The imposition of emergency rule in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, an opposition-controlled province, raises disturbing questions about the relationship between Pakistan’s civilian government and its powerful military establishment. Is this a legitimate response to terrorism, or another calculated assault on democracy?

There is an old saying in Pakistan that most countries have an army, but in Pakistan the army has a country. It is a cynical observation, certainly, but one that has survived successive governments, constitutional crises and military interventions with remarkable durability.

The latest developments in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the northwestern province governed by the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party of imprisoned former Prime Minister Imran Khan, suggest that the observation may be as relevant today as ever.

President Asif Ali Zardari’s decision to impose emergency rule in the province, ostensibly in response to deteriorating security conditions, has prompted an obvious and deeply uncomfortable question: is Pakistan witnessing another military coup, albeit one conducted without tanks surrounding parliament or generals appearing on television to announce the suspension of democracy?

The answer depends largely upon how one defines a coup.

A constitutional manoeuvre with political consequences

Under Pakistan’s constitutional framework, federal authorities possess emergency powers that can, under specified circumstances, override provincial administrations.

Such powers are not inherently illegitimate. Khyber Pakhtunkhwa has experienced serious violence involving the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), and the federal government has a responsibility to protect citizens against terrorist attacks.

Nevertheless, the timing of the intervention demands scrutiny.

The province represents one of the most significant remaining political strongholds of Imran Khan, whose imprisonment and continuing confrontation with Pakistan’s political establishment have generated considerable unrest.

Suspending an elected provincial administration in these circumstances inevitably raises suspicions that national security has become a convenient instrument for achieving political objectives.

The crucial distinction is between responding to a genuine emergency and exploiting that emergency to neutralise an inconvenient opposition.

Pakistan’s authorities must demonstrate not merely that a security threat exists, but that the removal of elected provincial leadership is necessary and proportionate.

The army that never really left politics

Pakistan’s military has exercised an extraordinary degree of influence over the country’s political development since independence in 1947.

General Ayub Khan seized power in 1958. General Zia-ul-Haq overthrew Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s government in 1977. General Pervez Musharraf removed Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif in 1999.

These were unmistakable military coups, involving direct intervention against civilian authority.

Yet Pakistan’s experience also demonstrates that generals need not formally assume the presidency to dominate political affairs. The military establishment has long maintained substantial influence over national security, relations with India, Afghanistan policy and, at various moments, the composition and survival of civilian governments.

Under Field Marshal Asim Munir, the relationship between the armed forces and civilian political authority has again attracted intense scrutiny. The central question is therefore not simply whether Pakistan’s generals have seized power. It is whether elected politicians retain sufficient independence to exercise it.

Imran Khan and the price of political defiance

Imran Khan’s political trajectory illustrates the extraordinary volatility of Pakistan’s relationship between civilian leadership and military power.

Once widely regarded as enjoying the establishment’s favour, Khan subsequently became one of its most prominent critics. His removal through a parliamentary no-confidence vote in April 2022 marked the beginning of an increasingly bitter confrontation.

His subsequent imprisonment, the prosecution of PTI figures and restrictions affecting the party’s political activities have fuelled allegations that Pakistan’s democratic institutions are being manipulated to exclude a popular opposition movement.

The authorities reject accusations of politically motivated persecution, while Khan’s supporters insist that his treatment demonstrates the extent to which democratic competition has been compromised.

Against this background, emergency intervention in a PTI-governed province cannot reasonably be viewed in isolation. It forms part of a wider struggle over who ultimately controls Pakistan’s political future.

A coup without the traditional trappings?

The latest emergency is particularly significant because Pakistan’s civilian government and military leadership appear aligned in their criticism of PTI.

According to Reuters reporting on 11 October, the province will be administered by a governor for an initial six months, with troops deployed to support security operations.

Hundreds of activists and three of Khan’s sisters have reportedly been detained ahead of opposition demonstrations.

PTI spokesperson Zulfikar Bukhari has characterised the emergency as a disguised coup. Even Maulana Fazlur Rehman, whose party has been involved in mediation efforts, condemned the intervention as an attack on democracy.

Yet evidence that the military directly ordered the takeover remains absent from the public record. Accusations of military involvement should be investigated rather than treated as established fact.

Nevertheless, a coup need not always involve soldiers removing a prime minister. Democratic institutions can also be progressively hollowed out through ostensibly lawful decisions that concentrate authority and deprive opposition parties of meaningful power.

A dangerous precedent for Pakistan

For Pakistan’s international partners, including the European Union, the implications extend beyond an internal constitutional dispute.

Pakistan benefits from preferential access to European markets under the EU’s GSP+ trading arrangement, which is linked to commitments concerning human rights, democratic governance and international conventions. Brussels should therefore be watching developments closely.

If emergency powers become a mechanism for suppressing political opposition rather than protecting public security, the European Commission will face legitimate questions about Pakistan’s adherence to its international obligations.

The immediate crisis may not constitute a conventional military coup. But the more troubling possibility is that Pakistan’s political system is evolving towards a form of government in which elections continue, civilian politicians remain in office, and the military’s influence is sufficiently powerful to determine the boundaries of democracy.

For Imran Khan‘s supporters, that distinction may offer little consolation.

Pakistan’s generals have seized power openly before. The question now is whether they need to do so again.

Geneva side event sharpens focus on Pakistan’s GSP+ status and rights record

 

The Sudanese army is once again facing mounting international pressure over allegations that it used chlorine-based chemical weapons in its war against the Rapid Support Forces (RSF).

The United States, Germany, Australia, Finland and Belgium pressed Sudan over the allegations at the 113th session of the Executive Council of the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW), held in The Hague from 6 to 9 October 2026.

The United Kingdom and the European Union also raised Sudan at the session. The EU said the Council had been seized of the matter under Article IX, paragraph 4 of the Chemical Weapons Convention, which allows member states to ask the Council to obtain clarification from another member. 

The statements came a month after The New York Times and The Washington Post published separate investigations on 5 September reporting that the Sudanese army ran a secret programme to develop, test and store chlorine-based munitions. 

The material included around 150 documents, photographs, video clips and voice messages, as well as several thousand text messages taken from the phones of senior Sudanese officers, according to The New York Times. The newspaper reported that voice and text messages involving army chief General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan suggest he had direct knowledge of the programme.

A Sudanese military spokesperson rejected the findings as “baseless and without material foundation” and threatened to sue The New York Times in a US court, according to Semafor. Sudan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs said in July that Washington had presented no evidence for its allegations and that Sudan had repeatedly offered to host US experts for on-site verification.

Belgium Voices Concern

Belgium told the Council that Sudan’s answers so far did not match the seriousness of the allegations. Ambassador Wouter Detavernier, speaking in French on 7 October, said Belgium was concerned by allegations that the army had used chlorine bombs during the civil war, and he asked Sudan’s authorities for more information, according to the Belgian statement.

US Warning

The United States has gone further than the other four countries and imposed two rounds of sanctions on Sudan.

The State Department determined on 24 April 2025 that Sudan’s government had used chemical weapons in 2024, and it announced the finding on 22 May 2025. Washington imposed the first sanctions, restricting US exports and Sudan’s access to US government credit, on 27 June 2025. A second round, which took effect on 20 July 2026, added US opposition to multilateral development bank loans to Sudan, further export restrictions and the suspension of air carrier authority linked to Sudan, according to the Federal Register.

At the Council’s 112th session in July, US Ambassador Nicole Shampaine said Sudan should give the OPCW Technical Secretariat “unhindered, transparent access” and that its national investigative committee could not replace independent verification, according to the Arms Control Association.

This week Shampaine told the Council it must confront Sudan’s continued non-compliance tied to its 2024 use of chemical weapons. She asked regional groups and States Parties to “reject as candidates for this Council those States Parties that remain in noncompliance,” according to the US statement.

Sudan currently holds a seat on the 41-member Council, according to The Standard. In March, the United States warned it would revisit its approach to Sudan’s seat if the matter was not resolved swiftly. Council members are elected by the Conference of the States Parties, which next meets from 23 to 27 November 2026, according to the OPCW calendar.

Germany Points to an Undeclared Programme

Germany’s ambassador, Gudrun Lingner, said new media reporting suggested the 2024 use might have been more than a single incident. “Indications pointing at an undeclared chemical weapons programme have been published,” Lingner said, according to the German statement.

Germany called on Sudan’s government to finish a thorough national investigation, publish it swiftly and cooperate fully and transparently with the OPCW.

Australia Focuses on Storage and Use

Australian Ambassador Gregory French said Australia had noted with alarm media reports that the Sudanese Armed Forces had stockpiled and used chemical weapons. He said Sudan had shared an interim report from its national investigation, and he called on Sudan to give “a genuine and transparent account of any non-compliance with the Convention,” according to the Australian statement.

Finland Seeks Prompt Answers

Finland repeated its serious concern about the allegations and said Sudan’s authorities must address them “in a prompt, objective, and transparent manner,” according to its statement. Finland welcomed the Technical Secretariat’s confirmation that it will monitor the situation.

President Donald Trump announced an agreement with Vladimir Putin on Friday, 9th October, under which Russia will resume substantial diesel exports to American and international markets, despite Washington’s existing sanctions against Moscow over its invasion of Ukraine.

According to Trump’s announcement following the telephone conversation, Russia will immediately release more than 300,000 tonnes of diesel, followed by 500,000 tonnes in November and another million tonnes shortly afterwards. A further three million tonnes could become available once Russian refining capacity permits.

The announcement was accompanied by a temporary authorisation from the US Treasury allowing transactions involving Russian diesel until 7 April 2027. It represents a substantial departure from the administration’s recent sanctions policy, which had sought to restrict Russian energy revenues and strengthen Washington’s negotiating position over Ukraine.

The timing is politically significant. Trump faces congressional midterm elections on 3 November, while diesel prices have become a growing economic concern for American businesses and consumers. The agreement gives the White House an opportunity to present itself as addressing fuel costs, although its practical effect on prices remains uncertain.

Russian diesel cannot resolve the global supply shortage

Trump has linked the proposed Russian deliveries to his administration’s efforts to restore energy flows through the Strait of Hormuz, arguing that the combined measures will produce a rapid reduction in diesel prices.

The disruption of maritime energy supplies following the confrontation with Iran has, however, created a problem considerably larger than the quantities Russia has initially promised.

The first two deliveries amount to approximately 800,000 tonnes. Even including the subsequent million tonnes, the announced volumes are modest relative to global consumption. Their arrival may provide temporary relief in individual markets, but there is little evidence that they could independently reverse the wider shortage.

Russia’s capacity to maintain larger exports is also uncertain.

Ukrainian attacks on Russian refineries have disrupted production and contributed to restrictions on petroleum exports. Moscow has periodically imposed limits to protect domestic supplies, while damaged facilities require repairs before returning to normal operations.

The condition of those refineries is explicitly acknowledged in Trump’s announcement, which makes the proposed additional three million tonnes dependent on their recovery.

This introduces a further contradiction. Washington is seeking Russian diesel at precisely the moment Ukraine is attempting to reduce Moscow’s capacity to refine and export petroleum products.

The economic benefits of the agreement may consequently depend partly on developments in a military campaign that the United States has previously supported through intelligence cooperation with Kyiv.

Zelenskyy rejects sanctions relief without Russian concessions

President Volodymyr Zelenskyy responded critically to the agreement, describing the relaxation of economic pressure as a concession to Putin that had not been accompanied by any meaningful Russian commitment to de-escalation.

In his response to the American decision, Zelenskyy argued that Moscow would exploit renewed export revenues to prolong its war rather than make concessions towards a settlement.

Ukraine has indicated that it remains prepared to consider reciprocal measures concerning attacks on energy infrastructure. Such arrangements would require Russia to stop striking Ukrainian facilities in exchange for restrictions on Ukrainian operations against Russian energy targets.

No comparable undertaking was announced as part of Friday’s diesel agreement.

This distinction is central to Kyiv’s objections. Sanctions relief has traditionally been regarded as leverage to obtain changes in Russian behaviour. In the present arrangement, Moscow stands to receive additional commercial opportunities without publicly agreeing to alter its military campaign.

Lukoil negotiations raise further questions

The agreement also comes amid separate discussions concerning the international assets of Lukoil, Russia’s second-largest oil producer.

A recent account of negotiations involving American investors and Russian officials described proposals involving Lukoil’s overseas oilfields, refineries and distribution businesses.

The discussions have reportedly involved figures connected to Trump’s diplomatic efforts, including Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, alongside Russian representatives.

On Friday, another development complicated the proposed transaction when Carlyle withdrew from the competition to acquire Lukoil’s international assets, previously valued at approximately $22 billion.

The negotiations illustrate the extent to which potential commercial cooperation has entered the broader American-Russian relationship.

There is no verified evidence, however, that the diesel agreement was concluded to facilitate a particular acquisition or benefit individuals connected to Trump’s administration. The commercial negotiations and Friday’s sanctions decision remain separate developments unless further evidence establishes a direct connection.

Washington and Europe move in different directions

The American decision creates an additional complication for European sanctions policy.

On 7th October, EU ambassadors agreed to expand sanctions against Russia’s military-industrial network, approving 1,646 additional designations, many directed at the production of ballistic missiles used against Ukraine.

Britain has also introduced further restrictions on Russian oil-related businesses, tankers and financial intermediaries, reinforcing its stated objective of limiting Moscow’s ability to finance the war.

The contrast with Washington’s diesel authorisation is substantial. While European governments are attempting to restrict Russian petroleum revenues, the United States is providing a temporary legal route for renewed sales.

The development also recalls the difficulties already examined by EU Today in its reporting on sanctions enforcement against Russia’s shadow fleet, where differences in national restrictions and their application have complicated efforts to control petroleum exports.

For Moscow, the significance of Friday’s agreement extends beyond the immediate revenue generated by diesel sales. It establishes that the United States is prepared to relax particular economic restrictions before securing a settlement over Ukraine.

Whether the arrangement ultimately lowers American fuel prices will depend on production, shipping and international market conditions. The diplomatic consequence is already apparent: Russia has obtained an opportunity to restore part of its international energy trade without accepting publicly announced conditions concerning its war against Ukraine.

For Kyiv and European governments, the question is whether this remains a narrowly defined response to an energy shortage or marks the beginning of a broader American policy of separating commercial relations with Moscow from negotiations over Ukraine.

 

For years, the European Union has struggled with a peculiar contradiction in its dealings with China. The EU is one of the largest and wealthiest trading blocs on earth, capable of determining access to a market of some 450 million relatively affluent consumers, yet it frequently conducts foreign policy as though it were the supplicant.

Hilde Vautmans, the Belgian Renew Europe MEP and European Parliament rapporteur on EU-China political relations, is right to challenge this timidity.

Her report, debated this week in Strasbourg, does not advocate severing relations with Beijing. Nor should it. China is too economically important and too influential on questions ranging from climate change to international security for Europe simply to close the door.

But dialogue must not become an alternative to action.

“Europe has economic power. It’s time to use it,” Vautmans told Parliament ahead of the vote. That sentence ought to be pinned above every desk in the European Commission dealing with China.

The figures make the case brutally clear. In 2025 the EU imported €559.4 billion of goods from China while exporting just €199.6 billion in the opposite direction. The resulting deficit was €359.8 billion — almost €1 billion every day.

As EU Today reported recently, Commission President Ursula von der Leyen has herself warned of a potential “second China shock”, with subsidised Chinese industrial production threatening European manufacturers.

Fine words. But Beijing has heard fine words before.

The Commission’s preferred formulation remains “de-risking, not decoupling”. There is sense in that distinction. Nobody seriously proposes shutting down trade with the world’s second-largest economy. But de-risking becomes meaningless if every risk identified is followed by another dialogue, another working group and another opportunity to postpone difficult decisions.

Indeed, the Commission acknowledges that European companies operating in China face regulatory obstacles, inadequate intellectual-property protection, restrictions on data flows and pressures associated with technology transfer.

Europe possesses formidable weapons with which to respond: anti-dumping duties, anti-subsidy measures, foreign-investment screening, the Foreign Subsidies Regulation, the Anti-Coercion Instrument, procurement restrictions and controls on strategically sensitive technologies.

These instruments should not be deployed indiscriminately. But neither should they sit polished in the armoury while Beijing exploits European openness.

Vautmans is particularly right to connect economics with security and values. China cannot reasonably expect privileged access to European markets while helping sustain the Russian war machine. The European Parliament’s own research service describes Beijing as a “decisive enabler and dual-use provider”, including through goods entering Russian weapons and drone supply chains.

If Chinese companies materially assist Russia’s ability to wage war against Ukraine, Europe should be prepared to impose a direct economic price. The same principle should apply to human rights.

EU Today has warned repeatedly that Brussels’ ritualised engagement with Beijing risks becoming precisely that: ritual.

We reported earlier that the EU-China Human Rights Dialogue risks losing credibility, pointing to the continuing imprisonment of Swedish citizen Gui Minhai and Uyghur academic and Sakharov Prize laureate Ilham Tohti. After round upon round of discussions, Beijing has learnt that European expressions of “deep concern” are inexpensive things to endure.

The problem is hardly new. Years ago, EU Today highlighted calls for concrete EU action over goods associated with forced labour in China, including demands for tougher restrictions on entities implicated in abuses against Uyghurs.

Yet repression continues. In March this year China adopted its new Law on the Promotion of Ethnic Unity and Progress. The European Parliament subsequently condemned what it described as intensified repression and assimilation affecting Tibetans, Uyghurs and other minorities, by the overwhelming margin of 439 votes to 52.

Europe therefore faces a straightforward question. What is the purpose of economic power if it is never translated into political influence?

The EU should not attempt to bully China. Nor should it abandon diplomacy. Vautmans is correct that channels of communication must remain open. But reciprocity must become something more than a word appearing in communiqués.

Where China closes markets to European companies, Europe should be prepared to restrict equivalent access. Where state subsidies distort competition, Brussels should respond rapidly with trade-defence measures. Where strategic dependencies expose Europe to political coercion, alternative supply chains must be built. Where Chinese entities support Russia’s military-industrial complex, sanctions should follow. And where companies benefit from forced labour or serious human-rights abuses, access to the European marketplace should carry consequences.

That is not protectionism. It is leverage.

Totalitarian states understand leverage perfectly well. China routinely uses access to its enormous market as an instrument of statecraft. Europe, by contrast, too often behaves as though exploiting its own commercial strength would somehow represent a failure of diplomacy. It represents precisely the opposite.

The European Commission has spent years discovering that China is simultaneously a partner, competitor and “systemic rival”. It is time to move beyond discovering the obvious.

Vautmans has identified the essential point. Europe already possesses economic power on a scale few countries can ignore. What it appears to lack is the political confidence to use it.

Main Image: by Valentine ZELER, © European Union 2026 – Source : EP

 

It was poor old Greece who drew the short straw. It chairs the UN Security Council this month and it’s fallen to them to chair the Council’s extra-sticky deliberations this coming Thursday on whether—as the United States is proposing—to extend the arms embargo on Sudan to the whole of the country. 

If the current embargo, currently covering Darfur, is of any practical effect, that would be in favour the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF); their supply lines are easier. That would change under a countrywide embargo, and the regime led by Abdel Fattah al-Burhan naturally argue that the proposed extension would deny a ‘sovereign government’ a right to defend its people, its borders, and its own existence. 

But the issue isn’t whether Sudan has a right to exist or to protect civilians. It is whether the combatants who have made Sudan ungovernable should continue to receive external military support without meaningful restraints. The answer, say the United States, the United Kingdom and France, must be no. However, fortunately for Burhan, it’s a da from Russia and a semi-da and a raised eyebrow from China, neither of whom are especially squeamish about aggressive population control measures. 

So if the pro-extensionists are to make any headway on a countrywide UN arms embargo, they are going to have to make, and carry the day on, some fine distinctions. 

To begin with, a countrywide embargo would not settle the question of who represents Sudan at the United Nations. But it would recognise that neither the SAF nor the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) should enjoy an unlimited licence to import the means to continue a ruinous civil war.

There is an important distinction between a state’s standing in the UN and the rights claimed by those who temporarily wield power within that state. Sudan remains a member state. It has a seat in the General Assembly. Burhan and his minions continue turning up and claiming to speak in Sudan’s name. 

None of that would necessarily change in the face of an arms embargo extending across the whole of Sudan. The Security Council would not be making a determination regarding Burhan’s or the SAF’s legitimacy. Recognition, credentials, representation—these are all distinct matters decided elsewhere and by other means. 

The Council’s job is something else. It’s not dealing with constitutional niceties; it’s dealing with the life and death issues of international peace and security. If weapons are feeding a conflict and threatening civilians in a territory or state, it can restrict the transfer of arms to that state or territory without stripping it of its international legal personality. Sanctions are not derecognition. What they do recognise is that in some circumstances, stopping the bloodshed take precedence over any right to buy arms. 

A nationwide embargo would establish at least this much: that the SAF and the RSF are both belligerents. The SAF may be commanded by General Burhan and presently in control of the state’s formal institutions; the RSF may be a paramilitary force with its own commercial interests, territorial ambitions and record of atrocities. But neither distinction entitles either side to decide Sudan’s future at gunpoint. According to the UN Charter we are not supposed to be living in a world where political legitimacy is determined by the military power at your disposal.

The SAF’s claim to sovereignty cannot mean an unconstrained right to acquire weapons while the country is being torn apart. The RSF’s local control, meanwhile, cannot be converted into international entitlement by force, atrocity or the occupation of territory. Both forces are armed parties to a conflict. Both draw sustenance from external supplies. Both have strong incentives to believe that, if they can secure the next shipment, the next drone or the next patron, a military decision remains possible.

It’s this kind of calculation that the Security Council has to disrupt.

All that said, an embargo alone can’t bring peace. Sudan needs a ceasefire now, with humanitarian access protected, credible monitoring of violations and a civilian-led political process that gives Sudanese people — not rival generals — the authority to determine their country’s future.

But if both sides believe more arms may tilt the balance then a ceasefire becomes harder to achieve. An embargo changes that calculation. It increases the cost and risk of resupply, makes foreign sponsors more visible, and tells commanders that time is no longer automatically on the side of whichever force can secure a fresh consignment.

That is why this measure matters. It’s nowhere near a magic bullet but it would at least narrow the military options of the SAF and RSF alike, improve the prospects for a ceasefire, and more create political space for civilians to reclaim their state. 

Moscow has again told foreign diplomats to leave Kyiv before further Russian strikes. The embassies have stayed. The episode exposes a broader Russian objective: turning military pressure on Ukraine’s capital into political and diplomatic retreat by its Western partners.

Russia’s Foreign Ministry renewed its warning to foreign diplomats and other foreign nationals on 3 October, urging them to leave Kyiv and saying Russian forces would continue large-scale strikes against targets in the Ukrainian capital and elsewhere. The warning said those who remained were exposing themselves to “mortal danger”, while Moscow sought to place responsibility for any consequences on the individuals and governments choosing to remain.

The military threat behind that warning is not theoretical. Russian missile and drone attacks on Kyiv have intensified, striking transport infrastructure, energy facilities and residential districts. EU Today has documented a succession of such attacks, including a September missile and drone barrage that killed three people and damaged residential and public buildings and a later jet-powered drone strike on the National Academy of Sciences in central Kyiv. Air alerts and attacks on the capital are now a routine part of the security environment in which foreign missions operate.

The significance of Moscow’s latest statement, however, goes beyond the question of physical safety. By telling foreign governments that their diplomats should leave and suggesting that those who stay must accept the consequences, Russia is attempting to change the political calculation surrounding Kyiv. If Western states began moving their embassies to Lviv or across the border into Poland, Moscow would have achieved something that continued military pressure has so far failed to deliver: a visible reduction in the international diplomatic presence in the Ukrainian capital.

That has not happened. Ukraine’s Foreign Ministry says it has received no request or notification from a foreign diplomatic mission indicating that it intends to relocate. Reports that some Western governments have considered contingency arrangements appear to concern emergency planning rather than decisions to withdraw, which is hardly surprising for embassies operating in a capital subjected to repeated missile and drone attacks. The distinction is important because preparing evacuation options is standard risk management; implementing them would be a political signal.

The European Union has gone further than simply denying evacuation plans. EU Ambassador Katarína Mathernová said that the EU Delegation, the EU Advisory Mission and all 25 EU member states maintaining embassies in Kyiv would remain in the capital. Her response was deliberately public, making clear that the Russian warning would not alter the diplomatic footprint of the EU or its member states in Ukraine.

Moscow has tried this before. In May, Russia issued a similar warning to diplomats and foreign nationals, prompting Brussels to summon the Russian chargé d’affaires. EU Today reported at the time that European officials viewed the warning as a threat against the foreign diplomatic community in Kyiv. Mathernová subsequently said that the EU would remain in Kyiv despite Russia’s renewed warnings, describing the pressure as an attempt to generate fear and isolate Ukraine.

The October warning has produced much the same result. One day later, Chancellor Friedrich Merz travelled to Kyiv, accompanied by Economy Minister Katherina Reiche and a German business delegation. His arrival was particularly difficult to reconcile with suggestions that European governments were preparing to abandon the capital. EU Today reported that the visit brought more than €1.3 billion in new German defence and energy commitments, while the German government presented the trip as a demonstration of continuing support for Ukraine.

Washington has taken a similar position. Secretary of State Marco Rubio said the United States would make its own assessment of whether it was safe for American diplomats to remain in Kyiv and noted that Russia had been issuing such warnings for months. The US embassy has continued operating, while the State Department has maintained its highest-level travel warning for American citizens because of the continuing war. That distinction — between advising private citizens not to travel and maintaining an official diplomatic presence — reflects the different responsibilities involved.

There is also a legal dimension to Moscow’s attempt to shift responsibility. Russian statements create the impression that once diplomats have been warned, the consequences of any subsequent attack fall on those who chose to stay. International law does not support such an interpretation. The Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations establishes the inviolability of diplomatic premises and personnel, although the immediate obligation to protect foreign missions rests principally with Ukraine as the receiving state.

Russia’s conduct of military operations is governed primarily by international humanitarian law. Diplomats remain civilians, while diplomatic buildings remain civilian objects unless they are being used in circumstances that would make them military objectives. Warnings can form part of an attacker’s obligation to take precautions, but they do not transfer legal responsibility to civilians who remain in place. The International Committee of the Red Cross makes clear that civilians who stay after an advance warning continue to enjoy protection, and an attacking force must still comply with the rules of distinction, proportionality and precautions.

That legal point is relevant because the wording used by Moscow appears designed to establish a different political narrative. Russia can warn foreign governments that further strikes are coming, but such warnings cannot provide advance immunity for the way those attacks are conducted. Nor do they relieve Russia of responsibility if attacks unlawfully damage civilian or diplomatic property.

The continued presence of embassies in Kyiv also has practical significance for Ukraine. Foreign missions give governments direct access to Ukrainian institutions and their own assessment of political, military and economic conditions on the ground. Their diplomats meet ministers, military officials, civil society representatives and businesses, reducing governments’ dependence on second-hand reporting and allowing them to judge developments for themselves.

Relocating those missions would therefore have consequences beyond symbolism. Diplomatic relations could continue from Lviv, Warsaw or elsewhere, but Moscow would inevitably portray any large-scale withdrawal from Kyiv as evidence that foreign governments no longer regarded the Ukrainian capital as sustainable as a diplomatic centre. That helps explain why European governments have answered the latest warning so publicly and why maintaining a visible presence has itself become part of the political response.

Russia has increasingly sought to combine physical attacks with wider political effects. Its missile and drone campaign places pressure on Ukraine’s electricity system, transport network, air defences and civilian population. The warnings to foreign missions extend the same logic to Ukraine’s international relationships: increase the perceived cost of remaining in Kyiv and encourage foreign governments to reduce their presence.

So far, that strategy has not produced the intended result. The EU says all of its embassies are staying, Germany’s Chancellor travelled to Kyiv immediately after the warning and Washington has made clear that it will take its own decisions about the security of its mission. Russia can make the Ukrainian capital more dangerous, but it has not persuaded Ukraine’s principal partners to treat Kyiv as a city they must leave.