Chongqing is building a three-level control system capable of quickly switching to emergency response mode. It is based on the emergency command communication system, which ensures communication, even in the event of partial infrastructural damage, by employing backup channels and redundant critical nodes (Plan, 2024).

Another area of work is the development of dual-use public infrastructure (平急两用). Key public facilities—stadiums, exhibition centers, large cultural and educational institutions, as well as hotels and industrial complexes—are now designed with the ability to quickly become hospitals, temporary accommodations, or aid distribution centers (Guidelines, 2024).

 

Adaptation of Legislation for Large-Scale Conflict

In 2024-2025, China adopted several regulations for commemorating fallen soldiers and law enforcement officers, and for supporting their families. The system is meant to respond faster to information about fatalities in the line of duty.

In 2024, the State Council issued a new version of the Regulations on Perpetuating the Memory of Fallen Heroes (Resolution 791) (Xinhua, 2024c) which clarifies the criteria and procedures for recognizing the right to benefits, thereby strengthening financial guarantees for families, as well as the maintenance and protection of memorials. In a major change, the Ministry of Veterans’ Affairs was authorized to review decisions on the (non-)recognition of people as fallen heroes.

In 2025, the Measures for Recognizing Fallen Heroes were adopted to clarify the entire system’s operation. The document (5 sections, 40 articles) establishes unified standards and procedures for granting Notices of Recognition as a Fallen Hero. It defines recognition criteria, procedural mechanisms, and special provisions for wartime and emergency situations (Measures, 2025).

The procedure is structured bottom-up within the administrative hierarchy. A county-level Veterans’ Affairs authority can initiate the process for several reasons. Requests can also be submitted by the employer or relatives of the deceased, or by persons/organizations present at the incident. The county-level VA conducts an initial inquiry and, if there are grounds, submits a report to the county government for approval, after which it goes to the prefecture and finally provincial levels. The standards of investigation explicitly state the need to establish the cause, course, and outcome of the event, the deceased’s behavior, factual details of the incident, and civic significance. The total review period should not exceed 30 business days.

Soldiers’ and firefighters’ cases are supervised by the Political Work Department of the Central Military Commission and the Ministry of Emergency Management, respectively. Review is mandatory: the provincial authorities, the military, and the Ministry of Emergency Management report on a monthly basis to the Ministry of Veterans’ Affairs—which, in turn, verifies facts, confirms adherence to procedures, and announces results quarterly.

These regulations give no instructions to prepare for mass casualties, but their logic—centralization, unification, strict deadlines (monthly submission and quarterly feedback), and review by the national Ministry of Veterans’ Affairs—creates a mechanism for the mass processing of applications. In a major conflict or emergency, this architecture can handle a significant flow of cases systematically and without any bureaucratic disruption.

 

Building Up Reserves of Food and Other Strategically Important Materials

In the early 2020s, China rapidly tightened food security requirements for the agro-industrial complex and local authorities. The government is taking a range of costly measures to strengthen the country’s self-sufficiency in terms of basic foodstuffs, seeds, and agricultural machinery.

China intends to significantly increase its food production and storage capabilities. To this end, it has prioritized the protection of arable lands, stable production of grain crops, and management of national reserves. To put things in order, China adopted the National Food Security Law in 2023, the first regulatory act covering the entire food security system from top to bottom (PRCSC, 2023).

China has a multi-level system for accumulating and redistributing strategic reserves of food and fertilizers, and detailed regulations for activating these strategic reserves in an emergency. The country’s grain reserves are said to be at their historical maximum (NFSRA, 2025). Grain storage infrastructure is also steadily being expanded and modernized.

Some of the new measures are clearly at odds with China’s well-known long-term policy priorities, testifying to their extraordinary character. These measures include: a ban since 2022 on converting farmland to forest (PRCSC, 2022b); the cutting-down of some forests previously planted under state programs; and directives issued since 2023, by the National Development and Reform Commission, to reduce the length of time that soil lies fallow and to increase fertilizer production (NDRC, 2023; 2024; 2025). Fertilizer manufacturers appear to face weaker greenhouse-gas constraints than other industries.

The government is also taking measures to accelerate import substitution for high-tech agricultural machinery and seeds. In 2022, China set the goal of becoming an ‘agricultural powerhouse.’ This includes: the production of critical components for agricultural machinery (PRCSC, 2024); the achievement of 32% digitalization in agriculture by 2028 (PRCMoA, 2024); and a technological breakthrough in seed production (PRCMoA, 2021). GMO regulations, a sensitive issue stalled since the 1990s, were eased in 2022 (PRCMoA, 2023),

All this indicates that China is preparing for a major disruption of global food trade—and possibly a blockade—within the next few years.

Similar trends apply to other strategic reserves. By 2024, China’s crude oil storage capacity had exceeded 1.8 billion barrels, 130% of U.S. capacity (Collins, 2024). Although China had decided to gradually reduce coal consumption after 2026, there has been no significant progress in decommissioning coal mining enterprises. Some of the closed mines are maintained in a state of technical readiness and rewarded for keeping their capacities available (CREA, 2025). China is also building up strategic reserves of metals such as copper, aluminum, zinc, and cobalt. For some metals, visible market demand exceeds actual industrial need, indicating the accumulation of stockpiles (Wischer, G.D., 2024).

Prospecting has also been intensified, especially in the west. For instance, three deep deposits, with over 500 billion cubic meters of coalbed methane, have been discovered in the Ordos Basin (Inner Mongolia, Gansu, Shaanxi). A lithium ore belt, spanning about 3,000 km from the Jiajika deposit in Sichuan to Altyn-Tagh in Xinjiang, has an estimated capacity of 20-30 million tons (Xinhua, 2025).

 

*  *  *

China’s government is quietly but quickly turning it into an impregnable fortress, which, when completed, should have some resilience even to full-scale nuclear conflict. To achieve this goal, the Chinese government spares no expense: mobilization takes priority in urban planning, energy, agriculture, and high-tech industry. The expansion of China’s nuclear deterrent is also reducing the chance of war directly touching the Chinese mainland at all.

Chinese foreign policy is probably tied tightly to certain unknown indicators of resilience. Once these are achieved—with the completion of this new Great Wall of underground bunkers, factories hidden in the mountains, and nuclear missiles—China will not necessarily switch to an active and offensive foreign policy. This is certainly possible, but not predetermined.

There are certainly some issues that China views as its core interests: Taiwan, territorial disputes in the South China and East China Seas, and regional security in the western Pacific as a whole. China is already pursuing an active and offensive policy in these spheres, including through the use of military force. But these are regional issues.

At the global level, China is likely to try (not necessarily successfully) to continue a restrained and cautious policy: the phenomenal level of resilience that it has achieved will allow it to choose the time and scale of its participation in world affairs.

The Crimean War and Russia’s Relations with European Powers

1 April 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Taki, V., 2026. The Crimean War and Russia’s Relations with European Powers. Russia in Global Affairs, 24(2), pp. 174–200. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-2-174-200

 

The Crimean War occupies a very special place in the historical memory of Russian society, as well as in public discussions of international relations and foreign policy. This war was far from Russia’s first—and certainly not its last—defeat, yet it was in some ways the most painful of all. This defeat was the outcome of a clash with a West European coalition, against which Russia found itself completely without allies. Contemporary Russian observers perceived the Crimean War as they did Napoleon’s 1812 campaign, i.e., as Russia’s conflict with a ‘united’ Europe, with the important difference that, this time, Russia lost.[1] Thus, the defeat in Crimea became an important topic for successive generations of both Slavophiles and Westernizers. For the former, the Crimean War confirmed the West’s inexorable hostility towards Russia, as well as the cynicism and duplicity of European politicians. For the latter, it served as an illustration of the consequences of Russian backwardness and inertia—those supposedly constant companions of Russian authoritarianism—and the inevitable outcome of any attempts by Russia to bypass the main track of European historical development and find its own “special path.”

In light of such polar and equally flawed interpretations of the Crimean War, it is important to emphasize the uniqueness of the situation of 1853–1856. Neither before nor after did Tsarist Russia have to confront a coalition of some great powers without the support of other great powers. The Crimean War thus represents an exceptional moment of crisis in the nearly bicentennial history of Russia’s involvement in the European great-power balance, in that all other Russian successes and defeats in Europe, whether military or diplomatic, took place within the framework of coalitions or alliances.[2] This article reinterprets the Crimean debacle as the product of mistakes by Nicholas I during the 1830s and early 1840s, i.e., at the height of Russia’s integration into the Concert of Europe. After the tsar’s early victory over the Ottoman Empire in 1829, and his decisive intervention into the conflict between Mahmud II and the rebellious Egyptian vassal Muhammed Ali, Nicholas I wrongly concluded that France rather than Britain was Russia’s main adversary in the East. As a result, Nicholas I ignored French interest in a rapprochement with Russia over the Eastern Question, which was expressed by notable French politicians and segments of French public opinion over the first half of the 19th century. This missed historical opportunity had important consequences for both Russia and Europe. It helps explain the tsar’s diplomatic isolation and the formation of the anti-Russian coalition in 1853–1854.

The subsequent clash in Crimea triggered important structural transformations in European politics, and generated new great-power tensions that would ultimately lead to the outbreak of WWI.

 

International Relations in Europe and the Eastern Question

To understand the reasons for the Crimean breakdown in the functioning of the European balance of power and in Russia’s participation in the Concert of Europe, it is necessary to examine the Eastern Question from the perspective of the long-term evolution of international relations in Europe. At first glance, the history of international relations appears to be a history of great events (histoire évènementielle) that are merely the foam on the waves of economic cycles (conjonctures), beneath which lies a seabed of long-term structures and processes (longue durée) (Braudel, 1958). However, upon closer examination, it becomes clear that international relations themselves also contain long-term structures that change little over the centuries. These include both the centennial conflicts between European countries, and the alliances that these conflicts generated (Thompson, 1999).

To the first category belongs the long Anglo-French rivalry, the origins of which can be traced to the dowry of Duchess Eleanor of Aquitaine, the spouse of Louis VII of France and Henry II of England (Devries, 2016; Black, 1999). This dowry formed the core of the Angevin Empire (1154–1224) and was the object of the centuries-long struggle between the English Plantagenets and the French Capetians (and the Valois, who succeeded them) (Aurell, 2003). The famous Hundred Years’ War of 1337–1453 was the culmination of the first stage of the Anglo-French rivalry. After a hiatus of two and a half centuries, marked by occasional conflicts, there followed the “Second Hundred Years’ War,” or a series of almost continuous Anglo-French clashes extending from 1689 to 1815 (Scott, 1992).

Another long-standing element in the structure of European international relations was the conflict between the Valois (and later the Bourbons) and the Habsburgs, which can be seen as an echo of the struggle for the crown of Charlemagne (Simms, 2014, p. 4-5; Rule, 1999). Beginning in the late 15th century and reaching its early climax in the clash between Charles V and Francis I, this struggle continued between their heirs and successors and did not end even with the imperial coronation of Napoleon in 1804 and the subsequent abolition of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation in 1806 (Rodriguez-Salgado, 1990; Anderson, 1998; Schroeder, 1999). Rather, Napoleon’s victories over Austria and Prussia in 1805–1806 transformed the dynastic dispute into a conflict between the French and German nations, which would remain one of the defining factors of European international relations until World War II, and even, in some more subtle sense, to this day (Hensen, 1999; Wawro, 2016).

The long-term alliances born of these centuries-long conflicts proved to be another important element in the long-term structure of European international relations. This applies primarily to the so-called ‘Eastern Barrier,’ which the Valois began to build in response to their strategic encirclement by the Habsburgs (Kudelin and Popova, 2022). Francis I’s cooperation with Suleiman the Magnificent became the first step in creating long-term counterweights to the hegemonic aspirations of Charles V and his successors (Heath, 1989). Subsequently, Sweden and Poland would become elements of the Eastern Barrier alongside the Ottoman Empire (Norrhem, 2019). As a result, the Austrian Habsburgs had to reckon with the possibility of a two-front war. The French system of alliances with peripheral and/or regional powers of Northern, Central, and Southeastern Europe, in turn, contributed to a rapprochement between France’s adversaries and eventually contributed to the long-term Anglo-Austrian cooperation. From the War of the Grand Alliance (1689–1697) onward, and for nearly two centuries, the Anglo-Austrian partnership became a near-constant in European politics, replacing the preceding two-hundred-year alliance of the Austrian Habsburgs with their Spanish cousins. Both partnerships joined the continental (Austrian Habsburg) empire to an Atlantic maritime power (first Spain, then England).

Despite the nearly permanent war of the early modern period, the fundamental contours of European international relations thus remained quite stable and recognizable until the French Revolution and the Long Nineteenth Century that it ushered in.

The European system’s stable elements, which existed for three centuries or even longer, can be described as ‘long-term structures’ that constitute the essence of Braudel’s longue durée. The subsequent Long Nineteenth Century, despite its name, represents a much briefer moment of these structures’ breakdown or radical transformation (Osterhammel, 2014). In a strictly diplomatic and international political sense, this moment of breakdown and transformation is called the Eastern Question (Frary and Kozelsky 2014; Case, 2018; Schumacher, 2023).

The Eastern Question was a consequence of the ostensible weakening of the Ottoman Empire, a key element of the Eastern Barrier, which until the end of the 17th century served France to contain the Austrian Habsburgs and then their important ally, the Russian Empire (Nelipovich, 2010). The weakening of the Ottomans manifested itself during the Ottoman-Habsburg and then Russo-Turkish wars, which provides grounds for considering these wars as a kind of continuum, especially since several overlap chronologically (in 1684–1699, 1737–1739, and 1788–1790) (Whatcroft, 2016; Guskov, et al., 2022; Davies, 2011). In its actions against the Ottomans, Russia not only relied on an alliance with Vienna, but also received some logistical support from London during the crucial war of 1768–1774 (MacDougall, 2022, pp. 102-113; Davies, 2016, pp. 152-154). When the Russian fleet launched its anti-Ottoman expeditions to the Greek Archipelago, their initial success, from the British point of view, served to weaken the Sultan’s French ally—Britain’s main trading competitor in the Levant (Tarle, 1959; Rodzinskaia, 1967).

The first moment of breakdown in the long-standing international political structures, and thus the first stage of the Eastern Question, occurred at the very end of the 18th century, when further weakening of the Ottomans forced both London and Paris to temporarily reconsider their respective policies towards the Tsar and the Sultan. Russian victories over the Ottomans in the late 1780s sparked the so-called “Ochakov Debates” in England, which demonstrated how little remained of London’s self-serving support for Russian actions against the Turks in the Archipelago some two decades previously. On the contrary, a significant portion of the British political elite, led by William Pitt the Younger, began to view Russia as an increasingly important threat to British trade interests in the East (Cunningham, 1964). Although the initial wave of anti-Russian sentiment did not culminate in direct conflict (partly due to the skillful actions of the Russian ambassador to London, Semyon Vorontsov), this episode foreshadowed the anti-Russian thrust of British foreign policy for much of the 19th century (Worontsoff-Dashkoff, 2014).

At the same time, the sharp decline of France’s commercial position in the Levant following the outbreak of the French Revolution (1789) and the Revolutionary Wars (1792/93) produced a fundamental revision of the century-old French policy of alliance with the Sultan, a revision that took the form of Napoleon’s Egyptian expedition (1798). And although both these sharp reversals in the Anglo-Russian and Franco-Ottoman relations proved temporary, they made possible several other, albeit equally temporary, changes in the system of rivalries and alliances that had existed since the early modern period. Thus, in 1798–1800, St. Petersburg and Constantinople for the first time put aside their mutual hostility and concluded an alliance against Revolutionary and early Napoleonic France. This was followed in 1800–1801 by the first attempt to create a Russo-French alliance (Feldbæk, 1982).

Over the next decade and a half, Russo-Ottoman, Franco-Russian, and Anglo-Russian relations went from war to truce, peace, or even alliance, and then back to war. Although the acute phase of this turbulence ended with the final downfall of Napoleon in 1815, a full restoration of the former international political constants did not occur. The continued weakness of the Ottoman Empire, demonstrated by the Greek War of Independence (1821–1830), was a significant factor in the Anglo-Russian and Russian-Austrian tensions that were building up beneath the outward harmony of the Concert of Europe that was established by the Congress of Vienna in 1814–1815. These tensions would eventually make 19th century Anglo-Russian relations akin to the Cold War, and ultimately undermine the long-standing Russian-Austrian alliance (Emerson, 2024).

At the same time, the post-1815 period brought uncertainty in the place of early-modern international political constants such as the Anglo-French struggle and Franco-Ottoman alliance. On the one hand, France’s apparent defeat in the Second Hundred Years’ War would fuel revanchist sentiments. On the other hand, the political evolution of post-Napoleonic France towards a constitutional monarchy would serve as an argument for a rapprochement with its age-old rival. The same contradictions and uncertainty would also characterize France’s post-1815 Eastern policy, where one sees neither the restoration of the traditional alliance with the Sultan, nor the continuation of the 18th century efforts to contain Russia. The memory of Napoleon’s catastrophic 1812 defeat and the incompatibility of Russian autocracy with the French Revolution’s ideological legacy certainly fueled revanchist and anti-Russian sentiments, yet the impossibility of restoring the Eastern Barrier and reestablishing France’s former commercial position in the Levant necessitated a search for alternative solutions, including a rapprochement with Russia for a possible partition of the Ottoman Empire.

Taken together, these developments illustrated the long-term transformation of early modern international political structures, a transformation that began in the late 18th century and continued through the post-Napoleonic period. Despite the apparent stabilization of international relations after 1815, and the absence of wars between European powers over the next four decades, the Eastern Question became a marker of the uncertainty that persisted in the relations between the great powers and the Ottoman Empire, opening the door to a wide range of scenarios. Moreover, the greatest uncertainty during this period characterized France’s foreign policy and its relations with Great Britain, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire. Therefore, to better understand how this uncertainty gave rise to the Crimean War, rather than something radically different, it is necessary to focus further analysis on the French foreign policy debate. Specifically, on the debate between advocates of an alliance with Britain and advocates of rapprochement with Russia in order to realize French goals in the East.

 

Franco-Russian Relations and the Eastern Question

Despite the Russian elite’s early Gallomania and Catherine II’s well-publicized relations with leading figures of the French Enlightenment, Russia and France remained almost invariably rivals during the century preceding the sudden and short-lived alliance of Paul I and Napoleon. Although the two powers found themselves in the same camp during the Seven Years’ War (1756–1763), their relations remained tense due to France’s aforementioned Eastern Barrier, which involved alliance with Sweden, Poland, and the Ottoman Empire. Initially conceived as a counterweight to the Habsburgs in Central Europe, the Eastern Barrier eventually became a tool for Paris to contain the ambitions of Peter the Great’s successors. The latter responded to this containment by collaborating with Vienna and London—France’s traditional adversaries.

The situation changed in the late 18th century, when Britain’s influence over the Ottoman Empire began to eclipse France’s, while Great Britain itself became increasingly worried by Russian successes in the East. The failure of Napoleon’s Egyptian expedition, and Paul I’s disappointment with his Austrian and British partners in the Second Coalition, created the preconditions for a Franco-Russian rapprochement on the Eastern Question based on anti-British sentiment (Schimmelpenninck, 2014). However, as is well known, an aristocratic conspiracy against Paul I, formed with the support of the British ambassador to St. Petersburg, Charles Whitworth, put an end to this first attempt at a Russo-French alliance (Kenney, 1977). A decade later, the same fate befell the alliance between Napoleon and Alexander I, after the commercial interests of the Russian nobility forced the Tsar to end his participation in the Continental Blockade (Lieven, 2010, pp. 102-137). Another chance to create a Franco-Russian condominium in continental Europe was lost in early 1813, following the defeat of the Grande Armée. Then, Alexander I, contrary to Mikhail Kutuzov’s opinion, decided to continue the war until Napoleon’s complete defeat, rather than preserve Napoleon’s regime as a long-term counterweight to Great Britain and Austria (Lieven, 2010, pp. 288-289).

The Franco-Russian alliance materialized only 80 years later, under completely different conditions created by the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–1871 and the unification of Germany around Prussia, as well as by the transformation of Austria-Hungary into a de facto German satellite after the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878 and the Congress of Berlin (Kennan, 1984). Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to ignore the moments of Franco-Russian rapprochement that occurred throughout the 19th century, and particularly in the post-Napoleonic decades (1815–1848). Despite the mutual animosity between Alexander I and Louis XVIII, relations between Russia and France were quite good in the early years of the Restoration, largely due to the former Governor-General of Novorossiya, Duke Armand Emmanuel de Richelieu, who became French Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs in September 1815. On the Russian side, the de facto Minister of Foreign Affairs, Count Ioannis Kapodistrias was the main advocate of cooperation with France (Grimstead, 1969, pp. 226-258).

Russia played a key role in France’s remarkably rapid return to the Concert of Europe as a full member. To this end, St. Petersburg persuaded other European powers to reduce the military occupation of French territory and the indemnity imposed on France after Waterloo. Alexander I and Kapodistrias sought France’s rapid return to the club of great powers in order to create an alternative to Metternich’s legitimism, which in practice meant the restoration of Austrian hegemony in Italy and Germany (Reinerman, 1973). To this end, the Tsar and his Greek minister supported experiments in the spirit of “monarchical constitutionalism” (Prutsch, 2014) in various countries as a way to achieve political compromise between rulers and elites and prevent further revolutionary crises. This pan-European strategy of the Tsar, an alternative to narrow legitimism, explains Russia’s support for the French Constitutional Charter of 1814 and the constitutions of small German states (Bavaria, Baden). It also involved broad autonomy for regional and local elites on the western outskirts of the Russian Empire itself (Finland, Poland, Bessarabia) (Wirtschafter, 2015).

A rapprochement with France also had an impact on Eastern affairs. In particular, it helped contain early Orthodox-Catholic tensions over the Holy Places, tensions that would lead to France’s participation some 35 years later in the anti-Russian coalition during the Crimean War (Hopwood, 1969). When reports of these tensions reached Alexander I at the First Congress of the Holy Alliance in Aachen in November 1818, Kapodistrias instructed the Russian envoy to Constantinople, Baron Grigory Stroganov, to communicate to the Greek Orthodox clergy the Tsar’s displeasure at their excessive claims. Stroganov was to use all means of persuasion at his disposal “to put an end to any errors into which the spirit of factions might lead the Greeks.” The Russian envoy was to work closely with his French counterpart, Rivière, who was expected to exert a similarly pacifying influence on the Catholic clergy. Stroganov and Rivière were to “agree on a method for the coexistence of the two different faiths” (Narochnitskii, 1976, pp. 601-602). At the same time, the Russian ambassador to Paris, Catholic Pozzo di Borgo, conveyed to Richelieu the Tsar’s desire “to prevent any incident that might disturb the long-standing brotherhood of the two faiths” (Taki, 2015, pp. 15-18).

The revolutionary wave of 1820–1821, which culminated in the Greek War of Independence, forced Alexander I to abandon his policy of monarchical constitutionalism and ultimately dismiss Kapodistrias, which, in turn, halted the Russo-French rapprochement. To preserve the Holy Alliance, the Tsar refused to declare war on the Sultan in support of the Greek rebels and, after officially breaking relations with the Porte in July 1821, preferred to work together with Austria and Great Britain on the “pacification of Greece.” However, the initial post-Napoleonic efforts to improve relations with France ultimately proved fruitful: in the final year of his life, Alexander I became convinced of the futility and ineffectiveness of Austro-British mediation on the Greek issue, and his younger brother and successor, Nicholas I, heeded the advice of Stroganov, the former ambassador to Constantinople, to pursue a “strictly national and religious policy” in Eastern affairs (Bitis, 2006, pp. 167-176).

By that time, Richelieu had already died, but so had Louis XVIII. His younger brother and successor, Charles X, was much more open to the idea of ​​active French intervention in the Sultan’s conflict with his Greek subjects. During this period, Paris was interested in a formal or informal agreement with St. Petersburg that would grant Russia free rein in the Danubian Principalities and on the lower Danube, while France would be able to occupy the Morea and seize some of the Sultan’s African possessions (Puryear, 1941, pp. 76-79). Although Nicholas I and Russian Vice-Chancellor Karl Nesselrode did not share Charles X’s interest in dividing the Ottoman Empire, the French government’s position undoubtedly helped Russia declare war on Turkey in April 1828, without fear of the sort of hostile coalition that Great Britain would assemble a quarter of a century later. Ultimately, the Russo-Ottoman War of 1828–1829 played a key role in restoring Russian protectorates over Moldavia and Wallachia, and also contributed, albeit indirectly, to the Porte’s recognition of Greek independence (Bitis, 2006, pp. 274-324; Taki, 2024, pp. 42-67).

Soon, however, the Revolution of 1830 and the overthrow of Charles X again interrupted Russo-French cooperation on the Eastern Question. The final fall of the Bourbons and the establishment of the July Monarchy, which imitated English parliamentarism, was followed by the November Uprising in Poland, the suppression of which triggered a powerful wave of Russophobia in both Great Britain and France (Gleason, 1950; Corbet, 1967, pp. 160-169; Adamovsky, 2006; Tanshina, 2017). The long-term consequence of these events was the ideological division of Europe, pitting the liberal ‘Europe as the Two’ (the English parliamentary and French constitutional monarchies) against the conservative ‘Europe as the Three’ (the absolute monarchies of Prussia and Austria, and autocratic Russia). According to Martin Malia, this ideological confrontation was in many ways decisive for European politics of the 1830s and 1840s (Malia, 1999, pp. 89-102).

Nicholas I’s hostility towards the July Monarchy and his dislike of Louis Philippe are well known (Gonneau, 2018; Vyskochkov, 2003, pp. 361-366). This hostility became fully evident during the Ottoman-Egyptian War of 1832–1833, when the Tsar dispatched the Black Sea Fleet and 10,000 soldiers to the shores of the Bosphorus to support Sultan Mahmud II, whose capital was threatened by the army of his rebellious Egyptian vassal, Muhammad Ali (Karsh and Karsh, 1999). The latter, on the contrary, enjoyed the sympathy and support of France, being something of a successor to Napoleon’s Egyptian project. The crisis of 1832–1833 and Russia’s intervention led to the Treaty of Unkiayar Iskellesi, which for the next eight years guaranteed the Tsar’s assistance to the Sultan in the event of renewed conflict with Muhammad Ali, and also mandated the Sultan’s closure of the Straits in the event of war between Russia and a third power (Noradoughian, 1897, pp. 229-231). Following the events of 1832–1833, Russia’s position in Constantinople reached its apogee, while the Tsar emerged from the crisis convinced that France, not Great Britain, was Russia’s main adversary in the East (Puryear, 1941, p. 85).

However, even a cursory glance at the political and intellectual life of France in the 1830s and early 1840s reveals the fallacy of this assumption. Alongside the supporters of a British alliance, the most significant of whom was Talleyrand, there were also many advocates of a rapprochement with Russia (Keir, 2017). One finds among them some French royalists, such as Richelieu’s former colleague in Novorossiya, Vicomte de Saint-Priest, who returned to France in 1821 and became a member of the Chamber of Peers. But it would be a mistake to look for French ‘Russophiles’ of the post-Napoleonic period only among the most conservative segments of the French elite. Along with legitimists like Dominique Dufour de Pradt and Louis de Carné, supporters of a rapprochement with Russia also included the former Napoleonic Marshal Auguste Marmont, as well as some leftist publicists, notably Émile Barraultand Louis Blanc (Corbet, 1967, pp. 175-192).

It is thus incorrect to see the Russophobia of many representatives of French and Western European society in the mid-19th century as a natural consequence of liberal or socialist ideas.

Not all Western European liberals and progressives were automatically hostile to Russia, just as not all of them became sympathetic to the Ottoman Empire after the sultans embarked on a path of Westernizing reforms and imitation of Western European legal and constitutional principles (Caquet, 2000). Even in England, such key liberal figures as Richard Cobden and John Bright, champions of free trade, took exception to the Turkophilia and Russophobia predominant in foreign policy and public opinion (Gleason, 1950, pp. 183-185; Taylor, 1995). The situation was even more complex in France, where traditional anti-British sentiments and the specific legacy of Napoleon’s Eastern policy prevented French progressives from quickly following London’s pro-Ottoman and anti-Russian line on the Eastern Question.

The French liberals during the July Monarchy were no less burdened by the treaties of 1815 than the French royalists had been during the Restoration. Seeking to erase this national disgrace, the liberal leaders (and in particular renowned journalist and politician Adolphe Thiers, who served as prime minister in 1836 and 1840) pursued a bold, if not risky, foreign policy. Along with continuing the conquest of Algeria, begun under Charles X, this policy included intervention in the Spanish Civil War and the aforementioned support for Muhammad Ali in his conflict with the Sultan. Thiers’s Egyptian policy ultimately led to France’s diplomatic isolation after Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia signed the First Treaty of London in July 1840, collectively supporting the Sultan. Soon thereafter, the British bombardment of Acre forced Muhammad Ali to relinquish control of Syria and agree to a reduction of Egyptian forces in exchange for the Sultan’s recognition of his hereditary rule in Egypt (Sedivy, 2017).

This foreign policy defeat for France led to the replacement of bellicose Thiers by the Anglophile Guizot, whose policy of rapprochement with Great Britain ultimately led to the first “Entente Cordiale” of 1843–1846 (Schroeder, 1994, pp. 765-775). However, not all French liberals immediately embraced Guizot’s Anglophile line. In a number of cases, anti-British sentiments triumphed over Russophobia, converting the revolutionaries of 1830 into supporters of an alliance with Russia. This was the case, in particular, with François Mauguin, one of the most radical opponents of Charles X, who took an active part in the July events of 1830 and soon afterward advocated France’s military aid to the Polish insurgents (Corbet, 1967, pp. 163, 169-170). One of the French ‘demagogues’ whom Alexander Pushkin famously rebuked in To the Slanderers of Russia, Mauguin gradually lost his anti-Russian animus over the 1830s. In late 1840, he returned from a trip to St. Petersburg as a supporter of alliance with Russia to counter British hegemony in the East (Grangeville, 1841).

Around 1840, there were many French critics of the rapprochement with England, which required the abandonment of Napoleon’s designs in the East for the sake of preserving the Ottoman Empire and containing Russia (Marmont, 1836; Le Francoois, 1841; Chaussenot, 1843; Quesnet and Santeuil, 1843). Along with Frenchmen, these critics also included some Eastern Europeans, such as Greek poet Alexandros Soutsos and Wallachian publicist Mikhail Anagnosti (Anagnosti, 1841; Soutsos, 1841). With varying degrees of literary talent and theoretical sophistication, these authors insisted that an alliance with Russia was more in line with France’s interests than a rapprochement with London, whose defence of the status quo in the East was little more than a means of maintaining its hegemonic position in Oriental commerce. Although such authors were in the minority, their role in the public debate around French foreign policy was significant, at least as long as the French retained independent geopolitical ambitions and were able to perceive Russia as an enlightened—rather than Asiatic—despotism.

This ability was severely undermined by Astolphe de Custine’s scathing critique of Nicholas I’s Russia published in 1843 (Cadot, 1967). However, even before the publication of Custine’s Russia in 1839, French supporters of an alliance with Russia had no concrete evidence that Nicholas I himself wanted one. With the outbreak of the Second Ottoman-Egyptian War in 1839, the Tsar preferred to adhere to the status quo in the East as he had done six years earlier. Through his envoys in Constantinople and Alexandria, Nicholas I supported young Sultan Abdülmecid I (r. 1839–1861) and restrained Muhammad Ali (Ingles, 1976, pp. 102-106).

Once again, French support for the Egyptian pasha confirmed the Tsar’s view of France as the primary source of subversive influences, whether in the East or elsewhere. Nicholas I apparently overlooked certain French political circles’ interest in rapprochement with Russia, preferring to seek a gentleman’s agreement with London on Eastern affairs (Puryear, 1965, pp. 32-36; Ingles, 1976, pp. 124-147). The illusory nature of this approach became evident ten years later, when Great Britain not only failed to diffuse the Franco-Russian dispute over the Holy Places that flared up in the early 1850s, but in fact used it to create an anti-Russian coalition (Figes, 2010, pp. 61-70).

 

The Character of the Crimean War and Its Consequences

Among the immediate preconditions of the Crimean War was another revolution and regime change in France, as a result of which the July Monarchy gave way to the Second Republic and the presidency of Louis Bonaparte. Neither the republican regime, nor the election of Napoleon’s nephew in December 1848 automatically turned France and Russia into enemies, yet they made possible a peculiar conjuncture of international and domestic French developments that complicated a possible rapprochement between Paris and St. Petersburg while increasing the number of potential flashpoints between them. Although Nicholas I delayed official recognition of the new French government until May 1849, the Tsar and his diplomats repeatedly assured their French counterparts of Russia’s non-interference in the internal affairs of France, as long as it did not support revolutionary movements in Germany, Austria, or Italy (Martens, 1909, pp. 228-229). For his part, the Second Republic’s first foreign minister, Alphonse de Lamartine, declared himself convinced that “the most natural alliance for France was the one with Russia,” regretted that the Polish Question had prevented its conclusion in the past, and expressed hope that it would happen sooner or later under more propitious circumstances (Martens, 1909, p. 230).

Those circumstances would in fact come later rather than sooner. While Russia’s post-1848 policy towards France was no longer constrained by Nicholas I’s prejudices against Louis-Philippe and the liberal constitutionalism of 1830, French foreign policy of this period proved to be even more shaped by anti-Russian public opinion than had been the case under the July Monarchy. Russia’s role in the suppression of the Wallachian and Hungarian revolutions in September 1848 and August 1849, respectively, generated a Russophobic wave even greater than that which swept France and broader Europe during the Polish November Uprising of 1830–1831 (Malia, 1999, pp. 146-159). As a result, France and Russia fell on the opposite sides of the diplomatic crisis around the Hungarian and Polish revolutionary emigres in the Ottoman Empire, whose extradition was demanded by St. Petersburg and Vienna in the fall of 1849 (Goldfrank, 1994, pp. 68-71). Some eighteen months later, Louis Bonaparte’s desire to secure the votes of French Catholics—to become Prince-President and ultimately Emperor of France—led him to support the Catholic monks in their clashes with the Greek Orthodox clergy (supported by Russia) over control of the Holy Places (Mange, 1940, pp. 18-23). The Porte decided in favor of the Catholics at the end of 1852 (Goldfrank, 1994, pp. 75-100).

Nicholas I responded to this decision by sending his Minister of the Navy and personal friend, Alexander Menshikov, on an extraordinary mission to Constantinople with the task of restoring the rights of Orthodox co-religionists and demanding from the Porte a definitive guarantee of these rights in the form of a convention (Goldfrank, 1993). Menshikov accomplished the first but not the second. Supported by the British ambassador, Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, the Porte refused to sign the convention, which would have meant official recognition of a Russian protectorate over the entire Orthodox population of the Ottoman Empire. Menshikov’s subsequent departure from Constantinople marked the official break of Russian-Ottoman relations and made a new Russian-Ottoman war imminent.

On 3 July 1853, Nicholas I ordered his troops to occupy Moldavia and Wallachia in an attempt to force the Porte to accept the demands he had previously voiced through Menshikov (Palmer, 1992, p. 21; Figes, 2011, pp. 116-117). However, by this time, the Ottoman government had become accustomed to temporary Russian occupations of the Danubian Principalities and hoped to regain them after the conflict, as had happened after every previous Russian-Ottoman war. Therefore, the entry of Russian troops into Moldavia and Wallachia was insufficient to force the Porte to make such a sweeping concession as recognition of a Russian protectorate over the entire Orthodox population of the Ottoman Empire. Instead, the occupation of the principalities served as a pretext first for the Ottomans, and then for the British and French governments, to declare war on Russia (Badem, 2010, pp. 99–100; 180).

The Crimean War was one of the first global military conflicts (Curtiss, 1979; Palmer, 1992; Figes, 2010; Kozelsky, 2019). Although the Crimean Peninsula was undoubtedly its main theater, military operations were also conducted in the Baltic, Arctic, and Pacific Ocean, not to mention the well-known Transcaucasian front, where the Russian army was most successful overall.

The Crimean War was the first modern war: it marked the end of the age of sail, demonstrated the superiority of French and British rifled weapons over Russian smoothbore muskets, and was the first conflict to be photographed and telegraphed.

British diplomacy played a major role in creating the anti-Russian coalition, and the British navy provided logistics for the Allied landings in Crimea, but the French army formed the core of the coalition forces. At the battles of Alma and Inkerman, French troops outnumbered their British allies (though not by much), and they were the sole authors of the allied victory in the decisive Battle of Chernaya in August 1855. At the siege of Sevastopol, French troops outnumbered the British two to one. The quantity of France’s contribution to the coalition was matched by its quality: the joint action of the French and British armies revealed the superiority of the former over the latter in most respects (Figes, 2010, pp. 178-181, 278-290). It is therefore entirely justifiable to call Napoleon III the “soldier on the continent,” without whom the coalition’s victory—and the war itself—would have been impossible.

The role of Austria also confirms this thesis. The entire first half of the 19th century saw growing contradictions behind the screen of the continuing Russo-Austrian alliance. Joint action against the Porte during the previous century gave way to Austrian concerns about the consolidation of Russian hegemony in Moldavia and Wallachia. In the context of the dispute over the Holy Places and the Menshikov mission of 1853, this hegemony threatened to turn into a formal Russian protectorate over the entire Orthodox population of the Ottoman Empire, which would further have strengthened Russia’s influence over the Southern Slavs (Sedivy, 2013). These concerns dictated Metternich’s close cooperation with his British counterpart, Viscount Castlereagh, in 1821–1822 to prevent unilateral Russian intervention in the conflict between the Sultan and his Greek subjects (Kissinger, 1957, pp. 298-299; Sedivy, 2013, pp. 71-80). During the Crimean War, the desire to prevent another Russian victory over the Ottoman Empire led Vienna to issue an ultimatum that forced Nicholas I to withdraw Russian troops from the Danubian Principalities in the summer of 1854.

However, while Austria displayed an “ingratitude” for Russian assistance against the 1849 Hungarian Revolution that “astonished Europe,” Vienna did not directly enter into military conflict with Russia, even when London succeeded in drawing Paris into the war. Austria was unwilling to replace France as Britain’s main “soldier on the continent.” Around 1830, when Paris’s interest in partitioning the Ottoman Empire hindered the formation of an Anglo-French coalition against Russia, Metternich limited himself to purely diplomatic means of containing Russian pressure on the Porte. As a result, Francis I and Nicholas I revived the Holy Alliance during a meeting in Münchengratz in 1833 and agreed to jointly safeguard the status quo in the Ottoman Empire’s European territory (Kiniapina, 2001). Four decades later, after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–1871 had temporarily sidelined Paris as a serious player, Metternich’s successor, Gyula Andrássy, proved equally unwilling to confront Russia militarily during another escalation of the Eastern Question. Instead, Vienna and St. Petersburg concluded a secret convention that guaranteed Austria’s benevolent neutrality in the upcoming war for the “liberation of Bulgaria,” on the condition of Austria’s post-war occupation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The convention also excluded the possibility of a large Slavic state in the Balkans after the war (Sumner, 1962, pp. 273-289).

The Crimean War, born of a unique international political configuration, was also exceptional in its consequences. In the context of Russia’s historical development, it represents a rare example of a ‘useful’ defeat that unleashed internal reforms beneficial for the Russian autocracy’s political survival and military successes. In this sense, the Crimean War again stands in contrast to the Patriotic War of 1812. Being a victory of the post-Petrine military-political system over the French Revolution’s new mass army, the war of 1812 contributed to preserving the military and social organization of Russia’s Ancien Régime precisely when the other European great powers were beginning the transition to short-term universal military service and a system of national reserves (Fuller, 1992, pp. 217-218). Serfdom’s incompatibility with this method of raising an army became the main factor in its 1861 abolition, followed by judicial, provincial, and municipal reforms, and finally the military reform of 1874 (Rieber, 1966, pp. 15-58; Zaionchkovskii, 1952; Menning, 2000, pp. 6-50; Fuller, 1992, pp. 275-285; Baumann, 2004).

The Crimean War was even more exceptional in its international consequences: it reactivated the aforementioned long-term transformation of international political structures that began in the late 18th century. The post-1856 period witnessed a disruption of the internal German balance of power, which had constituted one of the constants of early modern European politics, alongside the Anglo-French and Franco-Austrian conflicts and their associated alliances. The balance between the Protestant rulers of northern Germany (the dukes, later kings, of Saxony and Brandenburg-Prussia), versus Catholic Austria and its southern German satellites, constituted the core of the 1648 Peace of Westphalia, and had its roots in the early Reformation and the even earlier 12th–13th century struggle between the Holy Roman Emperors and the German princes.

Throughout their struggle with the Habsburgs, the French kings sought to exploit the internal German conflict. After 1648, they even acted as arbiters of the internal German balance. One finds a concrete example of this role in the ‘Diplomatic Revolution’ of the mid-18th century, in which Louis XV sought rapprochement with the weakened Austrian monarchy (and Russia) to contain the growing strength of Prussia (resulting in the Seven Years’ War of 1756–1763) (Black, 1990; Bély, 2013). From the end of the 18th century, Russia also became an arbiter in the Austro-Prussian competition for influence in Germany. In 1779, St. Petersburg (along with Paris) sponsored the Peace of Teschen, which ended the Austro-Prussian War of the Bavarian Succession (Grebenshchikova, 2018). After 1815, Russia’s role in the internal German balance of power was realized through the Holy Alliance.

However, the Crimean War (or, more precisely, the need to repeal the provisions of the 1856 Treaty of Paris, which were unacceptable to Russia) became a significant factor in upsetting the internal German balance of power in Prussia’s favor. Bismarck’s success in uniting Germany “by iron and blood” was facilitated by Russia’s “concentrating” on domestic reforms and its desire to reverse the humiliating 1856 Treaty of Paris, something that could be achieved only in tandem with Prussia. The memory of Austrian “ingratitude” in 1854–1855, as well as Vienna’s attempt (along with Paris and London) to intervene in the Tsar’s latest conflict with his Polish subjects in 1863 (Revunenkov, 1957), secured Russia’s benevolent neutrality towards Prussia in the Second Schleswig-Holstein War of 1864 and in the Austro-Prussian War of 1866, which led to the formation of the North German Confederation. The same benevolent neutrality allowed Bismarck to decisively challenge France on the southern German issue in 1870, without fear of a two-front war (Vinogradov, 2005).

France’s stunning defeat in 1870 allowed Russia to officially declare null and void the Black Sea demilitarization clause of the 1856 Treaty of Paris.[3] Seven years later, a new war with Turkey secured the return of southern Bessarabia—the only territorial concession that Alexander II had been forced to accept at the very beginning of his reign. Thus, Chancellor Alexander Gorchakov’s old school diplomacy and Dmitry Milyutin’s military reform enabled Russia to completely overcome the consequences of its painful defeat in Crimea within some 15–20 years—but at the price of fundamental changes to the European balance of power.

The disruption of Germany’s internal balance, and the unification of small German states around Prussia, produced the strongest and yet most vulnerable European great power, right in the center of the Old Continent. The military and industrial might of unified Germany was counterbalanced by its food insecurity and relative scarcity of natural resources, which made the country dependent on external, primarily Eastern European, sources of minerals and agricultural products. The Second Reich’s combination of strength and vulnerability explains the aggressiveness of its foreign policy, which the Concert of Europe ultimately failed to neutralize.

This epochal change in the structure of European international politics finally led to the conclusion of a Franco-Russian alliance in the early 1890s. However, this alliance proved insufficient to counterbalance unified Germany and its Austro-Hungarian satellite. In July 1914, the Franco-Russian alliance even contributed to the transformation of another Balkan crisis into a pan-European conflict, in which Russia suffered defeat while France achieved only a pyrrhic victory. The fatal character of the Russo-French alliance, when concluded on an anti-German basis, only highlights what the Franco-Russian alliance could have been if concluded in the first half of the 19th century, i.e., before the structural changes brought about by the Crimean War (Vinogradov, 2005).

In that case, a Franco-Russian alliance would not only have prevented the formation of an anti-Russian coalition in the context of the Eastern Question, but it would also have helped maintain the internal German balance of power, with France and Russia continuing to act as arbiters in the Austro-Prussian standoff. This, in turn, would have created the objective preconditions for the gradual displacement of British influence in continental Europe and the establishment of a long-term Franco-Russian condominium. It was precisely this historical opportunity that Nicholas I missed at the turn of the 1830s and 1840s, when he preferred the illusion of a gentleman’s agreement with Great Britain to a rapprochement with France. The cost of this missed opportunity was the Tsar’s personal defeat in Crimea in 1854–1855, and the global “Thirty Years’ War,” (1914–1945) that Russia was able to win only at the cost of a radical (and bloody) transformation.

Although the Crimean War was a consequence of the Eastern Question, this does not justify viewing the Question—like Nikolay Danilevsky and other Russian Pan-Slavists did—as a confrontation between Russia and Europe.

Throughout the entire history of the Eastern Question, fundamental antagonism existed only between Russia and Great Britain, whose rivalry for predominant influence in the Ottoman Empire and other parts of Asia is sometimes called the ‘Cold War of the 19th century.’ In 1854–1855, this Cold War went hot, but all previous and subsequent Eastern crises (including in the 1820s and late 1870s) passed without the formation of a hostile West European coalition, let alone a military conflict between it and Russia.

This article was originally published in Russian in: A.I. Miller (ed.) The Russian Empire’s European Wars. A Collection of Articles. St. Petersburg European University, 2025.

Can the Crisis in Russo-Japanese Relations Be Reversed?

1 April 2026 at 06:55

For citation, please use:
Streltsov, D.V., 2026. Can the Crisis in Russo-Japanese Relations Be Reversed? Russia in Global Affairs, 24(2), pp. 154–172. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2026-24-2-154-172

 

Since the beginning of the Special Military Operation (SMO), Russo-Japanese relations have attracted little attention from international relations experts, let alone the general public, either in Russia or abroad. In Russia, the relations are widely perceived as insignificant since Japan, effectively a U.S. client state, lacks foreign policy independence, especially regarding Russia, one of the U.S.’s main geopolitical rivals.

Russian attitudes towards Japan are also highly stereotyped: Japan is a declining economic power, steadily losing its position in global trade and technology, and therefore its opinion does not matter; Japan hosts U.S. military bases, and therefore is a potential military adversary and threat; Japan supports Ukraine, and therefore is an enemy; Japanese business has almost completely withdrawn from Russia, and thus is irrelevant for plans to economically and technologically develop Siberia and the Far East. These clichés lead to a simple conclusion: Japan can be written off as insignificant for Russia’s foreign policy objectives. For some time now, since PM Shinzo Abe’s resignation in 2020, there has been almost no discussion in Russia of the prospects for relations with Japan, especially regarding the effect of those relations on Russia’s general international standing.

However, an analysis of Japan’s current policy towards Russia shows that such views are overly simplistic and inadequate for building ties with Tokyo. The restoration and development of ties remain possible, even in the current geopolitical situation.

 

Tokyo’s View of Russia

The Japanese public views modern Russia as an extremely unattractive and even hostile state; less due to Japanese media’s treatment of the Ukraine crisis, and more due to the Cold-War-era perceptions of the USSR as an embodiment of all evils: a military threat, an aggressor, a violator of the Neutrality Pact, an invader of ancestral territories, responsible for the suffering of thousands of Japanese prisoners of war, etc.

This is compounded by the Japanese public’s disappointment with Shinzo Abe’s failure to resolve the ‘Northern Territories’ issue, which he pursued for his entire premiership (McNeill, 2022, p. 11). Many Japanese think that, if even Abe (on first-name terms with Ruissian President Vladimir Putin) failed, then the problem is not solvable.

Since Abe’s resignation in 2020, understanding of the importance of good relations with Russia has significantly diminished, and the perception of Russia as a threat to Japan’s vital interests has intensified—throughout the general population and specifically within the foreign policy elite (including the Foreign Ministry and the PM’s advisers). During Abe’s premiership, some Japanese politicians and (mainly economic) officials went against the tide, building special ties with Russia in contrast to the West’s collective position. But now there is no such diversity of thought, for several reasons.

 

Japanese Perceptions of Russo-Chinese Alignment

Tokyo is now much more alarmed by Russo-Chinese relations, fearing a united ‘anti-Japanese front.’

Abe repeatedly emphasized the need to detach Russia from China, or at least to prevent their rapprochement on an anti-Japanese basis (Richardson, 2025, p. 416). He argued that Russia is, like Japan, a declining power in East Asia, and thus interested in maintaining the status quo, wary of the changing balance of power, and a potential ally in containing China. Such an argument has clearly lost its relevance, given the Russo-Chinese comprehensive strategic partnership against the collective West.

Developments in Russo-Chinese relations are reported in detail in Japan, and often seen as having an anti-Japanese purpose. Joint Russo-Chinese military exercises in the East China Sea (which features a Sino-Japanese territorial dispute), and joint air and naval patrols near Japanese territory have received extensive negative coverage in Japanese and Western media (Koizumi, 2024). Russia’s alignment with China, on the issue of dumping Fukushima’s radioactive waste, is cited as another example (Nihon Keizai, 2023).

Professor James Brown, who frequently comments on Japan-Russia relations in the Japanese press, believes that “Russia may not be completely free to choose its own course,” and “in the event of a regional crisis, Beijing could use all its leverage in attempts to force Moscow to become complicit in China’s regional ambitions” (Brown, 2024).

Japanese experts also fear the possibility of Russian military technology transfer to China, which could facilitate the PLA’s modernization and thereby create additional challenges to Japan’s security (Yamazoe, 2020; Iida, 2022).

In 2025, on the 80th anniversary of WWII’s end, Japanese media’s coverage of Russo-Chinese relations focused on the commonality of Russian and Chinese positions regarding historical memory; namely, Japan’s defeat in WWII. Tokyo is particularly sensitive to its neighbors’ extrapolation of its militaristic past to its present; Chinese media often characterize the modern Japanese state as “revisionist,” “revanchist,” and even “fascist.”

Russia celebrated the end of the war with a number of notable activities. On 18 August 2025, a new memorial was unveiled on Shumshu Island in honor of the Red Army’s victory there, one of the last battles of World War II. On 19 August, the FSB declassified documents showing that “the Japanese invading army’s Unit 731 repeatedly conducted human experiments to carry out biological warfare in China during the war, and attacked hundreds of Chinese civilians with germ-filled artillery shells” (BastilPost, 2025). And on 3 September, President Putin attended the military parade and other victory celebrations in Beijing, which were covered extensively by Japanese media.

The recurring theme of Russia’s academic, cultural, and historical events was Japan’s “remilitarization” and its “revisionist” rejection of WWII’s results (RIA Novosti, 2025c). Since such accusations largely echo those made officially by the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA PRC, 2025), they were interpreted by Tokyo as a coordinated anti-Japanese campaign, in which Russia participates to demonstrate political solidarity with China (Suetsugu, 2025; Shao, 2025).

The narratives promoted by China and Russia are rejected by Japanese society.

Even leftist and pacifist elements, while criticizing the government for abandoning the ‘postwar legacy’ and revising the Constitution’s pacifist provisions, do not see such movements as seeking revenge for defeat in WWII. There is a consensus that the government does not intend to recreate a militaristic state along prewar lines.

Tokyo is particularly worried by the prospect of Moscow and Beijing siding with each other in their territorial disputes with Japan. Russia and China maintain neutrality on issues not directly involving them, emphasize mutual respect for each other’s core interests (including sovereignty and territorial integrity), but some in Japan believe that they indirectly support each other regarding the Senkaku Islands and Southern Kuril Islands, categorizing Japan’s claims to the territories as rejections of WWII’s outcome and as attempts to revise the postwar order. Indeed, in 2023, China reversed its policy (dating from 1964) of officially supporting Japan’s claim to the Southern Kurils (Eurasian Times, 2023).

Russo-Chinese relations also worry Tokyo, more than they did before 2022, in the context of the Taiwan issue, seen as directly affecting Japan’s security. Tokyo believes that Russia’s actions could encourage Beijing to resolve the issue by force, an action that would inevitably involve Japan, as U.S. military bases there would become targets. This is what the Fumio Kishida Cabinet meant with its formula “Ukraine today is East Asia tomorrow” (Nikkei Asia, 2024), which has since guided Japan’s Russia policy. This policy was upheld by the Cabinet of Shigeru Ishiba, who stated at the February 2025 G7 summit that “we need to be careful that the wrong lesson may not be drawn[,] that the status quo can be changed by force” (Asahi Shimbun, 2025a).

After coming to power in 2024, Ishiba asserted that Japan’s security situation is the worst since WWII. Power in East Asia is shifting from Japan’s ally, the U.S., to its rival, China. Japan itself is declining politically and economically. Trump’s return means that Japan cannot rely as much on U.S. assistance, and must instead turn to its own efforts and to security relations with like-minded countries.

Japan is a decidedly ‘anti-revisionist’ power, and sees the European conflict (though far away) as threatening the liberal international order that once underlay its prosperity and is now increasingly perceived as supporting its national security. On 18 August 2025, Ishiba called on Western leaders to ensure that the conflict in Europe “does not undermine global security and the international order, including that established in the Indo-Pacific region” (Japan Times, 2025).

The Japanese government believes that it cannot remain aloof from the conflict but must demonstrate solidarity with the U.S.’s European allies, counting on their gratitude should Japan’s own interests be harmed by unfriendly neighbors in the future.

 

Japanese Perceptions of Russo-DPRK Alignment

The Japanese are also extremely concerned about recent developments in relations between Russia and North Korea: the signing of the Comprehensive Strategic Partnership Treaty in June 2024, and the deployment of more than 11,000 North Korean troops to Russia’s Kursk Oblast.

Emotionally, the Japanese public sees the DPRK as a terrorist state that was never brought to justice for kidnapping Japanese citizens. Furthermore, Japan sees the DPRK’s acquisition of nuclear weapons as a threat to Japanese security and a violation of all international norms, including those established by the UN Security Council.

Thus, the vast majority of Japanese see Russia’s alliance with Pyongyang as “support of a terrorist regime.” Japan’s military doctrine categorizes North Korea as a direct military threat, and many Japanese are particularly concerned about the possible transfer of Russian military technology to Pyongyang in gratitude for military support.

 

Japanese Perceptions of Russian Military Actions

Some of Russia’s actions, intended to protect its own security, are perceived by Japan as directed against it. The Japanese media widely cover Russian military activity near Japan’s borders (patrol flights by aircraft, passage of warships), which Tokyo argues threatens its security (Koizumi, 2024). Russia’s lawful strengthening of its military presence in the Southern Kuril Islands (exercises, the deployment of new weapons, etc.) is also seen in an unfriendly light.

Remarks in Russia (primarily by experts), about the possibility of using nuclear weapons to protect Russian security, have caused great concern in Japan—the only country that has suffered nuclear attacks (Guardian, 2023).

But Japanese strategists regard Russia less as a direct military threat (since a direct conflict is extremely unlikely) and more as a factor strengthening Tokyo’s adversaries.

 

Japan’s Anti-Russian Consensus

For the above reasons, there are no significant political or social forces in modern Japan that express sympathy with Russia or support its policies. In contrast to Europe, anti-Russian sentiment is present in all Japanese political parties, including the far left and right.

The rarity of exceptions proves the rule. ‘Pro-Russian’ politicians include Muneo Suzuki, a Liberal Democratic Party MP in the upper house, and two former prime ministers, Yoshiro Mori and Yukio Hatoyama, who have abandoned political activity. Open pro-Russian statements are extremely rare and invariably spark considerable controversy. For example, Muneo Suzuki’s visit to Russia in October 2023 triggered a scandal that forced him to leave the Renewal Society party. When jazz singer Saya, a candidate for the upper house from the conservative Sanseito Party, gave an interview to a Russian media outlet in July 2025, the party leadership hurried to distance itself, saying that the interview had not been approved by the party (Asahi Shimbun, 2025b).

Japanese media’s coverage of the military conflict in Ukraine, and especially its humanitarian consequences, has also played a role in strengthening anti-Russian sentiment. In 2024, only about 5% of Japanese expressed any positive feelings for Russia (RIA Novosti, 2025a).

 

Tokyo’s Concrete Russia Policy

Since the launch of the SMO, Japan has pursued an outright anti-Russian foreign policy. It has openly supported Ukraine in the conflict, providing it with extensive financial, humanitarian, and diplomatic assistance. Tokyo has committed itself to developing military cooperation with the G7 and NATO, whose summits it has attended since 2022. By mid-2025, Japan had provided Ukraine with over $15 billion in bilateral aid, and pledged an additional $3.5 billion. Most—approximately $13.25 billion—was support for Ukraine’s non-military budget. Tokyo also allocated $1.75 billion, and pledged an additional $1 billion, in humanitarian aid (Sienicki, 2025). In April 2025, Japan agreed to loan Ukraine over $3 billion, secured by proceeds from Russian assets frozen by the EU (TASS, 2025b).

For the first time in many years, Japan has begun exporting weapons (albeit non-lethal ones) to a combat zone, contrary to its own ban on doing so. It has supplied the Ukrainian armed forces with vehicles, reconnaissance drones, body armor, thermal imagers, winter gear, and other equipment. In July 2024, Japan agreed to send Patriot missiles, produced domestically under American license, to the U.S., to replace those delivered to Ukraine (Strait Times, 2025). In November 2024, Foreign Minister Takeshi Iwaya visited Kiev to reaffirm that “Japan stands by Ukraine.” During the visit, an information security agreement was signed, allowing Japan and Ukraine to exchange classified information (Japan Times, 2024).

Tokyo began imposing sanctions on Russia in March 2014 after Crimea’s reunification with Russia. These sanctions were significantly toughened after the launch of the SMO. In many cases, Tokyo came up with its own initiatives, and called on ‘swing states’ in the Global South to join them.

Traditionally, Japan viewed Russia as essential for its economic security; specifically, for an uninterrupted supply of resources to the Japanese economy. Until 2022, Russo-Japanese relations were based upon and driven by economics. But over the past four years, Japan’s attitude towards economic cooperation has changed. As of February 2025, according to Nikolai Nozdrev, Russia’s ambassador to Japan, Tokyo had adopted more than 25 sanction packages, targeting more than 1,000 individuals and 120 legal entities, including government officials, individual employees, companies in key sectors (finance, metallurgy, energy, mining, mechanical engineering, and defense), the media, scientists, and performing artists. More than 2,000 products have been banned for export to Russia (Izvestiya, 2025a).

In 2022, more than 60% of the Japanese companies in Russia partially or completely suspended operations here (TASS, 2023). As a result, trade between the two countries slumped to less than $8 billion in 2024 (TASS, 2025a), down from $20 billion in 2019, itself much lower than the peak of $33.2 billion in 2013.

The energy sector is a special case. On the one hand, Japan has almost completely stopped importing Russian oil, about 4% of its oil imports until 2022. And in September 2025, it joined the EU and the UK (which had already made the decision in July) in lowering the price cap on Russian oil from $60 to $47.60 per barrel (Izvestiya, 2025b). On the other hand, in contrast to Western countries, whose energy companies have exited Russian markets, Japan has refused to quit the Sakhalin projects, from which the country receives approximately 9% of its LNG. Mitsui and Mitsubishi have retained their stakes in Sakhalin-2. Japan has also remained in the Arctic projects (it received a 10% stake in the Arctic-2 project in 2019), although they have been frozen due to U.S. sanctions.

The problem for Japan is that the Sakhalin projects’ contracts expire in 2028-2033, and Japan is considering whether to extend them or completely terminate cooperation with Russia. Japanese experts often argue that Japan, legally restricted from supplying Ukraine with lethal weaponry, should at least follow Europe in completely withdrawing from Russian energy projects, and thereby demonstrate solidarity with it. However, a pullout from Russia would increase domestic gas prices (Japan’s main suppliers are the U.S., Australia, and Malaysia, and it is significantly more expensive to deliver LNG from there than from neighboring Sakhalin). This, in turn, would mean higher electricity prices and inflation, which the Japanese government has vowed to resist by all means.

Although Russia has traditionally been a significant market for the Japanese automotive industry, the export to Russia of cars with engines larger than 1.9 liters, and of hybrid and electric vehicles, was banned in 2023.

Overall, Tokyo has embarked on a course of politicizing economic relations with Russia despite the cost, demonstrating its prioritization of solidarity with the West. Yet continued cooperation with Russia also carries reputational risks (TASS, 2023), and some Japanese companies have left or frozen operations even when not forced by sanctions, fearing criticism or even boycott in the much more important U.S. and European markets (The Asahi Shimbun, 2023).

Political contacts—not only between politicians, but even between diplomats—have been almost completely frozen. There is no dialogue, even at the working level, and recriminations and mutual accusations are common.

Japan criticizes Russia regarding the Ukraine crisis, and states its intention to resolve the ‘Northern Territories’ issue through a peace treaty. In 2022, for the first time since 2003, Tokyo officially referred to the Southern Kuril Islands as “illegally occupied territories.”

Russia has adopted a more compromising stance. In a June 2024 meeting with leaders of foreign media, President Putin stated that Russia is “not refusing to resume” peace treaty talks, but “will only do so if relevant conditions are created, primarily by Japan” (Kremlin, 2024a), i.e., if Tokyo abandons its hostile Russia policy. Following the October 2025 change of government in Japan, Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Andrei Rudenko confirmed Moscow’s readiness to resume negotiations on a peace treaty only if Tokyo demonstrates a “real commitment and interest in restoring good-neighborly relations” (Izvestiya, 2025c).

In late May 2025, Putin hosted Shinzo Abe’s widow, Akie—a telling gesture to Tokyo, as he had developed a close personal relationship with the late Japanese prime minister, when ties between the two countries were unprecedentedly warm. However, Akie Abe’s visit was private, Tokyo denied any involvement, so the visit failed to stimulate any political dialogue.

The start of Sanae Takaichi’s premiership, in October 2025, raises new questions about future Russo-Japanese relations.

On the one hand, Takaichi has long been a strong supporter of Ukraine and a critic of Russia. “Ukraine is not a distant issue that doesn’t concern us,” she declared in March 2022 (Grossman, 2025). Takaichi has consistently advocated for stronger sanctions against Russia, for which she was added to the list of individuals banned from entering Russia in May 2022 (Mainichi, 2025). She maintained this position during the LDP’s leadership contest. Immediately upon taking office, she reaffirmed the government’s commitment to supporting Ukraine and enforcing economic sanctions against Russia (Kyodo news, 2025). Takaichi also holds a strongly pro-Taiwan stance, which many experts see reflected in her stance regarding Russia and Ukraine. As noted above, some Japanese politicians, beginning with Fumio Kishida, extrapolate the Ukraine crisis to the Taiwan issue, considering a Russian victory unacceptable as a potential ‘stimulation’ for China.

On the other hand, Takaichi positions herself as a protégé of Shinzo Abe and heir to his foreign policy, which included a special relationship with Russia. In her address to parliament in October 2025, after taking office as prime minister, she acknowledged that “relations with Russia are in a grave situation” and said that she would seek a peace treaty with Russia in order to “resolve the issue” of the Kuril Islands (TASS, 2025c).  And speaking at a rally on the occasion of the “Northern Territories Day,” on 7 February 2026,  the Japanese prime minister declared her commitment to signing a peace treaty with Russia, despite difficulties in relations (TASS, 2026). 

Simultaneously, Takaichi has taken some steps indicating interest in improving relations. Takaya Imai, who advised Abe on Russia for nearly nine years, has been appointed to the councilor position in the Cabinet Office. Another positive sign for bilateral relations may be the appointment as foreign minister of heavyweight Toshimitsu Motegi, who managed economic relations with Russia during Abe’s early years in office and understands their importance for Japanese interests. At a brief meeting with U.S. President Donald Trump during his visit to Tokyo on 28 October 2025, Takaichi pushed back against his call to halt energy imports from Russia, describing Japan’s participation in the Sakhalin projects as critical for its energy security (Reuters, 2025).

The LDP’s crushing victory in the elections to the lower house of parliament on 8 February 2026 means little for bilateral relations with Russia. The election results can be assessed as a sign of the growing nationalism in Japanese politics and the rise of right-wing and anti-liberal sentiments in society. In this situation, to boost her domestic political rating, Takaichi may assume a demonstratively tough stance on Russia. At the same time, the ruling party’s strong position in the lower house for the next four years gives the prime minister freedom to make even unpopular decisions, including some steps towards Moscow. But in any case, Tokyo will likely align any turns in its diplomacy concerning Russia with Washington as its main strategic partner.

 

Possible Sources for Improving Relations With Japan

It would be wrong to assume that Japan is ‘America’s poodle’ and acts solely on orders from Washington. True, Japan’s position on Russia is largely determined by U.S. interests. Yet in East Asia, U.S. and Japanese interests are not identical. For example, Japan is apprehensive of possible forceful resolution of the Taiwan issue, seen as directly affecting Japan’s security.

The specifics of Japan’s position on many issues should be used to Russia’s advantage.

One positive factor is that, unlike China and North Korea, Russia is not characterized as a ‘military threat’ in Japan’s currently effective 2022 National Security Doctrine. Rather, Japan sees Russia as an indirect adversary, an ally of China emerging as East Asia’s assertive hegemon challenging Japan’s interests.

Japan’s continued claims on the Southern Kurils certainly constitute a rejection of WWII’s results. But when Japan’s mainland neighbors accuse it of “remilitarization” and “revisionism,” this is connected less to current territorial disputes and more to deeper historical grievances against Japanese imperialism stretching back to the Meiji era, for which Japan has made only limited repentance.

Russia has far fewer historical grudges against Japan. In the Great Patriotic War, Japan did not attack the USSR,[1] and fighting with it did not take place on Soviet territory. After the war, the USSR and post-Soviet Russia pursued a balanced policy, avoiding involvement in intra-regional disputes and maintaining a pronounced neutrality. This provided it with a certain authority, as well as leverage vis-à-vis China, Japan, the two Koreas, and South and Southeast Asia.

Alignment with China is currently a clear imperative for Russia, given its confrontation with the collective West and China’s role in circumventing Western (especially military-technological) sanctions. Yet entanglement in an anti-Japanese bloc threatens to limit Russia’s room for maneuver in the region (where its interests do not always align with China’s) and ultimately cost it the status of ‘honest broker.’

Furthermore, East Asian integration, including the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership, stretching from China to New Zealand, is currently developing without Russia. Russia’s participation in this process would help to diversify its economic ties in the face of Western sanctions, but bad relations with Japan will be a serious obstacle.

Moreover, it is too early to dismiss Japan as an economic and technological partner (especially important given Western sanctions), an alternative (non-Chinese) energy customer, and an investor in Siberia and the Far East.

In Russia, responsibility for the dismal state of relations is laid on Japan. However, on a number of issues, Japan’s position is much more acceptable than that of many European countries.

As mentioned above, Japan has not withdrawn from the Sakhalin gas projects. Nor has it joined the EU in boycotting Russian steel. In 2014-2021, Japan’s economic sanctions were much softer than the EU’s, and their tightening in 2022 was more out of solidarity with the West’s ‘rules-based order’ than a manifestation of Russophobia. Moreover, Japan eased its anti-Russian rhetoric as soon as positive shifts in U.S.-Russia relations became evident in the spring of 2025. Thus, a settlement in Europe and the continued improvement of U.S.-Russian relations would facilitate positive shifts in Russo-Japanese relations as well.

Furthermore, unlike Europe, Japan does not impose visa restrictions on ordinary Russian citizens. Russian tourists to the Land of the Rising Sun reached a record 30,000 in October 2025 (RBC, 2025). Given the growing demand, new visa centers are being planned to open in Russia (Moskva 24, 2025) even as those of European countries are closing. In September 2025, the Russian Culture Festival was successfully held in Japan, with the opening attended by Mikhail Shvydkoy, a special representative of the Russian president (RIA Novosti, 2025b)—something unimaginable in Europe, where even performances by individual Russian cultural figures are canceled. Unlike European countries, Japan did not close its airspace to Russian airlines, and the absence of direct flights from Russia to Japan is due not to sanctions but to ICAO recommendations, which Tokyo was forced to comply with (there have been reports in the media about negotiations on the restoration of direct air service (RBC, 2025)). In contrast to Europe, Japan’s universities continue to host Russian students and professors.

Yet Russia often discourages and even blocks exchanges (primarily at the level of individual educational and scientific organizations) with Japan, officially designated an “unfriendly country.” It would also be reasonable to consider resuming the visa-free admission (provided since 1991 but canceled by Russia in September 2022) of Japanese citizens to visit their ancestors’ graves in the Southern Kurils. Their emotional suffering, widely publicized by Japanese media, only fuels hostility toward Russia. Clearly, Russia is seeking a way to retaliate against the Japanese government’s unfair and obviously hostile sanctions, but the visit ban is a blow to ordinary citizens, not the government, and it ultimately damages the reputation of Russia, which is seen as venting its grievances.

Finally, the peace treaty dialogue, suspended by Russia, could be revived, especially since both countries agree that it is necessary. President Putin stated in November 2024: “We are ready to develop relations with Japan for the ensuing five years and indeed the next fifty. Japan is inherently our partner, being our neighbor” (Kremlin, 2024b).

Of course, each side has its own vision of the peace treaty. For Russia, it should be a treaty of good-neighborly relations, not a border agreement, and restarting negotiations would not mean any agreement to discuss transferring territory. But if Moscow believes an agreement to be desirable, it should not give Japan reason to accuse it of imposing additional conditions on dialogue (even if these are in retaliation for unfriendly actions). Moreover, the period of the 1990s through 2010s showed that peace treaty talks have a disciplining effect on the parties, forcing them to refrain from overtly unfriendly actions towards each other. Hopefully, the Takaichi government’s claim to be Abe’s successor will facilitate a return to the positive results of his premiership.

Of course, Japan’s Russia policy is unlikely to change fundamentally: Tokyo will continue to support Ukraine and seek the return of the ‘Northern Territories.’ But it is worth focusing on that which brings us together, rather than that which divides us. Sources of rapprochement might include cross-border exchanges, and scientific, humanitarian, and cultural ties. Such things permitted the maintenance of generally good relations when political dialogue was almost completely frozen during the Cold War. They also permitted the exchange of important information, and a rapid thaw once the Cold War ended. As a result, in the post-bipolar period, Russo-Japanese relations were free of the mutual grudges and grievances that might have been expected after decades of political confrontation, and which indeed still overshadow Japan’s relations with other East Asian countries.

We should not wait for Japan to take the initiative but rather make proposals to resume and develop humanitarian dialogue, such as a Track Two platform for experts. If these proposals remain unanswered, Russia will have the moral advantage, as the world will see that Japan rejected Russia’s extended hand.

So far, Moscow has preferred to watch Tokyo through a targeting sight, expanding entry-bans on unfriendly Russia experts. But such bans are counterproductive, enhancing the authority of their targets, whom the anti-Russian Japanese public sees as punished for speaking the truth.

Excessive demonization of Japan and freezing relations with it in response to its participation in the West’s anti-Russian coalition pose significant risks to Russian national interests. And it is relevant that Japan’s anti-Russian policy has motivations that qualitatively differ from the West’s.

The presence of a powerful hostile neighbor on Russia’s Far Eastern border means the diversion of vital resources to additional defense requirements. And Japan retains significant leverage over many countries in the Global South, which wish to mitigate economic dependence on China, and which see Japan less as part of the West and more as an attractive alternative to China’s development model.

Restoring relations now will be easier than doing so after they have been further damaged by mutual politically expedient offenses.

“Finish The Job”: Ex-American VP Says It’s Time for U.S. & Israel To Eliminate Iran Once For All: Latest News

4 August 2026 at 04:05

Former US Vice President Mike Pence supported continued military operations against Iran and urged the US and Israel to “finish the job.”

In a Fox News interview, he praised Donald Trump for directly attacking Iran and urged the U.S. President to order the military to strike Tehran’s remaining nuclear facilities and eliminate its ability to project power in the Strait of Hormuz and across the region.

“They don’t make peace with the enemy, they make peace with a defeated enemy,” Pence added.

He added that given the Islamic Republic’s positions and denial of negotiations, he is confident that a time will come when Trump will decide that enough is enough. Pence called the joint US-Israeli operation against Iran “historic” and said that now is the time for the military forces of the two countries to complete this mission.

Earlier, Trump said negotiations with Iran were ongoing despite Tehran’s contradictions, and Tehran was facing a “last chance before decapitation.”

Trump, speaking to reporters at the White House, said he agreed to continue to pursue talks with Iran at the request of Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar and other countries.

Iran’s foreign ministry denied that talks with Washington were taking place, but Trump insisted they were. “We are talking right now,” he said.

“This is a last chance for them to sign a good document,” the US president added. “I want to give them every last chance before decapitation.”

The discussions are focused on reopening the Strait of Hormuz, which Trump said could come “literally by tomorrow,” and the denuclearization of Iran, which he said could “take a little while.”

Washington and Tehran have been at war since February 28, when the United States and Israel launched surprise strikes against Iran, though months of on-and-off diplomacy have led to periods of relative calm.

More than five months later, Iran remains able to fire missiles and drones at US and allied targets in the region and retains its enriched uranium stockpiles.

Early Tuesday, the UK maritime security agency UKMTO said that a cargo vessel was struck by an “unknown projectile” in the Strait of Hormuz off the coast of Oman.

Japan Vows Major Military Build-Up as Threats from China, North Korea and Russia Surge – Defense Chief

The vessel, which was not named, reported being hit and authorities were investigating, UKMTO said, without giving specifics on damage or injuries.

Motorists drive past a large billboard pledging revenge against US President Donald Trump along Jomhouri Street in central Tehran on July 27, 2026. Iran’s foreign ministry said on July 27 that the US was not involved in recent talks with Oman over the administration of the strategic Strait of Hormuz. Traffic through the vital global shipping route has been under Iranian control since the outbreak of war with Israel and the United States on February 28. (Photo by AFP) /

In what has become a routine pattern, Trump last week had threatened to hit Iran “very hard” — potentially with renewed attacks against energy infrastructure — only to pull back on Saturday, saying the “perimeters” of a deal were there.

Iran, for its part, said it is not currently negotiating with the United States.

“Our negotiations are with Oman to secure passage through the Strait of Hormuz,” the critical oil corridor, foreign ministry spokesman Esmaeil Baqaei said.

Hormuz has been a major sticking point in efforts to end the war. Since a ceasefire broke down, Iran has reprised a blockade of the waterway that it first imposed early in the war, obstructing vessels attempting to pass and firing on commercial ships.

Calling Tehran “duplicitous” for “openly and proudly” saying it was not negotiating, Trump wrote on social media: “Whether Iran wants to admit it or not, we are, in fact, talking of a solution to a problem that they have caused, for decades.”

He pointed to the United States’ counter-blockade of Iranian ports, adding: “Nothing gets through to Iran, unless we want it to, and nothing will get through, unless a Deal, or Total Surrender, is accomplished.”

Before the war, there was free passage through Hormuz, but Iran now insists on retaining control and charging fees, something the United States rejects.

Tehran has refused to let ships travel any route other than one that hugs the Iranian coast.

On Sunday, Baqaei told state television that a deal was close on managing Hormuz together with Oman, which sits on the other side of the narrow waterway.

“We are now going to reach an understanding on a route acceptable to both sides — neither the northern route nor the southern route — but one that respects the sovereign rights of both sides and safeguards our national interests and security,” he said.

But he insisted that such an agreement did not mean the reopening of the strait.

The US president said at the start of the conflict that the war was necessary to deal with Iran’s nuclear program and he repeated on Monday that “the denuclearization of Iran has to happen.”

Western nations accuse Iran of seeking a bomb, though Tehran insists the program is entirely civilian in nature.

Speaking to reporters on Air Force One over the weekend, Trump said he had been asked by Iran as well as regional US partners to hold off on further strikes, which he claimed would have been “the biggest attack since World War II.”

Iranian media denied that Tehran had asked Trump not to strike.

A previous ceasefire deal fell through last month. It was supposed to open the Strait of Hormuz to ships carrying vital energy exports from the Gulf to feed the global economy.

By Agence France-Presse

The post “Finish The Job”: Ex-American VP Says It’s Time for U.S. & Israel To Eliminate Iran Once For All: Latest News appeared first on EURASIAN TIMES.

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