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The structure of the Yemeni crisis (YK) developed step by step throughout the period after the unification in May 1990 of two republican states — the Yemen Arab Republic (YAR) and the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen (PDRY) — into a unitary state. The rushed and unprepared process of merging the government bodies and armies of two countries with different political systems and ideologies, but related historical, cultural, and ethnic communities, coincided with major global changes: the transformation of the international system, the collapse of the USSR, and the Gulf War, which brought sanctions from the United States and Gulf monarchies against the young state, as well as the expulsion of nearly one million Yemeni labor migrants from these countries. After that, political Islam began to grow stronger across the region. Both countries entered unity carrying a heavy burden of internal social and political problems, hoping that unification would create a new model of development, and that a new source of income from oil exports — from fields recently discovered in the neighboring provinces of Marib and Shabwa — would speed up modernization and help solve these problems. But this did not happen — the democratic institutions, multi-party system, and the first direct presidential elections introduced by the new state’s constitution did not stop the return to power of the conservative coalition from the YAR era, and the oil reserves were not enough to repeat the success of wealthy oil-producing countries. However, the alliance between the General People’s Congress (GPC) and Islah quickly turned into rivalry just a few years after they defeated the former ruling party of the PDRY — the Yemeni Socialist Pa rty (YSP) — in 1994. A religious reform focused on spreading Salafism, led by the Islamist wing of Islah (Yemen’s branch of the Muslim Brotherhood), became a tool of political struggle. It challenged the regime of President Ali Abdullah Saleh (1947–2017), who personally oversaw the state’s security sector but gave Islah control over education and significant legislative functions. The reform led to growing tensions — first due to clashes with the Shafi’i traditions in the South, and then with Zaydi practices in the North. The aggressive spread of a proselytizing version of radical Salafism through a network of religious colleges (ma'ahid ilmiyya) under Islah’s supervision was seen by local communities as an official government policy. This created distance between society and the state. Dissatisfaction with the country’s social, economic, and political situation turned into conflicts of identity of a new kind, with no precedent in Yemen’s history. These conflicts had nothing to do with the traditional Sunni-Shia divide, as Yemen has long been home to two Islamic schools — the Shafi’i (about 60% of the population) and the Zaydi (about 40%) — that are close in theology and law (aqidah and fiqh). In public opinion, the situation was seen as a clash between true Islam rooted in authentic Yemeni traditions and a foreign, radical takfiri current that caused deep divisions. The consequences of this conflict in the South appeared in the idea of a “southern identity,” which replaced the idea of a united Yemeni identity that the republican regimes of the YAR and PDRY had promoted before unification. This idea became the base of the ideology of “southern nationalism,” which set the “southern” society against the “northern” or “Yemeni” one — describing the first as “advanced” and the second as “backward,” tribal, and fundamentalist, and therefore incompatible. Since 2009, political leaders of the South Yemeni separatist movement “Hirak” (Peaceful Southern Movement) have used the slogan of restoring the status quo — independence of the South within the 1990 borders of the PDRY — as the best way to peacefully solve the “southern question.” At the same time, in the northern Zaydi provinces of Yemen, the takfiri practices of the “reformers” caused a similar defensive reaction from Zaydi youth. Against the Salafi proselytism of the international school Dar al-Hadith in Dammaj (near the Zaydi stronghold of Saada since the 9th century), the Zaydi intellectual elite created the “Shabab al-Mu’min” movement, which praised the historical role of Yemenis in Islam. It was led by former MP from Saada province, Sayyid Hussein al-Houthi (1959–2004), who gave lectures in 2001–2002 that formed the base of a new form of political Islam known as “Hussism.” It was a mix of theology and political theory, trying to explain the problems of the Muslim world and offer solutions. Its roots were in Zaydi theology. The idea of the “Qur’anic path” led by a spiritual leader — the ‘alam al-huda — aimed to rebuild unity in the Muslim community (ummah), combining ideas from different Sunni and Shia political movements and adding an element of Yemeni nationalism. Despite its originality, it had some similarities with Khomeinism, Salafism, the Muslim Brotherhood, nationalism, and other ideologies, making it a subject of criticism and speculation, even from other Zaydis. It focused on the civilizational injustice of global politics. In this teaching, takfirism was seen both as a distortion of Islamic values and a tool of US and Israeli (Zionist) policies to block a peaceful solution to the Palestinian issue. After the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, Hussein al-Houthi saw this as a sign that the Arab-Muslim world should mobilize to defend itself from future invasions aimed at taking resources by removing identity. In domestic politics, the Houthi movement followed only legal methods: they called for removing the religious reform (and the Islah party) from state privileges, and excluding the security sector from US cooperation. This idea went against President Saleh’s policy of strategic partnership with the US, which started in 2001 when Yemen joined the global US-led counterterror campaign after 9/11. This partnership gave mixed results: it helped build anti-American feelings in society, even as it made Yemen seem more important regionally and gave Saleh’s relatives in the security agencies close contact with US partners. In 2004, President Saleh declared war on the Houthis after they refused to stop chanting their slogan in mosques in Sanaa: “Death to America! Death to Israel! Curse the Jews! Victory to Islam!” — which became a symbol of the movement and expressed its main ideas. The bloody and failed Saada wars of 2004–2010, and the death of their respected leader in 2004, weakened the regime and brought more armed tribes and other groups to join the Houthi resistance. This made them a strong local opposition force. A year before the peaceful uprising of 2011 that shook Saleh’s regime, the so-called “Houthi problem” had already become one of the country’s top national issues, next to the “southern question.” Experts described Yemen in the 1990s and 2000s as unstable. Many American political scientists saw it as a “fragile state,” a term used by the World Bank in the early 1990s. In the 2000s, Yemen gained the image of a global center of “terrorist threats” and became a testing ground for the military and political actions of US intelligence. The “fragile state” concept helped justify direct foreign intervention. At an international conference in London in January 2010 about Yemen, the focus was on security, not reform, as Yemenis had hoped. In 2011, Yemen became one of the key places hit by the wave of protests known as the “Arab Spring.” The idea of a “fragile state,” military spending, and the weakening of national sovereignty all led to the shift of conflicts into violent areas instead of using the democratic tools in the constitution. But the crisis in the relationship between society and the state, and among political actors, could also be seen as a natural immune response of a healthy cultural system — reacting to political problems: Islah still had support from the kingdom that backed the religious reform, while the US became more involved in Yemen’s security agencies despite public anger. Even though the protests in February 2011 were spontaneous and had no central leadership, they had the signs of a real social revolution. There were clear problems at both the top and bottom of society. The Yemeni revolution followed a unique peaceful transition plan — the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) Initiative, launched on 23 November 2011 under the UN Secretary-General’s special envoy. The plan gave the task of creating a new constitution to an inclusive National Dialogue (ND) in Sanaa (March 2013 – January 2014), which showed that civil society was alive and strong in Yemen — something not possible in a truly “fragile state.” The organizers of the ND focused its agenda on the two key issues — the “southern question” and the “Houthi problem” — showing that internal Yemeni problems were the main priority in the transition. The only outside part of the plan was the proposed reform to decentralize and federalize the state, seen as a solution to these problems. A unique part of Yemen’s transition was that President Saleh remained head of the ruling party (GPC) even after officially handing over the presidency to his deputy — interim president Abdrabbuh Mansour Hadi — in February 2012. An attack on Saleh in June 2011 turned the former partners and rivals — the GPC and Islah — into true enemies. This attack also left Islah’s leadership without support in 2014, as the Hashid tribal confederation (which included Saleh himself) no longer backed them. A new alliance formed in 2014, with the GPC and the Houthi movement “Ansar Allah,” combining “conservatives” and “revolutionaries.” This gave a political defeat to Islah, whose spiritual leader saw the revolution as the start of a coming caliphate. President Hadi signed the “Peace and National Partnership Agreement” on 21 September 2014, which the UN Security Council supported. It allowed him to shift his regime’s support from Islah to the new alliance and to form a new technocratic government under Khaled Bahah in December 2014. With this change, the foreign actors’ bets on Islah’s victory failed, and Ansar Allah became one of the expected winners of the transition, along with the GPC. Only in late January 2015 did interim president Hadi show signs of crisis by offering his resignation. But the UN envoy Jamal Benomar still believed in the peaceful plan until 24 March 2015, staying in the capital Sanaa, which was controlled by the new alliance, even after Hadi fled to the separatist-held city of Aden on 21 February 2015. The peaceful project fell apart dramatically in March 2015, and many actors offered different explanations. The idea of a “Houthi coup” (with no exact date) became official after the Arab Coalition launched its military intervention on 26 March 2015. This version was confirmed by UN Security Council resolutions and became part of the Yemeni discourse, now shaped more by the regional rivalry between Saudi Arabia and Iran than by Yemen’s own internal problems. Among the lessons of the transition process, along with proof of the effectiveness of the inclusive National Dialogue (ND), we can also point to the doubt it created about the expert community’s firm belief in decentralization and federalization of Yemen. The debate between Yemeni participants on this issue almost caused the conference to collapse, showing the deep disagreement between major Yemeni actors on how many federal regions there should be and how they should relate to the central government. Strong traditions of regionalism in the young Yemeni state raised real concerns that the result of this idea could be state collapse instead of unity (as seen in the countries the reform authors wanted to copy). By mid-2025, the Yemeni crisis (YC) had gone through four stages: two mentioned earlier — during President Saleh’s rule and the implementation of the Initiative — formed its internal (endogenous) stage; and two newer stages after the Arab Coalition (AC) intervention in March 2015 — the geopolitical (military) stage. The AC military campaign in Yemen lasted seven years before entering a phase of steady de-escalation in April 2022. The current “Palestinian” stage began in October 2023, when the YC shifted into a new kind of conflict — a combined armed conflict of supra-regional level (mixing regional and global elements). What makes it unique is its direct link to the situation in the Palestinian-Israeli conflict (PIC) zone and Israel’s war in Gaza. The leading actors in this stage were first the US and the UK, who formed a naval coalition in December 2023 to stop anti-Israeli Houthi actions, and later Israel itself. We recall the prophetic comparison of the YC to a “ticking bomb” made in summer 2015 by UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, warning that it could explode unless stopped early through political settlement. By summer 2025, the YC had absorbed not only unresolved internal problems but also several layers of subregional and regional issues, becoming a military-political “ticking bomb” for the whole region. Discussions about the cause of the YC’s new military phase range from security threats to shipping in the Red Sea by the Houthis and threats to Israel by the “Axis of Resistance” led by Iran, to opposing claims that the US and Israel are to blame for aggressive actions and blocking a legal settlement to the Gaza war. But for our study of the YC’s structure, another point is more important — the ongoing failure to resolve the YC during all its earlier stages, mostly due to outside geopolitical interference. The new stage stands out because the line between Yemen’s internal and external problems has disappeared. It is now part of a larger ethnic and religious conflict in another part of the region. Still, this link, through an ideological concept born in Yemen, does not feel artificial. Houthism, long under pressure since 2004, has now returned as a form of political will of the population — worn out by war but still determined. This fact again shows how unsuitable military methods are for solving the Yemeni conflict. Another unusual aspect of this new geopolitical stage is the inconsistent way the Houthis are labeled as international terrorists — depending on the mood of the US administration. Regional actors also switch between accepting and ignoring this label based on the situation. The accusation creates a legal problem regarding the status of the second major actor in Yemen’s ruling coalition — the core of the GPC party, which recognized the constitution and formed a government in Sanaa in August 2016. This unrecognized government controls about 30% of the territory, where more than 70% of Yemen’s population lives. The equal participation of Ansar Allah and the GPC in fully restored state institutions leaves open the question of how the US defines the GPC’s role in terrorism, especially since the party, led by ex-president Saleh, was a US partner for nearly 10 years before 2011. In the Supreme Political Council — the top body of the Sanaa government — there are 10 members, five from each group. The head of the council has always been from Ansar Allah, but the posts of prime minister, foreign minister, and some military and security positions were mostly held by GPC members. Another problem is linked to UN Security Council Resolution 2216, which demands the Houthis give up heavy weapons and leave Sanaa — in other words, surrender. But since the ruling coalition in Sanaa is joint, it is unclear whether the same demand applies to the GPC, which traditionally controlled the army and security services. There is no doubt about the status of the internationally recognized government (IRG), which is officially accepted, even by Russia — although Russia criticized Resolution 2216 during discussions and did not vote for it. Still, there is a question about the realism of demanding the Houthis hand over all weapons (meaning the arsenal collected during Saleh’s time) to Hadi’s government in exile, which was located entirely in a neighboring country with a complex past in its relations with Yemen. The main reasons the YC shifted to a new phase in October 2023 likely include: 1) the outdated UN framework for conflict resolution; 2) the limited and misleading use of the “proxy war” model to explain a complex conflict involving the AC, framing it only as a Saudi-Iranian proxy war; 3) the competition of many foreign powers for geopolitical influence in Yemen while ignoring Yemenis' own right to sovereignty. Before the transition of the YC to the "Palestinian" phase, two approaches to its settlement had formed in the discourse on YC — the official one (but non-functional) and the pragmatic one (but not acceptable to several internal, and especially external, powerful actors). The specific nature of this division, reflecting the mixed endogenously-geopolitical nature of YC itself, lies in the attempts by powerful interest groups behind them to implement incompatible approaches through the same permanent special mission appointed by the UN Secretary-General. The first approach was set by UN Security Council Resolution 2216 (April 2015), which formally became the legal basis for the UN mission’s work and focused on a military solution to the “Houthi problem” — applying pressure on the unrecognized regime in Sana'a until the Houthis surrendered completely. The second approach, which emerged almost immediately after the war began in March 2015, came from the expert community. It largely agreed with the criticism of Resolution 2216 voiced by the Russian Permanent Representative to the UN Security Council (2006–2017) V. I. Churkin and was based on an understanding of Yemeni realities rather than the wishes of foreign actors. It has long served as the practical guide for the current head of the UN mission in Yemen, Hans Grundberg, and includes two main elements: a) assisting in the prompt end of foreign military intervention in YC; and b) launching a comprehensive political peace process in an inclusive Yemeni format under UN auspices. This scenario gave a “green light,” in particular, to the Omani track and the de-escalation regime that began in April 2022. The UN mission and Russian diplomacy actively supported its progress at every stage. The de-escalation regime and the Omani track of direct talks between Riyadh and Sana'a on the terms of ending the war became the main outcome of the years-long war in Yemen and one of the most important achievements of the reform policy of the Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. The new leader of the Kingdom began his involvement in YC as the commander of Operation “Decisive Storm” conducted by the AC, and in 2021–2022, thanks to him, Saudi Arabia became the initiator of the process to end the conflict based on its own model and using a regional format. Liberal reforms in Saudi Arabia, which affected the religious sphere starting in 2017, the threatening dynamics of the military conflict in Yemen, which hindered Saudi Arabia’s strategy to achieve leadership under the “Vision 2030” concept, and finally, the revision of approaches to the regional security system involving Iran — all came before this shift toward de-escalation in the YC zone. Its intellectual basis was a scholarly monograph published in 2022 by the respected King Faisal Center for Research and Islamic Studies (KFCRIS) in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia titled “The Houthi Movement in Yemen: Ideology, Ambitions, and Security.” Most of the articles were written by well-known representatives of various Western schools of Oriental studies and Yemeni research centers. They reached a common conclusion that the concept of “proxy” does not apply to the Yemeni Houthis. According to them, this very construct contributed more to the development of relations between the Sana'a regime and Iran and the “Axis of Resistance” during the war years than it reflected any prior allegiance to Tehran’s interests before the conflict began. The authors agreed that the roots of Houthism lie both in Yemeni history and traditions and in the distressing modern political situation in the Middle East after the September 11 attacks, which, in the view of Sayyid Hussein al-Houthi and his brother — Sayyid Abdul-Malik al-Houthi, the current leader of Ansar Allah — was largely caused by US policy that threw the region into chaos. Of course, these “findings” in the monograph did not make the relationship between Saudi Arabia and Ansar Allah friendly, but removing the label of “enemy agent” from the movement allowed both sides to sit at the negotiating table and return the “Houthi problem” (among others) to the agenda of general YC settlement in the Yemeni format. The stable de-escalation regime received support from the UN mission but faced strong opposition from various competing centers of political influence (CPI), who feared losing status and were united in April 2022 into the Presidential Leadership Council (PLC) headed by the new president of the MPP — Rashad al-Alimi. The United States also supported their discontent out of fear that regional actors might take over the initiative in the Yemeni settlement. US President Biden’s Special Representative for Yemen, Tim Lenderking (2021–2025), repeatedly spoke of the leading role of the US, indirectly blaming the UN mission for its support of the Oman talks. A telling example is his statement at the Foreign Affairs Committee hearings in December 2022: “The Houthis’ last-minute demand to direct limited oil export revenues, received by the Yemeni government, to pay salaries of active Houthi combatants, even though the Houthis refused to commit to a ceasefire, prevented the UN from concluding a new truce agreement between the parties in October… These actions are an insult to the entire international community and completely unacceptable. ” The two official visits exchanged between Riyadh and Sana’a in April and September 2023, after the normalization of relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran with Beijing’s mediation in March, differed significantly in the atmosphere of negotiations: the enthusiasm clearly declined, increasing Sana’a’s uncertainty about the outcomes and timing. If the agreement on a "roadmap" within the framework of the Omani track — whose readiness was only announced by H. Grundberg on December 23, 2023 — had been reached earlier, a new escalation in YC might not have occurred at all or would have taken a much less aggressive form. The new stage of the military phase in YC covers the period from October 7, 2023, to May 6, 2025, and is divided into three phases. The de-escalation regime along the military contact line between AC and SA forces remained in effect, although in all other aspects of the process it noticeably deteriorated, pushing the humanitarian and economic situation to the brink of collapse. It should be noted that the initiative to link YC with the situation in the PIC zone came solely from the unrecognized regime in Sana’a and had nothing to do with the policy of Yemen’s official authorities — the MPP, which expressed itself in supporting resolutions of international summits, the Arab League (AL), and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC), condemning Israel for the genocide of Gaza’s Palestinian population but prioritizing the goal of preventing conflict escalation. Many members of the Presidential Leadership Council (PLC) sharply criticized the Houthis’ policy, describing them as a terrorist group, and their actions in the Red Sea against Israel as harmful to Yemen. This nuance should be taken into account, especially when encountering media headlines like “Yemen enters war with Israel,” which rather reflect the strong resonance of Sana’a’s policy in the Arab-Muslim world, coordinated with members of the so-called “Axis of Resistance.” The following refers specifically to the policy of the unrecognized regime — the initiator of the new stage. The push to move to a new phase in YC was triggered by the sudden raid of Hamas fighters on October 7 — “Al-Aqsa Flood” — and the large-scale, well-prepared Israeli army operation in Gaza “Iron Swords,” which led to near-total destruction of the city and raised the number of victims to about 9% of its population by June 2025. During the first phase from October 7 to December 18, 2023, the leaders of Ansar Allah took full control over shaping the domestic and foreign policy of the unrecognized Sana’a regime, achieving a significant breakthrough in unifying its ideological base on the Houthi doctrine. The Palestinian issue had already played a major role in the rhetoric of Ansar Allah leaders when condemning the military intervention in Yemen by Saudi Arabia and the UAE — which they called “unprovoked aggression,” staged by their common enemies — the US, Britain, and Israel (referred to as the “unholy trinity” in the regime’s rhetoric), aimed at preparing a strategic base in the Red Sea under the hostile New Middle East project. Now the topic of Palestine and Jerusalem became dominant. The solidarity campaign with the Palestinians under the name “Battle of the Promised Victory and the Holy Jihad” covered all areas of the unrecognized regime’s policy and filled the entire internal discourse. Weekly, well-organized mass marches with slogans from the Demonstration Organizing Committee, accompanied by public lectures and religious sermons by the movement’s leader Sayyid Abdul-Malik al-Houthi broadcast on screens, served as the official manifestation of the Yemeni people’s will and determination to stand firm in defending the rights of the Palestinian people. They included not only threats against enemies but also criticism of Arab and Islamic states’ policies for their “negligence,” and of the MPP, described as “anti-people.” In October–November 2023, the campaign of civilian solidarity with the people of Gaza was supplemented by military-political actions of the Houthi regime under the slogan directed to Hamas organizations, “You are not alone!” The unrecognized authorities blocked Israeli shipping through Bab-el-Mandeb, launched missiles toward the Israeli Red Sea port of Eilat, significantly disrupting its operations. At the same time, combat training courses were organized to prepare “hundreds of thousands of Yemenis” for voluntary entry into the war against Israel. Expressions of loyalty to the “leader of the revolution” — Sayyid Abdul-Malik al-Houthi — reached unprecedented levels, spreading across the military leadership at all levels. The head of the Supreme Political Council (SPC) of the Sana’a regime, Mahdi al-Mashat, emphasized that the countermeasures he introduced against Israel were tied exclusively to the war and blockade in the Gaza Strip, with no intention to obstruct freedom of navigation through the Bab-el-Mandeb strait for other companies and ships. Overall, the ban affected about 1–1.5% of the cargo flow. The second phase, from December 18, 2023, to January 19, 2025, covers the conduct of the “Poseidon Archer” military operation with the participation of the US-UK Maritime Coalition (USUKMC) during the Biden administration. In a joint statement from the US government and several of its partners dated January 3, 2024, referring to attacks on about 10 cargo ships using around 100 drones from Yemen’s shores, it stated: “... the attacks threaten the lives of innocent people around the world and pose a serious international problem requiring collective action. Nearly 15% of global maritime trade passes through the Red Sea, including 8% of global grain trade, 12% of maritime oil trade, and 8% of liquefied natural gas. International shipping companies continue to reroute their vessels around the Cape of Good Hope, resulting in significant costs and weeks-long delays in deliveries, ultimately putting at risk the transportation of essential food, fuel, and humanitarian aid worldwide. Let our message be clear: we call for an immediate end to these illegal attacks and the release of unlawfully detained ships and crews. The Houthis will be held accountable for the consequences if they continue to threaten lives, the global economy, and the free movement of trade along key regional waterways.” The strikes launched by USUKMC on January 11, 2024, aimed to “restore freedom of navigation” through the strait and deprive Sana’a of the military capability to continue its ship attacks. Israel was not mentioned, but within Yemen, the openly pro-Israel orientation of the campaign against the Sana’a alliance (SA) seriously complicated the MPP’s position. The operation ended on January 19, 2025, without achieving its objectives, following Biden’s departure from the presidency. U.S. partners in the EU and the region refused to operate under U.S. command. The EU’s “Aspides” operation focused on covering and escorting merchant ships. Among the Gulf countries, only Bahrain participated in the US-UK Maritime Coalition (USUKMC), providing a base for U.S. and British fleets and CENTCOM’s command headquarters. The U.S. invoked Article 51 of Chapter VII “Action with respect to threats to the peace, breaches of the peace, and acts of aggression” of the UN Charter (the right of self-defense) to justify its aggression in Yemen. The legal side of the USUKMC operation was extensively criticized by the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Russia’s Permanent Representative to the UN Security Council, V.A. Nebenzya. In his detailed letter to UN members dated January 22, 2024, he presented Russia’s position, describing the actions of the U.S. and Britain as a blatant violation of international law and a threat to peace. Russia did not support the Houthi threats to navigation but, amid the even more explosive situation in Gaza — which the Houthi countermeasures aimed to contain — proposed that both issues be resolved simultaneously through balanced, comprehensive solutions. This approach was also shared by most regional actors, who were primarily concerned about threats to shipping posed by the USUKMC military campaign in the Red Sea itself. According to the 2024 annual report of the Suez Canal Authority, revenue from ship traffic fell by 60%, depriving Egypt of about $7 billion (compared to a 2–3% drop before the formation of the “Guardian” coalition). Almost every quarter during the military phase of the “Palestinian” stage, the Houthis demonstrated new types of weapons and improved tactics for attacking maritime targets, including both commercial and military ships of the U.S. and Britain, which were added to Sana’a’s blacklist after the aggression began. This development triggered threats toward Iran, accused of supplying weapons to the Houthis while bypassing all checkpoints established since March 2015 — long controlled by the U.S. and British navies. On July 20, 2024, Israeli aviation joined the USUKMC “Archer” operations — one day after a Yemeni drone exploded in Tel Aviv. In the second half of the year, Israel launched three more attacks, coordinated with USUKMC combat operations. Meanwhile, strikes on Israeli territory from Yemen intensified. From October 2023 to mid-January 2025, Sana’a media reported 92 air raids on various targets in Israel, including the Haifa port on the Mediterranean (jointly with Iraqi resistance forces) and Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv. During this period, the Houthis also attacked 24 Israeli ships. They carried out 78 combat operations against the U.S. Navy, attacked 30 American commercial vessels, and 13 British ships. Attacks on Israeli territory involved cruise and ballistic missiles, some with hypersonic capabilities that pierced Israel’s defense systems, as well as large numbers of drones. According to incomplete data, during the first year of the “Archer” operation, USUKMC launched 1,200 strikes on Yemen. The combat experience gained by U.S. forces in the war with Yemen in the Red and Arabian Seas was recognized by many experts as instructive, becoming a subject of close study of a conflict in which drones worth up to $20,000 were countered by air defense missiles costing $1–4.5 million each. The change of administrations in the White House triggered a pause in the Gaza war on January 19, 2025, and a simultaneous halt in Houthi attacks on all ships in the Red and Arabian Seas. However, the arrival of President Trump was accompanied by a major escalation of the U.S. military operation, which was named “Furious Rider.” Trump's designation of the Houthis as a Foreign Terrorist Organization (FTO) on January 22, 2025, coincided with the pause in hostilities and contradicted the call from UN mission head H. Grundberg for a full ceasefire in the Red Sea, citing Yemen’s dire humanitarian situation. At the UN Security Council briefing on February 13, 2025, he began his speech with a call for deescalation. However, on March 15, 2025, the U.S. resumed heavy bombing of Yemen just before the truce in Gaza collapsed due to Israeli actions. The Washington Times wrote: “President Trump warned the Iran-backed terrorist group that it must stop all attacks on commercial shipping in the Red Sea, or ‘you will face a hell like you’ve never seen before.’” The new wave of daily, unprecedentedly intense strikes on Yemen under the “Furious Rider” operation continued from March 15 to May 6, 2025. The beginning of the operation was marked by a loud political scandal — “Signalgate” — related to the leak of confidential information about the planned U.S. military operation in Yemen. The leak was published in an article by The Atlantic’s editor-in-chief Jeffrey Goldberg, who had accidentally joined a messenger chat created by National Security Secretary Mike Watts, who was later dismissed over the incident. The operation involved the aircraft carrier USS Harry S. Truman (CVN-75), which lost three F-18 jets in multiple incidents, each valued at $67 million. The U.S. also lost over a dozen heavy MQ-9 Reaper drones, each worth $30 million, shot down over Yemen. The cost of the U.S. operation in Yemen is estimated at around $7 billion. In late April 2025, British aircraft rejoined the “Rider” operation. On May 5, Israeli aircraft carried out its first large-scale strike of the campaign on sensitive infrastructure and residences of Ansar Allah’s political and military leaders, continuing attacks even after President Trump declared the operation over. At an investment forum in Riyadh in mid-May, the American president gave the following comment on his decision: “In recent weeks, after repeated attacks on American ships and on the freedom of navigation in the Red Sea, the U.S. military carried out more than 1,100 strikes on the Houthis in Yemen. As a result, the Houthis agreed to stop. They said, ‘We don’t want this anymore.’ You’re hearing this from them for the first time. They’re tough guys, they’re fighters. But just a few days ago, we asked them to stop attacking commercial ships. They had no intention whatsoever of targeting trade vessels or anything American, and they were very happy that we stopped. But we had 52 days of thunder and lightning like they’d never seen before. It was fast, fierce, decisive, and an extremely successful use of military force. Not that we wanted it, but they were hitting ships. They were firing at you. They were firing at Saudi Arabia. We were not.” The prospects for further development of the YC remain unpredictable. The linkage of YC with the PIC remains in effect. YC has transitioned into a format of direct confrontation between SA and Israel. A new war front was opened by Israel's attack on Iran on January 13, 2025, and the twelve-day war that followed — ending with a U.S. strike on Iran’s nuclear facilities and Iran’s retaliatory strike on a U.S. Air Force base in Qatar — sparked Sana’a’s willingness to support Iran while continuing to tie YC to the situation in Gaza and maintain the blockade of Israeli shipping through the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait. Russia’s position throughout all phases of the second stage of the military phase was consistently focused on political resolution of YC. On May 14, 2025, Russia’s Permanent Representative to the UN, V.A. Nebenzya, stated that during the nearly two-month confrontation between the U.S. and the Houthis, the death toll had exceeded 200 people, with several hundred more injured. Strikes were carried out almost nightly on the territory of sovereign Yemen, targeting not only military but also civilian infrastructure, with no result — neither the suppression of Ansar Allah’s military capabilities nor their abandonment of their course of action. Welcoming the cessation of U.S. attacks on Yemen, the Russian envoy remarked: “Better late than never, as the saying goes. It seems that Washington has finally acknowledged the futility of the military approach, something we have pointed out repeatedly… This could have been a first step toward general de-escalation around Yemen. But unfortunately, it is not yet the case, because Israel has now begun relay-style bombardments of Yemen.” The U.S.-UK coalition’s military campaign in Yemen bore all the hallmarks of a large-scale neocolonial military adventure. It immediately took the form of a demonstration of military superiority, hardly differing in method or tactics from earlier AC operations, when nearly 250,000 strikes were launched on Yemen from March 2015 to April 2022. The USUKMC's failures to organize a ground operation — necessary for military victory — also echoed past lessons. The AC’s refusal to participate in favor of maintaining the de-escalation regime, and the conditional agreement by Yemeni CPIs in the MPP to join only if supplied with U.S. arms (thus endangering their patrons from the AC), yielded no results. Moreover, the Palestinian backdrop of the new phase raised the risk that all of the accumulated military power of SA’s enemies might eventually pivot against Israel’s allies. The second stage of the geopolitical phase of the crisis cannot be considered fully complete, yet it may transform into a third one if Israel attempts to seize the initiative. * Organization designated as terrorist and banned in the Russian Federation.References:Bokov T.A. The Yemeni Houthi Movement: Causes of Origin, Formation and Development. Dissertation abstract. St. Petersburg, 2023. P. 162.In January 2021, outgoing president D. Trump designated the Houthis as an international terrorist group, which was reversed by incoming president J. Biden in February. In January 2024, the group was re-designated, and Trump began his new term in January 2025 by raising the threat level of the Houthis to a “Foreign Terrorist Organization” (FTO).The Huthi Movement in Yemen: Ideology, Ambition and Security in the Arab Gulf / Abdullah Hamidaddin. London: I.B. Tauris, 2022.The book’s editor was Dr. Abdullah Hamidaddin, Assistant Secretary General of the Center. Contributors included B. Haykel (Princeton), M. Brandt (ISA, Austria), E. Ardemagni (ISPI, Italy), among others.The same article served as the legal reference for launching the AC’s “Decisive Storm” operation in March 2015.United Nations S/2024/90 Security Council Distr.: General 22 January 2024 — Letter dated 22 January 2024 from the Permanent Representative of the Russian Federation to the United Nations addressed to the President of the Security Council.MQ-9 Reaper — remotely piloted UAV, medium-altitude and long-endurance. Primarily used for reconnaissance, surveillance, targeting, and strikes.

Abstract Recent changes in US foreign policy and strategic posture have forced Europe to think about meeting its security needs without US support. One issue that requires a particular focus is the question of how to deter and defend against Russia in a conventional war. This article attempts a high-level assessment of European military capability and considers whether existing military doctrine is adequate. It argues that Europe should maintain its focus on NATO’s manoeuvrist mode of war fighting and identifies key capability gaps that need to be filled for (a) a coalition of the willing and (b) Europe as a whole to be able to fight in this way. It cautions against an unduly defensive, attritional method of fighting, based on conscript armies, as playing to Russia’s strengths instead of our own. Introduction War has come back to Europe and so has the need to think about how to fight it. Between 24 February 2022 and 21 January 2024, we put the need to rethink our defence to one side, because the Biden administration allowed us the luxury of being able to repurpose Cold War institutions (most obviously NATO), deterrence and habits to support Ukraine and dissuade Russia from another overt attack. This was a mixed blessing, because while it saved us the need to put our societies and economies on a war footing, it also blinded us to the need to build something new. The old system was not the best to contend with Russia’s aggression. While the US had only half an eye on Europe—with the rest of its focus on China—Western Europeans continued to free-ride on American resources. Neither Germany’s Zeitenwende, nor the aspersion cast by Emanuel Macron that ‘NATO is brain-dead’ (Macron 2019) translated into larger defence budgets, increased orders for ammunition, the conversion of civilian manufacturing to military use or the running of plants in shifts to replenish stockpiles. Only the Nordics, Baltics and Poland really moved to a war footing, and even their restructuring suffered from a desire, exposed as wishful thinking by Trump’s victory in November 2024, to keep the US involved. Now, with the US being led by an unstable pro-Russian Donald Trump and an anti-European JD Vance, the choice has been made for us. Steps are already being taken to prepare Europe’s industrial base, whether it is the creation of a European defence commissioner, Germany’s removal of its debt brake or initiatives such as the EU’s proposed Security Action for Europe (SAFE) financing instrument. But our political elite also needs to educate itself beyond these industrial and economic matters. War has once again become an essential part of what every responsible political leader needs to know. As it had been until 1945, if not 1989, some understanding of the military arts has, unfortunately, again become indispensable for European statespeople. This article will start by outlining certain concepts to help inform our debate about how we defend ourselves against Russia. It will relate them to the state of our military equipment, and pose questions about how we should fight with what we have, and how we should make more of what we need to fight in the way that gives us the maximum advantage over Russia. It will ask what elements of the existing NATO way of war should be kept, and which ought to be replaced, as a new European way of war—a European ‘doctrine’—is developed. And it will identify the key gaps in capability that need to be filled to apply such a doctrine in two scenarios: one where most of Europe confronts Russia (excluding neutrals, such as Ireland or Austria; potentially hostile states, such as Hungary and Slovakia; and Greece and Turkey, which deploy military resources to deter a conflict between themselves), and another where the burden is taken up by a coalition of the willing. This coalition is drawn up narrowly to constitute the Nordic–Baltic Eight (NB8),1 the UK, Poland and Ukraine. Other countries, for example, Czechia and the Netherlands, would currently be considered part of this coalition, but their contributions have, conservatively, been excluded for the purpose of this assessment. This article does not assume that the European military effort should replicate the American one (for the cost of replication, see Wolff 2025). Instead it seeks to assess how Europe would deter and defeat Russia in ways that exploit our advantages against the Russian military. We do not need to replace the Americans one-for-one, but nor should we replicate Russia’s relatively low-technology and low-skill warfare. That would be to give up the strongest advantages our free and technologically advanced societies provide. Centre of gravity The first concept we need to outline is the ‘centre of gravity’: the phrase, whose application to war we owe to Clausewitz (1918, 270), refers to that feature of a belligerent that will cause it to change its behaviour when subject to pressure. The aim of military strategy, he argued, was not necessarily the destruction of the enemy’s forces, still less their population, but the application of force to their centre of gravity in order to achieve your war aim. With this in view, the most important question for European military planners is, where is Putin’s, or Russia’s, centre of gravity? This question will occupy our strategists’ minds for the foreseeable future: its answer includes determining whether it is Putin, or some other group in the Russian elite, such as the military, energy producers or business oligarchs, on whom pressure should be applied, and if so what pressure is required. Under what conditions would Putin sue for peace, or be replaced by someone who would, if Russia extended its war to conventional military aggression against Europe? Only once these conditions have been identified, is it then relevant to ask how they might be brought about. This consideration of centre of gravity begs an important question: how is Russia to be deterred from attacking Europe? How can sufficiently severe consequences be imposed on Russia, bearing in mind that the loss of almost 400 aircraft (Minfin.com.ua 2025) and several thousand tanks, and close to a million men killed and wounded have not been enough to push Putin to retreat from Ukraine? It is, however, necessary to pose this question, because there is a temptation to avoid it by focusing on ‘deterrence by denial’. This idea would be to defend ourselves in the manner in which the Chinese are thought to defend themselves against the US: by preventing US forces from landing in China by attacking its large, expensive ships. This does not apply to the Russian case for two reasons: first, Russia is willing to sacrifice men and equipment in human-wave assaults; the only equipment it seems to have decided to preserve is its air force. Second, Russia has a land border with Europe, so it does not need to attack using small numbers of vulnerable ships. Denial is extremely difficult against human-wave attacks, as US forces found in Korea, and Iraqis found in the Iran–Iraq war when revolutionary Iran employed them. (See Meyer zum Felde 2024 for a deterrence by denial–focused approach.) Order of battle A second concept is the ‘order of battle’: what are the forces arranged on either side of a conflict and how do they measure up to each other? As well as military units, it is worthwhile also considering the broader elements of societal strength—economic, political and cultural—that each side has, and how these contribute to the war effort. For example, our open societies leave us more vulnerable to hybrid attacks and disinformation, but on the other hand supply great strength and flexibility. Democratic societies do not wait for the government to tell them what to do, but organise social defence in ways that dictatorships find more difficult; the market economy possesses enormous flexibility that centrally planned systems do not; and an entrepreneurial can-do culture can also produce superior military performance through the concept of ‘mission command’ (see below). But the first question is who would be fighting? Sometimes pieces are written as if it would only be Britain and France confronting Russia (Barker et al. 2025), but borders have shifted since the Cold War: Eastern Europe, including the highly capable Polish and Finnish militaries, as well, of course, as Europe’s strongest army, Ukraine’s, would be arrayed against Moscow, not operating under its orders. Europe’s total military-age population is considerably greater than Russia’s. If Austria, Hungary, Ireland and Slovakia are excluded for political reasons, and Greece and Turkey as well, because they will wish to preserve resources in case a conflict breaks out between them, ‘Europe’ has 89.5 million military-age men and 88 million military-age women, compared to Russia’s 31 million military-age men and 33 million military-age women.2 The question of how such forces are recruited and generated, particularly in the economically more successful parts of Europe, is of course relevant, but the sheer capacity to provide sufficient personnel is not in doubt. It is useful to consider the matter of mobilisation. Russia was in transition from a conscript to a professional army when it launched its attack on Ukraine. It still mobilises 160,000 men per year, mostly to fill rearguard positions and free up front-line deployment for professional troops. This is equivalent to 17% of the annual cohort of young men.3 Europe (as defined above) could generate similar forces without much difficulty. A one-year cohort of the European population includes 2.7 million men and 2.5 million women. Even if it limited itself to calling up men, it would only need to recruit 6% of the population. Such a number would be feasible with a voluntary reserve service programme, and would not require universal conscription. Considering the countries most at risk of Russian aggression, and most likely to need to defend against it, presents a starker picture. The NB8 plus Poland and the UK between them have an annual cohort of 7.7 million men and 7.3 million women. If the male population of these countries took part in military service at the same rate as Russians, this would generate 130,000 personnel, requiring an additional 30,000 female personnel to match Russian numbers. This would require a female reserve participation rate of 4%, which is an achievable figure. For example, at least 25% of Norway’s annual conscription quota comprises women. Despite a recent surge in calls to reintroduce universal military service in Europe, this is not necessarily advisable in all countries. Training a large cohort of conscripts takes resources away from exercises and advanced training for professional officers. While it may be justified for small nations on the front line, it is not the best use of resources for larger countries. The required manpower needs can in most cases be met by a selective reserve system. European stocks of platforms (as distinct from ammunition stocks, which are dangerously low) are also not outrageously out of balance with the requirement for a mission against Russia, though this is partly due to Ukraine’s destruction of Russian equipment since 2022. The following (table 1) compares stocks of fighter jets, main battle tanks and artillery pieces across several groups of European countries (some including Ukraine) versus Russia. This analysis is necessarily somewhat crude, as it excludes infantry fighting vehicles, mortars and other equipment. It also completely sets aside analysis of naval forces. Its fighter aircraft figures comprise fourth-generation fighters, old fighters (predating the fourth generation or the Warsaw Pact) and F35s.4 Finally, these figures do not take future production (either European or Russian) or the evolution of land and air drones into account (International Institute for Strategic Studies 2024).   Source: International Institute for Strategic Studies (2024). Note: This table compares the main platforms (fighter jets, main battle tanks and artillery pieces, including rocket artillery) that various European countries have at their disposal. Countries are placed in different categories and then compared against Russia. Each category also appears in two variants: one including Ukraine, and one that does not include Ukrainian forces. The ‘NB8+ coalition’ is the NB8 plus the UK and Poland. Non-neutral Europe means EU members plus the UK and Norway, but minus Ireland, Austria, Hungary and Slovakia. Using this table one can see, for example, that the NB8+ coalition has 542 fewer fighter jets at its disposal than Russia but essentially the same number of main battle tanks. With the exception of the scenario in which only the NB8+ coalition and Ukraine face off against Russia, Europe currently has approximately the required numbers of platforms to resist a Russian attack (bearing in mind a deficit in artillery pieces if Ukraine is not included). This leads to the following conclusions: • Ukraine needs to be considered an integral part of European defence against Russia, and its defeat would allow Russia to focus its forces on EU territory.• The coalition faces a notable air-power shortage in confronting Russia. While it has enough planes to deter Russian use of its aerospace, it does not have sufficient equipment to attempt to establish air superiority.• At an overall European level the priority should not be buying new platforms. Platform acquisition should be part of any rearmament plan, but priorities should be determined by the specific needs of a campaign against Russia, with importance given to filling the key gaps needed to conduct such a campaign. Platforms, ammunition and network-centric warfare The analysis above is only a first approximation of military strength. It considers only equipment and mobilisation potential, rather than force generation, and concentrates on land and air forces, setting aside the navy because a Euro-Russian conventional war would largely be fought on land. (The air force calculations do include naval aviation equipment, however, as these could be brought to bear). It also deals only with the main ‘platforms’: main battle tanks, fighter planes and artillery pieces, ignoring armoured personnel carriers and infantry fighting vehicles, engineering and support equipment, and, most importantly, ammunition. Simply replicating Russian numbers of platforms without considering communications, software and unmanned systems risks equipping ourselves to fight the last war (Tallis 2025). The spectrum that runs between a platform, which serves to move weapons systems into a place where they can be fired, and a piece of ammunition, fired from a platform, is another dimension of analysis. For example, during the Second World War the distinction was clear: an artillery shell was ammunition; an artillery piece a platform. But how should one categorise a cruise missile, which could be launched from a plane (so it appears to be ammunition launched from a platform), or directly from land, in which case it could arguably be a platform on its own? What is the difference between a cruise missile and a long-range drone? The war in Ukraine has seen the rapid development of short-range single-use drones that behave, in some ways, like super-intelligent artillery shells; and actual shells have incorporated guidance systems, and even propulsion systems, so that they have become what are known as ‘loitering munitions’. The point here is that strength is not just measured by platforms, but by the things that can be delivered to the battlefield with them (or independently of them), and an assessment of military strength needs to include an understanding of stocks of ammunition, the ability to replenish it and to fire it at where it is needed. This brings us to the idea of networks. War has always given the advantage to the side that could bring force to bear in a coordinated fashion while itself avoiding being the target of a coordinated enemy attack. The latest iteration of this is known as ‘network-centric warfare’, which, in its ideal form, means that every participant in the battle, from planes and ships all the way down to individual soldiers and drones can observe the ‘battlespace’ and communicate information about it to the right layer of command. Using this information, commanders, assisted by artificial intelligence, can decide where ‘effect’ is to be concentrated to bring about maximum damage to the enemy, more quickly than it can cause damage. This capability is not necessarily confined to the most expensive high-tech armies. Ukraine has shown how off-the-shelf electronic components can be added to existing systems to improve them (for example, to allow its artillery to concentrate fire on a single target despite the artillery systems themselves being dispersed). Precision If in the popular imagination precision weapons are used mainly to reduce collateral damage (and this was indeed their main use during the campaigns against terrorist groups in the first two decades of this century), in high-intensity war their advantage is that they conserve resources and time. Even if an individual precision artillery shell is more expensive, it is more useful to be able to use one or two guided shells to hit a target than 30 or 40 unguided ones. Not only is less ammunition used, but fewer troops are needed to operate it, and the wear and tear on the artillery pieces is considerably less. Precision results in greater ‘effect’ from the inputs to the process. Though sometimes presented as its opposite, precision should be understood as a way of delivering ‘mass’; this concept, also from Clausewitz (1918, 98), refers to the quantity of force that can be brought to bear against an enemy at a particular time. It matters because fighting is not a continuous linear process where the amount of force one applies has an effect in proportion to its quantity—in war having more power at one place at the right time means you will win the battle and the enemy will be weaker for the next one. The slightly stronger force can often inflict damage on the weaker one in a way that is disproportionate to the difference in their strength. To take a simple example for the purposes of illustration, suppose we start with 100 tanks, and so do they. Thanks to our commander’s skill we are able to concentrate 50 of our tanks against 40 of theirs. We lose 10 tanks, they lose 35. Now we have 90 tanks, they have 65. In this example our ability to get those extra 10 tanks in the right place has given us an advantage that can be pressed further in the next battle. It is these facts that underpin the approach that NATO, and the West more broadly, has applied to fighting. Although Western democracies have been able, due to their superior economic systems and technological advantage, to outproduce their enemies, winning a war of attrition is not where they consider their advantage to come from. Instead they emphasise their speed of movement and thought, and their ability to confuse their enemies, tricking them into dividing or misdirecting their forces, and then pouncing at the right moment; this is the ‘manoeuvrist’ creed of war, in which we fight smart and overcome the enemy by more than brute force. It is important not to draw the distinction between attrition and manoeuvre too crudely. Manoeuvre warfare is easier when you have more and better kit, and your leaders are informed by better intelligence obtained through technological as well as human sources. It also takes advantage of the characteristics of free societies. Manoeuvre warfare is strengthened by ‘mission command’: the notion that subordinate officers are given the ability to decide exactly how to fulfil their orders. This gives Western militaries a flexibility that is absent from the armies of dictatorships, in which such freedom is rarely granted,5 but of course this depends on officers and soldiers being sufficiently well-trained, and possessing a good enough level of general education, to operate independently. It is the best way for us, as free and well-educated peoples, to fight—it is not necessarily the best for everyone. A manoeuvrist force, is, as the name suggests, on the move. It is constantly advancing, communicating its changing position, attempting to bypass and confuse the enemy. It operates at a high tempo in order to overwhelm the enemy mentally as well as physically, and the ability to sustain this type of fighting informs training, equipment command and intelligence: ‘the key to winning battles is to have greater forces at the key location than does the enemy. The trick is to outwit the enemy and thus out-concentrate him at the right time’ (Warden 1998, 79). This matters for learning the right lessons from Ukraine’s fight for survival. Ukraine has only been able to master some of the lessons of manoeuvrist warfare. It has been hampered by its limited capacity in the air, which slows it down and makes it hard to break Russian lines except with artillery and long-range fire (such as the famous HIMARS rockets). It is in transition from Soviet- to Western-style command. But it has also shown tremendous capacity to innovate, particularly in its use of drones to hold a defensive line. Ukraine’s tremendous first-person drone capacity allows it to stop Russian attacks while risking far fewer troops (drone operators work behind the lines, where they are at much lower risk than the men in the trenches) and even compensate for artillery.6 These principles feed into NATO’s existing doctrine (NATO 2022), which involves identifying the enemy’s centre of gravity, achieving air superiority to deliver firepower against its command and control nodes, and then overcoming its disoriented forces at speed. It relies on synthesising intelligence through networks of sensors and exploiting the information they provide to deploy massed precision against them. Such operations, however, require certain capabilities that depend on equipment and structures provided mostly by the US. The first of these is NATO’s command structure. NATO’s armies have a single command structure that conducts exercises together. At the top is the Supreme Allied Commander (American) and the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander (European). American units are integrated throughout the force structure. European forces will need to plan, exercise and be ready to fight without these American elements—it is not merely a matter of detaching them. The second is the intelligence and planning capability to carry out those war plans and adapt to the evolving battle. These integrate intelligence gathered from sensors, satellites and human sources, and artificial intelligence is increasingly involved in its processing as extremely large amounts of data must be handled quickly and secretly. As well as certain sensors (satellites and aircraft), the US’s processing software is also vital here, though Europeans have equivalent capabilities at reduced scale. Third are the sensors, software and missiles needed to suppress enemy air defences (SEAD). SEAD missions are a prerequisite for establishing air superiority against adversaries that possess sophisticated air defence systems, such as Russia. Indeed, the failure of Russia’s SEAD missions in Ukraine, and Ukraine’s ability to deter Russian aviation, may also indicate that an effective air defence is easier to mount than had been thought.7 Europe, however, currently lacks the ability to make the latest generation of anti-radiation missiles (which target enemy radar) essential to the success of SEAD. India’s poor performance against Pakistan, where it appears to have attempted to conduct deep strikes against its rival without conducting SEAD, underlines the importance of these capabilities (Economist 2025). It will take some years to develop them, and this needs to be prioritised. A full discussion of the requirements for successful SEAD against Russia can be found in Bronk and Watling (2025). Finally there is the question of Russia’s nuclear threats. Though the UK and France possess ‘strategic’ nuclear arsenals, these, because they threaten the complete destruction of the world, can only credibly deter the most extreme sort of attack. Russia and the US both have low-yield or ‘tactical’ nuclear weapons, and Russia has regularly threatened to use them. These threats would significantly complicate elements of a European campaign to deter Russia, which might involve actions such as seizing Kaliningrad or advancing from Finland towards the environs of St Petersburg. Europe needs the ability to restrict Russia to conventional weapons in such circumstances. Though such deterrence does not have to be supplied using tactical nuclear weapons of our own (Hoffmann 2021), these would be the most straightforward instrument for this purpose. As the UK’s nuclear weapons systems are submarine launched (and use American missiles), France’s arsenal would have to be expanded to provide this capability, and be able to be deployed closer to the front as, for example, Donald Tusk has hinted.8 Conclusion and recommendations Fighting without the Americans does not necessarily mean we need to replace exactly what they used to supply. Instead we need to understand the mission required, which is to deter Russia by credibly showing how Russian forces would be defeated, in the field, should Putin attempt to attack us. In an ideal world this credible threat would cause the military to remove Putin should he attempt further adventurism against Europe, but we cannot rely on such an eventuality. This means that we have to think carefully about how we would fight and sustain political support for a major European war. The good news is that provided that the bulk of Europe is willing to contribute, we have the resources and equipment needed to defeat Russia. Upgrades, in particular in SEAD capability and tactical nuclear weapons, need to be made, but they are not out of reach. In addition, we have a solid basis in military doctrine that can be used to organise a campaign that takes advantage of our military cultures and technological lead. The less good news is that the countries that can be guaranteed to make up a ‘coalition of the willing’ (the NB8 plus Poland, the UK and Ukraine) would currently struggle to mount an offensive campaign on their own. They would, in particular, struggle to field a sufficiently large air force to win air superiority over Russia, though they have enough aircraft to deny Russia air superiority of its own. This would limit their ability to put manoeuvrist doctrine into practice, and, notwithstanding advances in drone warfare pioneered by the Ukrainians, could cause them to fall back to static defence and attritional warfare, as illustrated by the proposed Baltic Defence Line. Such an approach would stretch the human resources of a coalition of the willing extremely thin. It is perhaps ironic that Europe as a whole could win a war of attrition against Russia, but it also would not have to, as it could prosecute a campaign of manoeuvre against the Russian military and Putin’s state. Accordingly my recommendations are laid out below. Europe should focus on what it needs to defeat Russia, rather than what would be required to replace the American commitment to NATO. Nevertheless, it should not, as a whole, revert to using conscript-based armies designed to fight a war of attrition against Russia. These give up the greatest advantages of technologically advanced free societies and would leave us fighting the kind of war Russia would want us to fight. Certain small front-line states might need to make different calculations. Universal military service might be required so that they can, in extremis, mount a defensive campaign—for example, if Finland and the Baltic states were required to fight on their own without support from European allies. This highly extreme scenario is sufficiently unlikely that it should not form the basis of other countries’ military planning. The core ‘coalition of the willing’—the Nordic countries, the Baltic states, plus Poland, the UK and Ukraine—could defend themselves against Russia, and with some effort would be able to conduct an offensive campaign to bring about Russian defeat. They would need, however, to make important improvements to their defence. The coalition would require an integrated command structure and a programme of exercises. The expansion of the UK-led Joint Expeditionary Force and the UK’s command headquarters would be a suitable nucleus for such capability. The coalition would face a manpower deficit compared to Russia, and matching Russian mobilised reserve levels would be a challenge. The coalition could, however, match Russian mobilisation levels with a Swedish- or Norwegian-style selective military service programme for young men and women (it could achieve sufficient coverage for defensive purposes by recruiting 16% of men and 6% of women each year). The coalition is also severely short of aircraft with which to pursue an air superiority campaign against Russia. Though it would fare better than Ukraine on its own, increasing the size of the coalition’s air forces must be a priority, and the risk of over-dependence on the F35 needs to be considered. Though ‘kill switches’ are a myth, a sovereign spare parts supply chain (as Finland is creating) and sovereign intelligence software (as used by Israel) are required to reduce the risk of US unreliability. The coalition would also need to consider replacing the F35’s intelligence and command capabilities with replacements that could operate on European aircraft, such as the Gripen or Rafale. The lack of stealth capability would also hamper the coalition’s air forces until a sixth-generation fighter could be developed. Europe as a whole has forces of the necessary scale to conduct operations against Russia. Its shortfalls in ammunition production and inefficiencies due to the diversity of its equipment have been covered elsewhere. Some inefficiency is likely to persist as long as Europe remains a relatively decentralised continent, but it is likely to be better to bear the extra cost now, than waste time with the ambitious political integration projects required to eliminate it quickly. Europe as a whole would need to develop its own command structure. At this level it may be possible to repurpose NATO’s Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) using the Berlin Plus process, though care would need to be taken to avoid a potentially hostile US, as well as unfriendly NATO members, such as Hungary, blocking operations. As urgent as ammunition production (a category that includes missiles as well as artillery) is the manufacture of equipment to conduct SEAD campaigns. Reviving European capacity to produce anti-radiation missiles and in intelligence capability to uncover targets for them should be a matter of the highest priority. The final priority area is the expansion of Europe’s tactical nuclear capability. Though the French and British strategic arsenals can provide the ultimate deterrence against Russia, tactical, or low-yield, weapons are needed to deter Russia from threatening European forces with its tactical nuclear weapons. As the British programme is not suitable, these would have to be based on the French programme, and questions related to how this expansion would be paid for, and how tactical nuclear use would be authorised, would need to be addressed. Footnotes1. Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia.2. These estimates are based on Eurostat data for the EU member states, the Office for National Statistics population projections for the UK and the most recent available data for Russia, which is based on UN data not currently available but which have been reported on Wikipedia. The Russian data are from 2012, so these overestimate Russian demographic strength slightly. The military age calculation aggregates the standard five-year demographic groups between 20 and 49. Obviously a military may mobilise younger and older people as well, but the comparison remains valid.3. In this case, by taking the 10-year sample of 15–24-year-olds and dividing it by 10 to smooth out fluctuations. Again, because of declining Russian demographics (even without accounting for losses due to the war), this is likely to be an underestimate of the proportion mobilised (because the total number of 18-year-old men is lower than the statistics indicate).4. F35s are easily the most advanced fighter available, and the only one reliably able to penetrate Russian air defences before suppression of enemy air defence missions have been accomplished. The deterioration in relations with the US, however, poses questions about the ongoing reliability of the supply chain associated with them. Though ‘kill-switches’ are a myth, European countries will need to maintain their own spare parts supply and software upgrade path if they are to gain the most out of the aircraft in the long run. Finland, for example, is establishing its own sovereign spare parts supply, and Israel has a sovereign software intelligence solution on its F35s.5. An exception was the Wehrmacht, which inherited mission command from the Prussian Army; however, its generals found themselves micromanaged by Hitler, which (fortunately) affected their performance.6. These small drones are very different from those deployed in the early stages of the war such as the Bayraktar TB2 or Western drones such as the Reaper. They are much closer to ammunition than platforms, and (in good weather, at least) replace artillery or close air support.7. It could also indicate that Russian aviation is not as good as had been thought, but it would be dangerous to plan on that assumption.8. Author’s conversation with a Polish official who wished to remain anonymous.ReferencesBarker K., Smialek J., Erlanger S. (2025). Europe prepares to face Russia as Trump’s America steps back. New York Times, 24 February.Bronk J., Watling J. (2025). Rebalancing joint fires to deter Russia. Royal United Services Institute Occasional Paper. London, 15 April. https://static.rusi.org/rebalancing-european-joint-fires-to-deter-russia.pdf. Accessed 15 April 2025.Clausewitz K. von. (1918). On War. Trans. Graham J. J. (London: K. Paul Trench, Trubner & Co.)Dalaaker A. (2017). 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In Latin America, Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela are not alone in their support for Russia and its invasion of Ukraine. In many cases, support has been disguised as an interest in peace or a neutral stance towards the conflict, as seen in the cases of Colombia, Mexico, and Brazil. While we find manifold diplomatic approaches toward Russia and Ukraine in Latin America, the underlying motivations can be understood in terms of support or rejection. While a majority of nations reject the invasion, considering it a threat to territorial sovereignty and self-determination, others have been reluctant to place any blame on Russia. More broadly, there has been less of an ideological bloc and more of an anti-imperialist or anti-colonial sentiment, with a few exceptions, such as Gabrie Boric from Chile who has publicly repudiated Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. His opposition is a departure from other Latin American leftist leaders like Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Gustavo Francisco Petro who have been more critical of Volodymyr Zelensky than Vladimir Putin. However, we can still identify three distinctive approaches to the crisis: 1) geopolitical, 2) economic, and 3) historical. The region has a keen interest in keeping its doors open to Russia. BRICS members like Brazil have managed to maintain their alleged neutrality in the pursuit of peace—even as President Lula has explicitly supported  Putin—while simultaneously protecting their economic interests. Others like Colombia and Mexico have shielded their unwillingness to condemn Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in an apparent push for peace. On the economic front, attitudes towards Russia are more tenuous given that Russia’s capability for foreign direct investment has been significantly reduced by the brunt of the war, along with the impact of the economic sanctions that followed their aggression. To be sure, Russia’s investments in the region have been winding down for some time, with a decreasing profile in areas such as energy, oil, and gas, as well as software and IT. However, the economic ties are more significant in the cases of Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela—where they are joined more by their subjection to economic sanctions, and therefore the necessity to evade the consequences of economic isolation. There are specific areas key to this alliance: Russian fertilisers, along with oil and diesel, are critical to bypassing Western sanctions. Meanwhile, historical ties are more consequential than is commonly understood. Misinterpretations of Russia’s Soviet past by leftist-governed Latin American countries and longstanding social and cultural commonalities partially explain the continued support from diverse leaders such as Lula and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil. These ties, rooted in shared anti-colonial sentiments and cultivated over decades, and regardless of ideological shifts, illustrate Russia’s multifaceted regional influence. This context underscores the fact that Russia’s regional impact transcends ideological lines, with both left and right-wing governments either explicitly supporting Russia or criticising Ukraine’s NATO aspirations to justify Russia’s aggression. The return of Donald Trump to the White House has prominent leaders of the Latin American left aligning with the new administration, resulting in significant consequences for the region. The new US administration’s criticism of Kyiv resonates with positions held by Brazil, Mexico, Colombia, Cuba, and Nicaragua. Despite ideological differences, their alignment emerges from a mix of political affinities, geopolitical strategies, and historical connections. Putin’s explicit defiance of Donald Trump’s negotiation efforts raises questions about Latin America’s influence over the conflict, largely due to its initial reluctance to adopt a decisive stance against Putin. The lonely voice condemning Putin’s war of attrition continues to be Chilean President Gabriel Boric, in stark contrast to Lula DaSilva and Gustavo Petro, who remain in Putin’s corner, making it unlikely they can be viewed as honest brokers in a peace initiative. Trump’s policies have prompted Brazil and Colombia to voice limited concerns about US plans for Ukraine, although still refraining from outright condemnation of Russia. This stance appears less a genuine support for Ukraine and more an opposition to US involvement in peace processes, even blaming Ukraine as partially responsible. Meanwhile, ideology alone has proven insufficient to prompt unified condemnation of Russia or widespread support for Ukraine in Latin America. Previous efforts by the Biden administration to secure regional military assistance for Ukraine were met with firm rejection and reluctance. This distancing, interpreted as tacit support for Russia, contributes to concerns about increasing authoritarian tendencies in the region, reflecting a diminished commitment to emerging democracies in crisis. Effectively abandoned by the international community, Ukraine faces negotiations with nations seeking its valuable earth minerals in exchange for protection, essentially framing it within a debt relief context. The absence of significant Latin American critique of this neocolonial approach underscores a troubling shift where sovereignty and self-determination appear increasingly disposable, contingent upon geopolitical interests and contexts. Maria I. Puerta Riera is a Visiting Professor of Political Science at Valencia College in Orlando, FL., where she teaches U.S. Government and International Politics. She holds a PhD. in Social Sciences, with her research focusing on the crises of democracies in Latin America. She has a special interest in Venezuela, Cuba, and Nicaragua, and is currently working on the effects of the illiberal regimes of China and Russia and their use of sharp power in the region. This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

Abstract We examine the roles of Gold and Bitcoin as a hedge, a safe haven, and a diversifier against the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic and the Ukraine War. Using a rolling window estimation of the dynamic conditional correlation (DCC)-based regression, we present a novel approach to examine the time-varying safe haven, hedge, and diversifier properties of Gold and Bitcoin for equities portfolios. This article uses daily returns of Gold, Bitcoin, S&P500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 from January 3, 2018, to October 15, 2022. Our results show that Gold is a better safe haven than the two, while Bitcoin exhibits weak properties as safe haven. Bitcoin can, however, be used as a diversifier and hedge. This study offers policy suggestions to investors to diversify their holdings during uncertain times. Introduction Financial markets and the diversity of financial products have risen in both volume and value, creating financial risk and establishing the demand for a safe haven for investors. The global financial markets have faced several blows in recent years. From the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) to the outbreak of the pandemic and uncertainty regarding economic policy measures of governments and central banks, the financial markets including equity markets around the world were faced with severe meltdowns. This similar behavior was observed in other markets including equity and commodity markets, resulting in overall uncertainty. In this scenario, the investors normally flock toward the safe-haven assets to protect their investment. In normal situations, investors seek to diversify or hedge their assets to protect their portfolios. However, the financial markets are negatively impacted when there are global uncertainties. Diversification and hedging methods fail to safeguard investors’ portfolios during instability because almost all sectors and assets are negatively affected (Hasan et al., 2021). As a result, investors typically look for safe-haven investments to safeguard their portfolios under extreme conditions (Ceylan, 2022). Baur and Lucey (2010) provide the following definitions of hedge, diversifier, and safe haven: Hedge: An asset that, on average, has no correlation or a negative correlation with another asset or portfolio. On average, a strict hedge has a (strictly) negative correlation with another asset or portfolio.Diversifier: An asset that, on average, has a positive correlation (but not perfect correlation) with another asset or portfolio. Safe haven: This is the asset that in times of market stress or volatility becomes uncorrelated or negatively associated with other assets or a portfolio. As was previously indicated, the significant market turbulence caused by a sharp decline in consumer spending, coupled with insufficient hedging opportunities, was a common feature of all markets during these times (Yousaf et al., 2022). Nakamoto (2008) suggested a remedy by introducing Bitcoin, a “digital currency,” as an alternative to traditional fiduciary currencies (Paule-Vianez et al., 2020). Bitcoin often described as “Digital Gold” has shown greater resilience during periods of crises and has highlighted the potential safe haven and hedging property against uncertainties (Mokni, 2021). According to Dyhrberg (2016), the GFC has eased the emergence of Bitcoin thereby strengthening its popularity. Bouri et al. (2017) in their study indicate that Bitcoin has been viewed as a shelter from global uncertainties caused by conventional banking and economic systems. Recent research has found that Bitcoin is a weak safe haven, particularly in periods of market uncertainty like the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) crisis (Conlon & McGee, 2020; Nagy & Benedek, 2021; Shahzad et al., 2019; Syuhada et al., 2022). In contrast to these findings, a study by Yan et al. (2022) indicates that it can function as a strong safe haven in favorable economic times and with low-risk aversion. Ustaoglu (2022) also supports the strong safe-haven characteristic of Bitcoin against most emerging stock market indices during the COVID-19 period. Umar et al. (2023) assert that Bitcoin and Gold are not reliable safe-havens. Singh et al. (2024) in their study reveal that Bitcoin is an effective hedge for investments in Nifty-50, Sensex, GBP–INR, and JPY–INR, at the same time a good diversifier for Gold. The study suggests that investors can incorporate Bitcoin in their portfolios as a good hedge against market volatility in equities and commodities markets. During the COVID-19 epidemic, Barbu et al. (2022) investigated if Ethereum and Bitcoin could serve as a short-term safe haven or diversifier against stock indices and bonds. The outcomes are consistent with the research conducted by Snene Manzli et al. (2024). Both act as hybrid roles for stock market returns, diversifiers for sustainable stock market indices, and safe havens for bond markets. Notably, Bhuiyan et al. (2023) found that Bitcoin provides relatively better diversification opportunities than Gold during times of crisis. To reduce risks, Bitcoin has demonstrated a strong potential to operate as a buffer against global uncertainty and may be a useful hedging tool in addition to Gold and similar assets (Baur & Lucey, 2010; Bouri et al., 2017; Capie et al., 2005; Dyhrberg, 2015). According to Huang et al. (2021), its independence from monetary policies and minimal association with conventional financial assets allow it to have a safe-haven quality. Bitcoins have a substantial speed advantage over other assets since they are traded at high and constant frequencies with no days when trading is closed (Selmi et al., 2018). Additionally, it has been demonstrated that the average monthly volatility of Bitcoin is higher than that of Gold or a group of international currencies expressed in US dollars; nevertheless, the lowest monthly volatility of Bitcoin is lower than the maximum monthly volatility of Gold and other foreign currencies (Dwyer, 2015). Leverage effects are also evident in Bitcoin returns, which show lower volatilities in high return periods and higher volatilities in low return times (Bouri et al., 2017; Liu et al., 2017). According to recent research, Bitcoins can be used to hedge S&P 500 stocks, which increases the likelihood that institutional and retail investors will build secure portfolios (Okorie, 2020). Bitcoin demonstrates strong hedging capabilities and can complement Gold in minimizing specific market risks (Baur & Lucey, 2010). Its high-frequency and continuous trading further enrich the range of available hedging tools (Dyhrberg, 2016). Moreover, Bitcoin spot and futures markets exhibit similarities to traditional financial markets. In the post-COVID-19 period, Zhang et al. (2021) found that Bitcoin futures outperform Gold futures.Gold, silver, palladium, and platinum were among the most common precious metals utilized as safe-haven investments. Gold is one such asset that is used extensively (Salisu et al., 2021). Their study tested the safe-haven property of Gold against the downside risk of portfolios during the pandemic. Empirical results have also shown that Gold functions as a safe haven for only 15 trading days, meaning that holding Gold for longer than this period would result in losses to investors. This explains why investors buy Gold on days of negative returns and sell it when market prospects turn positive and volatility decreases (Baur & Lucey, 2010). In their study, Kumar et al. (2023) tried to analyse the trends in volume throughout futures contracts and investigate the connection between open interest, volume, and price for bullion and base metal futures in India. Liu et al. (2016) in their study found that there is no negative association between Gold and the US stock market during times of extremely low or high volatility. Because of this, it is not a strong safe haven for the US stock market (Hood & Malik, 2013). Post-COVID-19, studies have provided mixed evidence on the safe-haven properties of Gold (Bouri et al., 2020; Cheema et al., 2022; Ji et al., 2020). According to Kumar and Padakandla (2022), Gold continuously demonstrates safe-haven qualities for all markets, except the NSE, both in the short and long term. During the COVID-19 episode, Gold’s effectiveness as a hedge and safe-haven instrument has been impacted (Akhtaruzzaman et al., 2021). Al-Nassar (2024) conducted a study on the hedge effectiveness of Gold and found that it is a strong hedge in the long run. Bhattacharjee et al. (2023) in their paper examined the symmetrical and asymmetrical linkage between Gold price levels and the Indian stock market returns by employing linear autoregressive distributed lag and nonlinear autoregressive distributed lag models. The results exhibit that the Indian stock market returns and Gold prices are cointegrated. According to the most recent study by Kaczmarek et al. (2022), Gold has no potential as a safe haven, despite some studies on the COVID-19 pandemic showing contradictory results. The co-movements of Bitcoin and the Chinese stock market have also normalized as a result of this epidemic (Belhassine & Karamti, 2021). Widjaja and Havidz (2023) verified that Gold was a safe haven asset during the COVID-19 pandemic, confirming the Gold’s safe-haven characteristic. As previously pointed out, investors value safe-haven investments in times of risk. Investors panic at these times when asset prices fall and move from less liquid (risky) securities to more liquid (safe) ones, such as cash, Gold, and government bonds. An asset must be bought and sold rapidly, at a known price, and for a reasonably modest cost to be considered truly safe (Smales, 2019). Therefore, we need to properly re-examine the safe-haven qualities of Gold and Bitcoin due to the mixed evidences regarding their safe-haven qualities and the impact of COVID-19 and the war in Ukraine on financial markets. This work contributes to and deviates from the body of existing literature in the following ways. We propose a novel approach in this work to evaluate an asset’s time-varying safe haven, hedge, and diversifier characteristics. This research examines the safe haven, hedging, and diversifying qualities of Gold and Bitcoin against the equity indices; S&P 500, CAC 40, and NSE 50. Through the use of rolling window estimation, we extend the methodology of Ratner and Chiu (2013) by estimating the aforementioned properties of the assets. Comparing rolling window estimation to other conventional techniques, the former will provide a more accurate representation of an asset’s time-varying feature. This study explores the conventional asset Gold’s time-varying safe haven, hedging, and diversifying qualities during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic and the conflict in Ukraine. We use Bitcoin, an unconventional safe-haven asset, for comparison. Data and Methodology We use the daily returns of three major equity indices; S&P500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 from January 3, 2018, to October 15, 2022. The equity indices were selected to represent three large and diverse markets namely the United States, France, and India in terms of geography and economic development. We assess safe-haven assets using the daily returns of Gold and Bitcoin over the same time. Equity data was collected from Yahoo Finance, Bitcoin data from coinmarketcap.com, and Gold data from the World Gold Council website. Engle (2002) developed the DCC (Dynamic Conditional Correlation)-GARCH model, which is frequently used to assess contagion amid pandemic uncertainty or crises. Time-varying variations in the conditional correlation of asset pairings can be captured using the DCC-GARCH model. Through employing this model, we can analyse the dynamic behavior of volatility spillovers. Engle’s (2002) DCC-GARCH model contains two phases; 1. Univariate GARCH model estimation2. Estimation of time-varying conditional correlation. For its explanation, mathematical characteristics, and theoretical development, see here [insert the next link in “the word here” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09711023251322578] Results and Discussion The outcomes of the parameters under the DCC-GARCH model for each of the asset pairs selected for the investigation are shown in Table 1.   First, we look at the dynamical conditional correlation coefficient, ρ.The rho value is negative and insignificant for NSE 50/Gold, NSE 50 /BTC, S&P500/Gold, and S&P500/BTC indicating a negative and insignificant correlation between these asset pairs, showing Gold and Bitcoin as potential hedges and safe havens. The fact that ρ is negative and significant for CAC 40/Gold suggests that Gold can be a safe haven against CAC 40 swings. The asset pair CAC/BTC, on the other hand, has possible diversifier behavior with ρ being positive but statistically insignificant. Next, we examine the behavior of the DCC-GARCH parameters; α and β. We find that αDCC is statistically insignificant for all the asset pairs, while βDCC is statistically significant for all asset pairs. βDCC quantifies the persistence feature of the correlation and the extent of the impact of volatility spillover in a particular market’s volatility dynamics. A higher βDCC value implies that a major part of the volatility dynamics can be explained by the respective market’s own past volatility. For instance, the NSE 50/Gold’s βDCC value of 0.971 shows that there is a high degree of volatility spillover between these two assets, with about 97% of market volatility being explained by the assets’ own historical values and the remainder coming from spillover. Thus, we see that the volatility spillover is highly persistent (~0.8) for all the asset pairs except NSE 50/BTC. The results above show that the nature of the dynamic correlation between the stock markets, Bitcoin and Gold is largely negative, pointing toward the possibility of Gold and Bitcoin being hedge/safe haven. However, a detailed analysis is needed to confirm the same by employing rolling window analysis, and we present the results in the forthcoming section. We present the rolling window results for S&P500 first. We present the regression results for Gold in Figure 1 and Bitcoin in Figure 2   Figure 1. Rolling Window Regression Results for S&P500 and Gold.Note: Areas shaded under factor 1 represent significant regression coefficients. In Figure 1, we examine the behavior of β0 (intercept term), β1, β2, and β3 (partial correlation coefficients). The intercept term β0 will give an idea about whether the asset is behaving as a diversifier or hedge. Here, the intercept term shows significance most of the time. However, during 2018, the intercept was negative and significant, showing that it could serve as a hedge during geopolitical tensions and volatilities in the global stock market. However, during the early stages of COVID-19, we show that the intercept is negative and showing statistical significance, suggesting that Gold could serve as a hedge during the initial shocks of the pandemic. These findings are contrary to the results in the study by Tarchella et al. (2024) where they found hold as a good diversifier. Later, we find the intercept to be positive and significant, indicating that Gold could act as a potential diversifier. But during the Russia-Ukraine War, Gold exhibited hedge ability again. Looking into the behavior of β1, which is the partial correlation coefficient for the tenth percentile of return distribution shows negative and insignificant during 2018. Later, it was again negative and significant during the initial phases of COVID-19, and then negative in the aftermath, indicating that Gold could act as a weak safe haven during the COVID-19 pandemic. Gold could serve as a strong safe haven for the SP500 against volatility in the markets brought on by the war in Ukraine, as we see the coefficient to be negative and large during this time. From β2 and β3, the partial correlation coefficients of the fifth and first percentile, respectively, show that Gold possesses weak safe haven properties during COVID-19 and strong safe haven behavior during the Ukraine crisis. Next, we examine the characteristics of Bitcoin as a hedge/diversifier/safe haven against the S&P500 returns. We present the results in Figure 2.   Figure 2. Rolling Window Regression Results for S&P500 and Bitcoin.Note: Areas shaded under factor 1 represent significant regression coefficients. Like in the previous case, we begin by analysing the behavior of the intercept coefficient, which is β0. As mentioned earlier the intercept term will give a clear picture of the asset’s hedging and diversifier property. In the period 2018–2019, the intercept term is positive but insignificant. This could be due to the large volatility in Bitcoin price movements during the period. It continues to be minimal (but positive) and insignificant during 2019–2020, indicating toward weak diversification possibility. Post-COVID-19 period, the coefficient shows the significance and positive value, displaying the diversification potential. We see that the coefficient remains positive throughout the analysis, confirming Bitcoin’s potential as a diversifier. Looking into the behavior of β1 (the partial correlation coefficient at tenth percentile), it is positive but insignificant during 2018. The coefficient is having negative sign and showing statistical significance in 2019, suggesting that Bitcoin could be a good safe haven in that year. This year was characterized by a long list of corporate scandals, uncertainties around Brexit, and tensions in global trade. We can observe that throughout the COVID-19 period, the coefficient is showing negative sign and negligible during the March 2020 market meltdown, suggesting inadequate safe-haven qualities. However, Bitcoin will regain its safe-haven property in the coming periods, as the coefficient is negative and significant in the coming months. The coefficient is negative and shows statistical significance during the Ukrainian crisis, suggesting strong safe-haven property. Only during the Ukrainian crisis could Bitcoin serve as a safe haven, according to the behavior of β2, which displays the partial correlation coefficient at the fifth percentile. Bitcoin was a weak safe haven during COVID-19 and the Ukrainian crisis, according to β3, the partial correlation coefficient for the first percentile (coefficient negative and insignificant). According to the overall findings, Gold is a stronger safe haven against the S&P 500’s swings. This result is consistent with the previous studies of Triki and Maatoug (2021), Shakil et al. (2018), Będowska-Sójka and Kliber (2021), Drake (2022), and Ghazali et al. (2020), etc. The same analysis was conducted for the CAC 40 and the NSE 50; the full analysis can be found here [insert the next link in “the word here” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09711023251322578]. However, it is important to highlight the respective results: In general, we may say that Gold has weak safe-haven properties considering CAC40. We can conclude that Bitcoin’s safe-haven qualities for CAC40 are weak. We can say that Gold showed weak safe-haven characteristics during the Ukraine crisis and good safe-haven characteristics for the NSE50 during COVID-19. We may say that Bitcoin exhibits weak safe haven, but strong hedging abilities to NSE50. Concluding Remarks In this study, we suggested a new method to evaluate an asset’s time-varying hedge, diversifier, and safe-haven characteristics. We propose a rolling window estimation of the DCC-based regression of Ratner and Chiu (2013). Based on this, we estimate the conventional asset’s time-varying safe haven, hedging, and diversifying properties during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic and the conflict in Ukraine. For comparison purposes, we include Bitcoin, a nonconventional safe-haven asset. We evaluate Gold and Bitcoin’s safe haven, hedging, and diversifier properties to the S&P 500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 variations. We use a rolling window of length 60 to estimate the regression. From the results, we find that Gold can be considered as a better safe haven against the fluctuations of the S&P 500. In the case of CAC 40, Gold and Bitcoin have weak safe-haven properties. While Bitcoin demonstrated strong safe-haven characteristics during the Ukraine crisis, Gold exhibited strong safe-haven characteristics during COVID-19 for the NSE 50. Overall, the findings indicate that Gold is the better safe haven. This outcome is consistent with earlier research (Będowska-Sójka & Kliber, 2021; Drake, 2022; Ghazali et al., 2020; Shakil et al., 2018; Triki & Maatoug, 2021). When it comes to Bitcoin, its safe-haven feature is weak. Bitcoin, however, works well as a diversifier and hedge. Therefore, from a policy perspective, investing in safe-haven instruments is crucial to lower the risks associated with asset ownership. Policymakers aiming to enhance the stability of financial portfolios might encourage institutional investors and other market players to incorporate Gold into their asset allocations. Gold’s strong safe-haven qualities, proven across various market conditions, make it a reliable choice. Gold’s performance during crises like COVID-19 highlights its potential to mitigate systemic risks effectively. Further, Bitcoin could also play a complementary role as a hedge and diversifier, especially during periods of significant volatility such as the Ukraine crisis. While Bitcoin’s safe-haven characteristics are relatively weaker, its inclusion in a diversified portfolio offers notable value and hence it should not be overlooked. Further, policymakers may consider how crucial it is to monitor dynamic correlations and periodically rebalance portfolios to account for shifts in the safe haven and hedging characteristics of certain assets. Such measures could help reduce the risks of over-reliance on a single asset type and create more resilient portfolios that can better withstand global economic shocks. For future research, studies can be conducted on the estimation of the rolling window with different widths. This is important to understand how the safe-haven property changes across different holding periods. Further, more equity markets would be included to account for the differences in market capitalization and index constituents. This study can be extended by testing these properties for multi-asset portfolios as well. We intend to take up this study in these directions in the future. Data Availability StatementNot applicable.Declaration of Conflicting InterestsThe authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.FundingThe authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.ReferencesAkhtaruzzaman M., Boubaker S., Lucey B. M., & Sensoy A. (2021). Is gold a hedge or a safe-haven asset in the COVID-19 crisis? Economic Modelling, 102, 105588. Crossref. Web of Science.Al-Nassar N. S. (2024). Can gold hedge against inflation in the UAE? A nonlinear ARDL analysis in the presence of structural breaks. PSU Research Review, 8(1), 151–166. Crossref.Barbu T. C., Boitan I. A., & Cepoi C. O. (2022). Are cryptocurrencies safe havens during the COVID-19 pandemic? A threshold regression perspective with pandemic-related benchmarks. Economics and Business Review, 8(2), 29–49. 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In the Middle East, China seeks to appear neutral by engaging in dialogue with all actors, from Tehran to Tel Aviv, including Riyadh. Beijing's objective is clear: to establish itself as a guarantor of stability to secure its energy and commercial interests. The People's Republic of China's (PRC) commitment to the Middle East reflects a carefully calibrated geostrategic approach, aiming to preserve regional stability, ensure uninterrupted access to energy resources, and promote its famous Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), also known as the 'New Silk Roads.' In this region, the Sino-Iranian relationship is most often highlighted due to its political weight and military dimension; however, whether in economic, diplomatic, or strategic terms, Beijing's presence in this area certainly extends beyond its ties with Tehran. As elsewhere in the world, in the Middle East, China divides its diplomatic partnerships into several types, listed here in descending order of intensity: "global strategic partnerships" (in the Middle East: Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain); "strategic partnerships" (Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Syria, Turkey, and the Palestinian Authority); "friendly cooperation partnerships" (Lebanon and Yemen); and finally, "innovative global partnerships" (Israel). China is redefining its priorities in the Middle East  Energy dependence is one of the essential drivers of China's policy in the region. Gulf countries, particularly Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Kuwait, are among the main suppliers of crude oil to the PRC—well ahead of Iran in terms of volume, as well as reliability and investment opportunities. This economic reality compels China to invest much more heavily in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries, where financial stability, political predictability, and institutional openness promote sustainable strategic partnerships and infrastructure development, unlike in Iran. For these reasons, the Gulf countries have indirectly become essential nodes in the architecture of the BRI through trade, receiving nearly six times more Chinese investments than Iran. Although Iran has geographical interest as a potential corridor between China and Europe, the persistent effect of international sanctions, poor economic management, and regional adventurism severely limit its ability to attract sustainable Chinese investments. In contrast, Israel offers a functioning and favorable environment for investors, making it a preferred destination for Chinese capital and infrastructure projects. Its economy is based on solid infrastructure and a dynamic technology sector. Despite geopolitical shocks, including the recent clashes with Iran – which will undoubtedly impact the country's business environment – Israel, as a member of the OECD, remains attractive in terms of business environment and investment, mainly because the foundations of its economic environment are stronger than those of Iran or Saudi Arabia. The Hebrew state occupies an increasing place within the BRI – not due to the volume of Chinese direct investments, but because of its strategic position and ambitious infrastructure agenda. Its geographical location – straddling Europe, Asia, and Africa via the Mediterranean – makes it a key land and maritime connectivity point that provides an alternative option to Iran for linking China to Europe. In this context, China and Israel have made progress in their negotiations for a free trade agreement that has been discussed since 2016. Although discussions have been suspended since 2023, there remains hope that an agreement could be signed once stability returns to the region. China's trade with Israel and Iran: divergent trajectories China's commercial relations with Israel and Iran reveal two distinct economic approaches.  With Israel, trade is increasingly marked by imports of high technologies - particularly in the semiconductor field - reflecting a growing technological interdependence.  In contrast, trade with Iran remains focused on industrial goods and natural resources, illustrating a more traditional partnership based on access to raw materials. These contrasting dynamics reflect China's strategic flexibility, which relies on Israeli innovation while securing its supplies from Iran.  Tensions in the Strait of Hormuz are testing China's strategy in Iran  For nearly fifty years, Iran has turned to China for economic support. However, despite 21 Chinese greenfield investment projects between 2003 and 2020 – mainly in the energy sector – Beijing has gradually begun to disengage due to international sanctions and ongoing regional instability. Large companies such as CNPC and Sinopec have reduced their stake, or even abandoned some projects, while tech companies like Huawei and Lenovo have also scaled back their presence in the Iranian market. Between 2017 and 2019, Iran reportedly saw an outflow of Chinese capital estimated at $990 million. China views instability in the Middle East, particularly the confrontation between Israel and Iran, as a direct threat to its economic and commercial interests. As the world's largest buyer of Iranian oil, China is especially concerned about potential disruptions in strategic maritime routes, particularly the Strait of Hormuz. In June 2025, Chinese oil imports from Iran significantly increased, reaching up to 1.8 million barrels per day – a surge that occurred just before the military escalation between Israel and Iran, which raised concerns about the security of the Strait of Hormuz. A sign of the weight of the PRC in this region: after the reciprocal airstrikes between Israel and Iran, and Tehran's threat to close this crucial passage, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio urged Beijing to intervene, emphasizing China's heavy dependence on this oil route. China–United States: strategic tensions in a transitioning Middle East China and the United States recently signed a trade agreement and established a 90-day tariff truce, aiming to resolve some key disputes and stabilize economic relations. Furthermore, on the military front, Iran and China signed a military cooperation agreement as early as 2016, reflecting their mutual desire to counter American influence in the region and secure trade routes. Historically, China has supported Iran through arms sales, technology transfers, and training programs. Moreover, despite the official rhetoric, some reports suggest that Chinese technologies have contributed to the development of Iran's ballistic program. The Sino-Iranian relationship in defense illustrates a two-level diplomacy: China discreetly supports Iran's military autonomy while ensuring it does not compromise its strategic relationships with other important regional partners, including Israel, with whom it also maintains top-level security dialogues. This highlights Beijing's broader ambition: to avoid regional polarizations and maintain a balance of power favorable to its interests. China's strategy in the Middle East towards the United States is based on a principle of equidistance: to increase its influence without direct confrontation, while drawing strategic benefits from Saudi Arabia, Israel, Iran, and Egypt. In this perspective, the People's Republic of China does not seek to replace the United States as the dominant power in the region, but rather to offer a multipolar presence focused on preserving stability. Maintaining the status quo, avoiding direct conflicts, and building a parallel system of influence through infrastructure, trade, and diplomacy are the pillars of China's position in the Middle East. This approach ensures Beijing secure access to energy, trade corridors, and sustainable geopolitical influence from Tel Aviv to Tehran.

Abstract European states currently lack a clear joint strategy on China and a coordinated approach to US–China competition. This article offers a novel perspective on the challenges for European approaches to this issue due to an omnipresent transatlantic component and the risk of an alliance dilemma. Illustratively focusing on France, Germany and the UK, it demonstrates that Europeans are facing a transatlantic alliance dilemma with the risks of abandonment and entrapment. It argues that Europe needs to strike a balance between its dependence on Washington, especially with regard to European security, while fearing entrapment by the US approach towards Beijing as it aims to maintain economic ties with China. The article concludes that the ramifications of this dilemma can be mitigated through a distinctly European approach to China, strengthening European coordination on China and bolstering European strategic autonomy. As a conceptual piece rather than a full empirical analysis, this article therefore unpacks the strategic challenge and lays the groundwork for further empirical works on the topic. Introduction Strategic competition between the US and China plays out in many realms of international affairs, ranging from global trade to security in the Indo-Pacific. European states are directly affected by this dynamic as they maintain critical ties with both sides. Albeit allies of the US through NATO, Europeans have been reluctant to align with the US on its approach to the Indo-Pacific and China, which is currently characterised by the quest to win the strategic competition with Beijing in all areas of international affairs (see Leoni 2023). Furthermore, Europe maintains close economic ties with Beijing, and imports from China to the EU have most recently increased (Lovely and Yan 2024). European governments certainly do not pursue an approach of maintaining equidistance between the US and China: not only do they regularly emphasise their strategic proximity to Washington, but more recent events, such as the willingness of European allies to publicly adopt the wording of the communiqué from NATO’s Washington summit (NATO 2024) describing China as an ‘enabler of Russia’s war effort in Ukraine’, clearly demonstrate that the tone is changing in European capitals (Politi 2023). However, Europeans still tend to emphasise China’s role in global affairs and the importance of including it in multilateral cooperation formats. With the re-election of Donald Trump as US president, European policy on China and its approach to US–China competition will increasingly be a focus of the US administration. While the exact approach of the new US government still remains to be defined, there are good reasons to anticipate a more hawkish China policy from Washington, through which the US might seek not only to further compete with China, but to actually win this competition (see Pottinger and Gallagher 2023). When designing their approaches towards China—which, among the key European states, only Germany has done so far, with the publication of its China strategy in 2023—Europeans always face a transatlantic elephant in the room. US–China competition, a structuring feature of international relations shaping the global order today through the increasing emergence of geopolitical blocs (see Leoni and Tzinieris 2024), and China’s rising global influence in almost all areas of international affairs—ranging from climate to economics, the rules-based order and security—are forcing European states to reflect on their approach vis-à-vis Beijing (for a full discussion, see Oertel 2023; García-Herrero and Vasselier 2024). As NATO members, European states also need to adapt their strategy in light of the partnership with the US as their key ally. This article argues that European approaches towards China, as shown in the examples of France, Germany and the UK, have a distinctly transatlantic component. It illustrates how these three European states find themselves in an alliance dilemma with the US, and how the risks associated with alliances also define European approaches to China and US–China competition more broadly. As the US administration regularly refers to China as a ‘challenge’ (US Department of Defense 2022), this article alludes to this formulation through the coining of the term ‘transatlantic China challenge’ to describe the strategic challenges Europeans are facing with regard to defining their approach vis-à-vis China and US–China competition more broadly. It offers a conceptual understanding of the strategic challenges for Europe in this context and thereby constitutes a basis for a more thorough empirical analysis. The alliance dilemma and European strategy in US–China competition Originating in realist international relations theory, the alliance dilemma generally describes a situation in which states face risks resulting from joining an alliance. As demonstrated by Snyder (1984), smaller allies especially face a parallel risk of abandonment and entrapment by a hegemon, that is, the dominating power, after joining an alliance. Abandonment, in these circumstances, implies that the hegemon has no further interest in defending or supporting the smaller allies, whereas entrapment refers to a situation in which a state is ‘dragged into a conflict over an ally’s interests that [it] does not share, or shares only partially’ (see Snyder 1984, 466–8). In the context of alliances, a small state is ‘the weaker part in an asymmetric relationship, which is unable to change the nature or functioning of the relationship on its own’ (Wivel et al. 2014, 9), and hence has more limited space for action than the great powers (Wivel and Thorhallsson 2018, 267). This definition arguably applies to Europe in its partnership with the US, as demonstrated by the excessive military and economic dominance of the US as compared to the European states (see Stockholm International Peace Research Institute n.d.; International Monetary Fund 2025). The re-election of Trump as US president now presents the risk of an increased alliance dilemma for Europeans. On the one hand, Trump has announced several times that he does not value the alliance commitments within NATO and potentially would not defend European allies (Sullivan 2024), threatening Europe with abandonment. This scenario is being taken seriously in European capitals, and reflections on how ‘defending Europe with less America’ (Grand 2024) could shape up have gained traction, especially in 2024. Similarly, defence initiatives within the EU to enhance the European contribution to the continent’s security have leapt forward in recent years (see Scazzieri 2025). On the other hand, even the Biden administration had pushed Europe to align with the US approach on China (see Lynch et al. 2023). However, France and Germany in particular, as the big EU member states, have been hesitant to do so, as reflected in France’s opposition to the opening of a NATO liaison office in Tokyo (McCurry 2023) and Germany’s vote against tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles, fearing reprisals from Beijing (Demarais 2024). Trump’s foreign policy might be strongly characterised by issue linkage, which means that policies in one area will be linked to those in another area. Through this strategy, the new US administration might force Europeans into alignment and thereby entrap them, making them accept policies they are not eager to support (see Barkin and Kratz 2025). The exact policies of the Trump administration vis-à-vis European allies remain to be seen, but it is not hard to imagine a scenario in which abandonment and entrapment could emerge or increase, namely when the threat of abandonment is used to entrap allies and force them to support certain policy decisions. The alliance dilemma could play out for Europeans specifically when designing their approaches towards China (see Barkin and Kratz 2025) and formulating their response to US–China competition more generally. As noted above, among the big European states, only Germany has formally adopted a strategy on China, in 2023 (The Federal Government of Germany 2023). However, China and the response to US–China competition takes a prominent place in France’s Indo-Pacific Strategy and its strategy review (Government of France 2021; Secrétariat général de la défense et de la sécurité nationale 2022), and the UK systematically included the dimension of strategic competition in its Integrated Review and its refresh (Government of the United Kingdom 2021, 2023) and has announced an ‘audit’ of its China policy under the new government (Taylor 2024). While these strategies emphasise their individual approaches towards China and the risks stemming from US–China competition, the US has increasingly pressured Europe to align with its approach (Lynch et al. 2023) and can be expected to continue this pressure (Barkin and Kratz 2025). Through the potential issue linkage of security (openly questioned by President Trump) and China policy, Europe therefore finds itself in a new form of alliance security dilemma. European approaches to US–China competition: strategic hedging How can Europe respond to the alliance dilemma of the risks of abandonment and entrapment when it comes to its approaches to China? Reviewing the theoretical literature on the alliance dilemma, one can imagine different strategies. According to Snyder, members of alliances can choose between strategies that strengthen or weaken their commitment to the alliance. To demonstrate commitment, actions could include reassurances for the ally or demonstrations of loyalty, whereas actions to weaken the commitment to the alliance could consist of restraining the ally (mostly to reduce the risk of entrapment in a conflict), increasing bargaining power over the ally or preserving options for realignment outside the existing alliance (for a full discussion, see Snyder 1984, 466–9). Alternative strategies include hiding from cooperation, that is, ‘seeking to maximize autonomy by opting out of specific aspects of the cooperation or by setting up “bastions” in the cooperation’, or bandwagoning, through which states pursue strategies of adaptation ‘to the more powerful actors in the cooperation’ (Pedersen 2023, 442). At the moment, it seems that France, Germany and the UK ‘drive on sight’ rather than approaching the question holistically. The following analysis aims to unpack how the three European states see US–China competition, the risk of the alliance dilemma and how these reflections have played out so far in their strategies. The strategies of France, Germany and the UK on China demonstrate that their approaches are influenced by a distinctly transatlantic component and reflect the transatlantic alliance dilemma. This is visible in their (1) high awareness of the risks stemming from great power competition, (2) approaches to managing the risk of short-term abandonment, and (3) hedging to mitigate the medium- and long-term risks of abandonment and entrapment. The empirical evidence for this analysis was gathered through a qualitative analysis of European strategic documents, statements and policy decisions taken mostly during the period of the Biden administration. However, in light of the risk of a scaling-up of the alliance dilemma under the Trump administration, sources and evidence accessible by the end of January 2025 were included to illustrate the European approaches. In addition to publicly available documents and the sources mentioned above, this paper draws on conversations with policymakers and experts under the Chatham House rule. Mitigating risks from US–China competition: multilateralism instead of alignment That France, Germany and the UK are close allies with the US is clearly visible in their respective strategies on China, not least because of references they make to the importance of the alliance and their descriptions of their own positions between the two great powers. Overall, France, Germany and the UK share the perception of US–China competition and the emergence of blocs as potentially harmful to their interests. As a consequence, all three call for an inclusive multilateral order instead of falling into a logic of blocs, as the increasing competition is seen as a risk for Europe (Secrétariat général de la défense et de la sécurité nationale 2022, 9–15; The Federal Government of Germany 2020, 24–6; Government of the United Kingdom 2023, 22–6). The response of all three European powers to the emergence of blocs is multilateralism: instead of clearly aligning with the US, the French, German and British strategies call for building broader multilateral coalitions, which should, eventually, also include China (The Federal Government of Germany 2020, 23–6; Government of the United Kingdom 2023). The tone in Paris, Berlin and London towards Beijing has clearly changed over recent years; accordingly, the European capitals were also willing to support strong wording on China in the 2024 NATO summit declaration, which describes China as a ‘critical enabler’ of Russia’s ongoing war against Ukraine (NATO 2024). Albeit also recognised as a critical partner for key issues such as climate policy and trade, European states openly describe China as a ‘systemic rival’ and occasionally call out China’s behaviour, as they did, for example, in the case of a note verbale on the South China Sea (UN 2020). Nevertheless, Europe has not (yet) given in to US pressure to align with Washington’s more confrontational approach towards China (Etienne 2024). Even if European states and Washington have moved closer to each other, especially on economic security (Meyers and Reinsch 2023), the European positions on US–China competition demonstrate that Europeans are not willing to fully endorse or follow Washington’s approach—not least because European imports from China have increased in recent years (Lovely and Yan 2024). Managing the risk of short-term abandonment Since Trump’s election, the risk of abandonment by the US has been seen as increasingly high in Paris, Berlin and London.1 This is not least because Trump has openly questioned his willingness to adhere to Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty in the case of an armed attack on Europeans (Sullivan 2024). Europeans are especially concerned about issue linkage in this context, meaning that demands in a policy area other than security could be used as a condition. Concretely, Trump could use the threat of abandonment as leverage to compel Europe to align with the US on China policy.2 Barkin and Kratz (2025) suggest that Europe adopt a ‘carrot and stick’ approach, whereby Europe could start with an offer to the US: buying more liquified natural gas, defence goods and agricultural products from the US could mitigate the risk of abandonment. However, there is awareness among European states that coercion from the US to align on US–China policy, especially when linked to the threat of abandonment, might best be mitigated through enhancing European military capabilities—which would still leave the continent exposed to these threats, though to a lesser extent.3 Addressing the risk of medium- and long-term abandonment and entrapment: transatlantic hedging However, the risk of at least partial abandonment is not a new challenge for European strategy, and had already infused earlier strategic thinking. The shift of US strategic priorities away from Europe and to the Indo-Pacific has already been demonstrated in the allocation of resources to the different theatres. Moreover, European states have increasingly become aware that US forces will be withdrawn from their territories in the future and have concluded that they will have to step up their own commitment to European security (see Grand 2024). In parallel, there is an awareness in European capitals that showing more interest in the Indo-Pacific and giving more importance to policy on China is also a way for Europeans to demonstrate an understanding of their ally’s strategic priorities.4 Accordingly, the approaches of France, Germany and the UK to China and the Indo-Pacific also have to be understood as a commitment to the priorities of the US in order to keep this ally engaged in the European theatre and mitigate the risk of abandonment; however, European states abstain from fully aligning with the US approach, as their capabilities and strategic goals are perceived as diverging from those of the US. In this way, Europe aims to avoid entrapment over the medium term through slightly distancing itself from US policy. While all three European states also call for de-risking from China and diversification of their supply chains, maintaining strong economic ties with Beijing is a key component of their respective approaches—which contrasts with the US calls for decoupling. Furthermore, these states have never formally endorsed the US policy on China (Etienne 2024). Nevertheless, enhancing European capabilities would not only send a signal to Washington, but also qualify as hedging, understood as an ‘insurance policy’ to avoid a deterioration in US–Europe relations if the US opted for abandonment, or even as part of a move towards emancipation to reduce strategic dependencies on Washington (see Fiott 2018, 4–6). Conclusion: a transatlantic China challenge Designing their approaches to China and to US–China competition more broadly constitutes a complex strategic dilemma for European states. Paris, Berlin and London do not fully align with Washington’s approach, and it remains to be seen whether they will be willing to do so under the second Trump administration. To manage the risk of abandonment and entrapment, European states pursue different individual approaches to strategic hedging: their strategies on China and US–China competition are designed in a way that allows them to mitigate the risk of abandonment which might stem from significant transatlantic divergence, and to avoid automatic entrapment through their slight distancing from the US approach. From a theoretical perspective, this article has demonstrated that the alliance dilemma, along with the parallel fear of abandonment and entrapment by the US, is a major factor accounting for Europe’s limited strategies on China and its hedging behaviour. This article offers a conceptual analysis of the structural forces explaining European strategies, but other strategic cultures and relationships with the US could offer important complementary insights. To further analyse how individual European states design their strategies vis-à-vis China in light of the alliance dilemma and potential domestic constraints and specificities, neoclassical realism could offer an interesting analytical concept. This approach posits that structural forces set the parameters for foreign policy and treats domestic factors, including strategic culture, as intervening variables (see Rose 1998). Accordingly, it appears well suited for foreign policy analysis, and has indeed gained popularity in the field in recent years (see, for example, Martill and Sus 2024; Meibauer et al. 2021; Weber 2024). Empirically, this article constitutes a conceptual starting point rather than an exhaustive analysis of the strategy-making processes of European states with regard to China and US–China competition and makes a more comprehensive assessment desirable. The findings of this article have broader implications for policymaking. First, they demonstrate the necessity for Europe to determine its place in the increasing US–China competition. European coordination on the respective approaches vis-à-vis the US—especially in light of potential coercion to align—and China is of paramount importance to ensure that foreign policy strategies are mutually reinforcing and not undermining European objectives. Second, the article demonstrates that Europe currently responds to the ‘transatlantic China challenge’ through transatlantic hedging: while this strategy seems to be promising in the short term, it is questionable to what extent the strategy is sustainable and could help European states to navigate the parallel challenges of abandonment and entrapment. Unless Europe decides to fully align with the US—and it is questionable whether this decision would be in its interest—European states would be well advised to develop a sustainable long-term approach to China. A transatlantic dialogue on China, in which Europe and the US openly discuss synergies and divergences, could help prevent misunderstandings and decrease the risk of coercion or issue linkage due to a misreading of European approaches in Washington. Third, as the risks of (at least partial) abandonment and entrapment are systemic challenges due to the current composition of the transatlantic alliance, a logical step for European states to decrease their dependence on the US as the hegemon in the alliance would be to significantly strengthen European capabilities. Stronger military capabilities could help mitigate the ramifications of abandonment, and the aforementioned distinctly European strategy could allow Europe to avoid strategic entrapment in relation to China imposed by Washington. As Europe remains the junior partner in the transatlantic alliance, the parallel risks of abandonment and entrapment, as well as issue linkage, are highly likely to influence its approaches towards China in the long term, but there are certainly ways to render this ‘transatlantic China challenge’ less challenging. ORCID iDGesine Weber https://orcid.org/0009-0008-2643-0400Footnotes1. Conversation with French, German and British experts in Berlin, January 2025.2. Conversation with French, German and British experts in Berlin, January 2025.3. Conversation with French, German and British experts in Berlin, January 2025; conversation with European experts and officials in Paris, January 2025.4. Conversation with officials from Germany and France in Paris, November 2024; conversation with French, German and British experts in Berlin, January 2025.ReferencesBarkin N., Kratz A. (2025). Trump and the Europe–US–China Triangle. Rhodium Group, 16 January. https://rhg.com/research/trump-and-the-europe-us-china-triangle/. Accessed 18 January 2025.Demarais A. (2024). Divided we stand: The EU votes on Chinese electric vehicle tariffs. European Council on Foreign Relations, 9 October. https://ecfr.eu/article/divided-we-stand-the-eu-votes-on-chinese-electric-vehicle-tariffs/. Accessed 25 January 2025.Etienne P. (2024). The European Union between the United States and China: Should we choose between equidistance and following? Fondation Robert Schuman, 8 October. https://www.robert-schuman.eu/en/european-issues/763-the-european-union-between-the-united-states-and-china-should-we-choose-between-equidistance-and-following. Accessed 22 December 2024.Fiott D. (2018). Strategic autonomy and the defence of Europe. European Union Institute for Security Studies, Brief 12/2018. https://www.iss.europa.eu/sites/default/files/EUISSFiles/Brief%2012__Strategic%20Autonomy.pdf. Accessed 25 January 2025.García-Herrero A., Vasselier A. (2024). Updating EU strategy on China: Co-existence while de-risking through partnerships. Mercator Institute for China Studies. https://merics.org/en/external-publication/updating-eu-strategy-china-co-existence-while-de-risking-through-partnerships. Accessed 30 January 2025.Government of France. (2021). 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Abstract This analysis examines Ukraine’s integration into European defence cooperation through the SAFE fund, highlighting its unique status as a semi-integrated security partner (SISP) despite not being an EU member. Ukraine’s pursuit of NATO and EU membership is driven by security concerns, economic benefits, and cultural alignment with Europe, particularly in response to Russian aggression since 2014. NATO membership promises collective defence under Article 5, enhanced military capabilities, and political reforms, while EU accession offers economic integration, governance improvements, and strengthened defence capacities. Russia opposes Ukraine’s NATO aspirations due to security fears and the potential democratic contagion threatening its regime. Still, it is more accepting of Ukraine’s EU membership, viewing it as an economic rather than a military alliance. Historical assurances to the USSR against NATO expansion eastward fueled Russia’s objections. Ukraine’s integration into European structures symbolises a break from Russian influence but poses challenges of escalation and geopolitical tension. The SAFE fund’s inclusion of Ukraine reflects the evolving boundaries of EU defence cooperation amid the ongoing conflict. Key Words: SAFE, EU, Ukraine, Russia, Security Introduction In the first article on SAFE[EE1] , published once again in the World & New World Journal, the analysis concluded on a somewhat skeptical note: “It appears that despite some initial intentions to end the Ukrainian war as early as April 2022, it is the European elites, especially French, German and Polish, who stand for the prolongation, if not escalation, of the Ukrainian war, potentially at the expense of the security of the whole European continent and definitely at the expense of Ukrainians and their country”.[1] Moreover, the author, adopting a critical perspective, raised some questions about the consequences of the ongoing war. Firstly, the longer the war continues, the more destroyed Ukraine becomes and the greater the number of Ukrainians killed. Secondly, the longer the war continues, the greater the likelihood of escalation, which poses a threat to the entire European continent. Thirdly, despite mainstream media reports, the Russian Federation appears to have adapted to operating effectively despite the sanctions, which may strengthen its economy in the short to medium term and, more importantly, bring it closer to cooperating with China and North Korea. Finally, since every war serves as a testing ground for new technologies, the Russians, especially the North Koreans and the Chinese, are gaining invaluable insight into the nature of modern warfare, which is often referred to as the next Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA).The inclusion of Ukraine in the SAFE fund, despite its non-EU status, suggests a functional military alliance. This analysis will, therefore, explore how such an alliance redefines the line between EU and non-EU defence cooperation, specifically in the context of Ukraine as a semi-integrated security partner (SISP), and how this semi-integration is likely to influence Russia’s threat perception.  European Aspirations of Ukraine  Source: https://www.freeworldmaps.net/europe/political.html Ukraine’s pursuit of NATO and EU membership reflects a complex approach driven by security, economic, political, and cultural imperatives, particularly in the context of its ongoing conflict with Russia and its aspiration for a stable and prosperous future. Ukraine’s engagement with NATO began in the early 1990s, with formal steps toward membership marked by the 2008 Bucharest Summit, which decided that Ukraine would become a member.[2] This commitment was reaffirmed at the 2024 Washington Summit, emphasising Ukraine’s “irreversible path” to NATO integration. For the EU, Ukraine applied for membership on February 28, 2022, shortly after Russia’s full-scale invasion, highlighting the urgency driven by security concerns.[3]  The EU granted candidate status in June 2022, and accession negotiations opened in December 2023, reflecting strong political support. The primary rationale for NATO membership is security, particularly in response to Russia’s actions since 2014, including the annexation of Crimea and the 2022 invasion. Ukraine views NATO’s collective defence mechanism, especially Article 5, as a credible deterrent to further aggression. NATO has provided significant support, including EUR 50 billion in 2024, with nearly 60% of the funding coming from European Allies and Canada. The alliance has also established NATO Security Assistance and Training for Ukraine (NSATU) at the 2024 Washington Summit.[4] EU membership, although not primarily a military-focused endeavour, enhances political stability by reducing vulnerability to external threats through economic and diplomatic ties. Recent developments in June 2025, such as NATO Defence Ministers agreeing on new capability targets and statements from Baltic states calling for concrete steps at the upcoming 2025 NATO Summit in The Hague, underscore ongoing international backing.[5] However, challenges remain, with some ambiguity about explicit mentions in NATO communiques and concerns over U.S. political shifts, as noted by Estonian President Alar Karis on June 9, 2025.[6] EU membership is central to Ukraine’s economic aspirations, offering access to the European single market, financial aid, and investment crucial for post-war reconstruction. The EU has provided over €108 billion in financial, humanitarian, and military assistance since the war began, with the Ukraine Facility offering up to €50 billion from 2024 to 2027 for recovery and reforms.[7]  This support aligns with Ukraine’s goal of modernising its economy and institutions, including democratic governance and anti-corruption measures, as outlined in the EU’s 2022 Opinion and subsequent reports. NATO membership, while primarily security-focused, also implies a political alignment with Western democratic values, complementing European Union integration. Ukraine’s progress in aligning with NATO standards, as demonstrated by the removal of the need for a Membership Action Plan (MAP) at the 2023 Vilnius Summit, reflects its commitment to reforms that enhance both security and political stability.[8] Ukraine frames its European aspirations as a return to its historical and cultural roots, emphasising shared democratic values, human rights, and a rejection of Russian influence. This narrative is reflected in strong public support, with polls showing over 80% favouring NATO membership and 85-90% supporting EU membership.[9] The 2014 Euromaidan protests, sparked by the rejection of an EU Association Agreement and Russia’s subsequent actions, have solidified this national consensus. Constitutional amendments in 2019 formalised NATO and EU membership as strategic objectives, underscoring cultural alignment with Europe. To sum up, both NATO and EU memberships, according to Ukrainian society, represent a definitive break from Russia’s sphere of influence, ensuring long-term independence and countering Russian attempts to control post-Soviet states. This geopolitical strategy is evident in Ukraine’s legislative commitments, such as the 2017 parliamentary decision making NATO membership a strategic objective and the 2022 reiteration of membership requests following Russia’s illegal annexations.  Recent EU-NATO cooperation, highlighted in a May 28, 2025, meeting focusing on Ukraine, reinforces this alignment and highlights international solidarity.[10] Russian views on Ukraine’s NATO and EU membership Russia's objections to Ukraine joining NATO are driven by security, geopolitical, and ideological fears, with a particular emphasis on military alliances and democratic contagion. In contrast, Russia accepts Ukraine's EU membership, viewing it as an economic union with fewer security implications. Russia views NATO's eastward expansion as a direct threat to its national security. The potential inclusion of Ukraine would bring NATO's military infrastructure, including troops and missile defence systems, closer to Russian borders. This is seen as a violation of Russia's perceived security interests, especially given NATO's history of collective defence under Article 5. For instance, NATO's response to Russia's 2014 annexation of Crimea and the 2022 full-scale invasion has intensified cooperation with Ukraine, further heightening tensions. [11] Ukraine's historical ties to Russia, rooted in shared Soviet and imperial pasts, make its potential NATO membership a significant loss for Russia's sphere of influence. The shift toward Western alignment is perceived as a strategic defeat, as it reduces Russia's ability to exert influence in Eastern Europe. This is evident in Russia's actions, such as the annexation of Crimea and support for separatists in Donbas, which are seen as responses to Ukraine's NATO aspirations.[12] Russia specifically objects to the military aspects of NATO membership, fearing the deployment of foreign troops or advanced military systems near its borders. This concern is highlighted in statements from Kremlin officials, such as Dmitry Peskov, Press Secretary of the President of the Russian Federation, who have emphasised that military alliances pose a different threat compared to economic unions. [13] Western experts often claim that Russia's real objection is the democratic implications of Ukraine's alignment with the West. A successful, democratic Ukraine could serve as a model for democratic movements within Russia, challenging the authoritarian stability of Putin's regime. This fear is evident in Russia's reactions to democratic breakthroughs, such as the Orange Revolution (2004) and EuroMaidan (2013–14), which were met with military actions like annexing Crimea and supporting separatist conflicts in Donbas, resulting in over 14,000 deaths over eight years.[14] NATO Expansion: What Gorbachev Heard Russia often cites the alleged promise made during the fall of the Soviet Union that NATO would not expand eastward. This grievance is part of Russia's broader narrative of being encircled by Western institutions, fueling its opposition to Ukraine's NATO aspirations.  According to recently publicised documents, Western leaders gave Mikhail Gorbachev multiple assurances throughout 1990 and into 1991 that NATO would not expand eastward, particularly in the context of German unification and the broader European security architecture.[15] James Baker, U.S. Secretary of State, repeatedly assured Gorbachev in February 1990 that if Germany were to unify and remain in NATO, NATO's jurisdiction would not extend "one inch eastward" beyond its current position. Baker presented Gorbachev with a choice between a united Germany outside NATO or a united Germany in NATO with guarantees against eastward expansion. Gorbachev stated that any expansion of NATO would be unacceptable. West German Foreign Minister Hans-Dietrich Genscher publicly stated in January 1990 that NATO should rule out expansion eastward and proposed a special status for the former East German territory within NATO. This "Tutzing formula" became the basis of diplomatic discussions with Gorbachev, where the idea of no eastward expansion applied not only to East Germany but also to other Eastern European countries. British Foreign Minister Douglas Hurd and Prime Minister John Major also conveyed to Gorbachev and other Soviet officials that NATO expansion was not being considered and that there was no plan to include Eastern European countries in NATO at that time. Major personally assured Gorbachev in March 1991 that strengthening or expansion of NATO was not planned. French President François Mitterrand expressed support for gradually dismantling military blocs and emphasised the need to create security conditions favourable to the Soviet Union. He promised to detail guarantees to Gorbachev regarding his country's security. Margaret Thatcher emphasised the transformation of NATO into a less militarily threatening alliance and the role of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) as an inclusive forum that would incorporate the Soviet Union into discussions about Europe's future security. She stressed the importance of giving the Soviet Union confidence that its security would be assured. NATO Secretary General Manfred Woerner told a Russian delegation in 1991 that the NATO Council and most member states were against NATO expansion and that isolating the USSR from the European community should be avoided. President George H.W. Bush assured Gorbachev on several occasions, including at the Malta summit in 1989 and the Washington summit in 1990, that the U.S. sought no unilateral advantage and that German unification within NATO would not be directed against the Soviet Union. He emphasised the significance of the CSCE process and the transformation of NATO in response to Soviet security concerns. Overall, these assurances created a "cascade" of promises emphasising that NATO would not expand eastward and that Soviet security interests would be respected as part of a new European security architecture. Gorbachev agreed to German unification in NATO based on these assurances and his belief in the potential for a "common European home" that would include the USSR. However, these assurances were mainly given in verbal form or memos rather than formal treaties, and subsequent NATO expansion in the late 1990s led to later Soviet and Russian complaints about being misled. In summary, the significance of these promises lies in their role in enabling German unification within NATO, shaping Soviet expectations of post-Cold War security, influencing European security architecture, and later contributing to disputes over NATO enlargement and Russia's perception of being misled by the West. EU Membership: A More Accepting Stance In contrast, Russia's stance on Ukraine's potential membership in the EU is markedly different. Official statements, such as those from Vladimir Putin, indicate that Russia has "nothing against" Ukraine joining the EU, viewing it as an economic union rather than a military alliance.  This acceptance is likely due to the EU's focus on economic integration, which does not pose the same security threat as NATO's military framework.[16] Dmitry Peskov's comments reinforce this distinction, noting that Russia "won't dictate" its approach to EU membership but has a different approach to military alliances. This reflects Russia's willingness to engage in economic partnerships while opposing military alliances. While Russia accepts EU membership, it remains wary of the broader implications, such as increased Western influence and potential democratic reforms in Ukraine. However, these concerns are secondary to its objections to NATO, as the EU does not involve military commitments. Public opinion in Ukraine, as noted in sociological surveys, shows strong support for NATO membership, with 64% in favour in January 2022, particularly in western Ukraine and Kyiv. This contrasts with Russia's position, highlighting the geopolitical divide. Additionally, former European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker has cautioned against Ukraine joining NATO, suggesting that internal debates within the West may align with Russia's narrative that NATO expansion is premature. Ukraine - de facto NATO and EU member? – opportunities and challenges NATO Experts claim that Ukraine's membership in NATO would likely provide a strong security guarantee under Article 5, deterring Russian aggression by ensuring collective defence. This means that an attack on Ukraine would be treated as an attack on all NATO members, including major powers such as the United States and the United Kingdom. This could potentially stabilise the region, reducing the risk of further conflict.[17] Ukraine's large and experienced military, with significant combat expertise, would also strengthen NATO's overall defence capabilities, particularly in modern warfare, such as drone and cyber operations. Membership in NATO would likely enhance Ukraine's military capabilities through the organisation's training programs and exercises, thereby improving interoperability with allied forces. Programs like the NATO Security Assistance and Training for Ukraine (NSATU), established in 2024, coordinate equipment and training with hubs in Eastern Europe. This would align Ukraine's forces with NATO standards, enhancing operational effectiveness, as demonstrated by past contributions to NATO-led missions in Bosnia and Kosovo.[18] It seems likely that NATO membership would attract more foreign investment, especially in defence, with Western companies already coproducing munitions in Ukraine. Financial support, such as the €40 billion pledged in 2024, would aid reconstruction and economic recovery, as outlined in the NATO Pledge of Long-Term Security Assistance. Politically, it could drive reforms in governance and anti-corruption, with strong public support (75% in favour) ensuring commitment.[19] Finally, policy-makers in the West also hope that Ukraine’s NATO membership could curb or even end Russian imperial ambitions, sending a clear message that the subjugation of Ukraine is futile. However, it could also escalate tensions with Russia. “While there is widespread recognition that the outcome of Russia’s war in Ukraine will shape the future of international relations, […] the alliance appears to be deeply divided on the issue. Objections centre around the potential for a further dangerous escalation in the current confrontation with the Kremlin. Opponents argue that by inviting Ukraine to join, NATO could soon find itself at war with Russia. Meanwhile, many supporters of Ukrainian NATO membership believe keeping the country in geopolitical limbo is a mistake that only serves to embolden Moscow and prolong the war”. [20] The EU The alleged opportunities resulting from Ukraine’s already de facto EU membership are numerous. According to experts, Ukraine's potential EU membership would likely enhance economic integration by granting access to the EU's single market, facilitating the free movement of goods, services, capital, and people. This could increase Ukraine's trade by 40% to 140% between 2030 and 2040, compared to the 2010-2019 averages, driven by foreign direct investment (FDI) and governance reforms.[21] The Deep and Comprehensive Free Trade Area (DCFTA), which has been in force since 2017, would be further strengthened, thereby boosting economic ties with the EU.[22] The EU-Ukraine agreement improves the competitiveness of European businesses in the Ukrainian market and vice versa. Overall, for trade in goods, the agreement eliminated the majority of tariffs – 98.1% for the EU and 99.1% for Ukraine. For example, import duties on most agricultural goods imported into the EU were reduced to zero in 2016. Tariff rate quotas apply to the remaining farming goods that are not liberalised. The management of these quotas is done either on a first-come, first-served basis or via import licences. It seems likely that EU accession would drive reforms in governance, rule of law, and anti-corruption measures. Currently, Ukraine ranks poorly in governance metrics, performing worse than Russia and Belarus; however, EU conditionality could help elevate it to a well-governed state.  With 78% of Ukrainians supporting EU entry, there is strong public backing for these reforms.[23] Ukraine's membership is also likely to enhance EU security and defence capabilities. Ukraine's rapidly growing defence industry, including investments like Baykar's $100 million for drone production and a joint venture with Rheinmetall for artillery shells, would bolster the EU's defence ecosystem.[24]  With one of Europe's largest standing armies (around 1 million personnel) experienced in modern warfare, Ukraine could contribute valuable expertise.  The establishment of an EU Defence Innovation office in Kyiv further supports Ukraine's integration into European defence programs. There may be additional benefits in energy security, with Ukraine exporting low-carbon electricity and hydrogen to the EU, and technological advancements, particularly in drone and cyber capabilities, positioning Ukraine as a leader in tech R&D. Labour migration could help alleviate EU labour shortages, with projections of 3-6 million additional Ukrainian immigrants by 2029-2050. Conclusion In conclusion, Ukraine’s integration into European defence cooperation, particularly through NATO and the EU, represents a strategic shift that may strengthen European security and counter Russian influence. NATO membership offers Ukraine vital collective defence guarantees, enhances military capabilities, and could deter further Russian aggression, though it risks escalating tensions.  EU membership promises significant economic benefits, governance reforms, and deeper political alignment with Europe. Russia’s opposition centres mainly on NATO’s military threat, while it shows more acceptance of EU economic ties. Overall, Ukraine’s semi-integrated status in European defence frameworks exemplifies evolving security dynamics with profound implications for the regional security complex in Europe. References [1]  Sliwinski, K. (2025, July 7). 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European Commission. https://enlargement.ec.europa.eu/european-neighbourhood-policy/countries-region/ukraine_en [8] Vilnius Summit Communiqué. (2023, July 11). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_217320.htm[9] Imagine that a referendum on Ukraine’s accession to the European Union (EU) is currently taking place. How would you vote? (2024, October 8). Statista. Https://Www.Statista.Com/Statistics/1284801/Ukraine-Opinion-on-Eu-Accession/. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_217320.htm Also: Are you for or against Ukraine joining the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)? (2025, January 6). Statista. https://www.statista.com/statistics/1294468/public-opinion-on-ukraine-joining-nato/[10] NATO and the European Union unite for Ukraine at a NAC - PSC meeting. (2025, May 28). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/news_235693.htm[11] NATO’s response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. (2025, February 17). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/topics_192648.htm[12] Person, R., & McFaul, M. (2022). What Putin Fears Most. Journal of Democracy, 33(2), 18–27. https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/articles/what-putin-fears-most/[13] Körömi, C. (2025, February 18). Russia: Ukraine has a ‘sovereign right’ to join EU — but not NATO. POLITICO. https://www.politico.eu/article/dmitrt-peskov-kremlin-ukraine-sovereign-right-join-eu-not-nato/[14] Person, R., & McFaul, M. (2022). What Putin Fears Most. Journal of Democracy, 33(2), 18–27. https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/articles/what-putin-fears-most/[15] National Security Archive. (2017, December 12). NATO expansion: What Gorbachev heard. The George Washington University. https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/russia-programs/2017-12-12/nato-expansion-what-gorbachev-heard-western-leaders-early[16] Putin says Russia has “nothing against” Ukraine joining EU. (2022, June 17). REUTERS. https://www.reuters.com/article/world/putin-says-russia-has-nothing-against-ukraine-joining-eu-idUSKBN2NY0NK/[17]  Relations with Ukraine. (2025, March 11). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/topics_37750.htm[18] Sendak, C., & Timtchenko, I. (2025, January 16). Between Now and NATO: A Security Strategy for Ukraine. Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA). https://cepa.org/comprehensive-reports/between-now-and-nato-a-security-strategy-for-ukraine/[19] Relations with Ukraine. (2025, March 11). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/topics_37750.htm  [20] Grod, P. (2024, July 11). Five reasons why Ukraine should be invited to join NATO. North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/ukrainealert/five-reasons-why-ukraine-should-be-invited-to-join-nato/[21] Darvas, Z., Dabrowski, M., Grabbe, H., Léry, L., Moffat, A., Sapir, G., & Zachmann, G. (2024, March 7). Ukraine’s path to European Union membership and its long-term implications. Bruegel. https://www.bruegel.org/policy-brief/ukraines-path-european-union-membership-and-its-long-term-implications[22] EU-Ukraine Deep and Comprehensive Free Trade Area. (2024, March 7). European Commission. https://trade.ec.europa.eu/access-to-markets/en/content/eu-ukraine-deep-and-comprehensive-free-trade-area[23] Darvas, Z., Dabrowski, M., Grabbe, H., Léry, L., Moffat, A., Sapir, G., & Zachmann, G. (2024, March 7). Ukraine’s path to European Union membership and its long-term implications. Bruegel. https://www.bruegel.org/policy-brief/ukraines-path-european-union-membership-and-its-long-term-implications [24] Khachatryan, A. et.al. (2024, June 19). The Benefits and Opportunities of Ukraine’s EU Accession. Tony Blair Institute for Global Change. https://institute.global/insights/geopolitics-and-security/the-benefits-and-opportunities-of-ukraines-eu-accession

In recent years, US leadership has embraced techno-nationalism amid geopolitical and technological rivalry with China, aiming to minimise reliance on imported chips from Asia. These components are crucial for producing consumer goods, military hardware, and AI systems. The United States set the ambitious goal of developing a self-sufficient semiconductor supply chain during Donald Trump’s first term, and continued under Joe Biden. There is consensus in the United States on the critical role of unfettered access to chips when it comes to ensuring economic and national security. It is unlikely that this technological policy dynamic will undergo significant shifts in the foreseeable future. Despite a shared objective among both Republicans and Democrats to revive the US semiconductor industry, their approaches diverge significantly. Donald Trump has his own vision for advancing this sector, one that contrasts sharply with Joe Biden’s strategy. For instance, Trump has criticised aspects of Biden-era initiatives, including the 2022 CHIPS and Science Act, which he has called counterproductive. Trump, on the other hand, favours a more aggressive tariff policy and a reduction in federal spending, arguing that major tech companies can do well without additional government support. The future balance of power—both technological and geopolitical—among the key global actors will be shaped by the development trajectory of the US semiconductor industry. Biden’s semiconductor legacy The United States holds a dominant position in chip design, but maintains a relatively modest share in global semiconductor manufacturing—just 10 percent according to SIA data in 2022, and slightly up to 11 percent according to 2025 data provided by TrendForce research firm. Major US tech giants like Nvidia or Qualcomm remain heavily reliant on chips produced in Taiwan. This dependency has increasingly been seen as unacceptable by US leadership, especially in the context of the ongoing tech war with China. Washington now views such reliance as a significant national security risk. During Donald Trump’s first presidential term, the decision was made to attract leading chip manufacturers—most notably Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), the world’s largest contract chipmaker—to set up operations in the United States. This initiative proved successful: in 2020, TSMC agreed to invest $12 billion to build a chip fabrication plant in Arizona (Fab 21).   The Biden administration continued Trump’s push to revitalise the semiconductor industry. In August 2022, the CHIPS and Science Act was passed, allocating about $53 billion in government subsidies for the semiconductor sector, along with tax incentives to encourage both foreign and domestic firms to establish chip manufacturing operations on US soil. Additionally, the CHIPS for America programme was introduced to address several key goals, namely, to secure a stable supply chain for both cutting-edge and legacy semiconductors, to reinforce US leadership in R&D, and to boost employment, as investment in the chip industry was expected to generate hundreds of thousands of new jobs in microelectronics-related fields. Biden’s programme has borne fruit. Major chipmakers have launched large-scale construction of fabs across the United States. In 2022, Intel started building a $28 billion facility in Ohio; Samsung initiated two plants in Texas worth about $40 billion; and TSMC decided to expand its Arizona site to three modules, increasing its total investment from $12 billion to $65 billion. According to TSMC CEO C.C. Wei, the Arizona facility began mass production in the fourth quarter of 2024 using its N4 (4nm class) process technology, with performance comparable to its fabs in Taiwan. This marks the most advanced semiconductor production facility currently operating in the United States. Plans are in place to launch a second module for 3nm chip production by 2028, followed by a third module by 2030, which will manufacture 2nm and 1.6nm chips and their variants. The Biden team aimed for the United States to capture 20 percent of global advanced chip manufacturing by 2030. Democrats have adopted a comprehensive approach to rebuilding the semiconductor industry not just focusing on building advanced fabs, but also investing in support areas such as chip testing and packaging, materials production, and R&D. A substantial $13 billion in federal funds has been earmarked for these purposes. For instance, grants and loans were used to support GlobalFoundries’ plans to build an advanced packaging and photonics centre in New York State. Arizona State University also received significant support from the US Department of Commerce, including a $100 million allocation for research and development in next-generation chip packaging technologies. Wide geographic distribution is a striking feature of the emerging US semiconductor supply chain (Figure 1). Key activities are being established across numerous states: Oregon (semiconductor manufacturing), Idaho (semiconductor and material manufacturing), Utah (semiconductor manufacturing), Montana (equipment manufacturing), Colorado (semiconductor and material manufacturing), New Mexico (packaging), Kansas (semiconductor manufacturing and packaging), Louisiana (equipment manufacturing), Missouri (materials), Minnesota (semiconductor manufacturing),Michigan (materials),Indiana (packaging and semiconductor manufacturing), Ohio (materials and semiconductor manufacturing), Vermont (semiconductor R&D and manufacturing), Pennsylvania (materials), North Carolina (semiconductor manufacturing), Georgia (materials and semiconductor manufacturing), and Florida (materials and semiconductor manufacturing). Among these, several states stand out for their significance and comprehensive involvement: California (semiconductor manufacturing and R&D), Arizona (semiconductor, equipment, and material manufacturing, packaging, R&D), Texas (semiconductor and material manufacturing, packaging, R&D), and New York (materials, semiconductor manufacturing, and R&D).   According to a 2024 study by the Boston Consulting Group commissioned by the Semiconductor Industry Association (SIA), over 90 projects have been launched in 28 states since the CHIPS Act was passed, totalling nearly $450 billion in private investment. However, the Biden administration did not pursue full semiconductor self-sufficiency as a goal. There was recognition that recreating the entire supply chain domestically would, even at the initial stage, require a vast amount of time and financial resourcesНадпись: MichiganНадпись: IndianaНадпись: Pennsylvania estimated at around $1 trillion. Therefore, US policymakers have advocated for a collective semiconductor supply chain among allies and partners by building international alliances. In 2022, the Unite States proposed creating the CHIP 4 alliance (United States, South Korea, Japan, and Taiwan), which, with coordinated efforts, could have become a dominant force in the semiconductor industry capable of influencing nearly every segment of the global value chain, with the exception of assembly and testing, where mainland China currently plays a leading role. In this way, Trump’s initiative to revive the semiconductor industry has not only continued under Biden, but evolved into a more ambitious and costly programme. The SIA, in its above report, painted an optimistic picture for the future of the US semiconductor sector. It projects that chip manufacturing capacity in the United States will triple over the next decade (2022–2032), growing by 203 percent. This expansion is expected to require $646 billion in investment, or 28 percent of global capital spending in the semiconductor industry. As a result, the United States could increase its share of global chip production from the current 10 percent to 14 percent by 2032. Additionally, experts estimate that the new projects will create over 58,000 new jobs in the semiconductor sector and hundreds of thousands more in related industries.   Despite its ambitious nature, the initial phase of Biden’s semiconductor programme has revealed several challenges. The industry has run into numerous internal obstacles slowing the construction of manufacturing facilities, including a shortage of skilled labour, high labour and construction material costs, bureaucratic hurdles (e.g., obtaining environmental permits), slow disbursement of promised subsidies by the US authorities, union-related delays, cultural differences, and more. These issues have caused delays in launching chip fabrication plants, thereby slowing the pace at which the US can achieve relative technological autonomy in the rapidly evolving semiconductor field. For example, TSMC postponed the start of mass production at the first module of Fab 21 from 2024 to 2025, and delayed the second module from 2026 to 2027–2028. Intel’s costly attempt to reclaim leadership in advanced chip manufacturing has strained its budget, forcing the company to delay its Ohio fab launch from 2025 to 2030. Samsung, initially planning to start production in Texas in the second half of 2024, pushed the timeline to 2025. These delays in fab construction also impacted the schedules of launching supplier plants, including chemical and material producers like LCY Chemical, Solvay, Chang Chun Group, KPPC Advanced Chemicals (Kanto-PPC), and Topco Scientific. The external component of the Biden administration’s technology policy has also failed to develop as envisioned. After several years of existence, the CHIP 4 has failed to become a multilateral coordination mechanism, and its potential members have not assumed any binding commitments. Only one virtual meeting was held in 2023. The reason lies in internal disagreements within the alliance and concerns about various risks, including geopolitical ones. Under the Biden administration, the United States made a strong start in the semiconductor sector, launching a wide range of fab construction projects and attracting billions of dollars in public and private investment. However, the process of reviving the US semiconductor industry has proven slower than anticipated. Government subsidies have been disbursed sluggishly, with some companies yet to receive their funding, and the construction of many high-tech industrial facilities has been postponed. Moreover, Biden overestimated the willingness of US allies and partners to join formal technological alliances. Trump’s radical approach To encourage both domestic and foreign chip suppliers to set up manufacturing in the United States, Donald Trump, in contrast to Joe Biden, chose coercion (tariffs) over incentives (government subsidies). Criticising his predecessor’s CHIPS Act, Trump argued that companies didn’t need money, but rather motivation in the form of import tariffs ranging from 25 percent to 100 percent. In his view, such measures would compel businesses to invest in US chip manufacturing, especially since these companies have the financial capacity and, therefore, don’t need to rely on government funding. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump threatened chip manufacturers with higher tariffs. At first glance, this move might seem economically illogical. Why, for instance, punish TSMC—a key partner of major US fabless companies like Nvidia, Apple, and Qualcomm—especially when there is no comparable alternative, either in the United States or globally? Even Intel, despite its struggles, depends on wafers from the Taiwanese firm (its import dependency is about 30 percent). Yet despite apparent lack of logic, the “stick” approach proved effective. In early March 2025, TSMC announced plans to invest approximately $100 billion to build three new fabs for high-performance semiconductor wafers, two advanced chip packaging plants, and one R&D centre. This raises the question: did the world’s largest chipmaker really get spooked by Trump’s tariff threats and, therefore, decide to make an unprecedented investment in the US economy? In theory, TSMC—sitting in the centre of the global microelectronics industry—could have passed tariff-related costs on to its American clients, who would have had little choice but to continue purchasing its products due to the lack of viable alternatives. Furthermore, a significant share of TSMC’s semiconductors is not shipped directly to the United States, but instead follows a supply chain tour through Asia, where the bulk of chip packaging, testing, and electronics assembly occurs (this infrastructure is only just beginning to take shape in the United States, and that process is anything but fast). Analysts at Bernstein suggest that political pressure, rather than tariffs themselves, drove TSMC’s decision. That assessment holds some merit, but it appears that a combination of factors was at play. First, TSMC itself is interested in expanding its global presence. Taiwan’s Minister of Economic Affairs Kuo Jyh-Huei commented on TSMC’s $100 billion investment in the US semiconductor sector by saying, “TSMC already has plants in the United States and Japan, and is now building a new one in Germany. This has nothing to do with tariffs. TSMC’s global expansion is a major development.” Similarly, in 2020 during Trump’s first term, company representatives said that the decision to build a plant in Arizona was “based on business needs.” Indeed, the move offers several benefits to TSMC, including increased company capitalisation and minimised risks in the event of conflict with mainland China or natural disasters (earthquakes are not uncommon in Taiwan). Second, the United States remains TSMC’s primary market, and the tariff threat did play its part. In Taiwan, there’s an understanding that when Trump talks about higher tariffs, he isn’t bluffing, because his seriousness was evident during his first term and was experienced first-hand by Canada and Mexico. On April 2, 2025, nearly the entire rest of the world—including Taiwan—faced a new wave of tariffs, with Taiwanese exports to the United States hit by a 32 percent duty (though semiconductors were not yet affected). A 100-percent tariff on semiconductors is unlikely, as it would significantly damage the market value of US tech firms. Still, protective barriers on semiconductors are expected—Trump’s administration has promised to implement them in the coming months. These measures aim to level the production cost of chips between the United States and Taiwan, thereby enhancing the competitiveness of US-made semiconductors. And finally, TSMC, together with the Taiwanese authorities, is not willing to mar relations with the United States for political reasons. This became evident from TSMC’s earlier decision to support US sanctions against mainland China by refusing to supply its most advanced chips manufactured using 7nm and more sophisticated process technologies even though that market had been a significant source of profit. After TSMC announced plans to expand its presence in the United States, the Trump administration decided to take more radical action and to scrap the CHIPS and Science Act, a signature achievement of the Biden administration. However, some Republican members of Congress are calling for the law to be preserved, albeit with certain amendments. Trump’s hands are not completely untied in this regard, so it is unlikely he can ignore Congress’s position. Even if the legislation gets amended, the process will likely be drawn out, as the CHIPS and Science Act received bipartisan support and has many supporters among Republicans. Another strategically important issue for the Trump administration is the competitiveness of domestic manufacturers. According to the Taiwanese leadership, TSMC will continue to expand operations in Taiwan, and the most advanced semiconductor technologies will not leave the country. For “the most powerful AI chips in the world to be made right here in America” efforts will be needed on the part of national champions—and soon. In 2025, the leader in producing the most advanced 2nm chips will be determined. The main contenders in this race are TSMC, Samsung, and Intel. Intel, however, finds itself in a difficult position. The company has been facing serious financial troubles for several years and lags behind competitors in mastering cutting-edge production processes. The year 2024 was one of Intel’s most challenging: it underwent a major restructuring (creating a separate chip manufacturing unit, Intel Foundry), posted record losses of $18 billion, and saw a significant drop in its stock price. As a result, about 15 percent of the workforce, including CEO Pat Gelsinger, was laid off; dividend payments were suspended; and a sweeping cost-cutting plan was launched, including deep cuts in capital expenditures over the coming years and a scaling back of global expansion plans. According to Intel Products CEO Michelle Johnston Holthaus, the company failed to capitalise effectively on the artificial intelligence boom and continues to fall behind its competitors technologically. Although Intel plans to begin 18A (2nm) chip production in 2025, there are no guarantees of competitiveness in power efficiency, performance, yield rate, cost, or timely mass production. In March, media reported that Nvidia and Broadcom began testing certain chip components, but such testing, of course, does not guarantee Intel will secure orders. Apparently, the Trump administration itself has doubts about the US company’s capabilities, as it has proposed that TSMC acquire shares in Intel Foundry. Negotiations with the Asian manufacturer began only in February 2025, meaning they are still at a very early stage.   What short-term challenges does the Trump administration face in revitalising the US semiconductor industry? Technological lag There is a high likelihood that the United States will continue to lag behind Taiwan for several years in the production of advanced semiconductors. TSMC plans to begin producing chips using a 1.4nm process by 2028, while on US soil—if deadlines aren’t pushed back again—the Taiwanese firm will only be producing 3nm chips by that time. Although some hope is being placed on Intel, there is no guarantee that the American champion will be able to compete with TSMC, or that a potential collaboration with TSMC (if it acquires a stake in Intel Foundry) will be successful. Inadequate production capacity Experts estimate that the output capacity of TSMC’s factories under construction in Arizona is less than one-fifth of the company’s 5nm and 3nm capacity in Taiwan. According to analysts at Bernstein Research, with the deployment of additional production in Arizona, the United States could raise its self-sufficiency in advanced chip production to 40-50 percent between 2030 and 2032. In the near term, this would only cover about half of the chip demand from US tech giants. Moreover, TSMC has not specified clear timelines or technologies for its US expansion. Intel could partly close the gap, but that depends on how competitive its chips are and how quickly it can overcome its financial difficulties. Slow rollout of production facilities TrendForce forecasts that the US share of global advanced chip production could grow from 11 percent to 22 percent by 2030. However, the construction of TSMC’s first Arizona plant took nearly five years, and there are no guarantees that future factories will be built fast enough to double US chip output by 2030. Labour shortage Developing a relatively self-sufficient microelectronics ecosystem requires a highly skilled workforce. However, the United States is facing severe staff shortages. By 2030, estimates suggest a shortfall of 67,000 to 90,000 professionals in the semiconductor field. China’s response to US sanctions The United States is not the only country leveraging interdependence in the semiconductor industry as a tool of pressure. China is responding in kind, though currently in a relatively restrained manner. In 2024, the Chinese government decided to completely ban exports of gallium, germanium, antimony, and ultra-hard materials to the United States even though the restrictions apply only to direct shipments. These actions not only drive up raw material prices (e.g., antimony prices more than tripled since early 2024), but also force US authorities to consider domestic mining and search for alternative suppliers abroad. High production costs According to the SIA, building and operating chip fabs in the United States is 30 to 50 percent more expensive than in Asia. Unofficial reports suggest that chips made at Fab 21 in Arizona cost 10 percent to 30 percent more than their Taiwanese counterparts (more precise figures are not publicly available). The high cost is attributed to expensive construction of facilities, high salaries (US engineers earn three times more than their Taiwanese counterparts, incomplete domestic semiconductor supply chains (some materials must still be imported)—TSMC CEO has complained about it—and complex logistics (finished wafers often need to be sent back to Taiwan or elsewhere for packaging).70 Even if tariffs eventually equalise chip pricing, US fabless companies like Apple or Nvidia may still find it more economical to source chips from Asia, where a properly functioning semiconductor ecosystem already exists—unlike in the United States, where such infrastructure is still in its infancy. Trump’s current tariff policy Imposing tariffs could lead to a significant increase in prices for components, equipment, and materials, while also injecting uncertainty into the semiconductor industry. For instance, it remains unclear how semiconductor manufacturers will operate under new tariffs on imported chip-making equipment sourced from the EU, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. The cost of such equipment can reach hundreds of millions of dollars—for example, the latest Low-NA EUV lithography machine from Dutch company ASML is priced at $235 million. If Intel, TSMC, and other firms are required to pay import duties of 20 percent or more, chip manufacturing in the United States will become prohibitively expensive, undermining investment plans of the manufacturers that have committed to building advanced fabs on American soil. Naturally, US officials understand that sharp moves in semiconductor policy—such as an aggressive tariff regime—carry significant risk and could spark a true technological crisis. In April 2025, the US Department of Commerce’s Bureau of Industry and Security (BIS) launched an investigation under Section 232 of the Trade Expansion Act of 1962 to determine the impact of semiconductor imports and related equipment on national security. Interested parties submitted comments, many urging extreme caution in this highly sensitive sector, which depends on a complex global supply chain split across multiple phases and countries. Thus, SIA recommended that any tariffs be phased in gradually to allow the US industry to continue functioning efficiently until domestic production capabilities are fully established. The US Chamber of Commerce called for restraint, warning that comprehensive tariffs on the semiconductor supply chain could damage US industry and undermine cooperation with allies and partners in achieving key national security goals. The Chamber also noted that foreign semiconductor companies have made long-term investment commitments to build capacity in the United States, and that political uncertainty and instability could jeopardise the stated goal of re-shoring semiconductor supply chains. *** As TSMC founder Morris Chang once said, America’s effort to ramp up its own chip production may well prove to be “a very expensive exercise in futility.” Microelectronics is one of the most complex industries in the world requiring not only massive financial investment, but also time. For decades, the industry developed within the framework of global division of labour. Now, building a relatively self-sufficient supply chain within a single country could take just as long. Yet, in the medium and long term, America’s push to revive its semiconductor industry may prove justified. The United States holds a strong position in the sector, and US companies control about 50 percent of the global semiconductor market. Furthermore, the United States remains a powerful magnet for talent, and possesses vast financial and political resources. Some experts believe that over time, the United States could weaken Taiwan’s dominance as the global hub of advanced chip manufacturing. The resurgence of the US semiconductor industry will reshape the global technological order in three key ways. First, it will trigger a transformation of the global semiconductor supply chain. Second, it will lead to greater US independence from imports of critical technologies, which means erosion of importance of some players in the industry, weakening their “technological shield”. Finally, it will cement US technological superiority in many critical industries, from AI to military systems, accelerating a global technological divide with profound geopolitical consequences. Indeed, America has the potential to become one of the world’s leading semiconductor production centres, provided that several key conditions are met, such as a favourable geopolitical environment, domestic political stability, and the absence of disruptive black swan events. However, Trump’s risky tariff policy could trigger unpredictable cascading effects, both domestically (e.g., higher prices for electronics and microelectronics products) and internationally (e.g., retaliatory tariffs by US trade partners), posing serious threats for the US semiconductor industry. First published in the Valdai Discussion Club.

The recent conflict between Iran and Israel, irrespective of its military and security ramifications, marks the genesis of a new phase in Iran’s engagement with the world. This has the potential not only to alter the regional balance but also to redefine the trajectory of Iran’s nuclear program, its sanctions regime, and its diplomatic capacities. While many anticipated that this confrontation would escalate political and economic pressures on Iran, certain strategic realities and diplomatic indicators suggest that, conversely, this crisis might initiate a recalibration in international policy concerning Iran. Ostensibly, the Western alliance continues to voice concerns about Iran’s nuclear program. However, at deeper levels, the question arises: if Iran’s key nuclear facilities have been targeted and completely obliterated, what justification remains for continuing “maximum pressure“? Does this situation, despite its inherent difficulties, not present an opportunity for Iran to enter a new phase of diplomatic play without explicitly signaling retreat? A phase where novel tools, such as collaboration with third countries, the strategic use of silence, and intelligent avoidance of direct negotiation, could supersede the exhaustive path of the past. This analysis endeavors to present a clear and comprehensive picture of the sanctions landscape, the outlook for a potential agreement, and innovative diplomatic avenues for Iran post-conflict. The central question is whether Iran can leverage this crisis into an opportunity to restore its economic and strategic standing, or if the post-conflict environment will merely exacerbate the challenges in its engagement with the world. To begin with, the logic of sanctions has always rested on a simple principle: to generate pressure for behavioral change. However, this logic is deemed effective only when the sanctioned entity retains maneuverability or the motivation to resist. Now, following an attack that the U.S. claims to have inflicted on sensitive parts of Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, a clear contradiction has emerged in Western sanctions policy: if Iran is no longer capable of quickly returning to a high level of nuclear activity, what is the meaning and justification for continuing a policy of maximum pressure? From the perspective of independent observers, this juncture could represent a strategic rupture. Maximum pressure is justifiable when Iran is on an escalating trajectory with its nuclear program and the technical balance of power is shifting in Tehran’s favor. However, if, as claimed by the opposing side, Iran’s nuclear capability has been set back, then maintaining the sanctions structure would be less an instrument of foreign policy and more an indication of the aimlessness and inertia within the U.S. policymaking apparatus. Under such circumstances, some circles in Tehran speak of the necessity of adopting “intelligent silence.” This approach, instead of sharp reactions or widespread propaganda, relies on leveraging strategic ambiguity and granting itself time. This is particularly relevant if conditions arise where the West, to maintain the appearance of their operation’s success, is compelled to temporarily halt or alleviate pressures. In this scenario, Iran, without abandoning its principled positions, could create space for a recalibration of international actors’ behavior. The critical point is that sanctions are effective only when dynamically linked to a specific objective. If the goal was to alter nuclear behavior, and that behavior is now contained, then the continuation of sanctions is not a tool of statecraft but a sign of the absence of an alternative strategy. Iran can exploit this contradiction, provided it accurately comprehends the changing strategic landscape and avoids falling into the trap of hasty reactions. Building on this evolving dynamic, the recent conflict not only disrupted strategic calculations in Tehran and Tel Aviv but also palpably darkened the political and diplomatic atmosphere between Iran and the West. Prior to this conflict, although indirect nuclear negotiations between Iran and the U.S. were proceeding in a fragile silence, avenues for reviving the 2015 agreement (JCPOA) were still conceivable. Now, however, following explicit military threats from the U.S. and its overt role alongside Israel, even this fragile path has been severely questioned. In Tehran, many analysts believe that the strategy of appeasement and cautious engagement with the West regarding the nuclear dossier requires reconsideration. The recent military threats posed by Washington and its allies, more than being psychological pressure, carried an operational message—a message that effectively put those political elites in Iran who had always dismissed Western threats as mere rhetoric into a position of weakness. It is now acknowledged that complete disregard for threats can be costly for the country. Consequently, the decision-making discourse in Tehran has undergone a new realism: neither complete appeasement nor hasty confrontation; rather, the management of the balance between threat and opportunity. Nevertheless, direct negotiation with the U.S. remains a red line that is rooted not only in domestic politics but also intrinsically linked to Iran’s strategic prestige. On the other hand, the Trump administration faces domestic challenges and electoral constraints and does not wish to enter a process, on the eve of elections, that could be interpreted by its domestic opponents as “conceding to Tehran.” This is particularly true given that the recent conflict has created a more aggressive image of Iran in Western public opinion, an image that significantly complicates the space for flexible diplomacy. Given this diplomatic deadlock, traditional options are practically defunct. Neither the Vienna path is effective, nor do the Omani or Qatari channels operate with the same ease as before. Therefore, either innovative models must be considered—or it must be accepted that the agreement, in its previous form, has reached a historical dead end, and the time has come for a new architectural approach to engagement. One such idea is the adoption of a “third-party commitment” model, which could resolve part of the nuclear and sanctions crisis without requiring a direct agreement with the U.S. In this model, Iran could entrust a portion of its nuclear technical and supervisory commitments, through bilateral or multilateral agreements, to regional third countries such as Qatar, Oman, or Saudi Arabia. These countries, which maintain more balanced relations with Washington, could act as guarantors of these commitments and, simultaneously, negotiate with the U.S. government for specific sanctions waivers to facilitate economic and banking cooperation with Iran. For instance, Tehran could agree with Saudi Arabia or Qatar that part of the oversight process for enrichment or peaceful nuclear activities would be pursued through structures supervised by these countries or joint regional bodies. In return, these countries could receive licenses from the U.S. Treasury, Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) to participate in energy, banking, or transportation projects with Iran. This model, while circumventing the political sensitivities of direct negotiation, could provide a limited breathing space for Iran’s economy at the technical and executive levels. Another advantage of this approach is the strengthening of Iran’s regional position through the institutionalization of cooperation with its neighbors. Such a model transforms Iran’s image from a threatening actor to a cooperative partner, and effectively, contrary to Israel’s narrative, leaves the path open for regional dialogue. Evidently, this model is not without challenges, including Iran’s need to gain the trust of these countries, provide sufficient technical and legal guarantees, and prevent Israeli maneuvering aimed at disrupting this process. However, in the current circumstances, “third-party commitment” is one of the few options that can overcome the current impasse without imposing the heavy costs of a direct agreement. To fully grasp the broader diplomatic calculus, one must look beyond regional conflicts and into the structural shifts within global geopolitics. For a precise analysis of U.S. sanctions and diplomatic behavior towards Iran, it is insufficient to focus solely on military skirmishes or rhetorical threats. Official and semi-official U.S. foreign policy documents in recent years clearly indicate that Washington’s strategic priority is not Iran, nor even the Middle East, but rather containing China in global competition. This prioritization has created a divergence between verbal threats and the actual U.S. willingness for military engagement or even sustained maximum pressure. Although Washington symbolically and periodically sided with Tel Aviv in the recent Iran-Israel conflict, it was never eager for direct military involvement. In fact, many American analysts warned that drawing the U.S. into a new war in the Middle East would divert the country’s strategic focus from containing China, controlling Taiwan, and technological-economic competition with East Asia. In this vein, the Trump administration—contrary to the traditional perception of its aggressive policy—is disinclined towards costly and protracted wars in the Middle East. Even during his first term as president, he emphasized the withdrawal of troops from the region, reducing foreign expenditures, and focusing on the domestic economy. Therefore, although his policy towards Iran appears more hostile on the surface, in practice, he might prefer an option for managing tension without war; a model that could include maximum economic pressure, occasional threats, and perhaps even a show negotiation, but not direct engagement. Taken together, these factors—shifting U.S. priorities, regional recalibrations, and tactical innovation—suggest that the recent Iran-Israel conflict was a turning point that not only impacted the regional security balance but also provided an opportunity to revisit the path of sanctions, diplomacy, and nuclear policies. Contrary to popular belief, this war may have transformed into a saturation point in the West’s sanctions logic, rather than merely an excuse to intensify pressure—a point where continued pressure, without a clear objective, amounts to strategic self-sabotage. On the other hand, Trump’s return to power, with all its sharp and symbolic implications, conceals a contradictory reality: this president might be less inclined than any of his predecessors to engage in a costly war in the Middle East. The prioritization of China, domestic economy, and Trump’s transactional approach all indicate that Iran can utilize the existing environment to design a new path, one that does not necessarily lead to a classic agreement, but rather to smart tension management through informal and regionally focused tools. In this context, initiatives such as third-party commitments, leveraging neighbors’ capacities to reduce pressure, and pursuing a policy of strategic silence and ambiguity can enable Iran to redefine its economic and diplomatic trajectory – and to do so without retreat, without costly negotiations, and without falling into the trap of zero-sum games. However, success on this path requires several fundamental preconditions: (1) a precise understanding of strategic changes in the US; (2) realism in confronting new threats without succumbing to emotional reactions; (3) intelligent coordination among domestic decision-making bodies; and finally (4) revival of Iran’s economic and regional diplomatic capacity with the aim of exploiting limited but important opportunities. Ultimately, the fundamental question is not whether a grand agreement is imminent or if sanctions will be lifted overnight. The question is whether Iran, at this historical juncture, can calmly, precisely, and with an integrated view of security, economy, and diplomacy, transform the crisis into a platform for recalibrating its role in the regional and global order. The answer to this question depends not merely on external developments, but on the will and initiative within Iran. The text of this work is licensed under  a Creative Commons CC BY-NC 4.0 license.

Abstract This paper examines the evolving concept of European Union Strategic Autonomy (EU-SA) within the context of contemporary geopolitical challenges, with a particular focus on EU-Russia and EU-China relations. EU-SA reflects the EU's aspiration to act independently in foreign policy, security, defence, and economic affairs, moving from a rule-taker to a rule-maker in global politics. The study outlines the historical development of EU-SA from 2013 to the present, highlighting key milestones such as the Strategic Compass and the impact of the Ukraine War, which accelerated efforts toward defence collaboration, energy independence, and economic resilience. It explores the transatlantic dynamics, noting growing uncertainties in the U.S. commitment to NATO and the resulting push for a more autonomous European defence posture. Additionally, it addresses the complex EU-China relationship, marked by both cooperation and competition, as well as the strained EU-Russia ties amid ongoing conflict. The paper concludes by questioning the economic feasibility and political risks of deeper EU strategic autonomy, especially regarding security centralisation and Germany's leadership role. Key Words: EU, Strategic Autonomy, Security, Geopolitics, U.S, China, Russia Introduction At the 2025 North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) Summit in The Hague, member states (Allies) committed to investing 5% of their Gross Domestic Product (GDP) annually in core defence requirements and defence- and security-related spending by 2035. They will allocate at least 3.5% of GDP annually, based on the agreed-upon definition of NATO defence expenditure, by 2035 to resource core defence requirements and meet the NATO Capability Targets. Allies agreed to submit annual plans that show a credible, incremental path to achieving this goal.[1] At the same time, Spain secured a special compromise, committing to meet core requirements with just 2.1% of GDP, making it the only exception to the broader 5% target. Previously, in 2014, NATO Heads of State and Government had agreed to commit 2% of their national GDP to defence spending, to help ensure the Alliance's continued military readiness. This decision was taken in response to Russia's illegal annexation of Crimea, and amid broader instability in the Middle East. The 2014 Defence Investment Pledge was built on an earlier commitment to meeting this 2% of GDP guideline, agreed in 2006 by NATO Defence Ministers. In light of the increase in defence spending, given that 23 out of 32 NATO Allies are EU member states, the idea of European Union strategic autonomy (EU-SA) comes to mind. This paper will explore the issue of EU-SA with a specific reference to EU-Russia and EU-China relations.[2] A Brief History of EU Strategic Autonomy European Union strategic autonomy is an evolving concept that reflects its ambition to act independently in strategically important policy areas, including foreign policy, security, defence, and economic relations. Strong strategic autonomy, according to Barbara Lippert, Nicolai von Ondarza and Volker Perthes, means being able to set, modify and enforce international rules, as opposed to (unwillingly) obeying rules set by others. The opposite of strategic autonomy is being a rule-taker, subject to strategic decisions made by others, such as the United States, China, or Russia.[3] The concept was first prominently discussed in the context of defence in 2013 and has since expanded to encompass a broader range of policy areas. Historically speaking, one can identify numerous phases during which EU-SA evolved. - 2013-2016: During this period, EU-SA focused on security and defence, with initiatives like the Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO) and the European Defence Fund, aiming to strengthen the EU's defence capabilities.[4]  - 2017-2019: During this period, the EU-SA shifted its focus to defending European interests in a hostile geopolitical environment, influenced by events such as Brexit, the Trump presidency, and China's growing assertiveness.- 2020: The COVID-19 pandemic highlighted economic vulnerabilities, prompting a focus on mitigating dependence on foreign supply chains, particularly in critical sectors like health and technology.- Since 2021: The scope widened to virtually all EU policy areas, including digital, energy, and values, with terminology evolving to include "open strategic autonomy," "strategic sovereignty," "capacity to act," and "resilience".- 2022: The Ukraine War and Accelerated Implementation. Russia's invasion of Ukraine catalysed concrete actions toward EU-SA, notably in defence, energy independence, and economic resilience. The European Council's Versailles Declaration (March 2022) expressed strong political will to increase EU-SA, calling for collaborative investments in defence, phasing out dependency on Russian energy, and reducing reliance on critical raw materials, semiconductors, health, digital technologies, and food imports.[5] - The Strategic Compass for security and defence policy (endorsed March 2022) outlines a roadmap to 2030, emphasising strengthened EU defence capacities. Among others, it includes: o   Establishment of a strong EU Rapid Deployment Capacity of up to 5000 troops for different types of crises.o   Ready to deploy 200 fully equipped Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) mission experts within 30 days, including in complex environments.[6]o   Conducting regular live exercises on land and at sea.o   Enhanced military mobility.o   Reinforcement of the EU's civilian and military CSDP missions and operations by promoting a rapid and more flexible decision-making process, acting more robustly and ensuring greater financial solidarity.o   Making full use of the European Peace Facility to support partners.[7] According to the EU itself, the EU-SA is not a zero-sum game, but rather a sliding scale between complete autonomy and full dependency, with different results for different policy areas. What is more, when compared to the famous Maslow's hierarchy of needs (European Parliament briefing's language), the EU is not only perceived as an economic power, but it is also seen as a normative power. Therefore, the EU is recognised for its core values of democracy, human rights and the rule of law. Ultimately, Maslow's “self-actualisation” could mean the achievement of an EU in which citizens recognise their European identity and which has realised its full autonomous policy potential.[8]   As if this is not enough, the same source introduces the concept of the 360° strategic autonomy wheel, which reportedly illustrates policy areas in which the EU aims for greater strategic autonomy, as well as the connections between them. Mutual influence between policy areas can happen across the wheel, but is particularly strong in adjacent areas. Military action, for example, can cause migration, health is linked to food quality, energy policy influences the climate, and misinformation undermines democracy. The wheel can help to understand links, set priorities and view potential conflicts. More autonomy in the digital green economy will, for example, require vast quantities of “rare earth” materials, making the EU more (instead of less) dependent on imports. Reductions in energy consumption achieved through the digitalisation of the economy (for example, by reducing transport) will be partly offset by the increase in energy consumption by electronic devices and data centres.   Global Context The significance of EU-SA lies in ensuring the EU's political survival and global influence in a multipolar world where its relative power is diminishing. The EU's long-term economic outlook is bleak: its share of global GDP, now at 17% (at current prices), could nearly halve by 2050. According to the World Economic Forum, this economic backsliding not only threatens Europe's ability to fund its social model but also risks weighing on the bloc's global influence, leaving it even more dependent on the U.S. and China.[9] Moreover, the COVID-19 pandemic highlighted the conflictual nature of economic interdependence, as reliance on foreign supply chains for critical goods exposed vulnerabilities. Soft power has become an instrument of hard power, necessitating autonomy in trade, finance, and investment.  The U.S.'s strategic pivot to Asia, the exclusion of Europe in conflicts like Nagorno-Karabakh, Libya, and Syria (termed Astanisation[10], which favours Russia and Turkey), the sidelining of the EU in EU-Russia negotiations regarding the war in Ukraine, and China's state-led economic model have all pushed the EU towards the sidelines. Transatlantic divide Security is a critical dimension, with significant uncertainty surrounding the U.S. commitment to NATO under the Trump administration. Reports indicate Trump has questioned NATO's Article 5 guarantees, with actions like withdrawing military personnel from a Ukraine aid hub in Poland on April 8, 2025, and proposing to stand down 10,000 light infantry troops in Poland, Romania, and the Baltic states by 2025.[11] This has led to fears of a "NATO-minus" scenario, where the EU must fill security gaps without full U.S. backing. In response, the EU is pushing for greater strategic autonomy in defence. Initiatives like ReArm EU are mentioned, with calls for the EU to develop a stand-alone, integrated military capacity to stabilise the global economy. As Jean-Pierre Maulny, Deputy Director of the French Institute for International and Strategic Affairs (IRIS), adequately observes "The risk is now clear: a form of bilateral agreement between the United States and Russia, benefiting the interests of both countries, could leave Ukraine severely weakened and an easy prey for Moscow, thereby weakening other European countries consequently. As a consolation prize, we will have to ensure Europe's conventional security, as U.S. Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth announced to Europeans at the opening of the NATO ministerial meeting held in Brussels on 12–13 February 2025. This situation will place Europeans in a terrible dilemma: Either they do not wish to provide security guarantees to Ukraine and risk completely discrediting themselves in the eyes of powers such as the United States, Russia, and China, as Europeans will have demonstrated that they are unable to defend the continent, while also creating a significant long-term risk to Europe's security. Alternatively, they could provide security guarantees to Ukraine, accepting the financial burden that would impact the European Union's long-term competitiveness. In light of this situation, some advocate for the establishment of a European pillar within NATO. If one considers that the United States is negotiating peace in Europe without and against the Europeans, and that they no longer wish to defend Europe with conventional military means (will they respect the NATO Defence Planning Process?), Europeans should take on Europe's security fully. This would mean taking control of NATO. It will also be easier to make NATO and the European Union work together with a more Europeanised organisation".[12] Economically, there are several issues that contemporary demand addresses, but the most pressing is, of course, the Tariffs. The U.S. and European Union are running out of time to strike a deal on trade tariffs. Negotiations have been slow since both the U.S. and EU temporarily cut duties on each other until July 9. If an agreement is not achieved by then, full reciprocal import tariffs of 50% on EU goods, and the bloc's wide-spanning countermeasures are set to come into effect.[13] According to Almut Möller, Director for European and Global Affairs and head of the Europe in the World programme (European Policy Centre), "for the first time in decades, Europeans can no longer rely on a benign partner on the other side of the Atlantic, leaving them dangerously exposed and acutely vulnerable, including on the very foundations of liberal democracy. Until recently, the U.S. dominated a world order that provided a favourable environment for the EU to extend its membership, further develop, and leverage its strengths, particularly as a trading power, without having to worry much about geopolitics. Suddenly, liberal Europe looks very lonely, and is struggling to keep up with a world of change".[14] Other problems arguably include digital regulation and data protection, antitrust policy and digital taxation, fiscal policy and social protection, geopolitical rivalries, China's rise, and competition and trade policy. EU–China conundrum Both the EU and the U.S. are concerned about China's growing economic and technological influence, but they have differing approaches to addressing this challenge. The EU has sought to maintain a balance between cooperation and competition with China, while the U.S. has adopted a more confrontational approach.[15] These differences have led to tensions in areas such as trade policy and technology regulation. For example, the EU has been critical of the U.S.'s unilateral approach to addressing China's trade practices, while the U.S. has accused the EU of being too lenient towards China. These disagreements have made it difficult to achieve a coordinated transatlantic response to China's rise.[16] According to German experts, the balance of power between China and the EU and its member states is developing increasingly asymmetrically to Europe's disadvantage. Only in trade policy – and partially in investment – can the EU maintain its position in a manner respected by China.[17] Europe holds significant importance for China across various dimensions: economically, as its top supplier and second-largest export destination; technologically, as a source of advanced technology; institutionally, as a model to emulate; politically, to advance its objectives concerning other nations, particularly the United States; and selectively, as a collaborator in areas like global health and regional stabilisation. Unlike Russia and the United States, China perceives a vital interest in the EU's continued existence and unity within a multipolar world; yet, it employs a "divide and rule" strategy. China selectively rewards or penalises individual EU countries based on their political and economic significance and their compliance with China's expectations on key issues. These issues include arms sales to Taiwan, meetings with the Tibetan Dalai Lama, and positions on the Uighurs, human rights in China, and the South China Sea. China engages with Europe on multiple levels — political, economic, technological, cultural, and academic — using various political channels (such as strategic partnerships with the EU and individual EU member states), dialogue formats (like the 16+1 format with sixteen Central and Eastern European countries), and high-level bilateral intergovernmental consultations with Germany, France, and the United Kingdom. China's hopes that the European Union would emerge as an independent and comprehensive player in global politics, serving as a counterbalance to the United States, have diminished. However, China would be supportive of any European efforts towards achieving strategic autonomy, provided it does not translate into a confrontational approach towards China itself. In contrast, Europe's political priorities—such as ensuring peace and stability in East Asia, China's role in global stability, development, environmental issues, climate change, and non-proliferation, as well as improving human rights in China — are often considered secondary and are not actively pursued by all EU member states. Europe lacks a unified and assertive foreign policy stance regarding the geopolitical rivalry between the United States and China for dominance in the Asia-Pacific region. There is also an absence of a clear position on China's authoritarian vision of order. Even in trade and investment disputes, Europe struggles to establish a unified approach to resolving these issues. The EU member states are too diverse in terms of size, profiles, and interests in their dealings with China: Economically, there is a divide between countries that are appealing industrial and technological partners for China and those that compete for favour in Beijing. Some nations have a clear interest in global governance. Additionally, the United Kingdom and France maintain their respective military presences in the Asia region. In this context, ReArm EU and its financial instrument SAFE (analysed here https://worldnewworld.com/page/content.php?no=5384 ) have the potential to provide the EU with meaningful strategic autonomy and invite genuine geopolitical actorness. EU–Russia conundrum Since Donald Trump took office as the U.S. president, the coordination of transatlantic policies regarding Russia has largely disintegrated. The White House's openness to a comprehensive "deal" with Russian President Vladimir Putin contrasts with Congress's attempts to limit Trump's foreign policy options with Russia, resulting in the marginalisation of coordination with European allies. This situation is further complicated by Washington's increasing reliance on extraterritorial sanctions, a trend that began before Trump's presidency. Consequently, according to European foreign and security experts, Europe must achieve greater strategic autonomy in its dealings with Russia. However, this relationship is particularly strained by significant conflicts of interest. Russia's invasion of Ukraine significantly disrupted the previously peaceful and liberal democratic relations among European nations. Putin's "special military operation" compelled the EU to introduce seventeen (so far) escalating economic sanction packages aimed at undermining the Russian economy and ultimately limiting Russia's capacity to continue the war. In a gesture of solidarity with Ukraine, the EU has also allocated billions of euros to both EU member states and Ukraine to avert a humanitarian disaster and ensure the provision of essential needs for Ukrainians fleeing the conflict.[18] After three and a half years from the outset of the war, Russia continues to pose a complex challenge that the EU and European nations cannot address independently in the foreseeable future. If the U.S. security guarantee weakens before Europe can bolster its own capabilities, the EU could face new vulnerabilities that Russia might exploit along its external borders, such as in the Baltic states, and elsewhere. Currently, the EU and its member states lack sufficient means to deter Russia from pursuing its interests aggressively and recklessly in the shared neighbourhood.[19] Critics, on the other hand, argue that calls for EU strategic autonomy, particularly the creation of a European Army and a significant increase in military spending, are a double-edged sword. First, the primary official rationale is that the EU must prepare itself for a possible attack on EU member states by Russia. The legacy media are full of European leaders claiming that Russia will sooner or later attack Europe.[20] Yet, this claim is not substantiated with much evidence. The proponents of the European army completely disregard numerous doubts surrounding the 2013/2014 "Euromaidan" and the role of the CIA in the events.[21] Second, according to the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) 's estimations, the total number of conflict-related casualties in Ukraine from April 14, 2014, to December 31, 2021, stood at 51,000 – 54,000. These numbers are broken down as follows: 14,200 - 14,400 killed (at least 3,404 civilians, estimated 4,400 Ukrainian forces, and estimated 6,500 members of armed groups), and 37,000 - 39,000 injured (7,000 – 9,000 civilians, 13,800 – 14,200 Ukrainian forces and 15,800 - 16,200 members of armed groups).[22] In short, the situation was chaotic, with many casualties among civilians. Third, it was allegedly Europeans who torpedoed a first chance of peace negotiations as early as April 2014 in Istanbul.[23] Fourth, many European leaders seem to be utterly oblivious to the fact that the prolongation of the war adds to the destruction of Ukraine and Ukrainian society, deaths and emigration. Last but not least, given the fact that it is Germany that calls for both the European Army and the federalisation of Europe (with some assistance from France), one should be extra careful given the role of Germans during the WWII and the fact that neither has there been any official peace treaty with Germany nor have they recompensated countries such as Poland. Conclusion Strategic autonomy may be a necessity for Europe, given the dynamics of transatlantic relationships. The questions, however, that have to be pondered (and it does not seem that anyone in the legacy media or mainstream academia is ready to ask them) are numerous. Who will pay for that? Can Europeans afford such expenses under the current economic circumstances, and even worse economic prospects? Is the centralisation of security and military a Pandora's box? Should Europeans allow Germany (of all EU member states) to take special responsibility for this project? Isn't the pro-war rhetoric of Western political leaders making relations with Russia even more tense and dangerous, in other words, leading to escalation? History has solemnly proven that when left to their own devices, the Europeans inevitably create disastrous conflicts that have lasting consequences for generations. The American pivot to Asia and the consequent withdrawal from Europe may therefore have tragic ramifications for the European continent. References[1] Defence expenditures and NATO’s 5% commitment. (2025, June 27). North Atlantic Treaty Organization. https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/topics_49198.htm[2] NATO and the EU have 23 members in common: Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Czechia, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain and Sweden. See more at: https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/policies/eu-nato-cooperation/#0[3] Lippert, B., von Ondarza, N., & Perthes, V. (2019, March). European Strategic Autonomy. Actors, Issues, Conflicts of Interests. Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut für Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.swp-berlin.org/ doi:10.18449/2019RP04/#hd-d14204e263[4] Damen, M. (2022, July). EU strategic autonomy 2013-2023: From concept to capacity (EU Strategic Autonomy Monitor). European Parliamentary Research Service. https://www.eprs.ep.parl.union.eu[5] Informal meeting of the Heads of State or Government Versailles Declaration. (2022, March 10–11). Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut Fur Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.consilium.europa.eu/media/54773/20220311-versailles-declaration-en.pdf[6] See more at: https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/csdp-structure-instruments-and-agencies_en[7] See more at: https://fpi.ec.europa.eu/what-we-do/european-peace-facility_en[8] Damen, M. (2022, July). EU strategic autonomy 2013-2023: From concept to capacity (EU Strategic Autonomy Monitor). European Parliamentary Research Service. https://www.eprs.ep.parl.union.eu[9] Open but Secure:  Europe’s Path to Strategic Interdependence. INSIGHT REPORT. (2025). World Economic Forum. https://reports.weforum.org/docs/WEF_Open_but_Secure_Europe%E2%80%99s_Path_to_Strategic_Interdependence_2025.pdf[10] In reference to the Astana format on Syria) which leads to the exclusion of Europe from the settlement of regional conflicts in favour of Russia and Turkey. See more: https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/why-european-strategic-autonomy-matters_en[11] Tilles, D. (2025, April 8). US to withdraw military from Ukraine aid hub in Poland. Notes from Poland. https://notesfrompoland.com/2025/04/08/us-to-withdraw-military-from-ukraine-aid-hub-in-poland/[12] Maulny, J.-P. (2025, February 13). United States – Europe: Our Paths Are Splitting. The French Institute for International and Strategic Affairs (IRIS). https://www.iris-france.org/en/united-states-europe-our-paths-are-splitting/[13] Kiderlin, S. (2025, June 18). These are the sticking points holding up a U.S.-EU trade deal. CNBC. https://www.cnbc.com/2025/06/18/these-are-the-sticking-points-holding-up-a-us-eu-trade-deal.html#:~:text=The%20EU%20and%20US%20flags,Poland%20on%20March%206%2C%202025.&text=Afp%20%7C%20Getty%20Images-,The%20U.S.%20and%20European%20Union%20are%20running%20out%20of%20time,($1.93%20trillion)%20in%202024?[14] Möller, A. (2025, February 26). Europe in the World in 2025: Navigating a perilous world with realism and ambition. European Policy Centre. https://www.epc.eu/publication/Europe-in-the-World-in-2025-Navigating-a-perilous-world-with-realism-625da4/#:~:text=2025%20will%20be%20a%20year,with%20a%20world%20of%20change[15] Bradford, A. (2023). When Rights, Markets, and Security Collide (pp. 221–254). Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197649268.003.0007[16] Portanskiy, A. (2023). UE - US: new barriers to trade. Современная Европа. https://doi.org/10.31857/s020170832304006x[17] Lippert, B., von Ondarza, N., & Perthes, V. (2019, March). European Strategic Autonomy. Actors, Issues, Conflicts of Interests. Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut für Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.swp-berlin.org/ doi:10.18449/2019RP04/#hd-d14204e263 [18] Klüver, L. (2025, April 18). Putin’s War on Ukraine: What can the EU actually do? European Careers Association. https://ecamaastricht.org/blueandyellow-knowyourunion/putins-war-on-ukraine-what-can-the-eu-actually-do#:~:text=Similarly%2C%20the%20Strategic%20Compass%2C%20the%20most%20recent,its%20interests%20and%20promote%20its%20values%20internationally.[19] Lippert, B., von Ondarza, N., & Perthes, V. (2019, March). European Strategic Autonomy. Actors, Issues, Conflicts of Interests. Stiftung Wissenschaft Un Politic. Deutches Institut für Politik Und Sicherheit. https://www.swp-berlin.org/ doi:10.18449/2019RP04/#hd-d14204e263 [20] ochecová, K. (2025, February 11). Russia could start a major war in Europe within 5 years, Danish intelligence warns. Politico. https://www.politico.eu/article/russia-war-threat-europe-within-5-years-danish-intelligence-ddis-warns/[21] Katchanovski, I. (2024). The Maidan Massacre in Ukraine The Mass Killing that Changed the World. Palgrave Macmillan. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-67121-0[22] Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. (2022, January 27). Conflict-related civilian casualties in Ukraine: December 2021 update. United Nations Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine. https://ohchr.org[23] Johnson, J. (2022, May 6). Boris Johnson Pressured Zelenskyy to Ditch Peace Talks With Russia: Ukrainian Paper. Common Dreams. https://www.commondreams.org/news/2022/05/06/boris-johnson-pressured-zelenskyy-ditch-peace-talks-russia-ukrainian-paper